2017 Blog Posts
Five Flights — Jan 25, 2017
5 Flights, but no Air Life this time.
Nothing is wrong. I am fine. I feel good. Really good... except that I am sitting in an airplane just now between Barbados and Miami. This is the second of five flights that will eventually see us home from our Caribbean vacation. I will continue with this missive as we progress through airport after airport, flight after flight. I have not communicated for quite some time about what's going on and what's in the future, so I'll assuage your curiosity while combatting my own travel boredom.
Next week I have my next CT scan to see what's going on inside. I'll let you know how that comes out. I must admit to some anxiety, but refuse to let that detract more than briefly from the good life I am experiencing right now. It's really great to look out the window and see tropical islands and turquoise seas below, having only left such beautiful beaches and soft air a few hours ago.
When I last wrote, having been reprieved for three months from medical issues, I speculated about spending some time in the tropics this winter. Remember? Immediately, invites started arriving. The most intriguing was from my old and dear friend, Sally Bromfield, to visit her home on Bequia. It's such a long trip back home now to three feet of snow in Camp Sherman, but we have had an amazing two weeks with Sally in the Caribbean.
Wow, just getting back to it at 3 am. Sleepless in San Francisco airport after red eye from Miami. Not feeling too bad yet, but crash will come sometime later today. Two more flights to go, up to Seattle at 6 am then back down to Redmond from there. I think I should just post this now rather than waiting until I get home. Mad may want to send more pictures, so I will have her do that in a following post. Gee, do you think I'm punch drunk, or what?
5 Flights, but no Air Life this time.
Nothing is wrong. I am fine. I feel good. Really good... except that I am sitting in an airplane just now between Barbados and Miami. This is the second of five flights that will eventually see us home from our Caribbean vacation. I will continue with this missive as we progress through airport after airport, flight after flight. I have not communicated for quite some time about what's going on and what's in the future, so I'll assuage your curiosity while combatting my own travel boredom.
Next week I have my next CT scan to see what's going on inside. I'll let you know how that comes out. I must admit to some anxiety, but refuse to let that detract more than briefly from the good life I am experiencing right now. It's really great to look out the window and see tropical islands and turquoise seas below, having only left such beautiful beaches and soft air a few hours ago.
When I last wrote, having been reprieved for three months from medical issues, I speculated about spending some time in the tropics this winter. Remember? Immediately, invites started arriving. The most intriguing was from my old and dear friend, Sally Bromfield, to visit her home on Bequia. It's such a long trip back home now to three feet of snow in Camp Sherman, but we have had an amazing two weeks with Sally in the Caribbean.
Wow, just getting back to it at 3 am. Sleepless in San Francisco airport after red eye from Miami. Not feeling too bad yet, but crash will come sometime later today. Two more flights to go, up to Seattle at 6 am then back down to Redmond from there. I think I should just post this now rather than waiting until I get home. Mad may want to send more pictures, so I will have her do that in a following post. Gee, do you think I'm punch drunk, or what?
Anniversaries — Jan 31, 2017
First of all… no bad news to report.
January, though, has been a month of inauspicious anniversaries. Therefore, we faced this trip to Portland with some trepidation as to what the result of my latest followup CT scan would be. See the blog post titled “Three Month Reprieve” from last November 4th if you wish to refresh yourself on events that lead up to this most recent visit.
January 8, 2015. First diagnosis of esophageal cancer. The long voyage begins.
January 22, 2016. Emergency 2am flight to Portland and surgery for diaphragmatic hernia that almost killed me.
January 25, 2016. Mad’s mother, Helga, passes away after a lengthy illness.
Overall, a very, very bad month for both of us the last few years.
BUT…
January 31, 2017. Yesterday’s CT scan shows that the suspicious nodule in my right lung has remained the same since the last scan, three months ago. Yee-haw!!! That means it is probably an inflammatory nodule and "highly unlikely" that it is cancer. A malignant tumor, a metastasis, would have grown and/or multiplied. NO CANCER… Is everybody happy? Yes, indeed!!
