bware21

I extracted the following paragraph from one of my posts because I'd like as many people as possible to read it. My only regret is that I didn't use something more powerful than "pat on the back" to express how deserving they are. --------------------------------------------- Now, if you want to talk achievement. In my opinion, the young couple who started this Web site deserve a pat on the back from everyone. When their father died they could just as easily have let it go and got on with their lives. Instead, they followed a calling and acted on it. Now look at the result -- so many people suffering who have been given a pipeline to each other that would otherwise have not existed. It takes a special kind of effort and dedication to produce something as meaningful as this. It's only through their unselfishness that we are able to talk. Bill

Hey Kim, I really do empathise with you about the smoking. I'm very lucky -- I'm one of the few smokers in my immediate family. Once I can get my brother-in-law's son and his wife to quit then that will be it -- I'll be the only one. Our son and daughter do not and have never smoked. In an odd way, I think the fact that I smoked like a bloody chimney my entire life helped them to resist the peer pressure and stay well away from it. Of course, that doesn't guarantee anything for them in this world. In my opinion the environment is so polluted and the way we live our lives is so utterly reckless that none of us is safe. Smoking is the obvious scapegoat for lung cancer (I've lived like a leper for the past 15 years), so what are the scapegoats for everything else? Just sitting here in front of this computer monitor is doing me harm. If it's not the electromagnetic radiation from the screen bouncing around my body at the celluar level, I know for a fact it's dulled my eyesight and continues to cause me back problems. Then there are the hormones in my food, the acid rain dumping toxic waste from anywhere and everywhere in my back garden, the ever-growing array of wireless transmissions, etc. etc. etc. I guess it all comes down to the cost of progress. But back to you, Kim -- I know exactly how you feel. I know the feelings of guilt and the feelings of shame all too well. But there's something very important that you must acknowledge and that is *you* are not responsible for the decisions of others. If other people in your family made the decision to smoke, it was *their* decision and you cannot take on the burden of others (as much as you'd like to). Free will and all that good stuff -- it's what makes us who we are. Now, having said that, I've decided that I would like to quit smoking. Not because I think by doing so will cure me of anything, but when I do beat this cancer thing I think it will give me a much better shot at keeping it at bay. So tomorrow I'm going to start my own little regimen. I know for a fact that nicotine patches and all of the other aids won't do me any good whatsoever -- been there, done that. The only way I will ever quit smoking will be by employing my own free will. From tomorrow morning and for the following week I will limit my smoking to one cigarette every hour from 9:00AM -- can't smoke before that -- which should cut my habit down to about 12 cigarettes a day for the first week (I normally smoke 20). The subsequent Saturdays I will increase the no-smoking period to 90 minutes, 2 hours, 150 minutes, 3 hours, 210 minutes, 4 hours ... until I'm down to nothing. I think that's a reasonable plan and I hope I can find the strength to achieve it. CARE TO JOIN ME? But if you do you must be willing to be honest about your progress (or lack of it). And if anyone else wants to join me, the more the merrier. For me, I just think it's time to take some action You're the second person to ask me if I've had anything published. Without seeming to criticize the question (curiosity is a natural trait in all living things), let me answer it this way -- and if my response gets long-winded, no surprise as everything I've written on this site could be considered over-kill But before I answer your question, I need to stress that I'm not here to promote myself. Nor am I here to create a "mystery" character. I'm here because I have lung cancer and because my wife, Teri, was lucky enough to find this site. I write as much as I do because it's therapeutic for me and I hope in some small way that my experience(s) will help at least one other person. If not, then it still helps me. Anyway ... Whenever I meet new people (and this must be the same for eveyone), one of the first questions I hear is: "So, what do you do for a living?" As if what I do for a living defines who I am. If I answered that I'm a writer the follow-up question would always be the same: "So, have you had anything published?" And so the chit-chat would go on. I changed my response to that initial question years ago to something a little more humourous, albeit an immediate conversation-killer: "I do as little as possible for as much as possible." I don't think I've ever had a follow-up question to that, though I've seen more than a few raised eyebrows. But to answer your question and dispel any mystery, I've had moderate success as a writer and yes, I've been published. Though she'd never admit it, Teri has probably had more "success" as a photographer than I've had as a writer. Just go to www.womeninphotography.org -- though it's tricky to navigate. For me, my best achievement, if you want to call it that, was to share the same print space where A.A. Milne first published Winnie the Pooh -- The London Evening News (now defunct). But that was a long time ago. I came to L.A. because I had this idiotic idea that Hollywood needed some good stories. I was embroiled in that scene for a few years but could tolerate it no longer, so I opted out. I have just one project floating around out there that I'm reasonably proud of and it may or may not eventually appear on a screen near you I refuse to get involved in "Hollywood" negotiations anymore but there is a chance it will find its way to film stock even without my involvement. It's called The Water Tower. However, should this cancer get me in the meantime I accept no responsibility for the quality of the finished product -- I can't imagine it will remotely resemble what I had in mind I haven't written in a few years now. Instead I've been having fun demolishing the house and attempting to rebuild it -- so much more rewarding. I hope that answers your question somewhat. Now, if you want to talk achievement. In my opinion, the young couple who started this Web site deserve a pat on the back from everyone. When their father died they could just as easily have let it go and got on with their lives. Instead, they followed a calling and acted on it. Now look at the result -- so many people suffering who have been given a pipeline to each other that would otherwise have not existed. Any fool can get a book published (just look at some of the garbage that's out there), but it takes a special kind of effort and dedication to produce something as meaningful as this. It's only through their unselfishness that we are able to talk. Bill

