TODAY’S a chemo day, but first: news of compelling interest to tens of people.
I got the piglet down off the jack where she’s lived all winter. Her wheels are on the ground again.
As you can see, the bike remains a work in progress. I’m good for an hour or two, then I’m forced to take naps and long reading breaks. These are the crushing First World problems I labor under.
This is a fun read sent over by my friend Bob in British Columbia. It’s about a father-son team shoehorning a Vincent v-twin into a Ducati chassis.
Coming up next in the stack: The Longest Line on the Map, a history of the Pan-American Highway. That’s from Anita and Jon in Boston. Then Illywhacker, from my friends Jaime and Ingrid at Ocean State Harley-Davidson.
I used to think I’d get my chemo ticket punched and immediately hit the road. Disappear for months, howl at the moon in the hobo woods, be a free man on the Earth. Now I’m sure I won’t be riding anywhere at all until 2021.
My 2020’s destined to be a rebuilding year. It’ll take me a while to get my physical conditioning back. I was wasted when I got home from the Arctic last summer, down to my high school weight. Fourteen and a half thousand miles… long haul with a stage III cancer aboard.
So this year it’ll be home improvements. I’ll get a good upper-body workout hefting a digging bar. We’re going to build two new porches off the back of the house.
I’ll dig the foundation holes and pour the concrete.
Eight tubes in all. They need to go 42 inches deep to get below frost. I’ll aim for 54 inches, maybe 60. I always overbuild. And I like digging holes in the ground. When the girls were teens I always made their dates aware of that.
My son-in-law’s crew will do the framing, decking and roofing. No way I’m in shape for that. I may do the finish work, railings and trim, or just have the young bucks plow through, then it’s done.
Frank Gesualdo, our architect friend in New York, drew the plans. And wouldn’t let us pay him. I’ll try again. Next time in person.
So that’s the program: start rebuilding my physical conditioning in mid-April. By then my immune system will be bouncing back, and chemo and I can officially break up. I’ll start out saying how it’s me, not you… then a light bulb will go off, I’ll say, no, actually it is you, chemo. You’re awful. Everybody says so.
If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m in the chair as we speak.
This final round is unlike the first five, given the pandemic. It’s a leap into the unknown. Because here in the U.S. you can’t get tested for the virus before undergoing chemo.
For more than two weeks now, the very stable genius has been saying test kits are widely available. They are not.
Say you’ve been exposed to the virus but don’t know it because symptoms have yet to manifest. You undergo chemo, it razes your immune system, all of a sudden you’ve got a whole new major malfunction. Cancer will be the least of your troubles.
So being here today is a gamble, though I have no way to assess how big a gamble. Maybe a good outcome is all but a sure thing, or maybe I’m being dangerously foolhardy. Dunno. Nobody does. Nobody knows where the clusters are, given how the test kits are being rationed. To get tested it seems you need to be a politician who made light of the pandemic, or a basketball player who did. For ordinary people, you need to be on a ventilator.
I’d have a better handle on the risk if this chair were in Singapore, South Korea, Germany, or any other country that took the pandemic seriously and prepared for it.
Anyway, I chose to proceed in the blind guard today because it’s important cancer-wise to stay on schedule. I didn’t go through five rounds of chemo just to give cancer a breather now. So here I am in the chair with the I.V. in my arm.
Will be back here tomorrow for more.
Chemo ain’t cheap, by the way. A few days ago I happened to see a list of charges for the first time. Two outpatient days on the I.V. bill at $61,000. Six rounds, that’s $366,000. That doesn’t include all the other things you need: biopsies, regular blood labs, PET scans, CAT scans, X-rays…
We’re lucky to have good insurance through the bride’s employer. We pay no more than $9,600 a year. The first $4,000 is premiums. Out-of-pocket costs are capped at $5,600. Not a bad deal, by American standards.
How do the working poor navigate this members-only system we’ve got? Influential special interests don’t want to hear it. They just want their trash cans emptied and their toilets scrubbed.
So five months later, the final lap is finally here. I can’t say I’m awfully concerned about the unknown risk. When it really counts, I draw good cards. Always have. My luck is uncanny. Call it spooky action at a distance. Spooky action is my friend.
The only way forward is forward. Running is futile. You’re not going anywhere. Cancer will call you on it. And in a mocking, patronizing tone. That would just annoy the hell out of me.
