2015: Interim Prior to Surgery
Getting Stronger... incrementally — Mar 28, 2015
It's Saturday. In my last message I mentioned that Thursday was the low point of my voyage so far, but I was wrong. They warned me at radiation that it would keep working after treatment was over and that I might get worse for a week or two. Optimist that I am, however, I assumed that I would immediately start getting better. Wrong. Last weekend and early this week I descended into a state of profound fatigue. All I wanted to do was dive into bed and bury my head in the pillow. My vitality and energy were at a low ebb. I had no appetite and started shedding weight again. I also got esophagitis, burning and pain at the blasted tumor site, which required new meds and management. Mad tried her best to force me to eat, with limited success. Pot helped a little, but not as much as it had been doing. I went to my doctor on Tuesday just for assurance that nothing bad was happening. It was exhausting just to drag myself in to town. Blood work and vitals showed nothing overt. "Hang in there, Tom, it's going to get better eventually," was her advice.
Wednesday I started feeling better. My vitality, that is, my ability to mentally address the world around me, improved. My energy tank was still close to empty. So even though I was still feeling weak and was stressed by the slightest activity, there was optimism in my outlook. Mad's comment: " Oh, you're back!!" Thursday and Friday were incrementally better. I feel today, Saturday, like I might be up for a short walk along the river. My appetite has improved. I feel like I have passed the low point and am now, slowly but surely, on the upswing.
My naked weight today is 165. That is the lowest of my adult life, about 15 pounds down from when I started this process. Yesterday, augmented by weed, I was able to eat two fairly large meals, for me, for the first time in days, so I'm confident I can start gaining weight back between now and surgery. Hopefully my natural appetite will come back so I won't have to be stoned to eat.
It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how wonderful Madeleine has been through all this. She seldom gets down, mothers me as much as she can and is constantly doing whatever she can to cheer me up. She takes care of herself by networking with friends, daily exercise, meditation and yoga, not doting on me all the time, but always there for me whenever I need her. I shudder to think what it would be like to have to go through this alone and I feel great sympathy for those who do. In your mind's eye, imagine me bawling as I sit here at the computer... Thank you, thank you, Maddie!!!
It's Saturday. In my last message I mentioned that Thursday was the low point of my voyage so far, but I was wrong. They warned me at radiation that it would keep working after treatment was over and that I might get worse for a week or two. Optimist that I am, however, I assumed that I would immediately start getting better. Wrong. Last weekend and early this week I descended into a state of profound fatigue. All I wanted to do was dive into bed and bury my head in the pillow. My vitality and energy were at a low ebb. I had no appetite and started shedding weight again. I also got esophagitis, burning and pain at the blasted tumor site, which required new meds and management. Mad tried her best to force me to eat, with limited success. Pot helped a little, but not as much as it had been doing. I went to my doctor on Tuesday just for assurance that nothing bad was happening. It was exhausting just to drag myself in to town. Blood work and vitals showed nothing overt. "Hang in there, Tom, it's going to get better eventually," was her advice.
Wednesday I started feeling better. My vitality, that is, my ability to mentally address the world around me, improved. My energy tank was still close to empty. So even though I was still feeling weak and was stressed by the slightest activity, there was optimism in my outlook. Mad's comment: " Oh, you're back!!" Thursday and Friday were incrementally better. I feel today, Saturday, like I might be up for a short walk along the river. My appetite has improved. I feel like I have passed the low point and am now, slowly but surely, on the upswing.
My naked weight today is 165. That is the lowest of my adult life, about 15 pounds down from when I started this process. Yesterday, augmented by weed, I was able to eat two fairly large meals, for me, for the first time in days, so I'm confident I can start gaining weight back between now and surgery. Hopefully my natural appetite will come back so I won't have to be stoned to eat.
