Just Take an Hour

January 31, 2012 -- Be Gone January, Be Gone

2012-01-30T16:41:00.000-07:00

When I was young, it was easy to pick out my favorite month of the year. Certainly December was extremely important to me highlighted by Christmas and the ensuing presents and 10 days away from school. The three months of summer were also very high on my list with major league baseball in full swing and, again, the ability to not worry about school. October was great because of all of the candy that I would be able to collect at Halloween (and I’m talking full size bars.) But all of those fell by the wayside because January was easily number one on my list.

For most, January was one of the more drab months of the year. Other than New Year’s Day, there were no days off from school or work. The weather in a good part of the country certainly leaves a little to be desired, especially in Ohio where I’m not sure anyone has even seen the sun during that month. There was college football on January 1, but that was the end of it until the fall. All that has now changed, but back then January 1st was the climax. Even pro football was done until they started the Super Bowl and as a Cleveland Browns fan, it still doesn’t matter what month they play that thing.

Despite all of these negatives the fact that my birthday was right in the middle of the month easily put this month ahead of all the rest. I would begin counting down the days on December 26th. January 16th was my day and no one else’s. There was just something special about that day for me. January 16th is so unspecial to the rest of the world that it was proclaimed “National Nothing Day” back in 1973. From the Hallmark site,” This un-event, first observed in 1973, was created by newspaperman Harold Pullman Coffin ‘to provide Americans with one national day when they can just sit without celebrating, observing, or honoring anything.’”

Obviously most think their day is special, but to me it was everything. It wasn’t like my parents ever did anything special. I would never have a party with kids from my school but it didn’t matter, it wasn’t important. We didn’t have to go out to eat or see a movie or anything. It was still my day.

I didn’t even care that much about presents. I would get some from my parents and relatives would send me five dollar bills that I would save up to buy something cool from Jandy’s Toy Store on Main Street, but even that wasn’t all that big of a deal. I would get my favorite cake and get to blow out the candles, which was fun, but it was just a signal that it was my day.

I still feel more important on January 16th but after surviving 59 of those anniversaries of my birth, I now don’t get quite as excited and I even hide the fact at work so they don’t decorate my office with who knows what. I’m still pulling Silly String and confetti from my drawers from two years ago. Yet despite my reluctance to share my day with others, it still means a lot to me. It still is my day. I still feel special that day, even if I don’t broadcast it like I did 50 years earlier.

It does seem that I am starting to feel differently about January as a whole though. It was three years ago that I found out that I had Multiple Myeloma. It was last year that it became apparent that the stem cell transplant had run its course and I would have to restart chemo sometime soon. Then last week, I had a fainting spell at work that brought six EMS guys to the office and a trip to the Emergency Room. After a barrage of test showed nothing including the CAT scan of my brain, they let me go home. No real cause and no concern from that, but it did make me feel helpless for a bit.

Then last week, I got the results of my last blood test. As you know, the Revlimd has been rather inconsistent in its effectiveness and there was a good chance that January would be my last month of usage if it didn’t show some resiliency. In my own mind I was prepared for news that would lead me to the next suite of chemotherapy. What I wasn’t prepared for was the level of the cancer growth. My fear with continuing the Revlimid was that when it did go south, the MM would have a hey day. Well, it seems that the Revlimid not only took a vacation, it threw a little gasoline on the fire.

The biggest increase that I have ever had from one moth to the next was a jump of about 5 which has happened a couple times recently. This time it jumped from 20 to 46 with the 46 being the second highest I have ever had only falling behind the mid 60’s that I had when it was initially discovered. I was a little stunned and disappointed but certainly not ready to throw up any white flags. Poor Justin decided to make this his first visit to see my doctor with Julia and me and he had to hear this.

Although on the surface, this sounds rather ominous, it really isn’t much different than what happened during the six weeks that I was off chemo before the transplant when it jumped from 13 to 41. The fact that I have a good deal of confidence in the next chemo cocktail has kept me from jumping off any nearby bridges.

My next little adventure will include three drugs, Cytoxan, Velcade and dexamethasone. The last two are familiar as I have used them both but the Cytoxan is a new animal to me. It has some interesting potential side effects that may or may not come into play: low blood counts, hair loss (I’ve been working on that for a couple decades so no big deal), nausea and vomiting (usually with larger doses), poor appetite (Guess I can back off my diet), loss of fertility (I won’t even go there) and discoloration of the skin or nails. Pretty typical stuff, not all of which is guaranteed.

