...And Beyond.

I guess it was sometime in October of 2014. Bill and I were eating lunch and decided to plan a trip to Quetico. By December, we had recruited Larry & Mark as well. By Feb 2015 we had decided on the time frame of late summer 2016 and selected our outfitter. It was going to be an epic fishing trip. Two weeks of remote wilderness fishing, camping, and canoeing. Then came July 1015 When I was first diagnosed. As my long term treatment plan began to unfold, what began as a fishing trip became my personal end game goal. The dangling carrot, if you will. I regularly mentioned it to both my urologist and later my oncologist - making my intentions clear. "Do what you need to do, but come August 2016, If I am still alive, I am going to Quetico." I set about a personal plan to try and be ready and attempt to stave off the well documented side effects of the treatments that lay ahead. Within a week after surgery, I was back to walking a mile. After six weeks, I was back on a bike and lifting light weights. I started doing local 5k runs in November, and kept this up all through the 39 radiation treatments that followed in 2016.  My colleague at work and I would also walk 2.5 miles every day at work as well. My hardest effort was to fight the lupron based urge to start backing off. That famous lupron fatigue. I was due for my next 4 month shot the week before we left, but got the approval from my medical team to defer it until after the trip. My argument was simple. If two weeks or so made that much difference in my outcome, it in reality made no difference at all. Game, Set, and Match. With much support and encouragement from many, off to Canada!
 
           The trip was a huge success - beyond my wildest dreams. There are many fish tales to tell and scenes to describe. Many pictures -none that even begin to do it justice. They just serve as visual reminders of the bring-you-to-tears indescribable beauty that I was blessed to experience. But I will focus on one story. It is a story of day nine. The day things went wrong. The trip had been going along fine - though a little fast paced for my liking, but fine. There never seemed to be enough time in the day to just sit and reflect. I was hoping for some really meditative quiet moments to recount my past year. At first, I could not understand why the others did not seem to feel the same way. Or at least understand my need. Then I started to realize that they too had their own agenda and sense of urgency. A couple of my friends are older than I (by over a decade). They both love the outdoors, and they sort of knew that this might be their last big adventure, thanks to none other than father time. I think that is an important lesson for me. Just because someone doesn't have cancer, or doesn't seem to "get" all of cancers implications, does not mean that they are not wrestling with their own personal set of demons - that are no less emotionally taxing than my own. perhaps we had all developed a personal plan to make sure that we made this trip. But I digress. Back to day nine. After eight days of great fishing and weather, we began to realize that we were way behind on our traveling in order to reach the designated pick-up point on Sunday at 1pm. So with that in mind, we would make day nine an all out travel day. 0530. First civil daylight, we are up. Mark began making coffee and a quick breakfast as I began to break down our gear. Bill began doing the same, and prepping the other gear to travel, as Larry began to stow the bear hang. We had a lot of canoeing ahead as well as seven or eight portages in store. One portage was a treacherous 190 rods over steep terrain - as indicated by the elevation contour plots on the map. A "rod" is a unit of measure that is unique to this type of thing, and equates to approximately 16.5 feet. Over each portage, we have to carry both canoes (46 pounds each) as well as six gear bags that weigh 40 ish pounds each, plus paddles, fishing rods, etc. So each portage requires multiple trips.
As we get ready to break camp, Bill walks over to a tree and begins to throw up. This is not good. We have all taken precautions for proper sanitary concerns, and either filtered or boiled all of our water. Even with all of that, he was clearly not well. After a couple of episodes, he said that he felt good enough to travel, so we set out - keeping a watchful eye. We had a hard time finding the first portage due to a downed tree, but eventually located it and made it through. It was only 22 rods and mostly flat. Two miles of paddling to the big portage of the day. The gps showed two portages side by side - each leading to a different lake. We were to take the left one. So we started on the left one, and in short order, it came to a fork as well. We started on the left of that fork, but after a short while, I was convinced that it was the wrong one, so I convinced everyone to go back and take the other. After about 3/4 of a mile, it came out to a lake. Some of us went back for the rest of the gear while Mark hung back with Bill to make sure that he hydrated and rested. When we got all the gear there, we broke out the paper maps and gps. It was then that we discovered that I had been wrong. I had sent us to the wrong lake. How could I have done this!!?? I was furious with myself for making a mistake that cost us so much time and effort - especially with one man down. On our already hardest day. Without saying a word, I immediately grabbed a pack and began backtracking. Cursing myself  the whole way. As it then began to rain. Of course - why wouldn't it? I couldn't imagine what the rest of the guys were thinking of me about this. In actuality - they were not upset much at all, as I found out later. They knew that I was upset, but they - having been here before - knew how easy it was to make such a mistake. Meanwhile, I was busy making a mental mountain out of a molehill - something that those of us on Lupron are more than capable of doing at a moment's notice.
Somewhere along the way rushing up the rocky pass in a personal fury, heart about to leap out completely out of my chest, it occurred to me that I needed to let it go and focus on helping Mark & Larry get everything over while keeping an eye on Bill - who at this point is still sub-par. Things got a little better. On the next and final trip over the pass, something else happened. I realized that in a moment of need, I was still able to step up to the plate and get it done. Despite all of my assorted treatments and side effects, I could still reach down deep inside and summon the man that I was before all of this cancer crap started. It was at that point that life got better. I began to stride up that pass with confidence and a cadence saying  'Fuck you, cancer, Fuck you, lupron, I'll race you both to the top!" the whole damn way. I was alive again. Really and truly 100% alive. Invincibly alive for the first time since I was told those famous words "you have cancer" over a year ago.

After finally finishing that portage, we had a snack, some water, loaded our canoes and headed for the next of several portages, creeks, and beaver dams. I met each portage with a smile and relished every slippery and rocky step. This was my day to shine. Carrying the last of the gear at the end of the final portage, I showed up with two packs - (one on front, and one on back) doing my best Michael Jackson moon walk. Larry noted that delirium had obviously set in..lol. We finally made camp around 6:30 pm. All completely exhausted, but it was a good exhausted - at least for me. My worst day had become my best and most memorable day as well. I slept soundly - with a little help from a nip of Yukon Jack . And we came close to our travel goal. Bill made a full recovery the next day as well.
As I sit here reflecting on the trip and this particular day, I am smiling ear to ear. But I also wonder what lies in store now that the trip is over. It has been by end goal for a while now - even the name of this blog "The trip From The Operating Room To The Outfitter". I guess I need to add a couple of words. How about "The trip From The Operating Room To The Outfitter...and Beyond"? I think I like it.
To quote Martin Sheen's character, President Josiah Bartlet in The West Wing series, "OK, What's next?".