Hospital: Day 2, and Door County

Rough day yesterday, for several reasons, which I'll go into. Then I want to end on a positive note and tell you about our trip up north with Dad.

First, the world lost a wonderful woman on Wednesday night. My Aunt Barb passed away after a battle with kidney disease. She was 57, a brave and lovely lady. Please pray for Uncle Jerry and my young cousins Jillian and Jared and Jared's brand-new wife, Brynn.

Dad will be devastated when we tell him. He loved Barb. He always called her "My Girl."

Speaking of Bill, he's still at UW hospital, making snail-slow progress. For example: Wednesday he wasn't able to give doctors a "thumb's up" sign, and yesterday, he slowly lifted both arms six inches, thumb's up. I clapped when he did this!

The good news is that his seizure stopped. There's still a lot of activity on the left side of his brain, but doctors say it could always remain that way. So they're focused on finding the right pharmaceutical concoction for him that will prevent seizures and give him back mobility. Every doctor we've talked to said that Dad has a good chance of fully recovering from this episode. For us, that's difficult to see. We don't know if it's the drugs or recovery from the seizure, but Dad's not showing a ton of cognizance. He's starting to quizzically look around, follows some basic commands and moves all his limbs (still strong!). He knows us. But his verbal responses are slim to none: "Yeah," "Well...," "No," "Actually...," "I guess...," -- seems like he's trying to tell us something but can't coax the words out of his mouth. Although, he did greet Scott with a crystal-clear "Hi, Scott." When asked to name his daughters, he did say "Heather." And, strangely, as I was sitting next to him on his bed rubbing his arms and chatting, he looked me in the eye and said, "agriculture." Then he said it again! I'm guessing he was trying to ask me how my job is going. (I work at UW Extension for a farm program.) Funny how the brain works...

So after seeing Dad back to such a strong state, ready to go home, armed with news that the tumor is not re-growing, it's been a let-down to see him back to square one. Linda had an especially tough day yesterday, so please say an extra prayer for her.

Otherwise, Day 2 at the hospital was busy with docs, nurses, residents, students, aides and our pastor in and out of his room. We were even graced by a visit from Dr. Sillay, Dad's neurosurgeon, who really had no reason to see Dad other than his own personal concern. Dr. Sillay spent time with us talking about the EEG, reading brain waves, and reassuring us that these seizures can be controlled and Dad has a good chance of recovery. Dr. Sillay, Dad's hero, even got a laugh out of Dad when he talked to him about laying those wood floors in my office: "Mr. Beecheler, I see you were thorough and put down a subfloor before the wood." My Dad actually smiled and said, "Yeah, right!" Dr. Sillay knew about the subfloor because I gave him this blog address and he looked it up right there in the room on his iPhone. So now I'm nervous about my medical terminology, having a brain surgeon read the blog!

I'm sorry this blog is growing unruly, but I want to end by sharing some pictures of our brief trek up to Door County, which people call the Cape Cod of the Midwest. More water and more boating for Bill...

God bless anyone who's stuck with me in this verbose blog, but the next three photos deserve some explanation. Sunday during our trip was the day Dad went downhill. He was very quiet, irritable and tired, which eventually led to us driving home Sunday night in pounding rain, back to Madison, canceling his return to Ohio.

Just before we decided to leave, we drove to a state park. It was raining, but I saw a trail that led to the lake shore. I took it alone to see if it was something Dad and Linda could follow. It wasn't -- steep paths covered with slippery pine needles wound down, toward the beach, through forests and over rocky hills. I finally made it to the shore where previous hikers had been busy stacking stones. Scattered on the beach were these strange, man-made rock towers. They reminded me of Inukshuks that Linda and Dad described seeing in the North Channel when they took the boat to Canada. These Inukshuks were erected by Inuit people as navigational symbols, meaning "Stone that Points the Way."

Looking out at the lake, I felt a sense of defeat, thinking, "Here we go again. Dad's slipping." I looked up the shore north to see storm clouds. To the south the clouds were breaking to reveal the possibility of clear weather. What would the next hours, days and months bring us?

I built my own Inukshuk for Dad.

May this Inukshuk guide us on a safe journey.

Weathering another storm

Sitting here next to Dad at UW hospital. Beautiful sunny day outside in contrast to how we are feeling.