Jen -- thanks for the compliment, but I'm really not here to impress anyone with my writing ability -- sometimes it's good, sometimes it sucks. But that's what I've been doing since the age of 12 and I can't change it. The reason I've been writing so much lately has been more for myself than anyone else -- selfish, huh? And I always knew I ran the risk of some people thinking I'm trying to be too smart for my own good. But that's okay. The simple fact is I'm in the same boat as anyone else here that is dealing with this insidious disease ... and it's my way of making sure the boat stays afloat. The posts I've read here have been awesome and they've helped me immensely. I'm just trying to give something back, and you can be sure that everything I write or have written is based in fact and /or personal experience ... not fantasy, denial or blind faith. I also try to throw in a little humour where I can because if there's one thing we all need is a giggle Sharon -- positive thinking is critical, but I do think there's something even more important, and that's BELIEF. You can think positive 'til the cows come home but if you don't believe they're coming home then they won't. Always believe in yourself and always believe your spirit can have incredible consequences in the physical world. Just go to any roulette table in Vegas with $20, choose just one number then place $1 on that number ... now BELIEVE that number will come in for you. Stand there for 20 spins and I can (almost) guarantee your number will come in before the twentieth spin -- hence a minimum profit of $15. Don't believe me? A couple of years ago they closed down a roulette table on me at the Stardust ... but then I was betting just a little more than $1 (another of my bad habits). Of course, the opposite is also true -- think you're going to lose and you will. Bill

Nice title for this topic, huh? So, I wake up this morning at 4AM as I usually do only to find that I have a stinking ache in my lower back. I've had lower back problems for about 25 years ever since I decided to lift a flagstone that was clearly too heavy. Anyway, I make myself a cup of coffee and by 4:20AM I'm outside enjoying a cigarette (so shoot me) and admiring the Belt of Orion, which happens to be right in front of me -- we're lucky enough to live on the ridge of a very high hill with a spectacular view (beside the point, but whatever). So, I'm staring at the stars thinking about absolutely nothing ... then I feel this weird sensation in my abdomen, like it's beating. I then check my heart rate and, sure enough, the beating in my stomach is in rythm with my heart. Never had this feeling before. Must be the cancer. A moment's uneasy thought, then I get it -- I'm about to have a heart attack. Of course, the heart attack never came but I did have to stand up because the beating in my stomach was so damn strange and uncomfortable. I had another cigarette ... what the hell! My wife, Teri, gets up about 5:30AM and finds me outside smoking. She asks me how I am and I tell her that my back is about to go out again, otherwise I'm feeling just fine -- which was the truth (as we have a pact never to lie about anything). About 7:30AM, after forcing me to drink and eat all the right stuff (as she does every morning), Teri goes off to earn some cash for us. It's daylight now and the stars have melted away, so I go and get a bath, hoping that a good soak will ease my back problem. I'm only in there for about 15 minutes, so it's not one of those 2 hour relaxation sessions. Anyway, I get out of the bath and as I'm toweling myself down the oddest feeling came over me. No backache, no headache, no wheezing, no twitches ... and a burst of energy that I haven't felt in a very long time. What the heck's going on? Then I figured it out -- the cancer has gone, just like that ... poof! But hang on a minute. That isn't possible. OH YES IT IS, I said to myself. I have no symptoms -- nothing. I feel healthy, happy, almost elated. Conclusion? No cancer. Now where it went, I have no idea (as long as it didn't invade someone else). But it's not inside me anymore, and I ain't arguing with that. Now will it come back tomorrow? Quite possibly. But for today I am totally cancer-free and it feels terrific. So good, in fact, that all the work I was supposed to do today can fall by the wayside. I'm doing nothing -- nada, except making a few phone calls, admiring the view, and playing with our Great Dane, Mrs. Dickens. Hell, I might even take her for a walk through the hills -- I know my lungs can take it Will I be cancer-free tomorrow? Dunno. Today is all that matters. ----------------------------- Someone asked me if I had anymore stories like the two I posted. At first I thought not, then I remembered my ex-wife's mother. When we were in England a couple of months ago, we had something of a family get-together (yes, my wife and I are very good friends with my ex-wife). My ex-wife's mother, Sheila, was there. She's about 72 or 73 now. Seven or eight years ago she came down with a very serious case of cancer -- one of those deals where they give you about three and a half minutes to live. Unless we were having dinner with a ghost, clearly Sheila is still alive. But not only that, let me tell you she has the energy of a bloody teenager. Her energy was astonishing. She also looked a darn sight younger than her years. And all that success on the National Health Service

