One Year.

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The Fighter

I've been in a fight before. I am not afraid to stand up for myself or someone else that can not do it for himself. I was not afraid when the doctor told me that I had cancer again. I did not back down from the challenge, in fact I accepted it with open arms... I would beat it.

So when Dr. Frame sent me to have my CT Scan and blood work done to finalize that I had gone into remission I was certain I had conquered the cancer and I would be getting better almost immediately. Even if I still had the disease, I just needed to do more chemotherapy... I could handle it if need be.

The weeks leading up to going into remission I had developed a slight cough that would trigger every single time I walked up the stairs, down the stairs, picked something up, and kept me awake some nights (well, I was probably awake anyways...). Every time I would see the doctor he would check my lungs to and every time I seemingly had passed with flying colors. I have always been proud of my ability to handle strenuous activity better than most people whether it was during soccer, hockey, climbing, or racing... I felt that I had the upper hand. This was no longer the case, as I was having to sit down after walking up a flight of stairs or even going on a long stroll was becoming more and more difficult. A side effect from the chemotherapy, it would pass when I stopped taking it.

During the CT scan I have become accustomed to the operators and nurses acting strange around me. They can see that something is wrong, yet they are not allowed to tell you what you have or what they see... that is the responsibility of your doctor. During this last CT scan the practitioner was acting strange... and I called her out on it, "Is there more tumors in my body?" I asked. "No, no, no... I am not allowed to discuss it, but it does not look like there are any more tumors anywhere." Awesome... then I didn't care about anything else. I was done.

The next day I missed a call from Dr. Frame. He left an urgent voice mail telling me that I needed to call him back immediately, and it was regarding my scan. My stomach dropped out of my butt. What now? My poor family and friends cannot take much more bad news from me and I was getting tired of telling it. Didn't he know that? Before I could call him back Kasia called me and broke the news, I had been diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. We were to meet with him the very next day.

Dr. Frame and I have become very close over the last few months and he refers to me as his All-Star patient. I complain minimally and have accepted each distressing low white blood count and extensions of chemo with open arms. "Thanks for keeping me alive doc" had become a common phrase for when he thought he was delivering bad news. I meant it too. 'Grateful' does not fully grasp the scope of how I feel towards Dr. Frame. He has given me a new life and the opportunity to better myself in a way that few people get the chance. We are the lucky ones. To not take advantage of having cancer and making positive changes in your life would be the real tragedy in it all... that and losing your testicles. He has grown fond of me as well so delivering more bad news was not something he had planned, and you could see in his face that it was hurting him.

Pulmonary Fibrosis is the inflammation of the lungs and can cause holes or tears in your tissue that can be irreversible. Dr. Frame explained the situation; the amount of chemotherapy I endured is not normal... I had passed lung tests with flying colors and physically, minus cancer, was in phenomenal shape. My cancer was new and the decision was to pump me with as much poison as possible for a human to handle. Someone in lesser condition, older in age, younger in age, had smoked cigarettes, slightly overweight, underweight, non-active would not be able to handle it. I had wanted it. I needed them to kill everything in my body that had the possibility of carrying the cancer strand. This was it for me, give me all you can... I can take it, I promise. I was preparing for a war with cancer and I was not going to lose. Pulmonary fibrosis is a side effect we were hoping to avoid.

"What does this mean Doc?" I knew what it meant, I just could not bring myself to thinking it. There was/is a strong possibility I would never be able to play sports again; never put on skis again, never climb another mountain, and I would need to carry around oxygen. Dr. Frame said, "I will never lie to you Robert. There is a possibility you may never get the chance to participate in athletic or strenuous events ever again."

I was defeated. How could I be deprived from what I love so much? I could beat cancer, my will and perseverance were no match for it... and although the recovery would be long, there would still be a recovery. If my pulmonary fibrosis had gone too far it would be irreversible and there would be no recovery, I would become a vegetable. At the time there could have been no worse news for me and for the very first time in my short life I was terrified. I was shaky in the knees, cannot catch my breath, there is a man with a knife hiding in my closet, terrified. I would not be able to handle this I thought... I can't do this. The scariest part was that it was out of my control, I could not fix this by being strong or by sure will. Praying that quite possibly my lungs had not reached the point of no return was the only option... A good option, but I would have liked more. I would have rather been diagnosed with cancer for the third time rather than get this news.

My parents didn't understand. "Didn't they check your lungs? How could they not have known?!" My parents  tried to stay positive, but they were confused and upset as I was. I was still alive and I had plenty to be grateful for... but I might as well have gotten the news that I could be paralyzed. I was tired and beaten down. I went from the elation of being done with cancer to the lowest I had ever been. My mom immediately sent dispatches across the country for friends and family to keep me in their thoughts and to pray for healing. She wanted me to be better and didn't know how to make her son feel better, she knew I was taking this harder than anything else I had ever endured. My poor sister was tired of it... she wanted her big brother to be better and could not take getting any more bad news. She needed it to be over and so did I.

