Remission

It’s been a long while since my last writing and there has been a lot of water under the bridge. First and foremost, I’ve hit the remission numbers for my cancer. I really can’t believe it’s happened. It seemed an unobtainable goal just six months ago and then suddenly it happened.

Now comes the next step and it’s a very scary step. Stem cell replacement. It’s actually considered transplant surgery. That alone is pretty scary. Just a couple of months ago I was on the fence about going to this step, but then I got to thinking about the prospect of doing chemo from now till the day I die and that was a bit overwhelming, provided I live a long time, and I certainly hope to do that.

So the calendar has been marked and it looks like the process will begin in late January and continue through all of February and into early March. More about that later.

In preparation for the stem cell event I’ve had to get the rest of my body in order starting with my teeth. I’ve been terrible about going to the dentist. Oh, I brushed my teeth every day, but going to the dentist was way in the backseat. No, it was in the trunk. I had to get a cleaning and then a deep cleaning. I had to get several fillings and a couple of crowns. All is well now.

The next step was hernia surgery. It was an inguinal hernia. That’s the one in the groin area. All went well with that too, except the recovery, is very painful. It seems that everything in the entire body is attached to the gut. If you blink your eyes it is somehow connected to the groin. Seriously.

So now I’m ready. I’m still scared.

Senior Citizen

There are a couple of “old age” symbols that I feel show you’ve crossed over the edge if you qualify. An invitation from the American Association of Retired People (AARP) and that little blue card that hangs from the rear view mirror of vehicles, the handicap parking tag. I know that the latter can be used by anyone that’s disabled and I respect that, but I personally associate it with older people. I guess it’s from spending so much time in Florida where the handicap parking space is usually taken by a senior citizen. I guess I’m officially a senior citizen.

On a recent trip to my doctor I was told that it’s time to file for permanent disability with the U.S. government. My back is as good as it’s going to get and more importantly, I can no longer do the job I love to do. As a matter of fact, it would be impossible for me to do any 40 hour workweek job. It’s tough to get hired when you can only stand or sit for short durations. That pretty much sucks because I’m a type A workaholic. I love to be doing something pretty much all the time and my back won’t let me.

It’s also tough for me to walk long distances, so I asked about the handicap parking permit. The Doc said I certainly qualify, filled out the form and next thing you know I have the blue tag on the mirror. Like I said, I guess I’m officially a senior citizen.

I’ve never feared old age. It beats the alternative and the alternative is what I’m currently fighting against. Death is a scary thing. I’d really like to avoid it if possible. At least for now. I’m going to work hard at that.

It's not the fishing, it's the conversation

All this time I thought what I missed most on the water was the fishing. Interesting. It’s really not. I miss the conversations.

When on a boat with two or more people you soon find you are stuck in a very small room, and in the case of charter fishing you may not even know these folks at all. The conversation is what rules, not the fishing. If you have great talks and stories the fishing can take a backseat. Heck, the fishing can almost be bad and no one cares.

The subjects often travel the full gamut. If you’re with friends it usually covers old fishing trips, family happenings, gossip and what the kids and grandkids are up to. It’s a place to brag on them and to show concern if there are problems brewing. Sharing solutions also takes place and, of course, fixing the worlds problems are high on the agenda.

When sharing the boat with strangers the conversation often starts with a simple question. “Where’s home?” It’s amazing how much information that little question elicits. People want you to know not only where they are from now, but where they have been and how they got to where they are now. From there it heads to safe places. How many kids, grandkids, past fishing trips and just about every sport you can think of. Mostly football. Strange how football and fishing are somehow linked. I’ve told new fishing guides that they had better brush up on football teams, cities and stats if they want to keep conversation moving in the third and sometimes fourth hour of a trip.

The only taboo subjects are religion, politics and race. These sometimes enter the conversation, but very rarely. Family members will talk about all of the above, but not a new guest. That is best. In the world of charter fishing it’s important to not offend.

I can’t wait to get back on the water and wet a line, but I really can’t wait for good conversation. I really miss it.

I Can Do This

I can do this.

