Goodbye 2011, Hello 2012

If that title seems a bit tepid, then I have accomplished what I set out to do. For me, 2011 was a year of recovery and improvements over a 2010 that was pretty tough for the entire Taylor family as they watched and helped Dad deal with the cancer challenge. 2011 took me on the upswing as I am pretty much back to the "old" Gordy and that is way more than I had any right to hope for or expect. I am actually gaining a little weight, my appetite has returned, and to some extent my taste buds are actually functioning. My health gurus, Don Patterson and Maury Coats, told me this would happen if I was patient and over the course of 19 months, it has. Hooray!!!! Yet, in the back of cancer survivors’ minds, the “c” word is always there and every ache, pain, or change in your body rhythm is cause for alarm, justified or not. I will be much more relaxed after I hit the two year recovery mark on June 10, 2012.

As I age and get a bit more reflective, there is time to look at the world that faces all of us today. For us boomers, it has been a pretty good ride. We grew up, went to school, got jobs, married, had kids, lived lives a bit better than our parents and basically experienced what we were told was the American Dream. We were always employed and while there were economic rough spots, we continued to move forward both in our personal and professional lives. Yes, we all have issues--health, raising kids, being the sandwich generation between our parents and our kids, but all in all, still a good run.

Like the rest of you, Diane and I have experienced all of these issues. Most of you don't know this but we had some rough economic times in the late 70s when I was given a terminal contract at Western since I had not yet completed my doctorate. It was a frustrating and difficult period in our lives but we persevered. I got the alumni job, the PhD was completed, and we were back on track.

I say all this because this was the way the Boomer generation expected things to happen. Trials and tribulations faced us but there was never any real doubt that things wouldn't work out in the long run--of course they would. This was the United States and the future was always bright. I worry that this is not the reality facing our children. Our oldest is 40 and youngest 31. All three of our kids have jobs and are doing fine, and Diane and I are grateful for that. But something is different today for young people. They are tired, not optimistic, frustrated, and worried. Why shouldn't they be? It hits them everywhere. Is there a flicker of optimism for this generation? They read the same newspapers I read, they watch the same evening news, and listen to the same political pundits. In their lives to date, all they have heard about is economic gloom and doom--banking, real estate, government malfeasance, higher taxes, and no prospects for improvement on the horizon, short or long term. When we graduated from high school or college, jobs were waiting for us. We can’t say the same today.

When I went "on the road," I was gone, both literally and figuratively. No cell phone, no fax, no email. I would call Diane every two or three days (yes, this was a long distance call and it cost real money) but generally I was gone on business and couldn't be contacted unless I wanted to be. Not so today. Our children are on call 24/7/365. I don't hear them complain as this is their reality. The Blackberry, cell phones, and computers via the internet make them easily accessible and accountable. They can never seem to just relax and "chill out." They are seemingly forever "on call" and reachable. Couple this with our general economic malaise and I feel sorry for our kids.

Will they ever be able to just "get away?" Can they really go on a vacation like we did and enjoy a week or two or more on the beach, on the golf course, in the mountains, or anywhere they please without the constant tie to the job. I think not. This discourages and worries me. Volkswagen just initiated a new policy that says they will not contact their employees after hours with emails. This speaks volumes about the direction our society is moving. Now I'm no Luddite, (well sort of), but I want my kids and yours to wake up one morning and be optimistic about that future that lies ahead. This is not about money, it is about time, quality time, and we all need it. I constantly tell my children that I worked hard and did so for long hours but it was very different. When I wanted to "close it down" and not be contacted or badgered (strong language but true) I could do so.

I say goodbye to 2011 grateful for all that has come my way including all the wonderful people who have been there for me these many months. I say hello to 2012 hopeful that the next generation can begin to experience what my Dad referred to as "the little things" that make life worthwhile. My wish for all of us, wherever we are on life's journey, is to have that most precious of commodities, time, unencumbered time, to really sit back and "smell the roses." Best wishes for a happy new year and a healthy, balanced 2012.

What Happened?

Gordy and Blake

Brock and Megan's Wedding 2011

Ryan and Brock--Megan and Brock's Wedding 2011

Megan and Brock, June 26, 2009

Gordon, Gordy, and Ryan

Lisa and Gordon's Wedding, June 27, 2009

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving and sons Gordon III and Ryan invited me to join them for lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings. We do this from time to time, and I think it provides my sons with an opportunity to judge for themselves my improvement in terms of my ability to consume food. My first trip out I watched them eat. Gradually I began to join them first with one wing, then two, and so on. Now I can eat six of the little rascals. I still drink water and lots of it after every bite, but eat them I can. 

But this meal would prove to be different. The three of us were joined by three of my sons’ good friends: Brock and Megan (Butler) Bainter and Blake Bainter. It started out as most such gatherings usually do for me—a little polite conversation, some targeted kidding, a reluctant admission by my dining companions that "Gee, Gordy knows a lot of people but then he's old and he's been here since the dawn of time." Over the course of a couple of hours, I noticed a major shift in the dynamics of our conversation. You get the picture, six friends sitting around, enjoying each others company, having some laughs, lots of them. I enjoyed being with my table mates—a wonderful cast of characters. On my left was son Gordon, Director of Sales and Marketing at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Austin, Texas. Next to him I suggested we leave an open seat for anyone who might come in to talk about playing time or lack thereof with the person sitting adjacent to that seat, Brock Bainter, Head Baseball Coach and Interim Head Boys Basketball Coach at Macomb High School. I kidded Brock that no matter what he does, someone will not be pleased and he will hear about it. He reminded me that at one time, I was one of those parents. We all had a good laugh.

On Brock's left was his personable, witty, bubbly, and very attractive bride, Megan, who works in the Billing and Receivables Office at Western Illinois University. Next to Megan sat a young man who simply stated, and I'm a guy saying this, is striking. He is tall, lean but muscular, and has a smile that fills the room. His laugh is infectious and he knows how to tell a good story. He is Brock’s younger brother, Blake, recently departed from the United States Army and soon to be a student at WIU. Next to Blake sat my care keeper. "Are you OK Dad? Do you need anything? How about some more water?" That would be son Ryan, an attorney in Chicago for Tressler LLP.

I kidded Blake about the time in our backyard when he was four years old and hit the ball and ran to third base—not first. I called him out and boy was he upset! Brock reminded Ryan of how they shared a study hall in high school, but Brock didn't even know Ryan was in the class until the last week of school. This helped explain the derivation of the nickname Ferris Bueller that apparently my son richly deserved. Everyone kidded Gordon about his famous three-point shots in our epic "driveway basketball" marathons. And then there was Megan, the new member at our lunches. It's hard to kid someone as sweet and kind as Megan so she pretty much got a "pass." Gee, I had fun.

