"Keim, K E I M, 4/3/54, Good Morning Everyone!"

Dear Friends,

If you have been, you are, or you have accompanied a person being treated for cancer, then you know the drill: "Your name please, and your birthdate." I have added the 'good morning everyone' just to break up the monotony for Lynn, the check in staff member at the Knight Cancer Center of the Oregon Health Sciences University where I am being treated. I have tried my best to be in a good mood and add some humor and levity to the 7th floor of the Center for Health & Healing as it is the Oncology floor and is by its nature a very serious place.

Yesterday our day started with a 5 a.m. wake up call and a 5:30 a.m. departure for Portland, 90 minutes away. I say 'our' not because I am speaking in the 'Royal We' but because it is Donna and I making the journey. She accompanies me on every trip to the Doctor and does it without once giving me the impression it is a task or that she would rather be doing something else. Hell...I would rather be doing something but she never lets on. I hope to live a while longer because when it comes to 'for better or for worse...' I need some more time to give her more of the better.

I have been on the Clinical Trial supervised by my Doctor Matt Taylor for one month now. I am taking experimental drugs at my request because the approved ones had stopped having much effect against my opponent, melanoma. I take eight pills in the morning and three at night, two hours of fasting before and one hour after each time. I have felt the conflict going on in my belly, without pain thank God, and knew that my drugs and my cancer were doing battle with each other. The day started with an eye exam, then blood test, then EKG, then meeting with Dr. Taylor, then lunch with Hannah and her Internship Coordinator Dr. Lynn Lashbrook (see smww.com), then an heart sonogram, taking of my meds, and a final EKG. It was quite a day and this is the Clinical Trial protocol.

It always makes me nervous when Dr. Taylor pulls up the screen with my test results. He sits facing it with Donna and I to his right. Last time he stared at it, looked very sad, and pushed it aside and said, "We don't need to look at this. Let's get you approved for the Clinical Study." He was clearly disappointed in the results. We have become friends, we pray for each other, and my case is personal for him, and me! Yesterday at 10:40 a.m., he looked and sounded nearly giddy. He told me my hemoglobin was 10.8, up from 5.8 three weeks ago and 9.9 two weeks ago. He said my internal bleeding had stopped. The scores indicated who was winning the battle between the meds and the 'unruly cells' and this battle was clearly being won by the meds. Upon his physical examination of me, he could not find the 4 cm tumor that had been growing under the skin near my ribs where the resting elbow meets the body. He said, "I am not even finding evidence of scar tissue." Do you remember your children or grandchildren opening a gift from under the Christmas tree? That is how he looked! I was happy for me, no, relieved and grateful was I. But I was equally happy to see him with at least a temporary victory in the battle. Can you imagine being an Oncologist? To see people in varying stages of living and dying, pain and suffering, fear and apprehension, every day. He and I gave each other the same look my fraternity brothers and I gave each other when they told me I had been invited to join and become a brother.

I am not posting "It's Over!" messages today, or "We Kicked It's Ass!' celebrations because Stage 4 Melanoma has a nasty habit of finding a way to change its course and direction and reappear. The study I am on is experimenting with five new drugs in addition to the big dosage duo I am now on to try and put the nail in the coffin of this disease. I am telling you today though that this is the best I have felt in over a year, can do two hours of work in my garden without passing out, and have put the  events of two weeks ago behind me. Two weeks ago I am in the hospital taking six units of blood and having an irregular heart beat, fever, and other maladies. Today, I write you with good news. Isn't that how it is with cancer, and life? If we were smart, and the jury is still out on that, we would savor and dwell in each moment, in particular the good ones, the joyful ones, the ecstatic ones. We are however,  at times, resentful about the past, and fearful about the future, unable to be present to the magic that is this moment.

In my mind I have the best Doctor in the world. He would reject that title due to his humility and good heart, but it is how I feel. Novartis has created new drugs to fight my disease that are working.
Dr. Taylor said, "Any joint pain?" "No." "Blurred vision?" "No." "Rash or hives"? "No." "Swelling or numbing?" "No." I have had no side effects from these medications either! What a blessing. My liver, kidneys, and organs are functioning well and have good numbers too. I do believe that the tipping point however, my key outlier, the reason this is happening is all of your good wishes and prayers. Not a day goes by that someone doesn't contact me by email, text, phone, or in person to tell me they are praying for me. From Maine to Florida, Iowa, Texas, Michigan, California, Alaska, Hawaii, Idaho, Pennsylvania and all points in between...you have been there for me. My secret hope, as I have stated before in this journal, is that God gets so tired of hearing my name raised by you in thought and prayer that he tells St. Peter, "We need to just heal him. I don't have time for all the Hail Marys, Holy Jesus' and Great God Almighties...have you seen my Son. Get Him on this, Pete."