That is my motto. I’ve had the monster in my body for about 4 months now. I was brought to my knees by multiple myeloma cancer on February 25th and got the diagnoses a day or two later while in the emergency room at the hospital. My two weeks there was hell on earth. I’ve never been in so much pain before. As a matter of fact, this is the first time I can actually write about it without having to stop. It was worse than anything you or I can imagine. I thought I was going to die and that the only way I was leaving was going to be in a bag.

Nope. I can do this.

It started with a nurse named Hope. Yes, that really was her name. I took it as a sign. She’s a spry black woman that I’d guess to be about 50 years old. Obviously she was in charge and didn’t take shit from anybody, especially me. She had an attitude that was scary. There’s no other way to describe it. My immediate goal was to win her over. I’ve met a lot of grumpy folks in my lifetime. Most are retired CEO’s that are used to being in charge. Not on my boat. I’m proud to say that many of these same men with the attitudes are now close friends.

So I started out asking her questions about her family and why she was a nurse. I don’t believe any patient of her’s had done that before. She warmed a bit, but it took several days to win her over. We did each step of my hospital recovery together and she even made a point of stopping by to see how I was doing, even when she was working a different area of the ward.

Thank you, Hope. I can do this.

Dying

I must admit I hadn’t thought much about dying. It had occurred to me that it will happen but only as a background thought. Up until my cancer diagnosis I was feeling fairly bulletproof. I’ve been told by many that I look young for my age. When I tell people I’m over 60 they look at me like I’m lying. Most guess middle 40’s. Very flattering, but wrong.

And then along came the monster, cancer. I now think about death on a daily basis. I don’t know if that’s normal or not but I have to believe it is. I’ve met a lot of people that are not as sick as I am and they say the same thing.

I’ve been told that the survival rate for multiple myeloma is anywhere from a few years to over 10 or so. That’s a pretty wide range with seemingly no rhyme or reason to it. I read about a young man who died in about 2 years. I’ve also read about quite a few that have survived over 10 years and that’s with older technology and chemo medicines. Obviously a lot has been learned over the last 10 years and it’s paying off in longevity.

I do know that if you are diagnosed with MM at a later age in life you are more likely to survive longer. Odd but true. Young people don’t survive very long, whereas older folks do.

I really don’t know why I’m worried about dying. If you die you leave all the problems behind and everyone else has to deal with it. Maybe that’s why I have a problem with it. I love for everything to have an order and if you die too young you are messing up the order. Then again, perhaps it is best to die first. What I mean by that is I really don’t want to lose all the family and friends I have, first. I’d rather go first. Selfish? Maybe.

OK. So now back to reality. I’m going to do everything I can to survive this. I’m going to work toward remission and then hope that the powers that be find a cure for this disease. That’s the plan. I had plans to make it to 90 and I’ve got to figure out a way to survive 29 more years. 

I Miss My Dad

I really miss my Dad. He passed away from a sudden heart attack back in the summer of 2000 and there are so many things I’d love to talk to him about. There was also a wealth of information that he held in that amazingly analytical head of his that I’d love to pry through, but it’s just not to be.

My Dad could do the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle in his head and then write all the answers in with an ink pen. It was something to behold. It’s too bad he was never on Jeopardy. He would have cleaned up.

He also gave away a ton of information and tips about fishing to me over the years. The funny thing was, he didn’t spend a lot of time fishing. He did, however, spend a lot of time reading. He was one of the most well read people I’ve ever known, so he seemed to have an answer for just about everything. He would send me tips about rigging and I think he was fascinated by the different species we had and how each had their own way of feeding and breeding.

We had a discussion one Sunday afternoon about moon phases. I've used parts of that talk to this day during seminars on tides, winds and currents. He was very insightful and pointed out things about the correlation between the moon and fish.

I didn’t start my career as a fishing pro until the year after he died. I often wonder what he would have thought about all this. He was one of those people that believed in the steady job. You know; the long term position with the big “firm” and then the career leading to a successful retirement. That is certainly not where I was headed when I decided to get my captains license and then make a living on the water. But years later I proved to myself and others that I could be a success. It made me happy. I never thought I’d find a job that I’d never view as a job.

I think my Dad would have been pleased to see how it turned out. I miss him now more than ever.

