Last Chemo Treatment: One Year Later

April 25th of last year was a big deal in the Postlethwait household. It was the 12th and final chemotherapy treatment for Ben that was administered over 6 suck-months. His big sis, Sara, had flown in the night before to suprise and accompany him to the last treatment. Even though the actual treatment session wasn't fun for Ben (by that time, he was experiencing strong "association" symptoms - all it took was for him to drive into the cancer center parking lot and he would immediately feel nauseated - the brain is a powerful organ), he was in good spirits and we had MUCH to celebrate. Seeing his sister get out of the car, and the realization that she traveled from Texas just to support him, brought him to tears. Sara brought a cake from Munchers (yum) to thank the amazing oncology staff that held our hands and supported us throughout the diagnosis, staging, surgery and chemo process.

Is it ok to take a moment and thank all our friends and family for supporting us and loving on us during this process? A few that stick out -

Jon & Alicia - for watching my kids during appointments and always offering "anything" (and we believed you!) to help
Karen & Jay - for bringing dinner over several times and "feeding our souls"
My mom & dad, Molly, Timmy & Rach - for watching the kids and comforting us during rough times with words of encouragement and prayer
Sandie & Gary - for blessing us with the amazing gift of rest, relaxation, pampering, physical restoration and soul-healing
My MOPS group - for bringing us dinner many, many times
Ben's mom and dad - for watching the girls during chemo treatments, showering us with love and encouragement, and hugs
Patrick & Teresa - for making an amazing memento of all ben's marathons and triathalons that we proudly hang on our wall
Laura-Bora - for the hilarious and totally stinking awesome Indiana Jones Hat
Nate & Heather - for surprising us and showing up on our doorstep (all the way from Colorado) not once but twice
Dave & Beth - for the picture that we hang in our house that reminds us that we don't struggle through life alone, we have Jesus by our side the whole way
Grandma Pat and the whole gang that sported their PostStrong shirts on this day a year ago
Nick & Mon - for surprising us by traveling from Colorado for Ben's "end of chemo" BBQ
Aunt Patti, Krystie, Jenn and the whole Pilens crew for wearing their PostStrong shirts and for the awesome PostStrong bag
My sister - for being my shoulder to cry on, my closest confidant...and to my brother-in-law for his prayers and encouragement
Keith - for letting us "escape" our lives for a few days
Ben's sister - for supporting and loving on her brother, and watching her nieces and sending me to the spa
Dr. Ross - Ben's primary physician, an amazing doctor, for not giving-up on finding the answer to Ben's "weird symptoms"
All our loved ones - for sending us encouraging words or comic relief (and who offered up prayers) via cards, phone calls, text messages, emails and Facebook messages.

Yesterday in the car, I was explaining to Linkan why April 25th is important to us and why we were going to celebrate it. I said, "Daddy beat cancer one year ago." Ben corrected me and said to her, "We ALL beat cancer, baby." Amen to that.

If you or a loved one has/had cancer, then you understand how important these "milestones" are. I thank God for allowing us to weather this storm and for giving Ben another year of life. Each day beyond April 25, 2012 is a bonus and a blessing. I pray that we allow God to use our story to encourage others that are fighting similar battles. Take heart, don't give up, hope always.

In honor of this occasion, I'm reposting a video (chronicling our journey) that I made at this time, last year. Love you Benny P.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."
Romans 8:28

Ben's 35th Birthday

I'll love you for a thousand more...

Chemo Treatment #10: Choke & Puke

Hey all.  Seems like I’m slacking on my blogging duties as of late.  I find as time goes on, it becomes more and more difficult to carve out time to update you all on my progress.  Sorry about that.  Initially, it was a good escape for me to type out my thoughts every other Wednesday as I was pumped full of drugs and forced to sit idly by as the life saving process of Chemotherapy threw me into a 4-day hangover.  A penance, mind you, that is not served up voluntarily and is certainly not the result of drinking good Gin served on the rocks with a twist (my personal favorite way to be naughty).  Sadly enough, my Wednesday treatments have turned into more of a vomit fest followed by a drug induced nap/stupor.  It’s the strangest thing.  Of course I feel nauseous after my treatment, that’s typical, but now I have a significant physical response to the smells and tastes I associate with my treatments.  It’s all in my head, I suppose, and is just an outward expression of some sort of weakness within my cerebral cortex that I have to exorcise (yes I’m trying to use big words to impress you all), but I have an uncontrollable gag reflex when treatment begins that has resulted in some exciting moments in the Chemo ward.  Rest assured that the condition subsides after my treatment and leaves me ever so hungry for a Burrito Supreme after an hour or two.  It has however put me in a favorable position to request a private room (with a deluxe posturepedic bed) during my treatments.  The Chemo nurses (thanks Lana!!) are more than happy to oblige.  So, instead of typing in my blog during treatments….I nap.  For all you suckers that actually have to work on Wednesday afternoons, bite me.  

 

All in all, I still can’t complain about my condition.  Not much has really changed.  I’m still able to run and swim, although some days are more challenging than others to get motivated enough to hit the gym.  I started a spin class on Wednesday mornings, so it’ll be good to engage my bike muscles again.  I can’t wait to hit a Tri this summer.  Yep, I’m out of shape, and my lungs are half dead from these nasty drugs, but I’ve got to keep moving.  I went running with Kourtney the other day, and it was a bit embarrassing to be huffing and puffing after only 2 miles (2 really, really slow miles).  Of course he was there with an ever-supportive laugh and a comment about me being a big fatty.  Just remember Kourtney, the next time I take you climbing I’ll take off and leave you alone on the mountain.  I’ll tell everyone that I simply lost sight of your headlamp after a while.  My weight still hovers impressively above the “normal” category on our “WII fit” falling farther and farther into the realm of “obese”, my eyelashes are mostly gone, and I’ve lost a considerable amount of hair.  Seriously, I’d say that 75% of my hair follicles are non-functional.  For you hairy guys out there, you can appreciate that.  It’s really strange.  It’s as if every part of my body could be thrown directly into an Archeological dig site and mistaken as the fossilized remains of some incredibly tall Cro-Magnon man, whereas my body hair more resembles that of a 13 year-old boy.  Let that image burn into your brain.  

