Farwell

This is Christi posting a final blog on Kevin's behalf:

My dearest husband died in the night on May 10th at home in his own bed, holding my hand.  A service to celebrate his life will be held on Tuesday May 15th from 2-5 pm at The Lambton Golf and Country Club, 100 Scarlett Road, Toronto.  There will be Steam Whistle.

Au Revoir, But Not Goodbye

Today my work/life friend Patrick dropped off a book wonderfully curated by Lindsay Dyson. Within it were more kind thoughts and sentiments than I deserve. Thank you to my family at 121 Bloor.  

As I suggested earlier, I seldom have the energy or creativity to do the blog justice.  This is not to say that I won't be posting anymore, but it is to say...don't count on it.

Wish me luck for the future.

Love to you all.

kevin 

Cancer Benefits Continue to Roll In

A big thanks to Kevin, and all the guys from the rotisserie league, for the on-field passes to Sunday's Jays game.

And an equally big thanks to Stephen and the others of the Toronto Blue Jays.

We were treated like royalty and all had a blast.

Hats Off

The "Team Hoss" gear is starting to roll in. I now have an official West Coast chapter headed by my aunt Peggy, my uncle Dudley, and my cousins Rebecca and Tom. Maybe we'll break out into onesies next so that baby can join the club!

I may have never followed up on this, but half the price of each hat is being donated to KC's Cancer Cushion Fund: http://www.cushionfund.com/

I have been very fortunate in my battle. Besides having ample friends and family, I have also not needed to worry about money. This charity is about exactly that: helping out those who don't have the money to help themselves. They were overjoyed when Tracy told them of our donation.

So if you've been on the fence about putting in an order, the email for the amazing Tracy Vincze is tracy.vincze@gmail.com

Today was about a different hat. My mom and I went down to Rogers Centre to catch the afternoon match up against the big-budget Boston Red Sox. Root, root, rooting for the home team, I purchased a Jays cap with the old/new logo.

As I post in the coming days and weeks you will notice that my analogies and metaphors shift from cycling to baseball. Gosh, I love baseball.

I realize my posting has become not only less lucid and entertaining, but less frequent as well. The fact is that my cancer is really knocking me on my ass. Some days, crawling over to the keyboard has not been high on my list. I can't promise the frequency will improve.

Without going into too much detail, I am on a pain management regimen that seems to be working. If things stay the course I will be able to turn my full guns on fighting this thing - an improvement over these past few months when the disease has really had me backed into the corner (boxing analogy!)

That's all for now. Appreciate what you've got and chill out when things seem overwhelming!

Free Great Mother-In-Law with Every Great Wife

With apologies to my mom and dad (and John & Barb*), who would roll back time for me if they only knew how, I have to give a shout out to Liz, who for the past 2 days has been my chauffer, cook, and maid.

Liz would drop what she was doing to help me out, even if that something was juggling chain saws while tight roping across Niagara Falls.

So as I rub my contented belly after a delicious and healthy dinner in my sparkling clean kitchen, I say to all who can hear and read: "Thanks Liz."

*the trouble with name-checking people is that it's hard to know when to stop.

Sunday; When the Big "C" Stood for "Catan"

Patrick (who introduced me to Catan 2 years ago), Will, and Scott came over on the weekend for a couple of games.

Is Catan a "cool" board game?

Well, not really.

But it sure is fun. And most importantly, after hopping around from foot to foot for an hour or so, it's also a nice distraction from the pain I feel on an ongoing basis.

Foulness Redefined

I have taken a lot of pills, tinctures, drops, syrups and capsules since being diagnosed last October.

Some were big, some were sticky, some were chalky. But none of them prepared me for my vitamin C gels.

They look pretty innocuous, no? If you've ever used energy gels, you might even expect them to be tasty.

NOTHING could be further from the truth. The taste is so bad, words can not describe it.

So...all I can say is that they taste like "___."

And I have to eat 6 of them, 4 days per week.

I feel like I've been pretty clear that I don't want people feeling sorry for me.

Screw that, I am asking you now.

Semi-Scientific Update

Dry Goods For Sale

Okay, so that was a lot more 'rambly' than I hoped.

Below you can see some of the Sound Solutions crew before a ride in the Carolinas. Gosh it would be nice to be there!

And hey, some of them are actually wearing the hats!

Here's the logo up close. Tracy has made some samples on black, white and blue so far. Note the 1/2 entendre of the handlebar moustache.

If you want to look into an order, email Tracy: tracy.vincze@gmail.com

Or see the comments section below.

Breathing In New Life

...still counts, even when that life is under water.

Just about a week ago I finally got my fish. Many months and many $ later, my mega-awesome/better-than-TV/stop-you-in-your-tracks display tank is finally running!

Perhaps I'm over-selling it.

A Face Made For Radio

Below is a sequence of stills I shot over my first month of chemo.

Look carefully & you will see Frankie pop up!

Rest assured about a few things:

• The quality of the camera and lighting plus the mild 'fish-eye' effect made me look worse than I actually looked. Well, truth be told, I was putting on a brave face in a few of them. Occasionally I felt worse than the picture showed.
• I currently look and feel far better than any of those pictures show.

