Dad's Journey​​

Sunday, March 18th, 2018 - 11:15 PM - The Fire Within

Compassion. Inspiration. Positivity. Strength. Selflessness. Love. Hope.

Despair. Confusion. Depression. Sadness. Struggle. Anger. Weakness.

I've been able to express a great deal through writing. From inspiration and hope, advocacy and strength, the lighter side and humor, growth and enlightenment to mortality and depression, coping and reaction.

But, what of the fire from within? The ever burning drive to carry on. Simply get up and take each day minute by minute, second by second. Every day gives opportunity for 86,400 seconds. Sometimes the mind holds long on a given second. Others they seem to pass at an incomprehensible speed. In the blink of an eye, precious seconds have slipped away, who then collects the phantom seconds?

Each of us is but a grain of sand on the beach of our ancestors. Poured into the hourglass of life. There isn't advance warning of when our turn to take the plunge through the bottleneck and into the great beyond will be. But, the fight is forever lost to the clutch of gravity.

My words have become a timeline of my family's journey. There isn't always cohesion, but I'd like to believe that some consistency, at least, exists. The story is broken. Pieces are missing from the puzzle. Time is never an ally. I struggle to put into words the enormity and entirety of the situation. It's often said that we're our own harshest critics, but I truly never know if our story is being told in an understandable way.

Sometimes, something from within the core of my being is ignited. It's an inner fire. The white hot flame of determination and resolve. The immolating of doubt and despair, confusion and weakness. It starts in the depth of my soul and like a wildfire on the dry Savanah, it conflagrates everything in its path.

Our parents have cancer. Their discoveries were brought to full light only 18 days apart. 18 days. Our world was forever altered in a mere 18 days. In the grand scheme, that's a miniscule time frame. However for our circle, 2018 will forever be the Cancer year. While there may be other significant events in this year, not many will hold a candle. Of course, after finding out that our Dad had prostate cancer, we thought things couldn't get worse. The world replied "challenge accepted" or, more accurately, knowing this family, it replied, "hold my beer!"

We've experienced a range of emotions and reactions, faced our demons, and looked the world square in the face while we retorted, "Try me!" The standoff is long from over. But, I'm disappointed to report that we've been dealt a swift uppercut to the jaw.

This past week Dad received the results of lab work and repeat scans. He'd finished his prescribed course of radiation treatment. The scans showed that the cancer spots have spread. This isn't a positive development. As dad's cancer has been classified as metastatic, that means it has spread outside the point of origin. What's concerning (please note that I used the word CONCERNING, and I did NOT use the word alarming...) is that we, in learning about cancer and all that's related to it, were under the understanding that prostate cancer was very slow moving. Again, I'm not a doctor, but feel as though I do have a good grasp on reading comprehension and listening skills.

Here's my take on this:

1. Radiation, in this case, was directed and focused on a specific area of his body. The goal of radiation was to offer some up front relief to the ongoing pain Dad had been experiencing.

2. From what I'm told, radiation was successful in this endeavor. Pain has been greatly reduced. Appetite has returned. Some improvement in bodily functions. Sleep has returned.

3. We also have the understanding that chemotherapy is the primary course of treatment for a metastatic cancer. It's not a cancer that offers sensible surgical options to simply remove one focused area as treatment.

4. The bottom line is that there is no CURE for cancer. There are numerous options for treatment which are capable of restoring quality of life and prolonging life to a normal expectancy. In other words, it's not called a cure because recurrence is always a factor. But, someone can become essentially cancer FREE (usually called remission) with treatment.

5. I important to remember that radiation was intended as up front pain relief. We, in truth, haven't gone through any procedure or process, yet, to treat the cancer anywhere else in his body. This is not in any way meant to lessen the severity of the situation. The cancer spreading must be monitored and addressed as soon as is possible.

For now, the plan is this:
3/19 - Consultation for colonoscopy
3/24 - E.K.G.
3/28 - Followup with oncologist

He is scheduled to return to work on 3/26. Hopefully we'll have more details and schedule for the clinical trial and chemotherapy soon!

For now, I'm going to make a solid attempt at sleep before midnight, for once, especially since my 6am alarm waits for no one.

I'll leave you with these, my words, and wishes for a smooth work week ahead.


~T

Friday, March 2nd, 2018 - 11:15 PM - Blurred Lines

It has been a bit since I've posted an update. There are many reasons, some excuses, a few soul searches and even the occasional ferocious tirade which I'll "explain" as the cause for the lack of posting.

This weekend is the two month mark for the biopsy that turned things topsy-turvy in our lives. I'll forever remember that moment in time. It was like sitting in the car on a roller coaster that had just completed its steep climb towards the heavens, only to provide a brief respite and false sense of security as it levels out momentarily before the floor seemingly drops out from under you and gravity asserts her maniacal hold pulling you ever more swiftly back towards the rocky earth before changing her bipolar persona and slingshoting you just as quickly back to the sky.


Aside from being a traumatic and emotionally and physically stressful time, having both of our parents battling cancer has been an incredible learning experience. Not just in the book learning sense, either. It's also been an eye opener. You learn what you're made of. You gain understanding and insight about those around you. There is no hiding, all the cards are down. Time is not wasted in determining if the cards are stacked for or against you. Your allies and advocates materialize in crystal clear fashion. The enemies and naysayers fade quickly into the shadowed background.


We are constantly walking a fine line in how we handle any given situation. We have to evaluate and make decisions that truly directly impact life and death. Quality of life isn't really a phrase you hear often in everyday life. But, having spent nearly as many hours at oncologist offices as I have spent sleeping in the last few weeks, it's a phase that becomes ever more relevant and ever more prevalent. It causes the line to be even more difficult to walk.


I know some of you have raised an eyebrow or may be slightly panicked by what I've just written. And if that's the case, I'm glad to have your attention. There are often times where there seems to be a lack of urgency or we are lulled into complacency by the brief steadying of the roller coaster car.


I realize that, to say the very least, I'm quite different than what today's society would consider the "normal" everyday Joe. (no pun intended). Individuality is a phenomenal gift, and far too many don't capitalize on it. (my goodness, he's rambling again!)
OK. Cancer is a heartless, feckless thug. It is stealth. It's clinical and cold. Cancer is fierce and unforgiving. Cancer doesn't discriminate nor is it subjective. Cancer is relentless and dauntless. It's consuming and altering. Cancer is soulless and isn't swayed by emotion or brute strength. It is unfortunate, that anymore, we are developing calluses against accepting or even hearing about the vile enigma that is Cancer. Cancer causes pain. Unimaginable pain. Physical pain, emotional pain, anxiety and depression, coping pain, growing pain, harsh reality and mortality checks and scars that remain long after our fight is done.


