Approximately 8 weeks after surgery is when we started a new regime of chemotherapy, bringing us to the first week in April, 2019. I would receive chemotherapy every 3 weeks for a total of 6 cycles, with the possibility of completing 8 based on how the body held up. The 3 week schedule was solid because I didn’t need a PICC line placed! My body was slowly coming back together and I was getting stronger each day as I deliberated the news of the cancer metastasizing. I knew I wouldn’t be returning to school for the semester, so all focus was on getting the body healthy and in better working order. Summer 2019 looked promising as I made a few plans with family and friends, with the ultimate goal of returning to the classroom in August of 2019. Overall, I was getting back on track and had goals I was eager to achieve.
At this point, I had the chemotherapy sessions down to a science. In terms of side effects, I was looking at the same stuff as previous rounds- headaches, nausea, bad gut, fatigue, fevers, chills, neuropathy, etc. The list goes on and on. Historically, I had done well against the chemo when given certain medications for side effects. With that in mind, I was hoping to have similar results with the upcoming schedule.
The difference maker during infusions comes with the nurses. I haven’t ever really had a “bad” nurse, although some are friendlier than others. For example, I had an infusion on my birthday (May 15th) in 2019. The nurse who helped me that day was super cool, she created a Happy Birthday sign for me and hung it up at my chemo station prior to my arrival! I had never met this gal before, but that small gesture made the infusion much easier, and also brought a smile to my face. Nurses like her and Kaytee are the difference makers and real celebrities that we need to identify and appreciate.
The chemotherapy sessions are extremely repetitive and eventually begin to blend together. I cruise to UCSD with a roomie, check-in, wait for my name to be called, get vitals taken, have an IV placed, wait on the pharmacy to deliver the toxic drugs, get hooked up by a nurse, and about 3 hours later I’m stumblin’ outta there. It’s fascinating, because the first 3-4 days after treatments, I feel pretty good. I attribute this to UCSD as they frontload the patient with a tremendous amount of anti-nausea medicines, some of which stay in your system for up to 72 hours. After my first treatment in early April, I felt great for the first 6 days! The body was a little jittery here and there, but overall, no major side effects. Exactly one week later though, I got torched by pretty much everything in the book. Vomiting, headache, nausea, 0 body temperature control- the works. Again, this was odd because it came 1 week after treatment. This sick stint lasted about 8 hours, and during that time I had world class support by my primary care taker- Z (and the dogs, Dora and Jax). The next day, I was able to shake the side effects, although extremely fatigued as they had taken a toll on the body.
From that point on, the 7 day sick stint occurred 3 more times, the final episode taking place after my last infusion, which happened to be my mom’s birthday. I could handle the sick stints; obviously they aren’t pleasant yet I figured at least it wasn’t a daily occurrence. My real problems were still with my ass, the pain from the surgery was still quite extreme, getting to the point in which I wasn’t able to sit down anymore. Take a second and think about that- imagine being unable to sit on your butt for almost a full calendar year. It’s certainly a game changer.
I hadn’t realized it at the time, but as my body was still physically recovering from the surgery, I began to develop an infection at the surgical site (my butt). It’s possible that I didn’t fully/properly heal from the surgery in February; after starting chemotherapy, it weakened my immune system, making me much more susceptible to illness or infection. As the months passed, an infection developed and continued to get worse and more painful. My doctor’s attributed it to recovery from surgery and the cancer itself as I didn’t show any serious signs of infection.
I kept grinding, loading up on pain meds, laying on my side or standing up every time I was out and about (restaurants, bars, etc). I was doing my best to enjoy summer, but it’s difficult to do so when you’re in chronic pain. I had never realized how debilitating pain can be until last summer. I did my best to keep my mind away from it through any method such as video games, meditation, reading books, talking with the dogs or friends- anything. As the pain worsened, it began to impact my sleep. I reached a point in which I was only cashing in on 2-4 hours a night for several long months. I would attempt to crash during the day and catch up on sleep whenever feasible, although a lot of it was dependent on how the body was feeling.
