(Note: I posted three different blog entries here today. These postings will make the most sense if your read them in chronological order. To do that, please scroll down and read them in this sequence:
....* Last Pre-Chemotherapy visit… (Monday, April 20, 2009)
....* Chemotheraphy Day Minus 1 (Thursday, April 23, 2009)
....* Chemotheraphy – Day 1 (Friday, April 24, 2009)…This posting
Short story...
I went to work, then started my chemotherapy today...No pain, No side-effects, No unusual sensations yet. I couldn't ask for a better start to all of this !
Long story...
I arrived at work at about 7:15 this morning to complete a database-architecture deliverable and to attend our daily team briefing at 9:00 a.m. Following the team meeting, I drove from my office the few blocks to LDS Hospital for my chemo therapy appointment at 10:30.
When I arrived at LDS Hospital’s Infusion Therapy Department on the Seventh Floor, I heard this lovely, familiar voice say, “Dave Hunt ! I can’t believe you are here at the same time that I’m here.” The wonderful greeting was from my next-door neighbor, Linda Black, who has been valiantly winning her battle over Stage 4 (Metastatic) cancer. She has had several affected organs either partially or completely removed during her fight. She has completed her chemo (and other) protocols, and was here receiving IV infusions of nutrients because she has had a difficult time gaining, or sustaining, weight because of the radical removal/re-section of abdominal and other gastric organs. She began her battle at a healthy-looking 130 pounds. She is now 105 pounds. Although Linda retains her beautiful facial features, she could benefit from her having additional weight back on, mainly for her health’s sake. (She has been staying with her wonderful care-giving sister in another neighborhood, but hopes to return soon to her place next door to us.)
Linda and I had a lovely visit for a few minutes before our respective infusions began. Our congregation’s Relief Society President, Nancy Tillotson, brought Linda to this appointment, and when Nancy returned at the end of Linda’s infusion, Nancy and I had a great visit, as well, as I updated her on my health developments, and she updated me on the continuing support for our family that Relief Society members have completed and have planned.
By 10:45, my infusion began:
.... * Hooking up my IV Port and administering the in-hospital chemotherapy:
........ - Anti-nausea medications, “Zofran” and “Dexamethasone”.
........ - Next, “Oxaliplatin” and “Leucovorin” anti-cancer medications in saline solutions. This infusion took about three hours.
........ - Flushing the line with a glucose solution (since the next medication is incompatible with saline).
........ - Administration of Fluorouracil (also known as 5-FU, for short). This infusion was a “power burst” (a “bolus”) of 800 ML (nearly a quart) of this medication over a 15-minute period.
Another line flush.
.... * Hooking up, and starting, a “portable infusion unit” to dispense to me 5-FU over the next 46 hours. This last step of my infusion session today is to unhook the hospital-based IV bags of chemo therapy and replace them with a battery-operated, portable infusion device. This clever piece of machinery looks like a “Game Boy with tentacles”. The “tentacles” are IV tubes that hook right up to my IV Port in my chest. The “Game Boy portion delivers the prescribed 5 ML per hour of 5-FU for 46 hours. To carry the Game Boy, Infusion Services gave me a -- (UK term:) “Bum-Bag”; (US term:) “Fanny Pack”…sorry UK folks, I know that “fanny” in the UK is something totally different from the American meaning of “rear end”. The delivery tubes then lead unobtrusively from the Game Boy under my shirt to the IV Port to deliver the 5-FU. At the end of 46 hours, I return to IMC Infusion Therapy Department to have them unhook the Game Boy and the tentacles, which marks the end of this first round of chemotherapy.
The infusion team then gave me the go-ahead to leave, so I hopped back in my car and headed for my office to continue work on my current work assignment. After finishing my work for the day, I posted this blog to you.
At this point (a few hours following Round 1 of my chemotherapy), I know that it is too soon to “expect” any side effects, or other physiological responses, or other sensations from the chemotherapy, but so far, several hours after this session, “It’s all good” – No pain, No nausea, No discomfort, No unusual sensations whatsoever. So, I believe that I’ll hop back in my car and head home to my lovely wife, kids, grandkids, friends, and neighbors who are working valiantly on “face lifting” our home.
For those that are interested in my day-by-day, blow-by-blow account of what happens now that I’ve begun the chemo, I’ll try to post brief updates each day, of what I encounter.
