Month: September 2016

Tuesday, September 27

As spring turned into summer, I began to realize that the doctors’ insinuations about not being able to seriously rock climb nor hike strenuously for the season were becoming true. Sad but sure enough.

A few days ago, I posted about the exhilarating experience of climbing Mt Yoran in the Diamond Peak Wilderness Area. Admittedly, I surprised myself by being able to do so. Laurie saw my excitement and when I asked her if she would consider trying to summit a major PNW peak with me she readily accepted. We choose Mt. Mcloughlin, the 9495 ft. volcano, which dominates the horizon of the southern Oregon Cascade Mountains.

We arrived home last night after our successful hike. The reality is that I ever so slowly trudged, as Laurie bounded up. She patiently waited at every turn. Nonetheless, I am now a happy, somewhat content, tired guy, as I never thought I would be able to climb a major peak this summer!

Glorious!

Sunday, September 25

Welcome to this glorious sunny autumn afternoon in our PNW. I happily report that physically I continue to feel better and better. The metaphor seems to be climbing up a steep beach sand dune – two steps up for every one step of backsliding. My guess is that the chemo drug is slowly wearing off allowing me to exercise regularly thereby regaining some level of conditioning.  Feels grand!

I also feel a little better emotionally. I don’t seem quite as frazzled nor quite as prone to breaking down. I seem to somewhat better manage anxiety and respond to unsettling situations. Admittedly, I do work extremely hard at this and appreciate the results. So, although still not 100%, I guess I’ll accept the success for now!

As a final note, I’d like to acknowledge some of the more private feedback I’ve received from friends. Some of these friends have been saddled with anxiety issues or panic attacks throughout their entire lives, while others are merely introverts who shy away from the stress producing social interactions. The message I receive is empathetic, but quite simple: Welcome to my world. Wow, that sure makes me appreciate all those years I’ve experienced almost anxiety free.

Thursday, September 22

Before introducing you to Conner, I want to report that I am feeling considerably better. I am not exactly sure why, but I do like the feeling! Perhaps my overnight stay in the Diamond Peak Wilderness and subsequent climb of Mt. Yoran was instrumental – natural beauty, great exercise and tranquility. Otherwise I have been quite passive and have tried to go with the flow, while not packing too much in. I will try to continue this, do a better job recalibrating and setting more realistic physical goals.

Approximately ten years ago I met Connor. He was a smart, insightful, witty, quirky 7^th grader. Over the next two years, I grew to like him a great deal. After his 8^th grade promotion ceremony, I was milling around and he excitedly came up to me, reintroduced his parents and with a stout handshake, thanked me for being his math teacher over the last two years. He looked me in the eye and with all sincerity told me: “Mr. Heil, continue to keep it Real!” I was puzzled, but after 25 years with teenagers, I had become accustomed to not understanding every interaction. I simply moved on.

Unknowingly, perhaps my last post was an acknowledgement of Connor’s advice of many years ago. It feels good to be honest and true to my feelings, thus: Keeping it Real!

 

Sunday,  September 18

I find myself in new territory – not off-route on a new multi pitch climb, nor turned around in search for that return ski track as the white-out intensifies, nor unsuccessfully communicating with the peoples of the Guatemalan highlands who speak their native Quiche. My new territory is an uncharted, deep personal emotional terrain – where I am struggling intensely!

I really thought I had gotten my head around my diagnosis and was settling in for the battle. Whether that battle requited a fighting determination or a careful yielding I thought I was equal to the task. Now I am realizing that I might not be ready. My emotional compass seems broken and I feel rudderless. It continually amazes me how often I break down (often to tears) and how unstable I feel – novel, sad and disturbing.

I feel like I am straddling a crevasse on the side of a mountain. The ground shifts slightly and I sway off balance – slipping, teetering, floundering, wobbling. I don’t know whether to hop right or left, proceed forward or back………………which way do I go – or do I just stay?  Heck, most times I don’t feel control enough to even decide!

My hope is that this thing can be turned around soon – regardless of whether I take an active or passive role in doing so. I wish to embrace this new terrain, make it my new friend. After all, throughout my life, I’ve always gotten a kick out of navigating the unknown territories. I’ve always liked the thrill of not knowing exactly what is around the next bend. So then, I ask,……..………

Why should this be any different?

A view from the top of my hike today!

Thursday , September 15

Laurie and I returned last night from OHSU and our quest for a silver bullet.

We were very happy to hear the good news of August 30. However, still weighing heavy on our minds were the realities that relatively large lesions still remain in my liver and these tumor cells are likely to grow and mutate, thus, becoming resistant to hormone therapy.

After voicing this concern to Dr. Beer, he consulted with Dr. Skye Mayo, a surgical oncologist who specializes in liver tumors. I was fortunate to get an appointment within the week. Laurie and I were hoping that Dr. Mayo might provide us with the silver bullet – a hepatectomy that would whisk the remaining tumor cells away for good! We knew this was a long shot, but what the heck; optimism has never been my short suit.

I somewhat disappointingly report that Dr. Mayo suggests that I am NOT a good candidate for liver surgery. He believes that there are still too many metatheses sites and even with major liver surgery he will not be able to remove all tumor cells. Additionally, after major liver surgery my body would not be able to tolerate another round of chemotherapy for at least 3 months, which might be a disaster if we find the cancer returns with vengeance in the near future.

All our discussion at this appointment served to reinforce that my original diagnosis was indeed quite serious!

Despite no silver bullet (yet), I continue to be thankful that my situation is not worse. I don’t have metastatic brain or pancreatic cancer nor some other painfully, horrible disease. I am eternally grateful for the continued support of my family and friends, as I am grateful for the ongoing efforts of researchers and doctors – as perhaps that is where my ultimate cure lies. In the meantime, tomorrow I will take advantage of our gorgeous PNW weather and climb outdoors for the first time in over 3 months.

