At long last

     Wednesday, June 25, 2014
     Well, it's been nearly 6 months since I found out I had throat cancer.  At times it has been the longest six months of my life.  But today was a very, very good day.  Yesterday,  I had my first post-treatment PET Scan, but didn't get the results until today when we met with Dr. Grossman and Dr. Hitchcock.  I had a bit of Scanxiety but not bad.  I knew I could not change the results but I was hoping I didn't need anymore cancer treatment.  I must say Dr. Hitchcock, my radiation doctor, came out into the waiting room when she heard I was there.  Geeze, she was more excited to give us the good news than Jane or I were when we heard that the Scan was CLEAN.  She was so cute and it was so refreshing to see a physician so excited about the good news.  Hurray!!!!
     I feel humbled looking back over the past months.  If I was alone and had no support group I doubt I would be where I am today.  Of course, first I have to say Jane was, and IS, my Angel.  Without her love, support and everything she did to help me cope with the side effects of treatment and drugs I would have been in big trouble.  I am forever in debt to her.  There is nothing I can think of to repay her.  I will try to be the best husband I can be in our remaining time together.  It will pale to all she has done for me.  I want you all to know how thankful I am to her.  Thank you, Jane.
     My kids, I realize, are not kids anymore.  Their support and love and maturity left me awe-struck.
I became closer to each of my children during these trying times.  For that I am grateful.  During my treatment, my daughter-in-law, Rachel, was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer.  Tony's wife underwent surgery to remove her Thyroid and still responded to me with all her love and support as she went through her own trials.  I am so proud of her.  Heather, Katie, Tony, Rachel, Joey and my brother and his family went above and beyond to visit, help and support Jane and me during this time.  
      Oh, what a village I live in.  You ALL have been so supportive to both Jane and me.  There must be over a hundred people I need to thank personally.  I hate to try and list everyone here just because I don't want to leave anyone out because of my lack of acuity.    I felt loved and supported everyday of the last 6 months.  I don't think a day went by that Jane or I didn't hear from someone offering to help, cook, drive, visit or just say they loved us.  We are so lucky to have each and everyone of you as friends.  You are the cream of the crop, the best, one of a kind, and we will always be grateful to EACH and EVERYONE of you for all the help and love you shared with us.
       This will be my last blog,  I hope you have learned a little about going through something like this.  I hope it helps someone.  It helped me immensely during my journey.  It helped me center and think of what is and was important to me during this time.  I recommend it to anyone that is going through something hard.
      I am heading off on a new chapter of life.  My religion is compassion and love towards my fellow man and woman.  I hope to be a shinning example to others.  To make other's lives easier and happier.  I want everyone to know they have a friend.  I pledge this because I have been the recipient of that kind of love for a long, long time but especially the last 6 months. 

                                                                       NAMASTE

What to expect?

Wednesday, May 28th

     As my eyes barely open through the crust of the night, I wonder how I will feel.  First, I check my throat.  Of course it's dry, but how dry is it?  Sometimes super dry;  can't get my tongue, unstuck from the roof of my mouth.  Sometimes I can't talk until I get a little water in.  Once that's done, I know a little more.  Lifting my fat, heavy head off the pillow is the next test.  If I lift it up but I have to lay right back down again, that's not a good sign.  If I can shuffle to the bathroom and do my duty without passing out,  then that's better.   Then, if I stand there for a minute and I don't feel like laying down, hey, it might be a good day.
     I am hoping for more good days.  I slept till 11 am this morning.  It wasn't "Oh I'll just lay here for a few minutes, then get up." NO, I slept (out cold) till 11 am.  And it felt good.  I don't know why but I think I needed that extra rest.  Hopefully, it helps the overall need for energy I have.
     Katie has been texting me daily inspirations and telling me things that she is grateful for.  She also tells me what she is going to work on that day to be a better human being.  Compassion, being happy.  helping a stranger, meeting a new person, making work a happier place for all, etc. etc.  I've been doing the same and I can not tell you how much that has helped me refocus my priorities on my journey.  I hope we do this forever, it is really grand and wonderful.

Thursday, May 29th

Ron, my big brother, circa 1976

     Talking about what to and what not to expect, sometimes life throws you one from out in right field.
   My little brother, Mark, called me today to relay some sad news.  I have a big brother, Ron.  A real lone wolf, that guy.  And I have to say, I didn't live his life, but I am sure it was pretty interesting.  Ron was a lot like my dad.  Both enjoyed being alone, they had very few friends but the ones they had, were really close.  Once Ron left the proximity of the family, (which was in the early 70's) he didn't stay in touch much.  I talked to him about every ten years or so.  Sad, isn't it?  My little brother stayed in better touch, but it was always Mark making the effort.  Ron, by all reports, was living off the grid; he had a few legal issues tailing him from years ago.  He bought a house, but put it in a friend's name. He had no cell phone, email, or any easy way to contact him except through this one friend.   He didn't have an identifiable job for the last 15 years or so, but he did work a lot on cars and motorcycles.  I heard he restored a dentist's early year corvette in exchange for some dental work.  If you were Ron's friend he was one of those guys that would help you out with anything you needed.
   Now, back to this morning. Mark, my little brother, said a friend of Ron's hadn't heard from him for a few days so went to his house this morning. He found Ron dead.  Looks like natural causes, but he was only 64.  I spoke to him last month over Skype during my Mom's 90th Birthday party,  and he looked as well as I have ever seen him.  He had lost weight (which was good), his teeth looked great and he was very talkative and interactive, especially with my mom.  This has hit me like a ton of bricks.  I wish I had talked to him more, even though he made that hard.  I hope he knew I loved him, even though he made that hard, too.  When one of your brothers dies, I am just learning, it leaves hole where once there had been none.
namaste

What, me worry?

