The Personal Touch

Yesterday was an okay day. After radiation, I drank a couple of Ensures which I promptly threw up in Macomb. This will take some adjusting to but I did manage to take in 8 cans of Flexsource HN through PEG. The staff is a little concerned as my weight is already down to 172.5. I hope it is a little higher today.

Tuesday morning, while in bed at the Millers' home, a very nice lady crawled in bed with me. We generally sleep in the same bed but we move back and forth for the sake of sanity and at least some sleep on Diane's part. This was very special. We sort of laid there on our sides, not talking, but just being there for one another. She wrapped her arms around me as if to try and comfort both of us. It was all very subtle but I realized then how important the human touch can be and how valuable it is to know that someone cares, really cares. This little embrace didn't go anywhere but that's okay. A new lesson for Gordy Taylor--you don't have to have sex to experience love between a man and a woman. Let's be fair, I've known this for quite some time but this was great on the site training for me.

Yesterday I told Diane I was going to mow the lawn. I have a mower I push, not self-propelled or a riding one, and I need to catch my grass. I then decided maybe that wasn't such a good idea but rather have a neighbor boy use my mower and catch the grass. Then I decided maybe I would get someone to mow the lawn. To hell with bagging! I then decided to take a walk but after I put on my tennis shoes I decided to cut the tops off tulips and pick up sticks instead. This lasted for one half hour and then I had had enough. Oh well, I will have a nice yard next year. Diane was proud of me as I did wear my Marlon Brando Godfather in the garden wide-brimmed hat. I scared a couple of neighborhood children but then I'm pretty scary these days. I'm learning I have cancer and have to surrender to the treatment.

We are off to Burlington for radiation and our weekly visit with Dr. McGinnis.

Oh My God!

I have not been here for 3 days for a very good reason: I am so sick. Unfortunately for Marty Green, Chad Allaman, and Roger and Judy Miller who visited over the weekend, they saw the "new normal" for Gordy and it is so not pretty.

Arrived at CCC at 9 a.m. after driving over in a torrential rain storm. First stop was the chemo room--brought a healing shawl/blanket and current issue of Newsweek and some snacks such as pudding. During the two-hour IV hydration which includes potassium, a steriod-type liquid, and saline solution, they managed to squeeze a radiation treatment. The actual chemo lasted from 12:45 to 3:45 and was a breeze. I just sat there and relaxed. Not many people get chemo on Fridays. Diane actually sat in the Lazy Boy next to me and managed to dose off a bit. I felt great on the way home. Once in Macomb, we stopped at the Dairy Queen for a blizzard.

Chemo is very sneaky and debilating. At 8 p.m., up came the blizzard in a single lump followed by unrelenting nausea. Folks I've never had nausea, hell I've never been sick, but I am now. All I could do Saturday and Sunday was lie in bed and sleep. I am supposed to take 9 cans a day of Fibersource but I had 2 cans Saturday and 3 cans Sunday. This is NOT good, and I must visit with the doctor about this situation. I am also taking two types of anti-nausea medicine which don't seem to help much but I don't know what it would be like with them.

Coach P visited Saturday and that was the highlight of the day. Gosh, he looks terrific and gives me hope and inspiration. He helped Diane and me set up my feeding apparatus which is an IV gravity bag that hangs from a poll-like metal stand on wheels. I have never felt this bad in my life and it continues day after day and it is only just beginning. Sometimes I just wish I could go to sleep and not wake up but I know this is not an option. I need to prove to myself that I can beat this thing. It's almost like my postings up until now have had a Disney-like tone. "Oh my this is bad but it will get better. Isn't life grand?" My guess is the real odyssey is just beginning. Hope I'm up to it.

When all this started, I was told by many of you that Diane would be my rock, my inspiration, my nurse, my friend, and my caretaker. I wasn't sure what that meant but I sure know now. There is NO way I could survive this without her by my side. It has to be terrible to be a spouse and witness all this happening to someone with whom you've spent your entire adult life. Thank you Diane. I love you.

It's important for Diane to experience some normalcy in our tumultous world. On Saturday she had fun at a bridal shower, went out for a delicious dinner at the Red Ox with Marty, and enjoyed organizing her new kitchen. Judy and Roger Miller drove from Burr Ridge for a visit and brought some tasty food from Charlie Trotter's carry out menu. Diane needs to remember to eat properly and take care of herself so she can continue to take care of me!

