Saturday, October 17, 2015

Decision and Conviction. Pride and Success.

Note to newbie's:  If you're just joining us, feel free to stick around but you might enjoy the story better if you start at the very beginning.  It reads like a book so it's fun to start with the first post and read each entry.  Here's the link:  Click Here for First Post

As you most likely remember from the last blog post, I was about to have a significantly challenging skin cancer treatment....

I walked into an overly hygienic room that smelled of antiseptic.  There were no pictures on the wall and in the center of the room was a sole procedural chair and a massive pale looking device with a haunting apparatus at the end an articulating arm.

They gave me a pair of protective red lenses and placed a disconcerting, and rather frightening contraption of a machine, uncomfortably close to my face.  With no warning and shockingly fast the machine came to life.  It was a little unnerving to hear what sounded like a nuclear generator starting up in stereo inches from my skin.  That electrical noise went from yawning silence within that sterile and overly white office to a deep and eire VROOOM with a heavy drone of a fan far louder than I would have liked.  It was all that I could hear, like listening to static full volume through a pair of full-sized 1970's headphones.  And the blue light appliance surrounded the forward half of my head.  And yes, it was a bit scary.  I kept my eyes closed as to avoid staring at this soulless machine that held no pity for me.

For the first 30 seconds or so I forgot that they said it would hurt.  I was distracted by the ominous sound and the realization that the treatment had started.  And then it snuck up on me and within the next 30 seconds or so the pain began to build.  Quickly.  I was startled by the speed at which this grew.  It was so fast that it set my heart racing.  And it didn't stop.  It built and seemed to crescendo in about 2 minutes.  I thought to myself, is that it?  It hurt for sure but it wasn't unbearable.  Then I heard a voice yell over the roar of the hateful machine.  "Are you all right?"  And I was.  It was the technician who wisely waited outside the room with the door closed.  She said that she would be back at the 5 minute mark.  Then I was alone again.  Just me and the monster.

I thought the pain had evened off but then it began to build and heighten.  The machine seemed to increase its intensity.  I nervously wondered how much more was yet to come.  And in what seemed like 30 seconds, I heard that voice again, checking on me.  She said, "You're doing great. I'll be back at the 10 minute mark."  Had it already been 5 minutes?  It seemed somewhat shorter than that.  But I thought, gosh, why couldn't she just stay in there with me?  I was sure that it wasn't any safer for her than for the X-ray technician that leaves you on a cold table in a dark room.

And then it hit.  Quickly the burning pain began to intensify.  It felt like sitting in the hot sun on a clear day at the peak of the summer, the day after getting completely fried at the beach.  It seemed illogical to stay here, especially knowing that it was getting worse and more painful.  Then came the needles.  Not literal needles. But the sensation of millions of needles pressing into my face simultaneous.  Like a face sized tattoo gun.  The unyielding sting and burn continued, unrelentingly.

But I was determined.  I was not going to quit.  I knew that as much as it hurt me, it hurt the cancer cells more.  I would survive, and the enemy would not.

The door opened, "Ok, it's been 10 minutes."  At this news, I felt relief...not physical relief but I remembered the doctor saying that after about the 10 minute mark the pain would most likely not increase any more, but neither would it decrease.  The expectation was that it would plateau and continue for the last seven and a half minutes.

I took joy and comfort in this.  Sure it hurt but I could do it, and I had decided to do it for the full 17 1/2 minutes no matter what. And I was doing it.  It was that same feeling that came across me about week two after drinking nothing but broth for half of a month.

You see it is the decision to do something, to make that unwavering commitment to see something through to the end that allows the process to be bearable.  Not that the committed decision would make it easier but it eliminates potential disengagement from the process.  It's about making the full-force committed pledge.  A pledge to oneself.  "I" am going to do this!   I "am" going to do this! Commitment is what transforms a promise into reality. It is the words that speak boldly of one's intentions. And the actions which follow speak louder than the words spoken prior.  Commitment is the stuff character is made of; the power to change the face of things. It is the daily triumph of integrity over skepticism.  Once this level of decision is made, there is only success.

This is true of a 17 minute blue light skin cancer treatment or of drinking nothing but soup broth for a month.  Decision and conviction.

The last seven minutes went by with emotional comfort.  I did it.  I knew that I would complete this and see it through to the end.  And so with great pride, truly pride, I sat for the last 7 minutes and 30 seconds a little taller in the chair knowing I had stared this menace down.  Face to face we fought and I won. But I won before I walked into the treatment room.  

It's decision, conviction, and commitment that lead to success.

