Recent and Decent

It has been over a month since my last post, and I have been getting a lot of questions on my health update.

Since my last round of chemotherapy I have had a few developments in my road to recovery. Here are some of the most significant.

I went in to get my first PET scan post-chemo (which shows if there is cancer in the body).  The results were not immediately available, so I had to wait a few days.  Fast forward a few days, and I was on the phone with the insurance company, when I saw the hospital calling me on the other line.  I couldn't click over in time, and ended up missing the call.  As I was still on the phone with the insurance company, my phone beeped indicating there was a new voicemail.  Once I finally was able to get off the phone with the insurance company, I sat there with my phone in my hands for several minutes just trying to brace myself for how that short ten second pending voicemail was going to have such a significant effect on my life (or at least the next few months).  I held down the number #1, and after listening to my annoying voicemail message say

"You have one new voicemail message"..."Press #1 if you want to hear the message, press #7 if you want to delete the message,"  There was a quick moment where I wanted to press #7 and forget all about it, but of coarse I pressed #1.

The Doctor's message was very short, but informative.  It went something like "Blah Blah Blah, no signs of cancer, Blah Blah Blah".  VICTORY! -Johnny Drama

I will have to continue to have these scans performed for the next several years, so I figure I better get used to the nervousness the anticipation of getting the results that the PET scans causes.

As a result of have a "clean scan", the doctor told me to go ahead and schedule to get the catheter removed from my chest.  I was glad to be able to part ways with the catheter, it always was a nauseating visual reminder.  No matter how good I was feeling inside, the catheter forced me to remember the agony of laying in those stupid hospital beds with tubes and drugs going in and out of my body.

So last Friday I went in for surgery to have the catheter removed.  It was a quick twenty minutes under anesthesia, and I woke up feeling pretty lucid.  I didn't have the same crazy reaction as I did when getting the catheter put in.  No singing "You can't keep a good dog done" or any of the other shenanigans from before.

I am still recovering a bit from the surgery, the recovery time is about week before I can start getting back into fighting shape, or triathlon shape (I am training for a triathlon in Las Vegas in October)

Other than the scar on my chest, the immediate nausea from the smell of alcohol wipes, and my inability to eat any more Cutie oranges, I would say that I have come through this ordeal unscathed.

Thats the news from Wes 2.0

Thank you

Well hello there. .

I have high-jacked Wes’ blog in order to show my appreciation to all those who have helped us during this difficult time.  There have been so many that have reached out to help us: family, close friends, co-workers, friends from the past, complete strangers, etc.  It is because of all of you kind-hearted people that Wes was able to kick cancer’s ace!

This is my personal list of people that have helped me, but I’m sure Wes wishes to thank these people as well.

Thank you:

1)       To everyone who took time out of their busy lives to bring us dinner.

2)       To the kind employees over at the Burger King around the corner, who I’m pretty sure we kept in business because apparently chemo makes you crave a Whopper?

3)       To Wes’ doc, Dr. Popplewell, who to sum it up saved his life.  Also who didn’t give in to Wes’ several attempts to discontinue chemo.

4)       To all our friends and family who came from out of town to visit us.  We honestly had people coming every other week, and I know the constant company helped to keep Wes’ spirits up.

5)       To the staff over at Virgin Vacations who allowed us to postpone our trip to Italy, and waived the extra change fees when we went to rebook. 

6)       To the Rite-Aid pharmacy who always had Wes’ prescriptions ready for me to pick up, and never judged me when I went to stock up on Wes’ prune juice and stool softeners.

7)       To my friends who called to check on me, and listened to hours of me complaining.  Who supported me, consoled me, and cried with me.

8)       To Wes’ DEA family who did hours upon hours of fundraising to help with the cost of medical bills.  Who sold DEA Cancer hats, arm bands, and tickets to a really fun comedy night; all for the Wes Cancer Fund.  Thank you to all those (not only those who know Wes, but complete strangers too) who donated money, attended the comedy event, and put money down on the silent auction; your generosity was unexpected and overwhelming.

9)       To Wes’ Arizona family who donated money as well.  Not only siblings, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins, but younger second cousins who went door to door to sell cookies for the Wes Cancer Fund. 

10)   To Wes’ dad who dropped everything and came to stay with us in the beginning when things were new and scary.  Who went to doctor’s appointments, watched our house while we were at work, and even attempted to “dog whisperer” our crazy dogs.  Sorry Dave, she’s still crazy. 

11)   To all those who thought and prayed for us every day since January 1, 2012.  Who called us, thought about us, messaged us, and care packaged/carded us; we’ve never felt so loved. 

12)   To the cast and crew of The Office, who never failed to cheer us up when we were cooped up on chemo week.  Laughter was our best medicine. 

13)   To my dad and brother who made several “service calls” to help fix things around our house that I was unable to do myself.  Yes, I tried to snake a drain and failed miserably. 

