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Spoiler Alert

Spoiler Alert - This is tough for me to write, so I’ve made it equally awkward for you to read. Hopefully, we can turn that mutual discomfort into something helpful. 😆🥲

D earest, reader
How you been? Good? "Can't complain"? "Livin' the dream!"? I hope so. Seriously, I'll often catch myself thinking about my closest friends whom I talk to almost daily, current and past coworkers, distant family members, and yes even you, who's name I don't quite remember, but had a positive (or hilariously sarcastic) interaction with that one time. I get the weirdest flashbacks at the most random points of the day. It almost feels like a bunch of small memories are escaping containment. Anyway, It's been a while. A lot has happened, but i've been hyperfocused on work and maxing out the time I get to spend with my family, so I haven't had much time to update this. Well, I'm about to have a whole bunch of time to do nothing and I need your help to get through it and to lighten the stressful load that will come afterward.

A couple months after ringing the bell, I had a checkup scan with blood work and learned that the data was showing progression of the disease. My CEA came in at 8.6 NG/ml. That's less than 2 units from the reading that led to my HIPEC surgery last June. This is a direct quote from the CT scan writeup: "Interval progression of mucinous carcinomatosis throughout the abdomen and pelvis, consistent with pseudomyxoma peritonei". Sounds like the absolute worst spell ever taught at Hogwarts, but not long after the scan, I started feeling some subtle pressure in the abdomen. For about 3 weeks now, I've been in so much pain that I've had to work from home just to stay glued to a heating pad, wear comfy pants and manage it through constant pain medications. Luckily, an absolute pioneer in the cancer world agreed to take on my case. In fact, just last week he performed a laparoscopic discovery procedure to get a better idea at how much disease is actually there and to decide if another HIPEC was a possibility. Unfortunately, this procedure yielded no new information. To add insult to injury, he wasn't even able to provide temporary relief from drainage because the scar tissue was creating an obstruction of view. 

Fast forward to now. I feel like I am mentally hanging on by a thread. Dr. Richard Berri, Chief of Surgical Oncology at Henry Ford Hospital will be putting me under the knife on Wednesday, May 13 Tuesday, May 12th (yes, next week). There, he will be able to get a better look at the extent of the disease and decide which surgical procedure, if any, to go with - quite literally on the spot. He currently believes that CRS + HIPEC or PIPAC will most likely be our best options depending on his assessment in the OR. While this does sound a bit scary, it is also absolutely scary. This may sound pessimistic, but the reality is that this is becoming a severe case. Nevertheless, the goal remains the same and I'm playing to win. Although it's been a struggle at times, I'm staying positive and hopeful. 

You know what else is scary? How this procedure will very likely put me behind in the financial department. Things are already tight as it is. We are finally somewhat financially caught up from all the surgeries and chemotherapy that cost me time at work last year. To think about having to go right back into that hole - and likely even deeper - sometimes makes me question if it's worth it.

But every single time, I conclude that it is worth it. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. It's worth it to be able to provide the tools, knowledge, and love that this five year old needs to grow into the respectful and successful individual she will no doubt become. I don't want her growing up having to tell people that she lost her dad when she was a kid. That is why this is a very hard entry for me to post. That is why I have decided to put my pride and ego aside and ask for help. I need help to keep going. 

I know that this might not be the end of the battle and that there will likely be more obstacles ahead, but I'm still fighting to beat this. Some financial help will go a long way in overcoming the financial, mental, and ultimately the physical strain that comes with undergoing a procedure like this. I've set up a Gofundme for those who have offered and are able/willing to help. Any money raised will go towards travel expenses for treatment, medical bills, groceries and staying ahead of our bills while I'm in recovery. Anything left over will be stashed for future medical funds. 

On a side note, the folks over at Raecrafted (maaiii waiife) have agreed to donate all earnings to my cause. Rae started crocheting not too long ago and is absolutely killing the game. She has been making the coolest crochet crafts and I would love if you could check them out. I've also been dabbling with some graphic design and started making some cool decals and stickers with the help and supervision of Raecrafted. I'll post some of her creations below, but please go check out her Instagram 

https://www.instagram.com/raecraftedco/ 

After brainstorming fundraiser ideas, we kept coming back to the idea of a raffle. Every donation will receive an entry for a chance to win a custom hand-made crochet item of your choosing. We felt that this would be a great way to add some fun to a tough situation.

Also, if anyone has any connections with the marketing/merch team at Bluecoats, please share this post with them! I designed a graphic that I think would make for a super cool sticker to add to their souvie-stand this summer. The Phantom souvie-stand had something similar last year and the fans ate it up. I'm not looking to personally make any money off of it, (especially since it uses the trademarked font) but I would love to gift it for mass production if they'd be willing to accept it. Side note: It is totally my cat, Mojo!!! If any fans or alumni are interested, let me or Rae know. We've got the resources and material needed to print off and mail these stickers ourselves.

As always, prayers and nice messages are welcome, but you can make a massive difference by donating and/or sharing this blog, my story, and my Gofundme link at:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-ivan-guerrero

I love you all and will update post-op. Thanks in advance for your help!