     Alfred E. Neuman, circa 1955, "What, me worry?"   He maybe the first guru of the modern age.  After much study and research I have found that the first step to becoming enlightened is to let go of worrying.  One cannot live in the moment if one is worrying about the future.  And worry provides no new action that may affect the outcome.  It is good to plan, think of all the options, formulate a plan and go with it.  Yes, you can revisit your decision, you can change your plan, but it doesn't help to worry about the future or what is going to happen until it happens and then you can start the process over, or accept the results.  Worrying is different then planning.  It is when the mind won't let go of the issue.  It feels a lot like a washing machine, tumbling the issue over and over.  Not analyzing the plan but just thinking over and over about the worry lines.
     June 24th I have a PET scan scheduled which will show if I have any cancer left in my throat or body.   It would be a good first sign if all is clear.   So, I figure, I can worry about it, OR I can live each day until then.  So that's what I am trying to do.  My Oncologist mentioned that some people get scanitis.  They worry so much about their upcoming scan that they get neurotic, or even psychotic, over the actual test much less the results.  There is nothing one can do to affect the outcome other than have a positive attitude.  Worrying is a drag on a good and healthy life.  One must leave the worry alone.  That's why it's a first step to enlightenment.  You can't have worry and live well in the moment. 
     Next step is patience, at least for me.  I have to have patience that I will get stronger than a 90 year old.  My training seems to have its own schedule.  One of my favorite people (who lives in Phoenix)  reminded me to relax, life is more than activity.  Namaste!

Down then Up

     So, I took it pretty easy Monday and Tuesday after Joeys graduation weekend.  Hey, and guess what?  I felt really good yesterday.  I could feel the grip of fatigue loosen just a bit. It was the first time in almost 4 months that my body felt like my old self.  I am having trouble describing how I felt but let me say I was SO HAPPY that the feeling of being normal is still within reach.  I went straight to my calender and put a happy face over May 7th.  I was up most of the day,  I played some music, went for a walk and generally was more alert, interactive and comfortable.
     So what has this taught me?  Well for one thing, patience. Even though it may seem like it is going on forever, hang in there.  I am grateful for having experienced the lows of recovery.  I feel more empathy for those going through difficult times.  I feel more open to help and assist in any way possible.  I am grateful for the experience and to learn from it.  Although it hasn't been very fun or even funny.

      I have always worked with kids who have congenital or developmental problems.  Some of them are quite severe and are burdened with a lifetime of trials.  I have always been respectful and in awe of the way the kids and their families handle their disability.  When I do start to feel low it is best to remember their is always someone worse off and dealing with very difficult times.  Always look for the silver lining, the sun behind the clouds and be grateful for the things you do have.  The funny thing is that I have to actively think about that in order to incorporate it into my daily routine and thought process.  It is easy to take the "woe is me" attitude and that is what I fight sometimes. Always learning, always growing.  Have a great day out there. Be kind to others and remember everyone is dealing with struggles, Everyone.   Nameste

Tough times

     Hi, Been awhile since my last post.  Not much happening though. I am still in the dull-drums with very few ups and more downs than I was anticipating.  Highlight of the week was having Joey graduate and having family in for the weekend.  Jane thinks that may have worn me out a bit.  She's right of course.  Now a few days of total rest.  
     I met with Dr Hitchcock a couple of days ago and she said I looked good and to hang in there.  OK, that's what I was expecting.  Then yesterday I was pretty down.  Very tired. My throat was reacting to food and I was having trouble wanting to eat anything.  My biggest complaints are fatigue, for sure, and my appetite.  I got pretty frustrated yesterday because I thought by this time I'd be out jogging a bit and maybe riding my bike with a bit of Yoga or swimming thrown in.  Well, that ain't happening.  At least not yet.  I was a bit pissy yesterday, but then realized I was being pretty selfish and not very grateful for all the things I do have.  So, I feel better today and I am going to step back,  rest a bit longer and then maybe next week try and be a bit more active.
     I'm not sleeping as much as I was a few weeks ago, but I am laying around just as much.  I have played music a little bit more.  The band has a gig in June and I am pretty shaky, so I feel a little pressure not to sound too bad.  I guess I could just stand there and fake it.  The rest of the guys are really good musicians.. 

   Well, I'll be on my way.  More rest and more focus on Gratefulness.  Namaste

Ready or Not.

Ok, it is May 1st.  I am so glad April is Gone.  I think of all the trials with treatment and everything involved it is the post treatment month or 6 weeks that's the worst.  In Orthopedics, as in most things in medicine, after an injury we all say it takes about 6 weeks for the body to heal itself.  Well I am counting on that to hold true.
      I am rewiring my brain.  Time to SLOWLY increase everything in my life.  More food.  Overall, I've lost about 20 pounds.  I want to gain 2 or 3 pounds this week.  I need to start eating more.  That may require some force feeding when I am not very hungry.  I'm OK with that.
     I need to sleep less.  I need to wake up earlier, get out bed, and stay awake.  Then  a nap in the afternoon would be acceptable.  Need to try and get to sleep by 10 and get on a schedule.
     Exercising; got to do it.  I need to do a little more each day.  I will walk a little farther, and start some calisthenics to start getting a little core and a little shoulder and arm strength.  I would love to climb again, this or next month.
     If anyone wants to come over for a walk, do a couple of push ups and have a glass of water, come on over.  Namaste 

What next?

     Well, its late April.  I had been hoping to start a little exercising around this time, as I considered my recovery, but no dice.  Instead I am dealing with fatigue, fatigue, fatigue.  The pain is getting better and it is easier to swallow.  Thankful for that.   But if it is not one thing, it is another.  Fatigue, overwhelming, unbelievable, really.  I get tired lifting my head off a pillow.  I go to the bathroom, stop in the kitchen, say hello to Jane and I need another nap.  For the last week I have slept 16 or so hours a day.  I am sick of sleeping but it just seems to be part of me now.  I don't fight it.  I figure my body must need it.  There is no way not to really.  Just go with the flow.
     My Mom turned 90 this week.  My brother had a party for her in Newport, California.  I had to miss it.   No way I could travel in this condition, and when I got there, I'd have to go to bed.  We faced-timed and that was the next best thing.  Even 15 minutes of face-time exhausted me and off to sleep I went.
     Eating is a chore.  Laying in bed doesn't build much of an appetite and sleeping til 3 or 4 every afternoon doesn't leave much time to eat.  So I eat as much as I can when I sleep.  Its not fun eating from a pump at night.  Waking up half nauseated from a liter of ensure stuffed in your gut.  Oh, yummy.  I've read about this phase of recovery and talked to a few folks.  It is accepted as very frustrating but must get through it. Don't let it get me down, wait a few more days hoping to feel better.  Everything else has eased and if I get some energy, strength, endurance and power back, I may start to feel OK about all this treatment.  Until then,  The fatigue portion sucks, being exhausted sucks. and yes Cancer Sucks. 
     How on earth can I weigh 134 lbs?  I started at 154 or so.  I figure I am down about 20 lbs.  And I have not done a thing except walk around the block once a day.  Other than that, nothing.  Keeping a stable weight is hard,  frustrating also.  Half the time I am nauseated, the other half I am asleep.  The next week I have to focus on getting back up to 136 or more so Ensure here I come.  I want to start just eating oral (normalish) food.  I've been trying but so far only managed cereal in the morning and some soup at night.  No appetite and everything,

and I mean everything tastes weird.  I've been dreaming of food and what I would really want is a GREAT Hamburger, fries and a beer, tasting the way they used to taste.  I hope I get back to that place one of these days.  Namaste
    