Maryanne, It doesn't surprise me in the least that I'm not the only one to use the phrase, "It Is What It Is." I started using these words first with my wife, Teri -- from the onset of my diagnosis, and then with anyone else who might ask me how I'm feeling or how I'm dealing with it. It's my stock answer because for me it sums up the entire situation and my place in it. Although I own some of the power to beat this disease -- emotionally, spiritually and physically -- I don't own all of it. It is what it is because my creator has the final say. I had no personal choice when I came into this world, and I'm pretty darn sure I'll have none when I leave it. For me, death is just a question of timing. I joke somtimes that the train may be in the station ... but I have no intention of getting on it -- at least not yet. But to address your surprise that other people use the same phrase, here's my explanation for what's going on: In 1981 I decided to write a book about the life of Rudolf Höss, the camp commandant of Auschwitz. Now, there had already been a few books written about him, but all targeted at the atrocities that were committed in the camp. My idea was to write about his family life -- bear in mind that Höss lived in a house within the confines of the main camp with his wife and children. I thought it would be interesting to see how this guy could live a seemingly normal life while managing the systematic slaughter of millions of people within spitting distance of his back garden. So off I trot to Oswiecim-Brezinka (Auschwitz-Birkenau being the German interpretation) in Poland to start my research. 40 years had gone by since Auschwitz was in full swing and the idea to write this book popped in my head ... and no similar book had ever been written in all that time. Lo and behold, about 6 months later I switch on the TV and find myself watching an interview with a German author who had just finished his new book about the family life of Rudolf Höss. Needless to say, I invested no more time and money in the project. I'm getting to the point, so bear with me. A half dozen years later I had another "brilliant" idea for a book, based on a true story that happened in 1957 in Wisconsin. So off I go again, this time across the Atlantic, to start the research process. Again, about 6 months later (6 months must be the cutoff point) I get a call from the agent I was dealing with in Chicago informing me that a book was coming to market that told the same story I was working on. So what's the point here? Well, it got me thinking -- I come up with an idea that hadn't been thought of in 40 years, then I come up with another idea that hadn't been thought of in 25 years, and both times I get beaten to the finish line by two people I had never met and who lived in different countries. So who had these ideas first? And more interestingly, *why* did these ideas come into being at approximately the same time? There was only one logical explanation I could come up with -- at some level all human beings must share the same consciousness and as individuals we simply tap into that "energy" source without ever realizing it. Might explain why Egyptians and Mayans were building pyramids thousands of years ago even though the silly buggers had never met each other. Of course, the downside to this argument is that there can't ever be such a thing as an original idea Bill

Laurie -- I don't agree with smoking while undergoing treatment either. In fact, I don't agree with smoking period -- hence the hypocrasy on my part. I would hate for anyone to have misunderstood what I was saying and think that I advocated smoking under any circumstances. I was simply relating *my* situation, not for a moment suggesting that I'm right -- just clarifying Sheri -- you're Dad and I must have a psychic connection as my favourite saying throughout this entire sordid situation has been: "IT IS WHAT IT IS." How strange for me to see those same words in your post

