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. 


 

One Year Later

Everyone has dates in their lives that they will remember forever. Anniversarys, birthdays, personal milestones and the like. Sometimes the events that spark these memories are happy occasions, and other times they are not. Either way, we remember. September has several dates that are significant for me. I was married on September 9^th, my brother Clay's birthday is September 4^th, and who can forget the tragic events that occurred on September 11^th. There's also one other September date that stands out for me.

One year ago today, I found myself lying in a hospital bed in War Memorial Hospital and seeing my wife's eyes lined with tears as she told me that the doctor had found cancer inside me during a colonoscopy. The last year has been a long, arduous ordeal, full of discomfort and frustration.

Despite what I've gone through, I've learned some valuable lessons about myself and about life in general. I've learned what it's like to have someone in my life who genuinely cares more about my well being than her own, and I've learned that the world doesn't stop just because you're going through something.

On Monday, I will return to Detroit Henry Ford Hospital for what will hopefully be the final procedure in my story. The surgery will be to reverse the ostoemy that was put on me during the first surgery. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to not having that thing attached to me any more.

I had an “interesting” episode at work on Friday night because of it. I was sitting at my desk and I smelled something bad. I couldn't figure out what it was at first. Then I looked down and noticed the wet spot on the front of my shirt. At that point I knew what the smell was. The seal on the ostoemy bag had broken and it was leaking. I went to the staff bathroom to see if I could get cleaned up and stay at work. The reason I wanted to stay was because there was a holiday in the pay period. We get paid time and a half for the holiday unless we use any kind of leave during the pay period. If I left, I would have to use sick leave which would nullify my holiday pay. We can also comp the holiday, which was what I had planned to do to build up time for my surgery. Leaving cost me the six hours for the rest of the night, plus the 12 hours that I would have gotten for the holiday. Anyway, when I got to the bathroom, I shut the door and flipped on the light switch only to find out that the light bulb was gone. I had to walk back down to the office and get a flashlight and head back down to the bathroom, none of which was helping my situation. By the time I had gotten back to the bathroom, the bag was nearly completely off and I knew that there was no way I'd be able to stay the rest of the night. And cleaning myself up with essentially a nightlight on was no picnic either. I did the best I could and left. It was a fairly embarrassing ordeal. I had to get my wife out of bed when I got home to help me change the bag and then I had to take a shower. Luckily this kind of thing has only happened the one time in a public setting, and let me tell you, once is enough for me.

Something kind of funny just happened as I was writing this. I have been watching a show on Ed. It was on NBC a few years ago. I never watched the show while it was actually running, but I have been watching the episodes on You Tube. The premise of the show is that Ed loses his job at a New York City contract law firm and when he goes home to tell his wife about it, he finds her in bed with the mailman. He moves back home and ends kissing the girl that he pined for in high school. He kisses her at the bowling alley and decides to buy it because he believes it's some kind of sign. He opens his own law practice and works out of the bowling alley. There are a lot of things about the show that I like. I won't bore you with what draws me to the show, but I will tell you that I have no desire to be a lawyer or run a bowling alley. Anyway, I digress. The thing about the episode I was watching is Ed has a client who wants a name change and when asked why, he replies “life is too short to be someone that you don't want to be.” Along with the name change, he changes his look completely. Ed suspects there is more to the story and decides to go on a stakeout with Carol. They follow the man but nothing is revealed. Later in the episode, a woman comes to visit Ed and claims to be the man's wife. She tells Ed that her husband was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer and when he was told about it he simply said to the doctor, “you have the wrong guy.” He changed his name, his look and tried to leave his life behind completely in an effort to avoid the reality of his situation. That was a pretty creative solution. His name was George Murphy, and he became Rick Van Stratton. The show ends with George (Rick) coming to his senses and going back to his wife to spend what little time that had left together. Luckily, my situation is not that dire, but if I were to change my name, I think I'd change it to hmmmm, that's harder than I thought. I'm taking suggestions for what I could change my name to. Certain people are not allowed to submit suggestions, and you all know who you are.