14)   To my mom/boss, who listened to my problems every day, literally every day.  Who gave me 17483074 days off of work so I could go to treatments.  Who always had a positive attitude.  Who cheered me up when I was sad.  Who brought us elaborate meals at least once a week.  Who offered to help whenever I seemed stressed/fed-up.  Who was my rock when life seemed to be crumbling around me.  I love you.

15)   To my dear Wesley who gave everything he had to beat this.  Who kept his spirits up week after week, even during times of absolute torture.  Who has developed a new talent in whistle calling for me.  (This sound still haunts me.  Like I think I hear it, and I go running for him, but he’s not even home. . . Spooky)  Who would have treatment on Friday and would go back to work on Monday; continually working full-time. Who attempted to keep things together even when his skin was crawling and his hair was thinning.   Who would be sick in bed and still able to crack me up.  Whose sense of humor made light during our darkest time.  Who never gave up, and who is now a cancer survivor.  I love you. 

There are 5735038 more people I could thank.  I wish I could name you by name. . . heck skywrite a list of the most generous and kind-hearted people for the whole world to see. . . but I’ll settle for this: We would like to thank you for all you’ve done.  We are humbled every day and are forever indebted unto you.  We love you!

-Kristen

Happy 4th!  Let freedom (from chemo) ring!

Graduation from the University of Chemotherapy

The words I have been waiting to say for many many days... IT'S OVER! (at least for now).

Last Friday I completed the 12th and final scheduled chemotherapy session. My physical reaction to the treatment was about the same as all the rest, with the exception that I knew once I recovered I was home free.

Here is the run down from the final chemo session.

Yes, I threw up several times.
Yes, profanity was directed at the nurses several times.
Yes, I got into the fountain at the hospital on my way out! TAKE THAT CITY OF HOPE! Cancer patient in your pretty fountain.

The doctors told me I have to continue to go in for testing (PET scans) over the next few years, but as time goes on the tests will be more spread out and eventually I will put this all behind me.

Hopefully I can get the catheter out of my chest in the next month or so. I feel like that it is a symbol of cancer and sickness. I understand that it is a miracle of modern science, but I never got used to it.

I wish I there was someway that I could tell each and every person that has supported me over these last  few months just how much they have helped. I am privileged to have such a support system made up of family, friends, co-workers and even strangers (some stranger than others).

I get asked the question "How are you feeling?" I understand that it is probably directed at my physical well-being, but the honest answer to that question is "I feel grateful".

Thank you for all the support.

WE beat cancer once, if it comes back WE will beat it again.

~ Wes 2.0

Last One

I have my last chemotherapy session planned for the June 22. I have received several inquiries into how I am going to celebrate/mark this particular event. The purpose of this post is get some ideas of things I could do. There is not any parameters for the marking of this event. Some of the ideas so far have been wear something crazy to the last session. (gorilla suit, or some kind of superhero outfit...), going skydiving or any other extreme activity (I think chemo used up all nine lives), getting a tattoo (nope),  other people have talked about throwing a party or going on a trip (doing both, but neither is really is exactly what I am looking for here.)

I am available for comments directly to the blog, or FB. You can also call, or text. I am also willing to parlay two semi good ideas into one great idea. (like eating food in the shower).

Wes 1.85

Burritos in the shower

It has been several weeks since my last post, so I wanted to catch up on the most recent developments with Wes 2.0.

I had my 10th chemotherapy treatment last week. This one was not really any different from the previous nine. One interesting thing that occurred was as I was walking out of the hospital in my post chemo "zombie state," I got a whiff of cigarette smoke in the parking lot. I looked up and saw one of the doctors/nurses smoking a cigarette as he was getting out of his car. While giving him the worst chemo face I could, I yelled something I cannot completely remember or write on the blog. Come on now, smoking at a cancer hospital, really. I am not going to write that I wish that guy would get cancer, but I am definitely going to think it. And just for reference, The City of Hope is a smoke free facility... even the parking lots.

Over the last five months I have tried numerous things to elevate the pain and side effects of the chemotherapy. Previous posts on the blog have mentioned some of the more interesting ideas. One principal I have learned is do whatever it takes to make yourself feel better (within reason). In many instances this concept pertains to my eating and sleeping habits.

Once I come home from a chemo session I try and go straight to bed in order to sleep off the initial chemical onslaught. Either Saturday night or sometime Sunday I normally feel good enough to get up and take a shower and try to start getting back to reality. One thing I have been doing is combining my shower time and meal time, taking one thing I really like and combining it with something else I really like.

I started eating in the shower several years ago working as police officer. I would work the midnight shift and get home around breakfast time. Obviously being really tired, I did not feel like sitting down at the table to eat a bowl of cereal and then going to take a shower, so I combined the two in one single glorious event. Eat my cereal while taking a shower.

Now transitioning to my current cancer situation. For several days after chemo I have very low energy levels and don't feel like being out of bed for too long. Therefore, I maximize my time by eating in the shower. Now I don't do this at every meal, but I will admit that during the recovery from the 10th session, I did have two delicious pulled pork burritos in the shower.

