The Mind Games Cancer Plays

September 17, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

Dealing with cancer is not just a physical challenge. As if surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation weren’t difficult enough, there are scores of mental mind games your cancer plays with you as well.

I’ve blogged about both the mental and physical effects my cancer has pummeled me with. I’ve discussed my survivor’s guilt (why did I survive when others with my same kind of cancer haven’t?)

I’ve blogged about the sudden shock of being done with treatments and feeling alone, bereft, and not sure what to do. I’ve talked about my pre-surgery anxiety and my post-chemo depression.

I thought I had my cancer emotions under control. It’s been a hell of a year; my family and I have endured a lot and we’ve come through the other side. I’ve experienced it all, right? I’ve faced my mortality, fought the fight, and so far have emerged victorious. I looked my demon in the eye and it blinked; not me.

But there was another mind game my cancer was playing with me – one that was so insidious that I wasn’t really aware I was being affected by it. It was the deepest and hardest-hitting one yet.

For the past six months, ever since my treatments ended and I was in “recovery” I made a promise to live my life more fully. To embrace and appreciate every single day. To love the people in my life better – to let them know how much I care. I decided to no longer embrace mediocrity and to challenge myself often.

This new outlook has served me well. I refused to let cancer dictate the terms of my life and I used it as a goad to realize what was truly important to me. I moved into a better house. I proposed to my girlfriend (we’re getting married in 23 days!) I started working out again. I determined to be a better friend. I am closer to my siblings than ever. I go surfing every chance I get. I quit my job and started a new one.

Yeah – it’s been a good year, even with the cancer. You could almost says because of the cancer. I stopped taking life for granted and started living again. I became a better man in many ways.

So what’s the problem? What mind game is my cancer playing on me?

You’ve read in my blogs that I have been having anxiety about my 6-month PET scans. Am I still cancer-free?

Slowly, over the course of the past month, that anxiety grew from a nervous uncertainty to a raging, full-blown, anxiety and certainty that I had cancer. And I never said a word, to anyone. I had built up this image of me as a cancer fighter – I had spit in the face of my cancer. I had this “amazing” attitude; everyone said so.

This past month I felt like a fake. I was ashamed of myself – because my fear and anxiety were consuming me, and I wasn’t talking about it. Not even to Carey.

You see, I had done too good a job at living my life. I was doing all the things I said I was going to do. I was, through force of will and lack of hesitation, making the good things in my life happen. I’m getting married in 3 weeks! I’m going on a honeymoon. I’m participating in my kid’s lives more than ever.

I love my life now more than ever. I cherish everything and everyone so much more than I ever thought possible. I am in love with my life and with everyone in it.

So you can imagine how the small, nagging, doubt in my head slowly grew to monstrous proportions. I could lose it all. I could get my PET scan and find out that the battle was beginning anew – all the progress I made coming out of my shell and embracing life suddenly and quickly reversed as I was forced to focus inward on myself and my cancer. I might die and lose everything.

I have embraced so many good things in my life, and made good things happen, that a small part of my brain that always “waits for the other shoe to drop” grew and consumed me.

I was in DC two weeks ago, lying in my hotel bed, when it hit me hard. I had a full-blown panic attack. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t focus. My chest hurt. My heart was pounding. It took me a full 30 minutes to recover.

From that point on, a darkness started settling over me – so thick that I couldn’t deny it any more. I went surfing, but I was afraid doing it. I was lost too often in thoughts of my own demise.

I planned my wedding, but fears that it would be overshadowed by my cancer colored every thoughts and action.

I did my job, but I wondered if I would be able to do it and for how long if I had to restart my treatments.

I finally told Carey about it. She tried to reassure me. She did all the right things. She never, not once, denied my feelings or tried to tell me it was an impossible reality. She held me, wanted me to talk it out – and I tried, but not really.

I didn’t listen to her. She told me she was with me all the way – that we would have a wonderful wedding no matter what. That all the things I had accomplished wold not go away just because I may have cancer still.

