My friend Christi told me a few days ago that her father is tolerating the chemo + radiation treatments well. He is past the midpoint, which is when things can tend to bottom out, so hopefully he can see a light at the end of this tunnel. He has avoided the need for a feeding tube, which is big victory for him. While some try to avoid having a tube, others like me welcomed it because it took away the stress of having to eat food that a) I couldn't taste, b) I didn't like, and c) had extreme difficultly swallowing. Please keep the Good Vibes coming for Kent, as tolerance can change quickly--and he'll still have a long recovery even if things keep going well. Christi told him about my last post and that Team Mike was behind them--they were both appreciative.
After a long time, I heard from Steve Nau last week. He is recovering from his surgery, trying to cope with the reality of having a big chunk of his tongue gone. He definitely needed a feeding tube because his tongue can't move food around in his mouth well enough to chew and swallow it. But, he is in good spirits, looking forward to retiring soon and spending more time with his grand daughter. What got my attention most was the way he has prioritized things in his life in a way that keeps him very upbeat and looking ahead at what he can do, not being dragged down by what he can't do after his two bouts with cancer and their treatments. I told him he was my hero, because he is weathering through what would be my own personal nightmare--having to deal with recurring cancer, its treatments, and the after effects of it all.
I was strong my one time around (knock on wood), but not sure I have enough left in the tank to take on another battle with the Prairie Dogs. Let's hope it never comes to that--so keep sending the Good Vibes my way.
By the way, it looks like my last surgery was not successful. I am still not able to control the 'leaking' of saliva from my mouth unless I conscientiously purse my lips together. So, when I bend over to tie my shoes, or work in the garden, etc., saliva comes out unless I think through it first. The problem is that I don't have the nerves in my mouth anymore that detect saliva and trigger an automatic swallowing reflex. Normally a person reflexively swallows several hundred times a day--I can't do that without thinking about it first.
Bottom line--time to get with Dr. Roser and see if I have any options left, short of devising some kind of drool-catcher to hang under my lower lip. And as I think of that, it ain't gonna happen. I'll just get a lot more dark shirts to wear.
Mike
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Friday, June 2, 2017
Good Vibes Needed for Kent
A couple weeks ago we heard that the father of a good friend of ours was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Our friend's name is Christi and her father's name is Kent. I had a conversation with Christi yesterday and she updated me on her dad. Kent's cancer is Stage 3--no spread to other organs, but a good-sized tumor that apparently grew fast.
As for most head/neck cancers, Kent had three treatment options--surgery, chemo, and radiation. While surgery was a strong possibility, it would have left him with essentially no esophagus--just a direct 'tunnel' from his mouth to his stomach. So, he chose chemo + rads and is about 2/3 through those treatment cycles.
That means he's in the toughest stretch for pain, discomfort, poor appetite, low blood cell counts, fatigue, etc. So far, no sign of needing a feeding tube, so that's a plus.
So please send Kent your best Team Mike Good Vibes in the next few weeks, so he can get over this huge hump and back to doing things that the typical 81-year old does--like running, hiking, and cross country skiing.
Mike
As for most head/neck cancers, Kent had three treatment options--surgery, chemo, and radiation. While surgery was a strong possibility, it would have left him with essentially no esophagus--just a direct 'tunnel' from his mouth to his stomach. So, he chose chemo + rads and is about 2/3 through those treatment cycles.
That means he's in the toughest stretch for pain, discomfort, poor appetite, low blood cell counts, fatigue, etc. So far, no sign of needing a feeding tube, so that's a plus.
So please send Kent your best Team Mike Good Vibes in the next few weeks, so he can get over this huge hump and back to doing things that the typical 81-year old does--like running, hiking, and cross country skiing.
Mike
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
Good News, Bad News x2
Well, the good news is that my esophagus does not have to stretched again. The double-bad news is that the problem starts before food reaches my esophagus, and there is no way to fix it. Oh yeah, and it will keep getting gradually worse over time. That might be 3x bad news, but who's counting anymore?
Without going into a throat anatomy lesson, there are some small structures just past my tongue that were damaged by the radiation, and cannot heal or be corrected with surgery. Even well before food gets to my esophagus the damaged mechanisms limit what can go past them, and cause a backup with all but the smallest of food particles and liquids.
The PA who did the test put it into perspective: this is a bummer for me, but she sees a lot of cancer survivors with many more eating limitations than mine, and many who can take food only through a tube--for the rest of their lives.
Sonofabitch--just when I wanted a good reason to wallow in my cheeseburger-less reality, she tells me it could be a lot worse, given the type of cancer I had and how it was treated.
So, I actually left the test feeling good--what's wrong with that picture? What I need to do now is figure out how to cope with this for the rest of my life. For a long time I thought it might get better some day, but that hope is now gone. Time to figure out a way forward that will keep me nourished and looking forward to meals. To be honest, that's not the case right now. If eating was not an absolute necessity, I could happily not eat ever again--it's just too much of a hassle, with very limited options, and a test of will to get enough food into my mouth and down to my stomach three times a day (I've almost stopped snacking completely--except for yogurt).
mike
Without going into a throat anatomy lesson, there are some small structures just past my tongue that were damaged by the radiation, and cannot heal or be corrected with surgery. Even well before food gets to my esophagus the damaged mechanisms limit what can go past them, and cause a backup with all but the smallest of food particles and liquids.
The PA who did the test put it into perspective: this is a bummer for me, but she sees a lot of cancer survivors with many more eating limitations than mine, and many who can take food only through a tube--for the rest of their lives.
Sonofabitch--just when I wanted a good reason to wallow in my cheeseburger-less reality, she tells me it could be a lot worse, given the type of cancer I had and how it was treated.
So, I actually left the test feeling good--what's wrong with that picture? What I need to do now is figure out how to cope with this for the rest of my life. For a long time I thought it might get better some day, but that hope is now gone. Time to figure out a way forward that will keep me nourished and looking forward to meals. To be honest, that's not the case right now. If eating was not an absolute necessity, I could happily not eat ever again--it's just too much of a hassle, with very limited options, and a test of will to get enough food into my mouth and down to my stomach three times a day (I've almost stopped snacking completely--except for yogurt).
mike
Friday, May 5, 2017
The "Gifts That Keep On Giving" Keep on Giving
Over the past year or so, my white blood cell count has hovered around the lowest level possible before it needs to be treated. My GP referred me to one of Emory's best hematologists, who specializes in symptoms related to chemotherapy. His opinion is that my immune system has been compromised due to the...chemo 8 years ago, and the loss of marrow from bones removed during the two surgeries. So, if he's right, I'll stay at risk for more things like the mystery infection I had in March.
Over the past few months, I've had increased problems with swallowing food. I have a stricture in my esophagus, caused by...radiation treatments 8 years ago. It reduces the elasticity of my esophagus, which limits the size of food particles I can swallow. My range of selection has not decreased, but what I can eat has become even more of a struggle--to the point that I just get tired from the effort at many meals, quit trying, and default to a Boost or yogurt to get the calories I need. Ice cream with brownies, and Key Lime pie also do that same trick.
