Cancer

I’m sitting in the Doctor’s office. After a blood test I’ve been called in to talk about the results. When you are waiting to get results you look for clues in any of the staff to see if it will be life or death. There is nothing in between your mind tells you. The Doctor’s assistant comes to the door to usher me in. She hugs me with a peck on the cheek; I’ve not seen her in a year. She has never greeted me like this before so the news cannot be good. We chant a bit about nothing as we walk toward the room I’ll wait for the Doctor in. It’s as if I’m walking the last mile with my confessor. I wait!

He enters, does not shake my hand, with his broad smile. He is about 6 foot, big boned, with a wide mouth, blue eyes and a full head of white hair. He fumbles with my chart which is getting rather thick. I’ve seen him for the past seven years for a test that has confirmed freedom from cancer during that time. My intuition tells me today will be different. He rambles a bit about past tests then gets down to business.

My PSA has continued to rise over the last year. The original was 9.2 which went to 9.7 and is now at 10.2 which equates to a 55 percent chance of having prostate cancer. He suggests we set up an appointment next week for a biopsy. He mentions that there is various treatments, but it is too early to discuss that now. After the biopsy comes back he’ll give me some options he says with a smile. His voice and smile meant to be reassuring, his lack of eye contact not so much. We walk out to the receptionist where his assistant awaits. After the appointment is made I receive a full hug from her and we talk about how busy I am.

Oh yes he has ordered a bone scan to make sure there is no cancer else ware. I’ll have the bone scan before we do the biopsy so both results will come in at the same time. Usually when I leave this office I’ve been given the results that no cancer has return and I’m chocked up with relief. Not today.

I spend time on the computer reading about this thing that is eating my cells. The articles do not do much to lessen the burden of this news. However, I want to be repaired with answers when I tell my kids. This is not something I’m looking forward to doing since their mother has be in and out of the hospital lately and is not enjoying good health. I’m going to be in Phoenix for a birthday and will tell them at some point.

I’ve told them and am heading home to Flagstaff. The sights along the route I’ve driven numerous times seem more intense. I’m taking notice of the scenery as if it were the first time I’ve looked at it. The ride seems to go by quickly and I think I’ll take myself to a movie. I need a movie to get me out of the world just for a little while. Upon arriving at the theater I enter and study the movie times. I’ve missed them all and do not feel like hanging around for the next show.

The days pass full of the same things that are usually done during that time. Arriving at the hospital for my bone scan is a break in the routine. Acting as if this is routine and nothing is wrong I sit at the check-in station. I find myself being short with the young girl behind the desk; she is new. She is nervous and tries not to show it so we joke a bit and get a grip on my attitude. The technician comes out and brings me in asking if I’ve had any reaction to the radiation shot given earlier. Since there has been no reaction we move on to the bone scan machine. The machine is much like a MRI with minor differences. We start the test and I can see my bones on the monitor overhead. Slowly the machine moves me through the imager and my inner structure is revealed.

At this point in time I have seen x-rays of my lungs and breasts, ultra sounds of my kidneys and heart, watched a camera look around the inside of my bladder, how it gets there is better left to the imagination, and now I see my own skeleton immerge a little at a time. There is something profound at looking inside your own body and seeing it working away. Especially when you actually see your heart pumping away send blood through you veins. To me it is seeing God’s design in action and knowing that every other human being looks almost exactly the same from this view. There is no color, race, creed or religion from this point of view. I’m done and the technician is not as talkative as when I entered. My head tells me this is a sure sign that she has found something very wrong.

I’m sitting in my Doctor’s office. Today we will do the biopsy something my head tells me not to do. Some of the articles say that a biopsy can exacerbate the cancer. My Doctor tells me that he has not experienced that. The Doctor’s assistant ushers me in to the inner sanctum with a hug and kiss. It seems as if we have been dating on and off for seven years now. We enter the room for the test and instructions are given. This woman is the only one who has seen my private parts in the last seven years. I think I have to get out more.

After the test and another hug I leave the office to wait for the results. My mind is having a hay day of none productive thoughts. The best is to keep busy and not let these thoughts become part of my daily thinking. Again it is time to seek refuge in my daily routine to keep me from becoming depressed and full of self-pity. I tell my cousin who begins to find Doctor’s and treatments for my aliment. I’m blessed with people who care and want to be helpful. It is not the time for that yet, it is time for me to be still and believe that God has this all under control. It is not the first time I’ve been here nor will it be the last of this I am sure.