It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how wonderful Madeleine has been through all this. She seldom gets down, mothers me as much as she can and is constantly doing whatever she can to cheer me up. She takes care of herself by networking with friends, daily exercise, meditation and yoga, not doting on me all the time, but always there for me whenever I need her. I shudder to think what it would be like to have to go through this alone and I feel great sympathy for those who do. In your mind's eye, imagine me bawling as I sit here at the computer... Thank you, thank you, Maddie!!!
Good News, Bad News — Apr 6, 2015
First the bad news. My hair is falling out.
Now the good news. My immune system is almost back to normal.
I waited to blog until after my meeting with my oncologist, Dr. Schmidt. I had not seen him for three weeks. He said today that I am doing great, in spite of some low points during and after chemo/radiation. Even though I still feel weak, he maintains that I am well ahead of the curve for patients he has seen. My blood numbers, which are his main markers of assessing my recovery, are mostly looking good, especially those (white blood cell count) that show the recovery of my immune system. He gave me the go ahead to go out in public, swim and eat whatever I can.
As for my hair… It’s a lot thinner than it used to be and we find clumps of it in the shower drain. Dr. Schmidt maintains that I probably won’t lose it all, that it is already starting to grow back and not to shave my head just yet. So, those of you who have been waiting to see a picture of me bald will just have to wait.
After the doctor appt. Mad and I were out gallivanting around the whole day in Bend and I’m tired now, but not completely wiped out like I would be if I had done the same a week ago. All in all, I am feeling better each day. I started walking with Mad in the woods last week. The first day was a slow 15 minutes out, then I turned around to be sure I could get back. The next time I walked 2 miles on the Metolius with a few rests along the way. I crashed later, but each walk has been a bit stronger. And, my sex drive is back… that should tell you something; it certainly did me, since I hadn’t had an erotic thought for months.
Now I just need to eat for weight gain and exercise to get fit. My 73rd birthday is Sunday and we’ll probably stay home until then. By that time I should be fit enough to travel, so we’ll spend some time on the road… not sure where just yet. By late April we need to be back home for two important scans and then a visit to the surgeon at OSHU in Portland April 28, when a surgery date will be set.
First the bad news. My hair is falling out.
Now the good news. My immune system is almost back to normal.
I waited to blog until after my meeting with my oncologist, Dr. Schmidt. I had not seen him for three weeks. He said today that I am doing great, in spite of some low points during and after chemo/radiation. Even though I still feel weak, he maintains that I am well ahead of the curve for patients he has seen. My blood numbers, which are his main markers of assessing my recovery, are mostly looking good, especially those (white blood cell count) that show the recovery of my immune system. He gave me the go ahead to go out in public, swim and eat whatever I can.
As for my hair… It’s a lot thinner than it used to be and we find clumps of it in the shower drain. Dr. Schmidt maintains that I probably won’t lose it all, that it is already starting to grow back and not to shave my head just yet. So, those of you who have been waiting to see a picture of me bald will just have to wait.
After the doctor appt. Mad and I were out gallivanting around the whole day in Bend and I’m tired now, but not completely wiped out like I would be if I had done the same a week ago. All in all, I am feeling better each day. I started walking with Mad in the woods last week. The first day was a slow 15 minutes out, then I turned around to be sure I could get back. The next time I walked 2 miles on the Metolius with a few rests along the way. I crashed later, but each walk has been a bit stronger. And, my sex drive is back… that should tell you something; it certainly did me, since I hadn’t had an erotic thought for months.
Now I just need to eat for weight gain and exercise to get fit. My 73rd birthday is Sunday and we’ll probably stay home until then. By that time I should be fit enough to travel, so we’ll spend some time on the road… not sure where just yet. By late April we need to be back home for two important scans and then a visit to the surgeon at OSHU in Portland April 28, when a surgery date will be set.