For the last three months we have tried to enjoy life to the fullest, and I have felt great most of the time. Lately I have not been making any future plans, though, knowing that if this scan showed a recurrence of cancer, I’d be right back into that “survival pipeline” again. Now we have another three months to enjoy the good life; my next followup scan is scheduled for May 1st. I didn’t want to get my hopes up… now I can.
Mad here
I'm so glad the wait is over! As the 3 months go by and the next scan approaches, we start getting a little anxious and have to mentally prepare ourselves for anything. It certainly keeps us focused! Dr Hunter had to change his schedule at the last minute and for a day we thought we might have to wait even longer, maybe weeks, but he generously made time for us after another esophagectomy today. He and his team are the best!! Thanks to nurse Lisa for taking time to hang out with us, and even Claude was there as usual, only this time via FaceTime from Hawaii (thanks Claude!) We had time after Tom's laryngology appt this morning (voice and swallowing doing ok, just tweaking some little things) to visit our friends on the hill in the chaplain's office and I re-connected with the nice people in palliative care, just in case... As the months go by, the kinds of support we need may change, but the need does not diminish. I'd also like to thank my cadre of great friends near and far who listen and encourage and chant and go hiking and skiing and do yoga with me. And share chocolate. I could not keep going through all this without you! Wild Nature and meditation are my daily companions too.
I keep hoping Tom's visualizations of Chomper (his cancer eating piranha) will make any nodules disappear. Intuitively it didn't seem that cancer would be growing actively inside Tom when he looks and feels so good, has more stamina and gained some weight from holiday sweets and traveling. But I have learned, many times now, that anything is possible at any time! We don't blog about every little thing that happens to Tom's bod so it is amazing even to me that he's here alive and well! Please let this be a reminder to take time everyday to do something you love, no matter what else is going on. Our lives are really only made up of each small moment happening right now.
First of all… no bad news to report.
January, though, has been a month of inauspicious anniversaries. Therefore, we faced this trip to Portland with some trepidation as to what the result of my latest followup CT scan would be. See the blog post titled “Three Month Reprieve” from last November 4th if you wish to refresh yourself on events that lead up to this most recent visit.
January 8, 2015. First diagnosis of esophageal cancer. The long voyage begins.
January 22, 2016. Emergency 2am flight to Portland and surgery for diaphragmatic hernia that almost killed me.
January 25, 2016. Mad’s mother, Helga, passes away after a lengthy illness.
Overall, a very, very bad month for both of us the last few years.
BUT…
January 31, 2017. Yesterday’s CT scan shows that the suspicious nodule in my right lung has remained the same since the last scan, three months ago. Yee-haw!!! That means it is probably an inflammatory nodule and "highly unlikely" that it is cancer. A malignant tumor, a metastasis, would have grown and/or multiplied. NO CANCER… Is everybody happy? Yes, indeed!!
For the last three months we have tried to enjoy life to the fullest, and I have felt great most of the time. Lately I have not been making any future plans, though, knowing that if this scan showed a recurrence of cancer, I’d be right back into that “survival pipeline” again. Now we have another three months to enjoy the good life; my next followup scan is scheduled for May 1st. I didn’t want to get my hopes up… now I can.
Mad here
I'm so glad the wait is over! As the 3 months go by and the next scan approaches, we start getting a little anxious and have to mentally prepare ourselves for anything. It certainly keeps us focused! Dr Hunter had to change his schedule at the last minute and for a day we thought we might have to wait even longer, maybe weeks, but he generously made time for us after another esophagectomy today. He and his team are the best!! Thanks to nurse Lisa for taking time to hang out with us, and even Claude was there as usual, only this time via FaceTime from Hawaii (thanks Claude!) We had time after Tom's laryngology appt this morning (voice and swallowing doing ok, just tweaking some little things) to visit our friends on the hill in the chaplain's office and I re-connected with the nice people in palliative care, just in case... As the months go by, the kinds of support we need may change, but the need does not diminish. I'd also like to thank my cadre of great friends near and far who listen and encourage and chant and go hiking and skiing and do yoga with me. And share chocolate. I could not keep going through all this without you! Wild Nature and meditation are my daily companions too.
