Columbus and the Valley

Thanks for the Birthday Wishes!

We slept in, I got to see Star Wars, I found out that our cat, Gracie, CAN get off the roof of our house all by herself (we rescued her with a ladder yesterday) and I got to have three meals with my beautiful wife. All that was great! In addition to all of that greatness, I have had an incredible walk back through my 63 years — or at least the ones I can remember. I have spent a great deal of time this afternoon reading over 700 emails, Facebook posts, text messages. What a trip!

As I read each birthday wish, I conjured up that person’s face, remembered how I know them and I tried to savor the memory of the significance they’ve played in my life. Among them were people I’ve known since first grade at Britt David Elementary, the first girl I ever seriously kissed, friends from my old neighborhood, people with whom I’ve worked, neighbors in Huntsville, Ala. and Wichita, Kan., a doctor who saved my life, another doctor who is helping keep me alive and all four of my fantastic sons. I’ve been sung to by my sweet parents and dear friends Marquette and Rick McKnight and Laurel and Fred Blackwell. It was a very, very special birthday and I want to thank everyone who stopped for a moment in their day to take the time to make my day enjoyable beyond belief.

 

Fred Was Wearing a Hoodie

Let me give you a great piece of advice right here at the top: If you get stricken with a serious illness that is going to require you to see a bunch of doctors AND accurately recount the dates and times of stuff you’ve had done medically for you and to you over the years, start out from the day of your diagnosis and WRITE IT ALL DOWN!

We reported today at 9:00 a.m. for my 9:30 appointment on the 7th floor at elevator U in the Mays Clinic of the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center. We finally saw the doctor at 2 p.m. For some reason it was comforting to know that even a world-class, mega-cancer center is too busy to stay on schedule for appointments. But first, let me back up a bit.

Last night after a gloriously authentic Tex-Mex dinner at El Tiempo Cantina, we were gassing up the car and my phone rang. I looked down at the screen and saw my card playing buddy, Fred Morgan’s, name. I refused the call, cause I still think if you answer a cellphone while gassing up your car you could end up in flames like a freebasing Richard Pryor. Since I am really not in shape to run down the street, regardless of whether or not I happen to be in flames, I decided to call Fred back.

Then it hit me. I had planned to call Fred and Susan (he’s just getting over cancer surgery our here at M. D. A.) and see if there was anything we could bring them from the homeland. I could pack my pockets full of Krystal hamburgers, Country’s BBQ or a Dinglewood scrambled dog. But NO, I was caught up in my own little world, I didn’t think to call them until we were four hours out of Houston. What was I going to do then? “Hey Fred, can I bring you a Lone Star beer?”

So, I called him back and was apologetic about not thinking to call them earlier and we discovered that we were both due at the same waiting room within 15 minutes of the other the next morning and decided to meet up this morning. Standing next to me, Fred looks like a very skinny version of the Unibomber. Here I am, dressed all in black trying to look svelte and he strolls up with that freshly surgerized swagger in a hoodie. If I was a neighborhood watch director, like my friend, Rick McKnight, I might of put a cap in Fred, all hoodied up like that. Once I checked his ID and knew him not to be an innocent, young black man who might be out to do me harm, we had a nice visit over a cup of Joe and moseyed up to our appointment.

After we checked in, we were handed an itinerary and assigned another waiting room. They triaged me (checked my BP, temperature and pulse) and we waited again. We were called back to an exam room at around 11:45. A young M. D. Anderson Fellow, Dr. Kwang, spent about an hour with us going over my history. Why I didn’t think to grab my iPad and call up that March, 2012 blog post that chronicled my history from diagnosis until today is beyond me! I stumbled over dates and times and treatments. It was like a reenactment of one of Basset and Becker Alzheimers poker games, where Fred Morgan, Bill Becker, Jack Basset, Bobby Smith, John Kelly, Ted Short and Berry Henderson and I sit around without a single shred of ability to remember what game we’re playing, who has bet or even what day it is.

We stressed the importance to Dr. Kwang that we are traveling from afar and that we would like to move things along quickly and that if surgery is required, we’d like Dr. Christopher Wood to do it and preferably now. Once he gave us a thorough going over, he came back with Dr. Lance Pagliaro. Not that it matters, I was surprised to see Dr. Pagliaro, roll into the exam room in a wheel chair. He greeted us and went over his discussions with Dr. Kwang and their review of my extensive file and all the scans we had brought with us.

Here is his conclusion: “Mr. Venable, the cancer you have seems to not be an agressive cancer. It appears that you have only one site of metastasis and it definitely can be managed surgically. We’d like to do our own CT scans, a brain MRI, a bone scan,  a chest x-ray and blood work. We’ll schedule them quickly over the next couple of days and I concur with your request to have Dr. Chris Wood do your surgery if surgery is required,” he said.

If he was the olympic wordsmith that I claim to be, he would have busted out the word “indolent” this morning. Indolent has become one of my very favorite words. It has, thankfully, been used on numerous occasions to describe my slowly progressing cancer. So, we’re here for the week. I have a brain MRI and a bone scan tomorrow. We hope to meet with Dr. Chris Wood on Wednesday for a surgical consultation. The CT scan and x-ray are scheduled for Thursday. That is all we have on the agenda for now.

Dr. Pagliaro went on to say that, “considering the passive nature of your disease, you could live for a long time by addressing these single mets surgically. You could always go on one of the many other therapies available to you that are FDA approved and then after that there are always clinical trials.” I recall what Dr. Dan George at Duke University Hospital told us when he said, “I have thousands of patients who would trade places with you in a heartbeat.” We appear to have been dealt something of a tentative inside straight. Not the straight flush we had wanted, but definitely better than that 7-high hand that so many of the people we have been among on this day have in their pockets. We are blessed.

