Category Archives: Cancer

World Cancer Day #16

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Today I found a card in my mailbox. It was from my prostate. It said, “Happy World Cancer Day!”…It would have been funny if it had a balloon….although I don’t want to think about how it would be blown up. “Thank you Prostate!” The handwriting was a little crude. How did he lick the stamp and envelope? Kinda weird huh?

“You’re Welcome prostate”, I chuckled. “To be clear” I continued, “I did it more for me than you. I have had you with me as far back as I can remember…before I knew you were there and what you were for.” We embraced with a quick “kegel hug”. Tender moments….so sweet.

Today is WCD and it is a day marked for a global initiative to raise awareness of the treatment, detection and prevention of cancer. The world rarely gets along and it’s good to see that this is one topic we can all agree on.

Well here we are discussing the old prostate. I bet his ears are burning. Wait.
Never mind…I will stay on course here. For the new folks you can start here
The last post is here on November 11, 2014.

Let me back up to December…December 2nd to be exact.
December 2, 2014: I head back to Brewer’s office to have my PSA tested for my three month check-up back in Knoxville later in the month. It was a beautiful day to check my PSA’s….sunny and a little windy and kinda warm. Did I mention the wind? It was so windy I was afraid my PSA’s might be elevated, which was a source of stress considering how hard I studied.
I arrived early and sat down for about forty-five seconds and I was quickly called to the back. The good news is today there will be no Tom Foolery. No crappy gown, no silly latex gloves and greasy jelly….just a man and his doctor catching up and drawing some blood where my PSA’s hide.
We talked about prostates, kids, golf, friends hugged it out (not really) and he sent me to the nurse who would round-up the the little boogers and count them for me or send them to the counter of the counter. My last count was a 7.7 in Knoxville. It had dropped from 9.2 right before treatment.
Believe it or not riding a bike can raise your PSA….I don’t ride bikes.

December 9, 2014: I receive a text from Doc Brewer…short and sweet, “Psa down to 2.77”. My body had been through quite a bit….for a body. Nothing awful or painful…just more than it would have otherwise…more than a sunburn and less than being beamed from an orbiting spaceship to an orange planet with blue skies and greenish surface dwellers….it took me awhile to shake the fatigue and the discomfort while I healed from the radiation. By December I was F-I-N-E fine. As quick as “it” was here, “it” was gone. I was no worse for the wear and actually felt better than I had in a year. I wasn’t really worried about the results.
But let me tell you….I was pretty freaking stoked. I was very deliberate about not riding bikes of any kind. I knew it was down. But I didn’t know for sure it was down. “2.77….suck it prostate cancer”.

December 12, 2014: I am in Knoxville for my three month check-up. It is a beautiful day in Knoxville. The test results were sent to Provision before I got there. They know what I know….I’m going to roll in there and shake some hands and give out some hugs….the confetti won’t be a big deal…not for my 2.77. I whip my whip in the parking spot facing the sun because that will keep my car a little bit warmer.

The door slides open and there are those two wonderful smiles of Kristin and Jenny. It was the first time I had been to Provision in twenty visits where I didn’t have to chug a bottle of water…..I sat there for a minute maybe. Obviously the confetti machine was broken and everyone was too embarrassed to even talk about it….I went along with it. I didn’t want them to feel any worse.

I did run into a couple from Birmingham who I had spoken to on the phone four or five times to answer questions about my experience…apparently words like, “voo-doo medicine” or “witchcraft” or “clown show” or “snake oil” or even “clown show”…..none of those words phased them, ’cause there they were. We know that’s not true…He was here for the same reason I was and I was excited they were able to make it happen.

Soooooo, me and my 2.77 strolled back in the back….I’m gonna hand out some “Howdy-do’s” and some “Whaddup’s” fill out a questionnaire, answer some questions about how I feel with the good Doctor and I’ll be back on the road in an hour….tops.

Well, I was back on the road in an hour alright. The very wonderful and funny Nurse Brittany will be my nurse which is cool. We catch up a little bit and have some laughs and I answer her questions and fill out the questionnaire. Did you ever notice the answers offered on a questionnaire are always…..always….not right for you? Am I the only one who wants to circle to answers and write the correct answer between them? Back to the event.
She gets to work
Pulse-good
blood pressure-good
temperature-check
Marcio strolls in with his awesomeness and asks a few more questions…He has clearly forgotten that I’m a clown and that I speak sarcasm…he has really let that sense of humor “go” since we used to hang out. He’s all serious again. I let it go. We celebrate my 2.77. I think his eye brows pointed up and the corners of his mouth headed north as to smile…..it was so brief I can’t be sure….he is a very sweet man and great at what he does….”stay golden Pony Boy”.

As I’m about to conclude our visit, Brittany heads for the door and Dr. Fagundes reaches for the dreaded box of blue “butt checking” gloves. I pause and I almost start asking, “Why?….but I…2…..”….I submit. My shoulders drop, I grin and say, “…what’s one more gonna hurt, right?” After three of these it’s like putting on a tie….I don’t even have to think about it.

The extra funny part was how thorough he was….”Moon River”. I don’t know, maybe it had been so long since I had a doctor’s knuckles on my tush that I forgot. I don’t care…it’s kinda funny. Hadley calls it the “prostate handshake”.

Anyway…..I got two thumbs up (And two fingers in)….but I am, at this stage on the road to being cancer free if I’m not cancer free now. It takes time to “know”. I will have my PSA drawn again before March 26th when I am scheduled for my second check up.

Life became “normal” again very quickly once the side effects subsided. Work, carpool, football, dance, football….life.

2014 was an incredible year. I wouldn’t change a thing. Yes! Cancer sucks! It has destroyed so much for so many and continues to torture many others.
Once you get that little chink in your armor…when you realize you are not invincible and “stuff” is stupid but some “stuff” isn’t….I drive a little slower and drag a few moments out just to taste them a little longer.

Am I still a jack-ass? Yes. I’m not riding around on my orange unicorn blowing kisses and farting bubbles….I still get mad, I can be moody…I will be a work in progress right up until the end.

Man, I am good. I’m gonna be just fine. I am in better health than I have been in ten years. No joke.

The prayers appear to have worked. God is good.

Tomorrow, World Cancer Day will be over but every day is cancer day. It doesn’t take a day off. Ignoring it doesn’t weaken it….action does.

If you’re worrying about the unknown, handle it. Tomorrow!

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Onward #15

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It has been over two months since I have posted anything here. I read my last post to remind myself where I left this thing. If this is all new to you and you want to get caught up, my first post is here.

Tuesday, September 9th 2014: My final treatment at Provision closes out a really great experience. I am graduate 113. My final day calls for the ceremonious “ringing of the bell” to celebrate my final treatment. During my twenty days of treatment I found myself impressed by the people who provided me with the most amazing care. I began to look forward to seeing my friends. Their kindness and bright smiles did not elude me. They had such an impact on me that I will never forget. I wanted the staff….all of them…those I met as well as those I never got to meet to understand how important they were to me and my experience.

Who doesn’t like a t-shirt?: I called Frank Nystrom at Threds and told him I needed sixty-five t-shirts in less than a week. I had to look at Provision’s most current group picture of the staff on the website and guesstimate sizes. I don’t know how close I got. Michael Bozeman and Bill Hansen helped me with the artwork and logos and colors. Three emails and seventy-two business hours later the shirts are ready. Frank got it done and delivered them to my car bumper on Monday night. They were perfect.

Why come?
Each patient that completes treatment is joined in the common area at the entrance by all staff members who are available. While this day is to celebrate my graduation…I wanted to turn it around and celebrate “them”. In the days leading to my graduation I imagined the message I wanted to share with the group of administrators and care givers. They got about half…I had a lot to say. I whittled it down to whatever they got.

On this day I am joined by Michelle, Parker and Mike Frazier, who has come by to support both Michelle and I. I mentioned in an earlier post about the patient who ran over to the bell and “dinged” it with his knuckle then ran out the front door to avoid the public speaking. Additionally, I mentioned the gentleman who delivered a speech for the ages….unscripted. So eloquent and sincere. My goal was to fall somewhere in the middle. Michelle recorded it. I am not sure what I said…but I believe I conveyed that my experience was not possible without each and every person and the culture that is fostered at the facility…oh and the incredible technology that Terry Douglass brought to East Tennessee as a resource for the community. As Terry Douglass says in this video….”This is not about me”. As much as it was…I wanted it to be about them. I wanted to flip it a little bit. While I am hesitant to share this portion of the story because of the “look what I did” factor, I don’t know of another way to spotlight the caregivers and entire staff of Provision and how special they are than to tell the story.

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“Graduation Day”

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“Keep Calm & Proton”

For me it was a very emotional time of my life. There were times when I’m laying there, a little more than vulnerable. I get flooded with emotion of the journey to that point, “How in the world did I get here?”. My eyes would fill with water just up to the tip of my eyelids….sometimes a smidge would drip down the side to my ear….some times. I still don’t know if it was sadness or sorrow or being one step closer to the end…the solution. I don’t know. (Note: I spoke with Joe Crockett after I posted this…we talked about being humbled by all of this…this thing…the people, the love, the impact….the ripples around us both coming and going…thanks for Joe Crockett). Now don’t think we also didn’t have fun. I would submit that we had fun every single day but maybe one…the treatment I flew back in after Alec’s wedding in Chicago. I was exhausted…and ready for a nap. From the airport to Zappacino machine. Whew!

I gave Chris my picture-taking device to capture the fun:

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“That Wonderful Balloon”

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“Put Your Left Hip In”

Friends still ask me how I’m doing. How I’m feeling…I say, “It’s really not a sad story…”. We all know what sad stories are..this isn’t one of them. Yes it was difficult at times…mostly on those around me. If I add up the pain of those around me and subtract my pain….the difference is negligible. I’m in it..I know I’m fine. I’m gonna be just fine. They worry and worry and think of the “what if’s” and run through the scenarios and end up right back where they were just to do it all over again….later when it’s quiet….rinse and repeat.

The reality: I played golf, I spent time with my family, parents, nephews, siblings, in laws, outlaws and my lifelong buddies…..most individuals can be characterized in more than one category. The most torture I endured was my golf game….it’s not any better either.
I ate some Petro’s, I ate at Pero’s, I ran into Davis O. at Stir Fry. I enjoyed a few Nixon’s deli sandwiches (due to convenience) and found myself at Sam & Andy’s knocking back a steamed deli and some rings….had lunch with my Young Life Leader, David Freels at Long’s and saw Scott Davis at Rooster’s. I got to meet Frank’s beautiful kids and do a lot the stuff a Knoxville guy does…I didn’t get to do everything I hoped to do but certainly not a bad deal.

Devin is enjoying her freshman year at Auburn. She loves Auburn. Dylan is rocking her sophomore year and lighting up the room with her smile. Parker loves 2nd grade and I must say….so did I.

A few days after I got home and Michelle and I are going to sleep….she reaches over and knocks the crap out of me….kidding. She grabbed my hand and said, “I’m so glad you’re home”….me too Miss Michelle….me too.

“Reunited”

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Fore! #14

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Four more to go. Today is Wednesday, September 3rd. I will complete my twentieth and final treatment on Tuesday, September 9th.

