Tell me if you've heard this before!

 Anyone who knows me, knows that I've been battling cancer for 8 years.  What I have is incurable and has metastasized into my bones 4 years ago.  The normal life expectancy for metastasized prostate cancer is 36 to 48 months and I'm going to blow by that easily.  A few years ago, I was depressed because my life expectancy was measured in months instead of years.  Jenny helped me get past this, telling me that my case is different from all others.  Andrew Jackson told us that we should not take counsel in our fears and I learned to believe him.  Looking things up on line was really scary and I've stopped doing it.  Even though my cancer can't be cured, my doctor is controlling it nicely.  It seems that when one treatment quits working, there's another one to try.

I have been on chemo since last October first,   It's doing a good job, getting my numbers down and giving me a nice quality of life.  I do have some issues.  My feet are both numb from chemo two years ago.  It feels strange but doesn't have any pain like it can.  The tumor in my jaw is probably hitting a nerve because the left side of my face is numb.  It really feels strange when my face sweats or when I shave.

One thing that helps me to more easily deal with my illness is the kindness of others.  Whenever Jenny talks with anyone in her family, their first question is asking how I am doing. At the golf course, I am constantly asked how I am doing and am shown positive support by lots of people.

Despite the uncertaincy of my future, I feel blessed.  I don't have any pain in either my cancer or my treatment.  I have a remarkable group of caregivers that I believe will keep me thriving into old age.  A couple years ago, I was reluctant to buy a new golf club because I wasn't sure I'd live long enough to get my money's worth.  Now, I'm looking at buying a new truck next year.  I might never buy it but I believe that if I do, I'll get good use out of it.

Now, I know it is difficult to deal with other people's cancer.  One of my classmates just lost his wife to the harsh toxicity of chemo, one of my cousins has lung cancer and a close family member is being treated for breast cancer,  Even though I've been dealing with cancer for years, I have a hard time figuring out what to say and how to say it.  So when I have someone who graciously asks me how I am, I know how tough expressing empathy is.

My advice for anyone who gets a tough diagnosis is to be strong.  Be aware that many kind people will be praying for you.  Also, as scared as you might be, your family and loved ones are also scared.  Your strength and positivity will be a Godsend to them, giving them hope for the future.  Also, I believe that a positive outlook will help one's recovery from an illness.

No one fights alone!

It has been one week since my first chemotherapy treatment. There are numerous side effects of this treatment which concerned me greatly.  In this last week of which these side effects are most likely, I HAVE EXPERIENCED ZERO SIDE EFFECTS other than some weakness.  The truth be told, I have averaged over 10,000 steps a day since last Saturday and that might have something to do with it.  A nap in the afternoon does the trick.

It is my firm belief that my lack of symptoms are a result of all the prayers and support that I have received from all of you people.  Thank you very, very much everyone.  I am blessed that all of you are in my life.  Keep up the good work!!

It's go time!

No, I didn't have to start chemo in October.  But now, the Zytiga therapy isn't containing the cancer. Even though my testosterone (What feeds the cancer) is still at the lowest level possible, my PSA is 19 and tomorrow I have to start chemo. This is just the next step in the process.There are many more steps after this if needed. I'm not so happy about the possible side effects like nausea and losing my hair but, I could use to have my appetite curtailed a bit and as my dad once said "Its not that you have less hair to comb, you have more face to wash!"
 My greatest concern is for others. I feel sorry for all of you who have to see my odd shaped head. It will be tanned in the middle and white on top and on the bottom. Holy crap, if anyone is going to have nausea, it will be Jenny at mealtime with my striped face. Please let me be frank. Yeah, I'm going to have some discomfort and my poor barber is going to lose a cash cow but my greatest concern is for those that are going through much harsher and more painful cancer. I don't have any pain and haven't taken a Tylenol in over a month. Those that are suffering from cancers that are very painful and whose treatments are much more harsher than mine causes me much more concern than my case. Jenny and Shannon can tell you what you can do to give these patients hope and support

. Remember, #strongtothemax  #noonefightsalone  #godblessthosewhocareforothers  #baldisbeautiful and #christietedersrocks Thank you so very much!

Oh, Crap

     Yesterday was my appointment with my Oncologist.  The news was bad.  My PSA score increased from 4.3 to 8.4.  It appears that there is some of my cancer that has figured a way around the Zytiga that I've been taking.  So now, in 2 weeks (while continuing with my current medications), I'll be going through a whole battery of scans to see where the cancer is now and at what strength.  So, if you see an aura around me on November first, it won't be my glowing personality but the nuclear cocktail I had to drink.  On the 2nd, We'll meet with my doctor again, and most likely, I'll start a round of chemotherapy.  Not what I was looking for.
     Its nice to be rid of the Zytiga and its $2883 monthly co-pay, but along with that, I'll probably lose my hair.  So much for my new beard.
     I sure hope this will work.

