I get by with a little help from my friends…

In our three decade friendship (1984-2014) Jan Nelson and I have consumed approximately enough sugar to fill the Grand Canyon. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Jim White’s Mother’s Apple Pies, our Hershey World Tour/Pig-A-Thon, Ice Cream, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Oreos….you name it; we ate it. So when I stopped eating sugar after my cancer diagnosis, I was afraid it may alter the very sweet foundation of our friendship, especially with Jan coming to visit for Christmas.  Imagine how my tears flowed when she posted on facebook that she is also giving up sugar in solidarity with me.  “I’d shave my head for you if you were having chemotherapy, so I figure, why not give up sugar for you?”  How dreary my life and world would be without friends like Jan and all of you….How would I ever get through something like this?

There is something that is so precious about friends for the whole journey.  Friends who knew us as kids, young adults, middle-agers….well, let’s just stop there.  But along our life path, it is also lovely to encounter new friends as well.  I decided to pursue my treatment at Roswell Park Cancer Institute in Buffalo, one of the premiere cancer research facilities in the world.  And so it was recently that I found myself sitting on an examining table on a Friday morning, in my underwear….nervous….a little cold…and a lot wishing I were anywhere else.  I knew I would be seeing several more doctors that day.  How do I put this delicately?….This whole ordeal has meant becoming intimately acquainted with a lot of doctors.  Let’s just leave it at that, shall we? But before the procession of doctors began, a tall, smiling African-American gentleman strode into the room, greeting me very warmly and said, “I’m not here to examine you, to sell you anything, to convince you of anything.  You are going to meet lots of people today concerned about your medical needs.  I’m here to check on how the rest of you is doing.”  He introduced himself as a patient advocate and he told me that he himself is a survivor of prostate cancer, and that my doctor (Dr. Guru!) is also his own doctor.  He told me about his journey, gave me his email and phone number and told me to call him anytime and for any reason. He told me about prostate support groups that meet in Western NY, and then he put his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes and told me I was going to be OK.  From that moment to this, I have felt almost no anxiety about my surgery, my cancer, or my situation.  What a marvelous position and how well suited he is for it!

So whether you are a recent friend, or like Jan, have been putting up with me for decades, I cherish you and am so grateful for all of your support, concern, cards, prayers, and love.  All of the anxiety I had been feeling about this has abated.  Some days pass by now and I barely even think about it. I can only attribute it to all of the love and prayers from my loved ones. Everyone at the Academy has been so wonderful and supportive. One day last week after class, Bernice & Nonye--two lovely new students from Nigeria--came up and said “We just want to tell you, Dr. Nick, that we love you and are praying for you!”

I took a brief break from my rigorous anti-cancer diet to enjoy Thanksgiving day with my family, but now am back on the straight and narrow.  My mom sent me Max Lucado’s book You’ll Get Through This and I have started to read it over the break.  His mantra for the book is “You’ll get through this.  IT won’t be painless. It won’t be quick. But God will use this mess for good.  In the meantime don’t be foolish or naïve. But don’t despair either. With God’s help you will get through this.” Thanks to all of you that are indeed "getting me through this."

I WILL SURVIVE!

At first I was afraid, I was petrified….

I have become all to familiar with my doctor’s phrase “I wish I had better news….” That was what he told me when he called me with the results of my second blood test showing that my PSA had risen significantly in just three months.  He said it again when he called me with the results of my biopsy.  Cancer seems to be a journey that starts out bad and then just keeps getting worse.  So when I went to meet with him for the results of my bone scan and CT scan, I was terrified but hardly surprised when he once again said “I wish I had better news…” But when he started to tell me again the results of my biopsy, I realized,--in between heart palpitations--that he was mixed up about where we were in the process.  It is, of course, understandable since he sees hundreds of patients and tries to handle my case via telephone when he can due to my long commute to Rochester.  He apologized and then dug out the results we were supposed to be going over which in fact included the “better news” we’d been hoping for.  Finally one of the tests went my way. It also, sadly, seems that nothing is ever unqualified with cancer.  There is “one spot on one rib” that looks suspicious but "is probably nothing," and then there is the disheartening statistic I read in the prostate cancer guide he gave me which is that Bone and CT scans miss cancer about 10-20% of the time.  All of which add nicely to the nagging worries I feel in the night when I can’t sleep.  “What is that weird ache/pain? What is that sensation? What does cancer feel like?.....”