Despite the body falling apart, I was able to finish my chemotherapy sessions on June 28th, 2019. Summer was really heatin’ up! One of my “ride or dies” kept the 4th of July tradition alive (6 years running!), catching a flight from Chicago to SD. It was a solid week filled with adventures, from the mountaintops and back down to the ocean. To honor America on the glorious 4th of July, we smoked a mean beef brisket and had a beauty BBQ and evening fire. It was a fine trip, and I looked forward to my next adventure- heading back to Chicago for a few weeks at the end of July, followed up by a Seattle-LA train adventure with my mom, Suzy.
Chicago was a blast. I got to reminisce with some old friends, catch a ballgame at Wrigley Field (first time I had been there in 10 years- so different!), crush a large variety of pizza, and see my family. One of my highlights was spending the night with my old roommate, my Nana Flack. Stay with me as I take a trip down memory lane here…
Back in college, during my senior year, I lived with Nana for three months as I completed a student teaching placement just 15 minutes from her home. It would have been a beast traveling from Naperville to the school site, so I opted to move in with Nana; it was perfect timing as Papa had just left to AZ for the winter. Those three months were arguably the most glorious of my life. Nana is a seasoned veteran in the kitchen- cooking and baking meals of supreme status. Not only that, but I was on a strict schedule. I’d wake up at 6 to go to school and be home by 3:45, we’d enjoy a cup of tea at 4 while reading the paper and completing school work. Nana had dinner on the table by 5 PM. After dinner, I’d be responsible for the dishes while Nana would fix another cup of tea and settle into her chair by the fire. Around 6:30, we’d enjoy a delicious dessert, then go our separate ways at 7 PM. She’d settle in her room, I’d be off to mine, while we both enjoyed Wheel of Fortune followed by Jeopardy. It was lights out by 8. In those three months, I probably aged 50 years, having the mentality of a grandpa upon leaving. Great memories with Nana that I’ll value forever.
While staying at my mom’s in Naperville, I got to hang with my best friend- Papa. We stayed up “solving the world’s problems”, night after night for hours on end. The guy can still hold his own for being 96 years old. Papa always says he’s still going because he, “Only drinks from the top shelf, none of that cheap stuff!”. Papa is the ultimate beauty, I’ve learned many valuable life lessons from that man. He is the ultimate role model and everything that represents grace and kindness in this world.
Midwest living brings so many little things that I miss out here in California. Fishing is at the top of that list. During my stretch home in summer ‘19, my Uncle Hughe brought me and my oldest sister, Megan, out on his boat to do some fishing on Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. We have lakes in California, but damn are they weak compared to midwest lakes and fishing. We had an incredible day, hitting the road bright and early (although not early enough for Uncle Hughe!) and getting to Lake Geneva by 7 AM. We fished for almost 8 hours, catching some solid bass and a few Northern Pike. It was a great day filled with lots of smiles, laughs, and of course, fish.
The big exit back to California is what I was most excited for when visiting back home. My mom and I made plans to fly to Seattle, stay for a few nights, then take a train from Seattle to Los Angeles. We had a successful trip, although I wish we could have spent much more time in Seattle- it’s a badass city! We did all the tourist stuff; Space Needle, Pike Place Market, Chihuly Garden, and a cool boat tour. I also visited some local cannabis shops and enjoyed some of their finest greens. The train ride was really fun (despite my ass killin’ me)! We rented a sleeper car and had our own private setup. Both my mom and I had some good books, and some really fun travel games that we played. The ride was 36 hours, as we caught incredible views along the coast and through the mountain corridors of Washington, Oregon, and California. After arriving in LA, we caught a ride to Oceanside and settled into the Nevada House. My mom enjoyed Oceanside for a few days, then it was back home to get ready to go back to school!
The summer adventures came and went. Summer ‘19 was shutting down and arguably one of my favorites (Summer ‘09 still holds that title). Perhaps the most exciting part of summer was Little Man Leo being born on July 30th (while Suzy and I were on the train!). Leo is Katy and Shay’s boy; I know he will be great to his cousins Leila and little Charlotte as they get older. Being an Uncle is the best! You get to have all the fun with the kids and then return them if they get cry cry or at night. Aside from that big summer news, I had completed chemotherapy,yet my body still wasn’t quite right as the infection began to take its toll by causing increased pain. School was just around the corner and it was my ultimate goal to get back in the classroom. At this point, I still couldn’t sit down, which didn’t matter much because when I’m teaching, I’m typically on my feet anyways.
