(This is part 8 of a series. You can read the previous part here.)

We had a great morning at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute today. I had been anxious all week about this visit, and I had some kind of weird premonition that something would be awry. So after we made it to DFCI at 5:45am for a full morning of thee CTs, two MRIs, and a blood draw, and the preliminary report from Dr. Enormous Brain was, “Yes, I think it all looks good. Not sure what these little things are because the neuroradiologists haven’t read the scans yet, but the thoracic radiologist and I think that’s probably a blood vessel or something” we were both overjoyed! Relief! I could stop clinching.

We went to lunch at The Mission Bar and Grill and enjoyed a delicious cucumber martini (Heidi) and Diet Coke (me—because I was running on fumes at that point—did you catch the 5:45am arrival time, which required departing Connecticut at 3:30am?). Throw in the shrimp Cilantro Lime Shrimp Salad for Heidi and The Mission Burger for me, and we had one humdinger of a lunch. And the bartender was very friendly, too!

On a whim, Heidi checked to see if the final reads had come back for the MRIs, and indeed, they had. She started reading at the top. I jumped to the last chapter. “Oh, shit.” That’s all I could say.

“What? This?” she said, pointing at the Big Word Description at the top.

I pointed at the bottom line: “…are most likely metastatic tumors.” Tumors. Plural. My innards went wobbly, and Heidi and I both began to sob quietly on the barstools with each other. I’m sure that the bartender has seen that happen there before, and it happened again today.

So that’s what a falling shoe sounds like. Silence. Quiet muscle spasms racking our bodies as we silently and tearfully recognized that the day we had been dreading… the first of the many that we have been dreading… had actually come. Our first of the worst fears had been realized.

We were fortunate that we were at DFCI which, though it is an enormous cancer institute with thousands of specialists and caregivers and patients, had enough time to see us again. We called and left a message for Dr. Enormous Brain, who had clinic hours continuing into the afternoon, and his coordinator called us back to say, “Come on up. Wait and he’ll squeeze you in.” And so we did. And indeed he did, too. He came out to the waiting room, retrieved us, and said in a compassionate way, “Well. That is not what I was hoping for.”

Though he was squeezing us in, he carefully reviewed the notes from the radiologist with us, helped us understand that the tumors are 2mm in size (which is very small, and very early days yet), and described some of the possible treatment plans. In the intervening days (I am finishing this several weeks later following that visit) we have returned to DFCI to consult with Dr. Zapthetumor, the radiological oncologist (another enormous brain!) and he’s expanded our knowledge of what’s going on exponentially.

Essentially, there are four combinations of changing drugs and zapping tumors. They are: change drugs, zap tumors; change drugs, don’t zap tumors; don’t change drugs, zap tumors; don’t change drugs, don’t zap tumors. Add in wait/don’t wait, and there are really eight paths.

Let’s do a rundown on the possibilities, starting with drug changes.

First, should she change drugs? Well, really, is there a reason to? Her current drug is crizotinib. It is doing very well at controlling the tumors in her body. From the neck down, all’s currently in check. Crizotinib doesn’t cross the blood/brain barrier particularly well. That’s an amazingly hard-to-cross physical barrier between the bloodstream and the brain tissue. It really does a great job of keeping everything out of the brain that shouldn’t be there, and only admitting the good stuff to the brain. You know, oxygen, nutrients, and so forth. However, some drugs don’t make the cut particularly well, and crizotinib is one of them. There are several other drugs that do make the crossing well: lorlatinib, entrectonib and reprotrectonib, all newer drugs of the “…nib” type. They can cross that boundary and, in theory, can find these two tiny tumors in her brain and kill them with carefree abandon. So why not go ahead and switch to one of those?

There are four reasons not to switch:

1 - Each one comes with more side effects than the crizotinib, which she’s tolerating pretty well.

2 - Every new tyrosine kinase inhibitor (TKI) that she starts means that she can’t go back to one that she’s already been on, so it’s forward motion only, so that’s the downside. Weight gain, neuropathy (tingling and numbness in fingers and toes, for example), and other unpleasant side effects can happen, but they’re not guaranteed, nor are they worse than death. So lorlatinib has a pretty good upside. If it works.

3 - We think that the more TKIs she’s been on, the less likely she’ll be accepted into a study for a drug which is entering clinical trials (we hope!) this fall. I am hypothesizing that the more confounding factors involved in her previous treatments, the less likely the statisticians will recommend her as a good candidate for the new drug’s trial.

4 - We don’t know how effective the new drug will be in general. Remember that none of these “nib” drugs were specifically designed for ROS1 fusions. Really?! Yep. They were all designed for ALK mutations and they happen to work against ROS1. There’s a risk, though pretty small, that the new drug won’t be as effective.

So, stick with crizotinib.

Second, there’s the question of what to do to the two 2mm tumors in her brain. They are very small: 2mm is a bit thicker than a penny, so they’re very, very small. (Note to Dr. Inthedark, the enormous brain who read those films: Thank you! for finding those minuscule spots!! Every doc we’ve met with who saw those spots says they were impressed that they were found in the first place! In fact, Dr. Zapthetumor said that they are at the hairy edge of being visible on an MRI—a 2mm spot is as small as can be detected!)

I’ll start with the punchline first: Dr. Zapthetumor said to wait and get another MRI six weeks after this one because there are several unknowns:

1 - Are these two spots real, and might they go away on their own? In answer to the first question, they are most likely real and not necessarily an artifact of, say, the angle at which Heidi’s head was placed in the MRI. Two of them appeared at the same time, which is too coincidental to ignore. And in answer to the second question, yes, they could. Crizotinib does have some effectivity on the other side of the blood/brain barrier, but that’s a low probability outcome. Could they just get absorbed somehow? Yes, that’s happened, too, according to others in the ROS1ders group. So a second MRI is necessary to see if they’re real and if they’re still there to treat.

2 - If these two spots are real, how fast are they growing? If they’re growing quickly, then intervention is necessary sooner than later. Again, since our goal is to preserve Heidi’s candidacy for the clinical trial this fall, we might want to delay until the study gets to say “Zap em!” or not. However, with larger size comes greater risk to surrounding tissue during SRS and greater the chance that neurological effects (when the tumor’s around 20mm or so, roughly the diameter of a penny) may be observed, so there’s a delicate balance here. Also, Dr. Zapthetumor said that the trials he’s known of have asked that SRS be performed before the trial. So we don’t know much more than that.

3 - Are there more of them? If so, how fast are they appearing? We only have two snapshots in time separated by six months, so we have no idea whether there are more, tinier tumor seeds lurking elsewhere in her brain. Beyond a certain number of lesions (fancy word for “tumors”), you don’t get to use SRS and have to look at whole-brain radiation.

Err… es-squeeze me? SRS? Whole brain radiation?! Like, Three-Mile Island?!

Yes. Well, sort of. So let’s take a moment to talk about radiation.

Every minute of every hour of every day, you and I are bombarded by radiation. It comes naturally from the sun, from our environment, from electrical devices and radio stations, and really there’s no way to avoid it. Most of that radiation, if not all, has absolutely no effect on us. But when a cell is exposed to a high enough dose of radiation, the cell is damaged beyond repair and it dies or mutates. (Of course, in the case of cancer, we hope to kill the cell, not have it mutate!) What is “enough”? Well, it’s a function of both time and intensity. Expose a cell to a low dose of radiation for a long enough time, and it’ll die. Expose a cell to a high dose of radiation for a short time, and it’ll die. Keep that time-dose exposure low enough, though, and not much happens.

The least-invasive and lowest-side-effect means of killing cancer cells in the brain is to do what is known as stereotactic radio surgery, or SRS. The procedure is entirely non-invasive and uses upwards of 200 very small beams of radiation to kill cancer cells. The procedure works because each of these 200 small beams isn’t strong enough to do much harm to the tissues it passes through. However, where all 200 of them intersect, there’s a lot of radiation and the cells in that intersection are killed. If you want to see how this works for yourself, next time you have a campfire, shine two flashlights through the smoke at each other. You’ll notice that the beams are brightest where the two of them intersect. That’s exactly what SRS does, except with 200 very low-power beams of radiation so that where they intersect, you get 200 times as much radiation.

I asked three questions about SRS which I hadn’t been able to find on the web.

First, what’s the resolution of SRS? It’s 1mm, which is amazing (to me, anyway), which means that that 2mm lesion can be zapped, and a minimal amount of tissue around the lesion will be touched.

Second, when a tumor is removed from the body, a “clean margin” is established around the tumor. The margin is determined by microscopic examination of the tissue to see that there are no cancer cells at the edge of the removed tissue. Since you can live without good chunks of each organ in your body, that’s OK below the neck. But in the brain, since all brain tissue is important, the minimum amount of tissue is zapped because you might zap something important, like Aunt Irma’s recipe for carrot cake, and that would be a tragedy. (Or walking. You know, nothing all that important.)

Third, what’s the upper limit to the number of lesions you can treat with SRS? Right now, that number seems to be about six. Why six? There’s a lot of computation that goes into making sure that the current treatment doesn’t intersect with any other ray from any other treatment. Why not? Well, same reason as before—the more radiation that a cell gets, the more damaged it becomes. However, at DFCI, they’re experimenting with a randomized group of patients where they think they can treat up to 20 lesions before damage becomes a problem.

Then what about whole-brain radiation? How do the cancer cells get zapped and not the good brain cells? Well… they all do, and nobody really knows enough yet. There are very likely to be long-term side-effects of whole-brain radiation. So we’d really, really, really like to avoid it.

There’s a lot that will go into the decision whether to use SRS or WBR and when, which led to another one of my questions, Is there a risk of leaving these tumors there? Will they spawn other tumors? The simple answer is, No, they won’t, but they might get bigger and require intervention anyway. Wait a minute… how’d they get there in the first place? What I didn’t know is that when you talk about a metastatic cancer, what you’re saying is that the cancer from one part of the body left that part of the body and is now found somewhere else. These things in Heidi's brain are most likely not brain tumors, but likely are lung cancer cells growing in Heidi’s brain. Weird. What that means, though, is that they travelled north from her lymph nodes through the bloodstream until they got caught in the brain and started to grow there. (There’s a fancy word with the root of “hemo” which I can’t remember for this activity of wandering about via the bloodstream.)

And there you have it. Wandering cancer cells, zapping tumors, the blood brain barrier, and hope.

Speaking of hope, someone asked me how we cope with this. Heidi is an effervescent ray of sunshine and somehow “optimistic”s her way through things, and if there’s one thing that you apparently need as a cancer patient, it’s optimism. (Tell somebody about cancer, and without a scintilla of expertise, they’ll assert that you need to keep your spirits up and to be positive—whether it’s true or not.) Me? I bury myself in the research and look at all possible avenues, and as long as there’s an avenue, I’ve got hope. I can tell you that I don’t place all my hope in science and that I have a good deal of faith in God, too, because there are just too many variables of the cancer's progression (or regression!) for any of us to have true control of what's going on.

Only One has that kind of power.

It's Called "Scanxiety"

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(This is part 7 of a series. You can read the previous part here.)