The Dulldrums of Recovery

I've moved into part two of the recovery phase. Apparently, phase two is like a holding phase.  Giving my body time to continue healing inside.  That includes needing a lot of sleep, that is for sure.  I've been exhausted.  Two days ago I was up doing some easy sorting, in the furnace room.  Well, it is day three and I think I am still recovering from that effort, or I'm just a wuss?  Hard to say.  This is where patience comes into play.  Taking enough time to recover.  Giving the cells of your body time to regroup, fight off inflammation, clean up damaged and/or destroyed cells, and allow a regenerative atmosphere to take place so hemostasis can take over and strength, endurance, and power can replace fatigue and a fractured infrastructure.  These are things that I am hoping for sooner than later.  But I can take them as they come.
     You must be on the look out.  A couple of days ago I was starting to get some more active throat symptoms returning.  Strange, I thought.  I have just finished a 2 week course of Diflucan for oral thrush.  Grabbed my head light and took a look inside the throat.  Bummer, one of my Tonsils was covered in that whitish covering of thrush.  Makes sense, same symptoms, just finished the meds.  Time to start another 2 week course to try and finish the yeast infection off this time.  This is an example of a lot of little setbacks you have to deal with, sometimes everyday.  Patience, my friend.  All will come to those who wait.  So I wait and wait.  Reminds me of when Ernest Shackelton, as he woke one morning,  address First mate McCarthney.  McCarthney had been up all night at the rudder, through a dreadful night heading back to South Georgia on the James Caird.  Shackelton asked, "How are you doing?" He replied, "Oh, it is a grand day, Skipper, a grand day."
     I have heard many times through my life, and I am sure you have too,  waiting is the worst.
 In almost any situation (waiting for surgery, waiting to give a talk, waiting for an interview) you just want to get it over with.  Well, this phase is similar.  I just want to get on with it; to the "I am definitely getting better" phase.  I guess I have to give it some more time.  Namaste.

 

Treatments over; where are the bells and whistles?

      Well, I've been waiting so long for this.  A week and a half ago was the last of my radiation.  I finished on Thursday, March 21st.   I got through that first weekend knowing that I wouldn't see an immediate improvement but, hell, the symptoms even got worse.  No fair.  We increased the dose of the pain medicines and it seemed to help a little, but the nights were awful.  At four in the morning, trying to swallow a pain pill, all the while your throat feels like burning embers, was misery.  I waited till Monday and Jane talked to Dr. Ying's Nurse Practitioner.  We decided to go with a long acting pain patch, also recommended by a good friend with a lot of cancer pain experience. That way I didn't have to swallow as much.  That sounded better already.   We would also try a liquid narcotic to help soothe my throat right at the cause of the pain.  By this time I was taking almost all of my nutrition through my G-tube.  Glad I have that or I would have starved to death by now.  Don't get me wrong, I don't like the G-tube (nearly hate it) but it is necessary, for sure.
      Everyday,  Jane and I made little changes to the medicine routine; a little here and a little change there. We asked other patients and their caregivers what might help and what didn't, which has been a big help.  Thanks.
     Pain, what a weird little variable;  always changes throughout the day with ever changing multiples of color.  Symptoms are hard to describe, hard to know where or why they are happening at any certain time.  There is a condition called, Congenital Insensitivity to Pain  (CIP).  Sounds great, hey.  Lets say we all had to pick a disease.  That one may be a good one to consider.  No Pain, cool. I'll take that one.  Not so fast.
     Through the years, I have seen 3 patients with this syndrome.  It is a nightmare.  It is a syndrome that shortens lives and leaves them incapacitated through much of the childhood and teens.
Injuries don't heal.  Infections don't get better. The human neural system doesn't use its protective mechanisms to let their tissues rest long enough to heal.  Same for broken bones. They don't feel the pain and are left unprotected. The patient will begin to walk on the break before and the bone doesn't heal.  If they have plates, screws, or rods put in their bones, they have a higher rate of infection  because they don't hurt where the wound is or they begin walking or using the bone too early and the plate or screws fail.  Inflammation increases and protective response is lost and infection and non-union take hold. Try telling a five year old not to walk on his or her leg because it is broken even though it doesn't hurt.  So, in a strange sort of way, we should all be grateful for the pain that we feel. 
     Ok, I can buy that.  I just don't like the intensity side of the the equation.  Sure, let me feel some pain,  But does it have to be the extreme pain of "ultimate suffering" (from The Princess Bride), level 10, to get my attention?  No.
I will take a level 2 or 3, thank you, very much. But, I guess it doesn't work like that.
     So for the last 10 days, since my radiation finished, the symptoms got worse and worse.  It was a real emotional bummer to be done with treatment but then have the symptoms worsen day by day and night by night.  Emotionally and physically it was draining.  After almost two weeks of being finished with the treatments there is finally some good news.  Yesterday,  Monday, March 31, was the first day I felt like I was starting to turn back towards the sun.  The pain in my throat eased a small bit; but it was there, I felt it easing up.  My energy was a little higher; I was able to be up a couple extra hours during the day. There was a brightening of my attitude.
     I hope I've reached the end of the pipe in the Shawshank Redemption sewer pipe crawl

.  One hell of a pipe to get through, but as you are reaching the end, the smell of fresh air and the chance of anticipation of good health and happiness is overwhelming.
Namaste

new post pending

Just a note.  I know it has been a little while since the last publish.  I am going to start working on one soon.  Been having a little bit of a rough patch after finishing the radiation.  But don't give up hope OR  say God I am glad thats over but give me a few days to get another one up. 
Namaste