This was a fight I was unable to participate in and it scared the shit out of me. A best friend of mine, Aidan O'Connell's father, Mr. Tommy O'Connell, who had quite the hand in raising me due to being at his house a large portion of my childhood, related my cancer bout to a boxing match he was sure I would win. Every time I went through another round of chemotherapy or surgery he would tell me I had won the round and give encouragement for the next... similar to Mickey in Rocky. I had reached the 12th round by all accounts and I was on the ropes trying to stay in the fight.

Dr. Frame immediately put me on a prescription of steroids in hopes to reverse the damage. Kasia had planned a trip to the Baja in Mexico the following Saturday and there was a chance if my lungs did not improve that I would not be able to get on a plane. We were to meet back in 7 days where he would be able to tell whether my lungs were on the way to recovery. The following days I did not speak much, I was in a depression of sorts. I have never felt so low. How could I never be able to stand on top of another mountain peak? How could I never strap on skis again and 'shred the gnar'? It was unfathomable, and the unknown was driving me crazy.

That Friday we met with Dr. Frame, he carefully tested my lungs for about 10 minutes before he sat down and let me know that the drugs were seemingly working. My lung capacity was getting better and I could go to Mexico, and "take it easy."We hugged, Kasia hugged, I could hear a chorus of angels singing in the background, etc. I was stoked, to say the least. Now it was up to me, and based on how I treated myself my lungs would be back to normal at some point. The news traveled to Georgia where my mom and her teachers at her church pre-school supposedly danced, cried, fist pumped and hugged each other. The thought that you can affect so many people is humbling and when I hear stories like that it makes me fairly emotional every time. All in all, I am grateful for the opportunity to go through it... it was just another test in a long, exhausting process and on the upside I have gotten to take steroids for the first time. Contrary to what some people might tell you, I have never taken steroids before... but they are kind of fun. You want to eat ALL THE TIME. And for someone that has been force feeding himself due to nausea and everything tasting like metal it has been radical.

Kasia and I went to Mexico to celebrate being cancer free with my good friends Adam and Annie, and their family. I went surfing every day (not what the doctor ordered), hung out on the beach, flew kites, and had one of the best times of my life. I had actually done it and i was on the mend... we spent 7 days in paradise completely blocked out from the rest of the world without email, facebook, TV, and every other distraction.

We came back and I immediately went back to work on Tuesday full time. I just finished my first full week of going back and I am exhausted... who knew sitting at a desk could take so much out of you? Life could not be better and I am blessed to be alive. My hair is growing back...kinda, I am slowly regaining my strength (the steroids I assume help), I got a good woman, and I am happy. I am the lucky one.


I have been in a few fights in my life, I have come close but I have not lost one yet... I was not about to start now. 12th Round Knockout, right Mr. T?

Happy New Year

I broke down. Kasia and I walked out of the doctor's office after ringing the bell and finishing my last chemo treatment, the last time I was going to have poison injected into my blood. My thoughts were jumping from place to place as I walked to our car; getting engaged, finding the tumor, telling my parents, Kasia's fear, calling doctors "no matter what, I promise I am going to be okay," losing another testicle, over a hundred hours of chemotherapy, delays, low-white blood cell counts, puking, spending nights in the bathroom, my friends, family, and parents that had to endure all of this with me and it came at me like a tidal wave.

Out of everyone that had been there for me, my parents were second only to Kasia. My mom flew out for the first chemo treatments and my dad spent four weeks in Park City helping drive me to treatments, walk Shadow, and made sure I watched plenty of hockey. They also might have had the hardest time with it, as they were there every step of the way in my first diagnosis and thought we would never have to deal with it again. I knew they would be the first people I would call after my treatment, they more than anyone else needed to experience the high of their youngest son beating cancer after enduring the hell of going through cancer. As I dialed my Dad's cell phone all of my emotions built up inside of me. I didn't even know if I would be able to get any words out but once I heard my Dad's voice I knew it would be over...

-Ring ring, ring ring
Gary: Hello! Did we do it?!
Robert: ...Dad, I 


...and the call dropped. Silence... after all of that, a dropped call? Mother trucker, I call back.


Gary: HELLOOOO?
Robert: I'm done Dad. I'm done. 