It is 9 a.m. and I'm finishing my 2nd can of "food." Hooray for me! We have radiation at 3 p.m. today and 9:30 the rest of the week so we'll probably stay tonight with friends David and Gretchen Miller in West Burlington. Sorry this isn't more upbeat but I'm just trying to be honest. Consider yourselves lucky--I suggested to Diane she take a photo of me this morning and post it. And she said, "no way."

The Battle Has Begun!

The above photos show my new friend PEG and me. If this visual is too graphic, don't look at it but it is what it is. Just a FYI: definition of PEG--A percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy tube (PEG tube) is generally placed into a patient's stomach as a means of feeding them when they are unable to eat. Now you can see why it is called PEG. The result of the PEG insertion has been considerable pain, much worse than I had anticipated. It is very difficult getting in and out of bed due to the intrusion into one's stomach muscles. However, today is Friday and I feel much improvement.

Yesterday was a BIG day. Diane and I were working on flushing out my PEG tube when the Cancer Care Center (CCC) staff called to say they wanted to meet with us and possibly begin radiation. There was some concern that the tumor was beginning to obstruct my breathing and, therefore, delay the start of treatment. We were scared. But after a brief visit, the decision was made to begin radiation immediatly, so I had my first treatment at 1 p.m. yesterday--the battle begins. As they bolted me to the table, I listened to Aaron Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man" and "Appalachian Spring"--a CD I brought from home. This first session lasted 45 minutes. And folks, it is not fun as I can't move my head at all. It is so tight that when I come out my face looks like waffle iron. They cut a piece out of the mask over my right eyebrow as it was actually restricting blood flow. Hey, one down, 34 to go!!!

Next stop was oncology. I will have chemo on Fridays after radiation. I will always begin with 2 hours of liquids including a mild steroid and anti-nausea medicine via IV. Then I'll have 3 hours of Cisplatin--the chemo cocktail of choice for my treatment. Side effects were discussed. Then Diane and I toured the chemo room which looks like a Lazy Boy sales room. Can you imagine me sitting in a chair for 5 hours? Not actually, as I am allowed to walk around the room if I take my "cocktail" with me. Every Thursday, including yesterday, I will have blood drawn to make sure my white and red cells and hemoglobin are at the appropriate levels.


The next stop was visiting a nutrionist. Maybe it was just the length of the day, but to sit there and hear that I will be ingesting 9 cans of product per day through PEG was tough. This just seems overwhelming. But absolutely the right decision to have PEG because within the next couple of weeks, I will not be able to eat at all. Currently I eat very little and get my nutrition in calories through Ensure Plus and Boost. The ride home was tough due to informational overload and as usual my ear prevented me from getting any good sleep last night. Hooray for Diane as she managed to sleep pretty well which she hasn't been able to do the last week or so.


A quick bit of information. When all of this began, I had very minimal ear pain. But I did have some so put that down as a cautionary sign as the ear pain is referral to the cancer as it affects the nerve to my ear. Just something to keep in mind: persistent and unexplained pain means something.

It's 7 a.m. and time to head out to Burlington for a new part of this odyssey. We'll be on the road quite a bit and if you'd like to reach us, Diane's cell is 309.313.2106 and home is 309.836.9481.

Good God, Gordy Taylor is having chemo today!!! I'll be listening to "West Side Story."

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The Good
The photo to the left is the best looking version of Gordy Taylor that I'm told will be seen for at least the next 12 months. The man before you is a sinewy 178 pounds. The photo was taken after my Across the Miles interview done yesterday with Don Tomnitz, Vice-Chairman, President, and CEO of D. R. Horton the largest homebuilder in the United States. I had Don in class in the mid 1970s and obviously he has had a stellar career. At lunch yesterday, he brought a tear to my eye when he said, "every school needs a guy like Gordy Taylor who can connect alumni with their alma mater." It was show number 150 and at the end I got a little choked up when I told the audience we would be going on hiatus while I take on my new assignment. Diane and I had a wonderful visit with Don and his lovely wife Sharon.

