March 31, 2015 April 1, 2015

I can’t get over all the great love and support that came to me out of the reunion/anniversary. So sorry I missed being there, but , but through social media, I feel like I didn’t miss it. 30 years of memories here for Lona and the boys and I aren’t easily forgotten, nor will they be.

I truly regret having to turn away all the great folks who’d wanted to stick their head in the door and say hi. while exhilarating, its also exhausting. Fell free to text and call and if I can take it I will.

The rest of this week is booked I can tell you that much.

March 27,2015

All well everybody- thanks to Lona and a host of others. Getting out of the shower this morning I scared myself, skin and bones – not good – frightening and I’m not kidding. My hope is to arrange a few visits – after the reunion- the house isn’t far. We will be reaching out this afternoon and hope to be able to see a stream from the event

March 24, 2015

The great liability with starting a blog is the inevitable disappointment the end of the blog will bring. Now this is only a presumption, totally based on reader feedback, but from the calls, emails, and Facebook messages, my bad.

Its been very tough, this transition from chemo treatment, to more alternative, but fly by the seat of my pants strategy, and I must have sat down a hundred times to explain all this but I just couldn’t do it. Hopefully my good friend Rodger has kept you at an advantage, as he has had more contact than most.

So, consider the blog and the blogger alive and kicking… my apologies, but also my gratitude for caring, for everything you’ve done, for not giving up on me…

March 16-17, 1015

It was the day after I shared with all of you our decision to discontinue chemo treatment, when without warning, I realized I was feeling the best I had in weeks! How odd, so quick, yet the trend continues. Wednesday morning was pretty much pain normal along with the usual bowel problems (pain meds=constipation). But there was also an easing up on my complaints from the chemo lab.  The “good times” came and went through Wednesday, and I got so involved in things, that the blog went to the wayside.

So now that it appears the chemo is ebbing out of my system, and I’ve already seek my appetite jump up in small and big ways in the right direction.

I did have to give up going to Clearwater for the Ray’s nice win over the Phillies today. I just don’t have the stamina back yet, but I’m working it hard, with the next bucket opportunity being the big thirteen 60th anniversary reunion on the 28th. With over 100 past employees mingling, drinking, and eating, it ought to be terrific. Another reason the reunion is important is that cancer and chemo forced me to give up a short segment on my favorite stories in my 30 years with the station. I just couldn’t be counted on to be about to get through, stuff I could recite off the top of my balding head.

March15, 2015

To sum it up, overall a good day. I fell short on food, but kept the fluids up. Still over the place in a variety to projects, but I’m sure it will work out

the biggie today was facing the reality that it will take weeks to flush the chemo out…

(see next)

March 14, 2015

In my minds eye I see two great armadas; Cancers’ first shots were fired with great advantage and surprise. Many good cells died at the hands of the cancer cells. Completely fooled for a year or more,  the chemo armada was barely put together when cancer’s first broadsides rocked and socked chemo. After furious battles through New Years’ passing across our 64th birthdays and into a turgid February, it had become self-evident that Chemo armada had fought well, but was losing the fight. After taking months of clear plastic chemo bags, the odds were good I’d still be struggling to eat, sleep, even shower and have the freedom to move about without significant pain. So, looking down the gun barrels of those persistent cancer cells, and imagining those  good cells dropping like flies I decided enough! After four more months of treatment there would be nothing left of me, no real person to say goodbye to. Just the shell of a human being who’d rolled out to nod and smile at my grandkids. NO, I’m not going to be that guy! Look, nobody’s getting out of here alive, so why let them infuse me to death.

The support has been awesome, most speaking for the first time about what happened to their families, like this post shortly after I told everyone the chemo was was over…

“Thankfully, our intimate family has not been stricken with what you and yours are going through but in the past several years we have lost several very dear friends who valiantly fought to defeat this dreadful cancer disease.

I watched and prayed as they courageously and relentlessly struggled to win the battle with everything that Western medicine had to offer at the finest Cancer centers available, only to lose in the end and wishing that they had taken a different approach to maximize the quality of what little life they had left.

I understand that life is precious and that when one is faced with losing that most precious element of our being and how it is going to affect those that we love and care for, treatment decisions must be the most difficult thing you have ever had to do.

I applaud you for your strength and tenacity until now, but now, I celebrate your courage in making the decision to abandon what you must have thought was your last hope for survival and change not the direction but the route of your journey.
You are a very smart guy, conventional Western medicine is not your only choice, there are many alternative protocols to be investigated that might be very effective in prolonging or even saving your life while maintaining your quality of life as well.”

Bless you and yours Dave. And bless all of you for reading the blog and praying and supporting me and family.

+March 13, 2015

Once again, overwealmed by what’s amounting to a big change in the fight, I’m still sorting it out, with mixed reviews.

The blog is very important to me and that’s why I can’t sit here struggling with it all night.

More later..

Love and Peace

March 12, 2015

Thanks so much for the visits and calls, but  some days I think,  its better to say in bed, in this smokey little neighborhood bar where their ain’t no NA beer that’s worth a nickel. And an afternoon that I couldn’t find that nickel without some help. So my apologies for the call and problems.       l

It was an interesting day with lots of visitors, unfortunately I remember little of the visits so we wound appreciate a Second visit to Warren’s day? Consider it a follow up visit,

Which is what I’m offering all of you out there on the blogs;

March 11, 2015 – the next chapter begins…

There comes a time for decisions in life, difficult decisions that can’t be put off. Tuesday was one of those days for decision..

For weeks as we struggled through heart problems to get back on schedule for chemo, strong and certain realities kept sticking in my mind’s eye. The biggest of all, after the second round there was no real recovery as there had been after the first. My appetite did not return, my sleep was worse instead of better, constipation was more persistent and more difficult, and I was still short of breath and energy long past it had returned after the first round. Then the PET scan showed little had changed, except for the lesions on my liver which had actually grown a bit. When irregular heart beat put off round three I knew I had a decision to make. Doc even brought it up, saying  there are alternatives you know, he added that he saw my quality of life getting worse, but still wanted to press on and see if the liver would improve.

I’d just seen a PBS Frontline documentary called Being Mortal, http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/being-mortal/ that painfully pointed out that cancer doctors, out of duty and heart, were treating patients to death, robbing them of what time they had left, time they could spend with loved ones and doing the things they loved. Then I read a piece titled “How Doctors Die”by Dr. Ken Murray at USC, http://www.dailygood.org/view.php?sid=136 It points out the last thing doctors want is to die in a hospital, crippled by chemo and over treatment. After a diagnosis like mine most go home, close their practices and surround themselves with family and friends.

Its not that these  oncologists are uncaring or bad people, but they are caught up in the golden handcuffs that drive the Cancer Industry, its their job to sell more treatments, more chemo, more studies. To his credit, without saying the words my doc conceded as much. Confronted by the USC piece, there was a long pause in the conversation, it felt like a very uncomfortable moment. Its our job to cure he said, his voice trailing off.

He asked for a copy of the article, and we shook hands. From that moment in time, chemotherapy was over, come what may.

Its been a very emotional 48 hours and there’s a lot more story to tell.

I don’t at all consider this “giving up” by a long shot…there’s plenty of chanllenges ahead. The difference is Lona and I will be sharing our little lifeboat for as long as God would have us.

March 10, 2015

OK, let’s try this again; chemo round three, stopped cold a week ago by heart beat issues. It could happen again. I have to be prepared for that and its implications.

We’ve done the best we could Lona and I, to get ready for round three, forcing myself to eat, resting as much as possible, and surrounding ourselves with positive people like you guys out there.

Wish us well, and I’ll keep you updated…