It has been a while....

It has been a while since I've posted here.  That's a good thing, I assure you all.  I'm alive and well.  Since writing last I've had two clean PET scans.  I've also learned that PET scans offer up an awful lot of radiation!   I remain clean, though.


I've had several "clean" oncology visits and even a regular old physical with my primary care physician.  He suggested to live life and not wait on trying to start a family if we so desire.  My blood pressure was a little low, so he also suggested I could help myself to extra salt on my chips when we go for Mexican.  (I still don't do this).


In the meantime the Packers had an unbelievable season and then flopped.  My fantasy baseball team has drafted.  We've had a new deck built on our house to replace our rotting, crumbling one.  My new job is still going great and I love it.  I wake up looking forward to my work.  I've taken up cyclocross and look forward to fall.  In other words, life has gone on, and I've done my best to enjoy as much as I can.


I didn't want this to become my bike blog, so I've slowed down my posting.  I'll still write when I can.  I'm thinking about starting a new writing project, though.  If it happens, I'll keep you all posted.  Likewise, I'll post here first all the things that happen related to me or my continued cancer fight!

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.

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.

Want to ride bikes this weekend?

Consider joining us for the Second Annual Wheat Ridge Cyclery Livestrong Ride.


Details here:

The inaugural WRC Livestrong Ride, benefiting the Lance Armstrong Foundation (Livestrong), was one of biggest bike shop ride fundraisers in the U.S. in 2010.  Riders and friends of WRC helped put together a donation of over $10,000 for research to eradicate cancer!

This year we're doing it again and we welcome you to join us.  The ride leaves the shop under escort of Wheat Ridge and Lakewood Police Departments.  Escort continues to base of Dinosaur Ridge.  

Once over the ridge, there will be a fully stocked aid station in the lower north parking lot at Red Rocks.  At that point, riders are welcome to demo new 2011 bikes from our vendors, or to simply return to WRC.  Lunch will be served post-ride at WRC.

When: Saturday May 14, 2011.  Ride leaves WRC at 8:00 a.m.

Where:  WRC to Red Rocks and back. See map below. WRC is also hosting our annual Demo Day that morning at Red Rocks.

Cost: $75, with ALL proceeds going to the Lance Armstrong Foundation (Livestrong)

 Sarah and I will be there.  The link to this event is

RIGHT HERE.

http://grassroots2011.livestrong.org/faf/search/searchTeamPart.asp?ievent=443028&team=4084995 


How will we be getting to Red Rocks?  Above it mentions the police escort.  What isn't mentioned is this:

The LIVESTRONG Ride departs from Wheat Ridge Cyclery at 8:00am on Saturday morning, May 14th. Ron Kiefel, ex-Team 7-11 pro, Olympic medalist and seven-time Tour de France racer will lead out the ride. This is a fully supported ride . . a no-drop ride . . with a turnaround and water/refreshment stop in Red Rocks Park.

So, there you go.  Ride with one of the best.
At the end the local Livestrong crew will be serving up lunch.   If this isn't enough to convince you to join us, let me state that the entire $75 goes to Livestrong.  You get a GREAT swag-bag, that we helped stock this past weekend.  It includes a saddle bag, livestrong cycling cap, tube, and some other goodies.  ALL of that stuff was generously donated by Wheat Ridge Cyclery, which is what your donation to go completely to helping cancer survivors.


We are definitely a few riders short of our goal.  Hopefully see you there!

So we had this fire...

The Indian Gulch wildfire started almost two weeks ago.  Luckily, we escaped any sort of bad fate, although our neighborhood was on evacuation alert for 5 days.  Being on standby for evacuation is certainly unpleasant, and the days were stressful.

A neighbor wrote a great blog on the whole thing here:  http://blog.ericdaugherty.com/2011/03/golden-fire-summary.html   I don't have anything to add to what he wrote on the specifics.

He took some great photos, as did another neighbor Jeff Warner.  Jeff Day 1, Jeff Day 2, Jeff Day 3.  (These are worth a look!)

I even took a few myself, which ended up on KDVR.com (Fox 31)'s website.

The fire, at closest point, was probably a half a mile from our neighborhood.

So, what do you take?  What is important?  What do you mind never seeing again?

These are good questions, and probably worthwhile for everyone to ask themselves once in a while.  I never did prior to this.   Obviously your important papers, birth certificate, passport, and insurance documents are no brainers.  Grabbing the Brunner One Fun Thing was my first thought.  Honestly, even before documents.

As I unpacked, I realized I still have no idea.  I took what I thought best, but in all likelihood was some items of poor choice.   I grabbed four footballs.  (!)  Admittedly, one of them means a lot to me as it was a gift from the Packers.  I grabbed some autographed baseballs and some baseball cards.  We grabbed some photo albums, and obviously two portable hard drives full of photos and tax documents.  I grabbed a few books that were important to me.  The goal is to try to forget anything that is irreplaceable.

Well, that would be myself and Sarah and the dogs primarily.  How does it work if the evacuation notice goes out when we are at work and the dogs are home?   The answer isn't entirely satisfactory, and I should say the answer(s) don't completely match when you ask the Sheriff vs the Fire Department vs the incident management team.   Truthfully, I almost would have rather been evacuated for sure, so as to avoid the stress of wondering about returning home.  I suppose we could have evacuated ourselves.  These are a few of the lessons we learned which are worth sharing:
1) Get a bank safety deposit box
2) Find a safe spot for the pets, possibly for the duration
3) Find a safe spot for the big items
4) Scan important documents
5) A big safe isn't a bad idea
6) Time to replace the roof!

A few of these I'd already taken care of.  It is also worth thanking everyone that reached out to us during this.

I hope we are done with natural disasters for awhile.  Or any kind, actually.

Iron Horse Donation Solicitation

This May will be my first big ride (race, really) of 2011.  I'll be riding with Team Livestrong in the Iron Horse Classic.


Consider this post my official donation solicitation, and that can be done right here:  http://ride.livestrong.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=443023&supid=220829000


Why give?
1) Fight Cancer
2) Make Josh Smile
3) Tax Deduction
4) I've been known to send presents for big donations. 


About the race:

47 mile road race. USA Cycling sanctioned event, all rules apply. Riders must have annual or one day license. Due to the road closure no team or support vehicles are allowed on course. Riders must be self sufficient. Yellow line rule in effect, even on closed road portion.

I am definitely looking forward to it.

Oncology Follow up #2

Last Friday (sorry it took me so long to get this posted), was my 6-month follow-up.  It was actually 8 months, but by their design.


Their philosophy is follow labs, minimal diagnostic radiation (unless necessary).  My oncologist says nearly everyone who does relapse has a known symptom come back.  Mine were pretty non-specific (no lumps and bumps), which leaves me with cough and being tired.  I've had both of those things, but in a different way than before I was diagnosed.


The verdict is:  still clean.  What a relief!  Given the lack of specific symptoms, I pretty much expected that, but the labs can always get you.   Luckily this wasn't the case, so I'm good to go.


This visit my oncologist brought a new oncology fellow who was from New Zealand and had some interesting insights for us.  After the check-up and stuff, we talked about some psycho-social stuff, which is going MUCH, MUCH better for me than at my 3 month follow-up.


So, now we get to be relieved for another 4 months or so, at least until the anxiety of the next visit starts up, which is usually around the time it gets scheduled, or maybe 2 months from now.