My return to MHHS was one of grand fashion. Throughout my whole ordeal with cancer, my coworkers have been an incredible support system. They’ve donated their personal time off, fed me by making meals, provided gift cards, and always do the little things- a hug and a smile, or a simple “how are you doing?”. I love being a Grizzly and would be in a much different place without these people.
Not only were my coworkers happy to see me back, but my students were excited as well! This did wonders for me, lighting a fire within and motivating me to keep digging deep and keep grinding. I love all of my students, and the classroom is my place to be. My Grizzly family continued to raise my spirits.
It was about mid-September when my body really started taking a turn. My butt wound/infection was still causing chronic pain while I did everything possible to maintain. It got to the point in which I couldn’t keep showing up to the classroom, I was far too run down and the pain was distracting me- I wasn’t doing my job to the standards I expected. My students and staff were understanding and receptive. In mid-September, I alerted staff that I needed to shut it down until we could get the pain under control and figure out what was going on.
Soon afterwards, I was back in the doctor’s office as we were trying to discover what the problem was. This required an “exploratory” surgery in which Dr. R went in to look at the site; the results were her cleaning out the whole surgical site in an effort to get rid of the infection. I like to think it worked for a brief period of time; I did feel better after surgery and was in less pain. However, it didn’t take long for the infection to come back even worse.
By October 2019 I was dropping weight fast. I was getting weaker and the pain was extreme. I could barely sit down, yet I had to figure out a way to sit tight as I was standing up in two different weddings during the month, just two weeks apart. For the previous 12 months, It was my goal to stand up in these weddings and support my friends; I recognized how rundown I was getting, but I didn’t want to keep laying on the couch and wasting away. The cancer and infection were sentencing me to a life of suffering and boredom as I was stuck in the same routine.
Somehow, I was able to make both weddings, one taking place on the east coast (Philly) while the other was held at Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I still don’t know how I managed the flights, probably hella pain meds and a lot of shifting and wiggling in my seat… Kinda felt bad for the people next to me, but oh well, they didn’t have to deal with my physical problems.
The weddings were fun and a breath of fresh air. For the first time in a while, I had legitimately laughed and smiled, having a great time with some old friends and watching two of my best buddies get hitched to two inspiring women. Also, for the Green Bay wedding, I was able to spend a little bit of time with my mom and Papa, as I had flown into Chicago prior to road trippin’ to Green Bay.
November is when things started to get really rough. The pain and misery continued to be a mainstay in my life; I wasn’t able to sit down and couldn’t sleep, I had stopped eating and dropped down to a frightening weight of 109 lbs. When healthy, I hang around 135 lbs; anytime a little guy like me drops 25 lbs, it’s not a good thing. My parents decided to come visit me for Thanksgiving. I didn’t know until a few months ago, but one of the reasons they decided to visit for Thanksgiving was because they thought I was knocking on death’s door and didn’t have much time left. I had been so beat up from the surgeries, chemotherapy, and now infection, that they figured I was close to the end. I don’t blame them- I was a mess; they weren’t the only people who had similar feelings.
I never thought I was going to kick the bucket during that stretch, I knew I was really sick, but didn’t think it’d kill me. Cancer is a strange disease; you just never really know- some people are dead within 3 months of their diagnoses, some within 3 years. Others seem to make a deal with some higher power, surviving outright and beating the disease altogether. Obviously, I don’t know when my time will come, but I do know I don’t plan on kickin’ off anytime soon.
December rolled around and I continued to deteriorate. About mid-December, I had a visit with my oncologist. My primary nurse took one look at me and essentially demanded I check into the hospital. She could see the pain and agony I was enduring and immediately informed Dr. M. He strolled in and made a good argument, “Let’s get this pain under control before we do anything else to treat the cancer. In order to do so, we gotta get you checked in for a little bit”. A few minutes later, my nurse was wheeling me down the hall in a wheelchair (hospital policy) to the Emergency Department. I texted my roomie, he parked the car and met me inside.