So, I have scheduled a Barium swallow test on Monday, with the expectation that I'll need another esophageal dilation--my fourth or fifth, I think. That's IF they will let me have one more. There is a limit to the number of these that one's esophagus can recover from, so there is a chance they won't be able to do it again on me.
We'll know more after the appointment on Monday, so stay tuned.
Mike
Over the past few months, I've had increased problems with swallowing food. I have a stricture in my esophagus, caused by...radiation treatments 8 years ago. It reduces the elasticity of my esophagus, which limits the size of food particles I can swallow. My range of selection has not decreased, but what I can eat has become even more of a struggle--to the point that I just get tired from the effort at many meals, quit trying, and default to a Boost or yogurt to get the calories I need. Ice cream with brownies, and Key Lime pie also do that same trick.
So, I have scheduled a Barium swallow test on Monday, with the expectation that I'll need another esophageal dilation--my fourth or fifth, I think. That's IF they will let me have one more. There is a limit to the number of these that one's esophagus can recover from, so there is a chance they won't be able to do it again on me.
We'll know more after the appointment on Monday, so stay tuned.
Mike
Friday, March 24, 2017
It Still Ain't Over
First things first. My friend Steve has had some complications from his tongue surgery and was still in the hospital a few days ago. Please send him some Good Vibes--this trip into the Vortex is going to be a lot longer and harder than he bargained for.
After being off to a good start with my healing after march 1, things went south in a hurry last week. I started to feel bad on Thursday--chills and a fever around 102. The fever spiked at 104.5 on Friday, so we went to an urgent care facility. The doctor there said he wasn't sure, but thought it was pneumonia--without taking a chest X-ray, by the way. He gave me some antibiotics. We went home and he went to his St. Paddy's Day party.
No change the next two days, so off we went on Sunday to the Emory ER. After 10 very long hours there, I was admitted to Club Emory and stayed there for two more days. After a bunch of tests and a shitload of IV antibiotics, I felt better on Tuesday, so they discharged me, with an official diagnosis of "Dunno." They do know it's an infection, probably from the surgery--but beyond that, they are stumped.
My temp has stabilized and my very heavy night sweats are almost entirely gone. I have some chest congestion and a little cough, so now it presents as a cold--like a lot of people around me have these days. So, go to Club Emory with an infection, come out with a cold--sounds about right.
While we were waiting in the line of cars at the Emory ER, Terry prognosticated that this was an "anomaly"--they would find nothing, or it would be something weird. So far she is right. I call it another case of SFL.
So, more tests coming up to see if they can isolate whatever is doing this. And, another week+ of my life spent recovering from cancer 8 years ago.
This shit never ends.
mike
After being off to a good start with my healing after march 1, things went south in a hurry last week. I started to feel bad on Thursday--chills and a fever around 102. The fever spiked at 104.5 on Friday, so we went to an urgent care facility. The doctor there said he wasn't sure, but thought it was pneumonia--without taking a chest X-ray, by the way. He gave me some antibiotics. We went home and he went to his St. Paddy's Day party.
No change the next two days, so off we went on Sunday to the Emory ER. After 10 very long hours there, I was admitted to Club Emory and stayed there for two more days. After a bunch of tests and a shitload of IV antibiotics, I felt better on Tuesday, so they discharged me, with an official diagnosis of "Dunno." They do know it's an infection, probably from the surgery--but beyond that, they are stumped.
My temp has stabilized and my very heavy night sweats are almost entirely gone. I have some chest congestion and a little cough, so now it presents as a cold--like a lot of people around me have these days. So, go to Club Emory with an infection, come out with a cold--sounds about right.
While we were waiting in the line of cars at the Emory ER, Terry prognosticated that this was an "anomaly"--they would find nothing, or it would be something weird. So far she is right. I call it another case of SFL.
So, more tests coming up to see if they can isolate whatever is doing this. And, another week+ of my life spent recovering from cancer 8 years ago.
This shit never ends.
mike
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
This Could Be The Last Time
I am at home resting after this morning's procedure at Emory Midtown Hospital. They had my favorite OR table reserved and ready for me, right on schedule. But before they rolled me to my table, they put the latest in "OR Party Hat" fashion on me:
Some places require a coat and tie to be seated, mine requires this.
The procedure lasted about two hours and included the removal of the re-grown hair in my mouth "Just take a little off the bottom gum line, please," and a skin graft to patch the small incision they made to give my lower lip more mobility and function.
I can already see and feel the change (for the better) in my lip functioning, with more to come as the swelling goes down over the next week or so.
While that area heals I'll be on a diet of total diet of soft and liquid foods. I go back in 10-12 days for the removal of the splint they inserted to keep the area stable.
If all goes well, this will be the end of my surgical history for all of the side effects that started in 2009. But, as the Atlanta Falcons learned so painfully in the Super Bowl, it ain't over until it's over, so, the song goes:
This could be the last time,
This could be the last time,
Maybe be the last time,
...I don't know
Mike
Some places require a coat and tie to be seated, mine requires this.
The procedure lasted about two hours and included the removal of the re-grown hair in my mouth "Just take a little off the bottom gum line, please," and a skin graft to patch the small incision they made to give my lower lip more mobility and function.
I can already see and feel the change (for the better) in my lip functioning, with more to come as the swelling goes down over the next week or so.
While that area heals I'll be on a diet of total diet of soft and liquid foods. I go back in 10-12 days for the removal of the splint they inserted to keep the area stable.
If all goes well, this will be the end of my surgical history for all of the side effects that started in 2009. But, as the Atlanta Falcons learned so painfully in the Super Bowl, it ain't over until it's over, so, the song goes:
This could be the last time,
This could be the last time,
Maybe be the last time,
...I don't know
Mike
Monday, February 20, 2017
Update on Steve, and Good Vibes for Me
I got some clarification on Steve's situation. He did not have surgery last week--that was an appointment for an MRI. But, it did confirm the size and location of his new tumor, and from that he's scheduled for surgery on March 1. They will take some skin and other tissue from from one of his arms (called a free flap) to patch the hole when the tumor is extracted. He'll likely have several weeks of rehab and therapy to get his speech back to some semblance of normal.
So, please keep building up those Good Vibes for him on March 1, and while you're at it, add some for me. On that same day I'm having an outpatient procedure to improve the functionality of my lower lip, so my lips will purse together without having to force it. The current inability keeps me from using a straw (no suction) and makes saliva drip out when I tilt my head down, and forget to close my lips together. Neither are pretty to watch, but there you have it.
If this little procedure is successful, it could mark the end of my surgical needs for good. I will have all of the functionality I can ever expect and can then get on with living with those limitations forever.