Last night I'd made Dad and Linda a going away supper (served on my new yellow Fiestaware -- thought I needed more sun in my life). The first sign of problems was that Dad stopped eating before his plate was cleaned -- this never happens. We started talking about Dad and Linda's homecoming in Ohio, whether they'd still have some kind of get-together with friends since the wedding celebration was canceled. Linda suggested an informal open house. I asked Dad, "What would you think of that? Does that sound fun?" He looked at me with a strange gaze and said, "I...I...I...," unable to get any words out. That's when we knew something was terribly wrong.

We sat with him at the table, tried to help him talk, write, anything that would show us improvement in his neural status. Then all of the sudden a switch was turned on and he was back, saying, "That was weird. I couldn't talk. What happened?" But quick as he regained cognitive capability, he lost it again. And we headed to the ER at 7:30 p.m.

After about 7 hours at the ER, a few hours sleep, and 5 more hours at UW this morning, this is what we've learned:

Neurology is fairly certain Dad's having a sustained seizure. His symptoms, along with the loss of speech and lack of communication, have been slight shaking, nystagmus (rapid eye movement) and a sustained state of sleep. He's been out of it for about 12 hours now, only slightly responding to our loud yells of, "Hey, Dad!" or "Hey, Bill!" by briefly peeking at us. Oh, I guess he has said the words "Well," "Hi," and of course his signatures: "Ah, geez.." and "Thank you" to a friendly nurse. That's about it. But he seems to be totally comfortable and pain free. He's just like the Rip Van Winkle of Madison right now.

Why is he seizing? They don't know. His oncology nurse, a brilliant woman named Lori, just talked to us about some guesses. First, she said that this incident is highly unusually, something they would not expect. The seizures could be due to swelling in the brain as a result of the trauma from radiation and chemo. Could be something called tumor necrosis, which is essentially the tumor dying and causing irritation in the brain. The good news is the doctors' consensus that the seizures are NOT being caused by the tumor itself. Based on the two MRIs he's received in two days, there is no new tumor growth nor any signs of distress caused by a new GBM.

Where are we at? The key now is breaking the seizure so that his brain can start to recover. Lori did not think this would have any negative long-term affects on Dad, if they can break the seizure. Worse case scenario is that they would have to induce a coma and insert a breathing tube to break it, and that would mean a difficult recovery. But let's not go there yet.

Something Lori said stuck with us, "This is not a reason to give up hope."

Right now I feel more terrible for my sister who is in Maryland, wanting to be here and in the midst of a stressful time at work. Heather, Dad knows that you love him and we'll see you soon. Take care of yourself because that's what Dad would want.

Breaking news

Dad's back in the hospital at UW-Madison. I was prepared to write a long blog yesterday about our trip to Door County, our early return due to some complications and then Dad's recovery and clean bill of health. Linda and Bill were scheduled to go home to Ohio today. But last night Dad became confused again, and we took him to the ER. Not sure what's going on, but we hope for just a bump in the road and pray for a return to smooth sailing soon.

Off to the hospital...

Project

The doctors told Dad that the last few weeks of radiation would be tough. His exhaustion would peak. Of course, typical Dad, this is the time he picks to say, "Hey, let's lay those wood floors in your office!"

We'd had boxes of oak hardwood sitting behind our couch since April. Scott's Dad planned a visit in June to help him install our new office floor. But plans changed, and the wood was forgotten. Until about a week ago. Dad looked at this project as a way to keep his body and mind active. He had a slew of papers with measurements and notes -- proof that his brain is in good working order! And for two days he was up and down, in and out of the garage, carrying wood. Probably too much for him, but once Dad decides to do something, he does it from beginning to end.

I can't begin to list all of the improvements Dad's made in our various residences, but to name a few: new bathroom, new electrical system, plumbing, French Doors. Just a few months ago he put a whole kitchen in at Heather's house! Dad loves the satisfaction of a job well-done, and he loves helping his kids. The man is a multi-talented problem solver, and he can tackle a broad spectrum of fix-it challenges. I should mention that there's often frustrations and frequently cursing involved. But we forgive him.

Thanks, Dad, for the numerous home improvements -- big and small. And thanks, Linda!

Graduation

After Dad's last radiation treatment today, he sat down with me for an interview:

How do you feel on your last day of radiation treatments?

Well, all the experience was okay. It didn't make me sick. I am just hoping this will cancel the cancer. I will do anything to get rid of it. The reason they did radiation every day was to kill those cells. They killed good cells too, but the good ones re-generated over night and the bad ones did not.