I didn’t believe her. I didn’t want to – I was wrapping my misery around me like a comfortable blanket. It quickly became comfortable to me – this misery. This certainty that I was dying by inches from this cancer.

So yesterday. I went into the imaging center to get my six-month PET scan. I already knew the results. I was dying. My cancer had spread. I was resigned to it.

I thought morosely of the irony of cancer-causing radiation being injected into my body to be used to detect my cancer. I put on a brave face and smiled at Carey. I endured the entire ordeal and tried not to voice my fears. But they were there.

I had to take a sleeping pill last night to get to sleep, so great was my anxiety. It started taking its toll on Carey as well. She was on edge, had a headache, and a very stiff neck. Her signs of stress.

I woke up this morning and called my doctor immediately; knowing was better than not knowing. The wait was intolerable. I told the nurse-practitioner that I was convinced there was a problem because I had been having neck pains for two or three weeks. I needed to know my results as soon as they got them.

I have a great relationship with my doctor. Normal results take 48 hours, but less than 24 hours from my scans they had the results. They called to the imaging center, had mine moved to the top of the stack, and got my scans evaluated and posted.

NORMAL PET SCAN. NO SIGN OF CANCER.

My nurse called me back and told me the news. I thanked her, hung up the phone, closed my office door, and openly wept.

In my 12 months of fighting this cancer, I have not once cried. I got teary-eyed watching other people react to me, but I never cried for myself. Today I did.

I was so convinced that the other shoe was dropping – that my cancer was going to laugh at me and take away all of my gains – that I had already put one foot in the grave. Nothing and nobody could tell me differently.

The blanket of misery and anxiety came off of my so quickly that I couldn’t handle it emotionally. I sat back and wept as I had not done before. I called Carey on the phone – she was on her way to work – and I could barely tell her my scans were clean, I was crying so hard.

She cried with me, on the phone. She told me she loves me, always. She said, again, that she’s with me no matter what. She took the opportunity to say “I told you so.” I laughed and agreed with her.

I do have neck pains – they have been there for about three weeks. But now I can look at them objectively. I have nerve endings still regenerating from my surgery last year. The doctor said they would eventually pain me. I pulled a muscle surfing two weeks ago. My stress is also a factor. I don’t know why or what my neck pains are – but I’ll ask my doctor next week. One thing for sure; it’s not cancer.

This is the mind game my cancer played on me, folks. Because of my cancer I embraced my life more fully than I ever had before. And because of my cancer I was more afraid than ever of losing it. And I let that fear consume me.

Maybe this cancer WILL come back one day – but that day is not today. I can’t live at death’s doorstep – and I almost let myself go there. I have an amazing fiance. An incredible family. The best friends ever.

They say the definition of anxiety is to be so afraid of a potential future that it ruins your present. Well – that’s true enough. I let my fear of cancer re-occurrence color and affect my present.

I can’t say it won’t happen again – but now I know what to look for. I wonder what other mind games my cancer has in store for me?

Cancer
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Telling Cancer Supporters What You Need

September 13, 2009 by Sparks 2 Comments

Telling cancer supporters what you needThis is the third post in the “Cancer Support” series, as I have decided to call these blogs. The first and second in the series are:

Part 1: Living With Cancer – Understanding Sycophants
Part 2: What do Fish and Cancer Have in Common?

One of my readers asked me some very good questions last week. She asked me:

what if someone truly feels that they are a real supporter… and the cancer fighter feels they are not. How would the ‘real supporter’ know that they are not really a supporter? How would the cancer fighter either tell them or show them? How could the ‘real supporter’ truly become that real supporter? And, is it possible for a cancer fighter to need/want different types of real supporters? Like… one that is the one to sit with you after a surgery, another one to be the laughter supporter, another for the crying, etc.

I realized that Parts 1 and 2 of this series chastised the sycophants and Remoras but did not begin to TELL you how to be a real supporter of someone who is battling cancer. I have been remiss, but I intend to rectify that here. This is the first of a couple of posts designed to answer my reader’s questions.

How Can I Tell My “Supporter” that He/She is NOT Helping Me?
This is for the cancer fighters out there. Understand, of course, that I am offering only my opinions here, but I will dispense with my advice since I was asked.

