Gone Fishin'

Today is just a lazy summer day at a friend's house on a lake. It started with a bike ride, then there was a row boat adventure across the lake in a boat with two adults, two kids and three small dogs!

Sometime after boating I find myself on the dock with Robert, a two year old who can't get enough of fishing! I cast the line for him thinking he'll learn to pick up this skill, but without kids of my own I don't realize what the capabilities are of a two year-old! So we sit on the end of the dock. He talks. I talk. I'm not sure either of us knows what's being said by the other - but it's all positive! His feet just barely hang into the water. My legs are so long they're submerged up to my shins.

We're actually swinging a hook at the end of the line. Each time he reels it in and pops the lure onto the dock I'm laughing, flinching and guarding us against the sharp tip. His mom finally realizes and she comes to our rescue by removing the hook from the line. I laugh and apologize explaining that I've only got "Uncle skills" but no parenting skills! ;) Robert remains content with me simply casting a bobber and him reeling it in.

Each time as he reels in the line I ask "is there a fish?" Nope, the fish never appears but then the fish is not really relevant to the experience. :)

Pool party part II

Another pool party. This time the kids are on their own in the water - I'm hanging out with the adults. There are a few people I haven't seen in a long time and we share what's been going on in our lives. My memory banks have been filling up with new experiences. Even though I'm "the guy who lost his wife last Winter" I can also now talk with excitement about other subjects.

I do find I'm a new member of a "club". The people very closely affected by cancer seem to easily share the details of what they've gone through. We compare notes about experiences with hospice, treatments, doctors, medications. I'm loosing my sharpness and don’t always recall the details about a particular chemo treatment or the types of anti-nausea medications. I do however retain a good layman's grasp about the basic mechanisms of cancer. Some folks share their opinions on grieving and how they think it works (or how it worked for them).

I spend time talking with a woman one-on-one. Her mother had cancer many years ago and survived, but last Winter a new type of cancer was discovered. Due to the mother's age and the advanced disease there would be no treatments. They began to prepare for a meeting with hospice and began to consider the challenges they would face over the next two to four months as the cancer took it's toll on the mother and on the family. Then unexpectedly, before they could even make the transition, her mother passed away. I felt for this women who had anticipated a period of care giving and likely a period of saying goodbyes - now seemingly robbed of the experience.

I guess cancer (and death in general) work on their own timetable unknown to us. Better to say what you're feeling and be sharing your life now rather than wait and find that soon it's too late. After all "too late" could only be a week away…

Why do we do these things?

Why did one hundred and forty people sign up for this weeklong bicycle ride? Who knows - probably for one hundred and forty different reasons! I know the first reason that I signed up was to pursue a dream. Luckily by the time we'd arrived in Niagara Falls I'd also rationalized that I must want to attempt biking five hundred miles in a week!

These days I'm glad to be out on adventures again. I've been meeting lots of friendly folks and making some new friends. I had dreamed that this would somehow happen in a vacuum - that my history would fade away as a "new" me emerged. I guess there's no such thing. At least in my case, I seem to be the sum of my past experiences.

Something else happened during the week that I'd never anticipated. Somehow the fears of the past year are fading away. It's as if in the past six months my thoughts and emotions were trying to go all different directions left-right-front-back-up-down, but somewhere on this adventure things gradually shifted into alignment. This was during the week in which I lost track of the days, lost track of our whereabouts, and maybe lost track of myself a little bit.

I finished the ride with a sense of accomplishment and with a new sense of peace, contentment and focus. In the end, none of my initial goals had been met but I received so much more! The universe couldn't have given me better lessons than I found in the company of all the positive, joyful people who had planned, biked, and supported the ride. (thanks!)

Got my balance back

The morning's rain faded and we began to see small patches of blue sky until the rain ended entirely and we finished under sunny skies. After everyone in the group had showered and change their clothes Heidi encouraged us to sit by the finish line and cheer arriving cyclists.

I continued with stretching and at one point squatted to stretch the muscles in my legs. Just then Heidi passed by, she put a hand on my shoulder and pushed (intending to knock me into the grass) saying "let's see how good Greg's balance is". I wobbled backwards then forwards and then settled back into the squat position. I've got my balance back!

In the last two weeks my smile, my laugh and my balance have returned - for what more could you ask?

Singing

As the bike week progressed we learned a new tune. Anytime someone felt a positive boost they'd sing out the short ditty from the Vonage commercials "woo-hoo woo-hoo-hoo", and then the tune would invariably be echoed back by someone else in the group.

Tempering

Bikes frames can be made from various materials these days - aluminum, steel, titanium, carbon. Steel is often prized by cyclists because it can be designed to balance various properties - strength, rigidity, flexibility.

Steel's properties are influenced by how it is cooled and then subsequently heat treated. Often, the first step in hardening the material is to cool the hot steel quickly (e.g. quenching in an oil bath). This creates a steel which is hard, but is also brittle and fractures easily. Essentially, the rapid cooling does not let the ingredients (iron, carbon, etc.) time to settle into comfortable positions. The atoms are 'frozen' into small imperfect crystalline structures. The material is full of stresses and defects. At this point the rapid cooling has produced a significantly harder steel - but its characteristics are not ideal. Though it's surface is tougher, the byproduct is weaker in many respects.

Tempering, however, can significantly improve the properties. In this step the quenched steel is put into an oven and baked slowly for a long period of time. The temperature is not nearly as high as before so the steel retains its hardness and fine crystalline arrangement, but the lower temperature allows the internal structures to begin to "heal". Defects begin to resolve. Fractured areas are filled. Much of the crystalline structure begins to reorganize and reform into more efficient arrangements. The steel is now allowed to cool more slowly. The new crystals are stronger and more elastic. The final product is more flexible - it has the ability to shoulder greater loads without breaking and yet retains the hardness it's acquired.

I feel like I was hardened by the loss last Winter, and since then I've been in the tempering stage - softening up and becoming more flexible all the time.

Can't scare me anymore

In the six prior biking days we'd only experienced rain twice. Both times the showers had come late in the day, so folks who finished in the early afternoons had remained dry. The forecast for the final day was for rain to start by 11:00am. No one seemed to have trouble getting up early and getting on the road by 6:15am! This would be another fast day - it would start with miles of downhill and then finish with rolling hills into Saratoga Springs.

Well, the rain started earlier than forecast - by 8:00 a.m. The temperature was warm which reduced the risk of hypothermia, but the rain was a bit uncomfortable. With each pedal stroke I could feel wet squishing in the soles of my shoes. Visibility was reduced, the road was slick, the brakes on the bike became weaker.