Final Round - Fight!

During the past year of living with this disease, I’ve pondered this question not so much out of dread as out of curiosity: at what point does one become a cancer survivor? I guess I always assumed that one graduates from patient to survivor when they get the "all clear". In my case, I'm not sure I'll ever get the all clear. After all, the first regimen of chemo couldn't even remotely contain the spread after 6 rounds. Maybe that's the case for all cancer patients. It never fully goes away. In fact, everyone - Yes even you - produces cells with DNA mutations with the potential to become cancerous, but our immune and repair systems usually catch and fix them or kill them off. Well, It's been just over a year since my system told me to hold its beer. I'm still fighting with the idea of accepting that this cancer is just going to be a permanent ailment that I'll have to constantly monitor and keep under control, which I think I'm ok with as long as I'm able to actually keep it under control with periodic maintenance and not constant bi-weekly infusions. 

Anyway, I'm ready to receive my final round of chemo - hopefully the last one for a while. I've been looking forward to ringing this damn bell ever since I was finally able to process the initial diagnosis last year. I'm ready to get back to working 100% full-time without interruption every other week. I'm ready to be able to afford to provide for my family again. 2025 has been rough. Very rough. Thankfully, we continue to receive an incredible amount of support. This Christmas, we were very fortunate to be selected by a charity organization that paired us with a donor and made our Christmas truly magical! We were gifted stuff like socks, sweaters, games, toys and even movie theater vouchers. Most importantly, it was a big weight off our shoulders. Big shout-out to New Day Foundation and Bold Advanced Medical Future (BAMF) Health. 

While my 2026 will kick off with a whole chemo regimen in the rearview mirror, I've already scheduled the next steps in my journey. My latest lab work shows a generally positive result to my CEA, coming in at 2.4 NG/ML. While it is a increase from <2.0, this number has jumped to 2.5 at one point during my treatment, so it's safe to say it's still within normal range. I'm slated to undergo another CT Scan and more lab work in early January. Additionally as a proactive measure, my oncology team has referred me to see Dr. Richard Berri at Henry Ford Health for a consultation to determine if I would be a candidate for a relatively new procedure called PIPAC. Those interested can check out this link for more info: https://www.henryford.com/news/2025/01/henry-ford-health-team-performs-first-pipac-procedure-in-michigan

Aside from those couple routine appointments, I've got another slightly concerning appointment coming up. About a month ago, I noticed some soreness in my throat. At the time, I didn't pay it much attention since everyone around me was sick and some common symptoms of a cold/flu were present (runny nose, cough, mucus, etc.). After a few weeks of constant soreness, I started noticing that the soreness would often turn into pain in one precise location, on the left side of my throat. While the intrusion of the soreness remains minimal, the pain seems to come and go, severely at times. It almost feels as though I've got a laceration along my esophagus, but still the pain comes and goes. I'm not able to pinpoint what, if anything, triggers it. My hope is that I simply hurt something that hasn't properly healed. My fear - and I know this is probably hypochondria - well, you probably know where this is going. I'm holding out hope that I just strained my vocal chords from laughter (My family is really funny!), but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. 

As 2025 comes to a close, I just want to remind everyone to slow down, live in the moment, and be nice. I still have some days where my patience is less than desired, but I've also had way more positive days despite everything going on. Find peace within yourself and make someone smile! Big shoutout to my family, friends and work-place colleagues who have reached out in any capacity. Each interaction - no matter how serious, sarcastic, long, or short - have positively impacted me more than I let on. You all make the fight worth it!

Remember, Remember the 3rd of November

Well, well, well. If it isn't November 3rd - the day I was diagnosed with a perforated appendix not knowing that my life would be flipped upside down.

I haven't really felt like "putting words on paper" lately, but I think it's time to unload a little. After all, the human mind can only hold so much before it implodes and lately I've felt like a lot of information has been overwritten. Queue the clip of multiple Spongebobs scrambling around his brain to retrieve his name. Somehow the Spongebob references never fade. Like I've said previously: Priorities! Keep up people. 

As of today, I'm 8 cycles through my 12 cycle regimen. My whole life I've been accustomed to the idea that improvement or consistency is a product of repetition. As Allen Iverson once put it, "We talkin' bout' practice". Well, I've now been practicing for 8 rounds of chemotherapy and it has not gotten any better. In fact, It has been unapologetically kicking my ass more with each additional round. I mean this literally and figuratively. The combination of no gall bladder, reduced intestinal space, and chemotherapy have made digestion a daily nuisance. My gastrointestinal tract is owed a paycheck because it has been working overtime like a single parent of five. On top of that, just when my GI starts to level out and get on a consistent schedule, it's chemo time! The only consistent factor here is that I'm sure to, pardon my French, shit my brains out at least six times a day. You can imagine what that does to your bottom half, right? No? Constant bubble-gut, soreness, gas, hemmi's, and just general pain. 