Cancer hurts

This is the story about my struggle with prostate cancer.  The PSA test is helpful in diagnosing prostate cancer.  A normal, non cancerous PSA score is 0.  Anything above 0 might indicate the possibility of cancer.  In the spring of 2011, at a routine check up, my PSA score for prostate cancer was 1.4.  My doctor suggested I go see a Urologist but I never got around to it.  Two years later, quite by accident, I had my PSA taken and it was 11.4.  I then went to see a Urologist, two years late, had 14 biopsies on my prostate and all 14 tested positive for cancer.
So, in February 2013, I marked off sick from the railroad and started my treatment.  I started with 41 radiation treatments.  Since prostate cancer is fueled by testosterone, I underwent 3 years of hormone treatment that reduced my testosterone to castration levels.  After my last hormone shot in 2016, all my numbers looked great and we were hopeful that the cancer was eliminated.  As that last 3 month shot wore off, my testosterone levels started to rise.  (Normal levels for testosterone is 270 to 400)  By my December 2016 appointment with my Urologist, my PSA was 0.9 and my testosterone was still less than 200.  We were ecstatic hearing this news.
My next Urologist appointment was in August 2017.  My testosterone was over 300 buy my PSA was 10.4.  Here we go again.  My Urologist referred me to an excellent Oncologist.  We waited a month to make sure it wasn't an anomaly and in that time the PSA increased to 15.8.  I had numerous scans and tests and it turned out that my prostate cancer was Stage 4 and metastasized in the bone, lymph node and saliva gland in my left jaw, and in the bone in both hips, my backbone and ninth rib.  The biopsies all came back positive for prostate cancer.
So, I began getting hormone (Lupron) shots but that wasn't enough this time.  Testosterone is also produced by the adrenal gland and by the cancer itself.  So I began taking 4 Zytiga tablets a day along with a couple other drugs.  It takes care of that other testosterone.
My doctor told me that this treatment will someday quit working.  If and when that happens, we will have to try something else, like chemotherapy.  Three months ago, when I had my 3 month check up, my PSA was up from 1.6 to 4.6.  It scared me to death.  I went through a number of scans and tests again.  I had changed my diet by eliminating dairy, white potatoes, white rice and white flour.  I had read that these help feed hormonal cancers like prostate.  My doctor had me return to my normal diet and a week later my PSA  was 4.3 but my testosterone was still under 3 and my scans showed an improvement over 2016.  I have my next three month check up and shots next week and I'm very nervous about what my treatments will be now.
Of all the pain and discomfort that I have experienced, nothing compares to the stress.  Prostate cancer is stressful.  Stage 4 metastatic prostate cancer is extremely hard to cope with.  Every time you feel a new pain, you think the cancer has spread.  A friend of mine, my Tuesday night golf partner developed prostate cancer after I did.  His metastasized into the bone and while he was being treated for that, they found a mass on his lung and he passed away two weeks later.  When mine metastasized, that was all I could think of.  The month after my cancer returned and I got the final results were horribly stressful.  Now that I'm on Medicare, its stressful in a different way.  Even though I enrolled into the best Part D prescription plan there is, the co-pay for my Zytiga tables went from $1.67 to $2883 a month.
So, my life is lived in 3 month increments.  The last two weeks before my appointment, I'm scared to death I'll receive bad news.  I'm dealing with it the best I can.
So far, I've been fortunate that I haven't needed chemotherapy yet.  That's where it really gets scary.  I can't begin to understand what one goes through, the harsh chemicals, hair loss and horrible side effects.
My family and I pray that I don't have that fight. 

Now, where was I?

All of the posts I've written in the last two years, yet didn't post start the same way. I give a lame excuse why I haven't written anything in two years. They basically fall into two categories. About half of them were political rants. They were entertaining, informative and totally correct. But, rants are rants and even though my political rants are real knee slappers, I usually let them gather dust in my journal. The second category is me trying to figure out if I'll retire when I'm eligible to do so on September 1, 2013 and what I'll do with myself if I do. Since I can retire with a marvelous pension at age 60 and the rest of you poor schlumps will probably have to work til you're 70, they came out as a tad boastful. Albeit in a witty and entertaining fashion.

When I first started writing this blog in 2008, I picked all the low hanging fruit pretty early. Other than political rants (Hey ladies! Those Republican bozos don't like you!) or retirement (Is it against the law to buy your first fishing pole after you turn 60?) I'm pumping a dry well. Writer's block, Texas tea. I've always thought that when that day came, I could always come up with something. I'm the guy who could get C's on essay tests in college without ever attending class or buying the book. My so-called line of bullshit was stretched pretty thin that first year. Go back and read some of that (crap) finely written prose. I still get Google hits on Dumbo and various similes.

