The Unsuspecting

I am facing another health challenge. On May 20, 2017, I visited a dermatologist to remove a nodule I believed to be remnants of a bike sore - the result of continual friction between skin tissue and fabric. After all, we road-bikers occasionally get these small annoyances after riding for long hours. The excised tissue was sent to the Florida Hospital Pathology lab for analysis.  Several weeks later, the dermatologist called to inform me of the results of the pathology test. "I am concerned about a Pathology report I have received about the nodule I removed a few weeks ago. The Pathology report indicates a positive test for angiosarcoma. I would recommend that you see an oncologist. Do you know one?" It seemed like a lot of information to absorb; but it had been only about 20 seconds since he had greeted me with "Mr. Archer, how are you?"  "Please fax me the report immediately and also send it to my oncologist," l responded, while providing him with my oncologist's contact information. "By the way, please also send a copy to my Primary Care Physician." On receipt of a copy of the report, I scanned it and emailed it to my wife and children.
I have been blessed with a wonderful family. My wife is the ultimate homemaker and caregiver. My son, a hospital executive, is thoughtful and analytical. My daughter, a lawyer, has an eye for the detail that many of us might miss along the way. Later that evening, as we met to discuss the next steps, we decided that we should have a second opinion, another Pathology review of the tissue.  Several days later, the second opinion, performed by Moffit Cancer, confirmed the first. It was described as epithelioid angiosarcoma, a cancer of the lining of the blood and lymph vessels.(http://sarcomahelp.org/angiosarcoma.html). Unsuspecting! (By the way, this is totally unrelated to my experience with nasopharyngeal cancer in 2007.) 
Whether there was metastasis or not, was at this time concerning as the cancer cells were too close to the margins of the incision. Suspicion loomed and a reexcision was recommended. My oncologist ordered a PET scan which appeared normal. Good news! A team was assembled to review my medical status and make the appropriate recommendations. The surgical oncologist and a radiation oncologist collaborated and came up with a treatment plan. Surgery (a wider excision) followed by radiation. 
An initial attempt of surgery was terminated due to complications during anesthesia. My trachea became extremely scarred, narrow, and warped during my radiation treatment in 2007. As a result, intubation during anesthesia is risky. In 2012, a failure to complete intubation during anesthesia resulted in a tracheotomy. My surgeon therefore decided to abort anesthesia and suspend surgery before the critical decision to perform a tracheotomy. 
After a life of relatively good health, with a fairly active lifestyle, this was an unexpected diagnosis and is a reminder of the tenuous nature of life on this planet. Although I had a normal PET scan, the risks are obvious, but the prognosis can be described as guarded to good. At this time, I am prepped for radiation and after a short time away visiting my parents in Tobago, I will make a decision regarding another attempt at surgery, or proceed with radiation only. My previous experience with cancer, notwithstanding, I am hopeful and I look forward to a rapid recuperation and full recovery. 

Love and blessings!

Len

When Living Becomes Not Normal

Yesterday, July 1, 2015, I was admitted to surgery to repair an injured shoulder.  The procedure required anesthesia and a nerve block of the cervical or brachial plexus to deaden my arm.  Following the procedure, my arm remained limp in a sling, and without feeling, for the remainder of the night and into the next morning.  I had the experience of someone who could only use one arm.  Of course with my family providing support, I was not expected to do very much.  However, the morning after, I ventured to brush my teeth, use the bathroom, make a smoothie, and do normal things people do – grab, hold, move, scratch an itch.  It occurred to me how normal is taken for granted.

During the evening after returning home, I unconsciously attempted to clasp my hands and recognized that my hands didn’t know where each other was.  In fact, my left arm could not find where my right arm was. When they touched, only one responded. The left arm and hand did not respond and lay limply in the sling.  Have you ever tried to open a bottle or button a shirt with one hand? How do you open a tube of toothpaste without making a mess of it?  I had to think carefully and discover ingenious ways to accomplish simple tasks.  I placed a bottle of vitamins between my legs and used my right hand, the functional one, to open it and retrieve a tablet. I pressed the tube of toothpaste against the edge of the bathroom sink to stabilize it before twisting the cap to obtain toothpaste. Since the tube is soft, the tube twisted while the cap remained tightly attached.  My left arm was an appendage without motion and feeling.  Awaking in the middle of the night, I was almost startled by this warm, heavy appendage across my chest and wondered for a second who owned it.

My 18-hour encumbrance provided great respect for those born with, or those who have developed physical and mental challenges, deformities or deficiencies.  It provided me with a new appreciation for the difficult life and major adjustments required by many in our community – quadriplegics, paraplegics, and stroke patients; children born with deficiencies such as, cerebral palsy; trisomics, like those with Down syndrome, who live their entire lives with their physical deficits. 

My experience provided me with the following insights:

1.       We owe a great tribute to the dedicated occupational therapists who spend their professional lives devising ingenious ways, and developing tools and protocols, that enable people who live with physical and mental deficiencies to perform daily tasks more efficiently.