About half-way through lunch, it dawned on me. While it was nice, at least I hope so, that I was there, I was clearly "along for the ride." In the old days, the focus would not have been on these young people but rather their parents. That day it was different. As President Kennedy so aptly put it, "The torch has been passed to a new generation." I sat there listening and then listening some more as these five extraordinary young professionals talked about "their" world much like their parents would have done in years past. Everyone was nice to the "old" man in their midst but these leaders of today had things to talk about and I was impressed by the depth and maturity of what transpired at our table.

There is a natural progression of things; it is time for my generation to move over just a bit and make way for our children who will be the leaders of tomorrow. To Megan, Brock, Blake, Gordon, and Ryan, thanks for an enjoyable afternoon.

Healthwise, it is all good. Taste buds are actually coming back; my mouth is not as dry as it used to be. It is indeed the season to be thankful, so put me at the top of the list of those doing the thanking—18 months and I remain as they say, "without cancer."

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is clearly my favorite holiday for a number of reasons. Most importantly is the name "Thanksgiving." How simple but elegant; one word says it all. Around our house the past couple of years we don't need to say much but my very presence gives us all pause to reflect on what is but also what could have been. I am a very lucky man. I enjoy Thanksgiving for other reasons as well. It brings our family together (or in the case of this year, part of it) and we actually have a couple of days to relax, watch old videos, take long walks, sleep in (except me who is writing this at 5 a.m.), and enjoy the special banter that people who lived under the same roof for decades share. I enjoy the "stories" the best. "Gordon, tell us about that the Warsaw game when you were a junior when you finally got your chance to play and you delivered", "Ryan, what was it like to pitch against Lewiston is some of those critical games?", "Come on Mom, tell us, was Dad always like this?", "Lisa, how did you like 40 straight days of 100 degree temperatures in Austin?" and "Dad, how did you get so lucky to marry somebody like Mom and exactly when did you figure out how lucky you were?" Now, these are all true stories and we laugh and joke and then laugh some more.

I also love this holiday because we can forego all the hoopla of gifts. It's just family enjoying family. Gordon and I were in the car driving to Moline to pick up Lisa who was flying in from Austin, and we had two hours together in which I could answer his questions about my parents, how they met, their lives together, and special memories I have. You simply couldn't put a price tag on that ride. It takes 90 minutes to make the ride from Macomb to Moline, but it seemed like 10. To me, Thanksgiving tightens the family bond ever more securely. There is for once, more time for quality conversation, more time to explain the Paulsen/Taylor family stories and for our children, fill in the gaps about questions they have regarding how all this came about. It is stimulating, amusing, educational, reflective, and fun. Our "kids" love to visit Indian Trail and Diane and I are most grateful for that. For some reason, a visit here allows for complete decompression from the world of emails, I-phones, and the insidious Blackberry.

I never tire of the kids and their spouses being around. We have no agendas; fortunately, no old scars or family wounds to address, and we seem to have compatible personalities. Do you get it?? I am really feeling fortunate and lucky as I write this. What a hoot!! My kids and we are having a ball together. I want to shout out to Diane, "Diane, I told you we did a good job of raising our kids, isn't this fun?" but then I remember it is 5 a.m. on Friday morning. Gee, I suppose I should get dressed and run out to Wal-Mart but then I do hate to shop.

The weather here promises to be in the 60s today so we will no doubt engage in a game of "driveway basketball" which remains a family pastime but is a considerably less display of athletic prowess than it was in years past when we were younger and more limber. Diane will sit on the porch, take a photo or two (she remains the family archivist) and root for her sons against their dad. Not sure why it happens this way, but my guess is it is some sort of payback for my conduct on the court 30 years ago when I played the role of Vic Morrow in Bad News Bears or Robert Duvall in The Great Santini.

Pretty much there you have it EXCEPT for another of our major Thanksgiving blessings at 35 Indian Trail. That would involve the gourmet cooking and presentation by Diane Paulsen Taylor who, fortunately for her family, loves to cook and is extremely proficient at said endeavor. From turkey, with mashed potatoes, dressing, gravy, brussel sprouts, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberries, and rolls it is indeed a culinary extravaganza. This will be followed by a sumptuous prime rib on Friday night complemented by sour cream and cheese mashed potatoes and her famous pea and broccoli casserole. The boys and I express our gratitude for all this tender loving care by "doing the dishes." It is a sight to behold. There we are--three men, 65, 37, and 31, clearing off the table, loading the dishwasher, wiping off tables, washing the pots and pans, packaging up leftovers, and of course joking with each other all the way. Not sure why the big cleanup is fun, but we find a way to make it so.

Now, the weekend has not been perfect. We do miss the presence of daughter Jennifer and her fine family but we find solace in the reality that we will ALL rendezvous in Austin, TX, for a couple of days next month and celebrate an early Christmas. Take the Thanksgiving team and add Jennifer, John, and the grandsons (Luke 7, James 3, and Paul 6 months) and this should be a wild affair. This family dynamic is exponentially wild as Uncles Gordon and Ryan and Aunt Lisa think it is cool to shower their nephews with gift after gift after gift. Of course, this drives Jennifer crazy, "You're spoiling my sons" but what the heck, we don't all get together as often as we'd like, so a little excessive gift giving to the little ones is ok with all of us.

The Thanksgiving weekend will end on a melancholy note as it will require a ride to Moline to send Lisa and Gordon back to Austin and then Ryan will take the train back to Chicago. Diane and I will have happy tears in our eyes as we will be sad to see them go but look forward to our next adventure together. Yes, Thanksgiving, my favorite time of the year. Christmas is only a month away and we shall reunite soon--let the good times roll.

A Box of Hope

                                                                      A Box of Hope

I knew the day would come and yesterday was that day. In my office closet sits a box. It is not just any box but a very special box. It is three feet long, two feet wide, and eighteen inches high. It has resided in my office closet since around April 1, 2010, when I received my first card wishing me good thoughts from one of you as I prepared for the uncertain battle with cancer that awaited me. I got literally thousands of cards, notes, and emails (I copied many of them) and put them in the box. I'm not sure why I put them there. Maybe it was because I knew in my heart that I would want to look at them at a later date. Maybe it was because I was too tired and disoriented to digest their contents when I received them. Maybe it was because I just didn't know what to do with them. Whatever the reason, they have been sitting there accumulating for 19 months. I don't get many letters these days and I interpret that as a good sign as I am recovering not deteriorating. However, the box sat there waiting for action on my part so I decided to "dig in."

One hour passed, then two, then five, and six, and I was still sitting there reading, reflecting, thinking. Diane finally came upstairs to check on me and said, "Gord, are you ok? You look exhausted. Have you been crying?" I was ok, I was exhausted, and I had been crying. After 43 years, a wife comes to know her spouse pretty well so we sat there together while I tried to explain what I was feeling. Damn, I'm a grown man, 65 years old to be exact, but I was visibly shaken and moved by what I had been reading. It was card after card, note after note, words of encouragement from YOU. I clearly don't remember opening most of them when they first arrived as I was busy resting day after day, week after week and month after month.

