The BUGGY REPORT is a playful, unscientific indicator of Dale’s strength and health.
** For a FULL explanation of who/what “Buggy” is, scroll to the bottom of this page.
December 4, 2014
This is Buggy reporting again (finally). Actually this is “Gold Buggy” and “Plain Buggy” working together to type this blog entry. Gold buggy has that name because of the gold wedding ring. I am plain buggy because of no ring. Jinny named us both. She is a retired elementary and pre-school teacher and is quite good at imagining personalities for things like stuffed toys, mittens and hands acting like puppets. She gets a lot of joy from my presence in her life.
Though the other one is gold buggy and is helping with half the typing, I (plain buggy) am the important one since I am the indicator of Dale’s health. His brain cell cancer is (was) in his left brain, so the symptoms were in the right hand. As long as I can do everything I used to do before cancer and regained the ability to do after treatment and much prayer, Dale is healthy. MRIs indicate Dale’s health every 6 months and are very expensive. I indicate Dale’s health every moment of every day and cost nothing.
Since I last wrote, Evan & Gracie have moved home from Hawaii and I have done a lot of tickling. I specialize in tickling ribs, underarms, and necks. I don’t stop when grandchildren cry “Stop!” But lest you think I am too aggressive, they both know that I stop instantly when they spell “S-T-O-P.” Crying “Stop” is part of the tickling game. Spelling it ends the tickle. And then they want more.
If you come to see the Sewalls and want a tickle, I will give you a brief neck tickle, just to be friendly and accommodating. You won’t need to know how to spell STOP.
More about myself. When Dale had symptoms, the best one was the struggle to button shirts, which took forever. Now buttoning shirts is taken for granted. Have you noticed that the buttons on some shirts have gotten thicker? Why is that, I wonder? Are thicker buttons cheaper?
A secret about me. I sleep under Jinny’s pillow because Dale goes to sleep on his right side. Sometimes Jinny kisses me before she sleeps. She somehow knows I am there, hovering over her face, even in the dark.
I try not to be jealous of Gold Buggy, despite his name and mine. But sometimes in the evening I take the ring off his finger and put it around the neck of a small gold duck. Jinny always notices if Gold Buggy forgets to put the ring back on.
I hope you like my new picture. The old one was taken in the summer several years ago, so I am updating my profile picture.
To summarize this report, Dale is doing great; and I, Plain Buggy, am lots of fun.
This is Buggy reporting. I am Dale’s right hand. My main task in life is tickling Dale’s grandchildren. However since the alerting symptom of the onset of brain cancer in January, 2011 was the loss of use of my two smallest fingers, I have become the non-technological indicator of the tumor’s behavior. My main competition for this job is the MRI machine at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. I am a much cheaper.
When the tumor was large, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t snap my fingers, button buttons, brush teeth, shave, comb hair, type on the computer or write Dale’s name. I could hang uselessly but that was about it. When the tumor began to shrink, I could do things again.
I can do everything now, and have been able to do everything for the last 2 ½ years. One of my favorite activities is to dance to the theme music of the Netflix TV show Chuck. Some other shows have good music too. Right now I am waiting for Dale’s grandchildren to move home from Hawaii next month. They are going to live in our house for several weeks until their furniture arrives. It’s tickle time. I can do it.
June 26, 2012
Buggy, Dale’s animated, personified right hand is a test indicator of Dale’s health. When the brain tumor began, the first symptom was the loss of use of the two smallest right hand fingers. Eventually use of the entire hand and arm were lost, then regained in response to chemotherapy. Buggy is thus the canary in the mineshaft, the first indicator of tumor growth.
Buggy has become a personality in our home, one that Jinny in particular seems to enjoy. This may have something to do with having no pets after years of cohabiting with two or three dogs.
Buggy’s “show time” is when we watch the TV drama “Bones” on Netflix. Buggy does a kind of expressive, Egyptian dance thing to the theme music of “Bones.” In the dance is the embodiment of energy or tiredness, joy or boredom, puckish or serious mood. Since “Bones” is about forensic anthropology and seems to like to present graphic “in your face” displays of human remains, Buggy sometimes protests with a kind of regurgitation dance. He also can convey a surprising variety of more subtle moods. Somebody should make a movie on the theme of a hand expressing personality and communicating feelings. Oh, Jodie Foster already did that movie.
