One Day at a Time...

 

12.21.21

The truth is, it seems that the weekends after my treatments are going to be rough. I should not be surprised, and no one told me that this battle would be easy, but if I'm being honest, on Sunday I was feeling like I had had enough. The thought crept into the back of my mind that I do not think I can feel like this another 10 weekends. I happen to have a fairly high pain threshold, but 48-72 hours of nausea is no fun and it takes a mental toll...it's a whole different ballgame.

One of the first goals Brandi and I set when this fight started was to be able to find a way to schedule Chemo so that I had a good shot at feeling well enough to make it to my niece's bat mitzvah in Florida. We were not sure that would happen over the weekend. On top of feeling awful, I had the double whammy of watching Brandi take care of everything in prep for our trip. She had to do laundry, pack all of the kids, ensure the house was locked down, arrange for mail pick up, and more.

Long story short, I woke up feeling on Monday feeling decent enough to make the trip and we made it here to be with family and to relax. We all tested negative before we left. We have an airbnb, my brother in law's pool club, and outdoor eating. We aren't playing tourist, we are not doing anything 'high risk" with Omicron running wild and my immune system in flux. We are just hanging out. One day at a time. Enjoying family time.

One day at a time. Like I said, on Sunday, I was down. On Sunday, things were dark. But the great thing about our world is that sometimes, when you need it most, the Wheel of Fortuna spins and things start looking up. And it was while we were sitting in our seats at the airport gate, that an old friend, his wife, and his son rumbled on over. It was so good to see them, to have a hug, to catch up, to chat about how I was feeling. My friend's response - "One day at a time." It is easy to forget, but that is so true. Fight through the bad day or two, move on to enjoy the next. So here I am, 80 degrees, in shorts, with family.

But that was not the only uplifting moment yesterday. Another old friend happened along and was also on our flight. This person was a participant when Brandi and I were madrichim (counselors) on Shorashim in the summer of 2000. We are in touch, but I'd never caught up with her in person - and seen her in mom mode with her 2 beautiful young children. And so, by the time our flight took off, the nausea was in retreat and my heart was full of friends, memories, and the promise of the day.

*I withheld the names of my friends in case they are sensitive to publicity in this day and age.

I should also mention here that even though I was still feeling 'okay' at the time, Laina and Patrick visited me for a few hours on Friday. Friday is the bridge when the 48 hours of chemo drugs are finishing and the nausea comes on. I feel really fortunate that they were in town and able to spend a few hours. I need my people. It makes a difference - and that is true for those I am lucky enough to see in person, and for those that are there that make their presence known in so many different ways whether it be sending a 'heart' text or inviting me to watch football. Y'all are my lifeline.

**I meant to add a special thanks to the lovely people that brought us Shabbat dinner Friday. It was delicious and a big help given the tough weekend!!

Fortuna smiled upon me this week when I needed the wheel to spin. I hope that it also smiles upon you and yours at this holiday season. Live every day - one day at a time - and love and rejoice in each other. And if I don't blog before then, Merry New Year to you all!

#GetScreened
#GratefulFighters

P.S. Thanks, Brandi, for getting us down here. You are everything.

Jinx - Buy Me A Coke!

 12.8.21

Yes, I'm going to jinx it. Well, I don't really believe in jinxes (unless I'm putting the hex on a late game free throw shooter at Assembly Hall in Champaign), so I'm safe...I think.

But first, I was inspired to write today because I received the following message a few minutes ago:

It is so awesome to see people hearing our message to #GetScreened and #EarlyDetectionSavesLives. To be clear, it's not the first message like this I've received, but this one just came at a time when I could gather myself to write a bit. That being said, I love, love, love getting these messages whether they are just telling us that they just got their procedure scheduled or whether they just finished the procedure. This is the type of thing that lifts my soul, and it's also the type of thing that I am writing about as we work on final steps to bring #GratefulFighters to life. We are already making a difference and that means something - actually, it means a shit-ton to me. So please, continue to reach out and tell me your successes with scheduling your required annual physicals, mammograms, colonoscopies, and more!

Oh, yea, I got lost kvelling (it's Yiddish, look it up) about my awesome friends using modern medicine to maintain their health and I almost forgot about jinxes...

I feel good. It took a few days post-chemo, but I feel good. You knew that I would...

Here's what cycle 1 of Chemo looks like so far:
Tuesday Blood Work - Feelin' fine.
Wednesday Chemo Day - Feelin' fine
Thursday Pump Day 1 - Nausea and Exhaustion creepin' in
Friday Pump Day 2 - Steady nausea and exhausted
Saturday/Sunday - Steady nausea and as much bed time as possible
Monday - Rough start, but feeling human by lunch time.
Tuesday/Wednesday - No nausea meds needed, fully at work, kickin' arse and takin' names.
Thursday through next Wednesday (Chemo 2 Cycle) - Continued feeling groovy!

JINX!

Not.

Love you all. Continually grateful for your love and support!

Keep spreadin' the good word on screenings!

#GratefulFighters

PS: Yes, I tried to find the 1984 SNL clip with the Jinx, Buy Me a Coke skit, alas, I was unsuccessful other than finding it on archive.org at about the 20:29 mark with Billy Crystal, Mary Gross, and Julia Louis Dreyfus.

After Review....

12.2.21

I will admit. I wasn't going to post this today. It feels a bit narcissistic, constantly writing about myself.  My apologies for that. At the same time, my original impetus for writing was to make sure that I recorded the memories for me and for my kids/family to have one day...

Yesterday, I was privileged to drive 2/3 of the boys to school - I enjoy those moments even more these days and I have learned to cherish even the 'quiet' times when they are still waking up. If you're a parent - you know how those teens & preteens need their wake up time! Ami is particularly sensitive to what is going on these days. He made sure to tell me that he hoped my chemo went well and that I felt as good as possible. He also got himself a ride to and from his pre-tournament weekend warm-up game at Niles North. Knowing that I wasn't going to make it to St. Louis this weekend to watch him, I really wanted to make it to the game, but Ami assured me that it was okay if I was not up to it. They really do grow up....eventually.

