It's a Photo Finish

So I rush to the end of my chemo marathon and I'm too pooped to post.

Thankfully, Fiona is in my cheering section when I cross.

And she brought her camera!

Please click on the post title to see Fiona's awesome tribute at the finish line.

Today and Tomorrow

The last two days of chemo...

Ever!

Happy Mother's Day!

Today is Mother's Day here in the United States.

For all you wonderful women out there, thank you. Words will never fully express my gratitude and appreciation for your contributions to the human race. We are nothing without you.

May I introduce you to Rosalyn Virginia Chamberlin?

She's my mother...

and my dad's best friend.

I love you, Mom!

P.S. Six days and counting with chemo. (This is a cancer blog, after all. :-))

Life's Little Distractions

This little distraction let me drive it home a few weeks back.

It's been living here ever since.

I've been very happy about that.

Carla says it's a very pretty car,

and a fun ride.

It's even more fun to drive.

My children are now asking me to teach them how to drive a car with a manual transmission.

And for the first time in our marriage,

so is Carla.

Go figure!

We're looking forward to our first mini road trip,

just the two of us...

Carla and me.

Michael helped me clean this beauty today,

right after I taught him how to drive it in an unused parking lot.

So now I have a car cleaning buddy and a very excited son.

Of course, I'm excited too!

The other little distraction in my life is cancer...

Can you guess which one I prefer?

I was supposed to start my sixth and last round of chemotherapy on Friday morning. Didn't happen.

Thursday was spent at the Huntsman Cancer Institute getting my lab work done, checking in with my oncology team, and visiting my ostomy nurse. I've had a skin rash around my ileostomy for the last two weeks. It even got into my naval. (Let's all say "yuck".) It itches, it seeps, it gets crusty, and it starts all over again. Daily. I was given a prescription for the rash which is helping, but Friday morning the rash decided to fight back first.

A new spot showed up all purply and puss filled. Carla immediately declared it infected and started stabbing it with a needle. Since we were changing my ostomy wafer at the time, we decided not to put the new one on for a few hours. This gave my rashy skin some air time, but it also left me and my stoma 'au naturale' for most of the morning.

The ostomy wafer sticks to my skin around the stoma and holds the plastic bag which covers it. Imagine what fun I had holding a bowl under my stoma instead, playing catch as it proceeded to process my breakfast. Makes me look forward to loosing my memory in my old age.

We do feel the medicine and the extra two days off have helped the rash calm down. Nobody wants me getting infected while on chemo. Chemo exacerbates everything it comes across. Tomorrow morning, Sunday, I'll start taking my Xeloda again. This delay will cost me two more days in May. I will now finish chemo on Saturday night, May 14th. Nothing like moving the finish line late in a race...

Not to worry, though. As much as I really don't want to go back on chemo, I really do want to get this last round started, because the next stop is the FINISH LINE!

Of life's little distractions, I have to say that my spunky little Mazda Miata found me just in time. My newest distraction definitely helps me deal with my second.

Mile 17

Hello. My name is Steve.

(I haven't written in awhile, so some of you may have forgotten my name. :-))

I think part of the reason for the gap is because how I'm doing seems trivial at times compared to how others are doing. Who am I to complain or have a tough day? I haven't looked at my own blog in days and then when I do, I find out that David's journey is over.

I loved you, David, just because we were comrades in cancer. I knew you through your blog for only a few short months and you likely never knew me. But I know this, the world is now short a truly gentle man among men. My prayers continue for your family.

As for me, I'm dealing with my own journey through cancer. The intellectual part of me knows not to compare my journey with others. We each have to travel our own road, though none of us really travel alone. I'd say at the very least we have angels at our side. (My personal favorite angel is my wife, Carla.)

All right, then. Here's my update on how I'm doing.

I'm doing.

That's about it, really. Round 4 finished OK. The week off went faster than it should have. That or it's getting harder to recover between rounds.

We started round 5 a bit concerned for my feet (hands too, actually). Three days in things got a bit scary. That was Sunday night. My hands and feet turned a very angry red and threatened to split into open soars in several places. Each of my big toes got infected around the toe nails which hurt with the slightest pressure. My oncologist has always asked me to watch for any open wounds. This is the closest we've ever come.

I went ahead and took my Xeloda the next morning and drove in to work. Carla got on the phone with the nurse who got word to my oncologist. They stopped my chemo immediately. Three days off, no questions asked. If things calm down we will start again Thursday night. That's tomorrow night. Things are calming down, sort of.

Carla has slathered my hands and feet with plain yogurt for the last two nights. Interestingly effective at sloughing off dead skin and removing the heat. My skin actually returns to its pre-chemo white for a time. So my hands are back to their normal, poorly chemo condition, and my feet have made some healing progress.

The second thing my oncologist did was reduce my dosage. Music to my ears. I completed round 1 on eight pills a day (4000 mg). It kicked my butt. I started round 2 on seven pills a day and finished on six. Rounds 3 and 4 were both done on six pills a day. Round 5 (the one I'm in the middle of) started on six, took a three day break, and will finish on five (2500 mg).

There is also the part where cancer and cancer treatment just wears you down over time. I've managed to work partial days for the last three days.

Tomorrow night it's dinner with a serving of chemo for dessert. Must keep fighting cancer.

Now, let's explain the title for this post - Mile 17.

I have completed 34 marathons over the last 18 years. That's 26.2 miles each (42 k). One of my favorite courses is in northern Utah. It's called the Top of Utah marathon. For ten consecutive years I found myself at the starting line up Blacksmith Fork canyon. Absolutely gorgeous.