Make your decision.  Know it.  Own it.  Have the internal fortitude to carry it out with conviction.  Keep your commitment.  Know pride.  Know success.   






Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Preparing to see the light

Note to newbie's:  If you're just joining us, feel free to stick around but you might enjoy the story better if you start at the very beginning.  It reads like a book so it's fun to start with the first post and read each entry.  Here's the link:  Click Here for First Post

So I am in the waiting room right now. But I've already been into the treatment room. Apparently they wiped my face with acetone first to remove any oils or something like that. And then they broke open the vial of Levulan and painted it all over my face. Now I sit and wait for an hour and a half while the medicine soaks into my skin and prepares the skin for the blue light treatment

Before they started this the dermatologist asked me if I knew about the risks and benefits associated with this. Clearly I really did not know. So she walked me through the whole thing. It sounds like different people react in different ways. The one thing that was clear, the more damage you have, the more painful and challenging this will be. She said most people do not feel anything when the vial of Levulan is painted on their face, only the people with significant problems would feel anything at this point. So as she painted it on my face, I sat there, somewhat relaxed. But I was slightly dismayed to find that the pain-free vial utilized while painting was actually stinging my face quite a bit and in quite a few places.  The implication is that the light treatment will be more painful for me than for many who get this treatment. And then she gave me the good news that if I was prone to cold sores, which I am, that this light treatment would most likely trigger an outbreak.  Not the good news that I was hoping for. 

But one important thing that she did say was that the pain that I would experience was not causing any damage but actually was doing the exact opposite. Apparently the pain is related to the cancer cells that are fighting and dying. It's almost like, at least in my mind, the more painful it is the stronger the fight is. And the stronger the fight, the stronger the cancer cells. I don't know if that's medically factual but at least that was my interpretation. 

The idea that being in pain, especially related to something that is so similar to a sunburn, was not only non-damaging but is actually helpful. It goes against all logic. If we were sitting on the beach without any sort of sunscreen and sat there baking in the sun and felt our face getting hotter and more red and then beginning to sting and burn we would fully believe that we were causing damage and that we should stop doing this. But this is the exact opposite logic that we see here.

She told me that the pain will increase through the first few minutes and crescendo around the 10th minute. She said after that things tend not to get worse and it's easier for the last seven minutes or so. 

The fight really is between the cancer cells and the medicine. The cancer cells attack by creating pain in my body trying to get me to call off the treatment. To quit. The cancer cells know that they are dying and so they attack. They attack with pain hoping that I will give in and say stop I give up. But I am strong. I know my enemy. And I know how to defeat him. I just need to outlast him.  Like a prizefighter who knows his opponent can't go the distance. He takes punch after punch knowing that each blow that he receives hurts and will cause him pain for days and weeks to come. But he also knows that his opponent cannot maintain this level of fury for all the rounds to come. He waits until the twilight rounds and then attacks. The weakened opponent who has exerted all of his effort is helpless against the onslaught.  I am the superior fighter. I am the champion. I will win. 

Skin Cancer, Blue Lights, a Retreat, and a Whole Lot of PAIN

Note to newbie's: If you're just joining us, feel free to stick around but you might enjoy the story better if you start at the very beginning. It reads like a book so it's fun to start with the first post and read each entry. Here's the link: For First Post Click Here!

So apparently I have a whole bunch of pre-cancerous skin issues.  And since this blog is about improvement, I thought I'd write about them.  Improving oneself takes many forms, and apparently has multiple chapters.  I got the weight loss down, and a healthy lifestyle, but I need to address some other areas as well.  I cannot just accept this unhealthy condition of my skin.  Doing so could literally be deadly.  And this is not an overstatement.  If you haven't been to a dermatologist, I'd strongly encourage you to do so.  

But don't worry, there's more to come about weight loss!  And a special bit of news related to one gentleman who is on the fast right now!!  How exciting!!  He was over 300 pounds, 339 pounds to be exact, and he is dropping weight quickly (of course with a doctor supervising and monitoring him). He's doing it and has a story not so different than mine.  I'll write about him soon in some of the next few posts.

But back to the skin cancer joy... So the dermatologist told me that I have a bunch of "reminders" on my face of all of the years that I spent in the sun skiing, racing and cruising sailboats, driving one of a number of covertibles (including a 1964 Austin Healy Sprite, 1959 Sunbeam Alpine, Chrysler LeBaron, 1962 Rambler American, a Celica, two 1974 VW Things, and a couple of Fiats), and just a bunch of general time in the sun at the beach in warm and sunny Santa Barbara, California.  Foolishly, I never wore any "Suntan Lotion" AKA Sun-Block.  Now I'm paying the price.  By the way, I didn't wear it by choice.  Even more foolish.  But I hated myself then and I think I did it because of that self-hatred.  More on that another time.  And definitely a lot more on that in the book.