Thanks so much for the good thoughts, love, prayers, faith, acts of kindness and support. As I've said before, with that kind of support, the outcome cannot help but be excellent !
Love and best wishes to you all,
Dave
Friday, April 24, 2009
Chemotheraphy Day Minus 1 (Thursday, April 23, 2009)
(I composed and posted this entry following chemotherapy on Friday, April 24, ,2009).
Short story...
They fixed me up with my six-month Intervenous (IV) spot on my body. I have marvelous family, friends, and neighbors.
Long story...
Today (Thursday, April 23), my son-in-law, Kevin Moreton, drove me to my 10:00 a.m. appointment at the Intermountain Medical Center (IMC) in Murray, Utah, so that I could receive the intravenous line necessary for tomorrow’s chemotherapy infusion. The plan was that following my receiving the IV line, I would head north at about noon on TRAX (Salt Lake Valley’s light-rail system) to my office in downtown Salt Lake City, then work until the end of the day, and head back home on TRAX.
As I mentioned earlier, I had previously selected the PICC line for infusion, mainly because it seemed that it would be less expensive by avoiding an additional surgery. During my pre-procedure interview with the technicians that were to place my PICC line, they asked my occupation. When I indicated that I was a database engineer for the LDS Church, one of the professionals suggested that instead of the PICC line through my arm, that the IV Port would be far less intrusive to my keyboard-intensive work. She asked why I chose the PICC over the Port. I suggested that I wanted to save my employer the additional costs of the Port.
She explained that if I figure in the costs of weekly dressing changes for the next 25 weeks, which the PICC would require, and the time away from work for each of those 25 weeks, just for the dressing changes, then I am miles and dollars ahead by having the Port, instead.
My only remaining concern, I told them, was, if, as a Latter-day Saint, would having a “Port” be frowned upon in the same way as having a “Chardonnay”, a “Pinot Noir”, or a “Cabernet Sauvignon”.They giggled and assured me that I would be okay from a religious standpoint. With these additional reassurances, I agreed that an IV Port would be both economically superior and certainly of greater convenience to me than the PICC.
So, the great folks at IMC’s Infusion Services somehow performed the miracle of arranging an operating room and the medical staff to install my IV Port with only a couple of hours’ notice.
I got plenty of work done on my computer while I waited for the implantation surgery to occur, and afterward while I was waiting to be released. (Getting my computer work done is, frankly, very relaxing and puts my mind on more creative endeavors.)
The Port-implant team, as with all the other medical staff providing my care so far, performed highly professionally. They took the time to explain exactly how the port looks, works, and feels, along with how the implantation procedure would proceed.
They administered Lidocaine at the implant site, and I was fully awake during the surgery. I had to turn my head to the left as far as possible to give the team the best access to my right-side clavicle.
Once they cut a slit in my upper chest, they inserted the narrow-gauge tubing into my jugular vein, worming the tubing down to my superior vena cava. Once that was done, the port fit nicely in a little pouch they fashioned under my skin. They stitched the subcutaneous closed over the port, and closed the epidermis with “medical Super-Glue”, which sloughs off after several days. All of this occurred without a single sensation of pain ! Amazing ! From the first incision until they were done, it took only about 20 minutes.
Because of the later-scheduled surgical procedure, the additional time for the implant, and the requisite recovery time, it left me no time to take TRAX to the office before the end of the work day. Kevin, Kristie, Aubree (age 4) and Emily (age 10), kindly came to IMC to pick me up and take me home.
Great Gifts from the Heart
As a wonderful gift from the heart to me and Nancy, dear friends, neighbors, and family have all pitched in to re-decorate our home to give a fresh (hypoallergenic, and bacteria-free) face to the house during my chemotherapy treatments:
* Dear friends from church are underwriting material costs of replacing our carpeting.
* Kevin and Kristie are providing very capable project management and, along with their children, and my other children and their spouses, late-into-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning labor to complete the wall and trim painting and laminate-floor installation.
* Other dear friends from church (and their friends from as far away as Texas and Louisiana) have been providing painting labor, flooring advice and labor, and strong backs to load into a moving van most of our belongings, destined for a storage unit until the project is completed.
* Families from church have kindly brought by tasty dinners each evening this week so that we don’t need to stop to prepare meals.
