We made the news

Thanks to my wife sending a few strategic emails, Lori Tucker from the local ABC affiliate did a story about us on the 5:30 newscast tonight. Your life sounds very different when someone else is telling the story. Very grateful for all the nice things they say on the clip and for all the positive feedback we’ve received.

Knoxville man overcomes cancer to race in 5K for 35th time

6 months later

Today was supposed to be a major milestone. At the six-month mark since my hip surgery I was supposed to be able to resume impact exercise. At least according to the brochure I received before the procedure. But my right hip didn’t read the brochure or get the memo and it’s not cooperating…yet.

When I first considered whether to pursue the BMAC procedure, part of the reason I decided to do it was because Dr. Einhorn said I could potentially be running again in six months. But the right hip was in really bad shape when I got to Boston and operating on it was what Dr. E called “a long shot.” Obviously we decided to do the procedure on both hips but the results for the right side were somewhat less than guaranteed.

So here at the six-month mark the left side feels really good, but I can’t exactly resume impact on one side only. So I continue to, as someone once said, wait for the healing. I’m still very hopeful about the long-term possibility of keeping both hips and perhaps even running again. But it’s not going to happen right away.

In fact, last week I spoke with Dr. Einhorn’s assistant Michelle and she said that for patients who have some success with the BMAC, they now offer a chance to do a repeat of the procedure and help it along even more. That was kind of mind blowing to think about doing it all again. But if it helps me keep my own hip and helps reverse the AVN, well, I’d have to consider it pretty seriously.

You feel me?

What’s the pain like? Well if you asked me that question 5 times in a  given day I might give you 5 different answers. I try to use a 10-point pain scale to evaluate it, and most of the time I live between a 4 and 5. Sometimes it can flare up to a 6 or 7. Some moments it will drop as low as 3. It’s pretty much impossible to predict when or where it might get a lot better or a lot worse in the blink of any eye. There are moments when I’m walking and I get a rhythm going and I can walk really well even though I’m concentrating on each step and trying very hard to maintain a very consistent gait. Other times, for seemingly no reason I’ll feel popping and grinding and a lot of pain, enough to drop me to my knee.

The first few steps after waking up, sitting for a long time, or driving are the hardest. The steps I take immediately after my daily elliptical workout are usually some of the best. Everything in between can be a total crap shoot.

Walk this way

So in just a couple of weeks it will be time for the 35th Expo 10,000/5K, and for the first time since I was 9 years old I won’t be able to run the race. This was a pretty hard pill to swallow. But the fact that I’m going to get to walk the 5K and do it with my family and a few friends around me helps me realize I have a lot more to be thankful for than to feel bad about (that was some pretty horrible grammar there, wasn’t it?). As I always, I hope to glorify God regardless of how it goes.

I feel blessed that after so many months of using crutches and a cane that I can walk unassisted at all. I’ve even found that I can walk quickly when I’m warmed up, and it feels really good to have the ground moving under my feet again after logging hundreds of miles on the elliptical where I spend so much time going nowhere fast. So I’ll enjoy a brisk walk in the 5K version of this year’s Expo, but my hope is definitely to run the 10K again somewhere down the road.

Between now and then I have goals of walking more races and seeing if I can learn to walk with some (relative) speed, i.e. sub-13 minute miles.

It only hurts when I laugh

The short version of my status is that the surgery was successful and I’m leaving for home tomorrow. The long version will come later and include my many adventures at the Boston Medical Center.

The painkillers are doing their thing. And being doped up allowed me to enjoy a laughter filled afternoon with my friends Kit and John Standridge.

The theme of this blog is supposedly “laughing my way through cancer, AVN, and other things.” I admit we’ve been a quart low on laughs around here. I’ll try to remedy that soon.

It’s good to be alive. It’s even better that I’ll be back home by Friday afternoon. Good night, friends.

Surgery Eve

Today was a beautifully sunny day in Boston and it started bright and early.

I was the first person to show up at the pre-op center and was remarkably relaxed through the whole thing (blood pressure 115/76). My biggest concern was getting another MRI. As it turned out the insurance company nixed the MRI so that made it all simpler.

