We were just strangers when we met

Posted on by kwundrow

The sign read “There are no strangers here, just friends you haven’t met.”  This turned out to be pretty prophetic.  By the end of one month of travel, we had met many strangers who by the time we had to part ways, were new friends.

August found my wife and I on a trip up the Rhine in Europe.  It started with us meeting two couples from Nebraska, Mureen and her husband Murray and Gayle and her husband Larry.  We shared stories and drinks and continued those conversations all week long.  Now we also met another couple the very first day and bravely introduced ourselves.  Through the next ten days, we shared walks and talks, dinners and stories of our lives.  But eventually we were saying goodbye to our new friends, Polly and Stu, but knowing we would make a mutual effort to meet again.  Strangers had turned out to be friends we just hadn’t met.

And then there was Lucerne.  We had boarded a paddlewheeler for a trip around Lake Lucerne.  Knowing no local dialects and completely on our own, we took a seat across from an elderly women.  As the boat moved away from the pier, she leaned over and asked if we were from the U.S.  Over the next hour we carried on a fascinating conversation learning things about our new friend, Lucerne and Switzerland.  When she had to disembark at her stop, the women next to her, not knowing any of us, leaned in and said “I’ll take care of them from here.”  And she did.  No language barrier was going to thwart the effort of strangers becoming friends.

My wife and I just returned from a short trip to the North Woods.  On day two of our stay, I headed out to an area golf course.  I was going to squeeze in a quick nine holes somehow hoping I could just play alone and practice my game undisturbed by any semblance of competition.  But this was not to be.  Instead, I was paired up with two gentleman, Gene and his son-in-law, Ryan.  As they had never played the course, I turned out to be their guide.  The three of us shared a very beautiful fall morning and what turned out to be one of my best scores of the season.  As I finished on the ninth hole, we all wished each other well and where we had been strangers just two hours earlier, parted as friends.

The next day, Deb and I took a long bike ride on a trail near our cottage.  When we returned back to our car, which we had left parked at a local pub, we decided we needed some lunch and the pub looked inviting.  It was while we were there that I discovered the sign I quoted at the beginning of this piece.  It was placed prominently above the bar and in the patrons soon proved how true it was.  In no time at all we were in conversation with two local construction workers, the bartender / owner of the pub and two other couples who were traveling like us and had decided to drop in, because that’s what you do at a North Woods pub.  The sign was true, there really were no strangers there.

The next day found us again at the end of another bike ride exploring yet another local pub.  Before you start worrying about my drinking habits, remember that we are on vacation, wait even better, we are retired.  Earlier, as we were locking our bikes and walking downtown, a woman crossing the street had overheard us pondering about this new place, well new to us, and told us it was a great place and that we ought to stop back later when the place opened.  Well it was later and we heeded her advice and entered the establishment.  To our surprise, the women, it turns out her name was Margaret, was not only working there but was in fact the co-owner.  We ordered our drinks and retired to the warmth and coziness of their backyard patio.  There Margaret waited on and conversed with us, sharing her story and getting ours in return.  Within the span of half an hour, we felt like friends.  Hopefully Margaret is reading this blog and is approving my story.  There is no doubt that The Vine in Minocqua will be a new favorite stop on our stays up North and we will look forward to more conversations with the owners, Margaret and Scott.

Our trip was coming to a close when we got one last chance to make a stranger a friend.  It was Saturday and we had just finished golfing.  Not wanting to miss the Badger’s football game, we stopped in the Sayner Pub, yes, I know this is starting to sound like a North Woods pub review but it’s just a coincidence.  We seated ourselves at the bar, best viewing position, I swear, and began watching the game.  We were soon surrounded by strangers who through the comraderie of a sporting event would become our new friends of the day.  Bob on our left, recently retired and living up North and Ryan on our right who turned out to be from Madison.  The Badgers won, we all celebrated and after sharing our stories, parted with the memories and emotions of another well spent day.

This piece would be pointless without a message, okay moral.  One never knows what interesting story resides in the stranger sitting next to you or maybe waiting in the same line.  That is unless you take the step to find out.  To maybe even introduce yourself.  What’s the worst that could happen?  They might just turn out to be the friend you haven’t met.

Somewhere over Ireland

Posted on by kwundrow

We have been flying all night, which is a relative term.  While my watch says it is 5:00 am, the outside tells me it is much later.  Seven hours later to be exact.  It is a strange sensation, especially if it is the first time one has ever done it, to fly east, racing toward the sunrise.  The airlines, Delta in our case, does everything possible to help you through this body clock dilemma.  You are served dinner at 11:00 pm, lights and all noise dimmed, eye shades handed out along with blankets and pillows all to get you ready for the big time shift that awaits you.