Five Time Worse

OK, back to cancer.  Remember when I asked Dr. Ying how much worse this was going to get?  I said maybe twice, and she smiled and said, "Oh, no, five times worse".  I thought she was kidding.  But really deep down, I kinda knew she wasn't.  Well, last Wednesday (March 5, a week and a half ago) they reconfigured my radiation dose and started focusing on a more concentrated area affecting the tumor and only a small area of my neck.  That's good and bad.  Less radiation to the surrounding area but more intense radiation to the tumor and throat area.  I had a couple of those doses on Thursday and Friday and then got the weekend off.  I figured the weekend would give me some time to recover and heal that area.  Unfortunately, it didn't.  The pain in the throat got worse as the weekend went on.  This gave me my first worry that the next two weeks were really going to be rough.  If each radiation dose was additive to the last and the symptoms worsened as the two weeks went on, then I might be hosed. 
     Last Monday was a wake up call.  My radiation was late, 3 PM.  My throat was already pretty rough feeling, but the treatment went OK. However, within 5 or 10 minutes I knew that the game had changed and Dr. Ying was not kidding about the five times worse.  My whole head hurt.  I had a terrible headache. My mucus, what I had, was think and stringy.  My throat was on fire and every time I tried to swallow it felt like I was trying to swallow razor blades.  Oh   My   God. 
     It's not serious until it's serious.  Well, I think it is getting serious.  With only 8 radiation treatments to go over a 10 day period, I have serious doubts I can do this.  After treatment I lay moaning in bed with poor Jane wondering what she can do to help.  Thoughts rushed in and out of my head.  I thought about how I should handle this predicament.   Should I man up and put on a tolerant face while my mind is screaming,  "shit, shit, shit".....Or should I moan and groan, whine and wither, showing just how difficult this is.  I need pity.  It is so hard to even come up with a game plan when you're in that much discomfort.  So hard to do the right thing.
     Thank God for drugs.  So far I have handled all this pain and discomfort with Tylenol #3's.  That's some Tylenol with a little bit of codeine thrown in.  Very mild narcotic.  After telling Diane, (Dr. Ying's nurse practitioner) about my new symptoms she prescribed for me Oxycontin; one every 12 hours.  I took one when I got home and within an hour things were tolerable again.  Still uncomfortable ( still need a little pity)  but much improved.  I can think a little clearer as well.  It was very interesting how confusing things were when I was in such misery.  Don't ever let me make a decision in that state of mind.
     The hardest thing about going through cancer treatment is the time it takes.  It seems to go on forever.  Slow motion.  The days tick along slowly.  Because of the fatigue, and my inability to do very much, other than sit or lay about, time goes even slower.  I don't know how to make this better. I guess it is just part of cancer treatment.  It takes awhile.  I knew that going in and I did pretty well until this last segment as symptoms are changing for the worse,  at least for now.  For all the other people that have gone through cancer treatment, my respect for you is growing every day.  You are all so strong.  You are brave and a shinning example of how to go through this.  Namaste

Close Calls

     We've all had close calls.  I wonder what the average number of close calls someone has by the time they are 60?  I don't know.  But, I have had many.  At least 6 to 8 really close calls.  If I follow the lives of a cat, I had better be careful.  I might not have that many left.  I won't bore you with all my close calls but one stands out at being so weird and bizarre I feel the need to share it.
     It was a beautiful day. Summer of 1979.  I was driving my 1968 Datsun 5-10.  I was heading east  toward the University of Utah Special Events Center.  There was no one around.  I think I was going to summer school.
     BAAM...Something hit my car, right at the driver's grill.  Smoke and steam were coming out of the radiator.  I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped.  No other cars around.  Nobody around.  Empty.  I got out of the car and walked to the front and noticed a large dent in the grill and radiator about the size of a  softball.  What the frick?  I looked around the car, under the car, and in the engine compartment.  Nothing.  As I walked around my car, I looked up the street where I noticed  a city bus was pulled to the side of the road.  It was about 100 yards up the road on the opposite side.  Eventually, I notice the bus driver getting out of the bus and walking around.  I walked up to see if something similar happened to him.  "Hi," I said. "Whats going on?'  "Oh," he says. "I was making this turn onto the road and clipped a fire hydrant."  There was no water coming out but upon further inspection I noticed one of the valves was missing.  Humm.  Putting two and two together, I figured the bus knocked off a pressurized valve, which then flew down the street at mach speed right into my grill and radiator.  If true, I should be able to find the valve somewhere.  I told the driver what I thought happened and suggested we should report this and "call the cops".  I walked back to my car and widened the search area and, sure enough, found the valve about 40 yards away in another parking lot.
     Is that weird, or what?  That valve hit at the exact time I was driving by. Aimed at an exact spot, hits my radiator and grill dead center below the driver's wheel.  I guess if it would have been one foot higher it would have come off the hood or come right through my the windshield, into my chest or head.   DEAD.  Or badly wounded.  I don't know why, but this close call was so random that it bothers me to this day.  Killed by a flying fire hydrant valve that flies a 100 yards and through my windshield and takes my head off.  I just don't get it.  Most of my other/many close calls were explainable.  Some were stupid mistakes, but all reasonable.  This one was not explainable or reasonable. I have never heard of anyone dying like this. I have had a hard time comprehending this event.  It's kinda like trying to understand the universe; another thing I just don't get.
      Cancer is both explainable and reasonable.  A lot of people die of cancer.  But nobody dies from cancer being thrown from a spaceship hitting you in the back of the head.  I just have never come to terms if I had died that way.  I'd be dead, so it wouldn't matter, but I would feel ripped off.  Glad it didn't happen.  Dying at 62 from cancer, sure a bummer, but expected for a certain number of people.  I could face and handle that.  Of course, I would be sad, and really sad for my family. But if I went tomorrow, I can say I have lived a great and glorious life.  I've had more love, mystery, and adventure
than any man deserves.  And now, as I have a chance to reflect, I know that one of the most important things I ever learned (I think from Howard Kadish) is to enjoy the journey.  Enjoy the journey, my friend.   This will guarantee a well-lived life.  Namaste

Activity III Satan's Corner.