"I'm done." I barely get the words out when the wave crashed. I broke down hard. Throughout the entire thing I had kept it together. Not once did I have a breakdown, I wouldn't allow myself. During the treatment I needed to be stronger for everyone around me and for myself. I no longer had to keep it up, the weight of an elephant had been lifted off of my shoulders and I fell apart. The other end of the phone consisted of faint sounds of my mom sobbing in the background and my Dad telling me how proud of me he was of me in between falling apart himself. Never in my life have I felt that amount of emotion hit me with such force... it was absolutely an unexplainable amount of relief for all of us hitting at the exact same time.  After ALL of that, I had to call my sister... much of the same, but shorter.

I had done it. I had beaten cancer for the second time in my young life. And I called it too. 

I knew that I was going to beat cancer. Not once from the moment the doctor told me, "you have cancer" to the time I rang the bell did I let myself think that I would not come out of this alive and stronger (at least mentally) than ever. I had just made a promise to someone that I would spend the rest of my life taking care of her and I wasn't about to break it... not then, not ever. Kasia has spent the last four months as my primary care-giver, the job my mother took on in my first diagnosis. There is not enough that is said about the care-giver for cancer victims. She put up with mood swings, late nights, feeding someone without much taste for food, staying in 90% of the time, balancing a full-time job, and therapy treatments. Not to mention the emotional strife in dealing with her new fiance battling a deadly disease. She did it all with a smile on her face (mostly) and did not complain nor question the role she never asked for. I will spend the rest of my life making up the six months she spent nursing me back to health and I will forever be in her debt. I don't have adverse plans on being anywhere else so it should work out. We are both extremely stoked to be able to enjoy our new engagement and Kasia surprised me by letting me know we were headed to Mexico in three weeks to celebrate being cancer free with one of my good friends Adam Lain, his wife Annie, and family. Laying on a beach and not doing much else is exactly what we both need at this point.

A support system is the closest people in your life who band together to make sure you beat the disease and feel your pain almost worse than the actual victim. Without my support system, I would have failed. I cannot thank the people who have been here for me enough and as I type tears fall on my keyboard in recognition of my gratitude.


Cancer doesn't care about how bad this is for your family, how much you hurt, what organ or body party you think you need, and it certainly doesn't give a shit if you ask for mercy. It is unyielding, heartless, and will take your life given the chance without a second thought. Your support system is your family, hurt when you hurt, would give their body parts, and are there to offer their mercy. They are unyielding in support, are made of all heart, and would give their life to save yours without a second thought. 

I have a new lease on life. God has granted me the opportunity to appreciate life more than I ever have before and I mean not to waste it. I will do my best to not take the little things for granted and at the same time to let them slide. I hope to be an inspiration for people going through cancer on keeping a positive outlook not necessarily just on life but the experience as well.


There is a long road ahead of me. I will not be feeling well for another couple weeks and I will not be back to normal for 3-6 months. But I am on the up and up and things could not look better in the future. Again, I want to thank everyone who reads this blog and I will continually make updates and blog about Kasia and my engagement, skiing, vacations, wedding, and whatever else I choose to write about.

January 18th will forever be my New Year. And I am going to party like a 16 year old girl on MTV... next year. Until then, I will be recanting how lucky I am to be here and to have this opportunity to live.


I'm done Dad, I'm done.

Not my New Year... Yet.

Here we are, the last day of 2011. I sit here with my Dad in my living room in Park City, Utah trying to rest up to make it out for the most heralded "going out night" in history. A few weeks ago I was under the impression that yesterday would have been the last day of my chemotherapy and I would be bringing in the new year with a new bill of health. Alas, due to some health issues and conditions outside of my control my dates were pushed back to January 7th, and as of last Wednesday I will continue my treatments up until January 17th. Setbacks, I have learned, are just part of the process in trying to kill cancer.

 I want to apologize for not writing more for the people who especially enjoy reading this blog... I have been having a bit of a hard time with the chemotherapy, my cognitive thought process, and so on. So to say the least, I have been very unmotivated to write as to save my good days for skiing or going out with Kasia. I will do my best to remedy this self-loathing and write more of my experiences. Although, please take note: I am actually getting dumber. My thought process makes it hard to remember where I am taking themes and in some cases, even sentences. So it seems these posts might become a bit choppy and possibly bounce around to different subjects. Sorry, I have cancer.

(I actually had stopped writing after that point on New Years Eve because I had no idea what I was writing anymore. It all became fuzzy and I had no idea where I was going with the subject. Before I became frustrated I closed down my computer and walked away... only to open it 2 days later.)

