I spent the better part of today back at Walter Reed hospital in Bethesda, MD. Fortunately, it was a positive visit with my oncological surgeon and team as they mapped out the next phase of my treatment: tumor removal.

All things considered, I have endured chemo well (only lost ~15 lbs and endured one hospital stay) and the surgeon is confident I am ready with the removal of the gastric adenocarcinoma plaguing my lower stomach.

The doctor is so confident I am ready that before I arrived in the surgical oncology department today, he already scheduled surgery for Monday, August 26th.

The procedure will entail total or near total removal of my stomach due to the insidious nature of stomach cancer – it does not remain a nice little compact tumor. Rather, gastric cancer tends to spread out like invasive roots through the stomach lining making it very difficult for the surgeon’s to be confident they removed all of the abnormal cells by just cutting out the tumor itself.

While extreme, the total gastrectomy should not be confused with the more commonly followed and expected procedures of expecto patronum or wingardium leviosa as practiced in the wizarding world. No, something much more muggle-like is warranted.

I am very fond of my stomach…

…but living without it is the price I am willing to pay to minimize (if not eliminate) the chances of cancer recurring.

In addition to extracting the stomach, the doctors will also remove a majority of the lymph nodes around my abdomen to increase my odds of a total cure and reduce the possibility of the cancer metastasizing.

But how do you live without a stomach (I hear you ask)? In short, a big change to how, when, and what I eat.

In fact, the actual procedure is not much different from those who undergo gastric by-pass surgery for weight loss purposes.

My esophagus will be attached directly to my small intestines. I may be able to eat much of the same kinds of foods I enjoyed prior to surgery; I just won’t eat at the same quantity or on the same time scale as before. Six to eight small portion meals throughout the day will be my new norm. Think of what you can hold in the palm of your hand…not the whole fist, just the palm…and that is what I’ll eat.

In realistic terms, when I go to Chick-Fil-A, I won’t order the #1 Original Chicken sandwich meal with waffle fries and a soda anymore. I will get the eight count nuggets and turn them into two meals (maybe three if I get the waffle fries). Simple!

As well, I will augment my food intake with high-dose multi-vitamins to ensure they are absorbed by my intestines into my body vice through the normal metabolic processes the stomach would perform.

Though it will take a few weeks or months for my body to adapt, it will adapt. And the doctors are confident I’ll be able to get back to my active lifestyle of marathons, triathlons, and cycling.

Mentally and emotionally I am at peace with the way forward. I still have a long life to live and I am not going to let a small thing like not having a stomach slow me down.

I am happy to announce that my new Himalayan-jazz fusion album, Elevated Cell Count, drops next week. Catch the first single, Mysterious Infection, streaming in every hospital emergency room in the country!

So, my latest medical adventure left me in the hospital for the past 36 hours with a yet-to-be-diagnosed bacterial or viral infection. I am home now, but still a bit under the weather.

On a good note, the initial diagnosis of c. diff, a possibly life-threatening to cancer patients bacterial infection, came back negative. On a less-than-good note, the doctor’s still don’t know what is going on.

I wasn’t feeling too well after my fourth chemo infusion this past Wednesday – go figure! After staying awake in pain and misery all night on Friday, I had my wife take me to the emergency room Saturday morning.

Initial blood work showed my body was fighting some kind of infection as my white blood cell count was through the roof. Which, I suppose, is better than the alternative of being neutropenic…another fun and unpredictable side effect of chemotherapy.

After numerous tests – some results still pending – the doctor’s whittled down the root cause to one of three things:

1. Viral infection that just has to run its course.
2. Bacterial infection or parasite that will come to light when all my medical cultures and tests finish in the next couple of days – apparently, some needed 72-96 hours to gestate and manifest.
3. Simple side effects of chemo.

Regardless of the cause, I am amazed, once again, at the power of prayer and good will on my behalf!

No sooner did word get out that I was in the hospital than the prayers and supplications on my part started to flow. There is power in all of your support for me and my family.

The doctor’s were convinced I had c. diff. That would have resulted in a multiple-day stay in isolation in the hospital with a very intense antibiotic treatment regime…granted I responded well to treatment. I don’t even want to think of the alternative.

Instead, I am home now in the comfort of my bed, surrounded by family. And I am feeling a little bit better, too boot!