D-2 Days

In two days' time, we'll be back at the Fortress of Cancer Research, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. There we will meet with Dr. Enormous Brain. Heidi's blood will be sampled and analyzed using  Heidi's body will be examined using magnetic fields, radio waves, and X-rays. Dr. EB will look upon the results and declare, "Hmm, not bad," or something along the lines of, "Well, that's not so good."

I understand scanxiety, though I'm not the one undergoing the tests. During the beginning of the week, she was upbeat, positive that the results of Friday's scans will be good. In my engineering head, I know there's no real way for her to know unless something is bad enough for her to notice. But until then, it's really a tossup governed by the biochemistry—or "biochem-mystery"—that is the functioning of the human body. Amazing stuff, but pretty darned unpredictable. Certainly not predictable enough to say, "Yep, it's all going to come out well on Friday."

D-1 Day

It began to affect her yesterday. The anxiety was beginning to peek through. She got angry where she would have merely been annoyed. Weepy instead of dry-eyed. That sort of thing. And it really manifested itself more today when she admitted to her anxiety.

I began to ponder what I will do if the results are anything less than neutral at worst. Am I ready to handle the renewed concern, anxiety, worry? Can I handle not knowing what is in store without imploding myself?

As I ask myself these questions, it dawns on me that the answer does not lie within, but without. You can't derive peace from turmoil. I would liken that to standing in the middle of a sandstorm and trying to have an intimate moment with your spouse. Yell at the sandstorm, shield yourselves as much as you might, but it's not going to help. Instead, you have to look to God for the ultimate peace—the peace, as the Bible says, that passes all understanding.

D-0 Day

It is the morning of the scans and our visit to Dana-Farber. You might think that I'd be most concerned about what I will do in Boston for 7 hours while I need to work and she's in the Institute. But, no, that's not my concern. My anxiety is still looking forward to that moment when we have Dr. EB on the phone... well, I'll be on the phone and the two of them will be in the Institute... and he'll say something like, "Well, we got the scans back and..." (Drumroll please. And let me tell you something: HGTV has nothing on this kind of tension with their silly, "We chose... [pictures of each participant, the houses involved, the dogs, the cats, the leaves and rain]... The Little Bungalow!" cliffhangers.)

The reality is that unless something has changed drastically, the Xalkori/crizotanib should still be doing its thing, for a while anyway. We're only about four months into this treatment and median (Or average? I can never remember.) progression-free time is something like 21 months, so we really don't have to worry about that, unless she's an outlier... which she has been in the past... so... [insert anxious music here].

But the MRI is something new, and if there's something that terrifies Heidi, it's brain metastasis. Why? Because Xalkori doesn't cross the blood/brain barrier. It makes good headway between the bloodstream and most (all?) other kinds of tissues in the body, but the brain is a special fortress of solitude, taking in only what it deems worthy, and Xalkori isn't one to make it across that moat. (So maybe "headway" wasn't the best word, huh?) There are other ROS1 TKIs, though, which can cross that barrier, but finding "mets" in the brain would be a pretty significant step... and not in a positive direction.

And so that's where I am. I can feel my anxiety today, which is a bit more than usual. I will pray right alongside Heidi and the rest of you for peace and wisdom, both for me and Heidi and also for Dr. EB and the folks at Dana-Farber, especially those whose journeys are further along and not headed in a good direction. And I'll do my best to be not anxious, because as Paul wrote, "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Amen.

(Don't forget the thanksgiving. We owe a lot of that to Him!)

Continue to Part 8

(This is part 6 of a series. You can read the previous part here.)

I’ve been contemplating the choice between these words over the last few days.  

Yesterday (2/4) was World Cancer Day.

Today—looking back—is the 6th year since my single lung tumor was discovered and I started a Survivor Journey.

Today—looking forward—will be our 3rd day at Dana Farber Cancer Institute. This time for routine (How is that word even used in cancer care?) blood work, CT scans of my entire short torso, and an MRI of the brain.

Tomorrow—the sun will still come up and we will again be grateful for the day that the Lord has made and that we get to be in it. 

On my calendars, 2/5 has the notation of “Anniv #6”.  But my view of that has changed over the last seven months.  

An anniversary is some event that happens every year, each cycle around the sun. Dependable events, ones that are to be remarked upon or have memories revisited.  

February 5th no longer feels like an anniversary of a static event.

Since the recurrence of my cancer seven months ago and the miraculous discovery of the ROS1 RNA fusion, the things that felt like past accomplishments don’t feel just the same. “Cured” was a short step on my Survivor Journey. This is now (and maybe always has been) a dynamic and changeable path, one that we have to follow with Faith with the knowledge that our work and impact here is not yet done.  

So, I think the word milestone is more appropriate now as my confidence that anything will be the same 365 days from now as it is today has changed.

Along the way, we will have many more milestones.

Today—looking back—is the 6th milestone of stumbling upon a tumor that we never would have looked for in a never-smoker. And my life was saved.

Today—just now—is the daily Blessing that there are medical miracles, that my cancer has been typed, and that a treatment is available. (Imagine: Heidi taking a gulp of water and swallowing that big Xalkori pill. It's almost as big as my pinky!)  The ROS1ders have been a light in our lives to know that I have a rare cancer diagnosis but that we are not alone in it.

Today—looking forward—is the 2nd milestone when the scans will come back looking good and my brain will still be clear of cancer and just full of love and faith and quirky humor.

Tomorrow—we will start packing for another milestone trip to favorite places with our loved ones.

I am supremely grateful and know how blessed that I am to have had each of these last 2,190 days. AND I fully expect to have thousands more!

Thank you for all the Hugs and Prayers - they work!

Heidi

Continue to Part 7

(This is part 5 of a series. You can read the previous part here.)

Hi, Y’all!  This is my first foray into blogging and I am not a seasoned pro like Bill.

So we waited and while Bill was posting, the sun set and we waited a bit longer to hear from Dr. EB.

I was in the tenth-floor waiting room. Bill helped pass the time by standing in a visible spot under the Christmas trees on the plaza and waving up at me until I could see him. You can envision the scene for the others passers-by on the ground and the other cancer patients in the waiting area, as we were both standing and staring at some spot and doing a full-length arm wave like we were trying to land a plane. All silently and socially distant, so as not to disturb others! 

And Dr. EB understands the stress of waiting and responded. He called me in at 5pm, a full half hour early! We got Bill on the phone and then braced for the news.

Dr. EB didn’t bury the lede—the scans looked good! Indeed they had to look thoroughly to compare, but the tumors had shrunk and my lymph nodes are now normal-sized.  Pause for a tissue—we were both a bit misty with relief. We both had a silent and not-so-silent, “Thank You God!”  

A few more details of side effect management and review of the radiology notes, and then another reassurance of, "The tumors are normal-sized. The Xalkori is working.”

The waiting is over. The news is good. The prognosis is greatly lengthened. So many prayers and effective warriors have been heard. We can look forward again, and maybe for longer than two months at a time.  

We know that there will be more waiting. But just for now, it is a time for gratitude and celebration! And maybe a really good bottle of wine!

Maybe our next entry can be about a travel adventure and not a medical one. :-)

/Heidi

Continue to Part 6

Waiting

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(This is part 4 of a series. You can read the previous part here.)

For Heidi, the last three or four days have been anxiety-filled. I can't imagine what it feels like, though I have had pretty severe bouts with anxiety myself. Others in the ROS1ders group describe similar anxiety. It's an anxiety that I hope neither I nor you ever have to deal with, though I'm pretty close to it right now: the anxiety associated with finding out if your cancer is progressing or is in remission.

And so I sit here on the rooftop of a garage in downtown Boston near the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. Near, and not in, because I'm not allowed to go in with the patient, Heidi. So while I'm sitting out here, enjoying one of Boston's most beautiful fall days (60°, sunny, clear blue skies, light winds... really quite perfect), she's inside. The good news is that DFCI does their best to ensure that the patient, Heidi, gets tests done in short order and all in one visit.

They called the patient, Heidi, a couple of weeks ago to make the appointment. First, bloodwork at 1:50, please arrive no sooner than 20 minutes prior to your appointment to ensure that there aren't too many people in the building. And the patient, Heidi, will be the only one allowed in. No visitors because you've already had your first visit where the patient, Heidi, can bring a visitor.

After that, go to have a CT scan done at Brigham and Women's Hospital. To get there, go from DFCI to Massachusetts General which requires a vertical traverse of several floors, a horizontal traverse through a bridge, and another vertical traverse through MGH. From there, walk a ways to another bridge to BWH, grab an elevator, and check in on the appropriate floor. We'd like you there at 2:30 so the patient, Heidi, can have 32 ounces of Raspberry-Flavored Barium Contrast. Is that dessert, perhaps?

After that, the patient, Heidi, will see the oncologist (reverse the path above) at 5:30pm. On a Friday afternoon. Yeah, he works long hours. But we're very happy that the patient, Heidi, is getting to see Dr. EB (Enormous Brain) and that he can consult with others in the thoracic cancer unit who have seen ROS1 patients before. It's not a specialty that everybody has because there are just so few ROS1 cases in the world at any one time. (That there's a targeted therapy at all given the low population of cases is, in my opinion, a miracle in and of itself.)

Now, I'm not making fun of any of this. It is wonderful that we're able to drive to Boston on a Friday afternoon, that she can have all of these labs and tests done prior to her oncology appointment in one day on the same visit, and then that she can see Dr. EB who has seen ROS1 patients before. In spite of the fact that I am not allowed to accompany the patient, Heidi, into the appointments for hand-holding and reassurance, we consider this time here in Boston to be a blessing.

And it's beautiful outside. So I can't complain about being out here, either.

However, no matter the circumstances, there's waiting involved. Is the cancer progressing? holding steady? in remission? We won't know for another couple of hours yet.

Imagine that you're the patient, (insert your name here), and try to feel like the patient, Heidi, as she walks the halls of DFCI, MGH, and BWH on her own, stopping to ask for directions (only twice!), being nervous about the tests you're about to have, being stuck with a needle (only once! I must say, these folks have their act together! the blood draw was done with an IV which was left in for anything else that might happen today!), having a scan done in a big machine ("hold your breath.... now breathe") which whirs disconcertingly around you ("whirrrrrrrr WHIRRRRRRRR!!"), and knowing that all of this effort and mental stress that you're going through may end up at the end of the day with a diagnosis which says, "You're progressing, and that's great, Live some more of your life!" or "It's not working. Remember when we said eight months? Well..."

If you can put yourself in her shoes right now, you'll have an idea of what it feels like to really wait.

I wait, too. However, I have work I am doing with a laptop, a cell phone tether, and a big Diet Coke which has melted to ice water at this point. I am distracted enough that I merely wait. Now, at some point, the patient, Heidi, will make a phone call when she's in with Dr. EB, and together we will wait out the last few minutes before his declaration.

OK, I'll be a bit more transparent here: I'm going to have to do some work tomorrow, too, to make up for the fact that I wasn't quite distracted enough by work. So Ipaused to write this and that I, too, might be waiting right now.

I might also be praying, too. In fact, not "might." Am.

