Challenging Time

Catching Up!

2011-05-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

I can't believe my last post was a year ago. Things are going well. I had a CT Scan last January and it looked fine. The Oncologist is optimistic that, if I can remain cancer free until January, I will not likely get this cancer again. Most of the side effects of treatments have work their way out of my system and life is mostly normal.

I'm working full time. I have some great clients and I'm gradually doing more executive development and coaching around communication issues. I'm fulling engaged in applied improvisation, video coaching, body movement, vocalization, narrative development and story telling.

I'm enjoying our family. We had a great visit with our kids and grandchildren recently. Both our mothers are nearby and doing as well as can be expected in their late 80's.

I continue to produce photographic fine art with whatever spare time I can fine. I draw and paint, but mostly to improve my photography. I have two exhibits scheduled. One will be in the sanctuary of the Universalist/Unitarian Church of the Monterey Peninsula in September and October. Then, I will move the same images to The Works on Lighthouse in Pacific Grove for January and February.

Father's Day

2010-08-18T18:13:00.000-07:00

On Father's Day, June 20, 2010, I delivered this sermon at my church, The Universalist/Unitarian Church of the Monterey Peninsula.

Sunday Worship & Celebration

What does ‘Fatherhood’ really mean?

June 20th, 2010

Sermon

Bob Sadler

Bruce Feiler wrote the bestselling book, “Walking the Bible” in which he walked through the actual places where the most famous stories of the Bible took place to explore the deeper truths that those stories don’t always mention.

He became known as the walking author. So, it was rather ironic when Feiler was diagnosed with an extraordinarily rare osteo sarcoma – cancer of the femur. The walking author discovered he might never walk again. Or even live to watch his three-year-old twin daughters grow up. Those were the hardest steps to imagine not taking: pacing with worry during their teenage years; walking them down the aisle; hold the hands of his grand babies during their first steps. After feeling sorry for himself, he decided that even if he couldn’t take those steps, his daughters shouldn’t have to walk alone. He decided to assemble a group of men who could help.

Feiler decided to assemble a group of specific men who he knew could help his daughters understand three things:

- How to live

- How to think

- How to dream

He decided on one friend because he said he would teach his daughters how to plan a trip. “Be a traveler, not a tourist,” he said. “You should approach a trip as a young child might approach a mud puddle. You can bend over and look at your reflection in the water, or you can jump in, thrash around, and see what the water smells and feels like. At the end of their lives, I want to see your daughters covered in mud.”

He asked his literary agent - a broker of dreams in a world where very few dreams came true. This friend said he would teach his daughters to dream, especially when they hit a setback. “Don’t spend your life looking at the wall. Look for the way to get over it, around it, under it, or through it. Whatever you do, don’t let a wall stop you.”

A third told them not to hunt for answers in their lives. “Live the questions. Have patience with the unresolved issues in your heart. Do not seek the answers, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions.”

And he asked his surgeon who told him that the thing he wanted to pass on was the reminder, ‘everyone dies. Whether they want to or not. But not everyone lives. That’s a choice.”

In the end, Bruce Feiler found 6 men who became what, he called, the council of dads. Those figures who would reach out and give his children the moments that revealed the meaning within life.

Isn’t that something all of us should have? Whether our fathers are with us or not? Can’t we all use someone to teach us about living on the level of our dreams?   

I definitely had Council of Dads. I never thought to enlist Dads to a Council. They never had a meeting. They didn’t always know each other, but they acted in ways to fill my deep longing for love, affection, support, and positive attention from males who are a generation older.

There are too many to mention this morning, so let me tell you some detail about just one of those men.

He was an Army Chaplin, a catholic priest, by the name of Father Barker. I met him in April of 1965 in Vietnam. To fully understand the power of his impact on my life, you should understand the circumstances that surround the encounter.

Although my primary job in the Army was to guard the perimeter of our base in the Mekong Delta with my dog, I was also asked to substitute as a helicopter gunner when there was a need. So, once or twice a week, I would replace a gunner who was killed or wounded.

On this particular morning in April, we flew out at dawn with 6 other helicopters in a V formation heading south. We found the village that was a suspected Vietcong ammunition depot. We came in over the village at about 500 feet in formation. We hovered over the village. A Vietnamese interpreter in our lead ship warned the villagers, through a loud speaker, that the village would be bombed and they had 5 hours to get out taking no weapons with them. Below me, people began to scurry around to collect their most important belongings.

We circled the village watching for attempts to remove ammunition.

The first muzzle flash I saw from the ground was below and to my right, in a tree line. Then, the entire tree line was lighting up with flashes and the sound of gunfire was everywhere. I was leaning outside the helicopter firing bursts on the machine gun. Something banged into my back. I turned and saw the crew chief as he fell on the floor next to me holding his bloody face. I dropped down on the floor and cradled his head trying to stop the bleeding. He was still conscious when we landed. Four medics had him out of the helicopter and on a stretcher while the blades were still rotating and blowing dust in every direction. The dust turned to mud on my sweating body and uniform.

The captain decided to refuel while they searched for another crew chief. It might take time. All the crew chiefs were flying already. I was flaming hot with the humidity and adrenaline rush. I headed for the air-conditioned bar and a cold drink. I walked into the bar and the staff told me they were closed. I bullied the bartender for a cold drink and he made me a rum and coke, but he went to the phone and called someone…I assumed the Military Police to get me out of there. I didn’t care. I started the Jukebox and tried to lose myself in the latest Supreme’s hit.

Within a few minutes, there was blast of sunlight that hurt my eyes as the screen door opened and an officer walked into the club.

He was overweight and about 50 with shock white hair. With the bright sun behind him, I couldn’t make out who he was. He headed straight for me. I’d never seen him before. His name was Father Barker, an Army Chaplin with a silver cross on his lapel. “How ya’ll doin today?” he asked in a southern drawl.

“Fine”, I answered.

“Fine? You always look like this?” he asked

“Sorry, Sir. No, we got shot up this morning and I’m going back up in awhile”.

I thought he was criticizing my sweaty uniform and I tried to straighten out my shirt. For the first time, I noticed it was covered with mud and dried blood.

He grabbed my wrist to keep me from straightening out my uniform. He looked at me straight in the eyes. “Slow down”, he said as he firmly grasped my wrist…and then to the bartender, “Gimme a rum’n’coke. Hotter’n hell out there!”

He let go of my wrist, and flipped his hat around on his head so the bill faced backward as if to equalize our status.

“It looks like y’all had a bad mornin’. You OK?”

“Yeh, I’m fine”.

“What happened?”

I told him. He looked pensive but he only stared off into the distance. It was quiet for a few minutes. The air conditioning was beginning to cool the place down.

Father Barker changed the subject, “Did you go to college?”

“Well, I went for one year and then dropped out”, I said.

“Did you like American Literature?” he asked.

“Yeah, I liked a few authors. I liked Hemingway”, I said.

Actually, “The Old Man and the Sea” was the only book I remember completely reading in High School. I had a flashback to my favorite high school teacher, Mr Coogin. He taught me literary words such as metaphor and simile, although I could never remember which was which. I remembered that ‘alliteration’ was a string of words beginning with the same sound…such as, ‘Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers’. I even remembered the term,’ fricative alliteration’, because I thought it was funny that you could string a whole bunch of “F” words together and produce a bawdy phrase that Shakespeare would have liked. I told Father Barker about symbolism, metaphor, and fricative alliteration.

Father Barker looked me in the eye real hard and then looked me up and down. What did he see? It was at one of the lowest moments of my life. I was covered with mud and blood. I was high on my own adrenaline. I had a drink in my hand at 10 in the morning. I was manic and sort of dancing to the jukebox. That’s what was standing in front of him. But, that’s not what he saw. In an instant, he made a decision.

This is what made him a member of my Council of Dads. He tapped into his 50 years of experience and saw past the mud and the blood. He saw past the mania that was my coping mechanism. He saw past the bravado. He saw past the alcohol. He saw past the wise guy attitude about literature. He saw a talented human being. Then, he bet some of his political currency on my future.

“Ah, good!” he said, “I’ve been talking with the Dean of Vinh Long University. He wants a volunteer to teach American Literature to his graduate students. I think you would be a great teacher. It means that you have to teach class every afternoon from 1-4. The University is five miles from the village, and it’s not in secured territory. You have to go unarmed and in civilian clothes.”

“That doesn’t sound too good. Why won’t I be killed on the way over or back?” I asked.

“Well, doesn’t look like y’all gunna to be too safe if you keep going up in helicopters behind a machine gun. You won’t be killed on the way over or back because the Vietcong want to learn English too. Some will undoubtedly be in your class. It’s a price we have to pay”.

As if to remind me of the danger, there was a loud explosion nearby. We looked in the direction of the airfield and wondered what the explosion was but there was no more noise. We went back to our conversation.

Father Barker continued, “Our President has asked us to try to win the hearts’n’minds of the people. This is one of those jobs. I want you to start this afternoon. Now, y’all go over and introduce yourself. I’ll get you off duty. Change your clothes. Bring some books. Try to look more studious than you do at the moment”.

He walked back out the door in a blinding flash of daylight. I never saw him again.

Back at the barracks, there was another officer milling around the bunk across from mine.

In a matter-of-fact voice, he said, “You probably heard the explosion a few minutes ago. Chris Riley was killed in an accident. We’re sending the body back to Saigon for processing. Pack up his gear and his footlocker and bring it down to the runway in a few minutes”.

I had known Chris Riley pretty well. He was a helicopter mechanic. He was from Chicopee, Massachusetts, not far from my hometown. He was a few years older. He had a wife and two kids.

At the pace and deliberation of the honor guard at Arlington, I walked over to his bunk. I turned and looked at the gold-framed photograph on the wall of his wife and two children. Two other photographs flanked the family picture. The picture of his two-year-old son was on the right. His 4-year-old daughter was on the left. Briefly, I felt the need to help raise those children. At that moment, I would have volunteered to be on their “Council of Dad’s” if someone had thought to asked.

I lifted his footlocker onto the bed. I packed his things. I removed towels and carefully wrapped the photographs separately as if I was folding the American flag and put them safely below the t-shirts. I dragged the footlocker out to the sidewalk, loaded it on a jeep, and drove it to the airfield.

There was a dark green body bag on the runway. I placed the footlocker next to the body bag, turned and left… to begin my new life…a life that left the “F” words of the barracks behind and embraced new “F” words, the fricative alliteration of Fitzgerald and Faulkner.

This morning, I salute Father Barker and have to say that his 10 minutes of service on my Council of Dads changed the course of my life…maybe, even, saved my life.

I finished my tour in Vietnam with six months of rich graduate level teaching experience that propelled me to go on to college and become a High School English teacher. Father Barker played a key role on my Councils of Dads, but he was only one of a dozen or so who shaped my life. There was my father, Dick Cowles, Bob Murphy, Charlie Hanscomb, Roy Mansur and Daniel Dixon just to name a few.

Each of these men, unselfishly, gave me something I needed. They were models of commitment, humor, wisdom, joy, discipline and love. No one father can easily provide all of that. The expectation is probably unrealistic. Maybe it takes a Council to father a child.

I believe most of us had a Council of Dads without realizing it.

I believe many of us serve on several Councils of Dads without realizing it.

I’ll give you an example…

In 1986, I was sitting on a Continental Flight from Hartford to Baltimore. Before the doors closed, a young man, probably about 22 years old, awkwardly ambled down the aisle. He was tall, maybe 6’5” and a bit gangly. He grasped a manila envelop with both hands and held it against his chest as if the contents were of great importance. When he reached my row, he stepped in and sat in the middle seat clutching the envelop to his chest.

After wrestling with his seat belt, he asked, “Do you fly often?”

“Yes”, I answered.

“Wow! I’ve never flown before”, he said with great excitement.

I looked at him and said, “Well, now I know two things about you. You’ve never flown in a plane before and you joined the Army this morning.”

He was startled. “Yeah, I did! How did you know?”

“I recognized the manila envelope with your orders. I carried them once myself.”

“Yeah, I signed up for four years...Airborne and Special Forces. I’m headed for Ft Leonard Wood, MO to begin basic training.

He continued, “You fly a lot”. Could you tell me when we reach 3,000 feet?”

“Yes”, I told him, ”I suppose I could”. I leaned over and looked out of the window beyond him. Right about now”, I said.

“Wow! That will be the altitude of my first jump.

“You’ve never had a plane ride and you’re going to jump out of the next flight you take?” I asked incredulously.

“Yup”, he said proudly.

After a brief silence, I probed, “What made you join the Army?”

“Well, I graduated from High School in Chicopee 3 years ago and been installing aluminum windows ever since. You can only do that for so long”. Besides, my father was an Army hero and I want to follow in the tradition”.

He asked me where I served in the army.

“Vietnam”, I said.

“Wow!” you’re lucky to be alive”.

“And your father, where was he?” I asked.

“He was killed in Vietnam when I was about two years old. I don’t remember him. He was in the Special Forces and died in the Mekong Delta”.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. He died about the time I was there.”

I began to think about the missions to pick up the dead in their dark plastic bags. Maybe I picked up his father. I’d have no way to know. I never knew the names of the soldiers in those bags.

No way to know, of course, but I couldn’t help but take a peek at his manila envelop sitting in the seat pocket in front of him. I couldn’t make out the name on the outside of the envelope.

On the second look I saw that his first name was Michael.

On the third look, I saw that the last name ends in ‘iley’. Michael what? It could be Michael Wiley? It could be Michael Riley? It didn’t ring any bells.

In the silence that followed, punctuated by the sound of a jet engine revving up and then dying down, it hit me!

“Is your last name Riley?”

“Yes, I’m Michael Riley.”

“Do you have a sister about 2 years older than you?”

His head swung around and his eyes opened even wider than they were. He didn’t answer.

“Was Chris Riley your father?”

“Yes.”

I stared at the floor and then at the ceiling of the plane trying to swallow my emotion.

“I knew your father. He lived in a cubicle across from mine for about half a year before he died. He was from Chicopee. He had a wife and kids. The kids were two and four when he died. The younger child must be you!”

I tried, desperately, to get a grip. In 1966, my emotions were safely buried. I wouldn’t have been so affected then. By 1986, my emotional response had returned to normal. My eyes filled up. My throat hurt. My heart beat at twice the normal rate.

I took it in quickly. I was sitting next to Chris Riley’s son about 20 years after his death. His son, Michael, was on his way to basic training…his first day in the Army. His son, with great innocence and enthusiasm, was trying to follow in his father’s footsteps.

Then, I realized that I was in a dilemma. I don’t know what his family told him about his father, but he was under the impression that his father died a war hero. He probably didn’t hear anything until at least 4 years after his father’s death.

Regardless of what he was told, he had a clear idea of who his father was, what he did and how he died. And, it was all wrong. I was OK with that for a moment, but then I thought about the fact that this young man was intent on living up to the image of his father.

Had fate had appointed me, without warning, to Michael Riley’s Council of Dad’s? What council should I give? This young man had just dedicated his life to the myth of his father. Should I tell him the truth? He might be devastated, but I’m afraid he’ll soon try something unnecessarily heroic and be killed. What would his father want me to say?

Before I could decide what to say, he asked, “What was he like?”

“Well”, I said, “I liked him. He was quiet. He was very dedicated to his job. He was head of an avionics unit. He kept the helicopters flying. Any mistake could have cost a lot of lives. He talked, every day about getting back to his wife and kids.”

Michael looked devastated… “He was a mechanic? I thought he was Special Forces”.

I mustered my 42 years of experience and instinct and said, “I think there is some confusion. His rank was called Specialist 4th class. I suppose over time Specialist fourth class sounds something like Special Forces. He had a special skill, but he wasn’t Special Forces.”

“How did he die”? “He pushed a rocket in the pod of the helicopter and it fired accidently, hit him, and exploded. He died instantly.”

I told him about packing the footlocker … about packing the pictures. He told me that his mother took him to the attic when he was 12 and opened the package of his father’s belongings. She showed him the papers, the medals, and then unwrapped the towels around the three pictures...maybe for the first time since I had wrapped them in 1966.

We talked so intently that the wheels touched down in Baltimore before I was aware of landing. Michael was changing planes in Baltimore, so I walked with him to his next flight gate. We continued to talk. I shared all I could about what I learned about surviving the military and surviving a war. Time was up and he headed for the jet way. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Michael, take care of yourself”, I said.

He smiled, turned and walked into the jet way, turned, waved, turned again and disappeared into the darkness. I walked back toward my job in Baltimore. For a few hours, I hadn’t thought about work. I had been totally consumed by my job on Michael Riley’s Council of Dads.

Without realizing it, I’ve served on a number of Councils of Dads. I wonder if I can do a better job on those councils. Can I see past the indiscretions of youth? Can I see past the mud and blood? Can I see past the apathy? Can I see the emerging strengths of these young people? Can I express faith in those strengths? Can I invest my political and economic currency in them?

