It appears as if Cancer runs in the family.

My maternal grandfather had throat cancer for a while. It was found and treated when he was in his mid to late eighties. His voice changed, but he still had a voice when he died, short of his 93^rd birthday.

My mother died of throat cancer when she was 86.

My father died of a melanoma that lodged in his brain. He was only 71 when he passed.

I’m 69.

My first go-round with cancer occured when I was 67. I am about to go to the second round of the journey.

My immediate goal is to make it to at least the end of June 2025. I will at that time pass my father in age.

My long-term goal is to be shot by a jealous lover at the age of 102. Preferably while I am “In the saddle.”

It wasn’t until I had a colonoscopy in May 2021 that I put some of the dots together to conclude that cancer runs in the family. I had heard that there is some correlation between cancer and genetics but never thought that I would be susceptible to the dread disease.

Cancer and tobacco use – I get it. I quit smoking when I was 39… at about the same time my father was under treatment for the melanoma that killed him nearly eight months after I quit. My mother quit smoking when she was about the same age. Her father used tobacco quite literally until the day he died. Mom’s sister was hooked – died of a stroke while she was fighting cancer. Uncle “Mike” was a heavy smoker – he had a massive heart attack after pulling off the side of the Interstate on the way back from the hospital to visit his granddaughter. I have at least two friends who were heavy smokers – one barely made it to 63, the other didn’t make it to fifty… had a backache for most of a summer that was finally diagnosed as lung cancer. He was told to get his affairs in order as he would likely last only four weeks. Ironically, he was a Probate Court judge I saw standing outside of the courthouse in all types of weather feeding his addiction.

Now, colon cancer, in my case, rectal cancer, is one I hadn’t thought of. I took precautions, including a high-fiber diet and regular use of Aspirin, thinking that I was home free. My primary care physician was a bit crazy, in my way of thinking, to suggest that I undergo a colonoscopy. “What could possibly go wrong?” I thought. So, I dragged my feet for several months while he twisted my arm until I finally relented.

There was a night of horror when I ingested a series of pills and large amounts of water while camped out on the toilet… followed by at least three enemas and more cleansing before being wheeled into an operating room where I was given some happy gas to put me asleep for about an hour.

I was barely awake to hear the doctor tell my wife that he found something and was sending it off to the lab to be analyzed. A few days later, the phone call came. I was referred to a surgeon and to physical therapy for what might lie ahead. A worst-case scenario was outlined, involving multiple surgeries along with chemotherapy, lasting at least nine to twelve months.

The surgeon was more optimistic. After undergoing an MRI, she concluded that the mass found in my rectum was localized and had missed linking up with my lymphatic system, meaning that there was little to no chance that the cancer had metastasized. She went ahead and scheduled a resection just to make sure.

On the day of the surgery, my wife and I had a pleasant conversation about the procedure. It would be a robotic surgery performed by a machine nicknamed “Karen.” Apparently, Karen was occasionally fussy to the point that she would “Demand to see the manager!” We had a good laugh about Karen before I went into the operating room.

When I was in recovery, I don’t recall how long after going under, my wife and my surgeon were discussing, among other things, if I would be able to perform sexually when all was said and done. She was assured that I would have no problems, given a few days’ rest.

I had to stay overnight in the hospital, getting little sleep due to irritation in the urethra caused by the tube stuck the wrong way down the one-way street to my bladder. Breakfast the next morning was pleasant – and since it was taking time to get a release, I was offered lunch.

I declined lunch, hoping that the staff would take pity on me and send me home sooner.

There was little pain post-op, other than what I mentioned previously. The dog Filbrix was glad to see that her daddy was back home.

There were follow-ups with the surgeon involving rubber gloves and KY Jelly, as well as follow-ups with an Oncologist and my primary care physician.

My PCP was quite happy with the success of my minor ordeal. He made a point of saying “I told you so” on every succeeding visit.

There were follow-up visits involving blood tests, and sessions with the MRI and the CAT scans. The Surgeon eventually quit examining me, relying on MRI scans every six months or so to check my progress.

A little more than two years since the ordeal of my rectal cancer, my second brush with “The Big C” was about to begin.

Wednesdays have been “Doctor Days” for me this month. For some reason the day seems to be good for everyone concerned. In order, I did blood work for my Primary Care Physician, seeing him the following Wednesday. Last Wednesday, I reported for bloodwork and a CAT Scan for my cancer doctor’s appointment today. Next Wednesday, I see my optometrist. The following Wednesday, I have an appointment to renew my driver’s license. The last one wasn’t a doctor’s appointment, but it fell right in line with the trend established on the first Wednesday in January.

