December 12, 2010 Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

On August 11, 1962, Neil Sedaka hit number 1 on the Billboard top 100 with his pop song, “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.”  I have heard the song a million times on the radio but it really didn’t strike me as very applicable until this week.  You see, this week, I had to “break up” with a woman that has been very instrumental in my fight against cancer.

It was back on January, 29, 2009 that I met Dr. Robin Obenchain.  Several years my junior, Robin is an extremely dedicated physician who is also a cancer survivor.  It was Robin that had the unpleasant task of telling me that I had cancer a little over a week later.  No one ever likes to hear those words and I’m sure no one wants to say those words to someone either. 

Yet, Robin was able to deliver the message in a way that didn’t put me in a downward spiral that could have quickly ended my life. She was able to give me the confidence that I would be able to beat this disease and live a good life.  There is something that happens between a doctor and a patient when this happens, a special bond that can never be broken.

It is now nearly two years later and I am still breathing and getting to enjoy this wonderful life that God has presented to me.  I might have been able to do this with another doctor, but Robin made it easy.  Her gentile and caring approach made it easy for both Julia and me to fight the fight with the knowledge that we had someone on our side.

For someone that does not specialize in Multiple Myeloma, Robin has always been on top of the developments and put me on the correct regimen to get me ready for my transplant.  As soon as my year of insurance covered care at the Mayo post- transplant was over, she took me back as if I had never left.  It has always been a joy going in for my appointments even if I knew I was going to have another hole put in me.

However, United Health Care recently went into contract with the Mayo Clinic and now covers normal care.  I was lucky that they covered transplants when I had mine or I would never have been able to afford their amazing care.  With that in mind, I knew I had to go back to Dr. Mikhael at the Mayo as he is known throughout the world as an expert in MM. Don’t get me wrong, there is no doctor that I would rather have as I hope to continue this battle into 2011 than Dr. Mikhael.  But there is something difficult about leaving someone that helped save your life as Neil said, “Breaking up is hard to do.”

My latest labs are in and despite the fact that they are not as good as my last two, I have no reason to believe that this is a trend. As Dr. Mikhael has told me more than once, this will be a roller coaster ride of ups and downs and this is not even a little bump in the action.  If I had received this same test just one year ago, I would have been thrilled. So don’t worry about me.

I’ll start going back to the Mayo in February for both my blood tests and potential treatment if needed.

October, 29 2010 - Light the Night

It is amazing how fast our lives can change. Just when you think you have everything figured out, something new happens to make you start all over again. My something new happened in February of 2009. I had gone in for my annual physical and less than 24 hours later I was told to rush to the hospital because my kidneys were in failure and I was at high risk of a heart attack. Little did I know it at the time, but this would just be the beginning of an eye opening journey. Within days, I would find out that I had Multiple Myeloma.

Because of the success of the stem cell transplant that I received last summer, I live my life now not worrying about how much time I have left, which is the first thing that most cancer patients think. Yet, I know that I am not cured and that it will almost certainly reappear. There is a great deal of experimentation being done with Multiple Myeloma as many work to find a cure. Ten years ago there were no treatments proven effective against MM and today with the benefit of research and fundraising there are many options showing very good success and many more in clinical trials showing promise.

To help in that fight, Julia and I are again forming a team for Light the Night Walk and I hope you'll join us. Light The Night Walk is the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's evening walk and fundraising event. It is a night to pay tribute and bring hope to thousands of people battling blood cancers and to commemorate loved ones lost.

By joining our team and raising funds for this important cause, you'll be making a real impact on the fight against cancer. On Walk night, you'll join us with other teams and individuals from all over the country in the culmination of our efforts to find cures. Walk night is a family-oriented evening in which participants carry illuminated balloons, raise awareness of blood cancers and come together as a caring community.

Last year is was a struggle for me to complete this walk. It was nearly 100 degrees and I had been very limited in what I could do in the months after the transplant. I didn’t know if I could make it, but I sure was going to give it my best. The first mile was slightly up hill and I began to worry that I would not be able to complete the journey, but the boys were at my side and they were determined that the three of us would make it together. Either their challenge or a little help from the Man upstairs gave me a second wind and I made it to the finish line. Hopefully this year should be a bit easier.

We all know someone who has been affected by cancer. Please join the team by either participating in the walk itself Saturday, November 13th or pledging a donation at the site listed below. I know many reading this will not be able to join us in person, but please at least join us in spirit. The help that you can bring cannot be measured in the number of dollars that you donate, but in the hope that you help create. Hope is what keeps us going. Please help turn that hope into reality.

To pledge a donation and/or join in the walk visit:
http://pages.lightthenight.org/dm/Phoenix10/TeamOutlaws

Thank you.

October 22, 2010 Weathering the Storm

Last week, Julia and I enjoyed our first week of solitary vacation in about five years. We used to make it an annual necessity but due to everything from financial to health issues, we limited ourselves to family vacations. Don’t get me wrong, I love vacationing with the family, but sometimes you just need some alone couple time.

We managed to survive Mexico without being kidnapped or killed. All of the fears that everyone seems to have about Mexico never seemed to show themselves. We had a wonderful week of eating, drinking and relaxing. It is amazing what not worrying about everything in the world can do for you.

However, we did have one little hiccup. It seems that Hurricane Paula decided to introduce herself to us. Seems we take one week out of the last 250 to vacation together and we get an unwanted guest showing up. Luckily for us, Paula didn’t want to see us anymore than we wanted to see her and she took a right turn toward Cuba at just the right time. We saw some rain over several days, but certainly nothing that we couldn’t navigate through.

We did get to witness the resort ready itself for the worst. Having had some major damage in the past, they were prepared for anything. For a while we felt like we were on the Titanic with the string quartet playing in the background. They kept everything open and acted like nothing was happening other than they were protecting everything in sight.

Our entire building was covered by a hundred or so nets. All entrances and balconies were sealed off. All outside chandeliers were disassembled and put in storage. The restaurant that we were eating in was covering up all fans with huge baggies. This was all taking place while the Salsa band was playing and singing in the background. If we were going to get hit they were going to be ready and we were going to be entertained.

We had to go through all of the paces, but in the end it really didn’t cause any harm. We were safe and so was Playa Del Carmen and the surrounding beaches. We somehow weathered the storm.

I bring all of this up because a good friend of mine just found out that he has his own storm to weather. Not sure if you remember, but soon after all of my ordeal started, I mentioned Paul Nardini. Paul and I had become friends about 15 years ago because of our mutual love of the Dayton Flyers. We had gotten close enough that he referred to himself as my older brother. We have shared the ups and downs of the Flyers over the years always finding comfort in the knowledge that we would survive it together and there would be another season to comfort us in the future.

I received a call from Paul a couple weeks ago and he started the conversation stating that we seemed to be taking the little brother/big brother a step further. Paul had received a suspicious result in a recent blood test and his doctor suggested that it might be Multiple Myeloma. Paul seemed to have some of the same readings that I had had but it just didn’t seem to have the same indicators that I had experienced.

