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OK, so I have a certain type of sense of humor.  I’ll admit to that as I’m reminded of it frequently BUT no one has ever walked up to me and smacked me across the face.  Goodness, couldn’t Will Smith have maybe taken Chris Rock aside and said, “Hey buddy, no more jokes about my wife.  She’s already got plenty to deal with.”  And that would have been that but instead world-wide TV coverage?

And then…

Diane and I have much enjoyed our time on Marco Island which will soon end, but before we leave, I want to share what has been churning up inside me for the past couple of weeks and, yes, part of it has to do with the infamous PEG. I continue to do my exercises to strengthen my swallowing process on a regular basis. Part of the exercise regimen has to do with sticking my tongue out and holding it there and another fun task is to say EEEEEEE very loud and “hold it there.”  I find it best to do these alone and consequently do them on my first walk of the day, generally at 6 a.m. when no one is out, and I’m less likely to scare the residents on this island where the average age is 65.  

The presence of PEG and related issues are beginning to wear on me.  Imagine if you will, looking down and seeing this protrusion from your stomach day after day for what is now 8 months. There is no way to get away from it and it is constantly there reminding you that it must be dealt with and respected as it controls much of your life. Every morning after my walk, I return to the condo and “prepare.” I open my Jevity 1.2 plastic containers and then get some very hot water which I pour down the open big syringe into my stomach. I can’t feel the hot water but use hot water in the event the tube, for whatever reason, has clogged up between feedings. Next, I pour the Jevity into the syringe which goes into the tube into my stomach. This process takes an hour. I repeat this two or three times a day; it is tedious at best.

It’s not so much the drudgery of all this but rather the complications that arise—the accidents. If I roll over the wrong way at night, my tube “plug” can become dislodged, and the contents of my stomach drain out everywhere before I wake up. This requires a total change in bedding–sheets, pillow cases, mattress pad, and the worst parts need to be “soaked” due to the acidity of what has drained out. The other day when I excited the car after dropping family members at the airport, PEG decided to become unplugged! Suddenly I looked down to see my shirt, pants, and underpants soaked with stomach contents.  I’m at the damn airport–what to do? I had no choice but to look for the nearest bathroom where I found a stall that had a hand dryer, so I stripped naked except for socks and shoes and stood there drying out my clothes for 45 minutes. I can only imagine what people in that men’s bathroom thought was going on in that stall. I now carry a spare set of clothes around with me in the car.  Yes, I can live with these small indignities but they certainly intrude on one’s day.

And then…

I did use the title PERSPECTIVE so let me explain and amplify. My world is currently a bit topsy-turvy from what I am used to but life has a way of letting us know that maybe things aren’t quite as discordant as we imagine.  I encourage you to not take things for granted and to enjoy the hand life has dealt you.  Next time you are dressing or undressing and happen to glance in the mirror, imagine seeing a seven-inch plastic tube sticking out of your stomach and it is tethered to you 24/7 for goodness knows how long if not forever.  Self-pity is not particularly flattering and the realities of everyday living make us all face a world in which there are inhabitants who make that crystal clear.  Gordy Taylor is no exception.

And then… 

Recently, while walking the beach with Diane, we came upon a boy in a wagon being pulled by his mom. What the dickens was he doing in a wagon? I thought for an instant, “Get out of that damn wagon and walk so your mom doesn’t have to pull you.  The exercise will do you good.”  Thoughtless idiot!  As we got a bit closer, I realized he would like nothing better than to get out of that wagon and walk, and skip, and jump, and play but most likely he will never get to do any of those things. I thought to myself.  “Hey, Gord, I’ll bet he’d love to trade places with you; he gets PEG and you get to get pulled around in a wagon for the rest of your life.”  Of course I didn’t know the severity of his situation until I saw him up close but still, “perspective” and we all need to keep that in mind in terms of the countless people who enter and exit our lives every day. I’m confident that some of you reading this have challenges as well but for most of us, we sometimes just need to sit back and count our blessings realizing our lives are pretty darn good.

And then…

Take it one step further. Turn on the TV tonight and watch the national news just for a couple of minutes.  As we watch the horrors happening in real time to the people of Ukraine, our own problems seem pretty trivial by comparison. It is hard to even comprehend this is happening. It is 2022, not September 1, 1939, when Hitler and the German Army invaded Poland. Most of us are too young to remember those atrocities as they happened, but as members of the world community and students of history, we know they did. We were led to believe that this could never happen again. But they have and they are playing out in front of us. I am not a political scholar, but I know there is something terribly wrong with all this.  Let’s hope NATO and whoever can find a way to cease the carnage that seems to escalate daily. I grasp that Putin wants to recapture the Russia of pre-1991 and probably more but who in their right mind (probably the point) found it remotely acceptable to destroy hospitals, apartments, theaters, museums, maternity wards, schools, and homes to accomplish those objectives? 

This all seems so surreal. We are living our lives here while unspeakable terror is being subjected upon innocent people who simply want to enjoy the freedoms we all take for granted. Ukrainians don’t want to invade anyone; they don’t want to kill anyone (well, maybe one person); they just want to be left alone in their part of the world community. I assume that soon we will have an opportunity through the Red Cross or whatever to help these unfortunate people, but it all seems so senseless and unbelievable.  I suppose that’s because it is just that–senseless and unbelievable.  

This reminds me a bit of that iconic photo we all saw of the young girl running down the road in Vietnam, naked and burned from a napalm attack. Regardless of your politics or position on the war (which is what it really was even if undeclared), it made us feel awful and the photos we are seeing today of children crying and mothers saying goodbye to their husbands and sons makes us feel the same. Cities literally shelled and burned to the ground. After WWII we thought this would never happen again, but it has and is playing out right in front of us. 

The point of all this is again—“perspective.” Much like Humphrey Bogart said to Ingrid Bergman in the film Casablanca, “Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.”  The problems we face pale in comparison to what a nation of 44 million citizens in a country roughly the size of Texas is confronting today across the world from us. 

And then…

Diane and I became friends on Marco Island with a couple who “rent and run” like us each year in our building.  Upon their departure this week, I had the opportunity to ask Richard and Pat who are a bit older than us about any philosophies about life.  He didn’t bat an eye and looked directly at me and said, “Gordy, I have had health, wealth, love, and the time to enjoy it.”  Pretty nice if you can get it.

