Hawaii Kai stop for the Mt. Fuji hikers

We enjoyed a wonderful visit this month with Max and Christine, who were on their way back from vacation to Taiwan and Japan. The timing was such that Max was home to celebrate the one-year anniversary of my surgery and his trip home at that time to help me recover. We had a celebratory walk around the house, one that was pretty difficult a year ago when I could only go around once or twice, all holding his arm for support.

This year not only could I walk on my own, but I could also do the honors of opening our very warped and stuck wooden gates, which requires a healthy push using my shoulders and hips. Max reminded me how far I had come. I could water the plants now, as opposed to his having to do that strenuous job of holding a hose a year ago.

We had also played Bananagrams at that time, a thoughtful gift from Christine. This year I could turn the little tiles over by myself. Unfortunately my perfect spelling abilities had still not returned, as I won a round with the word “buttress” missing the second “t.” Better than last year when I spelled page with a “j.” The other players are sympathetic and give me a pass.

A year later also finds our family in different locations. Chuck and Jenny are traveling in Asia for fun and street food, Max starts his road to becoming Dr. Max at U Dub, and Hal took a trek to Bloomington to visit his mom and siblings. I am the one who always enjoyed traveling but now I am enjoying being home. My mom has been taking great care of me after unanticipated oral surgery. Once again good things have come from the unexpected.

Last year I could not keep pace with Max around the house. This year I am adding around-the-head basketball drills demonstrated by Max to the dribbling drills that Chuck showed me his last time home. Now I dribble the ball off my head instead of off my foot. The pace of progress.

 

 

Mickey Mouse’s helpers

I took my first trip to the mainland in over a year and since surgery this month, to Pasadena for nephew Jon’s wedding to Judy. It was a beautiful ceremony and reception and we even got to the dance floor, although I still can’t figure out that skanking reggae dancing that Chuck does.

A trip to the LA area for our family always includes a must-visit to Disneyland. We have been there literally dozens of times but never tire of the attractions and the magic that it holds for us. Except for Hal, but he’s given up suggesting other activities. Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride was actually a little wild for me after surgery, and Star Tours was a lot jerkier for my system than I remember.

And as the kids said, just when you think the parades and fireworks couldn’t get any better, we were dazzled by new special effects and the choreography of the evening.

At every turn our trip dazzled me. Late night jam sessions with the boys and complete with Jenny and Christine robe accents, laughter and conversations with the kids, catching up with great in-laws and out-laws, doing the simple things that matter.

Before our trip I asked three-year-old nephew Royson where we should go in Disneyland since he had recently been there. He very confidently and matter-of-factly advised that we should get a map. Good thing we got a clear one last year that guides us each day.

Summer is bringing travels for the Halvorson boys to destinations as far and wide as Lake Shasta, Mount Baker, Minneapolis and of course Vegas, not to mention mainland Halvorson relatives traveling to Alaska, Scotland and Norway. A fraction combined compared to Granny and Granpa travel days, but getting there.

Hal and I had our own big trip this month, a weekend jaunt to the Big Island to see Hawaiian music artist Kealii Reichel in concert. It was my first trip in over a year and since surgery, and a fitting celebration of my recovery.

We stayed at The Jacaranda Inn, a former Parker Ranch plantation manager’s home that had been purchased by Laurance Rockefeller when he built the Mauna Kea Resort on the Big Island. He entertained guests like Jacqueline Kennedy and Henry Kissinger there. Our family stayed at the fancy Mauna Kea when it opened 50 years ago (only 10 years after Disneyland) because my father had helped with water resource needs during the development process. Now we can only afford the manager’s quarters.

The property is dated and pretty rough around the edges, but the interiors of the room are well appointed and very clean and neat. The bathrooms have been completely renovated and nicer than some upscale hotel rooms we’ve stayed in. Kind of like me. A bit worse for the wear of surgery, but filled with the blessings of a new life on the inside.

We had seen Kealii Reichel in concert on Maui and Oahu over the years, but this was by far his best because it was an intimate setting at Kahilu Theater in Waimea. He bantered with the audience before and during the performance. When he was asked when he would return again, he said he wasn’t sure because he was older now and not planning so many concerts at this stage of his career. He was more interested in appreciating and taking life as it comes. We know the feeling.

One of my goals after surgery has been to be able to dribble a ball between my legs, which I have never been able to do. Since Chuck and Jenny were home for a friend’s wedding this month, it was a perfect time for Chuck to show me how to master the crossover dribble move.

Chuck can go back and forth between his legs endlessly, and I had visions of attaining the same Harlem Globetrotters look. That is, until I started to dribble. I quickly realized that I can hardly control the ball dribbling one way, much less changing directions and moving my feet and legs at the same time. I was never a great dribbler, but I used to be better at not dribbling the ball off my foot.

I have realized that this accomplishment, like other tasks after surgery, will take some time. Dribbling is turning out to be good exercise and rehab for my core body strength. Once I can add shooting to the drill, I will be able to regain upper body strength as well.

Like my sure-to-emerge J Crossover dribbling technique, I will likely develop as well the half-court game winning shooting touch of Chuck fame. Chuck will be further impressed when I can block Max’s shot during family games.

