Yesterday, December 23, my oral surgeon's office gave us an early Christmas present--a tentative (but probable) date for my jaw resection. May 1 will be the big day. That will give us three weeks after returning from NZ to get things in order and for me to gorge on my favorite (soft, flat, easy-to-swallow) foods before I go back to my feeding tube diet for several weeks. Terry is already practicing her pouring skills in anticipation.
Even though we have been gearing up mentally for this gig for several weeks, the news of a firm date hit us both like a ton of bricks. I am making no bones (pun intended) about it--it scares the shit out of me and am glad that it is not happening right away. I don't think I am strong enough physically or mentally right now to go through this surgery and the long recovery period. But when the bell rings on May 1, I'll have done whatever it will take to be ready (Dear Sister Everista [my third grade teacher-nun], Is that a correct sentence?). Living in NZ leading up to the surgery will allow me to get my head and body right to take this on the same way I did my cancer treatments--with raw stubbornness, a high tolerance for pain, Eastern European genes, a sense of humor, and the love and support of Terry and Team Mike. Oh yeah--and lots of good meds ;)
Ironically, this is not the worst Christmas present we've had in recent years. Hearing this news led Terry and I to rewind to December 24, 2008--the date we heard the news that my biopsy was positive for MEC cancer. Yes, five years today we got the word and saw the radiation oncologist that same afternoon. Of course, that started everything in motion that has lead up to the May 1 surgery, once again verifying what I've said all along about chemo+radiation--they are "The gifts that keep on giving."
Regardless of this bit of news, we are looking forward to a nice Christmas, a Happy New Year, and a wonderful adventure in New Zealand. In the meantime, Team Mike can take a break until you are called back into action on May 1, 2014. I will keep posting here in the meantime, and also to my NZ blog once we arrive there. I'll let you know when that starts.
Mike
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Why me?
About two weeks ago I had an appointment with my radiation oncologist who told Terry and I that he considers my cancer to be cured. I have had "clean" scans for the last 4+ years and he sees no signs of the cancer I was diagnosed with in early 2009. With my type of cancer, the "cure window" is 5 years--if the cancer does not recur in that time, the status changes from "patient" to "cured." We celebrated that night but wanted to get confirmation from the lead oncologist before we would totally believe what we were hearing. That confirmation came today--Dr. Henderson agrees that enough of the 5-year window has gone by with no signs of recurrence, and used the other C-word with me himself, c-u-r-e-d!
But other news reminded me that cancer can be a cruel disease in so many other ways. Terry got an email today from her friend Joy Hartsfield (currently being treated for cancer herself) that her brother Charlie passed away last night from head/neck cancer--similar to mine. He was diagnosed only about a year ago, and never responded to essentially the same treatments I went through. One year after my diagnosis I was on the road to being cured. One year after Charlie's diagnosis, he was dead.
A lot of cancer patients ask "Why me?" when they are first diagnosed and while they are struggling with the debilitating treatments of surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. I never asked "Why me?" at that stage--I just chalked it up to SFL (the 'L' is for luck--the 'S' and 'F' will come to you in a moment). I was HPV- and a non-smoker so there was no direct link between lifestyle and other known causes of my cancer. I was glad about that, because unlike lung cancer patients who have been life-long smokers, I didn't have the added burden of guilt and second-guessing to wear on me during treatments. SFL happens, so I accepted that and turned all of my energy to getting better.
Since my diagnosis, several friends and people like Charlie who I knew through others were not able to survive their cancers--even after fighting the Prairie Dogs as hard as I did. They followed their doctors' directions, had loving caretakers and lots of support from their own versions of Team Mike, but didn't make it through. So, why did I survive and they didn't--why me, and not them? Maybe it's just the opposite of SFL, maybe it's in my DNA--who the hell knows? Certainly not me.
I didn't know Charlie personally, but plan to attend his services this weekend. Part of my reason for being there is to give Joy and her family some support. Beyond that, I really don't know, but maybe by going there I can get a little closer to an answer for "Why me?"
Even without an answer to that question, I do know that I have been given a second life as a cancer survivor, even if that life comes with a some serious side effects that will always be there to manage. As a survivor I have a responsibility to help those who are on the same path I was five years ago. I do that in a small way by offering advice and comfort to current patients and their caretakers on the Cancer Survivors Network and to people I know personally. For a moment I thought that was the answer to "Why me?" but then wouldn't any cancer victim offer to do the same, had they survived? I'd like to think they would, which then takes me back to wondering why I have survived and they didn't.
My cosmic pondering aside, I am certain of one thing. Without the love and support of Terry and Team Mike, I would not have been there today to hear my doctor say the new C-word to me! For that I am ever-grateful.
Please be safe and happy this Holiday Season.
Mike
But other news reminded me that cancer can be a cruel disease in so many other ways. Terry got an email today from her friend Joy Hartsfield (currently being treated for cancer herself) that her brother Charlie passed away last night from head/neck cancer--similar to mine. He was diagnosed only about a year ago, and never responded to essentially the same treatments I went through. One year after my diagnosis I was on the road to being cured. One year after Charlie's diagnosis, he was dead.
A lot of cancer patients ask "Why me?" when they are first diagnosed and while they are struggling with the debilitating treatments of surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. I never asked "Why me?" at that stage--I just chalked it up to SFL (the 'L' is for luck--the 'S' and 'F' will come to you in a moment). I was HPV- and a non-smoker so there was no direct link between lifestyle and other known causes of my cancer. I was glad about that, because unlike lung cancer patients who have been life-long smokers, I didn't have the added burden of guilt and second-guessing to wear on me during treatments. SFL happens, so I accepted that and turned all of my energy to getting better.
Since my diagnosis, several friends and people like Charlie who I knew through others were not able to survive their cancers--even after fighting the Prairie Dogs as hard as I did. They followed their doctors' directions, had loving caretakers and lots of support from their own versions of Team Mike, but didn't make it through. So, why did I survive and they didn't--why me, and not them? Maybe it's just the opposite of SFL, maybe it's in my DNA--who the hell knows? Certainly not me.
I didn't know Charlie personally, but plan to attend his services this weekend. Part of my reason for being there is to give Joy and her family some support. Beyond that, I really don't know, but maybe by going there I can get a little closer to an answer for "Why me?"
Even without an answer to that question, I do know that I have been given a second life as a cancer survivor, even if that life comes with a some serious side effects that will always be there to manage. As a survivor I have a responsibility to help those who are on the same path I was five years ago. I do that in a small way by offering advice and comfort to current patients and their caretakers on the Cancer Survivors Network and to people I know personally. For a moment I thought that was the answer to "Why me?" but then wouldn't any cancer victim offer to do the same, had they survived? I'd like to think they would, which then takes me back to wondering why I have survived and they didn't.
My cosmic pondering aside, I am certain of one thing. Without the love and support of Terry and Team Mike, I would not have been there today to hear my doctor say the new C-word to me! For that I am ever-grateful.
Please be safe and happy this Holiday Season.
Mike
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