I suppose the way to start is to just start with my colon cancer is back and surgery is scheduled to remove most of the rest of my colon.  Which theoretically will make me cancer free. 

Nineteen months ago, a couple days after Thanksgiving 2022. a cancerous portion of my colon was removed.  Almost exactly one year later, a couple days after Thanksgiving 2023, another cancerous portion of my colon was removed.  This upcoming surgery will remove all but a very small section of my remaining colon. All three colon cancers are genetically of the same strain. 

How my immunotherapy got recommended and approved is this whole complicated, nearly a miracle story, however the bottom line is seven weeks after the second colon cancer surgery, mid January, I started  immunotherapy (Keytruda).  They said, no guarantee it will work, but cross your fingers and hope, maybe, just maybe, my cancer days were in the rear view mirror. 

Every three weeks for a year I was to receive an infusion.  I tolerated the treatment well.  Of some concern, my hemoglobin levels were down, so I was also given  a couple iron infusions.  Keytruda does not always work however, often it does work. 

Just to be safe, I was supposed to be getting a colonoscopy every three months.  However, when scheduling, the earliest my surgeon was available to give me the colonoscopy was a little over five months from my surgery. 

Coming out of the anesthesia from my colonoscopy my surgeon said things looked good. As is standard procedure, they took a tissue sample which was sent off to be checked just to be sure.  A week later I was told by my oncologist and my colon surgeon that cancer cells had been detected in my colon.  Not many, but enough cells to say my cancer had returned.

Whether it was an act of a higher power that the cancer was found, I’ll never know.  However, I was told the number of cancer cells they found were so few that had my colonoscopy been two months earlier, as was the original plan, the cancer would likely not have been found.  Bullet dodged. 

My immunotherapy was stopped because it had not worked.  Stopping the immunotherapy was a blow to my morale. Having been repeatedly warned immunotherapy does not always work, my mind focused on the idea that “not always” means, sometimes it does work. No miracle cure for me. Shit is the word I said out loud to the doctor. 

There was then another tumor conference of relevant practitioners where my case was the subject.   The mutual decision was reached that I should have most of my colon removed.  Which is scheduled for July 16, 2024.  So depending on when you are reading this is just about to happen or has already happened.

I am told my life will be different with almost no colon.  Colons do serve a purpose after all.  However, nobody is telling me I am in grave danger of dying soon. So, that is what I know.

So this will be, or has been, depending on when you read this, my fifth cancer surgery.  My first was a cancerous tumor around the blood vessel that fed my right kidney.   Which required removing the blood vessel and thus also my right kidney.  Then about fourteen months later my cancerous prostate was removed.  Next came the colon cancer surgeries described above. 

Emotionally, this diagnosis has hit me harder than the last three times I was told I had cancer but not as hard as the first time.  To this day, I chock-up a bit when I talk or even think about the first time. That one hit me out of the blue and at first my prognosis looked rough.  As it played out, and it turned out not as bad as they told me it might well turn out. 

So here I am, facing cancer surgery number five. It’s been about six weeks since I got the news.  At first I was shocked, maybe a bit overwhelmed.  In my head, for about a week, I seriously considered not going through the surgery.  Mentally having cancer and being treated for cancer is depressing. Happy to be alive, depressed to keep having serious, life threatening cancer.  

My brain was running the idea that I’ve had a good run but even good things come to an end over and over again.  However, I got over it.  I met with the surgeon and got a good explanation of what was to be done.  Then surgery gets scheduled, plans get made, life moves forward and I move forward.  It didn’t take long for me to snap out of my funk and decide to move forward also. 

My surgery is classified as major surgery however, only moderately dangerous surgery.  

I have accepted that my cancer has returned and that soon I will be once again, recovering from cancer surgery. In addition I continue to be amazed at how lucky I am that my cancers continue to be caught early.  

The hardest part for me has been the same since my first cancer was discovered back in November 2019. Cancer is a hard thing to put in the rear view mirror. If you look back at our past appointment calendars there are several dozen medical appointments related to prevention or early detection of cancer. Blood draws, CT scans, specialists, appointments, trouble getting through to make an appointment.  You get the idea. . 

I’ve done seven colonoscopy type preps and about eight CT scans in the past two years.   There is no way to count them but I would bet I’ve had fifty blood draws in the past two years. I’ve had eight iron infusions.  I had seven immunotherapy infusions.  My blood pressure gets checked so often by professionals, I’ve stopped taking my own blood pressure. 

So here I am living my life day by day just like everyone does. My life is what it is and I am moving forward as best I can just like everyone else does.  

The closer you look the more you see.  

Being unique

For this post you need to know that the combination of our traits and characteristics are what makes each of us the unique persons we are.  Yes, others can have many of the same traits and characteristics as each of us have.  However, nobody has the same combination of traits and characteristics as you have.    You are unique. 

So 52 years ago, I was a twenty year old student at the University of Minnesota, taking a class on the Psychology of Individual Differences.  The psychology of individual differences is the study of how people differ from one another in terms of their psychological characteristics, such as personality, intelligence, and motivation. The idea is to understand the causes and consequences of our differences and how they shape our experiences and behaviors.

Individual differences are influenced by genetic, environmental, and cultural factors. Our genes provide us with a basic blueprint for our physical and psychological traits, but our environment and culture also play a significant role in shaping who we are.