How I got here: I return to Provision on 8/11/2014, at 2:30pm for my 2:50 appointment. I find myself back in the examination room with Brittany and Shannon. We had some laughs about our last visit and I confessed my musings on my last post. Brittany pulled up this blog and saved it for later.

I checked out okay and was sent to see my new friends. The Radiators. Just a few steps away are those who as Zane said today, “…aim to please”. I am not sure what is going to happen. I know it involves another balloon….everyday…for twenty treatments. Twenty balloons generally leads to a party. I will hold out hope. I know that I have an “X” scribed on each hip in blue sharpie. My body art is sexy and slimming to my hips….luckily the sharpie will eventually fade away…or it might read, “EEEEEEEXXX” as I reach my golden years…perhaps a misshaped Roman numeral at best.

I have given a valiant effort to become friends with my nurses only to have them abandon me. I am essentially starting over. A whole new group professionally referred to as, Radiation Therapists. East Tennessee’s very own Katie Mac is tasked to retrieve me from the beautiful waiting area. I recall being led to “Autumn Room 1”. I am instructed to lose my shorts and boxers…I can keep my shirt on….(Yea!). They have better gowns here. By better I mean roomy and clean…like the gowns I wear at home. I don’t mind the back draft. It’s a liberating “dare-to-be-free” feeling. I think Katie asked about prior surgery or medical implants or piercings because of the impending x-ray…I am 100% sure I had something really funny to say and it involved my nipples….I spared Katie the humor. I am still wounded from the betrayal down the hall and I don’t know if I have my gumption back to climb that mountain….again.

For every patient that is treated for Prostate cancer, two “bets” are lost by The Radiators….I don’t know if they use a deck of cards or roshambo or draw straws…maybe seniority…..or last one to work….or just a good ol’ batting order….but a balloon is inserted to the subject’s rectum and…..wait for it….removed from his rectum…..every….single…day…of treatment or a “Zappacino”‘as I have renamed it. As you may recall the 16.9 ozs of bottled water and this modern marvel filled with 60ml of saline hold the victim’s prostate in place so the very precise proton beam can zap the cancer which is marked by the gold thingys injected prior.

I walk into the engine room of the USS Enterprise…Spock is nowhere and Scotty is at lunch…still. I am asked my birthday, I am directed to the table where I step up to lay down. I am encouraged to relax, I am encouraged to relax more…balloon in…nothing new here. Table rotates to the right, laser beams are lined up on my beautiful baby smooth hips, x-ray scans to direct the proton beam to the markers…..bell rings, the Radiators scatter to “the bridge”. A huge door spins shut behind them which makes me kinda wonder, “why are they hiding behind a super duper thick space door whilst I lie here in a gown…?”. They don’t have a prostate between them. They should be fine….The door spins open. They rush back into the room and move as if Len Goodman were there. Choreographed for efficiency and beauty….I guess..I’m staring at the ceiling. I can’t really see them. I am looking at the dials above the drop ceiling that has been opened up to mount the machines that have been designed to kill my cancer. I count the holes in the brackets…I wonder what that green wire does…I wonder if that’s dusty or dirty…they slowly rotate the table 180 degrees and repeat….

I know we are almost finished when they come back in and turn me back 90 degrees. The balloon is emptied of its contents then I the same. I sit up and quickly clean up while covering my fantastic backside. Understand, they don’t insert that balloon with a hammer…they use enough lubricant with that balloon insertion to fix every bike chain in Florida….and for that I say, “thanks”.

That entire process lasts twenty minutes…tops. I head back to Autumn Room 1 to dress and head out…I stop by the Nurses Station to say goodbye and here is what I see….Brittany has read and distributed the post #13. They are hovered around her cubicle and I can hear them giggling and snickering…ultimately sounds of approval. (See picture below)

Day 1 is in the books. There is no turning back. As I begin this chapter of this inconvenient gift I am hopeful. I will need to bring my “A” game tomorrow as I forge new friendships with the Radiators.

I would like to take second to recognize a couple of buddies who have been in this cancer thing longer than me and I would argue with more “serious” and aggressive forms of cancer than mine.

Brian Childress, Scott McConnell, Alex Reed have sent me encouraging messages, thoughtful prayers and incredible strength. Scott is finishing up a round of chemo in Nashville as I post this. He has already been through this twice and I have no reason not to believe the trifecta is in full effect. Brian Childress has told me to “smile hard”. Smile when you don’t feel like it…just smile. Alex reminded me that I’m not alone in “this” and to dig in. Susie Bailey Lonas, Janet Testerman, Katherine Marler, and too many other folks who I am not sure I should mention have beat it are beating it and will beat it. As I look around this group of six, no two have the same type of cancer.

Smile Hard!

I am posting this from my IPad and I’m not sure what this is going to look like. Fingers crossed.

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Other Than That, How Was the Play Mrs. Lincoln? #13

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Friday, July 25, 2014: I arrived in Knoxville for my appointment at Provision Center for Proton Therapy late Thursday night with Parker. I have a 10.30 appointment to have some scans done and insert some gold markers. My street value despite the cancer has never been higher. It is a beautiful morning. I feel like I should be driving to Neyland Stadium instead of to a medical facility. Blue skies and low humidity on a comfortable East Tennessee morning…it feels good to be home.

I am greeted by Kristin at the desk. Kristin graduated from Samford here in Birmingham and was a nanny for my new neighbors while she was finishing her undergrad. Small world huh? She recognized my address when we met on my first visit. Kinda cool. After we finished I sat down and waited for a couple of minutes before I was summoned to the back.

This facility is beautiful. Provision opened earlier this year in January. The reception/waiting area has huge windows with natural light covering the space. I joked with Frazier about how it feels like a television show. The whole cast is attractive. ER, Law & Order, Grey’s Anatomy…pick one.

I am back with my girl Brittany. I met Brittany on my last visit along with Dr. Fagundes. As I said before, My weapon of choice is humor. When I met them last time I was tossing in quips and “ha-ha’s”. Nothing major but just trying to gauge their “humor density”. They had their deflectors on. As they were doing their “thing”, I would lob one here and slide one in there….They wouldn’t budge. They would wait for my grin to fade and my eye brows to drop and plow right through their tasks. They were so serious…I guess they should be. They must have thought I was nuts…(save it)…It was almost like I was being “punked”. They were masterful at staying in character…It was comical how much they didn’t laugh. I thought to myself, “They’re good…real good”. They will not break me.

Back to “now”. Brittany takes me back. We draw blood to do a third PSA test. Needles don’t bother me, blood doesn’t bother me…no sense of humor bothers me. I set out to break them. But not before I am introduced to a new character. Shannon is just starting her freshman year at UT and she wants to be a nurse. She is maybe four years older than my oldest. (Edit: she is one year older than Devin) She iscute and bubbly and talks. I think her main job is to assist Brittany and distract the patients with conversation to calm them down. She was great. It was now that I thought I was on a television series set. The handsome Brazilian Doctor, the attractive but serious Clinical Nurse Brittany and the cute and smiling, up and comer, Shannon.

I “broke” Brittany pretty quick. She was leaving for vacation the next day and was in a good mood and was pretty easy to get a smile and a giggle. We move to a second room where Brittany and I are alone and chatting. I see her reach into the dreaded “box of blues”. These blues, like the soulful songs of sadness do not offer me personally a lot of hope. They are latex gloves. Nothing really good is about to happen when the door latches shut and the glove snaps around the wrist of a person in a white coat….nothing. My mind is racing. I think, “There is no way she is about to check my prostate….there would need to be another nurse or doctor in here because of the “gender conflict”. Then I joke to myself, “Dear Penthouse, I never thought I would be writing you….”, I asked her, “Is this about to get personal?”. She turns around and says, “Yes, drop your shorts and underwear and have a seat and lean back”. Luckily it’s about sixty-five degrees in there so I quickly oblige. As I situate myself she explains that she is going to apply a Lidocain lotion to my perineum to numb the area before they place the markers. “Thank you Lord”, I think to myself. I am so relieved that I announce to Brittany, “You know this takes our friendship to level 2 don’t you?”. We have a laugh. I explain to her that the odds of a girl rubbing lotion on my “taint” after I got married were not even on the board….another laugh. Brittany and I are good. After we blow out the candles and dump the last sips of wine she hands me a piece of saran wrap. As she leaves she explains that I am to place this clingy plastic on my taint so I don’t get my underwear and shorts greasy. It is a total FAIL. How can so many smart people come up with such a miserably bad idea or plan? I can’t get the stuff to stick to a round glass bowl. How in the world am I going to get this to stick to cotton or greasy skin? It was like walking around with a greasy piece of plastic in my pants. But I do it and head down to get my MRI.

Tom is waiting on me and he gets me comfortable on the table. Tom is a great guy. We are fast friends. He gets me set up in my gown made for an eleven year old girl and explains to me what’s about to happen. I knew this part was coming I just didn’t know when. Now I know when. Tom has the unpleasant task of inserting a balloon into my backside and pumping sixty milliliters of air into the balloon. This after I chug 16.9 fluid ounces of bottled water to fill my bladder. The full bladder and ass-balloon (Dear Penthouse, I never thought…it’s okay to laugh) push my prostate up so they can get a better picture for the MRI. I’m 6’4′ tall weighing in at a svelte 234 pounds. I am wearing a child’s gown laying in a big microwave oven with a balloon in my hind quarters and a bladder full of overpriced water. Certainly my day can only get better. I thank Tom for his gentleness and blow out the candles and dump out the last sip of wine. I’m going back up the hill to where I started. My head is spinning. I’ve had more action this morning than Lindsey Lohan on Saturday night in Amsterdam.

I’m back in the main facility and I have some time to text Frazier. We had some laughs on the exchange. If you see him, he will show you.

Here I sit. Thankful the worse is….wait, they still have to place the markers and I have a PET scan coming. By the way, I know how they place the markers…they place a balloon into my bung hole and  fill my bladder again…great!

I am summoned to another room…new gown…same situation…kinda. Now I am in the most prone position of the day. I am in stirrups, my swabbed taint is “supposedly numb”. At least I can’t feel the frigid air against my delicate skin. The same skin that has never had human eyes on it since I was born. For the second time today I have been instructed to hold up my scrotum. I have three of the main characters in the room with me now, Doc Fagundes, Brittany and Shannon. Doctor Fagundes is giving me play by play…Thanks Doc. Spare me the candles and wine and give me some rot-gut whiskey…STAT! So they rub Lidocain on “no man’s land” so it doesn’t “hurt” when they inject me with Lidocain. The injection of Lidocain is supposed to save me the pain of feeling him place seven or eight gold markers into my prostate. This idea was probably authored by the same person who came up with the whole “cling-wrap in the boxers” plan. FAIL #2…Although my #2 area was predisposed at the time.