As always, the key word is "could." Even though this could be the end of my surgical history, there are never any guarantees for the citizens of Cancer World.
mike
So, please keep building up those Good Vibes for him on March 1, and while you're at it, add some for me. On that same day I'm having an outpatient procedure to improve the functionality of my lower lip, so my lips will purse together without having to force it. The current inability keeps me from using a straw (no suction) and makes saliva drip out when I tilt my head down, and forget to close my lips together. Neither are pretty to watch, but there you have it.
If this little procedure is successful, it could mark the end of my surgical needs for good. I will have all of the functionality I can ever expect and can then get on with living with those limitations forever.
As always, the key word is "could." Even though this could be the end of my surgical history, there are never any guarantees for the citizens of Cancer World.
mike
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Fear and Loathing at Cafe Lily, and Good Vibes needed for Steve Nau
Last Thursday was Terry's birthday and she chose for us to eat at Cafe Lily, one of our favorite restaurants. We requested and got our favorite table, so it started out as a great evening out. Terry ordered the pincintos, a roasted lamb dish served with very tasty Japanese sweet potatoes. After a lot of deliberation I ordered an asparagus risotto, topped with scallops. It seemed to pass all tests for chewability, swallowability, and yumminess (none of which are real words, by the way). Our plates arrived, we toasted to her birthday again, and dug in. About 10 minutes later I felt something being lodged in the lower end of my esophagus, but I dismissed it--things like that happen a lot and almost always work their way down into my stomach with some patience and lots of water.
Key word...almost.
This one stayed stuck and started to irritate my esophagus. It did not block my breathing so that was not a threat. But, it did cause us to cut short our dinner, miss a great chocolate dessert served there, and to head home--with the clock ticking on our one-hour rule to head to the Emergency Room. Right at one hour, we decided to head to the ER, so I went upstairs to change into some comfortable clothes for what could be a long night. As usual, Terry was packing stuff to help her pass the time there. I gave it one last try, and with that whatever it was moved a bit, and then slid down into my stomach. Situation over. I never did see it, but assume it was a piece of scallop that had been stuck.
Although it ended well, if after an hour, this brought back memories of so many other times when we ended up in the ER for the same reason and I had to get some direct medical attention to get it resolved. And, it added to the long list of events that remind me that I'll always be a cancer patient in some form or another. I now take for granted waking up with a scratchy dry tongue every day, and having to think carefully about every bit of food I put in my mouth--just part of the price for being a cancer survivor. bit, every once in a while like the incident at Cafe Lily I get reminded that I can't take any of that for granted and need to be constantly alert to handle situations like those.
Contributing to that fear and loathing, I got a bit of news recently that really scared and saddened me at the same time. As a back story, my oncologist once told me that the chances of patients like me getting a recurrence of the original cancer is "little to none" due to the radiation in that area. I have been mentoring a friend from California for a few years on his own progression through severe ORN symptoms, and he recently learned that he now has a new primary tumor in his original cancer's area. His name is Steve Nau, and says that his oncologist is not calling it a recurrence, but to me that's just semantics, and either way it is caused by Shitty Fucking Luck. And, because he can have no more radiation in that area, his only option now is surgery to remove part of his tongue. That will happen tomorrow (Weds, 2/15), so please give him our best Team Mike Good Vibes for a successful procedure, a quick recovery, and manageable limitations going forward. The reality is that he'll have some loss of function with his tongue and jaw, so the best outcome is that those are negligible compared to his current limitations.
Besides feeling bad for Steve, any recurrence, and especially one is the same area, is my own worst nightmare after 8 years in Cancer World. I am not sure I could handle the physical and emotional stress of another round of treatments, side effects, and further deterioration is quality of life--for me and for Terry. It took every ounce of fight for us to make it through one, long round. To have to gear up for another battle would cause me to think hard between that and a full surrender. I hope I never have to make that choice.
But for now, my attention and thoughts are with Steve.
mike
Key word...almost.
This one stayed stuck and started to irritate my esophagus. It did not block my breathing so that was not a threat. But, it did cause us to cut short our dinner, miss a great chocolate dessert served there, and to head home--with the clock ticking on our one-hour rule to head to the Emergency Room. Right at one hour, we decided to head to the ER, so I went upstairs to change into some comfortable clothes for what could be a long night. As usual, Terry was packing stuff to help her pass the time there. I gave it one last try, and with that whatever it was moved a bit, and then slid down into my stomach. Situation over. I never did see it, but assume it was a piece of scallop that had been stuck.
Although it ended well, if after an hour, this brought back memories of so many other times when we ended up in the ER for the same reason and I had to get some direct medical attention to get it resolved. And, it added to the long list of events that remind me that I'll always be a cancer patient in some form or another. I now take for granted waking up with a scratchy dry tongue every day, and having to think carefully about every bit of food I put in my mouth--just part of the price for being a cancer survivor. bit, every once in a while like the incident at Cafe Lily I get reminded that I can't take any of that for granted and need to be constantly alert to handle situations like those.
Contributing to that fear and loathing, I got a bit of news recently that really scared and saddened me at the same time. As a back story, my oncologist once told me that the chances of patients like me getting a recurrence of the original cancer is "little to none" due to the radiation in that area. I have been mentoring a friend from California for a few years on his own progression through severe ORN symptoms, and he recently learned that he now has a new primary tumor in his original cancer's area. His name is Steve Nau, and says that his oncologist is not calling it a recurrence, but to me that's just semantics, and either way it is caused by Shitty Fucking Luck. And, because he can have no more radiation in that area, his only option now is surgery to remove part of his tongue. That will happen tomorrow (Weds, 2/15), so please give him our best Team Mike Good Vibes for a successful procedure, a quick recovery, and manageable limitations going forward. The reality is that he'll have some loss of function with his tongue and jaw, so the best outcome is that those are negligible compared to his current limitations.
Besides feeling bad for Steve, any recurrence, and especially one is the same area, is my own worst nightmare after 8 years in Cancer World. I am not sure I could handle the physical and emotional stress of another round of treatments, side effects, and further deterioration is quality of life--for me and for Terry. It took every ounce of fight for us to make it through one, long round. To have to gear up for another battle would cause me to think hard between that and a full surrender. I hope I never have to make that choice.
But for now, my attention and thoughts are with Steve.
mike
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Fear and Loathing in Building C
Last week I had an appointment with a hematologist after some low platelet counts--turns out, nothing to worry about. The appointment was in Building C of the Emory Clinic, which houses their Winship Cancer Institute. (Smart folks at Emory, building "C" for Cancer). Terry and I had to drive separately, and planned to meet at the Hematology Department inside. I wound my way from parking to Building C though a maze of walkways and tunnels and eventually found myself at the entrance to C and thinking that I've not been in that building before. All of my cancer treatments and direct follow up appointments were at Piedmont Hospital. I did wonder how my appointment with a hematologist was in the same building as the Cancer Institute but never really gave it any more thought.
