2011 - The Year Cancer Got Its Butt Kicked

Let's have a look back on the Year That Was 2011.

January - The year began with a trip to the poorly-named Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center to meet the Wizard.  We returned to Atlanta for my first chemo session. And then I started learning how to manage my side effects, including some steroid-induced insomnia.

February - My next couple of rounds of chemo brought me closer to my new BFF, Imodium. In fact I wrote a poem singing her praises.  Marcie and I also had a little alone time in the Tennessee foothills, which was a welcome break from the new routine. 

March - Came in like a lion, and out like a mouse. Yeah, I know, it's supposed to be a lamb, but stay with me here. See I was lyin' on the PET Scan table for the first time, and getting great results earlier in the month and we were packing for our awesome family trip to Disney at the end.

April - We knew to expect princesses, pirates, and even seven vertically-challenged whistlers, but we had no idea we'd also meet an angel named Doris at Disney. We said a peaceful goodbye to a mother from A&J's class that month, and recalled my own mother's favorite time of year, the family gatherings at the Seder Table.

May - As the month began the cumulative effects of 6 rounds of Chemo were beginning to take a toll on me. But a mid-month PET Scan showed continued good results, so I got over it. Marcie and I celebrated our 18th anniversary to close out the month, just as the Week From Hell began.

June - We survived that first week, thrilled by Adam's performance in Guys and Dolls, and touched by the number of friends and family that joined us for his Bar Mitzvah. And for some reason, I decided that was the perfect time to start writing a book. 

July - It's hard to imagine a better father-son month than July '11. Adam and I ran the Peachtree Road Race together on the 4th, in his first ever 10k. Then we jetted off to NYC for a few days in the city that never sleeps - apparently because it's 104 degrees at midnight! 

August - I learned that my feet and hands have much in common with dairy cow teets. My book made it to Amazon that month too, and I started making plans for that little beach house we've always wanted and would soon be able to afford with the proceeds from book sales. I'm only about 300,000 books short of my goal now. 

September - I was treated to one Falcons Game Road Trip and won another one, doubling the number of NFL games I'd seen in person in the last 10 years. There were some interesting characters at chemo session #12. 

October - I met the Pulitzer Prize Winning Author in person and even told him mine was the bathroom companion book to his. I also held my own book signing later in the month and was humbled by the turnout of friends and supporters. Oh, and Dr Z. told me there was No Evidence of Disease. 

November - Running was making a big return in my life by now, and the blog posts about spending a great weekend with friends in Savannah and winning the survivor's category in my underwear later in the month certainly reflected that trend. I also challenged the Almighty, in memory of yet another mom whose life cancer cut short. 

December - Life is beginning to return to normal, which leaves me with less to write about. I am so grateful for this year, for the good health I now enjoy, for my family who put up with all the challenges of my illness and varying mental state, and for the friends, co-workers, and readers whose support carried my through some of those tough days. I look forward to celebrating a 2012 that I hope will be easier on all of us, and so full of good times that's there no room left for anything else. 

Live From the Chemo Room #16

J'ever notice how when you have a short appointment it's on a day when the Dr.'s office is really crowded and running late? I hate that.

That was my Andy Rooney tribute, but it does describe my morning so far.

I'm looking forward to giving a hard time to the chemo nurse from last time. I switched one of my meds from an infusion to a shot, and she managed to give me a two inch bruise on the back of my arm. I thought the bruising was a side effect of my other drug, but Dr. Z says it was bad technique. It will be light hearted, of course, but I will milk it a bit.

I met a new patient today who is starting on Oxaliplatin, the drug that caused all my lovely side effects. I was able to share some tips about warming your drinking water, etc. He is on his second round of pancreatic cancer treatment. His wife and son are here with him. Son's about my age. They all have the right attitude.

I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season. Give your family extra hugs this year. I know I will.

Touching a Nerve

A while back I wrote a post about smelling cigarette smoke on somebody waiting for chemo. It made me wonder how I "should" feel about somebody who engages knowingly in risky behavior and then suffers from consequences that were very possible to likely.  I posted links to that blog post on LinkedIn and Twitter, generating much more traffic than most of my posts do. Boy, did I touch a nerve with that one!

For the record:
I do not think anyone deserves cancer, lung or otherwise.
I do know that many people who are not smokers and who never were smokers are diagnosed with lung cancer each and every day.
I do feel empathy and sympathy for anyone dealing with cancer - those with the disease, their family members, and others helping them cope with it.

Still, based on some of the reactions to that post, you would think I'd said "anyone with lung cancer deserves to suffer" and "don't spend any money on lung cancer research because only smokers get lung cancer."

My point today isn't to argue the merits of my post or of the responses I received to it. It is to acknowledge that in the middle of the fight, our perception is often and understandably skewed. Like the angry driver just looking for somebody to cut him off so he can lay on the horn, or worse, we read something on a website with clenched teeth and fingers ready to pounce in reply. I get that. You've been through hell. Or hell, maybe you're still in hell, and along comes somebody you don't know who thinks he can say something provocative just to generate traffic on his website or to somehow drive sales of his stupid little book. So you lay into him.

And realizing he's wandered into a bees nest, he slowly backs out, removing the external links to his post so that only those who find his blog more directly will ever run into that offensive post again.

To those offended by my words, I'm sorry. I hope the fight you are a part of is a successful one.

