Mission Possible -- Badwater

The Possum Kingdom Kid

Aloha All,

As readers go, I probably don't read all that much, but one thing I read every month is "Tinley Talks" in Triathlete Magazine. No, I'm not a triathlete, in fact swimming to me is "staying alive in the water...barely !" But Scott Tinley has a way with words, so I subscribe.  The title of his column in the April issue was "The Possum Kingdom kid" and told the story of triathlete Mike Caudill's battle with cancer. On that subject, I'll give you just a taste of Tinley, and in the process, just a small taste of cancer:

"Lon had said that he'd never seen anyone fight for his life like Mike Caudill, our friend who lived on Possum Kingdom Road. I believed him. The cancer had returned; that despicable and indiscriminant devil tunneled under his fortified walls. But Mike's battle of biblical proportions is heralded in multiple bone-marrow transplants; weeks and months in quarantine with a squeaky stationary bike and a poster of Lance; months and years in remission when the faith returned on guarded wings one long day and one short prayer at a time; weeks of disbelief that the bitch had dared to come back after he'd beat it so convincingly;..."     Thanks Scott. Few can say it like you.

This had been an educational week for me. I'm learning about cancer, up close and personal. Tuesday was the big day. For me, walking into the  "chemo ward" at Kaiser was sobering, as I saw first-hand how indiscriminate cancer really is; it doesn't care about your age, race, sex or gender; whether you are thin, fat, fit or couch-potato, big or small; it just doesn't care; it likes 'em all ! The room wasn't spacious, in fact it was rather crowded. There were six chairs for patients, side-by-side, where chemo was administered. Where my chair was positioned, I could see all the other patients, most of which were hooked-up to IV's, receiving chemo. On the outside, they seemed in various stages of health, or lack of, with some in wheelchairs and others with scarves covering bald heads. I have to admit that I noticed myself feeling fortunate that I was only there to get hooked-up to "Mr. Chemo", my trusty side-kick for the next 5 weeks. Having to go there to get chemo treatments seemed more harsh and invasive. Also, Mr. Chemo is kinda cool, in a weird sort of way. He's about the size if a VCR tape, only thicker and heavier. He has a carry pouch, like a small shoulder purse, with a monitor that's primarily to let you know he's working,  and with a readout showing the volume of chemo left. A fairly long clear plastic tube connects Mr. Chemo to Neo, my port. The only drawbacks so far are, you can't disconnect Mr. Chemo; you can't  get Mr. Chemo or Neo wet, which includes sweating, and taking showers and you have to sleep together. He's my new best friend. Heather is not jealous, as Mr. Chemo and I don't plan on being close friends for all that long.

While we were there, we talked to a very sweet and courageous lady who is fighting her own battle. She gave birth to her son, only to find out immediately afterward that she has terminal cancer. This was just over a year ago and she's still fighting. She looked great and had bright eyes and a beautiful smile. You could tell from everything she said that she is still full of hope. Both Heather and I feel like she will win her battle. We certainly hope so.

Fortunately, Heather brought her video camera and Kaiser allowed her to film the entire hook-up and we immediately hot-footed it to Queen's for my first radiation treatment, where they also allowed her to film that as well. Seeing her footage from Queen's enabled me to see what everyone in Hawaii has been seeing lately: my white butt !Being shy and having cancer just don't mix. Oh well. The radiation equipment was facinating to watch on film, kinda like Star Wars. It was a huge machine that hovered over, and around my stationary, prone body. I could only hear it's quiet movement and a sound I knew was radiation. I felt nothing, and was only on the table for maybe five minutes. Slam, bam, thank you ma'am !

Both the nurses at Kaiser and the radiology technicians at Queen's were fantastic. They could not have been better. All-in-all, not a bad first day of chemo and radiation for me. But what about the others? I'll never forget the things that I saw that day. Never. Just like I'm sure that Scott Tinley will never forget the Possum Kingdom kid. Thanks everyone for your unbelievable support.  Don

Don's Big Mountain Adventure

Don has always been drawn to the challenges of climbing a mountain, so what better way to look at the journey he has before him. He has begun 5 weeks of chemotherapy and 25 radiation treatments. With each treatment, he climbs closer to the summit and his triumph over the " Big C ". Hopefully, this will allow all of the wonderful friends that are supporting him, to see his progress and be a part of the experience. Thank you all for your love and caring, it means more than you will ever know.

You'll notice a new graphic and link in the upper left side of the blog site. Click it daily to follow Don's progress.