As I turned into what I thought was the correct hallway, I got a huge rush of fear and bad memories when I found myself in the waiting room of the Infusion Suite, and saw about 50 people in there. The IS at Piedmont is where I went for chemotherapy and the occasional fluid top-off. For a brief moment I felt as if I was waiting for an infusion myself, and remembered the horrible discomfort and sickness those treatments brought me.
Then I heard, "Mike...Mike, this way" and turned to see Terry pointing me towards the Hematology Department, right behind me. It took me another moment to collect my thoughts, but learned I had only missed the last turn and was very close to where I needed to be for my appointment.
Every once it a great while now, something will trigger a memory from my treatment period and early post-cancer period that sends a chill up my spine. One of the reasons I changed to the Emory system was to avoid going back to Piedmont hospital and walking those hallways again, and to avoid any memory triggers of their Infusion Suite. So, I could run but not hide from them, as it turned out.
Other memories get triggered from time to time, and some of those from reading entries in this blog. That is going to difficult as I re-read all of them again as I write the book I mentioned a while back. That has now become my next large post-retirement project, one that will take several months to finish. In a strange way, I actually hope that the book writing process and past blog entries does work to trigger some memories from my year of treatments and seven years of a hard-fought survival--that will make the book's stories easier for me to write and more vivid for its readers.
In the meantime I will pay better attention to the hallway signs in Building C and elsewhere around the Emory Hospital.
As I turned into what I thought was the correct hallway, I got a huge rush of fear and bad memories when I found myself in the waiting room of the Infusion Suite, and saw about 50 people in there. The IS at Piedmont is where I went for chemotherapy and the occasional fluid top-off. For a brief moment I felt as if I was waiting for an infusion myself, and remembered the horrible discomfort and sickness those treatments brought me.
Then I heard, "Mike...Mike, this way" and turned to see Terry pointing me towards the Hematology Department, right behind me. It took me another moment to collect my thoughts, but learned I had only missed the last turn and was very close to where I needed to be for my appointment.
Every once it a great while now, something will trigger a memory from my treatment period and early post-cancer period that sends a chill up my spine. One of the reasons I changed to the Emory system was to avoid going back to Piedmont hospital and walking those hallways again, and to avoid any memory triggers of their Infusion Suite. So, I could run but not hide from them, as it turned out.
Other memories get triggered from time to time, and some of those from reading entries in this blog. That is going to difficult as I re-read all of them again as I write the book I mentioned a while back. That has now become my next large post-retirement project, one that will take several months to finish. In a strange way, I actually hope that the book writing process and past blog entries does work to trigger some memories from my year of treatments and seven years of a hard-fought survival--that will make the book's stories easier for me to write and more vivid for its readers.
In the meantime I will pay better attention to the hallway signs in Building C and elsewhere around the Emory Hospital.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
All I want for Chrsitmas is...
I remember singing this children's song when I was, well, a kid:
"All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth"
Today my wish came true in a bigger way than that. I jut got back from the prothodontist after having SEVEN new bottom teeth installed on a removable denture. It's a bit hard to see in this picture, but here they are.
I lost five teeth in the 2014 jaw resection and two more in the 2015 follow up procedure, so it's been two and a half years since I've had any teeth on my bottom left side. There is already an improvement in the clarity of my speech, and I should be able to eat a little bigger variety of food--and will test that out in this holiday season. My food choices will always be determined mostly by what I can swallow, but now I can at least chew some things better.
I had hoped this would be the final chapter in my recovery from the 2009 cancer and treatments, but it will be back to Dr. Roser soon to see about having some plastic surgery to tighten my lower lip and to permanently remove the hair growing on my gums.
But, today is a good day, and it comes almost exactly 8 years after our journeys in Cancer World started. At this time in 2008 we were told my jaw pain problems were not dental in nature. We had been referred to the ENT who first suspected I had cancer and we were waiting on our first appointment with him--which took place on Christmas Eve. As they say, after that the rest is history.
So, we are in a much better state of mind this year, as we get ready for the holidays, and look forward to the New Year. A New Year, by the way, that will start with my official retirement day of January 1.
As always, thanks for checking the blog from time to time, and letting us know you are still pulling for Team Mike. Be sure to check back often in 2017, as I write the book. I definitely want to include Team Mike members in it, so will ask you to share some of your thoughts with me.
Mike
"All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth"
Today my wish came true in a bigger way than that. I jut got back from the prothodontist after having SEVEN new bottom teeth installed on a removable denture. It's a bit hard to see in this picture, but here they are.
I lost five teeth in the 2014 jaw resection and two more in the 2015 follow up procedure, so it's been two and a half years since I've had any teeth on my bottom left side. There is already an improvement in the clarity of my speech, and I should be able to eat a little bigger variety of food--and will test that out in this holiday season. My food choices will always be determined mostly by what I can swallow, but now I can at least chew some things better.
I had hoped this would be the final chapter in my recovery from the 2009 cancer and treatments, but it will be back to Dr. Roser soon to see about having some plastic surgery to tighten my lower lip and to permanently remove the hair growing on my gums.
But, today is a good day, and it comes almost exactly 8 years after our journeys in Cancer World started. At this time in 2008 we were told my jaw pain problems were not dental in nature. We had been referred to the ENT who first suspected I had cancer and we were waiting on our first appointment with him--which took place on Christmas Eve. As they say, after that the rest is history.
So, we are in a much better state of mind this year, as we get ready for the holidays, and look forward to the New Year. A New Year, by the way, that will start with my official retirement day of January 1.
As always, thanks for checking the blog from time to time, and letting us know you are still pulling for Team Mike. Be sure to check back often in 2017, as I write the book. I definitely want to include Team Mike members in it, so will ask you to share some of your thoughts with me.
Mike
Friday, November 4, 2016
Meeting Nels, the Street Artist
Every day on my way back and forth to GSU I pass by the Krog Street tunnel, which is a local iconic set of walls used by a large number of street artists to display their art. For the past two years there has been one prominent wall in the front entrance to the tunnel that features cancer-themed art--with big and bold messages of hope for cancer patients. The source of that hope is positive thinking and laughter--much of what I've believed in over the past now-8 years.
Coincidentally with this posting, I featured one of those murals on my last post, so you can see it right below this post.
The mural changes every few months, and had been painted totally black recently, which gave me a hint that a new one was coming. I did have the quick bad thought that maybe it had been painted over for good--as can happen with tunnel art. But yesterday on my way home I saw the artist working on a new mural, so I parked nearby and walked back to meet him.
Once he saw me in his periphery and acknowledged that I was there, I told him that my name was Mike and I drive past the tunnel every day and see his art. I told him I was a survivor, and am touched by his message of hope and optimism. He immediately responded to that and told me his inspiration for doing this work. It started when his sister was diagnosed with terminal Leukemia and he used his art to express his feelings of anger. His first piece was simply called "F*ck Cancer" (his asterisk, not mine). I'll find it again and add it later.
After that he decided to use positivity, hope, and laughter as the best weapons against cancer, so all of his work in this series since then has contained those themes.