With Kevin and Kristie’s excellent project management skills and labor, and the unselfish help and provisioning from all of the above participants, Kristie and Kevin expect the project to be done sometime next week – elapsed time, start to finish: two weeks. Wow!
Thanks to all who contributed, and will contribute, to these selfless acts of love and support.
Short story...
They fixed me up with my six-month Intervenous (IV) spot on my body. I have marvelous family, friends, and neighbors.
Long story...
Today (Thursday, April 23), my son-in-law, Kevin Moreton, drove me to my 10:00 a.m. appointment at the Intermountain Medical Center (IMC) in Murray, Utah, so that I could receive the intravenous line necessary for tomorrow’s chemotherapy infusion. The plan was that following my receiving the IV line, I would head north at about noon on TRAX (Salt Lake Valley’s light-rail system) to my office in downtown Salt Lake City, then work until the end of the day, and head back home on TRAX.
As I mentioned earlier, I had previously selected the PICC line for infusion, mainly because it seemed that it would be less expensive by avoiding an additional surgery. During my pre-procedure interview with the technicians that were to place my PICC line, they asked my occupation. When I indicated that I was a database engineer for the LDS Church, one of the professionals suggested that instead of the PICC line through my arm, that the IV Port would be far less intrusive to my keyboard-intensive work. She asked why I chose the PICC over the Port. I suggested that I wanted to save my employer the additional costs of the Port.
She explained that if I figure in the costs of weekly dressing changes for the next 25 weeks, which the PICC would require, and the time away from work for each of those 25 weeks, just for the dressing changes, then I am miles and dollars ahead by having the Port, instead.
My only remaining concern, I told them, was, if, as a Latter-day Saint, would having a “Port” be frowned upon in the same way as having a “Chardonnay”, a “Pinot Noir”, or a “Cabernet Sauvignon”.
So, the great folks at IMC’s Infusion Services somehow performed the miracle of arranging an operating room and the medical staff to install my IV Port with only a couple of hours’ notice.
I got plenty of work done on my computer while I waited for the implantation surgery to occur, and afterward while I was waiting to be released. (Getting my computer work done is, frankly, very relaxing and puts my mind on more creative endeavors.)
The Port-implant team, as with all the other medical staff providing my care so far, performed highly professionally. They took the time to explain exactly how the port looks, works, and feels, along with how the implantation procedure would proceed.
They administered Lidocaine at the implant site, and I was fully awake during the surgery. I had to turn my head to the left as far as possible to give the team the best access to my right-side clavicle.
Once they cut a slit in my upper chest, they inserted the narrow-gauge tubing into my jugular vein, worming the tubing down to my superior vena cava. Once that was done, the port fit nicely in a little pouch they fashioned under my skin. They stitched the subcutaneous closed over the port, and closed the epidermis with “medical Super-Glue”, which sloughs off after several days. All of this occurred without a single sensation of pain ! Amazing ! From the first incision until they were done, it took only about 20 minutes.
Because of the later-scheduled surgical procedure, the additional time for the implant, and the requisite recovery time, it left me no time to take TRAX to the office before the end of the work day. Kevin, Kristie, Aubree (age 4) and Emily (age 10), kindly came to IMC to pick me up and take me home.
Great Gifts from the Heart
As a wonderful gift from the heart to me and Nancy, dear friends, neighbors, and family have all pitched in to re-decorate our home to give a fresh (hypoallergenic, and bacteria-free) face to the house during my chemotherapy treatments:
* Dear friends from church are underwriting material costs of replacing our carpeting.
* Kevin and Kristie are providing very capable project management and, along with their children, and my other children and their spouses, late-into-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning labor to complete the wall and trim painting and laminate-floor installation.
* Other dear friends from church (and their friends from as far away as Texas and Louisiana) have been providing painting labor, flooring advice and labor, and strong backs to load into a moving van most of our belongings, destined for a storage unit until the project is completed.
* Families from church have kindly brought by tasty dinners each evening this week so that we don’t need to stop to prepare meals.
With Kevin and Kristie’s excellent project management skills and labor, and the unselfish help and provisioning from all of the above participants, Kristie and Kevin expect the project to be done sometime next week – elapsed time, start to finish: two weeks. Wow!
Thanks to all who contributed, and will contribute, to these selfless acts of love and support.
