Zytiga month29

   Today I begin month 29 since starting Zytiga or is it month number 30. I can't remember and honestly, I am too lazy to

try and find out. It has been a good long time though. According to my latest PSA I am still undetectable. 

   Today I learned of a former co-worker diagnosed stage 4 PCA. I do not as yet have any specific details regarding his Gleason score or his PSA at the time of diagnosis. All I really know is that he has bone metastasis. It is my understanding that he is not taking the diagnosis well. I understand where he's coming from right now and I hope that later he will reach out to me or to someone else who can help him navigate through treatment decisions. 

   I know I've said this before but I didn't do too well at the time of my diagnosis either. I had just started the journey through apprenticeship to become a journeyman pipefitter. At the time of diagnosis I really didn't think I would live long enough to become a journeyman. I didn't think I would live to see my 50th birthday. I didn't think I'd ever have grandchildren. In all honesty I spent a little bit of time feeling sorry for myself.

Mandy drug me out of the pit of despair. If not for her I might have stayed there.

   Zytiga has been an amazing drug so far. I am still on Lupron so I cannot give an accurate description of side effects.

I don't know if it is customary to continue Lupron with Zytiga but it seems to be working. The only 2 side effects I can talk about that seem to be enhanced over Lupron are severe bruising and diminished memory. Truth is, I can't remember a friggin thing. I have also lost a degree of sensation in my arms and hands. Other than the aforementioned I have not noticed any other side effects.

   The bruising is probably the worst. At any given time I will have at least one softball sized bruise on my body. We recently returned from a snowmobile trip in bend Oregon and I had a half dozen large bruises on my legs and torso. They are not painful. They don't really bother me. They are not real attractive. Any time I bump an elbow or knee or trip and fall I can count on seeing a bruise the next day.

   Memory problems are another issue. The funny thing is I don't know if it's a side effect of Zytiga or getting old. At times my mind is Lucid and then other times I forget everything. It can be frustrating. I have learned to clear my thoughts and allow it to come back. It usually takes only a minute or so. In my hind a picture a computer screen and a header that reads, "Todds brain not responding" 

   Lastly, I am losing sensation in my arms and hands. I drop stuff all the time. Is it a side effect of Zytiga or nerve problems resulting from a smaller bone mass? Either way it is a side effect of Prostate cancer. Losing bone mass concerns me. I was side hilling my sled in Bend and had a severe wipe out. I landed on my head and shoulder and felt everything crunch. I am afraid one day that will happen and I will no longer be able to

move my arms or legs.

   Overall life is good. Mandy and I are celebrating 10 years since meeting this year. I am thrilled that Zyriga has been working as well as it has. Janssen has a first rate product in Zytiga. I do believe that earlier Provenge usage is helping the Zytiga. 

   I am closing in on the 10 year mark since my diagnosis of stage 4 Prostate Cancer. Ten years. I really am blessed. It's funny. It doesn't seem that long ago. I guess I better not blink. I don't want to miss anything along the way.

  

A new year a renewed resolve.

   2015 is in the rear view mirror. May it rest in peace. I will miss it. It held much joy. It also had its fair share of heartache. I also lost my dad.

   Yesterday, I was able to open an email account that had been locked up for well over a year. Upon opening it, I found emails from friends that did not make it to  2016. Those emails had never been opened. I had never replied. I found lost opportunities to interview people for my blog. Again, no reply. I also found emails from people who had read my blog and had it touch their life. I never replied to those emails as well. 

   As I read the list of lost emails, replying to as many as time would allow, it occurred to me that during the year 2015 I basically checked out. I don't believe I posted to my blog more than a dozen times over the course of the last year. There are a ton of excuses. I started a new job, I was on strike, my dad passed away, but there's always an excuse. There is always a reason not to do something. The truth is that I had grown complacent. I ran out of things to write about that concerned me. I was comfortable living in false sense of undetectable P.S.A. security. I feel like a dick. I could have been writing about things that affect other people. I could have been just a tad bit less self absorbed. 

   I hope that this is a first step in the right direction. 2016 is here and each day is a blank piece of paper. Each day is filled with possibility. 