That reminds me that the Bible says a lot about waiting. Funny thing, though: the Bible doesn't say anything about waiting for a cancer diagnosis. It talks about "waiting on the Lord." Since the Bible mentions "waiting on the Lord" well over 50 times, it would seem that it's just as difficult, if not more so, to do.

But right here, right now, waiting seems to be much, much harder.

Added 3:56pm: The scan is done... and right now, there's a computer somewhere with all the information in it necessary to make a conclusion. And so we wait some more.

Continue on to Part 5

On The Cusp

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(This is Part III in an everlasting-we-can-hope series on Heidi's journey to a cure for her cancer. Read Part 1 here and Part 2.)

Heidi and I had the privilege of listening to—and asking questions of!—an amazingly talented and smart group of Enormous Brains at Massachusetts General Boston Hospital. Drs. Justin Gainor, Lecia Sequist, Ibiayi Dagogo-Jack, Jessica Lin and Zosia Piotrowska were empaneled for a webinar called, New Strategies in Lung Cancer: Innovations in Clinical Trials, Treatments, and Patient Care and spoke on some of their recent research activities and positive steps they’ve made in the treatment of lung cancer.

I was pleasantly flabbergasted to see a panel composed of 80% women! STEM women ROCK. It should be noted that we have encountered nothing BUT Enormous Brains in our experience at Dana-Farber and its next-door neighbor, Mass General, and these women are four of the superstars in the thoracic cancer treatment department. As Heidi pointed out, these are women who are doing amazing, super-smart thinking and research and clinical work—and they’re also probably making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and trying to get the kids to do their homework, too. Quite the impressive group.

We learned some interesting facts about lung cancer along the way. I hadn’t realized the progress that lung cancer treatment has made in the past decade, but Dr. Gainor introduced the talk as moderator by showing a three-step treatment graph for lung cancer as it existed then. Before about a decade ago, the graph was shorter: “Diagnosis -> Die.” That progression became “Diagnosis -> Chemo -> something-I-couldn’t-read -> Die.” Naturally, his graph didn’t show “die.” I’ve added that step because it’s what happened next—rather rapidly, too.

Then he showed a graph which showed today’s treatment options based on various biogenetic markers and it’s quite complicated. Yes, each of the paths ends in a not-so-great terminal condition, but the length of time in between steps is getting longer, progressing from months (days, really) to years. And tonight and in a few papers I’ve read, we’re learning that there are loops in the treatment protocols which may extend life, with good quality, even longer.

Their work is amazing, certainly! All are working on the treatment of cancers in new and amazing ways, but I think it was Dr. Sequist who is leading the charge in that group for early detection using such never-heard-of-by-me techniques as AI applied to CT scans, inhaled biomarkers which would be detectible in urine, and other sci-fi level testing. I was also intrigued by their predictions for the next five years. I can’t remember who said what, exactly, but there were two predictions that stuck most in my mind. One doctor-cum-scientist said she was most hopeful about the ability to use testing to construct custom treatment plans for each patient’s cancer progression. Using such tests as “liquid biopsies” (which is a neat way of saying “detecting cancers by using blood and other bodily fluids”), being able to track the progression or regression of the disease would allow on-the-fly tailoring.

The other prediction that stuck in my mind was COVID-19-driven, and I apologize to the four panelists because I can’t remember who said it. We are blessed to live within 90 minutes of at least two world-class cancer treatment centers. With the advent of telemedicine and testing at a distance, labs that can be done via FedEx, and so forth, the reach of their care and, importantly for their research needs, their ability to get data from across the globe gives them the ability to help millions more people. We’re looking forward to our next face-to-face visit with Dr. Kehl, but we’re also very thankful that others will have the ability to reach that level of care as well.

In any case, I feel very much like we are on The Cusp of an enormous breakthrough in the treatment of lung cancer, and cancers in general, with the advances in technology that we have at our disposal. I was particularly pleased to hear that these and other researchers are working to do what are known as investigator-led trials. These are trials that are led by independent, institutional investigators, such as the panel we heard this evening. They’re able to work on combination therapies which cross drugmakers’ boundaries, such as the studies led by Dr. Dagogo-Jack who is using multiple drugmakers’ treatments in patients at the same time or in sequence. The other kind of trial (that I’m aware of, anyway) is the drugmaker-led trial, where the corporation is most interested in learning how its own drug works. Now, don’t get all mad at them, that’s the right thing for them to do, and their trials enable studies like Dr. Dagogo-Jack’s... and life-extensions for my wife…

And so every time we read about someone on the ROS1ders Facebook group who didn’t make it to The Cusp, we are saddened and again reality reaches up and slaps us in the face. Our ultimate goal is a long and healthy life for Heidi, of course, but I feel like the short term goal is to get her to The Cusp where some major change in cancer treatments will make a step change in her life expectancy.

This evening’s talk gave us hope that she will one day be able to make it to The Cusp. The Enormous Brains are working on it.

Continue on to Part 4

The Ride is Worth It (Isn't It?)

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(This is the second entry in a surely-to-be decades-long journal. For Part 1, see here.)

We went to Jamaica.

Now, in case those words don't shock you, let me remind you that (a) my wife has Cancer (I like to say she has "capital 'C' Cancer" because I have "lower-case 'c' cancer" which is manageable and probably won't kill me, whereas the opposite is very likely true of hers) and (b) there's a world-wide pandemic involving the coronavirus. Everything bad seems to start with the letter "C" these days, except for cookies and Christ. But this entry isn't about desserts or religion; I'll save those for another day.

Our aim in the coming months, years, and (dare we hope?) decades is to travel, and we began with a trip to Jamaica. The trip was fantastic and, though I'm sure people will eventually catch on that places like the Riu Ocho Rios on the north shore of Jamaica are deserted, we had the place largely to ourselves and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. We have already begun planning our next trip to the Caribbean where tourism has bottomed out and we can spend less on accommodations and more on tips.

The trip was a marvelous high.

Except that one time.

One day, Heidi said, "I have this ache here [pointing to her clavicle]." Instantly, I worried. "I'm sure it's muscular, from where I hauled a bag or something." I still worried. She massaged it a little bit as I realized that this was really the first taste of the down side of the roller coaster, the worry that comes with a new... something.... A diagnosis, a finding on a scan, an ache or pain, or a bruise that wasn't there yesterday. These are all hanging out in the wings, waiting for their turn on stage, where they aren't so well-received until we know what they're all about.

Fortunately, the ache ended, as did the worry. Unfortunately, the vacation ended as well.

The worry stopped pretty quickly because the most-likely-muscular-ache disappeared, but I had just had a glimpse into the life of a cancer survivor and into the life of someone whose next bad day may be as unpredictable as the surprise tunnel on a roller coaster.

Then there are the good days, days when life seems kind of normal, as if the seasons of life could possibly, just maybe, continue to change and proceed unabated. The days where a beautiful drive among the colors of the fall leaves makes you forget that there's a diagnosis that will eventually kill her hanging over your love's head. Those days are the best days.

Then there are days like Saturday when she was slapped in the face by the diagnosis which killed someone else. We joined the private ROS1ders FaceBook group, kind of expecting that the conversation would revolve around helping each other with treatments. There was some of that in our initial scan of the posts on Saturday, but there were several announcements of people whose fingers were pried from their gasp on life by their diagnosis which had, finally, killed them.

Those announcements reached up out of the iPad and slapped Heidi across her emotions with a solid SMACK! as if to say, "You won't be any different! You're going to die! You're a mere mortal and I AM YOUR DIAGNOSIS!" The sting of the slap was visible in the tears that followed and the roller coaster of emotions that she dealt with through the rest of the day and into Sunday. There was nothing I could do about it other than provide hugs and an absorbent shoulder. And yet the strangest things can change the trajectory from tragedy to comedy. These course-changers are as unpredictable as the emotions themselves.

On our way out to the Country House (i.e., my house, which is in the country compared to her townhouse), I said, "I read a tweet this morning which said to take the vowels of an animal name and replace them all with the same vowel. I'll start with 'O.' Chomponzoo." The mood changed, turning 180° on a dime, as Heidi successfully made it into a game--could we guess the animal knowing only what the vowel is? "Kitten" and "O" stumped me because I heard "cotton" and didn't even think that the leading consonant could be a "K." But that's neither here nor there. What's important is that we were on the good side of that hill, and it was the strangest little thing that did it.

Remember the part of the roller coaster when you come up a hill and then make a long slow turn towards the next frightening descent? I sure do. We have those days, too. Some of them are nail biters, such as those following the CT that she had last week. Thankfully, nothing new showed up, and what was there already hadn't gotten any bigger--or smaller.

Then there are the loopy days where the ups and downs come in rapid succession. From the excitement of transitioning from chemo to crizotonib, the ROS1-targeted drug, to dealing with the rapid onset of its side effects and dealing with those. To be fair, her side effects seem to be mild compared to others who are on the drug, but the ferocity of some of them has been a bit surprising. However, even as she begins to get used to the loops, things change and we're on another hill again.

So, yes, just like a real roller coaster, the whole ride is absolutely worth it, even as you go from anticipation to emotional pee-your-pants or laugh-your-head-off scary or fright or glee or to whatever it is that comes next... because you're in this ride with someone else, and hopefully you're in this with someone you love--yes, this ride is worth it.

The ride will eventually come to an end. We're just hoping that we'll be able to get off the ride together.

Continue to Part 3

The Roller Coaster That is Cancer

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It has been a good day. That’s compared to yesterday, which was a not-so-good day. And the day before it, that one was a not-quite-bad day. The day before that? That was a horrible day. The day before that day? Oh, that one was superb.

And thus began the roller coaster ride that is cancer. My fiancé, Heidi, is a cancer survivor. She was accidentally diagnosed five years ago with a stage I non-small-cell adenocarcinoma tumor in her lung. “Accidentally” because she went in for a chest x-ray because she had some pretty serious bronchitis. When she woke up from the surgery which was to remove the newly-found tumor, she was told they’d removed her lower left lobe, which equates to a significant part of her lung capacity. She was a tad dismayed, but when she was told that she was clear of cancer—cured, as it were—she went on her merry way.

…until somebody reviewed what they found in her lung and decided that the lymph system had been involved. And so they threw the kitchen sink at her: chemotherapy with cisplatin. Having survived that with flying colors, she was declared cured pending five years of followup.

In the meantime, she and I met in October of last year. Because of COVID Spring 2020, we had considerable time together, learning more about each other than I think either one of us thought possible in such a short time. She watches out for my health, and I watch out for hers. Neither one of us is a spring chicken, having just turned 50-years-young, but we’re in pretty good shape. She had some bronchitis early this spring with a persistent cough, but that’s about it. And I have an array of weird genetic and non-genetic anomalies that make me just interesting enough to the docs to keep them interested.

And so it would not have been at all surprising to anybody if Heidi had called and declined a 5-year CT scan, saying that COVID-19 “is a thing” and that she feels fine, which she does! But no. Instead, the ever-compliant patient dutifully reported for her final and fifth annual CT scan, the one that decides whether she has earned the label “cured.” A few zaps of the X-rays later, and she was prepared to hear the words,

“Off you go! You’re cured.” Whee! It’s all down hill from here!