Yes, there is probably some hygiene issue with this.
Yes, there is probably some underlying social issue responsible for this habit (not being held enough as a kid, or being bullied at school).
Yes, Kristen knows about this, and actually brought me the burritos last week.
and Yes, I am doing to this because it makes me feel better.

... I have had several other failed ideas at making myself feel better and sitting reverse on the toilet in order to rest my arms on the tank does not make me feel better.

See look, my insides are not rotten anymore.

Let me explain the photo, as it was explained to me as I was throwing up during treatment.

The one on the left was taken before any chemo had begun (January). The photo on the right was taken in April, and all the black spots are supposed to be there. So therefore, there is no visible signs of the cancer still in my body.

Let me address a few things before people start making obscene comments.

1. No, you cannot see my private parts
2. No, my heart is not really black (contrary to what Kristen says)
3. Yes, you can see my rosy cheeks through the scan
4. No, my body has not shrunk overall.
5. Yes, my brain is that big.
6. Yes, there is less space between my arms and my waist as a result of my "Chemo Diet."
7. Yes, you can see my private parts

Can't think of a good title.

written April 30
published May 1

I having been procrastinating in my updates for two reasons. First, I still feel like I am in Hell's version of groundhog's day, and second, the more I talk about my current cancerous status, the more I feel like I am living in the present, where as I would rather be living in the future (cancer free).

As many of you know I have chemotherapy every other Friday. On the weekends I don't have chemo, I like to do whatever I can to help me "escape from reality". (try and name the song I just quoted). Some of my recent escapes have been to Yosemite National Park (saw Half Dome), Minnesota (saw the Mall of America), Las Vegas (saw Flava Flav) and Phoenix (saw Family).

This last Friday, I had my 8th round of chemo. I have progressively gotten more and more sick each time I go. I am trying to do whatever I can to help with the horrible feelings I get when I arrive. For the last few rounds, once I check in to hospital, I go outside, sit on a bench and wait for my name to be called. I just sit on a bench by myself and try to enjoy the sun, the birds, the breeze, or anything that distracts me from the feeling of nausea.

An interesting side note is that I felt too sick to get out of the car once we arrived home, so I just reclined the seat and stayed in the car for about an hour. Once I thought I could get to my bed safely, I opened the door, stepped out and ended up on my knees throwing up in the planter. My neighbors probably think I am the biggest alcoholic. It was 4:30 in the afternoon.

One of the most difficult parts of the treatments are the terrible smells associated with the drugs, hospital, cleaning solutions.... I started writing this paragraph this morning, but just thinking about it made me sick, so I am giving it another try this evening. I have tried different candies, burying my head in a pillow, sleeve, different masks... but the smells still get to me. I AM UP FOR ANY SERIOUS or NON SERIOUS SUGGESTIONS.

Overall, I am still doing fine. For those of you who have not heard, I received the results from a mid treatment scan, and the cancer is retreating/ appears to have left. This is not an official "All Clear", but its definitely good news. I don't like the word remission, so retreat is what I say.

My hair is falling out, but not bald. For some reason, I have lost all the hair on my thighs. They are quite smooth. I am also losing a lot of armpit hair. I guess if I was going to choose areas that I don't mind losing hair those would be it. Other than the hair, and being out of shape, I am doing fine.

On a more serious note. I consider myself very blessed to have gone through what I have so far. I heard someone put life in perspective this way.
             -Its only when you are aware of death, that life screams at you with such intensity-
I feel like I have been given such a unique opportunity to look at life in a way that most people my age don't get. It reminds me of the book titled, "Don't sweat the small stuff, it's all small stuff." I am not professing to be any more wise or educated than anyone else, but I feel a change within me on my view of life.

I appreciate all the support in its many forms: prayers, texts, emails, phone calls, fasts, thought, etc.

This is the part where I insert photos... the photos we have from the last few treatments don't show off my baby angel-like glow. They will be funny to laugh at... down the road.

March Madness

As I am writing this blog post, I am boring myself. I apologize in advance for the lack of substance, but this is this the current situation.

My body feels a lot like my March Madness bracket... pretty busted

I have had several treatments since my last post, and I wanted to write an update, but this cancer thing makes my life seem like groundhogs day. I was hoping something interesting would have occurred since the last post, but at this point it's pretty mundane.

I am going in tomorrow for the 6th treatment of 12. I am glad this is going to be half way point, and I cannot wait to put this all behind me. I have a scan scheduled for the 5th of April to see any progression the drugs have had on the cancer cells, or if the doctors need to up the potency level because there is not enough progress being made. Regardless if the results show that there are not any signs of the cancer remaining in my body, the Dr. still insists that I finish the remaining 6 rounds... She's not the one with her head in the toilet.

