A place for me to put my stuff so I won't forget where it is...
Page Updated: December 14, 2007
What you'll find here
The Free Software, Computer and Radio stuff is working. I'm still working on the others.
The Cancer fight last year and getting my dad moved up here this year has put me behind a bit
I am getting some updates done.
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On Tuesday December
11, 2007, it will have been one year since I finished my last
radiation treatment for the Squamous Cell I have been tunneling through this cancer journey for almost 20 months and I now look back and wonder where the time has gone. Some days were long and some moments were bad, but time does heal wounds, pain and despair. We emerge from the darkness of the tunnel into the light of the world once more. No more chemo. No more surgery. No more radiation. No more fluid infusions. No more treatment chairs or chemo nurses. No more 5FU pump waking me up at night. No more radiation restraint holding me to that very uncomfortable table. No more hours spent waiting, watching, thinking. No more personal retreats to a place that became home. No more powerful potions saving me from the treatments that were curing me. No more bald head. No more feeding tube and cases of Glucerna everywhere. I hope never again. It’s only me. And my port that I will keep for awhile longer, just in case, and a stop every 6 weeks to keep it clean and functioning. And periodic follow-ups. And memories of a place and the people that took the cancer away and gave me a life more precious than ever before. Because of studies and trials and people who lost their lives before me, I benefit. I am a recipient of these wonder treatments of medical science. I am a recipient of the gift of life. I am happy. I am relieved. I am thankful. I am overwhelmed and I am saddened, especially for those who are yet to go through this. No more active treatment. No more constant attention. No more company in strangers who are like me, fighting a battle where some win while others do not. It’s just me and my safety nets, family, friends, sharing, helping, honoring, hoping, laughing, and trying to make sense of it all. Now the real surviving begins. Making it all matter.
Oral cancer
is in the closet and needs special attention in its own right. It is
not like all other cancers by the very nature of its location. It
takes away the most basic and necessary functions of the lives that
it destroys.
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Cancer of the tongue that
I was diagnosed with back on Memorial Day of 2006. Now with two
clear PET scans under my belt, and positive follow-up visits, my
team of doctors feel pretty sure this one may be gone. I am
thankful. They told me I would loose most of my tongue, I didn’t.
They told me I would probably loose my teeth, I’ve still got them.
They told me that I would have my neck cut open to remove some lymph
nodes, that did not have to happen. At times, when I hear in e-mail
or in a board post from folks who have not had it so good, I have
twinges of guilt, because they have had it so much worse than me.
But none of us really knows what’s around the next bend, be it a car
wreck or a cancer recurrence. An almost universal outcome of this
disease is a more mindful approach to the time we do have left.
