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Sunday, September 27, 2009 Tenacious like a bulldog
OHSU was the site of yesterday’s NW Prostate Cancer Conference where we did a presentation on survivorship. The morning sessions featured the latest in research findings.
The host was Dr. Tomasz Beer, Professor of Medicine at OHSU and Director of its Prostate Cancer Research Program. Beer (pronounced “bear”) is working on a cure for prostate cancer, which makes him our new best friend. My boss, Peggy, says he’s probably the nation’s leading prostate cancer researcher.
We liked Dr. Beer immediately. I was struck with the thought that we are ordinary people stepping outside our comfort zones into the presence of greatness.
One of the guest speakers was Dr. Mark Moyad from the University of Michigan. Moyad presented Beer with a bottle opener that played the Wolverines’ fight song, which he insisted on demonstrating. (Guess what song I had in my head for the rest of the day.)
Moyad’s presentation – “Fad Diets and Dietary Supplements for Prostate Cancer: What Works and What is Worthless?!” – was not only informative but, delivered in his tongue-in-cheek manner, produced side-splitting laughter. My opinion is that universities ought not graduate any med students who can’t pass a humor test. (I know a few who made it out without passing.)
Gary’s urologist told us a while back that if Gary’s PSA count continued to rise, he would send us to OHSU to get on Dr. Beer’s radar screen. Following the conference, we chatted with Dr. Beer about possible clinical trials. He wrote down the phone number of his scheduler, which means another trip back to P-town in the next few weeks.
And so we’re unofficially on Dr. Beer’s radar screen, which is strangely reassuring … because although he hasn’t found a cure for metastatic prostate cancer, he’s like a tenacious bulldog that’s gotten hold of something and isn’t planning to let go anytime soon. And tenacity is one of my favorite words.
Piece of historic trivia: It seems that P-town was almost Boston. Apparently back in the mid-1800s, the two men who shared a claim to the 640-acre site on the banks of the Willamette River couldn’t agree on a name for their little township that was quickly growing. Asa Lovejoy wanted to name it after his hometown of Boston, and Francis Pettygrove wanted to honor his native Portland, Maine. They flipped a coin ... and guess who won?!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009 Best years of my life Thirty-six years ago today, in an outdoor wedding in the beautiful, remote hills of Northern California, Gary and I said, "I do ... for better or worse ... in sickness and in health."
The bride wore her mother's wedding gown with dozens of tiny satin-covered buttons running down the back; the groom looked a bit nervous but awfully handsome in a white coat.
After a lovely reception surrounded by family and friends, we drove away from Gary's parents' ranch on that September evening ... and haven't looked back.
Gary had prime rib (if you'll remember his rules where twice a year on his birthday and his half-birthday he gets to eat whatever he wants). Because I tend to always order chicken or fish when eating out, I tried a pork tenderloin encrusted in hazelnuts and slathered in a marionberry sauce. Pretty good stuff.
And I saved room for desert. As soon as I post this blog, we're walking to get a Chai tea at one of the three locations within walking distance of our home. Ya gotta love Oregon!
Happy birthday and happy anniversary, hon ... and thank you for the best 36 years of my life!
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Now we should live when the pulse of life is strong So, we get this ridiculously generous offer from a couple, which would allow Gary to quit his day job. And of course we turn it down because we’re too proud … or it’s too generous … or because we’re far more comfortable being on the giving end instead of the taking end.
Our daughter, Summer, laughed out loud when I told her about it. “Why did you just laugh,” I wanted to know, “because that was our reaction and I couldn’t quite explain it.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps because it’s so absurd. I mean, who offers to pay someone’s salary so they can quit their job?”
Summer called back the next evening. Apparently all four of our children took a vote (they said no grandchildren or granddogs were included in this vote, but you can’t always trust that). It was unanimous; they voted that we accept the offer.
Summer reminded us that we’ve been praying for their dad to be able to quit work, and then we get an offer and we turn it down … and then keep praying for him to be able to quit.