I have not lost my hair yet. It is slowly coming out, but I was under the impression it would be long gone. I continue to cut it pretty short, which makes it easier to maintain. Maybe it's just male pattern baldness. (that's depressing)

My appetite is pretty normal, I eat about 5-6 small meals a day. I have found that food helps settle my stomach, especially after getting belly full of venom. I get cravings for certain foods, some of highlights are whoppers, cole slaw (any type of slaw), Sprite, KFC, stuffing, cheesy Gordita crunches. I am hoping to get over this cancer thing and move onto diabetes after the summer.

Thats about all I have to report on. Here are two photos of from the last two rounds. (descriptions below)

1.                                                                                                       2.

1. Here is the photo from round #4. I am standing in front of the hospital City of Hope. Don't get confused by the serene "light beams" in the photo, I am pretty sure that is just L.A. pollution... 

2. I am including a creepy photo Kristen took during the last treatment (5th), just to show off my new cancer beanie. I look like a baby angel...  Actually, Kristen and I were playing a game of opossum. 

Laughter is the best medicine

Several people at work have spent the last month putting together a charity event for me, and on February 15, the culmination of all their hard work came together in the form of Wes 2.0 at the Comedy and Magic Club in Redondo Beach.

The night was headlined by the comedic acts of Garry Shandling, Kathleen Madigan and Ryan Hamilton. All are extremely talented and skilled in their profession, but I have to say that I enjoyed Ryan Hamilton the most. I actually had the opportunity to talk with him back stage, and turns out I am now the second funniest Mormon that I know, as Ryan is a BYU alumni and served a mission in North Carolina.







The night was closed to the public, and was made up of a combination of family, friends (from Cali and T-Town), and a whole lot of law enforcement support from all over the Southland. (It would have been a good night to rob a bank).

The hard work by a few didn't stop with just the selling of tickets to the event, but also included a silent auction for gift baskets, jewelry, autographed sports memorabilia, theme park tickets and even a free personal flight lesson.

To sum up the night, I was once again humbled by the generosity and support.

Fast forward three days later. I had my third round of chemotherapy. My body has reacted a little bit different every time, and this time was no bueno. I was finished treatment around 2:00 pm, and did not feel anything until around 7:00 pm that night. I spent the next three days no more than walking distance from my bed.











I was told from a nurse at the hospital that Michael C. Hall, famously known as Dexter Morgan (you have to say it like the trinity killer does) was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma in 2010, and successfully overcame it. Fun Fact.

...Up coming Posts will include "High Maintenance Disease, Low Maintenance Haircut"


Thanks for all the love.

Port-a-cath surgery

I had surgery this morning at 11:00 a.m. The surgery was to place a catheter into my superior vena cava (vein going to my heart area), which runs to an opening at the other end on the right side of my chest. This will enable the chemotherapy drugs to be directly shot into my body without needing to stick a needle into the smaller veins in my arm. It is also easier on my veins overall.

When I got to the hospital the receptionist handed me a "last directive" form, which you fill out and list someone to make medical decisions if you are unable to do so on your own. I was not expecting that. It took me awhile to decide who I wanted to have make medical decisions for me, but because I am sure my Dad and Garrett would request that I get breast implants, or a hook for a hand. I ended up not submitting the form. I just figured that me in a coma, could still make better decisions than anyone else could for me. (That sounds like something Dwight Schrute would say).

I was then taken to a hospital bed, and told to completely disrobe and put on one of the humiliating hospital gowns where your rumpus is out in the open. I had a hat and booties to match.

Anyway, the surgery was about 45 minutes in duration, and after a mixture of Verced and anesthesia, I cannot remember much of it. I now know that I am a light weight when it comes to waking up from the anesthesia, and for some reason I sang "you can't keep a good dog down", from the Disney movie All Dogs Go To Heaven for about ten straight minutes until they called Kristen in the recovery room and order was restored.

Third round of Chemo coming up on Friday.

Here are some photos from today's excitement.

Pre surgery smile  (I am pretty sure the chemo caused the zit) Carlie, too soon and rude overall.                                                      

This is the catheter. It runs from the neck area down to my chest. You can see the entire tube, and the reservoir area sticks out about an inch from being swollen. It looks like a third nip.  

Also, I did not put on fake tan before surgery, nor do I have a hill billy of a tan line. Its cleaning solution, and for some reason it goes from my neck down to my belly button... 

Oops, they forget to take the three stickies off my back. 

Round II- more side effects

I had the second round of chemotherapy last Friday afternoon.

I arrived at the City of Hope at 8:30 am for a surgical consultation, as I am going to have a catheter placed in my chest, connected to my heart (to simplify medical terms). This will allow the chemo drugs to go into my body more easy and it is also easier on my veins, which begin to deteriorate when the drugs are injected directly into them regularly.

After several hours of sitting in the waiting room playing words with friends, I began Round II at around noon. The nurse (lets call her Nurse 1) was someone I had not dealt with before and lets just say there was a "communication barrier"... and my English is pretty good. A second nurse (Nurse 2) finally came in and straightened some things out.

