Moving on

It is with a certain amount of excitement and just the smallest amount of regret that I will be ending this portion of my blog. Church's Chuckwagon will continue, but I will be changing the format a little and hopefully writing about some different, and more fun, topics. The small amount of regret stems from the fact that I know so many people who are still fighting the battle. I've said before that cancer is a stone cold killer, with no regard for anyone or anything. It can be beaten though, and we should all do all that we can to make sure that this disease is eradicated before it touches any more of our loved ones, because anyone who thinks that it can't happen to them or someone they love is kidding themselves. I know, because I was one of those people.

I had an appointment with my oncologist the other day and I was a little nervous going in. I had gotten a CT scan three months prior to this visit and the results showed a couple small spots on my lungs. It's not uncommon for cancer to spread through lymph nodes and I was sincerely hoping that this wasn't the case for me. My doctor said that it's pretty common for people in general to have “nodes” on their lungs and that it wasn't necessarily anything to be excited about at the moment. They were too small to do a biopsy on anyway, so he told me we'd have another CT scan before my next visit and see what there was to see.

That CT scan took place a couple weeks ago, and I had to wait a little more than a week to see my doctor for the results. I kept quiet about it because there was no point in raising an alarm that might turn out to be nothing, but inside, I was a nervous wreck waiting for the results of that scan.

It turns out that the nodes were not visible on the most recent scan and that all my numbers are still good. My oncologist told me that he didn't need to see me at three month intervals anymore and that our appointments would now be six months apart. This news, coupled with the fact that my surgeon said that my innards looked good enough that he didn't need to do another colonoscopy for three years, was music to my ears. It will always be something that I think about in the back of my head, but for now, the doctors are telling me that I'm in the clear.

I want to thank everyone who has read this blog for your well-wishes and your support. It has meant the world to Kelly and I. I would also like to tell all my friends who are still battling to please call on us if you need anything. This thing is not meant to be fought alone.

I Have Won

Ready-set-GO…and GO… and GO…

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything on here, but in all honesty, there hasn’t been much to report and that’s mainly what I’ve been using this blog for. I have been getting bloodwork done every three months and meeting with my oncologist and my family doctor after these blood tests to make sure that my numbers are still good. Some are good, such as the numbers that indicate whether my body is trying to amass white blood cells to fight off a tumor. Some, such as my weight and my sugar, remain a work in progress.

 

I just had a colonoscopy on Friday. This was the first look in there since just before I had my ostomy removed on September 22 of last year. I was nervous, but just like I knew that the doctor was going to find cancer the first time around, I knew somehow that this one was going to come back clean. They did find a polyp and it was removed, but the doctor told me that it was not near the original site and did not look suspicious. They are having it sent out for testing, but he told me there was a 95 percent chance that it was nothing to worry about.

 

I don’t know how many of you reading this have ever had a colonoscopy, and before I go any further with this, I fully recommend that you have one. I have been through a lot of tests and “procedures” since this whole thing started, and while the idea of someone running a piece of rubber tubing with a camera, blower, and a razor attached to it into your innards is not pleasant (especially considering the point of entry), it is probably the least uncomfortable thing that they do.

 

They give you a gallon jug with some powder in it to get you started. You mix the powder with water and start drinking. Eight ounces every 10 minutes until half of the jug is gone. Don’t be any more than 10 feet from a bathroom during this process, because once that laxative starts to work, it works fast and often, and does exactly what it’s supposed to do, which is to remove everything from your body that isn’t connected to something in there.

 

Kelly and I checked into our hotel in Farmington Hills at about 3:30 on Thursday and I mixed the stuff up and started drinking. She was incredibly supportive through the process by going to Meijer’s for a couple hours because nothing really cements that bond between husband and wife like the sound of a faucet running behind a closed bathroom door and a grown man whining “not again” as the laxative does its job.

 

Another part of the instructions for the procedure are that you can only eat (drink) clear liquids the day before. And really, once you start taking that horrible tasting drink mix, you don’t want to eat anyway.

 

After that part’s over, it’s time for bed. Our hotel was a really nice place with a little kitchenette and stove, and even a dishwasher. It would have been really good for a stay of a few nights. The only thing wrong with it was that our window had a very nice view of the freeway (96) and traffic never stops on that road, regardless of the hour. Our pug snores, but it doesn’t have anything on a tractor trailer running by your window at 75 miles an hour at 3:30 a.m.