This journey that began with my cancer diagnosis has been mine to bear. But it is not a journey of solitude, isolation, and seclusion.

Thank you to all who support me. We are crushing this cancer, together.

This past Sunday, I was able to meet up with a fellow member, Sean accompanied by his wife Nancy, belong to my church Ward. Sean was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a rare blood cancer, shortly before me finding out about my gastric carcinoma.

Though we suffer and endure very different cancers, diagnoses, treatment protocols, and prognoses; there are a number of striking similarities in our receipt of love, support, and…side effects…that binds us together more than the divergent elements of cancer symptoms that divide us.

We talked for several hours, in detail, about how we found out (equally and amazingly somewhat by happenstance). We both had endured some recent difficult times and were hoping for some rewarded blessings after the trials, but instead we got cancer – which we both have acknowledged that this moment of adversity is most likely a type of blessing in preparing us for something more. #Positivity

Beyond these Google gems that we shared, we concluded our visit talking about how to manifest hope and support for a cure.

More importantly though, we discovered the appropriate Cancer Support Ribbon color to wear in honor of you respective diagnosis.

• Gastric carcinoma (stomach cancer) wears Periwinkle Blue and should be celebrated during the month of November.
• Multiple Myeloma (blood cancer) sports Burgundy in March.

A T-shirt is coming soon if you want to support my journey…color: Periwinkle Blue, design in-works. I am already thinking of things to do during the celebration month of November! #Epic

A future post I am crafting now will highlight many of the discussion points from that day with Sean to include the state of existing medical opinions/care (experts), expounding on spiritual healing (support structure), and mental/physical efforts (meditation, counseling, and exercise).

How is that for a tease! Now I just have to execute this plan during the hardest chemo infusion to date. This means that it could be up tomorrow…or sometime next week, depending on how I feel. 😫🤢🤮

I completed chemo infusion session four today. I am, in theory, half-way through my chemo, but only third of the way through my curative treatment.

Next week I meet with my surgical oncologist to discuss Phase Two of the MCU…I mean my pending stomach surgery: AKA how much of a stomach I get to keep?

While only thinking positive things during my fourth infusion, I reflected back on my start almost eight weeks ago.

First, the nurses have been phenomenal! Second, the dogs! Or as I like to call them, the Paw Patrol! Multiple sets of comfort dogs brought in by the American Red Cross. Today, I was visited by Lacy and Elsa. Lacy and I hit it off and he did not want to leave, but finally did after receiving a treat from his handler. Lacy graced me with a decent photo, too! Elsa was a diva and demanded the image rights (not really, she just stayed with others).

The other dog friend I got to hang out with, courtesy of the United States Navy and the Department of Defense’s Office of General Council, was my previous lawyer, Andy – I promised only one lawyer joke, and not a good one to boot.

What a great guy. He had some free time this morning while taking some time off to spend with his family, and carved out over two hours to sit with me and give my wife a bit of a break.

While I have recently moved on from my Office of the Secretary of Defense for Policy (Space Policy), I continue to be supported by the friends I made.

Again, my next phase starts with an office call to my surgical oncologist in about a week.

I just have to endure the beneficial drugs curated poisons for the next little bit as I prepare physically, mentally, and spiritually for what comes next.

In the end I know I will crush that cancer! ☣️

In between chemo infusions, I get worn to the bones. I sleep and rest and veg. Which means, I have a lot of time on my hands in between incoherent moments of corporal recharging.

I have partially filled that void with cooking shows of various sorts, as expounded in my last post.

I have also caught up on a few of my favorite movies.

If I was asked what is the best film of all time, some might be quick say that I would cite a Star Wars flick as my top pick. While many of those space operas rate in my top ten, none of the Skywalker saga or spin-offs are my most favorite.

Raiders of the Lost Ark sits atop my all-time ever favorite movie list. I can’t tell you how many times I have watched it, enthusiastically, throughout my life.

I can tell you that when Raiders came out in June of 1981, eight-year-old me saw it ten times (yes 10x) during its long theatrical run well into 1982.

My dad, for Christmas 1983, gifted me the brand new VHS version of the movie in all its 480i NSTC standard definition and 2-channel Hi-Fi audio glory! I still have the video cassette as it is the last thing I received from him as he died two weeks later on January 7, 1984.