With any luck, my cancer story is nearing its end. One more surgery, and one CT scan. I've always said that hopefully by Christmas this will all be nothing but a funny story and a memory. I don't know how funny the story will end up being, but it there's no doubt in my mind that I'll never forget it.

I Will Win

Mowing grass and taking names

Note: This entry was meant to be posted on August 27th, but that didn't quite happen. So when I refer to the weekend, it does not mean Labor Day weekend, but the weekend prior

Have you ever heard of the phenomenon in which something you remembered as being huge as a child looks significantly smaller as an adult? Things like a creek that look like a mere trickle of water as an adult or a Little League field that looked huge as a kid that now seem barely more than a fenced in infield? I experienced the opposite of this over the weekend. My Grandma’s yard has always been big, but I used to mow it with the tractor when I was a kid and it always seemed to go pretty quickly. Kelly, the kids and I went down there this past weekend to take care of the yards and it seemed more like mowing a hay field than a lawn.

My grandma is 91 years old and has had both hips replaced. She has a hard time getting around as it is and lately it’s gotten worse. She is very stubborn and insists that she doesn’t need to use a walker or anything other than a cane. She has fallen a couple times in the past few weeks and after the most recent one, she started having some severe pain in her right hip. My mom and aunt took her to the emergency room in West Branch and were essentially turned away after being told that nothing was wrong and that it was arthritis. The pain continued and got worse. They went back to West Branch and this time, the same doctor that shut them down the first time prescribed some pain killers that didn’t work. They did take x-rays but they didn’t reveal any broken bones so nothing was done. My grandma was in enough pain to want to go to the ER and then to be admitted into the hospital. She is a pretty tough old lady who enjoys a trip to the doctor about as much as most of us enjoy a good rectal exam (personal experience speaking there).

From there it was a trip to her family doctor. He knows Grandma better and knows that she wouldn’t complain unless the pain was pretty severe. He ordered an MRI at West Branch which they promptly scheduled….9 FREAKING DAYS LATER! Don’t worry about that pain Grandma. I’m sure the next nine days of agony will go by quickly. Idiots.

My mom got on the phone with Grayling Mercy Hospital and got the MRI scheduled the next day. The results just came in on Monday. She has been diagnosed with Spinal Stenosis. This (I have been told), is a narrowing of the spinal column. What has happened is that a nerve has been pushed outside the spinal column and is now being pinched as the column continues to narrow. This is causing the pain. She has been referred to a neurosurgeon. I’m not sure what the cure is for this or even if there is one. Because of her age, surgery is kind of out of the question, so hopefully there’s a therapy or something that can provide some relief.

Probably the only people that would enjoy the relief more than Grandma are my mom and my Aunt Kay. They have taken turns staying with her at night and have basically become live in nurses for Grandma. They do everything in shifts so that there is always someone there with Grandma. This has led to a lack of ability to take care of things at their own houses. My Uncle Donnie came up from Mississippi to help with things and I’m sure that his sisters are glad for the help.

We went down on Saturday morning to mow the lawns. It had been awhile since anyone has had five minutes of free time to do anything with them so the grass was long. Because of my legs I took the riding mower and Kelly took a push behind weed whacker that she used to get the ditch back under control. I was proud of the kids too. Callie was a beast with the push mower, doing the majority of Grandma’s back yard by hand. I can promise you, that is no small feat. Andrew had the weed whip and took care of the trim work before taking a turn pushing the mower, and Abbie worked hard with a leaf blower, getting the driveway and sidewalks cleaned off before getting a broom and sweeping off the deck. It made me feel good to be helping out mom and Aunt Kay, and made me feel good to see the kids putting forth that kind of effort with no complaint. Kelly took over for me on the rider after I had gotten Grandma’s and Aunt Kay’s front yards mowed. I had worked Friday night and had not slept, so I went back and took a short nap at mom’s house. We had originally planned to spend the weekend out in Barbeau with some friends, but Kelly suggested that we go and help out. This is one of the reasons that I love her. Her willingness to help a family that has only fairly recently come into her life makes me know that choosing her and being chosen by her is a blessing.

