I hope everyone had a year filled with love and joy. We certainly have much to be thankful for this year, that is, except for brain cancer. That part sucked. #notblessed. But besides that, however, everything else was really good. And nobody else went to the emergency room or was diagnosed with a terminal illness. #blessed.

We had a very productive year on social media. We had way more ‘likes’ compared to previous years. Cancer works wonders for ‘likes.’ Who doesn’t like something terrible (for somebody else)? We have been able to carefully cultivate a very satisfactory and wholesome image on Facebook.

We started the year staying around Grand Rapids because I had chemotherapy and radiation every day. That didn’t suck that bad because radiation only took about 10 minutes, and I had the rest of the day free for to watch movies and sleep. But then I went back to work part time, so that prolonged vacation ended.

I was voted West Michigan Heart Physician of the Year (POTY) in 2014, and then BAM!, cancer hit in late 2015. Our group had officially joined Spectrum in early 2015, so I won the equivalent FMHVI Clinical Excellence Award late last year. 2016 is still up in the air, but I can see trends. The people want change. Drain the swamp. “Lock him up,” they say for sending patient information over Gmail in 2010. I get it. I am yesterday’s story.

Allison had a marvelous year. She was a safety for Ella’s kindergarten class, and all the Alguires agreed she was the best safety at Breton Downs Elementary.  Her swimming went well, almost qualifying for state in several events in the spring, and actually qualifying in the summer. These state cuts are pretty ridiculous, so that felt like a pretty big accomplishment. I certainly was not that fast in 6th grade.

Connor is the only boy, so his achievements are always blown out of proportion. He can watch his iPad for hours at a time, never being distracted by family life around him. I think he is going to do very well without a father #adaptable. He continues to play soccer with a skill set that his dad never had. I can still beat him in one on one sports based on pure size, but it is getting closer.

Queen Elizabeth graces us with her presence at times. She is too sweet to be an effective queen, but she does have her devious streak that I’m cultivating. She cannot win direct battles against her brother, but she is figuring out how to play around the rules when nobody is watching. Good for you.

Mia had a big year of change. Over the year, she left her crib, learned to scooter pretty fast, ride a bike with training wheels, and started preschool. She also threw out her pacifiers and handled it pretty well. We offered to get her a Daniel Tiger stuffed animal if she threw out her pacies, and 2 minutes later they were all in the garbage. Deal sealed, although we are still finding extra in odd places.

Miley had a rough year as well. She totally hit a wall in the Doggie Dash in early June, and tore her ACL in August. The vet gave the option of surgery or rest. Both are considered equivalent, so we chose rest since it costs much less. She is still hobbling around a bit, and this year really felt like she aged those 7 dog years.

For Staci and me, things could not be better. The kids help, our long-term relationship helps.  She is the glue in the family, and Team Craig’s actual captain.  She got the “Alguire of the Year” award in our house for the 15th straight year.  We rarely even talk about old girlfriends or boyfriends anymore. We do talk about future options for her, and I really try to talk her up around some of my male friends. I have given her a short list of my potential replacements that I approve of, but I will not share here. Most of them are still married, but a lot of things can change in a year.

We ring in 2017 with only one resolution, Alive in 2018!

Figure: Self-explanatory.  Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

 

Election Day 2016 was a great day at the Grand Rapids Alguire house, but that had nothing to do with the results. We all had absentee voted, so our part was over before the day started. We got up at 4:45 AM so Staci could shower before leaving the house at 5:30 AM. I tried to focus on love even though I was awakened 15 minutes earlier than need be to get myself ready. Forgiveness is easier if I imagined her in the shower, but before 5 AM, I’ve learned the interest is not mutual. The kids were all in a deep sleep when we left the house. Staci’s mom, Gail, was employed as our babysitter and chauffeur for school and swim practice. Her payment is an unfiltered experience with our kids.