So two days into 2012 and my "new" year has not started yet. Needless to say, I did not make it out for New Years Eve. I spent the last few seconds before 2012 with Kasia, opening a bottle of champagne for her as she opened a bottle of Martinelli's for yours truly. I gave Kas a kiss as the ball dropped for the third time on cable TV, due to us living in the Mountain Standard Time Zone, and fell asleep almost immediately afterward. I have been sick the last few days due to my white blood count dropping to almost non-existent again and also having to receive shots that make me feel as though my bones are being broken from the inside out and are constantly cramping, but help me produce more white blood cells so I will have the strength to undergo chemotherapy.

I wake up puking or just from pain every couple hours on some nights. In a pathetic effort to not wake up Kasia, the dog, or the cat, I tip-toe as fast as I can to the bathroom in complete darkness where I bump into no less than two objects every time. The Tiger (cat) usually follows me into the bathroom to see what all the fuss is about and sometimes to prove that he can smell up the house as well. In fact, sometimes I feel like he is put out with me and all the ruckus I am making so he comes into the bathroom, takes a dump, throws his kitty litter all over the bathroom, gives me the middle finger and goes back to bed... I accept the situation. Lately I have forgotten what it has felt like to feel good... I miss wanting good food, wanting to go out with friends, and other small things that most people take for granted. I can't wait for the day that I can go to work for a full workday, interact with a number of different humans, and then go get dinner with friends or just Kasia. I would like to sleep through the night. It would also be nice if I didn't complain so much... but whatever, this is my blog and you decided to read it.

Although, do not feel bad for me. A lot of having cancer has been blessings in disguise for my family and myself. My brother and his family moved back to Las Vegas a month ago, leaving my parents without their grandson and my Dad's two year old best friend, Maddux James. Last Christmas was the very first one without the entire Sutherland family together and everyone had accepted that it would be harder to get the entire clan together for Christmas Holidays every year going forward. My condition has definitely brought the family together in a number of ways, but the best was everyone physically being  together for the Holidays in Park City. I had the best Christmas of my entire life and while I was sitting in my living room watching everyone laugh and Maddux' head almost explode from the amount of presents around him I realized how lucky and grateful I was to be surrounded by the people who mean the most to me. Having cancer can turn you into quite the emotional human, but it gives you a great perspective on life and family while turning you into this shell of a man that I used to be, so of course I broke down. Realizing how fragile life can be and the amount of hell the people who care about you the most go through can bring quite the large dose of humility, something I am sure I was in need of, and at that moment I was realizing it. As you can imagine, Christmas morning became very emotional for everyone...

Afterwards, we sang "Happy Birthday" to Jesus, my mom made her famous grits and eggs, and we all went skiing at Deer Valley (Our family has been skiing at Deer Valley since 1987 and I believe that my Granddad is still the "Unofficial Official Spokesman of Deer Valley," but I cannot be sure, you will have to ask him... although please be warned/prepared for a history lesson on Park City, Deer Valley, and the surrounding area). It was Maddux' first time ever skiing (he is two) and if we could just focus his adorable rage and stubbornness he might end up as the best skier this world has ever seen.

Needless to say, I had an unbelievable Christmas and if everyone was wondering, YES, I DID RECEIVE A PLAYSTATION. Kasia surprised me with more gifts than I had ever expected. I mean, don't get me wrong... I have cancer, I am going through chemotherapy, I am bald, everyone feels bad for me, so I had a pretty good idea that I might get more than I deserve... and I did. Kasia, being the hot/smart/cute thang she is, got me the following gifts: New Playstation, Avalung backcountry backpack, clothes, and lots of other little things that she will surely hold over my head for years to come. I also received unbelievable gifts from my family around the country... a number of people made donations during the Christmas time. I do not know how to thank everyone for their donations to help fight this disease, they have helped us more than you know and definitely made it easier to sleep at night for Kasia and myself. My gratitude cannot be shown through typing a long thank you and I will get around to thanking each one of you personally when I feel better. Please know that everyone who has said a prayer, given a donation, sent a words of encouragement have all played a huge part in me fighting this disease and a huge part in me beating cancer. I appreciate it all and the  holiday season makes me realize it more everyday, so thank you and Merry late Holidays to everyone reading this blog.

True to form, my unbelievable parents have been here every step of the way. My dad will be here through the 7th to help Kasia with my next stage of chemotherapy. Due to my ever changing health issues it has been difficult to finalize a date that would mark the end of my treatment... so, much to my Dad's dismay he will not be here on my final day of chemotherapy, which is scheduled for the 18th of this month, barring no more health issues such as a low white blood cell count and of course still having some lingering cancer around.

 

My family sans Derek's Clan with me at chemotherapy.

       My Dad and I playing hockey on a pond in Park City. Great break from chemotherapy. The old     man can still skate.


Going back to New Years Eve: while I was pouring Kasia's champagne and listening to Carson Daly's annoying voice countdown the new year, I realized that although this is the worlds calendar new year, it is definitely not Robert Sutherland's new year... my new year will start on the day that I have finished chemotherapy and cancer has left my bloodstream.

