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.