But I read them yesterday, all of them, and I thank each of you for your words of support and encouragement. I have done so before but not fully knowing the content of your thoughts like I did yesterday. Now I know and I am humbled. Some of you wrote every week, some once in awhile but you all took the time to bolster me and my family in our time of need. I won't even try to mention you all by name. You know who you are. I will, however, quote from one card that captures the essence of what I experienced yesterday. It was written by our former Head Men's Basketball Coach, Jack Margenthaler. He said he had been reading a book given to him by his son Matt, and he thought of me. It was a particular verse, Romans 15:13 to be precise. "May God of hope fill you with all the joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope...if we don't have hope, we have nothing."

I feel today a little like baseball great Lou Gehrig, who said, under very different circumstances, "Today I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth." Thanks everyone, I believe I am here today, in large part, because of each of you.

My next challenge is to read the blog. I have not read a word of it since Diane and I started writing it on March 23, 2010. I am told by those who have read it that it can be painful at times so I shall find out for myself. It's funny, you write something, send it out, but never have the stamina or courage to read what you have written. I believe that day is at hand for me.

Excellent News and Aging

                                             Andy Rooney

I ventured over to Burlington to see Dr. Doug Henrich, my Ear, Nose, Throat doctor, this week as I was due for a checkup, and I had a couple of questions to ask him. We chatted a bit and then he put that darn scope up my nose and wherever else it goes to get a good look at my tongue and throat. He said that everything looked good, and unless I had an issue he'd see me in four or five months. He also told me that the first year has the highest rate of reoccurrence of my type of cancer and if you get through year two then the recurrence really drops off and if you get to five years, well; that is just the best news possible. I am at 17 months so let's hope the good news keeps coming.

I continue to make what I refer to as modest improvements. Ever so slightly but taste buds and salivary glands are, I believe, getting better; however, the progress is slow hard as to be imperceptible except when viewed longitudinally over the passing of months. When I look at things this way, I am way better than I was a year ago. This week I reached another personal milestone. I went slow (10 minutes a mile), but I jogged three miles in the Spencer Student Recreation Center. I only jog once a week or so due to age, knees, whatever, but this was the first time I had reached the three mile mark since this odyssey began almost two years ago. I continue to walk an hour every day which is good but I do so at 5:30 a.m. which is a little (ok, a whole lot) crazy for a retired guy but my new biological clock is now set for a 4:30 a.m. wakeup whether I like it or not. My weight remains in the160 pound range which is a little light; both my local doctor Mike Waters and Doug Henrich tell me not to worry about it as I look fine so there you have it.

Now about this issue of aging--I think about it these days as it is all around me. Diane's parents are 90 and 87, my two surviving brothers have had some health issues, and I have now entered the stage in my life when some of my close friends are having "health issues" as well. It is a new threshold in life when you attend far more wakes and funerals than weddings but in a melancholy way, it makes sense. At age 65 and having had a nasty cancer, what would mortality tables tell me? I shall not look to find out; I am clearly in the last third of my life. No complaints here, just a statement of fact. None of us gets out of this alive, and I trust I am not in the Last Act but you do tend to take stock of things as you speculate about what lies ahead.

                                                                   Frank Sinatra
                                                              

To quote from a Frank Sinatra song, "Regrets, I have a few, but too few to mention" sums it up nicely. I have been blessed and continue to be blessed with a return to good health, a fabulous family, a rewarding career, and continued involvement in the community and, of course, the Across the Miles TV show that completed interview #182 last week. I sometimes wonder, "If I don't keep active in some way, is that the beginning of the end." I refer to both physical activity and mental stimulation as ways to keep us perpetually young at least in terms of how we utilize our time. I can't help but think of Andy Rooney who retires and then dies a month later. Yes, he was 92, but did Father Time finally catch him or was he really ready to give up what he loved to do and had been doing for over 60 years? We'll never know. It does at least beg the question.

I do ask myself, and Diane too, if I should end "the blog" but am told by people that they find our story enlightening and informative in terms of how one deals with cancer and its aftermath. Thus, I view my musings as part of that on-going process and will continue to "post" though maybe just not as frequently. Have a great day. You are a part of the reason I am happily where I am today. Many thanks.

Grandsons and Reflections in Church

We just got back from a two week visit to Corpus Christi, Texas, where we visited and stayed with daughter Jennifer, son-in-law John, wonder dog Caesar the 100 pound yellow lab, and of course my buddies, Luke 7, James 3, and Paul 4 months. At age 40, I assume Jen is "done" but who knows, maybe she will go for all 12 disciples. A bit of candor is in order here, and I trust I will not offend my favorite daughter. I am 65 years of age and Diane is 63 though she doesn't look it. We are active people and rather live our lives "on the go." However, 13 consecutive days with the Stevenson threesome was a challenge from the physical stamina standpoint. These guys are up at 7 a.m. and generally go to bed around 8 p.m., but they are active. I might also add that Jen is a terrific Mom and the boys are very respectful and well behaved. The good news is that Luke, James, and Paul really love their grandparents and look forward to our time together but they do wear us out. Grandparenting for us would be about 3 hour visits, or an all-day excursion, and an occasional overnight stay but not 13 days, but since we live so far away, we find it necessary to make up for the miles and hours that separate us and keep us from shorter trips.

Truth be known, baby Paul belongs to Grandma and his Mom as he is still nursing. When not with Jen, he is with Grandma cooing, laughing, and smiling. He has a wonderful temperament. The other two boys are mine. Their nicknames for me are Darth Vadar, Jack Sparrow, Mr. Fun, and most importantly The King. I took a daily walk at 5:30 a.m. (my quiet time) and by 7 a.m. I was back in bed waiting for my little buddies to arrive which they did like clockwork. We watched Sesame Street, ate fruit prepared by Grandma, and discussed reasons why I am The King which translates into little physical games like the scissors, head nuggies, and the chin on the chest which is a challenge for me as I am chin deprived.

James and I then take Luke to school and return home where we play Star Wars and at 10 a.m. take a wagon ride to the local grocery store where James has a donut and bottle of chocolate milk to ensure that he is not hungry for lunch but heck that's the joy of being a grandparent. At 1 p.m. James and Paul lie down for an hour or so with Jen and then it is time for Diane and me to rest. At 2:30 James and I leave to pick up Luke from school and stop for ice cream on the way home which, you guessed it, spoils their appetite for dinner. Heh, I never said I was perfect, but I do know how to keep my little friends happy. We then return home where I pretend to take a nap in the little, and I mean little, 4 foot in diameter swimming pool while the boys torment me with snakes, sharks, and alligators. It is amazing. It matters not that the three of us are crowded into this little pool. What counts is that we are together, laughing, and having fun.



