DAY 344 - Day 247 in Recovery Paradise

It is rapidly approaching a year since I was first diagnosed with Tonsil Cancer and started the subsequent treatment and ensuing recovery process. It seems a blur of time, often seeming like it was long, long ago (or never really happened, until little reminders (IE. can't eat spicy foods or ice cream/chocolate - or my mouth gets incredibly dry, which affects my ability to speak) pop up to keep it real.

All of the current downsides are bearable and as technically, I am still in the recovery process, there could still be some continued improvement. I, however, can easily live with the small annoyances (compared to the alternative...ha) and am probably actually better off for it. I must constantly drink water to keep my mouth moist and not cake up (drinking more water is good). I dislike the taste and texture of ice cream and chocolate (not a bad thing - no one actually "needs" it, although an admitted "chocoholic" might debate this) and it is definitely easier to keep my desired weight. I am still tired a lot and can take a two hour nap at any given opportunity (more sleep, more water, less chocolate....hmmm- not too bad).

Lise, Sarah and I have an annual trek up to the mountains for a picnic on the American River for Mother's Day. As we have tickets to the Opera tomorrow, we took the picnic trek a day early - today. A few short months ago, I would not have had the strength and energy to make the hike down the steep path, along the rocky beach and back up again, not to mention eating sushi, strawberries and snap peas. Beautiful day, 80 degrees, nice breeze, Lise and Sarah lovely as ever, basically Another Day in Paradise. Glad to be here.

DAY 336 - Day 239 in Recovery Paradise

"You don't know the worth of the water until the well runs dry". True statement. My life has been good, especially since I met Lise, some 14 years ago. I think I must have gotten somewhat complacent with a good life and although I appreciated it, I don't think I fully embraced how fortunate I was to have a good family, good job, good health, etc. until I was diagnosed with cancer and went through a rather grueling treatment plan.

I didn't fully appreciate life as much as I do now, after almost a year of recovery. Small things, otherwise unnoticed, have special meaning. My everyday relationships with my wife, children, friends, etc. are much more enjoyable, after being confronted with the prospect of losing it all.

The inability to eat anything, with the process relegated to a feeding tube, has been difficult. I love to cook and my favorite literature is a new cookbook. During the recovery process, each new step [now I can eat soup...now I can eat salads, etc.] was monumental. My first dinner out was a beet salad and I was in heaven. We dined out tonight and I thoroughly enjoyed being able to eat a dinner roll before dinner...had to have lots of butter, but I was able to do it. Still can't eat croutons...too dry...but is a small loss.

Working on my "legacy blog" now has been incredible. Finally motivated to write down all my stories and sort the thousands of photographs to add to the mix.

A great motivational quote I have up on my wall: "As you get older, don't slow down; Speed Up! You have less time left".....and miles to go before I sleep.