Those are good questions for tomorrow. For today, let’s just honor and celebrate our fathers and those who served on our Council of Dads. Happy father’s Day!

To the Glory of Life!

Gilding the Lily

2010-03-24T14:38:00.000-07:00

I took a ride down through Big Sur a few weeks ago on a stormy Saturday morning. It rained intermittently, but the sun was in and out and the temperature warm. I went down to a favorite spot where Garrapata Creek spills out into the ocean. A few hundred Cala's line the stream just before the water hits the beach. I had the place to myself.

It was magnificent. Every plant and rock were like toddlers calling out..."shoot me!", "no, take my picture", "no, it's my turn!" The competition for attention was fierce. The colors were rich in the rain soaked surfaces. Each drop of water on leaves and petals contained a reflection of the dome of the universe above. The light changed dramatically every second. I spent hours completely lost in another world. Each drop of water on leaves and petals contained a reflection of the dome of universe above.

Catching Up

2010-02-22T10:56:00.000-08:00

Wow! I haven't posted since last July? I can't believe it.

First, I need to say that I feel fine. I'm going on three years post cancer surgery and there is no sign of cancer anywhere. I need a couple more years of monitoring, but the odds are now tipping in my favor. I continue to get stronger and should be able to return to full time work this summer.

One of the unanticipated benefits of that nightmare is that it's easy to keep my weight under control. Another is that my hair has turned from mostly grey to mostly brown again. Ahh...the wonders of chemo and radiation...

After my last entry, life got busy and out of control. We had a series of health crises with parents beginning in August that took us to the East Coast for weeks at a time.

Sadly, Sharon's father died about three weeks ago and we've just returned from the funeral. We'll miss my father - law a lot. We are happy to have had him through his 90th birthday, but there are never enough years for a guy who added so much love and joy to the world.

At the same time, my work increased geometrically, and I've been juggling work and personal time for months in a way that I've never had to do before. More about that in another entry....maybe next week.

So, there has been little discretionary time to devote to photography and painting. I long to get back to it.

Some good things have happened just the same. I've been accepted into an amazing photographer's organization called Image Makers. www.imagemakers.org

Image Makers is based in Monterey County and includes about 60 wonderful photographers, many of whom are icons in the famous Monterey school of photography.

We get together to show and critique work once a month. The atmosphere of the group is constructive and collegial. I'm sure my photography will grow enormously when I get a little more time to participate. If you look at the membership roster on the website, you can link to the work of over half of the members who maintain their own photography web sites.

I submitted some images for a show that will start this Friday evening with a reception at the Pacific Grove Arts Center in Pacific Grove, CA. The images above are the two images that were juried in. I'm very excited to get my feet wet with this public exhibit. I've seen the images that were accepted and I think it will be a great show. The reception is open to the public. Try to come by between 7-9 this Friday! You'll see some great photography and meet some great people.

Slap me five!

2009-07-19T15:53:00.000-07:00

I was over by the Coast Guard Station in Monterey taking pictures of the sea lion pups. There were hundreds of them lying around like rebellious teenagers sleeping through the late morning.

I shot a picture of this sea lion pup scratching his nose. I was amazed! Inside what I call his fin there seemed to be fingers. The fin turned into a patent leather glove. On one finger, where a fingernail would be on a human being, was a nail that he was using to scratch his face.

Could it be that the fin is really an arm and hand that has been sculpted by evolution to serve a sea borne purpose. Or, maybe our arm and hand is a fin that has been shaped by evolution for land borne purposes. Somehow, I can't help but feel related to this creature. Tonight, when I hear them barking, I may open my window and try barking back to see if I can start up a conversation.

Remembering Daniel

2009-07-16T23:23:00.000-07:00

Our great friend, Daniel Dixon, died last week at the age of 85. Daniel was a unique and wonderful man. He will be greatly missed.

Daniel was a great writer. When he turned 80, he wrote the following feature for the Monterey Herald. It's a clever way to write your own obituary. You can really get a great sense for who this man was when you read the following:

OLDER AND WISER

Back when I was a mere 60 or so, I never even glanced at the obituaries. But now my reading habits have changed. Before I so much as peek at the headlines of the Sports section, I check out the obits.
My interest is in the names, not in the embalmed descriptions of the departed. Most of these notices are crafted by cub reporters or by undertakers, who prepare their text as they might ready a corpse for interment. The results are stiff, cold and without the faintest hint of a heartbeat. In other words – dead meat.
If composed by those same novices and funeral directors, I’m afraid my own obituary would sound just as lifeless.
First: Age, occupation, time and cause of death, date and place of birth.
Second: Family background. Son of two celebrated artists, painter Maynard Dixon and photographer Dorothea Lange.
Third: Professional History. Author of many magazine articles, newspaper columns, a television documentary, and a memoir of his father. Also an advertising executive for several leading national and international agencies. Creator of over 2000 radio and television commercials and the winner of numerous industry awards. Additionally, a political consultant who helped shape campaigns for the House of Representatives, the U.S. Senate, mayor of New York and Chicago, and President of the United States.
Fourth: Hobbies and Interests. Relished the popular music of the 20's and 30's. Greatly enjoyed cooking.
Fifth: Survivors. His wife Dixie, his daughter Leslie, his younger brother John, one grandson, three stepchildren, one niece, two nephews.
Finally: “It was the wish of the deceased that no memorial services be held.”
“The deceased.” What does any such language, reeking with formaldehyde, tell you about who and what I am – my passions, my prejudices, my quirks, my strengths, my weaknesses? Nothing – not a syllable.
So let’s take a peek at the late Daniel Dixon as suggested in a very different kind of obituary. Only in one respect does it resemble the first. Aside from the imagined date and cause of death, every word of it is true.
Daniel Dixon went to sleep last Sunday and never woke up. It was one of the few peaceful events of his restless life, which lasted 81 years.
Even his mother, the distinguished photographer Dorothea Lange, described her son as “irregular.” He was an incorrigible truant who dropped out of school in the tenth grade to become a wandering delinquent. For several years he ate out of dumpsters and slept in doorways. Once he stole and pawned his mother’s cameras. When he was drafted into the Army just after World War II, he refused to take the oath of allegiance until promised that he woudn’t have to take basic training. Even then, the military coudn't’t keep him in line or on the reservation. Nine of his twelve months in uniform were spent in the stockade. He rose to the rank of private before the Army finally capitulated, allowing him to escape with an honorable discharge.
Mr. Dixon then returned to the streets. Most of his days were spent in public libraries, where he was able to keep warm. He also did a lot of reading, which gave him the implausible notion that he might become a writer. So indeed he did, but not because he especially enjoyed it. He wrote for money, not for pleasure. Of all the material he wrote, a few love letters may be longer remembered that anything he ever published. Perhaps the highlight of his career as a journalist had nothing to do with the byline. He was probably the only man ever to be offered and to turn down the job of picture editor for Playboy Magazine.
Mr. Dixon was guided by several favorite maxims. “Chaste makes waste,” he often declared. He habitually arrived for appointments precisely on time. “Punctuality,” he insisted, “is the courtesy of kings.” But the credo he most often cited expressed his feeling about the splendors and satisfactions contained in a bottle of wine. “The red will never hurt you,” he declared, pouring his guests yet another glass.
Mr. Dixon was an enthusiastic cook. “Beats writing,” he said. “Nobody dares tell you when it’s lousy. He also rejoiced in the company of his ukulele, which he believed had a mind and heart of its own. He was certain that his old comrade would miss him when he was gone, just as he was sure that all computers hated his guts.
Mr. Dixon is survived by a family of certified eccentrics and (at last count) as many friends as enemies. He is only temporarily separated from his wife Dixie, who remains his greatest joy and comfort in or out of this world. Mr. Dixon didn’t know whether or not he believed in God, but he did believe that this marriage would last forever, even after death.
From somewhere out yonder, Mr. Dixon says “Hello!” Nobody there ever says “Goodbye.”
The writing of this autobiobit has been a very instructive experience. Obviously, it’s just a rough first draft. It’s too extreme. It lacks balance. It probably should contain more routine information than it does.
But at least it has a little life. I think that’s important. In or out of the obituaries, I’m not ready to be treated as dead meat.
How about you?

Our House Now

2009-03-15T21:14:00.000-07:00

This is the state of the half of our house that is currently being remodeled. Four rooms have been gutted. The plumbing and electric work will be done tomorrow. Insulation will start on Tuesday.

We are living in a makeshift living room/kitchen in the garage and a bedroom, study and bathroom over the garage.

No problem!

With a little luck we can provide the after picture in June.

Progress!

2009-03-11T12:59:00.000-07:00

I feel good! The Right Brain Workshops that we have piloted over the last several months, for the purpose of helping participants, have certainly helped me.

Although we truncated the time and offered only half day sessions instead of the one or two day sessions we really think we need, I found that it really helps to dedicate time and space to exercise the right brain functions.

Although most of what I do with clients requires right brain function...relationship building, teaming, conflict management, intervention, visioning, communicating, etc., there is a tendency to go native. My clients are very intensely left brain centric with a strong dislike for anything that crosses over from the right brain hemisphere.

It's not a benign dislike. It's a very aggressive polarized and polarizing style. In order to work in these environments, I have to appear safe. I have to appear, to some degree, left brained.

Even more importantly, I need to have and display affection for left brained people and cultures. Fortunately, I have that affection. Large amounts of it. I know the world needs a lot of good left brain dominant people. I don't want to do that kind of work, and I appreciate the people who do.

The problem for me is that I hang out with these people day and night sometimes for days on end. I don't get enough exposure to some of the most talented right brain dominant people I know. There just isn't time for everything.

So, the 'aha' for me is that four hours of immersion on five Saturday mornings spaced over two months made a big difference to my work. I had a chance to practice graceful and exaggerated body movement. I had a chance to practice improvisation. I had a chance to work on vocalization. I had a chance to connect emotion to body movement...body movement to voice...voice and choreography to other people and groups.

I had a chance to tell a story in a slower and deeper way using all four voice octaves and all range of improvisational movement to support the story and it's characters. I had a chance to draw freely on paper with markers and support my story with images.

Each Monday morning I took all those tools to work and put them into action. Even if I just made a 10% improvement, the results were dramatic. I think the work was more consistent and powerful than it has ever been.

I'm going to take a few weeks off from this 'alpha test' and create another pilot series that will be our 'beta test'. Then, we shall see where it goes.

Another Lease on Life!

2009-02-13T22:42:00.000-08:00

The CT Scans looked great! No sign of cancer. That's the two year mark! The bell curve predictions are now on my side.

There was even some talk of getting my next scan in twelve months instead of six months. In the end, we decided to play it safe and get another scan in six months.

The surgeon took a look at the scans as well because there is a pseudo-cyst attached to my pancreas that was result of some damage during surgery. It might have gone away on its own, but it hasn't. Now we need to decide if I want more surgery to get rid of it. The cyst may be causing some digestive problems that are keeping me from gaining weight. Its not a severe problem as it is, or risk if I go for surgery. The thought of being laid up with surgery right now is not appealing. So, I'm thinking about it. I will get a second opinion for sure. I'm not in any rush.

Launching a New Year

2009-01-30T11:45:00.000-08:00

Wow! 2009 is off like a shot! It really seems like a whole new era. In spite of the economy, it feels like the country was just let out of Guantanamo.

I've been juggling 5 engagements with four companies since New Years Eve. Fortunately, two trips in the next two weeks have been postponed. I have a much needed breather.

On top of the work, we are ready to begin a remodeling project on half the house. So, we have to pack and move the downstairs rooms to a storage area. We will be living on a construction site for 5-6 months.

My health seems good, but I will get verification of that over the next two weeks because it's CT Scan and endoscopy time. These tests, I have to say, are really frightening. I've tried to capture the feeling in a rhyme...called "Test Time".
_____________________

Test Time

The thing you really want to hear
Is "no problem, we're done, you're all clear"
And until those golden words are uttered,
Your mind, with doomsday scenarios cluttered,
Dances with thoughts that time is short
And flirts with disasters of every sort.

Build walls around that dancing mind
And get on with the things that help you find
Comforts, thrills and distractions so deep
They keep you safe in restless sleep
So dawn will light the path to play
With moments that take your breath away.
__________________

Maybe it's not a coincidence that I was so busy for the last month.

Sailing into the Holiday Season

2008-12-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

Life is exciting...and exhausting. My mother had some surgery and , as she was recovering, fell and broke three ribs. She is hospitalized and will be weeks in rehabilitation. So, I'm cutting my holiday family visits in half and headed for Chicago on Christmas day while our son keeps tabs on mom.

Work is now slowing down for the holiday break, and its been great. I don't think I've ever enjoyed this combination of clients and activities more.

Our pilot workshop called "Bringing Your Right Brain to Work" went very well. We decided to keep going and offer four additional workshops in January and February. I think the workshops will be great and I think the nation is yearning for a solution to this devastating state of the union. The arrogance has gone out of the business community. The left brain dominance of the last 30 years has reached its natural end. The next 30 years is too complex and too fast paced for anything but strong left and right brain balance. Leaders who are too dominant on the left or right brain hemisphere need to partner to get balance. The workplace is loaded with left brain dominant managers. Right brain dominant people have mostly left business or are hiding out in a role that looks left brain dominant.

We need to develop a place where people can exercise the right brain hemisphere and integrate it with work...and life. We need to develop a place that is culturally accessable for left brain domnant people. We need a boot camp that interupts the patterns of business, develops the right brain capaibilites and builds a new combination of achievement and innovation...of analysis and relationship...of sequence and random.

The journey to build that place has begun.

Bringing Your Right Brain to Work!

2008-11-21T13:51:00.000-08:00

December 3, 2008 6:30 pm – 9:00 pm
Universalist/Unitarian Church of the Monterey Penninsula

490 Aguajitio Road, Carmel, CA 93923

For over a century, the most workplaces have honored and rewarded a workforce that is deeply rooted in left brain talent and focus. As the world becomes more complex and fast paced, it is increasingly impossible to drive success exclusively from the left brain. The breakdown of America’s and the world’s economic system offers a rare moment to integrate the right brain into the left brain dominant workplace

This workshop explores a model for understanding complexity and the need to balance left and right brain capabilities in the workplace. It is designed to show how the emerging sciences of ethology, cybernetics and systems theory combine to help us better understand the world and the way our organizations can keep up with rapid evolution of everything around us.

Co-Facilitator-Bob Sadler is a management consultant with 30 years of experience in the management of organization development and change. . http://www.sadlerconsulting.net/

Co-Facilitator-Peter Roberson is the founder of Human Insight, LLC which is based in London and is the author of the book “Always Change a Winning Team”. . http://www.human-insight.com/

Cost: $20.00 Donation to UUCMP with Reservations --$30 at the door:
Call Bob Sadler 4156010754

Happy Anniversary!

2008-11-20T19:24:00.000-08:00

It's November 20. Yesterday, we celabrated our 42nd anniversary. We dated in our senior year of High School, stayed together while Sharon went to college and I fullfilled my military obligation including a year in Vietnam. We were married in 1966. Our marriage survived the 60's without the benefit of drugs, the 70's without considering divorce (which was all the rage), the 80's without abandoning a home full of teenagers (kids so high on hormones that drugs might have provided relief), the 90's without begging our kids to come home and keep us company, and well into the 2000's in spite of eight of the most destructive years in US history and the resulting feeling of personal futility.

We celabrated with a couple of days at Carmel Valley Ranch. It was delightful. It was a sunny 75 degrees and the fall color was as good as it gets in California. We wandered around village art galleries and ate some of the best food ever.

I look back on 42 years (46 really) with a rush of joy, sorrow, triumph, failure, and, most of all, fullfillment. How did I ever find her? How did she ever find me? How did we ever sustain love and support for each other as our individual identies emerged and grew? I don't know. The warmth of our anniversary will be at the Thanksgiving table next week. I'll give thanks, again, for the bounty.

A Stroke of Insight!

2008-10-06T07:45:00.000-07:00

If you haven't seen Jill Bolte Taylor's speech at TED, you really should take 17 minutes and watch it. On a lot of levels, it's worth every minute. It's the most watched speech of the entire TED series. http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/jill_bolte_taylor_s_powerful_stroke_of_insight.html

If you are as interested as I am, you will then read the book "A Stroke of Insight".

Essentially, the speech is about her sudden discovery of her right brain hemisphere that happened as the result of a stroke that closed down her left brain hemisphere. She had a fully developed left brain hemisphere that served her well as a brain scientist, so she hadn't spent much time and energy developing her right brain....that is, until she suddenly lost most of her left brain hemisphere. It took her eight years to recover her left brain, so now she is fully developed on both sides. As a result, she has a unique ability to be both scientific and artful in her speech and book.