After the Lidocain gets rolling I become a little light headed. I still have to break the good Doctor’s exterior facade. I’m going at him quick and heavy. I switch my wit-weapon to kill. After a couple of wise cracks I see his shell start to crack. I add, “If I’d known so many folks were gonna be in my bidness today I would have cleaned that up for ya’ll.” In his provocative Brazilian accent, he remarks something to the effect of positive attitude and good sense of humor and blah blah…. I said, “Oh you wait, you’ll have a freakin’ portrait of me above the fireplace by the time I’m finished here.” I think snot came out of his nose. He let out a snort that let me know we were all gonna get along just fine. I was victorious. Well, as victorious as you can be to have three people in the room with your knees above your head and an ultra sound probe in your butt. Maybe that was a push. I learned watching the World Cup this year that a tie can be a win. Since I’m playing Brazil today I get the “W”.

After all this physical, emotional and chemical trauma they have to take my blood pressure. They hook me up to the BP machine and make sure I’m okay. Brittany checked it twice. She checked it when I first arrived and she is checking it again…then again. All of this is being documented into her laptop. She leaves and comes back and brings in yet another attractive lady in a white coat, Lindsey. They check it again. Everyone is serious now. They ditch the machine and do it like Dr. Quinn. It’s better now. I’m still a little light headed and they are drilling me with questions. “How do you feel?”. I say, “As good as I can considering the circumstances…I’m a little light headed”. They leave. It’s Shannon and I. We talk about how she got to Knoxville from Minnesota….in comes another attractive lady. She introduces herself as Dr. Tamara Vern-Gross…I slur, “Tomorrow?” she nods and says, “like yesterday”..I think she just made fun of me but I am not sure.. She is “all serious” too…or is she? (I still don’t..it is spelled TAMARA but pronounced like any good southerner would say, “TOMORROW”). Now my pulse is racing because I have the cast from General Hospital standing in the doorway staring at me. Dr. Quinn’s method prevails. They go get a second BP machine and try it. Normal. Then they comment about how that’s the second one that has failed and it too needs to be re-calibrated. Then, we are all back to happy….That probably could have gone differently…Oh well.

Next up. Zach and Sheri for a PET scan. After this we are all done. I will spare you the suspense. A bottle of water and balloon filled with saline and twenty minutes in the scanner. Zach has a reputation of being the best balloon man in the business and he didn’t disappoint. My bladder is full and I need to,”…go make water…” like Hoke Colburn. We are way ahead of schedule. I’m on the home stretch. Three bottles of water, two balloons and one ultra sound probe will soon be behind me. The day can only get better.

I relieve myself, discard the gown and get dressed. I shake hands and hand out hugs and I am happy to be leaving. We decide that August, 11th will be my first day in Knoxville to begin treatment. I feel great. I have a gig at the Peninsula Club tonight with Frazier for their summer social. So many familiar faces and best friends are there.  I wasn’t originally supposed to play the gig. Mike booked a solo gig and I was supposed to be at the Camp SAM fundraiser. The week before I told Mike I couldn’t do it due to the event. We had a blast.

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Birthday with my peeps

Friday, August 8, 2014: Other than that how is it going? Pretty well. I’m not sick. I am physically very well. Me and my cancer are doing just fine. Sometimes I’m a little “pissy”. I have two houses five miles apart. The treatment date changing to August, 11th instead of August 4th allows me to move Devin down to Auburn this weekend. I turned 47 August 6th and played golf (or something resembling golf) with my business partner for my birthday. I watched the “Bagger Shootout” after that train wreck. My golf group, The Sand Baggers’ have an annual golf event that eliminates two players for 18 holes until there is a winner. It is fun to watch those guys grind it out. I went upstairs and had dinner with my family. I received phone calls and text messages and emails and FB messages and posts until this morning with a couple still trickling in. Thanks to you.

Parker has been running around the neighborhood with Parks, Josh, Jill, Tyler, Anderson and Harrison all week. This is why I moved. Nerf battles, spending the night with friends, Kids running through the house and yard screaming…it was the sweetest sound.

Dylan changed dance studios. It was a hard decision but one I think she is looking forward to. A new challenge with some of her good friends.

Devin has been preparing for her move to “The Plains”. A whole new life awaits her. I’m sad and excited all at once.

Michelle is holding all of this together. All of it! She has the worst job around for the time being. There is no auto pilot for the Surber’s right now. Nothing can be “mailed in”. No days to be taken off right now. Parker and Dylan start school the day I start therapy in Knoxville. Devin goes to college right now and my sweet “Miss Michelle” is holding it together right now.

Tuesday, my buddy Taylor asked Michelle how she was doing. Michelle said, ” I don’t know? My husband has cancer and is leaving, My daughter starts college this weekend, Dylan and Parker start school Monday, I have two houses and I need to get one of them on the market…..I don’t know. How am I doing?

Michelle, You’re doing great! I love you Miss Michelle!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three Months in one Post #12

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Today is July 18th…Below is what  I wrote a week ago. The messages I have received have been encouraging and sweet. The emails, text messages and phone calls have hit their mark. Some have touched my heart others have made me laugh none have been ignored. I didn’t return a lot of calls. I don’t think I returned any. I didn’t really want to talk about it again, again, again…which flies in the face of my mission. I need to fix that part of my plan…”Operation Talk About It Now” or OTAIN.

here we go:

Today is July 11th, 2014. Three months ago I was diagnosed with cancer. What seemed to be a pretty “cut and dry” situation has turned out to be far from it. The more information I gathered the more complicated it became. There is no “cancer concierge”. There isn’t someone who says, “Based on your situation here is what we recommend as the very best solution”.  There is no blame to place. There are no two patients exactly alike. Trying to collect information on a healthy forty-six year old prostate cancer patient is virtually impossible.

I have been surrounded by doctors who say, “…here is what I can do, I am very good at what I do and I am confident that based on my skills I can help you”. All of my guys have also said that I should do what I feel is best for me. Whether I stay here or go there. They share information and I do believe, scratch that…I know they were and are honest and sincere in every way and word. 

I have dealt with an academic institution that provided a great experience and clear communication. UAB scheduled and performed an MRI that provided information that I did not get from the private group. The private group where Eric is, collected all the information they needed to make a diagnosis. Eric Brewer is my guy. He made this crappy thing okay. He was the right guy for David Surber. Both medical facilities offered good experiences.…just different. Both offer the same solution…remove the prostate and cancer, save the nerve, go from there. If there is any cancer remaining then move to radiation. All the numbers collected through the PSA and the biopsy indicate that it is early and almost certainly contained…the MRI indicates otherwise.

Sunday, April 13, 2014: Michelle and I came back from looking at a house or “the house” as it became known, and we are discussing the best course of action to tell the kids. I vote individually and she votes as a family. My cancer trumps her vote. All the kids are home and Devin is in the living room. Michelle heads through the kitchen to check on Dylan and Parker. I don’t remember the details of who was where and standing or sitting. Here is a summary of what I said, “Devin, I am going to live a long time. I am going to be fine. We are all going to be fine…I have prostate cancer everything is going to be okay. I am going to have surgery so they can get the cancer out of me. We got it early. I will be on the couch for a few weeks and then we’ll get back to normal…”. Devin looks at me…calm..cool. “Do you have any questions?”, I ask. She shakes her head. I let her know I have to tell the others and ask her to get Dylan for me. I’m thinking, “That was easy…this is gonna be a breeze…I am a master communicator”…..right.

She walks out of one side of the room and Michelle comes in the other side. “I just told Devin.” I said. Michelle asks, “What’d she say?” I told Michelle that Devin was calm and stoic and would probably be processing it for a little bit…just like I would. No surprise there. She is my daughter..She’s my mini me…but pretty.

In comes Dylan. “Hey Dylbuggy, I have some news to share with you.” Michelle is with me this time. I tell her I have “man-cancer” and that I’m going to be fine. We got it early…don’t worry and I’m gonna be fine…all the stuff Dylan needs to hear. I reassure Dylan more than Devin that I’m okay and this will not kill me. Dylan needed to hear this differently than Devin. They’re wired differently. I kept my body language open to her and eyebrows “up”. Michelle added some more details. She explained the doctor visits and tests. I asked her if she was okay and she nodded with her big beautiful smile. She stood up and leaned down and gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. As she walks around the corner to go upstairs Michelle and I look at each other with a “I think that went well kinda sorta” look on our face.

Next is Parker. Parker heard me say, “man-cancer” and darted off to his room. “Doot”,  Michelle’s Grandfather died from cancer a few years ago and the word “cancer” was not new to our family. Parker Finley Wells Surber was named after his Great Grandfather Wells. Parker was born shortly before Doot passed away. The girls knew Doot and how special he was to Michelle. Michelle brings Parker back into the room. He was in his room with the door shut and he was obviously a little scared by what he heard. His conversation was obviously very different from the girls. We had to simplify it and minimize it. I asked him if he heard me say, “man-cancer” and he shook his head. I said, “It’s okay if you heard it Parker…did you hear me say it?”. He nodded that he did hear me. After we reassured him that I was going to be okay and I would be home for a couple of weeks he gave me the sweetest hug a stinky little sweaty eight year kid could give. His hug was a little longer and a little tighter than usual. He likes hugging Michelle…me, not so much. I have to make him hug me and steal a kiss from him….not today. The next few weeks Parker hugged me a little more and snuggled me a little bit more. He’s such a sweet kid.

Michelle and I talked for a bit and she set off to check on the girls. Devin was fine..probably still processing. Dylan wasn’t doing so well. After we told her she walked out smiling and fine…or so it seemed. She was in her room crying. Michelle consoled her. I let Michelle handle that. 

It was a difficult few hours and now cancer was officially a member of the family. Michelle was brave. Knowing her kids were hurting was hurting her. This isn’t my cancer. This is our cancer. She has it too. I have to keep reminding myself of that. Just because we’re not talking about it doesn’t mean it’s not around or in one of our heads at all times. This changes “things”. Not good, not bad…just different. 

The beginning of May offers me my annual sojourn to Destin, Florida. The “Destin Open” takes place every spring near the sugar white beaches and clear blue waters of Florida’s panhandle. Approximately forty guys who either went to a Farragut High School, The University of Tennessee or both. Sprinkle in some greek affiliations, do the math of twenty to thirty years of friendships wrap that around three or four golf courses and a few more rounds of golf and you have “The 18th Annual Destin Open”. This year was my third year to attend and first year to play a round. My friend Andy Watts needed to get back to Los Angeles to attend a “Daddy-Daughter Dance”. I stepped in his spot so he could get back home. I believe my score after nine holes was closer to his score after eighteen. I don’t play for the numbers. In fact I spend less money per swing than most. That’s value right there. It was five days with guys I have known longer than anyone and some new bonds were forged as well. It is quite an impressive group of men and their friendships are relationships and it is clear to see if you take a moment to watch them interact. They bounce back and forth from conversation to conversation. They laugh loud and talk smack. They have turned a public chiding into a poetic art form. It’s beautiful. To these men I say, “Thanks for letting me in your fold once a year”. This year had much more meaning. As I mentioned, there were some guys on this trip that I have known as far back as five years old. This again was a time to tell some special life long friends of my news. First up…Fred Baker. The original “best friend”. I met Freddy when I moved to Village Green subdivision in 1973. We did everything together and he is still a great friend today. Next was the Watts boys, John and Andy. Frazier is with me the whole time and because he was with me through out this journey he aided me in the timeline. Finally the Village Green guys and of course…whoever walked into the conversation. Nothing like banging people over the head with crappy news. I imagine the libations helped my cause.

