Cancer Sucks - Being Strong Is Hard

Some days you don't feel like being strong. You need to dig deep to find a reason to keep on living like this. I still have yearly colonoscopies to check for colon tumors and I am happy to report that instead of biopsies, I am monitoring my cancer with MRIs. Here is an excerpt from my new book on one of my not so strong days.

When the colonoscopy and biopsy days came, I would start my prep, work from home and manage it. Those days the emotions would work hard at generating fear, anxiety, ending in irritable frustration. I was living alone in my little one-bedroom apartment. I remember coordinating my work calls between bathroom runs. It was hard to concentrate. I had decided to cook a turkey so I would have food during my recovery period. Forgetting it needed to thaw, I had forgotten to purchase it in time. 

 I used the bathroom in hopes of holding on while I rushed to the supermarket a few doors down. I made a list on a sticky note to minimize my time in the store. I jumped in my car, pulled into traffic and a moment later I was parked and walking into Hannafords. I grabbed a basket, plopped a turkey in it and then found the stuffing, onion, apples, walnut and an aluminum baking pan. I dropped everything on the cashier’s conveyor belt. She rang it up. It was $19 or something. I reached for my wallet. I had left it at home. I just began to cry. It was all too much. “I’m sorry.” I blubbered. “I’m having a procedure tomorrow and I am a little out of sorts.”

“Oh honey, it’s OK. What are you having done?” The cashier asked.

 “A biopsy. I just don’t like them.” I saw her name tag. It said Donna. I started to ask Donna if she could set my purchase aside when she made her way around to the front of the payment terminal and swiped her personal debit card and  paid for my groceries.

“God bless you, sir. I hope it’s good news.” Come back and let me know how you are doing. I am always here on Thursdays. I thanked her more times than I could count. I went home and put my turkey in the refrigerator. Then I lay in bed, my mind racing, tears, and utter despair swept over me. Today - the next day or so, I would be in the “worry about cancer” compartment. Gratitude and fear of the unknown were the anchors of those thoughts and feelings.

Choices

Cape Cod Marathon 2013

Life comes down to choices. We either accept or reject circumstances. If it's a nice day, we can go for a walk or stay on the couch and keep watching TV. Someone wrongs us and we can either forgive them and move on, or become bitter and resentful.

Choices can be easy and other times very difficult.

Let's say someone cuts me off in traffic, I flip them the bird, and move on. There are times when I have options. For example, I could flip them the bird, blow the horn, and call them a dumb@$$.

All of the above is a choice. :)

Emotionally I have the ability to take every thought captive. I used to be fearful of bridges. Over time, I realized that millions of people cross the bridges on my route. It made it easier to control my fear response. A conscious choice.

Sure, there are circumstances I still choose to fear.

I have made lots of other choices, too. I was thinking about my cancer. I could let it take me down emotionally or choose to live life in spite of what is going on in my body. My choice is how much control I give to it.

My response to a circumstance or event is a choice.

In fact, my life is the sum total of all the choices I have made. I have encountered all sorts of circumstances. Some I accepted, others I rejected. I certainly didn't choose every circumstance in life. Accidents happened. People hurt me. Life happens.

I choose my responses.

In 2011 when I had congestive heart failure, I chose to exercise like I hadn't since college hockey. They told me to walk 3 miles a day. I did. I wanted to run because walking 3 miles a day took too damn long. The cardiologist said to keep my heart rate under 130.

I chose to push it a little.

I got better. I got off the medication. I asked if I can go higher than 130. For me, that was a fast walk. The doc said 150.

I chose to push it a little.

The cardiologist didn't want me to run. I chose to ignore him - sort of. I walked and ran. I kept my heart rate at 150 or below. I would run until it hit 150 and walk until it was back at 120.

I did 3 miles a day at home or in the gym.

I soon registered for a 5K. It was to celebrate 1 year from being in Cardiac ICU. It was a gateway drug and I registered for one after the other. Within 6 months I had registered for a 10K. And another and another... I mean addicts choose not to keep track.

To celebrate 2 years from being in CICU, I registered for my first half marathon.

It really didn't have a choice. I had to do it. In fact my running friends forced me to choose a marathon for my 3rd anniversary. I registered for the Cape Cod Marathon in the fall of 2013. I finally chose the perfect life.

I was healthy, I felt good, and I looked good.

Then came cancer. I was so angry. I had been feeling better than I had since I was 17. There had to be another choice. There wasn't. I had treatment options, but no choices. Today I find myself waiting for treatment again.

Because there is nothing that I can do today, I choose to deal with it when the day comes.