I have previously mentioned some of the side effects of the drugs (tingling in fingers...) Some of the other issues that I have had to deal with are equally annoying. One of the nurses said that when using the bathroom (going #1 or #2) I should flush twice. My initial thought was that Kristen might have told the nurse to tell me this... you know a "courtesy flush", but the nurse said that its not safe to have any chemo drug residue in the bathroom. So trying to do that is extremely annoying, most people flush and run, not me, I flush, stand around for a bit and try to flush again... usually before the tank fills up.

Another thing that has begun to drive me a bit insane is the semi-insomnia. After the initial chemo injections, I try and get as much sleep as possible, so I don't have to endure the constant feeling of getting off the Disneyland tea cups after eating five nacho cheese dogs. As a result of weird sleep hours, I have found that for some reason I will wake up from my go to tylenol pm/ambien/any other sleep inducing drug cocktail, in the middle of the night and be wide awake. I am not talking about the "I have to go pee" one eye open awake. I am talking about the just got punched in the face wide awake. As a result of the tylenol etc, my eyes are pretty much unable to open, but my legs and body are ready to go. Its my "restless leg syndrome" side effect.  I have found that pacing throughout the house, walking up and down the stairs, stretching and also swearing helps with this issue. It takes between 30 minutes to an hour before I can get back to bed.

Just a few more weird side effects. These will be quick.
1. Sleep habits are a bit off, and I have been known to make some weird whimpering sounds in bed (No, I don't have mommy or daddy issues).
2. Kristen also thinks she is a victim of domestic violence, as she has been on the receiving end of some extreme tossing and turing as I try to get comfortable in bed. She has no marks, so its her word against mine. I was a police officer, I know how it works.
3. The chemo drugs have made me a little bit gassy at times. Since Kristen knows that I have to flush twice... she has translated that into thinking my gas is actually go to inflict real harm. I am sorry to Midas (our dog) who I blame it on. All about projecting the blame.

Other than that, I am good. Thank you for all the support! The phone calls, emails, texts, and inappropriate picture messages are helping me stay positive and optimistic through this difficult time. Oh, and I am 16% done with the Chemotherapy....

Wes 2.0

Its like a beaver dam in there.

It's been one week since my first chemotherapy session. The chemo has done quite a number on my body, and its incredible how just a few drugs can effect the entire system.

One of the recent issues I have been dealing with are the tips of my fingers permanently feel like they are asleep. They have a constant tingling sensation, even while I am typing on the computer. The Drs. that I have talked to indicated that this might happen. Additionally, they said as I have more treatments the tingling can expand further down my fingers or happen on my toes. 

*Wes 2.0 now can't feel pain in the tips of his fingers.   

Also, as a result of the chemotherapy, I have been eating non stop. I am not sure if that is a side effect, or I eat because it is the one thing that feels good right now. (That's depressing). Thanks to the fact that I am eating like a prego, I found out last week that one of the more uncomfortable side affects of the chemo is the way the digestive system has to process everything (chemo drugs, food bingeing). Lets just say it felt like a beaver dam in there.

A few days ago, I started ingesting prunes like it was my job, and those mixed with some additional pills should helped me flush the problem. And don't be fooled by the label, Prunes are not natures super fruit, they taste like garbage. I make a drink that is one part prune juice, and two parts orange juice. (Prune + Orange + Orange = POO).

So to sum things up.

"I can tingle, but I can't poop... very easily anyway"

I have the second chemo session on Friday, so Blah, Blah Blah. 

Round 1: Chemo 1, Wes 0

I had my first round of chemotherapy yesterday. I would now like to refer to it as KARMA-therapy, as I feel that if karma does exist, I am paying for all the times I beat up Garrett.

The treatment went as follows.
I had to give a blood sample to make sure all my counts were normal. (white/red and platelet)

Following the labs, the chemo began.
I have not had a permanent catheter placed into my body, so they placed an IV into my left wrist area. Then they ran a bag of saline solution into system to open the line and get ready for the chemo drugs. The chemo drugs followed, and the whole process took about five hours. The highlight of the chemo drugs was a red solution (don't remember the name), but it looks like unhardened jello going into your arm. (and a few hours later it looks pretty similar coming out).

I left the hospital a little after 3:00 p.m., and we made it about half way home when I started feeling sick. I spent the rest of the day in bed sleeping, with the exception of meal time.
Blue gatorade- thanks Kristen
Enchilada- thanks Danica
Tylenol- thanks David W. Young (inventor of tylenol)

During Treatment

My Thoughts Exactly

Not your typical bank, not your typical deposit.

I will provide a very watered down version of my experience at the fertility/sperm bank. I have received several inquiries as to what that part of this roller coaster was like.
Here is the summary.
After an initial medical consultation, they handed me a soda can-sized cup and told me it is time for me to provide my deposit. They then led me down this hallway and said that I could use any of the three "specimen rooms." All the rooms were about twice the size of a phone both.
Each room had a different theme.
Room #1. White walls and a large picture of a shirtless man holding a newborn baby.  (You should be arrested if you use that room to make your deposit!)
Room #2. The room was covered in abstract chalk drawings of the female figure... for the "artsy" donor.
Room #3. I would call this room the "what you would expect a sperm bank room to be filled with room."