Once again, I demonstrated that I had not yet received my medical degree as it was confirmed a week later that Paul, indeed, was suffering from Multiple Myeloma. This week he started his first round of chemotherapy and is on track to have a stem cell transplant early next year. He remains in good spirits, but I have a good idea of what he is going through. You never like to hear cancer and you name mentioned in the same sentence.

When I found out that I had cancer, I wanted to scream to the heavens, “Why me?” God, of course, doesn’t seem to have any answers for you at the time, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t have some in the future. As humans, we always try to get something good out of any situation no mater how bleak. I felt that there had to be some silver lining to the storm cloud that was passing overhead.

I think that I may now be starting to understand where that silver lining in coming into play. Paul is now the second friend that has contracted this disease since I was diagnosed. I’m sure you remember Matt Hare and his courageous fight against MM. Since he started his fight, Matt has help collect over $50,000 in the fight to find a cure.

During his early struggles, Matt and I talked and emailed a lot. Not sure if I was any help, but hopefully I helped give him some small measure of hope that there is life after MM. My hope is that I can now do the same for Paul. Not sure if God had this in mind, but I feel that I can bring some comfort to others that must wander through this obstacle course.

Hopefully, the rest of my friends steer clear of this cancer challenge, but they at least all know that I will be there to help them weather this storm.

October 5, 2010 To Sleep or not to Sleep

Growing up, my bedroom was just down the hall from my parents’.  It wasn’t the most exciting room in the house, but it was all mine.  It was neat and fairly simple.  Never had anything on the walls, hard wood floors without a rug  and two windows.  I had my stereo on my dresser and my albums sitting on my chest of drawers.  (For those of you that have no idea what a stereo is, it is prehistoric version of the Ipod with speakers built in. ) The room was completed by a twin single bed that had a matching unit in the guest bedroom right next to mine.

The thing I remember about that room more than anything was not anything in it but a sound that would drift into it every night.  My father was a heavy sleeper and an equally heavy snorer (if that is a word.) His snores would make my windows shake. You could hear him on the other side of the house. In the end, it drove my mother to sleep on the couch in the family room. Yet, despite all of that, I found it a comforting sound. 

My father had a bad heart.  He had rheumatic fever when he was in his twenties and was told he would likely not see 40. Luckily he did, because that was when I was born.  He somehow managed to live for 50 years after they told him he had a little over 10, at best.  But even as a young boy, I knew that he had heart problems. I always knew that he might not wake up in the morning. There were times where in the middle of the day, he would just lay on the bed motionless waiting for the pain to stop. When I would wake up in the middle of the night I could always rest easy because I knew he was still alive as the rumble rolled from beneath his door. 

This was great for me but not so much for my mother.  My dad could sleep through a train wreck. My mother could wake up if the train wreck happened in Cincinnati.  She lived on three hours of sleep every night.  She would wake up at 2 AM and start cleaning the house, or she would sew for hours. I would know because the Singer was on the other side of the wall where my head would rest. 

I find myself in the middle of these two extremes, but more closely aligned with my Mother.  It is not unusual for me to be roaming the house at three in the morning. I have done some of my best work on this blog long before the sun rises. 

Some would find this a blessing, the ability to survive on four to six hours of sleep a night. I’m not so sure I do.  It is during these extra hours, the hours laying in bed trying to get back to sleep that my mind performs some of its less that exemplary work.  It is during those hours that I somehow find myself thinking about my plight in life. 

As good as I feel and as normal as I can live my life, in the deep recesses of my mind, I cannot forget that I have a disease that has no cure.  It is during these idle hours that my brain cannot turn off.  When you have that much extra time, you think about everything under the sun.  As I tell Justin when he rolls in a little later than preferred, little good happens at 3 AM. 

I have tried everything imaginable to beat this sleeping curse.  I’ve read, watched TV, listened to music and nothing works.  I hate to actually get out of bed because that almost certainly assures elongated alertness.  I have tried three different sleeping medications, none of which were worth the co-pay.  I have finally given up on medication and just concentrated on relaxation and keeping my mind as blank as possible.  (Some of you may feel that that should not be too difficult since there isn’t a whole lot going on up there most of the time.) Maybe one day I will just resign myself to the fact that this is a blessing and not a curse.  If you ever see me working on my landscaping in the middle of the night, you will now know why. 

I bring all of this up because there are times I miss that snoring.  Today marks the 20^th anniversary of my Father’s death.  This year also marks the 35^th anniversary of my Mother’s death.  Until this year, I would always take the day off from work on one of their five year anniversaries to visit their graves and have a word or two with them about my life.  Odd that this is the year that I probably have more to say than ever and I won’t be able to make the trip. 

I guess I’ll just have to have our little talk in the quiet of the night when I am having trouble getting back to sleep. As I mentioned earlier, it is often the time that I do my best work.

October 2, 2010--Friday Night Lights

There is nothing like high school football. Certainly, there is better football to be watched on college campuses and in NFL stadiums, but there is nothing like the feeling of excitement that can come from representing your school or in some cases, your entire community.

In small towns all over America, they gear their entire week around the high school football game. It is an opportunity for one small town to battle another, an opportunity for their small town to feel pride in what and who they are. It is the small towns that don’t need the large eye of a television camera to make things exciting. Football in the small town hasn’t changed in decades.

But high school football has come a long way since I graduated in 1971. I would not miss a game while I was in school. Before I could drive, my dad would pile 3 or 4 of my friends into the car and take us to wherever the game was. Unlike today when half of the students attending are just there to hang out with friends, we were there to be part of it. We were there to be heard and when we lost we felt almost as bad as those on the field.

Now, there are national polls and national champions. When we drove the 45 miles to play a team in Indiana, it was big time, now teams fly all over the country to play the best. ESPN has become a huge supporter of high school football as they look to fill up their various channels with live sports. There are games on national networks every week now and they have helped create even more interest in a game that participants relive over and over when they get together decades later.

When ESPN comes to town, the spotlight becomes even greater. Earlier this year, a number of teams from Central Ohio were featured on ESPNU which included one of the young men that I coached in baseball when he was eight years old. If someone would have told me that two of the players from that team would be playing football on national television just nine years later, I would have laughed. But both Marcus Davis who has turned into a promising receiver much like his Uncle Chris Carter of Ohio State and Vikings fame and my own, Jason, who has no such, lineage have made it to ESPN.

Friday night I got to experience the excitement that ESPN can bring to a sporting event. Local TV started coverage of the game at seven in the morning by covering the pep rally at Hamilton and talking to one of the top players in the country at Chandler. Julia and I thought it would be wise to get there early as all Hamilton tickets were sold out before noon. When we got there 90 minutes before the game, we found that the entire stands on the Chandler side were completely full with cheers rolling from one end to the other.