From drop off, I drove right to Glenbrook Hospital for the first treatment. I sat in the parking lot for 5 to 10 minutes, just gathering my thoughts. I happen to know a friend's wife who was also starting Chemo at the same time, and I said a prayer for both of us. I hope to one day be able to celebrate with her!

I knew right away that Brandi and I made the right choice going with Northshore. Everyone was incredibly welcoming, kind, and informative. My doctor enthusiastically shook my hand and shared my desire to get the fight going! I showed him the #GratefulFighters sweatshirt and, without hesitation, he asked me to let him know as soon as they were available. The doc, each nurse, the pharmacist, the nutritionist, and a social worker, each spent as much time as I needed to explain things step by step and to answer all of my questions. I know I won't see all of those staff members once this is regular, but it made me extremely comfortable.

Quick details for those that want to know. My blood work all checked out and so I was cleared for Chemo. The Chemo starts with anti-nausea meds and steroids for 30 minutes. Once that is done, I wait for 30 minutes for those meds to settle in my system. Apparently, the steroids end up bolstering my energy and since they last through the 2 days of the pump, the first two days aren't as 'tiring'. The possibility is that once the pump is out tomorrow, I will 'crash' for a bit.

Next, I spent 2 hours hooked up to the Oxaliplatin Chemo drug that breaks the DNA of cancer cells and prevents growth of new ones. When that is done, the pump of Flourouracil is hooked up to my portal. This is another cancer drug. The pump is about the size of small water balloon. They tape the line to my chest so it doesn't get tugged out, put the pump in a fanny pack, and sent me on my way.

There are a bunch of potential side effects to all of these drugs. I won't go through them all, but I am keeping notes (I'm sure you're not surprised). The relevant one right now is cold sensitivity. The nurses made a big deal of suggesting I have gloves handy because even the cold steering wheel in the car may cause pain. Yesterday, it was not really cold enough to bother me, but I did pick up a few pairs of those little knit gloves at Walgreens on the way home. I put one by the fridge and one in my jacket pocket.

They also warn that the cold sensitivity can occur orally. I was really hungry when I got home and I grabbed some pretzels and hummus. I didn't consider Hummus to be a cold food, but let me tell you - they were not lying. One bite of the hummus and I had shooting pain in my mouth for about a minute. Needless to say, I won't make that mistake again. Later on, I chose a soft bagel to eat. Apparently, the first bite of food can cause jaw pain as well. That has happened a few times over the past day. Subsequent bites are fine...but ouch, that first bite is so painful at the joint of my jaw. But that's it. And if those are the only things that happen, I figure that's a small price to pay for beating this thing. A little mouth pain is NOT going to deter me from my battle. I have too many memories to make with my brilliant wife, amazing kids, family, and friends.

Sleeping with my BiPAP and the pump wires was a bit tricky. But according to my Fitbit, I slept about 6.5 hours. Not awful! And I woke today feeling pretty good. All in all, not a bad first day!

Maybe none of the above is that narcissistic as it's just informative...but here's the part that is most important to me. As you all know, I love watching my sons engage in the activities they love. Right now, Nadav is playing basketball for his school team and will start winter soccer soon. I'm excited to see him play basketball now that his broken finger is healed.

Ami, as I mentioned above, is back playing soccer with his awesome FC Mirage club and they have a tourney in St. Louis Saturday/Sunday. Since I can't go to St. Lou, my goal yesterday was to be well enough to drive to Niles North (about 25 minutes away), to watch Ami's game. Well, I made it there. Ami has grown immensely as a player in the last 2 years. He's stronger and faster, and he's a pleasure to watch when he's focused. I am so proud of him in so many ways, and his play on the pitch is no exception.

Anyhow, during the game, I was having some daydreaming/flashbacks to when I was in high school. Niles North was in our conference and in the Fall of 1987, I played at Niles North and scored a goal there. I imagined how cool it would be to see my son score a goal on the same field. Amazingly, later in the first half, that dream came true. It was a bit surreal because sometimes I forget how fast Ami has become (when healthy). But there he was, flying in from the wing, taking a pass, and powering it past the goalie. I'm not afraid to admit that it brought a tear to my eye. I love seeing my kids find success in doing what they love. I am proud of each and every one of them.

The game ended 1-0.

Game winner for Ami.
Game winner for my buddy, (You know who you are), who had his colonoscopy with a positive outcome!
Game 1 winner for Me vs. Cancer - I'm doing the Chemo and I've got this.

#GetScreened
#EarlyDetectionSavesLives
#GratefulFighters


**The goal linked here was from a GBN game this fall. Last night was a similar play but instead of passing, Ami took the ball more toward the goal and shot.

And there's the narcissism ;) Thanks for indulging my kid brag.

On the Eve of My Havdalah

 

11.29.21

One of my absolute favorite Jewish rituals is the Havdalah service that separates Shabbat and Holidays from the rest of the week. I definitely developed a love for Havdalah at camp as a child. Later as a song leader, I was privileged to lead many Havdalah services at camp, on retreats, in Poland and Israel with Shorashim, and many other places. I still relish the short, but beautiful singing of prayers, the glow of the twisted candle casting shadows on the faces of those around, the overflowing cup of wine over-spilling with blessings for the coming week, the rejuvenating smell of spices, and the reflective thoughts of the week that just passed and combined with the anticipation of the week ahead. Haunting and beautiful at the same time - it marked the separation of so many weeks of my life.

Havdalah literally means separation, and while today is not a Jewish sabbath or holiday, it does mark a significant separation of time in my life. Some Havdalot bring happiness - my marriage and the birth of my kids, for example. I remember each of those vividly and how my life has been enriched (for the most part 😂) with each new change. But on September 27th, 2021, I received my diagnosis and the . separation between thinking I was healthy and having cancer.  That Havdalah brought surgery to remove the cancer and gave me time to heal enough to face the next separation which begins tomorrow - the cycle of 6 months of chemotherapy.