Yet, we fight. We kick and scream and get furious. We cry our eyes out and curse the existence of the demon called Cancer. We wrap ourselves around our loved ones or wrap ourselves in a cocoon deep inside the visible outer layers. Survival mode is running at full speed and capacity. We speak the horrors into existence. We fall to our knees and pray to the almighty for miracles. We crave solace and understanding. We reminisce and ponder, harkening to the days of wonder. We revert to childhood and the state of mind and sense of being carefree and at the precipice of greatness, the entire cosmos as our oyster.


The line between quality of life and irreparable alterations is acutely presented. How do we navigate the rocky waters and achieve smooth sailing without sacrificing speed and efficiency? How do we keep the wheels running and maintained without wearing out the tread? Where do we stop to rest and regain our strength? What nourishment will satiate the coming tide of hunger? The human equation calls for the x factor. The unknown. Unanswered questions are the drive. The force behind obtaining knowledge and life long learning.


The lines are blurred between physicality and morality. How do we subdue the pain without sacrificing the invaluable and vital immunities and defenses? How do we comfort and reassure our parents without masking the intensity and significance of the truths? These and many other questions are what occupy our time and minds as of late.


While never wishing pain or suffering upon living creatures, we may actually cause harm in our inactions, or by masking or withholding the difficult truths. If there were a mystical button we could press, a magical food you could eat, an enchanted drink you could ingest, or an imbued incantation we could speak, we would move the earth and heaven to make them happen for you. There just isn't. There is hope, and faith, and determination and hard work. Speak positivity into existence. Tunnel vision is an all out attack. We are the light. Open your eyes. Listen with your ears, not your emotions and speak with your heart, not your mouth.
Dad has completed his series of radiation treatments. The clinical trials are the next manifestation of treatment. From here, we have a month long span of waiting. After confirming eligibility, he'll begin chemotherapy and be placed into randomization for the clinical study's drug. Pain has been a struggle that he still must focus on moving forward. In recent days, low blood pressure has also presented itself as a concerning factor. I cannot personally imagine the full extent of the extraordinary toll that cancer exacts on the human body and soul. And it may be different for each person it encounters.


The hard truths are these - the body and immune system are repeatedly subjected to harsh chemicals, radiation, traumatic lab tests, repeated evaluating, persistent side effects and unforseen reactions. That's all on a good, low key day.


An inactive body or a traumatized body cannot heal as an active, healthy body will. An unending, vicious vortex forms and sucks us all in. Winning isn't even the goal. At some point, simply surviving takes precedents. As a society, we treat symptoms, not diseases. The box may say "cold medicine" but, it treats runny nose, congestion, cough, sore throat, fever, and minor aches and pains. On the grander scale... We "treat" cancer by targeting radiation to alleviate swelling, pain, and shrinking tumors or lesions which may be impacting muscles, nerves or bones. We use chemo and immuno therapies to treat the division of abnormal cells within the body. We literally teach our cells to attack invading cells in our body. By reducing pain with medications we cause side effects such as fatigue, insomnia, lack of appetite, low blood pressure or swelling and fever. Then, what do we do? We prescribe additional medications to treat those resulting side effects, which are then referred to as "symptoms."

Please don't get me wrong. There is necessity and value in treatments. But the hard truth is, we won't solve or resolve every issue or symptom. Quality of life. It's important. We want the absence of suffering and pain. But we must also balance the good with the bad and find the finite line in which we shall walk single file until the job is done.

Please, continue to surround my parents with your love and support, your wisdom and insights, your experiences and intuitions. No matter how small of an impact you feel you will make - you may not feel like a somebody in the big world, but you are the world to somebody.

For now, I leave you with these, my words, and wishes for a restful weekend.

~T

Friday, February 16th, 2018 - 11:00 PM - Course Correction

Sometimes it's necessary to make a course correction. The ship may be sailing along, but not moving fast enough, or the rough seas may warrant a new direction. And there are those times when it's even necessary to replace the captain at the helm. I'm proud of my siblings and parents. This week was... Challenging... To say the least.

At the risk of being a broken record... I'll say again.. Sometimes we simply go through the motions and do what the doctors instruct. It's OKAY to challenge that which is prescribed or instructed. Each of us should be a staunch advocate for our own health and care (with your warriors covering your back!). We must each be a willing participant in the treatment and healing processes for them to be effective.


This week was also very much a divide and conquer game plan. Between Dad and my Mom, there were 10 (at last count) appointments scheduled between Monday and Friday. It becomes a bit chaotic, but somehow the three of us have been able to find time to coordinate, attend most appointments, talk and share notes and keep the momentum. To Jill Evaristo Polzin and Steve Polzin - we did good this week and we must recognize and celebrate those successes as much as any other. There will be bad days, and good, we'll take each in stride.


My updates tonight aren't all inclusive of warm and fuzzy and happy great fantastic news. They are still our victories, along with our lessons learned.


In one of the very early appointments with my Dad and the oncologist, I remember the doctor saying, "Especially in men, one of the hardest things to cope with, and most common effects of a cancer diagnosis is depression." Before I elaborate... I'm sure some reading this may be preparing to scold me in some way. But, there is no need. It's immensely important to put aside pride and opinions and judgements and have the difficult conversations. It's not an accusation, doesn't make anyone less of a person. The ultimate truth is that depression is a debilitating, physically and mentally crippling, and often silent suffering affliction. There's a vicious circle that forms. I feel as though we took some important steps this week. (I also apologize if my writing goes a bit haywire... I find, as I'm sure many others do, that there is a tremendous lack of hours in the day compared to tasks needing completion.)


More to the point - we needed to address some root problems we have now clearly recognized. First - the pain that directly correlates to the cancer has not been attacked or decreased in any measurable way. I do consider this a significant miss step on our part (I say this as a member of the caregiving "team". This was a valuable lesson, one maybe more difficult to grasp at first.) We have been operating under the assumption that Dad's primary care doctor would be the correct person to coordinate pain management. That, we now understand is not correct, nor the best approach. It took a little shaking of the old nuts and bolts and some clearing of the cobwebs for my head to accept this. We're in uncharted territory. Cancer doesn't literally change just the playing field, it also changes the rules of the game. Moving forward from today, any and all conditions, symptoms, side effects, results or indicators related to cancer will be managed and directed by the oncologist and his team. Dad's primary care doctor, of course, will be informed of treatment, diagnoses and medications, but only for the purpose of maintaining care not related to cancer.