    So, now you know Mike and Malcolm.  One afternoon they asked me if I wanted to go rock climbing.  "Sure," I said.  "What do I need?"  "Nothing,  just wear some tennis shoes and we have everything else."  I thought they were so cool; real rock climbers.  I figured they would take me up something easy to introduce me into the sport, which in 1978 was on the fringes of even being called a sport.  Rock shoes had just been developed,  there were no harnesses, and all this fancy gear and camming devices were in its infancy.
     As we drove out to Little Cottonwood Canyon, I asked what we were going to climb.  "Oh, I think we should climb Satan's Corner."  Satan's Corner, for those uninitiated with rock climbing, is a long-standing test piece for climbers in the area.  It's hard.  It was rated 5-8+ in the seventies.  And if put up today, it may get a rating of 5-9+ or 5-10.   It is steep and awkward with a very hard crux position and a very exposed feel while you are climbing.  NOT a climb I would take someone on for their first climbing experience, especially in tennis shoes.  What were they thinking?  I still don't know if they just wanted to scare the shit out of me or were trying to impress me with how cool they were as they were able to get up this thing without dying.
    When you first start climbing, the natural tendency is to use your arms to pull yourself up the rock.  Wrong.  How many pull ups can you do?  Not many, right.  Well, imagine trying to do pull-ups all the way up a 100 foot cliff.  Impossible.  As you learn and get better technique, almost all of the climbing is done with the legs.  I didn't know that.  Within about 10 feet of getting off the ground I was wiped.  Arms tired. Hands couldn't even make a fist.  I think Mike and Malcolm hauled me up most of the first fifty feet where we had a little ledge to sit on before we did the final pitch (the hard part) to the top.  I was thinking, I am a dead man.
     Malcolm led off on the second pitch, and when he got about 15 feet up, he began to struggle.  In an instant he was falling.  Out into space.  He was hanging almost level with us.  Mike had caught him on a hip belay.  He scrambled back to the ledge eyes wide and visibly shaken.  I think he went back up and finished the lead but it could have been Mike.  All the while I am thinking there is no way I am going to make it past the crux (hard part) in my Stan Smith tennis shoes.   After Mike and Mal got to the top, it was my turn.  I felt all alone down there, with a thin piece of rope tied around some one inch webbing tied like a belt around my waist.  Slowly, I began.  Each time I moved forward an inch, both Malcolm and Mike hauled on the rope to move me a couple more inches.  I was literally being lifted up this climb.  My mind wondering if the knot on the rope would hold.  What if the rope breaks?  What if I get stuck up here?  Not thinking at all about climbing.  Which is what you should be thinking about. You climb better if you concentrate on the action.  Very much like gymnastics but 100 feet off the ground.  That takes some practice.  Practice I did not have.  We got to the last move which was a dynamic reach to a TGH (thank God hold).  They could not help me with this because they were off to my left and the hold was straight up.  I had to do this on my own.  It seemed like forever to get the nerve up and I was sure I could not do it.  I was exhausted tired and scared.  I think I made a few attempts before I let one good effort fly and grabbed the hold.  I scurried left like a rat on a sinking ship and clipped into the final anchor.  Whew.  Survived Satan Corner in tennis shoes.  That was 1978 and I've been climbing ever since.  I have probably climbed Satan's more than 20 times over the years.  It is still a spicy climb.   I climb 5-10 to 5-11 now but I still wouldn't climb Satan's Corner in tennis shoes, that's for sure.
     Getting through this cancer treatment is a lot like climbing Satan's Corner for the first time.  You have no idea what you're in for.  You don't have the skills to master the treatment.  There is a lot of anxiety, worry and despair.  Sometimes you feel like you are going to get stuck and never come out the other side.  But then days go by, you learn a little here and little there.  Your support system rally's your spirits a bit and you are ready for a bit more.  I think it is somewhat true that cancer treatment takes you to the brink of death and despair and then brings you back to life  again.  At least I hope that's true.
Namaste'

    

Activity II and a life saved

      So,  I had to move back to SLC after I was accepted into the U of U Physical Therapy program in 1978.  By this time, I was old for a junior; I think I was 24 turning 25.  Moving into my folks' house was NOT an option.  Humm, what to do?  I really didn't know anyone in SLC.  Remember, I left for three years during the draft in 1970, spending most of the time in Germany. When I got back I moved to Logan, Utah to continue school.  I had not lived in SLC for 6 years or so.  I also didn't want to find old friends, as most were not the people to associate with if you want to move up the ladder. (Although, thinking about it, I'm sure the same old friends thought that about me.) You know what I mean, eh?   I remember it being a very lonely period for me.  No one to hang with, no one to ski with,  no one, no one.  During this lonely time that was sprinkled with depressional moments, I began faltering.
    " Hi, I'm Malcolm Draper.  I know you." "Hi, Malcolm."  Malcolm and I went to Skyline High School together.  Now, there were 900 in my graduating class, so it was a big place.  I don't know how we knew each other, but we did.  We didn't run in the same circles.  Hell, we didn't even run in the same stratosphere.   I can't remember how we met after high school but, I want to think it was at a Ward house, but I can't remember why I was there.  Or maybe we met before that and he eventually invited  me to a Sunday service.  I just can't remember.  Very quickly, I think within days, Malcolm said I could move into a basement room in a house he owned in the Sugarhouse area of Salt Lake.  Malcolm lived in the basement with Mike Anderson. There was a wonderful, young school teacher living in the upstairs area.  Yea, I'd love to move in, I needed a place to live, but even more, I needed support and love.  Malcolm and Mike gave me that.  Its one thing I may never be able to repay. 
     Did Malcolm help save my life?  YES.  Not from death,  I wasn't suicidal, but I was very lonely and moderately depressed.  A simple act of kindness is all it took.  But I am sure it wasn't easy for Malcolm.  Mike and Malcolm took a risk.  They we Priesthood members of the LDS church and I think they even  held some other office in the Church as well.  Take a chance on a lonely, divorced, drinking ex-hippy?  Don't know if I would.  Shows how much these two guys had to teach me in the coming years.  And teach they did.  Not in a missionary kind of way but in a how to live your life  kind of way. They never pushed the LDS religion on me.  I remember going to a few Sunday meetings but never went through the missionary lessons, at least not with them.  They were just good, good friends.   They were the best roommates I ever had (except for Jane, of course).  They were kind.  When I lived my life in a non-sort-of LDS way, they never made me feel uncomfortable,  never made me feel odd, or like I was doing something wrong.  They treated me like a brother, and still do to this day.  If only one good thing comes from this cancer or this blog, it would be to say thank you to these two wonderful human beings.  Thank you So much, Malcolm Draper and Mike Anderson.             Namaste