 

Not that there was a lot of sleep going on anyways. I said I knew that the result was going to be good, but in the back my head, I wondered. Does even thinking that kind of stuff jeopardize the result? I’m a bit superstitious, and hate it when sports announcers say dumb stuff like “This hitter’s never gotten a hit off Justin Verlander” while he’s in the middle of a no-hitter. Expressing a belief regarding an event before that event’s taken place seemed an awful lot like jinxing the no-no.

 

Then, what if I’m wrong this time? That damn Tim McGraw song “Live like you were dying” starts running through your head and before you know it, you’re trying to figure out in your head how you’re going to break the bad news to people.

 

This, as I said before, is completely ridiculous because I already knew how it was going to turn out.

After the colonoscopy, we met my brother for lunch in Fenton and went back to his place for a little while. It turns out that the Sault High football team was playing in Lake Fenton that night, which was just a few miles from Clay’s house. I talked to Rob at The Evening News and agreed to cover the game for them since we were going to be there anyway. The Sault lost the game, but it was a good one, and it was a beautiful night for football. We drove home to the Sault after the game because my youngest daughter was playing in her first organized basketball game on Saturday morning at Sault High. It made for a long night, but the good news earlier in the day made it seem more like date night than six-hour drive night.

 

Kelly did most of the driving because I was not supposed to be behind the wheel for a while due to being knocked out earlier in the day. We switched around Grayling though at about 11:30 p.m. and I drove the rest of the way home. Kelly fell asleep shortly after that and it made for some good reflection time for me.

 

One of the things I thought about was a conversation that I had with a friend of mine at work. She has known a few different people who have suffered with cancer and the results for these people have been mixed. She was frustrated by the “prayers to you and your family” comments that were being posted on someone else’s Facebook page who is suffering from cancer way more severe than anything I’ve had to deal with.

 

“Why would God let that happen in the first place?” she asked me “I mean, why pray at all, if he’s going to let stuff like that happen to good people?”

 

I didn’t have an answer for you then my friend, and I don’t have one now. Even after deliberating it during the drive. I think that’s a question you could ask a hundred different people and get almost as many different answers. What I would tell you is this. Read a book called “The Shack.” I wish I could remember the author’s name, but I can’t. My son read it and recommended it to me. I always read stuff that the kids recommend to me because I’m interested in things that grab their attention enough to tell me about them, or especially recommend them. I’m not sure it answers the questions that you asked, but it does provoke some thought, and it does touch on those topics.

 

So, anyway, back to the original topic. The colonoscopy turned out good enough that I don’t have to have another one for three years. I will continue to work on the weight and the sugar and I will win that battle too.

Brent Koschtial

Yesterday, I was looking at facebook when I suddenly felt like I had been slapped in the face.  I read a post by someone and had to read it again.  And then a third time.  I thought for sure that I had read it wrong.  Sadly, I hadn't. 


Brent Koschtial had passed away.


For those of you reading this that are from Roscommon, you don't need me to tell you who Brent was. I can't say that I knew Brent very well, but I think it affects you when someone you know dies, even if you only knew them in passing.  If, at any point in your life, you had a conversation with that person, you feel it just a little bit more. (At least, that's how it is for me.)


Brent was a year younger than me, and that's another reason that it kind of makes you stop and think about it.  You immediately want to know how it happened.  You think back to the memories you have of the person and, depending on how well you knew them, you think of their family and what they must be going through.


Brent has an older brother and sister.  I graduated with Vanessa, and Dan was a couple years older than me.  Like I said, I didn't know Brent as well as a lot of people did, but several things I did know about him are that he was a good looking kid and he was extremely intelligent.  He was well liked and he had a quick wit.  We played varsity baseball together and Brent used to throw a knuckle-curve ball a lot in batting practice.  Brent was also his own guy.  He didn't get badgered into doing things he didn't want to do, and felt no pressure to do things for the sake of popularity.  This trait was shared by all three of the Koschtial kids.


One memory I have of Brent is that one day I wanted to go to one of the football games, but knew if I went home to St. Helen after school, I wasn't going to have any way to get back for the game.  I had decided that I'd just stay at the school and kill time until the game.  Brent invited me back to his house with him to have dinner before the game.  He lived really close to the school and we walked to his house and then walked back to the game later that evening.  It was a really nice thing of him to do and one that I've always remembered.


I'm sure that Vanessa and Dan would appreciate it if you shared any memories or stories that you have involving Brent.