I'm done my cancer.

When I first moved to Virginia, my wife, Lissa, used to make fun of how I let her know I was finished with my cup of coffee.  She'd often ask if I needed more on her way into the kitchen and I'd simply reply, "I'm done my coffee." I don't know how that phrase became part of my vocabulary. It could be something I've always said from Northern New York, or some hybridization of German and English, or just poor grammar on my part that I never bothered to correct.  

I expected to hear interesting phrases from Lissa.  She's a true southerner, and I clearly heard a slight southern lilt in her voice when we first met. However, she never really uttered things I expected to hear in the south. She was never "fixin' to do something" nor did I ever hear "might could", but i have heard "bless his heart"* more than my fair share of times. 

*For those of you living outside of the southern United States, "bless your heart" is a polite euphemism for "you're an idiot!" 

I was chatting with a co-worker, a dear friend really, the other day. I was having a rough day. I've been actively fighting cancer for five months. I haven't been sleeping well. That, coupled with the side effects have made me a bit cranky. I don't have the energy levels I'm used to. I have lost over 20 pounds. I only have the desire to eat about a dozen types of food. Everything else makes me incredibly nauseous. 

I'm trying to balance fighting cancer, a job, my family, and Napkin Notes. 

I was tired that day. I was beyond worn out. 

I found myself slipping back into my old language. 

"I'm done my cancer." 

I couldn't sum it up any better. I was tired of fighting. I was tired of the naseua and diarrhea. I was tired of the fatigue and getting winded after walking up one short flight of stairs. In that moment, I looked at Katherine and couldn't contain myself. "I'm done my cancer." She understood. Although we haven't known each other very long, she's seen me as a healthy individual and as someone who is fighting for his life. She's seen my good days and my bad days.  

I felt badly as I left the office. I didn't want to be negative. Being positive actually requires a lot of effort and my positivity tank was running on fumes. 

I went to bed early and finally got some good sleep. I was able to shake it off. I woke up refreshed and ready to take on the world. It was a momentary lapse. I think I'm allowed. 

Why am I sharing this? I can't speak for all cancer patients. I know a few. Unfortunalty, the club gains new members each day. You probably know one or two yourself. Help that person. I can't tell you how to best help. It's different for each one of us. Maybe you can listen. Mow the lawn. Cook a dinner. Hold a hand. Give a hug. Ask how they're feeling. Don't ask how they're feeling. Pray. Rent a movie to watch. Give a book. Lend a hand. Support. 

Being positive is an important weapon in my cancer battle. Positivity needs refueling, too. 

I'm not asking for myself. I'm asking for the other 1.6 million new cancer patients that will be diagnosed in the U.S. this year. (I don't know the worldwide figures.) 

This cancer has no idea what it's up against. I am resolute. I'm back, ready for battle. I'm ready to keep kicking butt. 

I'm done my cancer. 

Pack. Write. Connect.  

Napkin Notes reaches Germany!

In the magazine "Herzstück" (meaning "Piece of the Heart") they share our story and some of the notes with their readers.

It is part of their cover-story, "love is the key".

Herzstück is all about finding inner strength, happiness and leading a better, more meaningful life with everyone and everything around us.

Vielen Dank!

A Fantastic Day!

I had an appointment with my doctor today. I know, you're shocked!  

It was a great visit. I learned a couple of things that are pretty amazing, but I am going to focus on one.  

I am responding to my medicine incredibly well. He considers me in the Top 10%! Most patients can keep their kidney cancer at bay with this medicine. The cancer in my body is on retreat and running fast.  

I told him it was because I was taking the special medicine. I don't know that he understood what I was saying. Frankly, my medicine is only a part of the army. The other parts are God, prayer, and positivity.  

Top 10%!  

Thank you for battling with me. I really appreciate your prayers, support, and friendship!  
 

The Doctor Is In

It's not everyday you see this response from a doctor after he reads your MRI report:

"Kick ass man. That is awesome!"

This is the same doctor that has long conversations with me about God and his plan for me.

I picture him walking through the halls with a stethoscope around his neck, a sword in one hand and a bible in the other.

I'm in great hands!

Whack! Good Results!

OK - really, it's GREAT news, but I wanted to undersell it. Of you don't read to the end, that's ok, but please SHARE this post so I can reach other cancer warriors! 

My MRI was last Wednesday and my follow up appointment isn’t until this upcoming Thursday. That’s an awfully long time for a cancer warrior to wait for results, but I have waited longer. I fully admit I get a little edgy while waiting. I am more likely to be sarcastic (how can anyone tell?!?) and short tempered. Even my dreams take a hard turn and I dream of some funky things as I wait.

See previous post about the MRI and side effects here: http://www.napkinnotesdad.com/blog/2014/5/28/the-waiting-game

I prefer to get results as I exit the machine, but I know that isn’t realistic. We’re not just looking to see what’s currently in my body. The good doctors need to compare the new images to the previous images and look for changes.

