At times, productivity means doing nothing at all.
Gina Greenlee

8 August 2022

And if you have an L&L Hawaiian Barbecue nearby, you can download a coupon and get a free serving of SPAM musubi today to savor the joy. (No, I’m not getting any perks from L&L for this…I just want to share a free deal with the folks I love.)

There…I’ve done something in service. I’ve shared the possibility of a freebee associated with my beloved Hawai’i. Maybe my life has purpose after all.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which can be infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

The same substance composes us–the tree overhead, the stone beneath us, the bird, the beast, the star–we are all one, all moving to the same end.
P.L. Travers

3 August 2022

Isä, that very good man, passed many years ago, but Äiti passed just yesterday, at the age of 99 years, and as Pekka told me, she was aware, alert and independent to the very end of her life. Sisu is an untranslatable word in the Finnish language that is about strength, perseverance, total honesty, independence and unquestionable integrity and character. You’ll find it’s what the Finns are about if you have the good fortune to get to know them. It’s also what Äiti was about. You didn’t mess with her, and you certainly didn’t mess up her kitchen. I still have the fondest memories of her pulla (Finnish sweet bread) at breakfast, kesäkeitto (summer soup) and kalakukko (a rather complex dish of fish baked in a loaf of bread…amazing stuff). She showed her love through the food she served us, but she offered much more than her wonderful food. To me, as a somewhat naïve and insecure young man, she offered her quiet strength and example. Yes, this was many years ago, but there are some things one doesn’t forget easily.

I’ve wondered why Äiti’s passing has affected me so deeply, and it strikes me that I’ve become very aware of late of two important factors in my life. First, as you might expect, my mortality. It will a surprising miracle (a welcome one, of course) if this cancer thing doesn’t take me out. That’s just the way it is. It’s not so much death that I think about but what to do with the rest of my life. The passing of any person, especially of someone I care about, increases the immediacy of that question. And, the fact is that we are ALL in that situation, and it offers us a gift if we choose to accept it, the gift of motivation to live fully.

The fact that we are all living a very short life leads to the second consideration that looms large in my awareness these days. Our connectedness. I’ve mentioned that I’ve been thinking about the nature of consciousness, and now I’m reading an excellent book on recent research in psychedelics. Agnostic that I am, I’m becoming more and more convinced that we’re all connected in ways more profound than we can even conceive. And not just connected as human beings, but connected with all creation. So I’m connected with Äiti, with my friends in Finland, Thailand, Australia, Sweden, Spain, Canada, and with each of you. The World Wide Web is more, I think, than just a mechanism for transferring text and images. And the notion of being intimately connected with stars and galaxies places me in a state of awe and fearful joy. To be honest, the mystic in me longs for a deep experience of that connection.

But after all that, I want to return to where I started with a simple statement: Kiitos, Äiti.

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.
Winston S. Churchill
In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.
Albert Einstein

29 July 2022

Progress report: today I got shot up for the first time with Lupron, a female hormone that is supposed to suppress the production of testosterone, which, Iʻm told, encourages the growth of the tumors that have moved into the bones of this body. The nurse promised hotflashes as a probable side effect (woohoo!)…I havenʻt gone there yet. And no other effect that I can tell except perhaps the onset of a strong desire to shop for cosmetics at Wal-Mart.

Now the gratitude part.
Two weeks ago, Joan and I spent a couple days at a cabin in the Lake Tahoe area owned by our dear friends Rick and Vickie. While there, I was plagued by a nagging cough (still am, in fact) that was a side effect of a bone strengthening infusion Iʻd had several days earlier. Cough, cough, cough. Aside from being pretty exhausting, it has subjected Joan to a lot of stress. So the first night we were there, I went to bed early, having taken some cough medicine, and after lying down, I realized I wasnʻt coughing. I was almost brought to tears by the feeling of gratitude. When I manage to focus on (even the momentary) blessing rather than the difficulty, itʻs amazing how gratitude can step in.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which can be infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, peace, love and joy in abundance.