Through the miracle of the internet, I can pretty much know what’s going on with me before I have the opportunity to see a doctor. The visit to the PCP a couple of weeks ago was more like an old home visit than it was a doctor visit. We checked on a couple of issues, came up with a way to address them, and he sent me on my way. Same today with the cancer specialist.

Before I was on my way, I expressed my feelings of guilt going into the visit in the first place. Nearly two years ago, I found I had cancer. It was localized, excised, and that was the end of it. We determined to keep a close eye on things just in case… visits every three months with CAT scans before every other visit. I’m thankful that there is no big deal going on with my diagnosis and follow up. What strikes me, though, is that there are people I know who have been through the wringer, so to speak, because of a cancer diagnosis.

In other words, I feel guilty for going to and from my appointments with the cancer specialist feeling happy and carefree when there are people in the doctor’s waiting room undergoing the fight of their lives.

And they don’t always win.

After expressing my feelings, my Oncologist told me that she had just seen two patients who despite fighting the good fight, were on the losing side of that fight. The fact that she gave her patients bad news made her want to quit her job. I see her point. It can be depressing having to tell someone the effort they have put forward has been hopeless. On the other hand, she was delighted to see me in relatively good health. I was her oasis amid a veritable desert of the soul.

I’ve caught the same vibe from my PCP and most of the other medical professionals I have rubbed elbows with, in the past couple of years.

I am about to finish a four-year program titled “Education for Ministry” offered through the University of the South. The goal of the program is to help us find some way of being of service – some way of ministering to others as part of our life experience. As I have stated before, the program does not necessarily produce Priests, Ministers, or Deacons working in the confines of the church (although it has). Ministery can be something as simple as providing a meal – helping to clothe the naked – or any number of likely endeavors. Including being a bright spot in someone else’s day.

I do believe that. When the Oncologist laughed at something I said, I told her, “My mission for today is accomplished.”

And indeed, it was.

Be Seeing You!

It’s been hot here in my little corner of the DFW Metromess. By hot, I mean both actual and “feels like” temperatures are in the triple digits. Add to that a lingering drought and one can see why I took the liberty of shedding my shirt when I decided to pose with the sunflowers in my back yard to make a profile picture for my social media addictions.

My posting of the photo on Facebook led to a number of reactions ranging from “Thumbs-up” to “Wow” to the floating, laughing head. There were comments a plenty, too, from the expected “Oh, my eyes!” to several from friends who complimented me on being brave enough to post my semi-nude body.

Okay. Let’s get something straight. I am not a model by any stretch of the imagination. I’m just a typical guy approaching 70 (way too fast in my opinion) with a bit of a gut and a couple of scars here and there from where a surgeon or two went into my gut to better my health. Except for the occasional glitch here and there, my body has served me well for all these years – hopefully allowing me to die at the age of 102 from a gunshot wound from a jealous lover.

That’s the goal, anyway.

Part of my “body positivity” has to do with the quarrel I had with cancer last year.

I won.

At least that’s what the doctors have been telling me.

The quarrel has taught me that my body is pretty darn good at taking care of that part of me just under my hairline (and behind my glasses). So, I have been taking steps to better take care of my body and have developed a positive attitude about it. Sometimes it means exposing a little more of me than what many people would expect on a platform like Facebook.

And the reactions have been pretty much what I’ve expected.

Brave? Perhaps, but not really. I do have an advantage my female friends don’t have, which is to be able to display a shirtless photgraph of myself on a supposedly “family friendly” platform. Part of that has to do with comedian Terry Thomas’ monologue about the American preoccupation with “Bosums” in the movie It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Preoccupation, indeed!

I’m just proud of who I am and happy that I’m still able to walk upright with a minimum of fuss in the latter part of my sixties.

Be Seeing You!

As 2021 comes to a close, it becomes time to reflect on the past year. While I was showering the other morning, the theme “A Series of Fortunate Events” came to mind.

Truth is, I’ve had a very fortunate year.

It could have been a whole heck of a lot worse.

We started last year with a whole bunch of worries, especially about the ongoing Covid crisis. Vaccines were just becoming available, but we were still stuck at home, wearing masks, and looking askance at those who would rather not, despite the risks involved. Carol was among the first to have a “Fauci Ouchie,” because of her occupation. Well, that and the fact that her employer made sure that the deed was done.