What she heard devastated her and me both. Instead of “clear” and “unremarkable,” the words were “concerning” and “suspicious.” Her oncologist called her in and explained that there appeared to be cancer in several lymph nodes. Worse yet, if it really were metastatic non-small-cell lung cancer (mNSCLC), then the treatment plan would be palliative.

Palliative Care is not End-of-Life Care (Even Though it Kinda’ is…)

For those of you not familiar with what palliative care is, let me explain that it’s not the same thing as comfort care, such as is hospice care. What it means is that the treatment is not going to cure the patient and is going to be something that lasts throughout the rest of the patient’s life. But because cancer is a mean and nasty disease, palliative care would last for months, maybe 12-18. And “years” is out of the question.

There was a lot of crying that day. I’m a big man, and yet she and I cried on the floor of her bedroom. The sobs came easily, because why wouldn’t they? Also, I thought palliative care was the same as hospice care, so I was really angry at God. We had met our ideal partners. We’d just started thinking about what retirement might look like. We had committed to each other, regardless of our marital status. Our families had adopted us into the other’s family with such rapidity that we were both amazed. Life was just getting started. Yes, even at 50. This was a blow.

What I didn’t know about her is just how feisty and fierce she really is. At 5’2” (rounding up these days), she is a tiny human, as she likes to say. “Small but mighty!” are her watchwords. And so she dragged me upward out of the anxiety and depression that I sank into. What we did worked well for us; maybe it will help you, too, whether you’re the caregiver or the cared-for.

Mentally Dealing with the Diagnosis

Any time I asked, “How are you feeling?” she would respond with, “I feel well. I’m not anxious. I’m not worried. I’m a little annoyed.” and I would repeat each phrase back to her, “You feel well. You’re not anxious.” and so forth. It became a mantra. It was edited a little bit as time went on. She stayed annoyed for some time because, really? Returning lung cancer? After five years? For a never-smoker? Who wouldn’t be annoyed?!

To this day, we continue this practice. Sometimes we add, “And we’ll be OK.” We don’t really know that in the earthly sense, of course, but we have it on good authority that the long term—eternal, that is—sees us as being more than OK.

Denial Doesn’t Usually Work

The next step, of course, was flat out denial. Well, these are lymph nodes, after all, and she was sick, so isn’t it possible that it’s an infection and the lymph nodes are doing what they’re supposed to do? Her oncologist told us “No,” and the cardio-thoracic surgeon who was consulting with us at the time, and who had performed the lobectomy years before, spotted us a “Well, maybe, but highly unlikely.” The oncologist ordered a PET scan. She reported for that PET scan and we anxiously awaited the results.

In the meantime, the oncologist had ordered a stat biopsy of one of the nodes and an MRI of the brain, but we didn’t know about the MRI yet. Let me tell you on my good authority, you don’t screw around with the emotions of a cancer patient. Here’s how I know.

Don’t Mess with a Cancer Patient’s Emotions

We had arranged a family vacation to Pawley’s Island, South Carolina, right in the middle of a COVID-19 hotspot, for late July to celebrate Heidi’s 50th birthday. My parents, my sister and her family, and the two of us would be there. While we were waiting for the rooms to be ready, a scheduler called from the imaging center (not Hartford Hospital’s, but one that will remain nameless) and asked Heidi when she would like to schedule her stat MRI of the brain and a biopsy to be performed in four to six weeks.

When it’s the scheduler telling you that an MRI to detect brain tumors has been ordered (but not mentioned by the oncology team) and she can’t explain anything, and when it’s the scheduler telling you that your stat procedure won’t happen for a month or so, you tend to explode, but in the nicest way possible. You tend to ask why these orders contradict the ones you know about. You get very sarcastic and cutting. You begin tearing the scheduler “a new one”—in a nice way. You then begin to worry about why the oncologist has ordered an MRI of your head because isn’t the cancer in your lymph nodes in your chest and just what the hell is he looking for in your head that you don’t know about?

At that point, through anger and tears, you call your oncologist who can’t be reached because it seems he’s on vacation again (well-earned—we get it!) and the oncologist’s MA turns out to be the most helpful person in the world. Kudos to Kristan; she figured out what was going on and to make a long story short, the scheduler had no idea what she was talking about, the scheduler wasn’t supposed to have called the patient at all, and Kristan would have been able to help if things had gone right in the first place.

All was figured out when the MRI was explained off as standard procedure (though we didn’t understand until later) and the biopsy was scheduled for the day after we returned from vacation.

During our vacation, we prayed hard for an infection. Heck, we even prayed hard for COVID-19. Anything but cancer.

And during our vacation, the cardio-thoracic surgeon called and walked us through the results of the PET scan.

It was cancer. No two ways about it; it wasn’t an infection. It wasn’t COVID-19. It wasn’t an erroneous result for somebody named “Peidi Hartain.” It was Cancer. Again.

We cried that day, too, and we prayed for a miracle.

Why an MRI is Needed Even with a PET Scan

That didn’t necessarily make us feel better, but his explanation to us why the MRI of the brain was necessary did make us feel better. The PET scan shows the cells in the body with high metabolic rates. Cancer cells, which eat more food (if you will) and grow faster than other cells in the body, have high metabolic rates. So they show up as bright colors on the PET scan. The other cells that consume a lot more food in the body are the brain cells. The brain lights up like an orange Christmas tree! A ball of sun! A bright light! And now I completely understand why depression, which kicks the brain into overdrive, can cause weight loss! (It normally accounts for about 20% of the body’s energy use.) Looking for an orange tumor cell amongst all the orange brain cells is hopeless, like staring at the sun to see sunspots. (Don’t try that.) And so an MRI is needed to look for masses that are non-brain, e.g., cancerous, in the head.

However, we had some hope left, and we now hung our hats on the glimmer of hope that we had. Because of some other lab numbers that Heidi showed, the cardio-thoracic doc said it could be run-of-the-mill lymphoma, something that is somewhat manageable and has a pretty good prognosis with a lot of folks living five years or more. That’s still not great, but any time somebody tells you that you might have metastatic lung cancer, your assumption is that you’re going to die very much sooner than five years. (And you’d be right for the most part.) The only way to find out what it really is was to do a biopsy, and so a bronchial biopsy would be performed under general anesthesia unless… unless what? I truly don’t remember now because that was about ten years ago and I can’t remember what caused a deviation from that plan.

In any case, a needle biopsy ended up being ordered on one of the axilary lymph nodes/tumors. And so a day after we returned from Pawley’s Island, paradise of the Southeastern Seaboard, Heidi was in an exam room having a needle poked around inside her armpit while her sister and I quaffed a beer at a nearby restaurant.

Never Underestimate the Value of Family

She wasn’t my sister-in-law yet, but she was there for us both. She’d flown up that week to support Heidi and, by extension, me, through some of these more difficult events. Her presence was truly a godsend. Now, if your relatives come and all they do is sponge off you and lie about on the couch all day, maybe having your family come to support you isn’t the best idea. Having Heather here, however, was helluva good. She was calm, pragmatic, and helped us avoid the emotional pitfalls we ran into.

Pretty soon, we got those results, and the answer really was, as her oncologist had expected, mNSCLC. However, the biopsy would be sent out for what is known as “moleculars,” which is a shorthand way of saying “molecular diagnostics.” The moleculars examine the genetic materials of the sample to see if there’s something wrong with them that can be treated. The oncologist told us that day that the previous tumor was PD-L1 and ALK negative. Dammit. There go the most popular treatments including immunotherapy targeted at the PD-L1 gene. On the other hand, PD-L1 is present in more-aggressive tumors (as we learned from the Interwebs and reading many papers online), so maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.

That day was not a good day for the people at the physicians group. Why? Here’s what happened:

We visited the oncology clinic after confirming via E-mail that the appointment would be face-to-face and not telemedicine. We were told, rather rudely, that the visit was supposed to have been telemedicine. The receptionist did confirm with Heidi’s oncologist (to be fair, a wonderful doctor and caregiver), that he would see her and announced to Heidi that “The doctor will see you after all.” It was a rude start to the visit.

The nurse who checked Heidi in was pleasant, and for that we are grateful.

However, after the visit in which the diagnosis was pronounced, the doctor took us to the checkout desk where the scheduler was clearly annoyed to have had her lunch interrupted. We were not greeted in any way. She finished what she was eating. We stood there as something happened on the computer. Still, no greeting or word from her. When prompted to set up a port placement, she was unable to answer Heidi’s questions in a way which did not cause Heidi frustration. We left that clinic with a most dissatisfied opinion of its clerical staff.

Clearly, the staff needed training in patient compassion. This clinic does not deal with runny noses all day; they deal with patients whose diagnoses are life-altering and life-ending. Their attitude should match the nature of their clientele. And if they can’t be bothered to interrupt their lunch to deal with someone who just had a Stage IV cancer diagnosis pronounced, they should have been fired on the spot.

Again, there were tears shed. There were prayers said. And as Heather has oft said, “Heidi, you can’t die yet. You haven’t pissed off the last person you’re supposed to piss off.” Ain’t over ‘til the small lady rings (and presumably pisses you off during the call).

During the visit, a treatment plan was put into place that matched what we had expected, namely chemotherapy. What we were surprised by was that the standard of care for mNSCLC included an immunotherapy drug: Alimta (a chemotherapy drug), carboplatin (a chemotherapy drug) and Keytruda (an immunotherapy drug targeted at the PD-L1 genetic mutation). That last one was the surprise, precisely because of its target, which Heidi doesn’t exhibit. But it helps—the trials say so, and, well, that’s good enough for us.

In the meantime, we got in touch with the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, with our oncologist’s blessing, because if there’s something in the works, in a trial, etc., we wanted to know about it.

Thinking that we’d have the results of the moleculars back by two weeks after the biopsy (which sounded reasonable to everybody), we scheduled an appointment with DFCI and one of their Enormous Brains. (And by “we” throughout, I really mean “Heidi,” because she is super at taking care of these sorts of things. It’s a large part of her life’s work for BrightStar Care of Hartford, her company.) So we ventured north to Boston to visit the Enormous Brain.

Without the moleculars.

Yep, the moleculars were nowhere to be seen. But Dr. EB, a research oncologist specializing in thoracic cancers and who sees patients 50% of the time and researches 50% of the time, spent a good hour educating us about mNSCLC and his thoughts on the origin of this recurrence. His thoughts: for a non-smoker, a lung cancer well-removed, and over-the-top treatment of chemotherapy which was overkill to say the least, it had to be something genetic. He recommended that we go ahead and do a blood test that would reveal if there were any mutant genetic material floating around in the bloodstream. These random bits of genetic material get tossed into the bloodstream because aggresive, rapidly-growing cancer cells are, in my words, careless and messy, throwing DNA and RNA around and making a mess of otherwise-clean blood. The results of that test would take only 7-10 days; we weren’t sure how long it would take for the moleculars to return. It just made good sense.