I walk through the plane several times during the wee hours of the morning, enviously watching the seasoned travelers actually sleeping.  But sleep eludes me.  Though the seats are “comfort seats” designed for extra leg room, my legs will not let me sleep.  They twitch and remind me that I am sitting up when they want to be stretched out parallel to gravity.  The night passes and then at roughly 1:00 am, my time when I should be sound asleep, the plane catches up with the sunrise and reality sets in, you have reached tomorrow, today.

The plane comes awake at 4:30 am.  By this I mean that the lights are slowly brought up and breakfast sounds are coming from the galley.  At 5:00 am we are having breakfast, while miles below, somewhere over the coast of Ireland, they are sitting down to lunch.  As we are landing soon, my body will just have to adapt if this adventure is to begin.  It has been twenty-four hours since I got up in my bedroom thousands of miles behind us.  The world has shrunk and we aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Next stop, Amsterdam, with its canals, windmills and bikes…..hundreds and hundreds of bikes.

Amsterdam

Marathon runners finishing at Boston Marathon finish line with cheering crowd

My Cancer Journey: Crossing the Finish Line

Posted on by kwundrow

It seems strange to me that it has already been nearly seven months since this journey began. It was back on October 17th of last year when I heard the cancer diagnosis. The good news is that I am still standing. Though somewhat worse for the wear and tear, but none-the-less, still here. I have a much deeper understanding of cancer now, and not only how it affects the patient, but how it affects the people around them. It turns your partner into a part time chef, nurse, doctor, and medication administrator. In the case of my wife, she managed all of those roles with efficiency and empathy, even in the dark days. Family members become coaches and cheerleaders. Friends become uber drivers and meals on wheels drivers. All of these people become a great support resource and a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen with. It would have been a terrible journey to take alone. Thank you all for being there for me when I needed you most.

Though I will have some uncomfortable side effects for up to year, and I will spare the details here, they are still manageable. One side effect that I am still struggling with is my weight. I am painfully thin now. I have actually lost four inches on my waist size. My superpower is squeezing through small openings with ease. But, considering that I was trying to lose weight before this all started, I now have the advantage of reshaping myself. And who doesn’t like an anti-diet of snacks, ice cream, and malts. On top of that, I now have a new wardrobe as my reward for seeing it through.

Three weeks ago, I went back into the clinic for what we had hoped would be the proof that the cancer was gone. As it turned out, they were non-definitive. Though the tumor was gone, the doctor was still seeing some potentially cancerous tissues. He ordered up more bloodwork. A test if it returned a score of zero would be the definitive proof we were looking for. Deb and I waited anxiously over the next two weeks, encouraging each other to remain optimistic. Yesterday we returned to the clinic for those results. Though I will still go through periodic scans over the next year, perseverance has paid off. The blood test score was zero and I am cancer free.

As a cancer survivor, I am truly relieved, grateful, and happy. But there is one other seeming strange emotion, a tinge of guilt. It creeps in every time I celebrate my walk away cure. It is in those moments that it hits me that so many others are not getting that same diagnosis. For them, the journey goes on. For even others, their journey may end without ever getting the cure they and the people around them so desperately hoped for. But even in those moments of guilt, I have a new appreciation that I now truly understand the journey. The advice I will share from my journey, if someone you know tells you they have cancer, remember this. What they need more than anything else is to know you are there. Be present. Tell them you are thinking of them and that you truly care about them. That simple act will help them find the strength to face their journey. It definitely helped me. Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, and presence in journey. You saved me.

My Cancer Journey: Next Exit

Posted on by kwundrow

Yesterday was the day Deb and I had spent the last eight weeks waiting for. It would be my two screening scans that we were counting on to tell us that I was cancer free. It turns out that on this cancer journey, it wasn’t so much the exit ramp as it was another mile marker.

The good news was that the tumor is gone, but the free and clear will have to wait. There is some sign that something is still going on. Though the odds are in my favor, there is a chance that there is still some of the HPV virus to deal with. What this means is that Deb and I will await the results of two added tests done yesterday and then a repeat of the scans six week from now. In the interim, I am still healing from the radiation treatments. If we are lucky, the lesion that needs to heal, may be the reason yesterday’s scans couldn’t be definitive.