And then…

Tonight, if you have not, say a prayer for the proud people of Ukraine.

When I sit down like I am this afternoon, I just never know where my mind will take me, and today is no different so let’s begin. It has been some time since reflections were made here about The Fourth Quarter, and as I hit year #76 before this month is over, it would seem like a good time to take a measure of things.   I read somewhere recently that increasingly with each birthday “It is better to be seen than viewed”—made me laugh.  While combing my hair this morning (and yes, glad I still have enough to make that necessary), I noticed it is all gray.  Now how the heck did that happen?  I continue to enjoy my 5:30 a.m. 4-5 mile walks most days but also upon return home, take Jevity 1.2 through PEG and then lay down for 30-40 minutes. I never used to do that but now it is becoming part of my daily routine.  Maybe, just maybe, I am getting older.  

I was reading some old correspondence the other day and came across a folder that contained nice things that folks had written about me over the years—you were a good teacher, you made a speech that had a profound effect on me, thanks for helping me get back into school after I flunked out, thanks for looking in on my parents, that sort of thing. That reminded me of something I heard on CBS Sunday Morning a few years ago:  “How we live today will determine how we live tomorrow.” That seems to make good sense. Of course, having just patted myself on the back, I recall when former W.I.U. President A.L. Knoblauch gave me a plaque with sage advice:  “Don’t take yourself too seriously” so there must be some balance in there somewhere.  

As we age, we can’t help but think about what lies ahead and what is in the rear view mirror. Someone brighter than me once told me that “They were not afraid of tomorrow…for I have seen yesterday and I love today.”  Some days it is too cold, others too hot, some days it rains and sometimes it’s too windy, but each day is a gift and I appreciate that I am here to enjoy it. 

I have always had faith in my doctors now even more so. When they tell me to wear the mask, get the vaccine, get the booster, get the shingles, flu, and pneumonia shots I do so without question hoping it will keep the grim reaper at bay. I’ve found the past few months that it is easier to get sick and more challenging to remain healthy so I need to do whatever it takes to keep sickness away with moderate exercise, healthy diet, and getting enough sleep leading the way.  About 20 years ago, an older woman on the beach (she had to be at least 77) once told me, “Young man, every day above ground is a great day.” Eureka!! She nailed that one.  

While there is a certain inevitability to life and whatever follows, we simply need to do our best to enjoy each day, each week, each month, and each year to the fullest. I’m told by readers of this blog that they are impressed by my resilience with all that has happened in the past year and my reply is pretty simple. Keeping a positive mental attitude is easy when you live with someone who is supportive; I hit the jackpot there with Diane.  I’m sure I’ve said it before but it bears repeating. When Clint Eastwood was asked how he remains so vibrant at his advanced age, he smiled and said, “I don’t let the old man in” and neither will I.  I’ve read where age is an asset as with time and experience, we learn to handle life’s challenges with more grace. However, as humorist Richard Armour once wrote:.

Lately, I appear 

To have reached that stage

When people look old

Who are only my age.

Like me, I’ll bet that’s happened to some of you.

When I think about the entire picture, there are parts of aging that are actually quite liberating. I know a couple of people who will read this blog who will stridently disagree with my advocating getting the COVID vaccine.  Guess what?  I really don’t care   My family knows me as being the “be on time guy” and now I find myself way more patient than I used to be.  I don’t question myself as much these days.  If I’m wrong, so be it, and I’ll live with the consequences of the choices I make. Getting old sets you free to do as you please and make decisions without undue guilt or remorse.  

In the totality of things, I’m not disappointed in the person I’ve become. Perfect no, but a loving Dad and Grandpa who cares deeply about others and when the time comes (many years from now) I’ll have tried to leave things better than I found them.  For me, I’m enjoying the journey as I get to spend it with the young girl from Winthrop Harbor who I met on a blind date at Lake Argyle on April 1, 1967—doesn’t get any better than that. 

Hooray, we have arrived in SW Florida.  It is a bit chilly here but then compared to up North, well you get the picture. We are moved in, bought groceries, got the car washed, and went to the weekly Farmers’ Market. Time now to walk a bit, do some long-delayed reading, and soak up the ambiance of this island paradise.  OK, let’s get the “business” out of the way. Masking is totally optional down here. At the grocery store, 50% of us wore masks, at ACE, where men are men and macho is the order of the day, maskers comprise maybe 10% of the clientele. At the Farmers’ Market, it is around 15% who care about whether tomorrow ever comes. That’s it on the “masking update” from Southwest Florida. On a personal note, we’ve been informed of the death of three people from Covid who are related to close friends:  a woman in her 40s, two men: one in his 40s and another barely 60. All three declined to get vaccinated—one because it violated her rights and the other two, because they thought the vaccine “too risky.”  And now they’re dead.  Go figure.  Let’s hope that whatever your position on this national debate, if you can call it such, that 2022 is superior in every way to 2020 and 2021.

Gordy Taylor is just damn grateful to be here writing this after a six-month odyssey of a kidney stone, followed by a mysterious neck ailment, to pneumonia, to a cancer scare, and to round out a crazy time, some topical chemotherapy to treat precancerous skin issues on my face, chest, arm, and back. PEG made the trip South with us, so I will be pretty much in long sleeves and a cheap meal for Diane. After consulting with my doctors, I have made a significant compromise—I am eating some, not a lot but some.  Generally at dinner, I try and eat, yes eat, enough to not necessitate my usual meal of Jevity 1.2.  So far it seems to be working. Of course, I continue to do my swallowing exercises and will get retested upon our return to Macomb to see if progress is being made.  Not the best situation but getting used to it and moving on with our lives.  If one was to feel sorry for anyone, it should be Diane whose eating and dining protocol has changed dramatically. 

Son Ryan gave me Destiny and Power, The American Odyssey of George Herbert Walker Bush by Jon Meacham so began reading it yesterday.  Bush’s leadership and influence are explored at length. It got me to thinking about the people who influence and help show each of us “the way” to realizing our full potential as human beings.  Then it hit me. One of my professors at Western Illinois University did just that very thing.  His name is Dr. Victor Hicken who was an iconic and monumental figure in the History Department for decades. Hicken was a scholar of the highest order and a renown published expert on the Civil War.  In 1969, he was chosen by his peers as the first Distinguished Faculty Lecturer at Western which is the highest honor that can be accorded a faculty member.  In addition to his other pursuits, Hicken was author of The Purple and the Gold, a history of Western’s first 70 years. 