Back in the SwimJournal entry by Tom Landis — Apr 11, 2015
Saturday. I had my second swim practice yesterday after getting my doctor’s okay to get in the pool again. I feel good, but am still weak, so must take it easy. I’m surprised how good I feel in the water. For the many swimmers who monitor this site, my practice Wednesday was 800 warmup, 200 main set and 200 warm down, total 1200 yards. Today I did 1500; 800 warmup, 400 main set, 300 warm down. Pretty wimpy, I admit. My standard main set has always been 2,000 yards before cancer treatment sapped me of so much energy. I’m getting better every day, but I have to be careful I ramp things up slowly and don’t overdo it.
Madeleine has me out hiking on the days I don't have swim practice.
My doctors will be happy about this.
Saturday. I had my second swim practice yesterday after getting my doctor’s okay to get in the pool again. I feel good, but am still weak, so must take it easy. I’m surprised how good I feel in the water. For the many swimmers who monitor this site, my practice Wednesday was 800 warmup, 200 main set and 200 warm down, total 1200 yards. Today I did 1500; 800 warmup, 400 main set, 300 warm down. Pretty wimpy, I admit. My standard main set has always been 2,000 yards before cancer treatment sapped me of so much energy. I’m getting better every day, but I have to be careful I ramp things up slowly and don’t overdo it.
Madeleine has me out hiking on the days I don't have swim practice.
My doctors will be happy about this.
A Good Day **Journal entry by Tom Landis — Apr 25, 2015
Yesterday was a big day. We spent the day in Bend to do the followup scans that would determine how effective my treatment has been and from which my further options would stem. I had a PET in the morning and a CT in the afternoon. Bottom line is that my cancer responded well to the chemo and radiation. In the words of my oncologist, Dr. Schmidt, "Excellent response to treatment". ** There was a small caveat, however. The CT scan showed a pulmonary embolism, which in the big picture is minor, but in the moment had to be taken care of ASAP.
I had expected the results of the scans to be available on Monday, but by the time we arrived home yesterday evening, three doctors had called to let me know that things were fine with the cancer but that I had to take care of the embolism right away. Therefore, we had to drive all the way back to the ER in Bend (1 hour) so I could start on blood thinners to treat the more immediate threat. I have to give myself two injections a day until we get to OHSU on Tuesday. A nice aside was I got seen right away and was greeted with a friendly hug by the ER doc on duty, Gillian Salton. She has been one of my swimming buddies for quite some time. Never a dull moment, eh?
You have not heard much from me lately because we have been on the road. As soon as I felt well enough to travel we headed south to California to visit some of my family and Mad's family, who we have not seen face to face since before my cancer diagnosis. And there was not any news of note until just now anyway. We drove back to Oregon on Thursday, staying overnight in Bend with our good friend Roger Rudolph rather than going all the way home and then back again Friday morning.
Now we have a weekend at home to unpack and pack, reacquaint our cat, then head off to Portland on Monday preparatory to my visit to the surgeon on Tuesday. I expect he will provide a definite surgery date at that time, something we and many of you have been wondering about.
I try not to worry about "what ifs" until they happen, but I must admit to some low level anxiety as to whether or not the followup scans would show that chemo and radiation had done what they were supposed to do, that is, reduce the tumor and prevent the cancer from spreading. Therefore, I am relieved and very happy that things are looking so good. There should be no impediment now to the surgery option, which, though very difficult, is the way to a cure.
Using my Everest analogy, I have been resting at base camp, building up my reserves of energy. It is ironic that today's earthquake triggered an avalanche that killed eight people up there. We are in dangerous territory. In spite of that, yesterday's scans show that I am fit to climb that hazardous peak and next week Dr. Hunter should set a date for the beginning of the climb.
Things are starting to happen, so expect to hear a lot more from Mad and me.
Mad here. If you haven't already done so, please go to " notification preferences " on your caring bridge page and sign up to get email or text alerts of new posts. That way you will be notified the minute we write a new post. You can click on the link at your leisure but you won't have to worry about missing anything if there is no post for a while, or waste time going to the site when nothing new is there. It will also help us not to get overwhelmed with personal emails asking how things are. As much as we love to correspond and need your support, it is getting hard to keep up and most likely will become even more so if we 'move' to Portland for a few weeks. Thanks for understanding. Namaste!