It was to be a black out for Hamilton and we did not disappoint. Students were painted from head to toe in black body paint. Girls were in short shorts and black sports bras with designs and messages painted everywhere that there was exposed skin. Guys didn’t even bother to wear shirts as the 100+ degree temperature just invited body paint instead of shirts. It was indeed black.

There was electricity in the air as the ESPN provided extra lights made the field look more like it was high noon than the dark of night. Extra stands were brought in and firefighters were sitting on top of their fire truck just outside the field. Students and adults were four deep ringing the field as there were no seats to be found. The steps to the top of the stands became jammed with others seeking a place to sit. A 10,000 seat stadium had found a way to host 13,000.

The game started out as two heavy weights throwing punch after counter punch. Chandler lead by scores of 7-0 and 14-7. The home stands were erupting as they felt that this would be the year to beat Hamilton after 13 consecutive losses. The stands would erupt at any sign of positive play. Yet, despite that, you just knew that Steve Belles, the Hamilton coach with at 59-3 record would find something to change the course of the evening. Then it happened, Hamilton would score the next 31 points and the Chandler stands began to empty with the same sickening feeling that have had 13 other times. Despite the hard work and the ESPN buildup, it was just another loss to their cross town rival, other “wait until next time.”

On the home front, it was a great night for a game after a great day to go to the doctor. The blood tests continue to look good and my doctor could not be happier. The cancer continues to decline. It is not gone, but it seems to be losing the battle and I didn’t even need a black out or ESPN to show up.

September 2, 2010 The Devil in the Details

What is it about diets that we all seem to be involved with one. The best way to sell a book aside from doing a tell all about your former lovers is to come up with a new diet. I work for a company that has made a good deal of money over the years selling a cleansing/diet format that has been very successful. We have an entire wall of pictures of people that have lost over 100 pounds on our diet. Yet, through all of this, almost all of us weigh more than we want to. How many people have ever said that they weigh exactly what they want? My guess is that those people are extinct. We either weight too little or too much and almost all of that is because of what we eat.

I have become very philosophical about this lately because I have been dieting for the last week and a half. So far I have lost four+ pounds, which for me is nothing spectacular. In the past, I have lost as much as 10 pounds the first week. I have always had the ability to lose weight very quickly when I put my mind to it. Over the years, I have probably lost 200-300 pounds only to find what I lost and even a little extra. For whatever reason, this time has been a little rougher. I have gotten so desperate to get the weight off that I have been exercising.

Geez, it’s hard to even say that word. Somehow, I have managed to live 57 years without ever doing a great deal of exercising. I have spent a few thousand dollars over the years on gym memberships that were no more than a donation to the bottom line of whatever company it was that fooled me into believing that I would actually go. Since I don’t sleep very well anymore, I have been getting up early in the morning and hitting the elliptical machine. Julia has been very understanding in that the machine is in the bedroom and I have been hitting it before six o’clock, squeaking joints and all.

Somehow I have managed to actually get up to that magic 30 minutes I talked about last week. The only problem is that I am sweating like I have been digging a ditch in 115 degrees for five hours. To cool off before I go into work, I have to take a dip in the pool and I still come out sweating. I hate being old and flabby.

I was really working hard last night to be good and not overdo eating pizza. If there is one thing that I can eat every day, it is pizza. Thank God there isn’t a Marion’s around here or I would weigh 500 pounds. When Justin and I would go to a game at UD, we would each eat a large and then order a third one for the drive back to Columbus.

Julia and I split a fancy sounding Italian sub and I stopped after two pieces of pizza. This wasn’t too bad as I had been pretty good at lunch. However, Justin’s girlfriend who was supposed to join us, showed up late. We were nice enough to save her a couple pieces but when she said she wasn’t hungry, my mind started racing. The little devil on my left shoulder started talking to me about how good the pizza was and it would just go to waste if I didn’t take care of it. The little angel on my right shoulder was whispering to me that I had been good and should just forget about it. After resisting for about an hour, the devil won. As a result I weighed the same this morning as I did yesterday. Damn devil!!

There are two things that I don’t want to do when my time finally comes. The first is to die rich. If I die rich, I have not enjoyed myself enough in life. As I look at my credit line, I do not have to worry about dying rich. The second thing that I don’t want to do is die skinny. All I have to do is look at my waist line to know that the second will not happen. At least some good comes from the little devil on my shoulder.

August 24, 2010 - Save the Whale(s)

Not sure who invented the mirror, but I’m not exactly a fan right about now. You see, I had an interesting encounter with one this last weekend when Julia and I traveled to Flagstaff to watch Jason’s football team play the first game of the season. Wonderful game in which two top 25 in the country teams faced off and the good guys won. That, however, had to take a backseat to my discovery.

Julia and I checked into our hotel early in the afternoon on Friday with the goal of just enjoying a three day weekend and taking advantage of the cooler weather and green that you never see in Phoenix. We surveyed the room, found it a little small, but certainly good enough for our needs. The bathroom, however, was the size of a postage stamp. I’m sure you all have been in one. It was so small, you almost had to climb in the tub to close the door.

In itself, that wasn’t the problem. You can always find workarounds for those situations. However, early Saturday in the morning I found myself in the bathroom after my shower with just a fogged up mirror and a fat guy staring back at me. Sad thing was, it wasn’t just any fat guy, it was me.

Not sure if it was the smallness of the room or what, but it really struck me that maybe it wasn’t the room that was causing the tight quarters, it might just be me. Over the last year, I have been very successful at staying healthy. That is the good thing. Yet, during that time I have also been very successful at gradually adding a little bit of weight every month. Too much, in fact.

In reality, I really don’t weigh that much more than I did five years ago, it’s just that it has somehow moved to unflattering positions. I’m not quite to the point of needing one of Kramer’s manzieres but I cannot be that far off. I’m starting to look more like a football instead of just watching football. It was at that moment I realized it was time to get it in gear.

I have tried to do some walking now and then, every so often some back yard pool exercises, but I have found more reasons to not do it than do it. It was just a few weeks ago that I actually walked a couple miles and did some water walking in the pool (sounds oldmanish, but my right foot feels a lot better after doing that verses just walking.)

Then I became incredibly stupid and thought that I would top the morning of exercises off with a lap or two swim. That ended about one millisecond after it started. I could not have gone any farther than one body length when my left calf cramped up and my left foot freaked out and contorted into something resembling a dried up mushroom. This was a moment that could have landed on America’s Funniest Videos as I jumped around the pool trying to get rid of the two cramps. So much for swimming -- the perfect exercise.

After that near death experience, I decided I needed a different way to exercise, so I had the boys carry up the elliptical machine that has been sitting comfortably in the lower level since we moved to Arizona. Somehow it lost a screw or two so I had to do some repair work before I actually got started. Then I waited a couple weeks just to get in the right mood. Because of the delay, I utilized the machine as a clothes hanger as I had done for years in Ohio. It wasn’t until I saw the fat man in the mirror that I really took using it seriously, however.

