Over the Rainbow

Somewhere over the rainbow, Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream, Really do come true.

My Christmas wish is for everybody to have dreams for 2020, and dare to dream big.  Then, go out there and make those dreams a reality.  I dream of running marathon number two, despite having metastatic cancer and with a lifetime of active treatment ahead of me.

There’s two reasons for me having such an apparently crazy dream: Last year I dared to dream of running half marathon #7, and pulled that off with great success.  It went so well that in retrospect it almost feels like it was a publicity stunt.  After all, it was well less than three hours of activity, how hard is that?  For me, it felt much less strenuous than a normal workday, and I got to nap in the afternoon.

The second reason is that I have unfinished business with the marathon distance.  I was lucky enough to be able to run the Boston marathon in 2011.  It was the best of times and the worst of times.  I was running the most famous marathon in the world with my friends in the running club, but as an athletic performance it sucked.  I was under trained and not mature enough as a runner.  But there was a qualification waiver available and to this day I’m very glad I didn’t pass up the opportunity.  For a runner, a Boston waiver is like getting the golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

I vowed to do better in my second marathon.  I vowed not to be “one and done”.  I subsequently developed overuse injuries in every attempt to train for another marathon.

My cancer diagnosis has given me permission to try again, and a reason to focus on just finishing the race and not worry about time goals.  I’m not crazy, I only expect to pull this off by approaching the race differently than in the past, but the details of that are the subject of a future blog post.  Suffice to say marathon #2 won’t be Boston.  It will be a smaller race that’s friendly to walkers and with a generous time limit, and I don’t yet know which specific race it will be.

Perhaps it’s a side effect of the medical marijuana, but I’ve come to view a full marathon as being on the other side of that rainbow Dorothy sang about decades ago.  I dare to dream of running another one.  I want to get to the other side of the rainbow and shout back to other cancer patients “It’s okay to have dreams!  Come join me!”.  It doesn’t have to be a marathon.  Just choose your rainbow and find a way to get over it.

Other people have already run marathons after receiving diagnoses similar to mine.  I won’t be the first one to reach the other side of this particular rainbow.  I’m simply following in the footsteps of others who are already on the other side and are shouting back to me.  I hear you Randy!

Of course, such paths are rarely straight and without a fair number of bumps and twists and turns along the way.  A marathon is much more than twice as difficult as a half marathon.  For me, half marathons were and now again are a solved problem.  Running a marathon was extremely difficult for me before diagnosis.  Being 9 years older and having had two cancer diagnoses won’t make it any easier.

But just imagine how epic it will be when I cross that finish line!  After crossing this rainbow, what will my next dream be?  A complete and durable remission?  Perhaps a cure?  My cancer is considered incurable, but there are fluke cases where men get off treatment and the cancer doesn’t return.  Failing that, a prolonged response to my current treatment may allow time for a breakthrough in immunotherapy or some other new treatment with curative potential.  There are men alive today who are having success keeping their cancer under control with treatments that didn't exist when they were diagnosed more than a decade ago.

Anything resembling a cure is a very long shot, but people dream of winning the lottery.  Arguably, my chances of achieving something resembling a cure in my lifetime may be better than the chances of winning the mega millions jackpot.

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me



p.s. Scrubs is one of my favorite TV shows of all times.  It’s like M*A*S*H in its ability to combine comedy with moments of true drama.  And it was filmed in a former hospital, allowing for scenes both inside and out.  Just think of the planning and effort that went into getting that sequence at the end of the video in one continuous shot with no edits!

p.s. 2, Sam Lloyd, who plays the inept lawyer “Ted” on Scrubs, was diagnosed earlier this year with inoperable and widely metastasized cancer, but appears to be responding to treatment.  Off the set, he’s in an acapella group called “The Blanks” that has been written into the show on numerous occasions.  That’s him, second from the left on the rooftop.

Day 418, Update and a New Hobby

Quick Update

It’s been a while since I’ve posted and the delay has been for a variety of reasons, but mainly there hasn’t been much news to report and I don’t quite know how to follow up my half marathon.  That was an epic day, as the race perfectly lined up with an ebb in my symptoms and side effects as well as ideal running weather.  How can I top that?  What could I possibly do that would be TWICE as good as a HALF marathon?  That not-so-subtle hint will need to lay fallow through the winter, as my body needs an off season to recover from the rigors it gets put through when the weather is more conducive to outdoor activity.