Quick summary to get current:

1. Easter Sunday, a great day to celebrate…We decided to make an offer on a new house as well. There’s really nothing else going on…why not?

2. Baseball, Parker’s team ended up second for the playoffs. A first round bye and a second round loss ended the season. The tie-breaker put us in second place. The A’s were holding down fourth place all season.

3. Devin Asher Elizabeth Surber graduates from high school. Next up, Auburn University.

4. Schedule and receive a second opinion with UAB. We review the MRI and learn the cancer is “on top”. The MRI indicates that once my prostate is removed that we will learn that my Gleason score is actually higher. The biopsy takes samples from the bottom…pun intended.

 

4. Camp SAM: I head down to Children’s Harbor in Alexander City for the Camp Smile- A-Mile board meeting and to spend the evening with the campers. Camp SAM offers a week of camp at no expense to these children who are battling cancer. Doctors and nurses as well as many others donate their time to care for these kids so they can go to camp. It is a time where they are normal together. It puts things in perspective for me. Inspiring and heartbreaking all at the same time.

5. contract accepted and house finished and purchased and moved in…. kinda

6. July 4th 

The decision to not be consumed by “googling” my health issue makes sense at first. There is a lot of dated information and misinformation on every topic imaginable…particularly health. It is important to understand that once I posted this blog to Facebook that a lot of new information came to me. Doors that I had closed, opened up again. I had conversations with friends who had battled and are battling cancer…..aggressive, nasty, life changing, life threatening cancer. Cancer sucks. No doubt about it. Nobody wants it, but I can name several folks who would trade theirs for mine. While cancer infects a person it affects many many more. 

Cancer sucks.  I was a little happier being naive. I was okay with thinking that when we remove my prostate I can get back to life. I’m not consumed by my cancer. I don’t dwell on it. But when I’m alone….driving…walking…thinking..I think. Damn! I have cancer.  Me and cancer are rolling down the road. Cancer and I are having coffee. “Hey cancer…pass the salt”…Me and cancer are having lunch. I know now that we did get it early. But I could have “gotten it” earlier. But I didn’t. I put it off. Because of the doors that opened late in the game I don’t know…right now…if it would have or could have a better outcome. I will know in a couple of weeks. I will be in Knoxville for a few more tests and I will have a clearer picture. On August 4th I will be back in Knoxville for a month. I will be going home to get this fixed. I will keep my prostate. Every option is a gamble. Let’s hope I get this one right. 

If you are joining the party late you can start here. Beneath each post, which I numbered is a link to the next post. Additionally, there is a “follow” link on the top left of the web page. 

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

“We got it early, it’s stage one, prognosis is good, I will not die” #11

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Hello Cancer! Despite the news the world keeps turning. Today is Parker’s birthday, Dylan has a dance recital and Devin has prom. Michelle has questions and I give her what I have…which is very little.

“We got it early, it’s stage one, prognosis is good, I will not die”. That’s my answer. First, I thought I was being quiet. I was thinking how I was going to break the news to Michelle. Its the magic of humans. I had a buddy who had a theory in high school. He would say something like, “Don’t you think she’s a babe?” in his normal voice when the subject was close enough to hear. “shooosh! she’ll hear you” I would reply. “No she won’t, people hear whispers”. To prove his point he would elevate his voice and repeat with even more “compliments” describing her “babedom”. I would wait for the fallout. Nothing. He proved this theory over and over. Jay Wright’s theory holds true today. Michelle was tuned in to my conversation and knew the news wasn’t what we wanted to hear.

There I sit on the edge of the tub, around the corner with the shower running…carefully listening, speaking in a soft voice trying to retain the information. My head in my hands, we end the call with instructions that I will receive a packet in the mail with information about treatment options on Monday. I also make an appointment to meet him at Trinity Hospital Monday for a consult.

Michelle bounces out of bed and walks in and says, “What did he say?”. “I have cancer” Michelle snaps back, “and?”. “We got it early, it’s stage one, prognosis is good, I will not die”

She was prepared for it as was I. I was actually just glad to have the waiting behind us. Jason Love calls me and I tell him the news and he tells me that the number one thing we have to do is get me fixed…nothing else matters. Of all the people I know, I would choose Jason Love to shrink down, jump in my body and kick cancer’s ass. I will add that Jason wouldn’t let me choose anyone else. He would be the first volunteer and would fight the guy who tried to go first. He is fiercely loyal and and incredibly stubborn. I pick him.

Now there are four people who know. We have to tell the kids. We have stuff to do. I decide that waiting on mail is not what I’m going to do and arrange to pick the packet up at Eric’s office.

After lunch I pick up the packet and grab Parker and Jill…you know that part. I spend the rest of the day having fun. Even though I know that this won’t kill me, things are different now.

Saturday April 13th, 2014:  Today is a normal Saturday. My beloved 8 year old A’s have a game against the Angels at 1:45. We came in second place. We played tough but the game was fun. It is amazing how worked up we all get cheering on these little guys. It was a beautiful day…I felt different. Parker and I head home. We have to get ready for Devin’s prom. Michelle had dance recital duty and that went well. Dylan is a great dancer and a better daughter. She’s a “gamer”. She has an extra gear when the costume is on and the lights are shining. We head down to Samford University and take pictures which is actually kind of fun. I am chasing Michelle around, who is chasing Devin around taking pictures of Devin and her friends. I have watched this group of kids grow up from K-12. The boys are handsome and the girls are stunning. This all seems to mean a little more today. Image

 

Devin, some clown, and J.T.

After dinner I head down to the Spurlock’s. They are planning a recon mission to crash a wedding to scout out the band for their daughter’s wedding. Because of my obvious skill set I am recruited into the mission at the last minute. We walk into this formal wedding with confidence. Wisely, we have dressed down so as not to attract any attention to ourselves. We move from corner to corner…The band hasn’t started. We have no sound to guide us to our cause. We survey the landscape and spot the doorway to a big tent. Ah hah!

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The band is about to start. We need proof for the bride. I step up and ask them to pose for a picture. The oblige. We listen to them play a few songs as we plot our course to escape. They sounded great! Thumbs up. Its a go….we’re off to Fleming’s to meet Michelle With no loss of life to the delegation we will celebrate our successful assignment. The bride will undoubtably be pleased with our report.

During this great night I wrestle with the whole, “should I tell ’em now?” thing. I elect to save it. Essentially this is the first setting I have to start letting those closest to Michelle and I know what’s up. I am completely aware that ever time I tell someone close to me I am essentially hitting them over the head with bad news. Its a punch in the mouth and I need to have a plan for Monday.

Monday-Wednesday April 15-17, 2014: Today I tell Justin the bad news and he has been beside me every step of the way. He, as much as Michelle knows everything that is going on as it is happening. I say this,”We got it early, it’s stage one, prognosis is good, I will not die”.

We talk a lot today. Justin has questions and he asks them. This is great because I need to have answers and he fires away as I do my best to answer. This day is preparing me for the “new normal” for the next few weeks as word gets out. I flip the page on one of my many pads on my desk. Justin laughs because I am constantly “running” three pads. A small side spiral. a small flip spiral and a yellow legal pad. The yellow legal pad will be called into duty as I make my list of people to call and “bang over the head” with my news.

I work inside out. From my closest friends to my best friends to my really good friends to my dear friends. This is a great plan if everyone answers on the first call. Its close enough for “guvm’t work”. It will have to do. It is a draining process. I leave one voice mail because I now I will get that call back pretty quick. Dane doesn’t disappoint. He offers me every resource available. No surprise. I have known him for twenty-eight years and offers love and prayers and support.

I make it halfway down the list before I grow tired of unloading this burden to my friends. I elect to send an email to the rest.

Here it is:

On Apr 17, 2014 3:18 PM, “David Surber” <David.Surber@cellularsales.com> wrote:

Greetings from Dixie!

I have some news to share with you that I had planned on calling you to discuss but quite frankly I am tired of talking about.

 

I have joined an exclusive club that will inevitably gain me entry into a much better club.  Cancer Survivor…”Eye of the Tiger” Baby

 

I have been diagnosed with Stage 1 Prostate cancer. I will not die from it.

 

If you were forced to pick a cancer this is the one you want. We caught it early and I will live a long prostate free life.

It will not kill me… I have a 92% survival rate.

If you had to pick a city and a group of doctors in the universe to handle this…Birmingham is top 3 in the universe.

 

I’m in great hands. I will have surgery June 11th. It will require one night in a hospital. I will be back on my feet two weeks after that.

I will set records for recovery.

No chemo or radiation is required at this point nor is it anticipated.

 

This journey began in January with a simple physical exam at my GP. He checked my blood for Prostate-Specific Antigen or PSA count which was high. Checked it again at my urologist, Dr. Jellyfingers and it was higher.

April 4th I had the really awesome experience of participating in a prostate biopsy…..Look it up…Kinda sucked.

 

2 or the 12 tissue samples showed microscopic cancer (RC that means little itty bitty)

 

I got it early. We caught it early. Kill the Cancer…Save the Boner!

 

I have suggested a prostate going away party…It could be fun!

 

I am well. I will live…Life is good.

 

I share this with you not as a burden..I have dubbed this adventure “an inconvenient gift” .

 

I will document and share this journey and encourage all of my friends to stop being a wuss and go get your annual physical….make sure you ask about your PSA and if nothing else in my non-professional logical opinion is to get a bench mark…

The rectal exam is fine if provided a delicious pinot. But it’s a waste of time if they aren’t testing your PSA levels in your blood.

 

My prostate was normal.

 

So get on it boys!

 

Sorry for the heavy news..I wanted you to “hear it” from me before it hits the network.

 

Please receive this as good news and know I am in good hands.

 

Surber

 

Obviously some things have changed since I penned this email. I didn’t have surgery on June 11th.

So now the journey continues as I begin to gather information. Share my news and continue as though nothing is wrong.

I close with this note:

I spent many nights up to the diagnosis trying to figure out what to pray. How do you pray for a miracle? First you ask for it. “Lord heal me entirely. kill this cancer inside of me and let me be your witness….okay okay I know I’m being a little greedy Lord….there are many more deserving people in need of a miracle….I’m guessing you have picked me….that’s fine. I accept your mission…I pray that when your will is revealed that I am smart enough to see it. I accept it is not a curse but a gift….an inconvenient gift”. That prayer sums up my usual nightly prayer. This blog provides an outlet and hopefully does something for somebody.

I will share how we broke the news to the kids next.

please follow the blog and you will be receive an email notification on my updates. I am not going to edit this now I will later. I fired my editir for not showing up for the first day or wrok. (see what  Idid there?).

 

Happy Birthday Parker #10

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Friday, April 11, 2014: Mr. Handsome a.k.a. Parker turns eight today. If we had to file his birthday with the “Birthday Police” we would be locked-up. It was pitiful and the outcome of this day impacts our lives in two different ways.