After dinner we play pirates and then Grandma reads them a story and Jen puts them to bed after they say their prayers. This routine was repeated everyday so by the time we left donuts and ice cream were daily staples so Jen and John were left to "reeducate” their sons on the need for a non-Papa diet. I am not sure how Jen does it since her schedule includes laundry, meals, chauffeuring, homework, discipline, nurturing, cleaning, paying bills and every unforeseen contingency that comes her way. Did I mention that Jennifer also has a part-time job managing an apartment complex? Did I also mention that for most of the time, John departs Corpus on Monday mornings and does not return until Friday nights because of his job? A couple of college girls watch James and Paul about twice a week; however, Jennifer takes James and Paul to the apartment complex at least once a week where she works. I told John I think we guys get off easy. Sure, we work hard but the emotional drain of raising kids is staggering. I guess that's why you have children when you are young. Jennifer and John are doing a fantastic job with our three grandsons but it is a daily commitment of being consistent.

By the way, while there, Paul was christened, Diane and I took the older two boys for an overnight stay at a hotel in San Antonio, managed to take Jen out for a couple of dinners, and John took me to my first Texas high school "Friday Night Lights" football game. We even squeezed in a couple of hours with son Gordon and daughter-in-law Lisa (one of Paul’s Godmothers) at the baptism and lunch, so it was a wonderful sojourn to the Lonestar State.

I hope I continue to improve. That may sound like a strange statement but everything happens so gradually that it is hard to ascertain or mark progress. I thought about this in church Sunday as it dawned on me that I was, indeed, in church and a year ago I couldn't make it through the whole service as fatigue would mandate my early departure. In the past, I had to get up for a drink of water and that has no longer been an issue. Diane even commented the other day that I am standing up straighter than I did a few months ago. Naturally, I took this comment well and after reacting poorly agreed that she was correct and this is another example of regaining my health. As a matter of fact, I believe that I am close to being the old Gordy from a physiological standpoint. That is a big plus; I walk, jog a bit, planted 300 tulips, raked leaves and completed interview number 180 last week on the Across the Miles TV show. I still go to bed early and get up by 5 a.m. but then I have always been an early riser. My taste buds are slow to return but I am no longer tethered to a water bottle. I saw my regular doctor yesterday and I doubt that my weight will get back to 170 but rather will stay in the 160-165 range. Not sure if that is good or bad but that is reality as food is just not a priority for me.

I am due for a visit with the Ear, Nose,Throat doctor in Burlington and of course, that is an anxious time but I am optimistic. I will keep you posted. As for grandson Luke, he wins the "tell it like it is" award. While enjoying our ice cream one afternoon, he looked over at me and said, "Papa, you look good, but your hair is turning white." Yup, grandparenting is the best.

A Film



Diane, Paul, Luke, James, and Gordy
The Christening at First Presbyterian Church in Goliad, TX

 I am a bit of a movie freak; I even go by myself sometime.  Now don't get me wrong, no slasher, horror, or stupid ones for me.  Macomb even has an International Film Series hosted by the Rialto Theatre, and I go whenever I am in town.  Of course, we try to only go to matinees--can't stay up too late you know.  I am writing this in Corpus Christi, TX, where Diane and I traveled for the baptism of grandson number three, Paul Austin Stevenson.  Prior to our flight from Midway, we spent a day in Chicago and while Diane made a quick train trip to visit her parents in Zion, I actually bought a new pair of jeans (unusual for me since I hate to shop), but my new waistline mandated a size 32 inch size waist which I haven't seen in a decade.

I had time to catch a flick so I went to a "cancer comedy," a true oxymoron called 50/50.  I didn't know quite what to expect, and I will not give this movie a thumbs up or thumbs down, but if you have had cancer, have cancer, or know someone who has, it is excellent food for thought.  Several times during the film, I got goosebumps as they hit a trigger point head on and made me realize what both the patient and friends experience.  Seth Rogen who is not one of my favorites (probably an age thing) did a fine job as the caring friend who tries to disguise that he truly cares for and loves his best buddy.  It is a film in which you have to sort of go with it, but I actually got quite a bit out of it and others may as well.  I cried; I laughed.  I left the theatre glad I had gone to see it. 

It has been a busy couple of months for us with trips to Europe, Kentucky, Chicago, and now Texas.  Plus an action-packed Homecoming so Diane and I are ready for a more relaxed pace when we return to Macomb on the 18th.  I continue to walk daily, my taste buds are improving slightly, and choking incidences are rather infrequent.  Sometimes my tongue feels a little irritated, but I assume that is just part of the process.  In the final analysis, I guess I am just happy that 7-year old Luke and 3-year old James refer to me as The King or Mr. Fun.  As for Paul, four months, he has yet to settle on a nickname for his Grandpa Taylor.

Homecoming 2011

Homecoming 2011

My health must be improving.  This was Western Illinois University's Homecoming Weekend, and we kept up a frenetic pace for a couple of retirees.  I did two interviews for Across the Miles on Friday and for the 41st consecutive year, the Taylors had a guest stay with us Homecoming.  This is kind of a fun tradition for us. 

Here's our Saturday:  awake at 5 a.m.; took an hour walk at 6; got the house ready for a post-game party; 10:15 arrived at the Alumni House to watch the parade; 1 p.m. lunch at the all-university tent adjacent to Hanson Field; went to the Leatherneck tailgate until game time; watched the Leathernecks prevail in a 27-21 thriller over Southern Illinois University; returned home and hosted a social for 60 returning alumni football players, coaches, and guests from 1969 to 1982; and bedtime was 11 p.m.  For me, a bit of record as I was up for 19 hours and handled pretty well.  I even forgot my water on my morning walk and it didn't bother me too much. 

This is always a special weekend for Diane and me as we always see so many people who are a part of the fabric of our lives.  It has become even more meaningful after my illness as simply stated people are genuinely happy to see that I am out and about.  Everyone is just so darn nice to the Taylors, and we sure appreciate it.  The football reunion was awesome.  I had many of these players in my College of Business classes from 1970 to 1978, and they have developed into stellar men of whom I am very proud.  We had lots of laughs and shared many stories and memories.  Of course, I would remiss if I did not mention that Diane is a master making our house a warm and comfortable place where friends can relax, visit, and share time with one another. 

I had a couple of emails this week from other head and neck cancer survivors who wrote, "Be patient, Gordy, progress will come, it will be slow, and it will not be complete, but you are on the right side of the grass so remember that!"  I will endeavor to do so. 

