Seven days. I have been in the hospital now for seven days. Fortunately, I am getting discharged today!
I am so excited to get home where I can actually rest.
Following the surgery, about every two hours (both night and day) the hospital staff checked on me. Whether I was having my vital signs taken, or getting heparin shots (4x a day) in my belly to prevent blood clots, or blood draws to monitor my metabolic processes, or doctors and nurses just coming in to check on me, I have not slept or rested well in the past week.
Despite the lack of my solace, the hospital staff has been amazing.
All the visitor’s that came helped pass the time, as well. In fact, the nursing staff voted my room the best based on balloons, flowers, and gifts received!
Do. Or do not. There is no try when it comes to hospital room decor. – Yoda
Getting home means one more step closer to conclusion of my treatment.
Thank you to all for the love, support, and prayers! We are crushing this!
Preparing for my stomach surgery, I reflected on similarities that I am facing today with those my dad experienced right before his death in 1984 – I was 10 years old and my sister was 7. My dad was preparing for his 40th birthday.
He was a lifetime diabetic which contributed to renal failure in his thirties. He had gone into the hospital for a fairly routine procedure to replace a peritonealdialysis catheter.
My mom and dad thought it best he remain in the hospital overnight as he would have to return to the hospital early the next morning for a traditional hemodialysis session.
Having lived with diabetes his whole life, my dad knew he might not live as long as he desired. In fact, he died in the hospital early that next morning.
My cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment carries some of the same apprehensions and the stark realities of confronting mortality.
I am in my 40s. I have young kids (9 and 5). I was diagnosed with a serious illness. I was to undergo a relatively straight forward surgical procedure.
As I got closer and closer to the day of my surgery, the ghost of my father sat in the back of my mind.
So far, I am not repeating my dad’s demise. (knock on wood)
The stomach surgery occurred without complications. In the end, the doctor’s removed 100% of my stomach and extracted 15 lymph nodes from around my abdomen. The doctor’s made an “in-procedure” decision to leave my spleen and my pancreas alone – there was the option to remove the entire spleen and a portion of my pancreas.
My surgical oncology team – led by Dr. Learn (the solo doc with glasses on the left)!
Now 24 hours post-op, I am healing faster than the doc’s estimated. I started “eating” with a cup of ice chips. I then graduated to apple juice (in kids juice box size). And for the piece de resistance, Jell-O! The staff at Walter Reed must know I am from Utah as they presented me the green stuff.
Post Jell-O bliss…
Because of my rapid recovery (so far), I am moving out of the intensive care unit, where I have been the last 24 hours. I will finish out the reminder of my hospital stay on the Inpatient Ward recovery floor.
I remain eternally grateful for all the prayers, fasts, and positive energy offered up and directed towards me and my family. The supplications are heard and felt and I know that they are helping me crush this cancer.
We continue to move forward with purpose and faith as I get closer and closer to being declared cancer free!
An open letter to my True Companion, my Princess, and my Best Buddy –
On May 23, 2019, the path our family was on took an unexpected fork in the road.
We have found ourselves on a journey only some family’s have to face…a path less traveled that at times may seem unbearable.
While it may not be the path we chose for ourselves, it is our trail to blaze. And as the poet writes, it will make all the difference.
***
I awoke early this morning. I took a walk and reflected on the coming obstacle of surgery standing before us.
As I strolled in the unusually cool summer morning air, my love for each of you filled my thoughts as peaceful music filled my ears. One song, in particular, resonated with my introspective mood.
An old Christian hymn, How Firm a Foundation, filled me with hope and confidence that we will overcome not just this present hurdle, but this health challenge facing our family.
Verse 3 of the song struck an emotional chord, no pun intended, with me:
“Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed, For I am thy God and will still give thee aid. I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, Upheld by my righteous, upheld by my righteous, Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.”
I fear not and know that I am strengthened and helped from you and our friends and family. I know I will stand (literally and figuratively) after this surgery.
While on this less traveled path, I have seen Heavenly Father’s hand bless our lives in so many ways.
Shortly after the cancer diagnosis, the oncologists feared the worse in that the cancerous cells in my stomach had already start to spread throughout my body. Later we learned, to the doctor’s surprise, all the cancer was confined to just the stomach tumor.