Here is an example. Being tall is helpful for being a good basketball player. Height is inherited.   However, practice, coaching, nutrition, and literally hundreds of other factors, in addition to being tall, are all part of actually becoming a good basketball player.  

Back to class, the professor gives us a general knowledge quiz. The last question is what color is your hair.   The teaching assistants quickly correct the test and run some statistics. While they do that, the professor proceeds with his lecture giving several examples of individual differences that collectively make people unique individuals.   

For example, some people who do good in math often also do better in science.  However, some people who do good in math dislike science for all sorts of reasons.    People who enjoy talking to other people might be better at sales.  He was quick to point out that many professors also like to talk. You get the idea.  

So while he is lecturing, one of the many examples he gave was that statistically blondes actually score lower on general knowledge tests than people with other hair colors.  He said it matter of factly and he then proceeded on to other examples of what makes us unique from one another.  Never again mentioning statistics related to being blonde. 

Then, later in the class, we take another general knowledge quiz. We hand them in and the teaching assistants score the test quickly.  On the first test every hair color had the same average score. However, on the second test, on average,  the blondes scored a bit worse than they did on the first test.  Every other hair color group stayed the same.  

Even fifty-two years ago, the power of feedback, both positive and negative, was recognized.  The professor said, in fact,  hair color is not relevant to general knowledge in any way.  However, if people believe it is relevant, then for all practical purposes, it makes a difference.  

For better or for worse, most of us are influenced by feedback we get from others.  Being told that you have a hair color that makes you not quite as smart, is enough to affect your performance.  

Teachers, parents, siblings, neighbors, strangers and others  give us feedback about our traits and characteristics all of the time.  That feedback often affects us in many ways, including changing how we perceive ourselves.   Being told you are bad at math, might make you try harder, however, it probably makes you feel you are somehow inherently not good at math.  So why bother to try hard. 

Think about how often, and how many ways you get feedback about yourself.  Mostly we pretend to ignore it, however, consciously or not, the feedback we get is internalized. What you do with that feedback is up to you. Do you choose to be motivated to try harder or are you motivated to accept your perceived limitations? 

Today we call this a feedback loop. We process the information fed back to us and, consciously or unconsciously, we use that feedback to help inform ourselves about ourselves.  Being told you are funny encourages you to try to be funny. Being told you are tall doesn’t make you taller however you might feel like you are taller. 

Back in that class, the professor warned us vigorously, be very careful what we feedback to others.  The feedback you give to others can have real world implications for their self image.  Remember this was an upper level psychology course, and many of my fellow students would be working with people who had serious mental health issues to deal with.

This story is not about how smart blondes are.  This story is about remembering the feedback you give others affects them. Our individual differences, quite literally make us the unique individuals we are.  Telling someone their individual differences is a negative thing is a bad thing to do. Hair color is not relevant to most anything.  Just saying. 

My genes make it hard for me to ever win a race or be a great mechanic. However, I was accepted into the University of Minnesota despite having horrible grades in high school because they relied on my ACT test scores, not my grades.  

We all are who we are with the traits and characteristics that we have.  Remember, all of your traits and characteristics were good enough that you survived to read this post. 

Be cautious when giving others negative feedback based on their individual differences. Almost nobody tries to do poorly.  Remember to emphasize the things a person does well.  

We all are unique. Unique is not a bad thing to be. Have you ever wondered how life would be different if you were told, repeatedly over a long time, your hair color makes you smarter? 

The closer you look the more you see.  

The last time I posted on my blog was over four months ago, a couple weeks after my latest colon cancer surgery.   Recovery from the surgery was without incident. Since then, although I’ve tried writing about my cancer journey, the words just wouldn’t come to me. Writer’s block is a real thing. 

Starting January 18, 2024 I got the first of what will be seventeen immunotherapy infusions.  I’m on a surprisingly strict schedule of getting an infusion every three weeks for a year. This story is about what my oncologist told me about 10 – 15 minutes before I got my fourth Keytryda infusion. 

To set the stage.  It is March 21, 2024 at about 2:00 in the afternoon, which is like an hour before I get the actual immunotherapy infusion.  They do a blood draw through my port.  Take a deep breath, hold it and, then when they say to let it out, they stick the needle through my skin into the port.  It stings a bit as the needle gets inserted but not enough where saying ouch is appropriate.  

The nurse drew four tubes of blood and put a label on each showing me my name and birth date on the label.  I’ve noticed that pretty much everything done at my oncologist facility is done very carefully.  They double check everything. 

It’s been quite the journey.  Four cancer surgeries with three different types of cancer in five years.   My life has been doctors, CT scans, more blood draws than I can count, six colonoscopy preps in the past 18 months, five iron infusions, several medicine adjustments, follow-ups, genetic tests, add to that normal check-ups and by now why doesn’t everyone feel sorry for me. 

During those five years we have taken a few vacations, and my life has not been all about cancer. Life goes on, the trash needs to be taken out, we go to plays and dance performances.  So don’t feel too sorry for me. I’ve had no pain. 

Being treated for cancer takes time and energy.  Every surgery requires a pre-op physical, a multiple day prep, a four to six day stay in the hospital and an extended recovery with a six week, ten pound, lifting restriction. FYI – for several months after the six week lifting restriction you still need to take it easy on lifting stuff.

While my life has not been all about my cancer, dealing with the various aspects of cancer has been a very big part of my life for these past five years.  