I keep hoping Tom's visualizations of Chomper (his cancer eating piranha) will make any nodules disappear. Intuitively it didn't seem that cancer would be growing actively inside Tom when he looks and feels so good, has more stamina and gained some weight from holiday sweets and traveling. But I have learned, many times now, that anything is possible at any time! We don't blog about every little thing that happens to Tom's bod so it is amazing even to me that he's here alive and well! Please let this be a reminder to take time everyday to do something you love, no matter what else is going on. Our lives are really only made up of each small moment happening right now.
More Milestones — Apr 12, 2017
First of all, I’m okay. No bad news to report. In fact, I feel quite good. I don’t have the strength nor lung capacity that I had before I became ill, as I’ll allude to further on, but in the big picture those are minor elements.
Today I turn 75. Big milestone. Damn, I feel very fortunate that I am still alive and able to enjoy life. That is the biggest element in the big picture. I can wake up in the morning and look out my window at Mt. Jefferson, kiss my wife, laugh with friends, hike, dance, swim, watch the snow fall, hear rain on the roof, marvel at a full moon and all the myriad other little things that make life worth living. In fact, all of those things are more vivid, more meaningful, having stared death in the face over the last two years plus. How much longer do I have? Who knows? There is no cancer evident, but that doesn’t mean it’s not lurking in me somewhere. I’m just enjoying life, day by day, not letting myself worry about what may be around the bend.
This last weekend I participated in my first post-cancer swim meet. Another big milestone, though my doctors might not be too happy about it. It was good to be competing again, though due to my loss of muscle mass and lung capacity I have slowed down significantly. It was the Oregon Masters championship meet, held in nearby Bend and sponsored by my own local team, COMA (Central Oregon Masters Aquatics). My motivations were that my coach of many years, Bob Bruce, is retiring and I wanted to support him. Thanks, Bob, for your friendship, expertise and support over the past 19 years; I could not have accomplished the things I did in swimming without you! Additionally, our team was in a close fight for the team title and any points I could score would be important. In my age group there are not that many guys, so just falling in the water and finishing the race without disqualification I could score points. I swam four individual events and two relays and scored points in all of them. In all honesty, I was swimming just to finish, with no time goals in mind at all. Our team won the meet by a razor thin margin, 1,563 to 1,551, so my 19 points really did make a difference.
To give you some idea of how much I have slowed down, compare last weekend's time of 27:41 in the 1,650 freestyle with my 2014 time of 21:03 (number 1 in the country that year). In the 1,000 free this weekend my time was 17:11 and in 2014 I was at 12:38 (also #1). In the 500 free, compare my 2017 time of 8:02 with 6:07 in ’14 (#1). So, I have gone from All-American performances to relatively mediocre, but you know what? It just doesn’t matter. I regret that I cannot dominate my age group in masters swimming anymore, but it just doesn’t matter among all the other things that are so much more important. I still enjoy swimming, being with friends, contributing to the pursuit of a common goal.
On May 1 my next CT scan is scheduled. I’ll let you know how that turns out.
First of all, I’m okay. No bad news to report. In fact, I feel quite good. I don’t have the strength nor lung capacity that I had before I became ill, as I’ll allude to further on, but in the big picture those are minor elements.
Today I turn 75. Big milestone. Damn, I feel very fortunate that I am still alive and able to enjoy life. That is the biggest element in the big picture. I can wake up in the morning and look out my window at Mt. Jefferson, kiss my wife, laugh with friends, hike, dance, swim, watch the snow fall, hear rain on the roof, marvel at a full moon and all the myriad other little things that make life worth living. In fact, all of those things are more vivid, more meaningful, having stared death in the face over the last two years plus. How much longer do I have? Who knows? There is no cancer evident, but that doesn’t mean it’s not lurking in me somewhere. I’m just enjoying life, day by day, not letting myself worry about what may be around the bend.