By mile 14 you reach the mouth of the canyon where you see your friends and family for the first time during the race. Exhilarating. Then the course flattens out for three miles while it winds through a tranquil neighborhood. You pop out at mile 17.

For 14 miles you feel the excitement of the race, enjoy the fall colors blanketing the canyon walls, talk with other runners along the way, and look forward to seeing the fans at mile 14. For the next three miles your legs adjust to the flat course. Still a bit of talking between fellow runners. I see my family again at mile 17 and then things begin to change.

At mile 17 the course turns due north and heads for the finish line in Logon, Utah. At mile 17 I have completed two thirds of the course. My body begins to assess what it has left in the tank. There is little or no talking with other runners. It is the most quiet part of the race for me. I focus on my pace, my posture, my breathing, the next water station, the next mile marker.

Marathons have a notorious wall at mile 20. Many runners fade quickly at this point in the race. Often sooner. Hanging on to the finish begs for true endurance. I actually love this part of the race. It humbles you every time. My focus becomes the next corner, the next telephone pole, the next runner to try and pass.

Gently, ever so slowly you creep up on another runner and pass them by. The only words exchanged are words of encouragement. "Looking good," says the runner being passed. "You've got this one," says me.

And then I finish the race. I turn the last corner just after the mile 26 marker, giving one final burst of energy up the street to the city park. I cross the finish line having left it all on the course. I'm exhausted, pert near dehydrated, and completely happy. It's awesome.

My cancer diagnosis came on July 30, 2010. My final surgery will be in mid June. I am two thirds of the way through my protocol.

I am currently receiving adjuvant chemotherapy. I have completed 4 of 6 rounds ending on May 11. That means I am two thirds of the way there.

Two thirds in either case puts me at mile 17.

Mile 17 - Boston Marathon

Cruisin' Alaska, Baby!

That's right, folks. We're taking a cruise to Alaska in August. No kids, just me and the Mrs.. Carla has had this cruise on her wish list for years. Thanks to her brother, it's happening. He's been trying to get their parents on a cruise for some time now. It worked out for this summer. Most of the siblings (Carla is the oldest of seven children) and many of their spouses are coming. We've booked six or seven cabins at this point. Little did her brother know when he made these plans that the cruise would fall on my one year cancer anniversary. So Happy Birthday to my mother-in-law, and Happy Cancer Anniversary to me!

Of course there's still a bit of chemo between me and that cruise, but why let a bunch of pink pills stop me from seeing some of God's beautiful earth. (Carole, you're my inspiration here. Rhodes is gorgeous. Oh, and Angela is going to Maui. I'm just jumping on the bandwagon.) And lest we forget, there's also a farewell party for Stanley before I get on the boat. (Tony, why change perfection? Stanley is the perfect name for a stoma. So I stole the name from you. :-)) My reversal is set for June, a month after finishing chemo. THEN I am getting on that ship with my wife. Together we'll celebrate the victory of our one year battle with rectal cancer. We're going to win the war as well. That's the five year cancer anniversary.

I'm doing all right as far as treatment goes. I decided last weekend that I wasn't going to play the role of cancer patient any more. None of this walking gingerly stuff and looking the part. I've been taking short walks at work and some in the evenings with Carla and the kids. After a week back on chemo I'm actually feeling better than the last round. The regular physical activity is helping. Nothing else has changed, but my body seems to be handling it better. That and I've gone through twice the lotion on my hands and feet this week. Just working harder to stay on top of the side effects. I'm liking the results this round. That's a good thing considering I really didn't want to start round four.

I continue to offer my thanks and gratitude for all of the support that comes through this blog. You all are simply the best. Maybe I should book a few more cabins for my cyber friends, eh?

Bon voyage!

Half Way

Hi Everyone,

Steve and I are sorry we haven't kept his blog up to date lately. We have both been in survival mode and just been focusing on what needs to be done. The good news is that we are half way done with Steve's follow-up chemo. He starts his fourth round tomorrow. He has been able to keep working full time so far, but that takes every bit of energy he has. By the time he gets to the end of each day his body just needs to crash and sleep. The hardest part of the day for him is the morning. Getting his body up and going takes a lot more out of him than he is used to. Just getting up and out the door to work was exhausting him. Because of this and a few other reasons, I ended up giving notice to my work and just stayed long enough to train a replacement.

I just couldn't do it all any more. I have been burning my candle at both ends this entire school year. My work has been wonderfully supportive through all of this craziness, but I wasn't able to be as effective for them or at home as I wanted to be. It has been hard trying to stay on top of work, home, kids, paperwork, taking care of Steve, etc. As much as I loved working with the kids at the school, I couldn't afford to keep spreading myself so thin.

I have yet to feel like I am catching up on everything at home, like paperwork (ugh), but I have been more available for Steve and the kids. I'm hoping that once I'm not so tired, I will be able to get more done in a day. Sometimes I feel like I'm a zombie just going through the motions, but not getting much done. That has been a little frustrating. At the same time I realize that it is going to take a while for me to get caught up on me. I just have to be patient and give my body a chance to bounce back.

Steve is doing well. Chemo will never be fun, but he is hanging in there. His feet and hands are having the roughest time. The skin on the bottoms of his feet peels off in big sections about every three weeks. (I never knew that skin could replace itself so quickly in such large quantities.) His poor hands are just red, wrinkled and tender. Thankfully it is the top that is the worst, which means he is still able to type when he is working. Hopefully the neuropathy in his fingers will go away once he is no longer taking the zeloda.

Thanks for all your love and support. It is very much appreciated. Carla