What was it like getting the treatments?

I'd come in every day and the whole thing was already programmed into a big machine. There were three different angles that they radiated from. They weren't going directly into the brain, but they were sideswiping. The treatments only took about 2 minutes, so it was quick. It never hurt. I had no side effects, except that my skin did get a little burnt. I just put salve on it.

How do you feel about the UW Hospital care?

This hospital is awesome. This is the best place in the world that I could have come to. Dr. Robbins, Dr. Mehta and Dr. Sillay took excellent care of me. They are so concerned about helping people. Everyone you deal with there is top of the line. If you had brain cancer, you would want to be at UW.

What did they do on your last day?

Every day I had my head locked in to a mask on the treatment table so they could radiate exactly where they wanted to. On the last day, they asked me if I wanted the mask, and I said, "Yes!" Then they gave me a certificate for graduating from radiation. I gave the nurses a note and a box of chocolates because they were just really nice. They made sure I was comfortable and always worried about me. If I had anything wrong, they would make sure I went to the right doctor. They always made sure everything was okay.

How are you doing mentally and physically?

Mentally I feel okay. Some of my words are still not coming out right. Physically, I'm getting much stronger. I have exercises to do. I have been walking up and down steps and getting better at doing that. I try to walk outside twice a day with Linda. The only bad thing is that I gained 10 pounds. They said my appetite would deteriorate, but it's just the opposite with me. I could eat a desk.

Where do you go from now, what's next?

Actually my chemo stops at the end of July. I'm going up north with Linda and Lisa to Door County then Linda and I will go across Lake Michigan to Detroit to see our friends Gary and Debbie and go on their boat. Then I will go home to Ohio. I will come back once a month to Madison between 1 and 2 years for check-ups and take chemo once a month for 5 days.

Looking back, what have you learned from this experience?

I've learned a lot about how cancer affects the brain, what kind of cancer I have and how to kill it. The neat thing was that my family -- Heather, Lisa and Linda and their families -- we were all together. I couldn't have had a better experience with such a terrible disease. My family has taken such great care of me. I don't know if I could ever re-pay them. (Editor's note: He doesn't have to.)

What do you want to say to your friends and family who've supported you?

Lisa set up this blog to tell people what's happening with me. All of these people sent cards, hundreds of cards, encouraging me. I didn't know I had so many friends! I really appreciate all of the encouragement that I've had, all the encouragement and prayers. I tried to call and thank people. I just really appreciate everyone caring so much about me. It kept me positive. I never had any kind of depression because of all my friends.

When I was in the hospital, my family would come and see me. It was really encouraging. Scott came in the mornings. Then Scott did a marathon and put my name on his shirt. I was so proud of him.

And Linda ... if it wasn't for Linda, I'd be in the cemetery. Linda is such an awesome lady. She went through this once (with her first husband Phil) and now she's going through this with me. She doesn't deserve it. But she's my best friend.

I really appreciate everyone concerned about me. So when I get back to Oberlin, I would like to see my family and friends and maybe set up something to celebrate our marriage. Originally we were supposed to be married on July 11 in Put-in-Bay with a reception July 17 at Valley Harbor Marina.

As you move on, will you approach life differently?

Yes. Little stuff I used to worry about ... it isn't worth it anymore. Just enjoying life is the most important thing right now. Things like painting my house, putting a roof on -- I am going to hire people to do that because it's too much time for me to spend doing things like that. Linda and I got married. We are going to do things that we enjoy, go different places, see my daughters and granddaughters and try not to worry about all the maintenance around the house.

I just also want to tell everyone, whatever health crisis you face, there is always an answer. Never give up. You will succeed.

Linda

This blog is about Captain Bill, but I can't let another day go by without writing about Linda. She's been a constant companion for Dad, in our lives for about 7 years. Although they both faced deep losses, Linda and Dad have embraced life together: Traveled around the world; taken the Beech Buoy to far-away waters; gone to lectures, plays, concerts; visited grandchildren; remodeled homes; adopted pets; enjoyed time with friends and family; rode motorcycles.

Now, they face Dad's battle -- together. Way back in May, Linda called us with the news about Dad's supposed stroke. Her voice was calm and even than I could hear her resolve to help him regain his health. As a nurse, she has incredible knowledge of the medical field. And unfortunately she'd been through a medical nightmare before with her first husband, Phil. But here she is facing adversity again. That awful day we learned that Dad had brain cancer, the day I wailed and made a scene at the hospital, part of my tears were for Linda, wailing right next to me. I thought, "How could this happen to her -- again." Shepherding another husband through a disease.