His sister did not win her fight, but he has kept the themes intact, and uses his art to carry his sister's memory through those message to all who pass by the Krog Street tunnel every day.
I told him about my book in-progress and that I wanted to use some of his art in it, maybe even on the cover. He said that it was no problem and would like it for his messages to reach more people.
Up to this point, I didn't ask for his name--from the little I know about street artist culture, some of them want to remain anonymous (which explained part of my surprise to see him working in full daylight). Regardless of my ignorance, he said his name was Nels, and we exchanged phone numbers to stay in touch. You can see some of his work on his Instagram page:
https://www.instagram.com/grafilthy_art/?hl=en
I took a picture of him at work, but the light was bad--so I figured I'd get another one in the morning.
The finished mural is the first one on his Instagram site.
I left him thinking that this was surely a sign that the book really needs to get written, and soon. So, I will use the time until retirement to keep thinking about it, and get to work on the writing once R-Day is behind me.
mike
Postscript (next day): I went by the Krog Street tunnel this morning, phone camera ready to photograph his finished work from yesterday. It was painted totally in black again--have no idea what's up with that, but will check.
Post-postscript (four days later). Well, the mural is back up and here is what it looks like:
Coincidentally with this posting, I featured one of those murals on my last post, so you can see it right below this post.
The mural changes every few months, and had been painted totally black recently, which gave me a hint that a new one was coming. I did have the quick bad thought that maybe it had been painted over for good--as can happen with tunnel art. But yesterday on my way home I saw the artist working on a new mural, so I parked nearby and walked back to meet him.
Once he saw me in his periphery and acknowledged that I was there, I told him that my name was Mike and I drive past the tunnel every day and see his art. I told him I was a survivor, and am touched by his message of hope and optimism. He immediately responded to that and told me his inspiration for doing this work. It started when his sister was diagnosed with terminal Leukemia and he used his art to express his feelings of anger. His first piece was simply called "F*ck Cancer" (his asterisk, not mine). I'll find it again and add it later.
After that he decided to use positivity, hope, and laughter as the best weapons against cancer, so all of his work in this series since then has contained those themes.
His sister did not win her fight, but he has kept the themes intact, and uses his art to carry his sister's memory through those message to all who pass by the Krog Street tunnel every day.
I told him about my book in-progress and that I wanted to use some of his art in it, maybe even on the cover. He said that it was no problem and would like it for his messages to reach more people.
Up to this point, I didn't ask for his name--from the little I know about street artist culture, some of them want to remain anonymous (which explained part of my surprise to see him working in full daylight). Regardless of my ignorance, he said his name was Nels, and we exchanged phone numbers to stay in touch. You can see some of his work on his Instagram page:
https://www.instagram.com/grafilthy_art/?hl=en
I took a picture of him at work, but the light was bad--so I figured I'd get another one in the morning.
The finished mural is the first one on his Instagram site.
I left him thinking that this was surely a sign that the book really needs to get written, and soon. So, I will use the time until retirement to keep thinking about it, and get to work on the writing once R-Day is behind me.
mike
Postscript (next day): I went by the Krog Street tunnel this morning, phone camera ready to photograph his finished work from yesterday. It was painted totally in black again--have no idea what's up with that, but will check.
Post-postscript (four days later). Well, the mural is back up and here is what it looks like:
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Help me write a book
It has been my goal to write a book on my experiences as a cancer patient and survivor. Now that I'm retiring and on the verge of my last cancer-related medical needs, I want to write that book in 2017. I have an agreement with a new publishing company in Philadelphia and have promised them a manuscript around the middle of next year, so time to get to work on it.
The working title is "Team Mike Versus the Prairie Dogs: My Two Journeys Through Cancer World." The first journey will describe my experiences from pre-diagnosis in late 2008, through treatments in early 2009, to my first NED (no evidence of disease) determination later that year. The second journey will start there and describe the many side effects I've experienced from chemo and radiation, and my current life as a cancer survivor.
Here's where you come in. Many of you have been members of Team Mike and have provided tremendous support for me and Terry along the way. I want your voices to be heard in the book. I am asking you to write anything you wish as a member of Team Mike that could provide readers a "third party"perspective related to my two journeys in Cancer World. What were you thinking/experiencing/feeling from the distance and how did you cope with what you read on the blog and/or saw first hand?
The basis of the book's content will be this blog. I am going to tell my story by using blog entries as much as possible, so if you need to review this Long, Strange Trip use that as a starting point.
I don't want the book to be just about me and Terry--I also want it to be about Team Mike, as part of the total effort to beat cancer. If you want to contribute, reply to this post or send it as an email to tmmetzler@bellsouth.net and I'll make sure it gets into the book. Do let me know if you want to be identified by name in the book or wish to be anonymous.
Remember, this is not meant to be a tribute to me--it's meant to reflect the contributions that Team Mike made to help me and Terry get through this challenge. And, as always, humor is appreciated!
mike
No News is Good News
Terry asked me a few days ago if I had posted to the blog, and I said I had nothing to report, so no new...reports. Funny how that works.
We've had a very busy last 6 weeks--highlighted by Terry's daughter's wedding , so I've not made any progress on the dental work to help me get a new set of lower choppers. That will change soon.
But over those weeks, I've continued to struggle with simple food consumption and still get fatigued from the added chewing and swallowing effort at meals before I get full--so I've added to my dependency on Boost and other similar products. Trying to maintain my weight is difficult, but it's good that wine, ice cream and bourbon have a lot of calories in them--otherwise I'd weigh about 140 pounds right now. Yogurt remains a staple in my diet, and gets me through a lot of mornings in my office and afternoons when I get home--before nap time.
As of today, I am less than 50 days from retirement at Georgia State. Hard to believe, but it's going to happen on December 15th--my last work day, and then officially on January 1. Some people have asked me if I'm going to miss it, and my reply is that "I already don't miss it!" Bring it on, I say.
mike
We've had a very busy last 6 weeks--highlighted by Terry's daughter's wedding , so I've not made any progress on the dental work to help me get a new set of lower choppers. That will change soon.
But over those weeks, I've continued to struggle with simple food consumption and still get fatigued from the added chewing and swallowing effort at meals before I get full--so I've added to my dependency on Boost and other similar products. Trying to maintain my weight is difficult, but it's good that wine, ice cream and bourbon have a lot of calories in them--otherwise I'd weigh about 140 pounds right now. Yogurt remains a staple in my diet, and gets me through a lot of mornings in my office and afternoons when I get home--before nap time.
As of today, I am less than 50 days from retirement at Georgia State. Hard to believe, but it's going to happen on December 15th--my last work day, and then officially on January 1. Some people have asked me if I'm going to miss it, and my reply is that "I already don't miss it!" Bring it on, I say.
mike
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Update and Owl Sightings
Not much to report since my last post,but here goes anyway.