Truthfully, I only made this connection to Havdalah over the past few days. And even though it is not an actual religious ceremony, it makes a lot of sense to mark these types of transitions in our lives - to name them and accept them. Most of the big moments - births (baby namings/bris), bar/bat mitzvot, weddings, funerals - are all accompanied by tradition and ceremony; however, there is nothing really to mark the separation for other moments of transition in our lives. At least for me, it will help to look at my new realities in this way - a separation between what was and what will be. A time to reflect and look ahead.

The past 9-ish weeks since my diagnosis have brought about a slew of changes - some good and some more difficult. I have seen the unbelievable strength of my wife, a pillar for our family from the moment we learned of the diagnosis. I have seen my kids act with an extra layer of compassion. Unfortunately, they are having to grow up and mature a bit faster than normal, but they are rising to the occasion. I have been touched by the love and prayers and support from so many people in my life. And I have learned a bunch about myself along the way. Among those things: an inner strength to persevere; an optimistic side to counter my typically sarcastic pessimism; and a still-developing ability to ask for and/or receive help. I expect that the next step will bring about even more good times and some difficult moments as well.

My 6 month cycle (12 treatments) starts tomorrow. Tuesdays, I get blood drawn and tested to make sure my white blood cells and other counts are healthy. Wednesdays, I will spend 3 or so hours hooked up to the IV chemo drip. For 48 hours, I will have a chemo pump attached to my chest portal, and that will be removed on Fridays. Rinse and repeat every 2 weeks until the end of May.

Tonight, I sit with an overflowing cup of the blessings that all of my family, friends, and others from all walks of my life have bestowed upon me the past couple of months. I have said before, and I'll say again, how important those thoughts and prayers have been for me and my family. A major part of that is the work I have done with Laina and others on #GratefulFighters. That labor of love and the goal of raising funds and awareness has been so therapeutic. I am a damn lucky guy - all of this love has filled my over-filled my cup! 

The past 5+ weeks since surgery have also brought rejuvenation. I have stopped to smell the spices of life. I have played more games with the little son and tried to have more 'man to man' time with the bigger sons. I have relished reconnecting with many people and just the little chats. And I have been lucky enough to 'forget' about work for the first time in decades because of the amazing friends I have that are covering for me as teacher and literacy coach. Now that I am 'over' the portal surgery, I feel refreshed and ready for the next step.

Most of all, like the Havdalah candle - symbolizing G-d's gift of fire that warms and brightens our otherwise dark/gloomy lives, I have a fire burning inside of me. That fire is kindled and strengthened by your love and prayers, and its strength comes from my amazing wife and the desire to be an example for my kids for how to attack adversity and overcome any obstacles that life may put in our way.

Yes, there is a lot of reflection to be done on the past couple of months - and there is a lot to look forward to in the months ahead until the next Havdalah - the end of chemotherapy. There will be ups and downs during this next phase of my life, but I am so blessed that you are all here with me, along for the ride.

Blessed are you, Adonai, who separates good and bad, happy and sad, sickness and health, and allows me to reflect and look forward to another significant moment in my life.

Love you all,

Early Detection Saves Lives
#GratefulFighters

555

        "If I don't break away clean

        I might stray from the scene

        Make an escape when it arrives:

        The 555"

 

11.25.21

In the 5th week post-surgery, I visited my 5th hospital/outpatient center, and received my 5th incision.

Well, that's not a very Thanksgiving-like beginning to a post! I apologize. I am Thankful and I will get into the holiday spirit...and I swear I'm not getting misty watching this cute little girl sing songs from Annie to open the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Yes, the sun will come out tomorrow...and the next day and the next day. But admittedly, this past week has been hard and I'm writing this to try to break away clean from that and the upcoming Thanksgiving weekend.

Between the political and the personal, I need an escape. From Kenosha to Israel, society is fractured. I mean, Jewish blood literally flowed through the streets of my beloved Jerusalem. That image has been hard enough to escape, but the lack of media coverage and the silence from the squad and the usual celebs that go out of their way to demonize Israel is overbearing. I know you're not here for political commentary, but those things are weighty enough without the health issues. Oh, and the Illini basketball suckitude didn't help either 😉

Weeks ago, I mentioned my general disdain for hospitals - call it phobia, call it anxiety - doesn't matter. So as I laid in Evanston Hospital on Tuesday, awaiting my portal installation, I couldn't help but feel down. Here I was in yet another hospital and when I got home and looked in the mirror, there I was with 5 wounds in my torso. I spent all summer in rehab/PT for my knees to avoid any kind of surgery - and here I was with battle scars all over.

I think the portal install was more difficult and painful than the surgery I had 5 weeks ago. It's uncomfortable, it stings, and since I'm a stomach sleeper, I haven't slept well the past couple of nights. So this week has really been the first prolonged period of depression I've experienced since my diagnosis 9/27. And when that happens, the bad thoughts start creeping in. For the most part, I've been pretty good at staving off the sadness and depression and dark places. But this week has been a bit much.

That being said, no, I don't need anything. I just wanted to be honest since many people comment on how I am remarkably positive. Yes, I do my best to keep a brave face and positive attitude, but it's not easy. I feel the need to make sure my boys see me positive and fighting, especially so they don't get stressed and sad. One day when they look back on this, I want them to know that I did not just give up and abandon them. That being said, I'm just keepin' it real. Sometimes, it's not easy to stay positive...and this week has been hard. I'm sure there will be hard days to come once the Chemo starts.

But it's Thanksgiving. The sun has come out and it will continue to come out. I think that my collapsed lung is getting better! I'm less winded and the fluid is coming up. So there's that! And I continue to be grateful to my wife and family and friends who lift me up every day. I am thankful for your love and prayers and thoughts. I already feel better for writing this and getting it off my chest. Thank you for letting me share the good times and the painful times.

Make sure to spread the love, today and every day. And of course, live every day to its fullest. I hope that your day is filled with family and your table is filled with great food and your heart is content.

Sending hugs to every one of you!

Get your screenings!
#GratefulFighters

Looks Like...