You have a person in your life who is not a real supporter. This person asks the wrong questions, tries too hard, makes you feel vaguely uncomfortable – tells you that you should be cheerier, or should pray more, or should “make the most” of every day. She doesn’t give you any breathing room, or gives you too much breathing room. There’s a thousand things the non-supporter can say or do to make you uncomfortable – and it’s different for each of us. What makes me uncomfortable might be perfectly acceptable to you. So, how do you deal with it when you realize someone isn’t supporting you properly?

The answer is simple; be honest with people. It’s OK to look them in the eye and say, “Thank you, but what you are doing is not helping me right now.”

The thing is, most people are uncomfortable around you as it is. They have no real notion of what you need and you have to tell them. Just like you are in charge of your health care, you are also in charge of how your support network operates around you. That’s worth repeating because so many people don’t consider that point.

YOU are in charge of your support network.

Some people just HAVE to pray with you

Some people just HAVE to pray with you

It never fails. If you are not overly-religious, you will have that one relative who wants to grab your hand, bow her head, and share prayer with you. If that makes you uncomfortable, let them know. Of course, then you have to deal with the consequences of that – you have to “come out of the closet” about how uncomfortable it makes you and deal with the ensuing questions about your spiritual disposition. A lot of truths, uneasy truces, and unspoken assumptions are called into question when you have cancer.

Understand that you are under no obligation to change who and what you are because you have cancer. If you were spiritually on the fence before you got cancer, it’s OK to stay that way. Even if you have a friend/relative who presents you with Pascal’s Wager, hoping you convert “just in case” your cancer bests you, it’s OK to refuse.

You will have that “always cheery” friend who smiles so hard around you that you will swear his face will freeze in some rictus parody of the human face. This person thinks that the best thing you need is happy people around you, and will continue with the charade, until you tell him differently.

Falsely Cheerful

Falsely Cheerful

You will have that weepy relative who starts shedding tears the second she sees you. She’ll grab your cheeks, crying, and just say your name over and over again. It was fine the first time it occurred, but every single time she sees you becomes tedious and you begin to dread her visits. you have to find a way to make it stop.

The hardest to deal with, of course, is the person who has been a cancer supporter for someone else in the past. This person often believes that what they did for the other person should work for you as well. And that’s not always the case.

So how can you tell people what you need?

The best way, of course, is to tell them explicitly what you want. Of course, many people are uncomfortable with this, and when you first get diagnosed you may be too far into your shock to be honest with yourself, let alone others around you. So patience is called for here.

You can tell your “serial pray pal” something less direct than “I don’t want to pray with you.” You can be polite and say something like, “Yes, please come visit me, but leave your Bible and bring your Scrabble dictionary instead. ” Distraction is your friend with some people.

You can passively refuse to participate. When the “weepy relative” rushes at you, you can pull away and change the subject.

You can have “backup” with you; a friend or relative who understands how uncomfortable you are and steps in to defuse the situation or change the topic.

Dealing with cancer is a new and unexpected variable in your social circle – but objectively it really is nothing more than that. A new variable. Like finding our your buddy has a third nipple – at first it’s hugely interesting and entertaining and everyone wants a peek, but over time it becomes part of the “group knowledge” you share with your circle. Time and familiarity will make it a non-issue with the people who matter to you.

The thing to remember is that figuring out what you need is a process, and what you need will change over time. Be patient with the people that stick by you and understand that very few are truly bad supporters. In the absence of direction, people tend to fall back on what they know. They aren’t mind readers and are looking to you to let them know what you need.

Expect your friends to slip up, say the wrong thing, offer the wrong advice, and generally trip over your cancer until you establish a new groove and new routine. It’s going to happen. Nobody INTENTIONALLY gives you bad advice (like the image below).

Just remember, your supporters love you and you love them. Give them time. Give them a chance. They will not only live up to your needs and expectations; they will exceed them.

If you’re supporting someone who has cancer, and wonder if you’re doing the right things; ask.

