IN MAY I started to get the idea my time left on the remission clock was running out. I suspected as much in the Maritimes where I was feeling beat after a mere six days on the road. By June I knew for certain, when, on Father’s Day weekend, Jonny and I were working on the building in Vermont and it hurt to carry a lousy half-sheet of plywood up a ladder.
My lymphoma was presenting exactly as it had in 2019: inflammation discomfort in the nodes and lymph tissue behind my right collarbone, under my jaw, down the right side of my neck, tenderness under the bottom rib.
If you have my particular kind of blood cancer you have it until the day it doesn’t matter what you have. Science can knock it down with chemo and send it into hiding for a time, but that’s about it.
The kind I have (kind I’m known to have as of this writing) typically comes back meek, slow and sneaky. And then there are the less common cases where your lymphoma’s a big boy now and has got the long knives out.
Won’t have an answer to that question until the biopsy. They want it from one of the nodes around my aorta, down low in the belly where it branches into the femoral arteries.
This second onset has better timing, I’ll give it that. The problematic phase catches me here at home. That’s convenient.
First time around, I suspected it, ignored it, rode 14,500 miles up to the Arctic Ocean and back while cooking a stage 3 blood cancer. Pam thinks the cancer must be why I fell dead asleep at 60mph in Saskatchewan, woke up riding the motorcycle across a farmer’s field. Who knows? Maybe I just wasn’t sleeping well on picnic tables, despite that I generally feel as if I do.
Pain-wise, the lymphoma didn’t slow me down much until I was maybe 10,000 miles in, had been to the shore of the Beaufort Sea in both the Northwest Territories and Alaska and was on my way back. It started to become a problem around the time I got down to British Columbia. Camped there for a while with my friends Bob and Janie. I don’t think they ever noticed the lump in the side of my neck. I never mentioned it and they never asked. Anyway, I thought the hurty/ouchy body parts were more of a mechanical issue: a consequence of coming off the motorcycle when it’s not standing still. Oops…. Part of what you sign up for scrambling around on wilderness roads.
Visited with Bob and Janie for a while, then the final leg of the journey: home to New England with my neck, right shoulder and arm sore enough to make me think I must have cracked my right collarbone.
On the day I left Tete Jaune Cache I couldn’t back up the bike an inch; couldn’t bear to put any pulling pressure whatsoever on the right handlebar grip.
So anyway, rode for home with the sore wing, six days, seven days, whatever it was, 2,900 miles, that was a barrel of monkeys.
Then seven months in chemo, the bendamustine, the rituximab.
Bendamustine’s being phased out in favor of newer, more experimental drugs, I’m told. And not just because time marches on, as it must, but because it’s considerably unpleasant, as you may imagine, to be shot full of nitrogen mustard, a compound famously deployed as a WMD.
So this spring I suspected the cancer was back in business. By June I knew. Symptoms started on the right and were moving over to the other side when we were in Kennebunkport, Maine for a family getaway.
My plan, since May, had been to let it keep until August 9, next scheduled oncology check, next regular round of blood labs. Nobody needs to know until there’s something to know.
On July 31 I happened to mention it to Scott Patterson, a friend in New Brunswick, Canada; mentioned it in passing only because it was relevant to the conversation and I knew it wouldn’t get back to the family.
Scott’s a deputy chief of police in Fredericton. We met eight years ago motorcycling in Newfoundland. I was there solo, had been up in Labrador, ferried over to the rock from the north; Scott had come up from the Nova Scotia side with a few other riders. We all met on the road to Channel-Port aux Basques and talked all things motorcycling on the ferry south.
So this year, Scott and I were talking about riding one of the off-road trails here in the east, trails that run from Tennessee to Maine, the MABDR, the NEBDR. My friend Will Stenger in Pennsylvania was interested. So was George Versloot, a friend of Scott’s in New Brunswick.
George and I rode together in the Northwest Territories four years ago, from Tuktoyaktuk to Inuvik. He split out of there for Prudhoe Bay a day or two before I did. I haven’t seen him since but have kept tabs on his motorcycling adventures through Scott.