I saw Dr. Roser a few weeks ago and he looked at a spot in my gums that looked like a blood blister. He called it something else, but that's really what it was. It was a bit sore, so he told me to hold off a few more weeks before I go back to the prothodontist to start the denture work. So, that's were I am, but expect to see the dentist in the next 2-3 weeks.
Otherwise we are busy with Terry getting ready for her annual entry into the Botanical Gardens scarecrow contest, doing a chili cookoff next weekend, a trip to Albuquerque after that, prepping for Terry's daughter's wedding reception, and then some visits from family and friends (going to Good Vibes). So, busy, but fun. That takes us through the first week in November. After that, retirement for me will be five weeks away.
About a week ago we had sightings of Barred Owls in our backyard for 4-5 evenings in a row. Most times we could only hear them--they have a very distinctive call--check this out:
https://search.yahoo.com/yhs/search?p=barred+owl+calls&ei=UTF-8&hspart=mozilla&hsimp=yhs-001
But twice we got really good sightings--like this one:
It was about 30 feet from our deck, and stayed there for a long time. This time it flew off away from us, but the next night it flew right over us and we got to saw how freakin' big this thing is. Our cats stayed extra close to us those evenings during Deck Time.
Smart cats.
mike
I saw Dr. Roser a few weeks ago and he looked at a spot in my gums that looked like a blood blister. He called it something else, but that's really what it was. It was a bit sore, so he told me to hold off a few more weeks before I go back to the prothodontist to start the denture work. So, that's were I am, but expect to see the dentist in the next 2-3 weeks.
Otherwise we are busy with Terry getting ready for her annual entry into the Botanical Gardens scarecrow contest, doing a chili cookoff next weekend, a trip to Albuquerque after that, prepping for Terry's daughter's wedding reception, and then some visits from family and friends (going to Good Vibes). So, busy, but fun. That takes us through the first week in November. After that, retirement for me will be five weeks away.
About a week ago we had sightings of Barred Owls in our backyard for 4-5 evenings in a row. Most times we could only hear them--they have a very distinctive call--check this out:
https://search.yahoo.com/yhs/search?p=barred+owl+calls&ei=UTF-8&hspart=mozilla&hsimp=yhs-001
But twice we got really good sightings--like this one:
It was about 30 feet from our deck, and stayed there for a long time. This time it flew off away from us, but the next night it flew right over us and we got to saw how freakin' big this thing is. Our cats stayed extra close to us those evenings during Deck Time.
Smart cats.
mike
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Everyone's a Joker These days
Terry had a consultation with a prospective new dentist the other day. Part of the consultation related to Terry's jaw and prompted her to mention that I've had two resections on my jaw--one with the bone from my left fibula and one with some bone from my left radial.
Without missing a beat, the dentist's assistant said "Wow, that must have cost him an arm and a leg!"
Got it?
Well, the dentist and Terry got it right away. Terry broke out laughing. The dentist showed some restraint to see Terry's reaction, and then laughed his own ass off.
So, Terry has a new dentist and Team Mike has two new members who will fit right in.
You really can't make this shit up.
mike
Without missing a beat, the dentist's assistant said "Wow, that must have cost him an arm and a leg!"
Got it?
Well, the dentist and Terry got it right away. Terry broke out laughing. The dentist showed some restraint to see Terry's reaction, and then laughed his own ass off.
So, Terry has a new dentist and Team Mike has two new members who will fit right in.
You really can't make this shit up.
mike
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Just Another Day as a Cancer Survivor
Today started out as nothing different. Terry left for her regular meetings at her office, and I was going to enjoy one last day at home before classes start at GSU on Monday--a rehearsal for retirement, or so I thought.
After Terry left for work, I got ready for a few local errands, and then take a walk around the neighborhood. Before I left for my errands I opened the garage door, to see a familiar guy walking his large Boxer-type dog in our cul-de-sac. I'd seen him before and said hello a few days ago. Since he was back again I thought I should say hello and establish a relationship, so we introduced ourselves. His name is Chris, and his dog's name was Hershel. as in Hershel Walker of long-past University of Georgia fame. Chris said he is a die-hard UGA fan--Red Flag #1. While I was talking with Chris, Hershel bolted past me and confronted our cat Ziggy, who was in full-on defensive mode just inside the house. Those two postured back and forth, and eventually Chris got Hershel to come back to him, and then they moved on.
UGA plays the University of North Carolina in the Chic-fil-a Kickoff game on September 3rd. I have a ticket to the game, but only to witness in person the Dawgs' annual delusional national championship hopes getting squashed once again. No apologies, Chris--UGA football is overrated and its fans are obnoxious.
I ran my errands, came home and parked my truck, and then went out for a familiar walk around the neighborhood.
Early in the walk a guy with two small bulldogs was coming towards me from the other direction. No big deal. But as I approached he pulled hard on the dogs' leash, and tried to restrain them. I said "no problem" as we passed, but then one of the dogs jumped up and bit my shirt and hung on for a few seconds. It finally let go, but there was a hole in my shirt. I mumbled something about "shithead dog" and kept on going, not wanting to confront the owner, who said nothing about what just happened. I was stunned.
Just a few minutes later I saw a yard sign that said "Hillary for ..." and walked closer to take a picture. Now, Terry has said several times that she's seen very few yard signs for this election, so I wanted to show her that maybe this was changing. As I got closer, the full sign read "Hillary for Prison, 2016" but I still wanted a picture. As I got ready to take a picture I glanced at the porch of the house to see, you guessed it--Chris. He didn't see me, and I didn't want to have a discussion with him about that sign (or UGA football), so I kept walking.
As I headed home on the last part of the walk I discovered a yard with a number of chickens and rosters in it. This, well inside a residential neighborhood. We hear the rosters on some mornings, but now I know where they are.
The rest of the walk was uneventful, until I got back to the house. There I was met by our next door neighbor who wanted to talk with me about him building a new fence between our yards. Long story about that, so I'll spare you, but "... then it got weird."
Bottom line, if this was a preview of mornings in the 'hood after I retire in December, I might just keep working for a while longer.
mike
After Terry left for work, I got ready for a few local errands, and then take a walk around the neighborhood. Before I left for my errands I opened the garage door, to see a familiar guy walking his large Boxer-type dog in our cul-de-sac. I'd seen him before and said hello a few days ago. Since he was back again I thought I should say hello and establish a relationship, so we introduced ourselves. His name is Chris, and his dog's name was Hershel. as in Hershel Walker of long-past University of Georgia fame. Chris said he is a die-hard UGA fan--Red Flag #1. While I was talking with Chris, Hershel bolted past me and confronted our cat Ziggy, who was in full-on defensive mode just inside the house. Those two postured back and forth, and eventually Chris got Hershel to come back to him, and then they moved on.
UGA plays the University of North Carolina in the Chic-fil-a Kickoff game on September 3rd. I have a ticket to the game, but only to witness in person the Dawgs' annual delusional national championship hopes getting squashed once again. No apologies, Chris--UGA football is overrated and its fans are obnoxious.