I spent the next 13 days at UCSD while they managed the pain and started me on a course of antibiotics to kill the infection. During that stretch, I met with at least a dozen different doctors and specialists. I give UCSD credit, they were all over it- although upon reflection, I was I would have made the decision to seek this intervention months earlier; I suppose we didn’t fully understand how severe the infection was. While at UCSD, they flirted with the idea of operating on the wound to once again, clean it out, remove parts of the infected tailbone, and then conduct some serious reconstructive/plastic surgery to fix me up. My surgeon, along with other doctors, were adamant that they didn’t want to operate- I was far too weak and my body in too big of a mess. Instead, they placed another PICC line and started me on heavy antibiotics. For the next 3 months, I would be on continuous antibiotics; it was a demanding schedule as the medicine needed to be changed every 8 hours.
The medicine management wasn’t a problem while at UCSD. I had fantastic nurses who took care of my every need while I lay in bed watching TV and resting. Crikey, even the food at UCSD was pretty solid- they offered a daily menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They had a mean blueberry muffin that I would order essentially every morning. In a way, it was kinda a “staycation”, only thing was my body was far too banged up to enjoy any of the time. Being released from the hospital was the difficult part.
As mentioned, I spent almost 2 weeks at UCSD. The time there wasn’t terrible, I had my roomies visiting, and even my folks had flown in to check on me. Thankfully, I was released from the hospital on December 23rd, just before Christmas! I was thrilled to get back to The Nevada House to spend Christmas with Dora, Jax, and the boys. The transition home was easy, but the management of the antibiotics was a full time task. As mentioned, I was on a strict schedule, needing to hook up a new pack of antibiotics every 8 hours. In order to achieve this, I had three alarms set- 10 AM, 6 PM, and 2 AM. When I heard the alarm, I’d remove the bag of antibiotics from the fridge, allowing it to warm up to room temperature. Next, I’d remove the old bag and place the new antibiotic IV bag to my PICC line. Then, I’d wait for the next alarm. I was on this routine for 8 weeks, receiving weekly PICC line cleanings on a weekly basis in the meantime.
This was a taxing routine as it interrupted any opportunity of sleep. I had to wake up everyday at 2 AM to tend to the PICC line and antibiotics; by the time I setup the new antibiotic bag, it was about 2:15 AM and I was wired, unable to fall back to sleep. As the weeks passed, I also noticed that the infusion was taking longer and longer. This is because the PICC line can get clogged with blood clots, slowing down the infusion process. Although we did what we could to keep the line open (daily syringe flushes), it was no use, the line was getting more and more clogged. The last thing I needed was to have this PICC removed and placed on my other arm- this would delay the whole treatment process.
Luckily, I was able to avoid a new PICC, and although the infusion process took much longer with each session, I was able to complete the course of antibiotics after about 8 weeks. Not only that, but I was feeling better; the pain had diminished, I was more mobile, and starting to get more rest now that I could get back on a regular routine. At this point, it was February; I needed something to keep me occupied, so on Super Bowl Sunday, I embarked on a new journey (which would eventually lead to the composition of this blog)- growing cannabis!
We had purchased all of the materials to start a grow tent way back in September of 2019; however, it was right around that time in which I started to deteriorate physically. I had put everything on hold, and after months of misery, I was finally able to start the project. It was exciting and gave me a new purpose around the Nevada House. As you know, we started with two plants- an indica strain composed of Blueberry Kush and crossed with Northern Lights. We were embarking on a new journey and it was exciting to develop the green thumb!
2020 was off to a promising start. My family came to Oceanside to celebrate the new year, as we had rented an incredible beach house right on the water! Everybody came out to visit- my mom and dad, all of my sisters and their kids, my brother in laws, even two of my aunts and a couple cousins! It was a fantastic vacation; although I’ll admit that I was crabby and not in the best way physically, being released from the hospital just a few weeks prior and having to manage the PICC line and butt pain, yet I did my best to enjoy the time with my family. Having them simply come out to visit was meaningful and something I’ll cherish for the rest of my days.
As time lurked forward, I was slowly recovering from the infection. Soon, my doctor’s and I had more questions- my CEA count was increasing (this is a tumor marker in your blood, indicating how aggressive the disease/cancer is) and we needed to treat the cancer. We still had another problem as I wasn’t completely out of the woods regarding the infection; the doctor’s felt the only true way to rid the infection would be through major surgical intervention- something I wasn’t ready for at the time. I began having conversations with my oncologist as he formulated a plan as to how we would move forward. In the meantime, I was getting healthier and stronger, just like the two new cannabis crops that began thriving in our garage. Things were looking up and it was an opportunity to reflect and focus on the good aspects in life.
