THE LONG RIDE
I don’t claim to be a great blogger. I am just not committed enough to it to learn the intricacies of posting pictures with ease, or even selecting the pictures people might like seeing. And, of course, I wonder if anyone even reads it anyway. This post is not to amaze or impress people but give glory to God. It isn’t that I don’t have anything to say, especially on my journey with Prostate Cancer. I have things to say all the time, but I don’t apply myself to record them in writing. But I am very grateful that I have come so far so successfully. Sometimes I even surprise myself!

I must tell you about my most recent visit with the urologist/surgeon who removed the offending member, back on February 23, 2017. But first let me start with the Friday before that Monday appointment. Sometimes the phlebotomydepartment at the clinic isn’t as fast as the one in Boston to get the results to the doctor by the time I see him. So the last time I was there he suggested we go a day or two ahead of the appointment to get the blood drawn to insure he has the results in hand. This clinic where he goes once a month is at Foxboro, right next to the stadium. That Friday there was a big concert going on at night, and the clinic would close at 1:00. After a s

tring of amazing things I was standing at the desk at 12:58! The nurse teased me and said they were closed. Anyway, we just made it, and I got the blood taken.

Dr. Trinh is great! I have gone to see him often, since I have to do periodic blood tests every three months to make sure the cancer doesn’t come back. He is still amazed that someone who had such an aggressive form hasn’t had a reoccurrence. He has assured me that if it does show up there are treatments (Hormone therapy, Radiation) that can treat it. Of course, they come with side effects.

This past week’s blood test was another { PSA <0.02 } great test. As we chatted about the results he told me that since I was 1 ½ years out from surgery and I had only had good tests, even with how bad the cancer was there was only a 5% chance it would ever come back. He told me I will not die from prostate cancer! I wasn’t worried, but it was still good to hear!!

In fact, that called for a celebration! We did it in style, too. We drove across the Bourne Bridge at Buzzard’s Bay and rode 20 miles on the north segment of the Shining Sea bike path. We ate clam chowder and stuffed quahogs. 

Friday I rode (by myself) from Willimantic to East Hampton. It was 21 miles just to get there and I thought, “I still have to go back!” Since Christina was in Florida with her brother, I couldn’t call her to come pick me up somewhere. I was chasing around in my brain who else I could sweet-talk into bailing me out; Amy? Lisa? Bill? when right there across the street at the end of the trail was a bike shop, Airline Cycles. 

I have this thing of collecting socks from places that have their shop name on them. I already have quite a few, but you can never have too many. <:-)

So, I parked my bike and went in to ask if they had any. They did and I bought a pair. Since I was there I told the three people in there that I was a cancer survivor, and I wasn’t going to die of prostate cancer. They thought that was wonderful (or at least said so) and offered me a bottle of water. I declined, but before I got back to the car two hours later I was wishing I had taken it; I had emptied my biking bottle.

As I started that ride back toward the car I was filled with an awareness of how great and kind the Lord was to me. There I was, riding along on the same bike with the same seat that I used in my pre-cancer riding time. In fact most of my life is pretty much as it was before. Those thoughts invigorated and energized me for the ride back. It was my longest ride since 2016, the second-longest ride ever. The other one was 53 miles, but on paved surfaces as opposed to stone dust on yesterday’s ride.

Now it is the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. Tomorrow our family is going to be celebrating Lobsterfest, a family tradition that we have been doing for more than a decade. I will be there, by the grace of God! I will be able to enjoy the food and many of the beautiful people that are part of my life. I even share DNA with a lot of them!

I pray your weekend is good. Thanks for reading.

THE RED KNIFE

 Hello. It has been a long time since I have posted but I felt that I finally have something to say!

               The picnic area.

               

I never cease to be amazed at how things can seem bad, but then we see it from another angle, often hindsight, and it makes complete sense.  It is as though things had to go the way they went, even though we were distraught about it at the time.  I will share a couple of examples.

Yesterday Christina and I went for a bike ride, something we like to do when we can.  This particular day we had the whole day.  We rode from East Granby through the notch in the top of Connecticut and into Massachusetts. We made it all the way to the northern end in Westfield, MA, at the Stop and Shop. I went in and got a grinder, bag of chips, and Coke. We headed back down the trail looking for a shady spot to eat our lunch of fruit and my newly acquired lunch.

We settled on a spot where we could sit on a giant block of granite, something left over from the days before the railroad, when an old canal ran from New Haven to Westfield. We were within sight of the factory where Columbia bicycles used to be made years ago. We thoroughly enjoyed our lunch and ride back to the car.

We drove the 20 miles to Costco, as we often do, to pick up some things. It has nothing to do with the story, but on our way to Costco we saw a bear!! Anyway, after we had shopped and we were putting our purchases in the car I took a peach out of the box for us to share in the parking lot. I reached into my left pocket for my knife so I could cut it…it wasn’t there! Almost immediately I knew it must have fallen off the block as we were having lunch. It was a nice Case knife and had a red handle.

The knife

It took us 20 minutes to drive back to a parking area near our picnic spot. As we drove I figured that the chances for finding it weren’t that great. And like they say, finder’s keepers!! But I unloaded my bike and rode the 1.2 miles down the path to the spot. And there it was!

What if I hadn’t gotten the peach out of the box in the parking lot? What if Christina hadn’t encouraged me to go look, keeping a cheerful attitude the whole time? What if I had given up? BUT I did get the peach that needed to be cut, Christina did gently push me along as we went, and I didn’t give up.

Another infinitely more serious event took place earlier in July. Maybe once a year we have the Saturday night group from church over for a cookout. On July 14 we gathered about 5 pm for hot dogs and hamburgers. As we finished eating there was a commotion on the road in front of our house. As we investigated, we discovered that a young man had been unable to stop his motorcycle at the intersection from going into the path of a pickup and was struck.