I completed the deposit and dropped it off with the lab tech, who then asked me several questions about my experience.

*I dare anyone in that situation to try and make eye contact with the lab tech while you're answering the questions. It would liken it to trying to keep your eyes open during a sneeze.

Deposit made, and those assets are frozen.

Super Human Features and Pitching In

   As many can assume, since January 2, my life has kind of been turned upside down. Thanks to a wonderful support system, to include family and friends, I feel confident that I will be back to original Wes, if not Wes 2.0 in no time.
  Here are just some of the unusual things that people have said to me, or had happen to me since I let the cat out of the bag.

1.  I recently had a dental hygienist tell me about a friend of hers that just finished up treatment for Hodgkin's Lymphoma and after the Chemo treatments were completed he ended up with a real strong sense of smell.
  * I don't think that sounds half bad, especially working in the drug enforcement scene. I think that could be a real asset. Who needs a drug sniffing dog?

2. I had a CT/PET scan today. (They put liquid in your body that is attracted to the cancer cells). The nurse administering the radioactive material made some joke about me glowing in the dark after the test.
 * Between #1 and #2, I am starting to feel a little bit mutant or super-human.

3. One of the books that I have read about life during Chemotherapy says that since I will have a weaken immune system, I should refrain from tasks such as picking up dog poop.
 * I told my two dogs Midas and Kona about this last week, and since then I have noticed they are eating more of their own poop then usual.... "Less mess for Wes."

Everybody chips in around the Bedford house.

End Result.....  Wes 2.0
 

I've Got the Good Kind.

Thank you Lyra for the inspirational and informative video!   :)

The RABBLE and the P

January 11, 2012

More hats – More kindness. I have seen a few more people around the office wearing the DEA cancer hats, and every time it makes me stop and think about just how blessed I am.

I talked to Dr. Popplewell today, and she scheduled the first round of Chemotherapy for Friday, January 20^th, 2012. There is a “Rabble” of butterflies in my stomach.

                For all you wordsmiths, a Rabble is a large group of butterflies.

Also, in researching the sperm banks in the area, I have heard that some request that the person making the deposit to B.Y.O.P.
Thanks to yet another generous donation, I have my very own P. 

   

    

DEA CANCER HATS

January 10, 2012

I found out today from Dr. Popplewell that I do not have the cancerous cells in my bone marrow. I think that would have been a little much for me to handle. It’s a roller coaster; one day I hear good news, the next day I hear bad news.

Jaime, Jeff, Liz and countless others have been a great support to me since they found out about the cancer. They have been trying to put together fund raisers and different events to help raise money to offset the cost of the medical bills.

I saw a DEA hat on Jaime's wall done in pink lettering. I thought it was kind of neat, but it wasn’t until I saw an agent in the parking garage wearing the same “cancer’ hat that I started to put two and two together. Within about an hour, Jaime came up to me and gave me around $200.00 dollars and said that it was raised from the sale of the hats. The initial quantity of hats sold out in a day, and they were going to order more.

I really cannot put into words the kindness that people have shown me. My body feels good and strong, but as a result of the pure love that people have shown me, I would say my mind feels the strongest.

I am trying to get the S P E R M banking appointment taken care of, and get that out of the way. Its amazing how so many people have come up and offered so much, examples being blood, bone marrow, money, a blender, but by far the most offered item has been sperm.  

Appreciation

Sunday, January 8, 2012

My Dad left yesterday after being here for the week. It was good to have him around, I really don’t get to spend as much time as I would like with my family, but that topic is for another day.

I talked to Greg and Brandon today. Both of the called and wanted to know how I was doing. As more time passes, I realize just how blessed I am to have such a strong support group. 

City of Hope. I Hope.

January 6, 2012

Today, I went to the City of Hope for the first time. We (Dad, Kristen and I) took the wrong road getting there, and ended up driving through a rough neighborhood on our way. It put a bad taste in my mouth. Once we arrived, everything went really smooth. All the staff was really attentive and appeared to honestly be concerned about my well being.

I met with Dr. Leslie Popplewell for the first time. She is the clinical associate professor in charge of the Lymphoma patients. She was really informative, and explained everything in a manner that Kristen and myself could understand.

After explaining the general details of the upcoming treatment, she asked if I wanted to go ahead and get the bone marrow biopsy completed. The bone marrow was to be extracted from both hipbones. I reluctantly agreed…. Here are the highlights.

1. The nurse had me lay down on my stomach, and pulls my pants half way off.
2. She then proceeds to scrub the area that will be worked on. (Deep scrubbing of my backside)
3. Several shots of lidocaine
4. Then a very painful aspiration of bone marrow from the left hipbone. And the right side.
5. While the Dr. was working on the right side, my left butt cheek started to spasm from the lidocaine.

Overall, I left the biopsy in pain, embarrassed and little bit dizzy.

