A Personal Cancer Journey – KXRB’s Randy McDaniel Has Good News
November 7, 2024
Hello, Randy McDaniel here,
On February 29 (yes, 29, a leap year!), 2024 I had a colonoscopy. I’d been having some annoying health issues for several months when I got the words no one wants to hear: likely cancer.
And indeed it was. Stage 3 Colo/Rectal cancer. It was very serious. And so the journey began. There would be radiation, chemotherapy, chemo infusions & quite possibly surgery.
And so, here we go!
25 daily (Monday-Friday) radiation treatments with chemotherapy pills, 10 per day. Then the chemo pills continued through the summer, a total of twenty-something weeks, 5 in the morning, 5 at night, something called Capecitabine.
I was told by the medical folks it was a ‘tough one’. I would say the side effects were significant but not debilitating. The radiation/Chemo caused some real ‘bathroom issues’ and the chemo pills gave me big-time fatigue, neuropathy, continued weight loss (beginning in October 2023, I ended up going from about 185 to 142), sleeplessness & a few other things. Nothing to stop me but plenty to slow me down.
One of the most interesting was something called hyperpigmentation. Bottom line: My toes and finger tips (and feet and hands to a lesser extent) turned a deep dark red.
Over a 15-week period, I had 5 chemo infusions, roughly 2 1/2 hours each. The main side effect: For about a week after, don’t touch or drink anything cold! Cold things felt like touching dry ice or a hot burner. Lesson by learned.
And so the chemo pills ended. A few weeks later, more lab/blood work (lots of lab/blood work), another MRI, and another oncologist visit (Dr. Amy Sandford, the best!). And…
The MRI looked good and clean. The lab ‘numbers’ weren’t normal but trending in a good way. It was time for an endoscopy to see how things ‘looked’ closely. Maybe, just maybe, no surgery would be needed.
And so, on November 4th, we went in. The result?
It looked good. In fact, it looked really good. It looked as good as it could look!
I was told it did NOT mean I was ‘Cancer Free’. It did mean I was in remission. There would be no surgery.
There was relief. There was joy. There were tears. I would begin a lengthy process of continual care. It would include pretty frequent CT scans, endoscopies, and MRIs for 2 years, then fewer over the next 3 years. Finally, if all goes well, after 5 years, cancer free. But one step at a time.
As I write this, the remaining side effects are fatigue (which should get better day to day, week to week) and neuropathy. My balance is out of whack, and I have numbness in my feet and hands. It may take up to a year to get rid of it, or, in some cases, it just…stays. But thanks to my cane, I make my way around slowly. And that’s okay. I was never what might be called a speed demon.
I’m the most blessed person I know. Thanks in no small part to my remarkable family and amazing friends, here I am. Smiling and listening to some Haggard. Life is better than good. It’s grand.
Oh, and one more thing: Don’t be an idiot like me. If you’re 45 or over, get a colonoscopy. If you feel great, get a colonoscopy. It’s not a big deal and it could keep you from going through a very big deal.
Bless you,
-Randy
READ MORE: RANDY'S MINNESOTA MEMORIES
August 22, 2024
A Personal Cancer Journey
My cancer journey began on February 23, 2024.
No wait. That’s not true and I made a promise to myself to be truthful. So let’s scratch that and start over.
My cancer journey began several years ago. It began with my wife and two kids urging me (more like bugging me!) about getting a colonoscopy. They would bring it up two or three times a year and I would respond with ‘Get outta here, I feel fine and I sure don’t need anybody poking around down there!’ I was a hard-headed Dutchman. I knew best.
I was an idiot. Plain and simple. In that response to my wife and kids, I made what could turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life. (As an aside, don’t be me. Don’t be an idiot. Over 45? Get a colonoscopy).
OK, let’s fast forward a bit now, it’s October 2023. Life is grand, I’d retired from my full-time on-air radio job a few years before. I’m still working part-time, happy as a clam. All is well except there were some what I thought were small changes in, ah…let’s just say the ‘bathroom habits’. No big deal. I was told that as you get older, your body changes some. You’re not a kid anymore!
