Trees, trees and more trees....

I have a primary care physician, Dr. Swift. He belongs to a medical group, Health Care Partners. My hospital is Torrance Memorial. They all associate with each other for services and together contract with HealthNet, my insurance company. I also work with radar scientists (sorry, I left the rockets at Boeing) and it seems I understand more about what the scientists and engineers say than the aforementioned folks - health care, ain't it a bitch! Having started my journey by meandering through the "Forest of Health", I would like to take my hats off to all of the critters that inhabit the forest and say "thank you". I can't wait for the rest of the adventure. 


I refer to the "forest" because of the old adage about not being able to see the forest for the trees - I don't want to focus too much on the cancer and then miss what is going on in my life. I don't want to concentrate on the tumor and miss the rest of Wesley's senior year of high school. I certainly don't want to linger on the bronchoscopy (actually two of them and I am still having dreams of both) and not look forward to growing and developing my relationship with Stephanie. 


When I used to work at Disneyland as a custodial sweeper (yes, I was employed at the house of the mouse), I worked outdoors all over the park. It was great to mingle with the cognoscenti who inhabit theme parks and be able to clean up after them. We started work before the park opened, continued during the open hours and then finished up shortly after the park closed; all in the name of trying to maintain the cleanliness of the park. After working for a number of years at the "Happiest Place on Earth", it truly had become a job to me. But every now and then, in the midst of the 60,000 visitors (the parks capacity at that time), I would glimpse something that instantly transported me to the Disneyland I had visited as a child - and it was a job no longer.


So now, especially right now, I want the "glimpses" to last longer. I know that I can make the glimpses last and make them become my reality because, although I may have cancer, cancer is not my job.


SURGERY: We met with Dr Swift today and expressed my desire to go under the knife in Westwood. After a bit of Stephanie persuasion, he supported my position and started to work on the referral. Keep good thoughts that the referral is approved and I can get my scar at UCLA. 

UCLA, by a nose.......

So, Stephanie and I arrived early at the UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center for the second opinion. More forms, more waiting, more forms, more waiting, more forms, and finally, more waiting. Funny how things start to surface from your subconscious when there is a familiarity about. I had related previously that my old patient number at UCLA (from the eye incident in 1964) has not been reassigned and I was reunited with it for this visit. Well, the waiting room looked familiar, the smell definitely had been around for a long time and the waiting is what nailed it for me - I have been here before!

Anyway, the initial examine was conducted by Dr. Sercarzs' resident (just like on Marcus Welby, MD; St. Elsewhere or even M*A*S*H) and man did she do a thorough. We went thru all of the test results, loaded up the DVD for the scan results, asked a ton of questions and then the piece de resistance was the scope down my nose; my nose not hers. A spritz of antihistamine followed by a quicker dollop of anesthesia, a few minutes to get comfortable and then "down periscope"......

After what seemed like 45 minutes of "scoping", the resident left the room and presented to Dr Sercarz. It turns out we were able to overhear the entire debrief (a solid B+/A- from the judges) and then in walks the good doctor. Salutations, regurgitation of the results/scans and then a confirmation of the initial diagnosis. The discussion centered around the merits of surgery followed by radiation/chemo or radiation followed by surgery. Recommended path was surgery to remove the tumor, include "random" biopsies and then follow with radiation. He noted that as an academic medical center with a specialty in cancer, they do this type of surgery most days of the week. He also stated that my tumor was sized and located "ideally" for surgery - oh what a joy!

NEXT: Looking to schedule surgery, an appointment with the radiation oncologist and a hope that the scar is visibly cool.......I have to go blow my nose now, excuse me.

PS: Thanks to my in-law's Suzanne and Derf who went to school with Prosper who knows Dr Sercarz professionally and had already "presented" my case....do you know anybody?

"What can I do to help?" you ask....