Yesterday was a big day. We spent the day in Bend to do the followup scans that would determine how effective my treatment has been and from which my further options would stem. I had a PET in the morning and a CT in the afternoon. Bottom line is that my cancer responded well to the chemo and radiation. In the words of my oncologist, Dr. Schmidt, "Excellent response to treatment". ** There was a small caveat, however. The CT scan showed a pulmonary embolism, which in the big picture is minor, but in the moment had to be taken care of ASAP.
I had expected the results of the scans to be available on Monday, but by the time we arrived home yesterday evening, three doctors had called to let me know that things were fine with the cancer but that I had to take care of the embolism right away. Therefore, we had to drive all the way back to the ER in Bend (1 hour) so I could start on blood thinners to treat the more immediate threat. I have to give myself two injections a day until we get to OHSU on Tuesday. A nice aside was I got seen right away and was greeted with a friendly hug by the ER doc on duty, Gillian Salton. She has been one of my swimming buddies for quite some time. Never a dull moment, eh?
You have not heard much from me lately because we have been on the road. As soon as I felt well enough to travel we headed south to California to visit some of my family and Mad's family, who we have not seen face to face since before my cancer diagnosis. And there was not any news of note until just now anyway. We drove back to Oregon on Thursday, staying overnight in Bend with our good friend Roger Rudolph rather than going all the way home and then back again Friday morning.
Now we have a weekend at home to unpack and pack, reacquaint our cat, then head off to Portland on Monday preparatory to my visit to the surgeon on Tuesday. I expect he will provide a definite surgery date at that time, something we and many of you have been wondering about.
I try not to worry about "what ifs" until they happen, but I must admit to some low level anxiety as to whether or not the followup scans would show that chemo and radiation had done what they were supposed to do, that is, reduce the tumor and prevent the cancer from spreading. Therefore, I am relieved and very happy that things are looking so good. There should be no impediment now to the surgery option, which, though very difficult, is the way to a cure.
Using my Everest analogy, I have been resting at base camp, building up my reserves of energy. It is ironic that today's earthquake triggered an avalanche that killed eight people up there. We are in dangerous territory. In spite of that, yesterday's scans show that I am fit to climb that hazardous peak and next week Dr. Hunter should set a date for the beginning of the climb.
Things are starting to happen, so expect to hear a lot more from Mad and me.
Mad here. If you haven't already done so, please go to " notification preferences " on your caring bridge page and sign up to get email or text alerts of new posts. That way you will be notified the minute we write a new post. You can click on the link at your leisure but you won't have to worry about missing anything if there is no post for a while, or waste time going to the site when nothing new is there. It will also help us not to get overwhelmed with personal emails asking how things are. As much as we love to correspond and need your support, it is getting hard to keep up and most likely will become even more so if we 'move' to Portland for a few weeks. Thanks for understanding. Namaste!
The ER doc turned out to be Gillian Salton, a swimming friend!
Looking towards the summit !Journal entry by Tom Landis — May 1, 2015
A lot has happened since last we wrote. The most important thing is that a surgery date has been confirmed for my esophagectomy: May 22. So I have three weeks to enjoy myself before my world is turned upside down... before I go for the summit of my Everest.
Tuesday we were in Portland for a visit to my surgeon, Dr. John Hunter. We learned a lot about what this complicated surgery entails... and that he has done over 300 of these operations, a very reassuring fact. Everyone has been telling us all along to make sure we find the most experienced surgeon and we are confident that he is, if not the most experienced, at least in the top five in the country.
