Scott

Time Is Speeding

I am really enjoying this summer and this partial remission. Time is speeding, and so am I. I’m rushing to do what I can while I am able. I got a few things done since my last posting here and a few more things nearly done.

How do I feel? I feel the best that I have since starting this cancer journey. Last week I had my 3 ½ year post prostate surgery check up. The PSA test came back with the word I love to hear, undetectable.

I was showing my urologist the chemouflage on my stomach from the bi-weekly Velcade shots and also my turkey timer belly button, a result of surgery he performed.

He said, “That belly button can be fixed, but it’s another surgery.” I told him my thought about tattooing an eyeball on it.

He liked the idea but said it would be even better if I tattooed a fish on my stomach (motioning vertically with his hand) and let that be the fish eye. We agree that either tattoo would cost much less than surgery.

*Robin and Kellen, I think I see a resemblance here.*

This summer our younger son, daughter-in-law, and grandson stayed with us for a while.

During that time, we watched Kellen go from almost crawling to crawling almost everywhere.

I asked Diane if we could make him some chaps and gloves out of dust mop material.

We got to spend a week with them and extended family at Seaside. It was a wonderful vacation.

I put a complete set of Dakota gauges in the Chevy. The speedometer broke for the third time (in ten years, that’s not bad for a 57 year old car) and it was time for a more permanent and programmable fix.

I was able to attend an event this summer where I love to take a rare, special kind of picture. They are low light, slow shutter speed, moving target, and moving camera photos.

Diane and I remain thankful for your prayers and kind words and eternally grateful to God for our every blessing.

One Year

I’ve heard it said and know it’s true that time flies when you’re having fun. It could also be said that time flies when you’re having cancer.

Once you get out of that early recovery period where time does not fly, it soon hits a pace I would like to slow. I would like to throw a net over it as it races past and drag it down so I could explain that there is no hurry now.

Well, maybe there’s a bit of a hurry to get things done before the cancer makes its move.

Today marks one year since my stem cell transplant. Last July first was my, “day zero,” the day I receive the infusion, the fourth day of my two week hospital stay. I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about putting the year behind me.

I’ve recovered from the transplant with few lasting side effects, and am enjoying partial remission. I get to be here with my wife, Diane, I get to go to work every day, I’ve completed some projects around home, and I got to meet my grandson. Life is good.

Before I checked into the cancer treatment center in Portland, Diane and I met with a nurse. Her name was Sarah, and she was going to be our official guide through this process. She laid out the game plan, answered questions, gathered signatures, and issued documents including my personal calendar and schedule.

I didn’t see her after I checked into the hospital, but we spoke several times on the phone when I returned home. Except in an emergency she was to be my contact person. I would call and ask her if Diane and I could go to a movie or to Kaydia’s birthday party and she would remind me that it was too soon for that kind of exposure.

I kept her business card, and after a few months, I called to tell her my recovery was progressing well. I called her again today to tell her about the one year anniversary, and that I remember her kindness. After a moment, the lady who answered her extension said, “I’m sorry. Sarah was diagnosed with cancer in January and died in May.”

The Best Medicine

I’ve been getting the Velcade shot every two weeks. The side effects with it are increasing. I didn’t think I had neuropathy in my hands because they didn’t feel the same as my feet.

But when I complained to the doc (this time actually the top nurse / doctor’s assistant) that they feel generally stiff, achy, and longer, as they keep bumping into things, and so numb some mornings that I have trouble turning off the alarm, she said that’s neuropathy.

Also, the first moment after I get up from sitting, the first few steps are hard to get going. That’s neuropathy, along with the sand in the feet, socks bunched up in the shoes feeling. These side effects are increasing; not debilitating – but quite annoying.

The nurse was going down a list of questions and got to, “any change in appetite?” I told her I’ve been eating everything in site and was approaching maximum capacity. I told her I might finally have a T-shirt printed that reads, “SEX MAKES ME HUNGRY!” I suggested I might make good money if I print and sell them to old, fat guys.

She started laughing so hard, it appeared it was all she could do to hang on to my medical chart. She was rolling so well I didn’t think it would take much to push her over the edge, so I told her about the T-shirt I would print for guys like me who’ve had prostate surgery, “BETTER ERECTIONS THROUGH CHEMISTRY.” She laughed and laughed, bent over laughing. It’s so much fun to make people laugh.

*My Nephew, John, recently took me to the LeMay Car Museum, it was Awesome*

Life is good

I recently met my grandson, my first and only grandchild. Every parent (including myself, many years ago) thinks their baby is the cutest, the most intelligent and most talented baby ever. Grandparents think that too. I have re-joined those ranks.

It’s been a long time since I held my own babies. It came almost as a surprise when I first held Kellen and felt my heart immediately go to him.

Suddenly I loved him. Suddenly, I loved him so much I would trade my life to protect him. It’s been a long time since I loved someone new.