Cancer
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Rant: Movies, Commercials, and Trailers

September 12, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

I went to see “G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra” last week with my fiance, Carey, and our daughter Ashlee. It was a spur of the moment thing. We were at a nearby jeweler getting her new wedding band serviced and, when we were done, I proposed a movie.

The girls wanted to see “The Time Traveler’s Wife,” but I quickly vetoed it. Although I love sci-fi and the movie appears to have sci-fi elements to it, it has chick-flick written all over it. No way was I going to see that movie, in the middle of the day, with two girls. My man card would get pulled – fast.

I paid for G.I. Joe and we entered the theater about ten minutes before the movie started. We’ve all been trained to tolerate the “Screen Scenes” with random trivia and the occasional sponsorship message before the lights go down, so I wasn’t too surprised to learn, once again, that Close Encounters of the Third Kind was the loudest film ever made to date.

Then the lights went down and the movie was about to start. I waited eagerly for the trailers to begin; I love watching the trailers.

But I didn’t get the trailers. I got 10 minutes of commercials. Commercials for retail products. After the commercials, I got two, count em, two trailers.

I was dumbfounded. It took me a moment to realize that I had been cheated of one of my most treasured movie experiences. The trailers get me excited about what is coming out soon. I love movies that start with 15 minutes of trailers. I jokingly look over to Carey every time and say “Do you want some movie with your trailers?”

But this time I was denied my trailers for Coca-Cola commercials. For car commercials. For a bunch of crap I don’t need and don’t want.

Is this the beginning of a new trend. As the economy struggles has the movie trailer been relegated to a back seat in favor of commercial advertisers?

I am so disappointed.

Life

Windows 7 and Optiarc DVDRWBD BC-5600S

September 11, 2009 by Sparks 2 Comments


Problem:
On my Dell Studio 1737 the Optiarc DVDRWBD BC-5600S would not work after I installed Windows 7. The DVD drive would hang on both DVDs and CDs, sometimes for 15 minutes or more, before it released control back to the program and allowed me to exit the application.

Solution
Control Panel –> System and Security –> Power Options –> Change power plan to “high Performance.”

Technology
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Uninsurable (Fiction)

September 4, 2009 by Sparks 1 Comment

Flash Fiction
Theme: “Alien Healthcare”
Location: Earth after Aliens Coexist with Humans
Required Phrase: “sassafras soup”

Uninsurable

by

Ron Sparks

“…but I’m dying,” my translator decoded the burps and hiccups that emerged wetly from the Jovian’s speaking orifice. Strictly speaking their race wasn’t from Jupiter, but that’s where they had been found, stranded, a hundred years ago. Nobody knows where they came from, not even the Jovian’s themselves. Maybe one day, when we master faster-than-light travel, we’ll find out.

I sighed, “I’m sorry; there’s nothing I can do.” I pointed to the ePad she had brought to me, “You clearly state here that you suffer from Prugar’s Syndrome. That’s a pre-exisiting condition. Your claim is not covered.”

“But Prugar’s Syndrome didn’t cause the dryness in my fluid mixer!”

I shook my head sadly, “The doctor’s feel differently. It states here that Prugar’s Syndrome weakens the molecular bonds between your mixer and your aspirator.”

The gelatinous mass shook visibly, “I would not have caught Prugar’s had you infernal humans not brought us to Earth. Prugar’s never happened before we came here. You fed us that damned sassafras soup and it changed us! You owe it to me to pay for my surgery!”

It was ever thus. They had been living little better than savages in a derelict ship and they blamed humans for saving them. They called the life-saving nutrients that we had we pumped into them when we found them “sassafras soup;” some joke by a human biochemist that had stuck. How could anyone have known that it would change their genetic makeup subtly? We didn’t have time to study the concoction – the Jovians needed immediate help. So now they blamed humans for their health problems; for giving them a home, a place among us.

They recently started calling themselves an abused underclass; why couldn’t they just be thankful to be alive? Still, I did have a job to do and I would do it; the alien may not appreciate me or like me, but at least I wasn’t a xenophobe like so many Humans are, rightly so. One human child being “absorbed” for nutrition could be a cultural mistake. One a month, across the globe, was terrorism. No matter how severe the consequences, some Jovians couldn’t resist the taste of a human.