I have met others who have a good balance between left and right brain development, but they are rare. Most of us seem to have developed much more on one side or the other. The people I know from business are left brain dominant, for the most part. The people I know in other careers such as arts and humanities, are more right brain dominant. These two different worlds seem polarized. I can go into either camp and hear very bad things about the other camp. The polarization seems to have become worse as I think back to the beginning of my career. I've worked and thrived in both worlds. I think I'm more right brain dominant with a focus on relationships and creativity at the expense of being logical and sequential. But I do have a lot of affection and respect for left brain people and organizaitons.

Jill Bolte Taylor's video made me suddenly aware that my career has always been focused on working with dominant left brain people who need to use right brain tools, techniques and awareness in order to get something done. So, it's no accident that I've ended up working with mostly engineers and accountants in established corporations. These are the most left brain dominant cultures in the world and they don't welcome right brain dominant employees for very long. So, I get rented, from time to time, to help with something that usually involves relationship building, emotional processing, or creativity and innovation. In short, 'people stuff'.

Once I defined my business proposition this way, everything fell into place . My client list made sense. The lack of competition is understandable (how many right brain people want to spend their time in left brain settings?). The next big challenge became clear.

The next big challenge? It's been in front of me for years and I didn't see it. I have a lot of very left brain dominant clients who have risen in their careers to a point where their jobs have suddenly changed from requiring strong left brain capabilities (plan the work and work the plan) to requiring strong right brain capabilities (set visions, inspire people, create strong relationships). The requirement change is severe and it often happens in just one promotion.

These clients hire me to help with one or two things, but they are overwhelmed and struggling because they need someone with my skills on almost everything they do. I can often shed light on the problem of having too much left brain dominance in a right brain job, but then they want to solve that problem....and, of course they want to solve the problem with a left brain approach. "What book can I read?"

Development of a long dormant right brain hemisphere will require time, immersion, practice and commitment. There are places you can go to get that development, but they are often shrouded in 'new age' style that is the last place any of these left brain dominant people would ever go.

We need a right brain development center and program that makes sense to left brain executives who need to get more balance between left and right brain capability. I've done a search. I don't see an existing resource that I think would work.

So, we've had our own stroke of insight. I'm working on building a right brain development center. We are piloting some programs this winter and I hope we can launch a full blown pilot in the spring.

Thanks to Jill Bolte Taylor's "Stroke of Insight".

Soaring Again

2008-09-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

We've been to Big Sur twice in the past two weeks. The fire damage is in full view as soon as you pass by Big Sur village. Whole mountain ranges to the east of Route 1 are ashen. On the west side of Route 1, toward the ocean, is untouched. Route 1 was the fire break.

The Condors must have been forced out of the hills and over to the beach. We saw about a dozen of them and they were flying low. They just stretched out their nine foot wingspan and soared with the updrafts of the sea cliffs. They didn't use any energy flapping those wings. They just stretched the large black and white feathers in every direction.

That's how I feel. I'm starting to stretch out in every direction. I have a huge pent up desire for everything...relationships, exercise, work, photography, painting, church, and politics. I've never felt so alive. My desire is greater than my energy, so I have to be careful. But it feels sooo good!

I'm still not able to work full time, but I'm continuing to make progress. I'm spending a couple of days a week, on the average, at Lawrence Livermore Labs. It looks like I'll do that for at least another year. I'm going back to the Orange County Unified School District to help them with the next strategic plan early next year. I finished a pilot with HP Software that went well and I'll probably do another engagement there before long. I also finished an engagement at Cisco. Every week I'm a little stronger. I work hard for a few days and then I exercise and rest for a few days.

Our move to Pacific Grove is a year old. It was a great move. We feel as though we fit in. The area is small compared to Silicon Valley and London. People are friendly. They reach out. We know enough people, now, that we run into friends wherever we go. The place is physically beautiful and constantly changing with the shifting weather. That was no surprise. What was a surprise was the social intimacy. We love it here! We're soaring!

The Rhythms of Life

2008-08-06T21:55:00.000-07:00

For most of my life, I adopted the rhythm of four seasons. In New England, I was inspired by the first few weeks of each new season and ready for a change in the last few weeks of each season.

California seasons are subtle and there are no inspiring renewals. One month marches into another with no definition. One day I notice the hills are browned out with the dryness of summer and before long I notice we are rich with the green of the rainy season. I never know exactly when the changes happened and the changes have little impact.

So, it was natural to fall into the rhythm that cancer generates. I just had my third CT Scan, and the results were great. I'm very relieved. I am inspired. It's like Spring!

As much as I trust that I am cancer free following all the aggressive treatment last year, I need to verify my condition every six months. I am in a trust and verify rhythm. The two seasons of my life are July through December and January through June each year. This rhythm will go on for five years.

I can easily trust that I'm healthy now, but as I get close to the next scan in January my anxiety will grow. "What's that pain in my arm?" "Is that a lump in my thigh?" "Why am I feeling tired." "Have I lost weight?" In the six weeks before the last scan, I was fighting to stay focused on the positive. I was mostly successful, but it was like trying to stand upright at the shoreline with your face toward the sun while a dark, swirling undertow tries to throw you off balance underfoot.

Anyway, I've been scanned in great detail and I'm fine. There is still a pseudo-cyst on my pancreas that is a result of surgery. It's a potential problem, but they often go away on their own, and mine shrunk about 25% in the past six months. That's a good indication that it will continue to dissolve.

Beyond that, I've not lost any more weight. The other side effects like atrial fibrillation and pulmonary emboli are no longer present. My strength is improving and my energy level is good. I managed to walk 18 holes for the first time in July. My gym workouts are more rigorous.

The work that I am able to do is going well. I just finished an engagement at Cisco and another at HP. I managed a business trip to Australia with no ill effect. I'm focused on work with Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory.

For ever thing there is a season....

The end of 'news' as we knew it...

2008-06-19T00:06:00.000-07:00

I discovered journalism in college. I had two teachers. Mal Salter was my journalism teacher and the college's Public Relations Director. Mal hired me in my sophomore year to work part time in the PR office. When he left the college, Pete Durham replaced him. I continued to work for Pete, and he referred me to the Farmington Valley Herald where I became the editor after graduating from college. I served as editor for two years and did the job part time while I taught school.

Mal and Pete grew up at the Hartford Courant. The Hartford Courant is a serious newspaper and is the oldest newspaper in the United States.

I loved these guys. They were affectionate, family focused, patriotic, skeptical and had a 'bull shit' meter that they wore on their rolled-up sleeves. They worked hard to get the story. They were fair. They wrote good leads, good headlines and made you want to read the whole story. They had trusted sources and used there authenticity to put people at ease as they talked. They believed they were the fourth pillar of the American constitution just behind the legislative, judicial and executive branches of government. I absorbed that style like a sponge and it shaped all that I do today.

I grew up with the assumption that the press wouldn't change. Over the past 20 years, I've watched in horror as the fourth estate disintegrated. The last bastion of the that estate was Tim Russert. I hardly ever missed an episode of "Meet the Press" . Tim was Mal Salter and Pete Durham on steroids. He had all the same qualities...just larger than life.

As the American audience developed a giant case of attention deficit disorder, TV news went to entertainment and finally split into left and right wing info-tainment outlets. All the prinicpals of journalism are gone. Pretty faces read garbage....over and over again. Newspapers are shrinking and giving way to blogs which have no value for the principals of journalism.

Tim Russert was the last journalist standing...and, now he is gone. He can't be replaced. There was no succession plan. Tom Brokaw will come back for a few months to let us down genltly. Then, Tom will fade out.

When Tom fades out, there should be a funeral for journalism.

It's a new day!

2008-06-08T13:45:00.000-07:00

There is something about the Clinton's that made me queasy. I wanted to like them. After all, they are liberal democrats. Bill presided over the country during some great years. But I always felt that he was recklessly ambitious and that Hilary was right there with him. I didn't trust them. Yes, I was happy the Republicans weren't in office, but I had to hold my nose for those eight years. I felt that they were a big bubble...just like the housing bubble. I couldn't understand what power inflated that bubble.

And then came Bush. He was so bad that he made the Clinton's look good.

We watched Barrack Obama speak at Kerry's Democratic convention and thought, "Wow! he'll be a player before long." I never thought for a moment it would be this soon.

Then we read " The Audacity of Hope" and we were really hooked. When Obama decided to run this year, I thought it would be a dry run. Then, the Clinton's made me remember why I wanted to hold my nose. I think it was when Hillary said that she though John McCain would be a better President than Barrack Obama. Good lord, talk about recklessly ambitious!

I began to wish for a miracle. I've never been right about politics in America. I thought Bill Clinton would lose both elections. I thought George Bush would lose both elections. So, I stopped predicting. I'm too out of touch with mainstream America. I can't believe that more than half of the country refuses to believe in evolution. I can't imagine that the 99 channels on cable TV actually have an audience.

Even early this past week I thought the Clinton's would do something slick and postpone a conclusion. I felt the same way the last time the Red Sox won the World Series. I was so used to them losing that I expected them to lose in spite of the evidence. Yesterday, the bubble burst.

Well, here we are. We have a black Presidential nominee. It's also clear that the country is ready for a female Presidential nominee even though Hillary lost this opportunity. And, now, despite all the evidence, I won't predict that Obama will win. John McCain is an interesting guy. I don't think he would be as bad as he is promising to be, but it's time for the next generation to jump into leadership roles. This is a new day. The country needs to make a break with big money vested interests. I don't know if it will happen. I'll can only hope!

Surgery plus 1 year!

2008-05-23T08:43:00.001-07:00

Wow! I went in for surgery a year ago today! It feels like a natural time to do a status report.

I just got back from doing two consulting assignments and spent a long weekend visiting my in laws in Massachusetts. Sharon has been there for three weeks to help her parents after her father suffered a stroke. He is now recovering very well.

Despite about 10 days of travel and work, I arrived back in Pacific Grove last night feeling fine. I'm looking forward to the long weekend to rest and recover. I am able to eat virtually anything. I need to be careful not to eat too much. I don't feel full when I'm eating, but about half an hour after eating I know that I've eaten the right amount or too much. If I eat too much, I am very uncomfortable for about an hour. I'm still experimenting with various foods and amounts. I have to be careful when I'm with clients or with friends that I don't overeat and end up unable to work or visit afterwards.

I'm going for at least one more endoscopy and dilation of the esophagus in a month. I don't feel like I need it, but I'll do it to be on the safe side. It feels like the scar tissue growth has subsided and my esophagus is clear. I'll also have another CT scan in a month or so to make sure that this cancer hasn't spread and started growing somewhere.

My energy level is almost back to normal. I can't work as much as I would like because I still have to spend a lot of time with doctors, tests, exercising and physical therapy. I've added physical therapy to try to get my upper back in shape. I lost so much muscle from the surgery and recover time that my back muscles atrophied and I have a tendency to stoop. It's actually hard to stand up straight and bring my shoulders back. The therapy is really helping, but I have long way to go.

When I look back on the whole experience, I am amazed at my good fortune. The detection couldn't have been earlier, the doctors were great, the recovery was about as good as it gets, and I feel very good at this stage. It's been a year and a half since I was first diagnosed. When I was diagnosed, the statistics said that I would have a 20% chance of living two years. Because of the early detection, my chances were actually much better than the average, but the numbers only go up to 50% chance of living two years. I'm confident that I'll do much better than the numbers suggest. I don't really feel vulnerable to this cancer any more. I feel, and evidently am, cancer free. Only time will tell for sure.

Wow!

Photo Workshop

2008-04-28T09:05:00.000-07:00

I just finished a week of co-teaching a workshop here at the Asilomar Conference Center in Pacific Grove. Guy Magallanes http://www.guymagallanes.com/ and I did our second annual Watercolor/Photography workshop. It runs for five intensive days and evenings and covers the whole workflow from seeing an image... to recording it with a camera ...to painting it... to recording the painting... and, publishing the painting. Whew!

Guy and I were exhausted by the end of the week, but the participants were very happy with what they learned and produced. This year we added the challenge of creating a self-published coffee table book of images from each member of the workshop, with poetry, by the end of of the week. They did it! No one was more surprised than the participants.

I really like this work! It seemed as if there wasn't a minute that I wasn't working with a group or individual who wanted coaching. Daniel Dixon came by on Monday evening and told the story of growing up with his famous artist parents...one, Dorothea Lange, the photographer and the other, Maynard Dixon, the painter. Daniel is a writer, story-teller and musician. He is a smart and giving person whom everyone came to adore.

Kevin Woodson also stopped by Monday and did a demonstration of his watercolor method. He held the crowd in absolute rapture as he talked and painted at the same time. He completed a painting of a very complex bouquet of poppies in about 45 minutes and never stopped talking the whole time.

Jack Wasserbach, a Carmel photographer, came in on Wednesday to show his work from Big Sur. He also divulged that he is slowly losing his eyesight because of problems with detached retina. He is slowly going blind, but he is so experienced with a camera that he can still work and plans to go on even if he loses his sight. He was very moving and inspirational.

Dixie Dixon was in the workshop as a participant, but she switched roles on Thursday night and brought some of her rock band musicians along for an impromptu concert by the fire. She did some country swing, some jazz, and some rock. It was a cool clear evening, but we had a roaring fire in the fire pit and watch the sunset over the Pacific as we sang along. Dixie has a CD which will be released this Thursday. I have an advanced copy and it's wonderful!

It was a special workshop and it took me four days to recover from the effort. I'd do it again in a flash!

Major Gains

2008-04-02T10:27:00.000-07:00

I'm getting into deeper and more challenging consulting engagements. In the last few months, I've worked with Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, HP, Cisco, BT and Emulex. As I get healthier I am available to get into more complex issues. The issues are absorbing and the challenges of balancing work with health care and family life are greater.

I'm happy to have those challenges to wrestle with. A year ago, I was focused on getting well enough to undergo major surgery that was loaded with risks. It's taken a year to feel like I'm getting back to normal.

I still have to be careful. Eating is getting easier. I know better what I can eat and what I can't. Each person is unique and has to learn from experience. I have at least two more dilation procedures scheduled. Getting at least four dilation procedures following this surgery seems about standard from what I read on other patient blogs.

We have figured out that I can't wait for scar tissue to close the esophagus passage before I schedule a procedure. I need to anticipate and schedule the procedure before it gets closed off. You would think that someone in the medical profession would explain about the fact that scar tissue is going to cause problems following Ivor Lewis surgery. An intern said something about "opening up the passage if it became clogged". It would have been much better if a surgeon had said, prior to and after surgery, that scar tissue would very likely form and need to be dilated several times before it stopped growing in a year or two. The procedure consumes a day and is not painful or uncomfortable in any way. That expectation would have saved me months of discomfort.

I'm getting steadily stronger week by week. I can really feel the gains on the golf course and in the gym. I climbed three flights of stairs fairly quickly with a client yesterday and was not out of breath as I would have been three months ago. I walked nine holes a week ago for the first time and felt fine afterward.

I'm getting there!

Time March's on...

2008-03-09T16:17:00.001-07:00

We set the clock forward an hour today and sprung forward with the rest of the country. It does feel like we are springing forward.

The procedure I we did two weeks ago worked well. I'm able to swallow with little problem. I've gained three pounds in two weeks. I've worked almost full time over the last two weeks as well.

I feel as though we have a new life here. We know a lot of wonderful people already. Sharon loves volunteering at the Monterey Aquarium. I love my work with clients. We both have joined the Unitarian/Universilist Church of the Monterey Peninsula.

I feel like time is finally moving forward.

It's Spring!

2008-02-26T18:39:00.001-08:00

Well, not according to the calendar, but try telling that to the thick, rich yellow daffodils fighting for space in our raised bed to the right of our driveway! And, try telling that to the pink and white Camellias that are pushing hard on the redwood fence that surrounds the garden. The warm, moist air won't listen. The low hanging fog around Point Lobos will just continue to slide by in it's springtime easterly direction whispering "Itsss ssspringggg!" ever so softly.

Exactly one year ago I was half way through chemo and radiation. Only now do I have the stomach to go back and read what I wrote. It is an out of body experience. It's about 10 months from surgery and I'm doing very well. The doctors told me that it would take a year to get my energy back, and I think I'm a little ahead of schedule. I feel great!

There are still occasional problems. I've had increasing problems swallowing and digesting certain foods. It's unpredictable. I'm going to have a second endoscopy with a balloon dilation this Thursday at Stanford. I'm sure it will help. It may take a few of these procedures to beat back the scar tissue that continues to grow around the area where my remaining esophagus meets my stomach.

There is evidence of a pseudo-cyst in there somewhere as a result of surgery. We have to scan it every 6 months to make sure it doesn't grow and require more surgery. These things are more hassle than danger. They often go away on their own. I can tune out the hassles and get back to work.

