Moving Forward....

Do you ever find yourself with a list of things to do, but with zero motivation to do them?  I find myself in that position right now.  My brain seems to suggest, "hey, you have a gazillion things to do?, how about instead of doing them, you take the time to write a blog post"  My will is weak, so here I am.

I've been thinking a bit about the future state of this blog, and what I intend it to do.  I can't say that I've really come up with an answer yet, but I think it's apparent that I'm not entirely finished with it.  It is somewhat nice to have a forum to write some of my thoughts and observations.  I don't write as much as I probably should, but I do find it somewhat therapeutic.

Since this blog started as a mechanism by which updates could be shared with friends and family regarding my most recent bout with Cancer, I think it fitting that I provide an update as to where I am at now that I'm officially done with treatment.  One of these day's I'll get around to taking some sort of before and after shot, but in the short run the picture below was taken with my beautiful wife while waiting in a ridiculously long line last week at Universal Orlando.

The attentive observer will notice that I've got some nice fuzz growing at the top of my head.  I think I have a pretty round head that is fairly well suited to being bald, and I know I've probably saved literally TENS of dollars in foregone haircuts, but I have to say that it's pretty exciting for me to have to worry about haircuts and shaving again.  Its a physical manifestation that I'm recovering from the incredible amount of poison pumped into me, and I'm pretty grateful for it.

I had a clinic visit today where I had some really nice conversations with some of my doctors, nurses, and healthcare professionals that have made this most recent journey a little bit more bearable.  The good news is that I'm doing pretty dang well.  All of my counts are within an acceptable range, and I don't seem to have any lingering side effects from my treatment.  I also found out recently that I have a 100% bone marrow match in one of my brothers.  In the event that my cancer comes back soon, the next step would be more chemo, and then a full on allogeneic bone marrow transplant.  I sincerely hope that it never gets to that point, but it is extremely comforting to know that there are options available in the event worst case scenario becomes a reality.

One of the things I was discussing today was the inherent difficulty that comes from being a cancer patient whose cancer is difficult to classify.  I'm essentially a sample size of one.  This makes it horribly problematic in determining course of treatment, and clinical efficacy when there is essentially no one else to compare yourself to.  There aren't any satisfactory clinical studies, or any journal that was going to address the specific needs related to my illness.  I was never going to find solace or fear in mortality statistics because there was no way to determine if those statistics were ever going to apply to me.  This is kind of frustrating for a guy who likes to understand and weigh his options.
I was speaking to one of the coordinators at the LDS Hospital Bone Marrow Transplant Unit during my visit today about living with the uncertainty of being a sample size of one.  I asked her if she had any experience with other patients who have had experiences similar to my own that would force them to become accustomed to high levels of uncertainty.  She responded that all patients to some extent are forced to deal with the uncertainty associated with their illness.  Nothing ever goes back to normal once an initial diagnosis is given, but, she assured me that almost everyone finds ways to cope.

I think that's one of the beauties of this human existence.  No matter the difficulties that life might put in our path, we almost always have the ability to cope, to adjust, to find joy in the midst of sorrow.

As I was speaking to her, I mentioned that I felt that the uncertainty of what the future will hold has forced me to be more mindful of what's important in my life.  If cancer causes me to take more vacations, spend more time with friends and family, be a better dad to my kids, love my wife more fully, who's to say it was truly a bad thing?

The more I think about it, the more true I think that statement is.  If I was smarter, I'd like to think that it wouldn't have taken fighting cancer twice to figure that out.