I know the many prayers and fasts on our behalf kept the tumor in check. Blessing received!
However, I still needed to undergo chemotherapy. At the outset of treatment, I was given a priesthood blessing that my body would endure the rigors of chemo and that I would be made whole.
I made it through the first phase of chemo relatively well…to the point that the surgical oncologist moved up my surgery from late September to now because he was so pleased with how I was progressing. Another blessing manifest!
Not only did the priesthood blessing and countless prayers on our behalf help me through chemo, but taking the sacrament each week renewed my spirit and commitment to our Heavenly Father.
Each time I took the blessed bread and water, I could not help but reflect that the doctor’s were pumping poison throughout my veins and tissue to destroy the sickness and – as a side effect – my body.
Yet, as I took the holy sacrament, I felt it restore my spirit and hope. I knew the poison running through my body would kill the cancer, but it was not going to take me along with it. It was a weekly reminder that I am not alone in this fight and that I have more to do on this Earth. Blessing number three!
Now, on the eve of surgery, I was graced again with additional priesthood blessings that will see me cured of this cancer and that the surgeons and staff will be guided in their work. Blessing in waiting…
***
We will continue to create a new trail together on this path we now tread. I look forward to this adventure placed before us. Where it will take us, I do not know.
What I do know is that we will do it together, as an eternal family, united in purpose and devotion to each other.
I love you all more than words can describe. You are my everything. I fear not as I go into surgery. We have the Lord’s promise that He will help and strengthen us; we will stand and dance and play and love and move forward!
I completed my trifecta of culinary delights leading up to my surgery.
Pizza led the effort as I documented in my last post.
I had to include this picture again…admire the slightly charred, but billowy crust; the delicate melting of in-restaurant made mozzarella; and the deep red color of San Marzano tomatoes! Perfetto!
Friday night’s adventures found me in the drive thru at 9 PM – after an exhilarating game of kickball celebrating the birthday of a certain 8-year-old Fitzgerald – purchasing one of the most perfect epicurean creations: the Original Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwich.
That’s the stuff…right there!
The actual documentation and record of my consumption of this heavenly sandwich is NSFW (not safe for work) due to the potentially disturbing manner in which I ate the delicately and perfectly breaded, spiced, and fried chicken breast on two pillows of exquisitely buttered and toasted bun, with two tart and crisp dill pickle chips!
In short, it was delicious!
Saturday night’s food exploit found me eating my favorite cheeseburger from the Habit, a Santa Barbara burger joint that IS better that In-and-Out as they flame-broil their burgers and allow you to add bacon!
I went with the BBQ Bacon Charburger, comprised of crisp bacon, lettuce, fresh tomato, caramelized onions, pickles, BBQ sauce, and mayo on a toasted bun.
Greasy love between buns!
I am happy to report that I did not suffer the same “cleansing effect” I endured with my 4th of July burger endeavor.
Burger bliss!
I am taking things easy leading up to surgery tomorrow morning.
Never once have I felt alone in this fight against cancer.
I am constantly amazed at the number of letters, messages, and visits I have received since receiving word of my diagnosis.
Hope and charity are not just good ideas, but living convictions of so many of our friends, family, and folks when just barely met or have known for years.
This past weekend, we were fortunate enough to catch up with some of our Cape Cod friends. It took only a matter of seconds for our kids to remember playing and hanging out with each other as they ate Sweet Frog’s, discussed the finer points of Minecraft and Mario, and played again like the amazing and crazy kids they are.
While the time passed too quickly, our visit ended with a surprise gift basket of the most thoughtful items imaginable to help “crush that cancer.”
How can I not win, with friends like these?
Emily, Sean, and boys and Brisa, Keith, and daughter assembled the best goodies which included games and coloring books for the family. Warm socks (fuzzy of course, but sensibly sticky on the bottom to ensure I do not become a falling hazard) for my cold hospital floors. A periwinkle scarf and skull buff to show support for the fight. A little Billy Goat with a stomach of steel – since I won’t have one – along with a reminder of what my belly looked like in it’s hay day (most likely after consuming an Original Chick-Fil-A Chicken Sandwich). Some crafts for rainy days and spiritual reminders for the possible darker moments to come.