Second - the insomnia and appetite changes Dad is experiencing are the next spoke on the wheel of this hellish circle. When you experience consistent pain, and are taking medications, related to cancer, your body is thrown into turmoil. While there are benefits to medications some of which are necessary or may be life prolonging or sustaining, medications also carry their share of side effects. It gets to the point, it seems, where the side effects are worse than the affliction the medicine is supposed to treat. These can cause changes in appetite, "bodily function", sleep patterns, changes in thoughts or mindsets, inability to perform seemingly simple or everyday tasks, lack of coordination to operate machinery or drive, and on and on... Without being able to consistently provide your body and mind with sustenance, time to rest and recover, and ways to expel the poisons and toxins and waste the vicious circle continues to reign.


The next stop on cancer's circle of hell is that which seems taboo. Depression. I'll again include my disclaimer that I'm not a doctor. I'm good at observing and learning and absorbing information. I'm pretty good at reading people, knowing and articulating their characters and breaking things into smaller pieces while maintaining a view of the big picture. And, again, this isn't an accusation or a scolding. It's not a dressing down or any form of public shaming. I would be surprised if any human had gone through the same things and WASN'T depressed. Our minds and bodies KNOW when they need sustenance. When they need rest and recovery, relaxation and down time. If they need to expel toxins, waste or poisons. They're phenomenally amazing machines, and we're only given the one. We must protect and care for them - inside and out. So, the horrific tilt a whirl ride called cancer spins uncontrollably like an F5 tornado spawned from a super typhoon as it collides with a Cat 5 hurricane in the middle of the ocean that is the human psyche. Not being able to sleep. Losing your appetite. Knowing you have cancer. Taking medications. Experiencing the side effects. The whiplash of life being rearranged to accommodate for the beast. Complete roadblocks in the quality of life. The unknown. The questions. The what - ifs. The jumping to conclusions. It's draining. You get bogged down under the weight. Your heart feels heavy and slow. Depression doesn't cry out. It doesn't come at you in the broad daylight with a name tag. Depression isn't gentle. It's not a passing ship, floating by under only the power of the current. Depression is a ninja, stalking in the darkness. Searching for an opening, even the slightest weakness, and then attacking with unrelenting ferocity. It's bad enough that you have cancer. This is the salt in the wound, the unexpected seatbelt to the tailbone, the kick to the gut while you're already writhing on the ground, and the secondary sucker punch even though you've been TKO'd. Once depression gets her hooks in, even the strongest, mightiest, bravest amongst us becomes her b*tch.


I promise that I haven't (yet) gone (completely) off the deep end. My point is this. There isn't enough talk, discussion, recognition, or education about the overwhelming toll that cancer imposes. I know some may think (or say) that I may come across cold and unfeeling or lacking in compassion. I concede that outward appearance may suggest that. Emotion can get the best of us all.
Dad - there aren't words that can make time move at a pace you'd be happy with so that you could be over the hurdles and crossing the finish line. There's no magic wand we can wave or genie we can release to grant your rightly deserved wishes to be free of this burden. There isn't a solution to the puzzle. The pieces are upside down, keeping their secrets for now. I CAN offer my winning personality, endless charm and charisma, alluring attitude, defining directives, incomparable wit and sense of humor and humble nature. 😂😂


Of course, you'll always have a piece of my heart, and the undeniable force that is your band of warriors.
For every ninja of depression, there exist 10 warriors to stand in your defense. We WILL lift you up when you are down. We'll be your strength when you feel weak. We'll be the glue when you are broken. And the light that forces out the darkness each day.
We go forward from today with renewed spirit. We take with us the lessons we learned and change the batting order as necessary. In an effort to manage the pain, Dad's cancer care oversight will shift in its entirety to the oncologist. There were several medication adjustments and changes implemented during today's appointments. Dad pulled the courage from within himself to draw the line in the sand for his care. There is no retreat or back tracking over that line. We only move forward from here!


For tonight, I leave you with these words... A collaboration by three siblings.

~S ~J ~T

Tuesday, February 6th, 2018 - 11:00 PM - Treatment

Quick update this evening. Dad went through his mapping scan today. I spoke to him a little earlier this evening. Radiation sessions will start on the 13th. Then, he's still got appointments on the 15th and 16th. There's a slight lack of detail from the oncologist office. They had stated that radiation would be ten consecutive business days, Monday through Friday in back to back spans.. it could be, in part, that Monday the 19th is a holiday... But we'll have to wait and see what direction they point us in on the 13th.

The appointment on the 13th is mid day. We're working to schedule appointments towards the end of the day so we can be better equipped to be present for appointments and minimize impact to work schedules. In any case, we're going to do what we've gotta do. But we're seemingly on the verge of ramping up appointments for both Dad and Mom in the near future.

Dad was in good spirits.. his usually silly self. We've affectionately begun calling these appointments his radiator appointments...

Auto correct got the best of him not too long ago.

We'll share more as soon as we have it.

Thank you all... For tonight... These are my words!

~T

Monday, February 5th, 2018 - 10:15 PM - Frustration

Today has been hectic, to say the very least. We really are burning candles at both ends, so forgive the late update.
Dad had an appointment today.. Which, in all honesty was a bit frustrating. From the oncologist appointment on 1/26, it was communicated to us (and i myself sat in the room and asked questions) that Dad would have radiation treatment today.
That was most definitely not the case. It's probably a good thing I was not present today, as I'm sure I would not have been the pleasant one.


Today turned out to be a consultation for radiation. Tomorrow, he'll need to return to the CCC (Cancer Care Center). They will do a mapping scan of the area of his leg /upper thigh that has been experiencing consistent pain. This will allow doctors to direct the radiation as appropriate. Then, the radiation course will be 10 business days - that's two consecutive Monday through Friday spans. Treatments are 20 minutes a day. During the radiation treatments, he will also meet with the radiology oncologist once a week to evaluate the effectiveness and verify that it's truly serving the purpose of reducing or eliminating the chronic pain.


Dad will be required to get an injection of Lupron in the short term. Lupron is a hormone treatment commonly used in the treatment of prostate cancer. Blood pressure today was good which is a positive to see it remain constant since coming off the blood pressure medicine after his fainting episode last month. He has some residual... Blockage... That's a known and continuing side effect of medications he's taking. He'll need to up his intake of miralax / milk of magnesia to assist with that particular issue. (you're welcome)


Moving into the clinical trial evaluation - Dad has an appointment on February 15th for lab / blood work. Then a pre-clinical trial appointment on the 16th where they review labs and confirm eligibility for the course of treatment.