When you put it that way, I guess it’s sort of like the guy who, when warned about an upcoming storm, prays that God will deliver him. A policeman comes to the man’s door to evacuate him; the water rises to the front porch and a fire truck stops by; the water rises to the second floor and someone in a boat rows up to the window. Finally the guy’s on the roof of his house with a helicopter hovering overhead. But he declines all offers of assistance because he has great faith that God will save him.
The guy eventually gets swept into the flood and drowns. Standing before God, he’s a bit annoyed that his prayers were ignored. God looks puzzled. “What do you mean? I sent a policeman, a fire truck, a row boat and a helicopter. I don’t know what else I could have done for you.”
So there you have it. Gary—who probably would qualify for disability because he has a terminal illness and, if the PSA count doesn’t go down, will be starting chemo but the rules are you can’t apply for disability until you’re out of work for a specified length of time but who can afford to quit work when you have cancer bills—will now get to take a break from the stresses of his daily job to focus his attentions on Cancer Adventures and doing something considerably more worthwhile.
Which reminds me of a hike we did yesterday with a group from our DEFEAT Cancer community – the Four-in-One Crater. It was a 4.5-mile ascent at a slow, steady pace. The reward at the top would be views of the North and Middle Sisters to the south and of Mt. Washington and Mt. Hood to the north.
We began our hike up through timber and into the clouds – literally. The visibility was low and the dampness was high. Even though it was sunny in town when we left, this was our view of the North and Middle Sisters:
This is what the view would be on a clear day, photo courtesy of our friend, Mike Gibson:
The moral of the story is, There are no guarantees of whether you'll hike in the sunshine or in damp cloud cover, of where the trail may twist or turn, or what the views may be once you reach the top.
Sign up for the hike anyway. Live life fully. Imagine what good you can do during your time on earth. And don't be too prideful to consider all offers of assistance toward those life goals.
From a book by John & Stasi Eldredge: “Now we should live when the pulse of life is strong. ... Don’t wait until tomorrow. Be here now!” ________________________
P.S. Conversation this morning over breakfast:
Gary: “If I’m not working, I’ll learn to clean the bathrooms and do the laundry … and I’ll drive you to work on snowy days.”
Me: “And will you stop by my office every morning with Chai tea?” (Maybe that would be pushing it a bit far, ya think?!)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009 Across the high desert A road trip across the desert is a great head-clearing opportunity – there’s nothing else to do for miles and miles except think and talk through life’s challenges.
Gary and I spoke at a survivorship event last night in Boise. We also got to spend some time with family - we stayed overnight with Gary's mom, who has a birthday today, and visited with a brother and sis-in-law.
Uppermost on our minds these days are Gary’s job situation, meeting our grant obligations with the challenge of getting time off, and now there are some unsettling changes and shifts in my department, which will more than likely add to my work load.
We can’t top that story, but this morning we did lose 30 minutes. We completely missed the turn-off at Ontario and were headed toward Baker City before we realized it. I'm sure it was mostly driver error, but I suppose the navigator should take some blame. ;)
Saturday, September 12, 2009 50 things to do before you die In my former life, I taught a Critical Issues course to high school seniors. Every spring, they were assigned a simple activity: "Draft a list of 50 things to do before you die."
The idea was to get them thinking beyond career and marriage/family goals—what is it you want to see and learn and experience? how do you want to make a difference in your corner of the world?—and then to draft first steps.
First steps are critical because if you don't determine what they are and work in that direction, chances are you'll never learn to play guitar ... or you'll never dig wells in Africa ... or take up sailing ... or volunteer to teach children to read ... or swim the English Channel.
Meanwhile—still in training for the Alps—we hiked up to Jefferson Park earlier today – a large, level plateau with several ponds and lakes and prolific wildflowers in season against the backdrop of Mt. Jefferson (Oregon's second largest mountain at 10,497').
