The Past 24 — Good Guy takes the Lead
When ’24’ was in its prime, we were hooked. It was part of our weekly routine.
- Jack Bauer: I have killed two people since midnight, I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. So maybe… maybe you should be a little more afraid of me than you are right now. (“Day 1: 8:00am-9:00am“)
That’s how the show began. You gotta love it when the leading man takes control.
Dave is home after the in-hospital portion of Cycle One and things went extremely well. He’s a bit tired right now, but really, that’s about it. All the meds flowed in the way they should and all the nurses were charmed by his positive attitude and good patient ways. We were able to patch the kids in via Skype. I was able to get into work. Disruption was minimal. All good.
Cycle Two will start either the week of 7/20 or 7/27. It all depends on white cell counts. The plan is to keep things moving fast but moving smart.
Until then, we plan on taking things as they come and dealing with the present. I think all of us are feeling better now that the situation has turned from endless waiting to active treatment. Things will get bumpy (“Damnit, Chloe!”) but things will also get better. ~Jacqui
Starting Gate Selfies
So, keeping with tradition, we start each journey and each race with a picture or two. Dave is currently in his favorite lounge chair, hooked up and well under way with Day One of Cycle One of RICE. Capper for today will be the bone marrow biopsy. Let’s all hope for clean marrow!
Tomorrow he’ll be admitted for an overnight hospital stint to round out this first lap.
BOOM! goes the dynamite…
Yesterday was another long day. The late afternoon meeting with the stem cell transplant team at Jewish Hospital in Kenwood started late. The waiting room was uncomfortable. Even though we had visited this place one time before, nothing seemed familiar. At one point, both of us wanted to run.
But running isn’t an option.
Once we were able to have “the talk” things took on a new level of clarity and real. There’s always that innocent hope that you may just hear, “Hey — this weirdness of yours is working in your favor today, Mr. Killen. We can fix it with a shot in the butt and some pixie dust.”
However, when three people are sitting/standing across from you, quietly and with compassion, walking you through timelines and procedures with things I won’t attempt to spell and pausing every two minutes to gently ask if you have questions, you realize that the only way out is through. And by through, I mean a multi-month stint of needles, poison, catheters, PIC lines, hospital stays, hospital trays, side effects, hits to the body, scans, recalibration, and hopeful periods that some things melt and some things regenerate… all within the petri dish of the human body. And not just any human body but that of someone you love. Sensory overload. I really don’t know how these doctors and nurses have these conversations.
They continued to talk. We continued to listen. The stem cell doc and Dave’s oncologist are part of the same group so there is a lot of synergy with the plan. It was confirmed that ICE+R or simply RICE chemo is the way to get things started. However, instead of three to four rounds up front, the transplant team is hoping that it only needs to be two before they can then take Dave over into their care.
To stay on track, the lymphoma sites need to show response to the chemo. If they don’t respond to RICE then they won’t respond to BEAM, the basis of the stem cell transplant process. If Dave shows a 50% reduction after cycle two of RICE then he speeds up the road to Jewish hospital for stem cell harvesting (which is a multi-day process all on its own), the scorched earth chemo process that is BEAM (another multi-day process) then the actual transplant followed by a few weeks of quarantine in the hospital to allow his newly re-introduced stem cells to regenerate and rebuild his immunity system.
If Dave doesn’t have the minimum 50% reduction after cycle two, then his local oncology team will hit Roger again with another cycle of RICE and continue to monitor with PET scans, etc., waiting for the signal to bring in the big guns.
Of course, this is based on Dave’s marrow being free of cancer so he can be his own donor. (Biopsy next week, most likely.) If not, then there is a whole other process involved on the transplant side. We won’t go there right now.
I had hoped there would be an option that could knock the lymphoma back with just chemo, avoiding the transplant. Maybe the whole diagnostic web of virus in the background and simplistic thought of “they caught this early so it is little cancer” would negate such drama and Dave could just treat what was present with what was needed. But that is not the case. We learned that when you are a repeat, it doesn’t matter if there is a spec of lymphoma or a big tumor of it, the intensity of treatment is the same. There is no simplifying. To quote from yesterday, “you absolutely need this.”
Again, there is no pain. No symptoms. Nothing to indicate that Dave has any of this going on inside of him. It was a fluke movement that made him notice the lump.
Maybe that is why this feels so hard right now. I can’t see what they are saying is there. I can sense it but I can’t see it. I waffle between layers of acceptance and soft denial. And I know I need to get over that real fast but I digress and admit: there is comfort in denial.