So back to getting ready for my fourth immunotherapy infusion.  I get sent to the waiting room while they analyze my blood.   Once that analysis is done they call me into an exam room and take my vitals. 

Then my oncologist comes into the room.  She is going over my blood work numbers, which looked good.  I’m asking about this number and that number. It is not my first rodeo.  To be honest, I was feeling like I was a member of my care team, not just a patient.  

I’m bringing up every minor thing that may or may not be anything.  My oncologist is listening carefully and responding with, true, however, that is not this nor is this that other thing.  All of a sudden she stops talking and sort of stares at me.   

Then after a couple beats and these are not her exact words but close:  She says: I recommend you let us worry about how you are doing. Maybe it is time that you worry less and just move forward and live your best life. 

She explained I am being monitored very closely.   The immunotherapy will very likely continue to work, thus preventing future cancers and if it doesn’t, they are monitoring me closely and will do what needs to be done. In the meantime, she said by the numbers, by our observation and by your own admission, you are doing good. It is time to move forward from your cancers.  

I must have had a puzzled look on my face.   As kindly as she could say it but as directly and clearly as she could say it:  it was time to move on with my life and leave being a cancer victim in my rear view mirror.  

Yes continue my immunotherapy, yes keep being checked for this or that. However, at this point those are just checkups and preventative measures.  It is time to move forward.  

So it turns out that it is hard to just stop thinking about my cancer.  However, I am taking her advice.  I’m in moving forward mode. 

As near as they can tell I’m cancer free.   I am undergoing the most advanced preventative measures known, immunotherapy.  I’m having no side effects. I’m feeling really good. 

If you are reading this it means I was able to write it. Which means my writer’s block about how I am doing has been overcome. 

I’m feeling great. I’ve been walking seven to ten thousand steps most days.  I’ve been using the elliptical machine at the Shoreview YMCA a couple times a week. I’ve been listening to audio books and thoroughly enjoying them while I walk or am at the Y.  

Life is good. I recently connected with a couple old friends and that has been great.  I’m taking several “senior citizen” classes at the U of MN. (Check out OLLI if you want check on taking classes)

Forward is the direction I am headed.   Time to close this up.  One of my classes is on the best albums ever, which has been fun.   My philosophy class is called “ Unpacking Free Will”. It is deep, I’m a bit over my head.  Thinking about deep philosophical stuff is good for the brain.  

The closer you look the more you see. 

 

On Tuesday, November 28, 2023 I had a portion of my colon containing cancerous growth removed at the exact same spot another cancerous growth was removed almost exactly one year earlier.  The surgery was successful and I am well on my way through recovery. 

Just so you know:  There was a blood leak which caused my hemoglobin to be low. A new tumor was discovered by the colonoscopy done to check for the blood leak.  Yes the two colon cancers are the same strain.  Yes, I have also had kidney and prostate cancer. Yes, some sort of treatment, chemo or immunotherapy is in my future. 

What I am writing about is the fear surrounding the word cancer.  The point I want to make is that the anxiety caused by the fear of cancer is not helpful.  Caught early cancer is most often not a death sentence. On the other hand, if fear causes you to not get checked out, that anxiety can be fatal. 

Being periodically checked for signs of cancer is the best defense. If you feel a change in your body, get it checked out.  Advocate for yourself.  Encourage those you know to get checked out whenever they feel something amiss.  “Oh, it’s probably nothing”, is not a good enough reason to forgo getting checked out.  

Cancers can be deadly.  Over a half million Americans die of cancer every year.  Most every adult knows someone  and many of us know more than one person who has died from cancer.   Cancer can be a slow and painful death.  Not all, but many of those deaths, could have been avoided if the person had been checked out earlier than they were.    

Everyone of us will die at some point.  Death is a fact of life.  There is always a cause of death and in many cases that cause was unavoidable.  We leave a mark when we pass, you will be missed. Missed a lot. Be proactive about cancer. 

This was my fourth cancer removal surgery.  First was kidney cancer December 2019, then prostate cancer April 2020 and then colon cancer on November 29, 2022.  All required surgery through my abdomen.  As surgeries go this last one was routine and the least painful.  Yes, my belly looks like a war zone. 

Surgeries are stressful.  They are not fun.  The routine in my cases included blood work, CT scans, colonoscopy, biopsies and an x-ray.  Call from the doctor telling you the results. Surgery is then scheduled, a pre-op physical, then prep for surgery including stopping certain meds, eating or not eating certain foods, the hospital check-in, surgery prep, visit from anesthesiologist, a visit from the surgeon, blood draws, tubes being connected and vitals being checked. 

I get wheeled into the surgery which looks nothing like surgeries look on TV. There are lots of machines, several people and people coming in or going out.   It is not a huge empty room. People are talking to you and to each other.   

The anesthesiologist technician says are you ready to count down.  I say yes and before I even start counting down, I’m out.  The next thing I know, I’m waking up in recovery.  Time passes as I fade in and out of consciousness during the process of coming to.  Soon I’m wheeled to my room.  

Cancer is a scary word. The dictionary defines cancer as, “a disease caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a part of the body.”  Not all cancers are the same. Cancers can form on most any part of your body.  In fact there are often different types of cancers that can form on any given part of your body.  

I’m never sure how to talk about my cancer journey.  All of my cancers were discovered and dealt with early.  Serious disease but I never was told I was in immediate danger of death. 