First, Saturday is Devin’s senior prom and Dylan has a dance recital. The effort that goes into both of these events is pretty massive and Michelle orchestrates this symphony alone. Dresses, costumes, dinners, snacks, transportation, logistics, makeup, manicures, pedicures, hairdo’s, hairdo-not’s, It takes weeks for this to all either fall into place or be hammered into the place where “it” must go. It is brutal. Let’s add the emotion of two teenagers and the mother who is in charge…Mom. The flight of a butterfly is a pretty accurate description of this week as well as many other days prior to this week.

Parker and I just sit back and stay out of the way. Occasionally I am called in to referee or make a ruling….I am very well respected around this household. I try not to be logical and make a ruling I believe to be best…I always, always, always want to support their Mother. Don’t misunderstand what I am saying here. I’m not saying Michelle isn’t logical…quite the opposite. If I was in charge of the girls during these episodes I would blindly nod yes to everything. No sir..If Michelle asks me a “yes” or no” question. I don’t need to know the question. I need to know the answer.

I have a 50% chance of getting it right so I must look for clues before I arrive at the bench for the epic battle of “Mom -vs- Daughter”. As Judge David, I pretend to listen intently but instead I am reading body language, listening for buzz words and voice inflection. “Mom said I have to…” & “I’m your Mother…”, are very common starts to a powerful opening statement.

Not long ago I decided to block out the actual argument because I kept getting the wrong answer…I’m a man. As Michelle has raised me for the last twenty years I am learning to learn. So, my approach is to look at both, sometimes all three of the participants. Figure out who is who. Look attentive, engaged and nod. The only thing I really have to do is watch the time so it doesn’t get out of control. Imagine if you will; words flying, fingers pointing, arms crossing, eyes piercing, eyebrows rising, and voices voicing. Suddenly it stops. This is my cue to make my ruling. I look at Michelle. I look at Daughter. I look at Michelle….Now remember, the odds are fifty-fifty here….for the common man. I proclaim, “Mom’s right! just do what she says”. I walk away and its over. When Mom wins, I win. I like winning and people like winners.

As I explained to Parker, “The main thing is, don’t get excited, remain calm”. Bill Palmer said that years ago and it stuck. While I wasn’t getting excited, I should have planned something for my son. I failed there. I failed to execute. I had some ideas but never pulled the trigger. All I have is a handful of excuses. Michelle made a last ditch effort to make Parker’s birthday a bit more than an ordinary day and arranges for Parker’s buddy Jill to come home after school. Michelle is good like that. She was not so busy that his birthday wasn’t on her mind, she just needed me to step up. Fail. So, I pick them up after school and we go to Yogurt Mountain and have some sweet treats. When I’m with a couple of first graders I am truly with my peer group. We have as much fun as we can have being silly. Luckily it’s a beautiful day and a Friday to boot.

Our neighborhood was full of kids in its day. That day has passed. Parker’s best friends in the neighborhood are Mr. Charlie and Miss Lisa next door. They are so sweet to Parker and he really enjoys visiting them….hopefully no more than they enjoy his visits. I hope they don’t call him Dennis.

It is this day that I realize we can’t stay back here in this beautiful quiet neighborhood. I couldn’t even call an “emergency” birthday party. Twelve months ago, this was our “forever home”. Michelle has been telling me about a house 2.0 “crow miles” and 4.7 “car miles” away from our home. I’m gonna go check it out. With the sun in our hair and sugar in our veins I suggest a quick ride to this property Michelle keeps casually mentioning….every day. The neighborhood isn’t any bigger than our neighborhood, but it has something that our current hood is missing…basketball goals. Not the rusty, “net-free” ones that litter the driveways in my current burb. Shiny, modern, new, black basketball goals. Driving in the car, I have Parker count on the right and Jill count on the left. We start on one end of this street and move to the other. As we crawl up the street and around the corner and down the hill they count, “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9….”. “Wait! this one has two”, yells Jill. “Eleven!” I reply. One last house on our jaunt without a goal but clear evidence that kids live there, probably little girls. I say, “Okay, sooooo the final tally is eleven basketball goals at ten houses…right? “Yah!” they exclaim…Okay let’s go home. Motivated by guilt I am now officially open to moving.

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Let me back up to Thursday. Sometimes it is more stressful to “go on as if” than it is to “go on as is”. I ran into Eric at lunch and he apologized that he still didn’t have the results. He really was sorry. As I am prone to do…I apologize too. I’m trying to pretend it’s no big deal and it really doesn’t matter because it will all be over in a few days once we rule out cancer…No biggie. Although we were still with in he 7-10 day period he promised, I was really hoping to have the results by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. The good news is I knew not to expect any more news the rest for the day. There’s always tomorrow. I found my way to Blackwell’s to blow off a little steam by way of a couple of pints of beer. Delicious IPA was on my mind so I enjoyed a couple of beers and hung out with a few buddies. I head back to the house and enjoy a couple of more beers with Michelle who has decided to join me with a glass of wine. The suds loosened me up a little bit and I had a little bit of a come-apart. Michelle will say I had a pretty big come-apart….”drama queen”.

We were both trying to make the week as normal as usual and we did a good job because I questioned Michelle’s understanding of what’s at stake. She confesses to her “googlings” and that she has been reading about this on the “inter web”. She has been quietly worrying the whole time. Googling the topic is something that I deliberately didn’t do. I don’t want to get caught up in the misinformation super highway. I did have one “Google breakdown” the night before the biopsy and because the information I read was so old I dismissed it. I read about a guy who had a prostatectomy ten years ago. His writings actually inspired me to start this blog. It was very direct and I liked his brash style…it was “guy speak” for sure. I take my brave face off and set it down next to the rest of my armor. We talk about it and the possibilities. I’m David Surber. Everything always works out.

Back to Friday: Michelle got Parker to school and came home and retired to the bed. I was about to hop in the shower and my phone rang. With the water running I quietly took the call. Eric is on the phone and he gets right to it. Basically he says he got the results, I have cancer on both lobes (I check my ears), we got it very early, everything is going to be fine. I responded with something to the effect that I’m not surprised and everything pointed to this and I appreciate him calling and I acknowledge that I know this is not a call he wanted to make. He apologizes for the “crap news” (which does sound better than “bad news”) and he says his office will mail me some material and we can schedule a consultation the next week.

I’m David Surber. Everything always works out. I’m David Surber.

What’s A Couple of Days? #9

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What’s a couple of days? Really…We have spent our whole lives chasing “a coupe of days away”. Hump Day is founded on “a couple of days away”…Christmas Eve Eve…is “a couple of days away”. Is “a couple of days” really two days? Sometimes its three days away or even four…After “a couple of days” comes, “about a week away. Who knows? I guess it all depends on the occasion and your outlook.

Monday arrives and I am out of fuel and out of whatever it is that has gotten me through the last three days. I don’t remember how long  I slept but it was at least twelve hours. I’ve run out of optimism. I don’t remember being depressed or in the dumps. I’m just a little off of my game. Tuesday I have a pretty busy day including a Chamber lunch for the Vestavia Hills Chamber of Commerce. I am an Ambassador for the Chamber and today I am charged with the task of helping the attendees find their name tags. It sounds easy…I guess it is pretty easy except for the backwards upside down alphabetical order they are stored. It is a puzzle of sorts….and today my idiot gene is showing itself. The luncheon was a pretty good distraction. I was sitting in my office not thinking about “it”. I had to put my smile on and engage the folks who were in front of me. If only for three hours, the event helped me get my head back on straight and shake “it” off. That’s just what I did. I’m almost half through, “a couple of days” and I should get the results back tomorrow….or Thursday at the latest….hopefully. I head back to the office, I have a good day and manage to be productive.

Tuesday winds down and leads to Wednesday. Parker’s baseball coach set up an event for the baseball team to go on the field with the defending Southern League Champs, The Birmingham Barons.courtesy: Ken Gables

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What a night! It was the prettiest day of the year. The little boys are out there with the big boys. It was kinda cool for a couple of reasons. The minor league guys aren’t living the dream…they’re in pursuit of their dreams. My understanding of minor league baseball is that these guys are living on pennies. They don’t have fame or live the lifestyle of the guys in, “The Show”. Most of these guys were “famous” in their hometown high school or maybe college. Their “new normal” is part of the price they must pay to chase their MLB dream. Long gone are the accolades and press clippings. But this night, they are heroes to little boys. They are signing autographs and being looked up to by young ball players. This night they are baseball heroes.

I don’t know who smiled more, the parents or the kids. I was a little restless and dumber than usual. I like to be in the middle of it. I love people and I love learning about people….not today. Today, I sat back I kept my distance and tried to take it all in. The kids are running around the outfield. The parents are divided up and in a steady rotation between people and topics. The bats are cracking. One ball was fouled over in our direction. The outfielder snagged it and tossed it up to the kids. They were thrilled. It was a slice of Americana served up with a side of sweet tea.

I bet Parker he would fall asleep before we reached our fifteen minute destination. He won the bet. He was exhausted but was not going to lose to me. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to sit and do nothing at home in my office without interruption. Life’s about choices…I would never get that day “right” without choosing Parker and baseball over me and…well, me.

I get one right on occasion. Let’s hope Eric calls me tomorrow with the good news.

All Messed Up & No Place to Go #8

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April 3, 2014 6:44pm: I woke up sometime around this time based on my text to Mike. “Just woke up. I feel pretty good. Still a little groggy from the Xanax.”. This is slightly amusing because I wasn’t under the influence of Xanax. I was under the influence of Valium. This is also a spotty time of my story. I was high on valium and still exhausted. I went back to sleep. Mike’s response indicated he had just turned onto I-59. I knew I had some time to rest.  I laid my head back down and came in and out of consciousness for a while longer…I think. I got up just before Mike arrived. I knew I needed to take another antibiotic. Mike walks in the back door like he has so many times before. He is quiet like a mouse…but I’m awake-ish and I “light-up” as much as I can so as to present myself in the best light possible. I spring into action to grab my meds from the kitchen. Mike asked me if he could get me anything and I remember looking around for the medicine as I declared myself to be “fine” as I shuffle through the kitchen cabinets.

It’s around 9 o’clock. Michelle and Mike and the kids catch up about this and that. I don’t really remember how the rest of the night went. I think we went to bed around midnight. Again, I slipped away into a very deep sleep. Tomorrow we leave for Pensacola.

Morning April 4, 2014: We get up kinda early and I make my rounds around the house and my car to grab the things I need for the trip. Since my bags are packed for one night with little to nothing I collect “stuff”. The last few items are in my car. Including my sunglasses, my “tub-o-gum, my penicillin…My what? At that moment I remember specifically getting up to take my meds….I never took them. I yell to Mike, “…I never took my antibiotic last night!”. He exclaims, ” I know, I was trying to tell you that…”. I was clearly “out of it”. I roll my eyes, pop a pill and jump in the car.

 Here we go. We drive about four and a half hours down to Pensacola to the Naval Air Station, Whiting Field and play at a “Change of Command” party for some very dear family friends of Mike’s family. They are like cousins to the Frazier Family. Great folks. I have had the pleasure to be included in some landmark events with the Brown family.  Mike and I played at Hank’s graduation from Annapolis and again at Annapolis for his retirement in 2013. Hank is the brother-in-law of the guest of honor. This gig is important because of the who, not the why.