When we returned from Flagstaff Sunday afternoon, I decided that it was now or never. Julia and I will be on vacation in Mexico in six weeks, so I could not put it off any longer. I did not want to look like a beached whale. That night, I ate corn on the cob and tomatoes for dinner as the boys feasted on bacon cheeseburgers and home made macaroni and cheese.

That night was the first night of actually using the elliptical machine for exercise. I thought I could hop on board, put in 30 minutes and feel good about myself. I got the hopping on board part right, but after that it seems like time slowed down. After five minutes of real time and what seemed like five hours of workout time, I was ready for a break. I convinced myself that it was better to be a wimp than die of a heart attack.

Because I negotiate for a living, I felt very comfortable negotiating with myself that I didn’t need to worry about the aerobic portion of the work out, just the amount of calories burned. As a result, I am now up to six minute shots of exercise at a time. In a year, I might actually see that 30 minutes.

August 12, 2010 -- Lessons in Life

Denise Stout passed away this last week after a courageous two year battle with cancer. I never had the pleasure of meeting Denise, but it seems that she was a wonderful person that fought cancer with a toughness that only the wife of a football coach could muster. Kelly, her husband, was Jason’s football coach last year and exemplifies what coaching is all about. He was there to teach kids, not belittle them. He was about learning how to win, but not winning at all costs. When Jason was injured during the Chandler game and had to be transported to the hospital, Kelly was quick to call after the game to check on Jason’s progress.

Denise’s funeral was last Saturday and the church was standing room only. You could tell that both she and the coach are loved by many. This was just the second funeral service that I have attended since I became sick. I’m afraid that I can’t remember everything that was discussed during the service because as hard as I try, I cannot divorce myself from my own situation. Despite the fact that I am doing very well, the fact that Denise was diagnosed just six month before me, hit me hard. It was difficult keeping my emotions in check.

Several people spoke during the service but something that the minister said really hit me. He spoke of this being a time of joy and we should be joyous for the fact that Denise is now with her Maker. This is a very common reflection at times of tragedy, but it is one that I struggle with. It is my belief that there is life after death and that there is a reward for the good that we do, but the aftermath of death is a horrible thing.

Those left behind now find themselves swimming in the dark. Denise left behind a twelve year old son in addition to her loving husband. Having a child was one of the most important things in Denise’s life and I’m sure that she left a huge hole in his life with her death. I’m sure that the reason that she fought so hard was to spend more time with her loved ones.

If there is one thing that has driven me to do everything I can to lengthen my life as much as possible it is because I feel that I have things that are not yet completed, not just with the boys but with Julia also. My passion with life is not about my next vacation, or the Reds or work. Some may think it is about the Dayton Flyers, but that isn’t it either. It is about being with my family and nothing more.

It doesn’t matter if I live to be 98, I think I will still feel that there is more to do. I’m sure Justin might disagree with me this morning as he shuttled off to work. I’m sure he feels as if I nag constantly about the same things. In truth, he is right. I’m sure I nag too much and it generally falls on deaf ears. Jason would undoubtedly agree with Justin as I lecture him daily on the need to do his homework and drink his protein shakes.

Most of my lecturing is about the small things, the picking up of dirty clothes being number one, but all of these little things eventually add up to big things. We all want our children to be the best they can be in everything that they do. We want them to excel in life, not just participate. We want them to get everything out of life that they can and avoid all of the pitfalls that we suffered through in our lives.

What they fail to realize is that the lecturing has a purpose greater than just getting the dirty clothes in the hamper. It is about creating good habits. That is why we all stress brushing their teeth and picking up their toys from the first moment they can comprehend. It is why we become parents in the first place. It is our internal drive to share love with our fellow human beings and there is no better way than to do that with our own children. They may not see it as love, but at its very core, that is what it is.

I just hope that when it is my time, the boys understand why I did what I did. Did keeping their room straight make a huge difference in the world? Of course not, but I hope it eventually will sink in that we all have responsibilities in life, some small and some big, some enjoyable and some not. It is through that learning that we all become good people and good parents like Denise Stout.

Kelly will now have to wade through all of the grief that I am sure he is feeling. He will now have to do the job of two parents. It will be his job to make sure that Jacob understands just how much his mother loved him and how hard she fought to be with him. It is with that knowledge that he might even understand why his mom wanted him to keep his room clean.

August 6, 2010 Learning to Let Go

The wind was constant and almost refreshing. It was blowing so hard and consistent that a stray empty Chick-fil-A bag was pressed against the fence in front of me. It was if it were part of the structure for over an hour. Then the rain started. It almost felt as if I was in Ohio and the memories started flooding back. So many hours watching baseball in conditions that ducks would avoid, it had become part of my being.

But this game was different. I knew if they lost it would likely be the last time that I would watch Justin play competitive baseball. For the last 11 years, watching my first born play the game I love has been an adventure, an adventure that I would miss.

Unlike Jason, who I never thought would be an athlete (obviously incorrectly), Justin was blessed with skills at an early age that made me sure that he would excel at a game that I stumbled through for five years. It was a game that I loved but sorely lacked the skills to play. Justin would be my salvation.

From the moment that he started hitting home runs in coach-pitch, I knew he would be a thrill a minute. It was all or nothing with Justin as he would often walk back to the bench with bat in hand suffering from another strikeout. It seemed like every other year would be a good year and the other a bad one. Was he the kid that threw a no hitter when he was 10 and again when he was 14 or was he the kid that couldn’t throw a strike. As a result, he moved from team to team from the time he was 10 until he was 13 when he finally found a home in Marysville, Ohio.

After years of moving and either being a star or wondering if he would play, Justin truly blossomed. I’ll never forget the day that Chuck Gould called me to let me know he would be on the American Legion “A” team the summer after his freshman year in high school. I really questioned Chuck about his playing time and he assured me it would be fine.

For those not familiar, in Ohio American Legion is very competitive. It is usually made up of juniors and seniors in high school and college freshmen. The fact that Justin would be playing against 19 year olds before he could drive was a bit paralyzing at times. The fact that he hit about .275 and pitched fairly well was a relief. Justin had a good sophomore season on the American Legion team but it was his junior year that would be his best. It was also the year that I wouldn’t get to see him play. I would have to live that season through Julia’s eyes and Justin’s post game updates over the phone as I was 2,000 miles away.

During his high school season that year he pitched the best game ever thrown (statistically) at Liberty High School and led the team in home runs. During the American Legion season he hit over .400 and played a major part in the Union Post 79ers getting to the state tournament. He probably had the best week of his life while at the State Tournament including two tape measure home runs in his first two at bats. He ended up hitting .500 for the week.