Back Pain

Back pain is a pain in the ass, not the back.

Gosh, I really never thought that a certain pain could last so long and be so persistent. I was wrong. I now clearly understand the pain that some of my older charter customers were experiencing on the boat over the years. I had one gentleman named Joe who had a bad back. He was constantly looking for the next panacea to make everything as it was in his much younger years. Medicines, rubs, braces and even surgery. It took him almost 6 years to get it right. But he did. His persistence beat out the pain’s persistence. He was so happy about it, as was I.

My pain is fixable. Or is it? I know that surgery is going to be best. I’ve read enough to know that compression fractures, a side effect of multiple myeloma, can be fixed using a glue or cement like substance injected into the spine to set things straight. But there is also the possibility of new fractures appearing if I don’t reach remission soon enough. It’s ok. I really don’t want to go through what Joe went through for 6 years. I’m going to get this done and move on to the next hurdle that MM will surely throw my way.

I’m being tested.

Conflicted

Conflicted. That sums up my feelings after the past week or so. I have lots of advice coming at me from a lot of different directions and new doctors are popping out of the woodwork. I know it’s important and I do the best I can to sort things out, but it’s difficult at best.

Part of the problem is being able to pay attention. The assortment of drugs I’m taking for the pain do make me more comfortable, but my ability to absorb detailed information has been a problem. I have to rely on written notes and JoNell’s memory. Good thing she has a great memory!

I do need a central controller of all things medical. A handler that can sort out all the doctors, their needs and request, along with insurance needs and pharmacy issues. I often wonder what pills can go with what pills and are there dangerous mixes. Just one of those things you pick up on pharmaceutical television ads.

I’ve been a very independent person for many, many years but I recognize the need for help. It’s been embarrassing though. Because I’ve always been able to take care of myself both physically and financially, it’s tough to accept the help. I’ve been the giver not the receiver. Now I need the help. I want so badly for things to go back to the way they were. That’s going to take some time.

Capt. Mike "Bush Doctor" Weingart

Capt. Mike Weingart (Left) Capt. John Carpenito (Right)

The news reported that Sawyer Sweeten had died on April 23rd of an apparent suicide at his home in Texas. He was the child actor from “Everybody Loves Raymond.” He was only 19 years old.

Why? Who knows. I really don’t understand this. There is so much to live for. I’m currently fighting cancer but under no means have I contemplated ending my life.

I lost a good friend several years ago. Suicide. I never could understand it and honestly, I’ve never gotten over it. Capt. Mike was one of those happy go lucky guys with a great attitude and was loved by his clientele and co-workers alike. And then one day he was gone.

Not me. I’m going to do everything I can to hang in there and make this an adventure rather than a depressing, God awful event.

I love you Mike. Hope you are doing OK in heaven. I know you made it there. The world would be really unfair if you didn’t.

It's Important

JoNell is my caregiver. It sounds funny to say that now. She and I have always shared our home duties.

Before cancer she kept track of the money, paid the bills and put in more hours than I did. She usually worked at her office in Naples for 8 to 10 hours and then came home and worked another 1 or 2 on the computer. She also put in another chunk on the weekends. Her other home duty was feeding the cats. They love her.

I worked on the water as a charter captain. I did anywhere from 5 to 14 trips a week. Sometimes it was a short week, sometimes it was a long week. When I got home I was the house cleaner, laundry dude, kitty sandbox changer, pool cleaner, yard maintenance dude and in charge of getting the recycle cans and garbage to the street on the proper days. I made sure the vehicles keep running. I also took care of all things SoulMate Charters, Inc. Bills, deposits, taxes etc.

We both shared the making of dinner and the trips to Publix.

All this changed when I got diagnosed with cancer. I became fairly useless and JoNell had to pick up the slack of running the entire household. It was quite a shock for both of us. I don’t think either one of us realized how much the other did and I know she didn’t know my routines.

Over the past two months we have adjusted and I am starting to feel physically better so I can lend a hand on a few chores. It’s still tough for me to last longer than 15 minutes or so, but it makes me feel better when I can help. Just folding clothes means I’m helping a bit and I really want to do that for JoNell. 

