How Do You Face Adversity?

What do you do when you know you have a significant, life changing event about to take place? What do you do with the time you have up to that point? How do you deal with the inevitable emotional rollercoaster? How do you deal with life requirements now and knowing there is now only days left before your life takes a significant turn and the outcome after that is anything but sure? Knowing that life will be changing, perhaps significantly, how do you not treat this like the “end.”

We’re down to days. In fact it’s past that point of single digits since that started last week. Surgery is Friday, which means final surgery prep starts Thursday. Thursday night we call in to find out our check in time, but we were told to expect around 7:30am up in Murray at the Intermountain Health Center to get ready for a planned 6 hour surgery. So it’s really happening. The time has truly come. But you know what else is happening this week? Life.

Yep, life for everyone marches on with all that it requires. Kids are in their last week of school. Heather too as she’s wrapping up her first year of full time teaching. There are tasks to attend to, school parties to attend and the backyard movie party Robyn is hosting for her classmates. Tomorrow is Memorial Day and we seek to remember and honor our veterans, including several in our own families. Thank you dad, Grandpa, Uncles and brother-in-law Peter. Growing up military this holiday always carries much significance for me, but less so for me than for those that actually served. Thank you never seems enough.

It’s a Coping Mechanism

In many ways I think just continuing to do the day to day and regular type stuff is a coping mechanism for me. It’s a form of denial. If I just keep working on some projects, mowing the backyard so Heather or the kids don’t have to do it, and just taking care of some regular tasks then the looming surgery isn’t real. Maybe if I just act normal, I can be normal and not the guy with a big alien in his gut that’s taking over and has to be removed. Maybe. Can we just do that? Skip surgery and somehow get better?

I know, it’s not reality. But sometimes it just feels better to live life as if it is. Over the last year and a half of fighting this fight, I have probably relied on that denial more than I’d like to admit while still knowing I am in a fight for life. But when I’m honest with myself, I’ve known and have felt all along that I’m working against a ticking clock that’s counting down to zero. I just don’t know exactly where I’m at on that countdown, so I’m operating in a happy bliss of not knowing. I’m choosing to live each day as if it’s normal, or perhaps a little more important than normal and making the most of that day.

There’s a real psychological battle in counting down to some of these deadlines or milestones where I do know what’s coming. It’s freeing in some respects because I am more free to cast aside things that perhaps are important, but they are not a priority for me at least right now. I feel empowered to free my mind from some matters because I have greater things to focus on, and even enjoy. But it’s also not easy.

I’m in pain.

Yes, the pain has returned. Well, actually it’s been here in various forms for awhile, but new pain and likely cancer related pain has come back and is growing. My shoulders and neck have really hurt from the bike accident. I had hoped I’d bounce back from that, yet 5 weeks later I’m still feel significant muscle and joint pain. My chiropractor checked and confirmed that I have a separated shoulder, torn ligaments and radiating pain in both shoulders and my back. Wahoo for me. That’s expected with an accident of this nature, but it sucks because I haven’t been able to do any weight training on my upper body for the last month leading up to this surgery, and of course I won’t be able to after for some time, so all that fitness will be even worse after recovery.

My abdominal pain has returned harder in the last week. This time it’s radiating from the opposite side, kind of above my liver and at the base of my lung. It started by feeling a bit like a lung cramp when you are breathing hard, but it never goes away. At first it seemed just a small thing, then it kept getting worse. On Friday I had hoped going to Bikram Yoga would help stretch and get the blood flowing to help. That was the hardest yoga session I’ve ever had. I hurt all over and couldn’t find my peace and focus the entire session. But I did it. So despite it being so hard, I did it.

I had intended to get some other projects done during the day, but after a couple of morning efforts I finally had to succumb to the need to lay on the couch and rest. It didn’t fix things though and by Saturday I finally gave in to taking some pain killers to take the edge off. Ibuprofen seems to be the only thing that will touch it at all right now.

Active Outdoor Therapy

So despite the pain, the need to wrap up some client needs and projects at work, I’m still trying to enjoy these last days before surgery with family time, time with friends, and of course some active outdoor therapy.