Later that year (in 1984), my mom took me and a handful of friends to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom in the Wilshire Movie Theater in the heart of the thriving metropolis of unincorporated South Ogden (AKA Uintah Highlands), Utah…my home town.

While Temple of Doom may not reside in my top ten “best of all-time” list, who can forget “Kali Ma! Kali Ma! Kali Ma Shakti De!“? (Clip is NSFK…not safe for kids, or those with weak constitutions!)

I would be hard pressed to place the remaining Indy films on my Top 100 list.

I take that back. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade might just crack my 100-best.

But Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is just bad. However, it is near the top of my “most disappointing” list. Nuff said.

Regardless of how good or bad the Indy sequels are, the first Raiders remains the best. I’m sure two or three viewings during my treatment will suffice and only give me the good vibes I need towards a cure.

My chemo cookbook consists of five staples, with little-to-no variation.

1. Cream of wheat for breakfast
2. Peanut butter sandwich (with a touch of honey) for lunch
3. Steamed rice or boiled potatoes for dinner
4. A scrambled egg or two for some added protein…when I don’t feel like I am about to hurl
5. When I get a little crazy and adventurous, I’ll splurge on a banana for a snack

I already documented my previous food follies and their…consequences… which still serves today as an effective deterrent on any future kitchen expeditions.

That hasn’t stopped the stomach from what the stomach wants.

Therefore, to satiate my culinary cravings, I have turned to binge-watching cooking shows on Hulu (Jamie Oliver’s Quick & Easy Food is my current fav) and Netflix (too many good shows to call out just one), while also obsessively following the best YouTube cooking channels (Binging with Babish is da bomb – the chef recreates foods from favorite movies and shows) and constantly viewing recipe GIF after GIF on Tasty.

Psychologically, watching food being made fills ma belly and helps pass the cravings. I sure hope I am able to return to a “normal” diet, if only briefly, when my infusions finish in about three weeks.

As the doctor’s say, my stomach and intestines right now have the tolerance like that of a 6-9 month old baby due to the chemo’s effects on my healthy cells along with the cancer.

Of course, my diagnosis continues to lead the tectonic shift in the way I eat as I read about the growing scientific and medical evidence on the diet and cancer links. And not to forget the changes my pending stomach surgery will dictate concerning my future nosh program.

I meet with my oncological surgeon in about two weeks to discuss what comes after this first phase of chemo and when I can anticipate being cut open.

I pray my post-chemo, pre-surgery stomach can handle some of my favorite foods (Chik-A-Fil chicken sandwich I am dreaming about you, chased with a big scoop of gelato di nocciola). It may be the last time I get to eat them…or at least eat them without serious consequences.

Bon Appétit!

I am a week out from my last chemo session for this first phase. I have not posted much since my last infusion as this round of chemo has been much harder to endure and bounce back. Here’s looking to next week…

I often times over simplify chapters of my life and file them into two categories: 1) periods of thriving, and 2) periods of survival.

As you can imagine, right now is a period of survival…enduring and persisting so that I can thrive once again.

I know I can and will endure with the continued help, support, and love of my family and friends. I thank you all for the notes, texts, and prayers of encouragement and inspiration.

Though I may just be surviving right now, I hope you all are thriving!

I just completed round three of my FLOT perioperative chemotherapy treatment. While I am adapting and enduring, each round takes more and more out of me…continuing to make me feel more alien.

On a more positive view of this situation and how I measure my progress, I just past the half-way point…but, that said, a more realistic assessment of my situation means that I am only a quarter of the way through chemo and less than a third complete with my total treatment regime. I still have major surgery pending to remove my tumor and likely most, if not all, of my stomach, too. Yeah, me!.

Though a dramatic and life-changing situation, I am continually reminded and surrounded by family and friends that ensure I am not alone in this journey.

For chemo infusion #3, I was once again joined by my Pentagon better-half, Zack, during the first half of my 5 hour session.

We spent most of the time talking about a book another Space Policy co-worker, Kathleen, gifted me: Anticancer: A New Way of Life by David Servan-Schreiber, MD, PhD. In short, Dr. Servan-Schreiber explores the mind and diet elements that should accompany the proven medical remedies for treating (and even preventing) cancer.

