Author: MichaelHeil

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………..

Tuesday, August 30

The string of overall good news continues………….Tuesday morning at 9:00 am. Laurie and I listened intently to Dr. Beer’s interpretation of Monday’s CT scan and Bone scan.

The key elements were:
* Bone scan revealed previously detected pubic bone lesions are gone.
* CT scan revealed no enlargement of lymph nodes.
* CT scan revealed liver metastases have significantly decreased in size – one by a factor of 8 and another by a factor of 3.

The disheartening reality is the high likelihood that my tumor cells will mutate and eventually become resistant to hormone therapy. Presently, there is no solution to this problem; however, it is reasonable to expect that my disease can be managed for at least a number of years. Research is my friend!

My new treatment regime will be quarterly injections of the hormone therapy drug, Eligard and discontinue chemotherapy. PSA will be monitored every 6 weeks and CT scans taken every 3 months. The next 3 to 24 months is a critical period. If the liver lesions continue to diminish in size “we can rest easy and keep going with what we are doing”. If, however, the lesions stay stable or increase in size, a biopsy and genetic sequencing may be in order.

Tuesday afternoon at 2pm. we rolled up to Carter’s office to give him the results. I cannot begin to express how appreciative I am for his efforts over the last 4 months in ameliorating the side effects of chemotherapy, strengthening the liver chi and helping improve my immune system. I am eternally grateful and very highly recommend his expertise. That said, I will now try to find an eastern healer closer to home for this next phase of treatment. I’m not sure how this will play, but I guess that is the theme of this journey. Carter assures me he will be there if I elect to return. I will continue his diet recommendations and heed his advice to “yield”. I will also take away from him my newfound knowledge and appreciation of the eastern perspective on healing.

I invite you to Move On with us and continue to enjoy the ride…….…….

Sunday, August 28

I awoke this morning rested and excited for a new day – a grand feeling! The energy carried me through a great morning weight work out, various fix it tasks and an afternoon of cooking. I had a fun and relaxing day.

Tomorrow morning, Laurie and I go to OHSU in Portland. I am scheduled for a bone scan and CT scan to determine how the tumor cells have responded to the last 20 weeks of treatment. The following morning my oncologist, Dr Beer, will explain the test results as we ask questions. Most importantly he will prescribe the next phase of treatment. Hopefully the tumor burden has been significantly lessened and the new prescription will be considerably less invasive.

We are optimistic and I am more than ready to commence a treatment regime, which would be easier on my body (eg. no chemotherapy).  However, we are anxious. After all who knows what the scans will reveal. We do know this disease is a tenacious one. A disease for which western medicine really does not have a cure. So even the best news from tomorrow’s tests could still leave much to be desired.

I feel like the starting point guard on my high school basketball team before the state tournament. I know I’ve practice hard, prepared and am as ready as I can be, but still quite nervous and anxious. Put another way, I feel like I am sitting for my graduate school comprehensive exams. I’ve prepared as best I could and am confident, yet who knows how it will actually unfold.

Off to bed I go with the mantra I’ve adopted for this journey:

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst………..

Finally, I want to acknowledge once again the impressive, powerful, consistent, positive support (thoughts, words, deeds, cards and prayers) we’ve received from all of you. Your support means to world to us.

Thank You from the bottom of our hearts!

Saturday, August 27

Today has been an exceedingly slow day – one of those familiar days over the last four months. I just cannot seem to catapult myself out of this dragging state. My meager work out was a 1 1/2 hour morning walk with Laurie. Numerous times she turned back up the hill to accompany me down the other side – a truly sad state of affairs.

Fatigue has surely been a reoccurring theme throughout this blog. So today I asked myself why I felt so physically drained, tired and exhausted. I sought an honest answer. One might suggest the cumulative effect of chemotherapy or drugs robbing me of my testosterone or numerous other cancer related causes. Perhaps a case for age could be made or simply being ‘out of shape’.

NO, I think not!

I recall the people, places and events of the last two weeks. Piper, the 13-month toddler, clearly stands out. She stands out because I now realize we share the exact same condition (as some of you surely do). I call it:  FMO – Fear of Missing Out!

I rehearse in my head the litany of physical and social activities in which I gleefully participated. The days (and evenings) were just packed full of fun things!  I did not want to pass on any of them. They just kept coming at me and I embraced them all because they were with people whom I wanted to play, share and make memories. I, like Piper, did not want to miss one solitary adventure. Whether it was a bike ride, hike, pool time, ice cream store foray, card game or whatever (and whenever) I just did not want to miss out.