That’s the background. Instead of me telling this whole story again, here it is as an epistolary narrative: my conversation with Scott, lightly edited for sensibilities on the delicate side.
It started with me hailing him in regard to trail conditions between New York and Maine.
July 31
The NEBDR is said to be all washed out from the serial downpours of recent weeks. Vermont got 2 months worth of rain in a day & a half.
July 31
[colorful expletive]… supposed to leave to do that on August 18.
July 31
Well I heard it third-hand today from a fellow I know in Pennsylvania, a MABDR veteran like yourself. He wants to ride the NEBDR next. Says his friend got the washed-out word from their website. They must have a message board I guess?
July 31
Yeah George heard the same…we’re still gonna head down and ride the parts we can, or say [colorful expletive it] and head for the MABDR again.
July 31
Take notes! Maybe Will Stenger and I will cover the same ground some weeks behind you.
More likely Will. I’m anticipating shit news from oncology on August 9, but we’ll see. I’ve had a sneaking suspicion since May that remission’s about over.
Nobody knows that, amigo… mum’s the word.
July 31
[colorful expletive] man…don’t know what to say, other than don’t throw in the towel.
I appreciate you sharing and hope you’ll keep me in the loop, and yes, absolutely, mum’s the word.
August 1
Haven’t decided how much I want to tell the oncologist. I’d rather have him look at the bloodwork and say uh-oh… keep it real scientific-like.
I definitely am symptomatic again though. Good thing is I don’t have to ride home from BC with a hurty collarbone this time.
August 8
Good luck tomorrow, man, thinking about you and fingers crossed
August 9
Thanks, Scott. I did the bloodwork today.
Pretty amazing system they have nowadays; in the 20 minutes it takes me to get home the lab results are already done, I can access them online.
No idea what any of them mean but I looked at the graphs from November 2020 until now. Ten different things they measure for, abbreviated as WBD, RBC, MCV, MCH…
A couple of them that were trending in one direction for the last three years are going the other way now but are still in the normal range. One has gone outside the range, MPV, dashing my chances of being named Most Player Valuable in Spanish baseball for all I know.
I suspect the doc will say, well, it would have been nice to get six or seven or eight years post-chemo but you’re getting three, so now we’ll keep an even bigger eyeball on you, instead of 6-month checkups we go back to every 3 months, until one day bruisers in white coats jump you when you come through the door, stick a tube of liquid mustard gas in yer arm all over again. Cue the Hollywood “NOOOOOO…”!!
Anyway… I’ll find out tomorrow.
Today, actually. Just woke up. I fell asleep on the couch around 10 watching Nazis invade Poland.
Took Pam and her sister to the train station yesterday, they’re in New York until Friday on their annual girls’ trip to the great magnetic rock. They have fun. Shows, restaurants, shopping… I think tonight they were going to the Michael Jackson show, which, you know… why? 🙂
If she knew I’ve been having symptoms again all summer she’d be here obsessing over it, same for her family reunion on Flanders Bay last weekend, and on the getaway we had in Kennebunkport before that, all the way back to Mother’s Day and Fundy Park, so… that’s why I don’t tell her anything.
What’s happening with the NEBDR? You must be on the road now?
August 9
Well that’s not necessarily as bad as you thought so take it for what it is and just keep truckin.
We don’t leave for the BDR until Sunday August 20.
Let me know when you hear back from the Doc.
August 9
Once more unto the breach.
Doc wants a PET scan, biopsy, see whether it’s the same animal. I told him I’d just as soon wait six months, see what’s going on then. He said he could predict the outcome. He hasn’t seen it hint at coming back and then fail to follow through. If it’s back it’s back, the question is: in what form is it back?
So anyway, this whole spring turning to summer thing worked out okay. It wasn’t an acute enough problem that Pam couldn’t be kept unaware and left to enjoy her summer. So I’ll tell her what’s what when she gets home from her girls’ trip to NY and no harm done, we go from there.
Keep me advised on your NEBDR travels, bud. Or MABDR, should you and George opt for a more southern route.