In closing, here’s my guess on how this all works out: I haven’t been exposed to coronavirus, therefore I don’t end up in the ICU with covid-19 and no means to fight it. Round 6 goes exactly the way the first five did. I’ll feel awful for the next week or two, maybe three. Then I’ll turn the corner and start working on my rebuilding year.
If I’m wrong, I’d like you all to enjoy a hearty laugh at my expense. Ha!… spooky action my ass… the dummy zigged when he should have zagged.
Tony DePaul, March 18, 2020, Providence, Rhode Island, USA
As I read this knowing you are still with us on tierra firma, you were right to zig instead of zag.
Rebuild the strength while building on to the house. You have growing family there.
Hi Tony – glad to read that you’re at another turn in the road! Give yourself a break down this one and take it easy!! Love, D&T
I’m so glad you won’t have to go through any more treatments. Hopefully you’ll be bouncing back before you know it. It’s great that you have a crew to work on your porches, but remember the bruiser and I are here if you need anything. Look forward to the day when you and Pam can come visit and just hang out.
The first two books you mention sound interesting!
The father/son angle, the Big Repair.
Interesting idea of a highway history as well.
Now’s the time for some adventurous reading.
Tony…I love reading your writings! God has blessed you with incredible abilities along these lines. You are being held up with prayers! LU Aunt Ellie
Tony,
I was thinking about when you first got Piglet! We first met you in Labrador! That motorcycle has covered a lot of territory! Your rebuild of it, and your personal journey of getting your health back would be a great novel! I will buy the first copy!
Best wishes for Good health and that you ride many more miles,
Prayers still coming your way. I’m on quarantine for having traveled recently. It was only to Uganda though, which doesn’t have the virus, but those are the directives our government gave. I’m on day 4 now. 10 to go.
Love you, Dad! Proud of you for making it through all of your treatments.
Tony,
Glad to hear it’s almost over. What a fight. Enjoy those books and I can’t wait to see your movie come out
“…howl at the moon in the hobo woods”
…Well, Tony-Man, you’ve still got those writing chops! I’ve been thinking of you and Pam…..miss you both (although I get to ‘stay in touch’ with Pam through all her great Facebook posts).
Stay strong and maybe we’ll all get to have a fun meal at a time when we can actually sit inside a restaurant.
I’m thinking of you…and I think for all of us right now, the waiting, as my man Tom Petty sang, is the hardest part…
Babs
“The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart…”
I’m so glad to hear the chemo will be over soon. I’d love to see pix of the 2 porches, while you’re working on them and when they’re finished. You’re better than the Property Brothers, I hope you chronicle this project.
Good luck there buddy. Enjoy the book.
I just read through all these comments, didn’t know you had so many friends…..Bob
Here is to a successful zig.
Hey Tony. Don’t scare me with that Last lap title will ya? Sheeesh. I always go negative so that scared me. I’m currently sitting in an old office chair on the property of my Daughter In Law’s deceased Father on Johns Island just outside Charleston, SC. I have been here for two days helping to clean out the property. Seems the old guy was a retired welder with a hoarding obsession. LOTS of work.
So here I sit in his old office chair outside by the main shed on a beautiful breezy evening. I can’t help but think old Billy Tanner would have been one of your casual meetups on your travels. Maybe would have pitched the tent in his yard among the junk cars and structural steel littered among the containers and sheds. I never had the opportunity to meet him but I think I have gotten to know him and his habits a little better over the past couple of days as I sifted through the piles. His mess began to make sense after a while.
A long setup to say that thanks in large part to my relationship to you I think that way now. I don’t know if I would have had the same interpretation of this visit as I have if I hadn’t followed your scribbling and travels these past years. I am better for it. Maybe you will get someone to dig those holes but I doubt it. Hang in there Tony and now that my season is cancelled until May don’t be surprised if you see a GS show up in your driveway in the near future!
Jeff
Me too! That title Last Lap ensured I’d click on the link immediately. And not stop till I’d read to the end. What a relief after reading it all. You’re a cunning writer Tony you…
Back in the chair now, drip drip drip… All done today, final lap (so to speak)
Attitude is about 70%.
Hang in there!
Roy Batty expired, just like the cancer will. You’ll be around for plenty more two-wheeled scooting.
Hey Tony! Good to hear things are still going forward. You are stronger than these obstacles in your life! Keep up the fight. You’re in my thoughts and prayers. Hope to see you soon…
We’ll have a patch of grass by the pool when you pitch the pup tent, or air con guest room, just in case you mosey down the PAH through Panama.