We arrive a little early and set up the public address system or the PA. The ΦA is the sound system including speakers microphones, cables and all the electronics that make it sound as good as we try to make it sound. This requires a bit of heavy lifting which I have been instructed not to partake in…doctor’s orders. Mike wouldn’t let me lift anything…It was great. I had finally achieved “rockstar” status. I have  “ROADIE”. We set up pretty fast and take off to Margaritaville to catch up with my old friend Doug Ayers.  We enjoy a fresh grouper sandwich and a celebratory beach beer. The weather is a little cruddy, but at least it isn’t raining and at least it’s not hot. The gig goes great. Other than having to go to the bathroom every forty-five minutes we had a great response from the intimate crowd and play pretty well all things considered. The handful of Advil has minimized my discomfort and we had a ball. This night did not disappoint. To make things a little bit better, the guests help us carry to entire PA down to the first floor and load it back into Mike’s car. We followed the party out for a nightcap.

Morning April 5, 2014: We wake up hang with the Brown’s for a little bit and hit the road. We are in Pensacola for less than 24 hours. This will be our first back to back gigs in probably twenty years. Can our voices make it through two gigs in a row? This uncertainty adds a little to the strain of my weekend. My fingers are sore. I haven’t played in weeks. Tonight’s show is at a local restaurant in Cahaba Heights called Blackwell’s. Before the gig and after we set up we have a baseball game to attend.

The closer we get to Birmingham the worse I feel. I start to worry about infection..after all I missed a dose of medicine. I guess maybe the stress is taking its toll on me. I feel awful. We have to change strings on the guitars and set up the equipment and go to Parker’s game. I just want to lay down and I have no time. I’m anxious. I can’t sit still. But I need to…but I can’t. We quickly tune up our newly strung acoustic axes and make our way to the bar. We unload and Mike mostly sets it up while I sit and try to figure out how I can get out of this.

6;45-ish: We have spent all day driving and talking and for me, feeling kind crappy. I am wondering, “how I can pull this off?”. “Can I make it through the gig?”. I have over scheduled and I am feeling defeated. I know I need to suck it up and get over it and decide to have fun. “Suck it up Surber!”. I decide going to Parker’s game and enjoying some fresh air will take my mind off of this quandary. The ball field is only five minutes from the gig and the night air is damp and a little chilly. It is perfect. It worked. Although Parker’s team lost they played pretty well and I realize as I leave the field that I am okay. We played and we killed it! The show was even better to me because there were a few times in the day when I was trying to figure out how best to cancel it. I felt great.

It was a great weekend to have a biopsy scheduled. I didn’t have time to think about what was going on in regard to my little situation. It was a whirlwind in slow motion in the  middle of a blackout. Still, No one really knows what’s going on with me. Sunday will be my day of rest and real recovery. I can get some sleep and I don’t have anything to do. Sunday comes and goes.

I made it. I wouldn’t change a thing. The results from my biopsy will be available Wednesday. That’s only three days to get the good news…right?

 

 

Biopsy Day: Let’s Get This Party Started #7

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Thursday, April 3, 2014 1:45-ish: I head back to the back like I do every single time I have twelve small tissue samples removed from my prostate. Proud, tall and loosey-goosey from the schedule IV controlled substance raging through my body. I have no idea what is about to happen. I haven’t researched the procedure….but the genius who decided to throw 30mg of valium at the patient before the “event” deserves a street named after him….because I really don’t care at this point. I’m sleep deprived and ready to go.

In the back: I am seated and the nurse, Paula checks my blood pressure and goes over a check list to verify i have followed my instructions. I am sitting just inside the room with the door to my left. I’m facing the workstation on the nearest wall. There’s a laptop and the usual containers that you would expect to find in a doctor’s examination room. I cautiously look around the room. On the far wall is the exam table. On the wall beside the table I spot three or four small pieces of paper taped to the wall at a forty-five degree angle. My linear OCD is triggered but doesn’t consume me enough to stop me from casing the room. Just at the head of the table there is a very large machine that takes up quite  bit of space. I decide not to look too closely at this machine as I am sure it is what will be used for today’s main event. We are chatting about stuff. I really don’t remember what exactly. I remember how nice she is and that she has a good sense of humor. Out of nowhere she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”. I draw a complete blank. I stutter and try to figure out where the heck that came from and what the heck that has to do with my prostate. She points to her laptop and explains that they like to play music during the procedure to relax the patient. She dumbs it down for me, “What station do you like on XM?”. I slur, “…uhm..lithium I guess…90’s..grunge…”. I can’t quite get it out as the valium is now affecting my speech. Stone Temple Pilots or Alice in Chains is now playing from the tiny computer speakers. I immediately regret my decision of music. I should have gone with a lighter brand of music. Oh well, live and learn. I will  suggest they add the music choice to the patient’s prep list.

She instructs me to stand up so she can give me a shot in the butt. I continue to feel the effects of the drug and shuffle over towards the long table by the far wall and I kind of stand there trying to figure out if I am to drop my drawers or offer her a cheek. She matter-of-factly strolls over and pulls down my waistband and stabs my hip with a tiny needle. She hands me a huge blue paper napkin as she turns to leave and instructs me to take off my shorts, lay on my left side facing the wall and cover up. I thank her and  start to disrobe as I hear the door shut. As I lay my head on the pillow I get it. Before my eyes the mystery of the crooked paper on the wall is revealed. They are  cartoons and comic strips lending a little humor to my situation. I didn’t have my glasses on so it  was lost on me but  appreciated none-the-less.

I hear the door open and hear Eric and Paula talking. I have had time to rethink my music selection and I share with them my new selection. I garble out, “I thought of a better song for the occasion…”. I begin to sing the song “Getting to Know You” from “The King and I“. It garnered a giggle and a smirk as far as I could tell. Eric seats himself at the foot of the bed which leads to light conversation. We talk a little baseball and I remind him I have two gigs in two days and he again tells me I will be fine. He prepares me for the first step of the procedure. He continues and in mid sentence I feel a piercing in the center of my soul.

The shot of lidocaine was the most painful part of all of this. I guess the combination of valium and  the shot in my hip did the trick because I don’t remember him even being in the neighborhood. The lidocaine went straight to my tongue. My tongue wouldn’t cooperate at all. The metal taste in my mouth and jumbled words were almost instant. The pitch of my voice became much higher and my original thought I was working through had vacated. He was right though. The first one was going to hurt and hurt it did. but then as soon as it was…it wasn’t. He now had  eleven samples to collect. We counted down with each tissue sample and soon it  was over. He stood up and proclaimed the procedure a success. They left me with the supplies I needed to clean up including but not limited to some wipes and napkins and a sanitary napkin to put in my boxers for any bleeding. All sweet gestures to leave me with my dignity and self respect. For the record, a sanitary napkin does not work with the “V cut” of a man’s boxers. I should have worn jockey shorts and I will also suggest that be added to the prep list.

I swing my legs around and clean myself up and place my sanitary napkin in my boxers which is completely futile considering my state of mind. I do the best I can. I look down beside the bed and see an empty condom wrapper. I chuckle. What were the odds? Eric comes in with the nurse (I think) and gives me my final instructions and sends me out front.

Everything from here on is a little foggy. I don’t have a clear picture to describe. Michelle is surprised I’m out so soon….I kinda remember her being a little disappoint she didn’t get to read all of her material…. I’m hungry and ready to go home. I’m a little grumpy and ready to hit the couch. We drive by a local place and grab some food. I’m still a little out of it. Kinda like I’m in slow motion. Everything from here on is still a little foggy.I eat and lay down. It was the best sleep I had in a couple of weeks. I drift off after I get Mike’s text announcing his ETA. Sweet sleep, where have you been?

 

 

 

Biopsy Day…Lot’s to say here. #6

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The Beach at Seaside

Seaside Florida

I have a date set and two weeks to go before the procedure. I have plenty of distractions. The “Circle of Trust” has widened to include some folks that I work very closely with as well as a couple of friends and a group of men in my Entrepreneur’s Organization forum. The number stands at less than twenty folks. The weeks leading up to Spring Break include an EO membership event, Parker’s baseball games and practices, Dylan’s fifteenth birthday, my EO forum’s monthly meeting as well as a planning meeting with my business partner, Jason and strategy meetings for a couple of initiatives we are working on for the company. I could not have asked for a better eleven days before Spring Break. 

As a very young man I remember a prayer. It went something like this, “Dear God, Just once…just one time…If you could ever find it in your will to provide me with a house full of beautiful young women with a beach setting during a vacation time like…like Spring Break, I will be forever in your debt. I promise to be a good boy…thanks…Amen…”. Well, He delivered, and at the moment I recalled the petition and recognized the plea lay answered before me…I chuckled at His sense of humor. I had learned later in life, after my original request and was again reminded to be specific in prayer. God had answered and it was the perfect answer…I am glad however, that I didn’t make two such requests. 

March 22-29, 2014 Spring Break: My side kick and wingman for the trip is David Hamric. I have known, “Hambone” or “Hammy” for several years but only in the last couple of years have we spent time outside of our daughters’ activities and our wives’ instruction. We both see things in our own twisted way. Dang! Hammy may have to back out. He has a bulging disc in his neck that is creating all kinds of problems. He is experiencing neck pain, his forearm is burning because of the pinched nerve.He decides he’s going…he can hurt at home or hurt at the beach…he chose the beach. He can’t sleep and the pain killers just take the edge off. I think he said the pain meds took it from a 12 to a 6.5 on his pain index with 10 being the highest number. He hung in there though. It was kind of cold and windy and a little rainy all week. We watched NCAA tourney. Eash day we would look for the perfect plan to find a little comfort for Hambone. He knew about my impending “date with Dr. Jellyfingers” and we talked about how much better it could have been if we were 100%. Not to worry, we did find some time to laugh and have a good time. We may have been the only guys who could have enjoyed the company of the other. Each of us glad we weren’t going through the other’s ordeal. All in all we did the best with what we had…and we did great.

The first week of April is a busy week. First, come up with clever April Fool’s gag. Second, Have my prostate biopsied. Next, Mike Frazier will drive the two of us down to Pensacola for a private gig at a “Change of Command” celebration. Finally, have Mike drive us back to Birmingham for another gig at Blackwell’s Neighborhood Pub. My Doctor has “signed off” for this little adventure, post biopsy. I did everything but number one…which, ironically I now do many times through out the day (think about it…there ya go).

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Let’s back it up a bit.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014: Jose’ Ordonez is stopping in Birmingham for a couple of days on his way back home to Kansas City. We have a couple of days of interviews and recruiting stuff to discuss for work. I picked him up at about 8.30pm at BHM and took him to Blackwell’s for some food and a beverage. We got back home around 11:30 or so. Michelle was up and happy to see our friend. We all lived in Knoxville in another life and share some fond memories before we started this little “growing up” thing. We enjoyed catching up and talking about kids and family and being so far away from “home”. Before you know it is 2AM. We all panic and go to sleep….well kinda. Despite the high gravity beers and the late hour I still couldn’t sleep. Carpool and work await early Wednesday morning. 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014: Rock and Roll! Jose’ and I are up, he finishes a conference call and we head to work. We have a great day! Lot’s of collaboration no down time, we are 100 mph all day. We head back to Blackwell’s after work and have a drink and then to Fleming’s for dinner and back home. I order some to-go food for Michelle. Once back home, Jose’ and I sit on the patio with a night cap talking shop. The perfect recipe for sleep. The formula: sleep deprived + long work day + wine + dinner + scotch = sleep. This is easy. I yawn myself to my palette and prepare to settle in for a delicious night’s rest. BAM! Wide awake. I knew this was happening. I was hoping to ignore it and get caught up on some much needed rest.

