15 June 2011

One Hour Thing

Meeting my new oncologist was uneventful - which is perfect.  "Uneventful" is really a great word for describing a visit to the oncologist, even when it is a new one.  The only question I asked was in regards to how long my skin would still be ultrasensitive to everything, but he didn't know as there are several possible outcomes there.  So, we continue on forward with the hopes of seeing clean chest x-rays and scans indefinitely.  One year down (almost), and four to go.  The plan will be yearly chest x-rays and yearly PET scans alternating every six months.


I wanted to mark the one year anniversary of my final chemotherapy.  My last chemotherapy was particularly brutal.  So, I wanted to figure out how to create as much pain as possible to sort of commemorate it.  Hence, "One Hour Thing."  


The Hour Record is a particularly curious event in cycling.  For those unfamiliar, it sounds astonishingly easy.  Ride your bike for an hour?  Sure!  Many of us do it all the time, and then we add many more hours to that.  


On the other hand, Eddy Merckx - the greatest and most accomplished cyclist the world has known - said that his hour attempt was "the hardest ride I have ever done."  For a winner of multiple TdF's (5) and six other grand tours along with countless classics races to say this, there must be something to it.  The history of this lists some of the greatest names in the sport, and my friend Charles and I eagerly await another legend making his attempt.  What makes this so difficult?  A lot has been written on this at wikipedia, cyclingnews, and velominati has a great piece on this.  Basically, if you give this your best effort, there are no breaks, there is no recovery, there can be no comfort found (I won't be riding a Boardman Superbike), and time seems to dramatically slow.  


I was asked why I felt the need to find a painful way to commemorate pain.  I'm not sure I could even appropriately explain this excellent question.  It isn't a guilt or obligation thing.  Really it is about living.  Chemotherapy made me a walking zombie.  It is difficult to remember sometimes.  I'm hoping to get out near my edges of good pain and really feel alive in the hopes I'll never forget what those days were like and how much they contrast with these days.


Although the whole thing may sound like it is about distance, it isn't.  Henri Desgrange did 21.95 miles.  Coppi and Anquetil did 28.458 and 28.681 miles.  Merckx did 30.714 miles.  Boardman did 30.721.  Having done a few intervals and a dry 85% run on the Stayer's Line at another track, I have a sense of where I'll end up, although it is far short of Coppi and I won't share my guess - because it is about the experience.  I'm only measuring laps done, and I may estimate the last partial piece as a guess for myself for future attempts, if any.  I certainly won't be calling USA Cycling and I may not even share my results.  (See previous paragraph).  On the other hand, if anyone is around mid-day next Tuesday (June 21) and wants to hang out and get lunch after (assuming I can walk), let me know.

06 June 2011

Tomorrow is a big day

As some of you know, my oncologist has left and I'll be needing a new one.  This was shocking and saddening for Sarah and I.  The upside is that it happened now, rather than during the thickest parts of my fight.

I picked my new oncologist out based on the recommendations of colleagues, friends, and most of all, from my old oncologist.  I am told he is very different in style from my old oncologist - from her as well.

He was the one who had ordered my recent PET scan, though.  I did this several weeks ago already, and did not expect to hear the results until my appointment with him.  He doesn't know me, so, why would he call?  Still, his nurse was kind enough to call and tell me that the scan was clean.  It was such a pleasant surprise.

My appointment is tomorrow afternoon, and I'm not really looking forward to it for obvious reasons.

If I'm still "clean" tomorrow, that'll be 11 months since declared as such.  It seems like a lot longer than that.

What I recently noticed is that discussion of anything related still provokes strong responses, specifically a crazy sweat.  At a recent meeting, the chair of the oncology department described how new "high deductible" plans often put her patients into such a financial position that they don't even know how they can afford treatment, which makes it extremely difficult for her to care for them appropriately.  Additionally, I recently heard of two other cancer related cases and again, I immediately started sweating.  I wonder if that will always be the case for me.