So no wonder, after all the family finally exited yesterday, my body hit the wall. I crashed! I was done! I was paying the price of unabashed fun and endless playtime – just like the kids do now and I had done as a kid myself.

 

 

I now realize: Not too bad a price to pay for the reward of memories.

Thank you all!

 

Wednesday, August 24

I’ve quickly come to realize what all parents must know as so clearly obvious:  Although incredibly adorable and tons of fun, a toddler and a precocious 4-year old leave no room whatsoever for rest and relaxation – even in the life of a metastatic cancer patient.  However, they do provide untold joy, laughter, simplicity and entertainment – a trade-off, I most gladly accept and embrace!

Tanya’s family visit has moved from last week in Sunriver to this week in Eugene.  Our home is their base and one fun day continues to follow the next.  We play in yard, harvest the garden, invent things in the workshop, frolic at the pool, cycle around town, explore the bouncy gym and go back to the pool again. By day’s end (8:30pm), I honestly am unsure who is more tired – adults or kids.

I will surly miss them all at week’s end.  They have been a most  wonderful diversion from the more somber parts of my current journey.  On that note, I leave you with a 19 second video as a sample of the 1.2 million seconds we have enjoyed together during this most fun-filled family vacation.  Enjoy!

 

 

Friday, August 19

I’m sure you’ve all heard the saying: “a picture is worth a thousand words”.  Well there you have it – chilled, relaxed, carefree, laid-back, easy, casual, unflappable, calm, cool, collected, easy-going, light, blithe and debonair! It’s been and continues to be a fabulous family fun week here in Sunriver, Oregon!

 

My free time thoughts continually drift to the psyche of our 4-year old. It seems that he is so free, easy and unencumbered. He wakes not knowing if it is a school day or play day. He doesn’t seem to care what is for dinner or when it will be served. He runs about the house fully clothed or shamelessly naked. He gets in the car not knowing if he will be driving hundreds of miles back home or to the local pool. As we walks through the woods, he cares neither about the path nor the destination; only what is directly in front of him. He bounces from plaything to plaything, from adult to adult, from fascinating object to the next, all with the sole intention of creative play. He invents stories, laughs hard and bounces endlessly with his enviable sense of complete joy. He invents games for pool play, like diving for treasure and then we run as a team to the thrilling water slide. He jumps back in the pool, goggles down, kicking crazily, soon out of breath trying to swim from one adult to the next. We, then, all end up in the warm pool. I don’t believe he has a pre-determined plan, all just seems to unfold with laughter, movement and fun being his desired outcome.

He lives my dream of solidly focusing on the present moment. He has a delightful disregard of both the past and the future. He lives for the NOW. He cherishes each moment without consciously thinking of it. He truly climbs bolt to bolt. This lesson is mine for the taking – Thank you, Finn!

Oh yea, our hike yesterday!

Friday, August 12

I’ve been away form you all for almost a week now. Where have I been, what have I been doing, how is the battle progressing? Crashing, celebrating, lamenting? The reality is that I did successfully avoid the dreaded post chemo crash. So, why not post?

Has an extremely intense fatigue kept me out of writing commission? This fatigue has forced multiple 9-hour sleeping nights followed by multiple daytime naps, sometimes totaling up to 4 hours.

Has the excitement of preparing for Tanya’s family visit kept me from you? They are all coming for a summer vacation to Oregon. Tanya, Kate, Finn, Piper, Steven, Ron and Lana arrive Eugene this weekend and then Rich, Katie, Laurie and I will all be enjoying excessive playtime with them in Sunriver. Rich warns: “Mike, make sure you get your nap time. Boundless energy is about to arrive.” I’m psyched!

  

Has my dream come true? Have I become the enviable uninteresting medical case and that has kept me from my therapeutic blog? Of course, Laurie warns me of hubris on this account and I do agree. After all imaging is still over two weeks away and I am dealing with cancer which is all to well known for its ability to sneak around therapies.

So, for now, I shall leave the question open: Has fatigue, excitement or banality kept me away for the past week?

Saturday, August 6

I awake just a little less perky, a little less full of zest, vigor and vitality. It must be the dance in which I am engaged – the dance around the post chemo crash. Over the next few days I will be employing my once-proven strategy: significantly less physical activity and the optional post chemo medication (Lorazepam). Nonetheless, yesterday was quite lethargic. Seven hours of an uninterrupted, sound nighttime sleep, followed by about four hours of daytime napping, and still I was totally dragging!

