Lots of things have happened since the last issue of Letters. The holiday season was very good to us, but at a regular check-up in mid-November, my doctor discovered spots on my chest and shoulder he didn’t like. He did a biopsy on one–a large area that was pink in color, the shape of a triangle, and the size of a silver dollar. Go figure—pink triangle—Ha! He took two biopsies and sewed me up, then sent them away to be tested for that dreaded disease—The Big C—cancer. Nervous? Sure. Worried? Kinda. Results could take a week to 10 days. The results came in—seems I had basal cell cancer on the shoulder. He advised me to check out a plastic surgeon. He suggested two, I called one. I decided to ask around about his work. Some of my clients had procedures done by him and were pretty pleased. I called to make an appointment. Two weeks.

Now we were getting near Christmas. In the meantime, I went back to my doctor who removed the stitches. Some of the stitches had pulled apart and it looked quite ugly. Oh, and did I mention that I wasn’t allowed to work-out for 3 weeks while it healed? Oh yes, no lifting—at all! The area wasn’t pretty, and we were leaving for Dallas the following week.

We went to see the plastic surgeon, who’s a pretty nice guy. He looked over the area and said it was a large one to work on. Nick questioned the procedure, but the surgeon assured him that he could make just a small scar show on my shoulder. I just wanted it over with. The surgeon then remarked about the little boo-boo on my chest. I told him that two doctors had told me it was a sebaceous cyst. The surgeon still wasn’t satisfied with that response. We set up an appointment to have the shoulder spot removed when we got back from Dallas the week after Christmas. Because the stitches had pulled apart, the shoulder spot bled a lot and wouldn’t heal.

We had packed up for the Christmas Eve plane ride, and were ready to go. Our plan was to stay with Nick’s sister Mary, and her family, for six days. Then it was on to Nick’s dad’s place for two days, and to Nick’s best friend Mark’s for New Years Eve.

When we left home, we left behind beautiful temperatures in the mid 60s and 70s, and sunny skies. We landed in Dallas with haze and temps in the low 40s—hey, what’s going on here? It stayed pretty much chilly–the lows at night in the 20s. They had "our" weather and we had "their" weather. Anyway, we had plans to keep busy while on vacation. It’s always great to meet Nick’s family, there’s no problem fitting in as they are all welcoming and all inclusive.

We worked out at one of those old mom and pop gyms called "Strouds." Because Nick was a former member, they allowed us to work out for free. That’s pretty good, considering that the gym Nick and I had been members of was bought out, then closed. We were out of luck on that one. Strouds’s was clean and friendly, and many of the Big Boys trained there. We ran into Johnny Jackson, a Mr. Olympia contestant this past year. Many powerlifters trained there so Nick was in his glory. They had all the big toys for the big boys as they say. It was nice, and worth the drive to the other side of Dallas. We were told that Mr Olympia, Ronnie Coleman, owned a gym not far from this one.

My shoulder looked like hell, but I trained on it anyway—it felt good to pump some iron. The shoulder didn’t bother me, it just wouldn’t heal and looked kind of angry.

We had time to check out the Body World exhibit at the Dallas Science Center. This is the exhibit I wrote about in a Letters article last year. We went with Nick’s sister Mary, and Matt, a brilliant massage therapist who really knows his stuff. The Body World Exhibit is amazing and it sends chills down your spine when you see the displays.

We were totally enjoying our stay in Dallas, until the Friday before New Years. Seems a cold and a warm front were colliding over the metropolitan area producing torrential downpours, very loud thunder, and vivid bright lighting. We got the added bonus of tornadoes—yep, folks—tornadoes. Six were spotted in the Dallas-Ft. Worth vicinity during the day. Nervous? You bet! TVs kept flashing warnings throughout the day until it cleared out. The cold front won out, back to chilly temps.

We went to the Dallas Eagle for New Years; it was nice. We boarded the plane to head home on the third of January. It was nice to get back home.

My surgery date came up fast. The plastic surgeon had me come in at 7 a.m. He checked over the spot on my chest again and said it looked cancerous. He asked me if I wanted it removed, and Nick and I said to take it off. Off it came. The surgeon said he could only remove one at a time. He sent out the specimen and said he’d call. The call came three days later—it was cancer. I’d have to heal for two weeks before he could do the shoulder.

No complications from the chest surgery—what a relief! The second surgery was

scheduled exactly two weeks later. This was much more involved—much larger area and a delicate part of the body—right on the top of the deltoid. The worst part of it all was the numbing of the area, multiple needles were needed to de-sensitize the area he was working on. Just last week they took out the stitches and it’s amazing what it looks like. There may not be a recognizable scar.