The Bad
Last night I was laying in bed and felt a gurgling in my throat so I got up to blow my nose and the Kleenex was full of blood. I got a little panicky but it was a singular event, and I went back to bed. This morning we were at the hospital at 7:30 and I must admit I became a bit melancholy. As I took off my clothes and put on my blue dressing gown (Diane mentioned it matched my eyes nicely), I looked at my stomach and it was sort of sad. While I do not possess 6-pack abs, I have had a relatively flat stomach my entire life and I suppose if I have any physical attributes, that is one of them. Soon I would have a tube sticking out of my stomach. While that is a bummer, it is going to be my source of nutrients for the foreseeable future so screw vanity! I've had surgery before (foot, knee, shoulder) but this time I was a little more apprehensive as they were going down through my throat in order to stick a tube out of my stomach. There was a little humor in all of this. We do live in a small town and as the nurse wheeled me to recovery, she said, "do you know everyone in this hospital?" I think I smiled and said, "Oh, I'm just old."

The Ugly
This is simple: my new friend--THE TUBE "dear old PEG." I am not to shower for 48 hours and bubble baths are out. But if Diane is game, I will post a photo of the PEG in a couple of days after I'm allowed to remove the dressings. Still no word on when radiation/chemo begins but gosh, I hope it's soon.

A Long Day's Journey Into Night?

I never read much Eugene O'Neill, but for the last couple of days, the theme of this play resonates with me. I'm working on my patience, but I just want to start my treatment!! The left side of my throat is always sore and I feel like this damn thing is growing. Now remember, this is my blog so I intend to be honest. Eating anything is a chore, and I chew extensively followed by an immediate gulp of water or ice tea in order to "get it down." This is not pretty or tasteful but it is functional. Mornings used to be a good time but now they seem to be just a precursor to what the rest of the day has in store.

Since I'm doing this, I might as well lay it all out there. I get up in the morning and take a couple of low-grade pain pills and three stool softeners. As the day evolves, I find occasion to take 3 vicoden between 11 a.m. and 7 p.m. Just prior to bedtime I take a couple of Tylenol PM. I awake between 2:30 and 3:30 a.m. and take two regular Tylenol and generally I am able to sleep until 6:30 or so. Please don't write to me about Tylenol overdose as I have cleared my intake with the doctors. Once treatment starts, I'm told the ear pain dissipates and at that time, I hope to eliminate the pain pills. Not feeling 100% is a challenge for someone who always feels 110% but by evening, both my mouth (no comments please) and body are tired.

Our days remain busy. Yesterday we had visits from an old Theta Xi, some even older Delta Sigs, and a trio of Phi Sigs which is scary in of itself. We sat in the drive way, and I watched them drink beer while I treated myself to 50 cans of Ensure. We shared hearty laughs and told the same old stories we'd told for years. It was great fun. All three of these visits were spontaneous and often times what is unplanned turns out to be the best.

Today we went to church, took a walk, and will mow the lawn. See, we do keep busy and life goes on but having this "thing" on one's agenda is a bit of a mental burden for us. I will share a quick visual with you: I've always brushed, flossed, water pic'ed, and gargled. I don't even have to look but I'm sure the visual/sound performance I give when I gargle these days is an event Diane needs to be spared. I go in the bathroom, close the door, turn on the fan, and then I make these horrible noises as I attempt to get mouth wash down the side of my throat to the effected area to deaden the pain. I assume I make the sound of a wounded Yeti. In addition to the noise I make, mouthwash spills everywhere as my throat is apparently clogged in part by the tumor and the mouthwash has no where to go. It is a rather odd new battle and certainly one of those indignities of my "new normal."

Finally, bear with me. I've said it before and I'll say it again, this journey is not going to be much fun but it will end and I will be cured. As movie star Bette Davis said in All About Eve, "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy ride."

Perspective, Patience, and Tulips

Looking at the big picture makes it easier to tolerate most anything. I firmly believe that while my immediate future is sort of grim, the ultimate result will be very positive.

I am reminded of the article I wrote for the Western News about WIU's Head Football Coach, Bruce Craddock, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Here's what I wrote:

In February 1990, I was sitting in my office alone one morning with my thoughts. It was terrible outside: a freezing, subzero day with arctic winds. It was so bad classes had even been suspended. I was the only one in our office who made it in that day. As I sat at my desk reading the just published Western News, the phone rang. Who in the world would be calling on a day like this. It was Bruce Craddock. He called to tell me thanks for putting an update about his condition in the Western News. I will never forget that conversation. He said in that raspy voice of his, "Hi Gordy, it's me Bruce, how ya doing buddy?" There was no response from me. I simply couldn't get anything out. A lump the size of a watermelon had formed in my throat. How could this man, literally on his death bed, call me, tell me thanks, and ask how I was feeling? The answer was simple. It was Bruce Craddock. I'm sure he was smiling. He still maintained his positive attitude. I finally regained my compusure, and we had a nice visit. Two weeks later he died. Perspective.