There is however one silver lining - It really forces me to appreciate the few days when my body gets a break. It really has made me consciously slow life down. I've heard it a million times from people with more greys than me. Life happens really fast. I'm learning that slowing down and being present doesn't result in more time in the context of quantity, but in quality which is really what this is all about. I've been able to spend more quality time with the people who matter most in my life. I know that I'll always feel like I took my time for granted no matter how much time I actually committed, but it all feels worth it in the moment. I feel less stressed than I have in the last ten years. I continue to receive an immense amount of support from family and friends in all aspects of the word. Not to toot my own horn, but I've been told a lot lately by my peers that my positive attitude and resilience continues to motivate others around me in the workplace. I've got to say, it really fuels my fire to come out on top of this and without a doubt, I owe this mindset to my immediate family and close friends, especially my best friends Rae and Mabel. Don't know how this journey would play out without all the love.

Speaking of Mabel -  We've got a five year-old!!! It's unreal to think of how much has happened in that amount of time. Five years ago, I was constantly tending to a bite-size version of Mabel through late night feedings, early morning blowouts and everything in between. Today I have this beautiful tall, smart, loving and hilarious personality that just wants to be around mom and dad. She's at the age where we can actually have deeper intellectual conversation where you can see the wheels turning as she processes everything she learns. It's honestly the best feeling hearing her ask questions not just to fill a void, but because she's mature enough to seek information and piece it all together. I know every parent probably says this, rightfully so, but this girl is going to change the world and I'm going to be here to tell her that I'm proud of her when she does. There's no way that I'm suffering through my situation to not witness our kids' potential come to fruition.

Halloween was really fun, despite not being anywhere near 100% due to chemo. Mabel got her costume request of being Rumi from KPop Demon Hunters. Rae knocked it out of the park with the borderline cosplay costume and Mabel was thriving! We're still in the process of testing her candy one at a time usually at night when we get the munchies. 

Here's a huge plot twist - I'm kind of into books now. Project Hail Mary was awesome! I've admittedly become distracted from finishing Sunrise On The Reaping (really good so far) and one book that has oddly reeled me in is the Warriors series by Erin Hunter. Never in my life (ask my teachers lol) have I sat down and read several chapters in one sitting and walked away wondering what happens next. It's......... refreshing! This cancer thing has really pulled out a part of me that I didn't know was there. Anyway, I'm open to suggestions! 

My most recent round of labs and CT scans show no new evidence of cancer! My CEA (Carcinoembryonic Antigen) came in at < 2 nanograms per milliliter after coming in at just over 10 NG/ML before my HIPEC surgery. Anything less than 2 is considered in the "normal" range.  My last cycle of chemo is currently slated for New Years Eve, which honestly seems fitting. It will be the one-year anniversary of my colectomy. I will have started 2025 recovering from surgery and will start 2026 recovering from my final round of chemo (fingers crossed). 

The Day That Mabel Learned About The "C" Word

Well gang, It's happened. This morning during breakfast, Mabel looked down at my chemo pump and asked "Daddy, what's that?". This was one of the most difficult questions I've ever been asked. AND I had time to study!!!! I don't mean studying like in high-school where I just didn't study enough. What I mean is that I've pondered this question since the minute I was diagnosed. I've mentally gone through way too many scenarios in my head, and I still don't have the right answer. Or even one that sounds or feels good. At least that's what I thought before she asked. After she asked, I realized that there was no right answer to that question. 

What I do know for sure is that there are correct and incorrect ways to teach your child about a subject like this. Everyone will have their own opinions and prioritize some values and beliefs over others. I asked Mabel if she remembered those times that daddy went to a doctor or hospital. "Yeah, for your owwy", she said. Just when I thought that it was a simple random question, she asked a little deeper. "What owwy do you have?" With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, I looked over at Rae and he gave her the head knob. "Daddy has what is called cancer. Can you cancer?" She nailed it on the first try. She even learned how to pronounce the "Appendix Cancer". She wasn't ready to even attempt the scientific term, Appendiceal Adenocarcinoma. In her own words "That's too much". 

I went on to explain that cancer is an owwy that some people get. I wanted to make sure she understood what it could mean, especially given the fact that she still handles the passing of our previous pets extremely well - she often includes a blurb about our past pets and how she misses them when introducing herself to new friends. She understands the concept that when someone passes, we no longer are able to see them in person with the exception of pictures and memories. I told her that sometimes cancer makes people very sick and pass away, but I assured her that I was going to take all my medicines so that I could stop being sick. Not exactly the best promise I've ever made, but it felt genuine. Just seeing her reaction when I said that gave me a jolt of motivation. It went about as good as I could have hoped. 

I was able to make the trip to Canton for Innovations In Brass on Monday. I forgot how much drum corps has affected me. It felt like the sound waves were cleansing my body, mind, and soul. Just being able to spend a few hours with some old friends altered my perception of my reality. Every group was phenomenal and the home team absolutely threw down. Good luck to all the performers and educators this weekend at world championships. It's going to be super tight, but both groups in contention are absolutely worthy. Cleanest run will win, hands down. Six Words, Bloo!