Little did we know at the time, but that would be the end. He played fairly well that Fall for his new high school team hitting about .350 and not allowing any runs in the handful of innings he received as a pitcher. Yet, when tryouts came in the Spring, he struggled and didn’t make the team. In Ohio, Division I college teams had expressed some interest, but in Arizona, he couldn’t make the high school team.

The only thing that made the knowledge less devastating was the fact the he had learned earlier in the week that both his grandmother and I had cancer. It was a tough time in his life, but one that made him stronger. It made him find new avenues for friends and things to do. As a result, he become much more well rounded and mature at the same time.

He played the last two summers in a collegiate wood bat league, but the lack of playing in the spring was too much for him to overcome and he struggled with the bat and glove. I could see it in his eyes, but it was hard for me to admit the end was near. Even with just a couple weeks left in the season, I hoped he could catch fire and open a few eyes. But it just wasn’t to be.

It is now obvious to me that he has moved on. It is just hard for me to not remember all of those pitches that I threw to both he and Jason over the years. It’s easier to remember lately since I can’t raise my right arm without wincing in pain from too many batting practice fastballs. The joy of going to the baseball field with the boys over the years will never be taken away from me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to miss those times.

Jason is still up in the air about playing next year, but I’m sure he might be persuaded. In the end, Jason’s time playing baseball has been far easier as he always played and always did well. He was always one of the best kids on his team and rarely saw the bench. It was easy to puff my chest at Jason’s games. He was always in the middle of things. Enjoyment watching Jason always came easy. He glided while Justin trudged. He flew while Justin chugged. I just hope I get to see more of that gliding and flying.

I think that is why it is so hard for me to watch the end of Justin’s time on the field. There were so many times when I suffered with him while he was on the bench just hoping to get a chance to prove himself. The triumphs were so much more enjoyable when they came. I guess that is why I always root for the underdog, especially when we share the same last name.

July 23, 2010 - Staying Grounded

Over the course of a disease as serious as cancer, you tend to have highs and lows. One of the most important things that you need to do is to stay away from being too high or too low. I like to look at my fight as similar to a baseball season. There are going to be times that I go to the plate and hit a home run. There will be other times when I look like a rusty gate trying to hit a 100 mile per hour fastball. If you get upset with every failure, you will be forever in the dumps. Get too excited about a single result and you tend to set yourself up for a future failure.

Late last year, I was in a real slump. The results just kept getting worse and worse and I could see myself heading for more chemotherapy, the equivalent of 6^th place. (For those keeping track, last place would be something nearing a confrontation with the Grim Reaper.) Going back to work that day was not easy, but vacation was on the horizon so things weren’t all bad.

I come back from vacation and all of a sudden I’m at the beginning of a hit streak, a hit streak that would last all the way to May. Life was good. I was going to beat this yet. Then I hit a little bump in the road and my numbers went up for the first time all year. Of course, I took it a little harder than Dr. Mikhael, but then he might just know a little more about this than me. (You don’t know how hard that was for me to admit.)

I didn’t get too worried, but it starts to get you thinking and as Julia might tell you, that always gets me in trouble. However, I did my best to keep my concerns in check.

So now it was time to take my first test back at Dr. Obenchain’s. At least I would get to see Jerri and Sami. That was the thinking anyway.

I showed up for what I thought was an 8 AM appointment only to find that there wasn’t going to be anyone there until 9 AM. Luckily, it was very close to work, so I just went to work for the next hour. When I got back to Dr. Obenchain’s, I found out that the nurse that would actually do the draw was running late. To my horrors, it wouldn’t be either Jerri or Sami as Jerri was on vacation and Sami was working full time at the hospital. Things were starting to slowly trickle downhill.

I became just a little concerned when there was some uncertainty as to what type of tube would be used for the all important “lambda free light chain” test. After several telephone calls, it was decided that the blue toped tube would be used. Not sure how any of that makes a difference, because they didn’t cover that on “ER.” Then the exciting part happened when the nurse couldn’t get any blood out of my right arm. After poking around for a while, it was on to the left arm. Luckily, the left arm worked because I was quickly running out of arms.

Because this was a new testing lab, I decided that no matter what the result, I would not get too excited. If it was extremely high or low, I might give it some thought, but I just wanted to stay on an even keel. The results, although on a different scale, came in better than I could have imagined. The scale used was 10 times higher that what the Mayo uses so making that correction, I came in at a level of 42.9. Putting this on the same scale as the Mayo, it would read 4.29. This would represent the biggest drop I have had since the days of chemo.

In addition, this is getting close to “normal.” As previously discussed, I’ve never been normal in most ways, but this sure is one area that I would like to try. Again, I am guarding against getting too high on this because it is a different lab with potentially different standards. However, the high end of normal is 2.63, which means that if I improve as much the next two months as I did the last two, I would be in the normal range. Not sure what that would mean, but it sure is better than the alternative. Maybe I’m back on my hitting streak. Joe DiMaggio look out! Well maybe I shouldn’t get too excited. Look out Wee Willie Keeler!

June 15, 2010 Adult Decisions

As adults, we make decisions everyday that almost go unnoticed but eventually have a big impact on our lives. I like to joke with the boys that if a young lady I was chasing hadn’t changed jobs, I might never have met their mother. In taking her out to celebrate her promotion, I spotted Julia who had taken her position. The rest is history.

The TV show “Flash Forward,” which only lasted about 20 episodes earlier this year was all about seeing the future and changing it. People changed their lives to either make sure the vision of the future would happen or that it wouldn’t. The whole concept of the “Butterfly Effect” is that a butterfly flapping its wings in Rockford, Ohio might eventually make a building collapse in Los Angeles. It is all about how small decisions can eventually have big consequences down the road.

In the end, we all make decisions throughout our lives that can have a lasting effect. Hopefully one can avoid major decisions before reaching adulthood. Sadly, too many decisions are made by young people that have potentially devastating effects on their lives. Everything from drugs, drinking, sex and even who you hang around with are decisions that young people face everyday.

As parents, we try to give them guidance before those decisions are made. These are decisions that should be made when the brain is fully functional and not driven by the hormones coursing through a teenager’s veins. It is the foundation that we give our kids through their growing years that hopefully help them make the right decision when the time comes.

There are decisions that you have to let your child make because of the potential consequences. Although just 16, I would have to say that Jason is mature for his age. That might be debated by his decision to buy a drinking cup at the San Diego Zoo with a big Panda Bear sitting on top of it, but that is a whole different story.

For the last three years, Jason has had an issue with his right shoulder. It seems that his baseball playing has taken its toll. In each of those years we have seen an orthopedic surgeon that until this year just took x-rays and prescribed physical therapy. Each year it would get better but then reoccur the following year. Now in year three of this continuing saga, it was time for an MRI. Last week, Jason heard a word that he did not want to hear, “surgery.” It took a while, but eventually the color returned to his face and the gears started turning in his head.