It is no secret that I am not a patient man, but I'm learning. What choice do I have? On my walk today I was lamenting how it seems my treatment activation is delayed day by day. Then I thought about General Eisenhower in the days leading up to the Normandy invasion as he contemplated the magnitude of the human sacrifice that was about to be made. Maybe it's because I like history, but then I had a vision of Harry Truman deciding whether or not to drop the bomb on Hiroshima. What must it have been like for those two men sitting behind their desks as these extraordinary events unfolded around them. Soooo I can wait a few more days to begin treatment. Patience.

Again, on my walk (these are really good for me) I thought about what a great day it is or as Bruce Craddock would say, "It's great to be a Leatherneck!" I am, at least in my own mind, the Tulip King of Macomb. Every fall, I dig up my beds and replant them with literally hundreds of fresh tulip bulbs. In the spring, I get my reward as our yard is a blaze with Holland's finest. The attached photo is from this year's crop and taken only yesterday by Diane. There is something renewing about spring, flowers in bloom, yards turning green, and leaves returning to trees after a long winter. For me, I get to share my situation with the rebirth that comes with spring as opposed to facing this during the gloomy months of winter. Tulips!

Today it's off to see a surgeon who will discuss the newest addition to my body: the feeding tube!

The Mask, The Road, The House

A quick disclaimer here--I heard that someone thought that the blog is too sad to read. I must tell you that my external demeanor remains upbeat, after all I am the guy who closes every speech with the words, "Everyday above ground is a good day." Putting my thoughts on this blog and sharing them is kathartic for both Diane and me and both helpful and informative to readers. My purpose is that this be more like a documentary. I know in my heart that this journey is really going to suck, but I'm totally convinced that the outcome will be a spectacular version of Gordy Taylor albeit a bit more reflective and sensitive.

The attached photo is not me but it is precisely what I was fitted with yesterday. The mask is a combination of hockey goalie/Hannibal Lector. It covers my face and shoulders almost but not quite to the point of discomfort.

Real life returned to our world yesterday. Sometimes things happen to make you realize life is really one thing after another. As we were returning to Macomb on the rural highways of west-central Illinois, we passed through the point of no return in the town of LaHarpe, Diane got a call from Sheila at the Cancer Care Center. "Can you come back--one of our procedures was inconclusive." So U-turn it was and 35 minutes later we were back to Burlington. The staff was very apologetic and even here we have some humor a the nurses said, "your shoulders are broader than we thought and the imaging material did not descend enough." There I was standing there in my shorts with no shirt--now get this visual--my shoulders are too broad which of course I brought to their immediate attention. We all had a raucous laugh and they got back to business.

We returned to Macomb and our home which could have been a real Nagasaki. From time to time when Diane goes down our basement steps to the family room, she insists that she smells natural gas, but then it goes away. She's even told the furnace people. On Sunday, friends Jill and Steve Bainter visited and when walking into our house, they mentioned "we smell gas." It turns out we have not one not two but three minor gas leaks at different locations around our house part of which is due to the house settling after 27 years. Only the gas company guys could have found these tiny leaks as they are indeed very small and the problem has been addressed. Think about it--wouldn't it have been something had we returned to Macomb to find our house gone. Luckily the contractor and workers were here and the kitchen renovation proceeds. Diane told me it wasn't an easy day for her.

Yesterday I had a banana and juice for breakfast; chicken noodle soup, grilled cheese and french fries (in LaHarpe at a local diner); had an ice cream bar and fruit stick for dinner plus 3 cans of Ensure--the food battle continues.

The Banana

When you get a chance, peel a banana and look at it. I start my day with a banana, and I actually look at it realizing it will take me 20 minutes to get it down. I am absolutely flabbergasted at how rapidly I deteriorated in terms of "regular" caloric intake. I tried a pot pie last night and got through maybe half of it. I could eat the vegetables but not the meat or crust. Eating is such a normal part of our everyday activities that it is almost impossible to comprehend going from liking everything to really liking nothing and finding ingestion of all most anything difficult at best. The PEG feeding tube sounds like a good idea, and I haven't even gotten close to starting treatment yet.