This last weekend I participated in my first post-cancer swim meet. Another big milestone, though my doctors might not be too happy about it. It was good to be competing again, though due to my loss of muscle mass and lung capacity I have slowed down significantly. It was the Oregon Masters championship meet, held in nearby Bend and sponsored by my own local team, COMA (Central Oregon Masters Aquatics). My motivations were that my coach of many years, Bob Bruce, is retiring and I wanted to support him. Thanks, Bob, for your friendship, expertise and support over the past 19 years; I could not have accomplished the things I did in swimming without you! Additionally, our team was in a close fight for the team title and any points I could score would be important. In my age group there are not that many guys, so just falling in the water and finishing the race without disqualification I could score points. I swam four individual events and two relays and scored points in all of them. In all honesty, I was swimming just to finish, with no time goals in mind at all. Our team won the meet by a razor thin margin, 1,563 to 1,551, so my 19 points really did make a difference.
To give you some idea of how much I have slowed down, compare last weekend's time of 27:41 in the 1,650 freestyle with my 2014 time of 21:03 (number 1 in the country that year). In the 1,000 free this weekend my time was 17:11 and in 2014 I was at 12:38 (also #1). In the 500 free, compare my 2017 time of 8:02 with 6:07 in ’14 (#1). So, I have gone from All-American performances to relatively mediocre, but you know what? It just doesn’t matter. I regret that I cannot dominate my age group in masters swimming anymore, but it just doesn’t matter among all the other things that are so much more important. I still enjoy swimming, being with friends, contributing to the pursuit of a common goal.
On May 1 my next CT scan is scheduled. I’ll let you know how that turns out.
Good News... Again — May 4, 2017
We are just home from Portland where I had my 3 month CT scan and consultation with Dr. Hunter. Without mincing words, the results are good. The scan showed that nothing has changed in my lungs. If cancer had returned, the nodules they have been monitoring would have grown. Nothing showed up elsewhere in my body either.
So now we can make plans for the next three months, free from tests, scans and doctors. My next CT is August 1st. It’s part of my new reality that I cannot make definite plans further out than my next cancer screening, so for the last few weeks I had been putting off any decisions in that regard. If cancer had returned, I would have been faced with a different set of priorities. Now the coast is clear, at least until August. Where to go? What to do? How to have fun? Should I try to cram in as much as possible or just float along and take things as they come? It will likely turn out to be a combination of the two strategies.
(click on photos to see captions)
We are just home from Portland where I had my 3 month CT scan and consultation with Dr. Hunter. Without mincing words, the results are good. The scan showed that nothing has changed in my lungs. If cancer had returned, the nodules they have been monitoring would have grown. Nothing showed up elsewhere in my body either.
So now we can make plans for the next three months, free from tests, scans and doctors. My next CT is August 1st. It’s part of my new reality that I cannot make definite plans further out than my next cancer screening, so for the last few weeks I had been putting off any decisions in that regard. If cancer had returned, I would have been faced with a different set of priorities. Now the coast is clear, at least until August. Where to go? What to do? How to have fun? Should I try to cram in as much as possible or just float along and take things as they come? It will likely turn out to be a combination of the two strategies.
(click on photos to see captions)
Ode to Summer — Aug 5, 2017
Looking back at my last entry from early May, I could just cut and paste the same paragraphs because everything is just about the same. And that is good... very good. In short, my scans showed no change; nodules still exist in my lungs but they have not grown at all. That means no cancer apparent.
Okay, let's flesh things out a bit. After three months of enjoying life we traveled to Portland earlier this week. With each successive scan there is a little bit less anxiety over what the results are going to be. I had two scans scheduled on Monday, a CT and an endoscopy. However, the endoscopy was postponed until September due to a schedule conflict with the doc. Lisa, Dr. Hunter's nurse found us down in imaging before my CT scan to inform us that our appointment with him the next day had to be rescheduled due to changes in his schedule. As a "leader of the institution" (his words), he is insanely busy, so we never really know what's going to happen when we arrive.