Plan B

Based on how I feel much of the time, I was not surprised when my CT scan came back with more bad news. While we (meaning: my wife, my family, and my oncology team, not the Royal We.) were hoping to see the tumours holding steady or even shrinking, the scan showed at least one new tumour and growth pretty much across the board.  The nice part about going in slightly pessimistic is that the news was not at all devastating. At least not for me.  So today I see my oncologist with actual hopes for an actual new plan. Maybe a trial, maybe a less effective (on paper) drug, maybe a continuation of folfirinox...who knows?  Work-wise, I am about to go on long term disability. Weird. Hopefully the insurance company will spy on me to see if I'm faking my illness, and hopefully I'll feel good enough that they think I am.

Fun With Barium

Tonight I start drinking my 900ml of barium sulfate suspension for tomorrow's CT scan.

This one's a biggie in that it may tell if I'm winning, losing or playing to a draw in the spectator-unfriendly game of chemo.

If you're a believer in good vibes, religious prayer, or universal connectedness, send what you've got my way. Between you all and me I don't feel optimistic, but that could be the chemo or one of my seven tumors talking.

But maybe the twisty straw will spur me on to victory!

No Risk Haircut

A bit disappointing as far as reveals go...

Felines, Nothing More Than Felines...

Here is my cat Billie in a state of deep relaxation.

What place could be so warm, unmoving and comfortable so as to make such a cat feel so uninhibited?

Why, on top of me, of course.

When it comes to sleeping all day and only waking to have others tend to your needs, there's a new cat in town.

Like Space Mountain, But Not As Much Fun

I'm currently in the middle of a "good week:" meaning that I am far enough away from my chemo that I'm not completely overcome by sleepiness. In the past few days I've been out for a long walk, visited the acupuncturist, ridden my indoor trainer, had lunch with my dad, visited my massage therapist, hung out with my mom, watched the CX World Championships with some buddies, and done some water changes on the fish tanks.

The trouble is that I am incapable of doing any two of these things consecutively.

Hence the Disney World™ analogy: the constant ups, downs, lefts and rights make navigating this chemo like riding a roller coaster in the dark.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

In a hour or two I will finish up my second chemo cycle. You're probably wondering if this cycle was better or worse than the last one. I'm wondering too.

Very few things feel as intense in hindsight as they do in the present, so for now I am saying that neither treatment was particularly tough. The first had me nervous, and some minor feelings of nausea only made me more so. The second treatment was quicker and more efficient, but it also included a nice flare-up of back pain that had me hopping around the chemo ward, making everyone nervous. The hiccups haven't been as bad this time, but the nausea was worse - in the depths of it I really wished I could have thrown up and have been done with it - but no luck.

I think this shot is safe enough to not hide behind a link - it shows how my 46 hour drip is attached to my port-a-cath. Just a tiny little needle, really, and carrying the bottle around isn't that much of a bother.

Frankie calls it "The Curious Bottle."

Since I've subjected you to my hairy chest I thought I should show you what my head hair looks like after two days of not showering (can't get the port-a-cath wet.)

Since it should start falling out in a week or two I think I may keep with the Eraser Head look!

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Ever since early January I've been experiencing some pretty awful back pain. It's ranged from a dull tightness that doesn't allow me to stay still, to acute pain that has me literally crawling on the floor.

Hot baths and showers help, as did a birthday morning spent at Le Scandinave!

Anyhow, I got in for a massage last Wednesday when I was feeling particularly rough. I showed up early and that paid off; she snuck me in for more than my allotted hour. It felt great.

On the same day that I was feeling so good from treatment I got the results of my latest CT scan. My Oncologist had ordered one so we could eliminate any of the worst case scenarios as the source of my back pain.

Unfortunately we weren't able to do that.

Only a month after my previous scan, which was fairly clean, I was now showing not only a 2cm blood clot in my liver, but also two 1cm tumors in my liver and five 2cm tumors in my peritoneum.

There's pretty much no way to classify this as good news.

In the days that have passed Christi and I have achieved a certain level of calmness about the whole thing. We finally talked to the kids about it and that went fairly well. Frankie certainly knows something is going on, but she seems okay. Owen has said that he'd rather not have the facts, which I think is his way of saying that he wishes it weren't true.

If there's a silver (or maybe gray?) lining to this backward step, it's this: most cases of pancreatic cancer go this way. Mine just went this way much faster. It's pushed me one step closer to reality, which is a good thing. This is much tougher on my family than it is for me.

For what it's worth, and I think it's worth a lot, I am feeling happy and am looking forward to what ever future I am lucky enough to have.

Bear With Me As I Entertain A Metaphor

I've been watching all twelve hours of "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy in the middle of the night as I've struggled with sleep issues (a BluRay version came my way this Christmas), so indulge me on this one:

(If you need to read the books or watch the movies to make this relevant, I'll wait so you can catch up)

The Ring, which threatens to destroy all of Middle Earth, is cancer.