I'm going to try to work four days instead of two this week and next. I believe I can do that without getting too tired. We'll see.

I feel born again....physically, emotionally and spiritually. Like Spring!

I can breath again...

2008-02-10T18:01:00.000-08:00

When you have a day scheduled such as last Friday you hold your breath as the day approaches. I was to hear about the status of the Pulmonary Emboli that was discovered three months ago. I was also to hear the results of the ultra sound scan of my legs where the clots were produced. I needed another breathing test. And then, there is the dreaded contrast CT scan and those results.

And, at the end of 48 hours of breathless anxiety, I could sigh with relief. My lung capacity went from 82% six weeks ago to 97% on Friday. That's amazing! I had been gaining 2-3 % every six weeks and I thought it would take a lot longer to get back to normal.

I also passed another scan with no sign of cancer. They don't need another scan for six months. The pulonary emboli are cleared up. My legs are clear. My weight is stable. I'm working out a lot and gaining muscle back a lot faster than I imagined I would.

I probably need to go back and have my esophagus dilated again in a few weeks, but that is expected, routine, and relatively easy to get done.

Life is getting better and better.

It's still raining...

2008-01-28T12:09:00.000-08:00

We managed to stay warm and dry as the rain continued to come down over the weekend. There is no sun in sight on the 10 day weather forecast, but we needed the rain to prevent the drought conditions that often affect the Monterey Peninsula.

Sharon loves her orientation workshops at the Monterey Aquarium. It's the best organized and managed non profit organization that she has been involved with including Kew Gardens in London. She is studying to be a guide.

We also are joining the Monterey Unitarian/Universalist Church next Sunday. We haven't had the time to be involved with a church since our Middletown days. It's been very enjoyable to connect with so many caring people in a church which is so inclusive.

My health continues to be good. My weight is stable. I'm eating a wide variety of food. Occasionally, I have trouble swallowing and I have to eat slowly and carefully. I saw a story the other day about medical researchers who have worked out an esophagus transplant for people with esophagus cancer that is made of a pig's bladder coated with stem cells. It seems to work. I've worked hard to avoid piggishness and I don't think I'll be one of first to try it.

I have follow up CT scans again in a couple of weeks. Those are always unnerving, but I don't feel any symptoms that give me any concern, so, once again, I'm expecting a good outcome.

We had a video conference with our grandchildren yesterday. The technology is improving and it really helps to see a video image of them as well as hear there voices.

Deep in Rain Season

2008-01-22T21:46:00.000-08:00

I was exploring the rocks, with my camera, at low tide this afternoon during a break in the rain and came across this Great Blue Heron. He didn't seem to mind my presence. He was regal as he picked little fish from the tide pools and swallowed them in one gulp. I really like my new camera. I had the 300 mm lens that I got for a birthday present.

We came home from a week of deep freeze in the East to non-stop rain on Sunday and it feels great.

I did some work in New York City late last week and then went on to Springfield, MA where my in laws are trying to adjust to the idea of moving out of their home of 50 years and into a new senior apartment in a nearby neighborhood.

This was the first real travel and business trip since going back to work part time. It was touch and go because I came down with a cold that robbed me of my voice for the first half of the week. I gambled that I would get my voice back before the workshop. I did...30 minutes before the workshop. Close call.

All in all, I did fine. I'm looking forward to stepping up my work hours over the next few weeks.

Kicking Off the New Year

2008-01-08T13:18:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year! We took a terrible pounding by a storm that descended on us from Alaska and brought high winds and rain for two days. The local surf went up as high as 32 feet and our power wend down for most of two days.

We huddled around the fireplace and we were able to cook on our gas range, so we were never too uncomfortable.

We had a packed full and wonderful holiday.

Now, we turn our attention to the new year. I think my health is as good as it can be. I'll get confirmation on Friday that the blood clots are gone from my legs and lungs. I've been on blood thinners for a month, so that should take care of the pulmonary emboli issue.

My appetite is definitely increasing and I'm eating more. I haven't gained any weight, but I haven't lost any either. I'm getting more muscle. Each visit to the gym brings a good feeling as constantly add more weight to each machine.

I'm able to get a lay on my stomach for a long enough period of time to get a good massage from our massage therapist.

Work is going well. I'm alternating among Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, BT and HP. I'm going to New York to do a workshop with BT next week. I'm able to do about two days a week with clients, and I plan to gradually increase that over the coming months. I have my next CT Scan scheduled for February 8 and I'll see the surgeon a few hours after that scan and get the early results.

As soon as the weather improves, I'll be back at the golf course to continue lessons. I am taking a lot of images with my new camera and lenses and loving that. I'm also beginning to prepare to teach the photography portion of a photography/watercolor workshop that Guy Magallanes and I are offering in April. http://www.guymagallanes.com/Instruction.htm Please pass this web site on to anyone you know who might be interested.

We had a great workshop last year and we will improve on it this year.

Happy Holidays

2007-12-18T15:02:00.000-08:00

First Sharon's nephew, Dana, flew in from Austria and joined our son, Josh, and his girlfriend, Erika for a get together before Christmas. They had to leave just before our daughter, Jordan, and her family arrived from Chicago. Sharon's sister, Joyce and her husband, Ed, joined us the day after Christmas. It was all wonderful! Just the way the holidays ought to be. But wait...it's not over. After a short break, our grandchildren, Baxter and Lyle, will stay with us for a rousing New Years Eve Celebration in Pacific Grove with Shirley Temple's and the works. Then Jordan and Matt come back for a few days before they all need to return to Chicago. We are having a blast!

2007-12-01T17:13:00.000-08:00

Tax preparation chores, today, brought 2007 in sharper focus. I had to go through the check records, one book at a time, fishing for medical expenses that weren't reimbursed by Blue Cross. I saw blanks in the deposit column that might have contained income. I saw deposits from disability payments that absorbed the anxiety of no income. Like breadcrumbs, checks and receipts mapped the trail back to the beginning of the year and I strolled back through it all. I was dazzled by the scale. Tens of thousands of dollars of our own money and hundreds of thousands of dollars in insurance payments littered the landscape.

We are incredibly resilient. We should have had nervous breakdowns on the economic impact alone. The economic impact was dwarfed by the focus on risky treatments that promised negative side effects and devastating possibilities.

As I walked back up the checkbook trail to today I felt better and better. I worked three days last week, practiced my golf swing. worked out in the gym and gained a few pounds. My muscles are firming up. I calculated my body mass index today and was delighted to realize that, as thin as I am, I'm right in the middle of my ideal weight category. I don't have to gain weight...just muscle.

I also need to fatten up the checkbook. All in good time. I continue to get great work and I'm really enjoying my clients. I hope to move on to an average of 3 days a week after the first of the year.

Back to work...

2007-11-20T22:00:00.000-08:00

I'm back on even keel with no doctor's appointments for the near future. I'm working out again and even took my first golf lesson last week.

Monday was our 41st Anniversary. It's hard to believe that much time has passed. It goes so fast! This last year was frightening and we appreciated our anniversary more than ever as a result.

We are two days from Thanksgiving and, once again, we feel blessed and will give hearty thanks for the good health that seems to be with us after a year long storm of challenges. Sharon and I spent the last two Sunday's at the Universal Unitarian church. We liked what we saw. I'm sure we will join. In my lifetime, I've moved from Catholic to Episcopal to United Church of Christ Congregational to Unitarian. Each religion is more liberal than the last. What could be next?

In another step toward getting settled in Pacific Grove, Sharon attended an orientation session to become a literacy volunteer. When they discovered that she is certified to teach English as a Second Language, they decided to assign two adults who don't speak English. She is very excited to get engaged, again, in the work she loves the most.

Great news...mostly!

2007-11-10T10:12:00.000-08:00

The two scans showed no cancer! I'm a free man for another six months! Almost...

While they were looking at the scans for signs of cancer, they found blood clots in my lungs. Pulmonary Emboli. I had an episode of that about 14 years ago that I recovered from just fine. This episode is much less invasive because we caught it early. I had no symptoms, but an ultrasound showed that I had small clots in my calves that were moving through my blood stream and into my lungs. They are small and are not interfering with my breathing. Evidently, the cancer treatments have a tendency to cause blood to coagulate faster than normal and mine has done just that.

I went straight from my doctor's visit to the Stanford Emergency room across the street. I spent Thursday night in the hospital and was released to treat myself at home with a few promises. I can't exercise hard for three days. I'll be on Cumiden for six months and they want to do another scan when they think the blood clots will be dissolved.

Just as I was trying to escape from the hospital yesterday, the surgeon was also catching up to the scans I did on Thursday and said he was concerned about an anomaly in the area that I had the endoscopy a couple of weeks ago. The surgeon wants to see me next week to see what that anomaly is. It's not cancer. It could be scar tissue. I could be a cyst of some sort. They may want to take a closer look with another scan or endoscopy.

So far, I'm surving cancer. I'm not doing so well on surving treatment!

I'm focused on the good news and trying not to notice the rest of the news more than necessary...a few pills...a few shots...a few more scans...missing a great round of golf today on a beautifully sunny day...

...and no cancer! I'll be back to work on Monday.

Silver linings....

2007-11-05T16:06:00.000-08:00

I can't believe the difference! That little procedure really helped. I can swallow food so much better. I'm eating more. I think I've started to get some weight back. I'm also able to lift more weight at the gym. I think I'm getting a little muscle back as well.

I'll have two crucial scans this week. On Thursday morning, I'll get a CT dye contrast scan. In the afternoon, I'll get a PET scan. Then, I'll meet with the radiation oncologist who will give me the results. I expect that both will be negative for cancer. The problem with the scans is that there are often false positives that need additional work to make sure that they are not cancer. This will be a regular six month routine for five years.

Sharon and I went to San Francisco for the weekend and took in some great music and great food. Once again, it feels like we have our lives back again.

...and, a major step forward!

2007-10-28T22:04:00.000-07:00

I went to Stanford Hospital last Thursday for a procedure to help me swallow more effectively. I had an endoscopy with a balloon that was inflated to widen the passage between my esophagus and my stomach. I only needed it widened about 4-5 millimeters or about 33%. Evidently, some scar tissue had grown in following surgery and closed the passage a bit. I was having trouble swallowing certain things...like food! I was a little apprehensive about the procedure because I didn't want the passage to be open too wide. Given that gravity is the only force that now keeps food in my stomach, I didn't want a wide opening that would let the food come back up to my esophagus(or beyond, God forbid) if did something like stand on my head for a minute. I'm not likely to do that, but go with the hypothetical for minute. It wouldn't be pretty.

I was sedated with Demerol. That's my favorite. I feel wonderful for two days after. I was even happier when I had lunch immediately after the procedure and was able to eat things that I hadn't been able to eat in months. I continued to eat even more over the weekend. Wow! I might be able to gain some weight back in the coming weeks.

After lunch, I went shopping for a new camera. I accidentally left my camera in an overhead compartment following a recent trip. I bought a new Cannon SLR that is just magnificent.

I also played 18 holes of golf on a beautiful 'Indian Summer' fall Saturday. My game improved a little.

Today, we toured Big Sur for the day. We managed to be at Garapatta Beach for sunset and we were rewarded with a combination of pink sunset and a sand bar that was smooth as glass to mirror the sky.

I'm back to work tomorrow and loving that, too. Life is really good! It makes me want to stand on my head!

Slight set back

2007-10-12T16:20:00.000-07:00

I'm doing fine. I had another couple of weeks of Shingles attack that made it necessary to rest more than I wanted. I think the symptoms were light because I had a Shingles Immunization before my diagnosis. Since I started treatment, I've had enough trauma to trigger Shingles three times. Each time, the symptoms were much lighter than they might have been. So, I highly recommend that those of you who read this get a Shingles Immunization soon if you once had Chicken Pox.

That said, I feel good now. I took 10 days off from work, rested, and caught up with long overdue family visits. I'll start back to work on Monday. I'm more determined than ever to lift weights every other day. I have a lot of muscle to build. My weight has remained stable.

I've had a chance to meet with my Oncologist regarding progress. He was happy with my status and designed a program that includes a CT Scan every 6 months (instead of the normal 3 months) and an Endoscopy every year. He doesn't expect to see this cancer again, but we can't take any chances. The norm is that we need to see no cancer for 5 years before we are comfortable.

He also agree that I should have the passage between my esophagus and stomach enlarged from 9mm to 12mm. This will be done on October 25 at Stanford. Basically, they do another endoscopy and use a balloon to push back scar tissue that has formed since surgery. I was warned that scar tissue could form and I may have to do this more than once. The good news is that it's not too invasive or painful. I'll be in and out in a few hours with no side effects.

Gettin' into it!

2007-09-19T21:25:00.000-07:00

I'm thrilled to be working again. I did a three day trip last week. I did well while I worked, but I slept a lot during the day for the next three days. I recovered by Monday, played 18 holes and packed again for a two day trip this week. I don't think I could do more, but I'm really fulfilled by the work I am able to do.

We are very happy with the way our home is shaping up in Pacific Grove. We have our best furnishings placed and it feels great. Everything is close by in this small town. We can reach hardware stores, grocery stores, pharmacies, and restaurants within a few minutes. We can lend my mother some support and she lives a few minutes away. We can go to the beach and have a sandwich for lunch with no effort at all.

We are beginning to feel that all the effort of moving and consolidating is paying off.

I am stunned by the work opportunities. As the months of treatment rolled on, I had to wonder if all my work momentum would grind to a halt. I wondered if I could ever get things restarted when I was ready. Consulting is notorious for taking a long time to start and restart. I seem to have great opportunities with each of the clients I had when I had to stop work. In addition, I have several new clients as well. I can't get back to full strength fast enough.

I'm also starting to work on photography again. I'm going to place a photograph in a show that is coming up at the end of October at the Monterey Art Museum called "Miniatures". It's not a big deal, but it feels great to be engaged again.

On a clear day...

2007-09-02T16:21:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to barking sea lions. They are at least a mile away at the Monterey wharf, but the sound carried through town and slipped in our open bedroom window. Then, I heard reveille being played at the Presidio. I jumped to attention and discovered the clearest day I've yet experienced in Pacific Grove.

We went for a walk at Asilomar beach and had lunch at the Inn at Spanish Bay before returning. What a great way to start a day!

We've cleared enough boxes away to begin sorting out our art and getting the best pictures hung. It makes a big difference to the look of each room and the sense that this is now home.

Sharon took this picture of me on the walk this morning. I'm a lot thinner than the last time most of you saw me. I've dropped about 45 - 50 pounds. I think my weight has stabilized. I'm at my ideal weight for my height. That's comforting. Now I need to build muscle back up. It will take some time. Esophageal Cancer is one way to lose a lot of weight quickly and keep it off. I don't recommend it.

Work Feels Good!

2007-08-31T16:23:00.000-07:00

I spent the day with one of IBM's clients, yesterday, helping them figure out how to grow faster. I was part of a team that is run by David Thomson. He wrote a book called "Blueprint to a Billion" www.blueprinttoabillion.com last year and it's in a fifth printing already. The book is driving a market for follow-on workshops.

We added a lot of value in a short time. We were able to get agreement on a road map that would get this company from it's current $500 million dollars in revenue to over a billion in three years.

It felt great to be back to work again. This is the third workshop that I have been able to do in three weeks. I still need to rest a lot before and after the workshop, but I'm definitely improving my stamina.

We are looking forward to an easy weekend. We still have some settling in to do, but we are in no rush to finish.

18 Holes!

2007-08-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

I managed to finish 18 holes of golf yesterday. It wasn't pretty, but I wasn't tired. My game is completely changed. My swing is different because I weigh so much less. I have little strength. I don't hit very far, but that means I'm not hitting so many homes and cars. I have to rely on rhythm to get any distance at all. My short game is better. My putting is excellent. So, when all is said and done, my score is about the same.

It was glorious being out of doors and away from the moving project. We are getting more settled every day.

Today, I fly to Orange County to prepare for a workshop that we will do with an IBM client tomorrow. I was able to write a proposal to one of the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory clients this morning.

Life feels much more normal.

Clear Day

2007-08-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

Pacific Grove is famous for it's cold foggy months of July and August. There is a marine layer of gray cloud that hangs over the ocean at about 500 ft that stretches from here all the way back to Hawaii. The layer is receding by 9:00 am and the rest of the day has been clear and warm. The season has changed. We are into a September weather pattern. Our summer starts now and runs to November.

I look over my computer screen at rooftops and cypress trees all the way to Monterrey Bay. I get a peek at the bright blue ocean and the distant Santa Cruz hills on the other side of the bay. Warm air settles on my shoulders and massages them until they drop about two inches. The pain in my back, a residual result of surgery, recedes with the fog.

We cleaned up all of the last boxes in the house this morning. We are now truly moved in and living here. We've waited for this day a long time. Tomorrow, Sharon starts attending a program at the University of California Monterey Bay on ancient cultures. I will play golf all morning. We are not disappointed.