Alright now go, walk out the door, just turn around now, you’re not welcome anymore…

So I’m going to start off the New Year (1/5/15) by having the cancer (and my prostate) removed by a tiny robot inside me.  Perhaps this could be the plot for a new Disney movie?  Weirdly, the doctor isn’t even standing over me…he is seated nearby at a computer!  Isn’t that wild? I will be the hospital just for an overnight and then need to recuperate at home for about two weeks.  I’m happy because this lets me finish the semester and enjoy the Christmas season and having the kids at home.  January is a little dull anyway, so I will liven it up with some robotic surgery.  Anthony and Samantha will be home for part or all of my recovery, so that will make it easier also. 

I WILL SURVIVE!

So, I am reminding myself that I survived getting a PhD; I survived cancer in 1994; I survived getting thrown under the bus by my erstwhile alma mater; and I survived a year of being unemployed and uninsured, so I am also going to survive this!  

Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side….

It is hard to underestimate the strength and encouragement I have felt since announcing my news on facebook.  So many messages, prayers, cards, phone calls, words of encouragement, from all over the country, and even around the world. I tucked some of my favorite phrases from all of you into my memory and I recite them to myself whenever I get scared: 

• God's got this!
• Cancer bites the big weinie!
• Jedi Hugs
• You are officially at the top of my prayer list.
• Your name is on our refrigerator door.
•  We've got your back.
• You will have a mighty army lifting you up.
• You are surrounded by a great community of faith
• Cancer sucks: Kick its ass, Dr. Nichols!
• Your prayer warriors are girding ourselves for battle.
• We are with you every step of the way.
• Big hugs and sloppy kisses!
• Go after it Tim, our world needs you.

Thanks so much for hanging in there with me.  You are the best friends a guy ever had….

"I guess the world is not a wish-granting factory"

In a wonderful example of cosmic irony, I made my annual pilgrimage to my dermatologist on Monday, Oct. 13th where, upon the 20th anniversary of my melanoma, he declared the book closed on that cancer case.  On Thursday, Oct. 23rd, my urologist told me I had prostate cancer.  Thanks universe, it was a swell ten days.

I first learned that my PSA level was a little elevated this past summer.  "It is probably nothing," my doctor said, "but let's have you see a urologist." "It may be nothing," the urologist said, "but let's have you do another blood test to see."  "I wish I had better news," my urologist said when he called with the results of the second blood test.  And so it was that I found myself lying on an examining table in Rochester undergoing a biopsy a couple of weeks later, quite literally the biggest pain in the ass I have experienced yet.  After those results came back with more bad news, I headed back to Rochester last week for two more tests to determine whether the cancer has spread to my bones or my lymph nodes.  When you first hear that you have prostate problems, I think every man first worries about whether he will end up wearing Depends or worse, with a loss of function below the equator, so to speak.  It is amazing how words like "bone scan" and "lymph nodes" change the equation of what we have to worry about.  The doctor says I have a "medium grade" cancer which means that there is a medium level of concern that it has or will spread and so it must be treated.

So now it is Sunday evening and I should be doing my prep work for school this week, but with this dark cloud hanging over my head, somehow I am having trouble focusing on lesson plans, The Odyssey, Frankenstein, and Edgar Allan Poe--although Poe does rather suit my mood right now.  The weekend had stretched out long and stress-filled for me on Friday evening.  Late that night I was exercising and watching a "Modern Family" rerun to take my mind off my prostate.  When I finished I walked out into the kitchen to see JonDavid bounding into the house excitedly (he had been at a Halloween party) but as the figure drew closer I realized it was not JonDavid but his long-lost sister, my favorite member of the William & Mary tribe.  We had dropped Samantha off in Virginia back in August and did not expect to see her in Fillmore again until Christmas vacation.  But when she heard about my health woes, she started scheming to come home and asked her roommate to drive her to Washington DC where she hitched a ride home with our dear friend, Mark LaCelle-Peterson.  So what had been shaping up to be such a bleak weekend, suddenly turned into the nicest one of the semester!  Samantha has been such a ray of sunshine in my life ever since she first appeared in 1996 and I desperately needed that sunshine this weekend.