It must be really difficult to be normal.
Cass van Krah

21 July 2022

Those of you who know me well know that I am not normal. I tend to do things quirkily. So this bunch of crud (salivary duct carcinoma) that has decided to take residence in intimate quarters within my body is quite rare, and it is even more strange that it has moved into the bones. A sample was sent out to a genetic lab to look for something my medical team could grab onto, and they found only one little possibility. Joan and I met with our oncologist this morning, and here’s what we know:

• The bones in this body are gradually transforming into lumps of mush.
• The rate of transformation seems to be rather slow, but we’re not really certain about that.
• Tests found no genetic markers or mutations that would allow for highly promising, targeted genetic therapy.
• This condition is so rare that there has been very little research on it and pharmaceutical companies stand to make no money at all off of me so no particular remedy has been identified or developed.
• There are (only) three treatment trials happening (worldwide) on the organism, but I don’t qualify for any of them.
• General purpose, blast-the-hell-out-of me, let’s-try-it-anyway chemotherapy would be of little promise and would involve REALLY unpleasant side effects.
• The only item of promise revealed by the tests is a receptor that is the same as a receptor found on prostate cancer cells (although this is NOT prostate cancer). This receptor reacts to the presence of testosterone by stimulating growth of the tumor, so the only treatment that promises any level of effectiveness is to inhibit the presence of testosterone in the body.
• The treatment, which is also given to patients with prostate cancer, consists of a monthly injection plus a daily tablet.
• The final takeaway from the meeting is that planning my memorial is not at present an urgent issue…also additional evidence that I am not normal.

• (Advantage) Possibly more hair to fill in my prominent bald spot.
• (Disadvantage) Fat accumulation in places where I DON’T want to accumulate it.
• (Advantage) Maybe slower tumor growth.
• (Disadvantage) Lower energy levels.
• (Disadvantage or Advantage, depending on one’s sense of æsthetics) Maybe grow manboobs.

So you might wonder how I’m feeling about all this. I’m not sure. No big drama. Now at least we know something and we can plan, especially our return to our home in Hawaiʻi. It would have been nice to have been given access to some genetic wonder drug that would not only have eliminated the cancer but might have made me bionic grandpa. But, you know, I’m grateful for all I have. Not much pain at this point. Just living in the present and working hard to stay conscious of blessing myself and others (and sometimes it IS work).

To finish this post, I want to share with you that hanging out with my family is like swimming in a (loving) pool of barracudas. We have a standard saying: “Blood in the water!” So here are my sons’ supportive comments in response to my having shared this information with them:
My older son Patrick: “Boobs! Bald spot! Heh heh heh”
My younger son Timothy: “Nothing wrong with a nice rack, Pops. Just get used to saying “my eyes are up here.”
Don’t you wish they were yours?

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which can be infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, peace, love and joy in abundance.

I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.
Mother Teresa

14 July 2022

For those of you who may be wondering, I’m still waiting to hear the results of further testing to determine the course of therapy. I’ll post here as soon as I know.

Fear has been a prominent theme in what I’ve shared so far, and so far, I’ve been pretty successful at keeping it at bay. Yesterday, being aware of the physical symptoms, I knew they would pass. However, behind this conviction was the question “How much of my remaining life will feel like this?” And for how much of my life will Joan be tasked with carrying the burden of keeping things going? Of course, my standard answer is “I don’t know,” which certainly helps. At the same time, fear is one of our strongest emotions, and it isn’t easy to dissolve. It does, however, come and go unless we hold onto it. And in my opinion the way to let it go is to look squarely at it, respect it, accept it and look for the lesson it wishes to teach us.

When I’m troubled I often go to the web looking for inspiration from those who are wiser and kinder than I am. So I opened up YouTube, and there, at the very top of my home page was a video by Thich Nhat Hahn entitled “How do I stay in the moment when it seems unbearable?” Thich Nhat Hanh was a Vietnameses Zen master who died just six months ago. I had the good fortune to encounter him several times, both at his community in France and at his California community in Escondido. A kind, quiet, compassionate, very wise man. He is often called Thây (teacher in Vietnamese). My situation certainly wasn’t and isn’t unbearable, but the title of the video clicked.

Thây’s message in the video is an interesting one. When our situation is difficult, he says we can go to joy and gratitude for those things in our life that do give us joy. He also says that it’s important to confront our troubling situation and emotions head on and not to run away, which I’ve indicated above. But he spends most of his talk suggesting the importance of sangha (spiritual community) and service through the community. What he does very clearly is move the focus away from dwelling on our own “troubles” to focus on helping others.