It was extremely difficult to motivate about – that relentless hanging weight was back again! Lucky I don’t have a demanding job and I do have a completely understanding, supportive wife! It is great to know that this will indeed pass in only a few days – simply lay low, yield and go with the flow. That is my plan!

 

In the meantime, I find myself pondering the quote: “The enemy of your enemy is your friend.” My real enemies are those pesky cancer cells and the enemy of those cells is the chemotherapy. Thus, chemotherapy must be my friend. Really? The friend, who has dragged my body down to flat-line fatigue, sapped all my living strength and brought me to my knees emotionally. S(he) is about to go away and leave me on my own to continue my fight. Am prepared for this? It feels as if I am about to leave home, start my first real job or graduate. Although, I look forward to this new chapter, I admit to being la little nervous in saying goodbye to my old friend(?). How ironic is that? Funny how that works – sometimes I wonder do we really know what we know?

As one of my favorite authors from my youth would say:
“So it goes………….”

Thursday, August 4

My long weekend started on late Friday morning as I launched from Eugene up the I-5 corridor through Portland en route to Seattle. I was happy, so much so, that I did not mind the ubiquitous traffic. I had big plans: spend the weekend with Corey (and the ‘rents), a much-anticipated Climbing date with Chris and Linda and then my sixth and final Chemotherapy infusion – the end to phase I of my cancer treatment.

At almost 21 years old, Corey is one of my favorite persons on the planet! I’ve known the boundless energy and relentless spirit of this young lady, ever since she unabashedly crawled onto my lap at an Ashland family reunion in mid 1990. I vividly recall the scarlet red shirt, her big brown, bright eyes and a smile full of fun. As we played, I knew, we were destined to be buds. Our spirits just joined!

Over the years my visits with Corey have always been delightful. She would climb onto my shoulders to go hiking. We walked hand-in-hand to her elementary school. I would read her to sleep. We played countless board and card games on the floor. We kicked the soccer ball on the beach. We’d ride bikes together. We’d lounge on the coach and watch sports. I’d go to her bassoon concert, her lacrosse games, her HS soccer practice and even one of her college soccer games. I’d religiously follow her European travel blog. The list goes on and on and on. Most incredible to me was when her parents would thank me for playing with her, as if I were doing the favor, but unbeknownst to them the joy was always all mine.

Corey was and is the quintessential energy source. Her big broad smile boasts zest, vigor and fullness of life. She is simply a bundle of joy. I got to spend the full weekend with her. We laughed, hugged, played, hiked, talked, watched sports and ate together. All to soon it came time to say goodbye. I waved as she pulled her car out of the driveway en route to her summer job. She had the perfect job – playing with the kiddies at a local day camp:  Lucky her -Luckier the kiddies.  As I waved, she called out: “Don’t worry Mike, it’s OK to say goodbye, because if we don’t, we cannot say hello again.” I loved it!

I exited Seattle into the sea of traffic and made my way down to the generous hospitality of my dear friends Chris and Linda in Portland. Presently, they are definitely enhancing my life in a major way. Unselfishly, they take time from their frantic schedules to arrive home early, hang and reminisce with me, serve up appetizers and take me Climbing to Planet Granite, their amazing climbing gym. It felt so great to be with my climbing buds in their home environment, scaling the super long walls of sustained climbing. Perhaps climbing hard in spite of intense chemotherapy coupled with the ‘soft’ rating made me all the more smug. Nonetheless it was Fun, Fun, Fun! We closed them down at 11pm – the last to leave! The guest room was set up for me and I got to sleep in. Delightful!

Fresh off the BOLT bus, I picked up Laurie and we were off to the sixth Chemotherapy infusion. It went real well. I passed the doctor exam. My panel of blood test showed healthy liver function and adequate blood cell counts. As always the OHSU entire staff was friendly, helpful, efficient and extremely professional. I exited feeling just fine and quite chipper.

I sit home now. I seem to be digesting all the much-appreciated medical speak and analysis I received from the doctors and scientists (including friends Chris, Susan and Manfred). I also am trying to dodge the post chemo crash. I am excited to be done with phase I, especially since it ends with the news of another 22% decrease in PSA. Admittedly, I am a little anxious about proceeding into the unknown of phase 2. I am unsure how those pesky tumor cells will react. It feels like we got them down and running for their lives, but I am under no illusion that they are wily and tricky and will not go down without a fight. Now, without chemotherapy on my side, how will I my body respond? I guess we shall just have to wait and see. In the meantime, I’ll be climbing from bolt to bolt and enjoying the view – just like in the old days.