When G-d Gets it Wrong

I had two wonderful teachers in nursery school at Cliff Valley, Mrs. Hirsch and Mrs. Weiner. Sharon (Weiner) had two children - Kenny, who was my age, and Vicki a year younger. Kenny died several years ago - from a hearth condition as I recall.

Vicki died today, from cancer.


G-d got it wrong this time. For parents to bury not one, but two adult children, is heartbreaking.


A few days ago, knowing her fight was nearly over, she wrote the following. Over 200 people responded before she passed away and her husband mentioned that he had read most of those comments to her.

This post from Vicki and the comments that followed it, are among the most moving things I've ever read. You can see more at http://www.vickihamersmith.com/

From Vicki

Hello to All My Family and Friends,

While I simply can’t thank everyone by name, I did want to express my deepest and heartfelt gratitude for all the calls, e-mails, text messages, thoughts of prayer, and overwhelming support I have received over the last (2) years.  I cannot begin to tell you how much each and everyone has meant ot me.  It is necessary for me to rest and save my strength for my Family, whom I have devoted my entire life.  As a result, we have set this up to allow a central site in which comments can be posted.  I will try to read them all; however, please understand I simply cannot respond to them.  If I can, I will post more.  It is important that you all know that I have tried to live every waking moment in an exemplary manner, one in which will both inspire and motivate to do good. I truly feel that I have made a difference and left a lasting impression both in my professional life and to those I have touch in my private one, especially my immediate Family, Steven, Sofie, Cameron, and Kasey. I feel most proud of the job I have done with my children and have always tried to give them unconditional love and admiration.  I am certain they know that and hope the lessons I have taught them will serve them well.  They are my pride and joy and cannot adequately express the love I have for them.  To my husband, I love you with all my heart and thank you for being my “everything” for all these years. I also want to tell my Parents thank you for always being there for me and making me the person I am.  To my close friends, family, and people of faith in my life, thank you for helping me during these difficult times.  If my time here is short, I want everyone to know that I love them, will miss them dearly, and appreciate all they have done and will do for Me and my Family.  With Sincere Love and Gratitude, Vicki.

Live From the Chemo Room #15

As Huey Lewis once crooned, I Want a New Drug. And just like Huey, I am switching my bone-regrowth elixir to something called Xgeva, which according to one person on staff here “we must’ve gotten a good deal on because it’s our preferred drug.” I found that funny, then disturbing, then funny again.  Dr. Z tells me it’s better because it’s a shot, not an infusion. 

I also met Nellie today. She has small-cell lung cancer, the kind you can get without being a smoker. She came over to me because one of the other patients in the waiting room told her I was an author. She’s not doing too well today, but I’m not sure if that’s a temporary thing or a bigger deal. She’s been fighting for 2.5 years. The cancer is gone from her lung, but it keeps coming back elsewhere.  She asked if I go to church, and invited me to come to hers, a Church of Christ location in Buford, GA, which I imagine means lots of fire and brimstone.  I’m thinking about it…

Otherwise, things have been good lately. It was great to have a family Thanksgiving with my dad and Marcie's folks, and then to spend time with my cousins on Friday, just like old times, only everyone else seemed much older. Funny how that happens - to other people.

Living Solid!

I have friends at SunTrust. They're good people, not just good business partners. Case in point:

Jeff gets a blow dry
for no apparent reason

Kelli and Jeff are my main direct contacts. Another member of their team at ST named Samantha  recently started chemo treatment and lost her hair. (If you're reading this Samantha, I've got a few good lines about chemo and hair loss in my book and there's a copy on the way to you.) So Jeff and several other guys on the team shaved their heads. It's fair to say that some had less to shave than others, but what an incredible gesture! 

People often ask "how can we help?" Well, the folks over at SunTrust did more to brighten Samantha's day than any amount of driving, cooking, or puke-bucket holding ever could have done. 

Solid guys, very, very solid!

Surviving and Thriving

If you've read my book, you've heard of Dawn, who's going on nine years as a survivor of colorectal cancer. Dawn's my hero - she's the one who taught me the valuable lesson that Stage Doesn't Matter. Her cancer was Stage IV and had metastasized to her liver. I used to think that meant certain death. I was wrong.

Dawn not only survived, she has thrived. It wasn't easy, but today Dawn is healthy, happy, full of energy and a tireless supporter of the Colon Cancer Alliance's Undy 5000 run. She was the top fundraiser this year, and was the top female finisher among the survivors who ran this past Saturday. As she said after the race, given her stature, she has to run twice as many steps as most of the other runners, including that tall guy next to her, the one who was the fastest male survivor in the race. Nice legs on that guy, I must say.

Way to go Dawn, the members of Team Blue is the Next Pink, and all of those who helped us raise over $100,000 in the Atlanta Undy 5000 race this weekend!

Memory Lane (aka I-16)

Danny (left), me, Luis, and Dave

The weekend in Savannah was a huge success. I pre-celebrated my cancerversary with three of my oldest friends as planned. Despite a general lack of preparedness and over the concerns of more than one of our wives, we all started and finished our half-marathon, more or less as planned (meaning vertical).

On the drive down, we hadn't even made it a mile down the road together before we'd slipped back into our youth, as planned. We laughed about lines from old movies, stupid things we'd done in our teens, teachers we'd disrespected, girls we'd dated (except for Luis - we did not laugh about any of his girlfriends since he remains married to all of them), career choices we've made, places we've lived, and, at least by Saturday afternoon - running related injuries we'd recently suffered.