With one kidney, my hemoglobin is a bit lower than normal so I get tired a bit faster than I would with two kidneys.  Without a prostate, I need to wear a pad because I can leak a bit of urine when I do things like pick something off the floor.  With a shorter colon the poop doesn’t dry as much so your pooping is different.  Not worse, just different. 

The biggest change in my life because of cancer has been because when your abdomen is cut open and sewn back together, there is a ten pound lifting restriction for six to eight weeks. In addition as one heals they get tired.  Multiply this restriction times four over a period of four years.  

In addition, each cancer requires several doctor visits immediately before and after the surgery.  Then periodic doctor visits every six months.  It gets hard to put the cancer in the rear view mirror because you get asked about your cancer a lot by well intended people and the professionals hired to keep you safe.  

On the other hand, I’m alive even though I’ve had four cancers, any of which would have killed me if they had not been caught early.  I am just plain lucky in one sense.  However, I’ve also been proactive when something is not quite right.  

So this is me being done preaching about cancer.  I hope you do not have to deal with cancer.   If you feel something is a bit weird or not quite right, get it checked out. If it is nothing you wasted an hour or two. If it is something you’ve added years to your life. 

The closer you look the more you see.

Mom told me she couldn’t control the weather, put on my jacket. Yes, I was dumb enough to have to be told to put on a jacket.  Linda agrees that I’m just marginally smarter now. 

Scientists agree with mom, we do not control the daily weather.  For the record, some scientists got grants to determine the temperature where most people should put on their jacket. However, that is a whole different story. 

We need to adjust to the weather we have, not to the weather we wish we had.  If it’s cold, put on a jacket. Reality is the world we live in, fantasy is just a nice place to visit once in a while. If you get too warm, then take off the jacket. 

The street in front of our house has gotten more potholes in the past couple of winters / springs than it used to.  Which is not surprising since these past couple years had an increased number of days when the temperature is both above and below 32 degrees (freeze/thaw cycles). 

The small cracks in pavement allows the thawed ice and snow (water) to seep in.  The water expands when it refreezes, thus cracking the pavement even more causing the potholes. However, I won’t bore you with that detailed information. 

The bottom line:  The climate changed, creating more freeze/thaw cycles which are wrecking our roads.

During my long and varied career  I worked for a very good, practical thinking County Engineer.  He taught me the following.  When a road is being proposed to be built, people will have all sorts of opinions about whether the road should be built and how it should be built.

Once the deed is done, the road is built, the real question people should ask is, how to best co-exist with the existing new road.  The game of “should of, could of” can be fun, but in reality, the only real choice is to move forward adjusting to the new road. 

Judging from the potholes in my road, the climate has changed. The deed is done. The only real choice is whether or not to put on our coats when it is cold. We need to fix the roads or choose to live with very rough roads.  

The biggest, baddest, weather event I ever personally experienced was the infamous mega blizzard in Minnesota which started on Thursday, Halloween day, back on October 31, 1991.  It snowed hard, the wind blew hard and it was extremely cold for three days.  Our eldest was to sleep over at her friend’s house overnight and was thrilled she ended up being there for four days. 

During every one of my seventy-one years, some sort of weather related record was broken:  Hottest, coldest, highest low temperature, lowest high temperature, most rain, longest drought, strongest wind, highest humidity, lowest humidity, most consecutive days with or without something and the list goes on and on and on.  

Over the years I’ve seen tornados, straight line winds, extremely heavy rains, big hail, trees blown down, power outages and beautiful summer days with low humidity, a light breeze and a drink in my hand. 

The weather is what the weather is, which is often not the same day to day. That is just the way it is. There is literally nothing I can do to change the day to day weather other than learn to adjust to whatever the weather is. Put on my jacket, put on shorts, apply sunscreen, you know the drill. 

Lately, by all accounts, the daily weather has been different than it has been my entire life.  Not every day is different and it is not different every place all at once but most days and in most places the weather patterns are different than they were most of the rest of my life.  

Freeze thaw cycles are more frequent, heat waves last longer, periods of drought are more frequent during some seasons and much less frequent in other seasons. It still gets very cold in Minnesota but not as cold for as long as it used to.  It still gets hot in Minnesota and it feels like it is hot more often than it used to be.

So I’m not super smart but I ain’t no dummy either. It is too late to prevent climate change.  The climate changed.  The real question we need to focus on is how to best survive with the weather conditions as they actually exist. 

Fix the roads to better endure increased freeze/thaw cycles. Wear a jacket when it’s cold and shorts when it’s hot. Grow the grass a bit longer. The road is built, we need to discuss how to co-exist with the existing weather.  

I’ve given up telling my kids to dress to the weather conditions. They are adults and are beyond hope. My game now is to tease the granddaughters about dressing to the weather rather than the current fashion trends. Just like my mom told me when I ignored her.

As I am writing this over Labor Day weekend 2023, Minnesota is enjoying temperatures in the high 90’s.  We have severe drought.  It’s been a long hot summer. We have no choice. Getting back to the weather we used to have isn’t an option.  

In summary, the weather is what the weather is. Weird. So adjust. 

The closer you look the more you see.  

My dad, middle back of this picture, died Thanksgiving Day, 1970 at age 51.  I am guessing the picture was taken in the early 1960’s .  