Heather

Things You Take For Granted

Aloha Friends !

Today has been, in a strange way, unusual. It actually started last night when I was thinking about the fact, had it not been for finding out just over 3 weeks ago that I have cancer, I'd be on an airplane, that very moment, to Canada, to do the Sulphur Springs 100 Mile Trail Run on Saturday and Sunday. Strange that something so inconsequential as another race, could unseat cancer in importance in my mind, even for a few moments, but it did, and is still doing it. In reality, the race is more than just a race, it's really friendships and comraderie, even between the distant lands of Hawaii and Canada. One Canadian friend in particular e-mailed me today, wishing me well. I met John Rennison back in 2006 when I last did the Sulphur Springs 100. We continued to e-mail occasionally and after we both were accepted in Badwater in 2007, we became closer friends. We hugged at the start and John had the race of his life, outdoing his wildest expectations. My race was a different story. After finishing his race, John came back out and cheered me on for my last 5 or 6 hours, maybe more. He did everything he could to keep me motivated, even mooning Phil McColl and I right there on the highway in 120 degree heat. He was exhausted and his feet were totally trashed and blistered, he was limping around but he was there for me all the way to the end. We drank beers together that evening. He told me today that tomorrow he will be wearing my MissionPossible-Badwater yellow shirt at Sulphur Springs. To me, that's BIG.  Like I said: friendships and comraderie/USA and Canada     Thanks John.

Maybe I've been guilty of taking things for granted. Yes, I have. Maybe I've been guilty of taking many of you for granted. If so, I apologize...it won't happen again for some time. Maybe when cancer is a vague memory.   As for tomorrow and Sunday, the thoughts of my friends at the race in Canada will be sharing space in my mind, that have been dominated by cancer, and that's great. Have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend and go give your loved ones a big hug. I know that I will be doing just that.  Don

Neo and The Matrix

Aloha Friends !

The past two days have been very interesting, and while things are fresh on my mind, let's talk. After going through Monday's marking process, where three x's were methodically marked on my butt to designate where to give the radiation treatments and after yesterday's "port" placement procedure, I thought back to Neo, in the movie The Matrix. Maybe after all this, I'll become a super-hero. Yeah, right ! However, I have to admit, modern medicine is quite impressive. For example, for those of you interested in "ports", my procedure began with something cold being rubbed on my neck. This enabled us to see my jugular vein in my neck, on a monitor, where a tube from the port attaches to my blood supply. Dr. Yoon showed me the port, which was slightly larger than a quarter, and 3 times the thickness. Definitely something out of The Matrix ! A few moments later, by my clock,  I was in "lala land" and woke up in a daze in another room with a sore chest, containing what I will appropriately name "Neo" the port. Neo will be my new best friend for the next 6 weeks, until Mr. Chemo is finished.

Today, most of yesterday's discomfort has subsided and I'm relieved to get the port procedure completed. It's amazing to see how your attitude plays such an important part. Folks, attitude is everything !

Supposedly, the last thing to be done prior to the chemo and radiation, which will start next Tuesday, May 27, will be the "tattooing of the dots" this Friday.

Have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend and we'll talk again, likely on Tuesday. Thanks to all of you for your support and prayers.  You people are amazing !  Don

The Dream Team

Aloha All !

If doctors play a vital role in your fight against cancer, and WE KNOW THEY DO, I've already got this thing whipped. Let's start with my Cancer Oncologist, Dr. Charles Miller. Very smart ! Very experienced ! Since he's a triathlete, we hit it off from the get-go. Of course, it didn't hurt that after reviewing my stats and after consultation, he said something to the effect: "your endurance running will definitely give you an edge in fighting cancer...you will do fine". I felt like saying "you tell this to all your patients"...but I knew better. He was serious and I sincerely believe him. When Barbi McAllaster heard the news, she immediately insisted that I try to get Dr. Laeton Pang as my Radiation Oncologist, so we both went into action to try to make that happen. Before we could make headway, I was informed that Dr. Pang was my doctor. Both Barbi and I were surprised and elated. Dr. Pang has been a long-time participant in Barbi's kick-ass spinning class at the Nuuanu YMCA, and like Dr. Miller, said my fitness level would make the treatment regimen easier to bear. His rectal exam indicated that my tumor was high enough up to lessen surgery problems, when re-connecting. Dr. Pang is a cool guy ! I also had a nice informative meeting with Dr. Marc ?? (sorry, I don't have his last name in front of me) who is handling the chemo side at Kaiser. Like both Dr. Miller and Dr. Pang, he too really seems to know his stuff and I really learned a lot, although part of it wasn't something I really wanted to hear. It just seems that you are so vulnerable to everything while you are being torn down by chemo. Oh well..."it is what it is !"