Perhaps I’m just making up excuses, but I’m frustrated by my lack of imagination in finding ways to serve others. My world, it seems, has gotten very small. However, based on comments I’ve gotten, perhaps this sharing I’m doing is a way to serve you all. I hope so. I’ve come to see this group as a community of sorts, and I’d like to see the focus move somehow away from my own experience in ways that those who read this can serve each other in compassion and kindness. I’m not sure how to do that.

If you’re not already on the distribution list I created recently and you’d like to know when I publish a new post, please just send a quick e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll put you on my list. And THANK YOU!

Whoever you are, I wish you health, peace, love and joy in abundance.

Zazen is good for nothing.
Shohaku Okumura

9 July 2022

I normally meditate fifteen minutes every morning, and my technique is really simple. Since I asked people to start doing the Lovingkindness Meditation, I’ve been doing it every day myself, repeating it mentally three times for everyone who I know is working with a health or other challenge, then for a few folks I kinda like or don’t like, for Joan (who I kinda like), for myself, and finally for all beings. After that, I just sit, breathe, and work to be conscious of all the random thoughts running through my awareness: what a hoot to watch all that crap go on and on. I have to say that another blessing of the “diagnosis” is that it’s reconnected me with the Lovingkindness thing. Yesterday, I sat to meditate and was so distracted that I just gave up. No reason why. Just distracted. But this morning I sat to meditate and the whole process was very sweet. I hadn’t intended to post again today, but the experience of distraction followed by sweetness was kind of interesting, so I thought I’d share it. Nothing in my life is solid and consistent. Everything changes, year to year, month to month, week to week, day to day, moment to moment. But I (we?) live in the illusion that there are constants in my life. Nope. Sorry. The more I’m able to let go of the illusion of constancy, the happier I become. And watching the changes happen can even be entertaining. Even the advent of crud-in-bones and my reactions to it. It’s all my choice how I get to see it.

A lot of people think that meditation is a big deal, that it can be a means to an end (peace, mental stability, enlightenment, etc.). Many people also think that one has to meditate the “right” way. I see it differently. Having been associated with meditation for most of my life, there’s nothing special about it, and the only hard part is starting a practice and staying with it. There is no “right” way. Just sit, shut up and watch what happens. And don’t expect anything in particular to happen. Oh, sure. It’s ok, I guess, to set a particular goal at the outset if it provides motivation to begin a practice. But ultimately, setting a goal for meditation, to me, misses the point. When I’m actually meditating, I just sit, shut up (to the best of my ability) and watch what happens. Without my striving for it, it seems to just help. I’m not even sure how it helps. I just feel better if I stick with the practice.

Thanks for sticking with me. I’m very aware that you might not agree with how I look at all this, but, hey, I’d encourage you to start your own blog.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

How few days are needed for a century to pass.
Bram Stoker, spoken by Dracula

7 July 2022

If you’re not already on the distribution list I created recently and you’d like to know when I publish a new post, please just send a quick e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll put you on my list. And THANK YOU!

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.
George Bernard Shaw

6 July 2022

Finally, we’d fold up our walkers, grab them and walk briskly out of the bar, laughing the whole way. It would just be fun to watch the reactions, don’t you think? OK boomer my ass.

If you’re not already on the distribution list I created recently and you’d like to know when I publish a new post, please just send a quick e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll put you on my list. And THANK YOU!

Whoever you are, I wish you health, joy, peace and love in abundance.

I suppose our capacity for self-delusion is boundless.
John Steinbeck

4 July 2022

It’s been a week and a half since I’ve posted anything substantive here, and I want to apologize to any of you who have been checking in. I don’t know who’s checking and how often, nor how many you are. THANK YOU, at any rate. I don’t want to lose you, and there will be gaps in the future, so please tell if you’d like me to let you know whenever I post something. Just send me a quick e-mail at atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com…you don’t even have to write a message. Just put “Subscribe” in the subject line. And I’ll send you an e-mail notification when I post.

In relation to the quote above. I’ve been saying how fearless I’ve been about this whole thing, and how I’ve been avoiding catastrophic fantasizing. Yeah. Right. Last Tuesday, Joan and I met with my oncologist, and leading up to that meeting I had to recognize that I was somewhat anxious (anxiety=fear, kids). Also that I had prepared myself for him to tell me “Well, Mike, being that this is a really weird cancer [it is], there’s not much we can do. You’re really screwed. Get your affairs in order.” Wow. Such an imagination! I had even started planning out my memorial service, because, of course, I want to control it, even if I can’t be there. (And, at this point, I promise that parts of it will be pretty cool, assuming, of course, that my family does one and that anybody shows up.)