Okay, this post could be long but I won't apologize this time. It was prompted by a response from Jamie at JYOUNG20 to my "two stories" post, who simply wrote: "Bill, you are awesome." As much as I appreciated the sentiment behind the comment, it made me more than a little uncomfortable and triggered a thought process that led -- in a roundabout way -- to the meat of this post. And here it is: A few times, though not as often as I would have expected, I've read posts that mention smoking. At the risk of alienating some, angering others, and exposing myself as the flawed character that I am, here's my deal: I've been a smoker for 41 years. Now I have lung cancer. And what does that mean? I brought it on myself and it's my own fault? Sure, that's a valid statement and one that I have no reasonable argument with. But like most things in life there's a flip side that is often missed, ignored or just plain denied. I'm a writer. I've spent thousands of hours sitting in front of manual typewriters, word processors, and now damn computers. Even though I haven't smoked in the house for over 10 years, I used to spend most of my time in a smoke-filled room in the wee hours of the morning with an endless supply of cigarettes and coffee. And let me tell you, they were some of the best times of my life -- and the most productive. I was in my own little paradise, making stuff up and experiencing places and things that didn't exist except in my head. The coffee and cigarettes were the fuel that kept the midnight oil burning. So, now I have cancer and I regret all that -- right? Wrong. There's not a thing I would change. Nothing. It's what made me who I am, and why on earth would I want to be anyone other than me? Is smoking to blame for my cancer? Probably, but it's a moot point and I frankly don't care. It could just as easily be heart failure I'm dealing with, and what should I blame for that? Or maybe I trip on the stairs tomorrow, tumble down and break my neck. Are the stairs to blame or my lack of concentration? Either way, my neck is still broken. Am I justifying my smoking habit? Let me show you a side to my flawed character that might provide an answer. When I got the "offical" diagnosis of lung cancer I immediately quit smoking -- a typical panic response. Then a few days went by and I was really struggling. Not only was I expected to deal with the whole cancer thing, but deal with it as a stranger unto myself. I wasn't me anymore. I was just this diseased person who's mind was lost in the fog. So, I had a cigarette ... and that's when the really heavy emotional s**t came down. For the first time in my life I felt utterly helpless and a complete failure. Forget cancer -- I could deal with that. But I couldn't deal with the reality that my smoking had elevated its role in my life from a mere habit to an almost demonic force. I mean, how in the hell could anyone have lung cancer and still smoke? Well, I went through a couple of weeks of nightmarish feelings of guilt and shame ... then decided enough was enough. I just couldn't keep beating myself up all the time, and the whole dastardly thing was draining my energy -- something I needed to combat the cancer side of my problems. Anyway, I made a decision right there and then that I would just continue to smoke, make whatever effort I could to quit, but never again judge myself for my failings. Have I quit smoking -- no. Do I think about it every day -- yes. And that's where it stands. Some of you may think I have a death wish. Let me assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. I'm in the middle of remodeling the house. Just a few months ago I laid over 38,000 lbs of concrete, bucket-by-bucket -- and that's while I was coughing up blood. I have way too much unfinished business before I lay down and die. I want to beat this as much as any one of you out there, but I also know that my best chance for survival is to beat it by staying true to myself. I pray every day for the strength to quit smoking, and I've become a master of hypocrasy (I tell everyone I can why they should quit). What I don't do is play the blame game, because that's exactly what it is -- a game ... where there are no winners. So what or who is to blame for my cancer? The answer is blindingly simple -- nothing and no-one, not even me. This will have to be my "last post" (excuse the pun) for a while as I'm falling behind with my work. Bill

Why do you say you will never visit England? Is it a place you don't want to go? You know, sometimes you can get there cheaper than a flight from LA to New York. NEVER SAY NEVER And if you ever decide you want to go, then let me know and I'll arrange somewhere for you to stay where you won't have the burden of hotel bills (as that's usually the pocket-breaker on any trip). England is not cheap at the moment, and hasn't been for a few years because of the exchange rate (it "kills" me financially every time I go these days, but it's my home and I need to go nomatter what the cost). But who am I to talk? I've been saying for years that I want to see the pyramids and the Holy Land. Have I seen them yet? Nope. And why? Because I'm a lazy bugger and have never made the effort. All the times I've been to Las Vegas, I could have traveled the world in style. Go figure Bill