By November I noticed I was tightening my belt a loop further down. OK, losing a little weight. Now, I’ve leaned toward that Achterhoff slender slide all my adult life. I used to joke that I could eat a gallon of ice cream a day and not put on a pound. And of course, I kept telling myself that ‘just getting older’ thing. My appetite was changing, that’s all. Life is grand.
The kids and grandkids came up from Nebraska for Christmas. It was, as usual, a great family time. Presents, laughs, food and drink. (I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the last can of beer I’ve had since). And of course, amongst the revelry came that ever-present question: Are you going to get a colonoscopy?
Fine. I’ll make an appointment for a complete top-to-bottom physical. And I hope that shuts you up! We all laughed and that was that.
It’s Friday, February 23, 2024. Time for the physical at Avera Medical Group Family Health Center in Sioux Falls. The first question was ‘When’s the last time you had a physical’? Uh…it’s been a while.
Yes, the bathroom habits have been a bit out of whack and yes, I think I’ve lost a little weight. I’ve been in that 175-180 pound range most of my adult life. Now? They weighed me and I was down to about 160 and heading for the 150’s. More than a little bit.
And then the next question: When’s the last time you had a colonoscopy? I haven’t. You should. I will.
And so it was scheduled for the following week. In fact, scheduled for February 29th, leap day. That had to be lucky!
I discovered that actually the day BEFORE the colonoscopy is the eventful day. We were given a gallon jug with a mysterious powder in it. Fill it up with water they said and drink a half gallon in the morning and the other half gallon in the evening. Oh, and stay close to the bathroom. Why? Well, this concoction is designed to ‘clear you out’.
I can readily affirm that, yes, it was designed very well. I was clean as clean can be.
And so on the 29th of February, I had the colonoscopy and I can report it was the easiest thing in the world. Truly, it was lickety-split. Wheeled into a room, given a shot, told to count backward from ten. I got to about six and…so long.
Next thing I wake up in another room and after a bit, a cup of coffee, a cookie, and see ya later alligator. The results would be in soon.
Well, well, well, that was easy. It’s over!
It’s not over. It’s only beginning.
In the entire results report, I honestly to this day can only remember two words: Likely Cancer. And with that, I became a member of a club none of us want to join. The ‘C’ Club. Welcome to the club, come on in, have a seat, and let’s begin the journey of your life.
Stage III colorectal cancer. That’s what I have. Now, my first question was, ‘What’s Stage III mean’? Well, basically it means it hasn’t metastasized (That’d be Stage IV), and hasn’t spread to other parts of the body, like the liver, lungs, brain, etc. OK, I’ll take that as a blessing.
But the treatment plan would be somewhat lengthy and there’s a possibility it could be somewhat nasty. OK, lay it on me, Doc. And so they did.
There were words like radiation, chemotherapy, infusions, side effects, and surgery.
We’d start with radiation and chemo pills. (By the way, the chemo pills have a long, complicated name, so I’m just calling them chemo pills. After all, I'm just a farm boy). We’ll start with 25 daily radiation treatments, every Monday through Friday for five weeks. And so every morning at about 7:30 we’d make our way to the Avera Prairie Center, check-in, and do-it-to-it. And how were those radiation treatments?
Easy-peasy. Seriously, the actual treatment was five minutes or so, certainly less than ten. No pain, no noise, just lay back on a hard (extremely hard) table, let the machine do its thing, and ‘OK, see ya tomorrow’. I’d lost so much weight (I dipped to the upper 140s) that the only discomfort was that doggone table. My bony back wasn’t happy. But other than that, no problemo!
Throughout those five weeks of radiation, I also was taking 6 chemo pills a day, three in the morning, three more at night. Washed ‘em down with Gatorade. And so the radiation phase of the journey was done, at least for now. Did it work? I hope so. I think so. I trust so. But as I write these words, the jury is still out.
So now then, let’s head into a new phase of our cancer journey, the infusions and more chemo pills stage.
We meet with a nice gentleman who is going to walk us through some of the side effects that may or may not happen. He has a type of brochure and step-by-step, he covers it all. And I mean all! Basically (at least to me) the side effects could range all the way from absolutely none at all to gee, I might fall out of the chair right now and leave the planet.