I took him for three classes—two on US History and another called a Senior Colloquium which one took near the end of their senior year. Dr. Hicken was a man with “presence.”  When he entered the classroom, all eyes were on him for the next 50 minutes. We knew he was going to entertain, teach, and even make us think. When he lectured on the Civil War, you were there, experiencing each battle in vivid detail. You learned of the horror of this conflict from the hand-to-hand fighting of brother versus brother to the awful conditions from prison camps like Andersonville. He was not simply a teacher but also a master story teller and if, like me, you were fortunate to get him for both US History classes, at the end, you had a working knowledge of the American Story.

The colloquium class was a wonderful capstone to one’s college career. Class size was restricted to ten students and we met weekly to discuss issues of the day—Does the United States need a third political party? Is Milton Friedman’s view of economic analysis correct? How has the assassination of John F. Kennedy affected American society? What is the most important concept you learned in college? It was a truly rewarding, thought-provoking, and tremendously interesting class and at its conclusion, I told him so.  I got to know Vic Hicken on a personal level and one day I asked him a question that had been gnawing at me for a couple of years. “Why did you give me a B and not an A in History 225?” He didn’t miss a beat. “Because that’s what YOU earned” came the quick, no nonsense reply.

Fast forward to the early part of this century and President Don Spencer and I were visiting and somehow we came up with the idea of an interview show on University Television, much like Charlie Rose did on PBS prior to his fall from grace.  I ended up doing 250 shows with presidents of Western, vice-presidents, deans, administrators, faculty members, alumni, local officials, and pretty much anyone deemed appropriate. The youngest interviewee was 19 and the oldest 101.  Who would be the first person to sit in the “interviewee” chair? Well, of course, Dr. Victor Hicken. I interviewed him four times over the next decade and he was as good with the microphone as he was in front of the class. One of the first things we talked about was WWII . I leaned into him from across the table and said, “You were in the first wave at Normandy.  Have you seen Saving Private Ryan?” He replied, “Yes, Gordon, I have and it is totally accurate. Young men were blown up in front of me.  Soldiers were crying out for their mothers. It was a scene of absolute carnage.” I pressed on. “Diane and I have been to Pointe du Hoc where the German machine guns were pointed directly down at the beach where American troops were landing. How did we ever get a foothold?”  Hicken paused for a moment and out came the thoughtful reply. “They simply couldn’t kill us fast enough. We just kept coming until the beach was fortified.”  I was speechless. There I sat with a man who had actually been there and was sitting down with me telling his story. Less than thirty years earlier, he had actually been part of The Longest Day. 

Fifty-five minutes later, I was wrapping up my first interview with this courageous, modest, self-effacing quiet man.  He was in his eighties by then and Father Time had slowed his body down a bit but not his mind.  As I was set to close, he asked if he might have the last word, and I said of course. Professor Hicken reached out, took my hand in his and said, “Gordon, you’ve grown up to be a fine young man. I hope I played a small part in that happening.”  Not a dry eye in the studio. I’m sometimes asked if I really had the best job at Western. On that day in the University Television studio, Victor Hicken answered that question.  

Swallow test #3 is now “in the books.”  I entered the “swallow room” on the 13th with a good deal of apprehension as I knew the future of my relationship with PEG (stomach tube) hung in the balance. For the past six weeks, I had been diligently doing my exercises and knew what to expect since it was my third one.  Really doesn’t take long—applesauce swallow, pudding swallow, barium swallow, and finally, cracker swallow. The whole procedure takes ten minutes. The speech pathologist then called Diane into the room, and the three of us looked at the results on an X-ray type screen directly in front of us and explained things. Yes, progress is being made and the “flap” (epiglottis) is covering the trachea better than before BUT small amounts of intake are still going where they shouldn’t be going.  IF I chew and swallow, drink water and swallow, chew again and swallow ad nauseam, I can probably ingest some “real” food but not enough to make me independent of PEG.  For the present, my unwelcome friend will remain my dining companion.  Not exactly what I wanted to hear but they did say, “Progress is being made.”  However, the words in the back of Diane’s and my mind rings true every single day—MRI results indicate NO cancer and NO tumor. 

At our home, Diane is THE ONE. She buys and wraps presents, decorates for Christmas, bakes more than usual, and creates personal gifts for our family.  Diane has always loved playing bridge and last week she had 12 women over for “Brunch and Bridge.”  These women share a friendship that goes back over 40 years.  They laughed and had fun for over three hours.  It was a spirited gathering and I enjoyed hearing all their laughter.  I help out by stuffing the Christmas cards, another activity orchestrated by Diane, which get rave reviews every year. I don’t know how she does it, but she does.

Hmm, almost 76 and somewhere the clock is ticking.  What lies ahead? Will I be around to see our six grandkids go to college? Will we finally be able to make that much delayed trip to Europe? Will PEG come out in 2022? Am I done with health issues? Will the Bears ever win another Super Bowl? You get the point, just stuff to ponder as we move along on our respective journeys through life. I do wonder why some of the health issues of the past 8 months manifested themselves and are they gone for a time. As the metaphorical football game SLOWLY (I hope) winds down, have I got things in order for Diane just in case the person upstairs needs me for some other project.  My guess is I’m not alone in this but maybe just the person who puts it out in print for others to read and ponder. 

I do intend this Christmas season to have lots of fun with the family. By the end of the year, we will have seen all three kids, their spouses, and six grandkids since Thanksgiving.  As the patriarch of this crew by virtue of the fact that I’m now the oldest in the family, I will sit back and “let it happen” as kids open presents, and lots of good food.  OK, no eating for me, but I am still allowed to smell. Now I’m definitely getting the holiday spirit.