Mentally, I suppose I’m doing alright.  I’ve never been incredibly smart, and I’m realistic about my mental capacity.  However, until about 2 months ago, I’ve always felt that given any kind of standardized test I’d at least score somewhere in the middle of the pack.  Chemo has certainly taken my mediocre aptitude and left me barely capable of wearing a headset and asking if you might want whipped cream on your Mocha.  No offense to you Baristas out there, but seriously, if someone ordered a Venti Non-Fat Latte with extra foam and a shot of Vanilla from me right now you’d be just as likely to receive a Lime in your Coke-u-nut.  All these years of clean living just didn’t provide much of a buffer from the negative impacts of Chemo on my cognitive abilities (again, big word, just to impress you).  Seriously, I just said “no”, I didn’t inhale, and I even took Omega-3 Fatty Acids for a while, but nothing could safeguard me from Chemo.  I recently read in a book that we all have a certain capacity, a “gas tank” if you will, for mental concentration, and we can exhaust our reserves.  My reserves are gone, and I’m functioning on nothing but fumes and the lumpy gray remains of a brain that used to be whole.  But, lucky for me (and the girls) I’ve got a lovely wife that selflessly takes care of me as if I’m actually worth every bit of suffering that she’s going through right now.  For those of you who haven’t yet had life push you out (way out) of your comfort zone, you’d better pray, beg, curse, or otherwise offer a request up to whatever deity you may claim as God that a person enters your life that loves you unconditionally.  And, I’m not talking about your parents.  They don’t count.  As I’ve said before, parents are blind, powerless, and otherwise biased to accept even the worst in their children.  After all, if they admit that their kid is “defective”, that means that they’re admitting that they may have screwed up, right?  Oh, the vulnerability!  For real, the sooner we all admit that as parents we’re not near as smart as we think we are, the better off we’ll be.  13-year olds are exactly right when they think that their parents don’t know anything.  Contrary to popular belief, as our kids get older they don’t really start to think that we’re “smart”.  It’s simply that when kids get into their twenties they’ve just given up, surrendered their childish simplicity, and are more likely to agree with their parents.  I’m in my mid-thirties and all I want to do is learn how to think like a 13-year old and chase worthless and misunderstood dreams.  That’s another conversation….back to my point.  I’m blessed to have Kacy around to take care of me and the girls right now.  I hope to pay her back someday by giving her the husband that she deserves.  If any of you know where I might find him, let me know.  Maybe there’s an App for that.

To sum up, we’ve adjusted, and will continue to adjust, to what has become our life over the last 5 months.  The best part is that we’ve only got 1 month left.  We started planning out our summer vacation schedule last week, and it’ll be an action packed adventure.  Climbing, canoeing, camping, diving, paddle boarding, you name it…it’s on the agenda and on a shoestring budget.  Cancer, kids, mortgage….none can diminish our appetite for adventure.  We just have to be a little more deliberate about our planning process.  If you don’t plan it (and I’m talking months in advance) it simply won’t happen, and yet another summer will be spent drifting without a purpose until Fall is upon us, and life becomes too busy for fun.  Kacy told me to start responding to your blog comments….so I’ll give that a shot this time.  Oh I come kicking and screaming into the information age.  I hope you all are doing well, and take care of each other.

10th Chemo Treatment - March 28, 2012

 

Chemo Treatment #8 - I Got This

My, my.  Long time, no talk.  So, a couple of treatments have come and gone.  I apologize for my negligence.  As Kacy has mentioned, the treatment after our Hawaii trip left me a little beat up.  Of course I had just enough time to recover from that before I went right into another round of poisoning.  Luckily this round isn’t near as bad.  It’s Tuesday, and I’m pretty much back to my regular old “sunshine” self.  I’ve got a ton to share with you, so this blog is bound to be all over the place.  You’ve been warned.