OK, that’s a little dramatic. Suffice to say, there could well be some interesting side effects going forward. And so there were.
The plan was to have five chemo infusions, one every three weeks over fifteen weeks. The infusion would take about two hours at the Prairie Center. Along with that, I’ll be taking 10 chemo pills, basically daily.
Oh yeah, the side effects. I haven’t had any super bad nasty ones. So far, no throwing up, no absolutely sick to my stomach. Yes, the ‘bathroom habits’ issue remains. I’m experiencing neuropathy, which is a numbness in the hands and feet. For me, especially the feet and lower legs. Not overwhelming, but certainly annoying. If I’m walking (lumbering really) and holding my arms out, I’d look like a skinny, wrinkled Frankenstein’s monster. Which, come to think of it, would be a lot of fun at Halloween.
But the really interesting side effect is that for about the first week after an infusion I can’t touch anything cold. I’m serious. They told us about this and I found out for real.
After the first infusion, we drove home and on the way picked up burgers and fries. At home, I opened the fridge to get the ketchup and…wow!
I dropped that thing in an instant. It felt like I had touched dry ice or touched the burner on the stove. I mean it was instant. And for that first week, I can’t drink anything cold. They told us that if I did, it would feel like my throat was burning and I’d think I was choking. OK, that ketchup bottle taught me a lesson. So, it was room temperature water and room temperature Gatorade. Do you know how delicious that is? Not very.
But all-in-all, the side effects aren’t as bad as they could be. And that, my friends, is what I call a blessing.
This cancer trip I’m on is a rollercoaster. There are good days and then there are the not-so-good days. There are days of laughter, of joy, of knowing it’ll all be OK. There are days of reflection, tears, crying, of not knowing if it’ll be OK.
And strangely perhaps, this cancer trip has revealed to me how incredibly blessed I am. I have a family I don’t deserve, my most cherished loved ones. I have more friends than I can count who have my back.
And so the journey, my journey, continues. As I write this, I have more chemo infusions to complete, more chemo pills to swallow. And surgery? Possibly. No, I need to be truthful. Probably.
And then? Who knows. Only God.
Oh, one final thing: If you’re over 45 years old, get a colonoscopy. Don’t put it off, don’t think about it, just do it. Don’t be me. Don’t be an idiot.
Email questions or comments to me at: randy@kxrb.com
Bless you,
-Randy
May 30, 2024
Howdy, everybody!
I thought I'd give you an update on my situation since I haven't been able to shoot the breeze with you in quite some time, playing that real country music variety we all love and of course our 'Mess Mandatory Merle!'
As you know (or maybe not), I was diagnosed with Stage III Colo-Rectal cancer back in early March. Not the kind of news an 'ol bald skinny guy like me likes to hear, but I became a member of the Cancer Club (five years ago my brother also became a member and he's still upright and walking the planet, bless his heart).
And so the journey began. I've made it through the twenty-five radiation treatments and the first 150 chemo pills in pretty doggone good shape. The big thing is, I've never had a problem with too much weight (I'm on the slender side) and now it's become a real tussle. But all-in-all, I'm doing ok.
Now I'm into what I call Phase Two of this cancer trip. I'm having several months of Chemo infusions along with more...wait for it...Chemo pills! So for me, 2024 will go down as the 'Summer of Chemo'. The good news is, all seems to be rolling along.
And the blessing in all this? There are many. I have the best family, better than I deserve (You've heard me talk on-air about them). And so many friends, including all those here at the radio ranch. I'm just bummed I'm not there daily to continue to impart my old-man wisdom on Andy and Christine, but they'll have to struggle along.
And I miss you, the McDaniel Mess' listeners who put up with me every afternoon. You and I have a particular special relationship I cherish. I appreciate your prayers, wishes, and support.
So to wrap up (geez, doesn't this guy ever shut up), I'm going through what some of you (or someone you love) have gone through. And, God willing, all will be well.
There are good days and not-so-good days. But please know, that I appreciate you.
- Randy
Mar 14, 2024
I’m early into this journey and the roadmap is still being written.
Randy's Minnesota Memories
Gallery Credit: Randy McDaniel
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