Round 2 of 12 started on Wednesday. Still sucks. I was able to remove the pump portion of my chemo this afternoon and will be feeling these crappy side effects for just a couple more days if I'm lucky. As I type this, I feel 100% confident that I could vomit on command if someone dared me. Please don't dare me! I've tried everything to get this nasty chemo taste out of my mouth, but even my usual comfort drinks (soda, vitamin water, gatorade, etc.) are given very diet flavored vibes. Hope it comes back to me sooner than later. Until then, please don't take your ability to taste for granted

Sorry, Butthole

Dear Diary,

FOLFIRI started a lot sooner than I had anticipated. It's now been 9 days since I've started the new chemo treatment. Now that I have one regimen under my belt (CAPOX/XELOX), I can accurately compare this treatment to something. The biggest downside with my first regimen was arguably between the insane cold sensitivity to my extremities and mouth/throat, and the peripheral neuropathy (pain and numbness in hands and feet). Thankfully, I haven't felt either of those with FOLFIRI so far, knock on wood if you're with me. Instead, I've been dealing with a nausea out of this fucking world. I'm talking nausea that basically made me useless for about 6 days. Nausea that required multiple medications around the clock just to try and make bearable. I couldn't muster the energy to go much further than bed to bathroom and back to bed for the first 4 days.

I want to sincerely apologize to my fartbox. FOLFIRI has legit turned it into a Mongolian waterfall. I'm not saying I would trade these side effects from each treatment for each other because they both suck, but the first several days of FOLFIRI were indeed miserable. One of the things that definitely did NOT help was the need to literally carry a machine in a fanny pack that pumped chemo into my port for 48 hours straight immediately following the infusion of two other chemo drugs. Although very faint, the smell of the chemo constantly around me makes me want to vomit just thinking about it. Nonetheless, here I am feeling way better 9 days later. While I am certainly glad that I'm not miserable the entirety of my treatment, it really does mess with your mind when you start to feel better knowing that you're going to go right back to misery with the next round. 

Each cycle lasts 2 weeks. That means I have to do this and go through these symptoms every other week, 11 more times. This also means that I will get approximately 7 days of feeling relatively normal. For this first cycle, I've been trying to cram in as many projects as possible to help with my recovery from chemo each round. Rae and I have finally gone through, organized, and brought our basement back to life! What used to be my mancave was taken over as a sanctuary for Mabel's rotation of clothes, toys, and furniture for the better part of 4 years. While I don't intend to recreate the "mancave" vibe, I am super excited to see it shaping up to be a comfy basement family room with a designated corner for some of my decor. I even finally got around to displaying my Bluecoats alumni helmet. In addition, my office/Mabel's play room is coming along as a relaxing and productive workspace that will make the process of returning to work stress-free. 

Looking ahead, I am super excited to say that I will be making the trip out to Canton for the Bluecoats home show with some old pals. This will be my first viewing of some live drum corps this season and what a killer lineup it will be. What better way to wrap up round one of FOLFIRI and fuel up on motivation to take on round two the following day! If anyone attending that show is reading this, I would love to see you even if just for a minute! Shoot me a message or text me if you have my #. Until next time - cancer sucks, sorry butthole, and six words!

1, 2, 3, 4, FIF!!!

Priorities

Tomorrow marks one week since being discharged from the hospital. Although my recovery seems to be a little ahead of what is expected with this procedure, I still struggle with some very basic functions. Walking, standing, bending over and lifting are among several things that will take some time to get back to normal. I'm finally able to fart, and only fart, without sitting on the toilet. It's safe to say that I will be taking my time getting to where I need to be physically and mentally without any unnecessary setbacks.

If there's one thing I've learned out of all of this, it is that priorities change. I used to put so much emphasis on work and being able to provide my family with the means to live a life of "luxury". I still have a hard time defining what luxury is to me, but i'm learning through my cancer journey that luxury, to me, is just being able to keep a roof over my family's head, having our bills paid on time, enjoying meals together and being able to appreciate all the small moments that become memories in no time. All the other stuff is just noise. I've had plenty of help with some of these luxuries and I appreciate everyone who has contributed to our wealth, but shit can change - FAST, and if you can't adapt and reassess your priorities, you're either going to miss out or get left behind.

My boss and some coworkers stopped by to visit me in the hospital. When I tell you that it felt like a rush of dopamine, I don't mean to minimize how much I loved seeing all my other friends and family in my hospital room. The genuine concern, followed by immediate humor and story sharing felt like old friends stopping by just to pass some time. It reminds me that maybe I am where I'm supposed to be in my life. At peace with everything happening, appreciative for the people in my circle, and grateful for the life I've been afforded. It's been so nice getting to see Mabel learn and grow in front of my own eyes everyday and sharing that experience with Rae.

This recovery has really opened the door for a relatively new and minimally physical hobby that I never thought I would get into - Lego! I never had Legos growing up but I was always jealous of the kids who did. While it's not the cheapest hobby, it allows me the ability to practice patience, use my brain, and feel the satisfaction of the clicking parts coming together to form something that's part of a bigger picture. Let's not kid ourselves, I'm still very early on and am in no way ready for a big build. I also can't see myself dropping more than $70 on a set, but I think I'm ready to pick up and dive into my next set. I'm thinking a trip to the Lego store with the kiddo is in order. 