We walked through beautiful but breezy downtown Savannah, enjoying those extra few cobblestone blocks compliments of the one of us who allegedly knew the town best. We enjoyed great meals (also compliments of that same built-in tour guide), ample beverages, the sort of camaraderie I was hoping we'd have, but wasn't sure we could rekindle so easily.

There's not much in this post having to do with Kickin' Cancer's Butt, other than to remind us all, as I was reminded this weekend, that friends matter. I'd encourage any of you to pile into an SUV with your three closest friends from your youth, drive a few hours away, and start running. Or drinking.

Live from the Chemo Room #14

Well this is a first. No visit with Dr. Z, nor with Tawana, his PA. Just vitals, blood work, pee in a cup, and straight back to the infusion room for a little Zometa with an Avastin chaser. Then the real party begins - the drive to Savannah with my 3 buddies for a half marathon (see last post). I'm not complaining, since the $45 copay only applies if you see the doc, leaving more beer money for this weekend.

I am concerned for my friends, since two of their spouses have now reported to me that they are not at all prepared for the race, and Danny even predicted it would be a "bloodbath." All I can say is, as Elizabeth reminded me yesterday, it's been less than I year since I was diagnosed with, you know, metastatic colon cancer, and I'm planning to run the whole 13.1 miles. But no pressure. I'm sure they'll only walk if they really need to...
Look out I-16, here we come!

Marathons that Matter

Life is a marathon, not a sprint - some guy who never ran a marathon in his life.

I have run a marathon, two in fact, along with about 10 half-marathons. Last Sunday, I ran my first marathon relay, teaming up with Mary-Gay, Wes, and David P. to form the team Three Straight Guys and a Mary-Gay. We took second place in the mixed gender division, lagging the leaders by a mere 30 minutes, but besting the 3rd place team by a full 6 seconds. I'd like to think that skipping the 3rd water stop on my 5.5 mile leg made the difference between silver and bronze.

But the marathon I want to talk about is the metaphorical one, not a real one, even though I am running in another half marathon this coming Saturday in Savannah. It's who I'm running with that brings the topic back to life, as in lifelong friends. You see, while Team 3SGAAM-G have known each other for 6 years or less, my friendships with Danny G., David S, and Luis G, easily total over 100 years (or if you prefer, a good 4 marathons worth of years.) I used to go to David's birthday parties when we were 2 and 3. We moved in a few doors down form Danny in 1973, and I seem to recall meeting Luis on the playground at Kittredge that same year.

By the time we were in high school together, we became a foursome. Well, there were others we hung out with regularly too, like Gregg, David C., Paul, Goofy, etc. but if I had to pick the core group, the four of us were it. We had much in common - we were reasonably "good" kids, with dark hair, Jewish (actually Luis isn't, but we passed him off at more than one party as Luis Schwartz from Baltimore and nobody doubted it for a minute). We had our first beers together, followed by a few hundred more. We drove crappy cars to even crappier jobs, then cruised around on weekends, going to midnight movies with one-handed ticket takers and making lists of the prettiest girls we knew, a couple of whom apparently read this blog from time to time.

We stayed tight right through college, with three of us in Athens and David down on North Avenue back when it was safe to walk around the campus. As often happens, we drifted a bit in our twenties, some moving far from home, then we started getting married, having babies, etc. But we all ended up back in Atlanta, 3 of us within a short run of the old 'hood and Luis  about a marathon away, give or take a couple miles. Now we're going to pile into what I hope is a slightly less crappy car and head down to Savannah where I suspect the post-race celebration will be more memorable than the race itself.

I'm looking forward to shuffling down River Street with three lifelong friends, reminiscing about bad teachers, cheap drinks, and whatever happened to all the pretty girls on that list.

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

Well, maybe not everywhere, but I did have an amazing turnout today from so many friends for my book signing at Eagle Eye Books in Decatur.

Adele introduced me (twice - it was mostly a late-arriving crowd) and I spoke a little and read a little from the book. The store sold out of their copies so I was signing the ones from my personal stash and asking people to check out after the fact. The auditor in me would love to see what their negative balance in inventory looks like now.

Marcie and I were reminded and humbled by how many people care about us. There may have even been one or two people who care about us but couldn't make it today. Thanks to each of you who was able to be there. It meant a lot to us!

Hey, Hey, Hey

Like the theme from Fat Albert warns, if you're not careful, you may learn something before it's done.  Dr. Cosby wasn't talking about my book, or about the book signing this weekend, but he could've been. 

If he were talking about the book signing, he would probably remind you that it's this Saturday, October 29th, from 1:00 - 2:30p at Eagle Eye Book Store, which Bill would definitely mention is at the corner of N. Decatur and Clairmont next the Kinko's (because The Coz is old school, he wouldn't call it the FedEx Store). 

And right before he went to get himself a Jello Pudding Pop, I'm pretty sure Dr. C would remind everyone how much I appreciate your support whether you can come to the signing or not. 

Live From the Chemo Room 13

Me:    My twins asked me when we'll be able to say I don't have cancer anymore

Dr. Z: I think you can tell them there's no evidence of cancer.

YES!

