Walking Canes and Wheelchairs for Sale!

I'm feeling very strong for Round 3, stronger than I ever have: This past weekend I was able to walk to fanuil hall with the nieces and WITHOUT a cane or wheel chair. And on Sunday I sailed and passed my Helmsman test at the Yacht Club which allows me to take a guest out on the water in all wind conditions. That was tiring!

For the Helmsman test they make you take out a boat on your own and run a course in high winds. The water must be white capping! I agree with taking the skills tests; however, sailing alone in high wind conditions is difficult by itself, let alone running a course with my an aching back and numb leg. Nevertheless I passed with flying colors, leaping from one side of the boat to the other side of the boat and pulling in the sheets with all my might!

Today began the waiting process for getting admitted to the hospital but when I called in the morning they said I would probably b admitted tomorrow. So I took my mom sailing with my newly acquired sailing rating. It was a beautiful day and the wind was just strong enough to gingerly push us around the Charles River while we talked and soaked in the sun. Much more relaxing than Sunday's sail :)

Though I couldn't start my treatments, this was a great way to relax before getting admitted tomorrow.

The End of Self Loathing

This past week Autumn and I had a couple of sad days but I think we're done without the self loathing.

On Friday I had a doctor's appointment with my other oncologist. A little more confident after my positive meeting on Wednesday I dared to ask braver questions: "What's the prognosis of my disease? Can I live 60 more years?" The oncologist answered, "On paper the odds of living another 10 to 15 years aren't as great as we'd like but we'll have to see." My heart sank.

Just getting married, with brights plans of a future together, starting a family with children, it's tough not to let those numbers go into your head. Will I see my unborn children graduate high school? Will my 9 month old dog out live me? It's all really sad.

My cousin Sandy, who eariler this year completed rounds of chemotherapy to eliminate her own cancer, guided me along, "No one in the world knows how long he will live. We go ahead with our lives assuming that we'll be very old when we die. It's all so surreal when we finally see that we are mortal beings. The thing is, we've always been mortal. We just didn't think about it until something scary happened. You make your plans for your future, Jeff. You have as much a one as anyone else in this world."

And she's so right! Just this past month my friend's son died of a sudden heart failure and another friend's sister died from a freak car accident. We just don't know what the future holds.

So I'm going to fight for those next 60 years if not more and make all the plans for a future. There's a lot of great research out there and the medical field is changing fast, so we're all going to cross our fingers for a cure.

If there's one thing I know about my future it's that I'm going to enjoy the hell enjoy out of every single day: wake up with a smile, hug my beautiful wife and kiss my children (just Benson & Hemo for now).

p.s. I also got told on Friday that this is likely going to take more than 6 rounds of chemo before it's beat. Tear,

The Aftermath of Two Rounds

Today we met with the oncologist at Dana Farber. After reading the reports from both the CT and MRI scans he was very optimistic about the results. The cancer has not shrunk but it has has not significantly spread either. These were precisely the results that he expected 4-5 weeks into the chemotherapy treatments (less than 2 full rounds). So we're crossing our fingers and trucking forward for another two rounds after which we'll re-check again.

Obviously these are not the results I really wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that the cancer was completely gone and I was cured, but I guess that's not very realistic. This will be a long fight!

One day at time :)

My Visit with Hal on the Charles River

Today I started the series of re-tests to evaluate my treatment progress. In the morning I had a Chest / Pelvic CT scan and tomorrow I get an MRI of my leg.

I've decided that I don't like CT scans because 1.) they need to put in an IV and 2.) they use this contrast that has to be power injected into your veins. Specifically it's the contrast part that I dislike. They put you in this dark room where you're lying a mechanical table with your legs through a stargate (donut like orb) and you have an IV hooked up to this weird contraption displaying two vials: one that is labeled saline and the other that is labeled contrast. Hal, or one of his friends, speaks over the loud speaker, "Breathe in," and the saline vial empties. Hal then says, "Breathe." The machine makes weird noises and then quiets. Again you're asked to breathe, the contrast vial empties, and you're left on the mechanical table feeling like you just wet your pants.