I’m sitting in the Doctor’s office. The Doctor’s assistant comes to the door to usher me in again with a hug and kiss. Maybe we should be living together by now? Sitting in the office I stare at a poster of limp penis cut down the middle. My mind tells me that what I’ll soon look like. Shut the fuck up! Enter the Doctor and my thicker chart which he comments on like it’s my fault he has to carry such a heavy thing around. He begins and so does my mind.

The biopsy is positive for cancer 25 percent in one side, 5 percent in the other. There goes your sex life, well if you had one. The Bone scan was negative, showed a little arthritis here and there. Thank God! As he goes through the options one by one showing me a picture book. Well I can go to England before I decide on any treatment. Maybe I’ll get treatment in Europe. Let’s see 10 to 15 years that no put me well into the seventies. Maybe I cannot do anything until I’m seventy then get treatment? The Doctor is still talking about stuff I’m listening but not my head. I want to get out of this office and live what life I have left. He suggests that I talk to a radiologist and a surgeon, but not decision needs to be made quickly. Leaving the office, after my hug, I smiling that I don’t have bone cancer. That’s all that matters. I can ride my bike through Europe without wondering what will happen if I fall.

I have prostate cancer and I can live with that. I will live with that and will not let my mind let is stop me from doing and living. Then next thing I’ll be doing is buying my ticket to England where my bike will be waiting for me to ride yet again. And ride I will long and hard for the better part of two months.

England 2010: Part One: Here we go again!

Sunday, April 11, 2010


Preparing for my fifth trip to England! Having hoped to be able to do this once, I never imagined doing it five years in a row. It has been a very trying year filled with frustration, new challenges and health issues. New equipment has been purchased to supplement the old tried and true. The big question, again this year, will my bike still be there? One can only hope that for the fifth year my bike will have survived the winter and vandals. My bag this year consists of a new pair of panniers that will hold everything and stay under 50 lbs. At this point they weigh in at 41 lbs and need to be unpacked and packed again to make sure everything is inside. The last item that will be needed is a new Deuter backpack which I’ll purchase with my REI dividend and 20% off coupon.

This will allow me to carry on some of my stuff thus reducing the weight in the panniers. It may allow me some extra room to bring my Hobson bike seat. As tax season comes to an end the want to be riding my bike increases. My friend Mark will be coming over again this year for a three week stint. Tickets have been purchased costing more than any previous trip. Finding a ticket for under $800 was not to be this year. We will be flying a combination of Delta and KLM going through Detroit and for the first time landing in Heathrow. I’m thinking about taking the National bus to Salisbury as I’ve not done that in a few years and it costs less money. Money could be an issue this year, but I’ll not know that until the end of April.

Somewhere on one of my computers is an equipment list that I had intended to post this year. So I’ll have to have to head home and see if it can be found. I also just realized that I have not finished my posts from last year, especially the most exciting part. So maybe I’ll work on that tonight also.

Cottonwood, AZ

Monday, October 05, 2009

Cottonwood, AZ

Imbibing in a herbal tea and Cinn-a-bun in Old Town Cottonwood at The Orion Bread Co. I decided to stop in Cottonwood to scout out a campground for the pending Guy Camping Trip. This consists of my Son and his sons, my son-in-law and his sons, and me. Once a year we get together for a fun camping trip some place in AZ. This year the winner could be Cottonwood’s Dead Horse Campground. Happily there are really no a dead horse’s however there is the Verdi River.

Oh! Back to the Bread Company and the Cinn-a-bun which is quite good. I like thick doughy bread which this is but, not overly sweet, lots of raisins = very filling. This place even looks like a bakery! Lots of pounding of dough in the background, Flower bags lying around, even a bread cutting machine to slice the fresh baked bread. Smells of yeast, dough and baking bread waft through the air. Very restful and relaxing to set here looking out at a fairly empty street.

After Cottonwood I’ll that 89A up through Sedona to get back to Flagstaff. It is time for some mundane things such as oil change and car wash. That about as far as today is thought out. There were some other things but, they do not come to mind. No racking my brain for them for now maybe they will resurface later in the day. There are very primitive painting’s hanging on the wall that can be purchased. However, it would surprise me that anyone would pay $250 for something that looks like it was painted in kindergarten.

My bun is done, tea gone cold as I type time to find the campground then head down or rather in this case up the road. See you on the other side.

Picken In the Pines

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Flagstaff: Fort Tuthill Amphitheater

4th Annual Picken in the Pines Festival

Sitting in a booth as a volunteer for St Mary’s food bank having no clue what to do. How did I come to be here you may ask? Maria, the food bank volunteer coordinator announced at the Chamber of Commerce Ambassadors meeting that she needed people to help at the festival booth. Since I was sitting next to her at the meeting and there were no other takers the rest is history as they say. Arriving promptly at 9:30am as told I find the canopy at half mast not other volunteers seem to be present.