That's the official word on this, my 13th visit to the chemo room. I will stay on the maintenance drugs for several months, which is totally fine. But the latest PET Scan confirms what I've been feeling/hoping was the case. Now we get to do a colonoscopy next! Yay!

It's a little slow here in the chemo room today, but one of the regulars is here and was looking and sounding a bit down. I gave him a copy of my book, which he is voraciously reading as I type. The nurses have all read it now and one mentioned to him that it was just what he needed today. That makes me happier than selling 100 copies on Amazon would. Well, maybe just as happy...

Time to celebrate.

PS - Marcie wants it noted for the record that she was not "a wreck." So noted.  

Live from the Pet Scan Prep Room

Yes, it's that time again. Holed up in my little cell, I'm awaiting the trip down the hall to the what we in nuclear medicine affectionately call "the tube."

I meant to post last week about the presentation I attended featuring Sidddhartha Mukharjee, the Pulitzer Prize Winning author of The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer. He told some interesting stories about individual patients that helped personalize the story of cancer research over the last 100 years or so.

Look at me, I'm an Author!

In the Q&A portion, the author was asked about Steve Jobs. He said he had on his computer an open letter to Jobs that he had drafted for the NY Times a couple weeks ago when it appeared Jobs' time was short. Basically the idea was that here's this guy who delivered transformational technologies to the world many times over and "we," the medical community had failed to reciprocate in cancer innovation, particularly pancreatic cancer. He feels we're 10 years out from being able to manage or maybe even cure the type of pancreatic caner Jobs had, but that pace could have easily been accelerated.
I sold 2 copies of my book, and gave one to to Mukharjee. He laughed when I said it was the bathroom companion to his Pulitzer Prize winner. Maybe he'll blurb my book, who knows?

But enough about him. Let's get back to me.

I feel a bit like Alice today, because the room I am in is the even-smaller version reserved for when the two other prison cells are in use. My tech Eric says it's the VIP suite. I reminded him that suites usually have running water and are wide enough for a twin bed or two. This one, using the tried and true ceiling tile counting method, is 9 ft by 5 ft. I have shoeboxes bigger than this, but then again I do wear a size 12.5.

Eric has obviously trained with Vince, who you may recall from earlier posts or from my book. He is the second funniest person I've met in the cancer journey, and Eric may be a close third. Vince just popped his head in (because nothing else would fit) and I told him I'd grab a copy of my book for him when I go to leave here in an hour or so.

Today's barium-masking flavor is vanilla. Coming off an 8 hour fast, which is only two days removed from a 25 hour fast, it's quite decent. I can barely taste the goat semen.

I'll have the results from this scan on Friday. I'm confident all is still well. I wish I could convince Marcie to feel the same way, but I think she'll be a wreck until we see Dr. Z. It's in her nature to worry for me. It's in my nature not to worry about anything. Makes us a good pair, don't you think?

Love Me Through It

Those of you who know me well know my musical appetite is more Donny than Marie, yet I wanted to pass along this beautiful song by Martina McBride, who they tell me is an accomplished country singer. Sandy in my office sent it to me the other day.

Listen to the words carefully, and you'll hear what I have heard from Marcie and what every Member of the Club hopes to hear: a message of unequivocal love and support from a spouse or lover: I'm Gonna Love You Through It. I also like that there's a realistic portrayal of breast cancer in the lyrics, the disfigurement, the desire to feel like a woman again, etc. Nothing held back.

Sometimes You've Got to Walk The Walk

This is from Walt Mossberg's blog entry today, recalling a walk with Steve Jobs. It echoes a philosophy I have about pushing yourself through recovery. Adele knows this. She came to my house and dragged me out for a walk the weekend after my first chemo infusion. Her mother-in-law Doris gets it too. She's the one with the line, "get your ASS out of bed every day!"

The Walk

After his liver transplant, while he was recuperating at home in Palo Alto, California, Steve invited me over to catch up on industry events that had transpired during his illness. It turned into a three-hour visit, punctuated by a walk to a nearby park that he insisted we take, despite my nervousness about his frail condition.

He explained that he walked each day, and that each day he set a farther goal for himself, and that, today, the neighborhood park was his goal. As we were walking and talking, he suddenly stopped, not looking well. I begged him to return to the house, noting that I didn’t know CPR and could visualize the headline: “Helpless Reporter Lets Steve Jobs Die on the Sidewalk.”

But he laughed, and refused, and, after a pause, kept heading for the park. We sat on a bench there, talking about life, our families, and our respective illnesses (I had had a heart attack some years earlier). He lectured me about staying healthy. And then we walked back.

Steve Jobs didn’t die that day, to my everlasting relief. But now he really is gone, much too young, and it is the world’s loss.

Here's the full blog, including a video of Walt talking about the walk with Steve:

http://allthingsd.com/20111005/the-steve-jobs-i-knew/

Various and Sundry Things

Does the Thought Really Count?
Man, I hope so. I was in Seattle this weekend and picked up presents for the kids. Having learned a lesson or two over the last 20 years, I called Marcie to ask if it was OK for me to pick up a little something for her. Yes, she said, depending on what and how little. So a few cell-phone photos later, we jointly agreed that I would surprise her with a lovely glass disc necklace from a booth in the Pike Place Market. I slid the necklace into my jacket pocket and scooted back to the hotel to grab my bags.

What might have been...