Figure: Left, Gail reads to Ella and Mia.  Middle, Mia after absentee voting twice.  Right, Halloween at Breton Elementary.  Peppa Pig visits Missy Franklin’s classroom.

We met some of the Grand Haven Alguires at the Saugutuck exit Shell station at 6:10 AM per protocol. We hopped in the car of my primary oncologist, and rode with my PCP and mom.

We’ve trained the staff at Northwestern to give a quick review of my MRI before any small talk. No need for pleasantries or a neurological examination if you have MRI results. I’ll do the same. The neurooncology fellow walked in and said, “your MRI looks unchanged.” That’s good. I get another 6 – 9 weeks with Plan A.

Once the MRI results were shared, we threw a mini baby shower for my neurooncologist Dr. Kumthekar. She is expecting her second son sometime soon, so my mom put her knitting skills to work producing a whole line of baby clothes including a sweater, blanket, and matching hats. My primary oncologist baked several things as well. Mia misunderstood the plans for the baby shower, and thought it was “dad’s baby.” Ahh, no, but that would certainly liven up the blog!

On a previous visit, I actually had a symptom to report for the first time in months.  I was correct to be concerned when I had a partial seizure (brain cancer) and unilateral lower extremity edema after cancer surgery (blood clot).  I wanted to tell my doctor about the sores in my mouth.

“I don’t see anything,” she said.

“Right here.”

“Those taste buds?” she inquired.

Okay, that’s the last time I report anything minor.  She said maybe some mild mucositits that couldn’t really be seen well.

And then I imagined the note she would generate: “Craig Alguire reports sores in his mouth…on exam, no objective findings could be made.”

Figure: Top Left, my last MRI with a comparison to previous.  We have decided the white smudge is just treatment effect.  This appeared stable.  Top Right, Mia is trying to make sense of the election, but she might not find answers here (she only reads the cartoons, anyway).  Bottom, Uncle John with Connor and Mia at the O.K. Red Conference swim meet.

I know a handful of GBM patients these days. It was a week of mixed emotions.  David Hutchings, a Facebook friend and fellow runner with GBM in England, had progression on his last MRI and is trying to tolerate second line therapy.  On Monday, we attended a memorial service for Benny Boes. One of his friends gave the most personal and funny speech I have ever heard at a memorial. If his only impact in life was on that one friend, he would have brought a net positive light into this world. On Election Day, Chris Whalen told me he had another stable MRI. His doctors at Spectrum were giving high fives to each other.

I was driving Connor to Futsal (indoor soccer) 11/1/16, the day after a Benny died of Glioblastoma Multiforme. Benny Boes was diagnosed over after Spring Break in 2016. I did not know him until we shared this common diagnosis. Even before his surgery, he had significant neurological deficits with left sided weakness. That’s just how this presents, either acutely with a seizure, progressive headaches, or a progressive neurological deficit. Staci called me to tell me, and the phone went through the car speakers via Bluetooth. 

“Did you see Benny died?” she asked before I could swipe to phone only.

“Who is benny?” asked Connor.

So I debated quickly about what to say about someone dying of GBM. So I just played it straight.

“He is a friend that had brain cancer and just died.”

Without missing a beat, Connor asked, “Does that worry you?” 

What? I was thinking. Ahh, yes, but not anymore than GBM already worried me. And how come an 8 year old is asking that?

“Does it worry you?” I asked back.

“That’s the second time I was worried.”

“When was the first?”

“Bob.” That would be Bob Constant, Staci’s uncle, who died 10/5/16 from pancreatic cancer.

We hadn’t really talked about Bob’s death for several weeks, so it was a surprise to me that he brought it up. We had not even talked about my own cancer diagnosis directly in a while. I didn’t want to have uncertainty weigh on his mind. We are still on Plan A, I am doing fine, so I did not get the impression that he was worried. I find it difficult to find that space between honesty and reassurance.  So, instead we just listened to the audiobook version of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets for the rest of the drive.  Sometimes, there is just not much to say.