Yet another example of reaching Beyond Six Five, defying the odds of pancreatic tumors and the heights of the Halvorson boys.

Three University of Washington graduate degrees are in the future for our family. Chuck has a master’s in accounting, Jenny an MIS degree and now Max has committed to the U Dub PhD program in child clinical psychology. That’s three chances for the Huskies football and basketball teams to be better. They will have to work hard to meet the standards of that other purple sports powerhouse Northwestern.

Purple also happens to be the color of pancreatic cancer awareness. Each month of the year marks designated awareness for various forms of cancer and other illness, most notably the pink color for breast cancer awareness. November is pancreatic cancer awareness month. The American Cancer Society estimates that of the nearly 49,000 who will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2015, about 40,500 are expected to die from it.

Early detection is the difference between life and death, so maybe its awareness month should be held several months earlier. Miracles do happen. Northwestern went to the Rose Bowl. My pancreatic tumor was benign. The basketball Cats will make the NCAA tournament yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was invited to share my health experience at the Straub Foundation board meeting, to provide a real-life example of Straub Clinic and Hospital doctors and staff in action as they began their meeting. Although I was the speaker, I was touched by the emotion of the board members. These were high-level management and business types who have to make decisions at the macro level and whom I’m sure hear many stories of the good work done at the hospital.

When I told the part about the finding of a pancreatic tumor, I could see faces drop and knowing concerned expressions around the room. When I later said the tumor was found to be benign, there were so many visible smiles that came very naturally. It spoke to their commitment to the work at hand and maybe to my improved ability to deliver a punch line.

I have been happy to share my story but each time I do, it reinforces the fact that it would not have the same happy ending without the diligence of my private practice internist Dr. Lois Saruwatari. The health care landscape is changing with young medical students opting to pick specialties with the potential of high paid careers. The advent of nurse practitioners and clinics and even CVS to handle general patient needs adds to the new look.

The old-fashioned model of an internist who kept tabs on my history over the years and identified a seemingly minor abnormal lab test is what saved my life, along with medical staff skilled not only in performing procedures but also evaluating findings. Science and technology can do amazing things in the medical world these days, but the people who order their use are invaluable. That’s a good use of health care resources under any scenario.

Every time Chuck and Max got haircuts growing up, I referred to it as Haircuts for the Woolseys. This was one of my favorite children’s books to read to the kids. It is a story of a family of sheep who get shorn in the spring, then winter comes, and lucky for the Woolseys, the Granny has made their cut hair into brand new sweaters. Truer words were never spoken when it comes to all that Granny and Granpa have done for the grandkids.

The kids are grown and their fellow cousin Kelsy is now my stylist, with ever-adorable son Royson sometimes serving as her helper, sweeping up the hair from the floor as Kelsy cuts it, an inherited trait of cleaning and order from his Papa Ran. Royson’s Nana is also a family inspiration, a member of the newest class of the Wall of Hope at Kapiolani Medical Center, for Ann’s spirit and faith during her recent battle and victory over breast cancer.

When I first met Hal he would get his hair cut every six months. This month we celebrated the six-month mark since surgery. Hal’s hair is shorter, and our lives are longer.

I was never one to care about flowers, but recent blooms have changed my mind.

My dear cousin Ann brought me a beautiful orchid plant when I was in the hospital. Green thumb that I’m not, it suddenly wilted and dropped from its stem shortly after I returned home. My mom took it to her house for recuperation while I recovered at home. Lo and behold she has returned it to me merely a few months later with not one, but two, gorgeous blooms.

Uncle Harold was our original family orchid caregiver, with a hothouse that produced blooms regularly. He also set one up at my mom’s house, but it was never as successful as where Granny keeps a small cluster of plants that have produced flowers for more than two years, ever since Granpa passed away.

A few years ago we had a poor neglected orchid stalk in our yard that would get watered once in a blue moon and constantly looked like it was destined for a bleak ending in the trash. After Aunty Lur and Uncle Harold had both passed away, out of nowhere two blooms appeared, on the occasion of one of their birthdays. Once again, a single bloom led to two beautiful flowers. So it goes with the multiplication of blessings, whether we deserve it or not.

 

Over the Christmas holidays, the grandkids upheld Granpa’s annual tradition of holiday Christmas carols with their jam session versions of Jingle Bells, Jingle Bell Rock and Walking in a Winter Wonderland.

Max and Christine got their share of the Walking in the Winter Wonderland this year. They ended up spending several days stuck in the first round of the Boston Blizzard. Max then hit another round of delays in the Pittsburgh area, turning his two-day trip turned into a nine-day one. Hardly like balmy Seattle where Chuck and Jenny are still waiting for enough snow for area skiing.

Life never quite goes as we plan it, sometimes with pleasant surprises and others with an abruptness that stops you in your tracks. Our families know well the drama of health issues, from heart to cancer. While we probably share common fears and some an uncommon faith, each situation is different, with its own set of medical and emotional dynamics, twists and turns, and next steps.

It’s like that summer kids’ game with the winter theme, freeze tag. When you get tagged, you have to stop in place until someone tags you to unfreeze you. Then you are free to take a new route and different path to avoid another freeze.

A thaw from health issues takes us in new directions. Spring forward.