Arriving home around 11 last night , I unpacked Adam's t-shirt, A&J's bracelets, and the 6lb salmon I bought in the market. But no necklace. Not in my jacket, my luggage, nor my laptop bag.
Marcie was LHAO when I returned upstairs to tell her there was no necklace after all. At least I made her laugh...

Cancer-related Names

Shout out to Danny G for this one. Danny said from now on, he was going to call me chemo-sabe, a Potowatame term of endearment for a friend going through treatment. I told him I would call him "sucker" which is Seminole for "one who entered the casino with $300 bucks and left with nothing."

I was catching up on The Big C episodes on the flight home and heard another good one. If you've never seen the show, the main character Cathy has melanoma. I know, hilarious, right? Anyway, in this particular episode, she thanks hubby Paul for his support, driving, making Dr. appointments, etc. He says, "No problem, honey, I'm your cancierge."

I think both of those terms are awesome! Anybody have more to share? 262 enquiring minds want to hear from you!

Wanna see me in my underwear?

Click to Donate

Marcie, Stuart, David, my dad, and others who've been there and done that need not comment. This opportunity has an even bigger payoff for you than seeing me in my underwear normally would. See, I'm running in the Undy 5000 on November 12th to benefit the Colon Cancer Alliance and if you folks help me reach my fundraising goal, I will do the race in my skivvies. My underwear is in your hands, people!

Click under the logo at right to learn more or to donate.

Don't forget - Big Event THIS Thursday, October 6th 

Please don't forget to come out to the Gwinnett Center this Thursday night to hear the Pulitzer Prize winning author of The Emperor of All Maladies, and to get a huge laugh out of seeing my book for sale next to his. Details at this link.

Thinking pink

I think the whole pink corporate tie-in for Breast Cancer Awareness Month is overdone, but I did like this from the halftime show in Seattle today. The ribbon was formed by cheerleaders from local high schools in addition to the Sea Gals. Also on the field was a parade of survivors. Pretty cool! Shout out to Dara and anyone else doing the 3 Day, and to those who recently did the 2 Day - ya'll make me proud!

While in the Emerald City, I also was able to see my good friend Kim, who lives here and is allegedly married, but since I've never seen new hubby Scott, I'm not entirely sure I believe he's real. Earnie and I did have a great time with Kim and her friend Kelly even if we did appear to be falling asleep during the improv show.

Thanks again to the 790 The Zone gang for making this trip possible. We saw Salsa and Steak this morning. Glad you guys got the ride home on the team plane after a victory. Based on what I saw in Chicago, 5 hours after a loss would've been pretty miserable.

Pulitzer Prize?

That, dear readers, is known as a Teaser Title. You glance down the page and perhaps think, HOLY SH&^ is Welcome to the Cancer Club up for the Pulitzer Prize?

No, it isn't. 

Yet.


But, there is a connection to literature's top honor. Next Thursday night, October 6th, the author of the 2011 Pulitzer Prize winning book The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer is appearing at the Gwinnett Center. Eagle Eye bookstore is the official bookseller for the event, and they will have copies of my book available that night alongside Emperor.

"Here we have the 2011 Pulitzer Prize winning book, and for those of you looking for something you can read in the bathroom, we have this other book!"

Atlanta folks, the talk by the author should be a good one. I'll be there and I hope you'll join me!

Running on Water

I just mentioned to Marcie that a change in the itinerary for this weekend means I will be in Seattle on Saturday and will have time to run there in Sunday morning. 

I used to travel frequently to the Emerald City and I loved going for a run from my downtown hotel along the water. But what I just said to Marcie was that I was planning to go for a Run On The Water, you know, like this guy -->

Atlanta Folks: Mark Your Calendars

When: Saturday October 29 at 3:30
What: Appearance and Book Signing
Where: Eagle Eye Bookshops, 2076 North Decatur Road, Decatur, GA 30033 (in the Kinko's Shopping Center at Clairmont and N. Decatur)
Who: Me and (I'm hoping) a couple dozen of the coolest people I know 


That's right, somebody who makes a living selling books is letting me have a little gathering in their place of business. Go figure!


I wanted to get the word out before they realized their terrible mistake. So please use the comments to make it look like lots of people are coming. That way they can't back out!

Live from the Chemo Room 12

I arrived just as the clouds began to break here in Johns Creek. Omen?

Could be. Dr. Z wants me to get a scan in a few weeks, and may keep me off the oral chemo for even longer. That means the hand and foot syndrome should continue to improve and there won't be anything new to screw up my GI tract.

It's a full house today in the chemo room. A guy I met last time is here. I'm calling him Paulie Walnuts, because he looks and sounds like a Sopranos character. It looks like he's about the roll out of here, probably grabbing some gabbagool on the way home. Cannoli would be good too.

There's also E, so named because he is obviously a Dale Earnhardt fan. He's also an Alabama man, so I know avid blog reader Sandy P. would like him. It's amazing what you can tell about a person from the T-shirt and baseball hat they wear.

Uncle Fester is here too, along with Joan Collins. Cliff Huxtable is quietly reading a magazine. Mercedes from Glee is intently watching The Doctors on TV, where they are, for some reason, helping a group of moms with a lingerie makeover. Not that there's anything wrong with that.


