Taking the bad with the good

I whole-heartedly believe in the old axiom that nobody is perfect. I personally believe that nobody is even close. We all have character flaws no matter how much we might like to believe otherwise. The reason that I mention this is because one of mine showed through bright and loud yesterday.

At my last visit to the oncologist, the doctor mentioned that there had been some talk in the oncology community recently that when someone's post-operative pathology report came back as good as mine did, the second round of chemotherapy might not be necessary. He was going to talk to some of his fellow oncologists and see if, in fact, the second treatment was necessary.

The character flaw of mine that came out was that I let hope overrule all probability. Deep down, I knew that it probably wasn't going to turn out that they would just decide to skip that second round, but even knowing it was a possibility sent my hopes and then my expectations through the roof.

Yesterday, I got a call from the oncologist, telling me that they were going to do the second round. I was devastated despite knowing all along that it was about 95-5 odds that this was exactly how it was going to go. This is how I am though. When I buy a lottery ticket, I expect to win. I'm disappointed when I don't. I've heard the statistic that the odds of winning are just about the same as being attacked by a polar and a grizzly bear on the same day, and still, I expect to scan that ticket at the store and find out I've won.

So I think we've established that I was disappointed. I sat down on the recliner downstairs and stared at the wall for about an hour, thinking about what that phone call meant. It means that I have to have a port put in and taken out, which is two more surgeries than I wanted. It means that I start chemotherapy on March 18^th and won't finish until June 24 (if my calculations are correct). That means that the earliest I can have the osteomy removed is the end of July. So for a good portion of the summer, I'm going to look like the medical version of the bionic man. I'll have the bag, the port, and a pump all attached to me. And the bionic man is a bad example. I think the borg would be more appropriate. I think the words “resistance is futile” actually left my lips as I stared into space while I was busy feeling sorry for myself.

I called my wife and gave her the news and she told me to come and get her for lunch. I did and we sat down at a local restaurant and had a bite to eat talked through it. I was a little surprised because the news sort of hit her hard too. She is usually the one who looks at things without being swayed by the kind of optimism that I was feeling before the phone call, but talking to her, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had been feeling it.

The bottom line is that we talked ourselves through it and it's just one more thing that we have to deal with to get this stuff resolved. Whatever it takes for me to hear the words “cancer free,” that's what I'm going to do. The way I look at is I've got to everything that I can do. If for whatever reason, the cancer decides it wants a rematch, I want it to happen knowing that I did everything I could do to prevent it and it just happened. I don't want it to happen, and leave myself wondering “would this have happened if I had done this” or “if I hadn't done that.” This way, I can be sure that I've followed all the protocalls and won't have to wonder. Hopefully, I never have to deal with it anyway.

Today was a much better day. The Sault cancelled school because of the windchill and so I took the kids to lunch. We ended up eating at Buffalo Wild Wings and had a good time. After that, we ran an errand and picked up an iTunes gift card that my son Andrew had won and then Abbie has been interested in getting a library card so we went to the library and took care of that. I really enjoyed watching her look through the books that were now available to her and she picked three of them to borrow. Callie found this display that was “blind date” with a book The book covers were all hidden beneath paper covers with the only writing visible told what kind of book it was. Callie liked the idea and ended getting a library card of her own and borrowing two of the blind date books.

It's days like today that make days like yesterday not so bad. In the future, hopefully there will be a lot more days like today and very few days like yesterday. Not just for me, but for everyone.

I Will Win

The Gulick family

I know there have been a lot of posts coming from me lately, but I've got nothing to do but sit here on the couch for at least another couple weeks. It's frustrating for a couple reasons. The first is watching Kelly do absolutely everything, while I can't help. The second, and probably more frustrating, aspect is that even if I were allowed to do anything, I simply don't have the physical strength to do it. Walking out to the mailbox and back is cause for a nap, and anything more strenuous than that incapacitates me for the rest of the day.

So here I am with not much else to do but write.