The most lingering physical symptom of the tumor has been weakness in my right leg. That weakness has lasted a long time, though obviously my leg is much stronger than when I was briefly using a cane in April, 2011. On a walk this week, I noticed that this weakness is now totally gone.
Some evening when one of our daughters is visiting us, we will take some video of Buggy doing his “Bones” dance, and post it on our blog. Meanwhile know that Buggy is doing well and making Jinny laugh.
January 29, 2012
Buggy is strong and sassy, feeling his oats, able to do all things right handed. When grandchildren are not around to tickle, he is busy plaguing Jinny with tickles and taps and demands for attention including a nightly goodnight kiss. He envies left hand buggy, also called ring buggy, and has ambitions to become “gold buggy” but is thwarted by the fact that Dale’s wedding ring does not fit on his fingers.
August 28, 2011
Note: We planned to make a new video of the Buggy on Hilton Head Island, but didn’t get it done. In lieu of Buggy doing imitations of dolphins leaping and frogs jumping, we offer this interview.
Dale: Buggy, the doctor says that the recovery of your ability to perform daily tasks is as important an indicator of my health as an MRI image. So how are you doing?
Buggy: Well, yesterday I was up in a tree trimming branches and then cutting them up for the yard waste can…trimming, sawing, clipping, stuff Jinny doesn’t have enough strength to do. Last night I was shaking hands with friends who commented on the strength of my grip. And I wasn’t trying to impress like some people do (I hate that). I really can’t think of anything I can’t do now that I could do before this tumor began to sit on the left side of your brain.
Dale: Would you say that you have recovered 100% of the abilities you had last January, before I started noticing that you were having trouble?
Buggy: Probably not 100%, but more than 95%. And it isn’t just the recovery of strength. It’s also refined movement. Remember this morning when the radio alarm came on and Jinny mumbled “That’s too loud.” Who turned it down? And I have to tell you, that volume dial is tricky. It goes from “too loud” to “can’t hear it” in a very small movement. But I did it with no problem. Last month I never could have done that.
Dale: Yes, I agree that you have vastly improved in both strength and refinement, even from a month ago. Your agility has improved too. You are typing your side of this keyboard interview with no problem…no string of ooooooooooooooooo when you meant to type o, for example.
Buggy: I may be doing better than your left hand, the one Jinny sometimes calls “ring Buggy.” And we have retired your voice recognition software. It spelled better than you, but it wasn’t always good at understanding what you were saying. Do you mumble?
Dale: Jinny says I do, but that is because she is getting hard of hearing and won’t admit it. How ironic when she is the one who has been mumbling more in recent years.
Buggy: Maybe you should get your hearing checked.
Dale: Not necessary. One thing I have noticed is that, while you are much improved from two months ago in the use of chop sticks, you are not as good as you used to be. So I would agree…not 100% recovery yet.
Buggy: That chop sticks business was the first trouble I had, the first sign of your tumor. And because I had that trouble, you went and got checked. Your pinched nerve theory, unfortunately, was wrong. And the doctor got you on anti-seizure medicine right away since this tumor usually announces itself through a seizure. You should thank me for the chop sticks stuff. And besides, you were trying to eat those skinny Vietnamese noodles.
Dale: Yes, thank you Buggy for the early warning. But you used to do pretty well with skinny noodles.
Buggy: Maybe next month. And be thankful for what you have. I thought you said you were growing spiritually through this illness. Don’t be ungrateful.
Dale: Buggy, are you getting snippy? That’s not how to treat someone with a brain tumor. Don’t you know you have to be nice to me?
Buggy: It’s probably time everybody got over that.
Dale: Well, Buggy, I am glad for your recovery. It is encouraging, and it makes daily life so much easier. Keep improving!
Buggy: I’ll do my best.
Dale: Thanks for doing this interview. Years ago I read a book called Interview with a Vampire. Do you think this interview will be as popular? Should we try to get it published?
Buggy: Ha ha ha. Before we close, I have a couple questions.
Dale: Go ahead.
