Searls Stuff
Friday, January 12, 2024
Lampassas TX with Ryan’s Family
Wednesday, January 10, 2024
Skin Cancer
Being a teenager in the 60s & 70s, I spent a lot of time outside. Swimming at the lake or pool with friends. Canning food in a wash tub over an open fire after picking produce from the garden. Exploring fields and wooded areas for hours on end. Competing with my brothers at shooting skeet or firing arrows at hay bale targets. Playing badminton, basketball, baseball, and hide and seek with either my brothers or cousins. Quite often, I went fishing with Dad; or, hunting with Grandpa Oscar. Most of my non-school hours were outdoors… without sunscreen.
Over time, the medical community began to warn the public about the dangers of sun exposure. As a young adult, I believed the utter nonsense of, “You have to burn before you can tan. Once you tan, you’re safe from burning again. It’s the repeated sun burns that you have to worry about.” Stupid!!
The first clue that I would eventually be battling skin cancer came when Dad and my brothers began having skin cancer removed. None of them ever used sunscreen either. Plus, they spent even more time in the sun than I did due to their military careers. I think I secretly hoped that their time in the Army was the big difference in the amount of exposure we had. I figured I probably wouldn’t have to deal with it. Unfortunately, I was wrong. My first Mohs surgery took place in my 68th year of life. Sadly, it probably won’t be my last.
My skin cancer first presented as a dry brown spot in my left eyebrow. I just thought it was an age spot… until it started to bleed, scab over, then bleed again. It also started getting larger. My PCP put in a referral to a dermatologist, who performed a biopsy. The results were basal cell carcinoma. There was also a pre-cancerous lesion in the same eyebrow. The plan was to remove the skin cancer using Mohs surgery, and to treat the pre-cancerous lesion by freezing it.
Below are photographs and a brief explanation of the removal pricess.
Saturday, August 19, 2023
Ascending aortic aneurysm: The Ticking Time Bomb
During the summer of 2019, Ron and I were escaping Texas heat, traveling through South Dakota by way of Oklahoma, Kansas and Nebraska. Before we left, I had notice a twinge of jaw pain any time I chewed on one side. We already had all of our reservations made, routes planned and sites selected. So, I opted for Motrin and crossed fingers to get me through the trip. Things went well until a couple of weeks into our trip. The twinge had turned in that toothache the tells you to see a dentist. We decided to head down to Ft. Riley to visit Dave the next day, and, then head home.
The next morning, my jaw was swollen so it was most obviously an abscess in the jaw under one of my molars. Being retired military, we have the great blessing of accessing free medical care at any military base. While at Riley, we stopped in at the hospital ER for some pain pills and antibiotics. Being the thorough medical team you would expect them to be, the doctor explained he wanted to do both a CT scan and chest X-ray to rule out anything else. That scan changed my life.
The doctor came into the examining room with a folder on his lap. He asked if anyone had ever mentioned anything about an aortic aneurysm. Taken by surprise, I said nothing, other than Granny Alice had one that ruptured and caused her death. The doctor asked if I had ever heard of Marfan’s disease or connective tissue disorder. Again, the answer was no. He then explained that the CT scan created images of my upper torso from my ears to my diaphragm. The image showed an aortic aneurysm. He suggested I make an appointment with my PCP once I got home. There was no emergency, just something that needed investigating and monitoring.
For the next 4 years, I started blood pressure meds and a Beta blocker to decrease pressure in the aneurysm, adopted a heart healthy diet, walked faithfully, and saw a cardiologist regularly for tests and monitoring. Every year, the aneurysm got just a tad bit larger. It started at 4.1cm and grew .5cm with each scan. Each year I would ask about surgical repair; but, was told the surgery wasn’t worth the risk. Various medical trains of thought all adhered to the watchful waiting approach. It wasn’t until we moved North to the Ft. Worth, area that I found a cardiologist and surgeon that validated my views. Which were: I am relatively young and in good health, which would make recovery easy. I have a family history of aneurysms, and the aneurysm was slowly growing.
After reaching 5.5cm, we started prepping for surgical repair. That involved almost one year of various tests and continued watchful waiting. The surgeon’s rationale for the barrage of tests was to make sure there was nothing else cardiac related that needed fixed while she had me open. Tests and referrals included: chemical stress test, sonogram, electrocardiogram, labs, visit with a hematologist more CT scans and x-rays. It is a wonder I don’t glow in the dark.
Finally, on August 11, 2023, the ticking time bomb was defused. I am currently in recovery; which is brutal. But, the peace of mind that has come with eliminating one thing that could end life as I know it, is well worth the next 8 weeks.
Thursday, July 20, 2023
June 2023 Cruise With the Glenn-Searls Family
Our close proximity to the port in Galveston affords us many opportunities to cruise the Caribbean. Ron and I have been able to sail with most of our kids at one time or another. Sometimes, the cruise was just for fun; and, some cruises had a special purpose. Our cruise this June had a very special purpose.
Jamie’s mother passed away unexpectedly after returning from a cruise with the family. While her death was sudden, I personally feel she was lucky. Dorothy had lived a full life, was loved by friends and family all across the country, and enjoyed a retirement busy with various hobbies and interests. She ended her journey on Earth by passing away quickly without enduring a long and painful battle with some terminal illness. I can only hope I am just as lucky when my time comes.
Dorothy left instructions for her ashes to be spread at places that held special meaning to her. One of those places was from a cruise ship. Ron and I were honored to be invited to attend Dorothy’s last cruise. Yes, the actual act of spreading her ashes brought tears. But, the cruise was filled with joy, laughter, and precious time with family. I think that made her happy.
Below are pictures taken either by Jamie or myself. One last hurrah for Dorothy