We came upon a steep hill where everyone would have to stand up on their bike to climb it, even in their lowest gear. With the week's training behind me I felt stronger than ever. I struggled, but I had no fear. I replayed a phrase from earlier in the week "you can't scare me anymore" but this time I said it aloud to myself and laughed. It began to have meaning for me beyond the bike ride itself. It was a phrase that reverberated from that day in December when we first learned what metastases meant - there would no longer anyway to get the rapidly growing cancer out of Robin's body and it would eventually get her.

Ride with me?

I thought about what Jim had said the night before about "riding for two". I thought about Robin missing the challenge and the beauty of the ride. As I bicycled through the Adirondack Park forests I thought, well she's still here with me - and I invited her to help me pedal for a little while and enjoy the ride. My legs lit up with energy - could anyone keep up with both of us pedaling?

Beating cancer

I was thinking about how Robin never got to complete this challenging bike adventure. I guess we only get so much time to do things on this planet. Besides, Robin ended up conquering larger challenges including her battle with cancer. It did get her, but she never let it win. Last summer she told me about how she would meditate and she would talk to the cancer. She would tell the cancer that there wasn't room for both of them - "it had to get out, or she was going to take it down with her"…

It's all inside

Somewhere on the ride that day came the recognition that these issues really are not just inside of me but are part of me. I don't know why I felt like this was a new perspective. Maybe it felt like I was taking ownership of them? Maybe accepting them? I've always been OK with the grieving feeling, but somehow I was now starting to feel like I owned it, rather than vice versa.

Every week it seems to change slightly. Originally it felt like a tightness that started in my face and went down into my gut (well, originally I guess it felt like weakness in my entire body). Over time the feeling evolved so it didn't feel like it went as far into my gut. Then it only went as far as my chest. These days it feels like it affects just my face and throat. That's what still makes it hard to talk sometimes.

In June I had been biking alone near home when I experienced some grieving feelings. I began riding faster and faster - as if I could reach a speed where the feelings would finally become loosened and they would fly off of me.

On today's ride I had the sense that these feelings which ooze out once in a while from my insides aren't invaders, they're simply part of me.

Working out issues on the bike

The rest of the day Friday I rode pretty hard. I guess that's one place where I work out issues. Groups of bicyclists tend to stay together, so one guy riding out in front tends to draw the pack along with him. We took a break about two thirds of the way along the route and met the massage therapists for lunch. There were some comments about the increased pace today, I laughed and said I was just working out some issues.

When it was time to start biking again I got my gear together and said with a smile, let's go - I've got some more issues to work out! ;)

Let it on out

So here I was on this trip thinking I'd get a break from the grieving process. Like I could leave it at home and be an anonymous person, a blank slate to strangers and to biking buddies. Only today was the anniversary of Robin's surgery (could it really be a year ago?) I could feel emotions start coming up somewhere down the road. Luckily I know enough to talk about it when it starts. I paired off, riding next to Jim, and told him some of the story of that day.

A year ago Robin got prepped for surgery and I got a number to watch for on a television screen. By watching the number I could see her status change from prep, to surgery, and then after an impossibly long time, change to recovery. I finally got the call to see the doctor in a small sitting room off of the waiting room. He explained that they'd started with endoscopic surgery (going through her nose) but they couldn't get all the way into the sinus because of the blockages. They escalated to making an incision in her upper right gumline (inside of her mouth) which opened up access to the entire maxillary sinus. They sent several samples to the lab. Lot's of necrotic (dead) tissue and samples that were some form of cancer. He had cleaned out her sinus, but could see where the disease had escaped and infiltrated her gums. Dealing with this was going to require major surgery.

I recall being rather unaffected by the diagnosis itself, afterall Robin had self-diagnosed herself six weeks prior - what was the surprise? For the first time we had confirmed it was cancer and we could move forward. I focused on quesitons about "what were the next steps" to identify the specific type of sinonasal cancer and what we would do after that. The surgeon scheduled a follow-up appointment for us at his office the following Wednesday.

I went outside where there was a light drizzle and I called my Dad on the phone. It took a few minutes to be able to speak clearly. No matter what we had suspected before things had finally become scary. This is the day the crying started. Oh boy - a year ago! You'd think the tears would have run out by now!

They finally called me to go see Robin after she had woken up. The doctor had already talked to her. There wasn't anything much to say when I got to the bedside. Just acknowledging that we'd each spoken to the doctor, then hugs and crying. Time to get her out of bed and head home.

Larval Stage

I awoke up this morning thinking about the fun I was having and chuckling to myself. There's a brief period of time to think, between waking up and being ready to get out of the bivy sack. Since it's just a sleeve for the sleeping bag, once you're out of it, you're completely outdoors.

Noreen was already up. She saw me slip out of the sleeping bag/bivy and she said "It's good to see you coming out of your larval stage. Oh boy - she had no idea how appropriate that observation was!

Riding for two

After the day's ride Jim and I walked into the local town to explore. On the walk back the topic of cancer came up - Jim was wearing two bracelets, a yellow Livestrong bracelet for a family member who had contracted cancer, and a purple bracelet for one of his high school students who had passed away (Jim's a math teacher). I got talking about Robin and where we were a year ago - how we'd planned to do this bike tour, but cancelled when surgery was scheduled for that week.

Jim said "so I guess you're riding for two this year". I had to agree "yep, guess so".

Changed perspective

Feeling like a change, that night I shaved my beard to simply a goatee. Heidi noticed immediately. Most folks wouldn't notice the change for hours. Some probably wouldn't have noticed for days if Heidi hadn't given it away!

Looking Back

Today was the hilliest day of the week. Luckily we now had four days of biking experience and (amazingly) each day our legs seemed a little stronger than the day before. Today's ride, rather than featuring a long uphill and long downhill at the end of the day, just got more and more hilly.

Still I'd seen steeper hills than anything we were encountering (albeit the steeper hills had been much shorter!) After hours of ups and downs I found myself on a long uphill climb and I just thought to myself - the route can't scare me anymore - I've seen worse!

After a particularly long, speedy downhill and then a long grueling uphill climb (probably about five miles altogether), Jim said to slow and take a look back at where we'd come from. It was amazing to see the huge hills we'd just struggled over.

I thought - what a particularly useful attitude to take a look back and see where you've been and what you've accomplished. We're usually in such a rush to go forward we rarely see these things. It really helped put things in perspective to see that tough section which we'd gotten through and to know that we were stronger for the effort. It certainly gave me a new way to look at my last twelve months...

Kaaren, our map reader stated that we'd now gone over the last hill. Miraculously though, the hills continued unabated. The last five miles of the ride I couldn't stop laughing at each new hill we had to climb. Everytime we turned a corner and found a new one we'd exclaim "Oops!"