Kelly and I were talking this evening about something to do with cell phones in the classroom and we agree on the fact that they probably shouldn't be there. We did agree though, that the cell phone is really useful in situations where kids need to be picked after getting back from a road game. I remember in high school, getting back from a game and having to wait in line to use the payphone to get ahold of my mom so she could come get me and the other St. Helen kids. It was about 15 miles from St. Helen to the Roscommon High School and that meant that the coach had to wait at least 25 minutes and sometimes longer for all the kids to be gone. I have been on both sides of that coin and I know I hated waiting for parents to come and get kids. Of course, there is no reason to wait now with the cell phones. I once had to call a mother at home because I had waited a half hour after practice for her to come and get her daughter. She told me that she'd be there shortly, she was just in the middle of cooking dinner and she'd be there as soon as it was done. 20 minutes tops. She hung up before I could say a word, which was probably a good thing as the words that I was going to say probably would have gotten me fired.

This line of conversation brings me to the actual thought behind this post. When I was in high school, it was hard living in St. Helen. There were lots of reasons for this. Some of it was a social thing, but mostly, it was economic. We had to ride something called the mini-bus home from practice every day which cost money. Soon, the parents got together and started car-pooling to come and get us. This worked fine until one parent who was disgruntled because he couldn't take some back road shortcut home because he had to drop the rest of us off at our respective houses. His solution to this problem was to simply pull into Carter's Food Center parking lot and telling everyone to “get out. You can walk from here.”

This all happened from the sixth grade until our sophomore year when we could start driving. It cracks me up how kids today are so willing to wait to get their driver's licenses. I made my mom take me to the Secretary of State on my 16^th birthday so that I could get my license. After that, I inherited the old family car ( a brown ford escort wagon) and I started driving myself to school.

This didn't solve all of the problems that the St. Helen kids had though. When we were in middle school, practice was right after school so when you were done with school, you went right to the gym and then after practice, you went right home on the bus. Our freshman year was hard because we often didn't practice until later which meant that we had to find something to do from the time school got out until we started practice. We couldn't really go anywhere because we couldn't drive yet so we ended up spending a lot of time at the school waiting for practice to start.

I can't complain about any of this though, because this situation led me to one of the longest-lasting friendships of my life.

I had friends who lived in Roscommon and sometimes one of them would invite me to their house after school to hang out until practice started, and I have to admit, on other occasions, I invited myself to people's houses simply because I didn't want to wait at the school.

Bob Gulick's house was my most frequent stop for a lot of reasons. There were lots of reasons for this. From a material standpoint, Bob and his family ran a place called Airway Lodge. It was a vacation retreat for the Airway corporation and it was a cool place. I'll go into some of the fun we had there later, but for now, just know that it was a fun place to be. The biggest reason though was that Bob was a good guy and his family was always nice to me.

The Gulicks are a kind and generous family. It wasn't always just me who was looking for a place to hang out until practice started and often there were three or four of us that congregated at Bob's house and we were always fed dinner before we left. I'm sure that Bob got in trouble from time to time for not telling us to not come over, but we were never treated like we weren't welcome there.

While I always considered Bob as my friend, our friendship grew as we played sports together and by our sophomore year, we were pretty much inseparable. I spent a lot of time at his house because of the convenience, but mostly because I just enjoyed being around Bob and his family.

Bob was the youngest child in his family, and the only boy and so he had it pretty good. He was the guy in high school who was fortunate enough to be good looking, have a good personality, and have parents who were well off enough to give him pretty much whatever he wanted. He always had a nice car and gas in the tank, which was the most important thing at that age. And Bob was the kind of guy who never rubbed that stuff in your face.

As we got further into high school, we continued to hang out together and Erick Haight began hanging out with us. He was a year younger than us, but we all shared a lot of the same interests and enjoyed each other's company. We spent countless nights hanging out at the Lodge eating Okey Doke cheese popcorn and playing nintendo games, or full contact nerf basketball. We would skip school and go to Traverse City for the day and we would go to the Rock House on the weekends. We got to know each other's families. To this day, my 90 year old grandmother will ask about Bob and Erick.

It's easy to get a little off track when you start strolling down memory lane, but the main reason for this post is to let the Gulick family know how much I appreciate their input in my life. I wasn't ignoring all that advice that you guys gave Bob. I may not have looked like it but I was paying attention and have put it to use.