You will come out of this one shiny side up as always!
About those post holes…
When I couldn’t mow last year we had a service clip the lawn. This year when they called, my wife said he should do it again despite me having no more excuse. I do what my wife tells me. If you really want to dig the holes, charge on. If you are digging the holes because you feel like you have an obligation to at least do something on the project, there are others who can dig faster and with less effort. My old age has taught me that even though I can do anything, I can’t (or shouldn’t) do everything. Contractors have some value. Now I’m going down to the basement and work on my model railroad while I’m in isolation. Good luck. I’ll be thinking of you.
Thanks, all. Your support and friendship mean a lot to me.
They’re getting ready to kick me loose here for the day. Running straight saline now just to flush out the med line.
To add a bit of motorcycling detail on the work to date: I installed new wheel bearings, trued the rims, mounted new skins, another set of Arctic-proven Kenda K270’s. Heavy-duty Cogent suspension fore and aft. Rugged 0.58 Kg/mm springs up front, straight rate, no more seesawing around on those squishy progressive springs from the factory. Adjustable fork caps, easy to set preload to suit whatever weight I happen to be carrying. New bars, new risers, new headlight. Round headlight, as the motorcycle gods intended. I drilled both wheels for rimlocks so I can air down for better traction when the terrain requires it, won’t need to be concerned about tearing an inner tube. Rim locks probably aren’t necessary on the front but I had the drill out, the bits, might as well install them. They’re heavy, 4 oz in the back, 3 oz in the front, so I installed two in each wheel, set them 180 degrees apart so they balance out. The rim locks make for a bit more futzing while changing tires but it’s no huge deal, not an issue even if you’re changing tires out in the weeds somewhere.
I’ve got another thousand bucks worth of parts to order before the bike’s running again. Half of that’s a pumper carb, for better off road control at low revs. No need to slip the clutch so much. For that same reason I went up four teeth on the rear sprocket, from the stock 42 to 46. I’ll run a 16-tooth countersprocket for highways and step down to 15 or 14 off road. Won’t ever have a need to run a 13. I wanted to avoid it, considering how they can be hard on chains as well as the material that keeps the chain from digging down to the aluminum on the pivot end of the swingarm. At 14/46 I’ll be geared plenty low at 3.29. Good crawling gear, can’t imagine ever needing to go lower. The intermediate 15/46 will give me 3.07. On the highway at 16/46 I’ll be at 2.88, pretty close to the stock 15/42 setup, 2.80. It’ll pull fine and won’t over rev. But again, I expect the bike to sit this year. I’m setting it up for 2021, the MABDR, the NEBDR, or the TAT. Or who knows? Maybe the Trans Labrador again.
Wow Tony, you AND the bike are going to be completely rebuilt! Well, from what I can see from your other projects (old Ford pickup, Iron Pig) you don’t do anything halfheartedly. God speed your healing, you’ll be on the road in no time.
Will
Yup. That is about all I got. You know the rest T. And you know to rest T.
Tony,
We’re thinking of you here.
Piglet looks pretty lean without all the trimmings.
Recommend using an auger for your depth. Just have someone nearby as auger accidents happen – should you decide to go that direction.
Looks like you have good plans. Remember to call for a utility locate before you excavate, no matter what.
Hang tough, my friend.
Matt
Adel, IA
I say use the post hole digger for the first one to knock the rust off, then rent a fully certified, official Harley Davidson, chromed out rotary post hole digger and have someone ELSE dig your holes! Get the muscling done at a gym. Oh wait,they are closed now too…
Tony, here’s to great times in the dirt! Stay strong and get well! We planted peas yesterday! Love and strength to you! Jody
I think you’re both lucky and early, Tony, and a helluva good writer.
Maybe, as Dylan said, something had to stop you.
The Tony I know may get his ticket punched by Cancer, but not from someone coughing on him. That ain’t gonna happen because that’s a goofy way to go and it’s just not allowed.
You’re going another foot below the frost line with a digging bar and post hole digger? Either you have no rocks in the ground in Rhode Island and the soil is like buttah, or you’re a certified masochist. Tell me about that extra foot after the first two holes, ha!
Love you, brother. That about says it all for now.
Hey Tony! Good to hear you’re still at it and getting the piglet ready for your next adventure. Hang in there!
Tony, stay safe. Claire LaRue 💞