The Velcade will be taken subcutaneously (just under the skin in the stomach) while the other two will be in pill form. They will all be done once per week on the same day at different times of the day. This will be ongoing with no breaks although we might be able to back off on the Velcade if good we get good results. In some studies, 90% of those taking this cocktail have seen positive results.

Just another bump in the road as we go through this process. Disappointing, but I still feel good and plan to attack this like I have from day one. Keep the prayers and thoughts coming, they are certainly appreciated.

January 1, 2012 - Let's Start All Over Again

2012-01-01T10:43:00.000-07:00

It seems that the magical date of January 1 has made its way into our lives again. It is the perfect date to start all over and the vast majority of us use it to do that to some extent. How many times have we all selected January 1 as the day to begin the remaking of ourselves into something better, something more acceptable to our life's goals? Once again, I will use January 1 as the starting point of a new diet. My guess is that many reading this are shaking their heads and saying the same thing.

In addition to the more than likely failed effort of losing weight, I have decided to add an even more important resolution to my new year. This is one that I will do my best not to let slip through my fingers and be forgotten by February 1 which is generally the lifetime of most New Year's resolutions. As much as I would like to look in the mirror and see an Adonis staring back at me, this one is actually more important.

In less than a month, I will have made it through three years of my battle with cancer. It hasn't always been pleasant, but I'm proud to say that I have made it this far when I had serious doubts in the beginning that I would still be upright in 2012. Yet, I'm not sure that I have utilized my three years as well as I should.

I'm afraid that I have felt maybe too good during this stretch. Yes, I have had some difficult times, but for the most part, I have felt unaffected by the disease. It has given me a somewhat false sense of security, a security that most of us take for granted every day of our lives. That security is the belief that I will have tomorrow to get the most out of life, a life that should be enjoyed to its fullest extent every day, something I know I haven't done even with this cloud hanging over my head.

We spend our entire life wishing away the days always looking for tomorrow, looking for something better. It starts out very early when we wish to be older so that we can stay up later and not have to take a nap during the afternoon. (Now, I'd love to be able to take a nap every afternoon.) Then before long we are wishing away the days until we turn 16 so we can drive a car or 21 so that we can have a drink with our friends.

Everyone of us is guilty of wishing away at least four days of every week. How many times have you wished on Monday morning that it was Friday afternoon? We are only given a precious few days on this earth and we probably wish away half of them. Too many of us look at a normal day as a penalty that we have to pay to get to the good ones. The only exceptions to wishing away days are days that include trips to the dentist and getting a colonoscopy. I'm sure there are a few others, but those really stand out.

Give some thought when you are putting together your improvements in the next year and think about how you can take better advantage of those not so thrilling “normal” days. Not every day can be Top 10 day, but it is what we do with the rest that really make up our lives. Do your best to enjoy them because you just never know when you might not have as many left as you would like.

One thing that I have tried to do since I started this blog was to give you all an idea of what I was going through and what it was like to fight the biggest battle of your life. I have always tried to be honest because it doesn't do any of us any good to just say the things that people want to hear. With that in mind I'm going to level with you all, this year has not been the easiest on my mental approach in the fight.

As you know, I get my blood tested every month. This is both a blessing and a curse. Every month I know pretty much how things are going. Aside from being told for the first time you have cancer, the scariest thing that you have to do is hear the results of the next test. For some, that is in six months or five years or some other timeline. It really doesn't matter how long the interval, the fear never subsides, until the doctor tells you that all is clear or things are improving.

Of the twelve blood tests that I had this year, only three saw improvement, the rest showed some advancement of the disease. I cannot tell you how frustrating that has become. The reason that I bring this up is that my last blood test once again showed that the Revlimid is not doing the job. After the dosage was increased to 15 mg there was a nice improvement but this last month showed that everything that was gained was lost. So, I have been on Revlimid five months and the light chains have basically jumped up and down and are back where I started in August.