Evening visitor

Tonight's surprise was a visit by Anne from Cooperstown. She had done the same ride as Robin in 2004 (when Robin had difficulty with knee pain) and they had biked together. Later that same year Robin and I had biked with Anne in Cooperstown and also in Saratoga Springs. Anne couldn't do the bike tour this year, but she was visiting the tour group because tonight's campsite was near her hometown. I still don't know why some people are harder to see again than others, but I had a hard time getting started talking with Anne. Of course she knew Robin had passed away but she didn't know many details. Interestingly enough, our talk focused on what we've each been up to recently rather than what happened last year.

Nicknames

I think we got our nicknames on day two. Some of us had a few of them:

Susie - A Fine Whiner - it was most amusing when she claimed to realize how often she whined - but truth be known she is a very bright woman.
Me - Squad Leader, Flyboy (well, pretty much any name I would answer to)
Kaaren - Wroad Wren (Susie's spelling…)
Noreen - Mapgirl, Wild Thing, Easy Rider
Jim - Pegasus - for his legendary hill climbing ability

Cheerios

Today I felt so good I wore my Cheerios "Frosted the Whole way 'round" boxers to massage!

During the massage I pictured my body melding with the ground, fading away into the oceans, fading away into darkness. Feeling like I was everywhere, feeling like I was nowhere…

Oops - fell asleep on the table again! :)

Worrying about the "right" things?

Today's route was described as hilly, finishing with a ten mile uphill climb and then fifteen mile descent. All day long we talked about the upcoming ten mile climb. Even as we encountered steep hill after steep hill, we talked about the challenge of the ten mile climb.

We finally reached the ten mile climb, wrung out from all the hills we'd climbed earlier. As we proceeded upward we found that it wasn't that steep at all. Then it occurrs to us that a ten mile climb couldn't be all that steep or else it would climb into the stratosphere. We'd spent all day long fussing over the last big hill only to find that it wasn't the horror we'd expected.

On the other hand, the fifteen mile descent had a ferocious headwind. Rather than being the "piece of cake" we'd anticipated, the downhill required steady effort. Funny how at the end of the day we'd spent so much energy worrying about all the wrong things. We would have saved our energy if we'd just not worried and fretted about any of them.

Meaningless numbers

Sometime during the day I check the bike computer to see how long we'd been riding and how far there is left to go. For the first time ever the numbers were meaningless. How long had we been riding? Since we left camp. How much further did we have to go? Until we got to the next one.

Packing light - hump day

I've been wearing a very small pack the last few days, but today I'll ditch just about everything. What sense does it make to carry all kinds of extra gear "just in case" when all your effort is needed to surmount an obstacle? Take a few things to keep you going (spare tube, patch kit) but forget about covering risks that don't seem likely (no rain forecast - no raincoat). Why burden yourself worrying about things that "might" happen when it's going to take all your energy just to get through an ordeal?

Happy feet

I wake up feeling great! While still in my sleeping bag I was moving my feet to warm them up and I thought "I've got happy feet!". Today I'm OK with Ithaca and the memories and I'm happy to be here.

Aside from feeling good vibes, today is the first hill day and it's going to be difficult. The very first climb out of town will start less than a mile from camp, will be incredibly steep, and many folks will take it as a personal affront by Karen, the route planner and one of the tour organizers. Karen tells me the night before that on the climbs people will be saying that they "hate her", but when they encounter beautiful vistas and when they speed down long descents they'll be saying they "love her"! ;)

Tenacious

After dinner and massage several of us watch a baseball game that's going on at the school. At the end of the evening a small group of us walk down the street to see one of the waterfalls - it's one I've never seen before and it's pretty big. As we get closer we can feel a strong, misty breeze coming off the falls. I check out the rock walls which look to be loose shale. It's amazing that there is so much life in the smallest cracks and crevasses.

There are tiny outcroppings on which tiny plants are growing. A three inch fern which looks like a miniature model of a real fern appears to be growing out of moss which has found a place to grow on the edge of a loose rock. The tiny plant seems to have seeded, grown and prospered (albeit in miniature) with the tiniest of anchors! Life here appears to be incredibly bold and tenacious, growing and surviving with only the slightest encouragement.

Stretching every day

Massage Outdoors

Past and future collide

We're staying in Ithaca tonight. While biking today I've been describing to my fellow riders some of the neat things to see in Ithaca - the gorges, the parks, the restaurants. Robin went to massage school here in 1999 and she and I spent a great deal of the summer exploring the area.

It really doesn’t dawn on me that this is going to be another "year of firsts" experiences until we bike into town and enter the first park. My mind goes kind of numb as we bike over to the swimming area. See how neat it is here? Hey, I think, Robin and I spent a lot of time here…

After a brief stop we're biking again, right into the heart of downtown. Hey, I've been to that store, I've been to that restaurant. So far the numbness holds up.

Hey, I thought this bike vacation was going to take me away from all those thoughts? What am I doing here?

We finish the ride at the local school and my mind kind of spins with memories. On the massage table things finally catch up to me as I try to talk about it and tears start rolling down my cheeks. Heidi (the massage therapist) asks if there's something I want to say and I say "I'm trying, but it's just not coming out yet."

It takes a minute and then comes out in fits and starts about massage school and summers in Ithaca. Heidi asks if I want to drive over to see the Finger Lakes School of Massage. Nope - I never spent much time at the school personally. Here in the city we're in the middle of the memories, plus I'm getting massage which probably just amplifies things.

Winery breaks

Where are we?

During the entire ride I never looked at the map or directions (however there were painted arrows on the roads). Kaaren and Noreen were our primary guides. By the end of the ride we had met people who knew Noreen and Kaaren personally, and none of them expressed any confidence in the map reading abilities of these two. Who knew? They got us across the entire state with no wrong turns!

Where the wild things are

On the side of a building in Ithaca:

Flowers

There were so many flowers along the route, I could have sworn the organizers were tossing seeds out of the car when they marked the route two weeks prior to the ride!

Summer Camp

This is like going to summer camp for adults! Today we're singing - The Brady Bunch song, Simon and Garfunkel, and constantly the chorus from some song that goes "rollin', rollin', rollin" which describes the hills today. In several instances we start strong then change to humming a few bars when we can't remember the words - like "Just kicking around the cobble stones…hmmm, hmmm, hmmm...Feelin' groovy!"

This morning Susie presents Noreen with a lifeguard whistle, so she can get our attention the next time there's trouble! (She claims to have blown the whistle to test this theory before we started biking today and she got no response from any of us!)