But our time this summer with Linda has proven that she just simply adores my father. And he adores her right back.

Linda's constantly by Dad's side. Walk around my house and you'll see all the things she's created and organized to take care of Dad: Pills and shots neatly in the cupboard, a medication chart stuck to the fridge, hospital schedules, stocks of snacks Dad likes to take with meds, weights she bought him for exercising, plenty of prunes! You'll notice that not a lot of my blog mentions hospital reports because Linda's been the one to take Dad to every radiation treatment, day-after-day, for 6 weeks. Linda's been at every doctor's appointment since he got out of the hospital. Her dedication to my Dad is never-ending. And, Bill would probably readily admit this, it's not always been easy playing nursemaid for him. His steroids have caused pretty nasty mood shifts. With accompanying exhaustion and other nagging symptoms, Dad's not always a happy camper. In fact, occasionally he's quite a mean camper. But Linda hasn't left yet!

Thanks to Linda, I was able to keep my job while she focused on taking care of Bill. And she not only takes care of Bill. She's a killer cook, cleans house, plays with kids and even irons Scott's shirts -- a duty that I've always neglected, much to Scott's disappointment. So Linda is pretty popular in this household.

As I've reported, we've had fun this summer -- picnics, parties, out to eat, trips, etc. But remember that Linda left her beautiful home on the lake. More importantly, she left her son Lee and all her friends and family. I hope I've made it comfortable for Dad and Linda; still, she's living in my basement, away from her home. From the beginning of this ordeal, Linda's always said she would do whatever is best for Bill. She's done that.

From the bottom of my heart: Thanks, Linda. We love you.

Good way to spend a Wedding Day

Dad and Linda were supposed to be married on Put-in-Bay in front of their families on July 11. Instead on that day, Dad, Linda and I headed west from Madison to the Mississippi River. (With Captain Bill around, it's nice to be in Wisconsin, bordered by two lakes and the Mississippi. You can always find a sea to sail.)

The drive to Prairie du Chien was scenic. Spotted with cows, green hillsides reflected sun on a storybook summer day. Small farms and silos, windmills, garden stands. The horizon shifted as we climbed and descended the Driftless Area bumps; the glacier's icy fingers didn't reach down this far to flatten the landscape. In the blink of an eye, we passed through tiny towns like Edmund, Montfort, Fennimore and Mount Ida. The thorn in this rosy picture was that I was driving Dad's Spec B Subaru, not him. Linda was co-pilot, which means Dad sat in the back, one of the few times in his driving life. I kept glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. Seemingly content, Dad napped, looked out at the scenery and commented about the Spec B's comfortable seating. But it made me sad to see the ultimate auto man in the back seat. Times have changed.

After about 90 miles, we reached our destination and lunched at a cute grill. Dad and I wisely chose the French onion soup with a salad; Dad then ate part of Linda's salad and wanted to order dessert, but we convinced him to wait for treats later. We had a boat to catch. Before we boarded the vessel, we wanted to spend some time at Villa Louis, a Victorian country estate restored to its former glory on St. Feriole Island, just north of the confluence of the Mississippi and Wisconsin rivers. As he always had, Dad absorbed history of this place like a sponge. Heather reminds us that when he'd visit her in D.C., Dad would spend hours upon hours in Smithsonian museums without tiring.

We boarded the River Explorer at 2 p.m. For two hours we traveled up and down the Mississippi. I didn't realize this, but as our guide explained, the Upper Mississippi River snakes around islands and twists through tributaries like a rope. It may be three miles wide bank to bank, but at any given place it looks like it could be the smaller Wisconsin River. Apparently the Lower Mississippi waters move on a grander scale.


We passed recreational boaters, barges and jet skis on our way to some backwaters where we were greeted by what we'd hope to see: eagles. Dad's a nature freak, so he didn't have trouble, with binoculars in hand, spotting the first eagle's nest high in a tree on the left bank. Near the nest sat a young eagle, her head still full of brown feathers, not the token white. Further up the river we saw more and more -- pairs fishing together, another nest. We also spotted great blue herons and even a kingfisher. But the eagles stole the show. While Dad quietly admired them, I couldn't stop watching him and feeling so happy he had this experience.