I feel that I will continue to pursue my treatment at the City of Hope. I felt comfortable there.

After coming home, I looked at the national rankings of Cancer Centers in the county and City of Hope was #17 last year. UCLA was #10 and Cedars Sinai was #32. Dr. Popplewell did her residency at the # ranked hospital in the country (somewhere in NY). I think that place is as good as I am going to find.

On the way out, we took the right roads and the hospital actually appeared really nice from the freeway as we were driving away. A better ending than beginning on my first day at City of Hope.

Just the Beginning

I am sitting in front of the computer on Wednesday, January 4, 2012 at 9:45 pm. Two days ago I received a call from Dr. Stanley Arnold, who informed me that I had been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  Info on Hodgkin's Lymphoma

In August of 2011, (date still have not figured out) I was in Tucson, AZ visiting family and friends. Garrett had planned for a family hike down Mt. Lemon into Catalina state park. The hike lasted the entire day, but everyone made it. Those on hike were in order of last place finish to first were Dad, Garrett, Lee, Bryan, myself, Kristen and Kade. People have referred to it as the Death Hike, and between me getting cancer, and my Dad's bruised toe nail, I would say the name is pretty accurate. 

After cleaning up from the hike and resting for a few hours, Garrett, Kade and myself decided to meet some other T-locs at the church for some late night basketball. I felt exhausted from the hike, but managed to run up and down the court for a few hours without too much difficulty. The reason I mention this time playing basketball, is that it is the first date of importance in my current cancerous condition.

On one occasion playing defense during one of the games, I remember someone throwing the basketball to an offensive player that was behind me. I lifted my left arm straight up to try and tip the ball. At that exact moment, I felt a very intense pain in my left arm, underneath my bicep. The pain was strong enough to leave my entire arm tingling for several more seconds.  We finished that game in the next few minutes and that was it for basketball for the evening.

For the next few months, the pain in my arm gradually increased to the point where I could not function normally without extreme consideration for my hurt left arm. It felt like there was a dentist drill tapping into my left arm. I countered the pain with lots of Tylenol or similar pain medication, so much so that I would take these pills before bed, even if my arm was not necessarily hurting at the moment, because I knew that if I went to sleep without the help of pain medication, I would be up in the middle of the night trying to find the medicine, some water and then have to wait up for 20-30 minutes in an enormous amount of pain for the medicine to take effect.

 This was my life from August to December 2011.

After much pain in the arm and persistence from Kristen, I called the nearest medical facility and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Stanley Arnold.

The first day that I went to see Dr. Arnold, he asked my reason for the visit and I explained that I had pain in my arm, and no other symptoms. I explained the ebbs and flows of the pain, and after a few routine questions he said I should get a chest x-ray. No, not an x-ray on my arm, but a chest x-ray?!. Immediately following the x-ray, Dr. Arnold said there appeared to be a “nodule” on my left lung, but further testing would need to be completed. 

* I don't want to overlook the most fantastic part of this whole initial visit with Dr. Arnold. Upon returning home that night, my arm stopped hurting. I have not taken a single pain killer since that very first visit, and have never woken up in the middle of the night bc of pain in my arm. Now that's something to think about.... Divine Intervention!!!

 Within the week of the initial visit, I had completed a CT scan with dye contrast, which enables the radiologist to be able to see the areas that might have additional nodules.

A few short days after the CT was completed, Dr. Arnold called and said the CT showed several nodules in my left lung and left side of my neck. Additionally he recommended I get a biopsy of the nodules in my neck. The biopsy was scheduled for the week after Christmas. 

DECEMBER 24-27

We were in Tucson for Christmas and spent time with family and friends. No real thought to my health, just enjoyed the company, including the first time seeing baby Cedar. (Will go back and add more in about visiting the needy on Christmas eve).

December 28, 2011.

     I remember walking into Edinger Medical Group (EMG) on December 28^th, a day early for my biopsy (oops), and filling out the now routine pre-patient paperwork, I was introduced to a really nice “murse”  (male nurse) who was going to be assisting in the biopsy. He led me into the room where the ultrasound biopsy was going to be completed. I couldn’t help but notice the countless pictures of babies taken with the use of the same ultrasound machine that I was going to use to see if I had cancer. Talk about your classic irony. The machine that show most people the miracle of life, was going to be showing me if I was getting the miracle of death. 

     As the murse was preparing my neck with what I thought was enough lidocaine to bring down a baby elephant, he did a good job of making me feel comfortable and informed on what was going to happen during the biopsy. After preparing everything for the biopsy, Dr. Ragmanhi came in the room and through the use of a variety of different gauged needles placed into the nodule, he was able to collect enough sample cells to be able to fairly analyze the area of interest. 

     After the biopsy was completed, the murse said for me to call on Friday the 30^th, and hopefully the results of the biopsy would be completed before the holiday.

Friday the 30th, 2011

 9:00 am: I called Dr. Arnold office, and left a message with the receptionist, asking for Dr. Arnold to call me with the results of the biopsy. 