August 9
So not to sound like a parent or anything…but if they identify it sooner rather than later, doesn’t that help get out in front of it and start the good fight now as opposed to waiting six months when it may be a tougher animal to kill?
August 9
Oh yeah, definitely. I probably could have said that with more clarity. I told the doc to schedule whatever he needs to, I’ll be there.
I can’t leave Pam in the dark for six more months, not when it potentially has consequences. And I can’t tell her the doc wants diagnostics but I’ve decided to put it off, there’d be no living here in peace, man. She’d swoop in like a bird of prey 🙂 Not to mention her squadron of allies, D’s 1 through 3, they’d all gang up on me.
So…
On August 12 I told Pam what was going on. She boohooed a bit. We agreed to hold off on telling the girls until there was medical imaging to go by.
That weekend, back up to Vermont to work on siding. Told you about that here…
Scott and George saddled up that Sunday and invited me to meet them on the trail somewhere. Didn’t seem like something I could pull together; best to concentrate on getting answers here.
They rode two days of blacktop to Hancock, New York, where they picked up the south end of the trail and started riding north again.
The NEBDR runs about 1,250 miles between New York and Maine.
Scott and George covered 134 miles the first day, camped for the night in Andes, NY.
This is the easy part. They also ran into sections that were nothing but rocks, more suited to motocross.
They met a couple of guys on 650-class middleweight bikes who had started out with a group of five. Two had damaged their bikes too badly to continue; the third got hurt and was done with it.
Then, on August 24—Adventure strikes! That’s what you call it when things go wrong and you’re privileged to test yourself against adversity.
The front suspension of Scott’s R1200GS gave up the ghost. No compression or rebound damping whatsoever. Now he’s riding pogo-style on the spring, hearing metal on metal, thinking less about what he’s doing, more about the bike coming apart, hence he’s picking himself up out of the dirt half the time.
Lost it on a sandy curve, almost dropped the big GS nose-first down a hole 12 feet deep.
Clearly, the bike’s unrideable off road with the front suspension gone, that’s settled. The question becomes: do you really want to find out how unstable it can be on the highway?
That was the end of the NEBDR. Scott and George got out to the blacktop and headed north on paved country lanes.
They got home to New Brunswick late on the 25th.
September 26, adventure from the get-go down here: another ride through the Positron Emission Tomography Time Machine.
They prep you with a radioactive glucose IV, the operator slides you in, cancer cells emit gamma rays as they metabolize the sugar bait, that tells the scanner where they are, the operator slides you back out, and into, for better or worse, your future.
Via text later that day, I resume the thread with battered-but-happy-to-be-home Scott:
Trip through the scanner cost $7,109. Good thing I’m an old [colorful expletive] with Medicare coverage.
[colorful expletive]
Pam dropped me off at the hospital so I wouldn’t have to futz with parking. When she came back to pick me up, first question, naturally: what were the results?
Pretty bad, I said. The worst they had ever seen. Two radiologists lost heart and quit the department.
I’ll bet she found that as helpful and funny as Jen does lol
Another good one: Are you going to finish the woodwork in the house before Christmas? No, your second husband’s gonna have to get to that.
🤣
Yesterday I took a stab at deciphering the scan report (they had posted it to the patient portal the previous evening) then it was time to tell the girls what we know and what we mostly don’t.
The doctor who interpreted the scan describes the lymph nodes around my aorta as “intensely FDG avid.”
FDG is the tracer, the sugar bait. The scan can tell how eagerly the cancer goes after the radioactive glucose. Mine appears to be keenly interested in eating. The avidity, as it’s called, was rated 5 out of a possible 5. That may mean something, it may not; it’s one bit of information that gets put together with other bits.
“New intensely FDG avid lymphadenopathy above and below the diaphragm, in keeping with recurrence of known follicular lymphoma. Given the intense FDG avidity of the para-aortic nodes, transformation to a higher grade lymphoma is possible.”
The biopsy will answer that question. I’m told my bloodwork looks pretty all right; what’s of greater interest is the hungry nodes that showed up on the scan. The doctor who read the scan rated it “RADCAT 4: priority result,” which basically means: Don’t ignore this, investigate further. So that’s where we are.