With him is his grandmother and his Uncle Elmer.  My two more experienced (older) sisters said Elmer was a bachelor.  Which is all I know about my dad’s uncle Elmer. 

Everyone has eight great-grandparents.  That is how it works.  The lady in the picture is the only great-grandmother I have a picture of.  I know little to nothing about any of them. 

Erma, my mom’s mom, is the only one of my grandparents I remember interacting with.  I was in my late twenties when she passed. I heard stories about the other three grandparents when I was young but have long forgotten what those stories were.  

Dad was born in Webster, South Dakota where this picture was taken.  My guess is he was there on a pheasant hunting trip. 

About a  month or so ago, I saw this picture and since then dad has been on my mind.  While I do miss him and mom, they’ve been gone a long time. Missing them tends to happen in the background.  However, for some reason, this picture brought dad to the front of my brain. 

When he died, I was a first quarter freshman going to Mankato State College but was home for the Thanksgiving holiday. At the time, for me, the fact he died was very sad but not shocking.  He had a bad heart. 

Mom who worked as a salad lady at Midland Hills Country Club, had gotten up early and went into work doing prep for the Thanksgiving event they had each year.   Dad was sleeping when she left for work.  I got up at about 9:00 in the morning like one does on a holiday. I don’t remember exactly but it seems to me my older sisters were home.    

Dad had not gotten up yet so I went into their bedroom to wake him up.  He was dead.  Calls were made, mom was soon home and the rest of that day and the next couple days are a blur in my head.  I do not remember helping make arrangements for the funeral or the funeral itself. 

Linda and I were less than a year into our relationship. I remember she and her dad came to the funeral but I don’t remember much else about the funeral.  

Thanksgiving break was just a couple weeks before the end of fall quarter.  The decision was made pretty quickly that I would go to school back in the Twin Cities so I could be home with Mom.  Not a huge discussion.  Everyone, including me, knew it needed to happen. 

I returned to Mankato, only for classes and my finals. Each trip home I’d bring stuff home.   By the end of my last final, I had only a small suitcase to bring home.  

Back then when a parent died, Social Security would pay for their children’s college tuition. There were forms to fill out and calls to be made.  It was too late to be accepted at the University of Minnesota for the rest of that school year. I was accepted to start at the U of MN the next fall.  

However, Anoka – Ramsey Junior College accepted me for winter and spring quarters. Which explains why my college manuscript says I went to Mankato State for fall quarter 1970,  Anoka Ramsey Junior College for winter and spring quarters 1971 and the University of Minnesota from Fall of 1971 to Spring of 1975.  

I’ve met my dads brothers and sisters, but had never met his parents, grandmothers, Uncle Elmer, any other of his aunts or uncles.  Over the years I’ve met some of his cousins and a couple kids of his cousins.  Leegard is not a common name so when you run into one, likely they are related. 

What has given me pause these last couple weeks is how, even though I only had my dad for eighteen years, quite literally, part of him lives on within me.  Genetically for certain but in many other ways, he taught me to do things. We were not best friends but he was my father and I was his son.  

His past is part of my past.  He made decisions that continue to affect my life.  He only had an eighth grade education but by my memory and by all accounts I ever heard about him he was an intelligent person.  

Dad was a bricklayer.  When I was like 10 or 11 years old, he took me aside and told me to study hard because he could already tell I did not have what it takes to be a bricklayer.  I was crushed then but it remains some of the best advice I ever got.  Turns out I have a bone structure which restricts my wrist movements.  He was right, physically I would never be good at laying bricks.

Each human who has ever lived were born with two biological parents, four grandparents and eight great-grandparents and so it goes for many generations.  Each person born with the same parents has the same grandparents, and the same great-grandparents all the way back through the generations that are our family trees.  

Back in April, I had a genetic assessment to determine if my genes contained defects that explained how I came to have colon, prostate and kidney cancer.  They didn’t find any.  A couple months later I am looking at old pictures. I ran across this picture. 

Here are three of my relatives. All have long passed into the great beyond.  Quite literally each of their lives and the lives of all of my relatives have affected the course of my life.  When they decided to migrate, whom they decided to marry or not marry. What schools they went to or didn’t go to. When they died. 

Looking at this picture gave me pause.  These are three of my relatives, two of which I never met. Their life circumstances directly impacted my life circumstances.  That is just the way life works.  It is weird but in a good way, I think.

The closer you look the more you see. 

Six months ago, on November 29, 2022, a portion of my colon containing a cancerous polyp was removed.  The surgery was successful, I recovered normally. There have been no complications. 

This was my third cancer surgery: kidney (December 2019), prostate (April 2020) and colon (November 2022).  All three caught early. The surgery and recovery from all three followed similar patterns.  

The cancer is discovered.  Consult with the surgeon.  Surgery gets scheduled.  Prepare the house because recovery will be on the recliner in the den. Get mentally prepared.  

Pre-op physical. Wake up early. Go to hospital, register, change into robe, then life turns into a blur of questions, needles, more questions then at some point you are asked to countdown from 10.  I get to 7 and the next thing I know I wake up very drowsy in a recovery room. 

The first day or so after surgery is a bit intense in that you are monitored very carefully and frequently.  You sleep alot but only for short periods of time because they need to check this or that. Then it starts getting boring.  They check you less often.  You start doing short walks in the halls.  

