We drove to San Francisco today to see a surgeon at University of California San Francisco in the GI section of the hospital. He talked rather fast, going over my medical history and my diagnosis. We talked about my family and whether my parents had smoked or if I had been around anyone where I work that smoked. He spoke about the fact that more middle aged white men are being diagnosed with esophageal cancer every day and they really don't know why. He said he would like to have a sample of my tumor when they take it out so they can study it to find a cure. I told him he could have the whole thing, just get it out of me.

The surgery will be a tough one. One of the most complcated surgerys to do. There will be two surgeons working on me. They will take turns completing the removal of the tumor and the re-routing of my stomach and esophagus. He also told me that I will have to meet with the anesthesiologist to get a baseline health condition so he can determine if there will be any problems keeping me under for eight hours. I haven't had a problem yet. They just start the flow in the IV and you go to sleep. Nothing to it. You wake up to hear the doctor saying over and over, "you probably won't remember this, so I will tell you again....".

So that's it, I will be going in for surgery in three weeks. They told me to eat, drink and be merry in the mean time. Exercise is OK, so I will be in the gym and on the bike. I will try to be in the best shape possible before going in for surgery. I have a PET scan next week, so I will post again after Wednesday.

Don't take a second for granted. Tell everyone that you love that you love them.

You may not get another chance.

The surgeon we saw today seemed like a nice fellow. He had been in Afghanistan working on our wounded soldiers coming in from the battlefield. He didn't mince words. He said, "I have to be honest with you, the survival rate for your type of cancer is very low". My wife Julie started to tear up 30 seconds after we sat down. He said, "the good news is that you caught the tumor in a very early stage". I thought, OK, now you are going to tell us the "bad" news? Yes, he said "the mortality rate is very high".

We talked about the surgery. They section out the esophagus and the stomach and then sew them back together. Sometimes they will pull the stomach all the way up to your throat. I didn't sound very comfortable way up there.

Well, there it is. This will be a fight for my life. Regardless of what happens, I want to thank everyone for the words of encouragement. You have helped me a great deal.

I will be off to San Francisco to meet a surgeon and discuss my next steps.

Give your kids a squeeze tonight and tell them you love them. I know I will.

Strange. I sat in the waiting room by myself filling out yet another seemingly meaningless form about my health history. I got to the list of illnesses with their check boxes and started going down the list. I got to the box that said "cancer", and I almost skipped over it. I had to remind myself that I had indeed been diagnosed with this all to familiar disease.

My mother and father were not exactly health nuts. As a matter of fact, everything they did was unhealthy. They smoked like chimneys, they had a poor diet, my mom had a drink or two (before breakfast) and they only exercise they ever had was exercising their vocal cords at one another. Other than that, everything was great.

I have had enough second-hand smoke in my childhood to kill Jack LaLanne a million times over. The funny thing is my mom and dad didn't ever have cancer that we know of. My dad passed away from and infection and my mom's liver gave out after a long two year struggle. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mom and dad dearly, but they passed on long before their time. I only wish they could have seen their grandchildren grow up. They would have been so proud.

I miss them a lot.

I had another Endoscopy today. They added Ultrasound to the test. They got a real clear picture of the tumor so I know what I am dealing with. The tumor has not spread beyond the walls of the esophagus and is not in contact with any other tissue.

They changed the sedative on me today. Larger IV and more drugs kept me groggy for about 4 hours once I got home. Nothing that a couple cups of Joe can't cure.

The doctors feel that I caught it in the first stage. They think I will be OK once we operate and do some chemo.

I meet with my surgeon on Monday. Everyone have a great weekend and give your kids extra tight.

So, my doctor called this morning and said, "You have cancer".

This all started for me about six weeks ago when I sat down to dinner in Palm Springs. I ordered a chicken something, and I took a bite. It didn't go down too well. There was even a little pain when I swallowed. I decided to go to "Urgent Care" at the local hospital. You all know, there isn't anything "urgent" about it. You check in, sit for three hours, and the doctor told me, "I think you just have a sore throat, how about a prescription for cough syrup?" I didn't share his opinion.

A few days later, I went to my own doctor close to home. In his best Russian accent he said, "trouble swallowing, YES? We do upper GI, YES?" I said, "yes, we do upper GI, when? He said, "how about we get you in tomorrow".

I went in for the upper GI. The tech gave me a small Dixie cup that must have weighed a pound. He said, "Just drink this when the doc tells you to". I went through the motions and the test results came back. My doctor called me back in and said he wanted to do an Endoscopy. They put you to sleep and put a camera down your throat. I woke up and the doctor said "we found something. I need you to go in for a CT scan, tomorrow".

I went in for the CAT scan. The injection IV made me feel warm all over. A faint smell of copper, maybe even a salty smell. The scan took a few minutes. The doctor called the next morning with the results. "The bad news is that you have a cancer in your esophagus. The good news is that's all we were able to find. Everything else is clean."

So, that is my current challenge, I have cancer. I'll be going in for surgery, and for the chemotherapy very soon. Some of my friends and family can't believe it. They say, "you are the healthiest person I know. You work out, ride your bike, run. How can you get cancer?" All I can say is that no one is immune to cancer. There is no rhyme or reason as to why we get cancer. If you get the call, you can't back down. You can't curl up into the fetal position and give up. You have to take the fight to the enemy. You have to advance. You have to improvise, overcome, adapt.

You have to live.