Though it wasn’t exactly the celebration day we had hoped for, we aren’t feeling lost. Just still a little distance to cover. I am okay. Through all of this, I have been lucky to have three especially important women in my corner. I am going to finish my healing and believe that the scans six weeks from now will be the all clear sign we’ve waited for. All good things in time. Our exit sign is just ahead.

Life’s Moments

Posted on by kwundrow

In that moment his life flashed before his eyes. I am sure you think you know where this is going but stay with me. In two weeks I will be celebrating my birthday. This time around and considering recent events in my life, it will be significant. As I approach it, I have found myself suddenly having these flash backs to little moments in my life. Some of these moments are seemingly insignificant and yet there they are jumping into my head. Others, far more significant, stir deep emotions as I recall them. Together they form a mosaic of my life. This morning, as I contemplated them, I felt compelled to write them down.

I came upon this almost ancient jackknife in the bottom of my dresser drawer. That was all it took for the memory to jump out at me. I am ten years old and I’m with my dad. We are in our woods searching for just the right branch for my slingshot. It will be the first of many, but this one is special. Dad explains that we need not only the right tree. We also need a branch that will form just the correct “Y” shape for the slingshot. I remember whittling it to perfection with dad’s jackknife. As it passed his inspection, he handed me his jackknife and told me I should keep it. He reminded me that I need to take care of it. He told me to treat it as a tool, and nothing more. That was my dad’s way. Life was a series of lessons. He taught me to be respectful of the tools and words we use. Both would hurt people if not used carefully. Now looking at the knife I know how that little lesson has shaped my life.

Now more memories are triggered. I am sixteen and about to get my driver’s license. I don’t recall a lot about all that training but this sticks in my head. Ten and two and turn into the skid. I know I haven’t always strictly adhered to that ten and two. Yet, turning into the skid has saved me countless winter days.

Suddenly, I am thirteen and experiencing my first crush, Gloria Lowenhagen. Crushes are like Red Bull, powerful for the very short time they last. Alas, Gloria moved on and so did I. If you grew up in my era, you went to high school in the sixties. Do you remember the fairy loop on the back of your shirt? For the record, and not to brag, mine was taken a fair amount of the time. Ah, those days. If you never heard of this trick, you would have to use your imagination.

I’m twenty-six now. I have left my teaching job up north and have moved to Madison. I know no one here and am more than a little anxious. I walk into my new school and meet the woman of my dreams. She doesn’t know yet, but I will pursue her relentlessly until she gives in. We will start a relationship that is now nearly fifty years strong.

In this next scene of my life flashback, I am thirty-three years old. We are in the fourth year of our marriage and about to become parents. It is the day of the birth and I am anxious, fearful, excited, and tired. Labor has been long and unsuccessful and an emergency C-section is underway in the next room. Suddenly, the nurse is here and Bailey is placed in my arms. I will sit with her for the next twelve hours as Deb recovers from surgery. I will rock with her and I will bond with her, a bond that will last a lifetime.

And now I am seventy years old. I am preparing for my youngest daughter’s wedding. She has asked me to be both dad and officiant today. I am fairly distracted by those two roles colliding. The wedding will be held outside at this beautiful farm in the countryside. While I am rehearsing for the ceremony, a woman approaches me. She tells me that I am needed on the backside of the barn. As I round the corner, there with sunlight beaming down on her, stands Kathryn. She is breathtaking in her wedding dress and I am speechless. My relationship with Kathryn has always been one of adventure. She was my tomboy, but in this moment she is this beautiful woman that I had almost not seen. From now on, I will not fail to see both sides of Kathryn. I will love the adventurous tomboy she can be all the while admiring the beautiful women she is.

One more memory pops into my head. I am standing on the dock outside our cabin. My grandkids, Jackson and Adela, have decided they will learn how to fish. They have chosen me to teach them. Safe to say, that between improvisation on my part and ingenuity on theirs, we succeeded. My aha moment here is that dad not only gave me his lessons, he taught me to do the same.

In two weeks I will be seventy-five. It is not a mystery that my life should flash before me as I accept the truth of my age. I feel I have earned the right to look back on my life with some amount of pride. I’ve made it this far and it’s not a bad story.

No one should wait until the last moment to have their life flash before their eyes. Let it be like that favorite movie you watch for the second and third time. Each time you watch it, you notice something new. Here’s hoping your life is like that movie, better each time you recall the moments.