Before getting into the details of white blood cell counts, endless days spent in bed, and what it really means to prefer having cancer rather than go through Chemotherapy (if you’ve had both, you understand that comment), I’ll take this opportunity to try and describe what it felt like to be able to travel to one of the most beautiful places on this planet in such grand style.  If you’re not familiar with Kauai, google it, because I can’t explain all there is to see and do there, as well as the inner health you can find in such a place surrounded by the best people.  We stayed at a friend’s place, which is affectionately known as the “Teak House” because it’s made of 100% Teak.  If you’re not familiar with that, don’t bother to “Alt/Tab” to your favorite search engine…Teak is a type of wood.  A really, really nice kind of wood.  Seriously, even the blinds are wood, and not that fake wood crap that you buy at a department store.  I’m not judging, we’ve got those same crappy blinds in our house that are overpriced and never raise or lower in a linear fashion.  These particular blinds are even wired up James Bond style so you can open and close them from your bed.  There’s even an Ipad App for that.  Go figure.  I might add that the remote access is super handy when you get a hankering to prance around naked because you’re excited and you’re in Kauai.  Don’t judge me.  Not only is the place totally beautiful, but its situated on a great beach (which is famous by the way) on which you can surf, paddleboard, scuba dive, have a legit bonfire, fly fish, and hike in the majestic splendor of the Na Pali Coast trail.  And, as if that Postcard could get any cooler, we got to spend almost two entire weeks with some of our best friends who put up with all of my Chemo whining, and who endured our childish awe upon arriving.  Seriously, in this one trip we ticked off several of our “bucket list” items, and even ticked off a few that we didn’t even think to add in the first place.  I mean, Linkan got to fly a plane!  Well, alright let’s keep this real; she got to turn a knob that turned the plane a little bit.  BUT, as far as I’m concerned I’ve got the youngest pilot known to man living in my house.  Yep, she’ll do big things, and it all started with a jet ride to Kauai!  I was truly blessed to feel really good during our trip, and I managed to stay pretty active the whole time.  We did hike a small section of the Na Pali Coast trail, I learned to surf (sort of), and Kacy and I even got to go Scuba Diving with a Hawaiian Monk Seal (an endangered species).  He was a curious little dude (I estimate he was about 400 pounds and 7 feet long).  He was our most interesting dive partner to date; even topping a perverted Jamaican Dive Master that had a curious obsession with Sea Cucumbers (let your imagination run wild on that one).  The Monk Seal swam circles around us as we dove along the lava tubes right off the beach.  After our dive, it was like a Corona commercial.  I lugged the gear all of 50 feet to the beach chairs, sat down, and had a beer.  Amazing.  I was even inspired to get more serious about pursuing my dream to become a Dive Master, and eventually be able to teach Scuba Diving.  At this stage in my career, I can go back and get my MBA, or choose to spend that time mastering the trade of diving so that I can take my family and others on adventure vacations for years into the future.  Maybe not the most “mature” decision but dude, we only get one shot at this so you might as well go for broke.  Maybe there’s still an MBA in there for me somewhere, but I’d rather spend the next couple of years enjoying the ride.  Enough about that, this blog is already getting lengthy.

After our time in paradise, we returned home at about 1am on the day of my next scheduled treatment.  Sweet.  I went in to my treatment a little tired, but figured I was just being a big baby after returning back to real life.  As it turns out, my counts were low.  Really low.  What really concerned the Doc was my low Neutrophil numbers (which are reportedly the most important type of white blood cell).  I guess normal people have a count above 1500, and I was around 200.  Whatever that means.  Of course, I’m just spewing what the Doc was telling me, but reportedly they typically don’t treat people with counts as low as mine were.  We had a “substitute” Doc on that particular day, so I twisted her arm and told her that we should just get the party started.  She consulted with my primary Oncologist and he was down for it, so we went ahead with the treatment.  Me and my primary Doc are on the same page when it comes to these treatments.  I prefer to push as far as I possibly can (as does he) in lieu of postponing treatments.  Boy, did I pay for this one.  The effects were immediate.  I went home and crashed for about 6 days.  Seriously, I barely moved.  If I would have had the foresight to have my infamous mountain “pee bottle” unpacked and by my side, I wouldn’t have left the bed.  If you missed the “pee bottle” story, you’re way behind….go back to my earlier blogs.  In the end, I finally found out what all the fuss is about Chemotherapy.  It really sucks.  I missed my training run last Sunday, and as a result I don’t think I’ll be ready for that trail marathon coming up.  It was always going to be a run/walk pace at best, and I needed every possible opportunity to train for it.  I’ll just push it to next year.  As you could imagine, with long distance running, you’re at a higher risk for all sorts of things (stress fractures, ligament damage, etc.) if you don’t train correctly.  That’s all I need right now.  No sweat either way, and no regrets.  I’d do it the same exact way if given another shot at it.  There’s only one way to get through this, and that’s to keep moving through the process.  Per the usual, Kacy has been right here by my side with 2 screaming babies in tow, baby wipes at the ready, and my pill bottles in hand.  I am the luckiest man in the building.

That pretty much brings us to today.  My counts weren’t as low this last Wednesday (treatment day), at least the Doc didn’t mention them, so I didn’t ask.  Why bother.  It’s all relative.  I feel good this time around, so what difference does it make to know what the counts are?  I keep relating this process to climbing mountains….if you feel good, it doesn’t matter if you’re at 10,000 feet, or 20,000 feet.  Just enjoy it either way, and be thankful that you aren’t the guy losing his lunch on the side of the trail.  I have to admit, I’m totally over this.  I long for the days of “normal”.  Or at least my version of “normal”.  It’s as if everything has been put on hold for a while.  Don’t get me wrong, I think Kacy and I have weathered this pretty well (and will continue to do so), but enough already.  It’s frustrating to have so many trivial tasks and chores become major obstacles.  I’m humbled for sure, but I’m a little tired of being in a Chemo stupor all the time.  Work is going well, but I’m certainly not as sharp as I’m used to being.  Let’s be honest, I wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box to begin with.  At home I’m the definition and shining example of “inept husbandry”.  I’d start a self help group or maybe even sponsor an independent mailer on the topic, but the independent Christian film industry has the market cornered on exposing the typical American male shortcomings.  Alright, maybe that was a low blow.  Conviction is a beeotch, but seriously do we need another film exposing just how worthless we are?  We’re fat, we’re lazy, and the sooner everyone comes to terms with that the better off we’ll all be.  Of course I’m joking when I say all of this.  If you’re grinding your teeth and clutching your latest Focus on the Family newsletter, just relax I’m getting to my point. 