I guess that I should be happy that I have gotten five more months of relatively good health without it getting worse, but it just gets frustrating always being on the edge of having to do something else. I can live with the prospect of being on chemotherapy for the rest of my life, but it would be nice to see some consistent progress. As I have stated before, it is the mental aspect of the disease that can be so taxing. I'm extremely lucky that I only have to battle that part so far. I will be taking the Revlimid for another cycle to see if there is some hope to salvage the use of the drug. If not, it will be on to a different chemo drug.

Don't get me wrong, I still feel great. In addition, I'm going to take my own advise and try to enjoy every day just a little more that I would have in the past. I'm still pretty confident that the Mayans are wrong and we will all get to enjoy 2013, but you just never know......

December 5, 2011 -- Learning from the Young

2011-12-05T17:14:00.000-07:00

The hour trip home seemed like five. The Hamilton Huskies, in search of their 54th consecutive victory and fourth straight AZ State Championship had just had their heads handed to them. After beating Desert Vista 35-10 earlier in the season, they had just lost 45-19. As we sat in the stands, we could not believe what was happening. The top rated defense in the country (per USA Today) had not forced Desert Vista to punt the ball even once. This had to be a nightmare. When was I going to wake up?

From the very beginning of the season, the class of 2012 at Hamilton had been viewed with a jaundiced eye. There were no real superstars although there will be a few headed to BCS conferences. The entire team had been described as “not one of Hamilton’s best.” Translated, that meant that they might be good, but they might be beatable which for Hamilton is a lot to say.

Then they started winning games. The first game was ugly, but it became number 41 in a row. As parents, we would talk before and after games about “the streak.” We did not want our boys to be the ones to stop it. It became more important than anything. We worried more about the streak than the state championship. They just had to keep it going so they wouldn’t be labeled as the team that ended the streak.

The wins kept coming and the team escaped a bullet when Chandler fumbled four times in the fourth quarter and win number 46 was assured with a 28-21 come from behind victory. They breezed through the rest of the regular season and the first three rounds of the playoffs and stood just one win away from being able to take a breath and not worry about the streak.

As a parent, I found myself not enjoying the season because of the expectations. At Hamilton, you are supposed to win and win big. If we just win by three touchdowns, we would talk after that game that they did not play very well. It was easy to get caught up in that expectation.

Understand that this is not something brought on by the coaches or the administration. They want to win, but they always treated the boys the right way. Did they yell and scream? Sure, but certainly no more than a parent would when their child did something inappropriate. They are good coaches and treat the boys well. No, this comes from the stands and the one million articles in the paper that talk about the “longest streak in the nation.”

When a student goes to Hamilton (there is open enrollment in Chandler, so there is choice involved) and they want to play football, he has to understand that he might never see the field. The likelihood is that if he ever starts it will be as a senior. The senior year is everything. If you succeed or fail your senior year is all that really matters. Jason has a state championship ring from last year, but getting one as a senior is what really mattered. As a senior, you feel real ownership. It is your championship. The fact that the class of 2012 did not accomplish that goal is what was eating at me on that long drive home. How would Jason handle the loss?

Julia and I talked about it most of the way home that day. How would we talk to Jason? What would we say? How could we console him after the loss? We came up with an approach and waited for him to get home. We knew he would be suffering.

Fifteen minutes after we got home, we received our first communication from Jason on the bus after the drubbing in the form of a text. It simple stated, “I’m starving.” About 30 minutes after we ate the doorbell rang and there was one of his teammates coming to "hang." Soon another ring and a couple more. Before we knew it, the guys were running up the stairs and off to another teammates house to meet more guys.

At that point, we knew he would be OK. It might be hard, but the fact that he had already moved on to food and friends was a good thing. Maybe, just maybe, the loss was going to be harder on the parents (or more specifically, me) than it would on Jason. Maybe he was the mature one here.

In the days that followed, we talk about the loss with Jason. He was disappointed, but it was not the end of the world for him. He had a surgery to get through and the rest of his senior year. Football was not his life, just a piece of it. He finished his varsity career 33-1. It would not be easy to forget the “and 1” but it would not define him. It seems I have a lot to learn.

It is always more fun talking about football that my cancer, but I did get some good news from Dr. Mikhael last week. It seems that the increase in the dosage of Revlimid is working. As a result, the damage done the previous month had been reversed and I’m back down to where I was after the second month at 16.9. We will continue with the 15 mg. daily for the next month and see what happens. Hopefully, we will see a different trend than we did with the 10 mg. dosage and the improvement will continue. I have been feeling great the last two weeks without the down days that I had been seeing. I will know more just before Christmas. We’ll see if Santa is good to me or not!