After raising the canopy the booth is now open for business. There is a five gallon water jug, with tickets in it, hiding behind the table. After placing in on the table two people walk up and want to enter the drawing. O.K. here are the raffle tickets how many do you want to fill out. “We’ll take the two for $5.00” says he. Oh! There is a charge for the tickets? Yep there it is on the front of the jug. So he hands me a $10.00 bill which requires change which by dumb luck I happen to have. After writing for about an hour Maria arrives and the day gets better. After a bit her boss Eric arrives and we have a nice chat.

The music has been going on for about an hour people have been filing in filling the area by the stage that has a cover over it. Along with the people clouds have begun to float by becoming thicker and grayer. The sun keeps us warm until it is swallowed by the clouds turning it cooler. We have coffee to keep our hands warm, tap our feet to the music to keep them warm. During a walk about the grounds a fellow says to me “Think It’s going to rain?” “Seems like it’s trying real hard to do that” is my answer. He laughs then a few steps later a few drops fall followed by big drops, the hail, big hail, lots of hail.

I arrive back at the booth the dark green grass now covered with white hail. Water runs off the building around us causing puddles to form with floating hail in them. Most of the crowed has attempted to get under the covered part of the stage area. Others seek out shelter under vender canopies like ours. As the thunder rolls through the trees along with lighting strikes we can hardly hear the music. The announcer has to remind some spectators not to stand under the trees. The musicians play on as the rain lets up but, the clouds take a long time releasing the sun.

The sun returns along with its warmth. Sitting in the sun I watch people attempt to avoid walking in the puddles. It seems funny to me that sometime today they may have stood in a shower not avoiding the water at all. Now it seems to some to be avoided at any cost as if it contains some hidden danger. Some however just splash through it some seems to actually enjoy getting their feet wet especially the children. Ooops I fell in the puddle Mom really I did with a sly grin on their face. I watch Marie with a group out on the lawn playing Hakie-Sackie as she sways to the music. All is good until the sun again closes over the sun with what seems like no intention to release it again today.

Having ridden my bike here it seems a good time to head for home as the distant thunder begins to rumble. I’m thankful for my GoLite rain jacket and oil sealed hat which have kept me dry and somewhat warm. As the rain begins to fall again I’m safe inside my house. Tomorrow I’ll ride again to the fair grounds for the third day of the festival hoping that the sun, music and friendship will be warm.

Sunday, September 19, 2009

Flagstaff: County Fair Grounds

Arrived before everyone else and set up the booth and immediately began selling raffle tickets. The sun is out the sky is blue with a few drifting white clouds. There is a small crowed when the first group takes the stage. They sing several hymns which are appropriate for a Sunday morning. The bands begin to play the crowed begins to flow in. Several young women appear each carrying about 10 Hula Hoops of assorted colors and sizes. Shortly after the grass hill in from of the booth is filled with children of all ages attempting to swing the things on their hips.

There is much laughter and when the young children can’t get them to swirl around their hips they chase after them as they roll down the hill. I see an friend from long ago and wave. Deanna is a wonderfully sweet person who seems to be immune to aging. She still has the same brilliant smile youthful face as when I worked with her twelve years ago. There are several people here today that I have interacted with during my time here in Flagstaff. We wave or chat depending on the moment.

Eric the head of the food back arrives with the “bank” so I can make change then is off on errands. He tells me there are tags in the “bank” for volunteers who have not shown. If there is someone I can call they can get in for free. I call a few friends but they are not home or involved in home projects. More tickets are sold more bands play, people sway and tap their feet to the music. It is warm the sun is bright causing many people to come to North Country’s First Aid booth for suntan lotion. Several little ones are brought in with swollen, angry red bee bites.

The day goes by softly it is great to do something quite different from the usual and allow relaxation to over take me. Lunch is a cold draft with a braut with all the fixings in the shade. I’m almost lulled to sleep by the casual surroundings. Time come for me to head home because the dark clouds are filling the sky. The sun has been swallowed again giving way to a cool breeze which sends most of the crowed heading to their cars. It has been a soothing weekend I’ve made new friends, done something for the community and gotten a little exercise. This is a good thing!

England 2009 - Part X

Wednesday, May 17, 2009

Salisbury

Awoke to rain, dark skies, scratchy throat, and runny nose so went back to sleep. Slept until 10am then got up had breakfast, took a shower then went back to sleep. Finally roused myself around noon to get dressed and ride into town. It looked as if the clouds were going to break up so after purchasing some bread and lunch meat when to have a relaxing lunch with the ducks. I shared my lunch with some baby ducks, and one brave Drake who eat out of my hand. It began to tinkle so PUB Time I thought and headed in that direction. I proceeded to spend the rest of the day in the Pub drinking tea with lemon and talking to people online.

Several asked where I was riding to which I answered “Nowhere.” Then felt guilty as if I were letting everyone down by not doing some adventuresome, aqueous ride on dangerous roads or wet narrow paths. Just writing about doing nothing but everyday stuff was not why they read the blog, was it? Would they not be wondering why my Blog reported the mundane? My thoughts have been wondering why also. Reviewing the reasons for my initially wanting to come to England and ride brings to the fact that they had all been accomplished. Well, all except the trip to Austria and this will be coming up shortly.

The first year was the search for the Arthurian Way so to speak, next was to find Merlyn and then the air field my Dad flew out of during the war, then to attempt to get to Austria by bike riding through part of France, and now this year touching the places my family started. All goals will have been met then what? No more rides, no more Europe, no more? This year, thanks to my new bosses, money has no plagued me as an issue. So far more has been spent this trip then any of the previous three, and probably more than the first two trips combined. What is the reason for coming back again next year?

Mark stated “You push yourself to hard. I don’t know understand why you do that.” After thinking about that the reason seemed to be answered by one word “Passion.” Now this surprised me as I have always wondered what I had a passion for if anything. So now I have a passion for riding longer and longer, further and further, and harder and harder. The exhilaration I have experienced when seeing a goal come in to sight after hours of hard riding while your brain is telling you “you are not going to make it” is hard to explain. Then get up, do it again, begin to build endurance and each time it has given me back part of myself that I lost, or had not know was there. In riding there is just me, the bike and the world. My struggle is with me to do more than before and keep doing more. The only way to find out how far you can go is to attempt to go there. Never once considered this to be passion until the question was asked. I guess I need to rethink my idea of what passion is?

I’ve had people tell me I’m passionate about things confuses me because I don’t see my idea of what is passion in myself. For many years I thought that my passion was to be the champion of those I perceived as the underdog, or to right some things I believed to be wrong. I was fooled in to believing that appreciation for my actions would follow, it did not. I found myself standing on the hill fort, which is claimed to be Camelot, looking down as I allowed my imagination see the fields full of those who were once thought to be friends. And, clearly understood what it must have felt like for Arthur’s dream to be destroyed by the jealous who wanted to take over. Arthur knew he would not rule this forever nor did he want to. He wanted to set something in place for those he cared about then let them run it. The interesting thing about this is that my goal has always been that once achieved I too wanted them to take over. But, for some that was not acceptable as what I had put together was acceptable to them, it had to be torn down, me along with it, in order for it to be constructed in their perceived better way.

People who I thought were friends turned into betrayers. In family therapy there is the Triangle which is made up of the Savior, Persecutor, and the Victim. These roles are traded from time to time and anyone who attempts to help the victim can become yet another triangle attached to the first. I have taught this over and over, yet find myself succumbing to its siren song time and time again. The savior turns into the Persecutor of the Persecutor which turns the Persecutor into the Victim and the Victim turns into the Savior. This is seen time and time again when Police answer domestic violence calls. The Police (Savior) quickly become the Persecutor, allowing the Persecutor to become the Victim, and the Victim(s) become the Savior turning on the police. A therapist not paying attention can find themselves pulled into this game very quickly. However, when the word “friend” is used CYA is not necessary right?

That’s what Arthur thought, but it was his “friends” who destroyed him along with what he had built so they could show how much better they were then he. They succeeded because he trusted his “friends” and was left empty when he found he could not. I believe I could trust people who reported themselves to be friends and found out over time they were not. Yet I will try again with the hope that this time there will be a real friend who will stay at my side much like Mark and Gary.

I picked up the mail today

Usually my first stop upon leaving the house is to pick up my mail. I pick it up from silver sentries standing at attention beside the main road I must use to start any adventure. I peeked in and at first thought the box to be empty, but stooping a bit lower brought into view what looked like junk mail. Amids the flyer's is an envelop which at first glance look as if it came from my bank in England. However, the envelop, as it came free of the junk mail, had a neat, tight, hand written address on it. The last part of the envelop to be freed from the junk mail showed that this letter came from Austria.

