The path to 48 starts with a single step

The path to 48 starts with a single step 

I get to skip a week of chemo and I’m looking forward to actually pushing myself a little bit.  My best friend (I have two if you are keeping score at home and get confused) is playing in the Texas Open PGA event in San Antonio next week and I’ll be going down with the other best friend to watch him play.  In order to make everything work, I had to push my chemotherapy back a week.  This actually sets up the family vacation schedule quite nicely.  Now the two dates we had on the book line up with the new schedule.  My oncology team advised that I could always schedule around vacations and other events as long as it wasn’t habitual.  And after all, I’ll pretty much be doing this for as long as I’m still ticking so why not enjoy a week with the family when I need it right?  It is kind of funny when talking to other cancer patients or medical professionals.  A very common question is “How long is your treatment (or some variation which involves a fixed number or timeline)?”  My answer is, “Forever.”  Because, with no cure, that is what I have in front of me.  Sure a remission is a possibility, but realistically this is my new reality.

Last weekend was my birthday.  It was pretty amazing how many folks reached out.  We had a nice dinner with some friends at a steakhouse with a view and it turned into one of those four hour dinners.   There were a lot of great stories told and even a few toasts and speeches.  Flattering would be a conservative word choice, humbling is probably more appropriate. 

The next night was a friend’s wedding.  It was a guy I hadn’t seen since high school and there were so many former classmates it felt like a reunion.  Again, we visited, told stories of crazy exploits back then that would get you arrested today.  We all wondered how we made it out of our late teens alive and unanimously agreed that our children would not have permission to do any of the hijinks we perpetrated on our community. I guess technically we didn’t have permission either.  It was good fun though.  Isn’t it funny how back then a one year separation was a huge gap and even talking to someone two years older/younger was a breach of etiquette?  As we get older it seems anyone within 10 years of your age is essentially the same age.

David Crockett High School classes 1986 and 1987

Josie was scheduled to have a baseball game on Wednesday and it rained out.  She literally cried about missing the game.  I cannot believe this is the same girl who wanted to quit just a few weeks ago.  She was all uniformed up, hair braided, cleats on.  I checked my phone one last time and there was the message to call the game.  Josie actually had to be consoled for a while in the family cool-down rocking chair.  It was Nita’s old nursing chair that has now been repurposed for coping with hurt feelings and injuries (after dad has checked for actual medical attention).  In any case, it was pivotal in helping her overcome the rain-wash-out.  Connor on the other hand loves playing, but it isn’t a life and death thing and certainly not worth crying over.  We’ll see what this weekend brings.  He has a new motivation and that is no new toys and no arcades until he swings the bat in a game.  He doesn’t have to get a hit, just stay in the box and swing.  It isn’t nearly as harsh as it might sound at first, sometimes we all need a nudge overcoming our fears.  I know a lot more about nudges now.

I had a chance to hit some golf balls for the first time in a year. I have to say it felt pretty good.  I was very conscious of my port catheter, but other than that I had no bad thoughts.  I guess that is what worked.  Ball flight was a little low, but the yardage was consistent, swing was mostly smooth, and I was on target.  I guess a year off really made me forget all the bad swing thoughts.  I also believe that having my oncologist’s warning in the back of my mind made me slow down and smooth out the swing a bit.  My buddy Pete said my 6 iron (longest club I hit on the range) looked like my wedge swing.  I also was amazingly void of shanks, pulls, duck hooks, or blocks.  It was fun…until the next day when I felt every muscle group asking me why I waited so long to use them in that fashion.