They think I am an excellent prospect for the surgery for two reasons. First that chemo and radiation treatments did such a good job at reducing my tumor to almost nothing. Secondly, I am one of the fittest prospects they have seen. I think I am still weak from the effects of radiation, but relative to most other patients, I'm a tower of strength to them. Oddly, the first thing they made me do, before anything else, was walk up three flights of stairs. "This is our test to see how fit you are," said Dr. Bronson, the young general surgeon who started the interview. "This, of all the science we have, is the best predictor of how well a patient will do during and after surgery." I asked him, "Do you want me to run up or walk?" That gave him a good laugh and when we had finished walking up, with no heavy breathing on my part, he averred, "Okay, you are ready!"
When he brought me back to the exam room, he explained in intricate detail (with multiple black and white drawings) every step of the operation prior to having me sign on the dotted line that I give my permission for them to do all that to my body. Wow! It is heavy! In simplest terms they do a lot of cutting and sewing in the process of cutting out the upper third of my stomach, removing the diseased part of my esophagus and then stitching what is left of it to what is left of my stomach. Too much information? I won't go into any more detail about it, but if you want to know more, google "Minimally invasive three-field Esophagectomy".
I will be in the hospital for 8-14 days, depending upon how quickly I recover. They expect me to be in the lower range, but caution that complications do occur, so plan on a two week stay and hope to get out sooner. Madeleine is making arrangements to stay in a nice hotel which is within walking distance of the fun gondola that goes from riverside to Pill Hill in 4 scenic minutes. We may stay in Portland for a while after I am released, just to be nearer the hospital in case anything happens. That is a judgement call, they say, depending entirely upon how I feel and how well my body is recovering. So the earliest I could expect to be home would be June 1st, but maybe not until around the 15th. I suspect I will be anxious to get back to Camp Sherman as soon as possible.
Yesterday we went to Bend to see my oncologist, Dr. Schmidt. He was very upbeat about how I have responded to treatment up to now. He showed us before and after pictures of the PET and CAT scans. The January scans show that my esophagus was practically occluded and that the tumor was "hot". Last week's scans show that my esophagus is open and there is nothing to be seen of the tumor. I could not believe my eyes... that the tumor had disappeared. To which I say, "Well, if the tumor is gone, why do I have to go through this terrible operation?" To which all the doctors say something like, "Even though the tumor is reduced to almost nothing, cancer cells are very likely to remain and a mass the size of your fingertip is one billion cells. Unless we cut everything out, the cancer is likely to eventually recur." The best technology today cannot see a paltry few hundred or dozen or one cell... but they say they are working on that.
So, my road is clear, with not many uncertainties remaining. In the Everest analogy I am still husbanding my strength and will be going for the summit May 22. The trip back down will be arduous and dangerous, but with a beautiful cure in sight.
Mad here. It has been a continued whirlwind of doctors and tests that's for sure. I will post some links in the next few weeks to the more technical medical stuff if people are interested, as not all links on the internet are good, or current, I found out from prowling the bowels of the web till 2 am quite a few nights in the last few months. Luckily, the most important things, the hospital and the lead surgeons that we were first referred to, are top notch for Tom's surgery. We are really grateful for that and for not having to move to Texas or beyond. Moving to Portland will be challenging enough but hopefully that will all fall into place soon, stay tuned. More posts coming on my 15 minute walk and 4 minute scenic commute by gondola to the hospital!
One last thing I want to express is gratitude for the support two former EC patients have freely given us. First is a former patient that Dr Hunter referred us to, Claude S. Poliakoff, MD FACS retired (I looked it up for you > Fellow American College of Surgeons) and a most wonderful person. He is an OHSU Volunteer and We-Can Patient Support Group lead. He had the same surgery Tom will have, also by Dr Hunter & team, 5 years ago, and is doing great. He still loves helping people and met us an hour before our meeting with Dr Hunter (who said its ok for us to call him John.) Claude wound up hanging out with us for the whole afternoon. He is so friendly and positive and knowledgable and has 'been there', so he has already been an invaluable help to us with our giant list of questions about the surgery and life after it. He summed it up this way, "John Hunter is a surgeon's surgeon". Ok, we like that !