A couple of early observations as I begin this unwanted journey. The first is "I get by with a little help from my friends.  One of the first people I told was my dear Academy buddy, Janyce Smithley. I couldn't have a better support system at work than Janyce.  She cries with me when I need to cry, tells me jokes and funny stories when I need to laugh, and comes around offering chocolate and cookies in between.  "Anytime you feel like you can't handle one of your classes, come and get me, I'll take over for you!" she offered.  If any of you ever have to go through something like this, I hope you have a Janyce in your life!

Also on Friday evening, I had such a special visit from two of my favorite people, Bev Rhett and her son Thomas.  Bev is on her own cancer journey and has only recently returned from several months of treatments down in Virginia.  As soon as she heard about my prostate problems, she and Thomas put together a basket full of cancer-fighting food and snacks, a copy of her favorite book "Anti Cancer: A New Way Of Life" and an orchid plant, loaded up their precious puppy Lincoln, and came over and paid me a much-needed visit.  Bev, who is further along with her treatment, came to offer advice, love, wisdom and support as I begin mine. While Lincoln and Tillie romped around the house together, Thomas and Bev cheered me up with their loving friendship and support.

Be it resolved already that if I make it through this, I want to be a Janyce and a Bev to anyone who is struggling with cancer.  Ugh, that revolting word.

I am reading what I can on prostate cancer and treatment options and most of what I read just makes me want to cry.  But I know that I am going to have a lot of decisions to make in the days and weeks ahead.  This is one of those times in life when I desperately wish that I could change the channel, but sadly, that is not an option.  If the cancer has not spread beyond my prostate, then I am facing a less deadly battle that will hopefully be more annoying than anything else.  If it has spread...then God only knows what lies ahead.

A Farewell to Sugar....(The club I never wanted to join, Part I)

As mentioned in my previous post, my dear friend Bev stopped over last Friday evening and brought me a copy of her "Bible" for her cancer recovery.  I haven't gotten very far yet, but what I have read aligned very nicely with the reading I've been doing about how to help the prostate through diet. That, along with a conversation with a friend--about the documentary "Fed Up" which examines how we are poisoning ourselves with sugar and corn sweeteners--and, in truth, what my own internal compass has been telling me., has convinced me that I need to end my addiction to desserts and sweets, and washing it down with diet pop.  I have to be honest and admit that my eating life hasn't exactly measured up to what I intended when I became a vegetarian 25 years ago.

I still believe I eat a more healthful diet than much of the population. Besides forgoing meat, I emphasize whole grains, I try to cut down on processed foods and I don't drink sugary beverages. But if I take an honest look at myself and my eating habits, I have to realize that it often falls apart in several areas, mostly related to sugar.  It doesn't really help to become a vegetarian if you replace meat with high fat cheese, and an all-white diet of white bread, white rice, and white pasta, topped off with white sugar.  I never met a dessert I didn't love (except for a few nasty pretenders that masquerade as desserts.  I'm looking at you: candy corn, pumpkin pie, fig newtons, anything licorice flavored, and lime jello, does anyone actually like them?!)

As I think about facing cancer however, I want to face it with every conceivable advantage and weapon at my disposal. There is so much about cancer that I can't control, that it feels good to maximize those aspects that I can.  So I've had to take a hard look at my diet and conclude

1) It doesn't really help me to replace sugary sodas with a ton of artificial sweeteners
2) The proportion of my diet made up of cookies, chocolate, cinnamon rolls, pie, cake, brownies, candy bars, etc. was really alarmingly high and all those calories are taking up space in my body that needs to be filled with nutrient-dense foods. and
3) Basically the anti-cancer diet is what I should have been eating all along anyway! Lots of vegetables and fruits, whole grains, etc.
4) that I want to make every calorie count in my battle with this enemy inside me.

So, I have survived week one!  So far so good. I actually am missing Coke Zero and Iced Tea with Splenda way more than I am missing desserts.  But I intend to persevere!