The next step from here is some following up next week as well as putting a plan together for the next chemo regimen soon after. I'm not exactly sure on the timing of chemo, or if it is even necessary but at this point I know my life has been extended through HIPEC and want to do everything I can to safely continue extending my life. After all, I'm just here for the ride and controlling what I can. I've set a goal for my HIPEC recovery. I'm aiming to be healed enough to attend Innovations in Brass in early August. If you would've asked me a week ago, I would've told you that was wishful thinking. Now, I feel like it's a realistic goal and good motivation to push myself at a reasonable pace to get back to my normal everyday self. Chemo may or may not alter that goal, but I'm going to fight to be there even if I show up with a walker or wheelchair. I hear the handicap seats are pretty nice! Also, without the Bluecoats, I wouldn't have learned that I'm stronger than I realize. I use those experiences to get me through these tough battles. Give them a like and follow.

Until next time, reevaluate what's most important to you. Six Words and Let's Go BLOOOOO!!!

"Sometimes, I will just stand here and watch television for hours"

I'm alive! At least that's what everyone tells me. In all honesty, the effects from each dose of dilaudid would have you second guessing. On one hand, most of the pain doesn't necessarily disappear, it just becomes irrelevant. Almost like my pain receptors get the "squirrels". Dilaudid causes pain ADD. Disclaimer:  i'm currently experiencing the effects of dilaudid, so this should be fun. 

Each day has been progressively better in regards to pain. I did try to be THAT GUY and ween off the heavy stuff only a few days post-opp, which was just a huge L. The incision is massive and includes like 3 (?) layers of tissue. Ouch! I'll share a picture below, however, this is your graphic content warning. The surgery itself took almost 7 hours, which is really good for this type of procedure. I was out for about 9 hours. In addition to the affected peritoneum, my surgeon ended up removing my gall bladder, a section of my intestine, and liver/stomach tissue among some other stuff. Hot chemo bath was applied to the entire area for a couple hours afterwards. The surgeon seemed very confident in how the procedure went and that gives me all the confidence in the world as Dr Onesti has been a complete rockstar throughout my journey. 

After a few days in ICU, I was finally moved to a patient room with some nice space and tv. "Sometimes I will just stand here and watch television for hours" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJm8wc0eXYg). I think i just noticed some thumb prints on my ceiling, so that's cool. I've had a ton of visitors and supporting messages so far. Special thanks to everyone who has reached on this blog as well. I read all the messages and it does give me strength. Big shoutout to my family has shown up everyday to make the pain just a secondary thing. Extra big shoutout to my love, Rae who has been by my side virtually every minute. She even helped me take a shower yesterday which felt amazing. 

As i'm typing this, one of the nurses just advised me that they are removing IV dilaudid and will be replacing with oral oxycodone so this will be a pretty big milestone. I'm also being upgraded to a full liquid diet since i've had several bowel movements during the past 24 hours!! I've never been so excited to poop. I'm expecting Rae and my all star doctor any minutes not, so i'll cut it short here. Thanks again to everyone who has helped us in many ways, including keeping Mabel busy and keeping our pets company. This is definitely a team effort and I continue to have the best team. Love you all

This past week (or what feels like a year) has yielded several answers to the question "What's Next?". As planned, I met with the Ann Arbor team last week where we discussed the findings of the PET Scan. The team there did a great job explaining the scan and gave a good opinion on course of action. After much back and forth between my home team and the Ann Arbor team, we've decided to move forward with HIPEC surgery on Wednesday, June 4th. While there was some uncertainty on whether or not this would be the correct next step, ultimately my team agreed that there is no single "correct" step, but all felt as though HIPEC would provide the best targeted treatment at this time. My surgeon conducted a diagnostic laparoscopy a couple days ago to determine if the spread was contained enough to even allow us to try HIPEC. Fortunately, everything looked right for the big procedure as most of the spread is located in the peritoneum. The fact that we still have a good window of opportunity to move forward with HIPEC just confirms that this is the right time for it. Too much spread could make HIPEC a less effective option, and while this may not be the treatment that "cures" my cancer, i feel way more confident that this will help contain the cancer much better than any traditional chemotherapy alone. 

Even with this jolt of confidence, I would be lying if I said that the procedure and the risks of complication from it don't scare the living shit out of me. As with any procedure, a lot can go wrong. However, not many procedures consist of a 6-18 hour surgery where you get cut open from breast bone to waist band to remove affected tissue/organs. Am i being a little pessimistic? Sure. Again, I have always been one to prepare for the worst but hope for the best. That's the reality of this situation. Aside from the procedure itself, I'm looking at a potentially lengthy recovery. My ultimate hope is that this procedure goes smoothly and that it buys me some more time and the ability to seek additional treatment if it comes to that point. I've read several stories of people who have had multiple HIPEC surgeries, so I know this is likely not the final treatment. It does however shed some more light on perspective. I recently came across the philosophical concept of "The burnt toast theory". Its a simple, yet often times overlooked concept that I've been trying to adapt to.  