Ditto Leslie and Jim Flyr whom we met in Hunter's waiting room in January for our first visit, when Jim was coming in for his 3 year checkup, all very relaxed and reassuring about Dr Hunter and OSHU when we were wide eyed and nervous. Leslie has been patiently answering lots of questions via email so I'm very grateful we met them too.
Admittedly I'm still a bit nervous but after scouting out my commute, 5:30 am (!) check in area, the waiting & meditation rooms and 'health food store' within the hospital, I feel confident too, that I can "be there" for Tom and also take care of myself, as everyone is admonishing me to do. Thanks to all of you!
A lot has happened since last we wrote. The most important thing is that a surgery date has been confirmed for my esophagectomy: May 22. So I have three weeks to enjoy myself before my world is turned upside down... before I go for the summit of my Everest.
Tuesday we were in Portland for a visit to my surgeon, Dr. John Hunter. We learned a lot about what this complicated surgery entails... and that he has done over 300 of these operations, a very reassuring fact. Everyone has been telling us all along to make sure we find the most experienced surgeon and we are confident that he is, if not the most experienced, at least in the top five in the country.
They think I am an excellent prospect for the surgery for two reasons. First that chemo and radiation treatments did such a good job at reducing my tumor to almost nothing. Secondly, I am one of the fittest prospects they have seen. I think I am still weak from the effects of radiation, but relative to most other patients, I'm a tower of strength to them. Oddly, the first thing they made me do, before anything else, was walk up three flights of stairs. "This is our test to see how fit you are," said Dr. Bronson, the young general surgeon who started the interview. "This, of all the science we have, is the best predictor of how well a patient will do during and after surgery." I asked him, "Do you want me to run up or walk?" That gave him a good laugh and when we had finished walking up, with no heavy breathing on my part, he averred, "Okay, you are ready!"
When he brought me back to the exam room, he explained in intricate detail (with multiple black and white drawings) every step of the operation prior to having me sign on the dotted line that I give my permission for them to do all that to my body. Wow! It is heavy! In simplest terms they do a lot of cutting and sewing in the process of cutting out the upper third of my stomach, removing the diseased part of my esophagus and then stitching what is left of it to what is left of my stomach. Too much information? I won't go into any more detail about it, but if you want to know more, google "Minimally invasive three-field Esophagectomy".
I will be in the hospital for 8-14 days, depending upon how quickly I recover. They expect me to be in the lower range, but caution that complications do occur, so plan on a two week stay and hope to get out sooner. Madeleine is making arrangements to stay in a nice hotel which is within walking distance of the fun gondola that goes from riverside to Pill Hill in 4 scenic minutes. We may stay in Portland for a while after I am released, just to be nearer the hospital in case anything happens. That is a judgement call, they say, depending entirely upon how I feel and how well my body is recovering. So the earliest I could expect to be home would be June 1st, but maybe not until around the 15th. I suspect I will be anxious to get back to Camp Sherman as soon as possible.
Yesterday we went to Bend to see my oncologist, Dr. Schmidt. He was very upbeat about how I have responded to treatment up to now. He showed us before and after pictures of the PET and CAT scans. The January scans show that my esophagus was practically occluded and that the tumor was "hot". Last week's scans show that my esophagus is open and there is nothing to be seen of the tumor. I could not believe my eyes... that the tumor had disappeared. To which I say, "Well, if the tumor is gone, why do I have to go through this terrible operation?" To which all the doctors say something like, "Even though the tumor is reduced to almost nothing, cancer cells are very likely to remain and a mass the size of your fingertip is one billion cells. Unless we cut everything out, the cancer is likely to eventually recur." The best technology today cannot see a paltry few hundred or dozen or one cell... but they say they are working on that.
So, my road is clear, with not many uncertainties remaining. In the Everest analogy I am still husbanding my strength and will be going for the summit May 22. The trip back down will be arduous and dangerous, but with a beautiful cure in sight.