Life is good

I'm in such high spirits I decide to wear my "life is good" boxers for tonight's massage!

Would want us to go on without her

There was some light rain today. It's still sprinkling lightly as we barrel down a four mile downhill near the end of today's route. At the bottom of the hill Noreen is nowhere in sight! We ask a passing biker who states that she saw her at the beginning of the downhill changing a flat tire. The remaining four of us discuss it as a group - ride back up the wet hill, wait for Noreen to finish, or continue to bike. We decide to call the support folks and tell them about Noreen's location.

Then someone says that if one of us were up there we'd want the group to continue on without us (hmmm…sounds a lot like life).

Luckily Noreen is also one of the most self-sufficient in the group so we decide to ride - we'll take the heat later! ;)

Hungry bikers

Kaaren, Jim, Noreen, Greg (me) and Susie

More adventure

Monday I woke up with a grin on my face, ready for more adventure! Since the bus ride I've been teasing Noreen that she talked me into this tour, saying that it was "Easy". :)

Robin had started this bike tour in 2004 with her friend Ann, but she experienced severe knee pain and had to cancel her trip after two days. On the positive side, someone on the ride told her about an Orthopod near home who could help remedy the knee pain by making inserts for her shoes. Robin subsequently met the fellow, got inserts, and then biked pain free. Even though she had cancelled her trip she always saw the positive side - that she learned about the Orthopod.

Monday afternoon I consider that fact that I've already gone further than she did on the ride.

Sunrise in camp

Longest ride

Sunday was a great day - the first day of the trip was the longest ride I've done all year, and I'm in one piece! I received a thirty minute massage last night which really helped with recovery. My back was a little sore, but the massage made it all better. :)

Bivy Sack

We'll, there was a weight restriction on what you could take on the trip. Instead of a full tent I brought a bivy sack which is simply a waterproof sleeve into which you slip your sleeping bag. My friend Susie teased me by saying it looked like a garbage bag! She compared my accommodations to Oscar the Grouch - I disagreed, stating that Oscar's got more room in his place! :)

Giving up control

The bicycle vacation starts with a bus ride to Niagara Falls. A group of one hundred and forty bicyclists will start there Sunday morning and then traverse the state - basically bike down to Ithaca, then up to the town of Speculator in the Adirondacks - finishing seven days later in Saratoga Springs and averaging about 70 miles a day. In the past I would have been more stressed about where I was going to sleep, how was I going to get a shower at the end of each day, what would be for dinner? Pretty much each night we plan to stop at a place like a public school, so we can camp outside or we can sleep inside a building (e.g. in a gymnasium). On the bus ride I asked fellow bicyclists about what goes on in an average day, but I never got hung up on the details like I might have in the past. This year I also had concerns about having just done two and half months of physical therapy for my back, but I was able to create contingency plans in case it didn't hold up for the trip. Luckily, there would be massage offered every night!

When Robin and I planned to do this last year we were going to stay at hotels each night and we were working hard to figure out how we could bring our own car along so we'd have "freedom" to drive around in the evenings. There didn't seem to be a way for us to do the trip without retaining some control over things.

I'm still not sure why I didn't seem to be worried about the details this year, though I sense that it's part of an outlook developed over the past year that everything's going to work out as planned. That happened to be one of the philosophies that Robin and I shared and which made things more bearable, though Robin took it a step further and she would acknowledge that even if the cancer got her it was just part of the plan, so no need to stress about it.

I guess I approach grieving the same way we'd approached the treatments. You can sense the path you're going down and you can choose to go with it, or to fight it. Somehow fighting it seems to sap your strength and energy without a commensurate payback. I think these days I also have a greater a sense of trust that someone else has thought out the details, and even if they haven't, people have been through this before and survived. And honestly, there are people around the world who survive each day in much harsher conditions!

All I knew this time around was that I didn't need to be in control (when are we ever in control?) and things were going to be OK.

House Cleaning

I do have this urge to clean up the house (ala Spring cleaning) when I get back from vacation in August. In May I had filled up the entire back of the station wagon with a bunch of Robin's clothes that I took to Goodwill. The hardest part was that I had anticipated the folks at Goodwill would ask where all this stuff had come from and I'd have to tell them the story.

Nope, they just said "put it over there in the bin" and went back to what they were doing.

Three days after I'd gone to Goodwill I found another entire dresser full of stuff but I'd lost the drive to clean it out (boy could she store stuff away!). These days I just keep seeing things in cubby holes and on shelves that I don't need anymore…

(Geez - it was harder to post this then it was to clean out the drawers in May!)

Chinese Fortune

No kidding, this came out of a Chinese fortune cookie shortly after I spoke with Kim:

Open your horizons and see all the options you have. Then you will truly be fortunate.

Robin and the "D" word

Robin and I did talk about my life after she was gone. I didn't bring it up, she did. She said that if the cancer did get her that she would expect that I'd start "D"ating again and eventually meet someone new. She even added "don't talk too much about me, that would be a turn-off". Boy, she didn't leave any stone unturned!

Anyway, beyond the discussion with Robin in the Fall, I kept the subject to myself until last Winter. I found a family member who would not only listen, but would ask questions and help me explore what I was going thru. We talked about the subject a couple of times and once again it helped me to get through some of the thoughts and feelings so that I could put them aside for a while.

I have now met many other folks who have lost a spouse. I can say we share a lot in common, but we also all approach things differently and on different timetables. I suppose the most we could all hope for is some sympathetic listeners!

The last few months I've met so many wonderful folks. The world seems full of possibilities. I don't know what's in my future, but I did get a chuckle from a conversation with my sister last month. We were talking about the subject of me meeting people and she asked "don't you think the universe will provide things to you when you're ready for them to happen?". I said "gee, after all the writing about the connected universe you think I could have come up with that one on my own?". ;)

Got my laugh back!

This past week somehow it's become even easier to laugh again! I seem to find humor in just about anything these days!

Positive thoughts

I recently wrote how the grieving process can involve cascading thoughts about the past. I'm happy to report that I've recently begun to have cascading thoughts about all the positive things in my future. :)

Off on an Adventure!

The week chosen for surgery in July 2006 was also the week when Robin and I had signed up for a bicycle tour in upstate New York. Once Robin's surgery was scheduled I contacted the tour organizer and cancelled our reservations.

This year when I started riding with a local club I met several people who had done the bicycle tour last year and who are doing it again this year. These new friends helped coax me into signing up for this year's ride, even though I felt under-prepared and I was concerned about back pain for which I'd been doing physical therapy this past Spring.