As we know more, we’ll share it. Unless we go to a movie or shopping or something, We’ve got a lots of free time.

Take Your Pain Medication!

Last night was a game changer. Good friends Rusty Scoven and Rick McKnight brought dinner and a movie down to our home and their significant others treated Jill to dinner and a movie in town. By the time Rick and Rusty got down here, I was in raging pain. White knuckling, cold sweating, tooth-grinding pain.

They came in with bags of food, a cooler of beer and a couple of DVDs. Before Jill left for town, she pointed her finger at the bridge of my nose and with her most convincing cradle-Episcopal-come-to-Jesus look, she said, “Take your pain medication!”

I’ll confess that I haven’t taken the pain meds like I should have and as a result, I have spent some blocks of time in more pain that I should have had to endure. So, while the boys were in my kitchen cooking, I took another pill and writhed around while I waited for it to kick in. Since last night, I am now fully onboard with the pain medications. I’m taking them on a schedule, not according to how I feel.

Last night I got nine heavenly hours of sleep. Today I felt well enough to go to the office for an hour or so and we had a follow up visit with my rock star neurosurgeon, Dr. Mike Gorum. We have referred so many friends to Mike and he has taken such good care of them.

One of our dear Eufaula friends had a herniated cervical disc and she is thrilled with the care she received from Dr. Gorum, his physician’s assistant, Henry Aucoin and their exceptionally friendly, professional staff. That office runs like a well oiled machine. And the best thing about all of them is that they’re just so damned nice. Not quite nice enough to make a man forget he’s had spine surgery, but really nice. We’re fortunate to have a team of neurosurgeons like Drs. Gorum, Goldman and Elshihabi in our area.

I got a great report from Dr. Gorum today. They peeled all the steri-strips from my incisions and sufficiently scolded me for trying to be a tough guy and grind through the pain. For the remainder of this week I’ll try to stay on a restful course and do as much walking as I can. My plan is to be back at the office for half days, starting on Monday and we’ll also be seeing Dr. Pippas next week to discuss next steps.

Jill and I appreciate all the kind gestures we’ve received from so many people. Food, cards, phone calls, emails and Facebook messages have sustained us during the scary, scary time. I’ve lost 11 pounds, by the way. Hell of way to diet though.

I hope I’ll sleep tonight.

Raise Your Glass

Besides getting to have dinner with our good friends, the evening is the closest thing we’ve had to a “normal” date night in a very long time. If I closed my eyes and dreamed last night, I could see myself completely well and out of danger from cancer. We laughed a lot, told stories and bathed in the comfortable glow that can only come from deep, real friendship.
I got delegated the official wine orderer for the night, so I did the right thing — I called Faye Simmons over and tapped into her extensive knowledge of all things grape. Faye is a certified sommelier and she really knows wine. She’s particularly knowledgeable about the wines in her cellar.
Here’s what I ordered: “Faye, I want a bold, jammy pinot noir that costs $40 or less.” She brought out a Praxis California pinot noir that was exactly perfect. Jill ordered a beet salad, Marquette ordered a cheese board, Rick ordered pork and I got chicken piccata. We all chose the small plate option, since we had been nibbling earlier at the reception.
The food was excellent and paired well with the wine. Meritage is a local jewel. We have precious few great fine dining spots in our area and these good people need our business. I would consider it a personal favor if you would pick a date and go out to dinner at one of the Meritage rooms.
In addition to being a loyal advertiser in our magazines, Faye has spent many years doing the work to certify as a sommelier, so that she can bring added value to her diners. She has poured her heart, soul and checkbook into her business and the dining experience there is really special. Please go, and let Faye know that I asked you to support Meritage.
The Praxis pinot noir was so memorable that I asked Faye if I could take home the empty bottle to add to my collection of special bottles. I want to remember what it feels like to be on a date with the most beautiful girl at the party. I want to be able to conjure that warm glow and forget cancer. It really was a nice night.
So, I dropped the bottle in my back seat and headed home. I had an early morning this morning. I shot photos for one of our publications at the Children’s Miracle Network at The Medical Center’s Reindeer Run. When I parked my car, I went into one of the rear doors to get a camera out of a jacket pocket and knocked the empty wine bottle out onto the street. It clanged, rattled and rolled toward the curb and landed just behind my front, left tire. I got down on my knees and retrieved it and before I got up, I raised my eyes just far enough to make solid eye contact with a Columbus Police Department policeman on a Harley Davidson motorcycle who was tasked with closing the road for the race.
He didn’t say anything with his mouth, but with a shake of his head, he said volumes about what he thought might be going on over on my side of the street. I got a chuckle over that one.
So, in tribute to Meritage and the great night we had last night, listen to Pink’s song, “Raise Your Glass.” It is a great anthem to good times with a beautiful wife and friends.

Thank You For This Day

Sitting in the afterglow of a beautiful day. Headphones on listening to Evening Kitchen by Band of Horses. I can hear our sons Michael and Adam singing this like they did at our last family trip to Splendor Mountain. I’m scanning friends’ photos on facebook with the music in my ears. Families smiling, football games, glasses of wine, empty places in honor of soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines lost in battle or lost to the holidays while deployed, prayers, plates of food, family pets and people napping. Vignettes of other people’s lives. Snippets in others’ time.

Our Thanksgiving prayer today was a circle of 22 people holding hands in our great room, a little churchy for this Episcopalian, but I was just feeling it today. I usually fret over my prayer, but today I just busted it out, sort of in Rick McKnight style. Don’t know if it is what I’m going through with my health or if I just got a drift from my muse or the first ever gathering of all four of our sons for our Thanksgiving meal. This day was good. Thank you God for this day.