Then after about five days in each case, I was sent home.  Then lots of sleep in a recliner.  The next couple weeks there are appointments with the surgeon to remove stitches and make sure things are healing properly.   Ten pound lifting restriction for six weeks for each of my surgeries.  

All three of my cancers are considered unique, in that none of them is thought to have spread, thus causing the others. All of my doctors said the same thing.  Having three separate cancers is rare, however it does periodically happen.  The fact that each cancer was caught early is a very good thing. 

At our first meeting with the surgeon we asked if we could travel somewhere warm this winter.  His response was, well medically you could if things go smoothly however, you will be having several tests and doctor visits so as a practical matter, probably best not to plan on it. The doctor was right.  

Just to clarify, if you or your partner has cancer, or is fighting any serious illness, you both are in the fight. It’s a team sport.  It may be possible to go through the process alone, but two people hearing what needs to be done or what this or that means is damn near a necessity. It’s a lot of information that you’re not used to hearing. It helps to have two people hear the instructions and other information. 

Even with a really good support network, there was a period from the end of January to early April where I got mildly depressed.  I lost my ambition. I spent way too much time watching segments of Big Bang Theory on YouTube.  I had little desire to interact with people. 

The truth was, no matter how many times I said I refuse to see myself as a cancer victim, I was starting to define myself as a cancer victim.  It took time but I snapped out of it and I’m back interacting with other humans.  

Once I started to physically heal, I was sent to an Oncologist.  Having cancer is relatively rare,  having two separate cancers where one hadn’t spread causing the other is more rare.  Having three different cancers where one had not caused the others, my case, is even more rare. An appointment was set with a geneticist. 

What surprised me was that the field of genetics is not nearly as clear cut, either or, as I thought it was.  

The visit with the geneticist was interesting. There is a set of four genetic defects called Lynch Syndrome which can be inherited and has been known to cause a person to get all three of my cancers.  Not everyone who has this condition gets these three cancers and some people who don’t have this combination of genetic defects do get these three cancers.  

A sample of my blood was sent to a lab in California. It took awhile to get the results. This is the bottom line of their report: “This diagnostic test evaluates 47 gene(s) for variants (genetic changes) that are associated with genetic disorders. This test did NOT identify any pathogenic variants known to cause disease. “

The bottom line according to both my oncologist and colon/rectal surgeon: probably there is a genetic component to me getting three separate cancers but that genetic connection is currently unknown.  As a practical matter, it is just random luck, not unheard of, certainly not common. I’m just very lucky all three cancers were caught early. 

Last week I met with my colon/rectal surgeon for my six month check up.  Unless something new comes up, I will be having an annual colonoscopy, an annual CT scan of my abdomen, an annual X-ray of my lungs and a PSA test every six months.

The days / months of frequent visits to labs and doctors seem to be over for now. Time will tell. 

Nobody can predict the future, after all I will turn 71 in less than a month. Age is a real thing.  However I’m feeling optimistic. My life seems like it will continue without medical restrictions, at least for now. 

In the past six months I’ve visited with several doctors.  Most of which I’ve visited multiple times. My general practitioner, oncologist, urologist, colon\rectal surgeon and geneticist all start our visits by asking me how I’m doing.  

My response is  the same for all of them.  I am feeling good, pretty much normal.  I then ask them how they think I am doing?   It takes them a lot more words to respond but the gist is: just fine but we want to keep a close eye on you to make sure it stays that way. 

The closer you look, the more you see.

Originally, this blog was going to be called, “On becoming less dumb”. The focus was going to be on how common knowledge is often wrong. Literally every single person I asked thought “On becoming less dumb” was condescending and advised me to not insult my reader

 “Scale and perception” ( www.scaleandperception.com), this blog, is focused on the idea that by looking more closely and or broadly at a topic, often brings clarity about the topic.  For this post my goal is to revert to the premise for “On becoming less dumb”.  

As a teen, I was obsessed with the following problem pointed out by a Junior High school science teacher.  The point known as “halfway there” is, or should be,  actually always relative to your frame of reference.  

Here was his example. Imagine a football field where the team on every play moves the ball halfway to the goal line. The first play brings them to the fifty-yard line.  Once at the fifty-yard line there is a new “halfway there” which is the other team’s twenty-five yard line.    

With each play the ball would be placed half the remaining distance. Six and a quarter yard line, three and an eighth yard line, one and nine sixteenth yard line, etc.  After hundreds of plays they would get extremely close, but the ball would never actually cross the goal line.  

The lesson of course: While one can be halfway between point A and point B, you can never be halfway between where you are and your destination.  You need to specify whether “halfway there” is from where you are or where you were.  

When I was in about second or third grade, some other kids and I were going to dig a hole through to the other side of the earth.  We thought we would dig into China.  We got about five feet deep when my dad told us to fill in the hole before someone got hurt. 

Only several years later did I understand that had we dug deep enough, we would have burned up from the molten iron and nickel which is under the earth’s crust.  In addition, had we actually been able to dig through the earth to the other side, we would have come out somewhere in the Indian Ocean—between Australia and Africa.  We would have drowned.

According to the internet the Kola Superdeep Borehole, is considered the deepest man made hole on Earth. It is 40,230ft-deep (12.2km).  It did not go all the way through the earth’s crust let alone go into the earth’s molten mantle.   