November 2, 2011 -- Who Says You Can’t Go Back?

2011-11-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

As we go through our lives we have the opportunity to make each stage the best time. Ultimately, we fail in doing so for whatever reason, good or bad. It is often the case that we don’t even realize that what we are experiencing ends up being the best that we will ever experience. The hope is that it always gets better, but there are never any guarantees.

For many, the time that they spend in high school is as good as it gets. It may be the Prom Queen or the star quarterback, but what they experience during those four years never gets any better. High school for me was a good time, but hardly the ultimate. I enjoyed it, found it challenging and had some experiences that I will never forget. But it was never going to be the end all for me and luckily it hasn’t been.

The reason that I have broached this topic is that I attended my 40th high school reunion last month and with it brought back many wonderful memories. When I signed up, I was hoping that I would get to spend some time with the people that I was closest to during my stay at Chaminade. For the most part, those were the people that I had gone to elementary school with. However, as the date was getting closer, I became more and more disappointed with the fact that none had signed up to attend the dinner on Saturday night.

I was resigned to the fact that I would spend about an hour and a half at the dinner, eat my rubber chicken and then take off. You have to understand that I am not the social butterfly that Julia is. She can walk into a room of 50 people that she has never met and walk away Facebook friends with half of them. I am okay in my select crowd, but get me in a group that I am unfamiliar and I immediately become a wall flower.

Understand that I knew most of these guys 40 years ago, but I really didn’t spend much time with them outside of class. The evening started slowly as I was just being casually involved in a few three- and four-way conversations, but then I started to gather some speed and actually engaged in some one-on-one’s. Before long it was dinner and I was ready to make an evening of it. Amazingly the food was good and the conversation better.

I ended up talking with Dave Trainor quite a bit. Dave and I spent a good deal of time in classes together but probably spent even more time playing euchre before school and during lunch. I had contacted Dave before the reunion by email and talked him into coming. He felt that if I could make it from Phoenix, he could make it from Wisconsin.

Gary Geisel and I took virtually every class together as freshmen but rarely spoke. At the reunion, we probably talked for 20 minutes about his love of chasing his ancestry which was probably 15 more minutes than we had talked in high school.

Fred Limbert and I had a long conversation during the evening where we shared our views on everything from his gayness to our mutual love of children. Fred was an interesting character in high school who many of us felt might be gay, but it wasn’t the thing to do or even talk about at an all-boys high school in the late sixties and early seventies.

By his own admission, Fred was probably the last to know that he was gay. Like many, he struggled with it before he realized that it was who he was and has made a wonderful life with his partner of 25 years as they have raised three wonderful children Again, I spent more time talking to Fred than the four years that we spent together as teenagers.

Amazingly, I was becoming the social butterfly that I never was in high school. I was never a leader, just a follower and content to hang with the guys I was most familiar with. It was great to spend time with people that I knew only briefly, it seems, to find that they had become interesting, diverse people.

Herb Schwendeman and I had passed a few emails back and forth before the reunion as he and his wife Betty were part of the committee that threw this all together. It seems that I wasn’t the only one with a bit of a cancer scare as Herb went through the same thing earlier in the year and is doing well. As we shared insights and strategies in our emails, I looked forward to reconnecting at the reunion as again; Herb and I were not particularly close while at Chaminade.

If you remember, I used some of Herb’s thoughts in my last blog about faith and hope. We spent a good deal of time in conversation that night as I was the last to leave. Sometimes it just takes a while to understand who your friends are and I think that Herb and I will remain close for the rest of our time on this earth. Herb has a wonderful insight that is far deeper than I ever tread and it is one that has given me some new thoughts on who I am and how I can fight this disease in ways other than food and medicine.

In the end, I had a great time and I’m already looking forward to the next time we can get together when we all turn 60. Lord, that is a humbling thought. I remember when I thought that 40 was old.

What really struck me during the reunion is how superficial we can be at that age. Hanging around with Gary or Fred or even Herb was not something that I would have done in high school. I have always been a believer that people don’t change much in their lives, but maybe I need to rethink that a bit. Maybe we become more alike as we mature and the superficial differences in high school become just that, superficial. Or maybe I changed a bit.