Cancer and more painfully Chemo has forced me to reflect on my weaknesses.  Through this process, it’s clear that I do an entirely poor and inadequate job of engaging my Faith in my times of trial.  In doing so, I’ve set a bad example for my family and my friends.  For those of you who know me best, I would ask if you could imagine my motto being “resilience above all”?  That’s a rhetorical question, and not a boast.  Of course that’s my motto…that’s my spirit.  However, let’s air the bad with the good.  Does that include resilience above my health, above my loved ones, and above my Faith?  Guilty.  I can do anything I put my mind to, and that’s the sad part.  I put my mind to the task before my heart has consulted my God.  My “can do” attitude and arrogance in times of pain can be entirely worthwhile when I’m running an Ironman, but I don’t do Ironmans every day.  I’m a model to my wife, my kids, and my friends every day.  And, let’s really add fuel to this fire…..how about when Kacy and I are faced with a tough life decision?  Need an example?  How about the decision to move from Kansas to Colorado, and then back to Kansas in a 3-year period?  How about when I get a phone call from my Doctor and he says I have Lymphoma?  Was my first reaction to pray to God, or grit my teeth and say “I got this”?  I didn’t hit my knees I prayer; frankly I didn’t even bat an eye because “I’ve got this”.  Am I seeking God’s will?  Let’s lower the bar a bit, am I at the very least seeking God’s strength and guidance?  Some of you might gasp at this, but I’ll be totally transparent here, I don’t even know where my bible is.  Is it in that box labeled “old books” in our storage room?  After our move to Kansas, I made sure to find our DVD’s but skipped the Bible.  Oops.  Granted, in this great “tech” era who wants to carry around a clunky bible when you can just download the App, or google it.  Besides, it’s way fun to play Angry Birds in church (just kidding).  But, during those sleepless nights when the Chemo drugs make me sick, and the steroids keep me awake, do I seek out God’s word, or do I just log into my NetFlix account and click on the “watch instantly” tab.  Now, now…it’s not all doom and gloom.  I’m not writhing with guilt and personal anguish.  And, yes I’ve prayed and talked with God about my cancer and my recovery.  I’m not totally lawless, here.  I’m just realizing that I’m a fraud and I’d really like to do something about it.  Unless I’m running an Ironman, or climbing a mountain somewhere, I intend to hand the reins over to God every now and again (baby steps).  I guess I’d better learn to do the little things before life forces me to deal with the big things.  And no, I don’t consider having Hodgkins a “big thing”.  Raising 2 kids, being a leader for my family, and being the best Husband possible is a “big thing”.  Don’t sweat it….sigh….I got this.

Can you build a sand castle with me?

Surf lessons in Hanalei Bay (G and Ben - far right)

Linkan and sweet Bersa

Da boys on the SUPs

Linkan and Arnie

Peek-a-boo

Gary & Sandie (Lilo)

Aunt Sandie & Palmer

Shore dive off Tunnels Beach

Who is that Aussie hunk in the Corona commercial?

Putting the finishing touches on the bon-fire.  Isn't she beautiful?

Uncle G, teaching Linkan how to light a bon-fire. Ha! 

Hiking the Na-Pali coast with the age-less Kayleen

G & Ben
Brothers - Kaikua'ana

Back to reality...no more Kauai :(
Chemo Treatment #7
February 15, 2012

No picture for Treatment #8 :(

Dude, where's my hair? (Treatment #5)

Treatment #5 has come and gone.  I can’t believe that we’re already almost halfway through this messy ordeal.  I should start by mentioning that I had my 2-month scan done this week and the results show that there aren’t any cancer cells in there anymore.  Sweet, eh?  It’s dead, hibernating, or otherwise taking vacation.  I hope it’s somewhere were the mosquito’s will give it malaria.  Those two diseases totally deserve each other.  This doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m 100% cured, but at the same time, a clear scan at this point is the first step in that direction.  Please, please….hold your applause to the end.  I’d like to thank the Academy, but most of all I’d like to thank my fans.  Without you, it just wouldn’t be possible for me to live this dream of Cancer and Chemotherapy.  Wait, in this instance, maybe that doesn’t work.  In all seriousness, I realize that for the most part I’m pretty lighthearted about all of this.  Please know that I certainly am not taking it lightly.  I truly believe that one of the biggest reasons I’m able to come through all of this is because of all of you guys.  The overwhelming support that we’ve received from friends and family (more on that amazing support in future blogs) has been amazing and inspiring.  Keep it up, peeps.  The scans may show that I’m clear, but we’ve still got 4 “F-bombing” months of this nastiness ahead of us.  We do, of course, thank God for my progress every single day.  Homeboy hasn’t forsaken me, he’s simply trying to teach me something.  Speaking of God, I’m so, so, so happy that the Broncos not only lost that game, but that they got pounded.  I’m a Tebow fan…seriously, I am.  I think the dude will be legit in time, and this isn’t a shot at him or his success.  This is a shot at all of those freaky T-boners out there.  Seriously, aside from the nerds at the Star Trek conventions, you people take the cake.  They were never destined to win the Super Bowl.  He hasn’t fallen out of grace with God.  The end isn’t near, so put your cup of Cool-Aid down and take a deep breath.  If God is actually reading the Sports Section (and let’s be honest, God would totally have the MSNBC App on his Ipad) I would imagine that He’s way more preoccupied with the seemingly epidemic child sexual abuse cases in major college programs.  Seriously, whoever commented that Sandusky may have been   teaching a troubled young boy how to shower should be washing cars right now (with Sandusky and Paterno working the tire sprayer right beside him).   I realize that the comment was taken out of context a bit, but seriously, what a nightmare.