Buggy: When do I get to wear the ring and be called “ring Buggy”? And when is Evan coming for a visit? Tickling children is my raison d’etre. By the way, your voice recognition software could have spelled that for you, if you didn’t mumble it.
July 12, 2011
My right hand and fingers have recovered remarkably in the last few weeks. I now do things right-handed and without conscious thought that I could not do three weeks ago, and could only do with conscious thought two weeks ago. My right hand is now as good as my left in keyboarding, and I am currently not using voice recognition software at all. There is still some weakness in my right arm and ankle. Thursday I plan to try using chopsticks again. The loss of that ability was the first indicator of the tumor. On a scale of 1 to 10, Buggy is now function at about 8.7. Good job, Buggy! You rock!
Buggy in Amish Country
We just returned from a seven-day trip to visit my family in Western Pennsylvania. I grew up in “Amish country.” And since I moved away from the Western Pennsylvania farmlands, the Amish have thrived, taking over more and more of the rural western Pennsylvania landscape. There is a sense of peace and tranquility in the Amish country of my home that is restorative for me, and also especially for my daughter Sara who lived with my parents and worked for a summer in New Wilmington (my hometown) while she was in college. One of Sara’s favorite activities when she is in Pennsylvania is looking for Amish church on Sunday. She follows the buggy tracks until she finds the houses with lots of Amish buggies parked outside. Then she knows she is found Amish church.
It was Sara’s idea to film Buggy going with her to look for church in Amish country. We thought Buggy would feel very much at home among so many Amish buggies. We were correct. With this Buggy report you will find photos and a video of Buggy’s tour of Amish country.
June 17, 2011 Update on Buggy’s Strength & Dexterity:
Since the last Buggy update on May 19, Buggy has significantly improved in both strength and dexterity. On May 19 I rated his overall ability at 5 ½ out of 10. Today I would rate him at 7 ¾. Things he can now do that he could not do a month ago include: buttoning a left cuff button, putting on a wristwatch, brushing 3/4th of Dale’s teeth (not including upper right inside teeth), eating with a fork, cutting with a knife, doing his share in tying shoes, washing hair (but not combing it – he still makes a mess of that), trimming bushes with small clippers, cutting toenails, lifting a half full coffee cup without spilling it, writing legibly if slowly, tickling small children (his original raison d’être) and a variety of other tasks recently assigned only to Dale’s left hand. Tonight he plans to take on polishing shoes.
He still cannot do the following: use a keyboard without numerous errors (Buggy does not lift his fingers in a timely manner), shave with a safety razor, comb hair well enough for Dale to look good, hold heavy objects high for more than a few moments, use chopsticks, or do anything that requires sophisticated and steady small motor control.
Our doctors have said that the continued improvements of my right hand and arm are clinical evidence that the tumor is shrinking. Near the end of each chemotherapy round, Buggy loses some function temporarily; and then improves dramatically a few days after chemo is completed.
Unfortunately I must also report that Buggy has returned somewhat to his “slacker” ways, ignoring his physical therapy regime for days at a time. Nevertheless, overall, this report summary would be “Way to go, Buggy!”
May 19, 2011: After a serious conversation with Jinny, Buggy seems to have repented of his tendency to slack off on his PT exercises. He promised Jinny to exercise daily, and even took some of his PT equipment with him on a five day trip to California. In addition he has been finding fun ways to “exercise” in his daily tasks, taking back some of the work he had passed on to his friend, Dale’s left hand. He has even begun to boast, “When I recover, Dale will be ambidextrous.” He feels stronger and is accomplishing some tasks that he has not attempted for the last two months. On a scale of 1 to 10, he rates about 5 ½. Strength and flexibility are much better. Subtle, small motors skills are still pretty crude. He is chomping at the bit to film a new video. All in all, a good report. Go Buggy!
May 3. To summarize in general terms, Buggy’s strength and flexibility improved significantly at the end of the first five day chemotherapy pill treatment; and then declined moderately during the remainder of the treatment cycle. “Four steps forward, and one step back” might be a good description. To speak honestly Buggy has been somewhat of a slacker in his physical therapy exercises.