Activity 1

     Athletic activity has always been part of my mantel.  Ever since I can remember,  Little League football and baseball were the first sports I took to.  Before that, I was running and chasing arrows. Ha.  I have been hooked on doing some kind of sport or activity ever since.  After 60 plus years of different sports,  I have realized that activity is one of the most necessary aspects of my life.  Now, that's just me. I am not saying everyone has this desire or should have this desire for constant activity. But whatever makes up the part of my brain that likes to run, twist, crawl, jump and spin, it is very strong.  Not unlike a golden retriever to a tennis ball. 
     After the drug-crazed years of the late 60's and a short stint in the military (where I skied on the AFRC Garmish ski patrol, and, yes it was an activity but I didn't take it too seriously) I returned home at age 22, determined to change my habits and some of my unproductive ways.  First thing I did when I pulled into my folks' garage was quit smoking.  Best thing I ever did.  I remember crumpling up a pack of Marlboro's and throwing them in the garbage.  Like everyone, I had tried to quit many, many times before, but this time felt different, and it was. 
     I was a thin, wiry kind of kid, with a predisposition towards gymnastics.  At 22, with the help of my mom, I applied to Utah State University in Logan Utah under the GI Bill.  I was accepted under probation (my first quarter at the UofU right out of high school did not go well).  I needed to maintain a "C" average to stay in.  Picking a major didn't seem difficult at first.  I liked the outdoors, I was active and Utah State had a great forestry program.  Forestry it was.  However, after a few biology classes and finding out what forest rangers made and how many people at that time wanted to be forest rangers, I began to have second thoughts.  After taking a friend to physical therapy to rehabilitate an injury I thought that would be a good profession.  Meeting with the counselor was not very encouraging.  "No one from Utah State has ever been accepted into the PT program at the University of Utah.  If you want to try go ahead. Take these classes and get straight A's." I did.
     I don't know what drew me to the USU gym, but I found myself there most afternoons in the men's gymnastic area, playing on the floor or the high bar.  I got to know a couple of regular attendees.  There were only a couple of us.  John Reid, who looked and dressed just like the lead in, "Here comes Bronson",  a 70's TV show about a cat and his motorcycle.  He always wore a beeny and solved people's problems.  I started calling John " Jacques" cause I couldn't remember his real name and he looked rather French with his beeny on.  He has always been Jacques to me.  The other cat was Fernando Oberdink,  the son of a rich Guatemalan, studying for his PhD in Psychology.  Smart, talented and strong in the gym.  He spent many many days and evenings teaching us, all the while  laughing and learning new tricks on the apparatus. This was the first sport I took rather seriously.  We never missed a session and we tried and tried until the blisters on our hands were ripped clean by the roughness of the high bar.
     This dedication to sport, school and friendship has held me in good stead through the rest of my life.  I think it was during this time that I learned and incorporated many of life's lessons on success and perseverance into my character.  Jacques and Fernando had a incredible affect on me as well.  Their friendship and role-modeling were indispensable for me during this time of transition that I was going through.
      Sports taught me dedication.  Sports taught me patience.  Sports taught me to believe in myself, and sports taught me that if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.  I don't know how long it took, but I was trying to learn a "giant" maneuver  on the high bar.  A very scary and difficult maneuver in those days. (I wish I could still do one.)  With the help of my gym mates, I eventually mastered the giant maneuver.  WOW, what a rush, and how many blisters ripping off my callouses did it take?  Many.
     Well long story short I was accepted into Physical Therapy school,  The first from Utah State.  Without Fernando and the access we enjoyed to the men's area of the gymnastic room at USU, my daily gymnastic workouts went by the wayside when I had to move to Salt Lake to continue my major.  Something always seems to take the place of something you have to leave behind.  But my memories of those special days in the gym, with my friends doing hard and difficult things, are some of the most special memories I have in my early twenties.  The gym was a safe place, a nurturing place and a place of physical and mental growth that I hold dear in my heart.   Namaste'

Music

Music has always been a big part of my life.  When I was around 11, I remember hanging with a friend of mine in the basement of our house in Topeka, Kansas, listening to the first Beatles album.  His name was David Caddy.  I remember him as a hyper, chubby kid who used to love singing and jumping on me and knocking me over.  He, or we, would laugh and laugh at nothing really, all the while music playing in the background on the the record player.  "She loves you yea, yea, yea."  One Sunday my family went to the grand opening of a new Sears and Roebuck's store.  What band was playing at the opening of the new store?  The Kingsmen, " Louie, Louie".  I was mesmerized.  I remember thinking they were so cool.
      Topeka was about sixty miles from Kansas City. and I heard on the radio that the Beatles were touring the US and coming to Kansas City.  OMG.  When my Air Force military, short haircut, Colonel father came home that night I ran around like a banshie screaming, "The Beatles are coming, the Beatles are coming.  Please, Please, Please can I go? Can I, can I, can I?"  Well, you know the rest of the story. I had about as much chance of going to see the Beatles as I did driving there myself.  No, didn't go, but I was hooked.
      At age 12, on a vacation to San Diego, we visited Tijuana for the day.  "Dad, Dad, can we get this 12 dollar guitar?...Please, Please, Please."  Seems I was always begging.  "Cost too much," he said,  and "you don't know how to play".  We made several trips back to the little vender shack and finally my dad relented and bought the guitar for a few bucks.  My first guitar.  Sadly, the neck broke off from the body on the drive home.  My older brother thought this the funniest thing EVER.  Teased me till I cried.    Fortunately, the miracle of Elmer's glue had already been invented and I was back in action shortly after we got back to Kansas.  From there it is history:  G chord, C chord and D chord, ha, I can play a thousand songs.
    Well, I did stick with it and music has been a very huge part of my life.  I don't know how much time I have spent playing the guitar and mandolin but I know I should be a lot better than I am for all the time I've put in.  I've met a lot, if not most, of my really close friends through music and playing together.  Now I am surrounded with people who play music.  What a joy it is to have 10 or 15 people in the living room just raging on old tunes.  Picking and a grinnin.  Jane even grabs a couple of spoons now and then and chimes along.  The best is playing with all ages, young and old,  playing all our old tunes, so, so fun.  Hard to wipe the smile off. 
    In 1970 I found myself in Detroit, Michigan.  I was flirting with the US Army draft and playing at a local Holiday Inn for drinks.  I saved all my work money for the year and walked into a guitar shop and bought me my first real guitar.  A 1970 D-35 Martin guitar.  It has been a good friend and companion ever since.
     I was giving it a good cleaning last night and replacing the strings when a flood of emotion and  memories came over me thinking of all the places "this ole guitar and me" have been.  I can't really believe I still have her.  Three years traveling in the army, traveling all over the country. living here and there. Lost, theft or damage was never far from my mind.  But I have to say,  I have never had a close call or a worry that she'd been lost or damaged.  She is in super shape for 44 years old.  Sounds like a bell and looks like she's twenty.  I have other guitars, but if I ever had to sell or give away every guitar I have, this is the one I would want to keep to play.
     Music has helped me get through some really tough times.  ( Like now)  I am sure we all have a few songs that the instant you hear them, you are transformed to another place and time.  Oh, there are so many good songs.  During radiation I get to listen to music.  Last week, while trying to relax and meditate, some Russian Battle hymn came on pandora.  It was very distracting and difficult to tolerate.  Then yesterday, one of my favorite songs to meditate, relax and transcend to, played.  "Somewhere in Time" by John Barry.  It is the theme song for the movie.  I don't know why, but this song moves me. My current favorite acoustic guitar song is the tune  "This Ole Guitar and Me"  by Vince Gill. Take a listen to it if you don't know it. I usually have to have a tissue close by.
I have other songs that resonate with me and I hope you do, too.  .   Namaste 
                                                                   