Apologies for not including my usual dry humor more in this post... It's definitely been a Monday.

Thanks to Jill Evaristo Polzin for taking this one for the team and funneling the update.

For now, I leave you with these, HER words.

~T

Saturday, February 3rd, 2018 - 11:30 AM - Inspiration & Motivation

Tomorrow is World Cancer Day. Keep your eyes peeled tomorrow for our story.. That post is a work in progress.

Today, spilling over from yesterday, I've gotten a second wind.. Some new inspiration and motivation.. Thanks, in part, to an unexpected and unintentional donation from Amazon.com (its a long story, but funny...)


You all have probably seen my graphic designs, and there have been multiple inquiries as to how to get the dual ribbon heart shaped logo. Well... I think I've found a way to make it happen  😁. Stay tuned.. I'll publish finished pieces once I determine the best way to get it worked out (that's some TJ OCD and quality assurance that needs to happen!)


Some activity to update you all:


Mom had a follow up at the office of her Ortho doctor on Friday. Unfortunately, not a lot to report here. The doctor that did the actual surgery wasn't present for this appointment.. Which leads to another follow up in the coming weeks...


The P.A. did give some information though. The cancer was discovered in mom's leg with a bit of happenstance. It's not typical that tissue samples are obtained during the surgery to insert metal rods following bone breaks. In this case, because the surgery had been repeated now a third time, and the healing process wasn't producing results, the tissue was taken and sent for pathology. Not necessarily the best news or the way we think this should work.. But, mom was told that in truth, it could have gone undiscovered for an undetermined amount of time otherwise.


The important next step is the PET scan which is scheduled for February 7th at 2:00pm Pacific Time. Keep mom, and all of us close in your thoughts for answers and positive outcomes.


As always, we'll share more as soon as we get information.


On the horizon - the oncologist has now set an appointment for follow up and it should include review of the PET scan results and the lab work. This appointment is set for the week of Feb 12 - 16. I don't have the details of date and time, just yet.


For now, I'll leave you with these, my words..

~T

Monday, January 29th, 2018 - 6:45 PM - WCD Rally Cry

This Sunday, February 4th is World Cancer Day. The theme, which has continued from 2016 and 2017 is "We Can. I Can."
This is the day in which the World declares that everyone – as a collective or as individuals – can do their part to reduce the global burden of cancer.

Those diagnosed with cancer are NOT a burden.. It's intention is to reduce the cancer epidemic in all its forms and focus on finding a cure so we can obliterate this vicious disease from existence.

Please take some time this Sunday for reflection. For most of us.. This won't be reflection about ourselves. (With the exception of survivors and those currently affected by cancer) This is about the big picture. Cancer as a world disease.

As the song by Andra Day says - Rise up! Rise unafraid! Rise up! In spite of the aches! Rise up! And we'll do it a thousand times again!

I'm not asking for a moment of silence. I'm asking for us to cry out in one loud unmistakable voice - "They do not fight alone!" We can. They Can!

(I invite you all to share your message in whatever form it may take... This Sunday (2/4/18)... WORLD Cancer Day.

~T

Friday, January 26th, 2018 - 6:45 PM - The Path Ahead

Hi all. Update for Dad!

The oncologist spoke today about treatment. There isn't a CURE for cancer, yet. It's important that we speak of this in the right away. We can not cure cancer. We can, treat it and make every effort to restore quality of life for those diagnosed.
Today's appointment was... Challenging in some ways. We have done our fair share of "hurry up and wait" and even the oncologist commented today as though he feels the process has been a bit slow. We did recognize that the holidays were just getting rolling and quite consuming as this all began.


The standard, tried and true course of treatment for prostate cancer is hormone therapy and chemotherapy. In the discussions with the oncologist, my Dad has determined that he wants to dive head first and pursue the most aggressive treatment.
We learned today that he's going to get his wish. Final scheduling isn't yet worked out though as there is a process to be followed. This weekend we'll be going over the consent forms and information for clinical trials.


What does that mean? In addition to the standard treatment, and additional hormone therapy drug will be introduced in randomization. That means, that at any time, a patient could receive the experimental treatment or a placebo. In return for his participation, a good portion of the cost of the standard treatment would be covered.


In addition... Because of the continued pain that stretches from his side down his left leg... He will undergo some radiation which will be focused and localized. The oncologist believes that the hormone therapy and chemotherapy would also alleviate the pain, but require a longer timeframe to be effective. The radiation zapping the particular area should provide more direct and expedient relief.


Next steps - review the clinical trial consent and information. The screening process begins once consent is received. Dad is currently taking the hormone therapy medication orally. This changes to an injection in the next phase. The screening takes approximately 4 weeks. Then, so long as he meets the criteria to participate, the clinical drug is disbursed, again through randomization. Three weeks after that, chemotherapy begins. I'm the meantime, as we are not at all planning to prolong suffering, he will undergo radiation treatments. The caveat is that he must be finished with his course of radiation 2 weeks prior to starting the clinical trial. A little bit of a time crunch there, but totally doable. After chemotherapy regular maintenance appointments and possibly medication, depending on the results. We did also discuss immunotherapy. While this is a remote option, the oncologist hasn't seen any impressive results or data with relation to prostate cancer. Immunotherapy could be the next option, if it's even needed, but generally isn't relied upon for a typically slow moving cancer such as prostate cancer is.


We've got some work ahead of us here, but there is a path and some of the street lights are coming on. We know which way to walk, now it's time to gather and prepare for the trip.


As always.. each of you is appreciated. I do have a photo I snapped today to add, which I'll do shortly.. and when the time is right, I'm still hoping for at least a short video message from the man himself!


Until then... Be well... And I'll leave you with these, my words.


~T

Wednesday, January 24th, 2018 - 5:45 PM - Introspection

Today, I'm a little wary. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. Despite all of this, I know that there are many who have it much worse, far more difficult, and impossibly more challenging than I do. I'm taking this post, a very public post, to express and encourage all of us towards some introspection.

Introspection means: the examination or observation of one's own mental and emotional processes. I would also include that it's an evaluation, to some degree, of your actions.


Against unbelievable and astronomical odds... We (my siblings and I) found out in the last couple days that not only are we facing the battle against prostate cancer along side my dad, stepmom and our extended family, but we are also now having to dawn our armor to stand with our mom who, after having a third surgery on her left leg, (which hasn't healed since the original cause back in July of 2016) found out that tissue samples taken during the procedure came back testing positive for cancer cells.


It's baffling and shocking all together that it's even a remote possibility that both of our biological parents within a couple weeks time, could be diagnosed with cancer.