We learned a considerable amount about targeted therapies at this meeting and it was clear that we should be really hoping for a genetic mutation that is treatable with a targeted therapy. Chemotherapy is a non-specific therapy and targets all cells which are fast-growing. That’s the cancer cells, but it’s also hair cells and lots of other cells that get killed in the crossfire. (Why it doesn’t kill brain cells, I have no idea.) Targeted therapies, on the other hand, work to attach themselves to the genetic mutation and somehow kill the cell or otherwise prevent its reproduction. They have some side effects, too, but they aren’t nearly as destructive as chemo.

To use Keytruda, or not to use Keytruda: That is the Question

Dr. EB also recommended that without the moleculars, we not proceed with the Keytruda for the first cycle of chemo. Keytruda makes lung infections more likely, and some targeted therapies also make lung infections more likely. Because Keytruda has a half-life of 26 days (meaning it’s in the body in large amounts for a considerably long period of time, with 25% remaining at the 52-day point and about 6% at the 104-day point) and because nobody’s sure if the risk of lung infection is additive or exponential, he said that if we used Keytruda, it might prevent the use of a targeted treatment if one were available. 

We agreed. He is Dr. EB, after all.

(To be fair to our local oncologist, I’m sure he’d reached the same conclusion. He’s a smart cookie.)

The best news of all, however inconsequential to her physical health it may have been, was that the three-drug soup prescribed is not so caustic as to require a port placement. What’s a port? A port is basically a piece of plastic that goes under the skin near the upper left of the chest, right about where your fingers rest when you say the Pledge of Allegiance (provided you’re not kneeling). It connects to the vena cava, a very large blood vessel that has lots of room for caustic drugs to dilute before really getting up against other tissues. When you go in for chemo, they poke a needle through your skin and into the port and deliver the drugs through the port into the big pipe. It’s a big convenience for the nurses and protects your veins and skin from the deadly (literally) drugs you’re receiving.

It’s also an emotional hurdle if you had one five years ago and fought to have it removed. It’s a symbol of the cancer’s return. It’s a touchpoint. It’s something you will fight to avoid if you can. And when you’re told that you don’t need a port, you rejoice if your name is Heidi. And that’s consequential to your mental health.

We wandered down to the phlebotomy lab and, as elsewhere, the people were kind and compassionate and willing to explain everything about everything, education seemingly part of their mission. A very nice lady poked Heidi’s arm nearly painlessly and drew the blood to be sent off to California for the testing. After that, we left for home.

Our trip home was subdued because we didn’t learn anything that was particularly promising. On the other hand, we hadn’t learned anything that was negative, either. We gained a little bit of hope in the blood test, learned about genetics and testing and targeted treatment. We also learned that Dana-Farber is a superior organization in every way to any we’ve encountered yet. That’s not saying anything about most of the individual people in the organizations we’ve encountered, but as a whole, these organizations pale compared to Dana-Farber.

Why I Would Go to Dana-Farber Cancer Institute Even if I had to Travel a Long Way

It was clear from the moment we were greeted by the parking attendant to the moment we left and were greeted by the other parking attendant that everyone at Dana-Farber was thoroughly aware that the patient and her family were there because they have a very serious illness, one which is causing mental stress, anxiety, fear, and other emotions which make coping with the myriad details of a complex visit difficult. They made every effort to make our visit as smooth as possible. Each person was efficient and effective in their roles, and yet each person we encountered was pleasant. As we left, we recognized that the pervasive atmosphere was compassion. Every single person we encountered was compassionate toward us. Though the news was no better than we had heard elsewhere, the staff around the doctor at Dana-Farber exhibited respect for the condition of the patient… and showed compassion.

Will the Waiting Never Cease?

After our visit with Dana-Farber, we consulted again with the local oncology group and set up a port-free chemo session. They agreed with Dr. EB that Keytruda would not be given for the first round and most certainly we’d have the molecular studies back sometime soon to determine what to do with the second round. They also agreed with him that a CT would be useful to assess the starting condition at the time of first round of chemo. That would give us a useful reference point to compare to when treatment is done.

Shortly after we spoke to Dr. EB the first time and had the blood draw, we had another call with him to review the results of the blood analysis. It showed almost nothing, with “nothing” being a distinct possibility. Remember that it takes an aggressive cancer to throw off enough genetic material to test? That they didn’t have enough to test is good news as far as we’re concerned. However, the results did say that there was possibly an RNA mutation, but the amount of material was so low that it was just below their threshold to call it a finding. So that report showed, essentially, nothing. And for the reason above, we considered that a good thing.

The local oncology team and Dr. EB are working well together. I do not mean to insult the local folks, either: they are danged smart and I make no comparison about their abilities to the folks at Dana-Farber. They’ve had to call the lab repeatedly to prod forward progress on the moleculars. They’ve had to answer the numerous calls we’ve made to figure out what next steps should be in light of changing circumstances. They’ve done a yeoman’s work in keeping Heidi on the right track. And it is clear that they do care. (I wish I could say the same about their support staff.)

However, the moleculars from the lab never seemed to be headed to us. It was now about five weeks after the biopsy was done, and everybody seemed to think that the results should be back. And yet we waited.

Meanwhile, the first round of chemo was administered without a hitch without a port, and Heidi was happy! Of course, after the steroids wore off, she crashed hard and was exhausted for about three days. We caught up with the oncology APRN the following week and listed off all the symptoms and were told, Yep, that’s normal. (Whew.) Things, overall, had gone pretty well.

The Waiting Ceases

We finally got the report back for the moleculars that day, too, six weeks after the sample was sent to the lab. However, they didn’t look all that great. Of the 44 DNA mutations tested for, she had only one, a PTEN mutation—and there’s no targeted treatment for that… yet. It’s an interesting mutation in that it seems to be present in a bunch of different cancers (including mNSCLC) and is a cancer suppressor. If yours is off, you’re more likely to have cancer cells running amok. And it’s hereditary. (Oh, dear, kids…)

Good news, though: initial studies have shown that cruciform veggies (e.g., broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts) have a compound which is abbreviated I3C that can, through a molecular pathway, turn that gene back on. Of course, to be effective, you’d have to eat six pounds of raw Brussels sprouts daily, so that’s not a likely solution. (There is an OTC supplement, but don’t go out and try it without talking to your doctor, of course! We asked Dr. EB about it and the problem with all of the studies so far is that they’re not in clinical trials, nobody knows whether it will help or harm tumor growth, and it might interact badly with the treatments you’re already on. So, Brussels sprouts in normal quantities, lightly sautéed in butter, please.)

Once we got that report back, we discussed it with the local oncology team and had it sent to Dr. EB with whom we had a third discussion the day before our wedding. (Yes, we got married. Heidi says I’m either brave or crazy. I just say that nobody ever talks about being sane in love and leave it at that.) During that conversation, we pointed out that the RNA results were strangely still pending. We also pointed out that the blood test showed a possible ROS1 mutation… which is an RNA mutation! In other words, there was a good possibly that there was a ROS1 mutation still out there but that the outstanding RNA tests didn’t show it yet. He was hopeful and curious in a very genuine way.

We held off on the port placement again (Heidi just couldn’t emotionally handle the port as a last resort yet) and forged ahead towards chemo round two. One week after our wedding, the local oncologist called and said that he had pestered somebody into giving him a preliminary result from the biopsy, eight weeks after the core sample. And guess what showed up?! Yep! She has a ROS1 mutation in her RNA! Yay! That’s one of the targeted treatable RNA mutations—of which there are only four tested for! He sounded genuinely pleased and happy for us because it is a big deal. The treatments available show an efficacy rate of 70% at slowing or shrinking tumor growth. That’s twice as good as chemotherapy, and some people live for years on these drugs.

Some.

But not all.

However, it’s still wonderful news. His recommendation was to continue with the second round of chemo because it would take a week to get the written report from the lab and then another week to get the drug approved by Heidi’s insurance. In the meantime, two weeks after when she would have round two administered would have passed, and leaving the cancer to do what it wants to for two weeks is not a good idea.

We called Dr. EB and he agreed with everything that the local oncologist said. His one hesitation was about round two, but after we explained why there was a two week delay, he agreed. His one suggestion was to get a second CT scan at the end of the 21 days following the second round so we know what the effect of the chemo is independent of the targeted treatment. At some point, it’s likely that the cancer will resist the targeted treatment, and it’s possible that Heidi’s in the 30%, so having an idea of the efficacy of the chemo is a good idea.

And so here we are. Heidi is ROS1 positive (ROS1+). And we’re learning all kinds of stuff about ROS1 fusions—it’s not really a mutation because some of the curly bits of the RNA have fused together at the ROS1 spot (i.e., normal RNA, just fused together where it shouldn’t be). And the more we learn, the more we can’t possibly believe that all of this stuff works and is self-repairing and so forth without a stronger belief in God. Now, we choose to believe in the God of the Bible. You may choose to believe in intelligent design. In either case, we both agree that this stuff is just too complicated to be random. It’s insanely complex. And yet… it… works….

We learned about a ROS1 treatment with a drug called crizotinib, the brand name of which is Xalkori. (I commented to Dr. EB that the generic names seem to be tongue twisters. He thinks it’s to make it more likely that we’ll call it by the brand name. I tend to agree.) Xalkori a Pfizer drug. And we will be investing in Pfizer because the daily dose is 2 capsules. At $320 each. A month’s supply is about $19,000.

Nineteen. Thousand. Dollars.

But good news! There are coupons available! (Not kidding.)

So remember we prayed for a miracle? No, we’ve not seen if this drug is effective or not, but ROS1+ is a 1% mutation of all non small cell lung cancers. So Heidi is one of about only 1,700 people annually for whom this drug would be useful. Wonder why it’s so high priced? (It’s Pfizer’s third-highest grossing drug.) Me too, but I have a good understanding of supply and demand, the economics of patents and research, and I’m not surprised that it’s expensive.

I am a little taken aback that it’s that expensive.

But we are both blessed with health insurance. And we have been blessed with each other and the support we’ve been able to give each other.

Thanks be to God.

We’ll continue to update my blog as we progress. I know this is a big brain dump, and you can see that it’s a bit of an emotional roller coaster. There is much left to come.

Resources

If you are a lung cancer patient, find a support group.

If you’re a caregiver, find a support group, too. It’s an emotional road. You’ll need your own Heather.

And donate to the American Lung Association. Please.

Lastly, if you’re ROS1 positive, check out the ROS1ders. This is a small group of people who are distilling a lot of deep science and drug info into regularly-updated summaries. Support them, too, with your time and talents.

Continue to Part 2

[Edited 9/11/2020 to clean up some punctuation, extra-long sentences, spelling (though I’m sure I’ve missed some), and such. WNE]

Last night was a particularly bloody night for me as I sat on the Tolland Town Council and faced some rather harsh criticism from those in attendance. There were lots of things said which bothered me, but the one line of questioning I faced from one member of the “crowd” (whereby I mean, “six to eight members of the public in attendance”) that bothered me the most was one in which I was asked, “If 95% of the town agreed on something, and you were against it, would you vote against it?”

I’ll admit, I didn’t do a good job of answering the question last night, as I tend to get flustered when faced with a direct line of questioning, especially in a hostile environment. And I veered off on a tangent for a while about how we have a representative democracy, but that doesn’t really answer the question. I managed to get a, “Yes, I would” out, and that’s the short answer. Though I was sure of that answer, I wasn’t sure of exactly why that was my answer. I eventually solidified my position on the matter, but by then it was well after midnight and the Council meeting had ended over three hours prior. Such are my sleepless nights after Council meetings. (And yet I’ve volunteered for this job. Twice.)

