ACTUAL CONVERSATION this morning. The bride sees me headed outdoors with motorcycle helmet in hand.
“Where are you going?”
“California. Be back in two weeks.”
It’s a running gag. We’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said see you in two weeks only to wander home three months later.
That said, since chemo’s the only reason I’m not headed out the door on an iron piggy run, let me note this: It gets progressively harder.
I don’t know why I thought a systematic poisoning every 28 days might get easier as you go along; I mean, given that the start of every new round finds you more & more whomped on and taking your first step with a certain diminishment.
The only good thing I can say is that everything’s a learning experience. Even one you’d rather not undergo can only help you understand more about others, more about the world, that can never be bad for ya.
To be sure, cancer is a specific kind of learning experience, one likely to grip you more than would a muddy old river or reclining Buddha. Or put another way, with further apologies to Murray Head, One night in chemo and the tough guys tumble.
By the time we’re done in March, I’m sure it’ll be as thorough an ass-kicking as I ever hope to enjoy.
Remember Thunderdome? Two men enter, one man leaves? Well in effin Chemodome it’s one man enters, half a man leaves. You go in Blaster, come out Master.
Good thing you’ll always have the fond memories, the nausea, mouth sores, infusion-site phlebitis. Come January 15 I’ll be back on the poison IV drip, mindful of the old saying, Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger almost kills you.
Until then, I’ve got good lab reports going for me. So far, the trouble signs the docs look for haven’t developed in my case. No anemia, no collapse of my ability to fight infection.
I’ve taken advantage of that to venture out for a little cold-weather wrenching. Steve next door volunteered the use of his garage. No heat, no lights to speak of, but even with the door open for light it makes a perfectly fine wind break.
On Sunday, with rain in the forecast, I left the piglet in Steve’s driveway overnight to soften up the Arctic crud. Then, on Monday, in a bitter, sleeting rain, I gave the bike a good brush-and-bucket scrub and pushed it in the garage. All ready for new parts.
Here’s the piglet awaiting the rain and a scrub, stripped down to a frame and a motor. Fork tubes still need to come off.
I’ve got new suspension parts to install, fore and aft, custom built for the weight I carry and how I ride. Not a great photo in this slanting winter light, but here’s the worn-out factory shock and the new one going in, the top-of-the-line from Cogent Dynamics.
Note the remote hydraulic preload adjustment. That’ll probably spoil me.
Having the piglet properly sprung will make her handle a whole lot more predictably on rough terrain.
The idea is to get pitched out of the saddle less often.
On the Arctic trek last summer I went yeehah buckaroo an average of once every 3,700 miles. Which isn’t terrible, but, taking fracture-healing time into account I wouldn’t mind stretching that out to every 10,000 miles or so.
Big iron piggy hauled me to the hospital yesterday, to give blood, regular lab work.
I’m breaking in a spiffy new helmet that reminds me of a favorite slot car I had as a kid, a black Vendetta with a yellow racing stripe.
Piggy rides like a tank, I can’t get enough of her. But she could use a little love, cosmetically speaking, living outdoors all winter as she does. Here’s the law of entropy having its way with her handlebars.
These are aftermarket bars. Harley’s factory chrome is much tougher, as you can see. It does a good job resisting weather and road salt.
The other side of those rusty bars, after I rubbed it out this morning with a little chrome polish on an old sock. It would come back nicely if I were to put a buffer on it.
First I’d have to start caring more about appearances. Which isn’t likely.
On the scribbling front, I just finished a major rewrite on a movie script that’s been on the front burner for a dozen years, ever so close to a sale quite a few times. I wrote the first draft in 2008 on a winter run to Key West.
I can’t take any credit for the shape of it, that belongs to Daughter #2. She advised me to toss a third of the previous draft and do this, that & the other, get the budget down to indie range and make it a better story in any event, more focused on the two main characters.
Since she was right about that, I’ve put her in charge of marketing as well. When she finishes up a Bruce Willis movie project in Georgia this winter (she’s the production manager), she’ll promote the script to half a dozen female-led production companies she has in mind.
My lead character is female, so I’ve thought from the start this story needs a smart female director. Your typical male director is likely to say the story needs more violence! (It has next to none.) It needs more guns! (No it doesn’t.)
I close with a word regarding the intrepid Pierre, the French bicyclist you may remember from the Arctic. We were campsite neighbors in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, then again in Tuktoyaktuk.
He pointed his bicycle south after that, kept pedaling, and is now in San Salvador, capital of El Salvador. He’s on his way to Tierra Del Fuego at the bottom of the world, the place ol’ CCjon and I never got to.
Not for want of trying. Maybe we’ll give it another whirl one of these years before we’re dust, see if we’re any less starcrossed as we ripen. Pierre can be our inspiration.
A pedal-powered run from Arctic to Antarctic seas. Now there’s the unconquerable human spirit in action.
Ride on, mon frère!
Tony DePaul, January 1, 2020, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
I appreciate you sharing your blog with me Tony. I can only get a glimpse and a guess about folks in the time I have to speak with them, but enough to know that human beings and their respective stories are fascinating and in this specific instance, inspirational as well. Thank you. I have no doubt that you’ll soon be traveling and I’ve subscribed so I can accompany you vicariously. Cheers!
Good to hear the update, Tony — we’re all gritting our teeth for you and willing chemo time to fly by.
Always thinking of you, pulling for you, and keenly following your tales. Thanks for taking the time to keep us apprised!
Hey Tony, you are so blessed to have so many caring friends, but of course you know that. They have all said what I want to say, in so many different and better ways. The kind words everyone is bestowing upon you are a reflection of who YOU are! As for me, I admire anyone willing to get outside and scrub down a muddy motorcycle in the freezing rain so they can service it in an unheated garage.