Glad these two stories helped. I'll attempt to research the two BBC programmes and see if they're available, but they're both from a long time ago. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky. Rather odd (or ironic) that I remember them so well, particularly the first one. But yes, miracles do happen -- though a shame they don't always happen on cue As for the second story, if there's one word that really agitates me it's "prognosis." And what is a prognosis? Nothing more than a shot-in-the-dark piece of guesswork from someone who doesn't have a damn clue what else to say. Give me a diagnosis, by all means ... but a prognosis? To use a common English term -- bollocks to that! Since when did doctors become psychic? Keep the spirit strong and allow the body to relax. You may not be able to wish away the cancer (though I do keep trying) but the spirit will always triumph in the end -- that's the nature of it. Bill

STORY #1: About 30 years ago the BBC produced a documentary about a middle-aged woman somewhere in Europe (Germany, if I remember correctly). Her entire body was riddled with cancer to the point where the doctors were confounded as to why she was even alive. The mere fact that she was still breathing was considered to be a mystery -- hence the BBC's interest in producing the show. I vaguely remember seeing the X-ray images of the woman's body, from head to toe -- not a pretty sight. Some time later (probably months, though it could have been a year), the BBC did a follow-up on the original show, and yes, you may have guessed ... not only was this woman still alive, but not a trace of cancer could be found anywhere in her body. And here's the rub -- since the airing of the first show this woman had had no treatment whatsoever, simply because the doctors thought it better that she be made comfortable in her "last days." Still don't believe in miracles? STORY #2: At least 20 years ago, the BBC (damn BBC produce some good stuff) followed an experiment in Europe -- either Holland, Belgium or Germany. The experiment was considered to be unethical and some even thought it illegal, though I'm not sure how the law would play into this. In any case, a doctor took it upon himself to select 12 patients who had had the same diagnosis/staging of cancer, which at the time was deemed untreatable and terminal. For 6 of the patients he conducted a series of tests and then informed all 6 that they were cancer-free (regardless of what the test results showed). For the other 6 he conducted the same battery of tests and told all 6 that they were indeed terminal and he gave the stock prognosis at the time, which basically gave them all about 6 months to live. Now, I can't remember the exact statistics but I do know that I'm not far off when I say that of the 6 he told were cancer-free all 6 lived longer than 2 years and 4 of them were still alive and truly cancer-free 5 years later. Of the 6 he told were terminal, all 6 died within two years. This story came back to me in the year 2000 when I watched my mother's condition rapidly deteriorate from the moment her doctor offered a negative prognosis (this was in Spain, by the way). Needless to say, at the time I was very angry that any doctor, Spanish or otherwise, would be so arrogant as to assume their opinion in this matter had any value. Now that I'm in the same boat, so to speak, the instructions my doctors have are very simple -- tell me whatever you like, but don't ever offer an opinion or place a timeline on my life. What I expect from any doctor are facts and facts alone -- not opinions based on guesswork, regardless of how many years experience they may have. Lucky for me, the doctors I'm dealing with fully understand what it is I'm saying to them and they don't allow their egos to get in the way. From The Augeries of Innocence, by William Blake: "To See a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the Palm of Your Hand And Eternity in an Hour" Bill

So Debra/Debbie ... I should be insulted that thus far you've received 33 responses to your initial post, compared to my meagre 10. Ah well, such is life And now, to be just a tad unconventional, I will welcome you wholeheartedly to this site -- even though I know it's the last place you want to be. Fact is, though, the best support you can get is from those who are dealing with this pesky cancer thing. Rather than babbling on about stuff, I'll attempt to offer a few simple bullet points: Your diagnosis is not a death sentence. Far from it -- it's a very "beatable" situation, unlike being hit by a ten ton truck which has more serious and immediate consequences. Don't beat yourself up if you feel like you're not doing everything in your power to win. None of us are superhuman and you need to embrace those moments of weakness -- it's those moments that will make you stronger. Don't be afraid of the chemotherapy. Too many myths surround the treatment, mostly based on ages gone by when the medical profession was tinkering around with all sorts of goofy stuff. Fact is, today is a world away from yesterday and chemotherapy is now in its advanced stage -- little or no nausea, with tiredness being the biggest culprit. But heck, rather crash out and relax than spend a day with your head in the toilet bowl. No doubt in a hundred years time they'll look back on today and ask themselves what the hell we were thinking by treating cancer with chemotherapy, but this *is* today and it's working. Also, you'll find the chemotherapy environment quite relaxing and any fears you may have will be quickly dispelled. Try to see this experience for what it really is -- both terrifying and wonderful at the same time. Terrifying because what you're facing are unfamiliar waters and you have no idea at the moment how to navigate to the safety of dry land (but that skill will come to you). And wonderful because it releases your soul from the confines of ignorance. What I mean by that is simply that you are presented with opportunites to see much deeper into yourself and the world around you in a way that truly isn't possible unless you *are* dealing with something of this magnitude. Keep your friends and family close. Don't block them out, but let them share in your journey to recovery. And finally, have a great Christmas !!!!!!!!!! Bill