What I find so troubling is that all of this is so "un-Gordy Taylor like." While I'm married to a gourmet cook, I like dining out also as it is both a culinary and social experience. Now, if you see me on the street, I will still be upbeat and positive but within the confines of 35 Indian Trail battle lines are being drawn as I need to find a way to get the necessary calories and protein to fight this disease. Please don't be angry with me as I lament this part of "the process" but my intent is to be honest concerning what I am experiencing. I'm sure "eating" is just one of the many adjustments I'll have to make in the months ahead--believe it or not, I am down to one Diet Coke a day and my favorite food is now a chocolate soda.

There's also plenty of good news to report. While taking my daily walk around town, I was surprised when Diane drove by as she said she would be home dusting--oh yes, the Nagasaki Kitchen is still in process but making progress--lots of dust all over the house. As I talked to Diane, I looked over my shoulder and there was RYAN walking towards me. He didn't tell either of us but he had taken the morning train from Chicago to Macomb and walked to our house. Since I'm a creature of habit (I know you are amazed), Diane was able to intercept me on my route. What a pleasant surprise. Ryan and I continued walking around the square and took in a couple of innings of WIU baseball. It was a beautiful day, and we had a wonderful time.

At 6 p.m. I got a bit of a wake-up call as Diane and Ryan had a glass of wine on the deck and then went to the Red Ox for dinner while I battled the pot pie and watched Judgement at Nuremberg--a real pick me up.

Today is another beautiful day. Ryan and I will mow the lawn prior to his return to Chicago on the train this evening.

Tomorrow is CT-scan and mask fitting time at Burlington in preparation for my treatment. I left out a rather signficant piece of information concerning my visit to the doctors April 9th. My treatment consists of 7 weeks of radiation--5 days a week with a 3-hour chemo treatment added in weekly. I will lose some hair but we don't know how much.

Aw Shucks.....

The news wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. We met doctors from 9 to noon. The oncologist suggested a regimen of radiation only until he felt the lump on the left side of my neck at which time he sort of stepped back and said, "PET scans don't show everything and your scan is a month old so I think you need a chemo cocktail in addition to radiation." We had hoped the lump was simply a swollen gland but it appears this is not the case. However the news is not all bad. Yes, the lump is a lymph node that is probably cancerous but this is NOT and I repeat NOT unusual for cancer in the head and neck areas. Dr. El-Khoury who I believe is 12 years old and his upbeat nurse Vicki were blunt and to the point. They looked at my finely tuned body and said that I had no weight to lose and therefore without question I should have a feeding tube called a PEG. I might not need it for the first couple of weeks but after that it would be a necessity and extremely painful to insert at that time because it goes down my throat. It took me about 2 seconds to lose that argument as I hoped not to have one but it is clear I will need one.

After our consultation, Vicki gave Diane and me a tour of the chemotherapy room. How delightful. I'm told I can listen to music, watch tv, bring a laptop, eat, sleep, or whatever during my weekly 3 hour plus chemo treatment while lounging in a lazy boy. They also provide warming blankets since they keep the room rather cool. I don't have to have a port for the chemo but will have an IV in my hand.

Next stop was Dr. Bill McGinnis. The Great River Medical Center's (GRMC) Cancer Care facility is affiliated with the University of Iowa--a well-respected medical facility. Dr. McGinnis has a great bedside manner but during our one-hour conversation, he made it clear that of all the types of cancer he works with, this variety is the worst in terms of pain and discomfort. He said the first two weeks will be tolerable followed by 5 weeks of hell. At some point, I literally will not be able to swallow and that is where PEG becomes invaluable as I need to have calories and protein to fight the cancer, maintain my body weight, and stave off infection. He was very clear that this will be an awful time followed by a rather slow recovery BUT he assures me I will survive.

On Monday, I will go back to GRMC and get fitted for my famous mask which will go over my face and shoulders and be bolted to a table where the radiation is applied. It looks like a hockey mask with small holes. Claustophobia anyone? Thank goodness I don't have it. Also, another CT-scan is required because they need to know exactly where the tumor is located.

Among my responsibilities next week is to get the PEG inserted so that I can be ready to accept sustenance in that manner. Did you know that you can get vicadon in liquid form? I'm told this will help me and Diane is ready to insert whatever I need. In addition, Diane will prepare me a mouthwash comprised of salt, baking soda, and water. My 50-year marriage to Listerine is over for now as it contains alcohol which would burn the crap out of my mouth during treatment.