After another bit of talking, they paused to ask if we had questions. Dave simply said, “when do we start?” There was no hesitation — “Monday if we can.”
Given the holiday today and the late hour of our consultation yesterday, we are thinking that Tuesday is a more reasonable start date. But who knows? The phone hasn’t rung yet.
“You absolutely need this” … but you still have nothing concrete…help me find a way.
~Jacqui
Roger: A #TBT We’d Rather Avoid
It’s been a tumultuous seven weeks. On May 11, Dave went to the dentist to get a crown. His teeth took a toll during chemo back in 2011. It happens.
Post procedure, he noticed a lump on the side of his neck. It took a CT, PET scan, surgical biopsy, and several consults with his local med team and the Mayo Clinic to get the final diagnosis today: his R rating has officially changed from remission to recurrence.
Everyone agrees that it is somewhat odd for his Lymphoma (known in these parts as ‘Roger’) to come back this late in the game. Seriously. Dave was just a few months away from ringing the five-year “I’m Good” bell. He was all like running 10ks and having ridiculous fun with Pike 27. It was hard to keep up with him.
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Flying Pig 10k, May 2015
Additionally, there were no symptoms. No pain. No fatigue. No night sweats. No weight loss. No fever. None of the above. And trust me, Dave was interrogated every which way about all of these things. Like a kid, he just shook his head, “No.. nope.. nuh-uh…” countering every quizzical glance with recall of what he has been feeling… great, strong, joyous.
Pike 27 opening for the Fauntleroys, Taft Theatre, October 2014
So here we are. We’ve wondered what this all means. We’ve cried. We’ve railed. We’ve hit things. We’ve sat in silence just waiting for answers… signs… a phone call that this was a mistake. But it isn’t. It’s our real. Summer of 2015 has gotten pretty real in a way we didn’t see coming.
We’ll get through this. It’s going to take some work and some grit but it can be done. He can do it. So many of you have reached out with your love and wonderful support. Seriously. It’s been showered on Dave and all of us like a storm. We’ve received it with arms open wide. We are lucky people.
Speaking of luck… during diagnosis today (which was made complicated by a background viral infection and a note that once again, Dave’s case is “odd”) we did get some good news. Unlike 2010-11, Dave’s Lymphoma is now CD20 positive. This means that once treatment starts, the docs will most likely add Rituximab into the mix. In the world of chemo drugs, it’s the kick ass boot you want on your side — able to thwart the nasty in ways it didn’t see coming.
Next week, there will be one more round of consultation with the stem cell transplant team to align to final plan. We anticipate chemo (“salvage chemo” as it was called) will begin early July followed by the autologous transplant. I know, a lot to take in. And, similar to a summer movie sequel, it has to have more drama, more action and more tension. Maybe it helps that we’ve been in these waters before and know to 1.) keep your head up and 2.) always pack a chain saw. Roger, you really, really don’t know who you called out. Get ready. ~Jacqui
Changing Direction While Moving Too Fast
Ah… the blog. What a dusty forgotten piece of virtual real estate this has become. Hello again.
This space has been through its own little identity crisis by serving several purposes. Somehow it always seemed to stay true to its theme. Funny how that works sometimes.
The other day I realized it is time to change direction again and allow the blog (and myself) to evolve once more. Ironically, it will thread back to that same place… Nashville… but in a different way.
So what’s going on?
Yesterday was the Nashville Marathon. And no, I wasn’t there because I’m here, at home, training for next week’s Flying Pig 3-Way Challenge*. But my mind was running through the streets of Music City and as I ran my training miles, I was very cognizant of a ticking clock.
When I got the wild idea to challenge both my body and mind with this year’s 3-Way I said to myself, “well, if I can do this then I bet I can do a full marathon.” I think I was experiencing a runner’s high at the time. So — threading this all together — I’m going to attempt something I really never thought I would. My next big race plan is the Nashville Marathon in April 2016. All 26.2 miles of it.
There. I moved the idea from casual conversation to a true putting it out there declaration. Some of you knew it was coming but now I have it down in black and white. It feels “official.”
Metaphorically speaking, I’m chasing something I’m not sure I can find or even acquire as my ego has summoned in its “nice and tidy way of planning things.” Maybe that’s my Achilles Heel right there and what I will wrestle with the most. What happens if it doesn’t happen as I’ve so perfectly scripted in my dream? What if I never make it to Nashville? What am I really going to learn and carry forward from all of this? How much is this going to hurt?