This is the night when I come to grips with what is really going on. I am stressed out. I have pushed this aside. Here is what I have been praying in regards to my the old prostate thing-a-majig: a) that I don’t have cancer. b) that if I do have cancer that we’ve caught it early c) that if God has chosen me to carry this burden, that I understand His purpose and I recognize the plan when it is revealed….You would think that laying in bed every night for a couple of weeks that maybe I would possibly recognize that this ordeal is taking its toll on me. What do you do? You get up everyday and do what you do everyday. If I stay busy I can hold this off. Man, I’m tired.

Sometime before this point I receive instructions for a “Prostate Needle Biopsy”…That’s the first time I heard the word needle…Well I guess that makes sense. I guess….kinda.

Here are the highlights: 

  • Fleet enema two hours before procedure
  • take an antibiotic the morning of
  • Take a valium one hour before 
  • eat normal
  • don’t drive

Just the name of the enema is funny. “Fleet”. Have fun with that for a minute. I am texting Eric, Tuesday night before the surgery. I am at the pharmacy picking up my “Fleet” two pack. I decided to get the two pack. Better to have too much than not enough. Only the valium was there. No antibiotics had been either called in or received. It doesn’t really matter. The last thing I did when I left Eric’s office a couple of weeks ago was “pick up my shield and ready my dagger”. I send him a text…here is our exchange:

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NOTE: Pretty cool, Hammy had just sent me a text when I took the screen shot for this. You can read it at the top. He added me to his Church’s prayer list. Coincidence? Nope. “You are….in good hands.” – Thank you Hammy, You’re a good man.

I also sent him a text that said, “I am going to give myself a bourbon enema so you know how my dentist feels…” I still think that is pretty funny. He reminded me that I am indeed a little twisted. 

 

Thursday April 3, 2014:Up and At’em! Jose’ and I head to the office after a cup of coffee and my prescribed morning Cipro. I have a call with Ann to discuss a timeline I am working on. I have a little more to do than I have time. I cut my call with Ann a little bit early and hand her off to Jose’. I say my goodbyes and hit the road. He knows the situation and is aware of my dread. I don’t really know what I am dreading other than the point of entry…which is kind of lame to choose that of all the other stuff I should be dreading when you look at the alternative ways they have to access my prostate. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. The besets straight line is one that doesn’t require a scalpel and the loss of the blood. Bring it on doc! I’m your boy. I am going to be the very best patient ever.

Enema done! The last enema I recall in the very back of my mind is at a coffee bar in South Beach two years ago…I kid. I kid…I remember my grandmother flushing out the bacteria of my young bowels….”Nana Style”. Nana isn’t like Doctor Jellyfingers and the whole DRE thing. Nana took her time and was very gentle…I think. I just remember asking for “why?” and remember her telling me “because”. I remember crying and fighting and being worn down by that lady…. I was eighteen…Okay, I was at least three or maybe four years old. Yes, I do have memories of being three years old. 

Next, Valium and some water. We have to be in Homewood at 1:30pm for my procedure. Michelle is driving and I am riding ‘gun. The drive is about twenty minutes. I step out of the car and I immediately feel the valium…I didn’t fall. My legs took a second to adjust to the chemical racing through my blood stream. I giggled a little bit and told Michelle I was a little unsteady on my feet. I quickly pulled it together and walked to the elevator. The elevator opens and an attractive lady wearing a white lab coat walks by us. I smile and say, “hello”. I look at Michelle and say, “That’s my doctor”. “Really?” she asks. “Nope, I just wanted to see your reaction”. Michelle was also feeling a little strain during all of this and doing a great job of hiding it. She knew Eric was my doctor. I was surprised she bit.

We arrive at the second floor and I walk  up to sign in. Michelle has her “PEOPLE” magazine and some other smut to read while I am in the back. All of my appointments to this point have been first thing in the morning. It’s usually pretty quiet. Today it is packed with folks waiting….waiting on either a doctor or a patient. I decide that a bunch of people is a good thing. There’s a grumpy lady who is upset that the EMT’s waiting near us can’t silence their radio. I wish it bothered me. 

“DAVID SURBER”, my name is announced. They pronounce “Surber” correctly and again, I see that as a good thing. I am calm (thank you Mr. Cipro), cool and walking tall. I will be the best patient to have ever come through this place. It is just another day. I do this every Thursday. What’s the big deal?

 

 

Time #5

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Now it’s the wait and see time. I have transitioned to the “we” from the “me” part of this journey. There are just a handful of folks who are aware to some degree of what it going on with me. Looking back on this, telling Michelle was huge. To hit her over the head with this news any later would have been incredibly unfair. My goal to protect her would have caused her so much more pain. I got lucky. God certainly presented that time and I’m fortunate I took His lead. I didn’t see that at the time. I only understood it later.

Everything is actually still alright. I’m not consumed by this except when I have to go to the bathroom. So that’s only five or six times a day…plus the three or more at night before I go to sleep. So, I’ve got that going for me. Consume is a strong word…I’m still looking forward to getting this resolved so I can get my new meds that will fix this whole prostate issue up. I know it will take a few weeks for the medicine to do its job and then I will be able to start a testosterone treatment which will give me my “zip” back and life will be so much better. The guys I know who are on a testosterone replacement therapy have said it is amazing. They rant and rave about the improvement of their quality of life. This is my hope. This vision is the carrot. I am David Surber and things work out every time, all of the time.

Sunday, March 09, 2014: Michelle turns 41 today and most importantly…Daylight Savings Time begins. A year ago Michelle and I were in New York City for her “surprise” 40th birthday celebration. We had so much fun. It snowed, we saw “Wicked”, I spent time with my oldest and best friend, Jay Wright and his wife Gia and met his son again. Tibor was born on our anniversary in 2011. This year’s birthday party?….nothing. We went to Flip Burger with just our family and that was exactly what Michelle wanted. She loves her family and is completely devoted to our kids. She is a much better person than me. She wins….not even close. I collect cell phones and stack them on the corner of the table. Parker reminds me to do this when we have dinner. He gets it. Be in the now.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014: Audrey Julian is born. Audrey Julian is born to Jeff and Brandy Julian. A day for celebration for sure, I think she was born about the time I am getting some pretty crappy news. I have an 8:30 appointment at his office. I can’t remember if this was scheduled at the first appointment or later. I head back to an examination room to meet with Eric. What’s going on in my head? I am prepared for the worst and hopeful for the best news. Eric comes in and we chat a little bit about baseball. Our boys play in the same league and he is a coach. Down to business.He explains that my PSA levels didn’t go down or stay the same. In fact they went up from 7.4 to 9.2.

I have a Phd in fun. I like fun, I like to laugh. I like folks to be happy and humor is my weapon of choice as well as my shield. This is a very serious conversation. My friend has been carrying this burden and is now telling be some “not so great” news. Armed with my humor I keep my wit in its sheath and my shield on the floor. I have also learned when to shut up and listen. I may have lobbed out some “optimism” while we talked but my role in this discussion is clear. Be respectful of what Eric is saying and soak it in. I am going to have to tell Michelle and I must have as many answers to her many, many questions as I can. Michelle is a “details” person. I am a “big picture” person. While she seeks to understand the details she has an ‘interrogation style” of questioning. Its rapid fire and its intelligent. I must be prepared. We know more than we did but we still have a lot to learn. When I leave I do know one thing. I have scheduled a prostate biopsy scheduled for April 3rd.

As I said earlier I hoped for the best but was prepared for the worst. This would be considered the worst news. I’m okay…I think. I had a Chamber Lunch where I serve as an Ambassador. It was a great distraction. Meeting new members and spending a few minutes with a really positive and inspiring group of folks. Michael Giardina is unknowingly providing me some good medicine. Being himself. We will meet again in Seaside, Florida for Spring Break 2014. I’ll save that story for another day.

Happy Anniversary! #4

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Lot’s of stuff going on post “Snowpocalypse”. School is out for the rest of the week. Abandoned cars litter the road. It took the rest of the week for the snow to melt, freeze again, and finally melt. Even if the main roads were cleared the secondary roads and neighborhood roads were still difficult if not impossible to navigate. Birmingham isn’t a snow town. Birmingham isn’t a snow flurry town for that matter. As the city recovers and begins to settle back in, there is word that avery similar storm system is heading our way.

“Fool me once…”, say the people. We all hunker down and prepare to be prepared. All businesses, schools, government agencies, churches, shelters…everyone is ready. It rained. Many of us were able to find the humor in this who weren’t scarred from the events. The Surber’s made it out unscathed. Many others were not as fortunate, some worse.

As February arrives, we see the end of basketball and beginning of baseball for a busy 8 year old. We are one more month closer to March which will see our daylight extended by one hour. Two events happen in February. Everyone knows about St. Valentines days. The second occasion is the anniversary of the day of my…of our wedding. February 17th  is the day that Michelle and I were married.

This year marks our 18th year and we are still going strong. This year we have also been lucky enough to be included on a birthday celebration for our very dear friend Lori. Lori and Mark have included us on a really great Las Vegas experience to celebrate her birthday with another couple. Tom and Jenise have been our dear friends since we moved to Birmingham in 2000. This is going to be fun!

Friday, February, 14 2014: Many folks love this scheduled day of romance. Apparently none of “those” folks set the calendar for this years Sadie Hawkins Dance. We have two daughters who have squared away their dates. I don’t know how your dances are but these dances in Vestavia Hills are work. Don’t misunderstand me. It is a lot of fun seeing friends and all of our kids all “dolled-up” in a very social setting. Group pictures, sub group pictures, date pictures, pictures with parents, pictures with pictures…all kinds of pictures. Two daughters, one dance, four locations….glad it’s raining. We had a ball! We holed up wit home new and old friends at a restaurant near the kids and enjoyed some food and beverage…..and many trips to the “urination station”. Tomorrow afternoon, we leave for Vegas. I have never been to Vegas.

Saturday, February, 15 2014: Catching a direct flight on a Saturday afternoon is cake. We managed to insert our own amount of stress into this seemingly simple task. No worries. We meet at the airport and enjoy a celebratory bloody mary before we leave. I had a vodka and grapefruit. Wheels up!

Mark has a driver waiting on us holding a sign with Lori’s name on it. The driver collects our luggage and takes us to the limosine. We are traveling with, “Vegas Professionals”. We stop by the drug store and get couple of bottles of champagne to continue the celebration. Yes, the drug store. We also pick up some other spirits and such. A couple of loops around the strip and we are at the hotel. 24 Hours until the Bruno Mars show. Smiles all around.

Sunday, February, 16 2014: Bloody Mary’s and cigars on the balcony. It is a beautiful day in the desert and we hang out after breakfast, just relaxing and talking about whatever. Good times with good friends. Michelle and I take off on an excursion to check things out, This is her second trip to Las Vegas and she guides me around our little corner of the desert. Shopping, lunch with the gang, a little more browsing, quick purchase…let’s get ready for Bruno.

