Yes, That's My Fanny Pack

After my brush with death in Houston (apparently, sepsis ain’t no joke), here I am back in God’s own Chattanooga. Life is good.

The Rushing Cup.

The highlight of last week was, of course, the inaugural Rushing Cup. I am part of a group of about forty guys that play golf together every Wednesday evening. At the end of the year we pick teams and play a day-long, Ryder Cup style tournament. After my diagnosis, the guys decided to name the event in my honor (despite the fact that I’m not dead yet). The craziness in Houston put my participation in jeopardy, but in the end I made it. Playing twenty-seven holes took a lot out of me, but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I played even worse than I normally do, but I’m afraid that was the only possibility. In the end, the White team nipped my Crimson team 16 ½ to 14 ½ to win the cup. It’s hard to describe the feeling of presenting a trophy named after you to the winner when you lost. It’s also tough to describe how special the day was and how much it meant to me. I love those boys each and every one.

Just for fun we teed off under a full Double rainbow.

The freshest foursome fivesome on the course:
Sparky, Bike Lane Bailey, TPalm, Easy E &
yours truly. (Thanks for the pic Spark!)

Yes, that was a wicked long putt.
And yes, I missed horribly.
I love these boys.

I’m in the process of getting back into the swing of life. My big problem is fatigue. To this point I have been attributing the weariness to fact that I left thirty-plus pounds in Texas. This morning, however, my oncologist reminded me that recovery from sepsis, my radiation treatment, some of my medicines, and the cancer itself all contribute to fatigue. That isn’t any real help, other than mentally- the extra excuses make me feel somewhat less of a wuss. Fortunately, once in a sedentary position I can do a decent job of focusing on work, and I’ve been back in that saddle for a while.

The news of the day is chemo. The last time I had chemo, I handled it like a champ. A combination of being in good health and some luck in how my body processed the chemicals made for a relatively trouble-free experience. This time ‘round, I’m not at my best and the chemicals are more formidable- we’ll see how it goes down. The most novel aspect of this treatment, however, is how it’s administered. After a two-hour infusion at the clinic, the remainder of the medicine is administered via a pump over the course of two days. I have to carry the pump around in a fanny pack. A fanny pack. While my initial reaction was to recoil in horror, I have decided to embrace the pack. I am not hiding it under a jacket or shirt, but will be sporting it proudly, front and center, like a German tourist. So, if you happen see my new fashion accessory, that’s what’s up.

I offer my sincerest apologies, for forgetting to share the soundtrack to my life. In Houston, there is no music (at least I didn’t listen to any). When we landed and got in the car last week, I cranked the stereo out of habit and the first bars were a revelation of what I missing for four weeks. During the two hour drive home, music (plus the joy of being home) made me tear up a few times. I must remember to keep the music playing.

After that little note, it’s a shame that I don’t have better songs for the week, but this what has been in heavy rotation. I’ve never appreciated R.E.M. as much as I should, but this song came on at a loud volume and sounded really good. I was going to save this one for when my death appears imminent, but it’s been on Sirius a lot this week and I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t let another week pass without a Noel Gallagher tune.

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