If the biopsy turns up my old friend from 2019, that’s one thing; if it’s something different, that’s different.
Will let you know.
Tony DePaul, August 30, 2023, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Tony,
If I could survive through the Vietnam war during my teenage years – while a few of my classmates got killed on the battlefield – you can survive through this WAR. Keep fighting, never surrender.
I still ride my 1981 Honda CM400T occasionally locally in my retirement in addition to cooking for my significant other and 2 adult kids because all of them still work. That’s the price I have to pay to retire before they do.
You, Pam and your gang are always in our prayers.
Dominic & Thuy
Dominic! Great to hear from you.
I have a photo of you on your bike here https://www.tonydepaul.net/old-friends-in-levittown-pa/ And a few pics of the families way back when at the old house on Grays Ferry.
If you’re headed north to visit Thuy’s family over the holidays, we’d be delighted to have you camp here on your way up & back.
Tony — I haven’t kept up with the Nickels, and Barbara just told me, so I went through the back issues. Your stoicism is impressive, but just get well!!! We need you around to take us with you on the road, do all that construction, amuse us with your stories, and keep us safe in the knowledge that you are here with us. No running off to Alaska until you have kicked this lymphoma’s ass! I am rooting for you! Your former fellow wage slave, Ellen L.
Hey! Nice to hear from you, Ellen!
Funny you should mention Alaska. At 4:28 today I received a photo taken in Prince George, British Columbia; guys I ran into in the Arctic four years ago, they’re headed north again. Not to the interior this time, but 9 days up & back to the Hyder/Stewart crossing. That had me smiling so wide my face hurt!
Here’s my 2019 road report on Stewart BC/Hyder AK. https://www.tonydepaul.net/glaciers-and-bears/
I’m so sorry to hear this, Tony. I’m sending all my good wishes, and I’ll keep you in my thoughts and prayers. I’m thinking of Pam and your wonderful family too. You’re the best, Tony, and I hope one of the new or experimental treatments will be the answer for you.
Thanks, Ellie. By 9:30 a.m. tomorrow I’ll know first-hand how these CT-guided needle probes work. How they work in a hospital, not a flying saucer… so that’s good.
I once published a photo of my late pal Johnny Danger undergoing the procedure. Different purpose in his case: they weren’t removing tissue to be examined, they were killing tumors. That guy was a warrior. He was at UCLA Medical Center at least four times a year for the procedure. The pic’s here: https://www.tonydepaul.net/the-beautiful-mystery-goes-on/
I am so much more sorry than I can say. I will pray for you. May you be granted a refuah shlema.
Had to look that up… I’ll take it!
Thanks, Stephen
Colorful expletives all day long …
I’m glad that Pam and the whole DePaul daughter-army is ready to help, as are all of us. Cancer picked the wrong guy to mess with.
You’re a treasure, Tony. We all love you and are rooting for you to beat this back into remission, soon.
Thanks, Amanda. Come by soon for another movie night. And don’t forget to bring the dog. I love to see Elmer curled up in his home-away-from-home chair in our living room, casting soulful glances at the couch, then us humans, then the couch, haha…
And when he sneaks onto the couch and is discovered, he relaxes and goes dead-weight, so he’s as heavy as possible being moved back over to his chair. 🙂
Keep the optimism flowing! Cuck fancer! You’ve got this!
Good use of explicatory color…
Whatever the results Tony, you have always handled that particular BS with grace and the love of your family and friends.. Hoping the best for all of you.
Thanks, Peggy. We’re having a pleasant day. D1D1’s interested in what’s going on, curious 8-year-old, has questions. She wanted me to help her glue seashells on a piece of wood to hang on the wall, so we did that. She’s baking cupcakes with Pam now. The sun’s out! … Gorgeous day here.
Well shit, Tony. This is unwelcome news, but of course you manage to make it entertaining as ever. Sending good vibes your way.
Hey! Nice to hear from you, Chris. The original garage lives on. Thanks for being in touch, man.