I looked at the visiscreen implanted in my cornea; “It says here that you have been employed by GlobalSea for fifteen years, Mr. . . . ahhh . . .. Glr’k.”

“That’s right,” the Jovian burped petulantly.

I smiled brightly, “Well that’s good news. You qualify not only for a payment plan, but for a discounted rate on the surgery. GlobalSea wants to continue investing in you and is willing to pay the cost of the surgery and give you the luxury of time to pay back the loan.”

“Really?”

I nodded, “Oh yes. With your discount the cost of the surgery is only two point three million dollars. You can pay it off over thirty Jovian years with twenty-two percent interest.”

“. . . but, but . . that’s 360 Earth years! I won’t live that long!”

“GlobalSea will gladly pay for your surgery with the assurance that your descendants will be loyal employees and will continue to pay the loan.”

“That’s slavery!” cried the Jovian. “You are holding my children hostage if I agree. What if THEY get sick? I suppose you just add the cost onto the existing loan and enslave even further future generations of Jovians?”

“Really, Mr. Glr’k,” I said testily, “You have a choice. You can find other lenders for the surgery, or you can elect to not have the surgery. We are not enslaving your children. You control the future of yourself and your children.”

My translator picked up his resigned burp as he slid out of the office, “I decline the surgery.”

I wanted to feel bad for him, but I couldn’t. He wasn’t even human. Insurance companies have been weeding out high-risk people for centuries. My own father can’t get insurance because he has cancer. I don’t like it, but it’s just the way things are.

Sighing, I forced a smile back on my face and called the next claimant forward. Just my luck, another Jovian.

Fiction
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Rant: Update on Gap Brands

September 1, 2009 by Sparks 1 Comment

(see Original Post)

So I sent Gap Brands an email demanding that they delete my online account. Their response:

Thank you for your inquiry about your gap.com online account.
Unfortunately, we are unable to delete your online account.

However, we recommend deleting your account information directly from
our website to ensure your account is set up exactly the way you want
it.

I found this email infuriating because it is so stupid. They have no mechanism to delete an account – so they tell me to change my personal information so they don’t know who I am anymore. How moronic is that? As long as their “member count” doesn’t decrease they have no issues with data accuracy. Essentially – statistics on the Gap membership database are useless.

On top of that, with no mechanism to delete an account, they actually still have all of my data. Unless they are an abysmally stupid web development shop, they have a recoverable audit log that logs every change, including the original value and the new value. That means that somewhere in their system, they have all of my original information.

Additionally, when I logged into my account, as I suspected, they had saved both my niece’s address AND My credit card information. Without asking me if that was OK. I can forgive saving a ship-to address only because most organizations don’t really understand how that can be truly sensitive data.

But to save my credit card without prompting me for permission? Unforgivable.

Think about that, people. Think about the audacity of this company – they are so brazen that they force membership on you AFTER they take your credit card number and then they save it without asking you if it is OK.

I know, for my part, I will never again shop online or in a brick/mortar Gap Brand store. Ever. They have committed the most heinous and unforgivable sin in my opinion. They compromised my security, they deceived me, and they have bad business practices.

Gap Brand stores don’t deserve my patronage or yours either. They need to clean house and get responsible and intelligent people behind their website. This is ridiculous.

I’m angry now. Very angry.

Retail

Rant: Gap Brand Forces Membership

September 1, 2009 by Sparks 1 Comment

Today’s blog is a rant on poor and intrusive website design. If you’re not into these types of issues, feel free to skip this blog.

My niece’s birthday is tomorrow. She turns 25-years-old. Being the procrastinator that I am, I went out this morning to buy her a gift card. not knowing what to buy a 25-year-old woman, I went to OldNavy.com and decided to buy her a Gap Brand gift card.

This gift card is valid at all Gap Brand stores, Old Navy, Gap, Banana Republic.