It takes at least 7 to 10 working days to set up all of this after the CT-scan so my earliest start date is April 21st by which time I will be a raving madman. No, no, I'm the motivation guy so patience is now a virtue I embrace. If anyone believes that, you are reading the wrong blog but life is what it is so we shall move forward accordingly.

I must admit as we walked out of the office at 12:01 p.m., I wanted (1) to throw up or (2) to have a stiff drink or (3) to cry. Instead, we opted for a homemade soup supreme lunch prepared by Gretchen Miller at the David and Gretchen Miller home in West Burlington. I must tell you my dad was right--the most important things in life are not things at all but rather the people we meet on life's journey who enrich us, support us, challenge us, and nurture us. Boy, am I finding that out first hand.

One last comment--my new life gives me time to do things I haven't done before. For the last couple of weeks, I have found myself at WIU softball games with Jim Miner and baseball games with Mike and Susan Pendergast. It's fun to shoot the breeze and take in a ball game. You learn to savour the little things in life.

Next step: Monday and the mask!!

Surreal or the New Normal

I took a walk this morning and sort of reflected on what has been happening. None of this seems very logical to me. After all, I brush, floss, gargle, and water pik, have never smoked, work out almost every day, and generally keep my weight in check. I take a regimen of vitamins as prescribed by Dr. Diane and generally drink only a couple of Diet Cokes a day. This whole situation just seems inconsistent in the world in which I've lived. But then I realize that life is not always logical or fair which I assume explains the good fortune I've experienced for most of my life. I can take it a step further when I think of my good friend and neighbor Darrell Dykstra who didn't smoke, drink, exercised daily, never had a foul word for anyone and certainly didn't pee in alleys--on the last two items I must admit Darrell was better than me--and the poor guy died from cancer 3 years after an almost 10 year battle. It always struct me that if someone as wonderful and kind as Darrell could become afflicted, it could happen to anybody. Damn, I hate to be so prophetic.

Had a little set back a couple of days ago. I went to the dentist to get his clearance before my fun radiation/chemo regimen begins and while he found no cavities, he did find a lump on the left side of my neck. I immediately assumed I was dead. A quick trip to Burlington resulted in a antibiotic prescription to treat what my ENT doc said was a minor infection--don't worry about it.

Wednesday former alumni council member Sue Seaver Goetz from the Quad Cities stopped by and said, "Gordy Taylor, how's the new normal?" I looked at her and realized she hit the nail on the head. Normal as I know it has probably changed forever in ways I cannot even conceive. For a guy who NEVER, and I mean never, takes naps except for strategically timed ones with Diane (please don't make me explain), I now can nod off in an instant. So the new normal will evolve daily. Yesterday former student and long time friend, Frank Costanza, stopped by from Kansas City. Frank was a great baseball player at Valporaiso but by his own admission couldn't hit the curve ball. Frank could throw the ball farther and harder than anyone I've ever seen. When we played softball for Baymillers, we would have contests throwing the ball from center field to homeplate. My arm was not as strong but the ball ultimately reached the catcher. Frank's throw arrived much earlier but usually flew over the backstop into the next diamond. As we sat up last night solving the world's problems and me realizing how important real friends are at a time like this, Frank said, "You know, Gord, very few people are fortunte enough to have the ideal job which they love and which they excel at. You are ones of those people." Frank is right.

Nephew Neil, his wife Michelle, and son Jack stopped by today on their way home to Wisconsin from a trip to Colorado. A 3 year old has lots of energy and I realize life is a never ending circle.

Tomorrow is the big day. We leave for Burlington at 7:30 a.m. and have been told to plan on spending the day. It appears treatment will not begin April 12th--maybe the 19th. Let's hope. I will be a basket case by then, but I'm told it generally takes 2 months from diagnosis to the beginning of treatment and I was diagnosed March 4th.

My next entry should reveal the course my life will take for the next year or so. And so it goes......

Ground Hog Day/Hurry Up and Wait

I feel like Bill Murray in the film Ground Hog Day. While I vary my daily routine with walks, working in the yard, going to movies, and harrassing the poor guys who are remodeling our kitchen (what I call Nagasaki East), there are certain similarities every day. I get up with my ears ringing and hurting, take a couple of Tylenol, eat my banana, take my vitamins, drink some juice and, of course, start all this with the ever present Diet Coke. I then begin my day. At lunch the downward slide begins. It gets harder to swallow as the day progresses, but I force myself to eat something and that seldom includes beef which has been my staple my entire life. Hey, I was raised by Connie and Doc Taylor and they believed the road to good health was paved with a good steak, baked potato, salad, and a healthy mix of martinis. The latter went by the wayside for me the day I buried my dad, 1988. I still have one but on rare occasions.