I realize that I set up this group for my Dad. And the entire purpose and mantra has been about rallying around and lifting him up. My mom, who hasn't been married to my dad for 20 years has been gracious and kind, and even behind the scenes has been there for all of us, in ways most of you don't, and won't know. This extends to include my step mom and through her our extended family. We, regardless of structure, are very much that - a family. It's not always pretty and perfect. We have our disagreements and we resent things in each other.. And that's ok. To each their own. That's one of the magnificent things about humanity - how you can be an individual, yet still be part of a collective that's incredibly diverse.


My collective is composed of many distinct and powerful personalities. That's not always an easy thing to grapple with. I've said before.. I'm extremely cognizant of the fact that I have a very abrupt, direct, concise, logical /mathematical mind, dry and sarcastic sense of humor and associated personality. I'm a pit bull. I have zero tolerance for a lot of things and I'll explain it with crystal clear ferocity if you cross that line.


Going back to the days before I can remember, my brother and sister have been my closest friends, my worst enemies, my staunchest supporters and my harshest critics. I wouldn't change or trade them for anything in the world or beyond it. But, in my thirty five years, so many others have come into our lives.


My brothers wife, from my perspective, feels as though she was carved out to be harmonic balance for my brother. She's the calm to his stormy seas. She's the balance. It's cosmic kismet. My stepmom is the sanity to my dad's worried nature. She is the roots to one half of the split trunk to my family tree. Her girls, my step sisters, are wildly protective of our collective, they are maternal influences and protect the next generation of our family like the mighty lionesses.


Life, forever, from this point has changed. That's a realization we all must come to terms with. In the coming days, I'll be starting a mirror group that focuses on my mom and her horrific new challenge.


I don't have the answers. No one has them all. But this much is for certain - we cannot think only of ourselves. I've been a stone cold critic of social media and the way I see many choosing to use it. The hard reality is - each of us will need to dig deep - life has changed. The point and purpose of these groups as we move forward will of course be to draw attention to EACH of my parents. They are at the center. But the extension from them comes as a circle, not a line. An unbreaking, continuous, encompassing circle.
There is no intention of undervaluing or taking away from one person's journey and experiences from here on out. There's no playbook that tells us what to do here. I must stress and humbly request that all of us extend support to EVERY individual (including but not limited to BOTH of my parents and our families, but beyond to any affected by the C word). I cannot and will not diminish what our present situations will do to and how they affect any single person.. But for the purposes of social media- support, encouragement, kind words, human courtesy are for ALL affected.


(ok, I get that this last bit is vague and unclear, so I'll try to be me and explain this with more directness.)
Don't be an a**hole. Cancer Sucks. Anyone afflicted deserves compassion and understanding and kindness. It comes from virtually impossible statistical odds that both my biological mom and dad could be diagnosed with cancer within just a very short timeframe. We aren't going to rank cancers. Both of my parents are responsible for and contributed to my very existence. And within my field of vision, we'll all show the same respect and kindness. Everyone is welcome to their opinion.. And I just can't force you all to be right 😊.


So - from my siblings (step or biological), my parents (and yes of course, Pilar Polzin you are included) and myself.. We thank you for the outpouring we received when my dad's diagnosis was made public. We are grateful to have you all with us as my mom's was discovered. And we are grateful for each other, every one, for each contribution, expression, and all the pieces of our hearts and souls that are given freely in recognition and support.


For tonight, I leave you with these, my words.


Much love!


~T

Friday, January 19th, 2018 - 7:20 PM - Editorial

I know I'm not the only one that feels as though the last dozen weeks has been an extreme roller coaster ride. The holidays, family gatherings, birthdays, work, kids, weather, politics... The daily grind has some of us smothered in the dirt. Add into that cacophony - cancer. The world stands still for a long moment. But, it's not the standstill you want. It's where your perspective is changed, radically, drastically, and instantaneously. You're forced to envelop that moment.

It's like 9/11. Or the day that Princess Diana died. It's the day of the Nisqually Quake for those of us from western Washington. It's D-day. Or, it's the day Pearl Harbor was attacked. It's ingrained in your memory. All consuming of your vision. Frozen in that moment is never where you want to be, but you'll always remember what you were doing when cancer came knocking.


We're turning that into our purpose. We have come together, belted out our rally cry, and turned the sails full on into the wind. We face this head on.


I've written before about reactions and coping. Absorbing and retaining. All of us handle difficult situations differently. Sometimes, we may even surprise ourselves. My own mindset is this - I approach from the need to learn and be educated to gain a full understanding of what's going on. I need to be knee deep to get a good grasp and comprehension. And then.. I go into planning and organizing mode. I've got some fairly acute OCD. I appreciate structure and boundaries. I need to know solutions and options. And aside from carrying that familial common trait of extreme stubbornness, I just don't like to fail. Part of it is a competitive spirit. Part of it is determination and pride. If I can find a way, I will move mountains, valleys, rivers, streams and the heavens themselves.
So.. What's next? This is a two word question. A seemingly simple phrase. However, it's importance is often underrated. A view of the entire playing field, the big picture, is essential. Yes, setting small, attainable goals, or taking baby steps is beneficial in reaching the overall goal, but, if you can't see the field, you don't know which way to run.


For all the males who are either within the group or who can be influenced by word of mouth or sharing, this is for you and it's EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. You should not wait. Do not avoid or procrastinate or otherwise postpone in any way having the conversation with your doctor. I'm eternally grateful that medicine and science have made quantifiable leaps in treating cancer. Some forms of cancer are no longer considered a death sentence with treatment (prostate is included in that category). A battle, yes. But, warriors are we.


If you are over the age of 40, especially, and have an immediate family member (Father or brother) with a prostate cancer diagnosis or history - get tested. I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable, uneasy, nervous, or you think it just can't happen to you. You are incorrect. If you are over the age of 45 and high risk (meaning there is a family history) - get tested. At age 50, regardless of your familial history or ties, you need to get tested. Simple blood tests and a DRE (I'll be nice to you and me and spare you in this one. You can Google DRE and prostate cancer for assistance...) early detection and diagnosis are very much to your benefit.
I had this conversation earlier this week with my own doctor. I've found it prudent to always include my mental state and environmental influences when I see my doctor. It gives him, like I've just talked about, the big picture. He'll perform an exam and tests, utilizes my vitals, and adds in conversation and questions where I include family history and any other environmental factors (stress, work, depression, anxiety, etc) in determining my overall wellbeing. It's not something I'd ever consider A FUN conversation, but I do consider it necessary. Please, please, all of you - make sure you're doing the same. To sort of bring this full circle - I asked directly, "If I now have a history or diagnosis of prostate cancer in my immediate family, when should we include that in testing of examinations?" His response was this - "If you are experiencing abnormalities or discomfort or pain (from urination) you need to be tested immediately, regardless of age. Otherwise you should have your PSA checked regularly beginning at age 40 or anytime you have symptoms affecting that bodily function." Get tested. That's where I'll finish this portion of my harping.


