Support for LateToSchool

epistrophy · July 31, 2008, 6:09pm

and another (living with lung cancer)

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[The</a> Moose Jaw Times Herald: Sports | Wilson inspires field at senior women’s golf championship](<a href=“http://mjtimes.sk.ca/index.cfm?sid=158007&sc=9]The”>http://mjtimes.sk.ca/index.cfm?sid=158007&sc=9)

roshke · July 31, 2008, 7:25pm

Somehow, something about this guy’s attitude reminded me of someone we all know. So glad to hear the latest.

[Pa.'s</a> Arlen Specter looks beyond cancer to next senate race | Philadelphia Inquirer | 07/31/2008](<a href=“http://www.philly.com/inquirer/front_page/20080731_Pa__s_Arlen_Specter_looks_beyond_cancer_to_next_senate_race.html]Pa.'s”>Pa.'s Arlen Specter looks beyond cancer to next senate race)

Two weeks after completing a debilitating, three-month regimen of chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s disease, the 78-year-old Republican pronounces himself in “good physical shape” and says he has an “excellent” chance of full recovery.

There’s probably a better chance of a snow squall on this steamy July morning in Washington than that Specter - a former prosecutor and a renowned political infighter - will admit any weakness. “I’m at the top of my game,” he says.

Specter, who first was elected in 1980, has had repeated medical troubles, starting with a benign brain tumor diagnosed in 1993. He had radiation treatments in 1996 and a heart bypass operation in 1998. He was first diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease, a type of blood cancer, in 2005. The disease returned in April.

Already the longest-serving senator in Pennsylvania history, he fully intends to run for a sixth term in 2010.

Politically, 2010 is just over the next hill. No opponent has yet stepped forward, but he knows that wolves lie in wait, sniffing the wind.

Meeting over coffee with several Pennsylvania reporters prior to the Senate’s August recess, he is asked whether he is physically up to another campaign.

He declares: “Absolutely!” - then stares until his interlocutor turns away.

He played squash, long his favorite form of exercise, one day last week. And he has a match planned with a female intern to New York Democratic Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton. He makes sure to note that the intern is regarded as quite a good player.

SouthJerseyChessMom · July 31, 2008, 8:55pm

Meryl Streep, Forest Whitaker, cancer survivor Lance Armstrong and other celebrities are to take part in a three-network telethon to support cancer research.

The hour-long “Stand Up To Cancer,” announced Tuesday, is to air live and commercial-free on ABC, CBS and NBC on Sept. 5 and feature musical performances and appeals from actors, athletes and journalists.

Charlize Theron, Hilary Swank, America Ferrera, Danica Patrick, Salma Hayek, Kirsten Dunst, Josh Brolin, Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Aniston, Masi Oka and news anchors Charles Gibson, Brian Williams and Katie Couric will be among those taking part.

Former Sen. John Edwards’ wife, Elizabeth Edwards, and Robin Roberts of ABC’s “Good Morning America” also are set to appear. Both women have battled breast cancer.

During the telethon, viewers will be invited to make donations by calling the celebrity-staffed phone bank or by texting.

Musicians and other participants are to be announced, according to a “Stand Up To Cancer” release.

Such network cooperation is rare but not unprecedented.

In 2005, the six biggest broadcasters, along with cable channels, carried a Hurricane Katrina benefit program. In 2001, ABC, CBS, NBC and Fox aired a telethon for victims of Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

latetoschool · July 31, 2008, 11:04pm

Epistrophy, my medical expertise equals my cycling expertise, but, one of the frustrating issues with cancer is that the brilliant researchers cannot cure one disease, they have to try to find a cure for, say, 1,000 diseases.

One of the issues that frustrated my DEA friend so badly is that only about 200 people in the country had the same type of cancer that his daughter was diagnosed with, and therefore meaning that big pharma wasn’t doing any research on it because you cannot realize a drug profit off of 200 or so people. Small cell lung cancer the numbers are bigger but it is widely accepted that small cell is caused by smoking, and the numbers of diagnosed persons are dropping, therefore, very little research, even on the genetic issue.

I am a fan of and do support survivorship issues - and the LAF organization does a terrific job where that is concerned. The people who have survived small cell appear to have some difficulties later, including with second primary cancers.