That half marathon was epic.  Too bad my joy and excitement in running the race didn't come across in the photos.

If you listen to me recently, you’ll get a tale of woe.  My sacroiliac joint hurts.  My toe feels like a string is tied around it.  I’m tired and need a nap.  I have mild nausea sometimes.  In summary, I’m just a giant ball of symptoms and low-grade side effects with subtle hints of overuse injuries, seasoned with a touch of seasonal depression.

If you listen to my wife, you’ll get an entirely different story.  Not long ago I was wandering the house grumbling that I couldn’t find my glasses or something.  She only saw that I had the energy to get upset about such things, and had the flexibility and strength to fly up the stairs two at a time.  I’m grumpy, while she’s over the moon with delight seeing how easily I’m moving about these days.  It was only a year ago that it was agonizingly painful to bend over the sink to spit out my toothpaste.

My memory is certainly selective.  When I think back to chemotherapy, I remember my PSA and ALP dropping in my blood tests.  I remember the love and support of friends and family.  I remember putting in some very lackluster runs at the indoor track and blowing people’s minds in the process.  You’d think it was the best time of my life, which in a way it was, if you ignore the digestive issues, severe fatigue, joint pain, lack of appetite, hair loss, flu like symptoms, injection site reactions, and probably a host of other things I conveniently don’t remember.

For my own benefit, let me recap what I did during Thanksgiving week.  This was a week where I had a number of days off from work, and was also the week before my most recent side-effect inducing Xgeva shot, meaning the side effects from the previous shot were minimal.

• While out on a run, spontaneously decided to see how fast I could run a single mile, and got my answer about 8:12-ish later.  Not sure what to make of that.  It’s slow for a dedicated runner, fast for a non-runner, and unthinkable for most metastatic cancer patients.
• Rotated the tires on my pickup truck.  I call it cross training.  Lots of laying down on the concrete to position the jack, stand up and walk to get a tool, lift a heavy tire, etc.
• Run the annual Thanksgiving 5K for the twelfth year in a row, in under 30 minutes.  See comments about my single mile time above.
• Move, cut, and split firewood, both for the wood stove and while burning brush outside.  More cross training.
• Tried to run/walk for 3 or more hours in bitterly cold weather with a strong wind.  Came up a bit short of that goal, but it was part of setting a weekly mileage high for 2019 at around 35 miles.  If you squint, it looks like I'm testing the waters before committing to something longer than a half marathon.
• Cleared a number of downed trees from our path through the woods, including one that was about 40’ tall, and about 14” around at the base that fell straight down the path.  I honestly didn’t expect to have the stamina to finish this job.

During this week, the thought "conduct unbecoming a cancer patient" frequently popped into my head.  In fact, a smarter person than I might even suspect a causal link between that list and the aches, pains, and fatigue I'm complaining about at the moment.  Perhaps side effects aren't the only explanation.

Of course, I also try to take time to rest and relax.  Put the headphones on and drift away with the music.  Perhaps even rub the cat's belly.

Cancer is my Hobby

Cancer is my new hobby.  I read about it constantly.  I talk with people online about it.  I’m always on the lookout for new things that may help in the battle.

Many readers of this blog have told me I should write a book, and that is on my to-do list, but I don’t yet feel fully qualified to write authoritatively about cancer.  There is much to learn, and my story becomes more compelling the longer I live.  My first year was about surviving and beating back the beast.  My second year is shaping up to be about learning to live with the disease and ongoing treatment for a long time to come.  Surviving cancer is in many ways more difficult than being diagnosed with cancer.  It involves returning to the business of normal life with the sword of Damocles hanging over your head.

Last night I watched “The C-Word” on Netflix.  I highly recommend it even though I don’t completely agree with some of the details in the movie.  The general premise is that since lifestyle can be a contributor to cancer, it also means that changes in lifestyle can help fight cancer.  It’s a great message that there are things everybody can do to reduce their chances of developing cancer.  Of course, the specifics of those lifestyle changes are not as universally agreed upon as the film would have you believe.

I’ve also been reading “The Emperor of all Maladies” about the history of cancer.  This is also highly recommended, though I’m only a short way into the book so far.  As horrific as the modern experience of living with cancer may be at times, it’s a far cry from what happened over a century ago.  Surgery to remove tumors was tried before there were more recent developments like antibiotics and anesthesia.  Surgeons were advised not to be disheartened by the screams of their patients during the operation.  And here I am complaining about the need to take naps for a week or two after my monthly shot.