“A happy life must be to a great extent a quiet life, for it is only in an atmosphere of quiet that true joy dare live.” Bertrand Russell

BigDCdn has just completed a stem cell transplant. He was diagnosed with stage IIa Hodgkins and relapsed after 3 cycles of ABVD. My thoughts are with you, big guy.

SQLman was diagnosed with advanced Squamous Cell Cancer in his throat. He’s gone through a powerful course of  chemo and radiation. We’ll know in a few weeks if this was enough to send the tumour into remission.

Lastly I want to acknowledge charter member Wayne who became emeritus a few weeks ago. Wayne passed away after a long battle with kidney cancer. I met Wayne and his wife Colleen through friends in summer of 2009 and I know they did follow this blog. I hope that it was some small comfort to them. My thoughts go out to Colleen for peace of mind and heart. He will be missed.

This is a club you don’t want to be a member of… though it’s OK being an alumni. Unfortunately the initiation ceremony and dues paid can be brutal.

As for me, life goes on. Remission continues as per my last checkup with Dr. Valerie in early March. I’m dealing with some lifestyle issues (eating and drinking less) which had been put on hold to fight cancer and am feeling much better for it. Work continues. Cass, the dogs and horse are as well as can be expected. Spring is here. Life is wonderful.

“I suddenly understood with great clarity that nothing in life — except death itself — was ever going to kill me. No meeting could ever go that badly. No client would ever be that angry. No business error would ever bring me as close to the brink as I had already been.”
David Davis Jr. editor of Automobile Magazine. Nov. 7, 1930 to Mar. 27, 2011.

If I remain well this is the last time I will see Dr. Sheila. And it’s bittersweet. I’m happy to be well and to remain well, but I have really appreciated her care of  me. I tell her that I know she was just doing her job… but it’s how the job was done that made a difference to me. She didn’t feed me any bullshit. She treated me with respect. That’s all I can ask. Future follow-ups will be done by my family doctor, Dr. Val. However, if anything doesn’t seem right I’ll be able to get in to see Dr. Sheila right away.

Afterward we go to Zambri’s for lunch and then come home to rest. Tonight we’ll have friends over for a few drinks and a little celebration of my remission. Life is good. Let it continue.

Once again there is a surprisingly emotional release of stress for both Cass and I. For some reason the edge of this anxiety does not seem to get dull with time. Not yet anyway.

We treat ourselves to lunch at Zambri’s and dinner at Brasserie L’Ecole. The next routine check will be in November. We have our fingers crossed in hopes that November will bring us two years of remission.

“Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.” WS

I’m talking about anxiety in the previous paragraph but I have to admit that there are now days and even weeks when I “forget” that I had HL. The human brain is a wonderful thing. For a year my thoughts were completely occupied with cancer… my treatment, my prognosis, its affects on my loved ones and my professional career, etc. The changes in attitude towards my life and what it means remain with me… but the worry about the cancer… rightly or wrongly… is largely diminished and often absent.

I am “expecting” to be NED (no evidence of disease) this Friday morning. This is a good thing I suppose… but it will also be a huge disappointment if Dr. Sheila comes in and says, “Tom, there are a few of your blood test results that concern me. There’s nothing to worry about at this point but we’ll need to do some further tests to make sure that everything is still going well.” Ech. But… like I said… I’m not expecting that.

So, at least until Friday, we will return to the life that was previously scheduled for this time slot.

Dr. Sheila breezes in and shakes our hands. She’s smiling… that’s always a good sign when seeing your oncologist. She asks me how I feel to which I answer ,”Fabulous”. She says I look good in real life and that my paperwork looks good too. She thumps my back and chest. She feels my throat, neck, armpits and groin. She palpates my liver and spleen. I’m a “good patient”. Everything is the size and shape that it’s supposed to be.

And there it is. 16 months in remission. Tearful hugs all around for the “participants” in this version of the “someone in the family has cancer” home game. Tonight we’ll have a well deserved bachannalia with friends. I remain, as always… the “for now lump free” Tom.

“I’m viewed as this weird, crippled character. But you got to take your lumps.” Billy Corgan

“I was silent as a child, and silenced as a young woman; I am taking my lumps and bumps for being a big mouth, now, but usually from those whose opinion I don’t respect.” Sandra Cisneros

“Anxiety is the space between the “now” and the “then.”” Richard Abell

We have some news. There’s a new puppy in our lives. Her name is Daisy and she is an 11 week old Jack Russell Terrier. Poor Otis has had his life turned upside down. She is as evil/cute as a JRT puppy should be. I’ll post again after the blood test and again after my check up. Wish me luck.

Now, my comment seems to be in heavy rotation on The Zone’s break fillers. It’s weird to be driving along in the truck and realize that the voice you are hearing on the radio is your own. I imagine they play it because it’s fairly informative and not very hysterical. Anyway… if I’d known it was going to get so much play I would have tried to sound like less of a nerdy goon.

“I wrote a song, but I can’t read music. Every time I hear a new song on the radio I think, “Hey, maybe I wrote that.””
Stephen Wright

“New York: the only city where people make radio requests like “This is for Tina – I’m sorry I stabbed you”
Carol Leifer