So I went through the purchase process. I was not impressed with the flow of the purchase process. Every page was too busy. I have been developing web applications and online storefronts since 1995. You can easily call me an EXPERT/GURU user. When I have to slow down and look at what’s going on because the design is not intuitive you know there’s a problem.

Ajax pop-ups. In-store self-promotional ads, poor placement of purchase forms -all of these detracted from the purchase experience. The goal of a purchase process is to reduce the number of clicks and get the money in hand as quickly as possible. The Old Navy website did an extremely poor job of this.

No online retailer intentionally goes into purchase process design saying “I’m gonna make it hard on the user!” No – they always have the best of intentions but a lot of things get in the way. It’s almost always a combination of the following:

  1. Too many managers in the mix.
    Too many people have say in what goes where on the site. Usually pressure from marketing or some other department forces bad design decisions in against the better judgment of the development manager.
  2. Weak Development Management
    A corporate policy that creates a development manager who has no real authority or power over what goes onto the site is nearly always to blame here. Too many outside divisions have override authority. Or worse, the Development Manager HAS the proper authority but is not personally strong enough to make the tough decisions.
  3. Over-Familiarity with the Website
    This is VERY common. After months of development and internal testing, there is no longer a single unbiased resource at the company. They have used the website so often they know all the tricks and know the flow so well that it’s second nature. They “overlook” the deficiencies because they have trained themselves around them and they honestly can’t look at the site and purchase process with an unbiased eye.
  4. Wrong testers.
    Often, the only testers of the site are the QA team, who quickly fall victim to #3 above. Maybe there is a UAT (User Acceptance Testing) team, but they, too, have done this more than once and have lost objectivity. In reality – every major retail site needs UAT testing for each revision of a website and it should be external resources not on the company payroll and it should be different people each time.

Anyway – back to the problem at hand. The true crime in all of this is that,without being told and AFTER I ENTERED MY CREDIT CARD INFORMATION, I was forced to create an online account with them. Yes – you read that correctly. I had entered all my shipping and billing information – my credit card number as well. Then, when I think the order should be processing, I get an AJAX pop up forcing me to enter a password and password hint so I have an account if I come back later.

I didn’t ask to become a “member” of their website. I didn’t authorize them to store my PI (personal information) permanently in their membership system. I certainly didn’t authorize them to permanently store my niece’s name, address, and telephone number! I only authorized them the use of the information for an atomic transaction. At worst – this information should reside in the financial system – not their membership system!

This is among the worst of all website design and policy implementations, people. I do not wish to track my every purchase with Gap Brands. I do not want THEM to track me. And yet, they forced me to do so in order to purchase online.

And there’s NO VALUE in this membership! It’s not as if I save 5% on purchases. Its not as if the “coupons” they are invariably going to spam my inbox with aren’t available to anyone – regardless of membership. No – I am now a data byte in the marketing machine of a company with questionable ethics. Yes – I said it. Questionable ethics. They absolutely knew what they were doing when they put that forced membership option at the end of the process after you enter your credit card information.

Now I wonder if they’ve stored my credit card number as well. I’m going to go back and go through the purchase process logged in and see what it “remembers” about me. I’ll let you know what I find.

At the end of the day, folks, I urge you to stay away from Gap Brand websites until they fix their purchase process and not require a membership to purchase. At the very least they need to move the forced prompt for membership before you enter your credit card information. I did have the opportunity to bail after they forced me to create a membership – but the panic of “oh crap – I’ve already entered my CC information and it posted to their server” emotionally compelled me to complete the purchase. Besides, the membership was already created at that point!

Be savvy – don’t create memberships everywhere and boycott sites that force membership on you.

(see FollowUp Post)

Retail

Cancer and Bench-Pressing

August 28, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

Surgery, Chemotherapy, and Radiation therapy take a lot out of a person. You’ve probably all ready my blogs and have some inkling as to how much the treatments impacted me, but I thought another example might be needed.

I blogged earlier tonight about how weak I still am compared to where I used to be. I bitched and moaned about how hard it was to surf today.