The weather has been mostly good in the last week, so I’ve been outside on my bike as often as I can. Riding with my friend Ken who started me with this cycling thing whenever he’s available, and solo at other times. Yesterday was another #GoBeyond achievement for me, stretching even a little further on my distance with a 42mi ride down through Provo Canyon’s South Fork and back up winding through parks and roads back home. Take that cancer.

Ever since catching the cycling bug and finding the physical and mental enjoyment it gives me I’ve wanted to get a little better with new goals and challenges. Within reason. I’m not really intending to do the racing thing, but I enjoy riding with friends and simply being outside. I’ve always enjoyed the outdoors throughout life, and this is just one new way to do it. Plus it’s another of those opportunities to still feel normal in the face of difficult circumstances.

One goal I’ve had is to bike the Alpine Loop. That involves climbing the American Fork Canyon with all it’s altitude, hooking around through Sundance and back home through Provo canyon, the clockwise route. It’s no small effort with thousands of feet of elevation involved and about 40mi or more of travel. I had hoped to do it the end of summer last year but schedule and my own intimidation kept me from doing it.

Last week I decided there was one last little window to make it happen. So Wednesday Ken, Conrad and I, along with a few other friends that are seeing if they can join are biking the Loop. Sure it might be a slow, arduous and likely painful slog, but we’re doing it. I’m doing it. And for me it’s a statement. I’m choosing to live, to achieve something hard before I have other even harder things pressed upon me.

Call it a big middle finger to the circumstances. Take that cancer.

So while we’re inclined to keep this group ride a reasonable number, if you’re local and want to join us let me know. The current plan is to leave my house at 11am on our bikes and loop from there. That might add a few miles, but it allows some warm up before the canyon and seems fitting since that’s where I’ve been biking from all this time. Here’s hoping I make it without taking another spill. I’m not too worried about being sore after that, I’ll have plenty of forced downtime coming to me.

It’s Really Not Just About Me

Through all my writings in this time of the cancer journey, it’s painfully obvious to me that all of it includes a lot of “I” and “me.” It feels selfish at times, but really it’s hard for me to write about it in any other way than from my perspective. I do realize it’s not just about me. Cancer impacts much more than the individual. My family of course is impacted and feels all the emotions involved. My wife has had to step up in so many ways as a result of my diminishing ability to provide and the uncertain future. So many close friends and family have been a part of the journey and seeking ways to help whenever we would allow them. And lately that time has come to when we’ve had to realize that we can’t fight this battle alone and have to be willing to allow others to fight at our sides and support us.

The outpouring of love and support is humbling and amazing. Thank you to all those that have donated funds, purchased t-shirts, stopped by with small gifts or even just taken the time to share the emotional journey. For my distant friends that have reached out with their love and support in these campaigns as well as personally in different ways. Helping us search for a replacement van and negotiate with insurance to get a little better settlement for the totaled one. For the emotional and spiritual outreach offering faith where mine lacks. It all matters greatly. It’s difficult to express the appropriate thanks because I don’t know quite what to say.

So much of it still feels like we are preparing for the hardest parts that lay ahead, but one of those parts is now right at our doorstep. Come Friday there’s no going back. The scalpel cuts in and along with tumor masses out comes a lot of organ tissue I’d much rather leave in place. But it’s the price to pay for some extension of life and to avoid a quickly degrading quality of life and increased pain that’s already started sneaking in. If there’s a place to focus hope, prayers and energy, it’s that I get to keep a portion of my stomach and that other organs will be minimally impacted.

Keep Choosing to Live

In the midst of this all, I’m heartened when I see others sharing the message of #IChooseToLive in their own ways and through their own struggles. We all have them, and while some may seem greater than others, they are meaningful and often seemingly insurmountable to others when in the middle of them. But it’s always a choice. We don’t choose our circumstances, but we choose how we react to them. For all those that share their message by adding it to their race tag when they walk/run/ride in a charity race or simply wear one of my shirts and discuss the message with others that are intrigued, I thank you. Any way you either spread this message or simply embrace it yourself, I thank you. I hope this message resonates for others as it has for me, and will continue for me even past this Friday.

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