It wasn't until several days after I signed up for this year's ride that I realized this is exactly when life "went off the rails" last year. Rather than having a sense that I'm doing the bicycle tour to recreate some experience from the past, I know I've signed up this time for a new adventure.

I guess I’m just picking up where things left off… :)

July 2006 - finally, a nasal endoscopy

Last July was not a fun month. In the beginning of the month we'd seen many doctors - first for Robin's facial pain, and then for her swollen right cheek. Some clinicians stated diagnoses, others said it was outside the realm of their experience so they could not tell us what was happening.

The second week of July Robin began occasionally blowing debris out her nose that she thought looked like necrotic (dead) tissue. She put some in a sample cup and took it to the office of the Ear, Nose and Throat doctor whom we had been seeing. On that particular Monday the receptionist stated that Robin didn't have an appointment until the next day, so she would have to wait 24 hours to see the doctor. The next day we arrived for the scheduled visit. The doctor didn't see much significance in the sample which Robin supplied. He didn't see a need for anymore testing at the moment and thought we should follow-up with him in a few weeks. That was the last time we saw him, we didn't have time to wait.

The most disconcerting thing abut July was that soon after Robin's left cheek swelled up, puffiness had become apparent around her upper right gums. She and I would spend the rest of the month checking her mouth at least twice a day. She would sit in a chair, I'd examine her upper right gums with a flashlight and then describe what I saw. The area seemed to become more swollen and stretched each day. Throughout this period our dentist would see Robin on a moments notice - giving us some comfort that we had someone in our corner.

The third week of July we had an appointment with an experienced Ear, Nose and Throat surgeon. I'd seen him in the Spring for my sinuses so Robin had met him (she had gone to my appointment) and she liked his practical approach to things and his demeanor.

This new doctor was a big burly fellow who always seemed to be in a good mood. After a brief discussion he was picking up and prepping a nasal endoscope so he could take a look inside Robin's sinuses. He slid the instrument into her nose and had a look around. He picked up a suction tool which he inserted up her nose and I could see him visibly begin to tug. It was apparent by the way Robin's head was being jerked and the tears that were welling up in her eyes that this wasn't fun. The doctor apologized for the discomfort he was causing. He withdrew the tools and stated that there was some foreign debris coming out of the sinus (the maxillary sinus in your cheek drains into your nose) but he couldn't extract a sample - it was solidly in place.

He then studied the CAT scan and MRI images. He took so incredibly long I couldn't understand how there could be so much to look at. I wondered what he could be possibly be thinking about. After a lengthy study he noted one aspect of the image which did not support the idea of a sinus infection. In the blocked right sinus, up near where it drains into the nose the uppermost level of the blockage was crescent shaped. He explained that if it were a sinus infection and fluid, then the uppermost limit of the blockage would typically be a straight line across and not rounded.

We asked if it might be cancer to which he replied that he didn't think so because it was so rare, but we wouldn’t know what it was without surgery. He said he only did procedures on Fridays and wanted her back in ten days (July 28th, 2006). I asked if it couldn't be the upcoming Friday (push, push, push) - nope he was booked solid.

Well, at least we had a new doctor in whom we had confidence, and we had a plan.

During July I had begun to talk to my parents about what was going on. It didn’t seem necessary to start telling everyone about Robin's sinuses. After all, we were not sure what it was - what a commotion we might have caused for no reason at all.

Attitude of Gratitude

Several months ago I was taking a weeklong technical class which included an exam on the final day. The last evening before the test I arrived back at my hotel room feeling tired having just had dinner. In the past I would have studied anyway, but that evening I turned on the television and immediately fell asleep for a couple of hours. I have found in the past six months that some things no longer stress me out like they used too - plus sleep can be much more precious. For the longest time I was operating on five hours sleep a night. I would go a whole week in that mode and then sleep all day Saturday to make up for the accumulated losses. Talk about a walking zombie!

Anyway, when I awoke there was an interview program on the television and the guest, Dr. Robert Emmons, was talking about his new book "thanks!". The book is about how you can increase your level of happiness simply by being grateful for what you have in life. I believe this was one of the central tenets of the happiness Robin and I enjoyed the last five years, and it's part of what helped keep us positive through her treatment.

I bring this topic up now because at the time I saw the television program the book was not yet published, but I went ahead and placed an advance order. Today I found the book in my mailbox when I arrived home.

I haven't read the book yet, but here are a few excerpts from the first chapter:

Gratitude "requires a willingness to recognize…that we could not be who we are or where we are in life without the contributions of others.". "Gratitude also implies a recognition that it is possible for other forces to act toward us with beneficial, selfless motives." "Being grateful is an acknowledgement that there are good and enjoyable things in the world."

The book describes the measured benefits of having a grateful attitude and suggests ways in which you can foster it in your own life.

(I hope it's a good book - I won't have a chance to read it until next week!)

Got my smile back

I know it sounds weird, but I was just walking and smiling today. Lot's of times I've put on a smile, but today it's on my face with no prompting - as if now there's some joy behind it! I noticed it particularly because while walking along the sidewalk people were smiling back at me.

During the last few months I've sometimes felt like a ship battered by a storm. Now I have these periods in which I feel like I'm coming out of it and seeing calm waters.

One way or another

Yep, this afternoon the grieving response had been strong. What'd I expect going to an event to raise money for cancer research *and* getting a massage?

It turns out the feeling crept back three or four times before we even left the event. Then it was gone for a few hours. As I drove home that evening through Northern Jersey I soon realized I was passing the exit for the Lincoln tunnel into New York City - that's how we would travel to get to the Miracle House apartments. (It seems funny now, all the times earlier in my life when I'd gotten lost driving past NYC. Now all the highway signs just seem to make sense.) In a four month period last Fall I'd made a dozen trips to the city. Not that I was a veteran commuter, but I had learned five or six different routes to get through Northern Jersey and I had developed a sense for where traffic typically backed up, so we could choose routes to avoid it.

I look toward the city and I can see the cluster of buildings where the Miracle House apartment sits. I think about the very first trip into the city. I remember how high we kept our spirits during all those trips. I remember driving back after the first doctor's visit and getting home after 1:00 am.

Then I think about the drive home at the end of November after we met the doctors to review the surgical plan. When I'd sensed something was wrong with the PET scan images, when it felt like the doctors were no longer being specific about the upcoming surgical procedures and I couldn't figure out why they didn't talk to us about the PET results. I'd picked up the habit of speeding on the highway, but on the way home that day I outdid myself. While Robin slept I drive home at about ninety miles an hour, I cut forty minutes off the drive. Obviously some part of my brain knew something was wrong and was working overtime trying to make sense of the days events. I'll never know how I avoided a speeding ticket that day. The very next day the doctors would call to cancel the surgery.