Truthfully – a lot of things are harder for me now. I just don’t complain about them. I am lucky to be alive and I have no doubt my strength will eventually return. I made a promise to myself that I would lead a more active lifestyle once I was through treatments.

I have made true on that promise. I am outside more often. I am surfing again. I work out regularly.

But I am still very weak. It comes back slowly – but my mind still thinks I am as strong as I used to be – when I am not. I still feel like I should have the endurance I used to have, but I don’t. So when I said in my last blog that I almost drowned today because I got too tired to paddle out and the breaks were pummelling me – I meant that literally.

My strength was gone, people. I had no reserves to dig into to save myself – I limped out of the water like a near-drowned rat. I was dejected and angry – and more than a little scared. I used to have a “reserve” well of strength I could call on in times of need. No longer. It is gone.

Chemotherapy and radiation robbed me of my strength. I may never be as strong as I used to be.

Here, take a look at this graph. This graph shows how much my maximum bench press has been affected as I go through treatments and recovery:


As you can see – I used to be able to bench press 220lbs. My low point was 90lbs. I am now lucky to bench 160 – on a good day.

Now you know. People ask me all the time how I feel. They say I look “great.” They say I look like I am stronger than ever.

I’m glad I look so well – but I am not stronger. Maybe one day – until then I need to be careful and not let myself get to the point where I almost drown trying to be the man I used to be.

Cancer
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Surfing Tropical Storm Danny’s Swells

August 28, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

Tropical Storm Danny is turning out to be less dangerous than we feared. Living in Florida, we take hurricanes seriously, but not too seriously. We hear day after day the weathermen warning us about tropical depressions, tropical storms, and hurricanes that we quickly get over saturated. Usually they end up to be less severe than the weathermen would have us believe.

Mostly, we worry about how the storm will affect our weekend plans. When a truly significant storm comes our way, though, we batten down the hatches. We hunker down and await the inevitable fury of mother nature.

Sometimes, though, we get to reap the benefits of a less than cataclysmic storm. Today was one of those days. Weakening Tropical Storm Danny created some truly magnificent waves, ideal for surfing, today.

My buddy, and boss, Jorge and I decided to go surfing this afternoon as soon as we confirmed that the storm swell was creating some stellar waves. We’d put in a LOT of hours this week and last anyway on various projects and needed the downtime.

So, Jorge, Ekti, and I grabbed three stand-up paddle boards (SUP) and headed to Cherie Downs – a nice surfing spot just north of the Cocoa Beach Pier.

SUP surfing is not new, but it’s gaining popularity. The boards over between 9 and 12 feet long and you don’t have to lay down on them. You stand on them and paddle your way into and out of waves. You can kneel as well.

My brother-in-law, Craig, is not fond of SUP at all. He’s been surfing for over 20 years and finds SUP boarders to be insolent newcomers. Every time I talk about SUP to him he gets a sour look on his face. Truth-be-told there is a lot of negative press about SUP. SUP boarders are taking over traditional surfing breaks – fights are brewing between SUP boarders and surfers.

Jorge, on the other hand, loves his SUP board(s). He can easily get into the surf, can pick up waves that traditional surfers cannot, and can see waves coming long before other surfers because he’s standing up.

Before today I had only been on a SUP board once – and that was at a local lake to practice with Jorge. Today was my first time in the ocean with one. And the waves were huge.

When we got to the beach the waves were over 5 feet tall and there was no wind. They were coming in 12 second intervals and were fast moving. The breaks weren’t perfect but they were damned good. I was excited. I grabbed a 12-foot, 50-lb SUP board and oar and eagerly went into the surf.

Wow – was that a mistake. I had no idea how to handle the SUP board in the ocean. It took me half an hour to get past the breaks with that beast and when I made it out to where Jorge and Ekti were waiting for me, I was too tired to do anything other than sit there for 20 minutes.

I learned quickly that a SUP board is not all that easy to handle. It is a lot heavier than a normal surfboard. You can’t duck-dive under an oncoming wave with one. You have to go over it. If it is breaking on top of you – good luck. Try not to die.