You'd think Dad would have been exhausted at 4 p.m., after our long boat ride and a morning on tour. But, no, he wanted to explore the encampment of re-enactors on St. Feriole island. They were gearing up to recreate a battle that took place at that very spot in the War of 1812. Dad, Linda and I walked from tent to tent to see the British and American soldiers and Native Americans.

At one tent, a man dressed in Native garb with painted face was bending over a fire cooking what looked to be peppers and onions in a clay pot. He greeted us with an Indian phrase and Dad started asking questions. He was portraying a Meskawki, or Fox, Indian from Wisconsin. He told us about the bravery and fierceness of the Fox Tribe. We walked under his tent to see the clay pots he made in traditional Fox fashion. Dad showed sincere interest and listened with respect, then Dad told this man about why he was in Wisconsin and about his own bravery in fighting cancer. The Meskwaki then pulled out his tobacco pouch: "Hold out your left hand." He sprinkled tobacco in Dad's palm and said he offered this in respect to Dad, in honor of him and to wish him well in his battle. He said we could take the tobacco home or offer it up as a prayer.

Dad chose to pray. We stepped over to a large oak tree and Dad let go of the tobacco. His prayer was for the man portraying the Indian, that he may continue to carry on the tribe's traditions. My prayer, through repressed tears, was for Dad to be cured.


We left the Mississippi and I drove us back through the rolling hills in front of a pink sunset. We were all pretty quiet, Dad napping, before a stop at Mt. Horeb for some chow and local brews at the Grumpy Troll. Then home.

So, Linda and Bill didn't get their marriage in a little white church on an island. We didn't get to bring the cousins together on Put-in-Bay to walk down the aisle in sailor dresses. There was no party at Valley Harbor Marina with music and dancing and a clan of family/friends and boat rides. But on July 11, Dad and Linda floated down the Mississippi River and Dad got an Indian blessing. The best laid plans often go astray, but we've made the most of what we've been given.

Biker buddy makes a visit

Dad's cousin Tom rode his Harley from Ohio to see him. Well, he actually came to see his granddaughter get baptized in Iowa, but he made an extra effort to stop for a visit with Dad. Scott took Dad and Tom to Capitol Brewery but they mostly spent time in the driveway admiring Tom's bike. Tom put 45,000 miles on that bike in two years. Dad was impressed.

Sadly, Dad made the decision just yesterday to sell his own motorcycle. He'll probably never be able to ride again because he will be on a blood thinner for the rest of his life due to his history of blood clots. In his own words, "Gosh, I worked for 40 years to get a motorcycle and now I can't ride it. Easy come, easy go."

Ice cream

Out at DQ the other day, watching my Dad gobble up a Reese's blizzard, I thought about how much Bill loves ice cream. Ice cream is not hard to love, so that's no surprise. But throughout my life Dad's never, not once according to my memory, turned down the chance to go out for ice cream.

When he and Mom coached my junior softball team -- Beecheler Electric was our name since Dad sponsored us -- Dad would invite the whole team to pile into the back of his truck and haul us all to Zip's in South Amherst. Then he'd pay for everyone's cones: twists, dips, sprinkles. On the way to Zip's we'd all shout, from the back of the orange Chevy, "Beecheler Electric is NUMBER ONE!" even when we lost. While at DQ, Dad recalled these ice cream runs with a smile on his face.

We'd also frequent a place on Route 20 that used to be called Hamner's. This was usually a family outing, and we'd even bring the family dog, Harley the doberman. Dad would always buy Harley a cone and laugh it up as fierce-looking Harley delicately licked -- without chomping -- his baby cone. That sounds kinda hillbilly, but, hey, I guess dogs used to be welcomed at ice cream establishments. Dad could always be persuaded to make a Hamner's run. I remember coming home from college in the summers and asking if he'd want to run out and get a cone. "Sure!" We'd sit at the picnic table in front of the hole-in-the-wall ice cream stand on the side of a busy highway. Sometimes Dad would even order some greasy onion rings before the ice cream. Sometimes we'd share a banana split. But now that I look back, maybe Dad wasn't just an ice cream fiend; he considered those ice cream runs as an opportunity for quality time with kids. That they were.

Quality time was not what he was looking for, though, when he pulled out a gallon from our fridge, grabbed a spoon and ate directly out of the carton. Mom didn't approve, but that didn't deter him. I guess he's both simply a big fan of ice cream and a great Dad.