I finally got to meet my surgeon Dr. Einhorn face to face and he was everything you want a surgeon to be — smart, older but not elderly, confident. He also had those surgeon hands — soft, firm…skilled. In fact he reminded me a lot of Dr. Jahrsdorfer, the surgeon who operated on my daughter’s ear and made her an ear canal where there wasn’t one.

I told him that many, many people were praying for him tomorrow and he smiled. Speaking of prayer, I have felt very humbled by all the kind notes of support where so many friends have let me know they are praying for us. I’ve rarely felt so supported and encouraged my whole life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has been praying.

Tonight I had the requisite “cup a chowda” as well as some mahi mahi at a place called Legal Sea Foods (sounded a lot better than Contraband Sea Food in the dodgy end of town). Then we walked through the Boston Common and had dessert (Boston cream pie of course ) at Cheers. Since it gets dark at 4:45 pm that’s about all we had time to do. That 4 am wake up call comes early tomorrow.

Thanks again for all the prayers. I’ll see you on the other side.

Headed for Beantown

It’s late Saturday night and after a day full of errand running and packing, I’m now about to head out very early Sunday morning for Boston to get this bone marrow aspirate concentrate (BMAC) procedure which will (we hope and pray) allow me to keep my God-given hip bones for the rest of my life.

I hope to blog a little and update Facebook a lot to keep friends and family up to date with what’s going on all along the way. Here’s the agenda right now:

Sunday – Leave Knoxville early and fly to Atlanta, then Boston. Check in to the hotel which is right on Boston Harbor. Maybe have a slice of Boston Cream Pie.

Monday – Show up at Boston Medical Center early for an MRI, pre-op visit with the surgeon, Dr. Einhorn, and perhaps some other medical stuff. Perhaps see something interesting around town, then get to bed early.

Tuesday – Another early arrival at the hospital for the surgery itself. It’s supposed to last an hour and half, give or take, and I will be spending the night in the hospital. Hello embarrassing hospital gown.

Wednesday – Hope to be discharged early in the day and spend the rest of the day resting at the hotel.

Thursday – More rest at the hotel and I hope a visit from some friends who live in Boston.

Friday – Leave early for Logan International and fly back home (with the required layover in Atlanta again).

Thanks everyone who has been praying already and will be praying me through this week. I’ll be back soon.

2 Year Cancerversary

Two years ago today I got the diagnosis I was dreading but had a strong feeling I knew was coming for a few weeks – testicular cancer. I’ll never forget that day or the whirlwind of doctor’s office visits that began with a trip to my family physician and ended with a urologist telling me he wanted to do surgery the very next morning.

I'm a survivor.

It’s been an eventful two years, and while I would never choose to have cancer of my own accord, I’m very thankful to have grown in so many ways since that day. Mostly, I have gained a deep gratitude for the life God has given me – an amazing wife and kids; great, supportive friends; a church where I’m challenged to grow spiritually every week; a job where I can use my talents; a home in one of the prettiest places to live in the world. I’m blessed beyond my ability to fully understand. But I am more in tune with those blessings now than I ever was before cancer.

As the great Wes King (a fellow cancer survivor) says, It’s Good to be Alive.

It’s good to kiss my wife
It’s good to hug my kids
What a magic tale this life in God
I said it’s good to be alive.

Well the pain has left a mark
But it’s given me a spark
So that I can light a fire
Now maybe I’ll inspire
Maybe I can right some wrongs
And sing a few more songs
Live the way I know I should
And say that Life Is Good!

I had the unique privilege to talk with Wes recently, and it’s a real gift have a bond with him as a fellow survivor. And Wes is just one of the many people I have connected with as fellow members of the C-Club. Those others of course begin with my mom (lymphoma), my church friend Karen (breast cancer), my coworker Allen (bladder cancer), my VFL brother Chris Lofton (testicular cancer), my college classmate Marshall (melanoma), and my high school classmate John (lymphoma) who I chatted with at my 25th class reunion earlier this month, just to name a few.