So this is how grieving response starts. It starts with memories which begin to cascade and seem to take on a life of their own. You can sometimes stop it by halting the thought process, but the thoughts don't go away, they are coming back eventually. I think the more you try to hold them back the harder they hit you later.

So after this train of thought the grieving response *really* kicks in - like an overpressure relief valve keeping a cylinder from exploding! Boy it's been a while, but it can ramp right back up to the point where I can feel tears running down my cheeks, down my neck and into my t-shirt.

For the first time I can ever remember, this time I think "please make this stop".

Well, that's not realistic. At least I can hear the thought in my head. If nothing else, today just confirms what I've felt all along. You really don't want to try to stop the feelings from coming up, because they're coming up one way or another.

Metric Century

Well, Corry and I finished the fifty-five mile ride and then did an additional loop to add another seven miles. The total of just over sixty-two miles was the equivalent of 100 kilometers, a "metric century" in biker parlance.

At the ride's finish the organizers served lunch, plus we had access to a pool where we could rinse off after five hours of bicycling. After lunch we chatted with some of Corry's co-workers and then I made a trip over to the massage area to get Corry and I signed up for "ten minute" sports massages. Robin had done some events like this so I knew the routine - there'd be a waiting list so best get over and get our names on it!

On the way over I passed a tent where a band had been playing. The organizers were taking advantage of a break in the music to invite cancer patients to state how many years they'd been survivors. I suddenly felt out of place as I do whenever I hear survivors talk about their experience. Robin *was* a survivor, but she's no longer here. I never even had cancer, so where do I fit in? I guess I was one of the caregivers… After mulling it over briefly I remembered my place here (besides getting to spend the day with Corry) was to help contribute funds to research. I figure every day earlier we can get to a cure, that many more people (and families) will never have to experience cancer's effect on their own lives.

Well, this all started the grieving response again. I've had occasion to put it off before, like while walking around the grocery store, so I know I can just cutoff the response sometimes if desired. Yeah, probably not the best idea to do it all the time, but sometimes you're not in a convenient place to have tears running down your cheeks.

American Cancer Society Ride

Today my brother Corry and I are biking fifty-five miles in an American Cancer Society fundraiser near Philadelphia. Of the thousands of people who will be riding in the event, we’re part of a subgroup – the “Lockheed-Martin” team which consists of 676 bicyclists affiliated with the company. This subgroup alone will raise over $176,000 during today’s ride.

Contacts

My reintroduction to the world has been pretty controlled, and still pretty limited. Some folks I just couldn’t call for the longest periods of time. Sometimes the people who were closest to Robin and myself are the hardest to talk to because I feel that talking to them will bring back the grieving and memories.

That really hasn’t proven *completely* true (only partly true!). It’s actually been a relief to recently talk to some family members and find that the conversations often are focused on what’s going on in my life now, and what’s going on in theirs.

During the last few months I have sought out situations to meet new people and make new friends. There is some small sense of relief to meet someone and just be myself in the present - a blank slate. My past and my history unknown. I guess it gives me a chance to be just Greg, after twenty years of being part of “Greg and Robin”.

It feels weird sometimes. It feels different. But I’m still here and I’m seeking out new experiences, and I’m still growing.

Pendulum swings

Last weekend I returned from visit to my sister Kim’s place in Kansas. Dad and I visited the family for fourth of July week! Upon returning I spent a few quiet evenings doing not much of anything. I got the sense that I’ve been going in cycles since February. After Robin died I spent a couple weeks with Dad and then returned home and didn’t do much of anything for about six weeks. Many evenings were just spent laying on the couch watching television. For a long period of time I didn’t read e-mail or listen to the answering machine. When I got out of the funk it took a while to catch up with the world again.

Then I got very busy and I was never home. There were weeks when I wouldn’t arrive home until after 9pm. I’d be eating dinner by 10pm and going to bed after 1am. The “busy backsoon” periods. After a while I went back to seclusion for a period of time.

This past week I got the sense that I’ve been going through these cycles between being home alone and being out with folks. It’s been like a swinging pendulum, but the duration of each extremes has been getting shorter. Also the experiences are changing – when I am alone around the house I’m starting to be a little more productive. And when I’m with other folks there’s a lot less chatter in my head - I’m able to be more “present”.

The best news is that recently there are periods where I feel some sense of “normalcy”. It still feels like I’ve landed in some alternate universe where everything is inside-out and upside-down, but I have moments in which it feels like things are going to be OK.

Bisy Backson

Or in other words the 'Busy Back Soon' personality described in "The Tao of Pooh". The Busy Back Soon person is so busy doing things they don't have time to stop and enjoy life. I expect this was another facet of why I was getting out and experiencing new adventures this Spring - it was a way to occupy my mind!

I've certainly had some ups and downs the last several months. Back in March I wore an iPod nearly all my waking hours. For the last couple of months I've often felt a little hurried and a little off balance. I've been playing the radio in the car way too loud, and I sing to just about anything on the radio as if I'm going to be on the next American Idol show - except with no perceived ability to hold a tune. Well, I guess that wouldn't preclude me from making it to the tryouts! ;)

Two weeks ago things suddenly seemed to slow down a notch. I started to feel a bit more relaxed. I purposely began blocking off nights during the week to "not do things".

These days I'm not playing the radio so loudly anymore. I don’t feel so much like I'm in a hurry to get somewhere. Wherever I am at the moment seems to be OK.

Left Brain - Right Brain

I was talking to Alex about grieving the other day. I was saying how surprised I was that it could just come out of nowhere. He asked if it really "came out of nowhere" or rather if it occurred when I thought about things. I had to admit it really was related to when I thought about Robin in some way. For example, she used to always cut the grass and plant the garden and now when I do those tasks it reminds me of her.

I talked to him more about the grieving. I said it feels like there's a logical brain which knows everything that's happened - that Robin got cancer and she died and she's gone. Then it also feels like there's an emotional side which either doesn’t really understand, or doesn't want to admit, or still feels connected in some way to her spirit. It's as if the emotional side is like a child who is too young to understand that someone's died. You could explain everything logically to the child and they would seem to understand, then a few minutes later they could ask you if the person's going to be home for dinner.

When the grieving kicks in it's as if the emotional side is recognizing that something's changed, that something's not right, that something's wrong with the world.

Intersecting spheres

Way back in March I was trying to understand the strongest feelings of grieving. You might think that losing a spouse feels like losing half of yourself. Well, to me it felt like losing most of myself.