Last Pre-Chemotherapy visit to the Oncologist and a post-operative visit to the Surgeon – Monday, April 20, 2009
(I composed and posted this entry following chemotherapy on Friday, April 24, ,2009).
Short Story...
I went to my doctors.
Long Story...
My wife, Nancy, and I headed out to the oncologist’s office for last-minute briefings and health checks prior to my chemotherapy on Friday. (On the way out the door, one of my grandkids asked where I was going. I explained that we were going to my oncologist. They asked, “What’s a ‘honkologist’.” Luckily, we had enough time to compare and contrast a “honkologist” with an “oncologist”.)
My oncologist, Dr. Legant, answered our pre-infusion questions, checked my overall health, then we discussed my two options for chemotherapy-infusion methods:
1) Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter (PICC) line: an intravenous line, inserted at the inside of the elbow, with a thin, 12” tube that runs up the main artery in the arm, then connecting to the superior vena cava, which is the main coronary artery.
2) IV Port: an inch-diameter device surgically implanted under my skin, just below the right clavicle, with a thin tube that inserts through my jugular vein, then continues on to my superior vena cava (the heart’s largest blood-supplying vein). The port has a thin rubber membrane covering the center of the outer surface through which an infusion technician can insert a special “Huber” needle for the chemotherapy delivery.
I chose Option 1 (the PICC line) since did not require surgery, and thus, seemed less expensive. The PICC’s downsides, however, are that it requires weekly dressing changes by hospital personnel, it is more susceptible to infection since it extends outside the skin, and it requires a special cover while showering. None of those disadvantages exist for the IV Port, but I did want to save insurance expenditures for my employer wherever possible.
Next stop was to Dr. Murday, my sigmoid-colectomy surgeon. She declared my surgery incision well healed and indicated that Nancy and I need not worry any longer about any bandages for the incision. Next visit with Dr. Murday is a post-surgical re-check in July.
...Successful visits to my "honkologist" and my "sturgeon" (...Hmmm...there something "fishy" about that.)
Short Story...
I went to my doctors.
Long Story...
My wife, Nancy, and I headed out to the oncologist’s office for last-minute briefings and health checks prior to my chemotherapy on Friday. (On the way out the door, one of my grandkids asked where I was going. I explained that we were going to my oncologist. They asked, “What’s a ‘honkologist’.” Luckily, we had enough time to compare and contrast a “honkologist” with an “oncologist”.)
My oncologist, Dr. Legant, answered our pre-infusion questions, checked my overall health, then we discussed my two options for chemotherapy-infusion methods:
1) Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter (PICC) line: an intravenous line, inserted at the inside of the elbow, with a thin, 12” tube that runs up the main artery in the arm, then connecting to the superior vena cava, which is the main coronary artery.
2) IV Port: an inch-diameter device surgically implanted under my skin, just below the right clavicle, with a thin tube that inserts through my jugular vein, then continues on to my superior vena cava (the heart’s largest blood-supplying vein). The port has a thin rubber membrane covering the center of the outer surface through which an infusion technician can insert a special “Huber” needle for the chemotherapy delivery.
I chose Option 1 (the PICC line) since did not require surgery, and thus, seemed less expensive. The PICC’s downsides, however, are that it requires weekly dressing changes by hospital personnel, it is more susceptible to infection since it extends outside the skin, and it requires a special cover while showering. None of those disadvantages exist for the IV Port, but I did want to save insurance expenditures for my employer wherever possible.
Next stop was to Dr. Murday, my sigmoid-colectomy surgeon. She declared my surgery incision well healed and indicated that Nancy and I need not worry any longer about any bandages for the incision. Next visit with Dr. Murday is a post-surgical re-check in July.
...Successful visits to my "honkologist" and my "sturgeon" (...Hmmm...there something "fishy" about that.)
Monday, April 13, 2009
Happy Easter !!!
Our dear friend, Kendra Peterson, pointed out that “No news is NOT good news when you are waiting for word on how things are going”…Sorry for the delay in updating the blog.
I had my first meeting on Friday, April 3, with oncologist, Dr. Patricia Legant. She indicated that we will probably begin my chemotherapy on Friday, April 24. That puts a month between my sigmoid colectomy, which occurred on March 25 and the start of the six-month protocol of chemotherapy.