I must just be lucky.  Last summer I had what was undoubtedly the best crew that has EVER been assembled at the Badwater ultramarathon, "The Team from NASCAR" and here I'm already set up with doctors from "The Dream Team" for my latest challenge. All my doctors are energetic, smart, and experienced and I admire and like all of them ! Yea, team ! Let's get after this thing !

The plan is in place and it sounds perfect for my case: Five weeks of both radiation and chemo (together) starting on May 27, followed by 4-5 weeks of recovery, followed by surgery. Today and Friday will consist of positioning and marking for the radiation treatments, where I will be getting my first tattoo on Friday (just small dots) to know where to position the radiation equipment,  and tomorrow I will have the procedure where they insert the "port", where the chemo will be administered 24/7 for the 5 week period. My new best friend, Mr. Chemo, a pouch, will be with me constantly for the 5 weeks. Just think of it as a small, portable IV. The radiation treatments will be given every day, Monday through Friday, for the identical 5 week period, also starting on May 27. Stay tuned, but in the mean time, set-up your cancer screenings ! Don't delay !    Don

"You'll Never Walk Alone"

Hi All,

When I was growing up as a teen there was a song that for some strange reason, seemed to bring up emotions from the depths of my young soul. It was not a particularly popular song, done by a not-all-that-well-known group called "The Brooklyn Bridge", and it was called "You'll Never Walk Alone" It was later sung by one of the nuns in movie, "The Sound of Music". It went something like: "When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high, and don't be afraid of the dark"...etc...you may have heard it if you are an old person...Okay, okay, I'll get to the point. After reading the wonderful outpouring of support from so many wonderful friends, I thought back to that song. It was so appropriate in it's simplicity, "you'll never walk alone". Well, thats true when you have friends like you ! I can't imagine (and don't want to imagine) what it would be like to go through something like cancer alone. Hopefully none of you will ever know what it's like to feel the joy I'm feeling, after reading your words. To experience that feeling would mean that you also had experienced cancer, and we certainly don't want that.

I'm proud and honored to be among the list of people that each of you consider your friends. You are truly remarkable people. With your support there's no way that I will lose this battle. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. As Bob Murphy would likely say..."let's go out and kick this Bad Boy's butt !!" Well said, Bob ! We're gonna do just that !  Mahalo,  Don

"The Old Man and the C"

Hi Friends !

Two great friends with very good minds, independent from each other suggested that I openly share my innermost feelings along the way during my battle with rectal cancer. My first thoughts would normally be something like "easy for you to say !" But, in light of the fact that I really respect the opinions of both Bob (McAllaster) and Heather, I'll give it a shot. No guarantees that I can actually pull this off, but I'll try. In school, when we studied "spilling your guts out", I was absent that day. I'll attempt to get you up to date, so expect a few over the next few days. The first installment will be called:

"THE OLD MAN AND THE C"

"What's that!? That doesn't look good ! It's a tumor !"

It all happened so fast. The doctor had just begun his routine sigmoidoscopy to check for colon cancer and the words immediately flowed out of his mouth without any hesitation or doubt. The monitor we were watching showed nothing and then there it was...not just a small spot on the screen, but quite a large area that definitely didn't look normal. Strange looking. Dr. Decker and his assistant Michelle immediately started using some kind of pincher/probe which was attached to the device and began grabbing small tissue samples. Everything was right there on the monitor for all of us to see. Still strange looking and definitely not normal. Very inflamed.

I immediately knew this was not good, but for the first several minutes I was not scared. I had just found out that I have a tumor in my rectum and it didn't scare me? I might not be long for this world and it didn't scare me? Strange. Maybe I just couldn't comprehend the reality of the whole thing. However, it wasn't long before I was scared as hell !

It was obvious by the way the doctor handled it that there was nothing "routine" about what he had just found...no "don't worry, we'll see what we find". I had just landed on Boardwalk. No "Chance"...no collect $200! However, being a positive person by nature, I knew there was hope. There's ALWAYS hope ! Lucky for me, I have Heather. Her wonderful positive nature is infectuous and I direly needed to be infected with hope at that moment. Immediately after breaking the awful news to her and listening to her confidently convince me that "we will beat this", I felt much better.