Like everyone else, I felt I knew how things were going to turn out as I got older. I see myself as a fairly intelligent guy. I graduated college in the middle of the pack without really trying. As I look back on things, I realize that I was wrong pretty much all across the board. In some ways that's a good thing and in others, not so much.

Thirty years ago, I figured that when I got to be the age I am at now, I would be riding a caboose, just like my dad. Well, soon after dad retired, they replaced the cabooses with blinking red lights and there's no hiding for dear ol' Max.

Being somewhat of a loner who was basically scared of women, I had always figured I'd grow old alone and die alone. Instead, I met Jenny, we fell in love and I have a marvelous family that I adore. Jen has showed me how truly great life can be and its my sincerest wish that Shane finds someone like her someday.

When it comes to science and technology, I figured that it would come gradually but I never imagined anything like it is now. After all, it took nearly 20 years to get color TV. When I was at Purdue in the fall of 1971, I took a computer class. The school's computer took up the entire basement of the building it was in and was considered the state of the art. When you wrote a program, you had to type up a punch card for each line of code. One of the ways they would "wow" the new students would be to run a program that had a stack of cards two feet high. There was a plotter that plotted the line of an equation on a graph. The program was a whole ton of equations and when the computer plotted all of them, it turned out to be a picture of an elephant. From the time the TA fed the cards into the card reader and the graph was plotted, it took 30 minutes! Right now, the cell phone in my bag has much, much more computing power than that monster computer.

We used to laugh at mom who would just use her computer for playing solitaire, but that's me now! In the mid 70's, I once wrote a 2000 line program on mom's Commodore 64 computer to do payroll for Railroad Inn. Now, I need to call a help desk to figure out how to hit "enter" on a laptop running the railroad crew management program. I thought I'd always be cutting edge, like in 1971, but I ended up computer challenged. I don't play solitaire, though. My game is Minesweeper. My best ever time on expert is 94 seconds. Jenny thinks that I'm the only person in the world still playing Minesweeper. Like usual, she's probably right! I also love Facebook. It has allowed me to get acquainted with relatives I didn't really know, like Lisa Ley and Marsha Cook (Can't wait til this summer!). They're such sweethearts. I'm starting to tough base with old Army buddies like Andy Kovach and Steve Gipson and am able to follow the life and times of old school buddies and cousins who live far away. In five years, there will be something bigger and better coming along and when Jenny or Shane tell me about it, I'll enjoy it too.

Those of you who have read this blog in years past know that Jen and I have a fuzzy buddy in New Jersey. You know New Jersey and its governor, Chris Krispy Kreme. Fuzzy lives just down the road from Stephanie Plum and spends his time bailing out the Jersey economy in Atlantic City. It seems that retirement woke him up and since I've last posted, he and his long, long time best girl, Barb have gotten married. So, here's my blog congrats and I hope you two have many, many more years together.

Finally, since I've posted last, my daughter Shannon gave birth to my second granddaughter on 09-09-09. Her and Mike named her Taylor Maxine McClure and she's just as cute as her sister Jaden without the red hair. Having a baby named after me is the single greatest honor I've ever received. Shannon and Mike's tribute to me still has me walking on air.

Hopefully, I'll post a little more often than before. That'll stimulate the blogdom.

Call me Max +

The other day I got an e-mail about a guy who was always happy. His premise was that you voluntarily set your mood when you get up every day. You can choose to be happy and you will be a refreshing breath of fresh air to everyone around you. Or, you can choose to be a grouch and be a miserable pain in the ass to everyone. Of course, there's a neutral middle ground that the majority of people inhabit but like politics, only the fringes seem to get noticed and commented on.

Being someone who has always welcomed new ideas and new thinking, of course I've adopted this mentality as my own! I will be Mr. Happy! When you see someone grin, you'll think "I wonder what Max is doing?" Yes, when that old geezer in front of you in church farts a real gut wrencher, you'll think of me and remind him about having a timely colonoscopy. I hope to infuse life around me with an uplifting positive and yes, happy attitude.

Those of you who know me, know that I don't make these life altering decisions lightly. Before I quit smoking, I took 35 years to prepare. Before successfully turning my weight dilemma around, I studied it for 20 or so years. Yes, for me to come out and announce a life altering decision like this is truly monumental, if not newsworthy.

One of the reasons that I am becoming "Mr. Happy" is to throw off the "Mad Max" tag that Mel Gibson laid on me and all other Maxes in the world. If I'm ever gonna shake that "Mad Max" crap then I must become someone diametrically opposite of a mad guy. In the past when someone referred to me as "Mad Max", I'd say "No, that's happy Max!" But it never worked. Soon, when they see me, the last thing they'll think of is "Mad Max".