For Jason to continue to play baseball he would need to have surgery that could get him back out in the field in 30 days or if they found more damage have him sit out six months. Although not life threatening, this was tough for a kid that has played baseball virtually his whole life. He had been just hitting the last two months but if you have seen him play the field, you would know that hitting is just a piece of the equation. Sitting on the bench for all but a few minutes of every game was getting to him. If we had known that his shoulder would not get better on its own, he would probably never have played this year.

So Jason had a decision to make. Should he get the surgery done now and potentially miss the football season or wait until after the season and potentially miss the baseball season next year. The complicating factor is that the football team is poised to have a special season. They have won the last two state championships and might have an even better team this year. Although Jason doesn’t start, he is the only non-senior linebacker on the team and backs up possibly the best defensive player on the team.

As we all know, injuries happen in football. Jason talked to his coach and they talked about his importance to the team. Although he didn’t play baseball on the school team, he hasn’t forgotten how to play the game and the potential to play next year was still there. He hit .520 on his spring team and had reached base 8 of the first 10 times on his summer team. It was not an easy decision.

Julia and I talked and decided that this was a decision Jason should make despite the fact this was an adult-type decision. I played with the different scenarios in my own mind and came to my own conclusion on what I would suggest he should do if asked. But I really wanted him to make the decision. This had to be something that he bought into because he could be giving up one of his loves for a while.

Within 24 hours, Jason decided to put the team in front of his own immediate wishes. Although he professed to the doctor that he was a baseball player first, he decided to risk baseball over football. He did this knowing that he might only get mop up duty at the end of blow outs. I was proud of the young man because he made an adult decision that I know wasn’t easy. They don’t seem to get a whole lot easier as we get older, they just get more common. It’s nice he got the first one out of the way.

On a side note, today marks the one year anniversary of me leaving the hospital. I didn’t exactly walk out, but I did at least shuffle. Today, I can keep up with anybody. I was pretty much sequestered in the house, today I’m at the boys’ games on a daily basis. When I left the hospital I had trouble keeping food down, now I’m on a diet. Boy what a difference a year makes.

June 4, 2010 -- Happy Rebirthday to Me!

Birthdays have never been a big deal for me. Of course, as a kid, I looked forward to the presents, but other than that it was just another day. I think my parents might have had one birthday party for me when I was young, but it was usually just the three of us going out to eat.

Earlier this year, when January 16th rolled around, no one at work even knew it was my big day. My administrative assistant, Bonnie, was very upset with me the next day because she always makes a big deal of everyone’s birthdays. I am still finding confetti everywhere in my office from 17 months ago. My keyboard is still littered with the stuff.

Julia and the boys and I went out to dinner at my favorite steakhouse and I made a mistake in ordering my steak and it came out as a cousin to the sole of my shoe. I whined a bit, but didn’t send it back. OK, maybe I whined more than a bit, but it was my fault for ordering well-done so I just chewed a bit harder.

One year ago, I had a different birth, more of a rebirth. It was a year ago today that I was given back my life in the form of my own stem cells. The chemotherapy that I had received two days earlier had basically destroyed the cells in my bone marrow. From that point on you could see them dying off as my daily blood tests came back. It got so bad that I needed two units of red cells and one of platelets. Then slowly but surely, the replaced stem cells started morphing into the red and white cells and the platelets that keep us alive.

It’s funny what a year does for you. It wasn’t long before that time I hoped that I could still squeeze out two more years, maybe three. The Grim Reaper gets even uglier when you can’t kid yourself that it is decades away. I believe that there is some version of life after death, but I just wasn’t quite ready to give up on this version.

What the transplant did for me was to give me a level of hope that I didn’t have just a few months earlier. When the doctor tells you for the first time that you have cancer, you don’t know if you have thirty days or thirty years. You want to think years, but fear often wins out and you start to envision those last few breaths and the people that you have seen die of this awful disease.

It was one year ago that I really stopped worrying about the ugly guy with the cycle. I stopped worrying if I would see Jason graduate from high school. I was more worried about having to pay for two teenage male drivers’ car insurance than not being around to pay it. New life had been given to me and I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Yes, I am going to celebrate today, my first rebirthday. (I wonder if I can copyright that and make a fortune like the people that own the “Happy Birthday” song.) Any lawyers out there?

I don’t need any rebirthday presents, God has already given me one. Now it is my job to use it wisely.

June 2, 2010 Saying Goodbye (not the big one, so don’t worry)

It never ceases to amaze me just how fast life passes us by. Everyday seems to take us over and makes us forget about all of the yesterdays. On Monday we wish away the next four plus days so that we can get to the weekend. In the winter (in Ohio) we wish away months at a time just so we can stick out heads outside without getting frostbite. In the summer (in Arizona) we wish away months so we don’t fry just walking from our car to the house.

Trust me, I have spent a good part of the last 17 months wishing it away. The only think is, we wish away more time than we enjoy and before you know it, your hair is gray and falling out.

It was twelve months ago today that I stepped foot in the Mayo Clinic with the hope of changing my life. When 10 PM rolls around tonight, it will mark the exact moment that the miracle started. It was at that time that the doctors put poison directly into my blood. That poison, however, has given me a new lease on life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when they stopped that flow of chemo, it would be the only time that I would be receiving anything to fight the cancer that was taking over my body in the next 12 months.

If anyone would have told me that at the time, I would have jumped up and down in joy. That “super” round of chemotherapy helped my body get the upper hand. Since that time, it has just been me against the cancer.

Even though I try to avoid it, a day doesn’t go by that I don’t give cancer just the slightest thought. But at the same time, it doesn’t overwhelm me. I have been given a second life and it really started one year ago today. I won’t celebrate my new birthday until June 4 because that is when I received my stem cells back, but that would not have mattered without what happened on this date last year.

The sad part surrounding all of this is the ending of a great relationship. Because United Health Care only covers transplants and one year of follow-up at the Mayo, I am forced to leave the care that has become so very important to me. Don’t get me wrong, I will still be in great hands with Dr. Obenchain, but the Mayo is the best and Dr. Mikhael is truly an expert in the field of Multiple Myeloma.

Last week, Dr. Mikhael delivered a webcast that offered a great deal of information concern “Living with Multiple Myeloma,” for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Although they did not capture the talk itself, the PowerPoint is available if you would like to get a better understanding of both the disease and treatment.

https://bigfiles.lls.org/fs/v.aspx?v=8d6962d09a64b6b76c6e

In leaving the Mayo I will be leaving both a wonderful institution and an amazing group of people, far to numerous to name. Aside from Dr, Mikhael, my most important contact at the Mayo has been Megan Connelly, my Stem Cell Transplant Coordinator (officially BMT Coordinator). I met Megan fairly early in the process when she basically laid out what would be happening to me.

We hit it off almost immediately. If you remember, I gave her a hard time in this blog because she was late for our initial meeting, something that never happens at the Mayo and I was especially feisty that day. Little did I know that she would end up reading about herself. Despite that, she took a liking to me and really went out of her way to make me feel comfortable. She even would visit me often while I was in the hospital and did her best to make me forget that I was feeling like I had been run over a truck. We have continued to talk as my results have gone up and down and she has helped talk me off of the ledge when things didn’t go my way.