So what did I arrive at? I finally arrived at the conviction that:

(a) I would neither ignore nor be ignorant of popular opinion, meaning that I could not, in good conscience, put my blinders on and plow down my row without acknowledging and understanding the popular opinion, and without understanding where my opinion and popular opinion differed and why my opinion still held sway over popular opinion.

(b) I would still vote contrary to popular opinion if I believed, after weighing my opinion, popular opinion, and the relevant facts, that the popular opinion was not in the best interests of Tolland. At the end of the vote, it’s the best interest of Tolland that I have at heart, and I will do my utmost to protect that interest, even if it means voting contrary to popular opinion.

I was absolutely taken aback that the expectation was that I would simply cave and say, “No, I’d just vote however popular opinion tells me to vote.” That is not—nor has it ever been—how this country, this state, or this town have been governed, for better or for worse. People who favor a direct democracy will tell you that we’ve been doing it wrong (“for worse”), but the job I volunteered for and was elected for is that of a representative democracy, a democracy where I represent those who elected me. Does that mean I ignore facts in favor of popular opinion just so I “represent?” Absolutely not. It would be as irresponsible of me to govern solely by popular opinion as it would be for me to govern solely based on everything but public opinion. Instead, I believe that I am called upon to weigh my opinion, public opinion, and everything else in making my decisions, and that is what I will continue to do.

For those of you (or the one of you, anyway) who find this position troubling, I encourage you to see the benefits of having someone in an elected position who will weigh the opinion of the 5%, the opinion of the 95%, and the facts of the matter and make a decision based on all available input, and not just on the input you agree with. One day you may find yourself in the 5% and wish that all governance were conducted in such a balanced fashion. And if that day comes and I’m around, know that I will be glad to hear your minority opinion right alongside the majority opinion, and we’ll talk through the matter, and I’ll make the best decision I can, whether the 95% agree with it or not.

Bad Assumption, Good Outcome

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As I was stopped at an eternal red light on my way to work the other morning, I saw two kids in the distance. They’d stoop to pick up something and then hurl it at each other.

In my mind, I flashed back to being about 8 years old, and I was instantly aghast that I was witnessing kid vs. kid cruelty, the kind I could identify with. Emerson and Charlie and I would throw pecans and other tree droppings at each other. It was great fun… for them. I threw… let’s just say they had nothing to fear.

Pretty soon, I drove past them and saw what they were really up to. They were picking up balls and were on opposite sides of a fence. They launched the balls at minor-league pitcher speeds at the fence with the intention of getting the ball stuck in the fence, and I saw one stick in the fence. Success!

What I witnessed transformed itself from cruelty to unbridled joy, the kind of joy that I don’t think I’ve felt since I was a kid.

And I was jealous.

(Download these FAQs as a PDF.)

TOLLAND VILLAGE PROJECT FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS ("FAQs")

Last updated April 23, 2016

 

OVERVIEW

What is the name of the proposed development and what is its purpose?

The proposed name of the development is "The Tolland Village Project."

Its purpose is:

  • to provide a place for residents from many walks of life to enjoy Tolland and to contribute to our community
  • to be an attractive, efficient part of Tolland, with New England-style architecture and green, energy-efficient buildings
  • to provide amenities such as a hotel, a premier restaurant, and a variety of small retail establishments
  • to allow residents to live with fewer vehicles to maintain and clog our roads
  • to answer a need for higher-density housing in a location which does not impact the rural nature of Tolland.

Why have we heard different names (i.e. University Gateway Village, etc.)?

The zoning area in Tolland's regulations is "Tolland Village Area" or "TVA." This doesn't change unless PZC votes to change it.

The developer has shown visuals and used the phrase "University Gateway Village" or "UGV." At this point, he has not submitted an application for development so the name is not decided. He is very open to and wants to hear feedback from Tolland residents.

What is the timeline for the proposed development?

If the various approvals, studies, engineering, and environmental processes go smoothly, the project could break ground in mid- to late-2017 and would be complete in about three years.

What is the mix of residential and commercial space proposed for the development?

The proposed development consists of:

Apartments (67 studio, 112 1-bedroom, 155 2-bedroom, 35 3-bedroom)

20,000 square feet of small retail

50,000 square feet for a hotel

4,000 square feet for a restaurant

What are the proposed apartments going to cost to rent per month?

Rent ranges from about $1,100 to $2,000 for studio, 1-, 2- and 3-bedroom apartments.

How will the proposed development be integrated with UConn?

Other than providing shuttle service to and from the UConn campus, there is no relationship with UConn.

Why was Tolland chosen for it?

In a word, location.

Tolland sits at the crossroads of I-84 and Route 195, so it's convenient for people living in the TVA to commute to both Hartford, Storrs and other towns. It's also in a place where people can simply walk or cycle to future businesses in the Technology Campus Zone.

Did Tolland solicit this proposed development or is it driven by outside parties?

The Town did not solicit this proposal, though the Town has encouraged development proposals for this area for at least ten years.

Why is the Tolland Village Area a good site for this proposed development?

For several reasons.

Because it's commercially-zoned and is served by both sewer and water. This helps support more housing.

Because Tolland needs a greater variety of homes--by law--which means apartments or small townhomes. There are very few properties which can support commercial development, and this is one of them. By putting more available homes here, we're reducing the need to do so in the rest of town.

Because it isn't historically significant or particularly rural. Placing development in other parts of town would ruin the rural nature of the other parts of town which are historical or rural.

What brand of hotel is proposed?

The developer has indicated that Hilton has proposed the ultra-modern Trü-brand hotel. However, he's also said that other hotel brands, including Marriott, are still interested, and that he's heard the feedback that such a modern hotel would not be acceptable to Tolland residents.

What retail stores and restaurants are proposed?

The developer has not engaged with a restauranteur or retailers because the hotel and housing are much more important to ensuring the long-term success of the development. The developer thinks that small stores (coffee shop, deli, specialty sports items, etc.) and offices (medical or professional) operated by Tolland residents will make up the retail stores. Restaurants being considered are Burton's, Gino's, and others.

Does this development include anything on the other side of Merrow Road, behind the Dunkin' Donuts and Gulf station?

No.

How does a development of this nature in the TVA impact other development sites in Tolland, or other existing retail for that matter?

As proposed, the TVA development brings in two anchors: housing and a hotel. These serve to support the restaurant and retail components of the site. Further, they act as a catalyst for additional development in the TVA on the other side of Merrow Road and add a much-needed boost to other retail goods and services already operating in the area.

What is a Zip Car?

"Zip Car" is a brand name, short-term hourly car rental service. They are standard vehicles which accept car seats for kids and have the usual features we expect in modern cars. They accommodate the needs of people who don't need to own a car but have the occasional need to travel farther than a bicycle or walking can carry them.

What are the development's phases?

The proposed development would occur in three phases.

Phase 1 is the creation of the infrastructure, such as securing environmental controls, moving dirt and rocks, and building drainage, roadways, utilities, and the intersection with Merrow and Cider Mill Roads.

Phase 2 is the first phase where buildings would start to appear, including the building on Merrow Road, the hotel, the transportation center, restaurant and as much of the housing element as early market demand drives.

Phase 3 is that last phase of building and would be when the last residential buildings, nearest Cider Mill Road, would be built. 

BENEFITS TO TOLLAND RESIDENTS

How does this development fit into the town's long term strategic plan and vision?

The Town's zoning regulations state that the TVA is to implement the Town's Plan of Conservation and Development, enhance the gateway to the historic Tolland Green and preserve the nature of nearby areas, expand opportunities for economic development and housing in a mixed-use manner for the benefit of stakeholders and the Town, transition use and density between the Green and I-84, and allow for progressively more intensive development in the TVA as it approaches Interstate 84.

Whether it meets most or all of these purposes is subject to a wide variety of opinions, but the Economic Development Commission feels that it meets enough of them to say that the development fulfils the Town's long-term strategic vision and plan.

What is the total of tax revenues to be received if both sides of Route 195 in the TVA are as densely developed as proposed?

The probable tax revenue impact of the proposed development is approximately $2.5 million when fully developed. If something of similar taxable value were to be built across the street, then the impact could be closer to $5 million. Tax revenues could go higher still as this project serves as a catalyst for other development activities in town.

Will the new amenities, food service and retail in the proposed development be open to everybody?

Yes, the village community is open to everybody, whether it is the added specialty retail, the boardwalk or trails in and around the marsh, or the community amenities offered by the hotel. It is a Tolland resource and asset that we may all make use of.

I've heard the phrase "live, work, play" several times. What does that mean?

A place where residents are encouraged to not only live, but also work and play. Why commute to Hartford or elsewhere when you can get what you need and want much closer to home? With the right mix of retail, housing and commercial development, residents will be in the enviable position of working locally, accessing desired amenities locally and being able to enjoy Tolland's natural resources, all within Tolland's borders.

How will this proposed development create economic growth in Tolland?

Three words--Live, Work, Play--describe the path for economic growth in Tolland, and this development plays an essential role in that path.

Live: Making housing available to people of all walks of life is key to growing Tolland's economy. Adult children of Tolland residents can afford to make their homes in Tolland, as can seniors who are looking to downsize. People who wouldn't ordinarily want to buy a house, such as new faculty who haven't achieved tenure status, can make their homes here. This development answers their needs by providing a place for them to live--and keep their money in Tolland.

Work: People who live in Tolland need places to work, and a higher concentration of people near the Technology Campus Zone means that there are going to be businesses interested in Tolland. The Travelers, for example, has expressed interest in opening offices in Tolland's Technology Campus Zone because the TVA is attractive for this very reason.

Play: Residents of Tolland who spend less on transportation and housing have more money to spend on other things, including at restaurants and in shops, spurring growth in retail, restaurants, and professional services, such as doctors and dentists.

None of this will happen overnight, of course, but we must start somewhere, and this development is a great way to begin.

How will this proposed development affect existing Tolland businesses?

There are some obvious positive effects caused by a having a population close to retail and restaurants. Nearby businesses will be able to market to more people who are within walking distance of their establishments, and hotel residents will require restaurants and occasional retail therapy.

Businesses which provide maintenance, construction, landscaping, etc., will also benefit from the presence of a new, large customer.

Current home-based businesses may even find that the retail spaces offered in this development are small enough to provide an affordable stepping stone to a larger space.

What about telecommuters?

For those people who telecommute, the developer plans co-working space in a business incubator style where desks and conference rooms are available as needed.

Why is this proposed development good for Tolland? What are its benefits?

This development benefits Tolland in many ways. For example, it answers the legal requirement to provide more variety in housing stock in a sensible and responsible way without affecting other parts of town. It also will provide anywhere from $1,500,000 to $2,500,000 per year in tax revenue. It may provide more students for our school system, which can make the system more efficient. It may also provide a more-varied population of residents and students, which is important for a well-rounded population.

As explained in another answer, it's also a stepping stone to economic growth in Tolland.