In sum, despite the bullshit I’ve pumped at you lovely people in my previous posts, I was deluding myself in regard to experiencing fear and creating unfortunate fantasies. What I’ve discovered instead is that there are varying levels of fear. While I haven’t been running up and down the street screaming in fear-produced agony, the fear I’ve been feeling has been more subtle and controlled. Fear without drama, I guess. That’s ok with me. But if you think about it, that realization regarding fear in varying levels of intensity was no more than a blinding flash of the obvious. (Please forgive the use of a way overused cliché.)

To our relief, Joan and I came away from the oncologist meeting with some knowledge and some hope. For those of you who want the medical details:

• The doctor thinks the cancer might have been in the bones almost from the get-go, but it was too small to have been detected and it’s been growing slowly over the last two years. In his words, “We have time.”
• The biopsy samples have been sent to a lab in San Francisco for genetic testing, in the hope of finding a mutation that would allow for genetically based therapy that would likely be quite effective in impeding the tumors’ growth. The therapy itself would simply involve a pill I would take every day. A relatively slim chance, but it’s possible. The results should be in in a week or so. Let’s hope we can go in that direction.
• If the genetic mutation isn’t evident, standard chemotherapy for several months has promise of slowing down the tumors’ growth. Been there, done that. What the hell. I can do nausea, constipation and lack of energy again. Woohoo!

The upshot is that I can back off on planning my memorial at this point. Another significant thing that happened during our meeting was that I became very comfortable with my doctor. I have a wonderful relationship with the head/neck surgeons I’ve worked with so far, but I had had very limited contact with this oncologist two years ago, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. My relationship with these healers who are messing with my body is REALLY important. Compassion and caring are critical, as, of course, is their technical expertise.

I noted to Dr Doang that, as an oncologist, he must regularly see his patients die, and I asked him how that affected him. His answer was right on: “It’s supposed to become routine, but it never does. It’s not easy.” I also mentioned that a couple of my friends had spoken of “fighting” cancer. He smiled, then I told him that I’m a lover not a fighter and that I had no desire to introduce conflict into my body. He smiled again and said something like “You’re right. We’re not fighting it. We’re managing it.” He also shared that he was raised by Buddhist parents in a Chinese household, although he said he wasn’t “practicing.” This gave him a particularly calm and peaceful approach. Joan and I were hooked! This is definitely the right guy for two folks who are strongly attracted to the Buddha’s teachings.

Again, if you’d like me to let you know when I post more stuff, please send a quick e-mail to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” the the subject line.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.
Mark Twain

21 June 2022

Some guys, in particular, will recognize the little guy depicted above. He’s Alfred E Neuman, the mascot of Mad Magazine, a totally irreverent satirical magazine that was popular among pre-pubescent and teenage boys in the 1950s and 60s. (OMG! I just checked and it’s still being published!) Al is a happy-go-lucky, mischievous dolt who is used by his cartoonist creators to satirize the stupidities of the day. Why have I invited him here? Well, I wonder sometimes if Al and I have something in common. I’m just having a good time, enjoying my life, not plagued by fear or panic. Am I in denial? Well…I acknowledge there’s stuff in my body that doctors say will probably kill it, and I acknowledge the prospect of challenging treatments and pains in places where I don’t want to have pain. (Hold it! Where would I want to have pain?) So I don’t think I’m in denial. I get it.

But in the meantime, I’m really enjoying myself. I’m loving hanging out with my wife, family and friends. Going with Joan to Home Depot to buy plants for the yard was delightful. Finally figuring out and documenting the convoluted electrical system I installed in this house was a real joy. Despite my concerted efforts to cultivate an introverted, curmudgeonly image, I’m having a great time getting in contact with folks I haven’t heard from in decades, and I’m actually spending time communicating via e-mail, which, in the past, I’ve always hated. As for the fear part, as I’ve expressed in prior posts, all I have is today, so I’d better enjoy it. And making up disastrous shit about a future I know nothing about would be pretty stupid, even for a guy who aspires to be like Alfred E Neuman.

It will be interesting to see how this attitude holds up IF I end up dry heaving in response to chemotherapy. Time will tell.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy.