Good News... I have pneumonia

Well, I finally have some clarity regarding my recent health. As many of you know, I have not felt well for the past four to five weeks.

I had a CT Scan today to rule out any possible cancer involvement. Normally, Dr. Zu contacts me within 24 hours, but he called me within a couple of hours of the scan to let me know that I have pneumonia. While this may seem like bad news, Christine and I are relieved that there is no change in the status of my cancer. I cannot begin to tell you what an emotional burden has been lifted from us with this news.

I will start on an antibiotic tonight.

Thank you for all of the positive thoughts and prayers. They have made the last four weeks bearable.

All my love.

Update

I apologize for the gaps in my blog.

Since I posted last, much has occurred:

While still teaching, I have taken a Sabbatical from coaching this spring. I have taken the time to work on my professional life, tutoring over at the San Diego State Community Reading Clinic and working to finish up my Reading Specialist Credential. I should have everything complete by end of 2014.

I have enjoyed spending more time with Christine! This has been a blessing for sure!

In February, Christine and I delivered the inspirational speech at the Annual Mass of Hope. The transcript of the speech is below:

Fr. Clavin, Members of the Family Cancer Support Ministry, Parishioners, Family, and Guests, thank you for joining us tonight for the 5^th Annual Mass of Hope. With humility, Christine and I are honored to share with you our journey with cancer and our experience with the Family Cancer Support Ministry.

Please join us in acknowledging the members of this wonderful ministry (please stand to be recognized).

*Before we continue, I’d like to share with you that I saw my doctor today and am happy to report that I am doing well!

________________________________________________________

You have cancer. 

Words that no one wants to hear. Words that strike fear into the hearts to whom the statement is delivered. Words that strike fear into the minds of the ones who love and care for those who have it.

Karl Menninger, famous psychiatrist, stated that “the very word ‘cancer’ is said to kill some patients who would not have succumbed (so quickly) to the malignancy from which they suffer.”

While cancer is diagnosable and discernible as a biological mutation through medical examinations and tests, the very label itself embodies a frame of mind that often determines life and death. Hearing the word “cancer” is sometimes worse than the actual disease itself.

During the year following my diagnosis, cancer was all Christine and I talked about. It was, as St. John of the Cross described, our Dark Night. Doctors’ appointments, medical insurance, prescriptions, side effects from my treatment. Every ache was magnified into another aspect of cancer. I’d come home and dump all my frustrations, anger, angst, and fear on Christine. While Christine was supportive and understanding, one day she had enough and turned to share her frustrations, anger, angst, and fear with me. She had held onto these feelings for a long time because she believed that her feelings couldn’t compare to the one who had cancer. If I couldn’t share with my wife, with whom could I share? But I was being selfish. If she couldn’t share with me, with whom could she share?

The conversation sticks vividly in our memories:

Do we have to talk about the fact that you have cancer again? Isn’t there anything else we can talk about?

You are my wife, I should be able to share my frustrations with you about living with cancer.

Okay, you are my husband, and I should be able to share my frustrations with you about you sharing your frustrations with me about living with cancer.

We looked at each other, paused, and realized that for the sake of our relationship something had to change.

It was important for Andrew to talk with someone who understood what it was to have cancer (thank you, Will Hurley), dealing with treatment and side effects, while contemplating the mortality of the whole experience. Only someone who has had cancer, is battling cancer, or, like him, is living with cancer can relate to what that means.

It was important for me (Christine) to speak with someone who understood what it was to live with someone with cancer (thank you, Mary Brewer). To understand why someone who was normally positive and full of life was now intermittently depressed and angry, or often sullen and quiet.

We started attending the Cancer Support Ministry by chance about six months before this conversation after we were invited by two friends (Erin and Andy Mangahis) to attend mass at St. Gregory’s. In the bulletin on that day was a notice about the cancer support ministry.

Through the cancer support ministry, we learned to embrace cancer as an opportunity to love life, to love God, to love nature, and to love each other and our families each and every day.  And through the cancer support ministry, we emerged from our Dark Night to discover the radiant love of God and family around us.

To have hope, one’s vision cannot be dark and uncertain. One has to make a choice to embrace life, love, and forgiveness, and to live each day with intent and purpose. We learned what about life was worth living for. 

We look forward to offering support and encouragement to others who may have the diagnosis of cancer thrust upon them. Cancer is, after all, a family illness.

  

Cancer is not a death sentence.

Cancer is not the end of the world.

Cancer is not the focus of our lives.

Yes, we have cancer.

But it doesn’t have us.

Thank you. God be with you.

Dr. Zu has been out of town on vacation, so I haven't seen him since February. I am hoping to talk to him this week to find out the results of my latest blood work. My body is fighting something, and will feel better when I had a chance to talk to him.  I have maintained my weight thanks in large part to good eating and a great appetite.

I am looking forward to vacation at the end of March. Time to re-create, re-charge, and to re-juvenate!

All my best.