Janice Love, my assigned social worker, was also very helpful in getting me through the time around the transplant. She was one of many that stopped by and chatted when Julia and the boys couldn’t be there.

I almost hate to name anyone, because the entire experience has been wonderful and I can’t remember everyone’s name. All of the nurses that worked with me were helpful and very understanding of what I was going through. There have been at least 25 different technicians that have taken my blood and all of them were nice enough to let me use a “butterfly” needle when they were practicing to be in the cast of “Twilight.”

I plan on starting a letter writing campaign to talk UHC into letting me stay with Mayo, but at the same time I am realistic about my chances. You can never forget that they are there to make money. Certainly, they care about their subscribers, but they have to show a profit just like every other company and I understand that. Having worked at a pharmaceutical company most of my life, I have heard oh so many times how they gouge everyone. Yet, Abbott’s profits typically aren’t any greater than a number of non health care companies. It’s just too bad that we don’t have a more important role in selecting who our heath care provider is.

I met with Dr, Mikhael today as we did our best to get the last bit of time out of my year. My results were not as good as last time, but that doesn’t mean that things are going bad. The results were still good but I’m probably just experiencing some of the rollercoaster effect that was expected. I’ll continue with every other month testing and hopefully my body continues to win the fight. It has been an interesting year, one that hopefully, all of us have learned something from.

May 22, 2010 Empty Nesters Revisited

As a follow-up to the May 7 installment of Empty Nesters (Almost), I wanted to go back in time a bit and talk a bit about when the boys were younger and thought I was a lot smarter. One of the rituals that we followed for years was taking the boys to University of Dayton basketball games. It was always more than just a game. Very often we would stay after weekend games so that the boys could get autographs. Certainly food was always an important aspect of the trip either before, during or after. On weekends we would have time to select a nice restaurant to eat. However, on the weekdays, it was another story.

This all got me to thinking about an article that I wrote for UDPride.com in 1999 when Jason was six years old. I have written hundreds of articles for UDPride, but there was one that really stood out. It was one that I wrote from Jason’s point of view. I think we forget what we enjoy about our children, especially when it is actually happens. I believe that you will understand what I am talking about after you read the article. As a help, when Jason “talks” about Rudy, he is referring to the UD mascot.

From UDPride.com circa 1999….

I have gone to so many UD basketball games that they all seem to run together. We win some and we lose some. I still drive home and go to work the next day no matter what the outcome. I’ve often wondered if going to a game is any different to my six-year-old. What you will read in the next few paragraphs is a six-year-old’s thoughts surrounding a UD game.

I don’t know why my dad is in such a hurry. He’s always yelling at me to hurry up because we have a long drive to get to see the Flyers play basketball. Sometimes the ride seems to take forever and other times it seems like I get in the car and all of a sudden we are home and my dad is carrying me up to my bed. On the way down my mom sits in the back seat with me so my brother and I do not get in trouble but on the way home we can both sit in the back because he usually falls asleep.

When we get to the game, my dad lets me get a hot dog, a pretzel and a coke. Mom says that it is not a very good dinner but I think it’s pretty great. They have the best hot dogs at the games, better than Mom makes. My brother doesn’t like hot dogs, he’s pretty weird. I really like it at the beginning of the game when they play that song with the “let’s get ready to rumble.” My dad really yells it out loud and kind of dances around, I think it is called disco or something. Finally the game gets started and I ask my dad where Andy Metzler is. He says that he isn’t on the team anymore, which is too bad because he was my buddy and I always got his autograph.

My hot dog is pretty good but my dad didn’t get any ketchup on it. He makes a face when I tell him I need some. He says wait until a timeout, but I told him it would be cold by then. He gets up and says excuse me to about 700 people. When he finally gets back, the Flyers have scored 10 straight points and he didn’t see any of them. Even though he didn’t see them he still is happy. But not for very long because somehow my pop gets knocked on the floor and all of it spills on my dad’s shoes. I know we are beating the bad guys, but I’m not sure by how much. I get done with my hot dog and ask my dad if I can have a sucker. He says no. My brother spills his popcorn and starts crying like a baby and I laugh.

Just when I was starting to get bored, I saw Rudy. Rudy is pretty cool. My mom bought one of the Rudy shirts for me a couple of games ago. I hope Rudy sees me so we can get our picture taken together. I wish I could get some other stuff at the souvenir stand. They have some really cool stuff, but my dad won’t let me get one of those big fingers. I’m looking for Rudy and somebody dunks the ball and everybody jumps up and yells. I can’t see anything so my mom holds on to me when I stand up on the seat. I still can’t see anything, but that’s OK, because my dad is on his way back with two suckers for my brother and me. He asks me what all the screaming was about and I tell him I don’t know. All of a sudden it’s halftime and I have to go to the bathroom so my dad has to stand outside the little room and guard it so no one can come in. He keeps asking me if I’m done because the second half has started, but some things just take longer than others.

I don’t know why but my dad keeps covering has face and saying words he never lets me say. I’m not sure what the score is, but we must be losing. My tummy is really starting to hurt a lot, my dad said not to drink that Coke so fast. I tell him that I feel sick and my mom tells him that he should go out in the car and get the Pepto Bismol chewables. He says that it is her turn, but he ends up going anyway. He finally comes back with the Pepto Bismol, but I tell him that my stomach is OK now and I really don’t like the pill kind. He again says those words I’m not allowed to say.

My dad says that there is only 2 minutes left in the game, but I really have to pee. I try to hold on but I just can’t, so I tell him again that I really have to go. He says some words that I have never heard before and we get up and he says excuse me to about 700 more people. Some of those people say some of the words that I am not supposed to say to my dad. We get to the bathroom and for some reason, there isn’t anybody there. They must be watching the game or something. Well, when we finally get back out to see what is going on, this loud buzzer goes off and everybody is yelling and screaming. I guess I took too long in the bathroom.

It’s a Saturday night, so I get to stay and get some autographs. It is really neat to ask the guys for their autograph. I have about 3 million at home. My dad says they will be worth a lot of money some day. I don’t always know which guys to ask, so I just go up to the really tall guys and hand them my program and pen. I sometimes just give it to the same guys my brother does. After a while, my dad gets tired of waiting and says we have to go.

On the way out to the car, my dad said something to my mom about getting a babysitter for the next game. I don’t know why because I had a great time. My dad said something about us winning, but I’m not sure.

When it is all said and done this was one of the more enjoyable times in my life. What I would do to just relive one of those experiences. Enjoy today for today. It may seem to be hard to get through every day at times, but when you look back it always seems much easier. Enjoy your kids and grandkids while they are young. It is an experience that is hard to match.