Across the Miles to Italy and France

View of Rome from the Rooftop of Our Hotel

We're back from a fantastic trip to Italy and France.  We left Chicago on August 31st which happens to be our 43rd wedding anniversary and returned to Macomb on September 20th still speaking to each other so I guess the marriage will last.  Our return preceded our luggage by two days but that was a minor inconvenience.  I won't go into great detail but rather will touch on a few highlights.  We flew on Iberia Airlines from Chicago to Madrid and then onto Rome.  It was our first visit to the Eternal City, and we were not disappointed.  A quick point of interest:  Diane planned and coordinated EVERYTHING--plane tickets, tours, trains, hotels, and the like.  My only responsibility was to provide adequate Euros and a large number of Marriott points to secure lodging.  As Diane says after my "c" experience, "Gord, you can't take them with you so let's use them!"  And by golly we did. 

The Coliseum

Rome:  We hired a guide to take us for 3 hours to the Coliseum/Ancient Rome, and the next day to the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter's Basilica, and Vatican Museum.  These were expensive endeavors but we both felt it was money well spent; we would do it again.  We also took the Scavi Tour which is of the catacombs which was terrific as long as you are not claustrophobic.  The rest of our time was spent doing the usual sights like the Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, and Spanish Steps. 

After five days in Rome, it was off to...

Florence:  Diane purchased train tickets in advance which was helpful and the ride was about two hours in duration on a very fast train!  Michelangelo's David is truly breathtaking and that visit was improved by the fact that Diane had secured tickets in advance thus saving a two to three hour wait in line.  The remainder of our time in Florence was spent with me following Diane dispensing Euros to various and sundry merchants.  Florence is a very walkable and doable city with emphasis on the walking. 

Florence

Our last day in Florence was spent on a "walk-about tour" to Cinque Terre which was a two-hour bus ride to the coast and then a five-hour hike, train and boat rides between the five villages.  One aspect of the tour includes lots of difficult uphill walking on both stairs and rugged trails.  This is not for the out of shape individual. 

Onr of the Cinque Terre Villages:  Vernazza

The sojourn from Florence to Cannes, France, was something else.  We had to take three trains and the last one was two hours packed in to a regional commuter that was hot and made more difficult by the fact that I had to ride in the entry way to guard our two huge suitcases. 

Cannes, France:  Another fabulous room this time overlooking the La Croisette which is the main boulevard through the city running parallel to the Mediterranean Sea.  We walked, spent a day at the beach, relaxed at our hotel, and took a trip to Saint Paul de Vence via train and taxi.  This is one of those out of the way places in Provence that is worth the visit as it is both quaint and scenic.  It was necessary to spend some time at a laundromat as we were in dire need of clean clothes.  It was pretty funny watching us figure out how to use their machines and pay for washing and drying but we did it.  Off to the City of Lights!

Saint Paul de Vence in the Provence Area of France

Cannes, France

Paris:  We took the TGV (bullet train) at 160 MPH and arrived in 5 1/2 hours--unbelievable!!  Our hotel had been previewed by Diane, and it featured a beautiful courtyard that we enjoyed.  I need to make a brief disclaimer here:  we have had the good fortune to visit Paris on numerous occasions so there was little need to spend copious time at the usual sights and sounds of the city.  We made the rounds to the Arc de Triomphe, Champs Ellyses, Tulieries, Sacre Couer, Eiffel Tower, Luxembourg Gardens, Notre Dame, and Musee d'Orsay.  What was different this time was that we didn't need to spend a lot of time at any particular place but rather take in the ambiance of the city.  We sat at cafes, and I actually was patient and just sat there soaking up all that is Paris.  One of our highlights was sitting on a park bench and doing just that--sitting there.  Diane figured out the Metro system and that made travel around the city both fun and efficient. 

Gordy and the Eiffel Tower

You've probably noticed I haven't mentioned the weather, food, or my health.  As for the weather, it was simply perfect.  We couldn't have ordered anything better.  The food offerings were delicious and Diane enjoyed the culinary choices especially in Italy.  Sometimes I could taste things and sometimes not so much, so I think I set an international record by having French Onion Soup no fewer than 6 times.  My lack of appetite was not a big thing but I probably lost 5 pounds on the trip so I am in the process of trying to get my weight back.  It seems funny.  People my age seem to battle the weight issue and here I am working desperately to put pounds on.  I knew I had a problem when Diane and I went to a movie yesterday in Macomb and I thought my jeans would literally fall to my ankles.  I did have one bout of the "creeping crud" which is a respiratory problem I've been getting twice a year for the past 20 years.  It saps my energy and I cough a lot.  It's more of a nuisance than anything else. 

Sitting on a Paris Park Bench

Kudos to Diane, the weather, and Marriott. 

Milestones

All of us experience milestones in our lives; Gordy and I are no exception.  In order to see how far we have come in our lives, it seems appropriate to look back especially when he has travelled the "c" journey.  We have come so far in one year.  On the blog, our entries for the end of August in 2010 reflect a different world for us.

August 27, 2010:  PET-Scan results reveal 2 hotspots of activity instead of an "all clear and clean" report.

August 27, 2011:  We attended our annual neighborhood block party and walked for an hour in the morning.  He led the children's parade with the American flag in hand.  Gordy is currently free of cancer!!!

August 30, 2010:  Met with two doctors at the Cancer Care Center in Iowa to discuss the "hotspots" and they are not overly concerned but agree that we need to wait 3 months for another PET-scan to see if spots grow. Waiting was very stressful.

August 30, 2011:  Left Macomb for Chicago via train.  We are anxious and excited about what will happen tomorrow! Traveling anywhere for Gord was not an option last year.

August 31, 2010:  Our 42nd anniversary.  We managed to have lunch at a restaurant but eating was extremely challenging for Gord.  His energy level was low and going anywhere in the
evening was not feasible.

August 31, 2011:  Today is our 43rd anniversary and Gordy is still "clear of cancer" at this time.  He says he is about 80 to 85% back.  Life is good; no, in fact, life is very, very good!  Why are we in Chicago?  We fly to Rome, Italy!  Rome, Sorrento, Florence, and Cinque Terre are part of our Italy locations.  Gord and I will be also be in Cannes and Paris, France.  Gretchen Miller called to wish us a happy anniversary and have a good time.  She also remarked how we have come a long way in a year.  She is right!  Only in our dreams could we have imagined Gordy being healthy enough to travel so far away. 

Looking back at those August 2010 entries, I wrote that the love and support of family and friends made a huge difference to us during Gord's health battle.  I listed our immediate family's names:  Jennifer, John, Gordon, Lisa, Ryan, Luke, and James. Now we are blessed with another  grandson, Paul Austin, born June 3rd!  Another positive milestone!  I had the privilege and opportunity to be in the labor and delivery room when Paul came into this world.  Birth is such a miracle!  I sang Happy Birthday to him when he was 10 minutes old.  Guess I am taking this Dr. Diane thing to another level??  Jennifer and John have three healthy sons.  Life is very, very good.

Milestones are important to recognize and celebrate like anniversaries, births, and cancer free results.  Change is a part of our lives-- we can count on that.  However, I was reminded by our minister in a sermon that while everything changes in various degrees, God's love for us is constant and never changes.  It is comforting.