I drew a picture to try to understand better. It consisted of two intersecting circles - like two joined bubbles. One represented me and one Robin. Where the circles intersected I wrote descriptions about all the things that Robin and I shared - activities, interests, memories. In the other areas of the circles I made notes about things we did independently - like Robin doing massage, or me providing flight instruction. Some things appeared in both parts of the bubbles - for instance we did bike rides together, but we also did bike rides solo, or with other folks.

The picture actually helped me to see how much we did share and how intertwined our lives had become. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact it's another area in which I have no regrets. We really spent a lot of time together and we were better off for it. In hindsight it seems like the last few years we'd been sprinting to the finish line, cramming in "life" before things would change.

The drawing also helped reinforce that there was still a "Greg" in here. Though Robin's bubble and the intersection we shared was gone, there was still an independent "me". I'd like to think that like a soap bubble my sphere would right itself and become rounded again. I guess that's what's happening, I'm just not as elastic as a soap bubble so it takes some time! ;)

Storytelling

It seems to me that as human beings we often relate to each other through stories. When people get together they are often discussing what has happened today, yesterday or last week. Oftentimes we talk about things that happened months or years ago. It doesn’t matter so much if the person to whom we're speaking is someone we have just met or someone we've known for years. Telling our stories can either be conveying something about ourselves and our past, or it can be a way to share and rekindle memories with someone who may have actually been there with us when an event happened years ago.

I was recently with a couple and I noticed how the depth of their relationship was conveyed in how they told stories together. One prodding the other to tell about something that happened in their past. One helping the other fill in details about a funny event. Exchanging glances back and forth, sharing smiles, all while retelling stories about trying times that they'd been through together. Stories about difficulties they'd faced in their lives and the ensuing confusion. While the tales involved twists and turns, they were retold with humor and self-deprecation, and with the hindsight that only seems to come with age.

I'd never realized the closeness that a couple could convey just through conversation. In hindsight I can see how Robin and I had shared that same closeness of shared history. Hmmm…that's something I miss! It was kind of humorous when we reached the point of knowing so much of each other's history that if one person started telling a story about their past the other person could finish telling the story because they'd heard it so many times before. I guess that's one of the things about being a good listener, a good partner - even when you've heard the story a dozen times, you let the person retell it again anyway.

So it was quite an odd feeling in the Spring to find myself in this zone where I didn't have a partner who knew all about me. All the stories I had to offer seemed to be either about the cancer journey, or about the times with Robin before last summer.

After a while I found myself seeking out new relationships and new experiences. I think for two reasons. One was to meet people who didn't know my recent history. Second I think it's been a way for my mind to start building new experiences - things that I can talk about and share that are part of my history after Robin. It's not that I would avoid talking about her, or about what we went through, but I also didn't want to find myself always dwelling on the past.

It occurs to me as I write this that the blog is just another form of communication, another mode of storytelling. :)

July 2006 - The Big Push

Sunday July 2nd, 2006
Well, I didn’t understand that "Emergency Medicine" was a specialty until that day. We met a very conscientious physician who examined Robin and checked the CT scan report (by coincidence the CT scan had been done at that same hospital). He didn't observe anything new in Robin and he prescribed Hydrocodone (a semi-synthetic opioid prescribed for moderate pain). We went home and Robin took a pill. She vomited for the next 18 hours - which we attributed to the pain medication. However, if we knew what was coming on Tuesday maybe we would have thought differently.

Monday - July 3rd, 2006
Most doctors were out of the office this day, after all, last year, 4th of July fell on a Tuesday. Robin didn't have an appointment with the ENT doctor until next week. I the called doctor's office and mentioned blood, headaches and the trip to the ER. We got an appointment at an indeterminate time in the afternoon - "just show up and we will fit you in". It turns out I would rarely have to "plead" with anyone to get an appointment. I would focus on the symptoms, I would be persistent, I would make suggestions. Luckily that almost always seemed to be enough to get in "that day".

We arrived at the doctor's office and Robin was looking pretty ill from nausea. In the waiting room she put her head in my lap. I was toting around a vomit bucket and a towel. We were led to an exam room which had a "dentist chair" style seat for the patient. Robin got in the seat and held her head in her hands.

A young doctor entered the room. I suppose as the junior man he was probably seeing all of today's patients. He sat down, looked at the two of us - Robin with her head in her hands and me with the bucket and towel - and he asked in a quizzical tone "What are you here for?".

We gave him the brief sixteen day history and described the CT results. I'd seen a few Ear, Nose and Throat doctors over the years for allergies and we knew what to expect - a nasal endoscopy in which the doctor inserts an impossibly long scope into your nasal passages. Instead the young doc simply flared Robin's nostrils and used a flashlight - hey, I could have done that at home! After a perfunctory exam and a review of the CT results (we were already carrying her records to appointments) the young doc seemed to make a second misstep (in retrospect). He changed her prescription to Cipro - an antibiotic commonly prescribed for urinary tract infections. Between Robin's background as a nurse and my background with doctors visits, we weren't getting good vibes about these suggestions.

Well, we went home feeling not that much better (in fact Robin felt quite nauseous).


Tuesday - July 4th, 2006

Adrenaline ride

The next morning I awoke in bed alone. It was light out. It was morning. Hmmm...Robin's out of bed already. Hope she's feeling better today.

I made my way downstairs and saw her laying on the couch. I asked how she was doing and as I got closer I could see something wasn't quite right. "What's wrong?". She had this expression as if she'd done something wrong. As I got close-up I could see her right cheek was swollen! "You OK?". I felt shocked that something seemed wrong, yet she hadn't woken me up.

She sat up and we checked out her cheek. Wow - it was definitely swollen. "Should we go to the ER?".

"Well" she said, "the pain had lessened a little". We talked about it and we decided we would wait and see what happens. By 3pm I was getting ready to go for a thirty minute bike ride - about six miles. By this time we had actually observed that the swelling was increasing. We'd decided we would go to the ER, but Robin said "you go do the bike ride and then we'll go".

As I got ready Robin talked to a neighbor over the fence. They were pretty good friends and he was shocked to the see the swelling. He was the first to notice that her right lip was beginning to droop (presumably from pressure on her facial nerves). Robin explained, "yeah we're going to go to the ER after Greg goes out to bike six miles". The neighbor looked at us and his jaw dropped. I expect he didn't understand our nonchalance about her symptoms. Maybe Robin and I were practicing our denial skills?

Anyway, I biked the fastest I had ever biked in my life. I road the 6.3 miles in nineteen minutes. Adrenaline drove me up the hills and had me cranking on the flats. I averaged 19.3 mph on the bike computer. Thirty minutes after we’d talked to our neighbor I was showered and we were in the car on the way to the hospital again.


