Lucky Dad

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there!

Back on the bike

Just over two weeks off of surgery, I got back on the bike today with no small amount of trepidation. The first day of the Pan Mass is August 3, and the length of that first day is 111 miles. If I don't get training, I'm in trouble for real.

I can honestly say I have not felt better in months than I did moving into mile 2 of my eventual 17.47 mile ride today, when I realized that the stiffness around my incision was dissipating rather than getting worse. I took it slow and easy, but I'm pretty sure I could have kept going. It felt great.

One of the things I like best about riding my bike is the opportunity the rides afford to just think. Today I thought an awful lot about a young man who died yesterday during the Trek Across Maine; an event which, absent this latest bout of cancer, I would have been right in the middle of.

David LeClair was one of nearly 200 riders wearing an athenahealth cycling shirt. He was just 23. He worked in the same building where I work. Although I probably crossed his path dozens of times, I didn't know him. Friends of mine tell me he was a great kid, full of energy, generous to a fault. During the first 10 miles of the 180 mile trek yesterday, a tractor trailer clipped David. He fell under the rear wheels and was killed instantly.

I suppose it would be easy to conclude from this horrible accident that cycling, or cycling in a large event, is unacceptably dangerous. But it isn't. People are killed tragically every day, crossing the streets, stepping accidentally off of a train platform, just standing in the exact wrong place, at the precise wrong time. David was cycling in the exact wrong place at the precise wrong time. It is random and incomprehensible and devastating.

Here are a couple of things I didn't know about the Pan Mass Challenge until I Googled it tonight to find out how many riders I'll be sharing the road with in August: First, it is the single largest athletic fundraiser in the world. In the WORLD. Second, of the approximately 5,500 riders, about 200 of them any given year are cancer survivors. I would have thought that number would be higher. Third, the nearly $14,000 that I have raised from my incredibly generous friends, family, and colleagues puts me well within the top ten percent of fundraisers this year. That feels really good.

Anyhow. As you can probably see from the smiles on my face in these photos, I'm doing great. I feel very lucky to be doing what I am doing so soon after my latest run-in with a disease that does much worse things to a whole lot of lives. I feel great to be making a real contribution to a wonderful institution, Dana Farber, that does so much to improve so many of those lives--and to be doing so actively rather than just passively.

Finally, I feel sad for my too-young colleague David, and for his family and friends.What I take from his accident is the lesson, as if it needed emphasis, that life is short and can end suddenly, at any time.

And there are much, much worse things that happen to people than getting cancer.

Good form all around

Thought the golfers in the audience would appreciate this photo of Syl and her pal Lily Cocchiarella hitting the mini links. They have excellent golf etiquette, by the way. Always wait patiently for the group ahead to clear the green.

Taking after Mommy

Seems Sylvie has an affinity for cooking. She got up this morning and, without waking Melissa or me, got herself a stool, got two frozen waffles out of the freezer, toasted them, and had herself a nice little breakfast. And no, we never showed her how to do that (other than by doing it in front of her, obviously).

Though I was impressed and told her so, I also sat Sylvie down for a serious talk. "Never, ever, ever try to use the stove or the oven," I told her sternly. She looked at me like I was insane. "Dad! The only thing in the whole world that I know how to cook is WAFFLES!"

Some more coverage of what my company does

... and one of the policy issues I spend a lot of time on in DC. This time from NPR's "All Things Considered."

"Completely clean"

That's what my surgeon said today at my post-op about my pathology report. They got it all, no spread. Surrounding areas are "completely clean." That was the expectation, but it is still nice to hear it stated with such certainty!

From here I meet with a medical oncologist a week from Wednesday, with the expectation that he will recommend monitoring. Then I'll go for a full workup every four months for a year, every six months for two years after that, and--in light of my recurrence--every year pretty much for the rest of my life. I imagine those will be more stressful from now on, but there is comfort in them as well.

Best of all (at least in the short term), my surgeon rolled his eyes when I asked about the standard "four weeks no exercise" instruction I'd gotten in my post-op written materials. "Man, you know your body. If you are ready to exercise today, exercise today. Just don't be stupid and hurt yourself."

I love my surgeon.

First trip to the Glen Ellen pool

Sylvie and I also made our first trip of the summer to the Glen Ellen pool. She had a blast swimming and playing mini golf...and eating a healthy pizza and slushie lunch (I'm weak).

Holliston Touch-a-Truck

This weekend Sylvie and I went to the Holliston Touch-a-Truck event. She had a great time, especially honking the (very loud) horns.

In the Water

Grammy and Grampy (with a major assist from Willow) got me a waterproof HD video camera last winter. This month in FL was the first time I really put it through its paces. I am very pleased with the result!

Better every day

For everyone who has asked how I am doing today, here's a photo of me right now walking Sophie. I can't say it doesn't hurt, but I'm off the painkillers, and it is entirely bearable. And I had to get out of the house. Going a little crazy! Thanks for all the calls, notes, and emails. All things considered I feel pretty great.