2.       We who are more physically gifted must exhibit far more patience, love, and care for those who struggle day by day to accomplish those tasks we often take for granted.

3.       We should never take for granted the many gifts of our physical abilities, which can be quickly snatched away by unfortunate accidents and ill health.

Love and Blessings!

Len

The Meaning of Birthdays

Birthdays are important days.[1]  At least that’s what most people think.  As a child, my birthday was rewarded with a special meal from my mother – maybe my favorite, and sometimes a special homemade birthday cake.  Mama, my grandmother, would often prepare something special as well, and invite me over.  There were no parties, cards, special gifts or toys.  That would be for Christmas.  But even then, the best thing about birthdays was that the food was especially good.  Growing up in a poor family on the Caribbean island of Tobago, life was centered on hard work, diligence in our studies at school, and faith in God.  But at birthday time, we received the reinforcement that we were special, we were loved and God loved us.

As I grew older, birthdays became ho hum. I carried on with the busy events of making a living, raising a family, and accepted the ubiquitous “Happy birthday, Len!” greetings unemotionally.  There were more gifts and cards, but I accepted birthdays as just another sign of growing older – another notch on the chronological pole.   But something happened in 2007.  I was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal cancer – a bolt out of the blue.  For a person who enjoyed remarkably good health, I often regarded the gift of life as a just reward for my religious moorings, living a fairly healthy lifestyle, and staying out of trouble.  I was the one who exercised relatively, had good eating habits and regular exercise, and one who never drank alcohol or smoked, I was a statistical outlier.  But illnesses don’t always follow the statistical lines.  That isn’t to say that healthy habits are to be avoided.  However, after a very difficult experience through surgery, radiation and chemotherapy, I have returned to good health. Despite the ill effects of radiation and chemo, I am back to normal health doing most of the things I enjoy.

So how has life changed?  Birthdays are celebrations of life and living.  Gifts and parties don’t really matter as much, and I don’t really care if anyone forgets (or remembers) my birthday.  But most of the people I know remember and celebrate with me.  Living through the difficult days of treatment and recovery has created a special shrine of hope that is worthy of a celebration of smiles, high fives and reminiscences.  It was a journey I took with my wife and children, my parents and siblings, and some special friends who walked the dark way with me.  So birthdays are special in a way no other day is special.  It reminds me that life is a gift. It is a gift meant to be shared with those I love and everyone else.  It is an opportunity to treasure the many blessings of life that I previously took for granted.  Since my return to health I have devoted my hobby of road biking to raising money for the American Diabetes Association’s fight for a cure of diabetes, a devastating metabolic disease that affects increasingly millions of people.  The 100 mile ride on March 17, 2013 will be my third Tour de Cure.  Over the last three years, my friends have supported my efforts by donating over $10,000 towards this cause, but nothing gives me greater pleasure than my heart’s smile as I pedal along knowing that the lease of life I now enjoy is a privilege far beyond words.  Life is to be enjoyed to the fullest and time to be spent sharing with others, enjoying the grand children, smelling the cut grass, watching the clouds drift by, or marveling at the limitless blue sky.  Every year, March 1 reminds me that life is special gift.

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[1] This post is dedicated to my wife, Nichole, the love of my life; my two children, Lilly and Nicholas and their spouses; my two grandsons, Chris and Caleb; and my loving parents, Henry and Millicent Archer, 95 and 91 respectively, who taught me what true living is all about.

 

Christmas Greetings, 2011

As we approach the end of 2011, I take this opportunity to express my thankfulness to God for all the blessings he has granted to me and my family and to thank you for your continued love, friendship, and prayers. I am grateful to God for good health. Despite the tough economic times, I thank God for providing for us, protecting us and continuing to nurture us.

On May 1, I took a new position as the Associate Vice President for Academic Administration at Florida Hospital College. As an expression of praise for a return to good health, I have dedicated some of my time to raising money for the American Diabetes Association and the Ronald McDonald House Charities by riding in the 100ml Tour de Cure and the 100 ml Ride for Ronald respectively. Nichole enjoys the blessings of staying at home and taking care of our precious grandson, Caleb and being the wonderful homemaker that she is. Having our son, Nicholas and daughter-in-law, Erin nearby gives us the privilege of seeing our grandsons, Christopher (almost 9 and in the 3rd grade) and Caleb (now 3 ½), grow up before our eyes. Lilly and her husband, Jason remain in Waco, Texas as Jason completes his PhD at Baylor University.

We look forward to the returning to Trinidad and Tobago in August 2012 to join with many of you, alumni and friends of the University of the Southern Caribbean (formerly CUC), to celebrate the college’s 85th anniversary.

Please continue to pray for us, as will for you. We wish you and your family the joys of the Christmas season and God’s richest blessings for 2012.

Len and Nichole