Running for a Cause - My Own

Race for a Cure 5K

Saturday I woke up and went for a 6 mile run. I cut my 12-mile long run short so that I could run a 5K Race for a Cure on Sunday. It was nice to just run without training; 2 miles of it was on the 5K course.

I got back home about 9 and took a shower, because, well, if I don't, it's not pretty.

When I came downstairs a friend of the family was there. She brought coffee and muffins to celebrate packing day #5. Moving sucks! After 3 moves in 10 years, we have stuff that we don't even know where it came from. I think the IRS has targeted us, putting stuff in the house when we are not looking.

After a couple of hours of work, I went and donated a car full of fat clothes at the Salvation Army. Size XXXL and XXL shirts, 36" through 42" waist-ed pants and belts.

It felt good, really good!

In my bedroom I was packing some boxes and my chest felt tight. I thought my heart was racing but my pulse was only 62, which is not an unusual pulse rate at all. Once you've had a heart trauma, you don't play around. I went to my office and took my blood pressure, and it was 170/106. For just sitting around the house, it was not a good sign.

I drove to the ER which is so close, I easily beat 911.

They took me in and hooked me up to the EKG. It's one of those times when men wish they didn't have chest hair. Actually, except for photos, there is no time we wish we had it. EKG = normal. Hmm... that's reassuring. I remember one time when the EKG put everyone into a frenzy. It was like chimpanzees having a poop fight.

Now that they thought I would live, it was time to check in. The folks working there kept spelling my last name wrong and had no medical records. Finally, they got it right. The triage nurse turned to me and said, "So what do you do for fun when you're not having surgery?"

"That's me," I said.

I got my own bay and johnny and then I underwent blood tests, x-rays and was hooked up to a heart monitor. My blood pressure was still high, 150/96. They gave me aspirin after which I spoke to 2 doctors and 2 cardiologists. The doctors had lots of questions for me: What have you eaten? What is your pain level? Your pulse seems a little low at 52 bpm, do you run? I got a little excited about that question. When I was fat my resting pulse rate was 72. What's going on in your life? We are moving. The room was silent.

Do you think that might be a reason that you have elevated blood pressure? I thought about it - well duh, yes, or course. All I know is my normal is 126/82. I guess I need to take it easy?

Well, your heart seems normal. It's not A-fib (huge relief!), and your enzymes (the ones that show heart damage) are normal. Let's keep you overnight for observation.

Overnight, can I have a different doctor!?!

I spoke to the second cardiologist at length. We talked about my recovery from nearly dead to running a 125 miles per month. We talked about diet, training, weight loss, rest days and faith.

"Even though you are a poster child for turning it around, I am concerned about letting you go home to the chaos of moving." he said.

"I just want to be with my wife tonight," I replied.

"Is that good for you?" he asked.

"She's the best thing that ever happened to me." I said with a smile.

"You are going to take it easy and relax as much as possible?"

"Yes sir, I will."

"As long as your enzymes come back 'normal,' you can go home today."

"Thank you, doctor. And one more thing, can I run tomorrow?"

"I don't see why you can't run 2 or 3 miles - but easy. You'll stop immediately if you have any pain, right?"

I went home and had dinner with my wife and went to bed early.

When I woke up on Sunday, I had a cup of coffee and took my blood pressure. 128/84. Caffeine is good. :) I got dressed for my 5K race and pulled on my Cancer Sucks/ICU 2 26.2 T-shirt. I drank some water, ate a mini bagel, put on sun screen, said a prayer for my health, and kissed my family goodbye.

This is my favorite race of the year. I run it in memory of my mother who died in 2001 from pancreatic cancer. (READ MORE HERE) After I picked up my number and T-shirt, jogged a mile or so to warm up, I stood at the starting line checking my messages with the names of your loved ones. There were so many, and truthfully, it made me cry. Sorry, not very macho.

Then I ran for them. I ran as fast as I could go. And when my body said "give up," I thought to myself, my mother didn't stop having pain for months, I can run 10 more minutes. I passed the dog, the lady with the double stroller, and a guy who said he had run the Boston Marathon the day of the bombing. 7:55 for my first mile, 16:05 at mile two and I was hurting. I pressed on up the hill and onto the flat.

The Boston guy and I were neck and neck and I turned it on for the last 400 yards.

Although it wasn't a PR, it was still under 26 minutes. It was 4:04 faster than last year, and my second fastest 5K ever. I think I was slower simply because I was carrying a bigger load.

I love you and I miss you, mom.

Thanks for all your support and for your comments; it makes the journey a little lighter.