The New Year is about starting fresh and taking all of the positives in your life to carry forward while the negatives are given a plan for departure. I cannot, in good conscience, believe that the new year has started for me given my current situation.

2012 will be the best year of my life: I will have survived and beaten down cancer for the second time in my life, my sister will be getting married to an unbelievable guy, I will be getting married to the girl of my dreams, life has more meaning... again,  I have a renewed motivation towards work as well as outdoor activities, and I will be getting a new testicle. 2012 is looking pretty damn sweet.

My New Year will start on January 18th at approximately 4:00 PM. I will not be celebrating with alcohol, because I will have just finished chemo, but I will be doing a bunch of fist pumps that everyone is welcome to join me in. Do not feel bad for me, my New Years celebration will be the best I will ever experience... I am the lucky one to be able to get such a perspective. Happy almost "New Year" everyone.

Expectations...

In September of 2008 I was starting my last semester of college. I was carefree, single, and considered myself an avid outdoorsman. There was not a day of my last summer in Logan, Utah (the location of Utah State University) that I did not spend some time in the mountains, on a river, or on a lake... I was embarking on numerous solo trips throughout Logan Canyon and surrounding areas to try and bag as many peaks as possible with my trusty sidekick Shadow.

A couple days before the beginning of the semester one of my best friends and housemate, Scotty John, had decided that he and another close friend of mine, Brandon Latham, were going to spend a week traversing the entire Wind River Range in Wyoming starting the next Monday. I had declined the offer because I was starting my last semester and was taking a class that had over a 70% fail rate and on top of that, I was growing up. I needed to put rash, immature decisions behind me and start acting like an "adult." I used my dad's credit card to buy all of my books, got some new binders and highlighters and put them in my backpack all ready to start school on Monday.

Sunday night I got into bed and tried to fall asleep to the sounds of Sportscenter anchors in the background. At 10:00 PM Sunday night, I packed up my backpacking bag, called Scotty on his cell phone and let him know I would be joining him at 8 am for the drive to trail head:

Scotty: Hey Sudsy (he has Caller ID)
Me: Hey du... (Scotty interrupts)
Scotty: You're coming aren't you?
Me: Yes... yes I am.
Scotty: Typical.
Me: My bad, I really did not think I was going.
Scotty: Yeah, I bet you didn't. See you in the morning.
Me: Sausage Egg McMuffins are on me.  See you early. Stoked.
Scotty: I expected as much.

On the second day of the trip we had hiked past our expected trail head by about three or four miles. This can obviously bring your spirits down while you are out in the wilderness. Exerting any extra energy just pisses you off... but we got it together and began to find our way to our desired trail. Which meant climbing over 2000 vertical feet and over 10 (extra) miles with 60 pound packs on. At some point Scotty and I were climbing together at a fairly grueling pace and I was the lead. During the climb up I had realized that I had not been drinking water for a couple hours and I was starting to get dizzy, I pulled off and Scotty trudged on, we could see the top and Scotty didn't want to ruin his momentum, especially with being so close. I pulled to the side and watched him disappear above the saddle. I was upset with myself for being dumb enough to let the beginning of dehydration to set in and frustrated that Scotty had beaten me to the top (my competitive nature makes me find a competition in everything I do, even if the other person has no idea that I am in a private comp with them... do not judge me). Once I had gotten it together I began to go catch up to Scotty who would be waiting at the top, completely rested, eating a peanut butter honey sandwich, and gloating about how I messed up. 10 minutes later I get to the top and find Scotty; he is sitting on a rock, backpack still on, with his head between his hands. What we had expected was the top, ended up being only about 2/3's of the way... a common misconception while mountaineering. Mentally, it can feel like a kick in the nuts (I still remember what it feels like people) and can/will turn the nicest people into total ass holes. I waved at Scotty and kept walking... he needed some time alone.

                                            Scotty and I at a saddle in the Wind River Range

7 weeks ago, a crew from Skullcandy decided to go on a backpacking trip to King's Peak in the High Uinta Mountains, which is the tallest peak in Utah. This would be my fourth trip to the peak, and I had only been successful getting to the top once due to weather conditions. At some point during the 7 mile trip to our first campsite everyone wanted to know what we could expect:

How far is it from here? Is it hard to get to the top? Is that the peak over there? How long does it take? Will your dog make it to the top? (that question actually bothered me, of course she will make it to the top... well before you will, pal).

I reply with the same answer every time, "Do not have any expectations. You will not make it to the top if you keep trying to put a landmark on the final destination."