It would be interesting to hear from Padad on this but some cancer treatments are thought to actually provoke more, different cancer, later. OR - it could be that is just what those of us with no medical expertise think…

4Giggles · July 31, 2008, 11:12pm

LTS- So happy to hear about the good scan!!! GREAT NEWS!!!

ADad · July 31, 2008, 11:38pm

–Sarah Leah Grafstein

latetoschool · August 1, 2008, 12:00am

4Giggles, this is an excellent example of why people should always take a caregiver along for important medical appointments. In relaying the major takeaways from the appointment yesterday, my daughter told someone that all of the cancer - with the exception of what remains in the lungs - is now stable. I called her on it, and, she said that is what he said - meaning not only liver but also kidney, all cancer everywhere but lung. We had a “no, he said THIS” sort of moment…

I very specifically heard the doctor say “the cow jumped over the moon”. My daughter very specifically heard him say “row row row your boat”. What he probably actually said was something totally different.

Happily, I have the scan report…lol :)

SBmom · August 1, 2008, 2:45am

If your doctor starts in about the wheels on the bus or baby beluga, RUN SCREAMING.

:)

epistrophy · August 1, 2008, 9:19am

and another

“Suzanne’s Story”

My name is Suzanne and I am a lung cancer survivor. I am sharing my story in the hope that if you or a loved one has been recently diagnosed with lung cancer, it will take you beyond the statistics and help you through the difficult days ahead.

Out for dinner one evening, I swallowed a bone that lodged in my throat. I was in great shape and had no history of smoking, so I was not particularly concerned when the emergency room doctor told me he had discovered a spot in my lung during one of the scans taken at the hospital that night. The medical consensus was that I had probably aspirated something during the incident. I was advised to follow up with my regular doctors just to be sure. My internist immediately ordered a battery of tests. Even though everything else was ruled out, he was as shocked as I when the CT scan showed evidence of a metastatic disease.

Life turned surreal as the medical tests began to determine what kind of cancer I had. If the suspicious density was not lung cancer, it meant that whatever I had was already spreading. Imagine hoping that the disease was only lung cancer! I was frightened and sad.

The days passed in slow motion as I waited to find out whether I was a candidate for surgery and then for the date of the surgery to arrive. When the details of the surgery were explained to me, they literally took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. Although there was no evidence of cancer outside the lung, the doctors recommended chemotherapy following the surgery. Again, I was absolutely terrified but I felt I had no choice. Three long months of chemo passed; it was pretty terrible, but not nearly as bad as I had imagined.

The diagnosis and treatments wreaked havoc on my world. Perhaps because I practiced law in New York City for almost 30 years, I was accustomed to being strong, self-reliant, in control and, of course, a little pushy. Suddenly, I was not in control; instead of giving help and support, I was accepting it. I had the incredible good fortune to have been able to retire at the age 50 and return to school to pursue a life-long passion for painting. Without much warning, I was too tired and weak to lift a paint brush; instead of running miles and playing with my grandchildren, I was in bed too exhausted to even read or watch TV. I went out to dinner one night, a healthy, vigorous woman with a rich life and full schedule. The next thing I knew, I had changed into a cancer patient, a frail, fatigued and, once chemo began, somewhat bald, old lady.

During this period, life revolved around cancer. Try as I might, I could not resist the lure of the research and statistics available on the internet. It did not help that my family and friends were doing their own research too, calling with news of the latest favorable study, carefully avoiding any talk of poor outcomes and always, always talking about my health.

Although I truly appreciated the calls and help from my family and friends, I did not want to talk about the state of my health or the side-effects of the latest treatment I just wanted to go on living as I had been. My husband set himself up as a buffer, responding to phone calls and using an email chain to keep friends and family up to date each step of the way.

No matter what your state of health, the diagnosis of cancer is overwhelming for the patient and for everyone close. Anxiety, sadness and depression are common for most cancer patients, and I was no exception. So I looked for a support group and that is how I found CancerCare. My support group has been a wonderful place to get practical information about living with cancer and to share the common worries and feelings of loss. I am also still meeting with a CancerCare counselor.

I suppose it is natural to take stock of the past when the future is so seriously threatened. Strange as is may sound, I feel like one very lucky woman: the cancer was discovered by accident before it had spread; I was blessed with a network of family and friends to care for me; I had access to skilled and compassionate medical help. I know that there is a possibility of a recurrence, but I also know that there are many treatment options and that life is uncertain and fragile for all of us.

