A Purposeful Run

It happened again.

Yesterday was another training run at Phidippides for the upcoming Georgia Marathon and Half-Marathon. When I was helping with registration, a woman came up to the table wearing a "Cancer Sucks" sweatshirt. I told her I liked it. The sweatshirt, not cancer.

There were 40 or 50 runners in our group and on the return portion of the out-and-back course, I saw her again. I turned and jogged with her for a few steps, learning that she was a survivor. "Seven months" she told me with well-deserved pride.

I greeted her at the end of the 8 mile run with a copy of my book. She was genuinely thrilled. I learned that this was her first run back after treatment, and while I don't necessarily recommend 8-milers for one's return to running, I was very happy she'd chosen that day and that event. I was inspired by her, and she said she was inspired by me. Sort of a Mutual Inspiration Society.

Towauna's friend took our picture, and I hope I'll get a copy of it to add to this post.

Keep running my friends, and keep Kickin Cancer's Butt!

Setbacks, Leaps Forward

It's a setback. That's all.

The news that some suspiciously cancerish spots have popped up in my lung is a setback. You have to expect them, you know. Nobody skates through a pretty serious case of metastatic colon cancer without them.

Setbacks happen.

They happened to Dawn, my hero who had liver metastases 9 years ago. They happened to my Imerman Angel buddy who battled through tough surgeries and nasty chemo for years before reclaiming his "normal" life.

They're happening to me.

I wasn't ready for setbacks. I was on a trajectory from illness to wellness. Next stop, marathon. Except there are potholes in the road, and I can't avoid them all.

But seeing the potholes is a leap forward. Knowing the setbacks can pop up at any time and being mentally prepared to deal with them is a leap forward. Being strong, physically, emotionally strong is a leap forward.

Leaping forward happens... for me.

Running/Cancer Karma

On the heels of yesterday's news comes some running/cancer karma of the good kind. As you may know, I'm a member of Team Phidippides, a socially competitive running team sponsored by my favorite running store here in Atlanta. I'd volunteered along with a few of my teammates to help lead a training group for the upcoming Georgia Marathon and Half Marathon in March. Today was our first official training run and I did 6 miles at a very decent pace.

After the run, people were hanging around enjoying breakfast and a seminar about Dead Butts. I've seen some really sick assholes in my day, but never a Dead Butt. I decided to grab one of my books from the car to give to Phidippides head honcho Susan. She was happy to have one and asked if I had a second one she could include in the raffle they were about to have for all the training run attendees. I did, so I handed it over, and began to wonder, who, besides me, is out here in 25 degree weather to do a run and wants to read my silly cancer book. 

Well, wouldn't you know, the raffle winner, Linda, had been treated for breast cancer last summer, and was actually hoping to win the book. We chatted for a while, and it felt really good to know that even as a new chapter in my journey begins, the chapters I wrote around the time Linda was beginning hers may now help her get through it all with an extra smile or two. 

Keep on running, Linda!

Live from the chemo room 17

Amid the snow flurries in NoFuCo this morning, I am reminded of how unpleasant it was to spend Winter  in Chemoland last year. That sensitivity to cold from Oxaliplatin was much harder to deal with when the temps were in the 20's and 30's as they are today. But it also reminded me what a nice break it was to have been off of chemo for all these months.

That break is coming to an end. Dr. Z told me that the CT portion of my scan (PET scans are actually PET/CT combo's, or at least mine are) revealed some tiny little spots in my lung that aren't lighting up as metastatic activity, but which do appear to have grown since the last scan. Are they cancer? We can't say for sure, but we're assuming it could be, so it's time to crank up the chemo again. For now, we're going with the oral drug Xeloda, one week on, one week off. We might add Oxaliplatin back later if this doesn't do the trick. Xeloda isn't that shitty a drug, but speaking of shitty, it can have some GI-related side effects.  (Sorry about that one, just trying to find my cancer-fighting writer's voice again...)

I'm not thrilled with the news, or possible news, but as I told Dr. Z, I feel physically and emotionally like I'm 100% recovered from the last round, and I'm ready to do whatever we have to in order to Kick Cancer's Butt Again.

One positive thing, I'll probably have an easier time coming up with content for this blog now!

Yesterday I had a chance to address the 6th graders at Cliff Valley School. I was talking about how living a healthy lifestyle, being a runner, eating well, etc. prepared me for two fights with cancer, both of which I "won." I may have to adjust my expectations of winning a bit, now that I'm learning that 6 months without chemo is, in fact, a win.

Live from the PET Scan Prep Room

Vince is back! He is an Alabama fan, so I'm looking forward to many LSU jokes. For example: poor LSU couldn't make it back to Baton Rouge after the game... Somebody had painted a 50 yard line on the highway.

I was originally scheduled to have my scan in the cardiac imaging unit, but Vince had an opening over here in cancer land, so they moved me here. Business is good in the PET industry, apparently, because they are building a new scanner at the main hospital now.

Bloody Good Start to 2012!

I was 9.5 miles into a 10.5 mile run today, thinking about how far I'd come in a year, about what a great year I could have in 2012, running-wise, when suddenly, the sidewalk monster grabbed me.

The result is a couple of bloody paws. And thanks to Avastin, the wonder drug with only one real side effect, it'll take a a good three or four months before these little beauties are ready for that audition for the cover of Hands Beautiful magazine.

But as we like to say in the Beskind household, sh&% happens. We're somewhat familiar with freak accidents in my house, so a pair of stinging manos aren't going to phase me.

I'm still looking forward to a great year, but I'll adjust my gaze to slightly more close range and downward next time I'm running on the cracked sidewalks on Oak Grove Road.

Happy New Year to all!

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