I'm skipping a lot of the details and there were more sounds, ticks, bells and breathing demands but you get the point; no one likes to wet their pants.

After the CT Scan Autumn and I made our way to our Yacht Club. It's really much more of a boat house as I previously explained but it feels so much more Beacon Hill to call it a Yacht Club. I walked in, asked for a boat and started sailing! I still can't take Autumn with me but she had fun sitting on the docks and taking pictures of me hustle less experienced sailors.

I've become desensitized by all these tests, pricks and office visits. Everyone says they get nervous when it's time to check their treatment progress, but I see it more as just another annoying task to do for the evil cancer in my leg. I have visits with my oncologist on Wednesday and Friday so let's keep our fingers crossed.

p.s. I didn't wet my pants on the CT table.

Newport and the MSPCA

All things considered, this has turned out to be great summer :)

This weekend both my dad and mom were in town so decided to go on an adventure to Newport, Rhode Island. We woke up early, packed up the car and set sail in our rental boat (rental car while mine is still in the shop) to the littlest tiniest state in America. We had a short pit stop at the MSPCA to drop off Benson to get neutered and then full steam ahead!

Oh Newport! The land of Cinnamon Bears, Shrinky Dinks and Harbor Cruises, or at least that was our version.

We got there and walked (I got wheeled) around the cute shops downtown, picking up candy and toys along the way and then headed to the harbor for lunch. We ate at this delicious restaurant called The Cooke House Restaurant and people watched the bustling harbor traffic. Apparently, though our intentions were to avoid summer traffic on the cape, this particular weekend in Newport was one of the busiest due to a folk music festival.

After lunch we boarded an open air ferry that took us on a narrated guided tour of the harbor. It was amazing and my dad got yelled at a hundred times for standing up and taking pictures. The air was cool and along the way we could hear the music festival off the shore.

Pretty beat we threw in the towel and decided to skip the Newport Mansion Tours, saving them for another visit and headed back home. We picked up Benson from his castration, and a tired Jeff and violated Benson retired to the couch.

Can you believe his discharge notes said "castration?" Now I feel bad!

Ballads from the Bedroom

A singer-songwriter friend of mine wrote a song titled "Breathe in hope, Breathe out love" inspired by my struggle. Derek is also battling a similar struggle, yeilding him house-bound, and has been recording a series called "Ballads from the Bedroom." I hope you enjoy this song and check out the series.

Hotel de Guyer & Forward Planning

The last week was a crazy week for my visiting schedule. During the week of chemo both my mother and mother-in-law were in town, then my mom's two sisters came in town and today as the aunts left, my sister and two nieces arrived. And then tomorrow my dad comes in town. The picture above is of Autumn and I at the dog park with Jessica and Samantha.

My doctors constantly ask me how I feel to qualitatively gauge the progress of my treatment. What I've noticed is that I have a little more pain after my chemo treatments but afterwards I feel a bit better. It's difficult to say whether feeling better now is an improvement from feeling better before and I have a difficult time differentiating my aches verse pains (I really have no idea what that means).

My doctor's NP told me that a tumor can become inflamed and then shrink down again after a dose of chemotherapy. She continued, "I like to believe that it's the chemo working specifically with that tumor." I thought that was nice because my back has been hurting me lately so I guess it's working :)

Next week I have my re-staging scans on Sunday and Monday to quantitatively evaluate my treatments. The NP explained that they should be able to see the tumor dying from the inside out. We're hoping to see that the cancer has stopped spreading which will be great news or better yet that the tumors are shrinking.

If everything looks good then we'll keep steering the course and if doesn't then we'll cook up a new cocktail for next round. We still have a large arsenal of available treatments and are optimistic on killing this disease.