I love her so much. It’s been quite an ordeal and it has weighed on both of us. Most of the time we work toward getting it done. We don’t talk much about the future. We just keep plugging away at the here and now. Today.

Every now and then the future creeps in and that’s when the tears start for both of us. We had plans and this has pretty much wrecked that. JoNell also realizes how close she came to losing me. She was there for the incident at the hospital and she’ll most likely never forget it. She was pretty sure that was the end. We’ve talked about it and I’ve told her that she’s stuck with me. It’s going to take more than cancer to do me in.

I’m writing this as advice for couples. Married or not, you need a plan that covers your worst possible moments. What happens if...  It’s important. JoNell and I were under the assumption that things would just move along as they always have. Kind of a pre destiny. Well, that was wrong. We should have known better, but we were both lulled into a false sense of security.

Take the time to learn what the other does. How you each fit in to the overall scheme of things. It’s very important. It’s much better to be ready than not.

I'm Lucky

Learned something this week. Chemo is mostly a big surprise. I’ve been on it for several weeks, off and on, and I was pleased that I have been able to handle it through aches and pains. The Friday morning blast of steroids has been a pain saver and moved me tthrough the early week without a lot of trouble. And then that changed.

All of a sudden the double whammy of the chemo pill and shot really knocked me down. My white blood count fell through the floor and I ran my fist big fever since leaving the hospital. Terrible night sweats and very little sleep. Off to the doctor in the morning to see if it was an infection or chemo. Fortunately it was chemo related and a new shot called Neupogen was prescribed to help raise my white blood cell count. It worked and I was feeling better by Thursday. One little problem. It also makes your bones ache. Oh goody.

Chemo is all about attitude. Keep it positive and and stop worrying about tomorrow. Just hang in there, there is light at the end of the tunnel. I’m happy that I’m two weeks on and one week off. That one week off gives me something to focus on during the bad times. I also receive half of my chemo (the shots) in a room full of people also getting cancer treatments. Mine is relatively easy compared to some of the patients who have to spend all day, sometimes 2 to 3 times a week, under the gun.

I’m lucky.

Sympathy

I look at things differently now thanks to having cancer. Especially the trials and tribulations of others.

I was watching the second round of the Masters golf tournament and Rory McIlroy was having a particularly tough day. Heck, the way he was playing he might not even make the cut for the weekend. Balls off the course in the rough and in the woods and his approaches weren’t very good. He was visibly disappointed.

I thought to myself, “So what. Add cancer to the mix and be glad you are where you are. Get that chin up and play ball. Quit pouting.”

Not really a very nice thing to be thinking and a gross lack of sympathy. Saying that having cancer is tougher than his current situation might be a little off base, but his whole down in the mouth attitude kind of pissed me off.

But in defense of Rory, he had every right to be disappointed. He’s one of the best professional golfers in the world and he’s worked very hard to get to this point in his life. Shit, he’s playing the Masters!

But I still don’t have much sympathy for him.

One Day At A Time

You have cancer.

Those are the words that a good many folks will never have to hear. For some reason I thought I’d be in that group. I don’t really know why, it was just a feeling.

Wrong. At first I thought it was going to be a different diagnosis. Perhaps just a very serious flu or perhaps an infection I’d picked up from a fish bite or nick on the finger. I’d read about that and I’d heard about the “flesh eating” stuff that was very dangerous and had to be treated right away. But cancer? Not a chance.

It really did come out of the blue. So many survivors and people in remission have said the same thing. “It came out of nowhere. I wasn’t even sick and then...”

The only medicine I’d ever taken on a regular basis was Advil. I used it for the normal aches and pains of being a fishing guide and for the occasional over imbibing of alcohol, which had become less and less with age. You learn your limits as you pass your sixtieth birthday.

Cancer changed that. Now I take nine different medications to control everything from blood pressure to pain to infection to nausea and my ability to pee. I also take another as part of my daily chemo and then get a chemo shot twice a week. I then add 10 steroid pills taken all at once each Friday. I haven’t taken an Advil since my diagnosis in late February and I haven’t had a cocktail since then either. How’s that for irony?

