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
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