Additionally, as I start to figure out how to run two times further than I’ve ever run before, I’m going to back away from most forms of social media. I won’t shut down my accounts and I don’t think I’ll be able to completely stop checking in with folks but let’s just put it this way, you won’t see me — or what I’m immediately staring at — as much. I want to better craft the content I share. Most of what I want to say will reside here. Using the discipline of a blog, I’ll chronicle the journey over roads and wayward musings. Before you see it, I’ll have to put thought into it. No more quick trigger post it in the moment. I realized I have somewhat lost my center and fallen into a frantic pace of life. And as much as I want to whine about that and blame whoknowswhowhatwhen, I realized as well, a good deal of this spastic feeling is of my own doing.
So focus… then feet on ground. It’s another layer to the overall challenge but I think it will be good. And heaven help me that I can stay away from the potato chips through it all. Still haven’t had one since New Year’s Eve but man, it has been hard! ~ Jacqui
*I’ll be running two back-to-back races on Saturday (10k & 5k) and then the Half-Marathon on Sunday at 6:30am.
Taken September 2013 on a run in Nashville…
It Was a Good Run
Yesterday was supposed to be my second half marathon race. After getting bit by the running bug last fall and committing to it on January 1 of this year, I think I can finally say I’m a runner.
Perhaps, having to opt out of a race that I really wanted to run proves it: Me. A runner.
BUT — this isn’t a post about me being sad. You see, I had some really great experiences getting ready for the race I didn’t run — and so many of them were in this last week.
First, these women are very important to me and running with them has cemented the love for them I have in my heart. Some of them I’ve known for 15+ years — others I’ve recently been able to meet and come to know over miles, coffee, and wonderful talks on courses filled with sunshine, rain (snow!) — happy highs and painful strains. 
Coming off our inaugural personal and group victory of completing our first half together in May, we have managed to stay together although our running patterns have shifted a bit.
From this group of five, Lisa and I decided to press on and do a fall race. Ironically, Lisa was the one in the group whom I just now had the opportunity to meet and get to know this year. Perhaps it was the Universe’s way of letting me know I had room in my heart and world for another really good friend.
Summer training was a bit difficult to coordinate. We didn’t really start off with a together plan. In fact, I was the one who was academic in the beginning — consulting charts, websites, books — looking for a good way to come off of one race and train for another. I plotted a 16-week plan and started on July 2. The Firecracker 5k just happened to fall into that first week. It all looked pretty darned good. I was determined to make it happen. I had a plan. What could go wrong?
One of our post run coffee selfies. Summer 2013.
Summer vacations and whims had us running at different times, but the group gathered here and there as we were able. The group dynamic really helped Lisa and I as we rounded into the longer runs and earlier call times during the week. Let me just say, the early morning light of June has always been my favorite. I really miss it. Running in the dark of pre-dawn is, well, DARK!
5:20 a.m. stretching and getting ready to meet the girls.
We love running bridges on long, Saturday treks.
Watching a city wake up is something we all love to do.
When I first started to feel the little ache in my left ankle, I thought it was something I could work through. I actually did work through it a bit. I’d start running and feel a little discomfort — realize that a few miles in it wasn’t so bad — and keep running. Uh… that’s not always a good thing to do.
Last Saturday was our last long run during training. It was a 6+-mile loop starting and stopping at a favorite coffee haven in Newport. Lisa and I started off together but the ankle just didn’t want to play nice. As I slowed down, I was grateful that others in our wonderful Step Sister squad were jumping in at different times to run a bit of the distance with us. I encouraged Lisa, now running with Andi, to keep on. I’d get to the endpoint. At some point.
At mile 5, I had to stop. I knew I was done. So I started walking back from Cincinnati into Newport. I figured I would get there as they were wrapping up with coffee and chatter. I was upset and very disappointed. My times were good — I was so looking forward to bibbing up and chipping up with Lisa and the other runners. Every step from Sawyer Point to the Purple People Bridge hurt. I wasn’t looking up — just down at my shoes and my ankle. I sent a text letting everyone know I’d be late and to carry on.
Waiting for me on the bridge was Lisa. You see, one thing that has come from this group is even though we respect each other’s paces and distance needs, we never leave anyone behind. In traditional Lisa style, she had a sweet smile on her face. Together we walked the final blocks.
Impromptu ice bag from running belt. Not the selfie I wanted to snap over coffee a week from the race.
I nursed the ankle and did everything I could to be ready for the race. But it wasn’t going to happen. On Wednesday, I made a call realizing that I was going to leave Lisa to run this one on her own.
So why am I so happy? Why did I say this was a good run? Because it WAS. Instead of sitting back and feeling sorry for myself, I opened up the situation and you know what? Something cool really happened.