Probably somewhere around fifth grade, I started to comprehend that all matter is made up of atoms.  Probably around eighth grade I came to better understand that atoms consist of protons, neutrons and electrons.  

Since then I’ve come to understand that protons and neutrons are made of quarks. The current state of knowledge is quarks and electrons are fundamental particles, not built out of anything smaller.

What I find fascinating about atoms is that they are about 99.9999999999996% empty space.  Which is to say the electrons and quarks in an atom take up 0.0000000000004% of the atom. Everything is made of atoms.  So, quite literally, everything is almost completely nothing.   

So next time you’re asked what something is made of, it would be accurate to respond, “it’s almost completely made of nothing”.

Distance is an easy concept to understand, however, in our everyday reality, distance is relative to how long it takes you to get there.  

Walking to Chicago from St Paul is about 400 miles. Walking 20 miles a day, it would take you 20 days to walk there.  Doable but a long walk.  Chicago is a bit more than five hours to drive from here to there.   And by plane it takes an hour and forty minutes however you need to add the time to drive to and park at the airport, Also add the time you need to be check-in and going through security.  . 

The distance to the moon is 238,900 miles.  Driving to the moon at seventy miles an hour would take about 142 days if you could drive 24 hours a day every day.   The sun is 91,914,000 miles from earth.  Driving to the sun at seventy miles an hour would take 150 years.  

Humans can walk 20 to 30 miles in a day.  If they walked 30 miles a day, every day of the year.  It would take about 22 years to walk to the moon and over 8,000 years to walk to the sun. 

Time is an interesting concept.  Time is generally defined as the sequence of existence and events that occurs in an apparently irreversible succession from the past, through the present, into the future.

The earth is thought to be about 4.543 billion years old.  Water is considered to be about the same age.  Life on earth, single cell organisms, is thought to be 3.7 billion years old.  Human-like creatures have been on earth for about 6 million years.  Which means humans have existed for only 0.001% of the life of the planet.  

From the perspective of the planet, humans as in the entire human race, existed for just a bit.  

In junior high I thought the following  was a hilarious joke: What is the seventh planet from the sun?  If they didn’t know I would say: “your annus” and laugh hysterically.  Sometimes I needed to explain that the seventh planet from the sun is actually “Uranus” which sounds exactly like “your annus” when it is spoken.  Even then I’d have to explain that annus is another word for butt hole.    

Looking back it is a wonder I didn’t get beat up more.  

The closer you look the more you will see

Before I went to my Urologist’s office to get my quarterly PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen) level checked, I whined a bit to Linda about how inconvenient getting my PSA level checked is.

When I checked in, there was a somewhat disheveled man about my age, on a four wheel electric scooter with a deep, loud, raspy voice, checking in one window down. At first I thought he was being rude then, after a second, I realized he was not being rude, just direct and efficient.

They were busy. There were three seats in the row I sat in. I was on one end, the middle seat was empty and in the seat on the other end was a man about my age. He looked deep in thought. Judging from his tattoos and patches on his jacket he was probably in the Navy at some point in his life. I’ll call him, “the Navy guy”.

Right after I sat down, the scooter guy drove up and parked next to the Navy guy. Below is the gist of the discussion I overheard during the couple minutes I was sitting there.

The scooter guy started the conversation by telling the Navy guy that his left leg will be chopped off below the knee in a few weeks. He said his right leg was chopped off below the knee a couple years earlier.

The Navy guy responded he was there for the final check before the removal of his left leg below the knee in just a couple days. The Navy guy’s voice and demeanor made him seem to be very nervous. They were seeing the same doctor.

I have no idea why two guys getting their lower legs removed would be seeing a Urologist. I just sat quietly and didn’t ask.

The scooter guy tells the Navy guy it is scary but, never forget, you’re alive to be scared, so that’s a blessing. He added, every day he was thankful to be alive. He said, during one of his previous surgeries, they brought him back from the edge of death. I wanted to ask for more details but I didn’t.

The conversation continued with the scooter guy reassuring the Navy guy that while life without the lower part of a leg has its challenges, the challenges were all surmountable. After all, you either get your leg chopped off or you will soon die.

He talked about the process of getting his prosthetic lower leg. Lifted up his pant leg to show him his “leg” which was a metal bar attached to a foot from the ankle down. The “foot” had a sock and tennis shoe on it. If he hadn’t said so and lifted his pants leg, I would have had no clue his lower leg was missing.

The scooter guy’s advice was to make sure your artificial foot is the same size as your other foot so your shoes will match. That way most people who see you will not even know you are missing the bottom half of your leg.

Then in a very serious voice he recalled how relieved he was when he learned Medicare pays for the scooter if you pick the right scooter. He said make sure you tell them you want the scooter medicare covers. They will try to convince you to get one with all the bells and whistles but the medicare covered scooters do the trick and don’t cost you a dime.

The scooter guy said he sold his house and moved into a “facility” to get some care. He did not explain what he meant by a facility. All I can say is the way he sounded, moving into the facility was like a blessing, not a negative thing at all.

The Navy guy asked the scooter guy if he had diabetes also and the scooter guy said yes. The Navy guy then said “damn diabetes” while shaking his head in disgust. Scooter guy nodded in agreement.

The Navy guy said he was nervous about the surgery. The scooter guy laughed out loud. He said something to the effect of, well, without the surgery you will soon die. With the surgery your whole life will change but you will be alive.