Will
Eight years ago bro Jan got back on two wheels after the bulldozer ate his foot in the track. First stop was a m/c museum. He is also still up on Crystal ski patrol as I write. You had a big effect on his gumption when you hopped on Piggy to cross over to the Great Northwest and help me change his dressings, etc. Back on Top, Tony!
Sending prayers and good wishes all the way from sunny Africa. Wish I could share some of the sunshine, but in your case it already shines from inside.
There are a lot of accounts of cancer in the media but none as detailed as yours. It’s valuable to me to read, so as to have an idea of what to expect. And I enjoy all of the other stories you wrap with the chemo report which make for fascinating and vibrant reading. Your focus is generous and never self pitying.
Essential reading.
I am sorry there is so much suffering to the cure for cancer. It’s hard to understand when the cancer wasn’t as painful to live with as the chemotherapy. Thankfully, though, we know people like my mother who had her breast removed and then suffered 6 months of chemotherapy and is still with us over 30 years later. So one bad year can bring a lifetime of healthy years. I am wondering if your main character has cancer in her story, since it is something you can describe so well now, as a part of life and suffering and strength. I am sending blessings to you and your expanding family for 2020.
Never give up. I admire your drive & curiosity. I remember how nasty chemo was from my bout with cancer in 2000. Not fun, but we’re lucky to have treatments available. Good luck with yours.
Tony,
Boy you are a fighter. There is hope coming out the other end. A year ago, the old thumper was telling me I was almost done. A year later and medical science, I’m training for a 5K. You will come out of this to ride again. Keep the faith!
Your Labrador friend!
What all of the others said…. 2020 and onward!
May the ‘roaring twenties’ be the sound of you zipping around on those bikes! Hugs to you, Pam and the whole family and wishes for all good things in 2020. Sherry C.
Happy New Year Tony. I am so glad when you write and give us all an update. I always project the worst outcome so it is nice to get the real story when you check in with the usual upbeat reports. Glad to see the piglet is getting the cogent upgrade. Really nice piece of kit for that bike. The helmet kind of surprised me though. Didn’t picture you with a full face striped Bell contraption. When you come down to the smokeys with Duane be sure to stop by and say Hi. I bought a place in Kingsport, TN with a big shop, back deck facing the creek and right in the middle of all those roads Duane talks about. If I’m not there make yourself at home. I’ve got a key hidden.
Tony love your fight! Here’s to a healthy prosperous 2020. Love that you finished your manuscript, sounds interesting can hardly wait to see the movie….looking forward to you and Pam coming to the Northwest🙏
I’m so happy about your good lab report. I was just going to write that I can’t believe you rode the Iron Piggy to the hospital, but of course, I do believe it because you’re something else.
Congrats on finishing the movie script and you’re so lucky to have Daughter # 2 as your editor and publicist, this must make everything run so much more smoothly and think of all that great advice just at the reach of your phone.
Happy New Year to you, Pam and your family and it was so wonderful to hear from you. Please keep the blogs coming.
Ellie
I know the Cancer Beast, done the Dance with him before. He tried to kill me and ya know what, he almost did ‘cept for the Big FU, I said. That’s all you can really do – that Big FU, then stand in line and get chopped, sliced, diced, infused, X-rayed and NUCLEARIZED way too many times. The Nightmare of 2004/2005 was dark a time as I have ever had. But it’s what now, 2020 so look at that! Fifteen years gone by since then, and pretty much everything works as it should. Missing a few parts that I don’t really miss that much at all (or if I should, no one has really told me).
You’re a pretty tough old bird, Tony. I don’t think you’re curled in the corner feeling sorry for yourself, you’re doing the Big FU as well and ‘twixt you and me, that’s half the battle. The other half you trust to the people smarter n’ you and see if they properly remember all their science classes in College.
You keep doin’ what you’re doing, and come September bring Piggy south and you n’ I will ride down to Deal’s Gap when the leaves are starting to turn. I’ve not been down there in a bit and I don’t think you ever have at all. Best motorcylin’ in the whole US of A it is. Glory in the Smokies, with endless smooth blacktop sweepers. Of course we may have to spend a day at my house before we head out because my OCD may require me to polish up Piggy for the ride. You know I hate rust.
Tony, thanks for this update. Great to hear your “voice” in my head as I read. You’ve got as much of a grip on the bars as anyone I know. Keep your eyes on where you want to go. Here’s my wishes on a wonderful 2020 for you, Pam, and all the extended families.
Brad
Cool new hat, btw.
Meeting Pierre was just one of the perks of your own trip. I used to think the destination was my focus, only to learn that the trip can sometimes be worth more than the end spot. Pierre represents many strength-inferring adjectives and meeting him, by way of osmosis, touches you with hope, determination, strength of character with a dose of “boy-it’s-good-to-be-traveling-instead-of-sitting-in-safety.
Over the Christmas visit at my daughter’s, she was telling her niece/my granddaughter sometimes we have to do what is best even though it’s not the fun choice. You are there now and it’s hard, yet you are putting yourself in the chair to receive the treatments. Hopefully there will be a reward at the end of treatment with a trip somewhere.
Hugs to you and your bride.
You just hang in there my man, and keep living large. You are as tough as they come Tony, with a drive as strong as The Phantom. He who writes scribe to Phantom, is like Phantom himself. Old Jungle Saying.
Take care bro.
Terry
Happy new year. May 2020 give you the ability to see clearly and feel better. And may the bad parts of 2019 quickly disappear in the rearview mirror.
d.