I need to cover a few topics in this entry, so bear with me.

I spent last weekend in Yosemite National Park at the wedding of Darren and Jill. I used to work with Darren a few years ago.

I started the long weekend on Thursday by visiting my brother Brad in San Francisco. I drove across California to Yosemite the next morning. As I was driving into the valley, I found myself taking a bunch of pictures from within the car. Unfortunately, my car windows were so smeared with dirt and bug guts that the pictures didn't turn out well. It didn't matter. The better pictures were further in the valley.

I met several of the early arrivals that night at dinner. I made quick friends of Alana and Kate, friends of the bride and groom. We became buddies for the entire weekend. They really made this trip so much fun.

On Saturday morning, Alana, Kate, and I met to climb to the top of Yosemite Falls, a towering shower of water, mist, and ice.

Click the picture for a large image of the falls.

Now I should tell you that at this point, Alana and Kate didn't know about my bout with cancer. They probably just thought I was a freak who was either losing his hair or was very fond of hats. I show up for the hike in jeans, my regular shoes, a sweater, a leather jacket, and a wool hat. In other words, they were dressed for a hike and I was dressed for dinner and a movie. I was told that it would be cold at the top and that a winter jacket would be worth hauling up 2000 feet of rock and dirt. They were wrong. I wore it for the first 20 feet and then removed it because I was too hot. It stayed off for the rest of the hike.

Even as we started, I was going slow. It was my first hike since before my diagnosis and my legs are still on the weak side. But I was determined to achieve victory here. Besides, our goal wasn't the top of the falls (7 miles round trip), but rather about mid way up (3.5 miles round trip). About a quarter of a mile up, I was sweating buckets (of sweat -- stupid wool hat!) and I was already slowing down. So I took a break and told Alana and Kate my cancer story. This weekend was the start of the do-I-tell-people-about-my-cancer phase of my life. I held off telling Alana and Kate until I felt it was necessary to explain my wobbly hiking and slow speed. They really understood my situation and were incredibly gracious during the entire hike. Our bond became very strong that day.

Once everything was out in the open, we continued and made it to the first stage, about 1.75 miles up. I've told people that walking for me these days feels like hiking. Well, this hike, considered "strenuous" to normal people, was like climbing Everest at times (did I mention that I've climbed Everest? Twice, actually -- once before cancer and once afterwards). I took slow, steady steps and made it to the falls. The view was quite amazing and we took several pictures. I became rather emotional at this point. It meant a lot for me to get there, to hike and climb my way up a mountain a few months after having to use a walker to get around the house.

But what's life for if not to push us to greater heights. So we kept going, striving to surmount Yosemite Falls. After another hour of hiking, we came to another resting spot. We asked a few fellow hikers and found that we still had an hour to go. My legs were starting to resist going further, but I didn't stop. I stopped ten minutes later. At that point, I was unable to physically convince my legs to climb any more. And I knew that I needed energy to get down. I told Alana and Kate to "go on without me." They said, "Ok!" and skipped along. Actually, they were willing to hang with my slow ass, but I knew I was done and they should ascend without me. I was so close. I could see the ridge, but I couldn't do it. So I sat down, stuck a lollipop in my mouth, and enjoyed the view.

It was at this point that I became most proud of myself. I had pushed my body harder than in many, many months, but I was also smart enough to not push too hard. I was able to turn around and head back down the mountain knowing that I had gone the distance my body was prepared to go. I didn't reach the top of the mountain, but I reached the top of my mountain.

On the way back down, I came across several hikers going up. They all asked, "Did you make it?" or "How much farther?" At first, I told them that I didn't make it and explained that I had a tumor removed from my spine and that I was, until recently, using a walker to get around. That got old, and tiresome, pretty quickly, so I eventually just said, "Yup, I made it. You're almost there." And once I got good at this little white lie, I embellished further. "Yeah, I sprinted up in about 27 minutes." (it really took about 4 hours) or "Yup. It's my third ascent today." Once people started throwing sticks at me, I stopped fibbing.

When I made it to the bottom, I was SO HAPPY. It was an exhausting journey, but worth it in every sense. Alana and Kate, who made it down an hour or so after me, agreed. Once down, I went to the cafeteria and bought some water and fruit. But before I could take a bite, my head was down on the table and I took a tiny nap. The cafeteria workers woke me up because they didn't like people sleeping there. I ate some food and headed back to my room and napped some more.

The point of this story is that my victory was in starting the hike, not going almost twice as far as I had planned. I'm trying to push my body so that it keeps getting stronger and stronger. I want to be running steadily by the end of the year.

Ok, next story.



I started my second, and hopefully last, set of radiation treatments on Tuesday, 4/23. The field of radiation is shown below.

Strange pattern, huh? The zapping should hit my belly and what I'm assuming is my spleen. Side effects can include nausea, diarrhea, reddening of the skin, etc.

On Thursday, after my third treatment, I met some friends for lunch even though I was feeling a bit queasy. Before I could even take my first bite, I was running to the restaurant bathroom to puke. I puked a bunch of times and then puked some more (I like the word "puke" -- and "shimmy"). I felt better afterwards (funny thing about puking, huh?), so I continued with lunch, only having some water and conversation. When I got home, I puked and puked and puked -- and then felt better again. I slept the rest of the day and night.

So at this point, I'm thinking, "Is this because of only three radiation treatments?! Will this continue each day for four weeks?" The Cancer Center wasn't sure. By the next day, though, I was feeling somewhat better, having consumed food without puking. I now think it was just food poisoning with the coincidental side effects of radiation.

I think I'll end here so you can digest these stories (pun intended). Be sure to check out the Yosemite and wedding pictures.

m