Oh, I should also mention that my recent post Ooh That Smell is getting a lot of play on LinkedIn in the Livestrong and American Cancer Society Forums. I posted a link to the post with the provocative question, "Do Smokers Deserve the Same Empathy as Other Cancer Patients?" Needless to say there are passionate responses to that one from many different perspectives. Want to join the conversation? Hit

http://tinyurl.com/linked-acs 


or


http://tinyurl.com/linked-liv

Today, I consider myself the luckiest man...

You know the speech. Even though Lou was stricken with a disease so awful they named it after him, he was feeling very lucky that day.

I too am lucky, and not just because I'm Kickin' Cancer's Butt, or because Marcie still hasn't realized what a questionable call she made back in '92 when she said yes. Today I'm feeling lucky because I just won another road trip to a Falcons game thanks to local radio station 790 The Zone. We won't be on the team plane this time, and no pre-game sideline passes, but Earnie and I will be heading to Seattle where I hope to break my streak of one huge blowout loss and cheer the Falcons on to victory!

The last time Earnie and I attended a sporting event together that didn't feature our kids, we saw Michael Johnson break the world record in the 200 during the 1996 Olympics. I'd settle for a 200-yard rushing day from Michael Turner this time.

Anybody want to help me explain to my kids why they (again) can't join me?

The Other SIde of Butt-Kickin'

As you know, I like to write about victories big and small in my fight with cancer. Clean scan? Blog it! Able to run longer than I have in a year? Facebook, baby! Normal bowel movements 3 days in row? Um, I'll let you know when it happens.

But in life, some games are zero-sum: for each winner, there must be a loser. And being a loser stinks. I don't mean the kind of loser who gets Slurpeed on Glee. No, I mean grown men, really grown men, after they get humiliated on the gridiron.

You see, I had the great pleasure of flying to and from Chicago on the Falcons' charter last weekend thanks to one of their sponsors whom I won't name because I'm not sure they want me to disclose that they do these trips for fear of pissing off their less-favorite customers. Actually, I've referred them some business and they responded with this very cool trip.

The Northbound trip on Saturday was great, seeing all these superstars in their suits and ties, although I suspect there must be some weight limit to that requirement because a few of the O-line guys had on open collar shirts and no jackets. I was about to tell Sam Baker to suit up, but I feared he might eat me if I did. Speaking of eating, the rookies are required to bring aboard food at the request of the veterans. Sure enough, here was Julio Jones toting a case of Chick-fil-A's to the back (the coaches sat in first class, the players had 2-3 seats apiece in the back cabin, and the sponsors and non-coaching staff were in the middle cabin of the 767).

Me @ Soldier Field Pre-Game

After a fun evening out, we settled in at the JW Marriott, the team hotel. Sunday morning we were treated to breakfast after the team finished their pre-game meal. Never in my life have I seen such quantities and variety of food for an 8:00 a.m. meal for 53 people. Smoothie stations, pasta bar, sandwich bar, salads, omelettes to order, and a 30-foot long buffet full of traditional breakfast items like pancakes, bacon, and grits.  It was ridiculous.

Then our police escort helped our bus get to the stadium, where we were able to spend about an hour on the field during warm-ups. That's when we should've left. Unfortunately, that's when the Falcons seemingly left, as evidenced by the final score, 30-12 in favor of the home team, and it wasn't that close.

The plane ride back was a somber affair. I hardly heard any conversation from the back, let alone a laugh. Whatever Julio brought onboard this time, it was devoured in silent reflection by some very large, tired, and I suspect, embarrassed men.

Get some perspective, fellas. Given the choice, I'd take a loss like that over a loss in the cancer fight any day. Fortunately, it's not a choice I've faced so far.


Dammit Julio - I said extra pickles!

Ooh, that smell!

I'm getting blood drawn today at a different office of Dr. Z's practice. This is actually the location where I first met him 6 years ago, but he no longer practices here. It's also where my mom saw her oncologist 11 or 12 years ago.

There's a smell in this place that brings up a dilemma. It's not the familiar doctor's office aroma, that Lysol  and stale air combo you so often get when you walk through the doors for an early morning appointment. No, it's the dingy, yellow-brown lifelong smoker coughing odor that wafts here and makes me wonder: with so many people I know who got cancer through no fault of their own, how should I feel about those who knowingly engaged in risky behavior and are now suffering the predictable consequences?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying anyone deserves this. Check that, if you abuse children, you deserve to get lung cancer. But if you're that guy who thought smoking looked cool when you were 17, smoked though college and beyond, and next thing you know, you're a 65 year old with stage 3 lung cancer, do you deserve the same sympathy or empathy as the 38 year old yoga practicing, vegetarian mom of 3 who has rectal cancer and is racked with guilt because she might not see her youngest graduate from elementary school in 4 years?

See, cancer isn't always funny. But moments like this morning are few and far between for me. And for that, I am very thankful.

Live From the Chemo Room 11

Why Be Normal?

Why not?

Yes, I get to be normal for the next 6 weeks. Stop laughing, Marcie. Dr. Z wants me to stop taking my oral chemo for the next 6 weeks, which should give me a chance to get over my cold, rack up some running miles, and normalize my bowels. (TMI?) My blood-work showed some slightly low counts and when I described how I was feeling, Dr. Z. just said, "so let's take a break." 

Sounds good to me!

The folks here really liked the book, by the way. I was a little nervous about their reaction, but it was all smiles and back-pat's from the nurses, Dr. Z, and the lab techs. Phew!

Return of SuperMyles?