My 1970 Martin D-35 Guitar...

     
    

Anatomy

     The nasopharynx and pharynx. I have had a lot of questions from friends and family about just what is the nasopharynx?   I reviewed my anatomy books and googled a few sites.  I was disappointed in what little respect this incredible little organ receives.  So I am going to do my best to clear things up.  I will start with the lips and the nose.
    The lips. Think of all the special times the lips have been a part of many of our most memorable moments.  The lips help us speak, but I view them as a sensory organ.  The sense of touch has been with us since birth (and probably in utero).  We quickly add the oral phase to our lives.  One of the first things a baby does is grab something and,  yep, right to the mouth.  Then at sixteen ( for me my first girlfriend-type kiss was third grade)  we begin showing our love or lust with a kiss.  Remember your REAL first tender kiss? Soft, warm, moist. Did it make your lips tingle?
     Just behind the lips lies the tongue.  Another sensory organ.  An organ critical for taste.  Critical for eating, and speaking.  An organ that sticks well to cold metal.  I have some of my cancer at the very base of my tongue.
      The next area is at the roof of the mouth, the hard and soft palate.  You can feel the hard palate with the tip of your tongue on the roof of your mouth.  This feels hard because there is a bone under there. As you walk your tongue towards the back of your throat you will feel it get soft.  This is the beginning of the soft palate.  That's the junction of the hard and soft palate.  This is also where the nasopharynx connects to the oropharnynx .
      The nasoparnynx starts at the nose.  Although, cute, button-like, or a snoz like mine, it has two holes in it.  We can suck air into the nose where we have an incredible set of nerves that give us this gift of smell, and interacts with taste as well.   Wow.  Smell a glass of wine. My daughter can pick out minute smells in different wines.  I know she can cause she says, "Close your eyes and see if you can smell charcoal."  OMG, I can.  "See if you can smell wet grass?"  Yes a hint.  "What else can you smell?"  It takes practice.  We smell flowers. oils, foods, spices, the earth, everything.   This also takes practice.  It also allows us to identfy things so we don't have to taste them.  Three guys walking down the street,  they stop at some doggy poo.  Looks like poo one says,  smells like poo, says another.   OK , better not step in it.   
     The junction of the soft and hard palate leads to the the throat.  The throat houses your tonsils, uvula, epiglotis, vocal cords  and trachea. This part is not too sexy, unless you have a voice like Frank Sinatra.  Mine sounds like a heard of geese farts flying north.
     So, I hope that helps,  I have cancer,  but it is getting smaller.  I can tell since my lymph nodes in my neck are much reduced.  The cancer is at the base of my tongue, in the back of my throat and it extends to the base of my skull at the foramen magnum.
     There is a video on you tube showing how complex the swallowing mechanism is.  I found it fancinating and it is only a few minutes.  Check it out and you will be amazed at what you can learn in just a few minutes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqMCzuIiPaM.  For anybody but me, it may be boring.  It is just something we do and we have done it millions and millions of times.
:
Be mindful of your swallow,  your senses associated with your lips, smell and taste.  Take a little time during this automatic response and be grateful it is so easy and wonderful.  Life is so grand and wonderful because we have this ability.  Namaste

Eating

     I am not a very big guy.  One hundred and fifty pounds is a good weight for me, but not my fighting weight.  That would be about one hundred and forty-four and a half pounds. When I found out I had cancer, I weighed about 153 lbs.  Within a couple of weeks I had lost 10 lbs.  Yea, am I gonna be fast on the bike this year.  (fast compared to what?  Ha)  But unfortunately, that is how our/my brain works.  This week I dropped to 140 lbs.  Perfect: that is right where I want to be when I end this thing and get an appetite back.   But it's not where THEY want me be to.  However, I still have 4-5 weeks to go and then some to begin to recover.  At that rate I guess I will weigh about 127 lbs by the end of March.  Wow, that is thin, thin, thin.  I can't let that happen,  My goal is to stay above 140 lbs.  That may be hard, but I will give it a go.  Jane is helping immensely and so are a lot of friends and family.  Thank you all for all the delicious meals.  (Wish I could taste them more fully.  Jane says they are awesome.)  
     Eating has been one of the hardest things to do.  First of all, I am not doing any of my usual activities.  Second, I am mildly to moderately nauseated at any given moment.  Third,  most everything I eat tastes the same; very bland and not very appetizing.  Fourth, my throat hurts and it is difficult to swallow.  It seems like a constant trial to continue to eat.  Even using the G-tube makes me feel full and nauseated.  
     They need to come up with a pill that has the four above side-effects. Now that would be one successful diet pill.
     I've decided to eat the best I can.  I am not too worried.  I think my body can handle the weight loss.  When I regain my taste and appetite, I will probably be back to trying to lose a pound or two so I can climb that hill a little quicker or grasp that 5-12 rock climb that is just beyond my reach.  I hope in April and/or May things start to taste good again.  From this experience I have learned to always try and eat more slowly, enjoy the time, and chew  every  bite  more  fully. I will try to eat less quickly.  (In medicine, especially surgery, I was taught to eat really, really fast and get back to work) Enjoy flavors and sip my wine.  I am grateful for food and I am grateful that it doesn't agree with me right now.  I will always have a greater appreciation for it in the future.
   

One of my favorite meals.  Fresh sauteed  scallops in garlic and olive oil.  Fresh garden salad and grilled sweet potatoes with a dash of brown sugar.  It all goes well with a nice white pinot gris.  Can't wait.........