In our society, it is easy go through the life rushing to get things done. Cancer is a reminder to live each day fully; to seize the opportunity to express love and appreciation to those we care about, to take the time to stop and notice little things that can make life so enjoyable, to help others and to remember to be thankful for whatever good fortune we have.

[Lung</a> Cancer.org :: Suzanne’s Story](<a href=“Home | LUNGevity Foundation”>Home | LUNGevity Foundation)

epistrophy · August 1, 2008, 10:08pm

living with lung cancer (and helping others who are)

“Granby woman helps cancer patients access resources they need”

“I’m telling you, I’m one butt ugly bald woman,” Jody Archinal says with a laugh, standing in the Shear Design hair studio.

Today she wears the whitish locks she calls her “Carol Channing” look.

Depending on her mood, she alternates between Channing, the red one for “funkier” days, or the more conventional and professional “grandma” look for other occasions.

She admits she has fun switching up her wigs on a whim.

“I’m a natural redhead,” she said. “I’m going to miss my alter egos if I ever get any hair back.”

Archinal is fighting a lung cancer that spread, causing two tumors on her brain.

She was diagnosed last March and within a three-month period, she endured 30 days of a barrage of radiation treatments and chemotherapy — a series of clinical visits that stripped her of pride when she lost her hair and the physical strength she is working to regain. The radiation also caused burns to her face and ears.

Something as simple as a wig, she said, boosted her self esteem at a time when she needed it most.

“It’s devastating to lose your hair, especially for a woman,” she said. “I thought, ‘Oh my gosh, what am I going to do?”

It was nail technician Tawnya Bailey of Shear Design, Granby, who linked Archinal to wigs provided by the American Cancer Society.

Archinal is a client of Bailey’s, and while getting her nails done, she had heard, “I know you have a problem, and I’m here to help.”

“There were a couple of wild ones,” Archinal recalled the mix of a dozen wigs that arrived to the salon for her to try on.

“Some were long and shaggy. I’d try them on in the back and then come out here, and we’d all laugh.”

Bailey became an active volunteer with the Society after taking part in the Relay for Life last year, the American Cancer Society’s signature event in which teammates take turns walking around a track throughout the day into the night to raise money for cancer research.

“My grandmother died of cancer,” Bailey said. “I always wanted to do something, but wasn’t sure what it was.”

At the relay, Bailey walked with cancer survivors and family of those who suffered from the disease. “As I talked with them, I knew I wanted to be involved with the organization,” she said. “By getting involved with the American Cancer Society, I realized that I can help a lot of people in the community. We have men’s wigs as well as women’s.”

Bailey said she usually discovers someone isn’t feeling well and in need of her help through relationships she’s established through work. “It’s an intimate, close, touchy-feely business,” she said. “There’s power in the human touch. Touching of the hands is just so personal. We’re usually a foot away from each other… Or, it’s the power of a stranger. A lot of times people feel safe in telling you.”

The synthetic wigs through the Society are free. Bailey also helps Grand County cancer victims gain access to gas cards through the Society to help ease the cost of driving to Denver for treatments. There are also programs that help with lodging, local counselors and local support groups. The American Cancer Society also provides hats for patients, and through Bailey, additional hats are available from a square-dancing group in Denver that knits them for the same cause.

“What we’re trying to do at the salon is put a local face to the organization,” Bailey said. “Some people don’t want to go to the American Cancer Society because it’s such a large organization, and they don’t realize in a small town that we have the ability to give the same services through the same organization,” she said. “I just knew we needed this service in Grand County.”

This year’s Grand County Relay for Life takes place this Saturday at the Middle Park High School from sundown to sunrise. Ninety percent of the funds raised on Aug. 2 will stay in Grand County. The Relay for Life committee has partnered with the Grand County Rural Health Network, Heart of the Mountains Hospice and the local cancer survivors support group to determine distribution of the funds.

“You know the tears that surge to the back of the eyeballs and you can’t hold back?” Bailey said about her first experience taking part in the Relay. “I knew when I was walking around the track last year, those men and women — and seeing how strong they are — I just knew I wanted to help them continue that.”

If she feels up to it, Archinal may be taking part in the event this year on wheels.