October 18, 2011 -- Do as I Say, Not as I Do.

2011-10-18T17:34:00.000-07:00

I have never had a problem giving out advice and it never seems to matter if it has been requested or not. On the flip side, I am one of the worst people when it comes to taking advice from others. This last Friday might be the turning point in what I do about advice. I’ll probably still be free with advice, but maybe it be a little more open to advice I receive.

This last Friday was Senior Night for Jason’s football team. In my mind it should have been called “Parents’ Night” since we were called out on to the field and got to escort our respective senior out on the field. Even with as much promoting as I could do, it never seemed to catch any traction so they kept it at “Senior Night.”

You have to understand my insistence on Parents’ Night, however. While I was in high school, the closest I ever got to a varsity field was when I bought a ticket and showed up in the stands. I was wonderfully mediocre at just about every sport I tried, so getting on to the field was a nice experience for me.

Jason’s senior season has not gone according to plan as he started the first game of the season but has seen his playing time go down as the season progressed. Over the last two years, 33 scholarships of varying levels have been given to seniors graduating from Hamilton, so we all had our hearts set on Jason getting some looks from somebody, somewhere. We weren’t delusional about BCS or even Division I, we were just hoping that he would get some money and have an opportunity to continue to play.

I must say, however, that he has taken it well, far better than me. He has remained enthusiastic even when he was only playing on special teams, congratulating teammates after good plays and having a good time, even when he felt he wasn’t able to contribute as much as he would like, he kept his head up and kept giving it 100%. His perseverance has paid off and he's back in the starting lineup this week against Basha.

During these two months I’ve been talking to him quite frequently trying my best to keep him in the game, so to speak, because in football you never know when your number might be called. I don’t know if he has been listening but I can tell that he hasn’t given up hope.

All this brings me to my situation and my own inability to listen to my own advice. Odd, it was during the game that I got my latest results on my blood work. If you remember, I was showing some gradual improvement on the level of cancer in my blood stream during the first two months on Revlimid. I was concerned that it might be losing steam but the worst I expected was no improvement. To my huge disappointment, the results were even worse; the cancer had gone up to basically where it was at the beginning of the three months. Since this is a G-rated blog, I will not repeat the words that I uttered when I read the email.

I have really done my best to stay positive no matter what the results have been over the last 33 months, but for some reason this hit me harder than anything since I found out that I was sick. I was hoping to get three years out of this drug and it looked like I was going to get three months. When you are doing everything you can to stretch out your life, 33 months is an eternity. There are other drugs I can take, but losing probably the best one so quickly was not easy to swallow.

I tried to not let it affect me too much, but it really came to a boil when I went into a 30 second road rage on Sunday when a woman forgot how to drive in a parking lot. I realized at that time that it was time to reel it in. It seems that I could advise my son to stay at an even keel and stay positive, but I couldn’t do it myself.

I shared my latest findings on Monday with a friend from high school that I reconnected with at my 40th reunion a couple weeks ago, Herb Schwendeman (more on the reunion in my next blog.) Herb had some kind and thought provoking words that helped push me even further down the road to a more sensible approach.

“The Rosary starts with three prayers for an increase in faith, hope and charity. I have found myself trying to appreciate the difference between faith and hope. An intellectual question perhaps, but certainly faith is the base that allows strong belief with little understanding. There are those who would say that faith is irrational. But then what is hope, John? Do we all have hope on some level? Hope must surely rest on a strong faith. Is hope the expression of desperation? To believe in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds that God will grant us what we seek; is this hope? Is hope faith that things will be better? I often visualize hope as holding on to God's sleeve, in silent hope that He will in His mercy grant me peace.”

I have felt all along that the only way to beat this disease is to have faith in myself, my doctors and God. I think it is only through that combination that I will be able to do what I have envisioned with the rest of my life.

Julia and I met with Dr. Mikhael on Monday afternoon and he suggested an approach that I had given some thought but quickly brushed away. Because of my damaged kidneys, I was only taking 10 milligrams of the Revlimid in comparison to dosages as high at 20 mg. for people with healthy kidneys. After meeting with several other doctors at the Mayo, Dr. Mikhael suggest that we take the dosage to 15 mgs. due to the fact that my kidneys were holding up well with the 10 mgs. So for the next 6 weeks we will try that approach and see what happens.