I am psyched!!!!!

Our drive back from OHSU (again).  Moonrise and Sunset!  Are we too serious?

Saturday,  September 10:

One would certainly think that when retired, with sufficient financial resources, a completely functional mind, body and spirit and an extensive, supportive social network life would be EASY. There would simply be no room, no space for stress, anxiety or angst. Well, at least that is what I would have thought!

The reality is, in my life of apparent leisure; I am now burdened by a nagging angst. This angst manifests itself as a fatigue in three areas. The physical fatigue is understandable, as the effects of chemotherapy still linger – doctors say at least 3 more months. More importantly, I feel extremely fatigued after social interactions. This is a new, strange feeling as for my entire life I’ve drawn energy from social interactions – the classic extrovert! Finally, I feel overwhelmed by angst and fatigue when making even the simplest plans. Moreover, I experience a distinct frustration in dealing with complications and cancellation of these plans. This is particularly odd, as I have always viewed myself as a logistics expert, especially having juggled the needs of 30+ adolescents in the classroom multiple times a day, every weekday, all yearlong.

It has been suggested that there might be something deeper going on, but I remain unsure. Perhaps it is as simple as just me trying to do too much – remember FMO? In any case, I’ve decided not to dwell on the underlying issue(s). I’ve decided to act by directing more of my energies inward, which means I will be drawing a smaller circle around me in order to create more down time – less social time. I’ve also decided to concentrate on bringing small joys into my life. I want to feel more and think less. I want to be more spontaneous. I want simple things, like: breathing deeply, warm sunshine on my bare feet, truly hearing the rush of rivers, pedaling slowly through the big trees, standing in the surf and pushing sand through my toes, acknowledging the smiles on passing faces, licking an ice cream cone and embracing the laughter of the kids in the playground. I want a break from thinking about killing cancer cells, avoiding sugar in my diet, where and when is my next western or eastern medical. I am in search of a deep-seated rest for mind, body and soul.

It occurs to me that as I go down this road, some of my friends may feel ignored. I assure you all this is certainly not my intention. I intend to only temporarily shrink down my social circle – a way to turn inward.

Stay tuned……….as my energy ebbs and flows.

Wednesday, September 7:

It’s Opening Day………….

I’ve always maintained that one of the best keep secrets in the Pacific Northwest is the autumn weather. Crisp, cool, sunny September mornings are perfect for the brisk bicycle commute to work. The ride home along the flowing river bounded by the green riparian soaked in warm afternoon sun with long shadows is none other than perfect! To make it all the better, the occasional night rain comes to cleanse the air for these excellent daytime rides.

For 25 years this was my life, but with a bonus! I was pedaling to school with the prospect of playing with the kiddies. Now, those days are past for me – days filled with wonderful memories and relationships built that are simply unmatched. I turned this life over to the student teachers of yesterday and now I am on a wholly different journey.

To all those colleagues and friends still in the classroom and all those new to the classroom, as well as the invaluable support staff of administrative and classified personal, I pay tribute! Your work is priceless and the impressions you leave are forever. May you responsibly share the power of knowledge, continue to be inspired by the ideas of the youth, be kind and empathetic to them and most importantly have fun and laugh heartily with them today and all the days of this year.

Happy New Year and may the games begin!

Sunday, September 4

Ever since I was quite young the importance and joy of family has been obvious to me. Presently, I am continually reminded of this in many ways – large, boisterous picnics in the park, grandparents excitedly awaiting the arrival of the grandkids, friends speaking in proud tones about their parents, noticing the flowers, cards and groups of affectionate, supportive visitors in hospitals or rehab centers.

Over the last three weeks, Laurie and I have been fully immersed in our family. Perhaps you’ve read about our visit with Tanya and family in both Sunriver and at our home in Eugene. It was filled with energy and joy, a time for playing, reminiscing and the making new memories. I absolutely loved it all, despite my FMO from which I was able to recover in just a few short days.

After waving goodbye to them, we briefly resumed our life with the Eugene family regulars: Lynn, Rich, Katie, Steve, Rhonda, Joey, Sandra and Orion. I say briefly, because, we were due at OHSU for my final exam (imaging) after my first semester of treatment (phase 1). This went smoothly, with good results, but significantly drained our emotional energies.

Directly following our OHSU appointments we hopped on a flight to LAX to start our four-day whirlwind So Cal family visit. Aunt Joan, age 80, was just diagnosed with non-small cell lung cancer. Coupled with other aliments, including multiple sclerosis, her prognosis is bleak. Nonetheless, our twice a day visits were filled with happy reminiscing and laughter. We saw a wonderful sparkle in her eye, but not much bounce in her step, as she is bedridden. Our second visit was with my sister, Annamarie, who I had not seen in a few years, mainly because our paths simply have not crossed. She has been struggling with some intense anxiety issues. Nonetheless, we spent a happy time together talking in her apartment, grocery shopping, walking in the park and dining together. The connection was deep and special.  The half-day visit with my Aunt Theresa, age 88, was awesome. She is the care coordinator for Aunt Joan and is doing a fabulous job. She is totally on top of it, spry and a barrel of fun. Wow! Finally, dinner and the visit with our step-niece, Carlissa, her husband, Charlie and the mega-cute toddler, Ava, were great! We talked, played with blocks, read books, took photos and just lounged about comfortably in their home.

We arrived home late last night. The visits were exhilarating, loving and heartfelt. I feel so grateful and elated for each one. Nonetheless, I sure loved plopping down in my own bed last night. I was completely exhausted! All I could think of was rest, rest and more rest. My social energy is fully depleted!  Wiped out I am!

Once again, though, a small price to pay for the joy of FAMILY………..