For you non-golfers out there here is how the golf swing works…in your head.  If you are a great golfer you have positive thoughts reinforcing your target, line, and you visualize the perfect swing then execute.  Let’s say your target is a tree, a great golfer picks a leaf or branch and takes dead aim at that small target.  Good to average golfers have about 50% good thoughts (see above) and 50% bad (don’t hit it there, oh crap there is water left, I HOPE I fly that bunker, etc.).  At the half way point usually whatever bets are in play start to also factor into the golf thoughts.  They aim at the whole tree, maybe even a clump of trees.  Bad golfers hope a lot and wonder where that darn beer cart girl is.  Swing thoughts are either completely absent or 80% negative.  Occasionally they’ll hit a good shot and celebrate it with anyone within earshot, that’s what keeps them coming back…that and the beer cart girl. There may or may not be a target other than “that way” or “closer to the hole than I was before the shot.” In this matrix, bad golfers enjoy the game a lot more than good and great golfers.  They just do.

Connor’s baseball practice was a small baby step in the stay in the box mantra.  I re-watched the ESPN 30 for 30 special I Hate Christian Laettner the other day.  He won a couple of national championships for Duke in the early 90s.  He was a tough basketball player who made his teammates better and tougher too.  Now I get that Connor is only seven and I’m not going to bully him just to toughen him up.  But, there is a lot to be said about Laettner’s upbringing.  He was not brought up with the “I’m special, I deserve…” attitude we see in a lot of millennials. So instead of focusing on the promise that I won’t hit him again with a pitch, I decided that we’ll focus on the task itself.  Stay in the box and swing.  If you get hit, you get hit.  I asked him if it still hurts from the last time and he said it didn’t, during ground ball practice a few bounced off his shins, and he shook it off.  So we won’t focus on the negative thoughts, only the positive.  “I will stay in the box, put a good swing on the pitch, and I will get a hit.”  There are a LOT of positive incentives for him to do this, and no negative consequences per se.  The only negative is he doesn’t get the positive stuff unless he swings the bat. Baby steps.

So after golf and baseball my body was pretty sore.  Nothing that ice and hydro can’t calm down.  Thursday night Connor got a slight fever.  And even though I’m feeling better and not taking the bone marrow killer, I still have to be very aware of little bugs floating around.  We kept him home from school today (Friday) and he just went upstairs to get back in bed.  Hopefully he’ll sweat it out soon.  The part that is heart breaking is he asked for me to come snuggle with him.  Now there is nothing I would rather do in the whole world than go up and snuggle with my son while he is feeling bad.  But I just can’t.  I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him and he seems to understand. 

Some of the tougher parts about dealing with cancer are the little things. The inability to do what used to be normal and even mundane things.  I can deal with the pain, the nausea, even the diarrhea. But the emotional part of not always being there for a sick child is what gets me.  Sure I can play the hard ass coach, and do the discipline stuff to keep them out of prison later.  But if you know my kids, they are also the sweetest children you may ever meet.  They still hold my hand when we walk around.  Connor even does it before and after baseball games which I think is fantastic.  He either doesn’t realize, notice or care that none of his peers do the same thing.  I hope he doesn’t catch on.  Josie of course still holds my hand everywhere, even in the house.  She’ll draw a picture she wants me to see and she’ll take my hand and lead me to her art.  I love it.  I look forward to and really embrace these moments.  But when they are ill and need me and I cannot be there for them completely, that sucks.  It hurts more than the needle sticks or dry heaves ever did.

Nita and I are discussing whether or not she’ll have to go back to work and it has been tough.  She was really finding her happy place doing the stay at home mom thing, but we have to do what are in the best interests of the family.  I cashed in some of our IRA savings and will continue to work my network for our next steps.  As you can imagine, cancer is expensive.  We know moving is a last resort, but to be realistic, we have to put all our options on the table.  In any case, this is a good exercise for later when the inevitable happens.  It’s far easier to act responsibly when there is no desperation, and you can rely on good judgment…very much like a golf swing.  So even though I am living in the moment and not putting undue stress on myself, I still have to be a realist and plan for everything (even if it is just on paper).  I plan on taking another trip(s) around the sun.  And that plan involves making sure things get done, the kids learn what they need to succeed, and I keep myself healthy.  It seems like a lot, but how does one eat an elephant?  One bite at a time.  Every journey begins with a single step. TeamMarco@austin.rr.com