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Posted in Esophageal Cancer
Posted by: mikedishman | February 27, 2010
Get back to where I once came from
I was looking over the edge of the mountain I had climbed to the top of over twenty years ago. I was wondering what the valley below was like after all these years. I decided to stretch even further over a ridge trying to get a better look when I lost my grip and started falling. I had been at the ridge for so long that I thought going down a little wouldn’t be such a big deal Then I started to realize I could no longer stop where I had hoped to. Slowly but surely it became apparent to me I was not going to stop sliding and tumbling until I hit the very bottom.
All that effort and all those years would have been undone. And so it was. I was at the bottom. I thought since I was there anyway, why not just hang there for a while. I wanted to experience just what it was that I was so intrigued about that caused me to take this tumble.
The devil and I were sitting at the bar lying to each other for the longest time. He was pretty convincing that I should stay in the valley even though all those I cared about were waiting for me back on the ridge. He would say, “you know it’s a long hard hike back up there. It’s easier to just hang out here; I understand your pain and struggle more than anyone else”.
I could hear my wife Geri calling me but the sound of her voice was very soft. She was
looking for me and I knew I should go home, but it was going to be a tough hike and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back just yet.
Then I started hearing my entire family calling to me. I still was not sure. Then Geri saw me; saw where I was and who I was with. Her call to me this time was racked with pain. It was the same pain she had expressed over twenty years ago. The pain in her voice woke me as if I had been in a trance or a spell. Then she came down to get me. Some will understand, most will not.
I am not in the valley any more. She and I are on a journey back to the ridge. It will be a long hike with many struggles but if I pace myself and hold her hand we will make it back to where I once came from.
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Cancer, caregiver, depression, Esophageal Cancer
Posted by: mikedishman | January 23, 2010
The Playground
Think back to the 1950’s. One day I came into my house crying because my best friend had hit me. I will never forget what my dad did. He walked me over to the back door that led to our screened in porch, shoved me out and said “son, until you stand up for yourself you can’t come back into the house”. It must have been late in the day for Dad to be home (he worked 3 jobs at the time) and I must have been under 7 years old. So I’m sure the thought of spending the night outside was not something I wanted to do. Very reluctantly I ventured across my back yard to sock my best friend. I really didn’t want to do this because he was my friend. Even though he socked me, I really didn’t want to do it. But I had my instructions from Dad and back then you did what your dad told you to do. I am sure I did sock my best friend back. As it is with boys we were still friend and still are to this day.
What did happen though changed me forever. If you invite me to the playground to fight I will show up. Even if I think I will lose, you can count on it I will be there.
I bring this up today because my pop who I could not love more, invited me to the playground of all places. He is 83 and most likely could still beat my ass but I had no choice but to show up. He sent an email out about healthcare. I understand everyone is all over the place on this and it is anyone’s guess where you are on the issue. But it turns out he and I are not on the same side.
I am not judging his opinion; I am just saying he asked me to come out on the playground and he told me what he thought. He passed on an email that he feels is in tune to his way of thinking (first punch). I googled the email and found out the facts are for the most part false. My turn to punch back. Not just to Dad, but everyone he copied. That was probably a low punch, but he left himself open and I took it. There is a part of me that feels bad about it. But then there is still the little boy in me that was told “go out and stick up for yourself or I won’t let you back in”. I did not want to punch my best friend back in the 1950’s and I didn’t want to punch my 83 year old pop today either. But he taught me that the playground is where we stand up for ourselves. So, if you don’t want me to play, don’t call me out to the playground. Especially regarding health care.
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Healthcare
Posted by: mikedishman | October 30, 2009
There is a monster under my bed
There’s a monster under my bed
Two years ago today the surgeons cut a monster out of me (really). It was growing by eating me from the inside out. It was getting larger by the day. For me and those that care about me it was going to be the scariest Halloween eve ever.
Several months before this I had one of those feelings where I knew something was not right but could’t figure out what it was. It took several trips to several doctors before one of them walked around the curtain and basically said, “you are in real bad trouble, there is a monster in you and you have no time to waste in getting it out”. It is a really bad monster and if you hesitate it will take over your body. He had my attention.
First they had to poison the monster… and me. Then they had to shoot “it” with lethal doses of x-rays…. and me. They went in and cut “it” out of me along with most of my esophagus and a large part of my stomach. From what I can tell, the surgeons decided to cut as much out of me as they could without killing the rest of me. They wanted to make sure it was not hiding out anywhere nearby. I am good with their decision, but it sure has made eating a challenge to say the least.