I suppose I just needed a slap in the face or two to get back to having faith that between God, Dr. Mikhael and myself that we could come up with a solution that might work. I guess we will know in 6 weeks.

October 12, 2011 -- Light the Night III

2011-10-12T11:27:00.000-07:00

Since I began this fight with Multiple Myeloma the “Light the Night Walk” has become an important milestone for me every year. It allows me to put an additional notch on the wall that I have beaten cancer for another year. The fact that the first year was such a struggle for me and each year has gotten easier helps give me another reminder of how good I actually have it. Please take a couple of minutes to read the note that I have sent out to a few folks that don’t read this regularly. If you can join us or help in the cause, it would be greatly appreciated.

It is once again time for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's “Light the Night Walk.” This will be my third year to participate which, in a way, is a bit of a minor miracle. When diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma 32 months ago, I had no real reason to believe that I would still be here today. Those of us that find the disease in Stage III (there is no Stage IV) typically live 29 months. I’m one of the luckier ones that has outlived the median mortality rate and continue to feel good about my future.

This last year has had its ups and downs as one of my best friends also found out that he has Multiple Myeloma. In addition, one of the people that reached out to me shortly after I was diagnosed passed away after just over two yours of fighting the disease. Julia’s grandfather passed away this spring from Leukemia after a long fight with prostate cancer. He was 96, but as vital as the day was long. He was not ready to die. To top off the year, my stem cell transplant ran out of gas and I began a regimen of chemotherapy three months ago that will continue for the rest of my life.

Despite that, I remain positive because I know that I have much to live for and there are great advances in research coming. Another good friend that is in his mid-twenties and fighting MM was recently married and is enjoying a honeymoon in Italy. One cannot stop living because they are fighting a terminal disease. You have to live life to the fullest and enjoy every day as if it were the last.

The walk this year will be held at the Tempe Arts Park on the evening of November 12, 2011 as it has for the last two years and we can only hope for greater success. If you can, please come and support the fight against all blood cancers through donations and finding others to join in the walk as we seek more answers that will eventually find cures. If you cannot come, please donate knowing that every little bit that comes in goes to help sufferers of these dreaded diseases. It may be something as simple as helping with co-pays or education around clinicals that are happening or counseling both the patient and their family. In the end, a good deal of your donation will help in the fight for cures.

The fight for a cure is so important because when you have an incurable disease, you cannot help but wonder every day, “how much longer can I last?” You know that the disease is still in you and doing its best to end your life. It is something that you learn to accept, but it is still there. I look forward to the day that I can start thinking about holding a grandchild and not just wonder if I will be here in a in a year. We all need your help.

Remember that this is a night to remember those we have lost not only to blood cancers but cancers of all kinds. It is a celebration of their lives despite being taken too soon. We all have loved ones that have died or are fighting cancer. Please help put a stop to it once and for all.

You were all so generous last year that I can only hope that we can reach and beat a more aggressive goal. Please join Julia, Justin, Jason and me in fighting these diseases. Click on the site below to join in the cause.

http://pages.lightthenight.org/dm/Phoenix11/TeamOutlaws

Thank you for your continuing help,

John Churan

October 5, 2011 - The Loss of a Genius

2011-10-06T14:39:00.000-07:00

Today is the 21st anniversary of my father’s death and I took a bit of time to reflect on that and the interesting life that he led. I have always said that my life was boring but a very good one. My father led a life that although not adventuresome, it was certainly one that gave him a complete lifetime of experiences at a very young age. I have often wondered if I had shorted myself out of those kinds of adventures for the safety net of constant employment.

Just before I was to head home from work, Julia texted me that Steve Jobs, the mastermind behind Apple, had died. This was not completely unexpected as he had been fighting cancer for years, but still one that set me back. Understand that I am not an Applephile. I have owned the same iPod for the last five years and we just purchased an iMac that I still can’t figure out. I have watched Apple from afar but never fell in love.

Steve Jobs is a different matter, however. If there is such a thing as a man crush, I have had that for years. Jobs was an everyday man that went from being abandoned by his parents to one of the richest men in the world. He dropped out of college because he felt guilty that his adoptive high school-educated parents were spending money that they didn’t have to send him to a school that was one of the most expensive in the country.