Thanks to modern technology, my medical app alerted me to an update in the system. “You have a new message! Please go to the app to view your message.”

What could that be?!? Wow! I was getting the results from my MRI before I even had a chance to hear from my doctor. In fact, the message had come in while I was asleep. I opened the app even before I left my bed.

Reason: renal cancer metastic hx of prostate cancer evaluate adrenal and liver lesions

INDICATION: renal cancer metastatic hx of prostate cancer evaluate adrenal and liver lesions

FINDINGS:

There has been significant improvement in the multiple enhancing lesions during arterial phase imaging in the liver. Many of the lesions are no longer evident. There are 2 lesions in the right lobe of the liver segment 6 which are smaller in size measuring 1.4 x 1 cm and previously measured 3 x 2.3 cm and measuring 1.3 x 1 cm and previously measuring 1.7 x 1.5 cm.

Overall size of the left lobe appears slightly smaller... No obvious filling defects are identified in the gallbladder although CT demonstrated suspicion of gallstones.. The spleen is normal. The pancreas is normal.

The tiny nodule in the right adrenal gland is no longer evident. Patient status post left adrenalectomy and left nephrectomy. Postop seroma is smaller.. Right kidney is within normal limits..

IMPRESSION:

1. Significant improvement in the hyperenhancing lesions in the liver many of which are no longer identified. The 2 which are still visible in the right lobe are smaller.

2. The 7 mm right adrenal nodule is not identified on today's study.

3. Postoperative seroma left adrenal bed is smaller.

Let me sum this up.  

WHACK! We’re winning!

The lesion on my adrenal gland isn’t seen. This is the second scan that we couldn’t find this.

The lesions we had originally observed on my liver numbered from 3-5. We couldn’t tell exactly how many.  There are just two now. Those two are significantly smaller. In case you didn’t know, this is where all guys appreciate that smaller is better!

Yes, I’ll likely continue taking this medicine. Scratch that. I will continue to take this medicine. We can hold on to Plan B (and Plans C through Z) for later. I’ll have another scan at the end of summer.

These results make taking this medicine worth it! Thank goodness!

Until then, let’s celebrate this win together. Will you please share this post? I want to reach as many cancer patients as possible. We need to stick together and support each other.

WHACK!

Again, thank you for joining me on this journey.

The Waiting Game

I sit in the waiting room of St. Mary's. I have been here before, but it doesn't quite feel like "home." I haven't had any food for 6 hours and I am starting to get just a little cranky. I am definitely dehydrated. I have a short, 45 minute appointment ahead of me.

I am waiting for my MRI, a scan that will show me what is going on inside of my abdomen. I am slightly anxious. I had cancer lesions on my liver and adrenal gland. We need to see what's happening today. I just want to get this over with so I can go home, eat, and take my meds. It will be some time until I have my results. I just want this process to be finished. I need some sleep.

It's been some time since I have posted something besides my daily Napkin Note. I started to receive some emails and calls a couple of weeks ago from kind souls asking if I was ok. I am ok. I have some good days and I have some bad days. Overall, I am not feeling fantastic. I started a drug therapy program in February that is frankly kicking my butt. It's a great drug, and the leading indication is that it is killing the cancer. I knew it wasn't going to be an easy ride. The side effects are somewhat problematic:

• Diarrhea - check! double check!! triple check!!!
• Tiredness - check!
• Nausea - check! 
• Change in hair color - check!
• Loss of taste - check! (Most things taste like they're Black & White but I want to eat in a HD world!)
• Vomiting - just once, but holy crap it was awful
• Loss of appetite - check! (I have lost about 20 pounds)
• Pain on the right side of stomach area (abdomen) - check!
• Bruise easily - check!
• Irregular or fast heartbeat - check! 
• Fainting
• Bleeding problems - check! (Bloody nose!)
• High blood pressure - check!
• Thyroid problems - check!

I am thankful, yes, thankful to be taking this medicine. It represents the best possible chance for me to beat cancer. It certainly comes with some challenges. I'll take them each and every day.

Someone asked me if this was chemo. It's not. Technically, it's not anywhere close to chemo. However, it's easy to say that it's "like chemo" except that I take this every day, and I don't really get a break. I don't experience all of the side effects at the same time, but I certainly am plagued with some of the tougher ones.

I may take this for the rest of my life. Think about that for a second before you move on.

I may take this for the rest of my life. What would you do? You'd take the darned medicine. Give your body a chance to win! Live! Raise your kids! Change the world!

What would you do to live?

This, this is what I do. Medically, it's what I'll likely do for the rest of my life.

And through this chaos of medicine and side effects, I'll take a breath. I'll pack Emma's lunch. I'll write a Napkin Note. I'll connect with her one more time.

Pack. Write. Connect.

Napkin Note: Dear Emma

Napkin Note:
Dear Emma, Be the type of person that makes everyone you come across feel perfectly ok with being exactly who they are.
Love, Dad

Pack. Write. Connect.

Special thanks to Julie Frary Keough for the inspiration!