In July of 2004 I was at Indiana University where I had just had my lymph-nodes removed from behind my stomach. My parents were anxiously awaiting the news of where my cancer was... Dr. Foster came in and told my parents they believe they had caught it all. I would now have to get checked up every other month with a CT scan to make sure my cancer was not returning. After two years there would be a 95% chance that my cancer would never come back and I would only need to get checked up every 6 months. After four years, there was a 99% chance that my cancer would never come back. No one has ever been documented that had my type of cancer and treatment to have their cancer return after two years. I was stoked to hear the news in the hospital, I was even more pumped after two years, and after 4 years I had expected to never deal with testicular cancer again.

Last Monday I arrived at the hospital with Kasia and my Dad who is visiting from Georgia. I was to start my 2nd round of chemotherapy of doing it every day for five hours straight. Things were on schedule and I was going to be done with cancer on December 30, 2011... I had expected to be done with cancer before the new year and be able to celebrate being cancer free while bringing in 2012. Once I had my IV's in they drew my blood to check my tumor marking and cell count. The nurse came back and said, "we cannot do chemo this week. Your white blood count is too low." In fact, my white blood count was almost non-existent. Which meant that I would not be able to fight off any infection, nor would I be able to deal with poisons being injected into my bloodstream. The best way to understand the situation is like this: A common cold would kill me.

In each situation explained above my expectations were annihilated by reality. The peak in the Wind River Range was another couple miles up, we were 800 feet from King's Peak when we had to turn around (and run) due to a lightning storm, my cancer DID come back, and my chemotherapy has been extended a week... to be finished on the 7th, they expect.

Expectations can ruin friendships, romance, backpacking trips,  movies and a McRib. This is of course, if you expect your expectations to always come true or to never change. Not to say you should not set goals and make expectations for yourself, you should. Through my "trials and tribulations" I have found ways to expand my expectations:

I expected to make it to a peak(s) and to finish off the traverse of the Wind River Range.

I expected to have a good climb and hang out with friends on the way to King's Peak.

I expect to receive a new PlayStation for Christmas (not to be used as an example). 

I expect to beat cancer.

I have climbed and reached more peaks than I can remember. I have beat cancer once, I will beat it again.


There is a quote that has to do with lemons and lemonade... it would work great here. Look it up.



On the bright side, my dad got in last Saturday and due to me not having to do chemo last week I felt better than I have in 2 months. Which meant that Gary and I got to ski more than we thought; we spent a day at Deer Valley reminiscing all of the good times there since I was three. We also spent two days skiing with all my friends from Skullcandy at the Canyons. Gary is also fairly famous down here in Utah, due to spending so many weekends coming to Utah State to watch hockey games he has built up a pretty good following of my derelict friends. So in consequence we have had a bunch of dinner dates with good friends from college and even high school (the one and only Chad Austin). In closing, I am more grateful today than I ever have been in my short life... think of how grateful I would be with a brand new PlayStation.

Dad, Ski's, and Delays by Kasia

This week we have been blessed by the presence of Mr. Gary Sutherland himself, the legend.  Mr. Gary flew in on Saturday afternoon to kick off round two of chemotherapy.  By everything you have read to date, you can only imagine what this does to Robert's spirits.  You would almost think that cancer was scared straight out of Robert’s body, and that he was 100% healthy, strong, and cancer free.  The last few days have been filled with endless jokes, sarcasm, hockey, ski days, and a feeling of normality and routine.  It seems that the motherly comfort of Mrs. Fran, followed by some brotherly love, the sprinkle of sisterly inspiration, and topped off by the strong father-son bond, was just what the doctor ordered.  Cancer had no fighting chance in round two.

Best. Picture. Ever.

On Monday we woke up early and were ready to kick start the long week of chemo.  We shuffled into the car, drove down to IMC, picked the leather chair with the best view of the mountains and most privacy, watched as the nurse put in the IV that would stay in all week, and then we waited for the first bag of clear liquid fight.

We waited.  

Eventually our nurse came out, empty-handed.  Then came the words that none of us expected,

"We cannot do chemo today."

Let me backpedal a little bit to give you a better understanding of this situation.

From the first day of chemotherapy Robert has been hosting a full-fledged battle, silently through the night, continuing from sunrise to sunset.   He has an active battlefield crusading through his bloodstream, with natural cells stampeding through his body calling for the back up of chemo to beat quickly multiplying cancer cells.  

A few weeks ago, in an effort to dumb down the nearly impossible explanation of the effect chemo has on the body and cancer cells, our nurse created a very understandable analogy:  cancer cells are like light bulbs and our body's cells are like a mason jar.  Since cancer cells are quickly multiplying they do not take the time to fully develop into strong cells our body develops.  Our bodies create quality, while cancer creates quantity.  The cancer cells may win by numbers, but when calling in chemo, they cannot withstand the treatment as some of our body’s cells do.   The "light bulbs" easily shatter while hitting the ground, while the "mason jars" take a good beating, but are not completely shattered or broken. 