During my laparoscopic surgery on Tuesday, I apparently came back to consciousness from anesthesia asking two very important questions: "Am I alive", and "is my breakfast burrito here yet". That was from about 2 hours of general anesthesia. While the idea of suddenly time travelling from pre-anesthesia to post-anesthesia seems pretty cool, it still frightens me. What if I never wake up? What if I do wake up (at the wrong time)? What if I forget to order a breakfast burrito in my fat-back state of unconsciousness. These are the kinds of stupid thoughts that are occupying my mindset on top of all the other things i have to do to make sure everything at home and work is in order. 

Since recovery from this procedure could keep me physically limited potentially for months, I may not get to see any live drum corps this season. That is why I'm currently planning on taking a little field trip with Rae and/or Mabel to see what the closest group, The Cavaliers, are up to this season. There's not a much better free distraction than being around the activity that I love the most with the people that I love the most. 

I continue to be blown away by the support and kind words that I receive on a daily basis from my girls and from everyone that has reached out via social media or on this blog, I deeply appreciate your words of encouragement and love you all for showing love and positivity in this seemingly doomed society. 

Please keep me and my family in your thoughts as I know Rae has been doing a hell of a job holding down the fort and keeping me sane. This is going to be the hardest obstacle yet, but I feel hopeful for a positive outcome. No goodbyes. Just love, always.

I'm not sure how to start this. This past week has felt like such a kick in the nuts, courtesy of the universe. I'm still trying to make sense of it all but I keep finding myself with so many questions. That's been a common theme lately. So many questions and not enough answers. It's always been a main source of my anxiety. My mind likes to fill in the unknown with seemingly the worst possible outcome. Maybe it's my mind's subconscious attempt at "hope for the best, prepare for the worst". 

It's been a little over a week since I completed the final round of my chemotherapy regime. I'm finally done feeling like crap from the side effects that came with each dose. The original plan was to revisit after my fourth round of chemo to determine whether or not I needed any additional rounds. On Monday, I went in for my CT scan keeping in mind that I had a one before starting chemo for a baseline. The baseline scan showed no evidence of metastasis. It appeared that any cancerous growth had been removed during my colectomy. This gave me a lot of hope that chemotherapy would help keep it that way and prevent the cancer from spreading. Well... surprise, surprise. 

Against all positive thoughts and perceptions, Monday's CT scan led to the report of "...Innumerable new soft tissue peritoneal implants consistent with peritoneal carcinomatosis". Not only that, but also "...There is suspected metastatic implants abutting the capsular portion of the liver". But wait, there's more! "...Thrombosis of the main portal vein near the confluence". A quick translation courtesy of ChatGPT confirmed what I had been fearing from the start - we didn't catch this thing quick enough. 

Not to say that this is it and I'm done for, but damnit, it sure has felt that way recently. The thing I've learned about having cancer is that some days are better than others. This week has been dark. I haven't felt myself, nor do I think I'll ever feel myself as long as I'm still fighting this thing. I asked my oncologist about my life expectancy, because duh, and he believed that if left untreated, I would be looking at about a year. Obviously that's a no for me, dawg. That's not enough time for me to accomplish my goal of guiding my daughter through her toughest obstacles, or sharing the excitement of her accomplishments, or comforting her when things don't go our way. I want to be there for all the big moments, all the deep conversations. Cancer was not supposed to be part of the deal. The reality is, my medical team was not expecting this. I was not expecting this, but here we are. 

I'm still not giving up. I already know what happens next is going to be aggressive and require a lot of energy and support. Those of you who have been reaching out and checking in, I can't express how much that means to me. I'm already scheduled for a PET scan next week that will highlight wherever the cancer is present. I've got a follow-up the following day after a meeting involving some of the top local cancer specialists in the area. Here, they will discuss the best course of action moving forward. I already have an appointment to meet with the surgeon who conducted my colectomy and an appointment to meet with an advanced team in Ann Arbor for a second opinion in a couple weeks at the University of Michigan. One strong possibility that has been brought up is HIPEC. We've also discussed the possibility of exploring experimental trials. Cancer might be the thing that beats me, but I'll be damned if this fight doesn't go the full 12 rounds by way of split decision. 

In other shocking news, as if the stress of this news wasn't enough, I learned this past weekend that we lost another family member. My cousin passed away unexpectedly. Rest in peace, Pedro. We were a lot closer during our childhood, but I have some fond memories of him growing up and he will be missed. 

I don't know too much more at the moment and it has been physically, emotionally, and psychologically exhausting but the ball is indeed rolling and I'm ready to fight this thing to the end. I do know that i'm extremely lucky to be surrounded by the people around me and this fight would be a lot more lopsided without you all. My friends, my family and even my employer and colleagues continue to show incredible support during this difficult time. I appreciate all of you and I hope to see some of your faces soon. No goodbyes. Just love, always.