We've Moved!

2007-08-26T19:21:00.000-07:00

We moved last Tuesday and have made some real progress. We started shoulder deep in boxes. Now we are only calf deep. This is hard! No matter how much we cut back on what we have accumulated, we still seem to have more than we can fit.

Sharon's sister, Joyce, saved the day with three days of help. I am still operating at about 65%. Sharon has been incredible at organizing and staying on task.

My health continues to improve. I"m eating more and most of my food aversion is gone. I'm still not hungry, but I've had items such a lamb chops, french fries, and spare ribs. Meat is still hard to swallow and digest, but I really need the calories and protein for awhile to stop the weight loss.

My breathing continues to improve as well. I've been able to work a few days and I'm planning to do some work for IBM in Los Angeles later this week. I'm also lining up more work for September. It looks like we will be picked up enough by this Tuesday that I can get out to play some golf and get to the gym again. Moving has been good exercise, but I need more aerobics.

Our new address is: 409 Congress Avenue Pacific Grove, CA 93950. Our business/home phone is 831 333-1337. My cell phone and Sharon's cell phone are still the same.

Gettin' past it!

2007-08-16T12:35:00.000-07:00

Everything continues to go well. I've managed to do some light assignments for clients that amount to about three days of work in August.

We are continuing to sort and pack for our move to Pacific Grove on August 21. The move has been very difficult because we are reducing our living space and consolidating two homes into one. Suddenly, pieces of furniture that we really liked in San Carlos are the wrong color or size in Pacific Grove. Little pieces of art that remind us of this trip or that family gathering can't be accommodated in our smaller space. Each decision to shed something becomes painful when you value your history as much as we do.

I completed a follow up endoscope. That went OK. I'm not sure what they used to knock me out, but I felt GREAT all day after the procedure. Now I know what great feels like again. Unfortunately, I was back to feeling like a recovering surgery patient the next day. We discovered that I had some thrush infection (from the inhalers that I've been using) in my esophagus that needed seven days of medication. The medication upset my stomach and I didn't feel great for the past week as a result. It felt like I was going backwards. I'm past all of that now. I feel much better today.

The doctors are predicting that I'll regain my strength by the end of December. In the meantime, I'll be able to do more and more each month.

Surgery plus 73 days

2007-08-04T08:55:00.000-07:00

I'm continuing to improve. It's a slow process. We are in San Carlos this week continuing to sort and pack for the move to Pacific Grove on August 21. I'm talking a lot with clients to see what has happened since I left work in January. A lot has happened. I get very fired up with each new client issue and want desperately to get back to work. One of my clients said yesterday that it takes at least a month to recover from each hour that you are sedated in surgery. I think that formula may apply. By that measure, I should be fully back by the end of October, five months of recovery for five hours of surgery.

Surgery plus 64 days

2007-07-26T19:56:00.000-07:00

My final meeting with the surgeon went as well as I had hoped. He said that this is one of the fastest recoveries he has seen. From his point of view, the surgery is complete.

I also met with the gastro-entomologist who first found the tumor during an endoscopy. I went to see him because it occurred to me that I may not need the antacid prescription that I took before surgery. After all, I wasn't eating much and my stomach didn't seem to be acidic at all. I was right. The instructions from the hospital release were incorrect. I shouldn't have been taking those prescriptions any more. They probably made eating more difficult.

He gave me some additional interesting facts:

- the number of people being diagnosed with this cancer is increasing
- there is no proof that medication for reflux (prevacid, priolsec, ranitadine) acutal work...they may be doing more harm than good
- my surgery cut a nerve that triggers the production of stomach acid so I don't have to worry about creating the same problem again, and
-my surgery also disposed of the sphincter muscle that closes off the stomach from the esophagus and I'm now dependent on gravity to settle my stomach through the digestion process.

So, those of you are living with a reflux condition (and it seems like half of you are) need to get rid of the condition by cutting out the cause as opposed to treating the symptoms. Eat smaller meals more often. Stay away form acidic foods. Don't eat much before going to bed. Stay at a healthy weight.

I've scheduled a follow-up endoscopy in two weeks to have a closer look at how things are working to make sure there is no mechanical problems with the reconfigured stomach and esophagus.

Surgery plus 61 days

2007-07-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

My exercise this week involves sorting through closets and drawers in San Carlos and weeding out what we don't have room for in Pacific Grove. I'm afraid that most of the work is falling on Sharon, but I'm able to do more than I have before. I have my last visit with the surgeon on Thursday and fully expect that he will be pleased with my progress. I'm not ready to go back to work quite yet, but I'm making steady progress in that direction. We have a swimming pool in the community and I've been there for a while each afternoon. I have scars on the front and back of my torso that look like the seams on a baseball. I fully expected people to run out of the area when I took my shirt off. So far, only quickly averted eyes....except for the young children who stare with great curiosity. I'm used to it already.

Surgery plus 55 days

2007-07-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

Well, after my success with the pitching wedge, I went back to the driving range several days in a row and worked my way through the bag. After a few days, I came to the conclusion that I could play again. So, yesterday, I played 9 holes. It wasn't a pretty round in general, but I made three pars. I don't think I could have walked the course, but I had no problem driving it in a golf cart. In fact, I'm sure I could have done 18. I think the surgeon told me that I might be able to play golf again after 12 months or so if all went well. I can't wait to tell him next week that I'm playing golf again less than two months after surgery.

I also worked out in a gym a couple of days ago. I took it real easy, but I was amazed at how much I could do.

So, physically, I'm doing better. My lungs are clearing. My stamina is increasing and could be back to normal in about four weeks or so if I keep improving at this rate. I'm beginning to talk with clients and partners about work they would like me to do. I'm eager to get back.

I'm still having difficulty eating enough during the day. I continue to lose weight and haven't really stabilized yet. I'm hoping that the increased exercise and fresh air will stimulate my appetite, but I still have to be able to eat more. The doctors have said that my eating capacity will improve, but I need that to happen soon.

Thanks, again, for all your emails and cards. They mattered a lot through all of this.

Surgery plus 50 days

2007-07-12T12:44:00.000-07:00

It couldn't be a more beautiful day in Pacific Grove. There is no wind. It's sunny. The temperature is 75 degrees. I can smell the ocean.

I went down to the putting green this morning and spent an hour trying to improve my game. Then, I took the big gamble and went to the driving range. I now took my wedge so that I wouldn't be tempted to do something foolish. I bought a bucket of balls. I tried some half swings and felt no pain. I moved on to three quarter swings and that worked. So, I hit half a bucket of balls with a delicious full swing that would have made Tiger Woods swoon.

As I said, its an beautiful day here in Pacific Grove.

Tomorrow, the nine iron comes out!

Surgery plus 45 days

2007-07-07T15:11:00.002-07:00

It was a wonderful week filled with more healing and lots of visits with friends. We went out to dinner several times. Sharon has continued to work with contractors to finish off some odds and ends on the upstairs remodel. She has also been able to catch up on a lot of differed cleaning and maintenance. We hope to have a relaxing week starting tomorrow. I am better able to concentrate and was able to finish the book on HP called "Bill and Dave". There were so many details that I had no idea about as Bill and Dave built the company. I learned a lot.

I'm standing straighter, walking more, eating a little better, and I can swing a golf club fully but very gently. I still have some distance to go, but I'm encouraged and staying patient.

Surgery plus 37 days

2007-06-29T10:45:00.001-07:00

The back of our home in Pacific Grove faces the sunrise. On most mornings a crisp and colorful show throws it's light on a myriad of roof tops that stretch toward the bay. The sun sets through the front windows and it's a whole different story. By sunset, the strong breeze that stirs in the afternoon has blown mist off the waves that crash on the ocean side of our little peninsula. The air is heavy with droplets. Each droplet, if you could look at it with a magnifier, contains an upside down picture of the sunset behind it. The total effect is a warm glow that envelopes the neighborhood and cypress trees to the west.

I am enveloped in a warmth, here, that I can't explain. I'm feeling better each day. I've talked to a lot of friends and family and feel like I'm getting focused on things beyond my battle with cancer.

Soft mist slowly lifts

The old world appearing

My hunger returns

Surgery plus 30 days

2007-06-22T09:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, I can talk again! We are headed for Pacific Grove, tomorrow, for about four weeks to finish recuperating, but I am available to talk and visit. We'll be back in the Bay Area quite a bit in August to organize and pack for the move. My cell phone is 415 6010754 and I can't wait to get caught up with everyone.

Surgery plus 28 days

2007-06-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

Every day brings a little more freedom and energy. I'm driving around doing light chores during the day and walking as much as possible. I can walk about 100 yards. Then, I have to sit for a few minutes and let the pain in my upper right back subside. I can repeat the process many times. As I walk more, my breathing becomes better as well.

We'll spend some time with the nutritionist tomorrow at Stanford to see if there is some way I can get more value and calories out of the small amounts I can eat.

We are heading for our Pacific Grove home on Saturday for the next 4 weeks. Then, we plan to come back to pack and get ready to move to Pacific Grove permanently by the end of August.

I'm looking forward to walking every day along the ocean and beginning to do some photography again. I think I could also go to the golf course and practice putting until I feel strong enough to start swinging my clubs again.

Surgery plus 22 days

2007-06-14T18:17:00.000-07:00

I met with my surgeon, Dr. Whyte, today and he was very pleased with my progress. I'll see him one more time in 4-6 weeks. The intern who came in to see me first said that this is one of the most difficult surgeries there is and went on to say that my body will continue to use up a lot of energy to heal.

I weighed in at the ideal weight for someone my height. That is what we expected would happen. I'm doing my best not to lose any more weight but it's difficult. I don't have much appetite and I get full really fast. The doctors insist that my appetite will return and I will be able to eat more at one sitting. I'm looking forward to that.

Sharon and I have been out to lunch a couple of times and I'm walking more. I'm able to talk for longer stretches each day. I'm not taking any pain killers. Life is beginning to return!

Surgery plus 20 days

2007-06-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

In spite of the size of this surgery, I was remarkably pain free. When I woke up after six hours of surgery, I was very alert. They asked how much pain I was in on a scale of 10. I told them '8'. They expressed disappointment. I suddenly went back to sleep and when I woke again I could say that the pain was more like a '3'. The problem wasn't pain.

The real issue was that I had three drains that emptied fluids from my stomach, bladder and chest cavity. They weren't painful unless some tugged at the tubes by mistake. I had to be careful about how fast I moved around. I also had six or seven IV tubes dripping various fluids in both arms. I had an IV pole standing next to my right shoulder and one next to my left shoulder. Some lines came to my left arm from the pole on the right and some came to my right arm from the pole on the left. That meant that I had lines crossing over my body. I felt tied to the bed. I couldn't sleep on my right or left side and certainly not on my stomach. I was on my back and couldn't move without two nurses and a lot of work to untangle the lines. Still, I got up the first day and every day in the hospital and walked with my two nurse entourage, two IV polls, and various drainage bags.

I couldn't eat or drink anything for six days. I wasn't hungry or thirsty. My mouth was very dry and I could swab it often with a little wet sponge on a stick. I could watch television, but I couldn't read or operate my laptop. On day six, I passed some tests and they began to pull the drainage tubes. I was worried that it would hurt and it didn't at all. Then some IV's disappeared. I was liberated!

The ordeal required more patience than pain tolerance. I've learned new levels of patience.

Surgery plus 17 days

2007-06-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

Each day is a little easier. I can talk more but my voice is not strong yet. I can see that it will take another four to five weeks to feel some sense of normalcy.

The surgery was big. It was pretty amazing. I have a scar down my stomach from my chest to a few inches below my belly button. Dr. Norton and his team used this area to remove my esophagus from my stomach as well as potentially impacted areas of my stomach. That took about an hour and a half. Then, he stitched up my stomach and Dr Whyte rolled me over to complete the surgery from my upper back. I have a long arching scar that looks like a crescent moon. They used that incision to complete the surgery. They had to crack my ribs apart, deflate my right lung, detach about two thirds of my esophagus and stitch the stomach back together with what what was left of the esophagus. The stitches had to be tight enough that I would heal without allowing any leaks. Then they had to do a number of layers of stitches to repair the incision on the way out. That part of the surgery took another four hours.

The whole strategy that they recommended worked well. The chemo and radiation killed and marked the cancer. It was easy for the surgeon to see what he was cutting. Early pathology reports were made before they closed me back up. There was no cancer anywhere except the small tumor in my esophagus. The full lab report came back within three days of surgery and indicated that the tumor had not penetrated the lining of the esophagus as previously thought. My stage 2 diagnosis was reset to stage 1. This is very important because it means that there was very little chance that a cell of that cancer traveled to some other part of my body and is waiting to develop.

I will be scanned for cancer a lot...maybe as often as every three months. I will be anxious waiting for the results of each scan, but I have some comfort from the fact that it was only stage 1 and we treated it very aggressively.

For now, all I can do is relax and try to keep walking often, breathing right, and eating right.

More Improvements

2007-06-07T16:28:00.000-07:00

My breathing is beginning to open up a little more. I can sometimes carry on a short conversation. My body continues to have some aches and pains, but nothing serious. Eating is not a problem at all. Sharon has made some delicious meals and I can eat small portions. I continue to lose body fluid from the surgery. So, we are just resting and letting the healing process run its course. I'm still not ready for visitors or phone conversations, but I don't think it will be long before I can do those things again.

More Progress!

2007-06-05T08:35:00.000-07:00

I've been resting a lot and healing at a good speed. My hands, forearms and wrists are no longer in pain from the IVs and some of the medication that passed through them. I have two large incisions that are a little uncomfortable, but feeling better each day. The staples came out before I left the hospital. My right side, toward my back is sore and I need to sleep facing up as opposed to one side or the other. I still haven't needed pain killer during the day and only take one dose at night to sleep better. I think I get about 5% better each day.

My breathing is a larger issue because it makes talking and exercising more difficult. We visited our pulmonary specialist yesterday to get checked out. He said that I had to expect a slower recovery in the lungs because one was collapsed during surgery to give the surgeons room to operate. The lungs react by protecting themselves with a coating which needs to be broken up and coughed up. He gave me some balloons to blow up during the day to speed the process along. The balloon therapy seems to be working already.

So, I still can't talk and I'm not sure how soon I'll be able to. Aside from that I'm feeling pretty good and I'm enjoying six small meals a day. I've had no problem swallowing or digesting food.

I'm thrilled with the recovery from this operation. I expected it to be much worse. Once my breathing gets under control, I should be able to begin building my body back to a reasonable condition pretty quickly.

First day is promising

2007-06-03T07:47:00.000-07:00

My first day home for recovery was outstanding. I still can't talk much because I start coughing as soon as I do and coughing, although therapeutic in my situation, is painful. I started on my new life style of eating small portions of nutritious food about 6 times a day. Sharon made some excellent food and I delighted in every morsel. I still have no appetite, really, but eating was still wonderful. I feel stronger already. I have a lot strange sensations and some pain in various places in my torso at various moments, but I haven't needed painkiller during the day. I can engage in moderate activity, and my breathing is the limiting factor.

Josh is joining us today for support this week. I'm looking forward to seeing him. With his help, I think we will make some quick progress this week. I can see that it will take a number of weeks to adjust to my new organ placement and complete healing from two large incisions. I'll be on the phone as soon as my breath allows me to.

I'm home from the hospital!

2007-06-01T21:25:00.000-07:00

I'm doing very well thanks to some great doctors, loving family, and friends. The cancer is gone completely. I'm cured. Now, I will focus on recovering from surgery. It was an amazing experience that has produced a lot of learning and some great stories that I will share with a little more distance.

I'm grateful to Sharon and Jordan for keeping the blog up to date for the past 10 days. They were exhausted and still took the time get on line.

So Much Better

2007-05-31T21:32:00.000-07:00

Bob's made steady progress since Tuesday in regaining his voice. Unfortunately very frequent coughing has kept him from having visitors and talking on the phone. Apparently the cough is part of the healing process and will pass.

By Wednesday evening he was finally free of his last "connections" other than a portable heart monitor, and the nursing staff cheered as he walked out of his room, clad in his own pajamas and robe - no pole, no tubes, no hospital johnny. He looked mahhhhvelous.

Today was his ninth day at Stanford, and we're hoping tomorrow will be his last. We've had all wonderful reports since the surgery, and the best was last: There's no sign of any cancer now. There will be a lot more healing to follow and home will be the best place to do that. So if you hear a very loud hurrah coming from Palo Alto on Friday, it will be us driving back to San Carlos together. We can't wait!