One more attempt at attaching my details/timeline ... and if this doesn't work, I have no idea. 8/1/06 - Appt. with nurse practitioner (big mistake) for wheezing. Prescribed inhalers and antibiotics. 8/22/06 - Appt. with Primary Care doctor -- no improvement. Says chest is clearing up, continue inhaler. 8/29/06 - Leave for England/Spain for 3-week family visit. Symptoms getting worse -- out of breath easily, feeling lousy. 9/29/06 - 3rd visit to PMC doc (me too this time) finally results in a chest x-ray. 10/3/06 - PMC doc calls, "we need to talk." X-ray shows mass on the right lung. CT scan done. 10/4/06 - See thorastic surgeon, says it's probably cancer. Schedule bronchoscopy. 10/12/06 - Bronchoscopy done. 10/18/06 - Results confirm sclc. Told there would be no operation. 10/23/06 - 1st visit with medical oncologist. Discuss aggressive treatment. 10/24/06 - 1st visit with radio-therapy oncologist. Brain MRI. 10/27/06 - PET scan. 10/30 - Start 1st cycle of chemo (carboplatin/etoposide) for 3 days in a row. Med oncologist says PET scan shows nothing new & brain MRI is clear, it's contained in the chest -- call family w/good news. 11/2 - Meet with radio-therapy oncologist to set up radiation during 2nd cycle. Doc tells us the medical oncologist failed to read entire PET report. Cancer shows up in neck area, adrenal gland, and around the pancreas. No radiation until after first round of chemo. Call family with not-so-good news. 11/7 - Visit medical oncologist for blood test -- switch to senior partner (who can hopefully fully interpret a PET scan). 11/10 - White cells low, but ok. Schedule 2nd chemo cycle for 11/20-11/22. 11/11 - Looking forward to a week without doctors.

Seems I was completely wrong in my previous post about my wife's profile. It's "teriw." Which reminds me, it's her damn birthday tomorrow If I've done this properly my details should appear with this posting (which means they probably won't). And I will be responding to everyone who has taken the time to write as soon as I can give each the care and attention it deserves. Bill