Dr. Legant proposed the bi-weekly chemo administrations occur on Fridays so that I will have Saturdays and part of Sundays to bounce back and to reduce the potential impact on my work schedule.
My cousin, Kathy Crawford Carter, who has successfully survived her own battles with cancer from five years ago, gave me some great insight: “Lots of people will tell you how chemotherapy affected them or their friends or family. The one common thread that you can depend on is that chemotherapy affects everyone differently.”
I look forward to getting started, and getting done, with my treatment. So far, the surgery has been uneventful and relatively painless. I’m hoping that my otherwise good health and fortitude will bring me through the chemo protocol relatively unscathed, as well.
It’s been delightful to visit and play with all of my ten grandkids over the past few days. Nancy and I traveled down to Gunnison, Utah, on Friday for an overnight visit with our daughter, Sarah; her husband, Tyler Donaldson; and their two lovely daughters, Carolyn (age 9) and Julia (age 10 months).
I was honored to sing in our ward choir for our Easter program on Sunday. The good wishes, faith, and prayers from you, dear friends, family, and co-workers, are very generous and reassuring. My outcomes cannot help but be positive with that kind of wonderful support.
Love and best wishes to you all,
Dave and Nancy
I had my first meeting on Friday, April 3, with oncologist, Dr. Patricia Legant. She indicated that we will probably begin my chemotherapy on Friday, April 24. That puts a month between my sigmoid colectomy, which occurred on March 25 and the start of the six-month protocol of chemotherapy.
Dr. Legant proposed the bi-weekly chemo administrations occur on Fridays so that I will have Saturdays and part of Sundays to bounce back and to reduce the potential impact on my work schedule.
My cousin, Kathy Crawford Carter, who has successfully survived her own battles with cancer from five years ago, gave me some great insight: “Lots of people will tell you how chemotherapy affected them or their friends or family. The one common thread that you can depend on is that chemotherapy affects everyone differently.”
I look forward to getting started, and getting done, with my treatment. So far, the surgery has been uneventful and relatively painless. I’m hoping that my otherwise good health and fortitude will bring me through the chemo protocol relatively unscathed, as well.
It’s been delightful to visit and play with all of my ten grandkids over the past few days. Nancy and I traveled down to Gunnison, Utah, on Friday for an overnight visit with our daughter, Sarah; her husband, Tyler Donaldson; and their two lovely daughters, Carolyn (age 9) and Julia (age 10 months).
I was honored to sing in our ward choir for our Easter program on Sunday. The good wishes, faith, and prayers from you, dear friends, family, and co-workers, are very generous and reassuring. My outcomes cannot help but be positive with that kind of wonderful support.
Love and best wishes to you all,
Dave and Nancy
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Woo-Hoo !!! No Shampoo-ing for Six Months !
Short Story (Part II):
I’ll have chemotherapy beginning about the end of April…No shampoo-ing needed for a while. I’ll be fine.
Long Story (Part II):
Many people suggest that I have rugged, Vin-Diesel looks (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004874/), but unfortunately, I probably will look more like Michael Chiklis (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004821/) starting around May 1, when my chemo starts into full flourish.
I’m a “T3, N2, M0”
My surgeon, Dr. Murday, advised me today that my status is “T3, N2, M0”. Of course, I had no clue what that meant, so I requested enlightenment. She explained:
* “T” describes how far the main (primary) tumor has grown into the wall of the intestine and whether it has grown into nearby areas.
* “N” describes the extent of spread to nearby (regional) lymph nodes. Lymph nodes are small bean-shaped collections of immune system cells that are important in fighting infections.
* “M” indicates whether the cancer has spread (metastasized) to other organs of the body. (While colorectal cancer can spread almost anywhere in the body, the most common sites of spread are the liver and lungs.)
Numbers appear after T, N, and M to provide more details about each of these factors. Numbers that increase from zero indicate increasing severity.
“Tumor – T” Values:
T1: The cancer has grown through the muscularis mucosa (inner lining of organ) and extends into the submucosa (second layer of tissue).
T2: The cancer has grown through the submucosa (second layer of tissue) and extends into the muscularis propria (outer muscle layer).
T3: The cancer has grown through the muscularis propria and into the subserosa (organ’s outer fat layer) but not to any neighboring organs or tissues.