I was back on the track today with the OG Crew, which I recently pointed out on FB sounds like a gangsta rap group but isn't. They were zipping around doing 3 minute 800's (which is about 6 minute miles for those unfamiliar with track geometry), while I was sticking to their warm-up pace, more like 9 minute miles (you can do the conversion to 800's now if you'd like). The normally uber-fast Kate was jogging with me in her post-Hood-to-Coast recovery mode.

Just for fun, I decided to tag along with the zippers for a couple of 400's, and had respectable laps of 1:38 and 1:40, respectively. I always wanted to used respectable and respectively in the same sentence and now I have - twice. After another couple jogging laps, this time with Mary-Gay, I decided to see if my alter-ego SuperMyles was still available for duty. Back in the day, SuperMyles would start out with all the other runners, but then would kick in the booster rockets on the final turn to the amazement of most, including me.

SuperMyles was indeed available, and although he fired those boosters a bit too early, he was still able to coast home in a 1:27. That's somewhere in the high 5:40's pace per mile, and it felt really, really good.

SuperMyles may be coming soon to a track near you, weather and chemo permitting!

(Just for you, E)

PS - Love the Garmin Connect website.

Inside a Cancer Club Member's Desk

This is kinda sad. Here's the bottom drawer of my desk at work. Let's have a look clockwise from the top right.

Arm & Hammer Baking Soda - For use as a mouthwash to prevent sores from developing after chemo. Also can be used to clean teeth or deodorize carpet. Finally, can anyone explain the connection between this product and Mr. Armond Hammer, the longtime chairman of Occidental Petroleum? Chicken and egg?

Citrucel - Fiber laxative, which you'd think from my prior writings I wouldn't need. But, sometimes we all need a little help getting regular, or at least I did when I was heavily into the pain meds (see below).

Udderly sMOOth - Aforementioned lotion for use on cow's teets and udders as well as cancer patient's hands and feet. This one smells like cocoa butter, so every day at the office is like a day at the beach!

Cliff Bars and Cliff Builder Bars - This part's not so sad actually. When I'm exercising, I use these bars as high-protein mid-morning snacks. More protein = more mass = good.

5 Hour Energy Drink - Believe the commercials folks. I hate coffee, and I know my other source of caffeine, Coca Cola, is a high-fructose corn syrup cocktail that creates a breeding ground for bad things to happen in my body. So I tried these little booster shots for fighting off the midday droopiness that seems to have gotten worse post cancer, or maybe just post-45. They work. Thank you Sam's Club for stocking them in the convenient 32 pack!

Preparation H Wipes and Nupricanal Lotion, cleverly hidden in a semi-transparent Walgreen's bag - Chemo-induced diarrhea is bad enough on its own. Now add 8 or 10 daily trips to the john with 100 grit industrial strength toilet paper. The result is the kind of thing you don't discuss in mixed company. Let's just say these magical wipes followed by the application of this instantly-effective numbing cream allowed me to maintain a somewhat normal posture and schedule at work during those less-than-amusing times. Employees must wash hands before returning to work.

Ibuprofen and Naproxen - Largely ineffective pain killers I was downing in large quantities before a proper diagnosis was made. At home I also have varying strengths of morphine-based pain killers so if anyone needs a little something to help them get through their day, don't hesitate to ask.

Towel - For laying on atop the yoga mat I used to have here when I couldn't sit at my desk for very long (see ineffective pain killers, above). I stole it from Emory. Sue me.

One day I'll go back to using this drawer for its intended purpose, hiding incriminating dossiers of my coworkers.

Watch your back, Brad Pitt

Carol from my support group passed away last week. At her funeral, her son told the story of a conversation they had about her last wishes. Her body was to be cremated, she said. "What do you want us to do with the ashes, mom?" he asked.

"Throw them on Brad Pitt," she replied.

I hope Carol meets my Aunt Isabel in heaven. They would really get along!

Live From the Chemo Room #11

Dr. Z has an answer to my hand foot problem, or at least something we can try. Instead of going 14 days on, 7 days off with my oral drug, we're going to try 7 days on 7 days off. He said dosing schedules aren't pure science. The studies are done to figure out maximum tolerable dose, but the actual schedule ends up being something clinicians like him figure out in the field. The idea is that you get the same amount of medicine over a given 3 week period, but that it has less chance to cause side effects if you spread it out a bit. Let's hope so!

Otherwise, this is an uneventful infusion day, which is how we like it!

For those interested, I approved the final print version of the book last night, meaning it should be available on Amazon within a few days. Search there using my name or "Welcome to the Cancer Club."

Udderly Ridiculous

Ever hear of Hand-Foot Syndrome? It's a fun little side effect from the oral chemo drug I'm on. The drug leaks into the capillaries of said appendages, and then when you apply pressure or friction, say using hand tools or running, you develop sores. Nasty ones. It feels like blistering sunburn on the affected area.

Running 8.5 miles on Sunday was apparently not a good way to relieve the symptoms of Hand-Foot Syndrome, aka palmar-plantar erythrodysesthesia for those who park in the Doctors-only spots at the hospital. The recommended treatments include use of heavy-duty moisturizers, the kind they use on cows' udders. Literally. Allow me to quote from the directions on Bag Balm, which is available at your local Wallgreen's and possibly The County Line Feed Store:


For pets, apply liberally to the affected area. For use on cows, thoroughly wash the treated teats and udder with separate towels before each milking. To avoid contamination after each milking, bathe the udder with plenty of hot water, strip milk out and dry skin. 


