This Time, It Was Bigger Than An 8-Iron!

When I was in junior high, I got hit with an eight iron (golf club).  You can see the scar on my site photo.  It runs from the corner of my mouth down my chin.  It was a good hit.  It went all the way through my lip and knocked out three teeth; I had over 25 stitches in my gums alone, plus the plastic surgery.   

This time the hit was a bigger one.  It didn't hurt near as much, but to quote Mercutio: "No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man."  (I do love the bard!)

Here is a synopsis of my recent adventures:  On Saturday 9-26-15, I was in CA for a family memorial service where I had a major seizure; my first.  On Tuesday 9-29-15, I had an MRI back home in MN, followed in short order by two more MRIs, and a Craniotomy/Biopsy/Resection on 10-8-15.  The Neurosurgeon was able to remove 95% of the tumor without negatively affecting my speech center, around which it was wrapped.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that it was a Class 4 Glioblastoma (GBM), a very aggressive brain cancer with a pretty steep mortality/time curve.

I was home two days later in pretty good shape.  I began my 6 weeks of Radiation/Chemo on 10-29-15. I am just into my 3rd week and feeling pretty well; I would say amazingly well, actually.  My 'innards' have adjusted to the chemo drug and fatigue is the main issue now.  I usually need to rest after 2-3 hours of activity, but I am still, for the most part, nimble of mind and ruggedly handsome.  I will admit to a little mental sluggishness when I am tired and my hair is supposed to go soon.

After the 6 weeks of Rad/Chemo, I get 2-4 weeks to recover, and then begins 6 months of Chemo.  This is considered 'Standard of Care' for GBMs.  Not being overly impressed with this regimen, my lovely wife, Pam, and my oldest son, Mario, have been helping me research treatment options.  It reminds me a little of a story: A friend visits W.C. Fields who is on his death bed and is shocked to find him reading the bible. When asked what he was doing, Fields replied, "Looking for loopholes!".

There has been a great outpouring of support from family and friends, which I appreciate.  Pam has been doting on me (no surprise to those who know her) and, as my best friend, is a constant source of comfort.  My oldest son, Mario came out for 18 days to help get us settled.  Matthew, Maggie, and her boyfriend, Brian, have been out to visit and we will see them all again for the holidays.  My family, Pam’s family, neighbors, the Carleton community, and numerous friends have all responded to make me feel very loved. 

I like to think I have a good attitude about this situation.  I am not depressed or wallowing in pity.  Neither am I kidding myself about the prognosis.  I am taking an active role in the treatment process and hope to be one of the lucky few who stretches their life to 5 years or beyond, but I'm not going to ruin the rest of my life fighting the inevitable. I'm not Romeo shaking his fist skyward, screaming, "Then I defy you, stars!".  

Regarding this diagnosis, I consider myself lucky in many ways:  1. There are worse 'ways to go'.  Many cancers are painful; this one is not!  2. My doctor stated, correctly, that I am starting treatment 'standing tall', meaning I am physically strong and mentally sharp, and Dr. McCue, my neurosurgeon, did a stellar job removing 95% of the tumor from a very difficult area.  3. I dodged the bullet of bone cancer in 2000 and, since then, have sensed that I was living on borrowed time.  So, I don't have the feeling of having wasted my life or of being 'ripped off' from a nice, long life.  (Well, maybe just a little!)  4. Looking out at the world and seeing so many other, worse fates, it is hard to whine too much.  This time I have an 'official notification' and will make the most of it with my family and friends.  

Regarding my life, I also consider myself lucky in many, many ways, but that is for another time.    

All my best,
Fred.