Enter Laura.
Laura, another runner and dear friend of Lisa, made a decision to travel several hours from her home town and run the race with Lisa after hearing of my plight. Her interjection did two things. It kept me from being stupid and trying to run the race on an injury and doing more damage to myself. It also provided support and friendship on the course for Lisa. Yes, Lisa could have easily run this one on her own — she’s a strong and determined lady. But, we’ve become used to sharing the road with others. Thirteen miles can be a long span when there’s no one next to you who understands your inside jokes and glee at seeing a porta-potty in the distance.
Having fun at mile 5.
Despite the rain that settled in, they had a great run on the course. Their times were awesome and they finished so strong and easy. I got to be their pit crew and share in their moments along with others from our Step Sister team. And, in all of this, I got to meet a wonderful, warm person who is going to run the next big one with us in the spring.
Breezing over the finish like nobody’s business.
Bling and beer at the finish. Good times to be shared with a Step Sister!
We wrapped this one with another cup at Carabello Coffee in Newport and a little donation to Girls on the Run. Soaked and chilled, we embraced the moment and made the best of it — for ourselves, each other, and people we hadn’t met yet but were connected to via shoelaces and sisterhood.
Yes, it definitely was a good run and I wouldn’t have it any other way. ~ Jacqui
It’s THAT time again!
Kids are at school. We’re shoving stuff into bags and making sure that no boots are left behind. In a few hours we’ll be in our happy place, signing in and later, finding our seats at the Ryman.
Not sure what the blog schedule will be… perhaps a fluid stream of musings with incriminating photos. Perhaps just one big blast at the end. You never do know.
That’s Americana!
Strides and Life
Hello.
The blog got a bit dusty and I realized since my last post, I may have left a few people in suspense. I had every intention of capturing the Flying Pig experience in a post (and I may still do that) but the right time to do it was in the hours after the race. And I was sleeping. 😉 But I can sum it up and say I did it! I would not have been able to do it without my crew nor Dave and the kids. It was wonderful and I loved every minute of it. (Including getting stuck in the porta-potty at mile 10. It all went downhill from there.)
Meet the Step Sisters Half Pig Squad. From training to the starting line — an incredible journey!
Best bling ever!
And as big as May 5 was — focus around here is on something bigger. Our annual give cancer the boot night is in three weeks. Yes, once again, Dave has rallied us to take the track for the 12-hour Relay for Life. Since planning our first endeavor (just weeks after his treatments ended) Relay has become a very special time for Dave. Note the picture… our fearless leader takes this stuff seriously. It is when he truly celebrates the theme of “more birthdays” and celebrates his own.
Dave leading our team out last year. And yes, he is a man with a will to survive!
Unfortunately, our team has another purple survivor shirt in its ranks… Bill, Dave’s father, was diagonosed with prostrate cancer earlier this year. We also have more friends and loved ones whom also have been diagnosed and are currently in treatment. I don’t need to tell you what a beast cancer is. We all share in its experience. Perhaps that is why we really like to give it the boot (and, ahem, other things) while we stomp around a track through the night. Relay has so many symbols. Similar to the marathon, it truly is an experience with many moments and many emotions.
Beyond making a statement, why do we do it? Why do we drag ourselves, family, friends and the tent out to a high school football stadium and commit to walking through the night? Simply — we do it because we know at that time and at that hour, there are so many around us who can’t. We do it for them. We make the effort to raise funds to aid in treatments, programs and research. We do it so hopefully all of us can have less touches with the cancer beast.
If you want to be a part of this event — we certainly would welcome you with open arms and hearts. You can walk with us… you can give us a pledge of support… you can bring us coffee in the middle of the night. If there is someone special you would like Dave or I to personally run for (and note… I said RUN) — we are doing something we’ve coined “Laps for Loved Ones” between the hours of 10p and 6a. Simply pledge that person’s birth year… (1950 = $19.50) and let us know who and what hour and we’ll be honored to do the honor. Dave is going to put names on his shirt and we’ll be snapping lap pictures. If you’ve already made a team donation and have someone you want us to honor in this way, just let us know. You can message us via the blog or email or phone or FB or Twitter or dog with a note…
In the 11th hour of Relay 2011. Dave had just finished chemo and radiation.
The link to the Nashville or Bust team page for Relay is here. Your support over these past few years has been priceless. You can’t do these things alone. As we rally to support others and remember those in the bigger circle whom we love, any continuation you can give is like melted butter on a biscuit. Thanks and Love to you! ~Jacqui
A Lot Can Happen in… Nine Months
Yesterday, in the dark of the morning, I had a strange realization hit me. More like slowly melt into my brain and make me think, “wha…..?!”