Nowhere does it say anything about applying to human skin, but I did so anyway. 


Eat mor chikin...

A quick book update

The book, with its new title, is now available on both Amazon (in Kindle format) and iTunes/iBookstore (for Ipad, iPhone, and iPod Touch). You should see it in the other main eBook stores over the next week or so. eBooks are $3.99.
The physical book will be $9.95 and will be available on Amazon in a couple weeks, assuming the proof copy I'm expecting this week looks good. I'm planning to order a batch of them, so if you're in Atlanta and want one, give me a heads up and I'll gladly include you in my order.
My biggest request is that anyone who reads the book in whatever format, posts their review on Amazon. You can review there no matter where you purchased the book, as Bettie Blair recently did before jaunting off for a much deserved Caribbean vacation.
Thanks to all of you for your support for my writing, not to mention all the encouraging words about the whole cancer thing. You inspired me!

A quick update - look how close I am to cracking the top 50,000 on Amazon! Couple more sales and J.K. Rowling will be looking over her shoulder at me!

No punchline today

It seems that Carol from my support group has taken a turn for the worse. According to an e-mail I read this morning, she is at home with hospice. You know by now that I tend to be upbeat about this whole cancer thing, even joking about the experience here and in the book.  But when you read an e-mail like the one I got today, it's hard to come up with punchlines, even when the subject of the e-mail shares my sarcastic wit and would've given my Aunt Sylvia a run for her money in the "I don't give a shit what anybody else thinks of me" department. She tells it like it is, and she makes me laugh.

Those of you who pray, please add her to your prayers. Healing thoughts senders, please send them her way.

Whenever G-d is ready for her, I hope he knows what he's in for...

Live From the Chemo Room #10

Back home in the ATL after 4 days in the NYC. It was hot there, damn hot. Now I've lived in Atlanta all my life; I've been in humid Houston in August, arid Phoenix in July, and Dallas one summer when it was 105 with a breeze that felt like a hair dryer in your face. But I've never been anywhere hotter than Manhattan last Friday, with the actual temp at 104 and the "real feel" well into the one-teens. Walking the mile or so from South Street Seaport to Chinatown gave me a real appreciation for what people like Dean Karnazes go through running a hundred miles across the Sahara. My friend Brian lent me one of Dean's books recently. It's a great read even if you're not an obsessive runner like me, or a kick-ass triathlete like Brian.

Adam and I had a great time despite the weather. We went inside the flagship Apple store, FAO Schwarz, Toys R'Us, M&M World, Dylan's Candy Bar, the Hershey Store, and  a slice of Junior's Cheesecake and a heaping bowl of Serendipity's Frozen Hot Chocolate (not on the same day). We did manage to fit in a run in Central Park, as well as a hour of row boats there, and to make sure the trip was culturally redeeming, we went to MoMA and saw Phantom on Broadway. We also stopped by the church that served as sleeping quarters for the rescuers during 9-11 and saw the new construction underway at Ground Zero. Cousin Stan let us onto the roof of his Upper East Side building for great views of 8 counties, and Uncle/Brother Steve took Adam to a music-themed exhibit and to the Skyline park. It was a great trip.

I blew a chance to meet in person with Matthew Zachary, the founder of the I'm Too Young For This cancer foundation (see www.stupidcancer.com ) and the host of The Stupid Cancer show on which I appeared last week. Matthew graciously offered a rain check for the next time I'm in NYC, and I'm looking forward to cashing it in.

The folks at Memorial Sloan Kettering agreed that we're doing the right things with my treatment. We've got some work to do on the genetic testing to try to figure out the source of my cancer and to help understand the risks for my kids, my sister and her kids. Long-term, there may be targeted therapy for specific gene mutations, meaning a real cure for the specific cause of each person's cancer. It may be decades away, but that's where the research is headed.

Back here in the chemo room, I had a good laugh with Jessie, one of the nurses. She always shows me the bag with my medicine in it before she hangs it, just like all the nurses do. For some reason it struck me today that this is one of those moments like when they bring you the wine bottle you've ordered. Yes, the label appears to be what I ordered. I asked her what I'm supposed to do when she hands me the cork. I never really know - are you supposed to smell it, visually inspect it, squeeze it?

All I know is whether I like the wine or not one I drink it. Same with the chemo, as long as it's working (and it is), I like it.

Finally, having now written a book about caring for cancer patients, I got to spend a few minutes on the other side today. I overheard two other patients talking in the chemo lounge about how one of them was used to his chemo sessions in Boston lasting 2 or 3 hours, but for some reason, his session today was going to be more like 5 - 6 hours. I used to have those monster sessions myself, so I know what that's like. He mentioned he hadn't brought enough food with him. My infusion was over about a half-hour later, so I walked over, told him I'd been in his shoes (chair?) before, and offered to pickup some lunch for him. He was very grateful for the Chik-fil-a and I was very happy to have been a caregiver for a change. It really felt good. I'm telling you this not because I'm fishing for compliments, but to remind all of you who know somebody going through cancer or other illness that there are always little things like that you can do to help a patient. I don't even know this guy's name, and I was able to do something really meaningful for him. You can do the same for someone. Just be there for them and seize the opportunity when it arises. Be the Muffin Lady or the Chik-Fil-a guy.