Until you have cancer you have no idea what a person with cancer is going through. I thought I could sympathize with such a person but no, I couldn’t and can’t. It’s much too complicated. It’s hard to understand all the feelings that come with the diagnosis and it’s almost impossible to put it into words.

I do, however, understand what the support group is going through because I’ve been there, several times. I’ve lost a couple of good friends to cancer and I’ve also helped rescue a couple. Each time is different but it all adds up, just the same. You are on the outside looking in and the inside is impossible to fully understand.

One day at a time becomes the new mantra. The future is much too fickle and feels unreachable. It’s not, but it feels that way. One day at a time. That’s where I am right now. One day at a time.

It Was THIS Big

I love to fish. While catching big fish is fun, it’s not important to me. I no longer need to prove myself by bringing the biggest fish back to the dock. Some anglers do and that seems more like the person that has to have the biggest car or truck with the biggest engine. Perhaps he’s trying to make up for a shortage elsewhere.

If the body of water I’m working is giving up small fish, so be it. I’m good with that and I’ll downsize my tackle to match the catch. It’s the act of fishing and not knowing what’s on the end of the line that makes fishing fun for me. It’s the mystery of it all and the mystery of being surrounded by the great outdoors.

I also don’t need to report a catch of “40 redfish.” I just love the fisherman that starts the bragging by giving his last outing a number. “We caught 62 redfish yesterday and we were only out for three hours.” I’d like to point out that mathematically that’s one redfish every three minutes if you spread the catch out over the three hours. That would be really tough even on the very best day. Heck, that would be tough on any day. A solid redfish bite in this neck of the woods would be about 15 over the three hours.

Honest.

Carrying The Flame For Dean-o

Originally published 2007

My good friend Dean Hicks passed away in May. He was the owner of Reel’s Inc., a custom rod and tackle shop located in San Carlos Park. He was also the distinctive voice of Reel Talk Radio, a call-in fishing show that continues under my direction each Saturday morning from 7 to 10 on 99.3FM.

While we all amass a great number of acquaintances in our lives, we usually only have a few folks we call close friends. It’s tough losing one.

Dean-o and I met about 5 years ago during the initial manatee zone battles. He was invited as part of the press to go on a boat ride to look at the proposed new zones near the mouth of the Caloosahatchee River. I was the captain that day and Dean-o, in his usual way, introduced himself shortly after arriving on board.  I’ll never forget it. It was like we had known each other for a lifetime. He had a knack for making you feel as if you were the most important person in his presence, even on a boat full of press and politicians. He sounded and looked like a pirate but it became obvious to me that there was much more going on than met the eye. We talked about the manatee situation, about fishing and about the business of fishing. He told me about his radio show and his shop and encouraged me to stop in and see him. I’m glad I did. What began as a business relationship soon developed into a friendship.

We had a lot in common. Both of us were military veterans, we loved the water and conservation of the resources, and we were both doing our best to raise daughters that are almost the same age. We had a lot of great talks and debates. I’m going to miss those the most. But most importantly Dean-o got me involved in the community. Oh, I had donated a fishing trip or two for good causes and I had sent my dues to the Coastal Conservation Association, but I soon learned that that was the tip of the iceberg in Dean-o’s world. It was an eye opening experience and one that I have continuee to carry on in his absence.

I implore you, the reader, to also do your part. If you love southwest Florida and you love to fish or recreate in this great playground of ours, then you need to pay attention to what’s going on around you. There are very important issues on the table right now concerning boating access to Everglades National Park and we are still fighting the battle of water releases from Lake Okeechobee. There is much to be done and it’s not going to get done by itself.
   
Dean-o is going to be greatly missed, not only by his family and friends but by the entire community. His tireless efforts to make this a better place to live and fish will be carried on by those of us that knew him, and I for one, will make sure that the flame never goes out. 

Dean-o, Peace my friend and catch big fish.

Time On The Water

I really miss fishing.

No, I mean I REALLY miss fishing. I’m surprised. I’ve always done a lot more watching than actually fishing while on one of my charters. As a matter of fact, charter fishing is really the act of taking others to find and catch fish. So I was surprised how much I miss the act of fishing.

Maybe it has more to do with the surroundings than actually wetting a line. I love the view. I love my office. It’s ever changing and almost never looks the same from day to day. Perhaps that’s it. I’m not sure.