 

 

 

 

11.16.21

Met with Dr. Adess, oncologist #2, yesterday. There were no real surprises in the interpretation of my CT scans, cancer pathology, and recommended course of treatment. That being said, Brandi and I both walked out of our consultation with Dr. Adess feeling like he was the right choice to help lead my fight against this cancer. To be honest, we liked both doctors and felt that my level of care at Northwestern or Northshore would be top notch. But sometimes, you just go with your gut - and our gut said, Dr. Adess.

Two other things helped with our choice:

•  Proximity: my treatments will be at Glenbrook Hospital - right down the street from me.
•  Multiple friends recommended Dr. Adess. Unfortunately, they had to have the experience; fortunately, he saved their lives.
  

So...away we go! It is a relief to see the path ahead start to take shape. For those of you who would like to follow along closely, here's how this will work. First, I will have a port inserted in my chest before Thanksgiving. This will allow doctors easy access to deliver my meds and draw blood without using me like a pin cushion. My father like this course of action because after his 4 chemo treatments, the needles had really started to irritate him. He's getting a port as well. We're gonna be port buddies!

As far as the chemo goes, the cycle will go as follows: Tuesdays, I will go to Glenbrook and have blood drawn. Wednesdays, I will go back to Glenbrook for the actual Chemo session which will run about 3.5 hours. For 48 hours, I will be hooked up to a pump I have to carry around to continue to meds. Fridays, I return to Glenbrook to have the pump removed.  Rinse and repeat every 2 weeks for 6 months = 12 total chemo sessions. My first cycle will start 11/30 with the blood draw and 12/1 with the chemo. 

I am told that everyone reacts differently to chemo. Both doctors were pretty confident that they manage the nausea well, but other side affects may arise. My hope is that I will tolerate it well and have minimal issues. Some side effects include: thinning hair (not really an issue for me); hand/foot skin rash and peeling; upset stomach; and risk of neuropathy. The last one is the most concerning because so much of my life revolves around being able to use my hands to type for work, authorship, and pleasure (Brandi, get your mind out of the gutter - I meant for things like playing guitar). So we'll keep our fingers crossed for now and hope that my body tolerates chemo as well as it did with the surgery.

As soon as I know when my port will be installed, I will ease back into work. I will likely start with teaching my afternoon classes before going back full-time. Soon we will be sharing links to purchase #GratefulFighter merch that will spread the word about screenings and raise money for cancer research. That stuff and planning Nadav's bar mitzvah will keep me busy.

The hope is that other than the time spent back and forth to Glenbrook Hospital, life will be pretty normal for the next few months as the battle goes on internally. But don't worry, if I need support, I will ask. I'm continuing to work on accepting help...

I'm nervous, but ready to get fighting. In the meantime, continued thanks for your thoughts, prayers, and support. Having you all by my side makes this battle easier to face. That is the honest truth, and I am grateful to my amazing wife, kids, family, and all of you out there along for the ride.

Keep spreading the word about screenings and sharing the stories. Each one is a victory!

#EarlyDetectionSavesLives
#GratefulFighters

I Feel Good...

11.10.21 

The past few days, I have run into a bunch of people out and about. So many have told me that I look really good with a hint of surprise. And I have responded that I feel good.

It's not a lie. I do feel good, and I want people to know that. While I have been open and honest in this blog space about my journey, my anxieties, and my emotions, I hope that I have not given people the impression that I am laid up and in poor shape. I am not. Sure, I get tired a bit quicker as I'm still recovering, but I feel good and at this point, my body has responded well to the surgery which gives me hope that it will also manage the upcoming chemotherapy well, too. So, I wanted all of my readers to know that I am doing really well.

While you're here, I'll just give a quick update. Yesterday, we met with my team oncologist. My team remains positive about my prognosis. Colon cancer care is pretty well established in my situation and the success rate is high. Even so, we are going to get a 2nd opinion and view of treatment on Monday from another highly rated oncologist.

My team anticipates 6 months of chemo which will begin about December 13th. The IV and pill treatment will be every 3 weeks over those 6 months and we are starting on 12/13 so that schedule will allow me to travel to Florida in December for my niece's bat mitzvah without missing treatment. It will also allow me to be at the end of my last 3 week cycle the weekend of Nadav's bar mitzvah in May with my final treatment coming the Monday after his bar mitzvah weekend. Assuming all goes smoothly and according to plan, I should feel well enough to go to Israel with my family in early June.

So, that's the hope right now. In the meantime, I am looking forward to getting back to work around Thanksgiving and I am really excited to launch #GratefulFighters soon in order to start raising money for cancer charities and to raise awareness of the importance of screenings and early detection.

To that end, I hope you all keep sharing stories about you and yours scheduling colonoscopies and mammograms with me. I am proud of so many of you for taking action for yourselves and your loved ones. Keep it up and keep spreading the word to your networks. These procedures are not bad and they just may save your life. 

My landscape would be empty if you were gone...so please take action today.

I'll share another update after meeting with the next oncologist next week. Until then, know I continue to be grateful for your love, support, and prayers.

#EarlyDetectionSavesLives
#GratefulFighters

 

 

The waiting is the hardest part...

11.1.21

Just a little over a month. It is absolutely crazy how much life can change in such a short time.

I think that for a long time, I was on cruise control. It is easy to understand why. I have had a successful career for 25 years. I am a published author. I have incredible parents, siblings, in-laws, wife, kids, and friends. I have everything I need...except maybe an Illini national championship. I am blessed.

But for me, as you know by now, September 27th, changed everything. Since that moment, I have done what I can to stop taking things for granted. I turned off the cruise control. I have done my best to look at each day and each moment as special - and I have started the process of trying to share moments with the people in my life to make sure they know how much I love and appreciate them - whether we have been friends for weeks, months, years, decades, or lifetimes. To my friends reading this, if we have not had a chance to reconnect and share a hug, a memory, or more, just know that it is coming, soon I hope, and that every one of you in my life matter.

Over the past month, while waiting for the next steps, I have had a lot of time to reflect.  And while the waiting to get to the next step, eager to get the next battle started is difficult, I am grateful for the renewed perspective that has come with the time to reflect. Hopefully, not only will I emerge from this healthier of body, but also of mind.

