thetravelingwithers.com

After a 3 month journey, we’re finally here. My first real visit for clinical trial has arrived. It involved two full days at the Mayo Clinic, taking on the tumor I call Lenny, the unwelcome guest in my right eye. By now, you’re likely very aware of the backstory. I’ll jump directly into the tale and the surreal world of needles, MRIs, and snack therapy.

Day one started with meeting the lead researcher, Dr. Anastasios (Tassos) Dimou. Soft-spoken and straightforward, Dr. Dimou exuded a calm confidence that set me at ease. He seemed more than up to the challenge of handling Lenny, and I was thankful to be in such capable hands.

Next stop: the lab. I’d heard they might take a few vials, but the number they lined up looked more like a collection drive than a routine draw. Who needs this much blood? Dr. Acula? But hey, one needle, one stick—manageable, right?

With my freshly-drained arm, I headed to my first MRI, this one for my abdomen. They needed to make sure Lenny wasn’t building a little summer getaway in my liver. Getting prepped for this MRI required an IV, and, as luck would have it, this needle was bigger than the last. But, as they say, “what doesn’t kill you…” Well, let’s just say it took two tries and the intervention of a specialist—an IV tech, whose whole job is starting IVs, to get the job done. This dude strolled in like a pinch hitter in the bottom of the 9th inning in a tied ball game and had the IV placed in seconds.

Once we got started, the MRI went smoothly…except that I kept dozing off, which meant I kept missing the cues to hold my breath. What can I say? As a stay-at-home dad with four kids, I have the rare ability to sleep pretty much anywhere. Dim lighting, earplugs, and padding around me to keep me in place? That, my friends, is what we call a nap set-up.

After escaping the MRI, I made a quick pit stop at Walmart for some comfort food (doctor’s orders—ok, maybe my own prescription) before settling in at the hotel for a night of sleep to prep for day two.

Day two began before the sun with a 5 a.m. wake-up call. Back at Mayo, I had another MRI to face—this time, of my eyes. And yes, that also meant another IV. (Needle count: four, so far.) This MRI gave the team a close-up of Lenny’s hideout, capturing every detail. This time, I managed to stay awake, helped by the “head cage” they placed over me—a contraption reminiscent of Nicholas Cage in The Wicker Man, only with fewer bees.

With the MRI behind me, I moved to my final appointment: an electrocardiogram (ECG) to check my heart’s rhythm, followed by, you guessed it, another blood draw. Needle number five was the final rite of passage. I’d been poked, prodded, scanned, and scanned again, and now, at last, I was done.

After two days of tests, needles, and accidental naps, I felt like I’d come through a marathon. Now, it’s time to rest up and head home to Megann and the kids. I’m ready to take the next step in this journey of facing Lenny—and sharing the experience with all of you.

As I head into this next chapter, navigating the challenges of my diagnosis has been a mix of hope, uncertainty, and resilience. Traveling out of state for this clinical trial feels surreal at times, especially knowing it’s a crucial opportunity that could shape what lies ahead. Each trip means time away from the kids, my wife, and home. There’s no easy way around the costs of flights, hotels, and the treatments themselves. We are grateful for the help we have received and are so encouraged that the help keeps coming. Through all of this, I’m reminded every day of the love and support surrounding us.

If you feel led to support us in this journey, donations to our GoFundMe go directly toward covering the travel expenses and medical costs that insurance doesn’t quite reach. Your generosity helps me stay focused on my health and allows Megann and me to be there for each other and our family. Thank you for every prayer, every word of encouragement, and every donation. It’s a gift knowing that we’re not alone in this—each gesture lifts us up and fuels our strength for the road ahead.