(And the Dark Voice murmured..."But what will he say if his cancer returns, his hemo goes down, and the test results aren't so good?") First, I will say, "Shit!" Then I will trust in God to get me through this with dignity. As Marcus Borg said when asked about the afterlife, "The same God who buoyed me up through life will buoy me up through death." I cannot tell you the number of people of who have said to me, "We really didn't think you would do much in your life." I don't blame them. Like you, I have had some bumps, bruises, and abuses. But I never lost my faith or my belief that God was with me, with us, especially through the toughest times. Even death.

This week I was contacted by my friend Johnny Hartley in Iowa and Coach Bill Viverto in California to tell me that our best pitcher on the 1970 Colt League World Championship Team had died of a heart attack at his home in Hawaii. Tommy Pokorski was a big guy with a bigger heart that knew no strangers. He was All CIF in Basketball and Baseball and signed with the Boston Red Sox. Coach V was very emotional when we talked as that team was very special to him, and us. We were 22-0, beat the American Legion World Champions, Venezuela, Asia, Canada, Mexico and the US teams to set 15 World Series records, some of which stand today. We were invited to come on the field at Dodger Stadium and be escorted by Dodger players and cheered after we returned home by 55,000 fans. I was the least talented guy on the team but pitching in front of these guys, I went 3-0 for the Summer. Tommy was our leader, our comedian, our 'idiot savant'. And even in his death, he is bringing us together. This week I have had teammates contact me who have battled cancer and given me their love, concern, and prayers. Even death cannot conquer love, friendship, distance, time, and hope.

One day there will be no cancer. In the meantime we are starting to hear cancer talked about as a chronic disease, not a death sentence. Great discoveries are being made and companies like Novartis are spending millions on research to alleviate suffering and save lives. The old hymn says, "Death, where is thy sting?" I am filled with gratitude to tell you of my results. I know you are there for me. But I also know that you will be there for me when the announcements and test results are not so good. And further, I know you will be there for my children, grandchildren, wife and family when I am gone. I like to think I will not be really gone, simply out of sight. The great Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hanh (see 'No Fear, No Death') says, "You have always been. Right now the conditions for you to exist in human form are present. One day they will not be, and your spirit will move on. You have always been, you are, and you will always be." As long as we remember Tommy, and as long as we remember all those that have gone before us, then we, and they, will live forever. Sounds like Heaven to me!

Bless you all and have a wonderful day! With love,

Will

"It's Nice To Be Seen."

Dear Friends,

I was thinking of the time the late great Robin Williams appeared at one of my friends universities. My friend said to him, "It has been so nice having you." Robin replied, "It has been so nice being had." People say to me now, "It's so nice to see you." And I reply, and mean it, "It is so nice to be seen" It is nice to be seen, to be included. The first thing Drury University, Iowa State University, Elmhurst College, Whitman College, Linfield College, the University of Redlands, Seattle University, Western Oregon University, and Eastern Oregon University did when they found out I had cancer was to immediately book me for the next Fall. Have you any idea what it means to someone with Stage 4 Melanoma to have your speaking contract extended when you have been told your life contract may not be? That said, I have been invited to do three wonderful events in June and July and I wanted to thank the good people who invited me, had faith in me, and believed I would be around to complete the tasks assigned. One event has already happened and the other two are on the immediate horizon.

 I was blessed to be asked to do a baby dedication for Avery Grace by her parents Ryan and Shannon Starwalt. I had officiated at their wedding earlier in our lives together and had dedicated Avery's older sister Payton nearly six years before. Ryan is a teacher and baseball coach at Crescent Valley High School and Shannon is on the Pharmacy Faculty at Oregon State University. It meant so much to be with them and their families again. The greatest gift you can give a person with cancer is hope. And what could be more hopeful than a baby girl whose parents are promising to raise her in a home filled with love? I carried my devotional book "God's Promises" with me to their home to share a scripture about parenting and Avery, who was born in September, immediately took in from me and looked at it with a look of interest and joy. The Spirit works in strange and wondrous ways! Thank you Starwalts for including me in your major life events.

On July 17th I will officiate at the wedding of Matt Caires and his fiancee Brandyn Roark. I have known Dr. Caires since he was a senior at Washington State University serving as student body president. Not a month has gone by in 20 years that he didn't check on me and me on him. He helped my niece Katie Volz with her admission to the University of Wyoming while he was there, and our family friend Paul Puettman with his entrance to Montana State where Matt is currently the Dean of Students. He has become a dear friend and he finally met a woman in better shape than himself. Brandyn is an educator and sponsored extreme athlete and Matt has to struggle to keep up. This gives all of us who have been left in the dust by him on the hiking trial, the ski run, or the path to the river great joy! He now follows her up the hills and down the mountains but claims the view is so good he doesn't mind. We will ride the ski lift up on Schweitzer Mountain in Sandpoint, Idaho to have a ceremony fitting for two rugged individualists and outdoors people.