He felt that he could do more on his own as he chased his dreams. And did he ever chase his dreams. From the garage of his parent’s humble home, he and Steve Wozniak created Apple. He went on to lead Apple to great heights only to be fired. Imagine being fired by the company you created. Yet he bounced back to lead the company to even greater heights, at one point, being the most valuable company in the world.

He was a genius at a time when we scoff at the very term. It seems that it is easier to believe that someone from the past is far greater than someone of the present. It is the reason that Babe Ruth will always be called the greatest baseball player ever no matter who comes after him. We find it hard to crown someone as being exceptional in our own lifetimes no matter what they achieve.

More than anything, I believe that Jobs was special because he didn’t fall in love with the thought that he was special. He was knocked down so many times in his life that he knew the only way to survive and make a difference was to work harder and never give up. When he found that he had cancer in 2004, he became a mere mortal and it drove him even harder. Even though he initially beat cancer, it made him look at life as being even more precious. When he spoke at the Stanford graduation ceremonies in 2005 he spoke from the heart.

“When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

“Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart….

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

“Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

Steve Jobs was no saint as some of his early indiscretions would indicate, but the man truly was a genius. He brought about change. In many ways, he changed the world. He didn’t bring world peace or find a cure for cancer but he did make a difference even to the end. Listen to his words, they speak volumes. Don’t ever let failure stop you; don’t ever let potential embarrassment hinder your efforts. Follow your heart and make a difference. Make use of what precious time we have.

September 23, 2011 -- Expectations

2011-09-24T00:01:00.001-07:00

I haven’t had a chance to catch the new TV show “The Playboy Club”, but it got me thinking about my first trip to one of the Clubs and how I viewed a similar trip a decade later. All of this relates to how things change in life with regard to expectations as we grow older and learn more about life and the things around us.

Those of you that know me well know that I have never been much of a partier. I have gone to my share, but never made it a big part of my life. During my college years, I’m not sure I ever attended one. That sounds absolutely pitiful as I now actually type the words, but it just wasn’t that important to me. Either that or no one ever invited me.

On the same hand, I wasn’t much of a bar fly either although it was legal back then to drink 3.2 beer (the 1970’s version of Lite beer) when you turned 18. The problem there was that I have never liked the taste of beer. The thought of drinking it to excess was even less of an enticement.

So at this point, it has been established that I was a pretty boring engineering student while in college. However, there was one night that I stepped out of the mold and made my way down to the Cincinnati Playboy Club. It was a Saturday night during my freshman year and several of us were sitting around the dorm with nothing to do. One of the rich kids was bragging that he had a key to the Playboy Club and could get us in. All of a sudden the boring engineering kids had something exciting to do.

The real problem was that none of us were 21 and knew we would have to pull something off to make all of this work. For some reason, and this tells you just how much of a nerd I was, I had two sports jackets in the dorm with me. What I ever thought I was going to do with those I will never know as this was the era of platform shoes, plaid bell bottoms and straggly hair. We scoured the dorm for two more so that we would look older and more sophisticated.

After an hour of searching, we found two more and were off on the geek version of a rumspringa. We piled into my 1968 powder blue four door Ford Falcon and ventured downtown. We got the oldest looking of the guys to act like he was the key holder as we all held our breath that they would let us in. Amazingly, they let us in without even a hint of suspicion that we would out of our league.

We now had to spring into the second part of our scheme and that was to make $43 last for a couple hours. None of us had a credit card and ATMs were science fiction at the time. We decided that each of us could get a drink and then do a shift of two and then the other two would get drinks. This was the only way we could conceivably make it work. Engineering minds at work.

I approached the bar and realized when I got there that I really hadn’t thought this through because I had no idea of what to order. I had left the pack and found myself in no man’s land. I quickly used my rapid engineering mind and remembered that my dad liked something that sounds like a Seven-Eleven. So I proceeded to order that and the bartender looked at me like my hair was on fire and asked me to repeat what I wanted. I again said “Seven-Eleven” and he just shook his head and gave me a drink. I had survived my first Playboy Club interaction and didn’t even realize that I would likely be the butt of jokes between bartenders later that night.