The Fattest Boy in the Fifth Grade

I have always been fat, even when I have been physically thin (like now) I am still the fat kid. My life as a fat boy began in the fifth grade.  The new school that I had moved to the year before had a lovely tradition of weigh-in day.  The school nurse wheeled  the white scale into our classroom; we lined up to be measured and weighed.  After sliding the scale to balance the weight, she would call out each weight across the room to the teacher who was recording it, for Lord only knows what reason:  just another piece of data for the mysterious permanent record card? When she came to me she called out “Ninety pounds.”  In that moment I became the fattest boy in our class.  I never even knew I was fat before.  The next heaviest boy weighed 78 pounds.  How pathetic is it that I still remember both of those numbers 40 years later? There was one girl who was fatter still (106 pounds), but that was so awful for her that she moved away after that year and we never saw her again.

 

My best friend at the time was named Lance.  I remember walking out of school that day and Lance looked at me incredulously, and also disdainfully, and said “I can’t believe you weigh 90 pounds!” And somehow, we were never as close again after that.  I don’t know what ever happened to Lance.  I hope he is fat and happy somewhere and surrounded by friends who don’t care how much he weighs. Because I’ve spent most of my life obsessing about my weight and allowing it to deny me life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

One of the reasons that I am starting this blog is because I believe that most of us end up carrying around baggage that we picked up as kids, most likely between fifth grade and eighth grade.  What is yours? In what ways did we let our peers define us during those formative, wonderfully awful years?

I went on to have a very successful high school career. I made friends! I escorted the homecoming queen! (a happy little nugget that I still carry around with me and try to interject into conversations and job interviews whenever I can.) I went to college, I got my PhD.  Eventually I became a dad - to the four best kids ever. - rhe greatest thing that can happen to any man.  I had (until quite recently) a successful and satisfying career.  And yet somewhere, deep inside me, I think I am still standing on that scale, watching the nurse slide the bar weight clear up to the end.  What's up with that? Whenever that pudgy little boy surfaces, I typically try to beat him back into my subconscious by conjuring up the counter memory of Linda, the Marilyn Monroe of Wilmington Area High School, asking me to escort her to homecoming, and usually that works, for awhile, until the next moment of self doubt occurs.
 

Does that kind of thing happen to the rest of the world? Or is it only me? There's a song that fascinates called "The Kid Inside" from the musical Is There Life After High School? Check it out.  I think I am ready to get rid of this baggage and I am going to drag you along on this journey.  For one thing, there are far worse things in life than being a little overweight.  For example, never knowing the rapturous, exquisite pleasure of consuming an entire batch of warm, slightly underbaked chocolate chip cookies.  Here....have one Lance!

Time for the Fat Farm

I had so much fun with my western blog that I decided to see if this same device might be helpful for my next ambition - losing all the weight I gained on the trip! I have been fighting the weight battle all my life (more on that later) And lately I have been having some success, by the time I turned 50 on 7/7 I had reached my ideal weight: 170 lbs. which was a real triumph. However, as is so often the case in my life, my timing stunk! I immediately began celebrating, having company, and spending the whole summer eating out. Fourth of July--birthday cake (frosting being my raison d'être) and then heading out on the open road. So that by the time I next encountered the scales (two days ago on 9/1) I found that I had regained 25 pounds! I basically gained almost a half pound a day all summer! I am so mad about that, I could spit! I was so happy looking in the mirror two months ago. Well, happy may be too strong a word because the reflection still is, after all, me. But nonetheless, I felt great and so relieved not to be gazing at myself across a sea of chins. So, all of which to say. I want to change this paradigm I've been on in some ways for the past few years, and in other ways for my whole life. I have enough things in my life to feel crappy about: age, finances, job situation, etc. that I want to have one area of my life that I feel great about. I want to be thin and be in shape. I'm hoping that since I enjoy writing and recording my thoughts that this blog mig#3ht help me to stay focused on my goal. Secondly, I am determined to exercise and lift weights this time in addition to dieting.

Ultimately my goal is in large measure for myself, but there is more to it than that. I also want to be healthy and set a good example for my kids, and lastly, I also believe that if I, flabby, unathletic, lazy, sedentary, 50-year old Tim, could get in shape, then truly ANYONE can.