Support

Every Tuesday night, I get in my truck and drive some 20 miles up Pacific Coast Highway to attend my support group. Unlike other trips of the same distance that I may make, I never think about wasting gas, or the time involved getting there. This trip is a highlight of my week. The admission to the group was quite high. Over two hundred thousand in medical bills (thank God I'm insured), the removal of part of my tongue, scars that may never look "normal" and a speech impediment. To spend time with this amazing group I would say that the price is fair. You may be thinking that I'm nuts, but here me out.

We can all use some support. Frankly, I'm surprised that support groups aren't the norm rather than for special cases. Think back to grade school and how much more pleasant it might have been to spend a couple hours a week with other kids who were having the same or similar experiences to yours. Just imagine coming  to understand that the bullies were insecure as a child and maybe being able to show some compassion for them instead of fear? All of the beautiful girls that no matter what seem to think their fat learning that they are perfect just the way they are? Redheads standing up and claiming their own special kind of beauty. All of the kids with learning disabilities coming to see themselves as smart and capable, not unteachable. The list goes on and on. I bet that I could have created a special group for just about every five years of my life. And if we did this where would we be as a society?

In some ways churches used to be a kind of a support. During the 50's and 60's, you were looked down upon if you didn't go to church. Then as time wears on going to church fell out of vogue. I will freely admit there was a period of my life that I spent quite isolated from Christians. In fact if I would have been in a support group at that time, it would have been a God please protect me from your followers group. I'm still leery of some sects. Now my group would be more of a God please keep the baptists and their hateful teachings away from me and my family. While visiting my Dad I went to church with him and even though it was my first experience in a Presbyterian Church, I quite enjoyed it. His minister, Dr. Charles Somervill, was fun and up beat. Nothing of what I equate ministers in the south to be (Still have some prejudices). But the thing that really impressed me was the Prayer of Confession that starts off "Our God, we confess to knowing more about how you would have us be than actually being that way." In short it is a confession to being human and fallible. That is something that I can live with. We are all just human after all. I have vowed to check out our local Presbyterian Church here. Usually I am at my most comfortable in a Catholic Church, even if I am not nor will ever be Catholic. In fact I still tend more towards the metaphysical, Earnest  Holmes type of teachings, but all paths to lead to God.

But to get back to my current support group, there is just something about surviving a life threatening illness and being able to weekly tale about the tale. When our families and friends grow weary of us having cancer or health problems related to the treatment of cancer, we find ourselves with a most welcome outlet. We celebrate to good and help each other through the bad. We all learn something new each week, but most of all, speaking for myself, I have increased the number of people in my life that I can truly say that I love. Here I find myself surrounded by wisdom that came a too high of price for any one individual but it is shared freely. We also share laughter, tears, compassion, empathy, humanity and occasionally some really amazing cake! (Thanks "C" and thanks to Laura for telling me about the Cancer Support Community).

Home is Where the Heart is.

My trip to Texas happen too quickly. It seemed that for months it was all I could think about. Then the two weeks leading up to the actual trip I started to dread going. Leaving my dogs, leaving Ken....facing what Doris had been telling me about my dad's decline. It all seemed too much. Then before I knew it I was comfortably seated on Jet Blue flight direct to Austin with my Kindle in hand. Not to sound like a commercial here but for those of you who fly but have not flown Jet Blue, let me say this: Do it! Jet Blue's domestic flights rock. Great service, great prices and more than enough leg room. If you're taller than say 5'10" you can purchase roomier seats for only $45.00 which also come with the privilege of first boarding! 