“I just want cancer patients, especially for women, I want them to feel good about themselves,” Bailey said. “I want to give them the opportunity to look in the mirror and see the beautiful them that they always were.”

[Granby</a> woman helps cancer patients access resources they need | SkyHiDailyNews.com](<a href=“http://www.skyhidailynews.com/article/20080731/NEWS/874406778/1079/AE&parentprofile=-1]Granby”>http://www.skyhidailynews.com/article/20080731/NEWS/874406778/1079/AE&parentprofile=-1)

ADad · August 1, 2008, 10:58pm

–Ernest Hemingway

epistrophy · August 2, 2008, 7:49am

and another

[quote]
**"Living without ‘isms’

‘It’s in literature that true life can be found. It’s under the mask of fiction that you can tell the truth’**

In May this year, when news of the Sichuan earthquake reached the Nobel laureate Gao Xingjian at his home in Paris, he remembered living through a similar disaster in China more than 30 years ago: “Even though I was quite far away then, I was terrified.” That earthquake, in Tangshan, near Beijing, was one of the 20th century’s worst in terms of lives lost. “Afterwards there were terrible downpours, but no one wanted to stay in the buildings. I can imagine the fear in Sichuan.”

It was the tail-end of the cultural revolution, the collapse of which was accelerated by the aftermath of the 1976 quake. When the 10-year terror began in 1966, Gao felt compelled to burn a suitcase-full of all his manuscripts since adolescence, in case he was denounced. But he was still sent for “re-education” in the countryside. Labouring in the fields, he began again, hiding his work in a hole in the ground, when “to write, even in secret, was to risk one’s life”. As Gao said in 2000 when he became the first (and only) writer in Chinese to win the Nobel prize for literature, “it was only during this period, when literature became utterly impossible, that I came to comprehend why it was so essential.”

Gao, who was first published when he was almost 40, has written more than 20 plays, short stories, essays, criticism and two semi-autobiographical novels: Soul Mountain (1990), based on a journey down the Yangtse river; and One Man’s Bible (1999), memories of the cultural revolution spliced with episodes in the life and loves of a world-famous man of the theatre. The novels were translated into English in 2000 and 2002, followed by Buying a Fishing Rod for My Grandfather (2004), a collection of short stories. His Nobel lecture is the title essay of The Case for Literature (2007). Yet since 1989 all his work has been banned in mainland China (most has been published in Taiwan).

A pioneer of experimental theatre in China in the early 1980s, Gao fell foul of renewed purges, and left for Germany, then France in 1987. But it was his reaction to the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989 that he believes sealed his fate. “I heard the news on the radio that people were gunned down, and right then, I knew I was looking at exile,” he says. He condemned the crackdown on French television, publicly resigned from the Chinese Communist party he had joined in 1962, tore up his Chinese passport and applied for political asylum. He has lived in Paris for 21 years as a painter and writer/director, becoming a French citizen in 1998.

For Jung Chang, Gao has “immortalised the memories of a nation suffering from forced amnesia; my own memories flooded back reading him”. Ma Jian, the London-based author of Beijing Coma, sees Gao as “both a linguistic innovator and a writer of integrity, whose work constantly reaffirms the importance of the individual over the collective. He was one of the first writers of the post-Mao era to absorb developments in western literature and philosophy, and meld them with Chinese classical traditions to create a new kind of drama and fiction.” By contrast, the critic Julia Lovell commends his shorter fiction yet feels the novels are a “sprawling, self-indulgent take on the horrors of political oppression”.

Aged 68, Gao lives in Paris’s 2nd arrondissement with C

epistrophy · August 2, 2008, 5:00pm

From ADad (4026, 4031):

–Vincent Van Gogh

DeniseC · August 2, 2008, 10:52pm

A daily dose for today:

Signs

Sign over a Gynecologist’s Office:
‘Dr. Jones, at your cervix.’

In a Podiatrist’s office:
Time Wounds All Heels.

On a Septic Tank Truck:
Yesterday’s Meals–on Wheels

At a Proctologist’s door:
To expedite your visit, please back in.

On a Plumber’s truck:
We Repair What Your Husband Fixed

On another Plumber’s truck:
Don’t sleep with a drip; Call your plumber!

On a Church’s Billboard:
7 days without God makes one weak.

