In Progress Well Baby Visit

Got here at 10:00 for an 11:00 appointment. The waiting room was virtually empty (I was going to say 'a ghost town', but considering the venue...).

Anyway, got vitals taken and am happy to report BP: 110/70 Pulse: 71. The walking, yoga, and meditation are paying off.

Got into the exam room by 10:20 and have spent the time reviewing the new NAVAIR Fraud, Waste, and Abuse instruction. Turns out I'm pretty good at Fraud and Abuse, but I may have to go in for remedial Waste training. I understand the training is given down at our Cherry Point site.

Still waiting for Katherine, but to be fair it is still 20 minutes before my appointment time. Still planning on finding the meditation labyrinth at the Georgetown Waterfront Park afterwards, then yoga tonight. Full day.

Testing a Method of Using Google Earth Maps for Illustration

If you see this, you're timing is great--if it works, I'll be deleting it almost immediately.  OBTW, this is the entrance to Georgetown I use almost everytime I go up there.  Parking is to the left before the guard shack, and the windows surrounded by the black box are the windows of the seventh floor trials infusion area where I used to go for chemo.  These were the "good view" rooms.

Revlimid Mystery Revealed!

Okay, it doesn't really rate the National Enquirer headline, but the good nurse Jenny did explain why I'm picking up my Revlimid at the hospital on Tuesday instead of having it shipped here.  Turns out that one of my fellow trial participants started Revlimid with a white count that was very low (and the Revlimid would only make it lower), so they are requiring all us trial participants to have labs at the hospital in order to get our pills.

On the plus side, my blood counts have been great for the last few weeks.  No worries.

Plenty of exercise today:  I went to my bi-weekly 1 hr 45 min Dynamic Flow yoga class.  Not nearly as difficult as the class two weeks ago (different instructor) and I wasn't the worst one in the class.  I actually made it through the whole thing without taking any breaks.  I'm not back to where I was before the hospital adventure last June, but I'm happy with the progress so far.  When I got home, I was informed by Robbie that he and I were going on a 3-mile walk.  So we did.  I've got some liquid, malted calories coming my way tonight, so if you're in the local area and want to stop by the Olde Town Tavern around 8:00 p.m., I'll buy the first beer.  If there are more than one of you, I guess you'll have to share.

On Tuesday, after my well-baby visit with Katherine (who is just about a month from her own well baby) I'll be taking the opportunity to visit the Georgetown Waterfront Park and walk their meditation labyrinth.  Over the last several weeks, I've been starting every day with 15-20 minutes of meditation in a dormer I've partitioned off for that purpose.  I'm intrigued by walking meditation in general and specifically in the meditation labyrinths, and am amazed at how many there are in the area.  "How do I find a meditation labyrinth in my area?", you ask.  Well, how about at  http://labyrinthlocator.com ?  Got to love the internet.  For the really physically underwhelmed, you can buy finger meditation labyrinths that you hold in your lab. So Tuesday afternoon I'll be trying out my first labyrinth meditation.I've really gotten a lot out of my seated meditation and have high hopes for this venue.  I'll let you know how it works out.

Have to Share

This is an exerpt from an email that I received from a woman with whom I work. She started following my blog before she ever met me. I actually got a little choked up when I read this email, and I've asked permission to use it in my upcoming presentation. I wanted to share it with all of you. This is the realization of one of my greatest hopes for my blog. It may be that some specific readers will recognize their situation. Thank you so much for sharing--I'll try to maintain your anonimity.

"...I shared your blog with one of my best friends...whose father happened to be diagnosed with an aggressive form of CLL last Spring. Her father is more of a private person who struggled with how to tell those around him that he had cancer especially when the outcome of his diagnosis was uncertain. Everyone responds to crises differently, some are better able to process information by sharing it, others feel the need to keep information to themselves until it reaches a point of criticality. Both are valid points of view, but in a situation such as this it can be very difficult for the loved ones of someone who is less likely to communicate about their experience. Reading your personal accounts was helpful to her because it gave her the perspective of someone going through the first person experience and she thoroughly enjoyed your upbeat tone and positive outlook. She eventually shared your blog with her father and her mother and it helped create a dialogue about how one can inform those they love about their struggles without the perception of throwing a personal pity party. Her family continued to follow your blog and her father also found the perspective of another person to be helpful. CLL is such a broad disease that it can be difficult for someone with the diagnosis to know what to expect and therefore know what to share or how to do so. It is one thing to look at survivability numbers and another thing to know the story of real life person. In that sense you gave her family support of learning more about the disease, knowing what they might expect during her father's treatment, and how someone else has coped with the diagnosis. I just wanted to let you know that through your blog you have probably helped more people than you know, and some you may never know. BTW - My friend's father underwent more traditional treatment for his CLL/ Leukemia but is now doing very well. [My friend] is copied on this email because I asked her permission before sending it and most of what I have written above is plagiarized directly from her. Not to mention that the discussion we had regarding your blog actually contributed a lot towards her letting me know what was going on in her life in regards to her father's illness and in that way was a really good vehicle for communication between us as friends."

Wow. Just Wow. Thank you.

P.S.  I've never personally looked at the survivability rates.  In the words of the great Han Solo, "Never tell me the odds."

Robbie's Day Off

Robbie has the rest of the week off from school (Surprise!), so by definition I have the rest of the week off from work (except for my constant Blackberry missives--I developing little, tiny calluses on my hunt-and-peck fingers.)

We were going to go to the Smithsonian, but he popped a fever last night, so I limited us to local area travel.  Gorgeous day for most of the day.  We went to Solomons Island and did some beach walking, then to some local sculpture gardens.

While at the garden, he napped on a sculpture and I was able to get in twenty minutes of meditation.  I also found out by phone that my next shipment of Revlimid has been hijacked and is being sent to Georgetown instead of here to me, per direction of Jenny Crawford.  I don't like change--it normally portends.  I'm curious about just what this is portending.  My next appointment (with Katherine) is next Tuesday, when I'm scheduled to start Round 5 of Revlimid.  I'll let you know what new adventures await our hero.

Final Headshot

This is for the folks in New Jersey putting together the advertising for the Survivors Day event where, against all good advice, they've asked me to speak.

Go ahead, Meno.  You know you want to.  Make that comment.

Bio to go with Headshot

Tim McMichael was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in 1958, and was raised on a cattle farm in the little rural Louisiana town of Amite. A 1980 graduate of Louisiana State University, Tim served seven years in the U.S. Navy as a Naval Flight Officer, flying in the backseat of the F-14 Tomcat. After getting out of the service in 1987, Tim continued to support the Navy as a civilian. He currently works for the Naval Air Systems Command, where he is Chief of Staff to the admiral in charge of Research and Development.

Tim was diagnosed in February 2009 with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia and is now participating in a phase II clinical trial at the Lombardi Cancer Center of Georgetown University. He is currently well on his way to remission.

Tim lives in Southern Maryland with his wife Liz and their six-year-old son, Robbie, who Tim quite modestly describes as the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful child ever conceived.