From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

“Reveille” (US: /ˈrɛvəli/ REV-əl-ee, UK: /rɪˈvæli/ rih-VAL-ee),^[1] called in French “Le Réveil” is a bugle call, trumpet call, drum, fife-and-drum or pipes call most often associated with the military; it is chiefly used to wake military personnel at sunrise. The name comes from réveille (or réveil), the French word for “wake up”.

I love it. The French word for wake-up. It gives me visions of some pointy nosed guy yelling réveil in my face. “Wake up! you stupid American”. Very Montypythonesque. If you haven’t subscribed to this blog, now might be the perfect time. We are offering a 100% discount to anyone who even happens upon the page by accident. But back to “wake-up.”

Wake-up indeed. On Wednesday, Feb 21, 2024, I went to the ER with extreme lower back pain that was extending down my right leg. We were in the ER for several hours where they took CT scans and performed an evaluation. My pain was intense and I found myself rather peaceful with the pain meds they gave me. The analysis revealed what they thought was a collapsed Upper Lobe of Right Lung with large mass and a blocked airway. Next, we headed for the local Radiology Office for an MRI of my lumbar spine. My vascular surgeon had suspected that I might have a fractured vertebrae. He was right but there was …… more…. more lesions than the CT scans at the ER had shown. Now two recommendations to see the Oncologist right away and get even more scans. The next day, we headed to the hospital he recommended. Our introduction to Chandler Regional Medical Center was to go down in the history books of my health journal. The amazing team there worked all weekend and returned on Monday morning to perform a bronchoscopy of  my lungs. The Pathologist and her tech stood outside the procedure room and began analysis of the slides and verified that the tissue being excised would be sufficient and viable for extensive testing. The lung was not collapsed but rather being compressed. We still do not know exactly what is compressing it. The airway is not blocked from the inside but rather is being tightened from the outside… or …. ? There were also lesions on the lymph nodes, lungs, pelvis, spine, esophagus and femur and possibly more that they couldn’t see with MRI and CT. The biopsy revealed squamous cell carcinoma HPV 16+ and P40 that has metastasized. The cancer has not been fully staged but is stage four because it is extensive in the lungs and bone. Chemo began on Monday and the Radiation Mapping Imaging was done yesterday. Palliative Radiation starts on Tuesday. We still await some biopsy results that will tell whether the Immunotherapy can add many more months, or hopefully… years, making the overall prognosis much more promising. I want to see my daughter, Jessica wed to the wonderful man she has chosen and I want to hold some GRANDBABIES!

But let me backup a bit. The last blog entry I made regarding my health had to do with the one man show. I mentioned that my memory was failing and my cognitive and executive functions were in decline. Well, that’s kinda where we left off in the story. I then developed a DVT (deep vein thrombosis) in my left leg. They later discovered my iliac vein that was being compressed by an artery in my lower abdomen and inserted a stint to open up the blood flow. This was like a bonified miracle. It was like waking up from a long doze. My cognitive functions were 95% restored – bada bing. Pretty cool huh?

Yea, cool and the gang. Or, cool and the lower back pain. Ya see, they told me that the stint surgery would cause some lower back pain. They were right. Mine, transcended the regular postoperative pain and turned into what I thought was sciatica. When the pain from sciatica exceeded my personal threshold for discomfort, we went to the ER. When I didn’t even want to make my lovely wife her morning coffee and let her enjoy starting her day with the cat on her lap, she knew she’d better snap to it.

Let me summarize. Three weeks ago I was feeling great, playing golf, singing and cycling my stationary mini bike as I read great novels (and writing one) every day and livin’ the Miller High Life. Now, I am sitting here writing a blog entry about my terminal cancer. Ah the strange shifts of wind. Which reminds me of a saying my dad used frequently. “Was that a shift of whit? Or, a whiff of shit?”