At a Tire Shop in Milwaukee:
Invite us to your next blowout.

At a Towing company:
We don’t charge an arm and a leg: We want tows.

On an Electrician’s truck:
Let Us Remove Your Shorts

In a Nonsmoking Area:
If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.

On a Maternity Room door:
Push. Push. Push!

At an Optometrist’s Office:
If you don’t see what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place.

On a Taxidermist’s window:
We really know our stuff.

On a Fence:
Salesmen Welcome! Dog Food Is Expensive!

At a Car Dealership:
The best way to get back on your feet: miss a car payment.

Outside a Muffler Shop:
No appointment necessary; We hear you coming.

In a Veterinarian’s waiting room:
Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!

At the Electric Company
We will be de-lighted if you send in your payment.
However, if you don’t, you will be.

In a Restaurant window:
Don’t stand there and be hungry; come on in and get fed up.

At a Propane Filling Station:
Thank heaven for little grills.

Sign on the back of another Septic Tank Truck:
CAUTION - This Truck is Full of Political Promises

latetoschool · August 2, 2008, 11:31pm

LOL, thank you for that! Between this and Gao’s interview I almost have too much to read! :)

corranged · August 2, 2008, 11:31pm

How have you been doing, LTS?

corranged · August 2, 2008, 11:32pm

Wow. That was a fast response! :)

latetoschool · August 2, 2008, 11:38pm

We cross-posted…I haven’t been feeling great, but, that’s likely due to entirely too much medication, also, I have been doing a lot of exercise at home - very aggresive stuff my physical therapist wants me to do, and, it’s wearing me out completely.

For example, today I did over 200 high steps, in addition to toe raises, squats, etc.

She told me something interesting - apparently it takes only four days in a hospital for a person to lose muscle mass, flexibility, etc…and I was in for 12 days…

marite · August 2, 2008, 11:48pm

LTS:

It would wear me out, too! Have a good night’s sleep.

epistrophy · August 3, 2008, 9:10am

and another

“IT’S JUST ANOTHER SPEED BUMP ON THE HIGHWAY OF LIFE”

My name is John Choate and I live between Hempstead and Brenham, Texas. I was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer in the spring of 1998 and given only till November of '98 to live—and that was if I took all the treatments. At age 47 it was a terribly bitter pill to swallow. Essentially the prognosis was that I was going to die of lung cancer if I didn’t get struck by lightning first. The world really does seem to come crashing down on us, doesn’t it?

There must have been a bit of irony in the fact that I took delivery of a previously special ordered Dodge 4WD on June 19, 1998 and started radiation and chemotherapy the next morning. It was all shiny and new and ordered precisely to my “dream” specifications, and now it seemed obvious that I wouldn’t get to wear it out. My primary reason for ordering it was for my long distance fishing and hunting vacations. As I look out my window right now at that truck and know that it now has nearly 140,000 miles on it (mostly from those fishing vacations across North America) I realize that after all of this I may STILL not live to wear that truck out.

If I survive until November of ‘03 I will have reached a full five years past the doctors’ best guesses. I’m not sure that is such a great thing all by itself. I consider my great triumph to be the fact that I have absolutely ENJOYED these five years. They might possibly even qualify as the five best years of my life.

I know that this particular audience already knows that someone else can’t make your decisions or guide you through that maze that constitutes your future. My only hope is that I can serve as a poster boy for those of us who have at least temporarily beaten the grim reaper. We have much more control over our own destiny than we might believe. That decision is ours alone.

I’m assuming I was fairly normal in that I viewed the treatment as being almost anticlimactic. How exciting can it be to know that you are dying and they are going to make your remaining days as miserable as possible, right? I had very seriously considered just refusing treatment and “take my chances”. On toward the end of my treatments I was convinced that was exactly what I should have done. I was a very sick man and saw no chance of improvement at that time. In hindsight I can’t imagine that I actually considered that approach.

All during the summer of '98 I was in treatment daily. At first it wasn’t too bad, but that was short lived. I gradually went from 155 pounds at 5’8" to 130 pounds, all the while force-feeding myself everything I could keep down. Since the cancer had already spread to my lymph system, they were nuking most of my upper body as well as both lungs. I couldn’t chew food by the time they were finished and I was truly miserable twenty-four hours a day. I know because I was awake for most of it.