Tony:
Been trying to think of an appropriate response since I read your last posting. No surprise, I cannot write as well as you. Just know that, like many others, I am thinking about you and hoping for the best.
Michael
Thank you, Michael.
Just got the call from Rhode Island Hospital. I’ll be on the table at 8:20 a.m. tomorrow. Moving right along…
Hello Tony,
Sorry to hear of the crappy medical news. As evidenced by a long list of respondents, you have a lot of people rooting and praying for you and your family. I am among those who admire (and are confounded by) your ability to find humor in a difficult time of your life. I always enjoy reading your blog: today I learned about PET scans, lymphomas, and did a little digging to find out more about Dan Seals!
Well, I can’t add anything here that hasn’t already been said, other than to say I agree with everything that’s been said. You have an eclectic group of followers, which says a lot about you as a human being. I am still looking forward to meeting you in person and possibly riding a couple sections of the now infamous NEBDR, or maybe just a short ride to grab a sandwich and a beer? (family and doctors permitting). Be well brother.
Hey, Will. As of this writing I’m not aware of any reason I might need to stick around here after the post-biopsy meet with the oncologist on September 27. So yeah, you bet, let’s get out there and rip around on the motorcycles.
Ain’t life just a cher ‘o bowlies…
Well, fuk man…I sold my bike, so there’s no ridin’ cross-country to baby-sit you. I will owe you that one forever. Maybe a second round of giggles in The City though.
Gotta be a time and place to bullshit some more.
Yeah and I especially want to know what’s going on with your new building. Pam showed me a photo yesterday, maybe the day before… is this passive solar…? What is this?
Knew you’d do something creative, that’s no surprise.
New shop/studio. It will host a 16-20kw solar array on the southern pitch. Phase one. Phase two is a house, 50′ away. That project will start when it starts. When this one finishes we will move out of a 5th wheel we’ve called home this summer, and settle into my 700 sq ft studio. I will use the shop and an air-conditioned 200 sq ft room for artmaking.
Hi Tony. So this is F***-all disheartening news. Your chronicle reflects indomitable strength and weirdly dazzling humor. Please add my voice to your supportive chorus as you go kick more ass. Best to you, Pam and your family. KZ
Thanks, Karen. Kerry Kohring’s face vividly flashed into memory as I was reading your note and I thought… that’s strange. A moment later I realized it’s not strange at all to anybody who knew Kerry. Your words summoned him for me. 🙂
Tony,
It seems even cancer can be fodder for your humor. Remember, Screwtape advised his apprentice demon Wormwood to avoid humor, because “the phenomenon is of itself disgusting and a direct insult to the realism, dignity, and austerity of Hell.” Give ’em hell, Tony. You and Pam are in our thoughts and prayers.
lol… I don’t imagine Screwtape gets invited to a whole lot of parties, does he?
(Colorful Expletive.) I’m speechless Tony. How you manage to still have a sense of humor is beyond me. I will redouble my efforts not to sweat the small stuff – and I’ll be keeping you, Pam, and your family in my thoughts and wishes. Please hang in there!
Thank you, Chris. Here’s hoping all’s well on the mighty Chesapeake!
I hope this is something that is manageable. I realize getting through it the first time wasn’t easy, and the new unknowns can be concerning. But the one thing that is the same is that you’ve got an amazing support system at your back. We love you, Tony.
Thanks, Ryan. As you’ve probably guessed, we’re coming up on the end of Dungeons Undone. Let me know what you think is going on when we get there.
My first guess was already a dud, so I’ll say that we’ll end on a scene of Mozz pitching the story to a movie exec. It started as an elevator pitch, but mysteriously the elevator broke down. The final panel is John X giving a knowing glance to the reader now that the elevator is “fixed”.
You never know! It is a magical realism universe…
I am gutted to hear this news ☹️
Lots of prayers (that will involve begging) coming your way, stay cool.
Thanks so much, Fran. I thought of your family in Florida yesterday while reading up on the hurricane. Here’s hoping all’s well.
I’m hoping that the results come out in your favor Tony. The world is too short of Good Guys and you are most definitely one, even though you don’t wear the white hat. Best wishes from my fam to you and yours! Hang tough!