In December, I look back at the past year and reflect a bit on what has transpired, some of it good, very good, and some of it not so good. The not so good gets placed in the rearview mirror.  I focus instead on the positive like navigating COVID, grandkids excelling in school, youngest one making us laugh and then laugh some more. A couple of days ago, soon to be three Dan decided to join his parents and us during a FaceTime call.  He strolled into the room, stood in front of the iPad screen, and proudly announced, “MorMor and Gramps, I’m naked,” and indeed he was, quite proud that he was able to take off his clothes without interference or help from his parents.  While our family has divergent political perspectives, we have managed to assuage the deeper divisions that topic can generate within a family…good for us.  Even though my health challenges have dominated our lives since June, on balance, a pretty good year for Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. 

But that’s not the end of it.  When I turn on the tv and oh, the horror of the tornados and damage across the nation.  It sticks with me.  Not just the death and destruction but the ripping apart of families and whole communities. How could this happen? How will they survive? What can we do to help?  The devastation is simply incredible. PBS just ran a program on “Frontline” about families in the Quad Cities living in poverty.  I mean, kids who get moved out of shelters into a one-room in a ramshackle motel, have nothing but hand me downs to wear, shoes with holes in the bottom, and no way to get back and forth to school.  One little ten-year-old girl when asked what she wants most said, “I just want some money so we can have Chinese for dinner. My mom would like that.”  You watch such things and sorry, they are part of the fabric of our nation, our hearts go out to them and we hug our loved ones just a little tighter as we realize how fortunate we are. We all have our ups and downs. Goodness, I can attest to that this past year.  BUT nothing like the tragedy and despair faced by so many. Diane and I will be warm and safe at Ryan and Margaret’s home on Christmas morning, and we will all be gathered to watch the “exhibitionist” descend the stairs as the festivities begin.  For others, there will be no gifts under the tree. Hell, there won’t even be a tree, or a warm meal or hope that 2022 will be better than 2021.  I’m on a bit of a 4th Quarter roll here but what better time to besiege all of you to appreciate the good fortune you have, not just this year, but every year.  If I could find a way to do it, I would “buy some Chinese” for that young lady who lives 70 miles north of here. 

And now, time to switch gears one more time. About 15 years ago I began doing an interview TV show at Western Illinois University—think, well, Charlie Rose before his fall from grace.  Now I host an interview show for the city entitled “Macomb on the Move.” A couple of months ago Mayor Mike Inman called me into his office. I knew he wasn’t going to cut my pay since I do them pro bono, an expression I got from my lawyer son.  Mike looked across his desk and said, “You did 250 shows at Western and 29 for the City of Macomb and there is one person you have yet to interview.” He had my attention.  Mike said, “YOU, Gordy.”  Former three-term Mayor Tom Carper was the interviewer and for the first time, Gordy Taylor was the interviewee.  The session can be viewed on YouTube using the following link:  https://youtu.beHW1juHgEQPU

Best wishes to all for a wonderful holiday season and a healthy, productive 2022.

I simply couldn’t escape the logic of writing a few lines relevant to the holiday that is upon us, so Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Before I ruminate a bit about my favorite holiday, an update on the “journey” would seem to be in order.  The Mayo Clinic’s Medical Oncology Department called to say they don’t need to see me because after reviewing all of the records, the doctors concur with the University of Iowa’s Hospital doctors that the MRI does NOT indicate cancer or a tumor.  It is always comforting and worthwhile to have a second opinion so the call was a relief.

We first met with the speech pathologist in Burlington on November 10th and again on November 18th. She was extremely helpful, and I now have a series of tongue exercises (you got that right, Gordy Taylor doing exercises to strengthen his tongue seems pretty funny) that will hopefully ensure that food is directed into my stomach and not my trachea enroute to my lungs.  They are easy to accomplish; I can do them while sitting on the coach having breakfast, lunch, and dinner meals of “product.” 

When we had our follow-up with the “speech lady” on the 18th, I mentioned that I really can’t feel much improvement and she smiled and said, “You won’t, but that is the way it is with muscles in this part of your body.”  I need to continue to stay the course and keep doing what I am doing, hoping there will be some improvement when I take another video swallow test sometime in December.  So, I will continue to move my tongue from right to left, swallow vigorously, stick out my tongue between my teeth, keep it in place and attempt to swallow. Try it, great fun. Then I lay on my back and move only my head up and try to look at my toes and hold it there for 60 seconds—another exciting exercise in frustration and hard on the back.  I even have vocal exercises but I digress.  Regardless of the results of the swallow test, she assured me that PEG will continue to be with me for the foreseeable future. 

This all gets to be a little scary as I find myself succumbing to the “Stockholm Syndrome;” whereby you convince yourself that something bad that has happened to you is really a good thing e.g. Patty Hearst.  I actually get attached to the damn thing and become reluctant to totally yank it out and return to normal eating and drinking activities.  However, if I ever, (and certainly hope I do) get the green light, I will embrace that reality and promptly order a pizza though I’ll probably have to settle for one piece as I adjust to whatever the new protocol might be. We wait some more, do the exercises, and realize that PEG will be with me for a while.  I am strengthened in my resolve to win this battle by a couple of words posted on the blog by Dallas Hancock that stick in my mind. She wrote, “Gordy, you can do this—STAY FIERCE” and indeed, Dallas, I shall endeavor to do so.

On to Thanksgiving:  I’m not sure why it is my favorite holiday but indeed it is. Easter is a time of reverence, the 4th of July a time of celebration, and Christmas has become a time when everyone seems consumed with gifts rather than giving and honoring the birth the most important person in Christianity.  Thus, we come to Thanksgiving when we gather with family and maybe a few close friends to give thanks for the lives we are allowed to live in this great country.  In this time of so many differences, Americans share Thanksgiving.  To me, bringing family together makes me happy and gives meaning to my life. Diane feels the same way. Last year we were not allowed to do so because we were getting over our bouts with Covid 19. We ended up getting carry-out at Chubby’s, a local restaurant. The meal was excellent but to us, no way to celebrate this important day.  

I read a cute quote about Herb Kelleher, the founder of Southwest Airlines, written by his employees that was their shout-out thank you to their leader.