Improvements

2007-05-30T12:15:00.001-07:00

It was not easy to leave yesterday. My father, who had been alert and chatting with us for days, was uncomfortable. The lack of fluids and irritation from the tube left his throat scratchy and painful; he couldn't say more than a few words at a time and those were difficult to hear. If you missed them the first time, there would be no repetition. The epidural, which had given him groggy-free pain relief, had been removed in favor of another very effective drug, but one that made him drift off to sleep frequently all day. He looked more like the patient I expected to see those first few days after surgery. I tried to bear in mind that, although he was looking more ill and unhappy, he was in fact continuing to gain strength as he walked increasingly longer laps around the unit.

The swallow study, that which had been promised for Monday, could not be delivered until Tuesday due to the holiday. This was demoralizing for all of us, particularly as my Dad's discomfort increased significantly on the day it was due. He was brought down early Tuesday morning for the test in radiology and my mother and I strained to hear through the door, nearly jumping out of our seats when I heard a doctor say, "Everything looks really good so far, Mr. Sadler." Things did look good. The radiologist said so, the intern said so, and yet it wasn't until his own surgeon, Dr. Whyte, got out of surgery hours later, reviewed the film and gave it the thumbs up, that my father's tube could be removed and he could start drinking some water. I was happy to know that the test went well but it wasn't until I was about to board the plane that my mother's call came in to say that the surgeon had finally appeared and things were starting to change.

I think there will be big changes this week as my father begins to regain more control over his body with fewer tubes and cords around him and can move more independently. As his throat heals and he can talk more, receive phone calls, and let us know what he wants more easily, I expect he will seem more himself. And yet this healing will take a while, and the long wait in the hospital can take a lot out of people, even those as strong as my father.

I may continue to write once in a while, but I am no longer in California, so I would expect that my mother will do most of the updating until my Dad is able to get back to the computer himself. I have been so grateful for all of your support of our family; it continues to help all of us get through this challenging time.

A Few More Photos

2007-05-30T10:32:00.000-07:00

Bob on the ATV in Colrain, MA in August 2006:

Reading to grandson Lyle in October 2006:

Bob and Sharon with Baxter and Lyle, October 2006:

Another excellent historical shot: The ~~Cosby~~ Sadler family, circa 1986:

My Error

2007-05-27T20:16:00.000-07:00

Bob has continued to gain in strength and endurance today. Unfortunately he was not able to talk very much today as his throat is now quite irritated. In the morning entry I included his phone number for anyone who might want to call him at Stanford. I would wait a few days now as he will have the tube removed on Tuesday and begin to take liquids if his swallowing test is successful - which we expect to be the case. We'll let you know how that goes.

Boring is good

2007-05-27T08:17:00.000-07:00

Bob has continued to make great progress. Yesterday, he took two long walks around the unit hallways going two laps each time. All three of his doctors were in to check on him accompainied by their entourages of eager medical students. They were all in agreement that Bob was becoming a very boring patient with no complications. Boring is good. Also Saturday, Bob walked across the hall to move into a private room. It's given him a bit more space as well as quiet when he wants to rest.

Not that hospitals are really set up for sick people to rest. He's been awakened at 3 am for such things as xrays in the room, blood tests and frequent alarms from a dizzying array of electronic and mechanical devices. These alarms seem to be sounding off with information which reflects more on their function than his. As always, Bob is quite patient (as a patient or otherwise), but he was happy to be in the new room where he'd only be subjected to his own interruptions. It will also give him more space for visitors when he's up to it.

His mother, Shirley, came up to visit from Pacific Grove which cheered him Saturday. Once he gets free of some of the tubes and equipment, he'll feel comfortable about having more visitors. If you'd like to talk with Bob while he's at Stanford, you can call him on his direct line: 650/ 498-3781. Most of the time he's able to have a chat, but don't call him on his cell phone. They aren't allowed on his floor. (Note: I wrote this Sunday morning before I knew that Bob's throat has become a bit sore making it difficult for him to talk for very long. If you call, it will probably be a very short conversation. Once he has the tube removed on Tuesday and is able to start taking liquids, he'll be able to talk more comfortably.)

As before, I'm printing out any emails sent to Jordan or me and comments sent to this blog. Our son-in-law, Matt, has taken some wonderful photos of Baxter and Lyle sending their best wishes, and Baxter has created great drawings for his Papa's room as well. Thanks to all of you who have sent Bob your messages of good cheer.

Friday Update

2007-05-25T15:13:00.000-07:00

I was in to visit my father this afternoon for a while. My mom has come down with a mild cold and therefore is not supposed to visit this particular hospital floor. We hope that with some rest she will be back in action very soon; it is difficult for her not to be there, but we don't want my father (or anyone else on his floor, for that matter) to pick up a virus.

Dad was in good spirits, still not in pain, and had been up walking again this morning with the physical therapist. He reported that he'd been sitting up in his chair again for most of the morning! This is quite remarkable. While I was there, what we expected to be a quiet afternoon became much busier...Dad had volunteered to allow a 1st year med student to interview him; this was going to involve a case history and a brief physical exam. The young man expected he'd be with Dad for an hour. I thought that was quite generous of my father, but we would expect that, wouldn't we? While he was involved in that, an occupational therapist came in to do her evaluation and she was very pleased with his balance and coordination. My favorite part of that exam was when she said in front of him that it should go quickly because he was so "high-functioning". I noted that - at least most of the time - his family would agree. What a strange thing to say in front of someone, but I suppose those terms are used differently in my line of work.

The days are going by slowly for my father, but the television has been his best distraction. Unfortunately, when he tries to read novels or magazines, he falls asleep. He was excited to read all the blog posts and your comments that I left him with, however.

I'll be going back later this afternoon and will keep you posted!

Some Basics

2007-05-25T06:13:00.000-07:00

We appreciate your blog comments and the emails you send to us (we can't get at the ones sent to my father yet), and we will print new ones on a daily basis to bring to the hospital, so keep them coming!

Some of you have asked exactly where he is and if he can have visitors. Dad is at Stanford Medical Center in Palo Alto and will probably be there until mid-to-late next week. He is in Unit D, which is an Intermediate Intensive Care unit where they place patients who have had major surgery but no longer need individual, round-the-clock care. It is too soon for him to have visitors, he's not up for that yet. We will be sure to let you know when he is able to see you; it is likely to be when he is back at home.

Delighted Once Again

2007-05-24T19:02:00.000-07:00

Bob and Jordan 5/22/07

Bob has often surprised and delighted me with something new and interesting when we'd meet up at the end of a day or maybe lingering over breakfast on the weekend: an interesting experience, person or place he had encountered or a new idea or insight that we'd talk over for hours or just simply something unexpected.

Two days ago it was his response to my suggestion that he might get a shorter haircut before his surgery. Here you see the result! I must admit that I haven't seen this look on him since he returned from two years in the military in 1966. I imagine that by the time you see him again he will have abandoned this "new look" but you never know what Bob may do next. That's always been the fun of sharing a life with this wonderful man.

This morning he again surprised Jordan and me when we arrived at the ICU at Stanford. He had improved significantly overnight, and had already made one attempt at sitting up and then standing next to his bed. We were, of course, delighted.

So, as his nurse so aptly commented, he decided to show off for the ladies and repeated it - only this time he walked out of the room into the hallway and back again and sat in a chair for the next two and a half hours. This is not an easy feat after a major surgery 24 hours earlier, but he did it with style. Walking with a nurse on either side (one 8.9 months pregnant) and two poles full of all sorts of attachments, he looked like a cross between a medical miracle and traveling peddler.

It was a great show and we were totally delighted - once again.

More Bob Photos

2007-05-24T18:27:00.002-07:00

with Sharon and grandson Baxter:

with mother Shirley:

with son Josh:

with grandson Lyle:

Notes from California

2007-05-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

I have written a post about my father's surgery today over on my blog, The Wonderwheel. It is more about my own experience and thoughts, so I didn't feel comfortable posting it on my father's blog, but if you are interested, feel free to read it here.

Bob & Family circa 1976

2007-05-23T20:34:00.000-07:00

You only think you know my Dad. I mean, the real Bob. But you can't really say you know Bob Sadler until you've seen the best Sadler family photo ever (dig it!) -

Wow!

2007-05-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

My mother and I returned to visit my father in Intensive Care tonight, bracing ourselves for more of what we saw this afternoon. Instead, we found Dad with his bed raised up, watching Jim Lehrer and surrounded by one of today's surgeons and his entourage of residents. He greeted us, and was able to talk to us for about half an hour before fatigue set in again. True to her word, the nurse had helped bring his pain down to a "3" from an "8" and this had made a world of difference. He said that the biggest discomfort tonight is his dry mouth, which unfortunately will dog him for 5 more days. The nurse was letting him swab his mouth tonight, though; guess she's a softie since she told us earlier that he probably shouldn't have them. She jokingly referred to him as "King of the Swab". Dad really likes this nurse and we were so happy to learn that she was going to work overtime tonight and stay on until midnight.

My mother and I are feeling giddy with relief tonight. After the past 5 months and all the fears about today, it is such a good feeling that he's doing so well. For sure he's got a long way to go in his recovery, and the coming week will not be easy for him, but just the change in the past 4 hours has made us feel really positive about things.

Successful Surgery!

2007-05-23T14:26:00.000-07:00

My father walked into Stanford Medical Center at 5:30 this morning with impressive determination and the eternal twinkle still present in his eye. He claims to have slept well, but we had to be up at 3:45 AM to get ready to go, so it was a short night. As he pointed out, though, he would be getting an awful lot of rest in the coming weeks.

He was in surgery from 7:30 AM to 12:45 PM today with two phenomenal surgeons. Mom and I were able to get updates through hospital volunteers, so we knew when the first surgery was completed and that things were going "well" throughout. Mom knitted, I read, we chatted, talked to family members, and went to a nearby shopping center for a bit to get some fresh air. Despite our methods of self-distraction, these were an incredibly long 5 hours.

Dr. Whyte, the Thoracic Oncology surgeon who was with my father for the duration of the surgery, met us in the waiting room at 12:45 to say that all had gone well. He noted with satisfaction that the chemo and radiation had done its job without leaving much scar tissue, and there had been no complications today. My father would be taken to the ICU for the night, as is standard procedure after such a major procedure.

We visited with my dad for a short while at about 1:30 PM, when he was first brought to the ICU. He was awake, and had more color in his face than we had anticipated. He is on oxygen and has a nasogastric tube in place. As is customary in Intensive Care, he has a nurse by his side at all times; this afternoon's nurse was kind and intelligent. She explained that since all of Dad's vitals are fine, her job is to help him manage the pain.

And, unfortunately, the pain today is considerable. He has an epidural in place and yet stated that on a scale of 0-10 his pain was registering as an "8". The nurse showed him how to give himself a boost in pain medication by pushing a button, but this had not taken effect by the time we left. She was calling a doctor to come in and increase the dosage going in through the epidural, and promised us that he'd be down to a "3" by the time we got back this evening. It was extremely difficult for us to see him in such pain, particularly knowing as we do that he is not a complainer; this pain is not minor.

It is going to be an arduous couple of weeks for my father. He will have an x-ray swallowing study on Monday in which they give him a trace amount of fluid and watch to be sure it follows the appropriate course through his body. There is no reason to believe that it won't, but until they do this procedure, he may not eat or drink at all. Yes, that's right: he must wait 5 days before even having a sip of water; no ice chips, no swabs. It is difficult to know at this point when he will come home, but the 7-10 day estimate seems appropriate.

We will go back this evening to visit again; there are brief visiting hours for family every two hours. We believe that he will feel better each day and that the pain we've seen him experience is as bad as it's going to get as they learn to adjust the medication properly.

The strain of the past five months has been tremendous on my parents, but they have risen to the occasion and shown incredible strength. They are a strong couple, but they couldn't have done it without you. We are all grateful for all of the love and support we have received from all of you, our family and friends. We are also overwhelmed with gratitude for the medical staff who has treated him.

My mother or I will continue to update this blog as frequently as there is news. If you would like to contact us directly in the next week, feel free to email us at either sharonsadler@earthlink.net or jordansadler@sbcglobal.net. We will print out any email messages (or comments on the blog) for my father, and bring them to the hospital. I expect to be here until Tuesday, May 29. In the meantime, I have selected some of my favorite photos of my father from over the years to share; and, truly, with some of them, this is the perfect time to showcase them because he isn't available to stop me!!

Today is the day...

2007-05-23T04:58:00.000-07:00

It's 5:00 am and I'm off to Stanford in a few minutes. My surgery is scheduled to begin at 7:30 this morning. The first team will take about 90 minutes to get the tumor out and the next team will take another 3-4 hours to tie my esophagus back to my stomach.

The plan is to send me from the recovery room to the C unit. It is unlikely that I will need to spend time in the ICU but that sometimes happens. The surgery team is great. My preoperation tests were great. I feel great.

I got a very short haircut yesterday. How short? Well, think David Letterman. The last time it was this short I was headed for Vietnam in 1965. I guess I have a thing about short hair as the right fashion statement for major challenges.

I probably won't be in condition to add to this blog over the next 5 days at least. Jordan will fill in.

Thanks so much for the outpouring of prayers and good wishes. You've bolstered my spirit and my faith.

Almost There...

2007-05-21T15:42:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I talk to the surgeon again about what he is going to do on Wednesday. Then, I go for some standard tests to get ready. I'm also, just to be on the safe side, going for a breathing test with my pulmonary specialist tomorrow afternoon. My heart rate, rhythm, and blood pressure have been ideal for the past four weeks since the cardiologist helped me with heart rate and rhythm in the hospital at the end of my radiation treatments.

I've managed to gain about 6 pounds back since the end of radiation/chemo. My new weight is just about right because I will lose another 10-15 pounds from the upcoming surgery. I should complete recovery at about the ideal weight for someone my height.

Best of all, I shot an 83 for 18 holes at Pacific Grove Municipal on Friday. That's my best ever score! I'm eager to recover and get back out before I forget what I did.

Feeling Great!

2007-05-15T16:15:00.000-07:00

The past week was wonderful. I feel great! Sharon was able to spend most of the week with our daughter, son-in-law, and two grandsons. She is on a plane on her way back from Chicago this evening. I spent a few days with our son, Josh, at a retreat north of Napa valley. Then I spent the weekend in Pacific Grove. I was able to celebrate Mother's Day with my mother. I also played 36 holes of golf and walked the distance. Daniel and Dixie Dixon invited me to dinner on Sunday with friends and we spent the evening singing. My sister-in-law, Joyce and her husband had me to dinner last night. So, what could be better?

I spent the afternoon planning a second photography/painting workshop with Guy Magallanes. We collaborated on a very successful workshop which was held in Pacific Grove at the Asilomar Resort. We decided to hold another one early next year. Guy teaches watercolor painting and I teach photography. The workshop is Sunday through Friday and provides instruction to a wide range of levels.

I'm beginning to schedule work for August. My hope is to be back in action at least part time.

Sharon and I are headed to Pacific Grove tomorrow for one more good weekend before surgery. We will be back in San Carlos on Sunday to get ready for preop appointments next week. Our daughter, Jordan will arrive from Chicago on Tuesday and plans to stay a week.

I'm looking forward to finally getting on with this next step. Thanks, again, for all your thoughts and prayers. You have lifted my spiritual and emotional state to match a very strong physical state. I am optimistic that I will recover as quickly as possible from surgery. Hugs to you all!

Summer Is Here!

2007-05-07T17:28:00.000-07:00

We've had a beautiful string of sunny, warm days in Pacific Grove. Everything has the shimmer of summer on it. The ocean shimmers. The trees shimmer. Even the monarch butterflies, which live here from October to May in three trees by the tens of thousands, shimmer.

My good friend, Kevin Woodson, came by for a day and we did some plein air watercolor painting. Well, actually, Kevin gave me a lesson in plein air watercolor painting. I did take some good photographs while absorbing 'the Woodson Method'.

Our remodeling project is mostly done and there are only one or two contractors here at a time now. Our home should be completely livable by the time we leave for the surgery date.

The surgery is still, somehow, academic. I'm feeling no anxiety or fear. At some point, I'll probably break out in a sweat, hives, or who knows what, but I'm enjoying the peace while it lasts.

I'm doing so well that Sharon is headed for Chicago on Wednesday for a week of visiting with our daughter, son-in-law, and two grandchildren.

I'm headed to Napa Valley for a few days to visit with our son.

We are both looking forward to some children time!

Again, I am overwhelmed with well wishing and prayer. I can't express how much your support has meant.

Still on Schediule!

2007-04-30T08:54:00.000-07:00

My recovery time is working well. I've gained about 5 lbs back which is just about enough. I'm getting lots of exercise and fresh air. Surgery is still scheduled for May 23. My job, in the meantime, is to build muscle tone and stay healthy.

My good friend, Wayne Lewin, from HP sent me a note regarding a new book called "Bill and Dave:How Hewlett and Packard Built the World's Greatest Company" by ABC's Michael Malone. Wayne said that the book is great. He also gave me a 'heads up' that about three pages near the end of the book describe an encounter I had with David Packard. I picked up a copy at Border's on Sunday. It is a great book and Mike Malone did a great job describing my encounter with David Packard. I highly recommend the book to those of you interested in business.

