When you have colorectal cancer, a substantial part of your world involves your rear end and everything that comes out of it. It's not any kind of weird Freudian fixation, but as the primary source of your cancer and the jumping off point for possible later metastases, it really is kind of important to observe everything - it could be a sign of tumor growth or activity. Changes in size, shape, color, presence of blood in the stool can all be signs of polyps or perhaps pre-cancerous or cancerous tissue growth that are easy to ignore. If you've never had colorectal cancer this kind of attention seems kind of strange, but once you've been diagnosed and know that these observations are important and should be shared with your oncologist, it's not so weird. It's not like we observe and then score or grade our work (8.....8.5.....8.....9....and a 6 from the Russian judge.....). It's just important to be able to make an accurate observation and also be subtle and quick if in a public restroom. These are things that you would never have thought about prior to your diagnosis, and someday you hope that you won't have to think about any further.
I find myself in kind of an unusual place these days. It's like someone has reset the clock back to June 2006, with maybe a few things changed in sequence. I have the same symptoms I did when I was first diagnosed back in 2006 - difficulty and pain in my rear, pains in my abdomen and chest - signs of growing tumors. In the coming weeks, I will enjoy a "cleansing" evening after drinking a gallon of polyethylene glycol, visits to the gastroenterologist and oncologist for scans, doubt and uncertainty about the diagnosis, and optimism that whatever form of treatment I end up will kill the tumors that they will find in my rectum and liver.
Optimism is a powerful thing, and while sometimes hard to maintain, is sometimes all you have to keep you going. At the risk of getting in trouble with another joke, the subject of optimism reminds me of an old joke. There are lots of versions of it, and I've found several citations that this joke was one of Ronald Reagan's favorites. Here goes: The parents of two sons are concerned about the behavior and attitudes of their boys. One son is depressingly and hopelessly pessimistic, the other unrealistically cheerful and optimistic. They consult a family counselor who suggests some drastic therapy to shock the boys to bring them back to a more realistic outlook in life. With Christmas approaching, the counselor suggests that they fill the room of the pessimistic boy with toys, and fill the room of the optimistic boy with horse manure. On Christmas morning, the parents hear the boys stirring, and get up to see how the therapy is working. They visit the pessimistic boy's room first and find him fretting with the toys - "They might break, and the batteries will run out...". Dismayed, they check in on the optimistic boy. They look in and find him up to his chin in manure wearing a grin a mile wide. They ask him what is going on and the boy cheerfully replies, "With all this poop in here, there must be a pony in here somewhere....!". There it is - a joke about optimism that actually ties in poop. I'll keep looking for the pony.
I decided that Friday was a good day to go look for the pony. Springtime this year has been a long time in coming and Friday was an unusually warm and sunny day - after months of cloudy
and cool weather, it was too difficult to concentrate on work, and frankly, I needed some time to think. I used a little vacation time and took a drive up to Mt. Rainier. The lodge at Paradise has been closed for the past two years for renovations, and Friday was the grand re-opening. I managed to get there just in time for the first lunch served in the newly re-opened restaurant. Seating was limited, so I enjoyed the company of a group of retired Park Service employees over lunch and met with the current park superintendent. I stayed at the lodge long enough to tour the grand hall, see the dignitaries and look at the cakes, and then left for a quick walk in the snow before returning home. There is still a lot of snow, almost as much as the last time I was there a few months ago, and it's the middle of May!
I find myself in kind of an unusual place these days. It's like someone has reset the clock back to June 2006, with maybe a few things changed in sequence. I have the same symptoms I did when I was first diagnosed back in 2006 - difficulty and pain in my rear, pains in my abdomen and chest - signs of growing tumors. In the coming weeks, I will enjoy a "cleansing" evening after drinking a gallon of polyethylene glycol, visits to the gastroenterologist and oncologist for scans, doubt and uncertainty about the diagnosis, and optimism that whatever form of treatment I end up will kill the tumors that they will find in my rectum and liver.
Optimism is a powerful thing, and while sometimes hard to maintain, is sometimes all you have to keep you going. At the risk of getting in trouble with another joke, the subject of optimism reminds me of an old joke. There are lots of versions of it, and I've found several citations that this joke was one of Ronald Reagan's favorites. Here goes: The parents of two sons are concerned about the behavior and attitudes of their boys. One son is depressingly and hopelessly pessimistic, the other unrealistically cheerful and optimistic. They consult a family counselor who suggests some drastic therapy to shock the boys to bring them back to a more realistic outlook in life. With Christmas approaching, the counselor suggests that they fill the room of the pessimistic boy with toys, and fill the room of the optimistic boy with horse manure. On Christmas morning, the parents hear the boys stirring, and get up to see how the therapy is working. They visit the pessimistic boy's room first and find him fretting with the toys - "They might break, and the batteries will run out...". Dismayed, they check in on the optimistic boy. They look in and find him up to his chin in manure wearing a grin a mile wide. They ask him what is going on and the boy cheerfully replies, "With all this poop in here, there must be a pony in here somewhere....!". There it is - a joke about optimism that actually ties in poop. I'll keep looking for the pony.
I decided that Friday was a good day to go look for the pony. Springtime this year has been a long time in coming and Friday was an unusually warm and sunny day - after months of cloudy
and cool weather, it was too difficult to concentrate on work, and frankly, I needed some time to think. I used a little vacation time and took a drive up to Mt. Rainier. The lodge at Paradise has been closed for the past two years for renovations, and Friday was the grand re-opening. I managed to get there just in time for the first lunch served in the newly re-opened restaurant. Seating was limited, so I enjoyed the company of a group of retired Park Service employees over lunch and met with the current park superintendent. I stayed at the lodge long enough to tour the grand hall, see the dignitaries and look at the cakes, and then left for a quick walk in the snow before returning home. There is still a lot of snow, almost as much as the last time I was there a few months ago, and it's the middle of May!Relay for Life Update!
Two weeks left to go before relay weekend. Your contributions have brought my part of the campaign to nearly $3800 and helped my team to be the number two fundraising team in this year's Relay. To reach my page to contribute on line, click here. Let's keep going!
Swamp cabbage in bloom in the snow-melt fed swamps. Looking up the Nisqually River into the head of the glacier.