When I reached my original “terminal” date of mid-November, I did truly expect to simply not wake up after the next nap. I was totally beaten, both physically and mentally. I found myself almost hoping it would just all be over. Unable to work any more, I simply sat miserably in my recliner and tried to read or watch television. My nights and days had gradually run together.

Then one night shortly before Christmas my old granny Golden Retriever came to me as I napped in my recliner and woke me up. It must have been around 3AM. She needed to be let out, so I wrapped myself in my blanket and went to the door. When I let her out, though, she turned to face me on the porch and did her little stiff legged hop which meant, “C’mon, dad, let’s go for a long walk.”

She had known something was wrong from the very first day I was diagnosed and she had followed me around with great loyalty. In her advanced years I couldn’t very well turn down such a lady like request. It was freezing outside and I had little cold tolerance left, so I dug through my closet and found all of my really cold weather clothes.

We live in the country near the Brazos River and our biggest stock pond is about a quarter mile across a pasture. She and I had often taken walks in the late evening or early morning around that pasture, with a stop at the pond for a swim being mandatory. With me bundled up like that kid in the Peanuts comic strip we set out across the pasture.

I’ve been a duck hunter all my life and having to give up my favorite sport had been the final blow in my mental defeat during treatment. I could have tolerated nearly anything else.

I headed for the pond with the old dog working a pattern in front of me as if we were pheasant hunting. It was a gorgeous starlit night with not so much as a breeze. In the pale light I could barely make out the old dog’s gray muzzle. With temps below freezing, my boots crunching on the frosted grass was the loudest sound I heard. I had to admit that it was glorious to just be out there, even though the cold air made it painful to breathe.

We got to the pond and I sat in one of my favorite spots along the dam and Penny came and sat by me. Soon she was lying with her head in my lap. It felt good to have the faithful old dog along as I pondered my own fate and looked back at all the things I would have taken back and done over if given the chance. I think the gloomiest thoughts a person can have is to look back on parts of your life that are not so pleasant and realize that there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it. I just sat there with that warm old dog snuggled up in my lap and felt sorry for myself.

Suddenly Penny tensed and an instant later I heard the sizzling sound of ducks coming in to land. I realized the eastern sky had turned pink while we sat there and suddenly there were three splashes and the distinct landing whistle of a wood duck. I could make out the white patch on the head of the drake and see the ripples on the water from the other two. Penny started that barely audible whine that good duck dogs make when there are birds on hand. In her mind she was thinking, “Take 'em, dad! You can get all three!”

We just sat there for a couple of minutes. I honestly can’t explain exactly what happened, but it suddenly became quite obvious that I did not HAVE to be miserable and die! Some things I could not change, but my mental attitude was completely within my own control. I could only be defeated mentally if I allowed myself to be defeated. I could refuse to lose!!!

I stood and the ducks took wing. Penny stiffened and watched, expecting to hear the shot and the command to retrieve. She was somewhat disgusted when we just walked back to the house. The lights were now on in the kitchen.

Kay, my wife, had never allowed herself to be mentally beaten. Every morning she had offered to fix me breakfast no matter how rotten I felt. And my answer had always been, “No, thanks, Baby.”

As I cleaned my boots at the door and Penny trotted inside, Kay asked if I would like some bacon and eggs. It was my first chance to turn the corner and get back on track with my life. “Yes, Baby, I think I would!”

The breakfast was great and somehow did not make me sick as I expected. It was a bit scratchy on my sore throat, but I just used two big glasses of cold milk to wash it down. I stuffed myself and went into the bedroom and got about three good hours of much needed sleep with an old granny Golden Retriever snuggled next to me on the bed. She had just saved my life and could darn well sleep anywhere she wanted.

The event proved to be as close to a miracle as I ever expect to experience. Through the sheer power of a positive mental attitude, within six weeks I was back up to 150 pounds. I managed to get in a duck hunt before the season ended and was even skydiving again soon after. (Yes, Kay and I are both skydivers!)

I went back to my job full time. I would remain there until my retirement in August of '99.

Some friends in North Carolina had a week long trip to Cape Hatteras planned and invited me to come along. I do dearly love fishing the Outer Banks but didn’t know if I could stand up to quite THAT big of a project yet. They promised to baby sit me when or if I needed it so I went and had a marvelous time. The fishing wasn’t great, but it was good enough to stay interested and merely being alive on the Outer Banks is a worthwhile experience. I was once again back with the living.