I’ve been feeling well enough this last couple of weeks.  I still feel a little nauseous every time I think about chemical smells, and annoyingly enough I gag every time I pull into the parking lot at my Chemo treatment facility.  It’s mental.  The tingling in my toes and fingers is still ever-present, although it’s not quite as bad as it was last week.  I curse that jerk that designed baby clothes to have buttons instead of snaps or Velcro every time I have to put Linkan’s coat on.  I try to go for shirts with no buttons right now, as I just look really stupid trying to button anything.  My mouth never got real sensitive this time around.  I even went to the dentist and endured the normal poking and prodding that accompanies any good teeth cleaning.  And, thank goodness, the stains that I so endearingly spoke of in my last blog are long gone (for now).  I’m sure they’ll return after my next 2 cups of coffee.  On a side note, I now HATE flavored dental floss.  It makes me want to hurl.  And what’s the point anyways?  You’re not eating it, and it arguably should not even touching your taste buds.  If it is, stop flossing your tongue, that’s not what floss is for.  Why does it need to be minty?  The tired/nauseous feeling was pretty strong on this go around.  I was pretty wiped out from Thursday until Sunday night.  Once again, Kacy did an excellent job of catering to my every need and making life comfortable for me.  I still feel sorry for her having to deal with a “Jabba the Hut” sized cancer patient lying around for 4 days straight.  Linkan seems to enjoy lying on the bed with me watching TV.  Can’t wait till’ I get past this and I can actually get that kid outside to play!  Also, big shocker, my hair is gone!  Of course in true “Ben” style we made quite a production out of it.  I decided since I’ve had the very same haircut for the last 20 years that I’d take this opportunity to document my different styles.  Pick your favorite look (the pics are below).  I’m actually pretty relieved to have cut my hair.  I was about 2 weeks away from entering a Matisyahu look-alike contest.  I’d like to think that having my head shaved puts me among the ranks of Vin Diesel or Bruce Willis (Bruce Willis Circa 2007, not circa 1988), but really I think I’m more of a Howie Mandel look-alike.  Maybe a cross between him and Michael Stipe.  Neither of which are near as cool as Bruce or Vin.  Maybe a stretched out version of Mini-Me?  I dunno.  That’s okay, I guess.  Vin can’t act, and Bruce is just sort of old now and is most famous for dropping Hans Gruber off of the Nakatomi tower.  If you don’t understand what I’m talking about, go back to the early 1990’s, get a six pack of Zima and rent Die Hard.  Don’t worry, those dumb looking “skinny” jeans you’re wearing will be in style back then and it will impress the chicks that you can make phone calls on your calculator looking thingy.  Also, while you’re there, grab a Nintendo and a Mario Brother’s game that actually works for me.  No, don’t go to a garage sale for it…get it new.  I don’t want to take the cartridge out and blow on it, then rub it with a pencil, and click into the game slot 15 times to make is work (you mid-thirties folks know EXACTLY what I’m talking about).  With that said, now try and get the Mario Bros. song out of your head…Doot, Doot, Doot…Doot Doot Doot Doot..(pitch gets higher)Doot Doot Doot Doot…..Doot Doot, Doot (pitch lowers), Doot Doot Doot.  Yeah, you’re counting them, I know you are.  To get back to the point, this last 2 weeks was a little rough for a few days, but again I bounced back relatively quickly.  I’ve been able to keep up my running, and am still on pace to be able to run (and finish) my race in April.  I am however bowing out of the Ultra (50-miler) and will instead run in its shorter (and much more attractive) cousin, the marathon.  At least that’s the plan right now.   One cool side effect of having cancer is that you can say (and buy) almost anything you want.  You want to make fun of dumb people? Go ahead, after all, you’re dying and they want the elevator to go down, when that little arrow is clearly pointing up.  You want to go buy a paddle board (thank you REI dividends)?  Go ahead; you could be dead next year.  Yeah, that’s a bit dramatic (I’m not dying), but you get the point.  People just give you a ton of slack.  And, no…(rant alert!!) I mostly don’t make fun of dumb people.  BUT, when they holler at the top of their lungs to “HOLD THE ELEVATOR” prompting you to hold the door with your foot as that little buzzer goes off in your ear and then after stumbling in to the elevator they make it known to everyone (as if we didn’t already know) that “Hey, this elevator isn’t going down”, and THEN they hit the “door open” button so they can get off, delaying your departure even farther.  Trust me, when you feel like vomiting, this is totally annoying.  Speaking of annoying, how about the guy that cruises up next to you on the interstate as if he’s going to pass you quickly, but soon just slows down and sits right in your blind spot.  You speed up a bit, he speeds up a bit.  You slow down, same result.  I just don’t get it.  At the very least, make an effort to stay out of my blind spot.  I dunno, apparently another symptom of Chemo is that I get annoyed real easy these days.  I’m sure there’s a metaphor there somewhere, but I’ll l spare you.  I digress.