Surgery Scheduled!

2007-04-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

Surgery is scheduled for May 23rd. That date is a week or two later than I hoped, but it's the only time we could schedule the two surgery teams on the same day. May 22nd will be a preop day. So, I have several more weeks to recover from chemo and radiation and build up my strength. I feel great, but my muscle tone still needs work.

The dye contrast scan that I did yesterday was negative as expected. The scan is a precaution that is necessary because about 2% of patients have aggressive cancer growth in spite of chemo and radiation. That didn't happen in my case.

The surgeon was very impressed with the speed of my recovery from chemo and radiation and was encouraging about recovering from surgery relatively quickly as well. He said that a team led by Dr Norton will perform the first stage of the surgery to remove the cancerous tissue and then turn the surgery over to Dr Whyte's team who will handle the second stage which involves critical and careful stitching the esophagus and stomach back together in their new positions.

I will be in Stanford Hospital for 7-10 days including the first day or two in the critical care unit. The long stay is required because I won't be allowed to eat for the first 5 days. At the end of 5 days, I will take a barium scan to make sure that the stitches in my stomach and esophagus are not allowing any leakage. If the stitches are good, I'll start drinking and then eating over a few days. If the stitches are not good, I will need more surgery to fix the problem.

Following the hospital stay, it will take a month or two at home to get my strength back and to learn how to eat the right amounts and the right number of meals per day.

This is complicated surgery and I wouldn't want it done by someone who does it twice a year. These people do the procedure every week and teach it to medical students. I'm very confident about the surgeons and their experience. That helps a lot! The prognosis is excellent.

Our daughter, Jordan, and son, Josh, will take turns supporting us through the first few weeks. Sharon's sister, Joyce, and her husband, Ed, live nearby and will continue to play a critical support role as well. We will stay in San Carlos during recovery time until I don't need to see doctors on a weekly basis. Then, we plan to complete the move to our Pacific Grove residence. If all goes well, we will complete our move by the end of August.

We are back in Pacific Grove today and will stay here most of the time until surgery.

Continued Improvement

2007-04-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

It's now almost three full weeks since my last radiation treatment. I needed to gain a few pounds and get my strength back in time for surgery in May. The last week has been great. Each day I think I have arrived back to normal only to find out that the next day is even better.

I have no symptoms of chemo or radiation at this point. I am eating normally. My radiation burn redness is almost gone on my back. I'm able to walk a couple of hours and I can feel my muscles again. I'm sleeping a full eight hours a day and I don't need any naps.

So, I feel like I'm ready for a CT Scan and meeting with the surgeon that is scheduled for Thursday. I should have my surgery schedule cleared within a day or so of that meeting. Surgery will probably be scheduled in May. It's hard to face surgery and a long recovery after just recovering. I want to just keep going without being brought down again. On the other hand, we have this cloud hanging over us that we want to get rid of and I'm happy to be doing well enough to get on with the process.

In many ways, I feel healthier than I have in years. I am 25 pounds lighter. That brought my blood pressure down to normal levels. I was living with untreated Atrial Fibrillation and some good diagnosis and medication has rid me of that. My heart rate is slower. I feel rested. I've had little stress of any sort for weeks. I've never felt more support and love from friends and family.

I feel blessed!

Spring and Recovery March into April

2007-04-02T20:42:00.000-07:00

We are in Pacific Grove for some recovery time and Spring is in full blossom. Everything here is just gorgeous. I'm beginning to eat well as my esophagus irritation subsides. I'm getting a lot of exercise. I still have to sleep an hour in the afternoon, but generally feeling better every day. This is a good place for recovery. Every look at the ocean brings a renewed sense of well being.

We are doing some remodeling on our home, so we've done considerable moving and prep so that the contractors could get going this morning.

The next meeting with the surgeon is on April 19th. I'll also have a CT Scan that morning. After that, we should know the surgery date. I'm confident that I'll be physically ready. Again, thank you all for your messages of support. They have meant to world to me.

Good Progress!

2007-03-28T08:51:00.000-07:00

I had my last radiation treatment on Monday. It wasn't really a tearful goodbye to the technicians, as nice as they are! I felt well enough to drive myself to the clinic. I went shopping for a few pairs of pants and shirts that fit. I dropped a couple of sizes and my old cloths are hanging off me. I don't want to buy too much because I'm not sure what weight I will be at the end of surgery and recovery. I suspect I will weigh less than I do now and that may be another size smaller.

On Monday, I also started a different medication to try to get my irregular hear beat under control. The fist medication we tried last week didn't work. Within an hour of taking the medication on Monday, my heart went into it's normal rhythm and seems to have stayed there. I'll confirm that with a cardiogram this morning. What a relief! I feel so much better just from that. My energy is coming back along with my appetite already. My esophagus still hurts when I eat or drink, but it is subsiding each day. I think I'm going to recover very quickly.

As I look back on the radiation and chemo treatments, I did very well. The asthma problem was unrelated. The heart rate problem was almost certainly related and unusual as a side effect. The expected side effects weren't that severe. The radiologist said that my treatment was very aggressive and that most cancer center's wouldn't even try doing that much.
I have a CT Scan on April 19th in the morning to confirm that there isn't any cancer anywhere. Then, I meet with the surgeon to schedule surgery in May.

I am particularly happy to have taken the most aggressive course of action when I hear the stories about the Elizabeth Edwards and Tony Snow. I realize that no matter how aggressive we have been, I will still have to get scans a few times a year for the rest of my life and every scan will be a drama. I can only hope that a constant reminder of my own mortality will keep me focused on what is important in a way that improves my life. I have seen that dynamic at play already. More on that later.

One more to go!

2007-03-23T13:33:00.000-07:00

I've completed 27 radiation treatments with one more to go on Monday. These last three sessions were very small compared to the the others and I'm already beginning to get my strength back. I'm really looking forward to the weekend and finishing on Monday. Then, I should have six pretty good weeks for recovery and building my strength back before surgery. We plan to go to Pacific Grove on Wednesday and stay most of the six weeks before surgery.

I'm doing well!

2007-03-22T07:30:00.000-07:00

I had the last big radiation treatment yesterday. I am still able to eat and drink with some difficulty and I'm feel tired quickly, but, other than that, I'm doing very well. I have three more radiation sessions to go, but they are only 25% of my normal dose. So, I should start to recover next week. I've lost at least 20 pounds in the last five weeks and I lost 10 pounds before that. I'm down to the weight I was 40 years ago! I'll need to gain some back before surgery in May because I will lose more with surgery.

Moving Along!

2007-03-20T20:03:00.000-07:00

I have only 4 radiation sessions left in the next 4 workdays. So, I'll be done by Monday. So far, I feel good and I'm able to eat and drink. It is a bit painful but not as bad as I expected. I have to take a couple of naps a day. The chemo feels gone from my system and I'm feeling much better as a result. I expect to start to feel really well about a week from Friday.

Unbelievable!

2007-03-18T09:04:00.000-07:00

As I said, I didn't sleep much Tuesday night. I woke from a brief nap about 7:00 am Wednesday to a bright eyed and bushy tailed resident and his clipboard. This guy was 100% energy and intelligence. It's hard to take someone like that in the morning.

"We think we know what we are going to do. Don't eat breakfast. We are going to try to restart your heart rhythm with a defibrillator. You will be put to sleep and we will try to shock your heart back to it's natural rhythm." I picture the electric shock images from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest".

"In order to do that, we need to do an ultrasonic endoscopy so that we can take a closer look at your heart to make sure that there are no blood clots."

"So", I say "tell me how you are going to send a scope down my esophagus after it has just had 22 radiation sessions and is so sore that I can't swallow water without it hurting. Will I be out colder than the handle on that door for this procedure?"

"No", he says, " we need you to be conscious through this test, but we will make you feel real good".

"And what are we going to do tomorrow", I say, "burn holes in my leg with cigarettes? I'm not agreeing to do this procedure until I've heard directly from the cardiologist, the radiation oncologist and the oncologist. I'm counting on you to get all three of them on the phone to hear about your plan."

He loses some of his color and stammers a bit. "Well, we are still talking about it".

He comes back an hour later, when Sharon is with me, and talks about it again as if it's going to happen. Sharon pushes back as hard as I did.

Thre hours later the resident arrives. "Good news", he said, we've decided to take a less invasive approach. We will control this with medication. You'll have to stay for a couple of days of observation."

Then, a woman arrives with her clipboard clutched tightly against her breast. "I have a good deal for you", she says, " a bed has opened up in a really large room".

"How many people are in this very large room?" I ask.

"Four", she answers with great positiveness.

"You want me to move from a double room to a dormitory?" I said. "No thanks. I'll suffer through this very small room ".

"Well, I'll try to keep you here, but we need to place a woman and we like to keep the room same sex", she adds.

"I'm already wearing a Johnnie that looks like a dress, so get me a wig and some lipstick. If she is really sick, she'll never know the difference".

She laughed and walked out.

An hour later a roommate arrives. I can't see her because my privacy curtain is up. I hear a lot of Spanish conversation and someone says that the pain level is an 8 out of 10, There is talk of morphine. Things quiet down an hour later. I get out of bed to take a walk and glance over to see who my new roommate is. I glanced quickly and observe an obese young woman lying face down in her street clothes. On my return, I also notice an arm in a cast pointing in strange directions.

All is quiet for hours.

Then a nurse comes in and says "Hey, you can't do that!"

There is conversation in English. The patient is a guy. His obese girlfriend had been laying on him, like a hen on a nest, in an effort to provide comfort to him....for hours! This is in a single hospital bed! I couldn't even see him except for his broken arm! Anyway, the girlfriend went home. I'm glad the guy was knocked out with morphine!

So, I didn't need a wig and lipstick after all.

My roommate, it turns out is a roofer who fell off a roof three stories up that morning. He is lucky to be alive, but broke his arm badly and did some damage to his pelvis. He was waiting for surgery. He waited three days before a surgeon showed up to tell him that he was scheduled for surgey next Monday!. He had no advocate. He hardly spoke English. He had dozens of visitors, but they all just hung around with their heads down saying almost nothing.

At 4:00 pm my normal heart rhythm returned spontaneously. The medical people saw it as a miracle because the medication doesn't work that fast.

So, everyone, thanks for your prayers, meditations and the good vibes you sent into my universe!

Even though I went back and forth from normal to abnormal heart rhythm the rest of the time in the hospital, everyone relaxed and felt that I could get this under control with some medication and attention.

It's All about the Water

2007-03-17T16:36:00.000-07:00

I'm getting some energy back after another adventure last week. I was feeling strange on Tuesday as I went in for an infusion of saline prior to my radiation session. I think I was slightly dehydrated in spite of drinking 2-3 liters a day. Then, I took the maximum am out of asthma medicine which includes steroids. I got jittery. I was stopped in the screening process before hydration was hooked up. After several reads, it was clear that my heart rate was way too high and that I was fibrillating.

They immediately took me by wheel chair to the emergency room in the hospital and I was brought directly into a treatment room. Several very competent people began giving me various drugs to intervene and were successful in bringing my heart rate down but not the fribulation. After about five hours in the emergency room, I was admited to cardiac unit of the hospital. Fortunately, I was given a bed in a two bed unit overlooking the gardens and fountains in front of the hospital.

I was hooked up to a heart monitor and oxygen and propped up in bed. Sharon was with me the whole time and helpful in answering a million questions and making sure that there was good coordination around my care. By the time I was hooked up to all that stuff I began to feel like a patient. As soon as I realized it, I got out of bed, put on some decent pajama bottoms and began walking around with the portable monitor. I got my head around the idea that I wasn't a patient. I was a customer. Once again, I would have to manage the situation. After all, I never felt sick. Why should I allow myself to behave as if I'm in pain?

I came in during the first shift nursing staff hours. They were great people. The second shift brought the second team, which I needed to educate and manage. I was awake through most of the third shift...out of fear! This team was what I imagine the guards to be in a mental institution. Some poor guy came in at 6:00 am, turned on the lights, and tried to get me to sign a document that probably gave the hospital certain rights in case of emergency. His English was so bad that I couldn't understand one word that he said. After three attempts, I turned off the lights and told him to go away. He did.

From now on I'll drink more water.

I'm free!

2007-03-16T17:10:00.000-07:00

I'm so happy to see that Jordan did a couple of updates this week while I was unexpectedly confined to the hospital. I was released this morning in time for my 22nd radiation treatment. The clinic hit the panic button on Tuesday morning when they saw that my pulse was suddenly running 165 and was arrhythmic on top of that. So, they sent me to the emergency room instead of radiation. The emergency room did some additional testing and confirmed that I had a problem. I was admitted to Stanford Hospital in the cardiac wing. I felt fine through it all. After several interventions, my normal heart returned for six hours and then slipped back to arrhythmia. They tried several medications and by this morning, things looked more promising. So, I'm home recovering from three nights in the hospital. Those are the facts. The details are a lot more fun to talk about, but I need a night's sleep before I can describe the adventure.

Follow-up

2007-03-15T20:12:00.000-07:00

Not much has changed since yesterday's post, although I am told that after a couple of blood transfusions yesterday (to counteract his low blood count which has led to anemia), my father is feeling a bit more energetic today. For periods his heart is back to its typical rhythm, but then becomes irregular again for long stretches. The doctors felt it was important to get back on track with radiation today, despite not knowing the cause of these cardiac issues. We hope to have more answers soon, and we are all anxious for him to return home, although I'm sure he will welcome this more than any of us.

Update on Bob

2007-03-14T09:59:00.000-07:00

Back when my father started this blog and was scheduled to have surgery in late January, he asked me to fill in for him here with some updates for you while he was in the hospital. It has occurred to me today that perhaps I should fill in for a little while right now.

When my father went to Stanford yesterday for his treatments, the staff found that his heart rate was unusually high and somewhat irregular. After getting checked out in the emergency room, he was admitted to Stanford yesterday afternoon. I am sure my parents can fill in the details for you, but here is what I can tell you from Chicago. From what I understand he is feeling quite well. He is comfortable, slept well last night, and has been reading and watching TV. His heart was back to a normal rate yesterday evening and overnight, but was high again this morning. It seems he needs medication via IV to keep it under control right now. My parents will be meeting with a cardiologist today. This was not something they had expected as a side effect from radiation or chemotherapy, so it is a bit of a mystery to my parents. My father has been on a lot of asthma medication recently and we know that this makes our hearts race, but the medical staff doesn't feel this accounts for the problem.

One of us will continue to provide updates as we know what is going on. As my father has said, thank you for your support, thoughts, and prayers. Our whole family appreciates it.

Somewhat better

2007-03-11T20:47:00.000-07:00

I improved each day over the weekend. The nausea is gone and the medication to control it is on the reserve list. That's a huge relief! I still experienced waves of weirdness. At some point, this morning, I looked out into the garden and saw a fantastic scene. Every color and the light itself was amplified by 25%. It was like moving from black and white to color in "The Wizard of Oz". I blinked. It was still there. I looked away because it was too intense to take in. I thought about the situation a minute and decided that I should just enjoy the moment. I pulled up a chair and enjoyed the show. It was marvelous! Finally it passed and came back as an amplification of my hearing. Every sound was 25% louder. I enjoyed that for a while by turning down the TV. Then, I felt tired and snoozed for 10 minutes. It got to be a game. Throw me something nasty and let me see if I can enjoy it. I won!

By noon, I decided to have a grand day out. Sharon and her sister took me to lunch at the Ritz in Half Moon Bay. I ate my largest meal in the past 10 days. We ate in the tea room that overlooks the ocean. This was the nicest day of the year so far. We saw temperatures in the 80's!

So, I'm ready to get going again tomorrow. A morning blood test along with blood pressure and weight will determine that I am ready to continue treatment. Last week, my blood pressure dropped dangerously low and several other indicators raised eyebrows. I think the better weekend will improve the numbers. We'll see.

Again, thank so much for your constant expressions of love and support. It means the world to me.

Beautiful Saturday Afternoon!

2007-03-10T14:06:00.000-08:00

It's been two weeks since the final Cisplatin dose and five days since my last dose of Xeloda. The effects of chemo are beginning to wear off. My ears are only ringing a little. The nausea is mostly gone. The effects of radiation are more apparent. I need a lot of sleep. My esophagus and stomach are slightly sunburned and swallowing, even water, is painful. I have nine sessions of radiation beginning on Monday. So, I'm getting through it.

Whoa, I spoke to soon!