Will the developer pay any permit fees?

Yes. For a project of this size (assuming it is approved as conceptualized) permit fees will be substantial--at least $1,000,000.

Assuming the Town Council approves the fullest abatement possible, how much in tax revenue will be collected?

If the full abatement is approved, taxes will be collected during construction. When the certificate of occupancy is issued for a phase, the abatement begins. Three years later, the developer begins paying taxes gradually each year. Seven years after the certificate of occupancy is issued, the full taxes are due.

Assuming the full abatement is approved to the greatest benefit of the developer, and assuming construction takes three years, taxes collected will be approximately:

Construction Phase:

Years 1-3: estimated at an average of $750,000 per year

Occupancy and Abatement Phase:

(The abatement does not affect the residents who pay full taxes on personal property and motor vehicles during this period.)

Years 1-3: $0 per year

Year 4: $500,000

Year 5: $1,000,000

Year 6: $1,500,000

Year 7: $2,000,000

Full Tax Phase:

$2,500,000 per year

How does this project both take advantage of and help reduce current UCONN traffic on Route 195?

The developer proposes to provide shuttle service to UConn. Also, its close proximity to the the State's commuter bus service allows residents to commute without increasing traffic on I-84.

Why should Tolland residents concern themselves with economic growth in town?

Economic growth in Tolland is extremely important given the stagnant nature of Connecticut's economy and the state of the State's budget. It is highly unlikely that Tolland will emerge unscathed from the next few years of Connecticut's state-level budget cuts. If we want to keep our services (think education, trash collection, etc.) the same, we will be required to raise taxes. If we want to keep our property taxes the same, then we'll have to cut services.

The only way to maintain services and keep property taxes in check is going to be to allow developers and companies to build more taxable properties. This development is one such example which makes highly-effective use of available space, eventually returning around $2,000,000 in taxes per year to the town.

How does economic growth work in general?

Unfortunately, that's an answer that stretches several pages long on Wikipedia. Have a look at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economic_growth.

How will the proposed development be similar to Storrs Center near UConn or Blue Back Square in West Hartford?

It will resemble both in that both are a mix of residential and retail in a small-ish area. However, Storrs Center has a distinct "university feel" to it given the nature of its occupants, and Blue Back Square has a distinctly modern feel to it, with tall, brick buildings. This development will be styled more like a tall New England village, reflecting the traditional nature of the area.

What can a Tolland resident do to show support for this project?

Whether you're for or against the project, you should attend all of the public hearings regarding it and should not be afraid to voice your opinions. 

CONCERNS OF TOLLAND RESIDENTS

Can Tolland support a hotel?

Yes. Extensive studies by the developer support a hotel at this location, even without UConn's close proximity.

How can Tolland support a hotel if the one at UConn already failed?

That hotel, the Nathan Hale, did not fail and was serving UConn's on-campus hospitality needs before UConn bought it to convert it to undergraduate student housing.

The developers have done a $20,000 feasibility study showing viability for a limited-service hotel of 100 rooms is economically sound, one which draws on and benefits from both I-84 traffic and increased activity in the area, including UConn. The Nathan Hale hotel on the UConn campus had little visibility and did not draw on I-84 traffic. And over time, due to the demand for undergraduate housing on the UConn campus, the top two floors of the hotel were rented by UConn to supplement student housing needs in South Campus.

We have empty retail space in town now. Why do we need more?

If you look at the retail space we have in town, you'll notice that none of it is within reasonable walking distance of a large part of the town's population. You'll also notice that the spaces that we have available are quite large--if you wanted to open a small shop with a storefront, you'd have very few choices available to you. As a result, this type of retail is completely missing from Tolland's amenities, a shortcoming which is addressed by this development.

Is UConn proposing this development?

No. UConn is not a part of the development. However, people who work and learn at UConn will definitely be served by the development and will provide some highly-qualified tenants and neighbors for Tolland.

What tax incentives will Tolland be expected to provide to the project? When will the town start collecting tax revenue from the proposed development?

The Town Council has to approve the tax abatement program (also called a tax incentive program) after an application is received by the Planning and Zoning Commission, and if the project gets that far, it's quite likely that it would do so. So let's assume that the full amount of abatement is approved.

If so, then the property taxes are waived for the first three years after the certificate of occupancy is issued. In year 4, the developer pays 20% of the taxes due. In year 5, the developer pays 40%. Year 6, 60%. Year 7, 80%. And in years 8+, 100%

Does the developer own all the land required to make this project a reality?

No. A 7 acre parcel owned by the Town is necessary to implement the full development. The Town has a vested interest in ensuring this parcel is part of the development because it will (a) allow the development to connect to Cider Mill Road which enhances the flow of traffic between Cider Mill and Merrow Roads and (b) substantially increase the tax revenues from the added buildings on that parcel.

What if I do not like the development as currently proposed?

Landowners in the TVA have a right to develop their property to the fullest extent of the TVA regulations.

This development, however, has a lot that has to go right in order to make it happen. First, the developer needs zoning changes to achieve the density of housing required to make the development financially feasible. Second, the developer needs a parcel of Town-owned land (addressed in another answer). Third, the developer needs approval of the area and site plans. Finally, the developer needs approval of the tax abatement.

None of these steps is a "sure thing."

Why this developer? Why this plan?

Basically because this developer is the first one to conceive of a plan which is financially viable. Properties in the TVA have been available for decades, the TVA regulations have been around for years, and yet developers haven't flocked to Tolland. This developer, on the other hand, is the first one to show serious interest and commitment to both the project and the community. So while somebody else might be clever enough to propose something better--or even much worse--for these properties, we couldn't know unless that proposal came forward instead.

What about impact on town infrastructure and services such as schools, roads, water, sewer, police and fire?

Let's take these categories one at a time. (All of the impacts outlined below are estimated, if an estimate is even possible.)

Schools: The developer estimates about 75 students will be added to Tolland's school district. If we look to the literature, a study by Mark Obrinsky and Debra Stein of the Joint Center for Housing Studies of Harvard University states that students add about 29 students per 100 apartments. Interestingly, in single-family, owner-occupied housing, that number is 51 students per 100 houses, so this development may be less fiscally impactful than a similar number of houses or townhomes.[1] Statistically, the effect on Tolland's schools would be to add eight students into each of the 13 grades served (Pre-K to 12). At current enrollments and current class sizes, this averages out to be less than one student per classroom. (Note: These are estimates which have not been endorsed by the Tolland Public Schools or the Board of Education.)

Traffic: While Obrinsky and Stein also give figures for traffic volumes, estimating that the apartments would cause anywhere from 198 to 241 cars entering or exiting the development during peak hours, this is a development whose focus is on sharing cars and mass transit. These numbers may be insignificant compared to the 10,000 cars which go through the Green each day. Only a traffic study will reveal the likely impact.

Roads: The intersection where this development will connect to Merrow Road will require a traffic signal to be installed at the expense of the developer and in cooperation with the state's Department of Transportation. The area it is in is already badly in need of additional traffic controls (left turns out of Papa T's/Village Spirts/NAPA plaza, Dunkin' Donut, etc., are very difficult at times), so this light may help alleviate some of the turning motions of vehicles from these other businesses. Again, only a traffic study will tell the impact, especially to Cider Mill Road.

Beyond the traffic, the town will have to plow an additional road. As proposed, this road adds less a quarter mile to the 134 miles the town already cares for. The impact will be minimal.

Water: The water supply to this property is provided by Connecticut Water Company and is well-capable of handling the anticipated load.

Sewer: One advantage of this location is that it is one of the very few locations in town with sewer service. Sewer analysis would be done by an engineer and the town. It is likely that the developer will need to install a pump station on the property, but otherwise the sewer capacity is expected to be adequate.

Police: Obrinsky and Stein state that there are few studies addressing the relationship of apartment complex crime rates to overall crime rates, but cite two studies that find no differences between the two. Public Safety has already been involved in the discussion and believes that no additional personnel will be required, though the developer has offered a State Trooper sub-station in the development for convenience.

Fire: These buildings will be required to be protected by sprinklers and Tolland's 105' aerial truck in the station on Merrow Road is capable of protecting the taller buildings in this development. These buildings will also benefit from the latest fire code-compliant construction techniques and materials to provide the highest levels of occupant safety.

Will our schools become overcrowded again?

Highly unlikely. See the question relating to impact to town services.

Will crime in Tolland increase as a result of this proposed development?

A Trooper sub-station (a satellite office) has been proposed, but no additional personnel will be required.

How will this proposed development affect the rural character of Tolland?

The buildings will be situated on less than 20 acres of land which is less than 0.07% of the total area of Tolland. If Tolland were the size of a football field, the development would be about the size of a full-sized bedsheet.

If you're driving north on Merrow Road from the Interstate, you'll be able to see the buildings. The tops of some will be two to three stories higher than Merrow Road. They will, however, look like New England-style buildings with siding, dormered windows, etc. Next to the façade of The Electric Blue and the canopies of the twin gas stations, these will provide a nice transition to the Tolland Green as envisioned by the Town.

Will Tolland become overdeveloped like some residents feel Manchester or Vernon is? Why or why not?

No, it won't. Tolland is unique compared to Manchester and Vernon in that it has very little land (less than a square mile) which allows commercial and residential development of this sort. If Tolland were the size of a football field, the total area for this sort of development would be a stripe across the field about two yards wide at the 50-yard line. If you look at a map of Tolland, the only areas where this scale of development are allowed are quite small compared to the other 39.5 square miles that give Tolland its rural feel.

Will this proposed development affect the Tolland Green and its historical buildings?

It depends on your definition of "affect." If you mean, "Will you see these buildings before you drive up the hill to the Tolland Green?" then, Yes, it will. If you mean, "Will this development cause the Tolland Green harm?" then it's highly unlikely that it will harm the Green and its buildings.

Will affordable housing be required as part of the project?

Yes. By regulation, any development in the TVA requires an affordable housing component. The developer is asking for the 12% minimum to reduce the number of apartments required to make the project fiscally viable.

What's the deal with the zoning changes? Is that the same thing as an application?

The developer has applied to make changes to the TVA zoning so that taller buildings (five stories) can be built closer to Merrow Road, and some other changes, including allowing a drive-through establishment. So, yes, this is an application, but it isn't an application for a development.

If the Planning and Zoning Commission (PZC) approves the zoning changes, does that mean that the development is a "done deal?"

No.

In fact, it's quite far from a done deal because the next step is even more intense than the first: the developer must apply to actually build the development, and the PZC can reject the application based on quite a list of reasons. The list includes architecture, conformity with town goals, traffic, pedestrians, interconnection, parking, environmental factors, etc. And the town will investigate, at developer's expense, all of the negative and positive impacts the development will have on the town.

If the PZC is satisfied that the application meets the requirements of the regulations and will not negatively impact the town will it allow the developer to build.

How do we find out if the development will have negative impacts on the town, like traffic, environment, etc.?

As part of the application process, the developer must pay for the Town to hire experts to evaluate these factors--and the Town gets to select the experts, even though the developer is paying the bills.

However, the Town will never know what the impacts might be unless the PZC approves the zoning changes because neither the Town nor the developer will pay for these experts without an active application.