One of my favorite stories about Bob's dad (and I'm sorry Veryl, I hope this doesn't get you into trouble), is when Bob and I were getting ready for a school dance. We thought we were pretty cool with our cologne and we bathed in it. Bob's dad walked in on us and made a face and told us that we were idiots and had no idea how to wear cologne. “You don't bathe in it,” he said. “Here's how a man wears cologne.” He then snatched one of the bottles and said. “You're going to a dance, right?” We said that we were. He then asked “Where is a girls head at when you're dancing?” He then put one drop of cologne on each of his shoulders. “You put one drop, not half the bottle, on each shoulder so she smells it but doesn't drown in it.” Then, with a wink he grinned and put another drop of cologne on his finger and pulled up his shirt and swiped it right underneath his belly button. “Put one drop right there too in case you get lucky.” He laughed and put the bottle down and walked out of the room. Bob and I laughed so hard I thought we were going to cry, but I promise you, we took his advice. I don't wear cologne much these days, but when I do, it's only three, well-placed drops.

Bob and I don't get to talk as much as I'd like us to, but it's one of those rare relationships where, when we do, it's as if we've been talking every day. When the news came down about my cancer, he contacted me immediately and our contact has been much more frequent lately. I have two biological brothers and two or three other guys who I call brothers and Bob is certainly one of those guys. If we lived closer, I'm sure that we would spend a lot of time together, but as it is, we have to rely on phone calls and facebook messages and the occasional visit.

I want to thank the Gulick family. Not just Bob, but his parents too. Whether they know it or not, they helped raise me and shape me.

This particular post is hard to write because every time I think I'm done, I think of three other things that I feel like I should have mentioned. I'll cut it off here though. Bob knows how I feel about him and I think that's enough for both of us.

I Will Win.

Happy Birthday to me

There is a funny joke by comedian Stephen Wright that I think is great for birthdays. He is talking about how bad his memory is and how he had to keep a journal so that he could remember things. He proves that he has done it since birth by pulling his earliest entry. It reads “Day 1: Still tired from the move.”

I turned 45 today and although I don't remember or have written evidence of my feelings regarding the first day, I have had some pretty good days and events between then and now. Not all of them have been good though. There has been a divorce and of course, the cancer diagnosis thrown in there too. This is not a pity party or anything as I realize that we have all had events in our lives that we would rather not have to have dealt with.

Kelly Church has kept me on a pretty tight leash over the past several weeks. In fact, she is out pulling snow off the garage roof and then snow blowing it into the back yard as I write this. Due to her watchful eye, I have watched a lot of TV and played a lot of board games with Abigael (if you read my post regarding our wiffleball games together, you don't need to ask what the score is on the board games). Anyway, the point I was making here is that I've heard a couple good quotes that I can apply to my situation. And it's kind of dumb, but the two that I like the most are from movies that I've literally seen over 50 times each, but never paid as much attention to the quotes as I have recently.

The first is from the movie Miracle. Coach Herb Brooks is in the locker room just before the United States plays the Soviets in the Olympics. He tells them that “great moments are born from great opportunity. That's what you have here tonight. That's what you've earned here tonight.” I don't know if anyone actually earns cancer, but the first part of the quote gives me goose bumps. It would be a great moment to hear the words “Scott Church, you are cancer free.” To have beaten it after it took me completely by surprise and sidetracked my life for nearly a year. I know that's just barely a minute compared to the length of the fight that some people have to face, but all I can do is fight the battle that's put in front of me and wish for the best for everyone else.

The second quote is from Apollo 13 when a couple of NASA officials are discussing the ramifications of what will happen if Jim Lovell and his crew are lost. Gene Kranz, played by Ed Harris whips around on them and says “Actually gentlemen, I believe this will be our finest hour.” His refusal to allow anyone to think that losing the crew was acceptable went a long way toward getting them home. I know that I've talked before about not ever allowing the thoughts about how this could all go bad into my head and believing in the power of positivity, and that quote by Kranz really sums up my feelings on the whole thing. Hearing that phrase “cancer free” will be my finest hour, and anything less than that is simply unacceptable, period.

What I've written above was inspired by a visit to my oncologist today. Why I ever agreed to a Dr. appointment on my birthday is beyond me, but it was only in St. Ignace so it wasn't so bad. We got there and I had to get some blood drawn first thing. I don't know if I mentioned this in any of the hospital posts, but I had so much blood and so many needles stuck in me at Henry Ford, that the thought of either happening anymore is not something I look forward too. Once the blood was drawn, the nurse wanted to tape a piece of gauze to my arm. I refused. I had so much tape on me at the hospital, that it won't bother me to never see another piece of tape stuck to my skin as long as I live. It's been three weeks since my surgery and I've still got tape residue all over me.