In the years since, I’ve made a couple more Hatteras trips, multiple trips to Minnesota, Montana, Colorado, Idaho, British Columbia, Alberta, Yukon, and Alaska. I firmly believe that planning for those trips and then taking them and enjoying myself so much has kept me alive. Every trip was absolutely incredible.

I really don’t have time to worry much about dying any more. In fact, there have been MANY days in the last five years when I have quite literally forgotten that I was a terminal cancer patient. I had never dreamed I would be able to say that.

There have been some minor setbacks, of course. I always loved to hunt Elk, Mule Deer, and Antelope in Montana and Idaho. I simply can’t stand up to that level of exertion any more. I’m quite happy, though, to be in good enough shape to wander the streams with a fly rod in hand while native trout suck insects from the surface. And I’m blessed with having a fly fishing buddy who knows my limits and doesn’t push me harder than I can handle.

Throughout all of this, of course, the Lord was with me. He never faltered in His part. The problem is that I was talking to the Lord about dying when I should have been talking to Him about living.

I grew up a Christian and even turned down a full four-year scholarship to seminary college to go in the Marine Corps back in the sixties. But to be quite honest, I had simply taken the Lord for granted all those years. He had guarded over me and I had not exactly been as loyal in return as I should have been. My prayers after my cancer diagnosis were aimed more at my penitence and hope of forgiveness.

One of my North Carolina friends happens to have a Nondenominational Christian Church near the Outer Banks. He convinced me that the Lord would not consider me as “too bold” if we prayed to extend my life—at least not if I started paying back my part of the deal.

There is no greater empowerment on earth than to go to bed each night and meet each morning with the absolute certainty that our Lord is right beside us.

I look back now at the many cancer patients I met while I was undergoing treatment and I remember their attitudes.

The whiners are all dead now—every one of them. I know that sounds crude, but it’s true. They were the ones, often even with fairly minor cancers, which always whined and moaned about how hard the fight was and they just “didn’t think they could make it another day!” Nothing ever suited them. Each day was too hot or too cold. The pain and misery was unbearable. I suspect the readers of this piece already know exactly the type of patient I’m talking about.

And then there were those who simply believed it when some doctor had told them they probably wouldn’t last more than six months. Surely enough, give or take a week or two, in six months they were dead. They simply lacked the necessary will to live.

Many succumbed to a return of cancer after having “beaten it” the first time. Often they had a year or so of mindless bliss believing that they had conquered the mighty beast. Then during one of their regular checkups they were told that the cancer had returned. Many who had fought so valiantly and wisely during the first bout simply lay down and died when they got the news. They never made it through round one of the rematch.

Those who had weak faith or who had never actually known the Lord usually fell apart pretty quickly when faced with such a staggering fight. I have tried to imagine what my battle may have been like if I had not known the Lord was there for every step. I can’t do it. I certainly would have been dead long ago.

I suppose my advice would be to NOT aim just for “staying alive”. Aim for ENJOYING your future to the fullest. Be bold and plan events in your future that you are not quite certain you will be able to pull off—then realize that you must do it because you’ve already promised your friends.

The cancer clinics (strictly my own opinion here) use the term “survivor” far too broadly in my opinion. They include everyone who has ever been diagnosed with the disease. I believe a true survivor is one who has actually gone to the battlefield and triumphed, even if on a small scale. All of our “wins” in this game are only temporary and we know it. But after the first one or two, stacking up a long list of these wins becomes downright commonplace. It is also incredibly satisfying and does much good for morale.

I have been blessed with incredible doctors. If not for their professionalism, my long list of wins could not have occurred. They bought me the extra time to get my game plan together and they were the cheerleaders on the sidelines.

But with the Lord’s help, the victories have been mine. And I am a very ordinary man.

I will almost certainly still die from lung cancer. The difference is that I no longer concern myself with it each day. Living has simply become too fantastic for me to allow negative thoughts to ruin my fun.

[John</a> Choate - Stage IV Lung Cancer Survivor](<a href=“http://morris.lcsdg.com/SurvivorStories/johnchoate%20.htm]John”>http://morris.lcsdg.com/SurvivorStories/johnchoate%20.htm)

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