Thanks Herb

for remembering every one of our names

for supporting the Ronald McDonald House

for helping load baggage on Thanksgiving

for listening

for singing at our holiday party

for singing only once a year

for letting us wear shorts and sneakers to work

for over talking Sam Donaldson

for riding your Harley Davidson in Southwest Headquarters

for being a friend, not just a boss

He must have been a true leader who connected with his people using not only his head but also his heart.  I won’t take time to recite the many blessings Diane and I received this year other than to say, except for that nasty bout of pneumonia and reinsertion of PEG, we have been pretty damn lucky.  I have had the good fortune to live the life I’m living and to have had the opportunity to meet so many wonderful people. Health issues aside, the 4th quarter has been very good to Diane and me.  

Living life tends to give a person perspective.  I’ve had a large dose of that in recent months.  It reminds me of a comment I make in my motivational presentations asking “Is your glass half-empty or half-full?”  My current health situation is best explained in the book The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse by Charley Mackesy given to me by alumni colleague Jaynee Groseth and husband Rolf, a K-12 classmate of mine.  It has to do with a conversation between a boy and a mole “is your glass half empty or half full?” asked the mole.  “I think I’m grateful to have a glass,” said the boy.  That sums up my life in November 2021.  I’m pretty darn grateful.

I keep coming back to the only real constant in my life that makes sense to me, motivates me, energizes me. That constant is PEOPLE who are from all walks of life with different life experiences.  They are of widely divergent political and religious views, and they have all been there for me over these many decades. I think that by and large there is a constant with all of them best expressed by Ella Wheeler Wilcox in this poem:

Two kinds of people on the earth today,

the people who lift and the people who lean

look only for lifters in your inner circle  

Well said Ella.  Diane and I are looking forward to Thanksgiving this year, more than ever as we share it with sons Gordon III and Ryan and their families.  Daughter Jennifer and her crew will be there in spirit; we will miss them. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Friday, October 29, 2021

It has been two weeks since the happy dance celebration with wonderful MRI results.  Monday is November 1^st, and I have been pondering what that will bring. Since the beginning of this journey on July 2nd, Diane and I have been touched, deeply touched, by the support we have received from so many people via personal visits, phone calls, texts, emails, cards, and letters. Your “being there” for us and the many prayers on our behalf have made “all this” bearable and even if the outcome had not been positive, we would have found strength and solace in all everyone has done for us. Thank you seems inadequate but it is the best we can do so let me reiterate, “Thank you, thank you, thank you” on behalf of the entire Taylor family.

I used the word “ponder” because that is about all I can do until the CT scan swallow test is conducted on Monday.  I walk early in the morning with buddy, Sean, watch too much Dateline etc., have cleaned out numerous drawers and files, and answered as many queries as possible in order to keep my mind occupied. I am clueless as to what lies ahead.  Let me be clear:  I know I can swallow, that really isn’t the issue but rather when I do this simple activity, where does, what I put in my mouth go? 

The Northwestern Hospital medical staff said food and liquids were getting into my right lung lower lobe and that caused my silent aspirational bacterial pneumonia. Obviously, we don’t want that to happen again but by the same token, if not absolutely necessary, can I ever get PEG removed and return to what we have come to call a “normal state of living.”  If the swallow test indicates a chronic problem that cannot be reversed, then we will simply have to live with this intrusion in our lives and move on as best we can. If, however, I can remove PEG and eat and drink again with the odds being there will not be a serious recurrence of the dreaded pneumonia, am I willing to “roll the dice” and take a chance?  I’m guessing that is the dilemma we are facing and hopefully on Monday we can get on the road to finding answers to that most serious of questions.  Oh, there it is again, tick tock, tick tock.

Monday, November 1, 2021

Appointment over and we are back in Macomb. As I type this, I have a knot in my stomach—not bad news but not particularly good either.  I’d give today a C-; I did not totally flunk the test. However, for now PEG remains. The speech pathologist administered the CT-scan swallowing video which took 15 minutes to complete.  I sat down in something akin to a dentist’s chair and was asked to swallow a small amount of water with barium, then eat a little applesauce, and then a piece of peach.  I was told to chew and then swallow and do whatever it took to “get it down.”

All of this was filmed and Diane and I were shown the results and everything was explained to us.  It seems all this is tied into the silent aspiration pneumonia episode from July which was when it was determined I should no longer eat food and drink liquids in the conventional manner and PEG was inserted. For me, the problem is that when I swallow food and it goes down my throat through the esophagus. There is a flap (epiglottis) that opens and shuts to ensure food goes to the stomach.  In my case, the muscle is not ensuring this happens and a very small amount of food is not going to my stomach but getting detoured to my right lung and thus causing bacterial pneumonia. The reason it is called “silent” is because I don’t even know it is taking place. 

Why is this happening?  Eleven years ago when I was treated for base of tongue cancer (squamous cell carcinoma), I wore a mask over my face and neck that was bolted to a table so that I couldn’t move while I received 35 blasts of radiation over 7 weeks.  The radiation was a huge part of eradicating the cancer.  No doubt, it saved my LIFE!  But in so doing, it damaged the “good” tissue in my neck area.  As we have come to learn, radiation is the gift that keeps on giving.  This is not always such a good thing.  According medical professionals, my age in tandem with the radiation has me where I am today.

I will next be scheduled with an outpatient speech pathologist who will prescribe and give me exercises to do twice a day that will strengthen the appropriate muscles.  After a month, I will return for another swallow test. The speech pathologist today did not discount the possibility of this working and actually seemed hopeful that I might be able to get that muscle strengthened to the point where it would be possible for me to eat in the conventional manner.  So, there is hope.  She said the fact that I appear to be active and otherwise in good health work in my favor, so now we wait for the ENT doctor to make arrangements for all this to happen, probably in Burlington.

Why a C-, why a knot? Answer is pretty easy but sounds a bit self-pitying. We are both just plain tired of all this and want it to end. Since May, it has been one thing after another and now the fact that PEG will be with us for the foreseeable future just seems daunting.  It is hard for others to visualize what it is like for us at dinner.  We call it “situational fatigue.”  For 95 days, I have sat on the couch three times a day “feeding” myself Jevity-1.2 product.  Diane sits on the other couch eating salad, steak, chicken, Frosted Mini Wheats (at least it isn’t Fruity Pebbles), English muffins, fruit, cheese & crackers, frozen dinners, etc.  It makes the eating experience a job and not a dining pleasure.  We now eat to live and not live to eat.  It sort of takes the joie de vivre out of our lives.