I started fishing when I was boy. That was back in 1959. I was six years old. My Dad took me to the old Clearwater Beach bridge that had been turned into a fishing pier. The first thing I remember catching was an octopus. It tried to climb up the line to the rod and then proceeded to squirt ink everywhere. When you are six years old it doesn’t get much better than that. I guess that’s where it all started. The simple curiosity of what might be caught on any given trip. That mystery has never left me.

I’ve lived and breathed fishing since 2001. That’s when I started fishing full time for a living. The longest stretch of days in a row on the water has been 41. That’s right, 41. At that time I was booking every day and only taking time off for bad weather. We had a very long bout of beautiful weather. I was praying for rain about day 30 but it just wouldn’t come. Here’s the funny part. The break in the good weather was four days of rain and wind. About day three I was actually starting to miss the water. It still feels that way, especially now.

I went to the hospital on the afternoon of February 25th. I’ve been off the water for 40 straight days. Hard to believe.

I REALLY miss it.

February, a tough month to fish in southwest Florida

Originally published in February 2007

When I’m asked the question about what month is my favorite one to fish, I almost always pick two; May and October. Both are transitional times of the year when the days are getting longer or shorter along with the end or beginning of the rainy season. Fish are on the move and hungry. They are usually easy to find, plentiful and predictable; the total opposite of the month of February.

Ah, February…  It’s a tough one. It will sometimes make you wonder why you took up the sport of fishing in the first place. I feel pretty certain that the old saying, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a day and it will change,” was coined to cover February in southwest Florida.

But it’s not an impossible month and with a little time and perseverance, fish patterns can be recognized and taken advantage of. Here are a few of my observations and I have hopes that this will help you in your endeavor to master the ever changing month of February.

Let’s start with the inevitable cold fronts of arctic air that manage to make their way to southwest Florida. As the cold weather approaches, the barometric pressure begins to drop. Fish, and most wild creatures, are quite susceptible to this and begin to feed with a great deal of urgency. They are storing up energy in hopes of making it through the bad times when their food source may disappear for several days. They’ll eat almost anything that swims or crawls by and are usually less guarded about their surroundings and predators. Needless to say, it’s a great time to fish. Virtually any lure you use, such as artificial, live bait, cut bait and flies will work, and the worry of color and presentation is at a minimum. I like to go a little bigger in bait profile when fishing before an approaching cold front. Remember, the fish are trying to fatten up, so give them what they are looking for. One of my favorites is cut ladyfish. Big trout and redfish love it.

The first couple of days after the cold front are the toughest for fishing. The winds are usually blowing out of the north at 15 to 20 mph with gusts to 30 mph. The fish have left the open bays and grass flats for safer and deeper cover. They usually move to warmer water found in the bottom of pot holes and cuts. They are slower to feed because they are cold blooded and their metabolism slows with lower water temperatures and they don’t need as much food to survive. However, they will eat. My go-to post cold front bait is live shrimp. Not the big stuff; the smaller to medium ones. Use a small lead head jig to help get the shrimp to the bottom and then cast it into holes and drop-offs. Move it very slowly. Fish don’t want to chase bait when they are cold. You’ll be surprised at how well this works on even the worst and coldest days.

Several days after the cold front passes the waters begin to warm with the combination of sunny days and incoming tides from the Gulf of Mexico. The Gulf waters are generally warmer than the bay water after a front, and the tides help deliver this water to our near shores. About 3 days after the front moves through the area, try fishing in the bay areas located close to passes and open Gulf waters. One of my favorites is the Bunche Beach area located near the Sanibel bridge. It’s pretty well protected from the north winds and has a varied bottom structure with deep water located in close proximity to shallow sand bars. As the water temperatures rise the fish will stage and feed there for 4 or 5 days before heading to their old haunts in the backcountry. They are more active during this time and will readily eat live shrimp and artificials that imitate the small baitfish found in the area. Try using a small sized Yozuri Crystal Minnows in light, bright colors.

Don’t be afraid to give February fishing a try.  It’s not as simple as angling in May and October but the sport of fishing wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t a challenge.

Capt. Rob Modys