Ever since then on a regular basis the doctors have looked in me with their special tools to see if “it” has come back. So far “it” has not. However, at nighttime, I feel “it’s” not very far away. As a matter of fact I’m pretty sure “it’s” under my bed. I lay there at night and pray that “it” does not come out and get in me. I know this is bad thinking, but I’m constantly reminded that “it” could. I’m reminded because it happened to people I know. I’m reminded because the doctors keep asking me to come in so they can look in me to see if “it’s” come back. All of this leaves me no doubt that ‘it’s” lurking out there someplace patiently waiting to get back in me.
I do need to say at this point that every morning when I wake up, in a matter of a few minutes my mind will be occupied by thoughts of my wife Geri and my children and work. Life absorbs me as it always has done and I’m blessed to be busy and employed. On my drive to work, I am reminded that this day is a gift to be treasured. I will spend almost every waking minute enjoying my life and finding blessings around every corner – I really do now live in the moment. I am even planning my future vacation for next year, a hiking trip to the four pass loop in the Maroon Bells of Colorado that I have dreamed of doing for years. This is something I am really looking forward to.
All through this post I have been using “I” when I really wanted to use “we” because everything that happens to me also happens to my wife Geri in much the same way, but she refuses to give in to these paranoid thoughts! She is actually upset with this post because she thinks I have put too much of a negative spin on things. She would rather I use this blog to uplift folks (she says “not true”) rather than point to the dark side of cancer. She points out I am very blessed and I have so much to be grateful for. I’m very blessed and I’m very grateful but I am not sure it’s my job to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy about cancer. This is just how I really feel at this moment. Next time I might just tell everyone to put their man pants on and buck up. I have no idea until an idea pops in my little head what I am going to write about. Strange thoughts happen up there.
I could put a happy spin on things but that won’t change the fact that I am reminded all to often that there really, really, really, is a monster under my bed patiently waiting for me to leave a door open. It is well known cancer can come back and it often does. I can’t imagine anyone that has had cancer once not being a little concerned considering the odds. In the meantime, I’ll be doing everything I know about to keep “it” under the bed.
I am not trying to speak for all the folks that have had cancer, but I am probably speaking for at least some of them…………
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Cancer, caregiver, depression, Esophageal Cancer
Posted by: mikedishman | July 11, 2009
Underwear problem
Tonight Geri and I were asked to leave the Cancer Relay for Life event because we brought our new puppy. No dogs allowed. I don’t blame or hold any grudge against anyone that decided that dogs were not welcome. We were good with that and we left. I’m sure there is a very good reason.
We want to train our dog to be a therapy dog so we try and take it everywhere we can. What I didn’t understand until recently is she is already my therapy dog. She makes me walk which is good for me and she gives me something to think about other than cancer. She brings joy into my life. She also steals my underwear and socks.
So Alli, Geri and I had our own survivor lap at the off leash park. There was no one there to applaud us. There was no one there that knew that at one time we had come from the depths of hell and survived it all. And there was no one there that knew we were still struggling with everything that comes with cancer. We were just another couple with our dog.
I struggle with the whole survivor thing anyway. The word “survivor” to me implies that you fight. During my treatment I just laid there and took it. Yes Geri and I survived what they did to me. Yes Geri and I struggled and yes I am still alive, so I guess Geri and I are survivors. But for some strange reason I personally struggle with that label. I’m not sure why, I just do. I guess I just want to punch cancer out, but I don’t know where to show up. I detest what it is doing to Geri. Caregivers have it much worse than the person with cancer. They shoulder all the responsibility. If I could get my hands on cancer, I would kill it. I would carry it to hell myself and stay there with it if necessary.
In my opinion if you are unfortunate enough to get cancer, you pretty much do what you are told. That doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t say “I’ve had enough” nor at some point look for different options. But, the majority of us just do what we are told, at least in the beginning. I am very much past the beginning. I don’t know where I will elect to go from here, if cancer returns.
You might want to learn everything you can about cancer if you haven’t already done so because you have a 1 in 3 chance of getting some kind of cancer during your lifetime. I know it sucks, but those are the odds as of today. With that in mind, we should all donate some cash or invest some of our thought process into figuring out what causes it. Of course some things are obvious…. smoking, chewing tobacco, too much sun, If you’re still doing any of those things, go hang out in a cancer center and see what your future may hold for you. I guarantee, you will not find it appealing. We all must die of something, but no one should die of cancer, it is not a nice way to go.
Cancer does do one thing; it makes it very easy to determine what is important and what is not. If you are “my cup is half full” type of person (I am) this part is a wonderful gift. It may sound strange, but there are gifts around us always — you just simply need to look for them. Cancer puts life into a crystal clear perspective, Ask anyone that has had cancer and I am sure they will agree.