To replace that "Mad Max" tag, though, I need a gimmick that will make it memorable. Something like Prince did in the 90's. That won't quite work for me. I would probably be known then as "That Bozo formerly known as Mad Max!" I'm thinking of altering my name sorta like Max +. My motto could be "That Max, what a positive person!" My only dilemma is whether there should be a space between Max and the plus sign or not.

So, when I got up today (Friday) I was ready to become Mr. Happy Guy! After shaking hands with my little brother, I went to my bag to get my morning cereal (I'm at the work hotel in Chicago) and imagine my surprise when I noticed that I had forgotten to pack my usual Grape Nut Flakes. I just went down to the lobby where they have the continental breakfast set up and got me a bowl of "Honey Bunches of Crap" and a banana to slice on top of it. I'm happy for the dietetic change of pace. Come 10:30 and I took some half frozen chili out of my cooler and put it in my little 2 cup crock pot and head off for my 5 mile walk around Midway Airport.

As I walk for the next hour and a half, I greet everyone I meet with a smile and a kind word. In Chicago, not too many people, or at least those who go out walking, running or biking around the airport are very happy. As a matter of fact, there were a couple of old cankers, after receiving my happy greeting, I thought were gonna squat and crap right there on the sidewalk! Being new to this, I don't know "happy" in Spanish so I'm at a loss for greetings to our Mexican friends other than "hola". There are many more Hispanic walkers around the airport than any other ethnic group. I don't know why, nor do I care. That's only important to the grumblers, not us happy types.

When I got to the hotel and went to my room, of course, the magnetic key card didn't work in my door. So, I had to go all the way back to the lobby so the desk clerk could reswipe it. I didn't complain. I saw it as a chance to get a little more walking in! I get in my room, all sweaty, smell the chili (which is perfect) and realize that I forgot to pack clean clothes and I just sweat out my shirt. Am I po'd? Nah. Air it out for a couple hours and it'll be fine. Some of the guys I work with do it all the time! See, I'm fitting in more and more!

I know many of you are asking why I'm going for happy when its so much easier to be grouchy. Its not easy to grin when you break your little toe on a table leg but letting a stream of cuss words fly is a snap. As someone who has always gravitated toward the easy side when making choices, this is a departure from habit. There are a couple reasons. Even though a Pollyanna can get a bit tedious for people around him, its a much better environment for your family than dealing with a bitchy sourpuss. When you're happy, everyone around you is too. When you have a stick up your ass, that stick hits everyone on the head! (Not a pretty sight, huh Fuzzy?)

The other reason is purely selfish. One thing I've noticed about health is that pleasant, happy people rarely have premature heart attacks. Most of my co-workers who've had heart attacks before they retired were bitchers and complainers. A bad attitude results in bad health and a positive attitude leads to a positive healthy being. That might be a load of crap but what if it isn't?

Also, with this new attitude, its a good thing I'm a liberal Democrat. One thing I've noticed lately is the Right Wingers are not a happy bunch. They are spewing hatred and lies about everyone and everything that doesn't agree to their narrow minded stereotypical view of life and such misery can't be healthy for the body, the spirit or for relationships. To them I just smile and say "Vaya con dios, mus muchachos!" Yeah, "Go with God" because unless you lighten up, you'll be seeing him sooner than you think!!

Now, being a happy fellow is nice but unless you do it right, you come out looking like a dork. I'll definitely have to change some of my stock one liners. When someone says "How ya doin'?" I usually say "I'm doing, I just don't know how yet." To "Have a good day" I always say either "I'll try but I won't make any guarantees" or "I'll be sure to make the heroic effort, you can count on it". I've just always figured that as long as people greet me with the same old tired lines, I'll reciprocate with an old tired line of my own. And you never know. If the person hasn't ever heard them before, they will enjoy the witty retort. As the years go by, that possibility diminishes quite a bit. To replace those answers with a "happy" one will take an enormous effort on my part. After all, those other answers were crafted during 56 years of life. To come up with an equally witty, yet happy reply may be too much to ask for. Sadly, I don't have my greatest inspiration to look to for answers. Yeah, if anyone could come up with a great bullshit line on short notice, it was my dad. He was the master of the one liner. The only other person who could help me is my son, Shane. His line of bull has shown flashes of his grandpa that makes my skin get cold! I'll mine that fervid brain of his when he comes home tomorrow for Easter.

To the "How ya doin'" I could say "I'm so happy I could just fart." But farting in public is on my personal improvement agenda and talking about it makes 'em sneak out even more often. Well, eliminating a gassy, bloated feeling would make me a happier guy. How about when someone says "Have a good day" I just turn around and blow a tird whistle. Now THAT would make me happy!

So whether I'm "Happy Max" or "Max +" I don't care. To quote the guy in the e-mail "I couldn't be happier unless I was TWINS!"