Discontinuity of care

Oh boy, a new doctor. OK, now we had a seventeen day history to describe to the doctor - and the story was getting longer to tell: two weeks ago intense headache and bloody nose, Sunday we were in the ER, the Hydrocodone made Robin vomit for 18 hours, Monday we saw an ENT. Can you help us?

Well, too many cooks in the kitchen. Since none of the meds had helped, this doctor concluded that Robin had a blockage in the salivary duct in her cheek and thus the rapid swelling.

He also concluded that she needed more pain meds! The Hydrocodone had made her ill, so he gave her two new prescriptions. One script for a larger size Hydrocodone pill and one script for an anti-nausea medication so the Hydrocodone wouldn't make her so sick.

Well, this doc wasn't making a great impression, mainly because of the pain med script. After being sick Monday, Robin would never again take Hydrocodone tablets. She was going to take lots of Advil and simply tolerate the remaining pain.


Weds - July 5th, 2006

Finally someone who doesn’t know!

Wednesday morning we awoke with a battle plan. A call to our family dentist's office - they said "come in right away" - and a call to the ENT office. I started the call to the ENT receptionist by saying "the doctor said to call if there was any change". I described the swelling cheek and the visit to the ER. She gave us a 10am appointment.

The visit with Tom (our dentist) was helpful. He examined Robin's mouth and stated that he didn't know what was going on in her cheek, but he didn’t think it was a blocked salivary duct and he didn't think it was a dental infection. Finally! We were strangely relieved to find a medical professional who admitted he didn't know! Astounding!

Then we went to the ENT office and met with a new physician (at the same practice) who obviously had more years and experience than the young ENT doctor we had seen on Monday. We gave him the eighteen day medical history, but we neglected to mention the morning's dental visit.

This new fellow also skipped a nasal endoscopy and simply used a flashlight to look up Robin's flared nostrils. He disagreed with all the prior doctors. In fact, he concluded that he had identified the problem! He explained that rather than a sinus infection, Robin simply had a dental infection and he wanted to change her antibiotics again (to Avelox). I said that was all well and good, but (by the way) we had just come from the dentist office. Well, the doctor went on some more about his certainty and then he asked for the name of the dentist so they could confer. We could hear him in the next room, on the phone with the dentist, discussing Robin's situation.

We left feeling no better. In the car I said to Robin "Let's go home and call the dentist again". We arrived home and found a message on the answering machine. It was from the dentist's office. While we were driving home they had called and left a message asking us to return so Tom could take a look at Robin again. Over the coming months we would see the dentist every week, sometimes twice a week. We would call Tom at home and on his cell phone, during the day and in the evening. The folks at that office probably never realized the comfort and the security they afforded us during that period of uncertainty. They helped keep us focused and driven while so many other caregivers promoted various theories about Robin's mystery illness.

So we saw Tom again that day. This time he took an x-ray. To him, the x-ray didn't support either the theory of dental infection or the theory of a blocked salivary duct. He still wasn't absolutely sure what it was and he wouldn't rule anything out. Maybe we needed to give it a few days and the answer would become obvious? Maybe we needed eventually to see an oral surgeon?

Thursday - July 6th, 2006

Well, we decided to not stop pushing. Thursday morning I called a friend who happens to be an oral surgeon. He said "Come to my office in the afternoon. Skip the check-in process and paperwork, just tell them I'm expecting you."

What a gift for someone with this expertise to lend a hand! Mark examined Robin and took x-rays. For the second time in our five day push, Mark essentially mirrored what Tom had said. He didn’t believe the issue was anything that had been diagnosed to date, yet it was nothing he had experience with and therefore couldn't provide a firm theory.

These two fellows, by summing up what they knew and what they didn't know, turned out to be the most helpful practitioners we could have met. It was disconcerting that they were leaving open the door for our hypotheses of cancer, yet it was helpful to us that they weren't throwing out any distracting ideas without any evidence.

We'd seen six doctors in five days. We didn't feel any better about the situation, but our questions would have to wait another two weeks. On July 18th, 2006 we finally had an appointment scheduled with an experienced ENT. He wouldn't give us a definitive theory either, but he would schedule Robin for his next available surgical slot on July 28th, 2006.

In the first week of July 2006 we still weren't certain about the root cause of Robin's symptoms. Things would only become more unsettling through July as her cheek and the gums in the area of her upper right molar continued to swell and expand. On July 18th the surgeon would give us more medical terms to work with. He would tell us that it was unlikely to be sinus cancer but he wouldn't argue strongly against our theory.

July 2006 - "to have no regrets"

Sunday July 2nd, 2006 - the day that we stopped waiting for everyone else to get on board.

We'd seen Robin's family doctor on June 16, 2006. The doctor had ordered a CT scan which was completed on June 22, 2006 and which confirmed what the doctor had expected - a 95% blockage in Robin's right sinus indicated a severe sinus infection. Some significant nuances of the image wouldn't be pointed out to us until nearly a month later when it was viewed by an experienced surgeon.

We'd had difficulty getting an appointment with a specialist - our initial appointment with an Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) physician wasn't until mid-July, but by July 2nd Robin had persistent discomfort in her right cheek. She had been biking less and less and it appeared that this was going to interfere with a bicycle tour we planned to participate in the last week of July - a 500 mile ride from Niagara Falls to Saratoga Springs, NY. No bother, we talked about contingency plans and we figured maybe we'd just bring a car on the trip and take turns driving, so Robin could bike as much (or as little) as she wanted.

Even though she wasn't getting in lots of biking miles, she was still doing medium length rides and on this Sunday in 2006 we completed a twenty-eight mile ride along the Mohawk River. The last third of the ride we were extra motivated by a dark sky which threatened to let loose a torrent of rain. Upon arriving home we unpacked the car and we were getting settled down when I found Robin on the couch holding her cheek. In what would become the most common question of the next eight months I asked "What is your pain level?" and she replied that it was a "6".

It had been two weeks since her initial symptoms and I think we were both getting nervous about the situation. Fourteen days of antibiotics were having no effect on the increasing discomfort. She was starting to cough up chunks of grayish-reddish material which we knew didn't match the snotty yellow of a sinus infection.

After all the restraint we'd exhibited my brain now switched to action mode. I considered that if this truly turned out to be cancer and it turned out to be a disaster, then I would personally regret if I hadn't done everything possible, as soon as possible, to find out what was going on and to start fighting back. With this idea imprinted in my brain I said that based upon her pain level we needed to head over to the Emergency Room.

This would be the beginning of a long week of phone calls, appointments and discontent.