I don’t wish this disease on anyone of course, but I do wish everyone could see life from the cancer side of things (minus the disease). Putting priorities in perspective and living life in the moment makes almost all things (maybe everything) better.
Now, I need to retrieve my underwear…… Alli drop it…..drop it…..drop it. Good grief dog!
Posted in Support Group
Posted by: mikedishman | May 20, 2009
Pardon me coming through
Pardon me coming through, excuse me coming through. My wife and I use that expression jokingly when we or someone appears to be barging in. So pardon me, excuse me I am coming through your life once again.
It is that time again, my quarterly CAT scan, my quarterly scan-xiety. So if you are inclined to, just like Dorothy did in the Wizard of Oz, instead of clicking your heals and saying there is no place like home, there is no place like home, please say Mike is NED, Mike is NED, Mike is NED…..No evidence of disease!
Posted in Support Group
Posted by: mikedishman | May 10, 2009
Don’t judge another person until you have walked a mile in their shoes
I think we have all heard the expression “don’t judge another person until you have walked a mile in their shoes”. I used to look at folks with eating disorders and just could not imagine what they were thinking and why they would do that to themselves, but I understand now.
It will be hard for most of you to understand that for me, eating is no longer something to look forward to. I tell folks that God has a sense of humor. I am married to the most wonderful cook and I no longer look forward to eating. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with my taste buds. Things that taste good not only taste good, but they taste great — mostly because I can eat so little. Due to some unknown reason (at least to me) many foods either don’t go down well, or they upset what is left of my system.
Everything requires I chew a lot and I mean a lot. It takes me a very long time to eat. I can’t eat and drink because there is not enough room for both. If I eat something that doesn’t agree with my new plumbing, I get rid of it almost instantly (to put it nicely). So now the most primal desire is just no longer there. I simply don’t care to eat.
A lot of folks say they wish they had that problem. I understand the statement. After all, I used to be pretty big myself and now I am painfully thin. Believe me, you don’t want to wish this on yourself. Most folks should eat the way I am forced to, but not because they have to.
Now I really do understand those that have eating disorders. I guess I am walking in their shoes. At some point your body, not you mind takes over. Once your body takes over your mind is no longer in control and it’s no longer a choice.
Unfortunately now among everything else, my caregiver, the love of my life, must shoulder that responsibility along with everything else. Even though I can write about it; even though I understand it; if left up to me I would probably just simply not eat enough. My body is not asking for nourishment. Don’t get me wrong, I want to live and I want to thrive; I have just have lost almost all interest in eating.
This is the point in my writing where I try to have a positive spin on whatever I just wrote about. I am thinking, I am thinking………………, I just can’t find it this time.
If this subject sparked some interest in you, then you should have been on our last support call. We would love for you to call in and help us and/or yourself work through these kinds of dilemmas. Wed evenings, 7 pm.
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Cancer, caregiver, Esophageal Cancer
Posted by: mikedishman | April 16, 2009
I am just saying I now have a plan
Many of us have heard it said “The only thing that is constant is change”. Almost all of us resist change. We certainly don’t look forward to change; at least most of the time. Like many folks my job is on shaky ground. My wife’s job even after 32 years of loyal service is on shaky ground. Losing either or both of our jobs puts our insurance in jeopardy. I made the mistake of getting my life insurance through my job. If I lose my job, I can port my life insurance out to the insurance company that holds it but it will be greatly reduced in value from what it is now. I am told I may be able to buy it back up and of course I will, because I must. If my wife and I lose our jobs I will have a tough time getting health insurance with a pre-existing condition of cancer. If you don’t have cancer you may still want to pay attention to this, as unfortunately at the time of this writing you have a one-in-three chance of getting it.
Having said all that I must reel my mind back in. Lately I have been listening to; reading about; thinking about and practicing self improvement, motivational kind of stuff. People give you that kind of stuff as gifts when you get handed a death sentence.
All of it requires you have a plan. I am sure there are a lot of folks out there that have a plan but until recently I was not one of them. My only plan up until now was to survive whatever has last challenged to me. That plan is no longer working.
There was a movie that came out a year ago or so called the “Bucket List”. It’s about making a list of all the things you want to do before you check out. The motivational stuff I am studying says you need a plan and I think these are really one in the same thing. So I have started my bucket list.
Now my list does not include, I want to jump out of a plane (I’ve done that) or go for a ride in a hot air balloon (I’ve done that too) or even spend more time with my children and/or grandchildren (I have done a very good job of that). My list does not include wanting anything for myself,…………… well except maybe a dog.
