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.