2007-03-06T16:18:00.000-08:00

Just after my last post, I began to feel tired, nauseous. I was expecting to feel better, so we drove to Pacific Grove to enjoy the great weather and try to plan the remodel of the house. By the time we arrived on Friday afternoon, I felt horrible. I didn't improve. I had all the effects you can get and I hardly got off the couch. We came back Monday morning and saw the doctor. He was encouraging and thought it would help to stop the second chemo drug as well as the first. They gave me infusions of saline yesterday and today. I feel a little better today. This is the first moment that I could open my laptop and write something.

2007-03-02T09:46:00.000-08:00

It's Friday morning. The past two days were uncomfortable, but I'm starting to feel better as the last dose of Cisplatin wears off. I met with the radiologist on Wednesday and an intern yesterday. They claim that I'm doing much better than could be expected to this point. Today's radiation treatment is the halfway point. I will have 14 more radiation days starting on Monday. They anticipate that I should do OK next week, but they warned me that the two following weeks of radiation will bring on fatigue, a loss of appetite, and difficulty swallowing. I'm beginning to feel some irritation in my esophagus from the radiation, but its not bad yet.

++++

The radiation machine has a nickname. Trillium. It's the size of a small car and it resides in a room the size of a garage. I walk in each day and climb onto a plastic mold of my back and head. I put my arms back over my head. I'm looking up and resting comfortably in the mold. Large green arms bring disks the size of a car tire within eight inches of my chest. I can the the reflection of my bare chest in the steel disk in front of me. My chest has fine green laser cross hairs marking the target right below my rib cage. It's an assassin's point of view.

Two technicians work to line up my body. "Give me a three millimeter role to the center", says one. My body moves slightly as they tug the sheet under me. The technicians go away. The machine starts to move quietly and smoothly. Precision. Various green arms bring new devices which quietly take pictures. The technicians appear again and move my hips about 1 inch to the left and disappear.

The radiation arm moves into place on the right side of my body and blasts me for about 2 seconds. It moves over my chest and blasts again for about 6 seconds. Then to my right for 3 seconds. Then underneath me and blast up through my back for another 5 seconds. I feel nothing. It's like getting a long xray.

"OK, you can relax your arms", he says from the safety of the control booth. I'm done.

I've seen the images they take. I can see every bone and organ in my torso. I can see the target areas. I can see the tumor. Even though the tumor is small, they are radiating about 3 inches on either side of it. They are also radiating related lymphnodes to be on the safe side. Amazing!

Moving Along

2007-02-28T08:19:00.000-08:00

I had my last Cisplatin infusion on Monday and I'm doing OK. I had some friends visit from the East Coast during an additional infusion of saline solution yesterday and really enjoyed the afternoon. Today and tomorrow will probably be a bit more difficult, buy I'm functioning well enough. I'll spend the afternoon today getting radiation number 12 (out of 28) and another infusion of saline solution. After today, I'll just be going to radiation for about 45 minutes a day and taking some mild chemo in tablet form. By the weekend, I should feel much better.

Good Weekend!

2007-02-25T11:55:00.000-08:00

I did better with side effects this week. My cold has run its course. I was able to work out on Friday and Saturday and almost felt normal most of the time. I have one more week of Cistplatin. I spent some time with Dr. Jones on Friday and have a better idea of what to expect from the next 15 sessions of radiation. So far, I don't feel any side effects from radiation. It's early. I will probably start to feel some discomfort in my esophagus in the next two weeks and have some difficulty with digestion and swallowing in my last week. She showed me the pictures that are produced with each session. They are amazing. They are radiating the small tumor on in my esophagus, but are also radiating an area about three inches around the tumor. In addition, they are radiating the lympnodes that are connected to that part of the esophagus.

++++

It was only 3 months ago that Sharon and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. We have always tried to take time out for ourselves, but this was exceptional. We rented our favorite condo in Poipu, Kauai which is about 100 yards from the water. The sound of the surf is loud and the trade winds blow through the living area all day. We read, we walked, we shot pictures, we painted, and just celebrated a great marriage. We have actually been together for 44 years going all the way back to our senior year of high school.

It had been a difficult year because our parents had suffered some difficult health scares.
When we planned the trip, it was difficult to imagine that we would really be able to get away. By November, our parents had all recovered nicely. Everyone was finally feeling better and we were enjoying a moment of total relaxation without a care in the world. It was only 20 days later that we found out that I had cancer to deal with. I'm so grateful we had a moment of peace before all of this started. I think it helped us both get our attitude together more quickly.

Sharon and I have been through a lot of great times and some very difficult times in those 44 years. I can't even begin to describe the comfort that our shared experience brings me as I imagine the challenges of the next few months.

I feel more blessed than ever.

Doin' ok

2007-02-22T18:34:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday evening and I'm feeling pretty good. I did better this week with side effects than last. Last week, I didn't feel well on Wednesday and Thursday. This week, I received two liters of saline solution (instead of one) on Tuesday and Wednesday. I also gave in to any wave of bad feeling and just stretched out and went to sleep. I didn't feel great, but I did much better.

I only have one more infusion of Cisplatin next Monday. I will continue with Zoloda on the same days as radiation right until the end, but the side effects are not as intense. I've had 8 radiation treatments and have 16 more to go. The end of this chemo/radiation phase is in sight. Then, I have six weeks of no treatment to get my strength back before surgery around the first week of May.

Feeling light and metallic

2007-02-20T07:01:00.000-08:00

I had another nine hour day in the infusion room yesterday. It was my third such day with one more to go next Monday.

I was surrounded by people who are really suffering and I'm almost guilty that I'm not. I feel like a poser. I finished a book, watched Charlie Rose and Jim Lehr, took a nap, wheeled my IV pole down to the cafe and grossed some people out while I sat, pole and all and ate. I was serenaded by an excellent jazz guitar player who lingered to talk for quite awhile. Tolerable day.

It sounds like a spa day, but the objective is to absorb Cysplatin. I get it once a week. Basically, it consists of the metal, Platinum. I'm being infused with Platinum. My value is going up! I never cared much to be a platinum member of anything, but here I am, today, feeling highly valued like a platinum member of some club I shouldn't belong to. I've also lost weight. It's not because I'm not eating. I'm just losing weight. So, I feel light as a feather and metallic after just coming back from a spa that was nightmarish. How weird! Part of the reason I feel so good is that I get a blast of some kind of cortizone that allows me not to feel sick after getting the Cysplatin. The cortizone lasts for about 24 hours. After that I'm depending on Zofran to do the same. So far, that combination has been good until Wednesday am. Then I begin to feel nausea. I can add Compozine to stabilize, but I haven't so far. Probably I will this week.

This new feeling of metallic light reminds me of a photo I took at an art fair in Saucelito, CA last year. An artist did body casts of metal wire and floated them above the tents. They were spectacular. I like these sculptures because I've had a recurring dream that I am running through a field and each bound gets higher and longer. When I get to about 20 feet high, I panic to get my balance and wake myself up with jolt. I feel, today, as if I could actually make those leaps. Then, a trip down the stairs to breakfast leaves my knees weak. Probably I won't try. Maybe in my dreams later today as they infuse me with saline solution to wash the platinum out of me again.

Quiet Weekend

2007-02-18T19:02:00.000-08:00

I've enjoyed a quiet weekend in San Carlos. Sharon and I still have chest colds and we decided to take a rest. It was a beautiful weekend. Spring is here! Josh came down from Ashland, OR to visit and it was great to spend some time with him.

I'll continue with chemotherapy tomorrow. The radiation unit is on holiday tomorrow, so I will resume on that treatment on Tuesday. I was pleased to presume that cancer doesn't grow on weekends or holidays. I'm only feeling the symptoms of a cold today and not feeling the side effects of chemo. I now have two weeks down and 3 and a half weeks to go to complete chemo and radiation...but who's counting.

Whew!

2007-02-15T10:31:00.000-08:00

The asthma is mostly gone today. I did experience some of the side effects of chemo yesterday and today. As predicted, I encountered all kinds of weird symptoms. I was nauseated, my ears would ring from time to time, I felt lightheaded and then tired. I slept well and felt good this morning but was hit again about 11:00 am for a couple of hours. By this afternoon I felt good again and went off to do some chores. I think I'll be fine for the rest of the weekend. Next week will be even uglier. I can see how this builds week by week.

++++

I don't like it! I felt like one of Vladimir Puton's poison victims. First, I thought I might be in a first trimester morning sickness syndrome. I can't imagine how any woman works during that time. Miserable feeling. Fortunately, I had the distraction of an occasional school bell going off inside my head. By late afternoon, I thought I might have a case of Bird Flu but that was quickly followed by Cholera. Then, I had a great night's sleep and woke up fresh and energetic...only to be brought to my knees by more nausea just before lunch. At some point, I stood up and realized I must only weight about 12 pounds. I felt light as a feather. I recovered and ran errands around town this afternoon as if I was perfectly normal.

The sad fact is that I'm getting these symptoms with about 60% of the chemo that the average person with cancer gets. On top of that, I've had the week off from radiation which took some of the sting out of it. I have a strong feeling that the next several weeks are not going to be good particularly on Wednesdays and Thursdays. It really helped not to fight the symptoms when they occur. Yesterday, I tried to keep going with planned activity despite how I was feeling. Today, I just gave in and relaxed. Today's strategy worked better.

The Air is Clearing

2007-02-14T08:14:00.000-08:00

My breathing has been improving since Monday. We decided to hold on radiation this week and to continue with chemo to see if this some part of the treatment is aggravating asthma. So, chemo doesn't seem to cause a problem. I'll go back on radiation next week and see if my breathing gets tight again. Yesterday, Sharon began to get the same asthmatic symptoms that I have. I am beginning to suspect that I have a cold of some sort and that it's going away.

I am very positive and relaxed about the treatments and the future. I can't tell you how much inspiration your expressions of affection, support and inspiration have provided. Thanks so much!

++++

Breathing is important!

2007-02-12T20:05:00.000-08:00

Although I didn't have much in the way of typical side effects from radiation and chemo, I did get some asthma that started to build last week and continued to get worse over the weekend. I suspect that one or more of the treatments is causing it. We decided today to hold on radiation this week and just continue with chemo to see if we can isolate what might be triggering asthma.

++++

We went to Pacific Grove for the weekend and I felt better as soon as we arrived. My asthma had become progressively worse by Friday and I raised my inhaler levels to maximum. I think there is a lot of tree pollen in the air that I'm allergic to but I never had a reaction this strong. When I drove near the water, my chest was less tight.

We are converting our garage into a painting/photograpy studio. It's about 500 square feet of open space. It's coming along well. On Sunday, we did a lot of rushing around and drove back to San Jose to see " A Long Day's Journey into Night". Sharon and I had dinner with my brother and sister in law, Joyce and Ed. By the end of dinner I couldn't really talk without coughing. I had to sleep in a chair on Sunday night in order to control the coughing.

I went to have my blood drawn and tested Monday morning at Stanford and then went to the fusion center to talk about the asthma and the relationship with treatments. The nurse started my fluids, which are just a saline solution, and we talked about my situation. She called my radiation oncologist and he said, as he did the week before, that the asthma was not likely to be aggravated by radiation. He said it could be the chemo. She then called my oncologist and he said that it was unlikely to be chemo, but my be radiation. The nurse came back with permission to start chemo.

I refused to take any additional treatment until the two physicians met and discussed what to do. I was at the end of my self medication possibles. If, in fact, the treatments were aggravating my asthma, a little more treatment could mean a trip to the emergency room and a lot of complications. The nurse got back on the phone and the doctors talked. They decided on a recommendation and sent their surrogates to talk with me. They recommended that we drop the radiation this week. We would have taken a week off anyway during the next week or two and, therefore, would not be off schedule. If it was the radiation, I should see some improvement in my breathing by the end of the week. If the chemo was the cause, we might try a lower dose or different medicine. It was a simple and elegant solution decided in 5 minutes. I'm not getting paid for it, but I'm still facilitating my own treatment and recovery every day. In my whole career, I've never seen a system so broken. Every clinic and doctor is a silo with discreet agendas, concerns, points of view, and defences. No one is looking at the my total picture and advocating to get things right. The doctors are brilliant. There is no coherent system from the patient/customer point of view. I can't imagine how much time, money and health is wasted as a result.

I went ahead with chemo infusion today. It's a long process. I was in the chair from 10:00 am to 6:30 pm. In order to compensate for the nauseating effects of Cisplatin, they infused to anti nausea drugs first. One is a form of bedroll and the other is a form of cortisone. Both last about 24 hours in my system. They are both good for allergy related asthma and I improved immediately. I also had a hard time sleeping past 4 am because the cortisone gives me a lot of energy.

When the cortizon and benedryll wear off, we will see what is left of the asthma. I should also have more chemo drugs in my system because this is a slow build process week after week. I may suffer some side effects.

Veins, Muscles and Bones

2007-02-09T07:10:00.000-08:00

It's Friday. I have done well this first week. By yesterday, I began to feel a few side effects of the radiation and chemo, but it was pretty mild. I'm looking forward to a weekend without the clinic.

++++

I'm always tempted to take photographs of horses. I think the attraction is the mass of veins muscles and bones that are only thinly veiled by a horses hide. The right light of the late afternoon hits the landscape of a horses body and produces at least four distinct light to dark values on every hill and valley. Compositions form everywhere. You can find a beautiful landscape almost anywhere on a horses body in the right light.

The same is true of a human body. Artists spend a lifetime exploring compositions in sculpture, painting, and drawing the landscape of the human body. The area from the hand to the shoulder is a study in itself. There are interesting hard light bones, softer light veins and even softer light muscles.

I first noticed my own emerging hand to shoulder landscape at about 16 years old. As puberty ended, the veins on the back of my hand started to show. The veins worked there way up my wrist and disappeared into my forearm. My forearm began to develop muscle. The veins emerged again at the white inside of my arm, opposite my elbow and disappeared into developing bicep.

The new landscape of my arms made me want to roll up my long sleeve shirts half way up my elbows and show the world that I was a force to be reckoned with. I warded off bullies with the look of those forearms. They weren't exceptional, but I was no longer a boy. I was accepted on sports teams. I could find dates with girls , many of whom had just shifted there interest from horses to boys.

I was conscious and a little proud of my arms then. I'm still comforted by those same arms even though the landscapes include age spots. Blood lab technicians are also tuned into to the nuances of the hand to shoulder landscape. I must have had a million blood samples taken and every technician, except one, took a studied look at the veins and said, "Wow, this is going to be easy!"
I heard those exact words five times this week as each lab technician surveyed my arms for an easy place to stick an IV.

I had one exception. Monday, I was sitting in a lab chair waiting to hear a "Wow!" and no one was ready to work with me. This lab at Sanford is busy. I noticed a technician who was busier than most. She was overweight, poorly groomed and bustling around talking to everyone and no one at the same time. She was imitating a bad sitcom with attempts at being cute and funny with an outdoor voice. She even paused for the canned laughter that comes in her favorite shows.

The pauses brought no laughter, no eye contact, no visible attention. Everyone else in the lab was doing their best to avoid being the audience she craved. She had a Texas accent and all the body language that goes with that culture. Swagger. Big gestures. All the other technicians were moving around quietly and efficiently. They had no swagger or big gestures. From their strong accents, I gathered that they were recently from China, India, Pakistan, Eastern Europe, Central America and South America.

After a few minutes, I realized that the Texan didn't want to work with me or anyone else. She passed up several up several opportunities to get me started and changed another pillow case instead. A supervisor finally came to her and nudged her my way.

She looked at my arm and sighed. "Oh, this is going to be difficult!", she said. She retrieved some gauze, alcohol, tape and two needles. She wrapped a tourniquet around my upper arm but she didn't twist it tight to make the veins stand out more clearly. She grabbed my wrist and looked at my forearm. She stuck a needle in. It hurt. She probed around trying to get into a vein. It hurt more. She said in frustration, " It blew out on me."

She repeated the whole process two inches farther up my arm. It hurt again. She said "This one blew out, too."She left to get more needles. I had a moment to gather my thoughts. When she returned, I said, "I don't know if you are aware but we have a 'three strikes' law in California." She looked up at me. I continued, "With three offenses, the judge has no choice but to send you to prison for life. Rather than take the chance, why don't you get someone else to try".

She turned around quickly and asked another technician to do my IV.

The new technician looked at the bruises on my arms that were already beginning to show. She rolled her eyes. She tightened the tourniquet. She grabbed my wrist, gently and confidently. She warned me that I would feel a pinch. I never did feel the pinch. The needle was in and taped before I knew it. I said, "Wow, that was good!". She stroked my arm over the bruises and said, through her thick Chinese accent, "You have nice arms".

I relaxed and basked in the moment the way a horse would if you stroked it's shoulder and said something soothing. For a moment, the fluorescent light became sunlight. The hospital green walls became grass green. I thought I felt the slightest fresh breeze touch the right side of my face. The smell of rubbing alchohol and disinfectent disappeared. I closed my eyes and drifted off to better pastures.