   

Sadness

Once again, it has been a long time since I have had motivation to write. Today my blog is therapy. 

   When I was in fifth grade I picked a fight with a bigger kid. I thought I was tough but I was just a scrawny, mouthy, little brat. I took several shots to the face before I realized I had made a huge mistake.  The kid I picked a fight with was a head taller, had a longer reach and outweighed me by 30 pounds. I, being the quick thinker that I am opted for diplomacy and backed away. I took two steps back and felt a sting across my behind. I turned to see my dad standing there, belt in hand, telling me to get in there and fight. I endured an ass kicking I would never forget. I was humiliated beyond words but I learned a lesson that has lasted a lifetime. It is my dads words that carried me through the battle I have fought for the last nine plus years. It is my dads words that I repeated back to him as he faced his own battle just a few short months ago. "Get in there and fight" You gotta fight dad. 

  Dad did not pick a fight but he was facing a bully that was far bigger and badder than anything he had ever faced and he did not have a chance at winning.

He was beaten before his battle began. 

   I always felt I was a disappointment in my dads eyes. Mom always said Dad did not want to bring me home. When I was born my leg was hung up on a rib and I had to be pulled out with forceps. I was purple and bruised and my head was deformed. Mom always said I was the original cone head. I was scrawny and had severe adhd. My first year in school I was diagnosed with peditmal epilepsy. It seemed I was the problem child fresh out the gate.

   My dad was a 6' 1" 225lb line backer in HighSchool and played varsity basketball as well. I topped out at a meager 5'7". My freshman year I had yet to break the

5' barrier and I barely weighed 100lbs. Saying athletics were not my forte' was a huge understatement. I was the runt of the litter. All through my freshman year I endured beating after beating until one day I had had enough. 

   During a week of in house suspension for a fight I had not picked there was a knock at the door. It was some other upper classman and his buddies. I was being told through the door that I was going to get my ass kicked after school. I had had enough. I told the kid to meet me off of school property. I made him wish he hadn't. I am often reminded of the Kenny Rogers song, "Coward of the

County" I beat the kid beyond recognition. I week later I was confronted by a jock in the locker room. Without thinking I turned and landed five or six punches to his face before he even knew what hit him. That was the last fight anyone ever picked with me. I would have 2 more fist fights after high school. In both of them I faced bigger men who had e couple beers and we're looking for a smaller person to beat on. The first spent the next six months with his jaw wired together. The second spent the night in the emergency room withe a fractured cheek bone and a broken nose. I would have felt bad had he not been hitting a girl before I interjected. I still feel a little guilty for ramming his face into a trailer hitch but he had it coming. I had been served divorce papers earlier that day and he picked a fight with the wrong guy.

   I never thought about fighting cancer, I just fought. I was convinced in many ways I would take the fight a full 15 rounds. I believe God was standing in my corner. I was like Rocky facing Apollo Ceeed and I had Mick yelling in my face to get in there and fight.

   Dad passed 3 weeks ago. At the end, he weighed 150 lbs. He was no longer lucid. He couldn't speak. The truth is, he was gone weeks before. One evening before he went away, I layed on his bed and told him he was my hero. I told him how proud I was to be his son. I told him how much I loved him. It was just the 2 of us. 3 weeks later he was gone. I miss him. I miss him wanting to talk politics every time I saw him. I miss playing music with him. We will never go fishing or hunting again. We will never again share a stage together.

   Dad is gone. I will do my best to carry his spirit with me and to bring honor to his name. Today I am smoking salmon. It was always dad who smoked the salmon for Christmas Eve. I brought home his smoker last night and brined the last fish he ever caught. Tears are falling and I am smiling. I love you dad. I miss you. I will always be proud of who I am because you made me this way. I am sorry for the times I know I let you down but I am still standing. Thank you for all you did for me. Thank you for teaching me to stand strong and not back down. Rest in peace. Forever love, your son, Todd

Left to right:

My best friend and best man Tony, My brother and best friend, Jason. I am in the middle. My hero, my friend, and my father, Jay. My best friend and high school buddy Larry. Bairdcreek Rockin' Country.

   

  

Losing my dad

    Dad is dying. I am sitting in a hallway at OHSU awaiting the removal of the esophageal stent we had hoped would allow him to eat. It  was a failure. The stent slipped below the tumor and rested against the wall of his stomach. He cannot eat. It has been 10 weeks since his diagnosis. He has had no treatment other than an incomplete round of chemotherapy. Insurance has not allowed him to come to OHSU until now. The doctors at the local hospital seem content to let him die. They speak of pain relief and hospice. They speak of quality of life and how the cancer cannot be cured. Duh!! We know that. We know he cannot defeat the beast. The tumor is aggressive and angry. We are treated like we are stupid. Dad will die but not today and not without a fight.
   Chemotherapy and radiarion can give him weeks. It may even give him months but nothing has been done. I am reminded of the time Kaiser Permanente told me that giving me Provenge was a waste of resources. Is that what we have come to as a society? My perception is that the medical community has lost its faith and its compassion. Death panels have become a reality. Insurance companies make decisions who to treat and what medications to treat them with.
   My dad is 73 years old and just a few months ago he was on the Columbia river in his boat salmon fishing with my mom. Looking at dad now I can see why the doctors are reluctant to try but they are wrong. If they were only ingesting 500 calories a day they would look just as fragile as my dad does. They would be too weak for chemo as well. Dad needs nourishment, hydration , and treatment.
   The Doctors at OHSU seem to feel he is stong enough for treatment. They have not lost hope but unfortunately he has to go home and his fate will be in the hands of doctors who are forced to answer to some bean counter working for united healthcare.
   Dad is dying. Just like everybody else. What is it that makes his life less valuable. I am angry. My frustration is all consuming and I have taken it out on those who I love the most. There are two local doctors who have come close to a punch in the nose.
   His stent was removed successfully.  The surgeon believes that the initial Chemo shrunk the tumor and caused the stent to slip. I hope we can get the local doctors to jump on board. The surgeon believes he can now eat. If he can eat he can get stronger. If he is strong he can fight. My dad is a fighter. I learned from him.

A Greater Good

    A greater good.

   In 2007 President Barack Obama won a landslide election. Running on slogans promoting hope and change, he misled the American people into believing that a politician could make a difference. Change rarely occurs in Washington. True change only occurs when the men and women of our great nation stand as "One".

  Today within our community the men and women of local 153 stand as One. Together they risk everything in hope of change that we truly can believe in. This change is not borne in our Nations Capital but rather in the Heart of our Nation. The first sentence of the Constitution does not begin with "We The Corporation", it begins with "We the People"!

  Each Generation leaves behind a legacy. My parents and grandparents generation fought for a 40 hour work week, child labor laws, benefits, overtime pay, and the right to organize and bargain for the better of all Americans. They created the Middle class and gave rise to the American Dream. Upon the backs of labor our great nation was built. 

  Today the American dream is under attack. Today, poverty is on the rise. Today the richest one percent of Americans control 99% of the wealth of our nation and yet it is still not enough. Corporate greed will never be sated. 

  Today as a community we must make a choice. Will we stand as One and say enough. Will we support the Striking Kapstone employees or will the Legacy of this generation be the death of the middle class. Think about that when you choose to board that bus for a job that someone else earned. Think about that as you cross the picket line and turn your back on the men and women who are fighting for us all. In closing I leave you with the words of John F Kennedy: 

Sharing my heart

This post is for me. It is not about Prostate cancer. It is not about treatments. Cancer can wait. My heart is sick. I have never known such pain. I am writing this entry because I don't know what else to do. My dad is going to die. Each day it becomes more apparent.
  My dad is the man of steel. He is my hero. Everything I ever learned I learned from him. There was nothing he couldn't do once he set his mind to do it. He use to carry me to bed on his shoulders. I thought he was the strongest man in the world. He tought me to hunt and fish. He taught me to ride a bike. He and mom always knew what to get a 12 year old boy for christmas and birthdays. He bought me my first guitar. He introduced me to Waylon Jennings, Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash, and Merle Haggard. He gave me my first b.b. gun, bow, and hunting knife. He taught me to respect my mom. He took off his belt and tanned my hide when I needed it. He showed me it was okay for a man to cry. He taught me to fight for what you believe in. He was strong enough to watch me fall when I messed up my life. He was there to to help me up when the prodigal son came home. He taught me to water-ski. He taught me to build. He taught me how to work on cars, do plumbing, and electrical. He taught me how to say I am sorry and to swallow my pride when I was wrong. He taught me that a man may not like going to work every day but a man supported his family. He worked at a place he hated for 39 years and 11 months. I asked him the day he retired at age 58 why he didnt stay 40 years to get bis gold watch. He said they could keep their frigging watch. Fibre was in the rear view and he didn't  need  a watch on his wrist to remind him of it. Now it appears he has one lesson left to teach me and I am not ready to learn it.
   Dad is 73. He and my mom have been married for 53 years. It wasn't always a bed of roses but their love is eternal. They knew that marriage was a hard road but quitting was never an option. For better or worse meant something. I heard my dad say the F-word one time. It sounded out of place. Dad is too young for this. He is a young vibrant 73 and seeing him like this is breaking my heart. If there was one consolation to having advanced prostate cancer it was knowing I would never lose my parents. I am glad that they won't have to lose a son to cancer or watch me die. I am learning just how hard it is to lose someone you love. We lost gramma and grampa but they were really old and it was hard but not lime this.
  I am holding on by a thread. I have to. My mom needs me. She is as tough as a barnyard rooster but the cracks in her armour are starting to show. Her heart is breaking. I feel helpless and weak.
   I still have hope that treatment will help but they have not started any treatment yet. He spent last night in the hospital with severe pain. He appears broken and small. He looks defeated. It is a difficult thing to witness. If you read my blog and believe in God and our lord Jesus, please pray for my mom and dad. Thank you for reading. Todd

A time of peace

  I awoke this morning intent on writing. It took 15 minutes to choose a title. I threw my phone on the couch in disgust. I wanted to write but had nothing. It was easy to write when life was a whirlwind. There was always something happening or Cancer news to report. My life has become incredibly normal. That thought opened my heart. I have been on this road for a very long time. The road has seen many battles. There are many to come. For now, there is peace.

   Wednesday last, Mandy, our daughter, her boyfriend, and I were drifting an Riffe lake about a half mile upstream of the dam. As the boat moved gently with the breeze and Otis Redding sang "Dock of the Bay" the peace was shattered by a pair EA18G Growlers doing a practice bombing run on the dam. They were a mere 300 feet directly above us. It was awesome. The roar of the turbines shattered the silence and echoed across the mountains. Moments later they pulled up in a near verticle climb and were gone. Once again peace returned.

   My most recent PSA is still undetectable. Each morning and evening I take my pills. I am not due for infusions or Lupron for 2 months. For now the beast is quiet. I am adrift upon a still sea and being pushed along gently by the winds of life. I rarely think about cancer. It is there. In the dark recesses of my mind. I know that at any time the peace can be shattered by the roar of the beast. 

  The next day we took our cameras out on the lake and waited for the jets to return. I wanted to record a video of me skiing with the planes flying over. It was a two hour waste of time. The planes did not return that day. We drank a few Coronas so it was not a total waste of time. In this story lies the epiphany.

  In regards to stage 4 Pca, recurrence is inevitable. The beast will return. Remission is temporary. Life goes on. In the mean time how we choose to live is paramount to our overall survival. 

   My dad has been diagnosed recently with stage 4 cancer of the esophagus. It is a devastating diagnosis. Still, he may have several years and yet he seems to have lost the will to survive. There is no fire. There is no fight. He appears small and defeated. It is unsettling. My dad is the man of steel. He is my hero. I have never seen him like this. I hate cancer.

   I have a disease. It most likely will cause my flesh to die one day. It cannot harm my spirit unless I allow it to do so. It is powerless. I will not allow it to define how I live my life. I will not waste this gift waiting for peace to be shattered by the roar of death. That aspect is for those who do not yet realize they are terminal. One day they will come face to face with the reality that life on earth for them is over. They will look back on their lives and regret the wasted year. 

  We, we lucky few, have been given the gift of mortality. How we spend our months and years between now and the grave define our character. Time is truly a precious gift. Choose wisely how you use it.