Wes and I
at Pauley Pavilion

The next path on my journey starts tomorrow with my first medical visit to UCLA in about 40 years. Wow, wow, wow!! The first time I went was when I was but a yee lil bean for my previously disclosed glass eye; then did not return again until frequenting the jazz clubs (has anyone seen Ottmar Liebert perform - live?) during my years in law school at Pepperdine in the mid 80's. I next found myself at Pauley Pavilion watching Wesley during summer residential basketball camps and summer soccer camps on the intramural fields in the late 90's. Stephanie and I have also been to Drake Stadium to see the UCLA Women's Soccer team play in the mid-2000's. Now, I get to go the Ronnie "Raygun" Medical Center for the opinion of the esteemed Dr Sercarz. Tuesday at 11am - keep your toes crossed ;)


I titled this post "What can I do to help you say?" because I wanted to let everybody know that has asked me that question what my answer wouild be. So, without further ado:


QUESTION: Gary, what can I do to help?


ANSWER: First, I want you to know that I have the most excellent core of support that anyone can imagine. I have Stephanie (spouse, friend, chef), Wesley (son, text guru) and the Grandma (Virginia, Bunkie, Auntie, Verge & Shortie). That core then extends to my brother (Mr. Legendary Leather), cousins and aunts and uncles and friends that stretch from Brayton Ave, across the border down Mexico way to the Pacific Northwest (Hi King Family!) to the eastern shore (Alexi, tell momma and poppa hi from the westcoast) and down south to Bordeaux street in New Orleans (ahhh, nothing like an Old Fashioned (or two!) at Galatoire's). So, you can see that I am very well represented and have tons of assistance.


What I do need help with is to make sure that my support is "supported". What I mean is that with all these people helping me, who is helping them deal with what I have? If I have had a chance to bend your ear you know that I ask that the tears and the words of sorrow expressed after hearing about "my little friend" be tempered if not completed squelched. I have instead stated that you ask me how my change in diet is going, how about them "Doyers", any news about the second opinion, etc, etc, etc. 


I know that it's natural to shed a tear and say you are sorry to hear that I have cancer, but the path I have chosen feeds off of the complete opposite. The weakness in my chosen path is that I have effectively shut off the most natural response that people have. For my inner circle - my core of supporters, that could be detrimental.  

Stephanie & The Grandma at
their 1,000th Wesley soccer game

So the way you can help me is by helping my inner circle. If you know Stephanie, be there for her in ways that work for her (can you say Burke Williams?). If you are a friend of Wesley, become an outlet for him when he needs to get back to normal for a while. For the Grandma, anybody want to go to church with her to say a prayer or go shopping to "Wal-Mark"? 


I need your support now more than ever in my entire life and I am not ashamed to ask for help nor am I afraid to ask "will you help me?".  Will you?

What can "eye" do..........

My thoughts flow from what's happening inside me (medically speaking) to how what is happening to me is affecting other people (emotionally speaking). Again I make reference to OLG (see previous blog),  Aquinas High School (St. Thomas Aquinas that is) and the Negrete Dynasty in Berdoo for molding me into the person that I am. "Eye" never was much of an athlete growing up and I always attributed that to the loss of my left eye at the tender age of 18 months. Never having had the ability to see out of both eyes forced me to strengthen my right eye while trying to protect it as the last survivor. Having limited movement in the glass eye drew attention (at times unwarranted and definitely, unwanted) and my response was to deflect it with humor - sarcastic at times, witty at others and sometimes downright hilarious. Forty-eight years later I have honed my deflective wise-ass cracking craft so that most do not notice the lack of movement in my glass eye.

The set-up here is really just to relate how I made some money in grammer and high school - I took my eye out. Yes, catholic humor has its merits! I would conspire with friends to identify new victims/students who were not aware of my gift of sight. We would broker a deal on the unlikely premise that "Gary can take his eye out, wanna see?".  Consideration  (money, pesos, a goat.....) was exchanged and the deal would go down when the unsuspecting nun was not looking. I would calmly pinch the glass eye out out of its socket, pop it into my mouth (how else would I clean it?) effectively completing the deal. 