My next meal is comprised of a can of Ensure, followed by either a Dairy Queen soda, or a malt from the soda fountain/counter at Ford Hopkins Pharmacy on the square. Dinner is a bit tougher as I tend to "run out of gas" by 6ish and am pretty much place bound at night. That is by choice as my days remain active. My two new restaurants are "carry out" from County Market and the Jackson Street Pub. I am sure this will expand to include Vitale's and the Red Ox. I am indeed fortunate that I like soup and always have.

By 9 p.m., it's 5 minutes of WGN, a couple of Tylenol PMs, and then off to bed. I wake up with a headache at about 2 a.m., take a couple of regular Tylenol, and then manage to fall back asleep. I am not complaining as this is just the way it is for now. The redundancy/repetition is a bit maddening for someone who loves to eat and now eats to live. Another candid admission: wine consumption is waaaay down.

April 9th seems like a year away. Every appointment with a doctor seems to result in another appointment with another doctor but that should end Friday when we meet with the radiologist and oncologist and outline a plan of action. Hooray!!

Many thanks for your cards, calls, emails, and personal visits. They have given me another sort of wake-up call I never expected. All the communications have similar theme: "hey big guy, you've been giving that motivational speech for 40 years, and now it's time to walk the talk, and live it!" I guess I never thought about it much but that is simple, to the point, and helpful. I seem to have spent my entire life encouraging others to view the glass as half full and now it's my turn. My most explicit reality with this are my trips to MidAmerica National Bank--it's sort of my tonic. I walk in and feel like Norm on Cheers--a hello here or a hi there, everyone has been very friendly to the Taylors over the years and the employees always kid me about how happy I seem to be and I am. Time for the NCAA. My heart is with Butler but Gordon and Ryan say the smart money is with Duke. We shall know soon.

"Do you like your dad?"

Well, everything else aside, this is a monumental day in my life for on April 1, 1967, I met Diane Paulsen on a blind date at Argyle State Park. Little did I know this would be the seminal event in my life as we have been married 41 plus years, have 3 wonderful children, a terrific son-in-law, beautiful daughter-in-law, two insightful grandsons who refer to me as Mr. Fun or the King!! Stop laughing. We've had our ups and downs but way more of the former and very few of the latter.

If you're reading this for a daily feel-good story, you will be disappointed as my purpose is to help other people understand what this experience is like if they are faced with a similar situation so that their "bump in the road" can be less mysterious than mine. Of course, I do need to remind myself (actually I don't) that my doctors have told me the survival rate for this is 75 to 80% so that is very good news.

Tuesday was a full day as we drove to Zion, IL, to see Diane's parents who are in assisted living and a nursing home. I did cross another threshhold as after Grandma bought us lunch (yes, she is a sweetheart), I announced that I needed to take a nap. Mind you this is my first real nap in 60 years but darn it, I was tired. Obviously this little journey is tiring both physically and mentally. Went to bed Tuesday night at 9 but got up at 10 with a headache, sore throat--DUH, and my ears ringing. I was angry as nothing stops me from getting a good night's sleep. Of course, I'm not the brightest bulb in the pack as I went back to bed at midnight and left for Macomb at 4:30 a.m. to avoid that Chicago traffic.

I forgot to mention this the other day but during my phone conversation with ENT Dr. Henrich in Iowa, when he talked about the exceptional experience of Dr. McGinnis, the radiologist, he said, "I would send my dad to Dr. McGinnis!" I responded immediately, "do you like your dad?" We both had a good laugh.

Also I got a funny email from University of Florida retired alumni director, Wayne McDaniel, who wrote "I can't believe you've been diagnosed with cancer, especially on your tongue since it is seldom still enough to catch anything." Stop laughing again!!!! It sure made Diane and I laugh.

I'm off to interview WIU President Alvin Goldfarb on "Across the Miles." He talks as much as and faster than I do.

My newest challenge is to figure out what medications to take to mitigate the pain without becoming a drug addict. Anything classified as a narcotic causes constipation and I'm now an expert on that subject--stool softeners anyone?

It is 80 degrees and sunny in Macomb. As Coach Bruce Craddock used to say, "It's a great day to be a Leatherneck!"