Posted by: wrmcnutt | July 16, 2009

Fewer SCA Wars on My Calendar Next Year

It is with a heavy heart that I must advise all and sundry that I am unlikely to attend next year’s Lilies and Gulf Wars. Should I be able to attend either event, I will not know until the very last minute, and as such will not be able to commit to camping, hauling, lifting, toting or, most importantly, being in charge.

In the first place, I have been startled at how much the character of the summer travel schedule changes by moving Pennsic up just one week. All of a sudden, the amount of time between Lilies and Pennsic is amazingly short. Lose a weekend to Border Raids, and all of a sudden there are only three weekends between Lilies and Pennsic. (Independence Day doesn’t count as a weekend. I’m too busy trying to get stuff done.)

My mother’s death has pulled me out of town several times over the last few months, and will continue to do so as my sister and I sort out her estate and get her condo ready to rent.

Most of you are aware that my father has been in declining health for the past couple of years. Ever since his stroke he has needed assistance in dealing with his rental properties and his ever-increasing legion of doctors. These processes take both time and more importantly, emotional energy away from what I have to offer the SCA.

Up to this month, I’ve been able to keep things mostly in balance, but we just got some new news last week. He has had stable emphysema for a number of years, and his lung doctor has him x-rayed every six months. Quite some time ago, the lung doctor notices some nodules in both lungs. These could have been just an infection, old TB scars, or any number of artifacts that you can pick up with smoking two packs a day for forty years. Last week, we got an urgent call from his office. One of his nodules had exploded in size from a small fingernail to larger than a silver dollar. So he went in for an out-patient procedure called a bronchoscopy. The both put a camera down into his lungs and took samples for testing, and the test came back unmistakably positive. He has lung cancer.

We have only had the orientation visit with the oncologist, where we learned that they won’t start treating cancer of any kind until they know if it has metastasized. So the first step was more tests. The schedule has me deeply concerned. We got the initial diagnosis from the lung doctor last Thursday. He was able to schedule an appointment with the oncologist the following Tuesday. We had the PET scan and MRI today. And we see the oncologist this coming Tuesday. The pace at which the normally languid medical establishment is running is giving me more than a little pause for thought.

It is not my intent to drop SCA activity entirely. If anything, it is my hope that clearing two wars off of my schedule will allow me to make more trips within my own Kingdom. Accordingly, I am not looking to foster out my apprentices. I can also help plan the Gulf Wars camp, but ya’ll will need a new boss on the ground.

Thank you for your patience. If you have any specific questions, you are welcome to post them in this forum or address them to me directly.

In Service, A Little Closer To Home,

Master William McNaughton, CL
Mka Bill McNutt

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  1. Will,
    We will keep your family in prayer, and I know that your dad will appreciate all you do for him

    • Thank you.

  2. Will, I am so sorry to hear about your dad.
    You might want to take a look at my dad’s ongoing series of Ruminations on living with Melanoma.

    It discusses the various treatment plans, and the science of experimental treatments he has experienced in the 5 years he has been living with cancer. He was originally given about 6 months.
    It is an adventure when a parent has cancer (my mom died of cance rabout 13 years ago.)

    • Thank you. I’ll look into that.

  3. Will,
    I am really sorry about this.
    You will be in our prayers.

  4. I feel your pain. My mother has had not-so-stable emphysema for some years now, and the “cavitary tumor” in her left lung has metastasized to her left vocal cord, which (they tell me) is diagnostic for a quick, nasty kind of lung cancer. Per her wishes, we are not pursuing treatment and she was immediately signed up for hospice. Her daughters’ job is to keep her comfortable and not freak out. It’s the not freaking out part that’s difficult to follow through with. May God give your father a better outcome.

    • Thanks. Dad is determined to have the surgery, and his pulmonologist doesn’t think he can survive it. We meet with the surgeon tomorrow. The worst part of all this is becoming my inability to see anything else as “important.” Work and other aspects of my life are suffering because I can’t concentrate.

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