Several of our people were nearby praying. One of our men and myself assisted a lady who was administering CPR. We were praying with him and for him as he died. I prayed with the man’s grandfather who had walked to the scene, and I prayed for the young lady who was driving the pickup that hit him. It left our whole group shaken as well.

But thinking back on that evening, what were the chances we would be at our house on a Saturday night? Who would have prayed for him if we hadn't been there? We were supposed to be there so we could be praying for that man. Only God knows what happened in those final moments of his life. Did he subconsciously cry out for mercy, like the thief on the cross? More personally, I wondered if I was spared from cancer so I could be there. I’m just glad we were there. I’m glad it went the way it did.  I’m thankful for the wonderful people of God who were over for the evening.

Most of all, I am so glad that God has a great plan. I’m glad I know Him, and I pray that I will be in His will for all my life. Whenever you are in a hard place, call out to Him. He will show you what the next step is.

A CONNECTION

When we go through something hard we might get the feeling that we’re the only ones who have ever gone through it. In a sense, that is true. We are all individuals with our own emotions, personalities, and previous life experiences that all play into our lives who we are and how we react in various situations. It is annoying to have a well-meaning person launch into a narrative about how they knew someone in a similar situation to what we are in and how it turned out for them.

Recently I knew of a lady who was with a friend who was waiting for results of medical tests and, quite possibly, bad news. The friend of the sick lady said, “I’m not worried! I’m ready to die.” She then told the poor lady all of her plans; about the funeral arrangements, her burial plot, and headstone. Maybe it was well-meaning but her timing really stunk!

It is an odd thing, but now that I have survived a year beyond a cancer diagnosis I have a lot more empathy for people who have cancer. I understand how it is to try to navigate the mental and emotional landscape of the disease and focus on what the next step is. Cancer is sneaky and it is not Step One, Step Two, and Step Three; done!! It involves trying to understand the facts and pursue the best treatment options. Then there are the blood checks and scans, seeing if the illness is leaving, staying, or getting worse. It is looking over your shoulder while, at the same time, trying to look ahead and be optimistic.

I feel a connection to people who have, or who have had cancer. I have a deep respect for them and their courage. Without saying a word, I understand and feel comradery with them. I don’t care what brand of cancer they have. I feel connected.

                Soon we are going to be making the drive to Florida to spend some time with Christina’s brothers, sister-in-law, and another couple. We look forward to riding our bikes again. I am going to work out and exercise to prepare my muscles to the idea of actually doing something! Talking about bikes reminds me of something that happened a few years ago. I call my story…

First Ride

                We love adventures!  One of the best ways to be assured a good time is with our bikes.  So, since the forecast was 57º for the day after Easter, I loaded the bikes into the van before I went off to play golf with my guy from church with the hope we could get in a ride later (if I got back from playing golf in time).  I got home about 2, and just before we jumped in the car for the 45 minute ride to the bike path, I said that we ought to bring raincoats because showers were in the forecast.  Christina threw them in her gym bag, we got in, and off we went.

                Arriving at the East Bay Bike Path, the temperature was about 60º, the sky was blue, and we were so happy to be breaking out of a long New England winter for our first springtime ride.  Raincoats?  Nah!  We wouldn’t need them.  We headed down the path with a stiff breeze in our faces, looking forward to a cup of Starbucks coffee and the ride back with the wind at our backs.

                After a very satisfying cup, we pointed the bikes northward from Barrington toward the car.  But alas!  The sky was very dark in that direction and the wind had shifted so it was blowing right in our faces…again!  After a few minutes the rain started.  I told Christina to keep riding and I would go on ahead to get the car.  She was to wait for me at an agreed-on place. 

                I rode as fast as I could against the wind and the cold, biting raindrops.  I reached the car, trembling from exertion but happy to be where I could get warmed up.  The three mile drive to her was just enough time to get the car comfortably warmed.  As I loaded her bicycle she said she would still like to go get something to eat to celebrate finishing the Easter activities, as we had talked about before.

                We drove to Haines Park to change and look for what we could put on.  She had some sweatpants in the bottom of her bag (under the dry raincoats) and a shirt.  She also had a dry Red Sox tee shirt.  I donned the Sox shirt and the pants from a suit we were intending to drop off for cleaning.  As I took off my wet clothes I spied my Blue Tooth on the parking lot where it had fallen off my ear.  I picked it up and turned it off.

                Arriving at Federal Hill, we prepared to get out of the car to go find a restaurant in which to eat.  I decided to take my Blue Tooth along, but couldn’t find it.  After we ate and had a leisurely time relishing that first ride, we returned to the car.  We looked a bit more for the Blue Tooth before we headed home.  Arriving at home we looked for it in more earnest, and then decided to look again in the daylight.

                All searching came up empty.  Christina suggested that we ought to go back to the Haines Park parking lot and look, so after an evening Deaconate meeting we hit the road at 9:00 pm.  Arriving an hour later, we scoured the parking lot for about 20 minutes where we had changed the day before.  Nothing.  Cold and bummed, we headed home.

                As we got out of the car, we grabbed things that needed to go in the house; raincoats, a gym bag, a little garbage, etc.  Christina picked up a pair of biking gloves, and there inside was the AWOL Blue Tooth! 

                Thankfully we love each other and we put up with each other.  Also we are thankful that we consider something like going to look for a Blue Tooth late at night an adventure, too.  Did an angel slip it into the glove?  Maybe.  Did I just forget where I put it?  Maybe.  But we choose to give God the glory that we recovered it, and had fun during the hunt.

God bless you all.  Spring IS coming!

Gil