All rants aside, as I go through this treatment, I’m offered these daily opportunities to be thankful for my life (and for the days that I’m healthy enough to use the stairs and stay away from the elevator).  I was putting Linkan to bed the other night, and afterwards I just laid there in front of her door for a while listening to what goes on in there after I turn out the light.  Often times it sounds like a herd of elephants running around up there.  And, keep in mind that in my house it takes a lot of commotion to raise any eyebrows, as we live with 2 dogs that are roughly the size of goats.  There’s always someone or something crashing around like a blind man in a lamp shop.  This particular night, Linkan was content to lie in her bed and sing to herself.  The singing was interrupted by random shouts of “NO” or “YOU be quiet” or “Can I play with the Ipad?”.  It just made me laugh, and then I started to think about my life and how thankful I am.  I began to question our place on this Earth, and I just really felt thankful.  I mean, we get life for FREE.  Totally free.  Sure, our parents had to raise us and take care of us, and your Dad can talk about how he saved and worked his fingers to the bone for “you kids”, but you know what….his Dad did the same for him, and we’re doing the same for our kids so get over it.  We ALL got it for free!  It doesn’t skip a generation.  If you’re reading this, you’re right there with the rest of us.  And, as I work through this whole “life is free” thing, I realize the real responsibility that we have to live it well.  We all use excuses to explain why we don’t, or can’t, live life well.  You know the drill, “We can’t go on vacation cuz’ it’s just too much work with the kids and my job”, “I can’t talk openly with my friend or child about his or her addiction because they’ll just deny me”,  “I can’t take that job, or make that move because it’s risky and I might end up failing”, “I can’t possibly spend time with my kids because I don’t understand them, and they don’t like me”, “I can’t be expected to work that hard because nobody else does!”.  There are a thousand different excuses.  I want to make an attempt to knock these excuses on their ear.  Maybe I can modify my responses a bit.  “I HAVE to go on vacation because I have kids and a job”,  “I HAVE to talk with my friend about his or her issues because I love them”, “ I have to take this new job opportunity or make this move because I NEED to risk real failure”.  I feel like Kacy and I have always done a good job of seeking experiences and grasping life, but I certainly don’t think we’ve ever hit our breaking point.  I mean, we’ve been stretched, but I’ve never felt like we were breaking.  That’s a GOOD thing.  We’ve always had a really healthy balance, and that balance has helped us to grow into each other and has provided an incredible strength.  This is a bit of a brag fest on my wife, because beyond our shared Faith, SHE is the reason we grow and build strength in our marriage.  She’s my biggest supporter, and has always been the balance for me.  BUT, with my cancer (and subsequent victory, of course) I worry that we could lose that balance.  We’ll certainly be more likely to say, “Yeah, let’s take that risk and see where we end up.”  We’ve got to be careful to keep that balance and to stretch our Love and Faith in the right direction.  Direction is the key.  Be bold, and be daring, but make sure you’re going in the right direction.  We’ve got several things on our bucket list, and we need to be sure to maintain that balance in our journey.  I want my girls to think I’m the coolest Dad.  I realize that I’d better take my opportunity while I’ve got it, because as soon as they get to be 12 or 13, I’ve lost the battle.  Let’s face it; none of us are cool to 13 year old girls.  And, if we are, we’re kidding ourselves if we think that giving them what they want, or telling them what they want to hear is really “cool”.  Sigh, High School is going to suck.  I hope they get uglier.  A lot uglier.

I realize that my blogs seem to have a common theme.  I’m okay with that.  It’s my blog, and I’ll say what I want.  But, I do want you all to know that these blogs aren’t constructed to serve as an example of how to live your lives.  I don’t presume to have anything figured out.  This is simply what goes through my mind each and every day as I muck through this journey.  I think about this stuff because this is what I struggle with.  We’re all in this together, so if you want to talk, I plan on sitting by a campfire about every night this summer.  Bring beer and Scotch (good Scotch), and we can talk until the sun comes up.  I certainly don’t want to come off like Doogie Howser (pick him up if you’re actually able to time travel back to the early 90’s as mentioned above), Rev Run, or that stupid sitcom “Full House” (leave this one in the past where it belongs), where the drama music starts and the last 5 minutes I make some important diary entry or solution for this week’s problems.  This stuff just isn’t solved.  Life is way too complex for that.  Just like a Butterfly, we’re all in these different phases of life.  Some of us are stuck in a cocoon (actually called a Chrysalis), and some of us are doomed to be caterpillars for a long, long time.  Some of us are lucky enough to work through those stages, only to find that as a mature Butterfly we have to fly potentially thousands of miles to safety, only to die there.  I suppose, again, the jokes on us.  It’s all work.  It always will be, but I’d rather be flying than crawling around on the ground waiting for a bird to eat me, eh?  Stay tuned, I’m thinking that for blog #6 it will be our Hillbilly, Arkansas story.

Before

Scary Clown/Cancer Boy Look

Skinhead/Hells Angels Look

The Stash

After - Not bad!!

"Baldies"

Twins!

Lana, having a little too much fun while Ben tries not to gag...haha

Chemo Treatment #5
January 18, 2012

Hooray for negative PET scans!!

TREATMENT #4 – Happy New Year from Pheriche, Nepal!

So we kick off the new year in grand style…nausea pills in hand, bottle of Sprite by my side, and beer…lots and lots of beer.  Yeah, right.  Well, maybe a few beers, you know I had to sneak those in.  And, speaking of New Year, did you all get visited by that guy that comes by your office as you’re leaving for the holidays and says with a huge stupid grin, “See you next year!”  How about just see you next Tuesday.  That works for me….don’t try and get too clever.  Also, it’s 2012, and we’re all still alive.  Guess those Mayans were just a little short-sighted.  Or, maybe just like the rest of us, the guy that was tasked with drawing up the calendar went on vacation on December 23^rd and was off until January 3^rd.  He simply forgot to pick up where he left off and it fell through the cracks.  I actually don’t think the end officially comes until later in 2012.  Should be a hoot.  Get your bomb shelters stocked.  Anyways, all in all, it was an incredibly relaxed and fun holiday season for us.  For those of you that know me best, using the phrase “relaxed and fun” doesn’t come natural to me.  I’m learning….slowly….to wind down and enjoy the more mellow things in life.  Watching Linkan open presents, eating holiday treats (lots and lots of them), sitting in bed watching football, running a few easy miles with my buddy Khop, testing out a stand up paddle board on the lake in December.  Alright, that last one wasn’t quite mellow, but I had to throw it in there for good measure.  If you haven’t ever tried out a stand up paddle board, run out and try one….today.  Don’t wait till’ it warms up cuz’ who knows, you could wind up getting cancer before summer time!  Besides, it’s not THAT cold.  You can come borrow mine!