T4: The cancer has grown through the wall of the colon or rectum and into nearby tissues or organs.
My “T” value (which we knew prior to surgery) was “T3”.
“Lymph Nodes – N” Values:
N0: No lymph node involvement is found.
N1: Cancer cells found in 1 to 3 nearby lymph nodes.
N2: Cancer cells found in 4 or more nearby lymph nodes.
The lab results from my surgery indicated that of the 30 lymph nodes that Dr. Murday removed, 10 of the lymph nodes contained cancer cells. Therefore, my “N” value is “N2”.
“Metastasis – M” Values:
M0: No distant spread is seen.
M1: Distant spread is present.
We knew prior to surgery that I had no spread outside the colon, so I am “M0”.
Without my boring you with all the grading classifications, my specific classification is “3C”, which means primarily that my lab work turned up involvement of more than four lymph nodes, but without metastasis.
If you are interested in more details, you can navigate to http://www.cancer.org/docroot/CRI/content/CRI_2_4_3X_How_is_colon_and_rectum_cancer_staged.asp
Tomorrow, I go to my oncologist, Dr. Patricia Legant, for my first visit with her. We’ll find out all the “newspaper” answers (i.e., Who, What, When, Where, [we know Why], and How) for what’s ahead.
BTW, I feel GREAT ! The only pain I have feels like a minor sunburn near my incision. Onward and Upward !
Thanks for all your continued support !
Dave
I’ll have chemotherapy beginning about the end of April…No shampoo-ing needed for a while
Long Story (Part II):
Many people suggest that I have rugged, Vin-Diesel looks (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004874/), but unfortunately, I probably will look more like Michael Chiklis (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004821/) starting around May 1, when my chemo starts into full flourish.
I’m a “T3, N2, M0”
My surgeon, Dr. Murday, advised me today that my status is “T3, N2, M0”. Of course, I had no clue what that meant, so I requested enlightenment. She explained:
* “T” describes how far the main (primary) tumor has grown into the wall of the intestine and whether it has grown into nearby areas.
* “N” describes the extent of spread to nearby (regional) lymph nodes. Lymph nodes are small bean-shaped collections of immune system cells that are important in fighting infections.
* “M” indicates whether the cancer has spread (metastasized) to other organs of the body. (While colorectal cancer can spread almost anywhere in the body, the most common sites of spread are the liver and lungs.)
Numbers appear after T, N, and M to provide more details about each of these factors. Numbers that increase from zero indicate increasing severity.
“Tumor – T” Values:
T1: The cancer has grown through the muscularis mucosa (inner lining of organ) and extends into the submucosa (second layer of tissue).
T2: The cancer has grown through the submucosa (second layer of tissue) and extends into the muscularis propria (outer muscle layer).
T3: The cancer has grown through the muscularis propria and into the subserosa (organ’s outer fat layer) but not to any neighboring organs or tissues.
T4: The cancer has grown through the wall of the colon or rectum and into nearby tissues or organs.
My “T” value (which we knew prior to surgery) was “T3”.
“Lymph Nodes – N” Values:
N0: No lymph node involvement is found.
N1: Cancer cells found in 1 to 3 nearby lymph nodes.
N2: Cancer cells found in 4 or more nearby lymph nodes.
The lab results from my surgery indicated that of the 30 lymph nodes that Dr. Murday removed, 10 of the lymph nodes contained cancer cells. Therefore, my “N” value is “N2”.
“Metastasis – M” Values:
M0: No distant spread is seen.
M1: Distant spread is present.
We knew prior to surgery that I had no spread outside the colon, so I am “M0”.
Without my boring you with all the grading classifications, my specific classification is “3C”, which means primarily that my lab work turned up involvement of more than four lymph nodes, but without metastasis.
If you are interested in more details, you can navigate to http://www.cancer.org/docroot/CRI/content/CRI_2_4_3X_How_is_colon_and_rectum_cancer_staged.asp
Tomorrow, I go to my oncologist, Dr. Patricia Legant, for my first visit with her. We’ll find out all the “newspaper” answers (i.e., Who, What, When, Where, [we know Why], and How) for what’s ahead.
BTW, I feel GREAT ! The only pain I have feels like a minor sunburn near my incision. Onward and Upward !
Thanks for all your continued support !
Dave
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