I drove her up to Sherman – about an hour each way for both of her shots. No ill effects other than whatever digestive problems might arise with a Whataburger we had on the way back. When she got her booster, she got it at a CVS in McKinney. The one right next door to a Whataburger. A new tradition, what do you think?

My first two doses came a couple of months later at a recreation center in Plano. I had a great time. A really great time, chatting up the nurses before heading home with no aftereffects, even after having the booster about a month ago!

I had quite a bit of exposure to nurses and doctors over this past year. My family doctor got on my case about my weight and the fact that I was 67 and had not had a colonoscopy. I put off his first request back in October 2020. He insisted that I go after a visit early this year. I wasn’t very happy about doing the procedure – and was extremely unhappy with what I had to do to prep the night before. The procedure itself was a piece of cake. That from my point of view until I got a call a few days later telling me that there was something removed which didn’t belong and that I had to see a surgeon about having some other work done.

It was not going to be put off. There was an exam with a surgeon, followed with a few weeks of physical therapy as a foretaste of what could possibly happen to me, followed with an appointment in an operating room with a robot nicknamed “Karen.” The foretaste had me worried that I would be spending a year of surgeries, including a Christmas spent with a colostomy bag, and all the joys of chemo and radiation to boot. The call from the surgeon a few days later was so good that I offered to bear the doctor’s children!

I’ve been back to see the woman a couple of times, with another visit scheduled before the end of the year.

Since it was cancer, I now see a cancer specialist. My little surprise was rated as a Stage 1 cancer. Apparently, the problem was localized and had not been wandering around my body. A fortunate event, indeed! At the same time, I will be monitored very closely for the next five years.

In other news, we survived the deep freeze in February. No power for three days, but we were able to tough it out with both grills working, sometimes at the same time. Beats having cold meals on a cold day.

Before the deep freeze, we contracted to have solar panels installed on the back of the house. A crew showed up at the end of February to install the panels and hook them into our electrical supply. After a round or two with our electric supplier, we started to see negative electric bills for a few months before seeing actual (and significantly lower) bills over the summer. It was a good move – one which will be even better with the tax credit we will be getting when we file next year.

The dog Filbrix had a good year, despite being spayed in October. She is back and better than ever after the operation and maybe a little bit cozier.

Not everything was peachy keen for us. In September, daughter Jaclyn’s boyfriend was hospitalized with what was thought to be a brain tumor. It ended up being part of an esophageal cancer which killed him in early October. It was devastating to Jaclyn. Neither Carol nor I were happy about the turn of events, either. Peter was a decent fellow who treated Jaclyn like a queen. The only bright spot about the mess was that Mary and Kenny came down from Illinois with Aiden – the youngest grandson. It was our first introduction to the lad and both of us were enchanted.

As for the rest of the clan: Warren continues to work at Fifth Street Pizza in Allen. He appears to be doing well and enjoys living on his own with a cat he adopted. James and his crew are still in Arkansas. Virginia came of age and left home to live with some cousins, while Melanie and Brandon are in school and appear to be thriving. Sarah is still in Savannah, working for a man who uses her talents between either two or three restaurants he owns. Stuart has been to visit a couple of times this year, once to dog-sit the dog Filbrix and the cat while Carol and I went to San Antonio to visit Bill and June.

Then there’s the cat, Morticia, High Priestess of the Underworld. Morticia wandered out the front door a week or two before Halloween and hasn’t been seen since. She was elderly (17 years by Carol’s count) and likely succumbed to a combination of local predators and/or the rain and the cold. We were sorry to see her go.

That’s really about it. Carol continues to work as a personal nurse for a patient in McKinney. She ended a course of study and has been accepted into the Order of Saint Luke – a ministry of healing. I have been writing on a couple of projects between doctor visits. I have two novels complete and almost ready to publish and have directed a fair portion of my energies to honing whatever skills I have as a photographer.

We are looking forward to traveling in the coming year. One visit for sure will be to Ohio for my 50^th anniversary of my high school graduation. (I am fortunate to be healthy enough to be able to plan such a trip.) Trips to San Antonio and to Illinois are also in the cards – and we’re getting the itch to travel “Out West” again.

We hope you, the reader of this missive, are doing well. Here’s to a Happy Christmas, a Merry New Year, and a prosperous (and healthy) year to come.

Be Seeing You!