A New Old Photo

I attended a Martin Family Reunion at my cousin, Brian’s house in August. He showed a reel of old family pictures. The funny looking young people in the long ago photos brought a lot of laughs to the new, younger relatives.

I saw a few pictures of myself I had never seen, they were taken by Brian’s folks. This picture of me and my first (official) girlfriend was among them. I remember that striped shirt and Timex watch. Is that a transistor radio on the table?

I was clicking around the internet looking for possible contact with anyone involved with class of 1970 reunions at Jefferson High School in Portland; I served my freshman year sentence there, but never made it to a reunion.

I found a couple classmates that went from Kenton Elementary School to Jefferson. That led to a couple more classmates and a suggestion that we have a Kenton class reunion. Five or six of us met at a restaurant in Portland and became the planning committee.

That meeting itself was a precious reunion. At one point when Bill Dunlap laughed, that sound went into my ears, into my memory banks, and instantly registered a solid confirmation (with goosebumps) even though I hadn’t heard that laugh in 35 years. Amazing!

We divided up our list of classmate’s names to try to contact. I was happy to see my old girl friend, Carol Leech, was on my list; it would be fun to contact her.

I eventually reached her in Washington by phone. We must have talked for an hour and a half. We talked about all things relevant when you haven’t seen or spoken to each other since eighth grade.

At one point, she asked if she could speak to my wife. I handed the phone to Diane, and Carol proceeded to tell her what a wonderful young man I was, so many years ago. I got her address and promised to send the reunion invitation when they were printed.

The “Kenton 8^th Grade Class of 1966 Turns Fifty” class reunion invitations were mailed out and confirmations began coming back. A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything from Carol so I called to see if she had received the invitation. She had not.

I told her I would send another, but I also confirmed the date and time. I asked hopefully if she thought she would make it. She said she would if money and health allowed. I told her it would be my honor if she would let me pay for her dinner, to please not let that stop her from attending.

The event was held at the McMenamins Kennedy School in Portland, the evening of October 5^th, 2002. Turnout was fair, conversation and dinner was good. How did these 8^th graders get so old?

I was really looking forward to seeing Carol, but she didn’t make it.

I did not yet own a digital camera, but a classmate, Mike King, emailed me a few pictures he took at the event. I forwarded them to Carol, but got no reply.

After a few days an email arrived with this message: Hi, this is Carol’s daughter. I see you were corresponding with my mom, so I thought you should know that she died.

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.”

New Meds

I started taking some new medicine. It’s for the nerve damage in my feet, the peripheral neuropathy. We tried a few non-prescription cures, but they made no noticeable difference.

When my Oncologist first recommended this medicine, I asked what the side effects are. Remember when you were a kid, and you got sick, and your mom gave you medicine and you got better? Side effects were an unknown concept. I miss that.

My doctor gave me a print out, “Patient Drug Information.” When I first read it, I said I would never take this medicine. Then I thought, maybe I should never say never, and try it only out of desperation if it came to that.

The print out listed all the standard possible side effects including signs of an allergic reaction, hives, itching, red, swollen, blistered or peeling skin (with or without fever), wheezing, tightness in the chest or throat, trouble breathing or talking, unusual hoarseness or swelling of the mouth, face, lips, tongue, or throat.

I highlighted some favorites on this full page of possible side effects, and I came to realize that I may not have the proper perspective on this . The doc didn’t hand me a list of side effects or Patient Drug Information,

she handed me

A FREE PASS.

Let me explain. Included in my favorite highlighted possible side effects is HOSTILITY. At first I thought, oh-no, will this make me hostile? But that’s the wrong way to look at it.

If I need to dispense some hostility, there’s no apology necessary, I would simply whip out the Patient Drug Information sheet and point to the highlighted lines. It’s a side effect!

PROBLEMS WITH HOW ONE ACTS, is another highlighted favorite. Yes, it actually says that. I suppose I can act how ever I want now, it’s a side effect.

CHANGE IN THINKING CLEARLY AND WITH LOGIC.

Who cares! Side effect!

Here’s another favorite, NOT ABLE TO CONTROL EYE MOVEMENTS. There was a term we used to hear more often, that a guy was, “Shifty Eyed.” It usually meant he was suspect, probably up to no good.

Now I can be shifty eyed, have a problem with how I act and think, I can even get hostile and if anyone has a problem with it, call my doctor, it’s all side effects!

There’s one more I highlighted, TWITCHING.

At first I thought this could be really bad, but, you know, I’ve never been a dancer. If I get this side effect, and the music is really loud, I could be a cool dancer beyond my dreams.

If anyone would suggest that my dancing is kind of stupid,

hey, it’s a side effect! Care to join me?

It’s funny, the commotion a little number can cause

The first time I was told I had cancer; I thought it might be the beginning of the end of my life.

I remember thinking, I can’t die now, I have unfinished projects everywhere I look, who will finish them? And I had always assumed I would be here to take care of my wife when we got older. Who will do that if I’m not here?

After prayer and consideration, I came to realize that there isn’t really anything that won’t get by without me.

I was mentally preparing my self for the end. You reluctantly try the notion on for size, wear it around for a while, and with God you can say, “If I must, I can do this.”

I had surgery and recovery, and after a while I thought my life might continue.

Time passes and you start thinking, “Maybe I will be around a while, maybe even a long time.” So you wear that around and get used to it.

Then came the second cancer, this one incurable. Those words are devastating, but good or bad (bad or worse), I have God’s peace. I remember the moment it hit me, the peace that passes all understanding. You can learn about it here – Philippians 4:7.

Certainly, I’d rather not have cancer; I’m in no hurry to die, but here on earth, the mortality rate is 100%.

I’m tested every three months. After stable, stable, and continuing stable, it’s easy to cast your focus a little farther out and think again, “Maybe I will be around for years.”

The difference between 1.2 and 1.8 is such a small number, but enough to bring a (Smoldering) Multiple Myeloma patient back for more testing, x-rays, waiting for the next answer (and the next question), and realizing again that this is could well be the beginning of the end.

I feel like such a wimp when I read the blogs and posts of other Multiple Myeloma cancer victims, they’ve been through so much. I’ve been enjoying a fairly normal life, quietly smoldering a year and a half; that’s easy.

These MMr’s are experienced and decorated medical combat veterans. Most have had serious medications, agonizing treatments, terrible side-effects, lives completely upended, and eventually – finally, death.

I read one Multiple Myeloma blogger’s list of stages he predicts most of us will go through. There was not one mention of Jesus, no peace from God.

How sad for him to face this (and eternity) without joy. His only hope was in doctors and medicine. I love doctors and medicine (and insurance!), but even with the very best, one day I will die.

I remember hearing it said of someone who survived a great tragedy, “God was surely with them!” But, then I wondered about those who didn’t survive, was God not with them? If they were believers, God was with them.

I realize that because he is always with me. Going in or out of the hospital, going in or out of cancer, going in or out of life, His presence is undeniable.

This cancer experience hasn’t been any fun, but through it, I’ve enjoyed the strength and comfort from God’s Peace. Thank you for your prayers for Diane and me.

Monday, I go for another bone marrow biopsy. This is where the roller-coaster starts to get exciting!