But first let me apologize up front if this posting gets long-winded and boring -- it is, after all, 2:15 in the morning and the time when my brain actually begins to work. I have a round of chemotherapy at 9:00AM so I'm rather hoping it'll be a time of deep relaxation (fat chance). In future I'll keep any postings short and to the point ... but not this time. Anyway, a big THANK YOU to everyone that took the time to respond to my initial posting. I know I don't need to tell any of you how important each response was to me but I'll say it anyway -- they were all very uplifting (and that is my understatement of the week). I've always considered myself strong emotionally and ready to take on most challenges without help from anybody -- such a masculine trait and quite useless at a time such as this. The moderators are obviously doing a great job of filtering out the nutcases and I haven't read a post yet that didn't have value. Great job! Now why did I change my photo? About 20 years ago I read a little piece about the advantages of having a pet, especially during times of great anxiety. If I remember the figure correctly, the author of the article said quite emphatically that if you own a pet and you bother to spend some time giving and receiving a little love from that pet then it'll add at least a decade to your life. At the time I thought ... well, that's a cute article but ain't it a shame life doesn't work like that. Man, was I wrong. So meet our Great Dane, Mrs. Dickens -- not exactly a ladylike pose (and I had to rotate the image so I wouldn't squash her down to the size of a postage stamp). But let me tell you, on those down days when humans can't give you what you want and sometimes need, our Mrs. Dickens comes through every time. It's just a coincidence that her initials are MD -- or maybe not? Now whether this theory works with turtles I have no idea, but I'm starting to believe that it probably does. Often times, I think, animals outdo us humans in so many human-like ways that it's uncanny. Anyway, she just turned 3 years old and she's called Mrs. Dickens simply because she's a girl and Charles Dickens happens to my favourite writer -- so what the heck. I'll put my photo back in a couple of days, but nice to swap it out every now and then. I don't know if these postings have a maximum word count so I'm just going to continue. If it ends abruptly, that's why. Now Christmas is coming, and Christmas has always been my favourite time of the year. Even though I knew what to expect when I had my chest X-ray and CT scan, I figured I was done for. And it really bugged me that I wouldn't experience Christmas ever again. I realize there are people out there of differing faiths and "Christmas" may not be the term they use, but bear with me as I don't have the knowledge to list all of the possible options and I'm not a great fan of the term "holiday" to describe this time of the year. I was born and raised in England (which explains some of my spelling quirks) at a time when it used to snow every year without fail -- not so much anymore as global warming seems to be doing its thing. But it's that time of the year for me when images of snow-covered roofs, icy pavements, white forests, and even Santa Claus make me feel like a kid again. It's such a wonderful time of the year for me, albeit just memories from an age gone by, that all my adult cynicism evaporates and I'm reminded of what a great place this world of ours really is. So now I'm planning on sticking around to enjoy it ... even though here in Los Angeles the chances of snow are about as good as a house brick falling on your head in the middle of a golf course. And just for fun, should I pop my clogs before February then at least I'll be spared the pain of having to suffer through more of those stupid episodes of Lost (everything has an upside). Me thinks this posting is getting too long, so I'm going to start to wrap it up. My wife, Teri, has her own profile here but I can't remember her username (something like "tware"). For those of you that asked me to provide details and a timeline, I'll do that as soon as I can figure out how to copy and paste from Teri's profile -- as she has all the correct information. I would have forgotten my chemotherapy session today had she not reminded me (and that really is the truth). Oh yeah, it occurred to me (after the fact) that my username isn't exactly upbeat and positive -- bware21. But it doesn't mean what you might think. It's a contraction of my name and the only username I ever use (more than one username and I'd forget them all). My thoughts and prayers are with you all. And that's not an off-the-wall statement -- I mean it. This is a crossroads in all our lives, those with the pesky cancer cells and the family and friends that carry the burden. It really helps when a signpost comes into view. This forum is a massive glow-in-the-dark signpost for me. And finally ... a positive quote from the master of negative quotations, Oscar Wilde: "My cradle was rocked by the Fates. Only in the mire can I know peace." Take care of each other, Bill

But first let me apologize up front if this posting gets long-winded and boring -- it is, after all, 2:15 in the morning and the time when my brain actually begins to work. I have a round of chemotherapy at 9:00AM so I'm rather hoping it'll be a time of deep relaxation (fat chance). In future I'll keep any postings short and to the point ... but not this time. Anyway, a big THANK YOU to everyone that took the time to respond to my initial posting. I know I don't need to tell any of you how important each response was to me but I'll say it anyway -- they were all very uplifting (and that is my understatement of the week). I've always considered myself strong emotionally and ready to take on most challenges without help from anybody -- such a masculine trait and quite useless at a time such as this. The moderators are obviously doing a great job of filtering out the nutcases and I haven't read a post yet that didn't have value. Great job! Now why did I change my photo? About 20 years ago I read a little piece about the advantages of having a pet, especially during times of great anxiety. If I remember the figure correctly, the author of the article said quite emphatically that if you own a pet and you bother to spend some time giving and receiving a little love from that pet then it'll add at least a decade to your life. At the time I thought ... well, that's a cute article but ain't it a shame life doesn't work like that. Man, was I wrong. So meet our Great Dane, Mrs. Dickens -- not exactly a ladylike pose (and I had to rotate the image so I wouldn't squash her down to the size of a postage stamp). But let me tell you, on those down days when humans can't give you what you want and sometimes need, our Mrs. Dickens comes through every time. It's just a coincidence that her initials are MD -- or maybe not? Now whether this theory works with turtles I have no idea, but I'm starting to believe that it probably does. Often times, I think, animals outdo us humans in so many human-like ways that it's uncanny. Anyway, she just turned 3 years old and she's called Mrs. Dickens simply because she's a girl and Charles Dickens happens to my favourite writer -- so what the heck. I'll put my photo back in a couple of days, but nice to swap it out every now and then. I don't know if these postings have a maximum word count so I'm just going to continue. If it ends abruptly, that's why. Now Christmas is coming, and Christmas has always been my favourite time of the year. Even though I knew what to expect when I had my chest X-ray and CT scan, I figured I was done for. And it really bugged me that I wouldn't experience Christmas ever again. I realize there are people out there of differing faiths and "Christmas" may not be the term they use, but bear with me as I don't have the knowledge to list all of the possible options and I'm not a great fan of the term "holiday" to describe this time of the year. I was born and raised in England (which explains some of my spelling quirks) at a time when it used to snow every year without fail -- not so much anymore as global warming seems to be doing its thing. But it's that time of the year for me when images of snow-covered roofs, icy pavements, white forests, and even Santa Claus make me feel like a kid again. It's such a wonderful time of the year for me, albeit just memories from an age gone by, that all my adult cynicism evaporates and I'm reminded of what a great place this world of ours really is. So now I'm planning on sticking around to enjoy it ... even though here in Los Angeles the chances of snow are about as good as a house brick falling on your head in the middle of a golf course. And just for fun, should I pop my clogs before February then at least I'll be spared the pain of having to suffer through more of those stupid episodes of Lost (everything has an upside). Me thinks this posting is getting too long, so I'm going to start to wrap it up. My wife, Teri, has her own profile here but I can't remember her username (something like "tware"). For those of you that asked me to provide details and a timeline, I'll do that as soon as I can figure out how to copy and paste from Teri's profile -- as she has all the correct information. I would have forgotten my chemotherapy session today had she not reminded me (and that really is the truth). Oh yeah, it occurred to me (after the fact) that my username isn't exactly upbeat and positive -- bware21. But it doesn't mean what you might think. It's a contraction of my name and the only username I ever use (more than one username and I'd forget them all). My thoughts and prayers are with you all. And that's not an off-the-wall statement -- I mean it. This is a crossroads in all our lives, those with the pesky cancer cells and the family and friends that carry the burden. It really helps when a signpost comes into view. This forum is a massive glow-in-the-dark signpost for me. And finally ... a positive quote from the master of negative quotations, Oscar Wilde: "My cradle was rocked by the Fates. Only in the mire can I know peace." Take care of each other, Bill