Now that I've shared my new-found fear of tape with everyone, I'll get to the important part of my visit to the oncologist. Today was to be the day that we determined what we were going to do for the second round of chemotherapy. I had been hoping that because my post-operative pathology report came back so good, maybe we would do the pills again. I'm not real interested in doing the liquid chemo because that means getting a port put in and that's two more surgeries to go through, in addition to the one that I'm going to have to have to reverse the illiostomy. What I found out was that if there is another round of chemo, it's going to be through a port. But what I also found out, is that there may not be the need for another round. My doctor told me that at this year's oncologist convention (or whatever they call it), there was research presented that says when a a pathology report comes back as clean as mine did, there isn't a need for the second round of chemo. My doctor hasn't had time to thoroughly read through the study and he wants to make sure before he forgoes the chemo. He is also going to check with a couple of his colleagues to make sure that they agree with what he thinks.

Just the thought of not having to undergo a second round of chemo is a huge boost to me. That would speed up the process of getting the illiostomy reversed and would eliminate two surgeries. I know that it's not a sure thing by any stretch of the imagination, but the fact that it's even being considered makes me feel good about where I'm at right now. I should know in about a week what the plan is and I'll be sure to let everyone know what the decision is.

I Will Win

What did you want to be?

Kids of every generation have always been asked, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Common answers from kids often include things like pro athlete, fireman, singers and actors. Later as we get into our late teen years, our answers begin to morph into more realistic answers. People might want to be teachers at this point, or lawyers, maybe even doctors. The dream of hitting a home run to win the World Series is gone for most of us at this point.

One answer that you will never hear when you ask the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” is corrections officer. I have worked at the prison for just over six years and have talked to many of my co-workers over that time and the subject always comes up. Not one of them has ever told me that the work we do is what they had planned for themselves. Corrections was always a fall back position or something that was taken on to pay the bills. I know that was the case for me. After my divorce, I realized that a person simply couldn't live on $11.10 per hour so I was forced to explore other options. I picked Corrections simply because of the money. Not because it was what I wanted to do. I loved writing for the newspaper. If I could have made a decent living there, I would have stayed. I don't know how my friends who have stayed there for all these years make it.

Prison guards as a whole are a much-maligned group of people. I've read in articles that we make too much money and that corruption runs rampant among guards. As far as the money issue goes, I don't believe that we are overpaid. How many places of employment ask you to go hang out with over 1500 convicted felons, many of whom are there for already having killed someone else?

As for the corruption comments that I've read, it's unfortunate, but there is at least some truth in that statement, as evidenced by the number of people fired every year for one offense or another. I don't believe it's rampant or out of control. I would wager that the percentage of bad apples is actually pretty low. And that sort of stuff doesn't just happen in corrections. You read about embezzlement cases every day from businesses that are not corrections. Even at the paper when I worked there, we had someone get fired and prosecuted for embezzlement. That doesn't make every person at the paper a criminal, but it does cast a poor light on the place as a whole. It works the same in corrections.

I have never witnessed any of the offenses that corrections officers can get fired for, I'd like to take a minute and share with you some things that I have personally seen from my co-workers.

I have seen off-duty prison guards stop and act as first responders when a car skidded off the road and rolled over into the ditch.

I have seen prison guards volunteer their time to coach hockey, basketball, football, and baseball and softball teams.

I have seen prison guards come together in the parking lot after work and push each other out a heavy snow had buried cars in the lot.

These are just the things that I have seen. There are also things that I have personally experienced that make me refuse to condemn corrections employees as so many publications, notably, the Detroit Free Press, have done.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I tried to keep it quiet at first. I told a few select people at work and word spread quickly. I had lots of people approach me and ask if I was doing ok and that they were sorry to hear about what I was dealing with. I appreciated all of it.

There was a series of cook-ups done on our shift where people brought in food and everyone takes turns going up front to the break room to get a bite to eat. If you bring in food for the meal, you eat for free. If not, you have to pay $5 to take part. With the changes that have been made to food service out there, these cook-ups are a welcome event.