Once in Texas I realized I had really over packed for the 5 day trip. My excuse is that I am used to packing for two. The reality is that I am sadly out of practice. One thing I am glad I took was my bathing suit. I knew my dad doesn't have a pool (which in my opinion is a must have for Texas) but Granbury has a beach. Not a real beach per say, but the city paid God only knows what to bring in tons of sand to create a "beach" on the lake. My step sister Dorenda and I spent one of the days there and it was a little slice of heaven. First it was great getting to know Dorenda, who in spite of our similarities, I have managed to not spend any time with in the 25 years my Dad has been married to Doris. That is my mistake, as it turns out she is a wonderful person and was a great hostess! (and such a cowgirl and god knows I love me some cowgirls!). Just spending the day talking and taking dips in the cool lake to cool ourselves down from the 103 degrees, was one of the best days I've had in ages. It's pretty cool to have another sister. It still surprises me, for years I have avoided anything to do with family, mine or anyone else's. I can't say if it is age or the cancer, but the feeling of belonging is comfort. I really discovered that first with my In-Laws, Steve and Ruthie. No matter how uncomfortable it was they were troopers coming by the hospital everyday to check on my progress. Some how it finally dawned on me that I wasn't just their son's partner, I was family. (That happened in spite of the fact that to date, California does not recognize or allow same sex marriages).

Now I find myself thinking of Dorenda as my sister. In the end, humans have an amazing capacity for love. Our hearts can stretch to embrace and unlimited number of people if we just make ourselves available. I spent the better part of 40 years to afraid to reach out or open my heart. Now it feels like it is the only thing to do, the only way to be. I think about all of the people who prayed for me during my journey with cancer and wonder if those prayers somehow unlocked my heart and mind. While in Granbury one of the best experiences I had was thanking my parents congregation for their prayers and got to announce that I was at last cancer free. The tears still fall when I think of standing there feeling nothing but gratitude. It feels amazing to be part of peoples lives that I had never met. They were willing to take time out of their busy days and say a prayer for me. . They of course love my Dad and Doris and want to make sure that they are comforted, but to go beyond that and see the selflessness in their simple act of including strangers in their day, requires a selflessness that I have yet to achieve. One thing you can say about cancer is it sure can bring people together. Yeah it sucks and I pray for the cure, but I have to be really honest and say this has been an amazing journey.

My short time in Texas came to an all to quick and and it was time to jet back home. Back to my life with Ken and our dogs, rabbit and fish. Back to the daily chores and the concentration of writing and working to improve my overall health. Yes I am cancer free but thanks to the treatments that got me there, still not as full of energy as I would like to be. Saying coming home feels somewhat odd to me, though. Long Beach has never felt like home, and yet here I find home in the company of Ken and our family. I still find Texas to feel like home. I know that I inherited my mothers nomadic spirit and long to roam, but as I really think about it Home for me is found in some pretty unlikely places. It is not a geographic location. It is where the people I love are. It is my support groups, my writing class, it is found online with friends made years ago or new acquaintances. Most of all it is with my family and especially with Ken. My heart lives everywhere I love. That is the lesson for me in all of this: just to keep my heart open.

A Visit to my Dad

It's already been a week since my flight back from Texas touched down here in California and yet my thoughts have been so jumbled I haven't been able to write about the experience. I guess to sum it up I would say that it was liberating. Early on I convinced my Dad to stay home and that I would fly out to see him after the radiation. I made the good point that it would be more frustrating for all of us. There wasn't anything he could really do, and I was concerned that Ken would then have to look after me and my Dad. That was pretty top of the mind stuff, but I've been digging around in my head and finally had to admit that I didn't want my dad to see me like that (post operation). In truth I didn't want anyone to see me like that. But after it was over there was Ken and Theresa and my amazing In-laws, Steve and Ruthie and most surprisingly my amazing buddy Daniel (who I nick-named Scooter years ago). In some ways I feel guilty for telling my Dad not to come. I wonder if I stole an opportunity from him to be a Dad. If I had it to do again, would  I ask  him to come?  If I had it to do again I would admit that no matter how tough I acted I was scared beyond belief? The dominant voice in my head always told me that I was going to survive, but it might have been nice to have some hands to hold when the other voices where trying to chip away at me. Of course I made it through it, but today it feels like it might have been nice to let go of all of the trying to be a man crap and just have my Daddy's shoulder to cry on.

It all comes down to this: Men all want to make their fathers proud. So we go on with our lives and only try to reveal the good stuff to dad. At least that is my truth. I avoid calling him if I feel off or down. I have never turned to him for advice on deep or difficult things so that he is left with the general impression that I am tough. Truth be told I am tough. I am that way because I have made myself that way. Not wanting to show weakness or fear is my most common way of being. I charged right at the cancer and dared it to try and win. I told it from day one that I was going to be the victor in this story. I allowed my body to be carved and changed, shot up with dangerous drugs and shot full of radiation to prove my point. I only cried a couple of times and those were very private moments between Ken and I. Most of all I never confessed my fear. Never confronted it. Just told it to go away, that I had this all under control.

The trip to Texas changed me. I learned a truth that I should have known all of my life. My Dad is proud of me. In spite of all the stupid things Ive done in my life the man I have always looked up to is proud. I learned a valuable lesson of unconditional love. My father loves me. Broken or whole, rich or poor, single or partnered he loves me. I don't have to try anything or show anything, I just have to be myself. Somehow, and I never saw this before just being his son is enough. I've started calling him a lot more ofter already. I am no longer armed with the excuse of long distance charges, so why not speak as often as we like?

This trip had been a long time coming. Too long. My Step Mom (known affectionately as Momma D) had kept me up on my dad for the past several years. In fact her descriptions of how he was declining made me afraid of going home. I didn't want to see him stuck in a recliner, an old man, a future reflection of my self. In reality my Dad is getting older. I know that he turns 80 this year. But the man that I saw in Texas was not the man that I was afraid of. He still takes his bike out for morning rides and manages to make it thru the day. He even still works as a bus driver during school season. He is also smart as always. cleverr, kind and has a surprisingly open mind. In short this old dog still has some new tricks in him.

As adult children we look to our patents to see our futures. We do this without taking into consideration that we live in a much different world than they did. We judge ourselves harshly based on their successes and tell ourselves that we will never repeat their failures. I believe our fear of aging comes from what we see in our parents coupled with our own judgements. I look to my Dad now and see that 80 still seems pretty young. I am nowhere close to where I should be financially and the thought of retirement scares the crap out of me, so seeing that I still have time to get it together is a big relief. It doesn't give me any wiggle room, but at least I am not terrified.

I think that the biggest lesson that I learned while in Texas was that I want to be much closer to my Dad. There is a side of me that would like to move back there. My Dad won't live forever and the older that I get the faster the years seem to pass. ,  of course,  have Ken to consider in this and his roots are deep where we are. It could be that the desire to move (other than the fact that I have never felt that Long Beach was my home) is just the desire to be closer not physically but honestly. To share my fears with him and let him see me as a human. To call even when I am having a crappy day. To share my failures not just my successes. To finally be his son, not just what I thought he wanted as a son (Note to self: get real, you blew that years ago by coming out and God only knows what else).

Unlike a lot of cancer patients that I meet, my fear is not of the disease, not of having my life cut short. In truth I fully expect to survive this. My fear is to fail at being the man that I was meant to be. Of reaching my goals and dreams. Of fulfilling promises that I have made along the way, especially to Ken. Dying of cancer would be easy. Living to my fullest potential of terrifying! Thanks to my Dad, I have a pretty good coach though.

As the days pass

Things always become easier as the days pass. Ken had taken last week off to attend all of my doctors appointments. In the end we ended up loosing Noir, one of our pugs. Watching Ken in pain over the loss of his first pet has been hard. He started to make 3 dog treats yesterday morning and then broke down. Oddly the other two dogs don't really seem to care much. Noir was always the outsider to them, but we expected something.

One thing that dealing with Noir did was take my mind off of the painful news that I may need additional plastic surgery to repair my neck. This information was followed up by my cancer surgeon who informed me that surgery to the radiation site was not advisable because radiation decreases blood flow and things don't always heal properly. My surgeon explained that his number one purpose was to extend the life of the patient, not give them a perfect face. I pondered that for awhile. What about patients who want a perfect face? What if this were happening to an actor who needed to keep his looks for his career? Ultimately most of my thoughts this week have been of Noir. And for that I am grateful.

As Ken returned to work this morning and another day passes, everything is better. For some reason I'm not so concerned about how I look right now. It's not like I'm hideously disfigured, I just have a thicker neck and look a little older than I did when getting my diagnosis. But then in some ways I feel older too. Not in a bad way, maybe in a wiser way. There is an old saying that time heals all wounds. I know it to be true. Eventually the pain of the loss of our dog will diminish. Eventually I will look in the mirror and feel normal. Eventually I won't "feel" my tongue every waking moment. As for my sexy by fifty plan, it's still in place. Sexy is a state of being, I just have to allow myself to feel that way. I need to strip myself of the current set of rules of what sexy is and do some editing.

Out of this journey has come the understanding of how significant my relationship with Ken is. How the depth of our feelings reaches out to include our friends and family. I am part of a couple in a way that I have never been before. In a way that is about caring and nurturing. And it being two guys there is plenty of picking on and making fun of as well. It wasn't until faced with cancer and possible death that I came to feel safe, but I do today. For the first time in my life I feel safe. How many days had to pass before I realized that?

Thanks for the Love!

10 Years ago there was a knock on the door late on a week night. Our neighbor who did dog rescue had just found a dog that she believed to be a pug mix and since Ken and I had a pug, she was wondering if we would be willing to foster the dog. The next day she brought her over and we agreed to become her foster dads. Just a week later, she had stolen our hearts and even though her presence in the house really seemed to irritate our pug Basil, we decided to adopt her. We named her Noir. She was nothing like any dog I had ever had before. Kenny was new to dogs, he inherited Freddy, our Yorkie when he moved in with me and together we found and adopted Basil to be Freddy's companion so he wouldn't have to spend his days alone.

Noir was "street smart". She would eat anything. That's great if your feeding a dog. It is not so great when your walking them. Rocks, berries, anything that she could grab she did. She even dug up and ate a goldfish we had when he died (If you follow this
blog, yes it was Tokyo). The thing about her, though was her happiness. Always a joy. Always ready to wash your face. For 10 years we had the gift of this little girl. Even though our other two dogs are not affectionate with us, it never stopped her. She was always too happy to dispense kisses or cuddle on our laps. She was louder than the other dogs as well. Always rejoicing in our return home and when we made them special treats she had a bark that could spit your ear drum.Then this past Sunday night she couldn't sleep and finally messed on the bed. We put her out and by the next morning she had diarrhea. That got worse and we took her to the vet. This morning she passed away. She died as quickly as she came into our lives. It was a shock to suddenly have a third dog and now it is a shock to not have this quirky little soul around the house.

When the vet called Ken was in the shower, I got the new and entered the bathroom crying. I could hear Ken start and opened the shower curtain. We just held each other, not caring that I was getting soaked. Nothing in that moment seemed to matter. Ken is my rock but seeing him vulnerable in that moment, I know that I had never loved him more.

The vet mentioned that he suspected that Noir had had cancer. It has me thinking about animals and humans and my beliefs regarding disease. I have always believed that my cancer was a manifestation of my thoughts. What about our pets who have cancer? Could it be the same for them? Do some animals cure themselves through the power of positive thinking and others do not? One thing for certain, I am glad that Noir did not suffer. Her decline was so sudden. To sudden for me to wrap my head around. We drove down to the vets office to say our final good byes before they cremated her. She seemed like she was still alive just laying there with the two of us blubbering over her. Kahil Gibran in the profit says "Love knows not it's own depth until the hour of separation". Once again I find the truth and and beauty in his words. I had no idea how I had grown to love Noir over the last 10 years. Freddy and Basil always seem to take center stage in our house. Ken has lost his running buddy, we both have lost our foot warmer and even greater we have lost an amazing dog that had so much life and joy in her it seems impossible that she could be gone.

Noir, thank you for choosing to love us and share your time here on earth with us. Kenny used to say that in spite of everything you really were the best dog and he is, once again, right.

It's time again

This is one of those weeks where I have several doctors appointments. Yesterday I saw my plastic surgeon (he created the prosthetic tongue), Today I see my regular surgeon (he removed the tumor, which happened to be connected to half of my tongue) and Thursday I see my dentist.