Half Way

My radiation team

Well, it's Friday and I just finished my 18th radiation treatment.  I am calling this the half way point. I actually have 37 treatments (so half would be to finish the 19th) but I will give them a free one on me at the end.  It seems like a long time coming.  Dr Ying said the second half will feel a lot longer than the first half.  So far, it has not been quite as bad as I was anticipating.  The fatigue is intense, more than I thought, but I am hanging in there with pain, swallowing and dealing.  Talking is getting harder; my voice is raspy and it seems like an effort to get any words out. 
     Do you believe in fate?  I think it is possible once in awhile, but on a day to day basis, I think I believe in opportunity.  Or creating opportunity, or seizing opportunity when it arises.  Sometimes, things have to fall into place to get started, but then it becomes up to you to run with it.  I also believe weird and strange shit happens. And it is not out of the realm of possibility that the stars have lined up for you or an event to have an incredible effect on someone or something that needs it at a specific time.
      Did I become a doctor to help someone that is going to effect the world in a positive way?  Have I helped the future president or CEO of a company willing to save our ailing planet?  I hope so. Is my job done as a physician?  Did I get this cancer to change my course?  I don't know, but I wonder.  I don't think I will stop practicing medicine for awhile, unless I couldn't do it well.  But what about changing course?  Should I become more spiritual?  Should I seek out a community?  Is there someone out there that needs my help?  Of course there is.  Should I work with a cancer support group for children?  Will something just open up and reveal itself or will I search something out and make it work?  Time will tell.  If I see opportunities arise, you bet I am going to consider them.  If the spirit moves me, I will be open and available when, and if, the time comes. This is how we should live our lives.  Call it fate or opportunity or a journey along the road, whatever.
      Keep your antennas up.  Always be open to talk to people.  They will notice your antennas and will respond to the slightest approach.  You never know what will happen, how small a world it is or what you have in common.  And for those of you who say you are too shy,  get over it.  Who cares if someone you don't know thinks your awkward when you start a conversation - you don't know them anyway.  And in my experience, a short conversation helps both of our days.  Really.
Fate probably does happen.  Serendipity.  Being open.  Interaction.   Communication.  Love, Embrace, and  Engage.    Namaste

Running

I love to run.  I really love to trail run.  Being outside, movement along a trail, seeing, feeling smelling, makes me feel alive.  OK, I have to confess I don't really run anymore; it's more like a shuffle, especially on the hills. But, I am still moving slightly faster than a walk. When I was running, I still would walk a lot.. Every time I would pick it up and move into a slow jog, I just felt so good.  Alive.
     Lately,  I've not felt so alive, at least not the feeling in the for-mentioned paragraph.  Yes, I feel alive in a spiritual and emotional way. But one thing this journey that Jane and I are on is a noticeable lack of energy and ability to do much of anything. They say I am moving into the middle tough part of the treatment.  And from here on out, it will get worse for awhile before it gets better.  I have now heard this from multiple doctors.  I think they are trying to get me ready for something.
     For you runners out there I must be at about mile 10 or 11 of a marathon. It has gone well so far.  But the first tell tale signs of fatigue and soreness are showing up in the legs.  The shoulders are beginning to slump every so slightly.  The energy seems harder to muster and the monotonous pounding of step after step begins to take its toll.
     I sleep a lot.  It is very hard to concentrate.  It is even hard to watch TV or a movie.  The energy in the brain is just not there.  I have at least twenty books by my bedside that I have no interest in reading.  If I try to read, I get through a couple of pages then I am exhausted.  I have little interest in playing my guitar and/or my mandolin, even though I want to. I just can't find the energy.  I guess this is the fatigue they were talking about.  It is a real bummer.  So, I lay down a lot, nap, sleep, meditate. breath and feel like a complete slug.  Jane does everything.  She is the greatest, most natural person I have ever met.  How we met and how she chose me I will never ever understand.  I am just so grateful I am going through this with her.  She is making it all possible.  Really   Namaste. 

 Running the Moab half-marathon trail run.  2013  Two month before diagnosis.  Um, probably had cancer then.  Weird.       

City Slickers Part 2

Ok, Ok, stop with sending the money.  I now have several million in Monopoly money.  Darn, I should have specified US currency only.  Oh well, wasn't that good of an idea anyway.  Jane wanted to edit that out.   So this is my take on what that "one thing" was that Curly was talking about. I know it might mean different things to different people and interpretation is open to speculation, but this is my take.

     The one thing is "YOU".  Wow sounds kind of egotistical or narcissistic.  But believe me, it is not, unless used inappropriately.  You are the ONLY thing you have control over in this journey we are on.  You have no control over anything or anyone else.  So what is the only thing you can effect that will have a positive or negative impact on the people, places or things?  YOU.

     Now that you realize you CAN'T change that annoying friend or your nagging spouse, you need to focus on yourself.  So the important thing is how you can change and what you want to become.  We are a blank canvas when we are born.  As we grow and progress we obtain many attachments and may obtain bad habits from friends, family, and parents.   Now, don't go blaming them for your bad habits, they may have been raised by the same people with the same issues.  We need to begin repainting our own canvas when we realize that we can or need  to have a positive influence on the people, animals and enviroment on this earth.

When YOU decide to repaint your canvas, then it gets interesting.  You begin a journey; a journey to paradise.  The journey may be difficult and long, it may be unsuccessful.  It may take many tries to find your path.  It may take you into your sixties, seventies or eighties to realize the importance of making yourself happy. You can not have a positive influence on others and this earth without first having a positive influence on yourself. Period.  If you paint yourself as a compassionate, kind, supporting, loving and happy person, you will start to see the world in technicolor.  Days will be brighter, the sky bluer, trees greener.  And every person you meet will become closer, friendlier and you will feel a need to take an interst in them. 
    



Jane and I painting our canvas.

All those other illusions of success, power, money, cars, suits, one hundred dollar haircuts, all the ego boosters, will slowly melt from the forefront to the back burner.  I am not saying societal goals are all bad and that we should not work toward these.  I am saying they need to be placed in their proper priority,  Also, if you chase these societal goals with your new goal of being a better, nicer and happier person and a person that makes it a better place for those around you, then your life will be full and happy, successful and blessed.  Nameste. 

PS  Back to City Slickers,  I think Curly actually meant "family" as the ONE thing.  But you can't be a positive influence on your family unless you repaint your canvas and make it a priority in your life.