He argues that western medicine is mostly focused on the research, development, and marketing of molecular treatments (i.e. pharmaceutical fiscal investments in making new medicines) for cancer treatment vice seriously studying the benefits of patients modifying eating habits and focusing on balancing mind, body, and spirit though meditation and yoga which don’t return multi-billion dollar profits like the latest patents.

The more I read, the more I am convinced of the authors arguments. I highly recommend the book.

And I highly recommend passing a few minutes (or hours, if you are lucky) of conversation with Zack where you will find a genuine person, full of wisdom and humor in equally impressive parts. I treasure our chats together.

Now, rewinding to right before my chemo port was placed on June 11th and my first infusion session occurred on June 12th, I ran into my long-time friend Frank on June 10th. He had just returned from an overseas assignment and we hadn’t seen each other in almost five years. It just so happened to be my last day in the Pentagon before starting my cancer treatment. We ran into each other in the hallway. Coincidence? I think not.

We only had a few moments as I had to run to catch a bus. After my brief explanation, Frank’s only response, “Tell me how I can serve you!” In these few words, you get a sense of what kind of guy he is. Amazing!

Frank’s words also reinforced one of the key life lesson’s cancer is teaching me: while it is my journey, I am not alone and I need to rely the service of others…for my benefit and theirs.

Speaking of service and support, half-way through chemo infusion session two and three, another amazing friend, Ben, completed his first sprint triathlon. Ben and his family have been dear friends for almost a decade. Not only are we friends, but training buddies and marathon maniacs.

They were some of the first people with whom we shared my cancer diagnosis. And Ben gave me my first priesthood blessing of healing and comfort.

IronBen recently crushed his first triathlon race. He placed 7th in his age division and finished 35th (I think) overall!

• 

• 

• 

He swam, rode, and ran for me! So proud of him humbled by his support. So grateful for his spiritual and visible fortifying encouragment, in addition to his and his family’s friendship!

While my body processes this third chemo infusion, I am bolster by three friends that give me the strength to endure.

Thanks Zack, Frank, and Ben! I love and appreciate each of you. You make me better, in every sense of that word!

Also, many thanks to so many of you that reach out orally, electronically, and prayerfully on my behalf! Your support is felt and very much appreciated!

Four weeks of chemo complete, four weeks to endure. I know I am not alone. Bring it on!

Like a precision train schedule, my hair started to fall out in handfuls on chemo day 18 (as our friend predicted)! The following three days forced me to mimic the role of a shedding dog with hair all over our furniture, my clothes, and my pillow.

Therefore, I took matters into my own hands…literally. A twenty-three minute shower, consisting of constant cranium scrubbing, saw my hair fall out in droves. I finished with a few passes of a razor and voila! Instant villain…ready to take over the world!

From what comic books and movies have taught me is that villains are big, bad, and…bald. While ho-hum heroes have highly manicured coiffures.

Think about it. Lex Luthor. Thanos. Bane. Obadiah Stane. Voldemort. Ernst Blofeld. Vizzini…ok, so he is not completely shorn, but he is follically challenged and knows never start a land war in Asia, though he remains a bit over confident in his Sicilian wit and ancestry…🧐🤢☠️

In reality, the only villain in this scenario is cancer.

It is a whole new world for me living with cancer and without hair. It will be a better world living without cancer. My hair serves as a small sacrifice for life-long rewards!

My favorite sporting event of the year started yesterday in Bruxelles with the Stage 1 Grand Départ – great departure – of the Tour de France (AKA The Tour).

For the next 21 days, I’ll be glued to the coverage of each stage of The Tour as it proceeds from the north of France, through the center of the country and across the Pyrenees and the Alps with the big finish in Paris on the Champs-Élysées.

I plan to follow the riders and stages on my own bike…never leaving the comfort of my house. Have to log those miles (or kms as the Euro’s would say) somehow, since the Docs and my wife won’t let me out on my road bike!

EF Education First is my squad this year and I hope that Tejay van Garderen and team represents the United States well…he has struggled in the past and I hope this is his year. Tejay is a long-shot, but this Tour is wide open for the overall maillot jaune in Paris on July 28th. Who know? Should make for an exciting race!

Regardless, I will be cheering also for Peter Sagan as he battles for his record-setting seventh Green Jersey.

Alé! Alé! Alé!