My dad's birthday is July 4th (of every year, as you will remember). Mine is July 19th. I find it mildly ironic that the astrological sign for our birthdays is - Cancer. We already have undeniable, deep, life giving connections with our parents. That doesn't mean everything is daisies and roses, candy and baked goods, happy and perky all the time. And, in truth, if stereotypes are accurate, Cancers (astrological Cancerians) don't mesh well together. They grate on each other. Their personalities have so many similarities that they struggle to be dominant over the others. To a point, this is obviously true for my Dad and I.


But - This Cancer (me) is going to be there with that Cancer (Dad) and this unbreakable circle of people, spirit, love and support and we're going to kick cancer in the prostate.


He doesn't fight alone. I know updates have been slim lately... It's the hurry up and wait game. I want to continue to express our gratitude for the widespread embrace. You, one and all, are appreciated.


And once again, I leave you with these, my words.


~T

Sunday, January 14th, 2018 - 5:00 PM - Light Blue Event

I've created a group "event". Don't worry, it shouldn't cost you anything except a little bit of your time! And you don't necessarily have to "go" anywhere to attend!

Dad's follow up appointment with the oncologist is January 26th. As a strong showing of support, our "event" will be to capture pictures of us (or something abstract / in nature if you're camera shy) to include in a virtual photo collage.

Please check out my post on the event for details. Hopefully as many as possible can participate!

Thank you!

~T

Saturday, January 13th, 2018 - 6:25 PM - The Lighter Side

Cancer isn't funny. It's often difficult to even talk about or say the word, harder to cope with, and outright impossible to forget. Laughter is amazing medicine. To uplift your spirit, to reinforce your heart, and show you the undeniable power of love and hope - I present to you, the lighter side -

I've come up with a few things to help my dad with all of the coming appointments. So, Dad.. Here are 5 important pieces of ...advice-

1. Doctors ask a lot of questions during their exams and any follow up appointments. It's vital that you actively participate in your own health and treatment. To give doctors a clear understanding, ALL responses to your doctor's questions should be oral!
(So from this point forward, when the doctor asks your for current medications, level of pain and other symptoms, simply respond, "oral" each time. If he questions you, emphasize that you're making sure all responses are "oral" so that you take an active participation role in your health and want to avoid any confusion)


2. As an additional verification throughout appointments, you'll be asked repeatedly for your birthday.
(Please ONLY respond with "July 4th")
And when they inevitably ask "what year?
(Roll your eyes slightly and explain "every year!")


3. The doctor may need to ask you questions with regards to the side effects of any medications. Such as, "Does the pain medication affect your memory?"
(Please respond with, "I forget.")


This will undoubtedly raise flow up questions to get specifics such as "Can you give me an example of something you forgot?"
(in these cases it's generally best practice to laugh maniacally, or curl into the fetal position while yelling for your mommy or proclaiming "Stranger Danger!")


4. Accurate record and note keeping is crucial. You'll need to assure your doctor that this is well taken care of.
(please notify the doctor that you were present when the bone density scan of your body was taken. He'll need corroboration and confirmation for you being present in the pictures that were taken.... Of you....)


5. And finally... Because you'll never fight alone... The doctors may ask you some clarifying questions about those who surround you. (Just be honest - tell him you can't remember how old the 3 year old is that lives with you. He'll want to know that you were slapped the other day when you woke up and told your wife, "Patricia, I had the worst dream!" You will need to explain that that occurred because your wife's name is Pilar. And when he inquires about how your family likes it now that he's replaced your hearing aids with new technology that lets you hear at 100%, please let him know that you didn't tell your family. You just sit around listening to conversations and have changed your will 3 times!)

I hope this short walk on the lighter side brought a smile to your face and a laugh from your belly.

I leave you with these, my words, until next time!

~T

Thursday, January 11th, 2018 - 11:15 PM - These, My Words

I leave you with these, my words.
Take some time for reflection.
...

Don't be prideful, for you will isolate yourself.
Don't be bashful, instead speak out.
Don't be hurtful, show the warmth of heart and spirit.
Don't be boastful, be charitable.
Don't be standoffish, show gratitude.
Don't be forgetful, pay homage to those who have gone before and honor their legacy.
And most important... Don't be scared. You do not fight alone.


~T

Wednesday, January 10th, 2018 - 7:15 PM - The Lighter Side

Cancer isn't funny. It's an unimaginable beast that may lurk in the depth of darkness only to rear its atrocious head when you least expect it. However, it's often said that laughter is some of the very best medicine. And to that end, I present to you, "The Lighter Side".

There are moments, even when dealing with disease, mortality, and the emotional and physical drains of traumatic situations where you just can't help but laugh. ...Sometimes, you may laugh to keep from crying - know that it's OK to find the humor to help get you through.

Today's lighter side moment was bodily function related, of course. (I'll explain someday, for those of you who don't know me or get that joke.) It goes something like this:

Doc - "So how do you take your pain medicine?"

Dad - "My what?"

Doc - Clearly unsure of how to respond. He proceeds to explain what pain medicine is. He also clarifies his question by outlining an example. He really is asking if the medicine is taken once a day, multiple times a day, or only as needed. He also wants specifics about how Dad is fairing while using the medication.

SIDEBAR - I should note at this point... One of the unfortunate side effects of this medicine is, yes, you guessed it, a bodily function. Or rather, a lack thereof. (Constipation people! Dang, had to spell it out.)

Dad - "I take it twice a day. Once in the morning, once in the evening. It dulls the pain for awhile, but my pain stays consistently at about a 7 on a scale of one to ten. It makes it so I cannot get comfortable and sleeping is difficult and sporadic. I've also had, like you told me was likely, some constipation."

Doc - "What would be normal for you? (Referring to the #2 bodily function)"

Dad - (Really, I couldn't make this up) "I haven't had a vowel movement in several days" (I did not miss spell any words in this quote... He said... VOWEL!!)

I can't even tell you how the rest of this short conversation was obscured by hysterical laughter... And the doctor and my dad joined in at one point too.

HILARIOUS. This is your friendly reminder to eat your consonants so that you have regular vowel movements. Brought to you by the letters A and S (twice) and the number 2.