Eventually I figured it out, though. I was unable to stand all the way on it though, so I paddled from a kneeling position. I caught a wave easily, almost too easily. It was a 5-footer, breaking perfectly. I rode that wave for almost 30 seconds – much, much longer than I would have on a regular surfboard. I cut in and out of the top of the swell. I picked the wave back up again after it lost shape and reformed in shallower water.

Then, I had to paddle back out again.

I couldn’t do it. The waves were too big and I was too exhausted from my earlier try. I literally almost drowned trying to get back out a second time. So, feeling beaten and dejected, I walked back to our “camp” on the beach and sat down to recover.

I was angry at my weakness. I know I am still recovering my strength; cancer treatments have taken a hell of a toll on me. I don’t have nearly the strength I used to have – and my endurance is not back to where it used to be either.

But no way was I going to get a single ride out of these fantastic waves. I rested for 30 minutes and went back out. This time I made it out. The waves were getting slightly smaller as the tropical swell lessened, so I caught another wave easily. I rode it like a pro – it was a fantastic ride.

There’s nothing like the feeling of riding a wave, people. It’s magical.

That’s it – three hours at the beach with 5-foot waves and a SUP board and all I I managed to ride was two waves.

But it was enough.

Cancer, Life
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Remoras will suck you dry

What do Fish and Cancer Have in Common?

August 24, 2009 by Sparks 3 Comments

I blogged last year about the different types of people I met in my battle with cancer. The blog was titled “Living with Cancer – Understanding Sycophants” and you can read it HERE. It details the types of people who come into your life thinking they are helping you but are actually emotionally harmful to you.

I have added a new type of person to the list of people to watch out for. This person is the “Remora Suckerfish.”

The Remora is a person who latches on to you and leeches the life from you while thinking they have created a nurturing “connection” with you. There is no connection – they are sucking you dry!

This actually happened to me last week. I posted a Tweet about my latest checkup – a 3-month exam by my surgeon – when a “friend” on Facebook contacted me and made a “connection.” This person latched on to me, refused to let go, and proceeded to tell me about all her friends and family who have had cancer and died from it.

Somehow the fact that I had cancer and she knew people who had died or were dying from cancer created a connection. She latched on, and proceeded to tell me in gory detail how much she “understands” what I am going through – all the while stating over and over again about how many people she knows who have died from cancer.

She meant well – I know – her heart WAS in the right place. She has her own pain she is trying to share as well because she is dealing with the loss of someone she loves – but I don’t think she realized what an impact it had on me. I don’t think she realized how much it drained me to read it.

So while I don’t fault her, I do have a few points to the Remora Suckerfish out there:

  1. As a cancer patient still battling my disease I do not need to know about how many people you know who have succumbed to the disease. It does not help my state of mind. It does not make me feel “lucky.” It makes me angry that you feel I should somehow respect you or connect to you – it annoys me that you think you are special because you know people with cancer. Cancer may be a tie that binds – but it doesn’t bind me to you.
  2. You don’t know what I feel. Just because you know people with cancer does not mean that you know what it is like to have cancer. While I appreciate that you feel like you have more intimate knowledge than the average layperson – you still have less knowledge of it than I do. It’s very much like saying “I’m not racist – I know lots of black people.” Great – good for you – you still don’t know what it’s like to be black.
  3. Just because you know people with cancer and have had the unfortunate experience to have lost friends with cancer does not make you MY friend. I truly wish you had never had to experience the effects of cancer, but that’s not a shared experience for you and I to bond over. See, I haven’t died from cancer. Pretty obvious when you think about it, huh?

I’ll reiterate what I said in my last post: It’s really important when dealing with cancer to find the right type of people to associate with. There are a lot of people who claim they are supporting you (and actually believe it) but they are not. Find your real supporters and surround yourself with them – and always let them know how much you care and appreciate them.

Don’t be a Remora Suckerfish, people, or any other type of harmful “supporter” mentioned in my previous post. A cancer patient doesn’t need anything other than love and friendship.

I am not my cancer. One day, my cancer will be gone. You don’t have to try to find a common bond with my cancer – find a common bond with me.

Cancer
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