I’ve decided to give you all a break today.  No significant rants on politics, sexual preference, religion, or faith…..keeping in mind that religion and faith have absolutely nothing to do with each other.  Sigh….that’s how it starts…..I digress.  As I write this paragraph I realize that I might be lying…it doesn’t take much to set me off.  Just keep reading and shut your freakin’ yapper. 

I’ve been feeling well enough after this last round.  We definitely knocked the dook out of cancer this round.  I was tired and felt nauseous, but I got to live life pretty normally.  I avoided shaving my head for yet another week.  And no, it’s not turning into an ugly comb-over, so save the jokes.  Mouth pain has been non-existent for this round.  That is super cool, but as I scan my mouth for sores I will say that I’m quite disappointed with how my teeth have stained since my last dentist appointment  I switched to a sonicare almost a year ago, I floss every day, but still I get stains.  This is crap.  I can drink 2 cups of coffee and have stains on my teeth, but I can painstakingly stain my back deck and it looks like I haven’t touched it after only one month in the weather.  They should come up with some sort of coffee additive to deck stain to deal with this.  Again, I digress.  I’d say the only lasting impacts have been numbness and tingling in my fingers and toes, and some serious aversions to anything that smells like a chemical or plastic.  The numbness doesn’t bother me all that much.  I’m more sensitive to it (at least they say) because I’ve frostbitten my fingers and toes before.   The gag reflex from the plastic and chemical smell is really a pain in the neck.  The very hand sanitizer that is keeping me healthy makes me want to throw up in my hat.  Seriously, what a quandary.  I stand before the automatic hand sanitizer dispenser with alleged deadly bacteria on my hands, and with the sandwich I ate 30 minutes earlier climbing the water spout.  To sanitize, or not to sanitize, that is the question.  Forget Shakespeare, that S.O.B. was too busy writing Sonnets that make the majority of men look like philistines to be of much value to me right now.  I did, however, have the privilege of being stuck in slow traffic behind a large diesel pick-up for 30 minutes the other day.  Add the smell of diesel exhaust to the list of horrible things that make me want to hurl.  And, while I’m at it (yes, this will be a bunny trail) what the crap is up with those guys that lift their big diesel pick-ups as if they’re going to enter them in a monster truck competition?  Totally ridiculous.  I realize that having some extra ground clearance can be nice when you’re drunk and running over parked cars and pedestrians, but let’s get real.  You can’t hitch a trailer to the truck without a drop hitch, you can’t go through the McDonald’s drive thru because your truck is so tall (and I know you love McRibs), you can’t even get into that thing without a step ladder.  Okay, maybe it looks tough, but if I’m not intimidated by your horribly offensive and surprisingly anatomically correct “truck nuts” along with your “Fear Me” sticker in the back window, the lift kit won’t push me over the edge.  I just realized that I’m breaking my rules from last week by ranting on this.  Shame on me.  If you didn’t read last week’s blog, essentially I made an oath to treat people better.  I messed that up already, I suppose.  If you want to lift your truck, go ahead.  Just be aware that it makes it hard for you to see your blind spot, so be careful when you merge because there might be some guy in a mini cooper down there somewhere jamming out to the Jonas Brothers.

As previously stated, instead of a blog filled with deep moral insight, this week I’ll entertain you (at least I hope) with a story, that as of late, is always on my mind.  Kacy and I took a trip to Everest Base Camp a few years ago with our great friend Gary Scott.  A side note, Gary is more than just a good friend.  I consider him to be a mentor on many different levels.  I would willingly put my life in his hands (and actually have a few times) and more importantly I’d trust him with the lives of my family.  I say this to at least put this story into context, and for you to remember that I was on this trip with a great guide and we had an awesome time.  This story is just part of our awesome Nepal experience.  Also, if you have the means go on a trip with Gary, you’ll have a blast.  At the very least, check out his stuff at http://www.rightpathadventures.com/.