May 7, 2010 Empty Nesters (Almost)

This last Saturday night Julia and I got a taste of what it will be like as empty nesters. It was just a small taste, but a taste indeed. For some reason, now that Justin is in college, he has become a popular prom date. In the matter of about seven days, he was asked to three proms. Due to the inflated cost of renting a tux, he was limited to one. He had a great time, was the designated driver after the party bus and actually did a pole dance (but that is another story.)

Jason now has new emancipation due to his approval by the state of Arizona to be able to drive a car by himself. He went over to a friend’s house and stayed all night. As a result, it was just Julia and me on our own.

After snapping pictures of Justin and his date, we decided to grab something to eat at Tempe Marketplace. It was enjoyable just sitting there, people watching and eating the good food. It’s not that we don’t enjoy the company of the boys, it just seems like as the years have gone on we have spent less and less time as a couple.

When the boys were young, we would have a “date night” just about every week. One of the advantages of being involved with Junior Achievement was that I had a good deal of contact with high school students and usually was able to find babysitters on a regular basis.

Over the last several years, we have given up our freedom to become taxi drivers. When the boys were young, they were fine with staying home. Going to a friends house at night was far more uncommon that common. Over the last few years, that has turned 180 degrees. Now, everyone else’s house is always more fun than ours. This was even the case when we had a foosball table, air hockey, an indoor basketball hoop and darts in our lower level. The only kids that liked to play that stuff were friends of the boys when they actually would have them over.

Until Justin could drive and now Jason, we had to take them to these places so much more wonderful than our house. As a result, we would have to take them there and then bring them home. So much for a leisurely dinner and a movie. Their timing would always run into ours.

But now, it is a different story. I hardly even know what Justin looks like. Thank goodness that we had the family pictures taken, so I could remind myself of his features. College has brought him many more opportunities to “hang” with friends. If it wasn’t for the unthinking curfew that we still have for him, he’d never be home.

Jason has also been working on his “hanging” game. Before, he was satisfied with staying home or going over to a friend’s once a weekend. Now that he has wheels, no one comes to our house. I still know what he looks like because his curfew is even more unthinking and he actually has to be home before the car turns into a pumpkin. But I’m sure that will change soon, too.

So, it is now just me and my lovely bride. We will now not have to ask Justin what a certain movie was like (He sees them all 15 minutes after they come out.) We will actually be able to see them ourselves first. In addition, we can pick a restaurant that suits our needs, not the needs of the boys. Tonight we are going shopping for patio tables. We can do that to our schedule. I almost feel like we are dating again.

Don’t get me wrong. I love having the boys around. The day that they move out will be two of my hardest. Hearing that you have cancer is one thing, but watching your kid move out is at a whole ‘nuther story. Those are days that I am not looking forward to. You think moms cry when their daughters get married, I’ll make them look like amateurs.

However, in the meantime, Julia and I can start acting like we did 20 years ago. Not sure I can afford that though.

May 2, 2010 Will You Remember Me?

There are many things that motivate us in life. For some it is money or position or just having things. For others it is doing for others. I think for most though, that motivation can change as we begin to understand our mortality. All of a sudden here is one question that we all ask ourselves and that is “Will I be remembered?”

Two weeks ago, the boys and I traveled to Columbus for a number of reasons but number one on the list was to get family pictures taken. All of Julia’s family was to meet in Columbus on Saturday to be photographed. Julia’s mom, Fran, wanted to get the family together and I was 100% behind her. I’m not sure if her motivation was the same as mine but before I went into the hospital for my transplant, I wanted to make sure that there was a recent picture of me and the rest of the family. There was a very small chance that I could die from the chemo or an ensuing infection and I wanted to be remembered as I was, should that happen.

There are a small number of people that will be remembered for their feats long after they pass from this earth. Actors, actresses, singers, politicians and history makers of other sorts such as Lee Harvey Oswald, John Wilkes Booth and Attila the Hun will all long be remembered for what they did. Other’s may do it through their success in certain fields or by how much money they donate for certain causes. The rest of us will never have books written about us or have our songs or speeches replayed after we die. We have to be remembered for the small things that we did.

When I die, I know that there will not be a mention on the evening news or an article in the paper. A year later, they will not be coming out with songs I recorded years ago that weren’t good enough to sell at the time but are now thought good enough because I am dead. My family will not be able to sell my image for millions of dollars. The only people that will remember me are the ones that I personally touched through my life.

As I get closer to that time, I wonder if I have made a difference? Have I changed people’s lives for the better? Don’t get me wrong, this is not a call for an outcry of what a great guy I am. This is a question that only I can answer. I think I am a good dad and a decent husband but I wonder beyond that what have I changed?

In our lives, we touch dozens of people every day. Some are no more than a “hi” while others may be far more intense. If you are in a position such as a minister or coach or guidance counselor, the opportunities can be endless. For those of us that are not in “people” type positions, that “touching” is a little more difficult.

I think I have done some things over the years that I am proud of. I was associated with Junior Achievement for 20 years. I taught over 1,000 kids and I helped provide over $50,000 in scholarships to dozens of those students through fund raising. I think that I have helped a few kids with my coaching on the ball field although there are a few dads that might argue that point.

I guess more important than that are the little things that we all do to people that we don’t even know. I have never been a waiter, but I have noticed when I ask a waiter or waitress how they are doing they not only seemed surprised that I asked but are very happy that I did. I have always tried to be nice to people in all walks of life. I am just as friendly to the people that do the housekeeping at work as I am the Vice Presidents.

I don’t know that it matters one way or another to them, but I try to appreciate what all people do, no matter what their station in life is. Am I making a difference in anyone’s life by doing this, I don’t know, but I can only hope.

I started writing this blog to get the news out about what I was going through, but I eventually had some other motivation. I was hoping that I could get people to get a physical every year. I think I have had some success, but how many of you reading this have had one in the last 12 months? If I hadn’t gotten one, I might not be here to write this. I also wanted to possibly help some other people that were suffering from an illness and show them that there is hope at the end of the tunnel. Disease, no matter how difficult, can be defeated.

But I think the biggest reason that I wrote this blog was to have something left behind when I was gone. I want my kids to remember me for something other than grounding them for life every once in a while. Or for making them clean their room at least once or twice a month. I really wanted them to see me in a different light than they do everyday.

Before my dad died, I had him sit down and talk about his life. I videoed seven hours of him talking about his life and his thoughts. Every once in a while I pull that out and watch a bit of it. I wish I could have done the same thing for my mother. At least he spends a good deal of his time talking about her. It is something that keeps me connected and helps me remember them.

What I hope is that I have done that with a few people over the years and that I will be remembered when I die, if that is tomorrow (you never know when you might get run over by a bus) or in 25 years. I hope I am remembered for being a good person that might have changed a few lives for the good. Keep those thoughts in mind when you go to bed tonight. What did you do to make someone’s life just a little better today? When it is your time, you may want to be remembered, too.