So now I need to fix these years of sun damage and the dermatologist has recommended Photo-Dynamic Therapy with Blue Light and Levulan.  To be honest I only know very little about this other than what the doctor has told me and some info the I've read online.  According to what I've learned, the doctor puts this lotion (Levulan) on my face, and then they zap me with blue light for 17 minutes, and then you go home and stay out of the light for a few weeks.

But there is this significant, physical, burining, pain thing.

Apparently this is really quite painful.  Like really painful.  They said it will feel like my face is burning.  Some people can only take 5 minutes of the treatment.  And apparently there is nothing wrong or damaging during the time with the pain, and actually it is very helpful to take the full 17 minutes.  Then after this is over, I'll need to be out of the sun, and even out of the light coming through a window for some number of days or weeks.  And during the following 2 to 4 weeks, my skin will look and feel very sunburnt.  And there will be bleeding.  And ugly sores where the cancerous cells resided.  Did I mention that I have a bunch of these, hence the treatment.  I've seen some pictures, and I don't want to see more.

There are two things to mention here.  The first: my plan is to go away from my family during this time when I'll look disgusting.  A dear, dear, sweet friend named Leslie has agreed to kindly allow me to go up to her condo in the mountains near Mammoth Lakes, California to hide away.  I cannot express the gratitude that I have for her generosity.  I'll be able to hide away and recover without people needing to see me.  I will have to drive a night to get there as I cannot be in the light at all after the procedure.  And what will I do while hold up in this semi-remote condo for 3 to 4 weeks you ask?  What else? Write a book!

I've been told that if you get over 10,000 folks reading your blog that you might have the makings for a book.  Well, as of today, I'm getting pretty close to the 40,000 mark.  Pretty cool, eh?  Please share this story of self-improvement with your friends and be sure to be on the look out for a book coming soon.

But there is that pain and fear thing, which is the second thing that I want to mention.  Actually I don't want to mention it but it is a fact that can't be avoided if I don't want to have skin cancer, that runs in my family significantly.  I've been told that this will hurt a lot and that I might need to call it quits and not complete the treatment for the full 17 minutes.  I cannot do this.  What I mean is, I cannot quit.  I believe that the biggest part of losing weight through a broth fast is making the decision.  Not the decision to try it, but the uncompromising decision to do it and see it through to the end.  Unless a doctor calls it off or there's some pressing medical reason, I'm committed to finishing this and going the full 17 minutes.  I'm committed to accepting the pain, misery, and discomfort that will follow for as many as 4 weeks.  I'm committed.  I made the decision.  I've stormed the island and burnt the boats.  But I have motivation.

It's not just motivation to remove the skin cancer but it is far more important than that.  And this might sound odd to some, but this is my blog and so it's my story of my beliefs.  I feel that I need to withstand this pain because I might be called on one day to stand firm in my faith.  In the world we live today we have many who are being persecuted and even tortured and killed for their faith.  They are being pressed hard to turn from their beliefs and accept another's.  And you know, it's one thing to change your mind and choose to "accept" a new faith because of new knowledge or through some sort of new revelation but it's something else to "give up" one's faith because to fear, persecution, or pain.  I hope, and pray, that I'm never put to the test and require to withstand horrid and evil pressure to renounce my faith, but if I am, I've chosen to not fold.  There are many in the world recently, and perhaps always, that have been physically beaten, burned, and killed for their beliefs.  If these can withstand such attacks for their belief, I can withstand 17 minutes of pain and 4 weeks of misery.  I don't know if that is completely clear, but my guess is that you get the gist.  I know what I believe.  And although many could argue what they believe is right and good, we all know what evil looks like.  And we all know that murdering people for their faith is not "right and good".  It is evil and hateful.  I might not know what is right, but I sure know what is wrong.  I choose to stand by what is right.

So, as I wax poetic about this, I must say that I am still scared and nervous.  I've asked my sweet wife to come with me to be a support.  Having her by my side will be a huge help and support.  One day I might not have her by my side, but today she is here, and I love her support and encouragement.

So off I go in another 10 minutes to willingly accept and take a dosage of pain for my improvement.  I've referred to the "30 Day Broth Fast" as the "kick your ass and get it done" weight loss method.  Well, this is the "kick you ass and burn your face" skin cancer treatment.  I'm sure that I'll be writing more about this in the next few posts.  Please stay tuned.