While I’m deeply grateful to be alive, I’m also much more keenly aware of the plight of so many others who are going through much more difficult circumstances than I dealt with 730 days ago.

A good family friend, Jeannie, is undergoing chemotherapy for bladder cancer even as I write this…

I just learned a couple of days ago that the wife of a coworker of mine is being treated for ovarian cancer and having a very hard time right now…

the husband of another former coworker passed away this week after a long battle with leukemia…

and on and on.

It’s very encouraging that there are new cancer treatments that are showing great promise, and I’m so glad that organizations like Stand Up 2 Cancer are funding some of the best new research in the fight. And people like my friend Michael are at work all day coming up with new and creative ways to attack cancer. But the fight is bigger now than I ever realized before and claims so many lives. I know that God never promised a life free from pain, sickness, and suffering. Thankfully, He promised the gift of His presence through everything, including cancer. “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

The next step

Quite a week we’re having.

On Wednesday, Sept. 28, I got a call from Dr. Thomas Einhorn, the orthopedic surgeon at Boston Medical Center who has pioneered the bone marrow aspirate concentrate (BMAC) procedure here in the United States after learning it in France. He told me what I already knew – I’ve got messed up hips. But he also said he believes his procedure could help me. By withdrawing bone marrow from my pelvis, putting the marrow in a centrifuge to separate the stem cells from the other cells, drilling into my femoral head(s) and then injecting the stem cells into the drilled out area, he believes he can relieve the pain I’ve been having. Decreasing pain is the main measure of success for the procedure. However, the additional hope is that the stem cells will begin growing new, healthy bone and either stop or (in a best case) reverse the progress of the avascular necrosis.

That gave me a lot to think about by itself. But he also said he recommended if I were to do the procedure that it should happen in the next 4 to 6 weeks. Yikes!

On Saturday, Oct. 1, I hobbled my way down to Latitude 35 in Market Square for the 25th reunion of my high school graduating class. I had a lot of fun catching up with folks most of whom I hadn’t seen for the whole 25 years. Since I grew another 3 inches after high school and I’m currently about 70 lbs heavier than when I graduated (yes, that’s 23 pounds per inch) I got a lot of looks like “what the **** happened to you?” The crutches also made for an instant, if unpleasant conversation starter. It’s also a challenge to give the full explanation of the hip problem which is long and complicated and then tell it over and over. I cut out a little early from the reunion so that I could get on the road to Nashville to see my best friend, Phil. We had planned a couple of months ago to run the Music City Half Marathon together to celebrate our birthdays. And even though I couldn’t run it, or walk it, I wanted to be there to cheer him on.

So on Sunday morning, Oct. 2, Phil and I along with his wife and his son headed to LP Field where the race started and finished. This would be the first race I had planned to run but couldn’t thanks to the hip problems. Still I had a great time as a spectator and got to see virtually the whole field pass by from my vantage point midway through the course.

On Tuesday, Oct. 4, I finally had my appointment with the Knoxville based hip specialist, Dr. Nadaud at Knoxville Orthopedic Clinic. The good news is he told me I could stop using the crutches and start trying to regain some mobility in my right hip and leg. The other news is that his reading of my scans shows that the AVN has affected 50 percent of my femoral heads, meaning my only surgical option in his opinion is total hip replacement. He did say that core decompression (drilling out the dead bone which is the first part of the BMAC procedure) wouldn’t pose any problems for doing a hip replacement down the road. So while there is no real problem with doing the BMAC, he said not to get my hopes up if I decided to pursue it.

While I was sitting in the KOC waiting room, I got a call from Dr. Einhorn’s office to talk about the specifics of doing the BMAC procedure including that pesky little detail of insurance. Well, as it turns out, my insurance will cover the procedure since Dr. Einhorn is in my company’s network. And because it’s considered an outpatient procedure, it will only cost me $100. That’s a great miracle and a large part of why I’ve decided to pursue this option.

So, I’m headed to Bean Town to get my hip (or hips) drilled and filled with my own stem cells. It’s a crazy world we live in.

Oh, and on Saturday I finish my 43rd trip around the sun.