I don’t envy my mom or my aunt in what they have to do right now. It’s hard work to take care of someone ‘round the clock, especially when the patient is in pain. Mom and Aunt Kay, I just want you to know that your work is appreciated by everyone who calls her Great Grandma, Grandma, mom or simply friend. Thank-you!

On Sunday, we decided to take the kids to the Renaissance Festival. Kelly and I like to go and Andrew and Callie have been dying to try a turkey leg from there. I’ll relate that story in a couple of days as both of my brothers and their kids were able to make it on the short notice that we gave them and it led to some funny moments.

One quick update on me: My surgery was originally scheduled for October 20th, but we have bumped it up to September 22nd.

I Will Win

Lions and Tigers and flexible sigmoidoscopies, Oh My!

The past couple days have been a series of ups and downs for me. I had a test scheduled in Novi on Wednesday to see if I was ready for the last surgery in my ordeal. The test is called a flexible sigmoidoscopy, which is basically a conscious colonoscopy. It's not necessarily a painful procedure, although the level of discomfort is so high that it may as well be painful. Like the first time I had this test, they had a big TV mounted in the direction I was facing and they asked me if I wanted to watch what the scope was seeing. I declined. It's hard enough to know what's going on without having to watch it as well.

Anyway, the results of the test were good. I have healed completely from the initial removal of the tumor and there was no sign of cancer or any infection at the surgery site. So that's definitely positive news. After posting this, I am going to get on the phone with the surgeon's office and see about scheduling the reversal for Oct. 20^th. That gives me some time to build some leave time from work and the date works best for Kelly's work as well.

I was given some orders from the doctor to be followed before the surgery date. I have to exercise my legs more than I have been, and I have to lose a few pounds. This also involves making sure that I keep a really good handle on my sugar. As dumb as it sounds, this will be the hardest part for me. I eat when I'm stressed or nervous or even bored. In short, I eat a lot. I have to learn to not shove food in my mouth every time the opportunity presents itself.

After the test was completed, we got back in the car and Kelly informed me that we were going to go to Allendale to watch some of Lion's training camp. It was great! We got to get a look at all the players, and the place where we were standing was right where the corners and safeties were working on drills. I could have reached out and touched Darius Slay and Glover Quinn as they came right up to the edge of the roped off area. I wanted to get close to Matt Stafford and watch them run plays, but they were in an area where the public couldn't get to. We didn't stay for the whole practice, but it was something I'll never forget.

We were both hungry when we got to the Lion's facility as I couldn't eat after dinner the night before and Kelly didn't eat anything either. They had exactly one food vendor at the field and it was a pita place. I know lots of people like pitas, but I am not one of them. Even Kelly, who usually likes that kind of stuff, was a little disappointed. I mean, this is a football practice right? With NFL fans attending, right? I think a grill with dogs, burgers, brats, and maybe even some chicken would have been much more appropriate. But then again, Bill Ford Jr. hasn't exactly asked my opinion on the matter. Maybe he's a fan of the pita.

When we left there, we went to check into our hotel and get ready for the Tiger's game that night. Getting ready consisted of taking a two-hour nap. My legs were pretty worn out from the walking involved at Lion's camp and from the stress of the test earlier in the day. We made our way over the ballpark and found our seats. I have to say, these were probably among my favorite ones that we've had. It was padded and there was a little table right in front of us to set stuff on. It was shaded so I was able to stay out of the sun and we were right behind a brat/hot dog vendor that also sold diet pepsi so it was damn near perfect. The only downside was that we couldn't see the scoreboard from where we were at. A small price to pay in my opinion.