That being said, there is a yin and yang to having so much waiting time.  Right now, we are in a holding pattern - caught between healing from surgery and awaiting treatment pathways, chemo or otherwise. I have been home from the hospital for a week, and other than the little 24 hour adventure where I must have had a stomach bug, I have felt really good. No doubt, a large part of that is due to your thoughts and prayers and love.

Waiting. While the reflection time is good, the flip side is there is also time to struggle with my demons. For one, I feel useless in so many ways. I am hoping that on Wednesday, the surgeon will clear me to drive and do a bit more physical work - so I can feel useful again and take some of the burden off of Brandi. Right now, I am looking out my window and feeling the urge to go mow the lawn.

I am also struggling with guilt. I feel so badly for putting the people I love through this trauma. Maybe if I had lived my life a bit healthier or differently, I could have spared everyone this emotional ordeal. I keep apologizing to my mom, my wife, my kids, and I feel badly that so many of our friends have stopped their lives to bring us meals and to help us move furniture and to cover my duties at work. I really wish I was not sitting here, writing these words, waiting to meet with doctors to tell me what the immediate battle will entail. Waiting to know whether or not I will be able to make it down to Florida in December to attend my lovely niece's bat mitzvah, waiting to know whether or not my illness will prevent the family trip to Israel next June, waiting to know when I can return to work and get back to my students and colleagues...yes, the waiting is the hardest part.

For those wondering, here are the next steps:
1. Wednesday, we will meet with the surgeon to make sure the healing is progressing as well as we think it is. Again, hoping I'll be cleared to drive and do some work.
2. I will meet with two oncologists to discuss their treatment plans and philosophies. The first one is 11.9 and the second is 11.15. After those two meetings, we will know more about treatment options and plans.

And here is how I plan to continue the waiting:
1. Reading: I have a bunch of YA books to peruse. I read these books to make sure I always have books to recommend to my students - and they're fun.
2. Working on the plan for fundraising and awareness. #GratefulFighters is in process - registering for nonprofit status and creating fundraising/awareness merchandise that I hope will spin some light out of this darkness.
3. Continuing to work on me and being more present for those I love.

You may not hear from me until #GratefulFighters is ready or we have more news on next steps. So while we wait, please keep spreading the word about screenings and early detection. We are saving lives. And also, please take a moment to stop and reinvest yourselves in your loves - this pandemic and the past 2+ years have been hard. Now, more than ever, we need to

"walk together, little children
We don't ever have to worry
Through this world of trouble
We gotta love one another"

#ScreeningsSaveLives
#GratefulFighters

Sunday, Fun Day. Post Surgery Quick Update

10.24.21

As most of you have heard, things have gone really well this weekend. Thank you for your thoughts, notes, prayers, love...they worked!

Truthfully, I don't remember a thing from the surgery - which is a good thing. I remember the anesthesiologist reaching for my IV and saying they were starting 'calming' meds first. Liar. I was out like a light immediately. I awoke a few hours later in the recovery room. I feel like I should remember stuff from that time, but I don't remember a lot of that either.

Soon after recovery, they took me up to my room, where I have been since Friday afternoon. Apparently, I was first supposed to have a roommate, but because I have sleep apnea, Brandi was able to talk me into my own room. I'm quite thankful for that. It has allowed me freedom to watch what I want, listen to the Dead & Co shows the past 2 nights from Colorado, and walk around as I please. Much more relaxing.

The surgeon says that all went well and has continued to look good. He indicated the tumor was about the size of a golf ball and they took out about 1.5 feet of my colon in order to test all of it - including plenty of lymph nodes. At this point, the surgeon saw no signs of spread. And so we wait for pathology Tuesday or Wednesday.

My Friday spirits were greatly uplifted by a visit from an old friend from high school. I have been in touch with Brian over social media for years, but I probably haven't seen him in person in 30. Glad we got that corrected and I hope that it won't be the last time we get to hang out in real life.

My Saturday spirits were greatly uplifted by my brother Brian, who flew in from Arizona to help with the boys Friday. I'm sure it was an exhausting 24+ hours for him, but he's such a good person. I was happy to see him, even though I was sleepy, and I'm so grateful for his help.

To be honest, the pain has not been bad at all - more pressure. Imagine a 10 pound weight sitting on your bellybutton all day.  That's basically how I feel. I'm walking, eating, and watching sports. As Nadav said, "So, like a typical weekend for you." So yes, as 'normal' as possible. Thanks to everyone's help, the boys have had a normal weekend and I am grateful for that.

I probably could have gone home today, but the doctor indicated that that would be on the 'fast' side of things. It's tempting to think about being home, but I promised Brandi and everyone else that I would take care of myself first - going against most of my natural instincts. So I told the doctor that I am in no rush and wouldn't mind staying one more night to make sure the piping is flowing well.

Also, I am having some blood pressure issues, so I guess this is a good time to take a look at that.

That's the quick scoop. Minimal pain, no narcotics, healing quickly at this point, and waiting for the biopsy reports Tuesday or Wednesday.

Grateful to everyone for the love & prayers.
Grateful to everyone that has gotten their screenings scheduled - early detection saves lives!

We got this!
#GratefulFighters

Twas the Night Before Surgery...

10.21.21

When I was in high school, a lifetime ago, we had to write a parody poem and I recall writing one called, "Twas the Night Before Finals..." I considered doing the same here, but I will spare you, for now. 

Ironically though, just the other day I was talking about my lyrical prowess and ability to turn any traditional song or poem into a twisted, demented bastardization (or parody, if you will) of the original. It was a hilarious memory and distraction that arose in a conversation with my buddies on the Marco Polo App, as they continued to offer their encouragement and support leading up to surgery tomorrow.

And with that, I have delicately spun a yarn from the "Twas the Night..." parody to the real focus of this last post before the doc skewers me and gives me the weight-loss surgery I have long dreamed of having: YOU, my friends, my loves, my generous network of #GratefulFighters who are in my corner and rooting me on to battle.

