Thank you, I’m sorry, forgive me and I apologize.

Those four two-word phrases are among the humbling sayings I use a great deal these days.

It occurred to me recently that in the next few weeks it will have been six months since my surgery to remove a mass and about 10 inches of my intestines. Followed of course by the diagnosis of colon cancer. I am writing this to give an update on my condition, also to explain some of my recent public behavior and as a cathartic exercise.

As for my condition, I just recently completed infusion number eight of chemotherapy and a recent CT scan and tests revealed things are improving. The treatments are working.

While I continue to deal with my medical condition I felt it necessary to give some inside baseball about what’s going on when you see me out and about at games.

Every other Tuesday you might notice I carry a fanny pack around my neck and under my coat – that is the actual chemo happening. Inside the pack is a pump doing its thing to infuse the medicine while I’ve been covering SoDak 16 volleyball, wrestling and basketball just to name a few events these past few months. 

While I only carry the pump for about 48 hours, some of the side effects from the therapy linger and result in what may seem odd behavior to some. The particular chemo I take has a chilling side effect. It causes my fingers and skin around my face, mouth and throat to experience below zero wind chill feelings – even without the recent cold snap. Which explains why I stay bundled up in my coat and wear my gloves and stocking cap while I work indoors.

Another thing that occurs is the TMI issues that explain why I try to isolate myself and not socialize as much. Besides wanting to avoid colds, flu, COVID or any other infection, my body experiences a scientific game I like to call Gas, Liquid or Solid. We are dealing with the digestive system here so that game is a little self explanatory. Needless to say I try to keep to myself to avoid embarrassment.

Lastly there is the fatigue factor, which is why I sit more often than I stand and don’t cover as many games a night like I did in the past.

Two reasons prompted this column. 

First was to try to explain some of the side effects and behavior from my medical situation and to apologize for not always being as chipper and social as I should be and to say forgive me if I’m not at my best all the time.

The second has to do with the approaching six-month anniversary of my surgery and diagnosis.

Back in September, lying in the hospital I kept thinking of a scene from the movie “The Shootist.” In which Jimmy Stewart plays a doctor telling John Wayne, who plays an aging gunfighter, that he “has a cancer and it’s advanced.” The doctor telling the patient he had maybe six months and here’s a bottle of laudanum to deal with the pain. All I could think at the time was that was to be my fate as well. Although I didn’t see myself dying in a gunfight like Wayne’s character does – spoiler alert.

Ironically upon my first oncology visit I was told if untreated I would have about six months to a year to live. But with the advances in medicine, with chemotherapy, 50 percent of patients survive three to five years and 50 percent survive beyond that three to five year window. 

Which is why I took on the therapy and the fight to survive. 

This whole experience has taught me to be more patient with my fellow man and to remember we don’t know what others are going through in their lives. 

As I approach that six-month mark I am thankful I am here to talk about it. I am hopeful about the next six months and beyond. I look forward to covering the basketball tournaments in March and then the Spring sports that follow.

Thank you for reading, for the continued well wishes and prayers and I hope this gives you a better understanding what I am going through.