So, three weeks have gone by since my last entry. Sorry to my billions and billions of readers. 🤣 I had my infusion to kick off the third cycle of chemo yesterday. It went about as well as expected. I could still feel the effects in my throat, hands, and feet as the Oxaliplatin coursed through my body. The gross metallic taste in my mouth and throat hits almost immediately followed by tightness and sensitivity in my hands and feet. Unfortunately, that feeling hasn't gone away since starting chemo. It only lessens throughout that cycle but intensifies again at the start of each cycle. Only about the last week of each cycle (my off week) do I have enough relief to be able to drink cold liquids. 

Cycle #2 brought a new-ish symptom around the second week -- Hand-Foot Syndrome (HFS), or Palmar-Plantar Erythrodysesthesia. I can only describe it as intense pain on the flats of my feet and extreme sensitivity to any textured material. Walking on tile and carpet was painful. Walking in general was frustrating. Even in a seated position, wearing crocs caused pain from the texture in the sole, like tiny needles puncturing the skin on my feet. My hands weren't affected as much besides the cold sensitivity. Of course, I called my doctor. They advised that the new symptoms were likely being caused by the Capecitabine. The scary thing is that this could become one of the multiple long-term effects of chemo. I don't want to imagine not being able to go on long walks with my daughter in the future, so I think it's understandable how I internally (and vocally to a lesser extent) reacted when my doctor advised me that the U of M team in Ann Arbor along with himself thought it might be a good idea to extend my chemo treatment for an additional four cycles on top of my initial 4 cycles. That would put me into August before it's all said and done. Pardon my French, but Bonjourno, that seems like a long time! 

On one hand, I want to beat this thing so I can live out the rest of my hopefully long life. On the other hand, I don't want to deal with potentially life altering side effects long-term. With the amount of mental, physical, and (I hate to say it) financial stress, it's hard to imagine having to go through this longer than I need to. That's the dilemma though; how long is necessary? That will remain an unanswered question for a bit. Luckily, it's not a decision we need to make right now. Testing will be done at the end of the fourth cycle to see where I stand. I'm sure it goes without saying, but good mental health is hard to sustain when you feel like a patient of any illness especially when you have small glimpses of normalcy. It is a blessing in a way because it's made me appreciate the small things i took for granted like drinking ice cold water, having an extended social life, or even going to the gym. Each one of these now comes with difficult to impossible obstacles mostly because of the immunodeficiency. 

While each day comes with difficulties, I've been trying to find things to look forward to. It was nice getting to sit around and watch the NCAA Tournament. This weekend, we celebrate my sisters' 30th Birthday. I'm hoping like hell that I'm feeling well enough to attend even just for a short time. It's a Disco Cowboy (?) theme and I'll be putting my fashion to the test as I venture into western/cowboy attire. This will either be a new trend that I throw into my weekly rotation or I'll be changing my name, moving away, and you'll never hear from me again. Tune in next time for the results! I got sucked in to watching trash TV, and damnit, I can't NOT watch it. I'm talking about 90 Day Fiance and Selling Sunset. I hate that I bring it up, but it's the little things! If you all need something to get you through until my next entry, go watch Severance!!! 

Bonjourno! Oh, and Go Green!

I decided against writing anything for week 3 and instead focused on ways to enjoy my "off" week. I'll give a quick recap. Honestly, it was the best I had felt in quite some time. I was feeling normal again. This wasn't exactly the case for the rest of our household, however. Whatever nasty bug was going around made it's way into our home. Rae and Mabel were affected the most. For nearly an entire week, I was able to isolate enough to avoid the symptoms that the girls were dealing with. I basically only dealt with some minor congestion, and back pain from sleeping on the couch. Aside from the sickness, we were able to enjoy the weekend, all in different ways. Rae got to have some alone time and I got to take Mabel bowling for the first time with her Tia Nene. It was really something, getting to see this child enjoy the activity that her mother excelled at. Quick humble brag -- Rae was all-state in high school and even went on to bowl in college at Western Michigan University. 

Another highlight of the weekend was catching up with one of my best friends from out of state. Although the circumstances weren't ideal, it was great grabbing some dinner, reminiscing, and everything else that comes with a 20+ year friendship. 

I am now four days into my second round of chemo. I was expecting this time around to be about the same as the first round, if not better. My body should be getting used to the treatment, after all. That assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. If this trend continues for every additional round, I don't know how I'm going to make it, friends. I have basically been bed-ridden these first four days. The nausea has been steady and seems to be triggered by everything. I can't drink water without fighting the urge to vomit. Swallowing medications make me want to vomit. I'm taking nausea medications around the clock and still only feel bare-minimum relief. The peripheral neuropathy makes it difficult to do much of anything without pain. I noticed my hair thinning out a bit. Along with these side-effects, I'm lacking the energy and strength to move around much more than bedroom to bathroom/living room. It really makes me worry what the next two cycles are going to be like. Usually, medicine is supposed to make you feel better. Imagine feeling fine and then being told you need to take this medicine that is literally killing cells in your body, cancerous and healthy alike. 

I know that having a positive mindset is really important when going through chemo. This is proving to be a real challenge through the first week of round #2. Sorry that I haven't been as responsive to messages as I'd like. Chances are I'm doing everything I can to get through the side-effects. Mostly resting. Just keep swimming. 