Blog entries may not be posted for a while.  We plan on soaking up all that Italy and France have to offer.  Yes, life is very, very good.

Some Thoughts

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks and, of course, in that time, one occasionally has cause to think about what is happening around them. I continue to continue in terms of my recovery. I’d put my taste capability at between 30% and 60% depending on the day and the meal. I mow the lawn, walk, and even jog a couple of miles every week or so just to prove to myself I can do so. I suppose, if pressed, I would say that I am 70% to 90% “back,” again, depending on the day.

This got me to thinking. What was going on in my life back in June of 2010 when in the throes of the worst of my journey. Well, Dr. Diane presented me with a notebook and said, “Take a look at this and you should feel pretty darn good about things.” And there it was, my daily medication schedule. It’s not 100% accurate, but it went something like this:

6:30 am--change morphine patch (every 48 hours)
zofran
diflucan
prevacid
reglan


7:30 a.m.--vicidin
ativan (lorazepan)


Noon--vicidin
mirapex
phenergan


5:00 p.m.--vicidin

7:30 p.m.--mirapex
zofran
prevacid

9:30 p.m.--vicidin
atavin (lorazepan)
phengran

Wow, I’ve come a long way, and I need to remind myself of that which I have just done.

While life does not always work out as we plan, I remind myself that others have it worse than me. Last week I was off to the Dixon Correctional Center to see my friend who is temporarily residing there. It is a long story and a sad one and I hope things work out for him in the near future. I rendezvoused with three other college buddies, and we spent four hours with our friend. We told stories, lied to one another, laughed at memories of days gone bad and even had what I loosely refer to as a “vending machine lunch” which at best, is pretty forgettable. At 1 p.m. we said our goodbyes and the three of us departed after hugs and shared best wishes. As the three of us were escorted through the prison doors, we could not help but look back and see our friend going in a different direction to spend the next several hours in his cell. It was all so surreal, and I thought about how fortunate I was to be driving home “free” on I-88. Every time I visit my buddy it gives me pause to reflect on how lucky I am. I pray for him nightly and hope the legal system will ultimately make him a free man again.

 

On a brighter note, Diane and I spent a few days in Chicago visiting friends and son Ryan. We went to a couple of Cub games, enjoyed the air show, walked everywhere, and just had a ball. Heck, Diane even showed me how to use the “L” (mass transit) instead of expensive cab rides. We stayed at a condo in Lincoln Park offered to us by the same folks who said we could stay there if we had decided to get treatment at Northwestern Memorial Hospital instead of Burlington, Iowa. It was very comfortable and the location was the best--thanks Rob and Dee.

One night I went to a Cubs game with a couple of high school classmates, one of whom is also recovering from a malady similar to mine. We were quite the pair, wearing shorts that probably fit us BT (before treatment) but now are a bit loose, drinking our water while everyone else at Wrigley was drowning in beer through another Cub loss, and commenting on the various changes cancer has brought on our lives and those of our families. We actually ate hot dogs in the 2nd inning. Now this is a visual for you. Carl or “Rocky” as we call him says “Shall we get a couple of dogs?” and I respond that I’m game. Our classmate and friend Michael Mason disappears and returns with two hotdogs and away we go. I look over at Rocky and yes, he is eating the hotdog but 90% of the bun is under his seat so I kid him about it, and he looks over at me and says, “That looks like a bun under your seat as well my friend.” We all laughed at Rocky Pedersen and Gordy Taylor, clearly not candidates to win a hot dog eating contest. Mike asked us in the 5th inning if we wanted another dog to which I responded, “Mike, it’s the 5th inning. We’d only have 4 innings to finish it--not enough time for Rocky and me.”

My Father-in-Law

Gordy, Harry, & Gordon--50 years after WWII, Dad put on his uniform in 1993.
Harry & Anna Paulsen at the WWII Memorial in Nov. 2007. A young man who was visiting approached Dad to shake his hand and thank him for serving our country.
Anna & Harry Paulsen and Diane by the Illinois column at the WWII Memorial. We felt it important that they see Washington, D.C. and specifically the the WWII Memorial. It was a memorable trip and Diane and I are very happy we did this in 2007.

I tend to write about people and I think I know why. While I've had the opportunity to meet to see many places and things in my life, it's people who interest me the most. Harry James Paulsen Jr. is one of those people; he's my father-in-law. Harry Paulsen is not a millionaire. I don't believe he's invented anything. He never drove a fancy car or lived in a mansion. He was not a great athlete, didn't go to college, and never had a high profile job. Yet Harry is an extraordinary man. Born in 1921, he married Anna Arnoldsen in 1947. They have 4 children--Diane, Arne, Paul, and Ruth; 9 grandchildren; and 15 great-grandchildren. He lived in the same house in Winthrop Harbor, IL, for over 50 years and worked until he was 80 years old.

What makes Harry Paulsen unique is the way he lived his life. In a world of flamboyant, headline seekers, looking for their 15 minutes of fame, Harry is EVERYMAN. Since he was a young boy, he had a job and never missed more than a handful of days of work in 60 years. He always paid his bills on time, preferred hamburger steak to lobster and mowed his own lawn. In the 44 years I've known him, he never uttered a profane word. He went to church every Sunday, was handy around the house, liked to take walks, and his major indulgence was and still is chocolate nonpareil candies. He never smoked and rarely raised his voice in anger.

In 1943, he began his stint in the Army. Harry served with distinction in the 104th Infantry Division (Timberwolves). On October 29, 1944, in Breda, Holland, shrapnel from a bomb explosion hit him in the back leaving a wide and deep scare. This Purple Heart recipient is a quiet introspective man. You know the type: they don't say much but when they do they listen. Sometimes those who say the least really are the ones who say the most. Actions speak volumes.

Harry Paulsen is a man I've grown to admire, respect, and in the highest praise I can give, love as if he were my own father. Harry believes in hard work. He taught life's lessons to his children by example. He never complained, never made excuses, he just did what he had to do and expected the same from his children who are all successful college graduates.

He is an unpretentious, modest man who earned respect by the manner in which he lived his life. Harry is a part of Tom Brokaw's Greatest Generation, those men and women who put their lives in peril so that future generations could live in prosperity and peace. Harry discovered what many of us seem to be seeking--simplicity and comfort in a life well lived. He was always an individual who took the words of noted humanitarian Albert Schweitzer to heart: "Example is not the main thing in influencing others, it's the only thing." In my mind, the world is a better place because Harry Paulsen walked among us.