The next morning I woke surprised to see that I had a decent nights sleep. We had not dwelled on the "C" word the night before, and were not going to worry about it until after I got a full colonoscopy to see if there were other areas of the colon affected. Suprisingly, the colonoscopy procedure was a piece of cake. The nurse warned me that it's not unusual for patients to say "when are you going to do the colonoscopy?" after the procedure had already been completed. I said "I hope that's the way I feel" afterwards. The next thing I knew, I was in another room and the clock showed an hour later. Not only that, but I felt great ! What a wonderful sleep ! Like I said, a piece of cake.

The next day, before we had even gotten the results of the colonoscopy, I received a call from Kaiser about scheduling a CT Scan. Not sure why, and quite concerned, I asked if it was related to the colon screening yesterday. "It's to x-ray the pelvis and surrounding areas to see if there's anything in those areas", the man replied After hanging up the phone, my fear escalated. This is not good !. At this point, I knew I had a tumor in my rectum and had no idea if there were other tumors lurking in other areas of my body. At this point it was difficult to keep from thinking about it. Think and worry. It was surprising that I was still able to get a decent nights sleep every night, but I slept almost like normal.

The CT Scan was too easy. No muss, no fuss, no needles, no blood. Just lay there with your clothes on while this big "scanner" scans. In and out in 10 minutes ! I sat longer in the waiting room than it took to do the procedure.

Later on that day I got the wonderful results that the colonoscopy was negative...no other affected areas of the colon. Yippee !! The first really good news since this whole thing started. The following day, at our running team's "Run With A View" race, I began breaking the news to my running buddies. We still were waiting for the results of the CT Scan, but it was time to let them know the bad news that I have cancer. The act of telling them was very tough and emotionally painful, especially for the first ones. It got easier as the morning progressed and the more I told. I was relieved to get it done. It was like lifting a weight off my head and shoulders. Everyone seemed to handle the news like adults and most assured me that I would beat it. You can't imagine how wonderful it is to have the support of such a large group of close friends. They make you feel like you can do anything. And you can ! ............................

Pacing and Crew Update: Inspiration and Motivation

Aloha Mission Possible Crew and Pacers:

We are all here to support Don in this new race or event in his life. I loved reading the comments today that many of you posted and I know they meant a lot to Don (and Heather).

Vernon sent Don a link to something I have added under Inspiration and Motivation. Please check it out, it's beautiful. If you have something that you think Don would enjoy, let's use this as a way to share it with all of us. Send it to Don via e-mail and we will get is posted up here.

Aloha,
Bob

My Latest Challenge

Aloha Friends !

When we started "Mission Possible-Badwater" our intent was to show people of any age or physical condition that anything is possible if you set your mind to it. This, of course, included people with physical disabilities which prompted us to raise money for The Challenged Athletes Foundation, our Badwater charity. We even highlighted the inspirational story of cancer survivor Paul Sibley. Paul has whipped cancer and since has gone on to whip the very difficult HURT 100 mile trail endurance run. We feel that any mission in life is possible and want everyone to feel the same way.

Last week I went in for a routine flexible sigmoidoscopy and walked out with rectal cancer. Do not pass go and don't collect $200. No real warning signs, however, you need to realize that ultrarunners deal with pain and discomfort most every day. It's just the way it is. So, when I felt that pain that might have been related to my tumor, I just wrote it off as just another ultrarunner pain. When I noticed that my bowel movements were more frequent, it was just from something I had eaten. No big deal. Certainly not a sign of cancer.

The past week or so have been spent taking tests to see if the cancer is confined to the one area of my rectum or has spread. To date, it hasn't spread. Whew ! Yippee ! Thank God ! So, unless this changes, we know what we are dealing with. I look at this as just another 100 mile race...another Badwater, but with higher stakes. I sincerely feel that with the support of all my wonderful friends, I can beat this cancer ! Monica Scholz said it best: "Does this cancer know who it's dealing with? Does it know that you just did 122 miles in the Mojave Desert last summer?" With this kind of support of my friends, there's no way that I can fail.

My latest challenge may well be the most difficult that I will ever have to face, but I'm ready for the challenge. I'll keep you posted as we go through this together. Looking forward to reading your comments. If you haven't done so, please make sure you are up-to-date on your particular cancer screenings...colon, breast, prostate, etc.   Mahalo.  Don