Tuesday morning Lisa called to let us know the good news; that he had carved out some time Wednesday afternoon to meet with us with the results. The bad news, though, was that the CT department had only scanned the lower half of me, so I had to go back 24 hours later for another. They got my abdomen, but not my chest (where anything bad would be going on). A consolation prize was that she could report to us that there was nothing in the way of meanies showing up in the abdominal scan (liver, kidneys, pancreas, etc.). So... we hang around Portland for another day and have to wait one more day for the verdict.
Oh, a bit of fun. There is a Tesla dealership a block from our hotel on our walk to OHSU, so we stopped in for a look. We even scheduled a test drive for Wednesday morning. Wow! What a car. Alas, pretty far out of our price range, but fun to dream of being divorced from connection to the gas pump.
At our meeting with Dr. Hunter on Wednesday afternoon he informed us that things were about the same in my lungs; nodules still there, but unchanged. With each unchanged scan the likelihood of cancer returning becomes less. Hard to hold my elation in check! He also checked the CT scan for "stomach" problems, something he had worried about in May. Gastric conduit looks a lot better this time around, so he agreed that we should cancel the upcoming endoscopy. Wowza!!
Okay. That's the extent of the medical news... unless Mad has something to add.
Mad adds: He's still on the 3 month CT scan schedule because of the nodules they're watching, so Halloween is the next scan. Let's hope it's not spooky.
Lots going on. I'll try not to bore you with too many details. Obviously, the next three months are wide open and there is much gusto to grab. Next week I'm flying up to Alaska to help my good friend Kris Calvin with the open water swim he sponsors up in Sitka. My first trip to Alaska. I'm not swimming, but will be shore help and maybe paddle a kayak as shepherd for Kris as he swims. I look forward to exploring that part of the world so I can take Madeleine up there at a later date.
Eclipse. Everyone is going gaga over the eclipse. Can you believe that our home is in the path of totality? It seems that everyone is coming over to Central Oregon because it has been touted as one of the best places to watch the eclipse. We don't have to go anywhere, though. Wowza!! A few people coming up to camp in our yard for the event.
In late August my late dad, Bob, would have celebrated his 100th birthday. So the whole Landis clan is gathering to commemorate the event down in Truckee. It will be great to get everyone together. Damn, it seems lately, though, that we spend much of our lives driving between home and California. After the family reunion Mad and I are continuing south to Sequoia National Park for a week or so of backpacking in the high country of the Sierra. This will be a good year for late water!
Did I say backpacking? Yes, last week we returned from out latest backpacking foray, a seven day trip down along the Tuolumne River in Yosemite with our old friend Giggles/Marilyn. We started near Tuolumne Meadows and dropped down into the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne. We stayed out of our beloved high country because most of the passes and trails were still covered in feet of snow. The Tuolumne Canyon is spectacular, a gash in the earth cut by the river through solid granite. Sheer walls 2,000 feet high. And the river... Oh My! Due to the heavy winter snows and rapid melting in the high country, the volume of water squeezing into the canyon is dramatically awesome. Driftwood litters the trail from when the river was much higher during the height of spring runoff. We descend 2,500 feet down the canyon past three major waterfalls and many smaller ones. The river is a raging beast, a torrent that literally explodes downward. There are a few quiet interludes, but for the most part one is constantly assailed by the roar of water against granite. We have hiked this section many times before and never tire of its expression of nature's power.
On a more personal note, I had some qualms about my ability to easily handle the hike. I knew I could make it, but with my diminished strength and lung capacity I worried about how much I would suffer when we turned around and headed back up hill. I found out that I am much stronger than I was last summer. I was able to make the long uphill grind without undue suffering. That's not to say it was not hard. It was. I certainly felt the effects of my diminished capacity, but I discovered that by going slowly and tenaciously uphill I could make it without pooping out. That bodes well for the future, especially for our upcoming trip to Sequoia.
Am I rambling on. If so, it's because there is so much good stuff going on this hot summer. It seems like cancer is a long time ago now, but having suffered from it, life is all the better now.