My Cancer Journey: Closure

Posted on by kwundrow

I finished treatments three weeks ago and have been slowly healing from the damages done by both the tumor and the ensuing treatments. Cancer is the combination of the two and it has left me changed. It would have been strange had it not. Some of those changes are physical. There will be side effects that linger.

There is also the emotional change. I have come through a battle and won. I am very aware how lucky that is. I think of so many who fight this battle valiantly only to lose in the end. That aspect leaves a sense of guilt whenever I talk about MY cancer. I know all the reasons that is foolish, but it is real, nonetheless.

A more positive change is a new respect for life. I will be more conscious of my body as I continue to heal and especially as I regain my weight. I will relish the flavor of food as I regain my sense of taste. Above all, I will forever be thankful for the army of people, medical, friends, and family, who helped out, supplied us with food, prayed for, and cared about Deb and I through this journey. I might of survived without it, Deb says no, but I certainly survived better with all of those thoughts and prayers for recovery.

The biggest change of all is that I have grown closer to Deb. Through this battle she was there by my side. She kept the records, got me to my treatments, and encouraged me every step of the way. She provided the nourishment, physical and emotional, that I needed to fight through to this point.

Cancer has changed me. I am committed to making that a positive.

After writing this, I felt it needed an addendum. Throughout this process, I have often been graciously credited with courage. From the moment of my diagnosis, I knew my cancer was going to require a rough treatment regimen, but I also knew it was curable. Courage should be reserved for those who do not get that same diagnosis. They fight the battle not knowing whether they will get a cure let alone even survive. That battle is courageous. Knowing I could get a cure if I just withstood the treatments, only required an act of bravery. I am thankful for that and will forever respect the courage of others facing their battle with cancer.

My Cancer Journey: Back in the World

Posted on by kwundrow

After what seems like forever, I ventured out today. And it was glorious. I didn’t even notice the near zero temperatures. All I felt was free. Though it will be ten long weeks before my PET and CT scans tell me if the tumor is gone, I at least got the all clear to go back to normal. And normal feels great!

My last treatment was two weeks ago and yesterday I learned that my labs had shown marked improvement. My white cells, platelets, and neutrophils had all bounced back. That meant, with my resistance returned, I could once again be safe around people. I love my wife and I know she loves me, but after 100 days of being each other’s only company, it would be great to be with other people. Though there are some side effects of the radiation still lingering, I am feeling well enough and ready to attack that bucket list I had built.

First up, breakfast at one of our favorite coffee shops, Lazy Janes. Sitting upstairs at our favorite corner table, savoring my first cafe meal in three months, sipping a cup of coffee, and perusing a real newspaper, well, it was nirvana. Next stop, and no judgement here, the grocery store.

For any of my readers who remember Adventures in Grocery Shopping, (https://kenismsblog.com/?s=Adventures+in+Grocery+Shopping), grocery stores were not my strong suit. But today, being in the grocery store and seeing all those food choices was like a visit to heaven. Pizza, whipped cream, pumpkin pie, and chocolate; chocolate milk, chocolate ice cream, chocolate candy! All those flavors the cancer treatments had denied me the ability to taste, lined up on the shelves. Oh, it was a treat. I was back baby. I went for milk and came home with a shopping cart of food.

There is one thing I know now, things will be different going forward. Oh, life will go back to normal; I will go out to eat, take in a movie, go shopping, go work out at a gym. Normal stuff, but some things will change. I will be more attentive to Deb. I will tell her I love her every day. I will savor travel even more than I might have. I will relish in a dinner out with friends. I will listen more and talk less. Above all, I will try to show kindness. I think I’ve always been a kind person, but I will be more attentive now. I will smile more, I will open more doors, I will be deliberately kinder.

Cancer is a journey. It takes you down to your lowest points. It tests your will and scares you to death. It reminds you that you are, after all, human. But I have survived. I’ve lost a lot of weight and I will have to work hard to get that back, but I know I can now. And that’s the other piece, cancer teaches you that with the support and prayers of friends, you can survive. With the right attitude, you will even thrive.

And so begins the next leg of the journey ……. life as a survivor.

My Cancer Journey: Finally, Maybe

Posted on by kwundrow

It has been a full week since I had my last treatment. I rang the bell. I celebrated the end of that phase of the journey. Then began the healing. I am being patient, well as patient as one can be when trying to defeat cancer. The healing has been slow. So slow that I couldn’t sense it. I still visit the clinic three times a week for transfusions. Those transfusions are aimed at helping me rebuild my strength and weight. Without assistance, eating has remained tough. The painful condition of my throat, due to all those radiation treatments, makes it difficult. Yet even though the healing has been slow, it has been happening. My weight has come up and I have started to add thicker foods to my diet.