Nine months ago yesterday, while on a morning walk (which at the time was a hard thing to do) I started to “run.” It was a shuffle, but I managed to not quit :45 seconds in when I thought I would hurl and actually run. My tally that morning was TWO MILES (at a pace I won’t mention) and I was proud. So proud in fact, I came home and wrote this post.
It was on that morning that I decided to run a 5k… just two weeks away. I worked hard to do that and had a lot of encouragement. I vividly remember hanging at the starting line, feeling like a complete fish out of water. I was with my friend, Diane, a real runner, and tried to be “normal.” (I know — me & normal don’t go together.) She was pumped up so I decided, “I’ll just run with her.” I almost couldn’t finish the race because her pace was, well, you know, fast, and it sent my body into the wrong gear. And for a girl with only one gear, that was bad. But I figured out what to do and finished the race. I felt pretty darned good. That was July 4. I still have that racing bib on my bedside table.
Running the Firecracker 5k, July 4, 2012
A few weeks after the 5k, I decided to sign up for the Hudy 7k in September. That race was a whole 4.something miles and I was terrified. That was far. And I needed to run. (No walking was my rule!) So I started to train. Not sure I knew what I was doing but I worked very hard to increase my mileage so I could run a whole 4 miles without looking like a clod. I remember sending Dave a text the first time I actually trained the whole distance. I was so giddy. Race day came — and Dave hit the course with me, too. We finished that darned 7k. And, while I was not super fast, I did have an improvement with my pace and I felt proud. Damnit, I worked hard for that 4.whatever miles.
Yesterday, I got up and started my day with a 7k like it was nothing. March 19. Nine months to the day I first shuffled through Fort Thomas in the pre-dawn saying to myself, “no way, I’m running.” I realized you really can learn to do — and love new things. You can do anything if you put your heart and soul into it. You can change your life and love yourself more.
Along with Diane, and other dear friends: Amanda, Andi and Lisa… with the supportive cheering from Danielle… we are in training for the half-marathon in May. We are the Step Sisters Half-Pig Squad. And we are feeling pretty good about what we are doing. We run 3x a week together and laugh a lot. These ladies (along with Dave’s support) get me up in the morning and running in the cold. We’ve expanded our mileage, improved our pace and layered in new threads of friendship that are laced up pretty tight… like our shoes. Did I see this nine months ago? Nope. I also didn’t see other things nine months prior, but that’s a different story. ~Jacqui
Good Times
This is a very quick post as I’ve got to get back to work. But knowing that some of you only follow us via the blog, a few recent shout outs. And yes, a bigger post to come.
It’s been a week of good times.
I’ve started my new job at WNKU-FM and am very much in my element and incredibly happy. That’s not to say the days of yesteryear in advertising were dreadful, but I realized I grew out and away from that daily environment. As I said in my resignation, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Still, lots of love to the crew at Creative Department as they are incredible people.
Brandon has rounded out his final classes of the term and is getting set to take exams and come home for break. He’s still very jazzed about what he is doing and doing incredibly well in the process. Knowing his drive is all about caring for people and assisting them at what could be their scariest moments is something that still makes us take great pause and feel overwhelmed with pride.
Jameson has transitioned to the High School in great stride and secured a place once again on the varsity bowling squad. His average continues to climb higher and the team is currently first place in their division. And darn if he doesn’t look good sporting his varsity ‘H’ on this school jacket. He continues to dabble in music and drool over cars. Oh, the plan to get that ’66 Mustang with Dave is still going strong.
Tessa is our funky girl and so excited with the coming of Christmas. She believes with so much enthusiasm that any Scrooge near her would certainly melt. She’s doing well in fourth-grade — reading up a storm, playing basketball and writing for the journalism club at school. Her energy is infectious.
And that brings me to Dave and really the main reason I needed to post today. Yesterday was supposed to be his semi-annual oncology appointment — you know, the time when he gets the results of his scans and such. As fate would have it, his doctor was unable to be in the office and needed to reschedule for next week. And before you say, “No way! No fair!” the kind nurses at the office were able to tell him that his scans all looked good and his status was stable. Woot! Remission remains. We’ll let you know if we learn anything more next week…
Until then, keep up the love, light and laughter. Enjoy the season as you celebrate it and despite what the big world may be doing out there, continue to celebrate your own little good times. They, in the grand scheme of things, are really what matter. ~ Jacqui
Nashville or Bust 