Thank you, Chuck. Hope to see you soon on a woodworking Saturday or Sunday down at John’s. Good open-door autumn weather coming, Larry’s bound to be working in the three-season shop. Last week I gave that antique tractor seat a high-speed wire brushing & primed it so now Larry’s got to finish his shave horse project. 🙂
Hang in there my friend.Sorry to hear about your health issues.
That picture of your Decker looks like you brought the kitchen sink with you……Bob
Been thinking of you guys in this wildfire situation, Bob. I read where they emptied out the whole town in Kelowna.
I’ll be in touch to catch up on your riding this year, bud.
Recurrence really sucks. I feel for you.
A big club, ain’t it? Hang in there, Jim.
Hey there Tony…
My brother has been in remission with a lymphoma for a couple years now…thanks for your story. We keep wondering.
I’m sending you a ton of powerfully good juju from the eastern Sierra and West Bishop where all the groovy people live😜
Keep writing! Keep fighting. All the best to you and yours.
I love the Owens Valley… Many happy memories there, Denise. Vivid images that are always with me.
I’m glad to hear your brother’s doing well living with the malady. Many people do. Most by far, I imagine.
Here’s one of my favorite songs by a great human being who drew the short straw. Dan Seals. He got the one you don’t want, mantle cell lymphoma. He’ll never be gone, though 🙂
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QZjJU-mtFU&ab_channel=AshleyAllen
Tony –
Got reminded of The Phantom tonight for some odd reason. Inspired me to look up its (non-Lee Falk) writer and see what had happened to him over the past decade-plus.
Turns out quite a bit! I started somewhere near the bottom of the blog entries and cherry-picked my way northward, and yeah I probably read a few more Phantom ones than motorcycle trek ones, but hey, y’know. Was crushed when I saw “yeah cancer blah blah blah” in 2019 and honestly didn’t know how long the entries would keep going, and was thrilled when I got to ‘results are in’ and it was all good. Also, the aircraft carrier Langley one was quite good. Those seaplane-carrying liars!
And then… there’s one from today, and the title doesn’t seem particularly worrisome, but you read it, because it’s from today, and hey, what’s this guy up to now? And then, dang. Dang dang dang. But hey, all the more reason to write now, because tempus fugit and all that.
I have a surprising number of fond memories of the Warwick Bureau, including those great phone-attachment things you stick on the back of the receiver that prevented us from getting stiff necks over hours on the phone. But my real takeaway is, to this day, how I still use so many DePaul-isms in my regular parlance: ‘Start slow, taper off.’ ‘The velvet coffin.’ And that favorite for breaking out at every wedding anniversary: ‘That’s a lotta years of banging the same woman.’
I’d say hope all is well, even though I just read that it wasn’t, but in some way, I have a feeling it still is. Some people just are that way.
Dan Barbarisi
“That’s a lotta bonking the same chick,” lol… Pam loves hearing that one every January 3rd.
Holey moley, man—Dan Barbarisi!! Delighted to hear from you after all these years, Dan. Thanks so much for the kind word on the back catalogue at The Nickels of the Man. I’ll bet you remember that old saying, too, and can thus appreciate the ironic usage.
Hearing from a reader I had no idea is out there is always such a pleasure. The blog’s just for fun, I don’t have any analytics on it; no idea where it’s read, whether it’s read. I figure that’s for sites that are trying to sell ads, sell merch, all that. I’m just goofing around here. Which is mostly what I did in the Warwick Bureau, come to think of it…
You probably remember the time Mark Arsenault and I were throwing the aerobie around and one of us knocked the sensor off the central fire alarm, Warwick’s rolling engines in response. We called up to wave them off then shut the alarm system down at the panel. It was more than a year before anyone noticed! Some serious vigilance going on there at building maintenance…
Will shoot you a private email with my number, Dan, we’ve got to catch up.
Tony, thanks for this update though I’m sorry to learn of its reappearance. Keeping you, Pam and the girls in my thoughts and praying for the best.