This morning has been the best start to a day since the healing phase began. I will spare you the details of what that routine has been like and just say that it was easier. For the first time in a week I am ready to declare that this day is better. It is clearly better than yesterday. It is definitely better than two days ago. Let’s just say it is different and I’ll take it.

I’ve been told to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. Until today, that light has been faint—more an idea than a promise. I’m not ready to declare victory or say “mission accomplished,” but I am closer. For the first time, that light feels brighter. It even feels nearer. I sense that this final phase is approaching its end, that this long journey will soon be behind me. I remain optimistic—but now, for the first time, I’m also more confident. And that feels new.

My Cancer Journey: Ringing the Bell

Posted on by kwundrow

When this journey began back in October, I set a goal. I was going to ring the bell. But to earn that I had to face what lay ahead. Thirty three times I would lay down on that table and be hit with radiation. That radiation would be targeted at my tongue and throat. Included in the protocol would be as many chemo treatments as my body can handle. Though I was warned how hard that treatment would be, I had my goal.

As the number of radiation treatments piled up, my condition deteriorated. Eventually chemo was no longer an option. We would have to settle for only four of the seven treatments they had planned. Next hurdle was my ability to get down enough calories without going to a feeding tube. Though definitely the most difficult part of the journey, I cleared that hurdle. Yesterday, I crossed off the thirty-third radiation treatment, walked out of the room, and rang the bell. I wasn’t there alone. My radiation team, my two daughters, my wife, and even my two grand-kids joined with me as I rang it. And then when I rang it again!

As I stood there at the finish line, I knew I had not accomplished this on my own. The support of my family was always there. When I grew weak, they grew stronger in their commitment to keeping me going. When I reached out in this blog, you the readers, gave me strength through your messages and prayers. If it had been possible, I would have invited you all to the ringing.

I want to say that ringing the bell signified that it was all over. That it meant a clean bill of health. That crossing the finish line meant the tumor was gone. The truth is that getting to ring the bell marked the end of the first half of the journey. The healing process now lies ahead. These next two weeks will be the hardest. My body is weak. I am fatigued and still plagued with the aftermath of all that radiation. Healing will start, but slowly. Never the less, yesterday WAS significant. I can start to look ahead. The true finish line will be crossed three months from now. I will take that long to heal to the point where they can take another CT scan. My hope, my belief, my prayer, is that CT scan will show the tumor gone. I will be a cancer survivor!

Yesterday WAS significant. Tomorrow and every day after are important. Each day will take me one step closer to my final goal. Cancer free!

My Cancer Journey: The End is in Sight?

Posted on by kwundrow

It was two for Tuesday today. After two radiation sessions in one day, they added in a fluids infusion. It was a long day but it also brought me nearer to the end. With these two sessions today, I now have only three radiation treatments remaining. This means that once I walk out of radiation on Friday, I get to RING THE BELL! This is a big deal. I have invited both of my daughters to be there as I celebrate crossing the finish line.

I am not trying to rain on my own parade, but even though I finish treatments, it’s not really over. Those two weeks after that last treatment will be tough. That is the warning they are giving me. My body needs to heal now and my throat has been completely burned by the radiation. The difficulty I have eating and the amount of weight I have lost, will stand in my way. But, I’ve come this far, what’s a couple more weeks? Then there’s the question everyone asks, “will the tumor be gone?” The answer, unfortunately, will have to wait two to three months before they can do a final CT scan. Fingers crossed, the answer will be that it is gone.

This journey has been tough, even tougher than I thought it would be. Through it all, I found my strength in the incredible support I received from friends and family. So many of you prayed for me. Still others sent me periodic messages of strength. A little shout out to my sister and my cousin who sent me daily inspirations. Some of you even took over when I couldn’t do it myself. And then there was my wife, Deb. She never missed a beat. Day in and day out she was there for me. She was my cook, my stenographer, my cheerleader, and my coach. She experimented as we searched for foods and combinations that I would tolerate. She filled notebooks with the advice and directives of our seven doctor team. And when I was down, she left me daily notes of encouragement. I would not have made it this far without that support. You win battles through team efforts. Thank you everyone for all that you have done. Your encouragement and willingness to help was the strength you gave me to see this through. I had a team of doctors but just as important, I had a team of supporters.

Thanks for taking this journey with me. I would never had taken it without you.