We have been lucky enough to see the Tigers win nearly every time we have gone to a game. Wednesday night continued our streak as the Tigers fell behind 4-1 and came back to win 8-4. Joe Nathan came on in the ninth inning and walked the first two guys he faced and the fans got on him. I didn't boo out loud, but in my head, I admit I was thinking “here we go again.” He eventually got out of the inning but it wasn't the easy 1-2-3 ninth that everybody wanted. I didn't see this at the time, but apparently Nathan made a gesture toward the fans afterward because he wasn't happy with being booed. I can understand that, but he has to understand that he has one job. When he doesn't do that job efficiently and has already blown seven save opportunities, he's going to get booed a little bit.

The last thing on our schedule for the two-day trip was to stop in St. Helen and attend a visitation for Richard Wood. For those of you who have been following my posts, you know the story so I won't re-visit it. It was hard, but I'm glad that we stopped. We got to say hi to Ann, Ellen, and Connie and ran into a few other people that I knew from the old days of growing up in St. Helen. I had no idea what to say to Connie. It was easy enough to talk to Ann and Ellen, but when we had a minute with Connie, my head just went blank. Looking at her trying to maintain a brave face and get through the next couple of days made me realize that there wasn't really anything that I could say. I'm sorry just doesn't seem to cut it in that situation.

When we went up to the casket, I looked at Richard and couldn't believe the effect that the cancer had had on him. I was very fortunate in that I never had any pain during my treatment or even before I was diagnosed. Richard was not that lucky. He looked as though he had aged years in the short time between his diagnosis and his passing. I didn't get to visit him prior to his death, but from what I have been told, he handled the entire ordeal with the dignity and grace that anyone who knew Richard would have expected.

We had gone to my mom's house to change clothes and ended up taking my Aunt Kay with us to the visitation. When we went up to Grandma's house to pick her up, I sat with Grandma for a few minutes before we left. She has been having a rough time lately as she has fallen a couple times and hurt her hip. My mom and Aunt have made two trips to the emergency room in West Branch and were blown off the first time. The second time, they were treated a little bit better and got some pain medication for her. It didn't help much though and when we saw her, she was really hurting. She tried to get up when we came in and couldn't do it. I sat next to her and we talked for a few minutes before we had to leave and it just broke my heart listening to her talk about the pain and hearing her ask my mom how soon she could take another pain pill. This is a woman who wouldn't complain if she were on fire, so if she's talking about how much it hurts, it has to be bad. She has an MRI scheduled soon and they think that maybe it's a pinched nerve. I hope it's something that simple as surgery is not an option for her.

Hopefully Grandma and I will get better together!

We Will Win

Dear Richard

Dear Richard,

I was devasted to read Ellen's post regarding the time you have left. I can't imagine what it must be like for someone to tell you that you have a finite amount of time left. When I was diagnosed, I knew right from the beginning that it was treatable and curable and never had to really worry about the kind of news that you got.

I can only guess as to what's important to you right now, but I think I have a pretty good idea. You have raised a great family and have shared your married life with a loving, caring woman. You have touched their lives in more ways than anyone will ever know, but you should know that there are others who have taken lessons from you as well.

I remember one thing inparticular that I will take from you. When we were younger (a lot younger), there was a dance at the hall up at the ballfields. I can't remember if you were there as a chaperone or just a parent, but I remember that you were there. Ann was there too, and when a slow dance song came on, some people danced and others didn't. Ann wanted to dance, but most of us boys were too busy trying to hide the fact that we had no idea how to dance. Ann was obviously disappointed and then you stepped in and offered her your hand. You led her around the dance floor and although she was mortified for the first few steps, within seconds she was smiling and laughing as you whisked her around the floor. It was the first time in my life that I had ever seen a man slowdance in person that didn't involve the simple shuffling of feet and turning in a circle. I admired your dancing ability that night, but more than that, I admired the kind of man that loved his daughter enough to get up in front of a bunch of teenagers and dance with his daughter. That's been at least 30 years ago and I just wanted you to know that it's a lesson that I've remembered and one I hope to pass on to my son as well.

Thank-you Richard