Then I look in the mirror and say, “Shut up, you ungrateful jerk. You don’t have cancer and certainly you can live with this if that’s what you need to do.”  That is correct, but guess I was hoping for the whole enchilada and that is simply unrealistic at this point in time. Now it is on to the next step and will soldier forward with a positive attitude as that is the only way to proceed.  Two weeks ago, we were potentially facing cancer and now we’re NOT!

Diane came across a Brene Brown quote that explains the main reason we embarked on this refocus of the blog which is to address what we have been experiencing

One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through and it will be someone else’s survival guide.

We hope the blog does just that.

Friday, October 15, 2021

Today should be THE DAY with some answers. We went to bed last night after the Buccaneers beat the Eagles and the Dodgers prevailed over the Giants to win that series. While we are sports fans, we aren’t nuts, but now we apparently are. Nothing says major sports events like those two games–what the heck. Maybe we can find a couple of junior high teams to watch.  Heck, we have now officially seen all Datelines and 20/20 episodes produced in the 21st Century.  We had a challenging night’s sleep. I woke Diane up at 2 a.m. as she was having some sort of nightmare—not surprising. At 5 a.m. I quietly whispered, “Are you awake?” and the reply came, “Of course.”  So being creatures of habit, we got up, made the bed, and were down stairs fully clothed at 5:15 as if we had someplace to go.  Coffee for Diane and “product” for me.  At 6:15 I was out the door to walk on a dark (of course) cold, foreboding morning and Diane was preparing to finish up with her last “paint by numbers” (they are really nice but that is what they are) painting.

At 7:15 I was walking towards the Macomb Square when I observed a man coming towards me wearing a suit and tie. This guy was going somewhere but what the heck was he thinking.  You just don’t expect to see that so early in the morning, so I assumed it was a homeless guy wearing what was left of his wardrobe.  It turned out to be Dean of the College of Business and Technology, Dr. Craig Conrad.  I asked him if he was lost and he said no, he just saw me walking, parked his car and wanted to ask how I was doing—a wonderful gesture. You can’t make this stuff up and this is our lives these days—people caring and reaching out in ways large and small. Guess you just can’t teach “class.”  This is another example of what can happen when you live in a small town.  People genuinely care about one another.  It shows.  

I was then walking by the Dairy Queen (unfortunately closed for the season) and literally almost walked into Dr. Jack McPherson, Director of Hospitalists at McDonough District Hospital.  He has been one of our “go to” professionals during this adventure in our lives.  I got home at 8 a.m.  Now what? I read the paper and came upstairs to lie down but that was futile so here I am.  Diane answered a few emails and texts and has been pacing the house, cell phone in hand, waiting, waiting, waiting.  It is now 10 a.m.  If this is what we are experiencing, I can only imagine what it must have been like for General Dwight David Eisenhower on June 6, 1944 as the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces sent thousands of men to the beaches of Normandy to free Europe. No wonder they called it “The Longest Day.”

Six hours later…

We just got the call—not cancer! I am in the 10% of folks whose PET scan lights up, and it is good news.  Also it is not a tumor—possibly calcification of tissue and that could be a function of the aging process.  Diane asked the doctor, “Should we be doing a happy dance?” and he said “that would be appropriate.” Diane is calling the kids while I type this, and it will be a “good news” weekend for the Taylors. We have had so much “down” news the past four months that we are cautiously optimistic that we have turned the corner on this onerous episode in our lives.

With cancer behind us, it is time to revisit the whole PEG issue as dragging a tube around hanging out of my stomach for the past almost three months has caused me to lose my old man sex symbol status.  We will call Dr. Henrich, my Burlington ENT doctor, and schedule an appointment to determine how he feels we should proceed which I assume means we start with a new “swallow” test.  Even if that does not work out, it is a relief to have this cancer scare in the proverbial rearview mirror.

As I type this, I am in a bit of a fog, a happy fog I might add. At some time, will need to process all that has happened to date and take stock of our good fortune.  I do know that I will let myself believe that the prayers of loved ones and friends has made a difference in the positive outcome we got on the phone thirty minutes ago.  This is as good a spot as any to say THANK YOU to all of you who have been there for us since we started recounting this story back at the end of June. I look forward in the weeks/months ahead to get back to the original purpose of my blog with an occasional PEG update interspersed as well. 

It is Friday night and raining in Macomb but not at 35 Indian Trail. The sun is shining here, and I’ll bet there is a rainbow out there somewhere as well.  Hooray and hallelujah.  The waiting is over….

Friday, October 8, 2021

It is 10 a.m. and I am sitting here wondering what today will bring.  Diane worked her usual magic and got my appointment moved from October 14th to today at 6 p.m., so we will be heading out to Iowa City in an hour or so.  It is amazing how, in the throes of all this, life inextricably moves forward. This morning it was a trip to the dry cleaner and then the bank and a couple of loads of wash to be done for good measure.  I did all this alone. 

So, where was Diane? She was on the phone where she spends most of her time these days in a ceaseless quest to get things done in the most efficient and expedient manner humanly possible.  In addition to getting my appointment moved to today, she is trying to retrieve records from my procedure done in Cape Coral, Florida, in March 2010 for base of tongue cancer as Mayo wants them as they continue to evaluate my case before deciding whether or not to “accept” me.  It is a bit like being a senior in high school waiting to see if you are going to get into your college of choice. Diane talks to folks at Mayo, in Burlington, and Iowa City, Iowa, and Northwestern attempting to get things in order for second or maybe even third opinions. I am not mentally equipped to do any of this so fortunate to have Diane “in my corner.”  Did I forget to add grateful?  When I was out walking at 6 this morning, I thought, with the exception of actually undergoing the PET Scan or MRI or whatever the “treatment of the day” is, Diane has been way more involved.  I’m just the patient.  

The past ten days have gone by slowly, very slowly. There has been yard work to do, and some general upkeep completed by our friendly neighborhood contractor. We’ve watched football and post-season baseball.  In addition, we enjoyed the fourth season of Goliath starring Billy Bob Thornton. We binged this series, viewing all eight one-hour episodes in a single day. We do try to keep our minds occupied.  

