Five Years is a long time to survive.
"It's pancreatic cancer," we were told for the first time on April 17, 2000.
It was devastating and, as best we could, we prepared ourselves for the worse.
The overall five-year survival rate for pancreatic cancer hovers around 13%.
If the cancer has spread to distant organs, like mine, the five-year survival rate is only around 3%.
Say what you will about me, I'm a survivor.
So far anyway.
I am a very different person than I was when first diagnosed. Multiple surgeries, 3 years of monthly trips to the Mayo Clinic for chemo injections left me scared and changed. Energy and focus became precious commodities and a "people person" quickly learned he can no longer "people" like he did before.
The images and feelings since my diagnoses are a jumbled, ever spinning kaleidoscope that pass by so quickly I can't grab hold of to really remember.
The one that stays with me though, is from after the big surgery, the 10 hr Whipple.
There's a picture of it.
I get up to walk. Sarah and a nurse pull me out of bed to stand. IV's run through my arms and I hold onto the cart with one hand, and Sarah's hand in my other.
She pulls to the future.
Fast forward to me today, defying death by smoking weed, sipping wine, petting Lainey who keeps constant vigil over me, incredibly humble and most thankful to still be here.
Che's at an after school play date. Sarah's helping Laurel with foster puppies.
I have these moments to give thanks.
I no longer question it.
I was referred to as "the man who wouldn't die," recently and it made me smile.
I'm thankful every single day, when I open my eyes, that I get to do it one more day.
Day by day by day.
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Having the celebration of my life now! Be part at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b
Thank you!