Today, I arrived at my office desk to find the package pictured above, and over the last few days, we have received an outpouring of cards and generous gestures from colleagues and friends. And, many others have signed up to provide us with meals for what seems like the rest of 2021, have offered to help the kids with carpools, etc. It is not in my nature to accept gifts or handouts (some of you have often been frustrated by my gift refusal).  I am much more comfortable being the one to provide help, comfort, an ear/shoulder to lean on, and hugs. I'm not going to lie - accepting all of this generosity hasn't been easy for me, but I am working on it. That being said, I am incredibly humbled and grateful for all of the gifts/meals/help.

Even more overwhelming and absolutely incredible, though, has been the public and private notes of support I have received from new friends and from friends I have literally known for several decades. Notes of support from colleagues, friends I have met along my musical journey, camp friends (Ramah and OSRUI), family, parents of the boys' friends who we have met on the sport-fields, and parking lots, and carpool lanes, and school events over the years, neighbors, Brandi's friends, my friends and their spouses, my Shorashim Israel family, and more. I have gotten messages from Thailand, from Israel, from over a dozen different US states (and that's a conservative estimate), and from Toronto and Windsor, Canada (I am so stressed I'm missing a group of folks...and if so, it's not intentional!).

I am in awe of the massive network of blessings, love, and support that we have amassed throughout this world - and there just are not enough words to do any justice to how each message and wish has made me feel. So just know, the outpouring has been incredibly powerful and I will be eternally grateful to each and every one of you in my corner. And know these things:

• I hear and feel each one of you who have reached out. Yes, I mean it - every single darn one of you. It has made a difference, filling my heart and bolstering my positive mindset.
• I am so grateful to those who have reached out and shared their own battles and journeys. Your experiences and paths help make my own path more clear and less lonely.
• I am appreciative to those of you who have told me that my words are providing some meaning and voice to your own journeys.
  
• I celebrate each person who has reached out to let me know that they have scheduled their own screenings or encouraged friends and those they love to do so. Keep spreading the word: Screenings and Early Detection Saves Lives!!

I would be remiss without specifically mentioning how helpful my parents have been over the past few weeks. Even as my dad is struggling with his own battle with Lymphoma, they have provided meals and rides and support for us. I cannot imagine what my mother is going through, internally, having to manage this horrible battle on two fronts, but she is pretty incredible. The same goes for my fantastic mother-in-law, Shari, and my father-in-law, Bob. From helping with Lucy and the kids, to supporting Brandi...I just don't know how we'd do any of this without all 4 of my parents. We are indebted to them all!

Finally, I have to mention my wife who has been unbelievable since the first moment we heard those awful words just 3+ short weeks ago. Not only has she been an emotional rock for me to lean on (as she always is), but she has picked up ALL of the slack that has fallen on her shoulders as I struggle with this battle.  She works, she has taken over managing the house renovation, she deals with the kids, she helps arrange all of my appointments, she reminds me to follow the doctor's diet and instructions, and so much more. She is amazing and I know that she will need you all to support her in the days, weeks, and months to come. All warriors have to also take care of their own selves and emotions - and Brandi will have to do that as well. I am comforted to know that we have such an amazing support system, and that when she needs, she will be well cared for.

Again, not enough words to express my gratitude to you all near and far. I want each person who has reached out and touched our lives to know that I love you so much. This is a love letter to you all, and nothing short of that. Thank you so much. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

Please get your screenings.
Please say your prayers.

I will see all of you, my army of #GratefulFighters, on the other side when we beat this thing.

With love,

dan

Today, I cried...

10.18.21

I cried today on the way to work.

I mean, it wasn’t uncontrollable bawling, but tears were shed. Trigger? Harry Chapin’s Cats and the Cradle. I cannot point to any specific lyric, but the whole idea of the life cycle and father/son relationship in the song got me a bit misty. And of course, then I started thinking about other life cycle songs that I used to play around campfires in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Israel: Joni Mitchell’s Circle Game and Cat Steven’s Father and Son immediately came to mind too.

As most of you know, I have three sons - all at very different stages of their life cycle. And all I have been able to think about the past 3+ weeks is that there is still so much of their life cycles that I want to share. I mean, with the oldest, cartwheels are just turning to car wheels. The middle will still play catch (or kick soccer balls) with me, and the youngest is just learning to read. There’s still so much we have to go through.

And I think that that is why telling the kids about my cancer and surgery was one of the hardest things I think I have ever had to do in life. First of all, the week between my diagnosis and meeting with the oncologist to learn more details was brutal. At that time, all we knew was that the cancer could have been anywhere from stage 2-4. I had nightmares and daymares about watching the “last” soccer game or the “last” White Sox game or the “last” Shema before bed. I did my best to be optimistic, but inside there was still that nagging, “What if this is the end?”

So even though we eventually found out that the worst was unlikely and there is a lot of reason for optimism, it was still tough to sit down and actually tell the older boys. I mean, as parents we have one job: Protect and Nurture. My ability to do that was now in jeopardy. I knew that for them, hearing the words was going to be painful and I could not protect them from that. I will never forget the look in their eyes as I had to tell them the news. Even with the fact that the outlook was promising, I could still see their pain and sense the hurt. It is awful to see your kids hurt and cry - and even worse when you are the cause.

For his part, the little one is the luckiest of all. He has no idea what is going on and would not understand it even if we did tell him. At some point, he will know that dad is sick, but he will not understand until he is older. At that point, it will either be moot because I am still around...or it will be something else that I’m doing my best to not think about at this time.

In 72 hours, they are going to fillet me like a fish. At that point, anything can happen. Yesterday, I struggled to keep the panic attacks at bay. I am scared. I know the surgery is necessary and I want it to happen, but I don’t because I’m scared.

Today, the anxiety has been better, except I cannot stop thinking about the Cat’s and the Cradle and the Circle Game. I cannot stop thinking about the “what ifs” and how unfair it is that there’s a chance that I miss so much of the life cycle events in my sons’ lives...and miss so much time with my amazing wife. We still have so much to do, so much life to live, so much love to give. And so I fight...even with the fear and the misty eyes.

Please get your screenings.
Please say your prayers.

I hope that I’ll be here for so much more of my sons’ lives “before the last revolving year is through.”

#GratefulFighters

Well...How did we get here?

 

10.13.21

Well...how did we get here?

Yes, I do like the Talking Heads, and yes, I heard that song yesterday, and yes, it led me to start thinking back over the past 2+ weeks. How did we get here? Well, it’s been nothing short of a whirlwind.

As I wrote earlier, I don’t remember much, if anything, about the specific moment when the doc came in on 9/27 and told me that I had cancer - a 6.5cm lump of fun in my colon. Between the anesthesia and just hearing the word “cancer,” that moment in time is just a blur. But Brandi was in immediate warrior mode - figuring out next steps and intent on getting things in order.

At this point, I’m hearing from some of you, from some of my friends, that you are out there scheduling your colonoscopies - and the wait time is about 3 months. It’s hard to believe that we need a 3 month wait to perform life saving screenings, but this is the reality today. And by the way, for every one of you who have reached out and let me know that you have scheduled your screening or that you have convinced your husband/wife/partner to get theirs, I am grateful. This is one of my missions in spinning this disease into a positive, and while I’m not keeping a tally sheet, my heart grows that much more with each new appointment! Please keep spreading the word and making those appointments!!

Anyhow, the amazing thing about cancer is that while almost everything else in the medical field is slow and delayed, the doctor put through my needs ‘stat’ and within the time it took us to drive from my colonoscopy to work (20 minutes), we had all 3 of my next appointments on the calendar. Brandi set up my CT for 10/1, my oncologist for 10/4, and the surgeon CALLED ME and we set up 10/6 for that appointment. Whirlwind indeed.

During that first week, we told the bare minimum of people - basically my parents and our bosses. We did not want to do anything else until we knew more. That being said, we did not sleep all that well that week. My primary concern, quite honestly, was telling the kids. That alone kept me up at nights. We do everything we can, as parents, to protect and nourish our kids. Telling them that I was sick with cancer was a huge nightmare because I could not protect them from that pain.

With colon cancer, the biggest issue is whether it is isolated or spread. Without gory details, Stage 1 is where the doctor can just scrape away polyps during a regular colonoscopy. Anything more than that cannot really be diagnosed during the colonoscopy. So for most of the week, we had no idea how serious things were. Stage 2 would mean that the cancer is isolated without spread. Stage 3 basically means there is curable spread. Stage 4 is an incurable spread.

At the Friday CT scan, I asked a lot of questions. I tried to butter up the technician in order to get as much information as possible. I asked her if she saw my pictures? I told her that she was probably so experienced and good at her job that she could probably see if I had a lot of reason to be worried. Alas, like all good techs, she said she does not read or interpret the pics. But she did say that she had a friend on that end and she would ask the friend to speed up the readings. As it was a Friday, I figured that we would be waiting until the oncologist on Monday, at least. To our relief though, on Saturday, I received a message that my results were uploaded to my digital account.

Now, I am a reading teacher, but I’m not a doctor, so we read the results with some caution, but to our untrained eyes, the results seemed to indicate that there was no spread to major organs - no longs, no liver, no nothing! There did seem to be some swelling in the surrounding lymph nodes. We figured all of that meant that I was not in Stage 4 and provided some relief until the oncologist confirmed our thinking on Monday. At that appointment, we were told that I am somewhere within the Stage 2 to 3 range and that we won’t know for sure until testing is done post-surgery. The oncologist said that either way, the prognosis was good for Stage 3 and even better for Stage 2. In fact, Stage 2 (no spread) just means regular monitoring and colonoscopies for 5 years. Many have commented on my positivity - well, this is one reason for that. If the doctor is confident, then I believe in the science and I can draw from that confidence.

The next step was to meet with the surgeon. To be honest, the first doc at the colonoscopy told me that I’d be out for 1-2 weeks post surgery. Apparently though, that is for smaller surgeries with scopes. (skip the rest of this paragraph if you’re squeamish). Apparently, my little guy requires both scopes and an incision in my belly about the size of the surgeon’s hand so he can get up in there. Essentially, they are going to take out about 1 foot of my colon and likely around 25 lymph nodes in the surrounding tissue. Then the surgeon takes the two ends of my colon and staples them back together.

All said and done, this will require me to be in the hospital for 3-5 days and then prevent me from working for 4-6 weeks while I recover at home. That is significantly more than 1-2 weeks as I originally thought. Aside from telling the kids about the cancer, this is the scariest part of this whole thing for me. For one, I do not love hospitals - they have given me anxiety ever since I saw my Grandpa Oscar after he passed at Glenbrook. It was not easy for me to be in hospitals, even when our sons were born. The idea of surgery gives me so much anxiety that I have dealt with years of knee pain simply because I did not want to go to a doc and have them tell me I need knee surgery. But now I have no choice, and to be honest, I am scared.

So, later in the day on 10/6, I got in touch with the surgery scheduler and took the first date available to get this shit outta me - 10/22. It is SO SOON and that is truly amazing considering what many of you are finding out - that scheduling anything hospital related is taking about 3 months. My cancer will be removed in less than a month after my diagnosis.

I’m grateful that early screening caught this before stage 4.
I’m grateful they were able to get me in so quickly.
I’m grateful that so many are inspired to schedule their own screenings.
And I’m grateful to you, my readers and friends.

So here’s to you (I’m raising my Ensure Surgery immunonutrion shake in toast).

Keep scheduling those screenings!!!

Thank you and I love you!

#GratefulFighters

 10.12.21

#GratefulFighters

At some point during the evening after my diagnosis on September 27th, it occured to me that there was no way I was going to be able to ‘privately’ go through this battle. Like I said in my last post, I don’t love to be the center of attention, but I soon realized that even IF I was able to go at this alone, that would not be fair to my family - especially Brandi. Brandi has been unbelievably strong the past weeks, but I know she’s going to need support. The kids, too.