As I close for today, I can’t help but wonder, “Is today the day we have a procedure (MRI) that will finally give us answers regarding my immediate mortality, be it good news or bad?”  The journey continues.

Saturday, October 9, 2021

Back home in Macomb and our own bed tonight.  Yesterday proved to be a long day. Iowa City was chaotic as it was the scene of Iowa/Penn State football game, so revelers were arriving. We got to at the hospital at 5 p.m. for a 6:00 procedure.  It went without a hitch but lasted from 6:15-7:15 and oh so noisy.  The MRI machine is very loud.  Suddenly, it felt like 2010 all over again as they put me on my back and fastened a mask over my face so I couldn’t move. This would be an awful experience if you suffer from claustrophobia, which thankfully, I don’t.

Exhausted when we returned to the hotel so, of course, it was pajama time and then DATELINE. Today we attended the wedding of the wonderful man, who has produced all 300 of my local access tv shows, and his lovely and talented bride. We got back to Macomb at 5 p.m. and must admit, again, we are just “spent” and really tired. I can only guess it is the unrelenting pressure of “one crisis after another” for three-plus months. 

It is our understanding that the results will come our way sometime next week. We don’t know if that will be via a phone call or personal appointment back in Iowa City. We are at the juncture where there is probably no more guessing as the MRI should definitively answer the question—”What is it?”  The doctors will, we hope, tell us what lies ahead and how we should best proceed. The hours will continue to drag on but at least, in terms of some sort of end game, we will know precisely what we are facing.

Tuesday, October 12, 2021

We were hoping that yesterday would find us getting a call with results of MRI but no such luck.  Consequently, it was another day of waiting and try as we will, that is simply not an easy exercise.  It rained all day Monday so no walk for me and quite a bit of painting for Diane. It was just a pretty gloomy day except the most recent painting is beginning to blossom into another Diane Taylor work of art to brighten things up at 35 Indian Trail.

Today will be a look on the bright side as it is sunny crisp day that will bring us some good news—right? Actually, I’m somewhat optimistic though there is no medical reason for me to feel this way. For the life of me, I actually will be a little surprised if the results show cancer as since this sad adventure began, fast forwarding to the “hot spot” of September 1st and discounting the neck/pneumonia/PEG regimen of June and July when I was literally beside myself with pain and frustration, Gordy Taylor has been feeling pretty damn good.  Now, for English majors among you, that stream of consciousness last sentence would be for the readers of William Faulkner, known for his long, very long sentences.  

It would seem odd to me that I would feel fine if cancer is in my neck/head or wherever MRI explored and not feeling anything bad. For a while, I would wake up in the morning waiting for severe pain or blurred vision or something but to date, nothing, so will continue to hope for the best.  As I type this upstairs, Diane is downstairs making what she refers to as “THE CALL” to see if results will be forthcoming today. Tick tock, Tick tock, Tick tock….

Wednesday, October 13, 2021

Nope, it didn’t happen!!  Diane and I have been given a new date as to when information will be forthcoming.  It can’t be soon enough. “They” called yesterday afternoon to inform us that a group meeting of specialists will be held Friday morning to discuss the results of the MRI. These doctors have independently reviewed the results, and they come together to discuss what was found and propose a course of action. I surmise that at this point, Diane and I are told how they collectively recommend we proceed and we go from there.

Today is Wednesday and of course Friday seems like a “new eternity” for us but then suppose we should be getting used to the way all this plays out.  Naturally, the important thing is to “get it right” so wait we shall.  Diane will paint; I will walk.  By the time this concludes, Diane will have painted the equivalent of the Sistine Chapel; I will have walked back and forth across the United States twice.  

September 27, 2021

I guess you could say progress is being made, just at a snail’s pace. After the needle biopsy cancellation due to “too risky” on September 10th, we had a meeting with an ear, nose, throat (ENT) specialist at the University of Iowa Hospital System on September 27th to determine the next step in the “needle biopsy odyssey.” We met for almost an hour as the doctor was able to bring up the actual images of the CT-scan and PET-scan on his computer screen and showed them to us. Then we moved into the interpretation of all this.  He told us he has never seen a case like mine, and he writes articles in medical journals about this stuff. 

The ENT decided to share my records and scans with interventional radiologists to try and figure out what to do moving forward and it would appear one of two options is on the table. One is to do an ultrasound needle biopsy where they literally go in and navigate through and around blood vessels to get a tissue sample from the tumor/lesion “hotspot.”  The other option is to do an MRI which is non-invasive and can give them photos of the area in question without “going in.”  After this procedure, in concert with the radiology team, they will come up with a diagnosis and plan. We believe the hope is to use a combination of radiation/chemotherapy to treat the problem, but it might be too close to the regimen for my base of tongue cancer eleven years ago to allow them to do this.  Surgery is out of the question due to the location and the very real prospect that it could allow cancer cells to spread during the operation. 

So here is what we are facing in layman’s terms. After the MRI, a plan will be developed.  If they can’t go the radiation/chemo route, then we have a real challenge as options beyond that are severely limited. They would come up with “something,” but we sensed that would be more of a “delaying tactic” than anything else.  Not the brightest of scenarios, however, our hope is that they can come up with a radiation/chemo plan.  Who would ever have thought we would be “rooting” for another round of radiation/chemo?

September 28, 2021

Twenty-four hours later, our ENT specialist called to tell us that all the radiologists agreed that an MRI was the preferable option, and it has been scheduled for October 14^th pending insurance approval.  This waiting is agonizing for others but excruciating for us.  This procedure will be done in Iowa City.  Diane will also immediately search out a second opinion. We have been struggling to get a commitment from Mayo but that is due to a multitude of variables.  

When the focus of “the blog” changed from observations on life in the 4th quarter to my serious health odyssey, I told myself that it was important that I be honest and straight forward and not sugar coat what the Taylors were experiencing. The goal is not only to inform our friends of our journey but also to provide background and comfort to others who might unfortunately find themselves on the same health trajectory. It is my heartfelt hope that in the days ahead and sooner rather than later, I can write here that I apologize, “Gordy is the boy who cried wolf and he is fine and this was all much ado about nothing.”  At present, I don’t honestly believe that or I wouldn’t be wasting your time here. Yet, I do want to return to the previous perspectives on life postings as soon as these health issues are behind us. 