I ran my errands, came home and parked my truck, and then went out for a familiar walk around the neighborhood.
Early in the walk a guy with two small bulldogs was coming towards me from the other direction. No big deal. But as I approached he pulled hard on the dogs' leash, and tried to restrain them. I said "no problem" as we passed, but then one of the dogs jumped up and bit my shirt and hung on for a few seconds. It finally let go, but there was a hole in my shirt. I mumbled something about "shithead dog" and kept on going, not wanting to confront the owner, who said nothing about what just happened. I was stunned.
Just a few minutes later I saw a yard sign that said "Hillary for ..." and walked closer to take a picture. Now, Terry has said several times that she's seen very few yard signs for this election, so I wanted to show her that maybe this was changing. As I got closer, the full sign read "Hillary for Prison, 2016" but I still wanted a picture. As I got ready to take a picture I glanced at the porch of the house to see, you guessed it--Chris. He didn't see me, and I didn't want to have a discussion with him about that sign (or UGA football), so I kept walking.
As I headed home on the last part of the walk I discovered a yard with a number of chickens and rosters in it. This, well inside a residential neighborhood. We hear the rosters on some mornings, but now I know where they are.
The rest of the walk was uneventful, until I got back to the house. There I was met by our next door neighbor who wanted to talk with me about him building a new fence between our yards. Long story about that, so I'll spare you, but "... then it got weird."
Bottom line, if this was a preview of mornings in the 'hood after I retire in December, I might just keep working for a while longer.
mike
Monday, August 8, 2016
Report from the Post-Surgical Ward
As I was slowly coming out of my propofol-induced coma from the surgery I'm looking at the TV in my room and think I hear:
Today, newly-elected President Donald Trump announced that the military invasion of Mexico is going well. He was quoted as saying, "Since those Mexicans wouldn't pay for my wall, the only option I had was to invade them to secure our borders from their drug dealers, criminals and rapists. I think this should do it. The 13 million or so illegal Mexicans can now stay here and do the work real Americans don't want. We don't need to send them back anymore because Mexico will soon become our 51st state (But without voting rights, of course). I also think this will act as a deterrent to our neighbors to the North--so Canada, you have been warned and I'll be sending you the bill for your wall later this year. It's either that or become our 52nd state."
Trump was also quoted as saying "Looking to my next coronation, I mean my re-election, this is also a warning to any state that voted for Crooked Hillary in 2016. I will invade you if I need to. I want to win this thing unanimously next time."
That sent my blood pressure cuff and heart monitor into full tilt, which got the attention of Dr. Roser nearby. I told him what I just heard, and he said it was just the meds wearing off--and he understood my reaction. He said the procedure went well. The best news is that the removed torus was all healthy bone--no sign of ORN, and the skin looked healthy enough for good healing. So, fingers crossed that the tissue heals on its own, and the next step will be to let Dr. Davis do his magic with the denture.
I'm back home now, drinking a smoothie, and looking forward to a nice nap. I'll be on soft foods for a while, but should be back in full swing tomorrow.
Thanks as always to Team Mike for your support, and note to self--do not watch CNN while still in a propofol fog.
Mike
Today, newly-elected President Donald Trump announced that the military invasion of Mexico is going well. He was quoted as saying, "Since those Mexicans wouldn't pay for my wall, the only option I had was to invade them to secure our borders from their drug dealers, criminals and rapists. I think this should do it. The 13 million or so illegal Mexicans can now stay here and do the work real Americans don't want. We don't need to send them back anymore because Mexico will soon become our 51st state (But without voting rights, of course). I also think this will act as a deterrent to our neighbors to the North--so Canada, you have been warned and I'll be sending you the bill for your wall later this year. It's either that or become our 52nd state."
Trump was also quoted as saying "Looking to my next coronation, I mean my re-election, this is also a warning to any state that voted for Crooked Hillary in 2016. I will invade you if I need to. I want to win this thing unanimously next time."
That sent my blood pressure cuff and heart monitor into full tilt, which got the attention of Dr. Roser nearby. I told him what I just heard, and he said it was just the meds wearing off--and he understood my reaction. He said the procedure went well. The best news is that the removed torus was all healthy bone--no sign of ORN, and the skin looked healthy enough for good healing. So, fingers crossed that the tissue heals on its own, and the next step will be to let Dr. Davis do his magic with the denture.
I'm back home now, drinking a smoothie, and looking forward to a nice nap. I'll be on soft foods for a while, but should be back in full swing tomorrow.
Thanks as always to Team Mike for your support, and note to self--do not watch CNN while still in a propofol fog.
Mike
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Gearing Up for August 8th
I have my pre-op appointment tomorrow morning, which will start the countdown for real on Monday's procedure. The goal of this procedure is to remove the rest of my right torus so the Plan B denture will fit better down the road. "Down the road" means when my mouth has healed well enough from this gig to let Dr. Davis start to do his magic. If all goes well, this will be the proverbial beginning of the end--with all of this work completed by late this year or early next year. While I have been resigned for a while that I'll never bite into an apple again, or taste all parts of a green chili cheeseburger at the same time, I am a bit disappointed that Plan B was the only choice, which will extend my current limitations and options into the rest of my life.
I should be back from Emory mid-afternoon on Monday. Depending on how much propofol and oxycontin remains in my system, either I or Terry will post here. As we have done so many times in the last 7+ years, we are asking Team Mike for some extra Good Vibes on Monday.
Mike
I should be back from Emory mid-afternoon on Monday. Depending on how much propofol and oxycontin remains in my system, either I or Terry will post here. As we have done so many times in the last 7+ years, we are asking Team Mike for some extra Good Vibes on Monday.
Mike
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
"The Usual Table, Sir?"
"But, of course."
We met today with Dr. Roser, my oral surgeon to get his take on the best plan going forward, based on the news we got from Dr. Davis two weeks ago. Roser confirmed Davis' opinion that there is not enough bone in my chin to allow implants to be placed there, so Plan B it will be. That means I'll get a multi-tooth removable denture for that area, and not the preferred implants.
The first step will be to remove the remaining part of the large torus on the lower right side of my mouth. Ever wonder what those bony protrusions are in some people's mouths? One is a torus, two are tori. When all of this started I had two very large tori in my mouth. Most of the left one got zapped by the radiation, and the rest of it came out during the 2014 surgery. About half of the right one came out during the 2015 surgery.
The remaining part of the right torus must be removed to let the denture fit better. The removal requires a short procedure in an Emory OR, scheduled for August 8. The key from there will be how well and how fast the area heals. I was told "weeks" but nothing more specific than that.
This will be my fourth reservation in an Emory OR since 2014, which should qualify me for some sort of reward program. Maybe one of those little cakes with a candle on it that restaurants give out for free on customers' birthdays. Or, an extra script of Oxycontin--on the house. I like that one better.