A little over 10 miles round trip; an 1800' elevation gain; and the sore muscles to prove it!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009 Anticipation We’ve been stashing in a good supply of books in anticipation of our 36th anniversary. (We have a tendency to buy ourselves books as gifts. And then we have to make ourselves not read them until the birthday ... or Christmas ... or whatever occasion it is we're using as an excuse to buy books.)
This year, we’re celebrating our wedding anniversary at a riverfront hotel in Portland. We’re scheduled to speak at the 9th Annual Pacific NW Prostate Cancer Conference hosted by the Oregon Health & Science University and it happens to be close to our actual anniversary. So we’re going to spend the full weekend in Portland, complete with our stash of books.
We’ll hole up on a high floor of an elegant hotel overlooking Mt. Hood and the Willamette River. Gary—gallant husband that he is—will offer to find the nearest Chai tea. And we’ll read to our hearts’ content.
There’s a favorite Winnie the Pooh line that goes like this:
“Well, what I like best …” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.
That’s how it is with this special milestone coming up – the anticipation of a weekend away with my sweetheart; an overnight bag stuffed full of books; the hope of a Starbux nearby – it just doesn’t get much better than that.
Sunday, September 6, 2009 Summer past and random thoughts
here for a week, I wrote about having a heartsore moment and wondered out loud if heartsore was a word.
My friend and faithful cancer community volunteer, Susan, a grandmother herself, e-mailed in response: Yes, I am sure heartsore is in the regular dictionary, as well as in the dictionary of the heart. The definition must include something like: A. The opposite of heartsoar, when the heart is filled to overflowing with love and absolute joy, especially caused by the presence of one's grandkidlets. B. The pain caused by the deflation of the heart by withdrawal of the source of the heartsoaring. In this type of pain, neither Band-Aids nor surgery are of any use.
Susan is very insightful.
Another random thought: This past Friday was the birthday of one of the oncologists in our office. Throughout the day associates asked him, “What are you doing tonight?” He thought he and his wife, Pam, had plans to go out for dinner. Little did he know that he had plans for dinner all right, but they included all of us at his house!
The most fun thing about being part of a surprise is when the recipient is truly surprised. Dr. Comerford was truly surprised and pleased. And so we spent a lovely evening on the back deck of their home overlooking the Deschutes River – eating and chatting with co-workers, watching kayakers trying to paddle upstream through the rapids, amazed at the audacity of the squirrel that scampered past us on the deck railing.
Friday, September 4, 2009 Running to win There was this young woman in the early 80s from Boston who got the brilliant idea to run the Boston Marathon. The thing is, she had never run a marathon before. Or anything else, for that matter.
After running the Boston, Ann tells about someone who later asked her if she won:
“Well, sir,” I answered. “Let me tell you about marathons. No one wins unless you’re world class and the first one over the line. But if you mean, was I faithful in all my practice runs and my training, and did I give it my best and did I finish? Then, yes, I won … I really won.”
I imagine Josh is running for the same reason Gary and I hike up tall mountains – partly for the pleasure of activity and of being outdoors, but mostly for the reward of winning. Not necessarily the winning that comes from crossing some finish line first, but the winning over our own lazy nature that would rather sit with feet up on a coffee table, watching the world participate in life when really we should be out there participating in life ourselves.
I was inspired by Ann Kiemel’s perseverance. She traveled with a road manager and when they’d fly into, say, Chicago, early the next morning Ann would make her road manager drive out 10 or 15 miles in their rented car, drop her off in the early morning dark, and follow her back into the city.
I’m inspired by son-in-law Josh’s perseverance, as well. But mostly I’m inspired by Gary’s perseverance. He gets up every weekday morning at 5:00am and either walks to the top of this mountain in the middle of our town called Pilot Butte, or does these exercises that help combat the onset of osteoporosis from the cancer drugs.
And then on weekends we climb our mountains together. And each time we do something that's not necessarily easy, and give it our best shot, and finish what we started, we win.
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Jefferson Park against the backdrop