From the standpoint of the doctors all of the news will most likely be of a positive variety. (I'm just there to check on the progress of my healing). That of course is there stand point. I finally pushed my plastic surgeon into telling me exactly how much difference I could expect in my tongue and found out it is pretty much where it will be. That was not good news for me. I work with the public and returning to the workplace will demand that I speak clearly. Currently I sound like my mouth is full of food (which only comes in handy at dinnertime, because I can eat and talk and no one notices the difference). This means that I will be spending quite some time with the speech therapist.

Secondly I asked about the incision on my neck as well as the hardining of the muscles below. I was told it had healed nicely. Really? I was told by my surgeon that there would only be a small natural looking crease on my neck. In reality I have a big flap of skin hanging over the incision site. From the front it doesn't look so bad but from the side it ages my by about 15 years. I know the argument: Ran, you should be glad to be alive! I am glad to be alive, but just like thousands of people I want to be alive and look younger than my chronological age! I was told that in four to six months if it doesn't improve I could have plastic surgery to remove excess skin and fat. That is not the news I wanted. I didn't have excess skin and fat going into this and want the results I was promised. While venting to my acupuncturist yesterday regarding all of this, she reminded me that she does "cosmetic acupuncture". (Not as intense as a face lift, but shows results in the re firming of skin and collegian production). She needled my face for me. I looked at it this morning and couldn't believe the results. The flap had indeed shifted. There is still some swelling, but the results defiantly show. I may not need to get a nip and tuck after all!

Finally, tomorrow, I see my dentist to have the bridge created. (If you have been reading the blog for awhile you may recall I had to have four bottom front teeth pulled due to bone loss and the risk of radiation). That will finally be corrected, which I am hoping will help a lot with my speech. The bottom line is this. There will always be good and bad days for all of us. Cancer has nothing to do with that, although, any cancer patient can tell you they have had their share of bad days. But if you look there is still beauty and miracles all around us. This week it came from my acupuncturist and of course my life partner who took most of the week off to be at all of my doctors appointments. Ken may not be great at cleaning the bathroom, but he is one heck of a caretaker! (not a bad trade off! especially considering that I had cancer and really needed to be taken care of).

Every Level Seeks it's Own

I have heard that statement for years and see it in action all of the time these days. This morning on my coffee run, I saw a young girl with long blue hair pushing a shopping cart in the center where the local Starbucks resides. She had on a black skirt with white dots and immediately reminded me of the young kids that you see all over New Orleans, dirty but with an interesting sense of style that belongs only to the Crescent City. My heart has always gone out to those kids, but for some reason BC (before cancer) Ran has always held a huge judgement of them out here on this coast. I grabbed my latte and headed back out to my truck in time to see that she had met up with a young man I am assuming to be her boyfriend as she was holding his had. After a moment it was clear that she was actually helping him "shoot up". While this act is sad and my heart bleeds for young addicts, I saw for the first time a since of beauty in their act. Her helping him. Them in this thing together. I said a silent prayer for them and drove home giving thanks for my own relationship all of the way. Going through cancer has been the hardest challenge of my life and I am blessed that I did not do it alone.

Yesterday, Ken and I did our annual volunteer day together for the Long Beach AIDS Walk. It has been a financially very difficult year for the foundation and it's Director Gary Bowie had been concerned about having to either shut the doors after the walk due to a lack of earlier participation. This year at the last minute people started signing up and by close of online sign ups we had raised over 60,000 and raised an additional 20,000 at the walk. I know my heart swell when listing to the numbers yesterday. Our level sought itself out and as always came thru.

I see the love of people coming together to help one another everywhere. Couples shopping together, watching neighbors help each other pull in trash cans. On youtube.com you can see the "It Gets Better" project video's aimed at bullied youth. Our world is full of love and the evidence of it surrounds us. Maybe if we would turn off the news, open our hearts and take a walk we would all find it. Watching the world without judgement has helped me see it. Even when Ken and I argue (we are still far from being a perfect couple), I know that there is love there. Telling your partner what you need even with your voice raised is a statement that you wish to remain in the love. (I have to remind myself of that when I want to bat him upside of the head, which, I have never done. I did drive over his foot once, but that was purely by accident and is the subject for another time).