Well... Week 2 is in the books. That means I finally get a week of no chemo! While I was never quite able to completely shake the nausea or fatigue, it has significantly improved as my body got used to the 8 daily chemo pills. It's funny, not really, but before starting chemo I was told numerous times to be very careful when handling the pills. They couldn't be stored in any cabinets above the oven or on the fridge. They needed to be stored completely separate from any other medications to eliminate the risk of contamination. I was told to try and avoid touching them due to the potentially serious skin reactions. Keep in mind, this is the same medication that I have to ingest orally every 12 hours! My body is looking forward to a week of recovery. On the downside, I have to go through this at least 3 more times. Cycle 1 taught me that the IV Infusion is going to be the toughest part of this treatment. I'm finally able to drink colder than room temperature without pain in my throat, although the sensitivity in my hands and feet are still noticeable. The biggest obstacle this week is going to be avoiding whatever is currently circulating. Mabel is just now starting to feel better from a stuffy nose and cough. Rae on the other hand is really going through it. We've been trying to stay as far away as possible from each other. Pretty tough under the same roof, but so far I've been able to avoid any illness as far as i'm aware. I thought I was in trouble yesterday, but I'm somehow feeling well enough today to finally work in the office, cautiously of course. 

This weekend brought a couple nice lazy days binging The Great (Hilarious!) and catching up on Severance. Seriously, if you haven't seen Severance, you're wrong. Totally worth the Apple TV+ subscription, or free trial if you have a couple free days. Aside from a lot of TV, I may or may not have picked up on a Lego hobby. Just kidding, I totally picked up on a Lego hobby. I saw some familiar faces this past week, and it was super nice to catch up a bit. I'm looking forward to a quiet week of recovery before starting cycle #2 and looking even more forward to Spring and Summer. Come on, warm weather!

All good things must come to an end. In my case, it was my surgery-free streak. In fact, I've had more visits to a medical facility in the last 3 months than my first 34 years combined! Between all the lab-work, scans, surgeries, follow-ups and chemotherapy infusions, I'm becoming pretty medically popular in my area. High school me would be proud. Weird flex aside, I'm super grateful to be alive and to have a good fighting chance at beating cancer. Many patients are not as fortunate. Speaking of grateful, I want to give a shoutout to the many people who have been so supportive throughout this process. The fresh meals, the conversations, and the overall well-wishes have been overwhelming and much appreciated. Special BIG shoutout to the rock of this relationship. I can't express how much Rae has been taking on and dealing with. She's been absolutely knocking it out of the park. As Nate Diaz once said, "I'm not surprised motherf$@&!#s", but I do hope she feels the recognition she deserves in all of this. 

I also want to apologize ahead of time. The amount of comments, messages, and texts I've received in the last week have been incredible. Unfortunately, I know I won't be able to respond to many of them. It doesn't seem fair to only respond to a handful of them and ignore the rest. It's hard to keep up with but please know, reader, I do see you and it does help seeing all people by my side. 

Week 1 is in the books. All I can say is that chemotherapy is, low key, really rough. On Monday, I started my first cycle with a 4-hour infusion of Oxaliplatin via my cool new port. My doctors gave me an endless list of known side-effects before hand, but the one that they kept coming back to was Peripheral Neuropathy. This causes extreme cold sensitivity to my hands, feet, and throat. Before the infusion was over, I could already feel the tingling in my fingers just being under a ceiling fan. The short walk to my car afterwards was brutal. My hands felt as though they were frozen to an icy metal pole and my chest and sinuses felt like I was inhaling millions of tiny needles. Rae bought me some nice thin gloves to wear around the house to help reduce the pain of handling cold household materials like the refrigerator handle and aluminum cans. Probably the most depressing aspect of this side effect is the inability to eat or drink  any fluids colder than room-temperature. Aside from coffee and tea, I only drink ice-cold beverages! During the first couple days, even room-temperature water felt like shards of broken glass down my throat. 

In addition to Oxaliplatin to start each cycle, I'm having to take 4 pills of Capecitabine every 12 hours for 14 days. This one is the main source of my nausea, fatigue and lack of appetite. Each morning when I take it, I feel like crap. I usually feel better throughout the day before my next dose. Luckily, the side effects from the IV has improved each day, although still painfully persistent in the extremities. On the plus side, I'm down 5 lbs in 1 week! Normally, this isn't a positive, but my big back approves. 

Another negative side-effect of chemo is the absolute dismantling of my immune system. At times, I've felt like I'd been hit by a bus. Migraines, exhaustion, double-ended apocalypse. Needless to say, I'll be avoiding crowds as much as possible. This creates a really tough dilemma since I recognize the need to exercise extreme caution with my immune system but also want to be as involved as possible in Mabel's childhood, because god forbid this battle goes south. I made an exception this weekend. I wasn't going to miss my little Cinderella's first roller-skating party with her favorite princesses. Don't worry, I masked up and kept my distance. She had a blast! 

I'm going to include some pictures down below highlighting some moments from the past couple months. Feel free to reach out, just know I might not get back to you right away as I balance work, life, and cancer treatment. ✌️