Good morning, everyone. I have refined this distribution to go to those who responded to my last email plus a few that didn’t but I know they want to remain on the list… If you know of anyone who wants on this new list please have them email me or just send their address to me. If the “convenient filters” of email/IP’s have left anyone out who tried to respond I’m sorry.
What’s a miracle? It’s something positive that happens unexpectedly, or at least against long odds. What context does a miracle have when the overall status (rehabbing from the stroke, having cancer) doesn’t change much? When change can be rapid and negative, a mirale can literally save your life… I want to keep pondering this, because I want miracles to happen around me for the rest of my life, and I know that means there’ll be some long odds to beat at many of the crossroads. The powers of positive thought, determination, community, and, yes, prayer are all on my mind as I consider this. Maybe a miracle has alot more to do with validation of positive thoughts and actions than an actual phenomenon or occurence.
There’s been a miracle! My Dad’s tumors have shrunk!
The trip started hard for Glenn, Christina and Susie. Wednesday and Thursday were busy with many transfers and some wild hotel stays including downtown SF. Friday was flat out hectic, as the appointment for a PET scan at UCSF went very long causing them to be late getting back to Stanford for the 4PM consult with Dr. Hancock. Dr. Hancock accommodated the schedule snafu, but my Dad’s BP was through the roof by the time they sat down for the appointment at 5PM – his and Christina’s anticipation of this potentially horrible meeting, and the exponential heartache brewing due to getting to it late and frazzled had them both near whit’s end. Dr. Hancock broke the news: the followup MRI on Thursday showed shrinkage of the tumors, and Dr. Hancock announced that they will want to move on to the Gamma-Knife procedure in “a couple of weeks.” Here’s some really important news for your own consumption and digestion of this: my Dad takes it all with a grain of salt. As an observer with an (obvious) desire to understand his perspective, I believe that, whether he knows it or not, he maintains a steady and level attitude – don’t get too excited, don’t get too down. I think it’s a coping mechanism that is vital to sanity and survival when you’re knocked off your feet like he has been. In contrast, Christina’s reaction embodied the notion of a climax – what a buildup for her as she stayed so positive and strong for 64 long days and nights, always looking at the best possible outcome, and never letting herself lose focus on the goal of providing the best for Dad. This news was likely to be bad – devastating really. When it was not, she had what had to be one of the most powerful emotional reactions a person can have, and she deserved it! Again, we’re in “wouldn’t wish it on anyone” territory, but, as with many other circumstances and developments around this tragedy, the beauty of this “reward” to her, in my mind, is a very special thing. I’m so proud and appreciative of what Christina’s done.
I got this news Friday evening and felt so so humbled. Leading up to it, all my preparation for the worst had me almost feeling guilty about having a lack of hope for the best – that all evaporated when I got the news. I went from dreading the drive down to my Uncle’s in Santa Cruz because it would be a trip of consolation and extreme pain, to eagerness to get there and share in the celebration. I hit the road at noon Saturday and arrived in La Selva Beach around 7:30 after a stop in Ukiah where I enjoyed the warm weather on a brief hike and basked in the glow of the news I had. When I saw Dad and Christina it was clear that there was relief, but I quickly realized that his attitude of skepticism and ability to stay emotionally flat was a strong tonic that the rest of us needed as a guide for moving forward – please keep this in mind as you celebrate with us and you continue to respect his perspective. Sunday was a good day of rest and spending time with family. Monday we got up and headed for UCSF for the consultation with Dr. Kashani – the melanoma expert who works with my cousin, Zach – Robin’s son. We got to the appointment almost an hour late due to horrible traffic, but UCSF accommodated us very nicely. Dr. Kashani and a wonderful NP, Evelyn, met with us briefly and would return after their tumor board met over the information. Robin and Gene arrived and Dad was able to rest on an exam table while we waited. This meeting would’ve been very hard to come to and may even have been cancelled had Friday’s news been clearly bad. Since Friday’s news was good, this meeting held all the more importance as a second opinion from someone our family already has experience with and trusts very much. Dr. Kashani made it clear what we had to be thankful for: “We consider no growth or spreading of the tumors to be success. You have shrinkage of the tumors – that’s gravy!” He stated that we had realized the best possible scenario with the shrinkage. Further, Dr. Kashani said that his nuero-oncology board would review all of Dad’s information and come up with a strategy which may or may not include going forward with the Gamma-Knife focused treatments for the tumors. He said that, since there’s shrinkage, they may want to wait and see if that continues (Stanford didn’t say that…). What’s more, the PET scan that UCSF did just as a way of establishing a baseline condition for Dad, right now, showed something in his Thoracic Spine that they suspect to be a tumor (why didn’t Stanford do this scan or order it up right when they saw that the tumors had shrunk? The implication being that since you’ve had this long-shot success on shrinking these virulent tumors, you should’ve acted like the overall survival picture for the patient was primary with the new news… Instead of “going through the motions” as we’ve felt some of from Stanford. Please don’t get me wrong – Stanford has done great things for us, but it looks like UCSF is our new choice for future care). Dr. Kashani identified that we need to get an MRI for the T-Spine very soon so the nature of the growth there can be understood and addressed ASAP if necessary – he says they’d likely use a “Cyber Knife” on it. The MRI for this can be done in Eureka, and Christina is working closely with Dr. Irvine to get this done and get the information to the UCSF Neuro-Oncology people before they meet over Dad’s information next Thursday.
Getting him in and out of Anita’s van so many times where we had him laid out on chez-lounge pillows turned into a good confirmation of our ability to transport him comfortably – Christina did 99% of the work. Thanks so much to Carl and Anita for all the support including the use of their van – sweet ride! Dad’s still getting stronger and more able to help with the transfers. Last night as I helped get him into bed (HIS bed – we’re getting rid of the hospital bed soon) the arm sling was pinching his neck and he said, “Christina, the sling” even though I was the closest one and the one who reached up and detached it, relieving the pressure on his shoulder and neck. I leaned in and told him, “you can ask ME for help too you know.” He replied with typical Stockwell Smartasm (my own descriptor – figure it out!) – something about him having two slaves and not just one. My passion waxed quickly, as I’m known to exhibit, and I told him, “no one who helps you does so for any reason but the desire to do so – you’re one inspirational dude!” He smiled and I kissed him goodnight with a tear in my eye.
Thank you to everyone who has dropped me a line or told me in person about how my Dad has always been an inspiration to them. This has also been a common theme in cards and other communications directed to him. It’s a source of great pride for me, and, if/when he can let his humility shield down, for him too. No one could’ve known though, that the way he has acted throughout this ordeal would be so inspirational.
Last, in re-reading this prior to sending, I feel that a miracle is an unfair concept. In life, all of the positive thoughts and actions of those who never got their miracle should be acknowledged, so celebrating a miracle in and of itself is a slap in the face of those who fought just as hard for theirs and didn’t get it. The “miracle” for me as I move forward will be that so many great people showed support for Dad through their positive thoughts and actions. I don’t write for effect – I feel it. Thanks for reading.
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