And once the decision was made that I was going to have to tell people beyond my immediate family, started thinking about how I was going to leverage the need to tell people into making a difference. By the time I awoke on Tuesday morning, I was certain of 2 things: 

1) I was going to tell people. 

2) I was going to be a warrior against cancer - for me and for others.

I’m not sure at what point in the night that I hit the stage of acceptance, but I did. Looking back, I feel like it happened so quickly, but I think I was able to come to this conclusion because I know quite a few impressive people who turned their own battles into powerful voices for cancer fundraising and advocacy, and I also know quite a few people who I admire greatly for their spirit of giving. The kindness and ingenuity of those I know is inspiring...and I am feeding off of that!

One person on my mind the night of my diagnosis was my friend, Jenna. (I did not ask Jenna for permission here, so I hope I don’t embarrass her.) I have always admired Jenna’s strength and the way she channeled her battle into Twist Out Cancer. (Check it out! It’s incredible and inspiring.) I am not going to tell Jenna’s story, but I will say that she is an inspiration for the way she fought her disease, for the courage she showed during the battle, and for how she turned something negative and scary into a massive positive. On top of all of that, she is one amazing person who I’m proud to call a friend. So, yes, I spent some on the night of the 27th thinking, “What would Jenna do?”
*Full Disclosure: I did speak to Jenna after I wrote this and I was able to share how important she was/is to my mindset (and life)...

 

My friend Steve was also on my mind because Steve is a beautiful, generous light in our world. Steve is the owner and operator of Grateful Sweats. Over the time I have known him, Steve has been so generous with his merch. Currently, he runs 2 weekly give-aways on Facebook (Grateful Sweats Giveaways group on FB - Join it!). In addition, Steve has raised money for women's shelters and other causes with his merch...because he cares. I consider Grateful Sweats to be "Heady Clothes with a Purpose". And Steve's generosity and love are contagious. (Steve is also unaware I'm writing this or that he was on my mind, so I hope this is okay, Dubes!)

The next day, I told Brandi that I’d decided to be a warrior and that I wanted to make a difference. I told her that I wanted to use my love of music as a vehicle for inspiring others to get their screenings and to raise money for cancer. After thinking about it for a while, Brandi came up with the idea that we should call it Grateful Warriors. She tells me she loves the idea (and I’ll take her word for it.) I did a google search for the Grateful Warriors name and there is actually a woman who has used that name for her journey - so for now, I’m going to call mine #GratefulFighters. So using the lyrics that have defined over half of my life and influenced me so brightly, I plan on designing some shirts and raising funds with Grateful Dead inspiration. Helping in this adventure will be my dearest friend, Laina. I will channel a lot of my post-surgery healing time into the design process with Brandi and Laina’s support and input. (Logo and Fundraising Merch to come).

But more than purchasing a shirt at some point or joining in on whatever other ways we may devise to raise money and spread awareness, I am asking all of you to join me in #GratefulFighters with the mission to GET YOUR SCREENINGS and spread the word to others about the importance of cancer screenings. I was so humbled yesterday by the massive amount of posts and love I received after I posted the first blog entry about my journey. I was not even thinking that that would happen. My writing is personally therapeutic and spreading the message is important to me, but you all floored me. I really felt the love and prayers, and I appreciate every single one of them. Truly. I cannot thank you all enough. I know you are with me, and the messages, hearts, and caring emojis are everything.

 

Most importantly and now that you’re here, if you choose to be a part of our #GratefulFighters 

army - Please start spreading the word. Colon cancer screenings start at AGE 45 now.

Colonoscopies, Mammograms...Please don’t wait. I had no symptoms, but here we are and I promise: Early detection saves lives! So spread the word.

Thank you all for everything yesterday - all of the love and prayers and messages.  

I am a lucky guy. My cup runneth over...

I Have Cancer

10.11.21

I have cancer.

Many of you already know it, but I apologize if this is a surprise to some of you. It’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks.

 

I have cancer.

 

The more I say it, the easier it is to accept the fight that is in front of me. I did not think it would be that

way; I do not like to be the center of attention and I figured I would never share such a journey publicly.

But here we are, and the battle is on, and the more I say it, the more I ready myself to fight.

 

The 2 weeks have been quite a ride. So much has happened, so many emotions, so many dreams an

nightmares. I want to write them all down. Some I will share, and others, I may not. For a while, I’ll be

writing “catch up” as I try to capture the past couple of weeks. Eventually, though, I will be documenting

this fight - and victory. But I want to capture them so that I remember - capture them so that my

beautiful wife and amazing sons will someday have a piece of me and my mind that they can keep

forever. 

But to be clear, that someday is not now. I refuse to give in. Those that know me best, know that I am

a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, so this attitude will be of no surprise.

The real surprise was the diagnosis. I am not sure we are ever prepared to hear such news, and

Monday September 27th was pretty surreal for me. I mean, I never thought I would live forever. In fact,

there have been times in my life (college) where I lived life in the fast lane, so much so that I think at

the onset of my panic/anxiety attacks in the mid-90s, I thought I was just having a midlife crisis. I was

25ish, and there was a part of me that thought I would not live to be 50, hence the midlife concept. But

I thought my enemy was going to be heart related - not cancer.

And so maybe the diagnosis should not have been a shocker - but it was. Today, looking back on that

day, it feels like a dream. I was coming out of the anesthesia trance, and I know the doctor sat down

and said the words, but I cannot picture the scene for the life of me. I know I was stunned, I know I felt

like my brain and body turned numb, I know I listened to the doc’s explanation and maybe even asked

questions...but it’s all a blur.

At that moment, my wife entered warrior mode. She has been an incredible rock of stability over the

past 2 weeks - even though I know she must be scared like me. Same can be said for my parents. I

told them right away because I felt like they deserved to know. They have been great as well, although

I am sure they are scared - even as my father fights his own battle with Lymphoma.
 

So yes, it is scary. I can be ready for battle, I can even say the words, “I have cancer” and accept the

challenge with positivity - but it is scary. But, I will not let that part define me.

I have cancer.

I choose to be a warrior.

*Quick edit: Since I first drafted this, so many people have reached out, have been so kind. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. More on that later...