So, I've been diagnosed with SCLC, which came as no surprise considering the symptoms. Now, had I been single my response to this wonderful news would have been to throw on a Coldplay CD, put my feet up and smoke myself into oblivion with a beaming smile on my face. Think I'm kidding? I'm not. But damn it, I have a responsibility to all the people in my life that actually care about me -- so the pathetic scenario mentioned above will have to go to hell. Instead, I had no option but to enter the realm of my worst nightmare and stare reality in the face. So here I am in what I can only describe as a medical maelstrom ... but heck, at least I'm getting treatment. But will the treatment work? Who the hell knows. What I do know is that by opting for treatment I'm flying on a little more than just a wing and a prayer. Thanks to my wife, Teri, who has taken on the mammoth task of organizing everything on my behalf --I couldn't organize the alphabet -- I'm now on my my second round of chemotherapy and, get this ... still alive and kicking. However, I have to say I'm not sure if it's worse having this disease or being a spouse/sister/brother/etc. who has to live with it. I guess none of us will really know the answer to that question, but my hat's off to all those out there who are in my wife's position. Never lose sight of the fact that anything is beatable, regardless of what the doctors may say ... and from my own personal experience, I have to conclude that some of these doctors need to go back to school

So, I've been diagnosed with SCLC, which came as no surprise considering the symptoms. Now, had I been single my response to this wonderful news would have been to throw on a Coldplay CD, put my feet up and smoke myself into oblivion with a beaming smile on my face. Think I'm kidding? I'm not. But damn it, I have a responsibility to all the people in my life that actually care about me -- so the pathetic scenario mentioned above will have to go to hell. Instead, I had no option but to enter the realm of my worst nightmare and stare reality in the face. So here I am in what I can only describe as a medical maelstrom ... but heck, at least I'm getting treatment. But will the treatment work? Who the hell knows. What I do know is that by opting for treatment I'm flying on a little more than just a wing and a prayer. Thanks to my wife, Teri, who has taken on the mammoth task of organizing everything on my behalf --I couldn't organize the alphabet -- I'm now on my my second round of chemotherapy and, get this ... still alive and kicking. However, I have to say I'm not sure if it's worse having this disease or being a spouse/sister/brother/etc. who has to live with it. I guess none of us will really know the answer to that question, but my hat's off to all those out there who are in my wife's position. Never lose sight of the fact that anything is beatable, regardless of what the doctors may say ... and from my own personal experience, I have to conclude that some of these doctors need to go back to school