"OH MY GOD!" My new family was writing to me! I looked on the back and was stunned, my mind began to create all these pictures!

Flashback:
  

Summer of 1963

I own a Forest Green 1951 Chevy convertible with a white top. The top is not longer the original canvas, but a brand new vinyl from Rayco. I have had it for three years and treat it with TLC. It gets washed every weekend then polished with Blue Coral wax and sealer, the top is about a year old. The upholstery is real leather died green to match the car. I have put new green carpet in to replace the black rubber. Twin mirrors mounted way up front, twin power aerials adorn the back fenders. The wheels are narrow white walls with silver spinner hub caps locked on.

The sun causes the paint sparkles each time it emerges from the shade as it cruses down N-9 in Upstate NY on its way to Canada. The top is down the tank is full and I am driving my grandmother and my aunt to Montreal. We are going there to visit my grandmother's sister who has just had a baby. My grandmother's sister and her husband have been in Canada about four years now having migrated there from Austria. Her name is Rosie and my uncle's name is Joe. They hope to come to America as some point, but it is now difficult to immigrate do to the new immigration laws.

My aunt Elsie is in front with me, my grandmother in the back both had donned kerchiefs to keep their hair in from blowing about. It is a warm summer day with pale blue Sky's filled with puffs of white clouds. We are driving through green pastures, broken by forest covered mountains or tiny towns. N-9 was the north - south route through NY before the NY Thruway was built. Many summer were spent traveling this road as we headed to Lake George for vacations. It is a two lane road with passing strip that are taken advantage of as much as possible.

My car is quite heavy for it's 90 horsepower straight six engine. So timing is everything as I drop back from the car I'm going to pass, see a passing strip coming up zoom forward gathering momentum to zip passed, then on down the road arm on the door, radio singing away. My Aunt Elsie is the best even if there is a 10 year age difference between us, but you'd never know it. She calls me her older brother even though I'm younger. We have spend a lot of time together over the years doing allot of talking. She is married and currently has three sons who are home with their dad, my uncle Red.

The baby is about three weeks old at this point and we are all anxious to see her. In the trunk, along with our suitcases, are gifts for her and her parents. Uncle Joe does not make much as an upholsterer and they share a two bedroom apartment with another couple. We wonder were we will all sleep upon arrival. I know we will drink Schnapps, laugh, talk, and eat allot. My grandmother will buy all the food and anything else they need. She is not rich, but is willing to give her sister what she can not afford. I think she does this out of guilt as she refuses to sponsor them for entrance into the U.S.

As a sponsor you are staring that if they can't find work you'll pay for them until they do and they will not become a burden on the state. So her sister and family stay in Canada and have only been able to visit us once. This will be my fourth trip to them, the first one as driver. My grandfather could not get off work for the week we are staying. Passing through customs is simply showing my drivers licence, my grandmother's green card, and my Aunt's birth certificate. That's about ten minuets and we're on our way. I'm surprised that no one is complaining about the top being down. So I hope they are enjoying this as much as I.

We arrive in Montreal wandering the streets until we find where they live. It is not the best of neighborhoods with groups of adolescents blocking sidewalks, smoking cigarettes and talking loudly in French. However since I am dress much like them with a cigarette hanging from the corner of my mouth and a pack rolled up in my white t-shirt sleeve I'm given the accepting nod. When I pulled out my black leather motorcycle jacket they were impressed. Although it was to dam hot to ware the thing I put it on to approving looks. The only thing I did not do was pull out my comb and run it through my hair. In those days Vitalis made sure my hair did not move.

We climbed up several floors of wooding stairs attached to the outside of the building reaching the rooftop apartment. After much hugging, tears and laughter we were introduced to Elfie my grand niece. It was not cool to hold babies, but I did for a bit and wondered why anyone would name a kit Elfie. We spent the week, at time I just drove around Montreal to escape the heat and crowd in the apartment. My Aunt Rosie and Uncle Joe spoke little English and mostly German. We managed to have several conversations as they too were close to my age.

A couple of year later they came to visit us on Long Island. By then I was married, owned a home and the Green Chevy convertible was long gone replaced by a Mercury Comet with four doors. Uncle Joe and I talked about Austria as they had come to tell us of their move back. He told me I must come to visit and see the nice house they had there. There was much crying as they climbed into a borrowed car and headed home never to be seen again. There are a few letter's and cards from them to my grandmother, but no more contact. Until now!

The letter I held in my had was from Elfie. I have been reunited with my grand niece. She has written me and I will write her back. She wants to know if I'll be coming to Austria again, see blog, and come hell or high water I will return next year.