COMING SOON - I'm going to have a small contest in the near future. Prizes will be some of the light blue prostate cancer awareness items. Give me a bit to get organized there.

For now... #HeDoesntFightAlone #IWearBlueForMyDad #GonnaKickCancerInTheProstate.

I leave you with these, my words.

~T

Wednesday, January 10th, 2018 - 6:15 PM - Where Has Time Gone?

First - Happy Birthday Malik Thomas Polzin! 21 today! I don't know where the time has gone...

Now, on to the Dad update -


I just got home from a visit with his primary care doctor. This visit was multi purpose. Primarily it was to resolve the blacking out episode that occurred last weekend (1/6-1/7) and resulting low blood pressures. The blood pressure medicine dad was on was halted by the ER doctor as part of his discharge orders. The primary care doc was not the original prescriber, was unaware that he was on that medicine and concurred that it should be removed from his regimen.


We then moved on to cover the biopsy results, which were as expected, a diagnosis of metastatic prostate cancer. Although the final determination is to be made by the oncologist, (the primary care doc referred to the oncologist as the "lead guy" from now on since he himself wasn't a specialist or well versed in cancer diagnosis and treatment) it's important that the oncologist contact the urologist asap to eliminate the second biopsy that was to be performed specifically on the prostate. The urologist needs to work in tandem with, but be subordinate to the oncologist from here on out. Additionally, now that we have confirmed (although expected) results, follow ups need to be scheduled and coordinated with the oncologist as treatment plans are outlined. Time to kick cancer's a$$!


As previously noted, dad continues to have substantial pain to cope with. The doctor also made an adjustment to pain medication that is to be progressively stepped up in order to improve quality of life as dad goes through the treatments. It's still currently understood and believed that the treatment will reduce or eliminate the resulting lesions and greatly reduce or eliminate the pain. It's centralized on the left side. It stretches from the left hip down through his upper thigh and expands from his inner thigh to the outside of his leg. It can originate as pain and is often accompanied by numbing or tingling sensations which can spread down the length of his leg. It also can occur in his lower back and down through his... Well... Hind quarters (you're welcome.)


I did question and emphasize that these changes must be carefully screened to ensure that they aren't going to affect or cause heart function or conditions. The same is necessary for kidney and liver function or conditions. We are assured that this particular medication (because it's NOT an opiate) did not present any of these hazards.


This whole situation takes phenomenal organization. It's important to remember that while Dad is the principal, there are many others affected and impacted by all that goes on. Stress and emotions are going to run high. I say again - this is not a short road by any means. There's no direct, absolute, concrete path laid out before us. The world of internal medicine and oncology is impactful to each person in different, sometimes unknown ways. What is paramount is that no one EVER walk these paths alone.


So, some questions answered. Decisions made. Information provided. The journey is just getting started. More questions created, many decisions left to consider, and the fear of the unknown always waiting in the shadows.


He doesn't fight alone.
I wear blue for my dad.
Gonna kick cancers @$$.


I leave you with my words. As always, more to come. I do have another post to write... So stay tuned.. I've got to get some of the lighter side, when I can.


~T

Monday, January 8th, 2018 - 9:22 PM - The Now

We're in a bit of a holding pattern as of today. Dad continues to experience pain in his thigh and numbness down his leg. The doctors have told him these are related to the prostate cancer and, once treatment commences, should be greatly dulled or eliminated.

Test results from the hospital stay didn't reveal anything out of the norm (or outside of what is commonly expected/recognized as within the prostate cancer scope).


Next steps are to see his primary care doctor in order to reevaluate current medications and possible interactions with each other that likely lead to this past weekend's fainting spell. It's also time to schedule a follow-up with the oncologist at which time the biopsy results, hopefully, will be made available.


At this point, we're unsure as to whether or not the second biopsy, which is prostate specific, will be necessary or prudent (but it is scheduled for Friday, January 12th). It may be beneficial simply to have secondary confirmation. However, if this past weekend is any indication, it may be best to not experience a similar situation knowing the reactions that occurred, possibly, in part, from the first one if it's truly unnecessary and confirmable results can be obtained from the samples taken during the lumbar biopsy.
I do have a couple, hopefully, spirit lifting "gifts" I'll be bringing to Dad (not all from me, but I'll be the messenger!) soon. I'll try to post pictures! I also think it may be good for Dad to do a short video clip to share with you all, but that's also time and mood dependent.


At any rate, your updates will be here, as often as we can. Again, our many heartfelt genuinely appreciative thanks to all of you who have joined and commented, shared photos, sent cards, kind thoughts, said prayers, or been physically present for appointments or seen him in person. Every bit of effort is noticed. Although we won't get the chance to always say it on the spot - please know, it DOES matter. It IS impactful and uplifting.


A good evening to all!


~T (For the extended Polzin family)

Sunday, January 7th, 2018 - 11:30 PM - Reflection

The weekend is coming to a close. There have been ups and downs. Take some time with those around you. Say your "I love yous" and your "Thank yous". Embrace the ones you care about. And when you exhale... Take some "Me" time for yourself.
It's so very important that we take care of ourselves before we can take care of anyone else. Look at your priorities. Make sure they're in the right order.


The number of tomorrows we are given is finite. Our journey in this life isn't eternal. We are only in the here and now for a brief fleeting glimmer in the scheme that is time.


Don't look back in days, weeks, months, years, or decades and say, "I wish I had..." or, "I regret that I didn't..." You can't correct or take back most of the should haves. I'm not talking about regretting not eating that last cookie or wishing you had purchased that new . I'm talking about the moments you'll never have again. Once they are lost.. They're lost to all eternity.


Again, these are my words, and I leave them here with you.


Dad - I hold you in my thoughts. May this weekend have been a minor hitch in your get along and nothing more.
Be well! Love to all. ❤️

Sunday, January 7th, 2018 - 1:45 PM - Blackout

1:45 PM - Sunday, January 7th, 2018 - the attending doctor at the hospital is having Dad hold his blood pressure medicine for the next few days and follow up with his primary care doctor for further instruction. He'll be discharged soon! That's good news, for now... We'll make sure his primary care doc takes a good long look at his medicine and determines the best course from here forward. Thanks to all for your continued support, thoughts, prayers and interactions. Please keep them coming. We'll update you all as soon as we have more <3.