If the Planning and Zoning Commission (PZC) approves the zone changes this developer has requested, does that mean that these changes affect the other side of Merrow Road, behind the Dunkin' Donuts and Gulf station?

Yes, but the PZC can reject the application for the same reasons as for any other development, including architecture, conformity with town goals, traffic, pedestrians, interconnection, parking, environmental factors, etc.

Why can't Tolland build out the retail elements of the project to add amenities to town without doing the hotel and apartments?

Well, Tolland itself can't do anything--we're a town and not a developer. Otherwise, the Town's zoning regulations encourage mixed uses, so the retail would have to be mixed with residential.

OTHER

Who can a Tolland resident contact with additional questions on the project? 

Heidi Samokar is Tolland's Director of Planning and Community Development/Zoning Officer. She can be reached by phone at (860) 871-3601.

Mark De Pecol, the developer who is interested in developing the site, is available by E-mail mdrealtycap@gmail.com and phone 203-770-2159.

Both welcome your comments, both of support and opposition, and your questions.

Who wrote these FAQs?

The questions were compiled by Andrew Levesque (interested town resident) and answered by Bill Eccles (Vice-Chairman, Town Council), Kevin Bouley (Vice-Chairman, Economic Development Commission), and Greg Williams (Chairman, Economic Development Commission). While three of us participate in town government, this work is independent and is not an official document of the Town of Tolland or NE Real Estate. Answers were verified by NE Real Estate (Mark De Pecol) and the Town of Tolland (Heidi Samokar) to the greatest extent possible and are accurate to the best of our knowledge based on information available at the time.



[1] Obrinsky, Mark and Stein, Debra, "Overcoming Opposition to Multifamily Rental Housing," Joint Center for Housing Studies of Harvard University, 2007.

Ω Drawer: The EULA

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If you never thought that something as simple as a drawer needed an End User License Agreement, well, you’d be wrong.

We have a broken drawer at work. Somebody (ahem, cough) put up a EULA in place of the hand-scribbled “CAUTION” sign. Here it is:

2015-07-07 07.11.38.jpg

and here’s what it says:

CAUTION

BEFORE USING THIS DRAWER, YOU MUST READ AND ACCEPT THESE TERMS AND CONDITIONS. PLEASE READ THEM CAREFULLY.

End User License Agreement

By using this drawer, you accept the terms and conditions of the following license. Please read these terms and conditions carefully. If you do not accept these terms and conditions, you may use a plastic utensil from another cabinet.

DEFINITIONS: Throughout this license agreement, we will refer to Bloomy Controls, Inc., an incorporated company of Windsor, Connecticut, as “we” and “us.” We will refer to the end user of this drawer as “you” and “user.” We will refer to the drawer as “drawer” or “cabinetry.”

TERMS AND CONDITIONS: By using this drawer, you agree to hold harmless and indemnify us, Bloomy Controls, Inc., from all damages, liabilities, suffering, pain, torture, and/or spasms caused by intense laughter upon reading these terms and conditions or by using this cabinetry. You furthermore agree to be very careful, because those are some sharp stinkin’ staples over there. I mean, seriously! You could really hurt yourself on one of them. It is interesting to note that staples would have never been used in cabinetry of yesteryear. They’d have been dovetailed and would be just about indestructible. By “yesteryear,” we mean something like 1930 and not 1980, because even though 1980 was fairly long time ago—probably before most of you “users” were even born—particle board and staples were already in widespread use[citation needed]. Maybe your parents weren’t even born yet. Hard to know, really. This is, after all, an End User License Agreement and not a crystal ball. Anyway, we digress.

If you accept these terms and conditions, you may use this drawer on exactly one kitchen counter. You may not possess, reverse engineer, disassemble, or reinstall the drawer on any other kitchen counter. This license does allow you to fix the drawer if you are properly qualified to do so. If you are not properly qualified to do so, good. You weren’t hired to be a carpenter. But if you are properly qualified to do so, then please don’t spend your time fixing it—go program or write software or engineer stuff or be accountants and administrators and stuff. But enjoy your lunch. Carefully. Please.

(x) By eating my lunch and enjoying it, I accept these terms and conditions.

Ω #StopTheLabels

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I think the biggest problem (OK, a biggest problem, because, why not?) is labels. I’m conservative. You’re Liberal. I’m black. You’re White. When labeling progresses from lower-case adjectives to upper-case adjectives, we lose our ability to be more complex in the minds of others. We lose the nuances associated with our character and get lumped in with all the Other People of That Group. As a result, the Politicians go nuts, the Media fan the flames, and We the People all get consumed by the Internet as if we were nothing but cookie cutter examples of People of That Group.

I’m a very complicated person, and you are, too.

So don’t hesitate to read a Liberal’s liberal opinion or a Conservative’s conservative opinion or a Hater’s racist opinion or a Hippie’s pot-enhanced opinion and give it some thought. It will hurt. It will offend. It will stretch your mind. It may reinforce your own position as a People of That Group. Or it may not. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.

As you encounter these diverse opinions, stop labeling the people whose opinions they are. They are no more a one-facet person of That Group than you are of This Group. Stop assuming that Christians all do this or that Athiests all do that. And even though I know you’ll all go to hell (do not pass go, do not collect $200, go straight to hell) and you’re all sure I’m a right-wing Bible-thumping Neanderthal, I will hear your position as a People of That Group and I will respect you for trying to change my mind, as you should respect me for trying to change yours. Don’t be offended when I express my opinion, and I’ll not be offended when you express yours. Or be offended. That’s OK, too.

Disagree. Argue. Discuss. Try to change my mind—proselytize. Let’s do this. Respect those who believe in their cause enough to do so, because in this day and age of Instanity (the craziness of instancy) having an opinion and being willing to express it, especially if it rows against the tide of Label-Fed Opinion, is suicidal, heretical, career-ending. It’s risky stuff.

But don’t cry and scream “Hater!” or “Christian!” or “Hippie!” or “Label!” because you don’t succeed in changing the mind of the hater, the zealot, the other human. The moment you label, you just lost the argument, just like turning the board over when the game’s not going your way, and you just lost the respect of the Person of the Other Group and pushed them further into the Other Group—right where you want them so you can yell and scream at them some more. Once you fall into this level of “discourse,” it’s a vicious circle, you see. It only gets worse from here. And your opinion, no matter how important in the cause of The Group, was instantly discounted and put out to the mental curb with yesterday’s grass clippings (though, really, shouldn’t you be composting?).

You’re just adding to the noise.

So much noise. Such little content.

I’m lookin’ straight at you, media talking heads, Internet celebrities, church leaders, loud-mouthed and quiet-mouthed, scripted and unscripted politicians alike, and even justices of the highest court of the land.

I’m lookin’ at you, Internet commenter.

And I’m lookin’ in the mirror, right back at me, too.

Stop it with the Labels. Enough is enough.

#StopTheLabels

The title says it all—and I finally agree with something that our governor has done.

Full story here.

Fellow Residents of Tolland,

By now you’re aware that the mill rate increase required to support Tolland’s residents is 2.31. By now you’re aware that the value of nine of ten properties in Tolland fell by as much as 10%. And by now you’re aware that even as property values have fallen, the town budget is increasing.

Many of you are asking, “Why are we spending more? Shouldn’t we minimize spending?”

The answer of a responsible government to that last question should always be “Yes.” A responsible government should spend as little as possible to deliver the services that its constituents want and need.

But our community can’t have the services that we want, the level of education that our children need, or the property values that we desire if the town spends less than the appropriate amount to make these things a reality. In fact, sometimes we have to spend a little more, as this year’s minimal budget increase demonstrates.

Part of this minimal increase reflects the continuing rise in costs we face year in, year out. Contracted salaries, insurance costs, raw materials and equipment costs all increase like clockwork. And though we have not added any new services in this budget, our legislature and governor seem determined to shift as much tax burden to towns as they can through unfunded mandates. Changing the attitude in Hartford seems to be the only way to reverse this trend.

Meanwhile, the Board of Education and Superintendent have made sensible cuts wherever possible, increasing spending only to make long-overdue improvements and to address new mandates. They must maintain the level of service that our community expects and which the law requires. They’ve made the difficult decision to cut fifteen staff positions, including ten teachers. In any case, an amazing 94% of the Board’s budget is essentially outside their control.

And we certainly want higher property values; Tolland’s Grand List decline accounts for over half the mill rate increase. Even though 20,000 people left the state last year, two moving companies reported that they relocated over 2,300 households into Connecticut. We may not be able to reverse the outflow of businesses from Connecticut, but we are trying to make Tolland attractive to those who are already in Connecticut or want to move here. We can’t do that by slashing and burning Tolland’s services.

Maintaining Tolland’s services and our property values is why I’ll vote “Yes” on May 5.

Respectfully,
Bill Eccles,
Resident, Neighbor, Councilman

If you’re a Mac OS X Server guru and you happen to be hard at work on a recalcitrant OS X Server which is refusing to serve up the Internet to your anxious client, and you happen to use your mobile device—any mobile device—to Google something about OS X Server, you won’t find results for my site at the top of your list. And that’s the way Google wants it.

I got a legitimate (as far as I can tell) E-mail from teh Goog this morning telling me that my site isn’t optimized for mobile and that teh Goog will, as a result, push results from my site down lower on the results list. Here’s the relevant portion (highlighting is mine):

Screen Shot 2015-03-18 at 7.48.50 AM.png

So as you surf the Googles on your mobile browser, keep in mind that Google would prefer you see mobile-friendly results over correct results. I’m not complaining because my site isn’t mobile friendly and might be lower in the list. (I really don’t care.) What I’m complaining about is that I’d rather have correct and relevant information over incorrect and pretty results any day.

Especially when I’m Googling something like “how do I help a choking victim” or “what areas of town do I really want to avoid” or other things where a pretty, but wrong, answer might be a really bad idea.

Christmas Dog

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One of my best pictures of Humphrey, ever.

ECC_7888.jpg

New Favorite Amazon Filler Items

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Amazon recently raised their free shipping threshold to $35, and that leaves me searching for items between $1 and $10 to pad an Amazon.com order with. A recent gift of Darn Tough Vermont socks has turned this hunt into a no-brainer.

Instead of a useless 5-lb. bag of rubber bands, why not pad your Amazon order with some Darn Tough Vermont Socks? Reasonably-priced, guaranteed forever, and OHMYGOSH! the colors…

(Click!)

See how easy that is?

Be sure to choose socks which are eligible for free shipping, or you don’t do yourself any favors.

Seriously, the hype is so ridiculous these days that it’s just better to remember that AAPL is, just like every stock on the market, gambling.

Hmm. NFC, after all.

(Sorry for the bombastic headline.)

I’m surprised that Googling the new Apple store in South Windsor, CT, hasn’t turned up any pictures. So, here’s one photo I took.

It’s a bad photo.

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But it’s pretty clearly an Apple Store. Kinda’ hard to mistake that characteristic, no matter how bad the picture.

Note how Apple got its trade dress on the façade of the store, even though this is Evergreen Walk (said with very distinct, highfalutin’ accent, of course).