Mad here. It has been a continued whirlwind of doctors and tests that's for sure. I will post some links in the next few weeks to the more technical medical stuff if people are interested, as not all links on the internet are good, or current, I found out from prowling the bowels of the web till 2 am quite a few nights in the last few months. Luckily, the most important things, the hospital and the lead surgeons that we were first referred to, are top notch for Tom's surgery. We are really grateful for that and for not having to move to Texas or beyond. Moving to Portland will be challenging enough but hopefully that will all fall into place soon, stay tuned. More posts coming on my 15 minute walk and 4 minute scenic commute by gondola to the hospital!
One last thing I want to express is gratitude for the support two former EC patients have freely given us. First is a former patient that Dr Hunter referred us to, Claude S. Poliakoff, MD FACS retired (I looked it up for you > Fellow American College of Surgeons) and a most wonderful person. He is an OHSU Volunteer and We-Can Patient Support Group lead. He had the same surgery Tom will have, also by Dr Hunter & team, 5 years ago, and is doing great. He still loves helping people and met us an hour before our meeting with Dr Hunter (who said its ok for us to call him John.) Claude wound up hanging out with us for the whole afternoon. He is so friendly and positive and knowledgable and has 'been there', so he has already been an invaluable help to us with our giant list of questions about the surgery and life after it. He summed it up this way, "John Hunter is a surgeon's surgeon". Ok, we like that !
Ditto Leslie and Jim Flyr whom we met in Hunter's waiting room in January for our first visit, when Jim was coming in for his 3 year checkup, all very relaxed and reassuring about Dr Hunter and OSHU when we were wide eyed and nervous. Leslie has been patiently answering lots of questions via email so I'm very grateful we met them too.
Admittedly I'm still a bit nervous but after scouting out my commute, 5:30 am (!) check in area, the waiting & meditation rooms and 'health food store' within the hospital, I feel confident too, that I can "be there" for Tom and also take care of myself, as everyone is admonishing me to do. Thanks to all of you!
Layover DaysJournal entry by Tom Landis — May 10, 2015
Sunday evening. Not a whole lot of substance to report, except that I'm feeling great. This three week respite prior to surgery is my time to enjoy life to the fullest, not by going out and doing anything special, but just by being here in Camp Sherman, feeling my body gain strength, relax at home and enjoy Mad's company. This is base camp and last week I could really feel my body responding to R & R here. There is still some weakness, but for the first time I can feel some of my old strength returning. I wanted to do a short backpack but Mad (& Nurse Sam) suggested maybe not while I'm on blood thinners... So last Sunday we car camped 3 miles from home on the Metolius in the basecamp-sized tent we got for Yosemite & Sequoia NP campgrounds, dubbed "The Ahwahnee". I'm increasingly pushing my swim workouts (1350 yard main set) and not experiencing the crushing fatigue afterward anymore. It's another ten days before we head to Portland for the final summit push and I know I'll be even stronger by then.
Mad looked at me yesterday morning in our daily hot tub and said, "You really need a haircut again. Even though your hair has really thinned out, what's left of it is long enough that you're starting to look pretty shaggy." I said "Well, I could just buzz it all off." I had a big grin on my face so she said "OK, let's do it!" Results are pictured here.
And, at the risk of sounding repetitive, I want to reiterate how grateful I am to all of you who visit me here on CaringBridge. There are a few unanticipated positives to having cancer and one of them is the depth of support and caring I feel from friends old and new, near and far. Thank you, thank you, all of you.
Sunday evening. Not a whole lot of substance to report, except that I'm feeling great. This three week respite prior to surgery is my time to enjoy life to the fullest, not by going out and doing anything special, but just by being here in Camp Sherman, feeling my body gain strength, relax at home and enjoy Mad's company. This is base camp and last week I could really feel my body responding to R & R here. There is still some weakness, but for the first time I can feel some of my old strength returning. I wanted to do a short backpack but Mad (& Nurse Sam) suggested maybe not while I'm on blood thinners... So last Sunday we car camped 3 miles from home on the Metolius in the basecamp-sized tent we got for Yosemite & Sequoia NP campgrounds, dubbed "The Ahwahnee". I'm increasingly pushing my swim workouts (1350 yard main set) and not experiencing the crushing fatigue afterward anymore. It's another ten days before we head to Portland for the final summit push and I know I'll be even stronger by then.