Thanks, Jen. Be in touch with Pam and come see us!
My dear Tony, sending love, hugs and love, how may we support and hug you through this. You are so strong and loved💕💕💐
Thank you, Jody. So nice to see you in Kennebunkport this summer. That was a fun surprise.
So loved seeing you and your family…beautiful time!
Thank goodness for airline cancellations! Life is about pivoting, you are a master. Big hugs! j
CCjon wrote a version of what I was feeling. You’ve always known the road to take. This is the time to listen to the locals. Kick its ass. What would The Phantom do?
Brad
What would the Phantom do? That’s a good question.
The villains they face are much easier to lay hands on, of course. There are 20 Phantoms in the crypt. They all went with their boots on, nary a one in a hospital johnny 🙂
Beelzebub is back. Or, it could be his cousin.
I did not enjoy reading this.
Well brother, you and I have both fought this demon before, it’s a formidable adversary as we have both found out in years past. You know the drill, Needles and Scans – this appointment and that. Just need a little more blood. It’s being tired on an entirely new level. Concerns for your family on the news. Meet new doctors and nurses. Science. Hope. Fear. Exhaustion. You will solider through it because that’s what Tony DePaul does. And you have a huge, massive support group which is triple aces all the way.
Those AARP ads when the beautiful gray-haired couple are having the time of their lives in their 60’s and 70’s dancing and smashing tennis balls around….yeah….not so much. Pickleball….right.
My new BMW GSA 1250 sits in the garage with only 450 miles on it. I had a stroke in early July and can’t ride it, mostly every day is a dizzy one and my brain feels like there’s a milkshake in it. Everything is slow and sluggish, I can’t imagine any stability on a 2-wheeler.
Getting old is not for sissies. But we will keep on going until we can’t. Kick that cancer’s ass one more time. You can do it.
Oh man, I had no idea, Duane. I’ll give you a call in the morning. Or maybe I’ll ride down, we’ll take a selfie and send it to AARP, see if they want the real story on the cover 🙂
…Well my dear, dear friend, I think this sucks, but my money is squarely on you. The progress in the treatment of various types of lymphomas has been phenomenal in recent years — not always a pajama party, but damn impressive. As a fellow warrior, I’m always blown away by how you take it all head on. Just the straight-on truth and lots of guts. I guess it’s time to kick butt for a second time. Please know that your friends are here for you and Pam. Whatever you need. Whenever you need it. You are both so very special.
Kick ass.
Love,
Babs
Love you, and so glad Tony went to see you and Jimmy in person today ❤️ You mean so much to us both.
Thank you, Fabo. Great to see you and Jimmy today. Take care of that beautiful london plane!
Tony, you sure know how to find new adventures… at every turn. Just when you thought an unpaved backcountry challenge was waiting for you, BAM, life throws a mind-bending twist your way. Talk about a tank-slapper.
Overcome and adapt my friend, overcome and adapt. Your best help and aid will come from unexpected places and people. Strangers will take care of you and nurse you back to recovery.
Never thought a doctor from a communist country would be the one to heal me when I wiped out in Chile. Now I praise Cuban trained doctors.
Don’t turn away help and advice from unexpected sources. They might have the right key of knowledge to unlock your recovery.
Abrazos
Thanks, amigo. I miss your blog. You’ve got to get squared away on the WordPress learning curve and resume sharing your stories and photos.
Hi to Amparo. I hope your trip to Spain comes off as planned.
In 2019 I went down the prostate road, but it was nothing like what you’ve been through. Smooth pavement all the way. Didn’t even know I had it until my doctor saw the PSA numbers heading north of 4.6. She sends me to urologist who confirms it with a biopsy. Hormone shot*, six weeks of radiation, another shot and I get to ring the bell. Four years out last week’s blood test was a PSA of 0.1.
I hear stories like yours and from others about what they’ve been through and the most I suffer from is survivor’s guilt.
I know you’ll ride it out again. Don’t hesitate to pop in anytime you get lost up this way. We don’t have a picnic table but to make you feel at home I’ll drag a couple of pallets out of the shed.