After the reception in Sandpoint, Donna and I will hit the road for Bend, Oregon where Mark Lea and Annie Perrigan will speak the vows of love to each other at the Rock Springs Ranch. Our family has known Annie since she was a friend of Christa's in middle and high school in Corvallis. Mark is a  high school teacher and football coach. Annie is the College Recruiter for Northwestern Mutual Life and its Summer Internship program in Portland. As I will be in Idaho with Matt and Brandyn, Christa Keim Schmeder will take care of the rehearsal in Bend for me. Recently Christa stepped in for me at the Ford Family Foundation Ford Scholars event in Eugene when I was having a bad week and took home the highest evaluations at the Conference. She is so gifted and is doing amazing work at Corvallis High School. I will, God willing, arrive in plenty of time to officiate the ceremony.

I've messed up a lot of things in my life, but our children are amazing. My dear friend David Coleman says, "Our children are our legacy to people we will never meet." So true. So profound. The lion's share of the credit for Christa, Sami, JJ, and Hannah goes to Donna, but I added what I could and gave what I had. Our children never doubted for one minute that they were loved and wanted. And that is the gift that Ryan and Shannon, Matt and Brandyn, and Mark and Annie have given me. They have made me feel loved, wanted, and despite the battle raging inside me, needed. What else does a person really need but that? I don't want to go Lou Gehring on you, but there are days when I hurt and am afraid, but the majority of my waking time I honestly believe I am the luckiest man on the Earth. That is why my friend Tracy Maxwell, a three time cancer survivor, told me early on the cancer would teach me what was really important in life, clarify my beliefs, and activate my appreciation for each moment.

I would not wish cancer on anyone, but it has been instructive, clarifying, and motivating. I want to beat it and share what it has taught me until I die of natural causes and old age. Thanks for reading this and God bless you. Carpe Diem. Be present. Be mindful. We all have much to be thankful for!

Will

"It Depends. The Importance of Me. And...A Clinical Trial Begins."

Dear Friends,

After a battery of tests, transfusions, and hard work by my Doctor Matt Taylor and his study coordinator Lindsay Chandler, I was deemed acceptable for a Clinical Trial at OHSU under the director of Dr. Matt Taylor. As a matter of fact, I am the Alpha patient in the trial. I take 8 pills in the morning every day and three at night and the battle is on between the drugs and my tumors. This trial is exciting in scope and I am both excited and a tiny bit apprehensive. Your prayers might be the tipping point so please keep 'em coming. 

I had a very rough week before the test week with dwindling hemoglobin scores, diarrhea, low sodium, dehydration, fatigue, and two days of hospitalization. I took 6 units of blood in the hospital which barely positioned me in the acceptable low category. For the first time in my fight with cancer I listened to the dark voice when it asked, "If this is how I am going to feel forever, then how much of this do I really need, or want?" I realized I needed to talk to someone. I asked Sami to have her Coach and my friend Rob Durbin give me a call or visit. He is a cancer survivor of a brutal battle and had offered me wise counsel before.

He came to visit, and I asked told him about my week, my feelings, the dark voice, and asked him, "When you were down, when things weren't going well, what did you do?" He smiled and told me he was going to tell me something he had learned and I needed to hear. I was ready for some empathy and TLC from someone who had been there. Then he said, "Will, it's not about you." I was speechless and somewhat puzzled. I guess that wasn't what I was expecting. He continued, "It's about the people who want to love you longer. The people all over the world who are taking their time to pray for you. It's about your family, wife, children, and grandchildren. Your students.  It's about them, not you. That's why you continue to fight and not give up. You want to give them as much time as you can to love you and care for you."

What a blessing a friend is who will tell you what you need to hear rather than what they think you want to hear! I wasn't looking for a pity party, but his truth hit me squarely in the head and heart. How can I ask you not to quit praying or thinking positive thoughts, and then give up myself? My mentor Kent Gardner wrote from Texas shortly after Rob's visit, "Will, I just read your blog. I think I told you that you will have many ups and downs in this process. Don't let it get you down. Remember we have miles to go before we sleep. Keep the power of positive thinking!!! You are the best." This from a friend with Stage 4 Prostate Cancer. I am thankful to have resources like Rob and Kent to remind me that it is not about me. It is about us. My job is to fight, to believe the treatments will work, and not to give up. Your 'job' is to care because it is ultimately about us, not me. 

As to the first line of this entry's title, "It Depends."...I had always held the private belief that when I had to wear Depends, it pretty much meant life was over. I would look at them in the store and shudder. Well, I wore them for two days, and as comedian Richard Lewis told John Stewart, the new cuts of the Depends are kind of sexy!:):):) I wore my regular underwear over them in a vanity denial move, but my life did not end, I slept better, and the cause of wearing them...this too did pass. The lesson for all you youngins' is that you do what you have to do. Growing old ain't for sissies. But life, that is, the people in your life, make any tiny inconveniences worth it. I want to bask in your friendship and love as long as possible. I need to do my part and fight. To hell with the dark voice. It is not about me.

My Clinical Trial has begun and I am hopeful and resilient. And what is hope? Our Minister Matt Gordon concluded his sermon Sunday with this:

Hope is the belief in what God might do next.

Help me stay open to the amazing possibilities of what that might be!

Blessings and love,

Will