Two times since my diagnosis, I was the recipient of the money raised by the cook-ups. This money helped my and my wife so much with the constant trips to Petoskey that were happening at the time, as well as the seemingly endless miscellaneous expenses that always seem to be there.

In addition to the monetary gifts from my co-workers, they gave me time. By time, I mean hours. I was running really low on leave time when I got hit with this and that meant a lot of pay periods with no pay check. Like most people in this day and age, we are dangerously close to living paycheck to paycheck. The people I work with donated a total of 194 hours to me, which adds up to about a month and a week worth of time. I can't even tell you how much help that was to Kelly and I.

What makes it even more touching to me is that I know how valuable time is to corrections officers. There is nothing that we value more than time away from work. These hours also have cash value which makes the donations even more special.

I want to say thank-you to all my co-workers who helped me out. Whether it was by taking part in the cook-ups or donating hours, or simply taking a second to ask me how I was doing. I don't know that I'll ever be able to repay your generosity, but from Kelly and I, we appreciate you guys so much!

Corrections officers are not bad people. For every bad thing that you hear about us, please remember, that there are probably 10 good stories that simply don't get the publicity that the bad ones do.

I Will Win

Thank-you Wife

So, my wife and I have this deal. We don't say thank-you for things that we know the other enjoys doing. We know that the other would do the same for us, so saying thank-you kind of cheapens what the other did. It might not make sense to anyone else, and I'm probably not explaining it very well, but it works very well for us.

I'm going to break our deal though (just this once), because over the two weeks I was in the hospital, Kelly went way above and beyond what people should have to ask of each other.

We rented an apartment for the time we were there so that Kelly would have a place to sleep, shower, and eat meals. It seemed like a great idea at the time, but when she saw the room I was going to be in, she moved in. It had a couch which turned into a bed sort of like a camper couch can double as a bed. It couldn't have been comfortable, and it sat right in front of this big picture window. The window provided a nice view, but also was not very well insulated. The air next to that window was at least 10 degrees colder than the other air in the room.

This by itself would not ordinarily constitute a thank-you situation between the two of us, but there are some other factors to consider. The first is the fact that a hospital does not care what time it is. If the nurses have a chart that says blood needs to be drawn at 4 am, then it's drawn at 4 am. Vital signs need to be taken throughout the night, and this can't be done with the light off. So at any time during the night, a nurse could walk in, flip on the lights and do what they have to do. And not that I'm complaining, I know they have a job to do, but this meant that neither Kelly or I got a full night's sleep for just about two weeks.

Another reason that I think a thank-you is warrented, is that for most of the time I was in there, I was essentially an invalid. I couldn't get out of bed without help, I couldn't clean myself, and even needed help eating and drinking for a few days. It wasn't very often that I had to ask for anything. Kelly seemed to be able to anticipate my every need and have it taken care of before I even knew I needed it. This may not seem like much, but from where I was sitting it was a pretty big deal.

I think Kelly may also be on the verge of being a registered nurse now. In addition to all the medical things that need doing, there are the mundane tasks as well. Some of these things I mentioned above, but others included changing bedding and getting clean towels and wash cloths. The nurses are busy attending to a lot of patients on the floor I was on, and having Kelly there made my life so much easier because I didn't have to wait when I needed something. She would just go out to the desk and come back with whatever I needed. She walked with me and took care of the I.V. Stand when we were walking. She would make sure it got plugged back in and situated where it needed to be. She would also change the bedding while I sat in the chair. Things that other patients had to wait for a nurse to do for them.

But perhaps the biggest reason, that Kelly deserves a big thank-you, is the one that I am the most hesitant to talk about. When they did this surgery on me, they cut out part of my colon. While it heals, I have to have an iliostomy, which is a temporary bag. It's not something I was wild about, but I understand the necessity of it. There are necessities that go along with it as well. It needs to be emptied and cleaned and changed on a regular basis. I'd like to come up with a nice way to explain this thing, but I guess the most accurate way to say it is that it's gross. I have a part of my intestine sticking out of the side of my stomach and it's surrounded by a bag that is adhered to my body by all sorts of sticky stuff. Poop empties out of the intestine and into the bag. After the surgery, I was unable to to any of the care myself and Kelly did it all. No complaints, no jokes, just right to business and getting the job done.