* About that hormone shot. I say to the nurse which arm do you want? She says “I don’t want either arm, drop those shorts.”
Ooh… yeah that sounds like a no-fun biopsy, too. The one I had in 2019 was easy. Scalpel method. Surgeon took the whole node out of the side of my neck. They just twilight you a little bit. I didn’t even know the surgery had been started let alone finished. Surgeon said we carried on a conversation throughout. Wha? I said was I lucid or babbling? His answer: both.
Hi Dave. Long time since the newsroom. Glad you are doing okay. I have dealt with Mass Gen Urology since 1998. They keep patching me up. I recommend them. Be well. Alix
Oh no, so sorry for your medical setback! Modern medicine is great but not perfect. Would you like our thoughts and prayers? (Hopefully they’ll work better for you than they do for violence prevention)
I’d trust Babudan to slice off a microscope-ready sample of this node on my aorta from 20 paces.
And please don’t keep any secrets from the women in your life. Not only are they wise advisors, but wife and daughters deserve to know and scold. That’s what I’d tell Kit Sr.
Thank you for this comment. We have had this conversation. I know he did this with the best intentions but I agree we should have been told.
I haven’t stopped praying for you daily since the first battle and I sure as heck won’t stop now!! You’re a miracle man Tony. Give it your best shot! Hugs to both you and Pam. 🙏
Your friendship means a lot to us, Teresa. Thanks so much.
You’ve got this, Tony! Keeping the positive vibes going for you as long as it takes. You have a lot left to accomplish and are as strong as it gets w/a great constitution! Love you!
Thank you, Vicki. Sorry I didn’t get to the reunion on Flanders Bay this summer. I’ll look forward to seeing you there in 2024.
Thinking of you, Uncle Tony, if there is anything we can do, say the (colorful expletive) word!
Sending our love and positive vibes!
Thanks, Kim. Will we see you up this way in mid-October? We all missed you at Ava’s games last time. Looking forward to the next round!
I’m sorry to hear this. You have my best wishes for future colorful tours like the one to the Arctic and for enjoyment at the house you are building. (I’m selfish–I want more Phantom.)
Thanks for the good word, Tom. I appreciate having you as a reader on the daily and Sunday strips. And here!
You will make me laugh no matter what comes.
That’s such a gift.
Brilliant man.
Love to all of you.
💗
Thanks, Mari. Hi to Hugo & family.
Tony, keep fighting the good fight, the Illuminati needs your insight!
Hey, Bullet. Saw John last Saturday and he was thinking of organizing an Illuminati-fest one of these weekends. That would be a hoot. Thanks for reading, man.
Tony, thanks for sharing your journey with us. These things are always better shared, so we can cry and laugh, and in my case, pray for you. May you have a touch of the divine. Blessings.
Thank you, Tim. Hope the smoke’s not so bad where you are anymore. You’re up around Red Deer? Been meaning to get in touch with my friend Bill Boogaart in Calgary, see how they’re doing down there.
You’re (colorful expletive) right we’d gang up on you. You’re no match for the boohooligan gang, especially in your current state.
Love you, Dad.
Haha… on my best day I was never a match for the legendary D2.
I have always had a knack for “taking you down.”
Hi Tony, I have been dealing with stuff in PeeTown, so while I have been reading you, I have been quiet. Dealing with kidney infection stuff, but not too bad.
As for you, well shit. For me, I am glad that you did most of what you wanted during remission.
We think of you often, Alix. And not just every time we see the little antique rocking chair that was in your family all those years.
Love you, Dad. We’re all here for you!
Thanks, my Lauradorable.
Tony,
If you weren’t talking about your health, I’d say once again how much I enjoy your style of writing. I will still admit that; let’s just say I wish the subject was motorcycle riding or house-in-Vermont-building. As it is, I’ll be praying for you as you deal with whatever you need to deal with.
I’m glad your bride knows.
Cynthia
Thanks, Cynthia. I’ll be happy for all the good mojo I can get when they’re sticking a needle through my back trying to hit not the aorta but a small target on the aorta. That must be some trick. Hopefully I draw someone who’s done it before.