Around noon: I received a call form an unknown secretary at Dr. Arnold’s office telling me the results were not in, and Dr. Arnold would call me when they are.

December 31^st 2011 - January 1^st, 2012

Spent New Years with friends and celebrated at the house. Still no news. HAPPY NEW YEAR!, or flip that around HAPPY NEW YEAR! Still no news. 

January 2, 2012-         NOT SUCH A HAPPY NEW YEAR AFTER ALL

  Approximately 8:35 a.m. – missed call from Dr. Arnold

  Approximately 8:45 a.m. – missed call from Dr. Arnold.

     Approximately 9:00 a.m. – I had been upstairs on the computer, looking at the fantasy football stats, since I just lost in the championship game for our office tournament over the weekend (Congrats Lydia and Tom Brady) and walked downstairs to take a shower and get ready for the day. 

    I walked in the bedroom and looked at my cell phone on the dresser and saw the two missed calls from Dr. Arnold and one new voicemail. I became really nervous and walked back upstairs with my cell phone without telling Kristen about the two missed calls.

    I called Dr. Arnold’s office, and got the secretary. I told her that Dr. Arnold had called me and I was looking for some test results. She said he was with a patient at the moment, but she would pass the message along. Dr. Arnold called me back within ten minutes, and said something to effect of, “David, I have your test results. Can you come in to my office to talk about them? I then asked, when should I come in? He then said, Can you come in right now?….

    I walked downstairs to tell Kristen. I don’t remember the actual walk down the stairs, but I remember walking into the living where Kristen was seated on the couch, and as I was standing at the back of the couch, I could barely get the words out of my mouth, without letting the tears choke me out completely, "Dr. Arnold had received the results, and wants me to come in talk to him right away."

    We both had a good cry in the living room, and once more as we were walking down the hallway towards the bedroom to get ready to go. I decided to take a shower before going, and I also cried in there. That 15 minutes from the time I hung up the phone with Dr. Arnold until we left the house were not easy.

    Kristen drove us to Edinger Medical Group, and after we parked the car, she said a prayer asking for us to be able to get through anything that we were going to face. We then walked into the doctor's office and sat in the waiting room for several minutes. Finally, after what seemed like too long to have to wait to hear bad news, Dr. Arnold came out and called us back into a patient room. He pulled up my information on the computer and said the biopsy results had come back and I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma…. And the rest of what he said was inaudible, and we left shortly after. 

Order of the first people I called and reactions/emotions.

1. Dad, and Garrett was with him in the car. – I cried. He said “Oh Wesley.” The first time I called him, I couldn’t get any words out, so I just hung up. I was standing in driveway of our house.

2. Mom- I cried as soon as she picked up the phone. She kept asking me, “Wesley, what? What is it son? Wesley what?” All I remember is that my mom offered to donate to me every part of her body.

3. Carlie- I was getting better at breaking the news. I was still choked up, and she said, “Wesley, no. Wesley, no.” I can’t remember the rest of the conversation.

4. Maegan- Called Maegan, no answer at first. I called back few minutes later and she picked up. I explained to her the situation and she expressed sadness and concern.

5. I called Mark. He did not call back for a long time. He called when I was in the backyard, and I explained to him the situation. He was in disbelief, and asked a bunch of questions.

6. Others that I remember- no order

1. Albert Ramos- he said he was shopping in the mall with Stephanie, and got the news from Lee. He said he started crying in the middle of under armour and they just left. Shopping day ruined.
2. Ricky Bailey- told me the comforting story about the “death sentence” J 
3. Lee Winfield- said he heard it from his Dad, and thought that I was already dead or very near to death. He said he really didn’t know what to say because he said I am usually the one that is providing the comforting words or advice on life.
4. Grandma Judy- I cried, she cried. I spoke with her on January 3^rd. I had been fine all day, and as soon as I began to talk to her, we both started crying. The conversation was highlighted by her telling me to freeze my sperm, and at the end of the conversation we were both so choked up, I ended up just hanging up. I could say good-bye.
5. Dan Young- January 5, 2012, he said he was in disbelief and as soon as I got off the phone he called the Reverend Young (his father) and he said he would put me on the prayer role of his church.
6. Bill Czopek- ever since I have told him about the cancer, he has been talking to me about the bucket list. I clearly told him the odds are in my favor. Still more talk about the bucket list. (his bucket list included going bowling… dream big!)
7. Brian Fuller- January 5, 2012, called my office phone and left two messages. He then wrote me an email saying that he would donate as much time as needed to take off. He said he already talked to the HR department and he would get everyone in the office to donate as well. 
8. I walked into work on January 3, 2012, and after calling my boss to inform him of the situation, I told everyone in my group that there was big news coming from the Bedford house. I asked them all to guess. The immediate responses were…are you pregnant?, did Kristen leave you?, are you coming out of the closet?, are you leaving DEA?. And even after I told them I had cancer, one person asked me again if I was coming out of the closet.  Thats a good group of people to break the news to.