To top it off, the best part was a heartfelt letter of comfort and encouragement from all of them. So much love. So much support. So much joy and fun and positive thoughts.
I continue to get by with a little help from my friends. So, to all of you that provide vocal, written, and / or silent support to me and my family, I thank you with all my heart.
Since Monday, I graduated from my bedroom cycling to tackling the mean streets of Ashburn…
Jelly legs – that’s how they feel after nearly two and half months of no exercise and minimal movement!
I have to get all the riding in that I can as it probably won’t be until next Spring before I’ll be able to ride again.
When I am not riding, the amazingly wondrous USO of Metropolitan Washington-Baltimore fills my time with spectacular exploits. This past Tuesday, the USO hooked me up with VIP Box tickets to a Nat’s game! Regrettably, my wife and kids couldn’t make the game so some good friends tagged along:
I love her and am so grateful she let me be a part of her life. She makes me a better person every day. We are beating this cancer together…and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I found the world in her…Happy Anniversary, Amore!
If I was to ever say I had a sports hero, Lance Armstrong would have topped the list.
Back in the day, I had a Trek Madone Discovery Team edition bike. Nearly all my cycling gear was Nike, Giro, Oakley, and LIVESTRONG labeled – his major sponsors during his riding career.
During my 2007-2008 Mid-East deployment, I stalked Lance throughout the Qatar portion of the December 2007 holiday USO tour that also included Robin Williams and Kid Rock! (The show was awesome, by the way)
Lance eventually signed three of his books and the frame of my 2001 Trek XO-1 USPS Team Colors cyclocross bike (I still have them all). A coupe years later, a military friend got me a signed Discovery Team jersey during another Lance / USO trip to the Middle East.
I even held tight to a 2006 quote by Lance that he said to another cyclist who was on the verge of winning the Tour de France:
“Forget pain, overcome mishap, crush self doubt, and focus only on your victory.”
This quote summed up (and still does) my approach to life.
I defended Lance and cycling against detractors and skeptics who accused him of doping. He’d been through too much with his cancer to jeopardize his health…right?
His status as my hero all but evaporated during his 2013 admission to doping and lying during the entirety of his cycling career.
To say I was disappointed is an understatement. I sold nearly all of my Lance-related cycling gear – bike, helmet, shoes, spandex (it’s amazing what people will buy on eBay). I stowed the autographs away and striped my cyclocross bike of all its components and boxed it up.
Then, on May 23rd this year, things changed.
While I processed the diagnosis the doctors dropped on me, Lance and his fight with testicular cancer emerged from the recesses of my mind.
Apart from recounting his first Tour de France win in 1999, the book really focuses on his diagnosis, treatment, cure, and post-cancer life (really that there is life after cancer). It is a story of hope and survival. Lance affirms a cancer diagnosis does not automatically mean a death sentence.
While reading the book, I remembered the feelings of inspiration and hope that he gave to millions of cancer patients and survivors…and those of us who wore the yellow silicone wristbands in LIVESTRONG solidarity.
My very first blog post was a song I remember listening to during my Lance-worship phase that was a fundraising effort for the non-profit group:
The song took on a whole new meaning for me as the lyrics became my words and my feelings and my story of necessary survivorship.
Though I still detest Lance Armstrong’s doping past, I have moved past his transgressions and relate to him as someone who went through what I am now going through…and that there is more for me after my cure. I will survive!
I remain positive and hopeful, in part, because of Lance and his LIVESTRONG movement. I deal with my cancer on a day-to-day basis, but know there is so much more for me to do.
Some of what I have done is rebuild my old Trek XO-1 cyclocross bike:
Still looks fast!The man himself signed…I sealed it with a special clear lacquer coat of paint.
I look forward to riding again.
I have also scoured eBay for some LIVESTRONG riding gear (e.g. spandex) – all to show my solidarity (and nothing else…even though it is very tight) with the cancer survivor community.
I have even taken inspiration from some of the old Nike LIVESTRONG t-shirts and other apparel I found on the internets. I replicated this for a possible shirt of my own:
DAVESTRONG doesn’t quite have the ring and marketability of LIVESTRONG, but hoping and staying strong are transforming me into the cancer survivor I intend to be…I plan to go the distance for a very long time!
Twentythree/5 