Mad looked at me yesterday morning in our daily hot tub and said, "You really need a haircut again. Even though your hair has really thinned out, what's left of it is long enough that you're starting to look pretty shaggy." I said "Well, I could just buzz it all off." I had a big grin on my face so she said "OK, let's do it!" Results are pictured here.
And, at the risk of sounding repetitive, I want to reiterate how grateful I am to all of you who visit me here on CaringBridge. There are a few unanticipated positives to having cancer and one of them is the depth of support and caring I feel from friends old and new, near and far. Thank you, thank you, all of you.
Twins?Journal entry by Tom Landis — May 11, 2015
In brother Wayne's comment to my last journal post he suggests that we look like twins now that he has his "summer buzz cut".
What do you think?
In brother Wayne's comment to my last journal post he suggests that we look like twins now that he has his "summer buzz cut".
What do you think?
Preparing to ClimbJournal entry by Tom Landis — May 18, 2015
Friday is the big day. My summit push.
It's Sunday night. I'm writing this now, as the rest of this week will be pretty hectic, preparing for the move to Portland. Mad has booked accommodations at the River's Edge Hotel, which is very convenient to the OHSU hospital. We'll move up there on Wednesday, have a night on the town... one last fling, so to speak. I'll have my last good meal for the foreseeable future and we'll go to a jazz club for some entertainment. I can still eat on Thursday, but must keep it on the light side. After midnight I cannot eat nor drink anything, as my upper GI tract prepares for a major redesign.
We are due to check in at the surgery center at 5:30 am on Friday. If everything goes well the surgery usually takes about eight hours, so I should be out to ICU sometime in the afternoon. Once I am in recovery mode, descending the mountain, so to speak, Mad will be blogging daily to fill everyone in on how I'm doing. They say I should prepare to be in the hospital for ten days, but I'm hoping to be out in eight.
Quite a few people have asked about visiting while I am in the hospital. Upon the nearly unanimous advice of nurses, doctors and patients who have been there before, we are asking that you wait to visit until after I have returned home to Camp Sherman. I do not expect to be very lucid for the first four or five days in the hospital. Thereafter, however, I would welcome communication via email, telephone and especially FaceTime (for those who have Apple devices). My email is listed and you can get other contact particulars from Madeleine.
Friday is the big day. My summit push.
It's Sunday night. I'm writing this now, as the rest of this week will be pretty hectic, preparing for the move to Portland. Mad has booked accommodations at the River's Edge Hotel, which is very convenient to the OHSU hospital. We'll move up there on Wednesday, have a night on the town... one last fling, so to speak. I'll have my last good meal for the foreseeable future and we'll go to a jazz club for some entertainment. I can still eat on Thursday, but must keep it on the light side. After midnight I cannot eat nor drink anything, as my upper GI tract prepares for a major redesign.
We are due to check in at the surgery center at 5:30 am on Friday. If everything goes well the surgery usually takes about eight hours, so I should be out to ICU sometime in the afternoon. Once I am in recovery mode, descending the mountain, so to speak, Mad will be blogging daily to fill everyone in on how I'm doing. They say I should prepare to be in the hospital for ten days, but I'm hoping to be out in eight.
Quite a few people have asked about visiting while I am in the hospital. Upon the nearly unanimous advice of nurses, doctors and patients who have been there before, we are asking that you wait to visit until after I have returned home to Camp Sherman. I do not expect to be very lucid for the first four or five days in the hospital. Thereafter, however, I would welcome communication via email, telephone and especially FaceTime (for those who have Apple devices). My email is listed and you can get other contact particulars from Madeleine.