Gollum, a very tricksy and foul creature who is nonetheless crucial in destroying The Ring, is chemo.

And Samwise Gamgee, the Hobbit who protects Frodo with no regard to his own happiness and safety, is my wife.

A Meaningful Life

Ross was my friend for 13 years and my brother for the last four months.

Ross gave me my very own Jeero for strength through my cancer - his Jeero went through many more ordeals than should ever be necessary.

Yet none of that ever diminished his freight train-like passion for life.

Death Star Trash Compactor

That's what my insides sound like.

So far nothing about chemo side effects have been as expected. Actually getting the injections was not too bad. Carrying around a baby bottle for two days was not too bad. I even split a Pizza Libretto prix fixe lunch with CJ on the way home from the disconnect on Thursday.

I was steeled against nausea and digestive problems, but not against intense pain in my gut and back. Generally they tag-team me; first the back, then the gut, then the back, etc.

My only consolation is that my waiting for the other shoe to drop (the aforementioned nausea and digestive problems) may in fact be the stress that's causing the problems.

Hopefully after I start to figure this cycle out things will get a bit more tolerable.

Side Effects, I've Had A Few...

But by far the most annoying has been the hiccups. Bouts of 90 minutes. I've at least learned to fall asleep while they're happening.

In other news, a lot has happened since I started chemo but the energy's not there to put it all down right now.

All things being equal I feel like things could be a lot worse.

She's My Everything

I just finished a smoothie & salad that included just about every anti-cancer food known to exist.

And they were delicious!

I provide the comic relief in this operation, but my lovely Christi provides everything else.

Post-Birthday Ride

I like to get out for a ride on my birthday whenever possible, but yesterday I was busy being treated to a spa, spending time with my family and getting a nice dinner (with an even nicer apple pie for dessert.)

So I got out for a ride today instead. Report below:

Folfirinox > Gemcitabene?

With apologies to my friends and coworkers at Shaw Media who have already read this, here's a copy/paste of my chemotherapy information:

I have chosen a course of chemo called Folfirinox. It's not yet approved in Canada, but there's reason to believe it may be more effective than the standard pancreatic cancer treatment: Gemcitabene. With Gemcitabene, cancer can reoccur elsewhere in the body 80 to 90 percent of the time.

I didn't like those lousy odds so I chose the Folfirinox. The trouble with Folfirinox is that it's much more toxic; besides some very serious side effects, I will certainly experience hair loss, nausea, and my favourite, diarrhoea with constipation.

Since this is a new treatment nobody really knows how I'll react; it will likely cause me grievous harm.

What I do know:

• A port-a-cath (a tap into my vein) will be inserted on Monday, January 9th
• My first day of chemo is Tuesday, January 10th - it's a 46 hour procedure, meaning I will go home with a pump.
• My second day of chemo is Thursday, January 12th.

I don't have my full schedule, but I believe that I will have two sessions of chemo every other week for six months. Unless my body can't handle the toxicity, in which case the plans will change.

***

The idea here is obviously to go after this thing as aggressively as my incoming health allows. I am sure over the next six months there will be times when I greatly regret the decision to take the harder and more uncertain route.

But hey, isn't rising to the challenge supposed to put hair on one's chest?

Paying Attention

In my own mind I am famous for jumping in on a subject by saying: "I read about that in The New Yorker...but I can't quite remember the details..."

Well, I read about this in The New Yorker, but I can't quite remember the details: the human mind has a neat trick of 'digitizing' common experiences. In the same way that an MP3 condenses a full song by removing all the bits you hardly notice, our brains tend to process less detail every time we experience things we've experienced before.

So as we age, and things that were once unique occurrences - starting our cars, doing the dishes, noticing plants sprouting - pile up, less and less ends up in our short and long-term memory.

The net effect is that time seems to move faster as we get older.

For myself in particular, I can recall how the two months between the arrival of the all-too-alluring Consumer's Distributing catalogue and Christmas morning seemed to take about eight months.

The point of all this? The past eleven weeks of my life have been so intense that it's seemed like a year.

So I've lived longer already!

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Back To Work I Go

...sort of.

Tomorrow was supposed to be my first day back at work since my operation. There were a lot of ups and a few downs between November 4th and January 3rd, but the currently "hot" down is the fact that I haven't been cleared by my medical team to return to work full time.

Which is frustrating, because as you can see from my previous post, I'm feeling pretty great.

But I may not be in less than a week. Details will follow, but the short version is this: the chemo I ultimately chose is both experimental and highly toxic - so my ability to work over the next six months is very much up in the air. I may react well enough to be of some use to Shaw Media, but I may not.

I think my coworkers know that I miss seeing them every day, but I also quite miss the creative atmosphere, the challenge of constant improvement, and even the frustrations that come with pitting those things against more mundane financial targets.

Basically, I'm not interested in becoming a full time iPad jockey. Although I am pretty damn good at Catan now.

But the rules dictate that I can't return to work until I have paperwork allowing me to do so. I also won't get paid full time until said paperwork is done.

So my triumphant return is looking more like a one day office tour.

But hey, feeling better than they say I am is not the worst problem in the world!