He has a great coach in Georgia, his physical therapist, and a ready supporter in Jinny; but he often doesn’t do the work. He talks the talk, but he hasn’t really walked the walk. Because of his slacking off, he ducked the opportunity for a tickle attack upon grandson Evan last Saturday morning. Fortunately Evan was distracted by a couple of Zhu Zhu pets he found during an Easter egg hunt a few days before, and Buggy avoided being a disappointment. Hopefully Buggy will be more determined about his physical therapy, and will do better in this treatment cycle.
VIDEO: BUGGY DOES PHYSICAL THERAPY!
April 24. Buggy is stronger, more flexible, more ready to tickle grandchildren than three weeks ago. Buggy could probably sustain four or five tickle attacks before exhaustion. Nowhere near the old, inexhaustible Buggy, but improving. Still not able to use utensils. Still prone to dropping things. Gaining some writing legibility, but writing very slowly. On a scale of 1 to 10, perhaps 3 1/2.
WHAT IS BUGGY? A Full Explanation
There isn’t a child alive in the Sewall family that doesn’t know BUGGY. Buggy is a tickle machine. Buggy takes a normal hand and turns it into a worthy adversary. Buggy can go on the attack, but he can also be sensitive; a hardy tickle can easily morph into stroking buggy on the head. He is both ruthless and cozy. Buggy is also our father Dale’s hand.
The brain cancer has made Buggy weaker than normal. Since the cancer is in the left side of the brain, the right side of Dale’s body has weakened. Writing is belabored. Voice recognition software has replaced typing. Positioning a spoon in the right hand has become a fine motor skill when it used to be instinct.
Buggy has suffered. His appearances have dwindled. His attacks aren’t as fierce, though Buggy makes an effort when grandson Evan is near.
THE BUGGY REPORT is Buggy’s fight back to prominence. Each day with physical therapy, Buggy becomes stronger – but it is work. It is a struggle. Buggy is a part of Dale. When Buggy is strong, that’s a good sign.
Go, Buggy! Go, Buggy! You can do it, Buggy. You can get stronger and get well.
Reverand Dale,
I have vivid memories of a summer church camp with you. I remember painting a city of large cardboard boxes. Mostly, though I remember your kind, patient, gentle and loving ways. The love of Christ was truly transperant and pervasive in every interaction I had with you.
May God’s love be transparent to you now. May his peace be yours.
You and your family will be in my prayers.
Michelle (Williams) English
A common bond. Utter disappointment.
We had it as kids, when our alcoholic parent let us down. We’ve had it during career, when dream jobs flew out of reach. We have it now in retirement, as health (either our’s or our spouses) curtails our wild abandon to “kick it up” in a less responsible lifestyle.
But BECAUSE we’ve weathered these disappointments before, this rather big one is handlable. We know that the first step to staring it down is to accept it — and then find ways to laugh in its face. We make bucket lists, and begin checking it off right away. We find great joy in small pleasures every day — and remark about them to reaffirm them. We know we are loved — the biggest gift of life. And you guys have hundreds of people praying for your well-being, which increases your odds.
Of course, it IS a big deal. But it will become less so as its newness wears off, as you image it gone by God’s healing grace, and you fret less about the incompetencies it weilds, and focus more on what you still CAN do. Can’t drive — then walk. Can write, then talk. Can’t see, then listen (audio books are great calmers.)
I find too that I must take charge of my “self-talk”, that voice inside that wells up with angst and oh yes, the killer one: self-pity. I say to it: “You’re counter-productive. Get lost right now. Get a grip or you’ll be no use to anyone!”
So we walk the path each day both with you, Dale, and our parallel one as well. We pray each week for you and your family, that God will carry you on His shoulders in the low times, and that you all will shoulder on together in “ordinary time.”
So, let’s you and I right now image drop-kicking that ugly cancer with the audacious name right over the MIHS goal-post and into outer-space. Out of your brain and far away from Mercer Island. Give it its walking papers and tell it of its weak, sorry existence. So long, buster.
And hello, fortified spirit ‘o your’s.
Loved the light hearted Buggy Report viewing scenes of our childhood in PA. I continue to think of you and your wonderful extended family and offer prayers for the difficult journey you are traveling and for your ultimate recovery.