I wish this story had a happy ending but it doesn't. This wonderful man who will turn 90 on September 28, 2011, has been fallen by vascular dementia. Family members continue to visit him frequently in Rolling Hills Nursing Home in Zion but he has no memory of his past life and good deeds. He still smiles when you enter the room and his cheerful demeanor remains but it is sad to see this once wonderful husband, father, grandpa, and citizen so compromised. I'm sure many of you reading this are dealing with similar issues and please know that Diane's and my thoughts and prayers are with you.

Life is a funny thing and there are no guarantees. I have to deal with the "new Gordy" after cancer and I must admit, I miss the carefree life I assumed I would enjoy forever. Yet I do know that the adventure continues and there will be ups and downs ahead just as there will be for all of you. For my father-in-law, the "knowing" part of his journey is ended and all that remains is for the physical part of his trip to conclude. I may be preaching a little but thinking about Harry makes me realize that we all should savor the richness of each stage of life.

The End of a Land Mark

Our summer adventures continue as we just returned from three days in the Ozarks with David and Gretchen Miller, the couple from Burlington, Iowa who have been “with us” since our “c” adventure began. We enjoyed ourselves and as is the custom, I am not allowed to touch any moving part of their 46-foot boat, aptly named On Sabbatical.

I had a little health scare this week. Of course, in my case, this is a bit of an oxymoron since all health scares are blown out of proportion by me. A couple of weeks ago I had taken some strong antibiotics to treat some severe bug bites. No problem except this medication kills good and bad bacteria in the body. For the past week or so, I’ve had a bit of mucous and had some trouble swallowing. On Saturday, I woke up, charged into the bedroom, at 5 a.m., flashlight in hand, and exclaimed, “Good God, Diane, look at this, I’m toast.” Poor Diane. She looked in my mouth with the flashlight and got a very pained expression. Little white spots were everywhere. Oh no, we thought, here we go again. It was Saturday, no doctors around unless we wanted to go to the ER. I had a tough night Saturday and decided to rest Sunday fully expecting a trip to Burlington to see the Ear, Nose, Throat specialist on Monday. Diane went to church and while there talked to Dr. Rick Iverson my former GP. She told him the story and he said, “Is this the same guy who jokes about having me for a doctor for 25 years during which time he developed love handles and gray hair which he never had before he became a patient of mine?” Diane and Rick chuckled and then he said, “sounds like thrush to me since he was on an antibiotic.” The good news is that his diagnosis was confirmed this morning with a visit to Family Practice Doctors, and I am now taking Clotrimazole lozenges five times a day. What we worried about turned out to be nothing at all. BUT, it was something affecting my throat!! AND that drives us crazy. See, another funky thing.

Living in a small town like Macomb has its advantages and limitations. As for the latter, you get to really know people and enjoy small talk as you traverse around the town square. One of our landmark businesses is Ford Hopkins Drug Store. Diane and I got to know the staff there quite well when I was on heavy medications. As a matter of fact, Diane would walk in on almost daily basis and like Norm on Cheers, she would be greeted by “Diane” from the employees and patrons alike. As I began to recover, Ford Hopkins became a daily stop for me. I would walk in, say hi to Roberta at the front cash register, proceed to the old-fashion soda fountain/lunch counter where I would ask Chris to prepare a milk shake, then visit with Marilyn at the prescription area who would laugh as I attempted to take my blood pressure, harass owner Rick Crossett, pharmacist and owner, a little and then exchange pleasantries with pharmacist Leslie. Of course, Jim and Ann Lantz were having coffee at the counter so Jim and I would exchange skin cancer stories, Ann would generally tell me to behave myself, I’d pay Chris for my milkshake and then be on my way.

This little routine was both enjoyable and important to me. I “got out,” had a little exercise, visited with nice people, and took in some needed calories. Then a month or so ago I tried to walk in and the door was locked. Simple as that, Ford Hopkins was gone—the victim of corporate America. Rick simply couldn’t compete with the “big boys” so it was time to close the doors. It is a sad passing for Macomb. For those of us who like to patronize the “little guy,” it is difficult to say goodbye to place of business that had become a virtual part of the family. Will Diane and I survive? Sure we will but make no mistake, Macomb has been diminished by the exit of this iconic fixture that has been such an integral part of Macomb’s history. To Roberta, Chris, Marilyn, Leslie, and Rick I can only say good luck and thanks for the memories. Ford Hopkins, you will be missed.

Working at Recovery

Downtown Galena
215 Steps from Main Street to Hill Street

One of the challenges of my cancer ordeal has been to find out where I'm going to end up from a health stand point. Unfortunately, I don't believe there is a clear answer to this situation, and I am learning to accept that. Last week, the biopsy came back indicating a high probability that it was some sort of bug bite. No more swelling, itching, or inflammation for about 3 weeks, but I've also made a deliberate attempt to stay out of the wood behind our house. See I'm learning.....

This summer Diane and I are doing many of the things we had hoped to do last summer but my "c" event prevented us from doing so. Last week, we made a trip to Galena where I lived from 1946 to 1952. It was great fun as we were totally relaxed. We stayed at the historic DeSoto Hotel, had dinner at the Log Cabin Restaurant, took a trolley car tour, and I even climbed the 215 steps from Main Street to the top of the hill that overlooks Galena. There was one small crisis. I forgot my water during my walk but I did survive by convincing myself that this was a mind over matter issue and I could get along without hydrating. It wasn't pleasant, and I hope not to repeat my omission. Our trip included a comfortable visit with Bill and Sue Briggs south of Stockton and catch-up call with Nancy and Ron Duskey who live part of the year in Apple River Canyon.

My only real frustration these days involves the ongoing challenge with my taste buds. It's not all bad as I just ate 3 tacos for lunch, and knew I was eating tacos. However, Saturday night Diane and I actually did a little entertaining which means Diane prepared a sumptuous meal for a good friend of ours. We sat on the deck and shot the breeze and then were treated to Diane Taylor's grilled rib eyes, McDonough County corn on the cob, grilled asparagus, sauteed fresh mushrooms, and tossed salad that included fresh vegetables from the Farmers' Market. And that wasn't all as Diane baked a Peach Betty Pie. I mention this because while Diane and our guest savoured the meal, it was wasted on me. I could smell it; I couldn't taste it. AND that, folks, is frustration. In the grand scheme of things I will naturally cope with this and hope my taste buds come back over time, but for now, I honestly eat to live and not live to eat. Each bite requires a sip of water, and I actually get tired of chewing. Eating makes me tired and frequently I just give up. I know that this is no fun for Diane who watches me struggle. YET, as Diane is quick to remind me, "Gord, six months ago, you could hardly have a swallow of water." She is absolutely correct and so it goes....

The Roller Coaster Continues

Chicago Skyline view from the Adler Planetarium

Megan Butler and Brock Bainter

Our adventures continue. We spent the 4th of July weekend in the Chicago area visiting family and friends. I went to three Cubs/Sox games and even walked from our hotel on Hubbard Street to Wrigley Field on July 1st. Chicago's streets are set up in a grid system. The hotel is located at 300 north and Wrigley Field is 3700 north, and these are real Chicago blocks. It took me a out two hours, but I had fun walking through neighborhoods observing different architectural styles. Diane and I walked every where.

