I must start by saying that I do not always feel like posting a daily blog. With that said, I’m committed to do so because of the feedback I have received through various comments and texts. Without promising that every post will be unique or little more than an update on my day, I will attempt to post something each day. Thanks for the motivation.

Today has been characterized by acceptance. As my lab values do what we expect, I am having to accept that my energy is not what I hope for. And, therefore, I am having to accept that my goals are not always attainable.

Keeping up with a daily blog is not as easy as I thought it might be. I no shortage of topics or musings. The challenge is actually in taking the time to write them down in a manner that is cathartic for me and hopefully beneficial to you as well. If it were up to me alone, today’s entry would simply be - Start Early.

As a new month begins, my story continues. This week’s test results were in my favor. No cancer in my central nervous system. Just one more blessing from such an early discovery and treatment. Another discovery of mine this week, is the depth of generosity of those who surround me in life. I have always been a rather unassuming individual and continue to be amazed at the love others are showing to me and my family in our time of need.

In follow up to last night’s post, I wanted to share that the giants we fear the most are often times the easiest opponents to defeat. My reference is specifically to the story of David and Goliath and is influenced my the research of Malcolm Gladwell.

Today started out to be a tough day. I was prepared mentally and ready for the fight. With all of the support from friends and family paired with the clinically staff here, I was confident I would finish the day as the victor. And, I have. 

If we have ever had a conversation about things that are out of our control, you have likely heard me say to buckle up, put your hands in the air, and enjoy the ride. I don’t say this flippantly. Rather, I say this fully acknowledging what is within my control and what is not. 

Today was another lesson in learning to relax. One might think that I would take the chance to actually sit around in the hospital as a way to escape the high pace routine of daily life. However, it has been quite the opposite. But, for now, I am learning to slow down and relax. 

My father-in-law once told me that happiness can have more to do with having preferences rather than expectations. I have found this to be very true. Although expectations are completely reasonable for certain aspects in life, they also set you up for disappointment.

Sleep. At times I have regarded it as a necessary evil. You know those times like Christmas Eve when you are six, the night before your birthday (again when you are six), or the night before a major academic or professional deadline. Other times, sleep offers a vital reprieve from the mental and physical demands of life allowing our bodies and minds to renew. I finally engaged in some much needed renewal today. 

Nausea can be a sinister thing. I’m quickly learning that the nights immediately following my IV chemo infusions are marked with nausea. This is the kind of nausea where you don’t want to move for fear of your insides all transferring to your outsides. However, I have found the great equalizer - IV Zofran. 

I believe we would all agree that the world is a more turbulent place today than at any time in recent memory. And, in times such as these, peace and calm are often replaced with fear and anxiety. Peace and calm, when they are achieved by ignoring reality become problems in and of themselves. However, facing life’s challenges with peace and calm often makes the difference between decisive game-winning decisions and the analysis paralysis that often carries a heavy price. 

Today marks one week since admitting for this inpatient sabbatical. The nurses and I celebrated with Round Two of my intravenous cocktail of Daunorubicin and Vincristine. Thanks to Doug and Gretchen Cox for the Cheesecake Factory meal tonight. I ate like a puppy.

As I continue to take in the changes that have occurred in the past two weeks, I cannot help but notice the loss. Simple things such as choosing my own food from my own refrigerator, fresh orange juice (not from concentrate), a comfy couch on which to snuggle my kids, breathing fresh evening air while walking with the family, and holding Teri’s hand are no longer a part of my daily life. These are simple in comparison to my doctor saying that I will always carry the scars from this battle. 

For the first time, I find myself sitting here searching for something positive to write about. All the while, staring right back at me is an undeniable topic. Isolation.

One of the unique dynamics of my current experience is being in the hospital during the COVID-19 pandemic. Currently, no visitors are allowed except in end of life scenarios. Therefore, I’m not anticipating any visitors and will simply accept well wishes from afar. I can joke about it now. However, last week, it proved to be quite a challenge. As you can imagine, I was working through my own mortality isolated from the ones I love and rely on the most. Yes, there is FaceTime. But, in those moments what I needed was a touch, hug, the physical presence of my wife and kids.

The last few days have been focused on bringing order to the recent changes in my life and establishing routine. For anyone who knows me, you know that I am a creature of habit. I wake up without an alarm clock, get to work within a three minute window each day, have the same Panera salad for lunch almost four days out of the week, and you can set your watch by when I am getting each of my four cups of coffee throughout the day. By the way, as of today I am four weeks without coffee and have survived.

I’ve received several comments and personal messages about my positive attitude and want to take a moment to provide some context. First, I belong to Christ. (1 Cor 6:20) I was purchased by Him nearly 2,000 years ago. I readily accepted that gift years ago and have, since then, walked a journey with the Lord knowing that He directs my steps. A.L.L. was not on my bucket list for this life. However, God has seen fit that this be the next chapter for me, my family, and anyone sharing my journey.

Today is best described as Inpatient Chemo 101. The Greg Notes version of today’s education? I’m about to get toxic doses of drugs designed to kill much of my body with the intent of stopping just short of killing me. Potential side effects? Just little things like Congestive Heart Failure, Peripheral Neuropathy, Thyroid issues, and the ever-looming chance of infection. I guess these risks are the price of admission to the next act. I’m all in.

I woke up early today. 4:21 AM to be exact. Today marked the first morning without tears. I’ve mentally prepared for the fight and woke up ready to step in the arena.