Posted by Joe on his FB 5/21/11


RELAY FOR LIFE
My walking form right now is even worse than my running form ever was. I’m a little hunched in the shoulders to relieve pressure around the incision, and the further I walk, the more I bend over. Last night, as I slouched around the Bowling Green High School track during the Relay for Life, my gaze drifted down to the luminaries lining the track. I was taken aback when I saw the name on one of them – Dennis Hale, one of my favorite professors from BGSU, a guy who had a quick and easy smile, and whose care for his students shone through everything he did. A few steps later, the name of Chris Bartz, our Rogers athletic director’s wife. A few steps later, and the name Jackie Cocke, the grandmother of one of my oldest friends from back in GR. And on, and on, and on.

I was shocked at how many people I knew who had died from cancer – and as I made a second circuit of the track, I started running into a lot of people I knew. People who were wearing purple shirts. People who were survivors. It was a second shock – how many people I know who have survived cancer.

I’m not versed in the statistics, and frankly, the numbers don’t mean nearly as much as the qualitative data. We all know a LOT of people who have died from cancer, and we all know a LOT of people who have survived cancer.


UPDATES
• I went back to work for Thursday and Friday of this week. It was more than great to be back at Rogers. I missed the students and my colleagues terribly, and it was good to be doing something that felt normal. Standing in the hall and laughing with Brian, Eric, and Ron is better than percocet.

• Do not be fooled by my Nike+ updates that say I ‘ran!’ I am using my Nike+ to track my walking mileage, and trying to add a tenth of a mile to my distance each day. My pace is somewhere in the neighborhood of 27’30”. A few people have private messaged me with atta boys for getting out and running – but I’m not quite there yet!! Currently, I can walk about 6/10 of a mile before I’m gassed.

• The walking (and pain therein) is a big part of the reason for this next bit of news: This past week, I gave up my spot on the Normandy Institute this summer. The decision, once I took my heart out of the equation, and thought with my brains, was sort of a no-brainer – especially when they guaranteed that my student, Corey, would still be able to go and will be paired with a couple of great adult partners.
I really wanted to convince myself that I could do it, but reality won this round. The institute is less than four weeks away, and would require at least three miles of walking on each outing, up cliffs, across beaches in France, getting to the Metro, on the Metro, to the next place, etc. It’s a stretch for me to believe that I would be able to do that AT ALL, much less comfortably in this time frame. And then there was the complexity of the medical issues: What if I got cut? What if I took a spill? As good a reputation as the French health care system has, do I really want to risk a situation where I have to spend a week in a hospital overseas when my French is limited to finding restrooms, buying train tickets, and ordering lamb? So, in consultation with the trip’s organizer, we agreed it was a bad idea for me to take the trip this year after the blood clot complication. But should the institute’s sponsor choose to fund it again next year (which seems likely), I am guaranteed a spot. I’m at peace with the decision – I was exceptionally nervous about traveling in this condition. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. I’ve wanted to pay my respects at Uncle Paul’s grave for so long, and this part of history is so resonant with me, that I wish badly I could go. So I’m praying for good health a year from now, and a wildly successful institute so the sponsor decides to fund it next year!!

• Between not going on the Institute trip, having to cancel our wedding shoots since I can’t even carry the freakin’ bag, and having had to resign my course at BGSU, all of a sudden my summer is a lot more free. For the first time in five years, our weekends won’t be dictated by other peoples’ weddings. We’ll be able to get up to the cottage more, over to Aaron and Kathy’s, and spend a little time in DC with Katie’s sister. I’m rather excited at the notion of being able to spend this summer almost exclusively with family and friends.

• We go to Cleveland Clinic this coming Thursday and Friday to get a battery of tests, and then meet with my oncologist. I’m hoping to get on a clinical trial for a drug that is intended to ward off recurrence. Thus far, nothing science has developed has reduced the 40-50% recurrence rate of renal cell carcinoma. I am all about whatever can improve my odds, and am praying that this might be part of my miracle.

• On praying: Since diagnosis, I have sort of formalized a prayer regimen every day for myself. But the past week, I’ve been kind of disappointed with myself, and feeling as if my faith is weak. When all of this happened, my prayer had an intensity that I’ve never felt before. Now, as life gets more ‘normal,’ I feel that my prayer is again becoming somewhat rote, and lacking the urgency it had when I was in crisis. It’s shameful, and I suspect, not unique to me, that faith and our relationship with God becomes so much more tangible at our darkest hours.