Thursday, September 9^th   

Tomorrow is the big day with the CT-scan guided needle biopsy procedure in Burlington, Iowa. It has been eight excruciatingly long days since we got the troubling PET-scan results on September 2nd. Diane and I are continuously asked in one form or another, “How are you spending your time during this endless period of waiting?”  Let me tell you. We try and eat together as best we can, I’m with PEG and 2 1/2 cartons of product per meal and Diane with carry out, leftovers, toast, English muffins, and cereal, endless bowls of cereal. She consumes Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes and Mini Wheats by the box, not the bowl. She is such a good sport but through “all this” her appetite is severely diminished. I confess, I am oh so tired of “product” and long for any food group or some form of liquid nourishment.  It is very boring.

As for what we do daily, we are on separate trajectories. Diane Monet, Diane Van Gogh, Diane Klimt has taken up what I call sophisticated paint-by-number creations of famous painters which is slow but the finished product is excellent. She has an occasional lunch with a friend and has been out to visit a few of them. She is attending the local Gazebo Arts Festival and that should be fun as well. Diane is also our “in house” doctor, schedules appointments, does some medical research, and orders product for her husband–thankless work but has to be done.  If anyone really knows me, I possess minimal technology skills.  Heck, I loved my “flip” phone which met its demise in 2018 when in the early morning darkness in the car, I dropped it in my glass of Diet Coke forcing me to get a “real” cell phone.  Diane does everything concerning the blog:  initiation, posting, editing, photos, and collaborating on the written entries.  Anyone want to play bridge?  Diane loves the game and online bridge became the norm when her groups didn’t meet. 

I walk and then walk some more. It is what I do to eat up the day—7 miles most days but throw in a 10 miler once in a while. How can that be? How does a person with what I might be facing walk that much every day?  It makes no sense but at least it gives me sanity. I do scare people. Since I can’t swallow, I walk down the street, put water from my bottle in my mouth and then, because I shouldn’t swallow, spit it out. I must be quite a sight. 

And then there is the mindless entertainment—Dateline, 20/20, 48 Hours, Cold Justice, Reasonable Doubt—you name it, we’ve watched it.  What have we learned?  If you are a woman, do not stand on a steep cliff with your significant other behind you, do not take a bath with a psycho husband in the house, or stand in front of a steep staircase.  For the men, be cautious of antifreeze cocktails given freely to you by an overly zealous female.  Gee, we’ve learned so much worthless information the past month or so, but it does pass the time. Reading is difficult as concentration is hard to do but need to work that into our routines. Of course, there is yard work and a house to manage but TIME has dragged on and on and on.

Friday, September 10^th—Morning

It is 5 a.m. and as I type this, I am thinking about what we have been doing the past twelve hours or so and I wish it was getting a good night’s rest but that was not to happen. At 5 p.m. we sat on the couch looking at each other and quietly asking, “What do you think will happen tomorrow?” We both uttered something positive and optimistic but not sure either of us was totally convincing.  For dinner, I had the usual and Diane, why a small bowl of cereal of course.  We watched the evening news then everywhere we looked, it was reflections on the twenty-year anniversary of 9-11. That was riveting to watch and took our minds briefly off today’s activities. I went upstairs and watched Tom Brady and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers against the Dallas Cowboys and I lasted for a half, turning off the tv at 9:30. Diane came up at midnight.

Here we are and it is now time to head out to Burlington for the needle biopsy. The sun will be bright this morning and directly in the eyes of those driving eastbound, so I’ve decided we should leave a little early so as to not be on the road traveling westbound when the poor folks going east can’t see us on the country roads. We should be traveling north by the time the sun comes up. See what you learn when you walk early in the morning. There is also the ever-present concern with deer at this time of year as the corn is high and not yet harvested so must be vigilant for them as well. Damn, I’m a planner. 

As I close this segment, my thoughts are on the quote of noted writer, Anna Quindlen, who the day after the 9-11 attack gave us the following prophetic observation, “September 10^th was the last everyday morning of the rest of our lives.” Will Diane and I be saying the same thing about September 9, 2021, as it relates to our lives? Time to leave. Is it OK to use the Beatles refrain and Diane and Gordy’s “song” “Here Comes the Sun” or maybe it’s Jackie Gleason, “And away we go.”  My stomach is churning; I take one final look in the mirror to see what I look like before the next chapter in our lives begins.

Friday, September 10^th—Afternoon

We’ve returned to Macomb and my looks haven’t changed much as the needle biopsy was CANCELLED!!! Do you believe it? We barely do. We arrived at 7 a.m. and did blood workup, explanation of sequence of events to transpire, and IV solution started.  A CT-scan was set up where they attempted to get some measurements so a needle biopsy could be performed. I laid on my back motionless for 45 minutes as they tried in vain to get a good “photo angle” so the needle procedure could be done. They withdrew me from the tubular machine and announced “too risky.”  Apparently, there is an abundance of vascular activity right in the path including the huge carotid artery, so the doctor said he just couldn’t in good conscience attempt the procedure.  Again, Diane and I are disappointed and totally dumbfounded. We need some good news here folks and can’t seem to get any . Now, to be frank, kudos to the medical team for not doing what they felt they couldn’t do safely so there is that for which to be grateful.

Next step is to meet with our ENT doctor and develop a new strategy moving forward.  We are saddened by the fact that things remain backed up due to Covid issues, primarily because of unvaccinated people who need medical treatment and are clogging up the system.  I’m sorry, but I’m old school. This just doesn’t seem fair. If these folks had gotten the vaccine, I wouldn’t have to wait and then wait again longer than necessary because of their selfish behavior.  We’ve been told that this issue is percolating down through the entire health care system and is not unique to Gordy Taylor but still it rankles me . OK, that’s it for today. Time for a walk, a very long walk.

Tuesday, September 14^th

The waiting continues. Yesterday, through the relentless efforts of our ENT doctor and Diane, all of my medical records have been sent to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, a 5 ½ hour drive from Macomb.  We are now waiting (there’s that word again) for them to evaluate my case and in the words of Bob Barker on the Price is Right call us and say, “Come on up?”  Here’s hoping.