Alright, so on with the story, welcome to Pheriche – Elevation 14,300’.  After 6 days of trekking steadily uphill from a mountain airstrip in Lukla at 9000’ (go to YouTube and search for “Lukla Air Strip Landing”, you won’t be disappointed) we arrive in the village of Pheriche in the Khumbu region of Nepal.  Pheriche is a great little village that is a major stopping point for many Everest expeditions.  It’s got a little airstrip there for helicopter traffic and the infamous Himalayan Rescue Association.  Enough of the trivia, if you want to know more…google it.  Anyways, upon arriving a few of us decided to take a quick hike up a nearby peak.  Now, keep in mind that for our group (Jesse, Patrick, Gary, and I) we’re not only fit, but we’re acclimated well from hiking slowly over the last few days and an easy hike for us includes about 2000’ of elevation gain in less than 2 hours.  In the range of 14,000 – 16,000 feet, that’s not bad.  However, insert the male ego, and the fact that I left about 45 minutes after the other guys, I took it as my personal challenge to catch up…which I did eventually as they were taking a break, but not without a significant cost (more on that later).  I felt really well on the down climb, and after an hour or so of hanging out in our lodge (more description on what a “lodge” really is in a moment) we had dinner.  A fantastic dinner of “Momo’s” to be more specific.  Up until this point, I had a significant love affair with Nepali food, especially Momo’s.  This is where the story heads South.  For those of you with weak stomachs, skip the rest of this story.  We had opted to stay in a lodge this particular night, which turned out to be a very, very good thing.  Lodges in the Khumbu vary in their accommodations, but for the most part, at this altitude, they are thinly insulated buildings (think wood with Styrofoam stapled to the inside) that are furnished with a 3-inch foam pad on a wooden bed, and a chair if you’re lucky.  Remember, anything that makes it up to this elevation is probably carried in by people or yaks, as helicopter drops are extremely expensive.  Next, the lodge’s community bathroom is a short 10 steps down the hall and consists of a floor-mounted bed pan of sorts and a barrel of water to wash down your….uh, you know, business.  To make the experience even better, you don’t drop toilet paper down the hole, you put it in a bucket next to the “toilet”.  Trust me, after 2 days you’ve seen more of other people’s crap than your own.  A little tip, don’t look down the hole.  Curiosity will eventually get the better of you, and you’ll look….everybody looks.  Good luck getting that image out of your head.  All this said, keep in mind that water doesn’t flow freely at 14’000’.  People haul it to the village either by bucket or by chunk (yes, it’s frozen up there).  So, you don’t mop floors and laundry service is expensive and time consuming.  You’re in the Khumbu, get over it!  Don’t get me wrong, lodges can be a luxury at 14,000’, and boy am I glad we had such a luxury.  I woke up at 3am with a headache and extreme nausea.  My first thought was to hydrate, which you have to do religiously at this elevation…especially after a tough hike.  I take a drink, and that’s the catalyst.  It was as if my stomach was just daring me to take a sip, like an ambush.  Well, as soon as that drink hit my stomach it’s all over.  Of course, there’s no trash can, no bucket.  All I could find was a gallon-sized zip lock bag in my pack.  Well, it’s better than nothing.  After an hour or so, the zip-lock was full.  To empty it, I stumble down the hallway to the bathroom in my sleeping pants and down booties.  Oh yeah, did I mention that it was cold?  Like, really cold.  Cold enough to freeze vomit in a zip lock bag within an hour kind of cold.  That’s right, a great little pudding pop that turned out to be.  So, I empty out my zip lock and go to “flush” it down.  Only one problem, the barrel of water is frozen solid.  No wash down for me.  Felt pretty bad for the next guy.  He had to look at a frozen chunk of vomit while taking a pee.  Well, back to our room for a little rest.  After laying down for another 30 mins, the party continues.  The interesting thing was that I had run out of anything in my stomach to offer up to the Zip Lock baggie.  So, with nothing else to offer, I started to vomit blood.  Yep, I said it….blood.  This whole time Kacy had been putting up with my vomiting and whimpering, but she got a little alarmed when I leaned over and told her that I was vomiting blood.  But, like any hardened adventure traveler she took it in stride and coaxed me back to sleep.  I don’t remember much else after this.  I was exhausted, dehydrated, really cold, and totally eradicated of any bodily contents.  I do remember a couple more frozen trips to the bathroom, but I’ve been trying my best to repress those particular memories.  I woke up around 6 or 7am to a frozen bag of bloody vomit (I told you to stop reading) and Kacy standing over me with a cup of tea.  I literally spent the next 2 days in bed bundled up in sleeping bags making hourly visits to the frozen bathroom.  After those two days, I brushed my teeth, shaved my face with a bowl of hot water, and got on with our trek.  I still don’t know whether it was exhaustion, a stomach bug, or some combination of the two.  Also, a cool little event as we were leaving, a guy had to be airlifted out for a burst appendix.  Even something as simple as that can be your ticket home.  As is life in the Khumbu.  Now, this may sound like an uncomfortable, scary, and somewhat painful story, but think of the lessons it helped teach me.  More importantly think about how those lessons are coming in handy right now as I sit here with a headache, an upset stomach, hair falling out, treatment port in my chest, and poison coursing through my veins.  At least I get to do it in a warm house, with warm water, and real flushing toilets.  Shoot, I even have Cable and Netflix in this beeotch.  I love this story, and as I read through it, it’s probably not near as exciting or interesting as I think it is.  But, these last few weeks I haven’t been able to get it out of my head….for obvious reasons.  But, I’m so thankful for the experience that it gave me.  I challenge you all to go out there and make yourself uncomfortable.  Get out of your comfort zones because sooner or later, you’ll find that life forces you out into the great wide open (I hate Tom Petty) to fend for yourself.  Trust me, you’ll be better equipped if you teach yourself to relish in the suffering.  We’ve all got our crosses to bear in that regard.  You may not have cancer, but I’m sure there’s something that you’re suffering through right now that’s likely even worse.  My advice; don’t do it alone, and if you can smile through the tough stuff, the good days are even more precious.

After typing that story, I realize that I could probably share a bunch of funny stories with you.  How bout’ you decide what the next story will be about.  Your choices: 

      -Our car getting broken into and us being rendered helpless after a 4 day backpacking trip in Hillbilly, Arkansas (this has got to be the most interesting story)

      -Kacy, Boss, and I driving from roughly sea level to the mountains of Colorado in the middle of winter to climb Mount Evans (a 14,000 foot mountain in Colorado), during which I got frostbite and a storm rolls in on us.

      -A recent winter climbing trip to Humboldt Peak that taught me yet again several more important life lessons.

You guys make the call.  Thanks for reading, and go make your weekend count for something!

(PS-Kacy does the pictures and captions)

Pheriche Hangover 

(complete with the back of Pemba's head - notice the beer in his hand...jerk)

Back on top!

 Chemo Treament #4

January 4, 2012

Ben trying not to gag while Lana turns to me and says, "He's so dramatic" haha