Adios, my friends. Take care and know that I am doing very well. Know that I value all of you and the support you have given me.
Tom
Looking back at my last entry from early May, I could just cut and paste the same paragraphs because everything is just about the same. And that is good... very good. In short, my scans showed no change; nodules still exist in my lungs but they have not grown at all. That means no cancer apparent.
Okay, let's flesh things out a bit. After three months of enjoying life we traveled to Portland earlier this week. With each successive scan there is a little bit less anxiety over what the results are going to be. I had two scans scheduled on Monday, a CT and an endoscopy. However, the endoscopy was postponed until September due to a schedule conflict with the doc. Lisa, Dr. Hunter's nurse found us down in imaging before my CT scan to inform us that our appointment with him the next day had to be rescheduled due to changes in his schedule. As a "leader of the institution" (his words), he is insanely busy, so we never really know what's going to happen when we arrive.
Tuesday morning Lisa called to let us know the good news; that he had carved out some time Wednesday afternoon to meet with us with the results. The bad news, though, was that the CT department had only scanned the lower half of me, so I had to go back 24 hours later for another. They got my abdomen, but not my chest (where anything bad would be going on). A consolation prize was that she could report to us that there was nothing in the way of meanies showing up in the abdominal scan (liver, kidneys, pancreas, etc.). So... we hang around Portland for another day and have to wait one more day for the verdict.
Oh, a bit of fun. There is a Tesla dealership a block from our hotel on our walk to OHSU, so we stopped in for a look. We even scheduled a test drive for Wednesday morning. Wow! What a car. Alas, pretty far out of our price range, but fun to dream of being divorced from connection to the gas pump.
At our meeting with Dr. Hunter on Wednesday afternoon he informed us that things were about the same in my lungs; nodules still there, but unchanged. With each unchanged scan the likelihood of cancer returning becomes less. Hard to hold my elation in check! He also checked the CT scan for "stomach" problems, something he had worried about in May. Gastric conduit looks a lot better this time around, so he agreed that we should cancel the upcoming endoscopy. Wowza!!
Okay. That's the extent of the medical news... unless Mad has something to add.
Mad adds: He's still on the 3 month CT scan schedule because of the nodules they're watching, so Halloween is the next scan. Let's hope it's not spooky.
Lots going on. I'll try not to bore you with too many details. Obviously, the next three months are wide open and there is much gusto to grab. Next week I'm flying up to Alaska to help my good friend Kris Calvin with the open water swim he sponsors up in Sitka. My first trip to Alaska. I'm not swimming, but will be shore help and maybe paddle a kayak as shepherd for Kris as he swims. I look forward to exploring that part of the world so I can take Madeleine up there at a later date.
Eclipse. Everyone is going gaga over the eclipse. Can you believe that our home is in the path of totality? It seems that everyone is coming over to Central Oregon because it has been touted as one of the best places to watch the eclipse. We don't have to go anywhere, though. Wowza!! A few people coming up to camp in our yard for the event.
In late August my late dad, Bob, would have celebrated his 100th birthday. So the whole Landis clan is gathering to commemorate the event down in Truckee. It will be great to get everyone together. Damn, it seems lately, though, that we spend much of our lives driving between home and California. After the family reunion Mad and I are continuing south to Sequoia National Park for a week or so of backpacking in the high country of the Sierra. This will be a good year for late water!
Did I say backpacking? Yes, last week we returned from out latest backpacking foray, a seven day trip down along the Tuolumne River in Yosemite with our old friend Giggles/Marilyn. We started near Tuolumne Meadows and dropped down into the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne. We stayed out of our beloved high country because most of the passes and trails were still covered in feet of snow. The Tuolumne Canyon is spectacular, a gash in the earth cut by the river through solid granite. Sheer walls 2,000 feet high. And the river... Oh My! Due to the heavy winter snows and rapid melting in the high country, the volume of water squeezing into the canyon is dramatically awesome. Driftwood litters the trail from when the river was much higher during the height of spring runoff. We descend 2,500 feet down the canyon past three major waterfalls and many smaller ones. The river is a raging beast, a torrent that literally explodes downward. There are a few quiet interludes, but for the most part one is constantly assailed by the roar of water against granite. We have hiked this section many times before and never tire of its expression of nature's power.
