“Courage Through Cancer”

NATASHA_&_TYLER_WEDDINGWe agreed a long time ago that no news is good news, so I know you’ll forgive me for waiting almost a year to write an update.

All is well – Natasha and I got married in October and we moved into a new home in November; I’m working at an amazing creative agency (Parallax Branding + Interactive) with a bunch of amazing people; and, 26 months after being told those three little words (“you have cancer”), I’m happy to report that I’m 100% cancer-free.

Maintenance therapy continues. I’m still on the same combination of oral and infused chemotherapy (POMP), which means I only have to be in the infusion center once every 28 days. The monthly infusions leave me feeling less than stellar for a few days each month, but thanks to regular neupogen injections I have a semi-functioning immune system and have been fortunate to avoid further complications or infections. Knock on wood…

We were  humbled recently to have the opportunity to share our story in the UT San Diego, as part of a series called Courage Through Cancer.

Check out the article here: Courage through cancer: Infections add to cyclist’s tough battle

Special thank you to Doug Williams and to Clay Treska for giving us the chance to talk about our experience.

Until next time…

Lots of love!
–T

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Spring Update II

I’ve been dragging my feet on this update because I don’t like being the bearer of bad news.  Usually when we hit a rough patch I leave the updates to Natasha (or Leigh), but this time I’ll do the dirty work myself.

Brick Wall

Here we go again

Before anyone jumps to any conclusions, let me just say: I’m still cancer free.  And, thank God for that!

However, my chemo is on hold for the time being, as some complications have surfaced that must be addressed.  You may (or may not) remember the pneumonia I battled last year left a small cyst in the right upper lobe of my lung.  After various examinations, a CT scan, and a brochoscopy, we have learned that the cyst has become infected.  At this point, the doctors believe the best course of action is to have it surgically removed.

Natasha and I met with the surgeon last week, who told me “you look better than your chart,” and assured us that he felt confident the procedure would be a success.  Surgery is scheduled for May 8th, with anywhere from 4-6 days in the hospital to recover.

Physically, I feel strong.  I rode my bike this morning and have been able to get back into a regular routine at the gym.  Emotionally, I’m discouraged but not distraught.  There are a lot of reasons to feel good about this.  I am physically strong, I have a functioning immune system, and removing the cyst eliminates a potential source of future complications.  There are a lot of reasons to be thankful.

All that said, this still sucks.

I’m not going to say this is just another bump in the road, or hurdle to clear, because I’m tired of those analogies. This feels like another brick wall to run through. But we’ll do it.  What choice do we have?

I’m always finding inspiration in unexpected places, and earlier this week I was inspired by the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, and the story of one author’s journey to follow the race from the air.  It’s a long read (with some beautiful photos) but highly recommended if you can find the time.  Here’s the link to the full story: Out in the Great Alone

One of my favorite passages comes all the way at the end, when the author comes to a certain realization about the whole race, and why people (and dogs) subject themselves to such extremes:

Who knew what would ever be there tomorrow? And it hit me that that was exactly the point of the Iditarod, why it was so important to Alaska. When everything can vanish, you make a sport out of not vanishing. You submit yourself to the forces that could erase you from the earth, and then you turn up at the end, not erased.

I guess, in a way, we’re all racing our own personal Iditarod, making a sport out of not vanishing.  I like that idea.

Will plan to keep everyone posted as surgery approaches!

Lots of love,
–T

And so it begins

TyTash

Tash & Ty

Irony is a difficult thing to describe, but I think most people recognize it when they see it.  Let me give an example by way of a story and a recent experience of mine.

The University of Missouri is the oldest land-grant university west of the Mississippi.  The school is proud of its history.   I’m not usually one for big pep rallys and choreographed celebrations, but at Mizzou homecoming is unavoidable.  For the weeks (and months) leading up to homecoming weekend, the campus is a frenzy of activity.  Floats are  constructed, skits rehearsed, songs and dances perfected, hotel rooms reserved, parties planned, community-service projects performed, and blood is donated. Continue reading