Dr. Roser was very disappointed that his original plan could not happen. We have confidence that he made the best decision back in 2014 about how much native bone to take out. What he could not see at that time was how much additional damage had been done by the radiation, causing future ORN next to one end of the grafted bone--leading to last year's radial resection, this year's follow up, and now, Plan B. It's all just SFL to me.
"OK, class, who can tell me what ORN and SFL are? I know we haven't used those terms in a while, so put your thinking hats on real hard."
We did find out that Dr. Roser lives not too far from here, so if we get really pissed about this, we can drive over there and TP his house.
So, August 8th it is to put Plan B in motion. I'll send out a Team Mike reminder for Good Vibes a few days ahead.
mike
We met today with Dr. Roser, my oral surgeon to get his take on the best plan going forward, based on the news we got from Dr. Davis two weeks ago. Roser confirmed Davis' opinion that there is not enough bone in my chin to allow implants to be placed there, so Plan B it will be. That means I'll get a multi-tooth removable denture for that area, and not the preferred implants.
The first step will be to remove the remaining part of the large torus on the lower right side of my mouth. Ever wonder what those bony protrusions are in some people's mouths? One is a torus, two are tori. When all of this started I had two very large tori in my mouth. Most of the left one got zapped by the radiation, and the rest of it came out during the 2014 surgery. About half of the right one came out during the 2015 surgery.
The remaining part of the right torus must be removed to let the denture fit better. The removal requires a short procedure in an Emory OR, scheduled for August 8. The key from there will be how well and how fast the area heals. I was told "weeks" but nothing more specific than that.
This will be my fourth reservation in an Emory OR since 2014, which should qualify me for some sort of reward program. Maybe one of those little cakes with a candle on it that restaurants give out for free on customers' birthdays. Or, an extra script of Oxycontin--on the house. I like that one better.
Dr. Roser was very disappointed that his original plan could not happen. We have confidence that he made the best decision back in 2014 about how much native bone to take out. What he could not see at that time was how much additional damage had been done by the radiation, causing future ORN next to one end of the grafted bone--leading to last year's radial resection, this year's follow up, and now, Plan B. It's all just SFL to me.
"OK, class, who can tell me what ORN and SFL are? I know we haven't used those terms in a while, so put your thinking hats on real hard."
We did find out that Dr. Roser lives not too far from here, so if we get really pissed about this, we can drive over there and TP his house.
So, August 8th it is to put Plan B in motion. I'll send out a Team Mike reminder for Good Vibes a few days ahead.
mike
Sunday, July 10, 2016
I had a Hot Run...
...Running the Peachtree!
My last running of the Peachtree 10K Road Race was in near-record heat and humidity for that event. At the start there was a nice breeze and enough shade to make things pretty comfortable for the first 3 miles. Then as the temp rose, the sun came up to take away the shade and the major hills appeared on the course, it got uncomfortable in a hurry. The last quarter-mile of the race is on 10th street, and when we turned onto it we were looking right at the sun, and feeling the sweat and body heat from thousands of other runners bunched up at the finish line. This picture was taken about a hundred yards from the finish.
On the course we saw Abe Lincoln, Batman, all sorts of Uncle Sam costumes, a firefighter in full gear (included air tank), a lot of women (and a few men) in tutus, and several people wearing cool Waffle House race-sponsor shirts. You can't make this shit up.
As is tradition, we got our t-shirts (worse than usual), headed to the car for the "Coldest beers ever" and met up with Terry.
Nice shoes, eh?
So ended my history with the Peachtree, finishing the race (term used loosely for me) 16 times since I moved to ATL in 1994. Jeff has finished 26 times, and this will be his last as well.
The Peachtree got to the top of my Cancer Revenge list in 2009 as I was limited to being a spectator that year following my treatments. So, in 2010 I trained, entered, and had an emotional run with a broad grin on my face the whole time. It became one of many milestones in my life as a cancer survivor. This will be my last because a MRI in 2015 showed that both of my knees are early candidates for replacement, so running is not a good way for me to exercise.
So, how did I train for this year's Peachtree without risking further damage to my knees? Easy--I practiced "minimalist training" by walking some, running very little, and accepting that I would walk a lot of the course and ingest several doses of Ibuprofin along the way. Well, we actually ran more than 5 miles of the course, walking only up the two major hills. Even though we did a lot better than we expected (and trained for), we both have accepted this as our final Peachtree, and I have retired the Livestrong shirt I have worn since the 2010 race.
The Peachtree Road Race is for a very few elite, world-class runners, and the nearly 60,000 others who run it for various reasons. I started running it for the July 4th celebration, the spectacle of it, the camaradarie with my running partners, and of course the "T-shirts and Cold Beers." Since 2010 I've run it as one way to show that cancer and its treatments can be survived, and that there is a lot of life to be lived after the Prairie Dogs have attacked.
Mike
My last running of the Peachtree 10K Road Race was in near-record heat and humidity for that event. At the start there was a nice breeze and enough shade to make things pretty comfortable for the first 3 miles. Then as the temp rose, the sun came up to take away the shade and the major hills appeared on the course, it got uncomfortable in a hurry. The last quarter-mile of the race is on 10th street, and when we turned onto it we were looking right at the sun, and feeling the sweat and body heat from thousands of other runners bunched up at the finish line. This picture was taken about a hundred yards from the finish.
On the course we saw Abe Lincoln, Batman, all sorts of Uncle Sam costumes, a firefighter in full gear (included air tank), a lot of women (and a few men) in tutus, and several people wearing cool Waffle House race-sponsor shirts. You can't make this shit up.
As is tradition, we got our t-shirts (worse than usual), headed to the car for the "Coldest beers ever" and met up with Terry.
So ended my history with the Peachtree, finishing the race (term used loosely for me) 16 times since I moved to ATL in 1994. Jeff has finished 26 times, and this will be his last as well.
The Peachtree got to the top of my Cancer Revenge list in 2009 as I was limited to being a spectator that year following my treatments. So, in 2010 I trained, entered, and had an emotional run with a broad grin on my face the whole time. It became one of many milestones in my life as a cancer survivor. This will be my last because a MRI in 2015 showed that both of my knees are early candidates for replacement, so running is not a good way for me to exercise.
So, how did I train for this year's Peachtree without risking further damage to my knees? Easy--I practiced "minimalist training" by walking some, running very little, and accepting that I would walk a lot of the course and ingest several doses of Ibuprofin along the way. Well, we actually ran more than 5 miles of the course, walking only up the two major hills. Even though we did a lot better than we expected (and trained for), we both have accepted this as our final Peachtree, and I have retired the Livestrong shirt I have worn since the 2010 race.
The Peachtree Road Race is for a very few elite, world-class runners, and the nearly 60,000 others who run it for various reasons. I started running it for the July 4th celebration, the spectacle of it, the camaradarie with my running partners, and of course the "T-shirts and Cold Beers." Since 2010 I've run it as one way to show that cancer and its treatments can be survived, and that there is a lot of life to be lived after the Prairie Dogs have attacked.
Mike
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