This is the day that I finally let her in on my little secret. I tell her everything I know….which is not much. I think I have enough information to let her know that, “something’s up” and that we shouldn’t be concerned. Most likely I have an enlarged prostate and they make medicine for that. I was tired of keeping the secret ….and because I am so young, I’m probably right.

Bruno Mars sounded great. Mark set us up with a VIP section and Enrique. Enrique was our “Nightlife Marketing Host”. He led us past the lines, around the ropes, through the curtain down to our box. Bruno delivers a show, not a concert…a show. Everything is planned, no variance from the schedule. Starts and ends on time and it is awesome.

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Monday, February 2014 12:01-ish: Our Anniversay: Michelle knew I had “it”, but wasn’t 100% sure. I had recruited Jenise and Lori with Jenise serving as my “mule”. She has the cargo. It was important that our hosts were okay with this plan. After all we are here to celebrate Lori’s birthday. This is her party. Not surprisingly, she graciously lends her support to my cause and helps map it out. After Bruno finished we stop by a cocktail stand and talk about the show visit the restroom. We circle around Michelle. I am winking, nodding, whispering and nudging as I take Michelle’s new wedding ring and slip it on her finger. The original wedding ring had been erroneously discarded a few years earlier. It was my Great Aunt Francis’ wedding ring and it fit Michelle perfectly. That’s another blog and shorter story. Tomorrow we head back to the Magic City.

 

A Day That Will Live in Infamy #3

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Tuesday, January 28, 2014 8:30am (CST) : What a day. I get to the doctor’s office a little early and I have completed my paperwork complete with insurance card and paid my money. I wait for a few minutes. I go back and meet with Eric. I have blood drawn. I have my second Digital Rectal Examination in my whole life which covers one week and approximately one hour. Two different men with two different approaches but more importantly they both got it done in mid sentence and before I could prepare myself. 

This is one swift motion for these guys. Here it is in slow motion; snap of the glove, lube, ass-punch, glove off (while stepping on the industrial waste can pedal to open and close the lid), latex glove squeals as it is swiftly removed from the master’s hand and deposited in said waste can, all while talking to me. I don’t know what he said. The only warning that I had; was hearing his voice oscillate and then roll toward me as he readied himself and the rumble of the wheels of the stool. I don’t think those wheels stopped. One big scoot. I only know this part of our visit is over, because he sprang up handed me some tissues like a gentleman and began to wash his hands.

DRE, twice in one week….accounting for a total time of one-second. This one-second of my life is what has truly been the source of my procrastination. ONE-SECOND! The relief of knowing that I have faced this “fear” twice in one week filled me with pride. Not the pride many of us have that prevents us from going to the doctor and having an honest conversation…not the stupid pride. The good pride.

The only thing I can imagine worse than being on the index finger end of a DRE is being on the wrist side of the DRE. I tended bar for nine years and I bet I never dealt with as many assholes as these guys have. This is what they do though. A thankless job if everything checks out okay. Both Doctors said that my prostate feels normal. How they had time to tell I will never understand and let that be the magic of medicine. I’m thinking to myself, “couldn’t you have just taken his word for it?” But I digress.

I guess if they don’t jam their finger everything is okay. This is the crazy stuff I think in my head. What comes out of my mouth has been called, “High risk, High reward” humor. Sometimes it is “way out there”. I see things at slightly twisted angles. Sometimes I say it, sometimes I don’t. If you see me grinning…I didn’t say it.

We talk a little bit about the this and the that of what is going on and he does not let me get too far down the road. He is kind and direct and keeps me reeled in. He is protecting me from me. We all need that sometimes…to be saved from ourselves.

 

Tuesday, January 28, 2014 9:45am-10:30am (CST): Back to Dr. Rascal’s. It is snowing in Alabama. This is clearly a good sign. It never snows…like, really snows in Alabama…I drive back down the mountain to my office for about forty-five minutes because it is so close and I have time. I make my way back up the mountain and note that this little snow thingy is sticking to my car and the road. It hit Birmingham after rush hour. It will be gone when I get finished. I am sitting in the very slick waiting room at 10:35 when I realize I have no idea why I am here. “Man, it is REALLY coming down now…I wonder if anything will become of this?”

I’m finally called back in this modern facility complete with dark concrete walls and floors and tall black open ceilings. It is loud back here. His staff is getting nervous because of the weather. You can hear every word. They are and should be distracted but they are all pressing on taking care of business. Doc arrives, “So what brings you in?” I said, “I have no idea”. I bring him up to speed and we realize I needed to come back after my second blood test comes back with my normal PSA levels so we can treat my low testosterone.

I hit the door and the snow has not let up. It has actually increased. It looks like Colorado. I am kinda excited because my car loves snow…I think. It never snows in Alabama…BUT! I have 4WD and I want to need it so I can use it. If things get really bad I will just cruise by all of the people who have wisely pulled their pick-ups and SUV’s over to the side of the road before they went home to turn on their gas fireplaces and microwave their homemade hot chocolate. The incredible luck! I am a half mile from my son’s school…I’m going to get him. I will avoid the parents who are sliding all over carpool and park on a side road and walk up and get him…I’m so smart. As my son and I head back to my car I am perplexed as to why there is not a single car at the school. I’m quickly distracted by another parent struggling with her car. I help her park it on the side of the road and offer to drive her and her daughter home. She explained she was close enough to walk but I persuade her to get in the car. She relents. She will come back and get it in a couple of hours. The absence of cars at the school further excites me of my good fortune to have an all terrain vehicle. I will drop her off and be home in thirty minutes adding ten minutes for inclement weather. This could be fun.

After I drop her off, I head back down the mountain. Huh? There is no way out. There are cars everywhere. I am witnessing the genesis of “SNOWPOCALYPSE 2014”. I will spare you the smallest details. The cell towers are full. No voice calls. Only text messages are working. The text messaging allowed me to coordinate the retrieval of my oldest child. Total carnage. I live in Vestavia HILLS. Yes Hills. There are ten different ways to get home…Which way has the smallest incline/decline? I am Magellan. I know the way.

One in the back seat CHECK!….One young seven year old little boy trapped in the back of the car…He watched his snow day through a foggy window. He was miserable and mad that he wasn’t playing in the snow. He would jump out and make snow balls as we crawled to our destination. My wife is at home. CHECK! My freshman daughter escaped the high school and managed to actually get stranded further away from home than the school…that’s what I would have done…I get it. “kinda” CHECK! She is safe and accounted for. My oldest daughter talked her way out of school and we have a rendezvous point. She and her boyfriend walked about two miles to a place where I could scoop them up and take them back to our house. DONE! After pushing cars out of the way (in dress shoes) and taking a detour through someone’s yard. We made it….three hours and forty-five minutes later.

There were many heroes during this ordeal. I saw so many acts of kindness and read about many more. My decaying faith in humanity is restored. Some of those kids and teachers I saw as I picked up my first-grader spent the night. Although none of us knew at that time what was about to happen, I wish I could have grabbed couple of them.

What does this have to do with your freaking prostate? Well, due to an unnecessary scheduled visit with my doctor who is less than a mile away from my son’s school…my son got home….granted he probably would have had a ball at school with his pals

Hwy 280 1/28/2014

Hwy 280 looking at the Birmingham, AL Snowpocalypse 2014

…my wife would have flipped out. There was no way I could have gotten up and back down that mountain and made it home. No way, I couldn’t have made it in a Humvee. It was total carnage. I would have walked. I would have walked and walked. We would have gotten somewhere. It would have been a treacherous excursion with plenty of risk. Luck? I choose to think otherwise.

Michelle still doesn’t know a thing.

That was Fast #2

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Thursday, January 23, 2014, 12:30pm (CST): I am working in Panama City. I have some interviews and I don’t even know I have missed a call. I check my voicemail. “Hello this is “Judy” from Dr. Rascal’s office. We received your blood work back and your PSA levels are a little higher than we like to see them. The Doctor recommends you have your blood checked again at a urologist’s office…call back…questions…bye…”. I call her back and clear it up as much as I can.

The good news is, I have a soon to be good friend who is a urologist at home in Birmingham. I send him a text message with what little bit I know but with a very clear sense of panic and urgency. The emotion of the moment is drawn from not understanding what in the hell a PSA is and what the hell PSA isn’t. No clue. I coincidentally got Eric’s number from a mutual friend. Eric was looking for a new cell phone and wanted to make sure he got it from Cellular Sales.  I had Eric’s cell phone number saved in my phone for less than two weeks since his text. Eric is my new urologist! Keep in mind, this is all happening through text messaging.

Me: Just got a call from my doc (Rascal) telling me my blood work has elevated levels (?) in regards cancer and my prostate…how quick can you help me get an appointment? PSA?

Eric: I can see you as early as this afternoon at homewood or tomorrow at Trinity office. Or anytime next week. Don’t be too alarmed. txt

The next few texts were ironing out an appointment which I set for the following Tuesday. His “don’t be too alarmed” was perfect. Not dismissive but consoling and offered just enough comfort for me to finish my trip and get home with no anxiety.

All of this is going on while I am working with Jason, my business partner and my “work husband”. He was the right guy to be there because he didn’t know what I was talking about and therefore had zero chance of getting excited or showing concern. I mean that in the best way. He’s a calm logical and sensible man. There’s not enough information to warrant emotion without understanding.

Back to Birmingham. I’m not telling my wife. Michelle will worry and I don’t even know what is going on. I plugged it into a very common search engine….Now I know more, but I don’t really know what I know more about. I decide not to obsess over this and put it aside until Tuesday.

I play music. I have been playing acoustic “gigs” with Mike Frazier for 21 years. I have a gig the day after I get the call. Friday will be an excellent distraction with one of the best friends I have ever had and closest confidant. It will be good to share this info with Mike, who by day calls on urologist for his pharmaceutical job and actually introduced me to Eric. Coincidence? I think not. Mike is a master of communication and offers a little more explanation as well as therapy.

I’m good now. Let’s rock!

Let’s start here #1

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New Year’s resolutions have been written down. At the top of the list, “…go get yourself checked out by a doctor”. Simply stated, “Get a physical”. My original doctor and I had both moved offices in the last two years and he was just too far away and too inconvenient. I did some doctor searching in December and I knew who and where. I didn’t base my decision solely on convenience. I liked what I had heard about him and I liked that he was ten minutes up the street from my office. Appointment booked!

Tuesday, January 21, 2014, 9:30am (CST): I arrived early enough to fill out the paperwork. I have no allergies and no unusual medical history so this didn’t take long. In the weeks leading up to my appointment I kept a running list of ailments and concerns I wanted to mention and maybe discuss with the doctor in my 2014 moleskine. At forty-six years old, every single time I have left my doctor’s office I have forgotten about that one something on my mind. Not this time, I have a list. Looking back on my graph papered list I see black and blue ink, felt tip and ball point notes by my list in a mismatch of cursive and printed numbers and letters…neat and organized. I have built the list over the last three weeks. Today is gonna be a good day…I have my list.