Our body also creates fast multiplying cells such as white blood cells and the cells that make up our hair.  Last Monday Robert started to lose his hair, and is currently sporting a very sleek and handsome dome.  This should be a relief to many of us since this means that chemo is destroying the fast multipliers, good and bad.  Chemo and Robert are killing cancer.

Mr. Clean never looked so good.

Inevitably with the destruction of evil, there are often casualties.  As previously mentioned, white blood cells, the fighters, often drop along side other, very important, naturally occurring counts in the body.  Mayoclinic.com gives a great explanation of these side effects.

With a low white blood cell count and, in particular, a low level of neutrophils (neutropenia), a type of white blood cell that fights infection, you're at higher risk of developing an infection. And if you develop an infection when you have a low white blood cell count, your body can't protect itself. Infection can lead to death in severe cases. Even a mild infection can delay your chemotherapy treatment, since your doctor may wait until your infection is cleared and your blood counts go back up before you continue. Your doctor may also recommend medication to increase your body's production of white blood cells.”

Yesterday, Robert's blood counts were far too low for him to move forward with his regimen.  His white blood cells, the fighters, were far below what I will call the "red line”, a magic number that all the doctors follow closely through chemo.  For this particular count, doctors do not want patients falling below a 1.5.  To put this into perspective, before starting therapy he was a 2.6.

Today Robert is a .2.

In layman's terms, this means that his body is lacking the ability to fight infection.  Being exposed to a common cold can be extremely dangerous, and we cannot do chemo.

I assume that everyone’s first questions are the same as ours were: Why? What could have been done to prevent this?  The answer is, chemo and nothing. There is nothing that we could have done to prevent this, it can happen, and it obviously does happen.  The next 3 days Robert will be given a shot to boost his counts.  When above 1.5 he can continue chemo, hopefully this coming Monday. 

When I say that our first questions were those above, I do not include Robert in “our”.  His first question may have been “why?” but his second question should not have come as a surprise to any of us.

“Can I ski?”

Robert Manley does not let anything break him down.  He is a rock with a focus on the pursuit of happiness.  He lives by the rule that many of us could benefit from: Happiness is health.

Robert can ski, he can be happy, and he will be healthy.  His numbers will be increased by the help of the doctors and he will continue his fight towards the total destruction of cancer on the Sutherland battlefield, all while skiing the slopes of beautiful Park City.

Thanksgiving and Toilets

 

Today is the Monday following Thanksgiving, and it has been a long time since I have posted on my blog. The last three weeks have been fairly hectic; my mom came in for a week, my brother followed her for 2 days, I had one day of chemo following the previous weeks five days in a row of chemo and on Wednesday I will undergo one more chemo treatment. Wednesday I will finish my first round of chemotherapy with two more to follow.

Truthfully, I have not been my usual "happy, go-lucky" self, at least not as much as I would like. The chemotherapy has had some negative effects physically on me, which has carried mental issues with it as well... I can only assume. Everyone has their own experience with chemotherapy and the drugs/poison will effect every person in a different way. It makes me feel as though I have just woken up from a weekend bender with the boys and I can't shake my hangover... not that I have a lot of experience with hangovers (insert smiley face here). The feeling has a number of similarities to a hangover: headaches, constantly feeling dehydrated, heavy feeling, you either don't want to eat or you eat way too much making yourself more sick, needed extra sleep, puking, and spending way too much time sitting on the toilet. The last part is true, I spend approximately 34.89% of my entire time on the toilet. It. Will. Not. Stop.

This has been the hardest part for me: the diarrhea. Even typing diarrhea is difficult for me to complete. It seems that due to cancer my intestines have shortened to 4 feet in total length, making food go through me in t-minus 26 seconds flat. Currently, I wake up 2-3 times a night to make a sprint to the bathroom before I ruin everyone in the houses and possibly within a mile radius' slumber. Because of this issue I have not slept through the night in two weeks, so if someone has an insomnia issue let me know and we can Skype. Other negative effects have been my irritability and lack of patience for anything... which is why I have constantly decided to not update my blog. I also am on drugs that make me stupid: Lorazepam and Marinol. Marinol is straight THC, some of you are thinking, "ohh sick brah, Suds' gets to get high all the time." And you would be right. I do get high all the time, but I feel like shit... the only reason I take the Marinol (which is maybe once a day) is to calm my stomach and get my head to stop spinning. The other drug is Lorazepam, this drug makes you retarded. It literally slows down the functioning of your brain and nervous system so you can settle your body/mind down enough to relax or sleep. I try my hardest never to take this drug as it is extremely addictive and like I said, it makes me stupid which closely follows losing my patience and showing my irritability. You lose all reasoning and cognitive thought, even when it comes to simple understanding.