I think the thing that I'm most grateful was that even though the whole situation was totally undignified, Kelly never made me feel that way. She felt terrible for me and tried very hard to combat the feelings that I was having regarding the bag and its maintenance.

Since we've been home, it has been much the same. Kelly has taken care of me without hesitation and without complaint.

The bag is temporary, and will hopefully be reversed in 3-4 months, during which time I know that I'll be in good hands again. So thank-you Kelly Church. Thank-you very much

I Will Win

Free at last

I want to apologize to everyone prior to writing  this post for the lack of updates lately.  Kelly has been updating facebook with new information each day, but until now, I have simply not felt physically able to type for any extended period of time.

 

The last two weeks have been filled with ups and downs on a scale that boggles my mind.  I speak  on a personal scale of course, I don’t really have any idea of how the last two weeks have been for most people.  I have had surgery, dealt with complications, undergone procedures to uncomplicated them and finally, been granted sweet release from the hospital.

 

First and foremost, the cancer is gone.  The surgery was a complete success from that standpoint and as of this moment, there is no cancer in my body.  I know this because of the pathology report that was done on the lymph nodes and small blood cells that were removed along with the small piece of my colon.  No lymph nodes were cancerous and no cancer cells were found in those small blood cells so that definitely qualifies as an “up” on my roller coaster ride.

 

While I was recovering, things  were looking good.  I was eating solid foods and there was talk of going home in a day or two.  I still would have missed my Super Bowl on my own couch timetable, but  I’d have been perfectly happy with that.  This is where the roller coaster took its first downhill plunge.  On Friday afternoon, right after I had gotten food, I started to feel hot and sweaty.  I thought maybe I was just adjusting to solid food again, so I really didn’t think much of it.   I got a little more concerned later that night when it didn’t stop and actually got worse.   By Saturday afternoon, I was getting worried and the doctors determined that my intestines had gone to sleep.  They told me that this happens about 40 percent of the time in these surgeries and that it would straighten itself out. 

 

I don’t have to tell you that when the intestine shuts down, the mail stops moving.  Air becomes trapped inside there and with nowhere to go, it begins to cause a stomach ache.  After a day of this, I had a whopper.  The nurses and doctors kept asking me if I felt nauseated  and I didn’t so I told them no.  It was really frustrating answering that question over and over again.  On Saturday afternoon, in one brief moment, the reasoning for the repeated question because crystal clear.  I was sitting up in bed watching TV while Kelly was talking on the phone.   My stomach lurched and I knew I was going to be sick.  I glanced over at Kelly as if to ask for help and before I could get words out of my mouth, I got lots of puke out.  It was brown, smelly, and everywhere.  It was exorcist puke.  I began to panic because I couldn’t draw breath and yet my stomach continued to heave.  Finally, it was over.  I sat on the bed covered in my own vomit, shaking, and drooling trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

 

It was explained to me that with the intestine sleeping, everything that enters the stomach has got to go somewhere, and the only somewhere it could go was up.

 

After a few minutes, a nurse came in with what they referred to as an NG Tube.  This is a tube that goes up your nostril and down your throat into the stomach.  It is then connected to some suction and used to empty out the stomach in hopes of restarting the intestine.  I have a bad gag reflex, so the idea of this tube was especially terrifying.  It took three tries, more vomit, and a lot more sweat and gagging before the tube finally got to where it needed to go.  I couldn’t talk without gagging, I couldn’t turn my head without aggravating my nose and my throat, and I knew I wasn’t going home nearly as quickly as I wanted to.

 

The tube did have the desired effect though.  Immediately after the suction started, the container filled with the same junk that I had been puking up minutes before.

 

I was devastated.  I had gone from being on the verge of being released to being there a minimum of three more days.   The nurses were all encouraging and the doctors continued to tell me that it was just a matter of time before the intestine started working again.  Thankfully, they were right and after a couple of days the tube came out.  (much easier than it went in, I might add).  From there it was just a waiting game while we got back on clear liquids and solid foods again to make sure that my stomach could handle it.

 

They teased us with the thought of a Friday afternoon release, but that didn’t happen so we had to wait until today to get the boot.

 

I have lots more about the hospital stay to talk about, but this is getting a bit long. 

 

I Will Win