Let this blog be permission for you to go out as soon as possible on a nice, hot summer day and have ice cream -- cone or sundae! -- in honor of Bill.

Independence Weekend

Sorry for the lapse between blogs and sorry as well to those of you who STILL can't post comments, etc. I'm afraid my liberal arts-trained brain cannot solve that one. Know that Bill appreciates your support, and you can always e-mail me at lisabauer@tds.net with messages for him if you can't post.

Speaking of Captain Bill, overall he is well. But the aches and pains and fatigue bring him down a bit ... just a bit, though. He's had an annoying hip pain that's eliminated his daily walks. His toes on his right foot hurt him this morning. Combined with some other aches and just being dog-tired from radiation treatments, Bill's been taking it easy, finally, for the first time in his life.

That said, he's still been out-and-about, just not real physically active.



This is Bill at the end of an 18-hole putt putt course. He, MJ and I played last week and Dad ended the game sliding down a big slide.

On Friday Dad took a nice, big nap and felt good enough to go to Capitol Brewery, a local beer garden that has bands on Friday night. We met up unexpectedly with friends there who also had their parents in town. Kristin's parents are boaters and skiers, just like Dad and Linda, so they enjoyed talking. Although I could tell that it saddened Dad to think about a boating season going by without the Beech Buoy in the water and, probably, a skiing season going by without his skis on the slopes. (Don't count him out, though -- that's 5 months away!) Dad snacked, chatted, listening to the music and watch his youngest granddaughter get picked to go on stage and strum a fiddle. Fun.

Saturday, the Fourth, found us stuck in clouds and light rain, which didn't ruin most of our plans. Dad joined us at our neighborhood kids' parade and picnic at the park. The picnic included a host of games. Anything competitive is right up Bill's alley. So I made sure the kids and even Scott and I got in the action so Dad could laugh at us. MJ won the sack race! Scott made a fool of himself in the sack race, falling down and revealing part of his ... um ... bottom. I also managed to inspire laughs while attempting and failing to do the wheelbarrow race. (No, I won't post a picture of that but if you're desperate to humiliate me, there's a pic on Facebook.) Dad ate a hot dog and possibly three large brownies. We were scheduled to do a boat ride with friends but the weather didn't cooperate, which was just as well. Dad's fatigue was in full force. I think he would have gone because he can't turn down a lake experience, but he was pooped. In fact after his nap, he and Linda chose to stay at home and watch PBS fireworks rather than join the kids, Scott and I at a neighbor's gathering. Can't blame the poor guy.

But he did rally for Sunday. He got up and dragged me to church. Later in the day we did a date night with Dad and Linda to see Public Enemies and sit outside on a lovely evening for Mexican food and mojitos. Dad hadn't seen a movie in quite awhile, so I was interested to see if he could actually follow one, especially Public Enemies with its fast action and confusing amalgam of characters. At dinner, he showed his mind is in good working order by smartly reviewing the flick and seemingly catching more plot points than the rest of us! Of course, his favorite part was seeing the souped up old cars and his least favorite part was seeing the souped up old cars demolished in auto accidents.

Please continue to pray that the radiation and chemo are winning over the cancer. We have no idea what's happening at that cellular level and won't know until the next MRI, possibly not until September. And please pray that Dad will feel good enough after 6 weeks of treatments to go to Door County, Wisconsin, where we've planned a weekend getaway for him. More on that later. And Happy Fourth!

Blogging notes

Quite a few readers of Captain Bill's blog have said they couldn't post comments -- sorry about that! I've changed some settings on the blog so that everyone should now be able to post comments. This is important because ... drum roll ... Captain Bill is now finally reading his blog.

Hi, Dad!

After he started a few days ago he said, "Wow, I didn't even know some of this happened to me." Like, believe it or not, he wasn't clear on the fact that he had a second brain surgery. Scary. So I guess reading the blog helps him follow his own story.

But I mention the comment glitch above because he likes reading comments below blog entries. In the same vein, please consider being a follower of this blog by clicking "Follow" in the right-hand column. It's a painless procedure and allows Bill, now that he's reading this, to know you are there. Thanks to those of you who've already commented and followed Bill!

For Dad, there are many advantages of being in Madison. But of course he misses his home and friends. I hope this is one way we can keep him connected.