On a more personal note, I had some qualms about my ability to easily handle the hike. I knew I could make it, but with my diminished strength and lung capacity I worried about how much I would suffer when we turned around and headed back up hill. I found out that I am much stronger than I was last summer. I was able to make the long uphill grind without undue suffering. That's not to say it was not hard. It was. I certainly felt the effects of my diminished capacity, but I discovered that by going slowly and tenaciously uphill I could make it without pooping out. That bodes well for the future, especially for our upcoming trip to Sequoia.
Am I rambling on. If so, it's because there is so much good stuff going on this hot summer. It seems like cancer is a long time ago now, but having suffered from it, life is all the better now.
Adios, my friends. Take care and know that I am doing very well. Know that I value all of you and the support you have given me.
Tom
Nothing Spooky to Report — Nov 3, 2017
Halloween was the day for my 3 month followup clinic visit with Dr. Hunter to get the results of the previous day's CT scan. Good news again! Even though there are a few weird nodules in my lungs, none of them are deemed cancerous. Hooray! There is always a bit of anxiety leading up to getting this report... and a lot of glad relief afterward. So we now have another three months until we have to go through it all again. I say "we" because Mad and I both share the stress and anxiety leading up to the next "verdict". I think it's probably worse for her than it is for me, even though it is my body that is in question.
Looking back to the last three months: First the total eclipse. A truly mind blowing experience, shared with good friends and neighbors out in the field adjacent to our house. Then we traveled again down to California where we had a great family reunion in Truckee before heading for Sequoia National Park. Our backpack there was fantastic. Well, it vexes me a bit that I am so slow, but just being able to get far back into the wilderness that we love is a great reward that I feel so good about. We spent seven days, five of which were completely off trail... and we did not see a soul along our route. We managed to get up to our goal, a high alpine tarn at 11,200'. Regrettably, we could not stay long, as thunderstorms chased us down to more sheltered terrain.
(Mad here: he wasn't that slow, and we camped one night at 11,060'. It was sublime after missing 3 summers in the high country. Gaining altitude over 5 days, we went back in time to spectacular spring-like alpine wildflowers and mosquitoes near the big snowbanks, on Labor Day weekend! We camped next to the last visible vestiges of California's big winter. The views were thrilling, as always, of many places we've been deep in the heart of the wilderness along the Great Western Divide. Yes!)
In October our interest turned to jazz festivals, first 3 days in Medford then 5 days in Sun Valley. We listened to great live music and danced our little feet off for hours.
Hey, I'm trying my best to enjoy life, feeling better all the time. As I've said many times before, cancer makes one cherish the good things in life... and there are so many. I'm swimming to keep fit, but not competing with any zeal. Maybe I'll do a meet or two this winter just for kicks.
Just now, thinking ahead to winter, the first thing we plan is a trip to Hawaii, so I just booked some flights. Later on, who knows? Lots of vague travel plans in mind, but nothing else concrete. Next cancer scan is in early February, but we aren't going to worry about that for quite some time.
Some photo highlights below. Click twice on each photo for captions.
Halloween was the day for my 3 month followup clinic visit with Dr. Hunter to get the results of the previous day's CT scan. Good news again! Even though there are a few weird nodules in my lungs, none of them are deemed cancerous. Hooray! There is always a bit of anxiety leading up to getting this report... and a lot of glad relief afterward. So we now have another three months until we have to go through it all again. I say "we" because Mad and I both share the stress and anxiety leading up to the next "verdict". I think it's probably worse for her than it is for me, even though it is my body that is in question.