I started to think about someone I met who had the same cancer and the same treatment and the same, well just about everything. He is no longer in our physical world. I gave a lot of thought to what he would advise me to have on my bucket list. I really don’t think he would have suggested travel, cars or anything that had to do with satisfying any need I might think I have. I think he would have suggested that while I had the chance I should:
• Be the very best son I can be
• Be the very best husband I can be
• Be the very best father I can be
• Be the very best grandfather I can be
• Be the best brother I can be
• Be the best uncle I can be
• Be the very best friend I can be
• Be the very best employee I can be
• Be the very best neighbor I can be
• Be the very best stranger I can be.
• Finish all my chores so my wife is not left with a mess.
• Just plain-old be the very best I can be
I would have liked to include “forgive all of those I thought have wronged me”, but what I think I have come to understand is that I am in control of all that makes me sad and all that makes me happy. If that is the case there is no need for forgiving; there is only a need to understand why I allowed something to trouble me in the first place. Once I figure out that the rest will take care of itself. I have always told my children you can turn anything into gold or dirt; it’s up to you.
I am not saying I will be good at this. I am just saying I now have a plan.
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Cancer, caregiver, Esophageal Cancer
Posted by: mikedishman | March 26, 2009
As welcome as light in the darkness
A few years ago a guy who loved to go on solo hikes got himself into a very bad situation by doing so and ended up losing an arm (which he amputated himself). If you haven’t heard the story, he wrote a book about his adventures called “Between a Rock and a Hard Place”, by Aron Ralston. Over the last several years I have camped out many times with the scouts and their program has taught me that going alone, especially on a high adventure, is just not a good idea.
This last weekend my wife along with some scout friends and I went caving. You can get into all kinds of trouble in a cave. We were required to have three different flashlights all with new batteries, a helmet, some snacks, water and the proper kind of clothes. We had to put some thought into what we were about to go through and we discussed it with as many experienced people as we could.
We took the cave on, we were challenged and we worked through all the difficult situations using the information we had gathered. During our journey we coached and helped each other in situation after situation. One would get past a tricky spot and then offer advice to the next person on techniques to get through it. Or, “watch your head, there is a low spot in the ceiling”. We even pointed out to others when we spotted something alive that we didn’t want to hurt. Should we have just ventured into the cave alone hoping for the best, we would have almost certainly run into trouble, or at the very least been stressed out from start to finish. We may have even hurt something or ourselves unintentionally.
Last night several of us met online for our weekly support group. Just as no one should venture into a cave or any unknown adventure alone, no one should walk through the riggers of cancer alone — neither the person who has or had cancer nor the person supporting him. As a group we can share experiences. We can call out in the dark to let people know “we are over here, watch your head, we have extra batteries, we must respect this living thing over here”. You get the picture.
If you are reading this and you are trying to go it alone or you feel you are alone, you don’t have to be. Call in next week I am sure someone will have something to say that will be as welcome as light in the darkness.
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Cancer, caregiver, Esophageal Cancer
Posted by: mikedishman | March 18, 2009
Do you remember when you were a kid?
Do you remember when you were a kid the first time you realized that if you had some money you could buy something (all by yourself) in the grocery store? I do.
I didn’t get an allowance when I was a kid, but my good friend Dave did. One day, with lots of time on our hands, he suggested walking up to the grocery store. When we got there we just walked up and down the aisles gazing at all the groceries when Dave said “Lets buy a pie and eat it outside”.
Well I’ve got to tell you, I had no idea that you could buy a pie without your mothers permission and that they would actually sell it to you. I guess I figured the lady at the checkout would ask me for a note or something! We sat outside the store on the curb and ate the whole pie, just the two of us. This opened a whole new way of looking at things for me. For one, I was going to need some money because I had seen all kinds of stuff I thought I would enjoy. The door to abundance had just been opened!
Cancer opens up a whole new way of looking at things too. Only this time it is the opposite of abundance. I no longer have much use for the news, it rarely makes me feel good and it takes up too much time, which I no longer assume I have an abundance of. I am not in a hurry to get through the day because I no longer assume I have an abundance of days. I no longer get to eat in abundance, so what I do get to eat I enjoy more. I spend a whole lot more time enjoying the things around me, taking time to soak in everything that comes my way. ……….
I think I just started to learn how to really live life and I am ever so grateful. It feels a whole lot like the day I learned you could have all kinds of great things without anyone’s permission and the best stuff in the store of life is free.
Posted in Cancer, care giver, Esophageal Cancer | Tags: Cancer, caregiver, Esophageal Cancer