Again, I would use the point of my unwanted attention (the wandering eye) to deflect attention away from ....... the wandering eye - brilliant! At least I thought so. This technique helped me to overcome how I would feel when I was looking at someone; but my body, my head and more importantly my eyes were not angled just right.  My good right eye was looking at them; but that damned glass eye had a mind of its own and was determined to "look" somewhere else (usually just over their shoulder causing them to look over their shoulder). 

Anyway, "eye" want to be the person who I am. I want to keep being the best of who I am regardless of what is growing inside me and what will need to be done to fix it. I want to be the person that made you think that I actually could be a friend of yours. I just don't want to be me, I will be me. I decided on that as soon as the doctor told me it was cancer. I decided that the way to deal with this was to deal with it the only way I know how - by being me. So when you see me and it seems like it's still the same old Gary, know that "eye" am just being me.

I am going to UCLA for a second opinion next Tuesday with the expectation of surgery to remove the tumor within a couple of weeks, so channel your good thoughts and prayers. Funny, we found out that I have an old UCLA patient number from when we used to travel from Berdoo to Westwood to see my "eye" specialist forty some odd years ago.........

Some more.......

I love somores! Camping has been a part of my life for more years than I can remember. Growing up our vacations were spent on the road, just a truck with a camper shell, a station wagon and a tent. There were hot meals twice a day (including breakfast, no cold cereal and toast for us); lunch was on the road. We would get up and start moving around 9am, then drive until around 3pm when we'd look for a place to stop. With three to four weeks each summer, I can say I may have been in virtually every campground on the west coast from San Diego to Vancouver B.C.  Quite the achievement for a kid from Berdoo (aka San Bernardino). 


Anyway........somores. You remember things that have played a significant part of your life (yes, somores qualify) and more especially, those people who have played a significant role. Recently, I have cause to remember more of those people - cancer makes you do that. Chalk one up for the big C! 


So, for more info.........


I started this year with a ride on the Fullerton Loop with my buddy Larry (of Gary, Harry and Larry fame...but that's another blog). I couldn't get my fat rear through the entire loop and had to abandon (that's biker talk) after my front tire flatted - I believe from the fatness (I be one big mexi"can") that I asked it to carry. So I decided to tadaaaa.....lose weight. After shedding a few lbs, I was shaving and noticed a lump on the side of my neck. Thinking inflamation, I waited a few days, with lump still present I decided to see my doctor. I was going to just go to Urgent Care when I discovered that they were in the process of moving to the same building as my Doctor. Ok, ok, ok, so I just called my doc. He examined me (after scolding me about the extra lbs) and my journey began.......x-ray, blood test, urinalysis, MRI, FNA with ultrasound, bronchoscopy and finally, the PET scan.


NOTE: I have chosen to take on my cancer head on. It may be my upbringing in Berdoo, it may be the nuns from Our Lady of Guadalupe (Sister Maria Aunsuncion......remember her?) or it may be my Dad. I am going to say yes to all with a special nod to my old man. 


So with this mindset, I have titled my blog the "Aztec Cancer Warrior". This is in homage to the Eagle Warriors who helped to defend the people of Aztlan ("Aztec" in Nahuatl), a mythological place for the Nahuatl-speaking culture of the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries that were situated on an island in Lake Texcoco (now the location of Mexico City). The Eagle Warriors were one of the leading military orders in Aztec society and were considered soldiers of the sun.


That's what I want to be when I grow up, a soldier of the sun........

The first step.

My name is Gary and I have cancer. Boy, what a sentence to write much less to say. Sometimes it's surreal.....the doctor's, the appointments, the procedures and oh yes - that mass on my neck. Although I can recite the medical lingo pretty easily now, the word is still "surreal". Not necessarily dreamlike, not really like anything that I have felt or experienced before. As a matter of fact, except for my companion (the mass), I feel great!


So, that's enough for now. Say prayers, keep happy thoughts and check back soon.


P.S. For the medically curious, my diagnosis is squamous cell carcinoma with an occult primary.