Thursday, July 28

Upon first being diagnosed, a friend, who is quite familiar with the western medical establishment, told me that one does NOT want to be an interesting medical case. She explain how the doctors embraced the challenge and greeted the excitement, but the long and short of it is that interested translated into not easily cured.

I have since realized that the flip side of being an interesting medical case is that there are the makings an intriguing, dynamic literary story.  Writing this story quickly became my hobby!

On this morning’s walk I vexingly wondered if I still were an interesting medical case. After all I am coming to the end of what seems to be a fairly successful first phase of treatment – PSA down, blood work good, positive comments from both eastern and western treatment teams and no major side effects. Further, I am at a loss to interestingly continue my story.

So there you have it – perhaps a transition from medically interesting to standard care. With that transition the possible ending of an exciting, unfolding, dynamic cancer story to everyday life with manageable cancer that simply slows me down. WOW – exciting for me!!! Reader be warned!

I excitingly anticipate my final chemotherapy infusion in just five days. I  also await the preliminary conversation with doctors on how the next phase of my treatment will unfold. The big question remains: “Will I still be an oddity and stand out – that aberrant, interesting medical case?”

 

Sunday, July 24

Make no mistake about the fact that I certainly do recognize that my stage 4 cancer is a very serious diagnosis. I definitely do not want to diminish this reality.

Nonetheless, as Laurie and I cruised through the delightfully shaded part of our 22-mile bicycle ride yesterday, I jovially wondered if I had the (almost) perfect patient’s dream. I viewed my situation through this lens:

 

I have experience practically NO pain whatsoever. I have NOT had any major disruptions in either eating or sleeping. I am still able to move my body through exercise. Without a job, I have the time to dedicate myself fully to the fight. I have reasonable health insurance and adequate financial resources. I have full confidence in both my western and eastern healing teams. Additionally, both teams keep hinting towards positive results from their treatments. I have a tremendously supportive community of family and friends that just keep pouring a joyous, healing energy my way. Moreover, I feel like can call upon each and every one of you in a time of true need and you will respond immediately. Finally, I just KNOW I will come out the other end of this with a new, more appreciative lease on life. All my relationships will be deeper and more rewarding.

Presently I feel as if my (almost) perfect patient’s dream is akin to my favorite cycling situation. I am just cruising: creek-grade down, in the shade of gigantic, majestic, old growth trees, with a slight tailwind.

(Casi) la Pura Vida!

Wednesday, July 20

Admittedly, I’ve been procrastinating this post, so as not to tempt Murphy. I wanted to wait sufficiently long to verify that I have indeed avoided the post chemo crash.

Laurie and I returned last night from a marvelously relaxing long weekend in Manzanita. This morning, I went grocery shopping and did NOT experience that dreaded melt down – the true test! Presently, I’m feeling GREAT and am psyched for the next two weeks. Avoided!

For all of those out there in Mike’s blog land wanting to know how the crash was avoided, I offer the same reply I do whenever my brother Rich asks about the whys of cancer treatment. Namely, “I simply don’t know”. There are so many variables, so many super powerful drugs and so much pooled positive energy coming my way, that I simply ignore the why and revel in the joy of the circumstance.

That said, Laurie has her opinion. She says that I had successfully yielded. I had embraced minimal physical exertion over the first five days after the chemo treatment. Additionally she suggests the more prudent use of an optional post chemo medication worked wonders.

So there we have it……………Running strong Post chemo #5.

Dare I say, “Take that weak stuff home – Bring on #6?”

Saturday, July 16

It has been 95 hours since the end of Chemo #5. Presently, I am relaxing on the couch after our six-person (and one dog) Manzanita morning beach walk – flat, slow, serene and friendly. I also find myself feeling significantly better than I would have expected. After all I’ve already experienced four prior chemotherapy treatments and you’ve read the stories of anxiety, fatigue and fog!

The word that comes to mind is: Allora. I learned this word when studying Italian a few years back. I know it as a word that does not really translate directly; it seems to be a word that just takes up space – a pause word, a waiting word. Think about well in English. I focus on this word because it feels like I am in a waiting phase. I happily motivate around with friends in this gorgeous ocean setting waiting to see how my body will fully react to chemo #5. Is the anxiety coming? Will I be able to think straight? Will I be dragged down with that vicious physical fatigue?

So for now, Allora. Let’s wait and see!