Saturday, January 6th, 2018 - 6:00 PM - Timeline To Date

About three months ago my dad had some blood work done. His PSA (prostate specific antigen) was high. In general, a normal PSA is considered less than 4 ng/ml (nanograms per milliliter). An abnormal result usually calls for additional testing. I don't have the exact number, but recall hearing that Dad's PSA was high double digits into the low 100s. At that point, his doctor ordered an additional test. Dad's primary care doctor also retired in this time frame. After selecting a new primary care doctor and getting the results of the second PSA, he was sent for a bone density scan as his results were still well into the abnormal range.

To explain, a bone density scan was used as a full body scan and is capable of identifying smaller areas of concern. With those results, lesions (also noted as cancerous bony lesions) were discovered in multiple areas including his face, arm, and lower ribs. To further evaluate and identify areas of concern, dad was sent for a CT scan. The CT was used on a narrowed selection of his body and typically identifies large areas which are of concern or afflicted. The CT did identify a large lesion in the lumbar spine.


From there, dad was also referred to both an oncologist and a urologist. It was determined that he had a 95-99% probability of prostate cancer. Prior to the CT, most of us were unaware of the situation or the totality of the prospects Dad was facing. We were all brought into the fold as the CT was scheduled and referrals issued. We made a point to be in attendance, within all human reason, at every appointment from here on out. Not all of us would be at every single appointment, but it is paramount that Dad and Pilar know they are not alone and their family and friends will encircle them in an unbreakable ring of support.


The "c" word is horrifying in and of itself. I myself have had the experience of sitting in front of a doctor while he explained that I was showing symptoms that could very well be a prelude to cancer. We know first hand what it's like to try to cope and the lasting and undeniable impact that this disease in any form has on people and their families and loved ones. Facing one's own mortality, or the mortality of someone close to you is in a word - unspeakable. We simply knew and know there was no option but to be there through the thick of it and beyond. I can also say - in my exposure to prostate cancer in recent weeks, I believe I understand that it's generally slow moving and very treatable. We've had multiple doctors consult with us and have commented that a vast number of prostate cancer patients live long lives with treatment and often pass away as a result of other causes. In the deep dark barrel of darkness, I absolutely embraced that as a bright shining beacon.


With PSA, bone density scan and CT results in hand, we first went to the oncologist. An oncologist by definition is a medical professional who specializes in tumors, including the origins, development, diagnosis, and treatment of malignant neoplasms. In short, we've come to refer to him as a cancer doctor. The oncologist reviewed all his previous test results and during our consultation stated that by his estimation Dad had metastatic prostate cancer and could very well be stage 4 with the identification of the lesions that had spread throughout his body. It was now necessary to complete a biopsy to determine specifics and move forward with a treatment plan.


Just prior to year end, dad had his consultation with the urologist. A urologist specializes in the study of or treatment of the function and disorders of the urinary system. Yes, ladies and gentlemen... Bodily function talk is simply a fact of life and completely unavoidable in this situation. Although I've been filled in on this appointment, I can't speak heavily as to what occurred because I was not able to be present in this case. The urologist scheduled a prostate specific biopsy for late January. He also mentioned hormone treatments as a possible route for a prostate cancer diagnosis. The oncologist had laid out an aggressive treatment option (which is dad's choice and wish) which included hormone treatments, chemotherapy, and possible clinical trials.


We'll come back to that. Fast forward to today. As many of you saw, he had the biopsy that had been arranged with the oncologist. It was to take place in the lumbar (L2). Throughout this experience dad was having pain in his back which eventually transferred around to his upper thigh and into the pelvic area. As I read and study things, this seems to make good connective sense because leg muscles are, if I'm correct, woven into the lumbar nerves. At any rate. I'm NOT a doctor, just trying to be aware and informed about all of this. Of note today, from the short consultation with the radiologist conducting the biopsy procedure, we learned that there is A CHANCE that a second prostate specific biopsy may not need to occur if they're able to glean sufficient results from the sample taken today. We should get those results by mid week, next week.


The oncologist said that from the biopsy results, we'd have a confirmed diagnosis and be able to organize and determine treatment options and plans moving forward. So, for now, we wait. There will be numerous follow ups and specialists, consultations and interactions, treatments, tests, and evaluations to come. In no respect is this a short road. There's no streamlined direct route. For all of you who know me, you understand that I'm a pitbull, stubborn, aggressive, abrupt, direct, succinct, dry personality. I don't have patience and extremely low tolerance for wishy washy lolly gagging indecisive unreliable or useless interactions. I will move mountains, oceans, valleys, and tilt the earth on its axis if I'm determined or believe strongly in something or someone.


We are going this route, for now. I'm hopeful that his doctors work in tandem and efficiently and logically. I'm not afraid to rock the boat if we're not comfortable or the situation warrants it. I'm a firm believer in making the attempt in medical situations, but I harbor zero qualms or fears in saying, "this doesn't or isn't working. Do something else. Try something else. Get another opinion." We must all be advocates for our health and care and for the health and care of those within our circles.


I know that I'm one voice in this cacophony of voices at this stage. I also know that I'm likely the loudest voice. And that's ok too. I'll happily take on that role. It is tantamount that we fight. Not one single one of us will come through this unscathed. I'm sure at some point I'll make unpopular decisions and likely offend some of you. But I will not apologize for watching out for one of my "pack". I've sent far bigger and scarier people out of rooms or away crying or upset with me. Sometimes, it's just got to be done.


This in no way lessens our gratitude to each and every one of you who has or will send cards, expressed thoughts, uttered prayers, cried tears, fallen to your knees and spoken to God, been present in person, or even entertained a passing positive thought. Those acts all carry impact and are recognized and necessary to us all. We are thankful for you. It's important now that we keep lines of communication open and flowing, but please be cognizant and respectful of the sheer scope of the situation. As I've written recently... Each of us will cope in their own way. You'll often see me as the guard dog 😉.


To my sister, sister-in-law, brother, stepmom, mother, and aunt Judy, especially - THANK YOU. Although we may just be recognizing the tip of the iceberg, I don't have any worries of a titanic situation in our future. I'm eternally grateful and immensely appreciative of each of you and the people you are and what we have and will continue to do together.


And, to my Dad - fight. You have it in you. When you feel that strength giving way, you will lean on us. We will be there, without fail. You will come out on the other side and although the world will be a different place from now on, we'll always have the unbreakable bond of love and family. So you fight. You live. You take each day as it comes. You let go and let God. Draw inspiration and vitality from your grandkids, heart and soul from your children, wisdom and grace from your parents, free will and spontaneity from your siblings, and the warmth and spirit from your extensive family and friends.


I leave you all for now, with these, my words. Sometimes the path ahead veers from view, but the road will find its way, just as we will, even through the toughest of terrain.


~T