Half Way

Yesterday marked treatment number 7 (out of 13). This means I'm a hair over half way through my adventure with Nivolumab.

I feel really very good. No unexplained pain anywhere, and the treatments are non-events. I hope this is a sign that things are progressing well. The cancer was aggressive, and I think I would see signs of its return by now. The doctor(s) won't say as much, but when I ask this question, I think they think this too. 

Maybe I am one of the lucky 27% that beat this thing (the math is that 20% of the time the surgery itself was curative, and the other 7% comes from the efficacy of the immunotherapy (Novolumab)). Unfortunately there is no blood test I can take to see if there are any microscopic bladder cancer cells floating around in my body.

On a completely unrelated side note, I met with my cardiologist this week too. He ran an EKG and listened to my heart, and then sent me packing. He only wants to see me again if some heart-related issue comes up. I said I'm sorry that he's now relegated to the bench, but my current doctor/specialist roster is full. 

I'm still not over the John Ostrom tragedy last month, and think about him a lot. Our next grad reunion is in 2028 and I'll miss seeing him there... 

So Sad....

I started writing a post yesterday, and didn't have much to add over last month. I got some news this morning, though, that turned that on it's head.

I met John on the first day of my new school (Seal Cove Elementary) when we moved to Prince Rupert in 1972. I was 11. He was one of the first people I met, and we had remained good friends all through elementary school, high school, and I would often spend the weekend with him when he was at UBC and I was at BCIT.

We drifted apart after that, but reconnected in Calgary when we lived there, and then again at every high school reunion - we both attended every one.

In my last conversation with him, he was ramping down for retirement, and planning on a move from Calgary to Vancouver Island. I said it'd be great to see him more often than once a decade.

John knew I was into watches, and part of that last conversation was about me helping him sell a watch he'd had in high school (a Seiko "Willard"). His parents gave him a Rolex when he graduated UBC, so the Willard was relegated to a drawer for the last thirty five years.

Our friend Christine reached out to me this morning and asked if I'd heard that John died last Sunday. I hadn't, and I'm shocked and saddened. Me, with all the stuff wrong with me, is outliving many of my closest friends. This sucks. Carpe Diem.

John Ostrom 1960-2024