Looking back to the last three months: First the total eclipse. A truly mind blowing experience, shared with good friends and neighbors out in the field adjacent to our house. Then we traveled again down to California where we had a great family reunion in Truckee before heading for Sequoia National Park. Our backpack there was fantastic. Well, it vexes me a bit that I am so slow, but just being able to get far back into the wilderness that we love is a great reward that I feel so good about. We spent seven days, five of which were completely off trail... and we did not see a soul along our route. We managed to get up to our goal, a high alpine tarn at 11,200'. Regrettably, we could not stay long, as thunderstorms chased us down to more sheltered terrain.
(Mad here: he wasn't that slow, and we camped one night at 11,060'. It was sublime after missing 3 summers in the high country. Gaining altitude over 5 days, we went back in time to spectacular spring-like alpine wildflowers and mosquitoes near the big snowbanks, on Labor Day weekend! We camped next to the last visible vestiges of California's big winter. The views were thrilling, as always, of many places we've been deep in the heart of the wilderness along the Great Western Divide. Yes!)
In October our interest turned to jazz festivals, first 3 days in Medford then 5 days in Sun Valley. We listened to great live music and danced our little feet off for hours.
Hey, I'm trying my best to enjoy life, feeling better all the time. As I've said many times before, cancer makes one cherish the good things in life... and there are so many. I'm swimming to keep fit, but not competing with any zeal. Maybe I'll do a meet or two this winter just for kicks.
Just now, thinking ahead to winter, the first thing we plan is a trip to Hawaii, so I just booked some flights. Later on, who knows? Lots of vague travel plans in mind, but nothing else concrete. Next cancer scan is in early February, but we aren't going to worry about that for quite some time.
Some photo highlights below. Click twice on each photo for captions.
Gratitude — Nov 26, 2017
It's Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, an appropriate time to write a bit about things I am grateful for.
The biggie is good health; no negative issues to report. I feel pretty great, actually.
Mad and I had a nice afternoon of hiking on the river today. It was gloomy and rainy, but still starkly beautiful. This time of year, on a gnarly day, there is absolutely nobody out there save for a few intrepid fishermen. It's like we have the whole river to ourselves, almost like being in wilderness. We are continually grateful that we live in such a spectacular natural environment.
Recently we returned from a two week trip to Hawaii. We visited old and dear friends there, first Jim Krueger on Maui then Bill and Julie Leach on Molokai. Never having been on Molokai before, we enjoyed our stay there, particularly the laid back "country" feel to the island, a far cry from the frenetic activity on the more populated islands. Warm air and warm water are certainly alluring, especially to me.
Being with old friends, reliving shared experiences out of the past, catching up on each others' lives, enjoying companionship in the present... this I am sincerely grateful for, every day and with all of our friends.
My children Brooke and Hayden, their children, my siblings... everyone is doing well. I am so grateful for my family and the fact that they are all healthy and happy.
Most of all I am grateful for Madeleine, my caregiver, my friend, my lover, my anchor.
That's about it for now. I feel so lucky to be alive!
It's Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, an appropriate time to write a bit about things I am grateful for.
The biggie is good health; no negative issues to report. I feel pretty great, actually.
Mad and I had a nice afternoon of hiking on the river today. It was gloomy and rainy, but still starkly beautiful. This time of year, on a gnarly day, there is absolutely nobody out there save for a few intrepid fishermen. It's like we have the whole river to ourselves, almost like being in wilderness. We are continually grateful that we live in such a spectacular natural environment.
Recently we returned from a two week trip to Hawaii. We visited old and dear friends there, first Jim Krueger on Maui then Bill and Julie Leach on Molokai. Never having been on Molokai before, we enjoyed our stay there, particularly the laid back "country" feel to the island, a far cry from the frenetic activity on the more populated islands. Warm air and warm water are certainly alluring, especially to me.
Being with old friends, reliving shared experiences out of the past, catching up on each others' lives, enjoying companionship in the present... this I am sincerely grateful for, every day and with all of our friends.
My children Brooke and Hayden, their children, my siblings... everyone is doing well. I am so grateful for my family and the fact that they are all healthy and happy.
Most of all I am grateful for Madeleine, my caregiver, my friend, my lover, my anchor.
That's about it for now. I feel so lucky to be alive!