On Sunday we enjoyed a delicious breakfast at an outdoor cafe--it reminded us of Paris. The weather on the 4th was beautiful. We just couldn't help ourselves, and we walked from our hotel, along the Chicago River, Lake Michigan, all the way to the Adler Planetarium, and back! We made the same walk after Gordon and Lisa's wedding in June 2009. It was like the past two years had never happened. Diane and I were on a roll, so we decided to head north and we returned to our hotel room after six hours of exploring a fabulous city. I will not bother to tell the humorous story of how we missed the fireworks display on Navy Pier that evening but suffice it to say we did!

Here goes the roller coaster. On Saturday, July 9th, we attended the wedding of Brock Bainter and Megan Butler in which son Ryan was a groomsman. We've known Brock since he was in utero. Diane and I had a ball. Sunday morning I dropped Ryan off at the train for his return trip to Chicago and took a walk. I came home and did some yard work with Diane. That's when it started. Oh oh, I took a two-hour nap; I just don't do that anymore. I didn't eat much Sunday night but I felt okay. Monday morning Sean O'Donnell-Brown, my walking buddy, took our 5:30 sojourn, and I seemed to lag behind a little bit. Of course, that didn't concern me much as walking with Sean is like being on the Bataan Death March. I walked in the house, told Diane I was a little tired, and did not leave my bed from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.--something was wrong. Dr. Waters was kind enough to see me on short notice. He looked me over and said, "You seem to have more bug bites on your neck, arms, and buttocks. Let's do a blood work up for Lyme Disease and Lupus because of your obvious fatigue. This is the third time this has happened to you in six months." My heart sank. What the heck is going on? A week ago, I felt like a million dollars and two nights ago, I was even dancing at the Bainter/Butler wedding.

Tuesday, I was in bed all day. Diane and I both had a strong sense of deja vu. Gordy Taylor was back in bed making nary a noise while Diane quietly busied herself downstairs. It was downright eerie. Dr. Diane then reappeared after a six-month hiatus. She called her friends at the Cancer Care Center in West Burlington and after a few well-placed phone calls, it was decided that on Wednesday I should see my dermatologist as my chronic itching was diminishing and scabs were forming. Maybe this is the problem. A visit with with Carol Menke provided some answers. I need to mention that by Wednesday I was feeling better but still not my new normal self. Carol concurred with the Lupus and Lyme Disease blood tests and while there did a biopsy on what appeared to be a relatively new bug bite. Those results will be available in a week or so. An antibiotic was prescribed and we were off to Macomb.

We are determined to get to the bottom of this. Diane mentioned, "Isn't it funny Gord? We work in the yard together and you are covered from head to toe in both clothing bug spray. I wear a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and I have never had a bite. This just doesn't make sense." Thursday morning I woke up and even mowed the yard, though very slowly. The roller coaster is going up! Dr. Waters' office called to report NO LUPUS or LYME DISEASE. Great news.

While we still don't know what's up for sure, we got some excellent insight from Peggy, a cancer survivor, who works at the Cancer Care Center. We never go to Great River Medical Center without stopping by to say thanks to our many friends. We walked into the waiting room, told Peggy where we were going, and she smiled and said, "You guys look terrific, but Gordy you need to remember that funky things can happen to cancer survivors that are difficult to explain." Is if possible she's right? I hope so. Such wisdom. Bless you, Peggy.

Changes and the Idiot

I am not a very complicated person. While I believe the life I lead is full of adventures, I am a creature of habit and routine. When I get up in the morning, I take an aspirin, a chewable multi-vitamin (since I still have trouble swallowing pills), and drink a can of Ensure or Boost. I turn on MSNBC to watch Morning Joe, get dressed, and at 5:20 a.m., I'm out the door for an hour walk with my friend, Sean O'Donnell-Brown. During our walk, we kid a lot and solve the world's problems but of course no one is listening. Changes in this routine are coming. Within the last month, on two different occasions, I jogged two miles. The good news is I did it; the bad news is I could be timed with a sun dial. Last week, Macomb had its annual Heritage Days celebration, and I told Diane we were stepping outside of our comfort zone and doing something we hadn't done before. I drove uptown, parked the car, and we entered Chandler Park. We walked up to a vendor, and I proudly announced that we needed a funnel cake and two forks. We sat quietly on a park bench and consumed said funnel cake. This may not seem like much but last year, I slept through Heritage Days as I had just completed my treatment.

I tend to notice little things that indicate progress since I entered the world of the "new normal." I take little for granted. Last week saw appreciable improvement in my ability to taste but this week, I seem to be regressing a bit. I'm confident that they will come back again, but these things seem to be two steps forward and one step back. All in all, I think I'm getting better every day.

We all need a good laugh so let me give you one at my expense. A couple of weeks ago when Diane was in Texas, I got up at 4:30 a.m. Local on the 8s from the Weather Channel said it might rain but what the hell, I had nothing to do, I'm up so let's do the long annual walk to East Street out by Hy-Vee Grocery Store and back. I decide to take an umbrella (just in case) and get in the car and start it. It dawns on me that it is 5:30 a.m. and maybe, just maybe, I might need some money so I head back into the house and pick up a twenty and off I go parking the car in the Morgan Hall lot on Western's campus. So far so good. I hear a little thunder and see a little lightning but nothing to be concerned about.

I walk across Q lot, past Tanner and Wetzel residence halls and get to Pierce Street Liquors when the thunder and lightning begin to take on an ominous sound. I plod ahead thinking how angry I'll be if I get struck by lightning while out for a morning walk. I head around the Macomb square and decide let's go for it and head east on Route 136 (Jackson Street). I look down and lo and behold I see two quarters and a penny so things are looking up. I look behind me and it is not good--darkening skies, more bursts of intense lightning, and loud thunder but by now I'm sort of committed to find shelter and have already passed County Market grocery store. I decide Hy-Vee is it so I arrive there just as all hell breaks loose. My one stroke of good timing and by this time the umbrella was insufficient to protect me from the driving horizontal rain and wind.

Once in the safety of the store, I see some farmers drinking coffee, go back and use the bathroom, and ask a cashier if she will call me a cab. She replies that she does not have the authority to male that call. I find the manager who says, "Sure Gordy, I'll help you." It turns out she had just graduated from Western, and I had spoken to a couple of her classes. Such a nice coincidence. I wait 30 minutes for a cab but no problem as it is still pouring. The cab driver drops me off at Morgan Hall, and I give him $10. I pull into the garage at 7 a.m. just as the hail commences. It was quite an adventure.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I could have rolled over and heard the rain hit the roof but instead I was caught in the middle of a violent thunderstorm. What an idiot.