As an example, today I went to purchase some things for Kasia's birthday (yes, today is her birthday, most guys can relate). I walked up to cash register to purchase my item, watched her ring it up, put the contents in a bag, and she stared at me... I sat there wondering why did she not push my items back so I could exit. Annoyed with the teller, I recount the events in my head: picked product, brought product to cash register, teller rings up product, puts product in the bag... ohh that's right, why am I assuming this stuff is for free? I have to pay! It is a fairly simple concept that I should be used to at this juncture in my life (being 27 and all) but I could not comprehend it at the time. Feeling sheepish, I take out my wallet, give a "can't win em' all" laugh, pay, and leave the store. Don't think it wasn't awkward for the poor lady either. It was. It took me a good two minutes to realize what was going on... in complete silence.

Throughout all of this there is great and joyous reason to be thankful:
My mom took a week out of her life to come up and help Kasia and myself deal with the first round of chemo. During desperate times or times of distress people sometimes believe they are being watched by an angel or some force that somehow makes them feel better. I have that in my mom. She is a walking, talking, physical angel that God has possibly made to strictly make sure I feel better. Frances Denny has seen me at my very worst and only responds with extreme understanding and love... something only a mother could pull off, I assume.

My brother also came to visit for Thanksgiving. The two days he was here was two of my greatest days I had while dealing with chemotherapy. We went on walks, to dinners, breakfast, hot tubbed it up, and even went out on Main Street one night for a couple hours.

On the day of Thanksgiving I awoke to my sisters message to me: "I am so thankful that I have a brother like you who inspires me everyday to be a better person. Your strength, courage, and confidence are just a few great qualities that make you the person I look up to. I love you more than anything and wish we could be together today. Happy Thanksgiving!" So in typical fashion when Lindsey says anything to me I sat in bed reading it with tears streaming down my face. Lindsey is the best of us, and I have taken pride in knowing that I was somewhat a part of her growing up to be the beautiful, sweet, and generous person she grew up to become. I don't know where or why there was such a gap in my brother and myself in regards to these traits but it is possible that it skipped us to make her so radical.

Gary will be in arriving in Utah on Friday. My friends and I are extremely excited to see him. Everyone who reads this blog or knows me has an idea of how I feel about my dad. If I keep talking about him his head will get too big...

I am thankful for my family.

Kasia and I cannot thank our friends enough for reaching out to us and helping out. Our community in Park City/SLC has helped keep me busy with ski movies, small visits, meals, and constantly offering there help. We spent our Thanksgiving at our old bosses house, whose family, the Kosiba's, has become our surrogate here in Park City, and I stayed up the entire day... and I didn't have an embarrassing bathroom situation. So all in all, it was a great Thanksgiving. I also have a number of friends growing mustaches to help raise awareness for testicular cancer and to support me personally... that is awesome. Here are some photos:

I also have a great friend from my college hockey days, Ben Froehle, who created a wrist band that says: SUDSTRONG. It has caused quite the demand for them. Hopefully we will figure out a way to supply the masses so all you people will be stoked.

I am thankful for friends.

Last week I went skiing at Solitude with a number of friends, including my friend Alex John, who is a ski patrolman at said resort. So he brought us to the good snow patches on the mountain where we found little pockets of powder and a few rollers to throw grabs and weak 360's. During the skiing I was elated. I could not have been happier. After spending the entire week before having 5 hours of chemicals pumped into my body every day, to spend a Saturday doing my favorite activity was a priceless experience. I had a smile on my face the entire time and was counting my blessings on every run... until I stopped. The adrenaline carried me through most of the day, but once I stopped, I hit a brick wall. I slept for 14 hours straight, woke up and continually puked and crapped for another 4 or 5 hours straight. I would do it all over again without thinking twice. So I did. On Sunday I went to the Canyons.



 I'm thankful for snow and skiing.

My body is rejecting everything from solids to liquids, I sleep 3-4 hours every night, I take medication that makes me dumb(er), my body is constantly itching, and I am currently feeling like I am always hungover. I am alive. I have caught a disease before it has gotten out of control and I will beat it. I have gotten a better appreciation for life, family, friends that few people get the opportunity to see from my point of view. I am the lucky one.

I am thankful for cancer and the ability to beat it. I am thankful to be alive.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

PS- I am thankful that Kasia loves me for some reason and that she was born on this day 28 years ago. I mean, I really am thankful... what would I do without her?!