Then the boisterous and gruff scooter guy looked straight into the eyes of the Navy guy and said “feeling sorry for yourself is a waste of time”. Apparently being direct was just what the Nave guy needed to hear. The Navy guy looked visibly calmer.

About that time I was called in for my blood draw. Only the scooter guy was there when I was done getting my blood drawn. He gave me a quick nod, I quietly said, “Good luck” and he quietly responded “thanks”.

As I walked out of the office, I knew it was time for me to stop whining about my medical appointments. It was time for me to take better care of myself. I am lucky to be alive and functioning. The time is now for me to start appreciating how lucky I am.

Real life serious medical issues are not fun. The state of the art with cancer is to remove it and continually check in case the cancer comes back. The poor circulation which some people with diabetes live with results in the loss of appendages. I felt a little ashamed at being annoyed with having to get a PSA test every three months.

Each of my three cancer surgeries, kidney, prostate and colon, disrupted my life for only a couple months while I healed from the surgery. I am thankful I am alive.

My PSA level was undetectable, good news. However thank you scooter guy for reminding me how lucky we all are to be alive. I feel ashamed I whined and pitied myself for the inconvenience of having periodic tests.

The closer you look the more you see

In third or fourth grade, probably fourth grade, my brother shot me with the BB gun Santa left for me in the living room under the tree just a couple hours earlier. My brother didn’t say he was sorry, well, probably because a few minutes before, l had shot him. Mom didn’t even bother hollering at us.

It stung for a minute and left a red mark. I loved that BB gun. Right now, the same gun is in my basement gathering dust. Back in the day it was used to shoot at targets, some squirrels, birds and trees. Doubt I ever hit a bird or a squirrel and I probably missed most targets. Haven’t shot it in several decades. Don’t know if it still works.

The reason I wanted, actually desperately needed, that BB gun was to protect me and the family from bad guys. Fortunately, that BB gun was never placed into service repelling an attack by a gang of notorious criminals. However, my trusty BB gun remains at the ready should the bad guys ever show up.

Back in the day, distinguishing between the good and the bad guys seemed pretty straight forward. Everyone I liked was a good guy. Bad guys included jerks like Mike B, whose dad ended up grounding him for tying me to a tree in the woods.

Mike was older than I was. As an adult, he is a nice guy. A couple years after being tied to a tree, he gave me my first ride on a motorcycle. As I aged, I came to know the line between good and bad is often blurred. Nobody is perfect, mostly nobody is all bad either.

My BB gun looked to an eight year old me, just like the Winchester rifles used by all the famous TV Cowboys in the western TV shows: Bonanza, The Lone Ranger, Maverick, Roy Rogers and the list goes on.

Wish I hadn’t but I just went down to the basement to look at my trusty BB gun. In my mind, it was full sized and looked close to being a real Winchester rifle from the late 1800’s.

Sadly, my BB gun is actually about half the size of a real Winchester rifle, not really that good of a Winchester imitation and maybe worst of all, my trusty rifle is not in very good condition. The pump action jammed and the trim is falling off. We are all showing our age, I guess.

My BB gun was the perfect weapon to deter bad guys from even thinking about attacking our home. They’d never know what hit them. The local authorities would have been so appreciative that I, a nine or tenyear old kid, captured the thugs which were terrorizing so many. My plan was to go upstairs and shoot down at them from the windows.

I was in my forties when my mom moved into an apartment from the house I grew up in. She gave me my dad’s two old guns. A 12 gage shotgun and a rifle that I have no recollection of what kind it was. Not being a hunter or a gun person, I sold them to a gun shop. The point being, I can’t actually say I never owned a real gun, but as a practical matter, the only gun I’ve ever really “owned”, was my trusty BB gun.

So far, in seventy years, fortunately, nobody has ever broken into my house or held me at gunpoint. No situations have come up where me having a gun would have been beneficial. No drug addicts or prison escapees have ever come to our door demanding our valuables or taken us hostage so we can be exchanged for ransom.

We have had some Mormons, people who want me to sign a petition to save the planet and political candidates but they were all very polite and left when I politely asked them to leave.

About fifteen years ago there were several break-ins around our neighborhood over a couple month period. To my knowledge nobody was ever home when the robbers came in. However, our house was not one that was broken into.

We do hear about a catalytic converter being stolen here or there. Periodically there are some porch pirates who steal packages or someone reports a garage being broken into. I can’t recall any instances in our area where someone forced their way into a house while someone was home.

To date my personal interaction with criminals has been pretty much limited to phone calls trying to talk me into sending them money for one reason or another. BB guns, or any other gun, doesn’t work against phone call scams. I have known people who have fallen for them but I have not.

Some people own guns for hunting and handguns for protection. They bought their guns legally and have taken safety classes. Some of them enjoy going to firing ranges to practice shooting. Some people I know enjoy hunting and have guns for that purpose. One of my friends used to be on a skeet shooting team. He loved that sport until medical issues caused him to quit.

Except for those I know who used guns as part of their job, law enforcement or military, I don’t remember knowing anyone personally who has fired their guns at another human. I have known of people who have shot themselves. Although right now, I don’t remember who, so maybe I just think I knew people who used a gun to take their own life.

My trusty BB gun, back in the day, would leave a red mark and sting for a bit. Maybe it could shoot an eye out but in my case, it didn’t.

The closer you look the more you see.