We grabbed a table and sat there ogling the waitresses like we had never seen a beautiful woman before, giggling like 4 year old girls. Despite the fact that we saw attractive girls on campus (never in our classes though as there were no female electrical engineers) these women were different, they were amazing, they were goddesses and we were not even drunk.

Part three of the plan was now put in place as two of the guys ordered a second round and the other two of us sucked on ice. The drinks arrived and we continued to stall as we tried to gather in all of the excitement that faced us that evening. After a couple attempts to get us to order more drinks the waitress finally realized what was going on and busted us. She just smiled, we paid our check and we scurried to another room in the Club.

We were down to about $12 at that point but thought we could stretch this out a little longer. We then had our bubble burst as we noticed that there was a $5 cover charge in that room, obviously because of later entertainment. We quickly left, just happy that no one had completely discovered our sham. It was one of the nights that I will never forget despite falling short of a full evening.

Ten years later, the Playboy Club came to Columbus and I was given a key by my girl friend and we made a trip. My expectations were huge as I fondly remembered my first trip. However, the evening was a huge disappointment as the women were no better that you can now see in a typical Hooters or any one of the other breastaurants as they have now come to be known. Obviously the thrill had been lost and I never went back.

Same Club, same concept, but different reaction. It seems that those ten years had changed my view of the world and my expectations. We all change expectations in life as we experience more and expect more. I always marvel at how much fun a child can have with very little. A two year old can go up and down a slide and laugh as if it were the greatest experience in the world. A five year old can play with the same toy car for hours and do the same thing the next day.

As adults, we expect so much and often have to go to extremes to even crack a smile. It’s too bad that expectations become so big that life isn’t as wonderful as it was when we didn’t know any better. Too bad a Popcicle doesn’t make my day anymore. Keep enjoying the little things, they should always be important in our lives.

September 13, 2011 Failures and Regrets

2011-09-13T18:43:00.002-07:00

We live our lives far too often just worrying about the present. We often forget that both the past and future should be part of our decision making process. It can be something as small as the decision to eat dessert to something as complicated as whom we should marry.

It isn’t easy to admit this, but I have probably lived most of my life worrying more about potential regrets than potential rewards. We tend to forget our triumphs and remember the failures that turn into regrets.

I’m sure you all have regrets in life, I know I do. One of the questions that I always ask people when I am interviewing them for a job is, “What is your biggest failure in life.” I really don’t care about what the failure is, but more about how they dealt with that failure. If I get the answer, “I really don’t feel that I have had failures as I have learned from my mistakes,” they immediately get crossed off my list. If you cannot deal with and admit to failure, you are not going to be successful in life.

One of my biggest failures in life was my inability to get through Engineering School. In the end, it was probably one of the best things that ever happened to me as I would have been miserable as an engineer. I think the recovery that I made from that failure is one of the things that makes me who I am. Certainly a failure, but not a regret.

Shortly after that, I stumbled into my second biggest failure and that was my first marriage. I was naïve and probably not as experienced in relationships as I could have been at that stage of my life. Certainly a setback at the age of 24, but again not the end of my world. If you would have asked me at the time would I have regretted the decision to marry, I would have said yes. If you would ask me that question today, I would have a much different response.

After Ann and I divorced, I took my time finding the right woman the second time around. In fact, it took me a full decade to find the love of my life. It wasn’t always easy traversing those years, but in the end it was worth it. Do I have regrets from those years? You bet! Not so much who I dated, but some of the decisions I made along the way and some of the mistakes I made in how I ended relationships.

Was my marriage a failure? That is an easy answer, but I would never regret the experiences that formed me over the next 10 years.

If there is one great regret in my life, it happened when I was still turning into an adult. I was 22, just graduated from college and soon to be married. I was too much about me and not enough about others. You would think at 22 I would be smart enough to understand the world around me, but sadly, I didn’t. It was during that time that my mother was fighting a losing battle with cancer.

It was a very different time when there were not many tools to fight cancer. She had half of one lung removed, but no chemotherapy or radiation. She was withering away to little more than skin and bones, but I was too blind to see what was happening. Soon she would be dead and I was content to stay 90 miles away and live my life like nothing was happening. As a result, I never really got to spend the time with her at the end and tell her the things that I should have. Even saying “I love you” was difficult for me at the time, let alone all of the thanks I should have given her. I miss her to this day. It is difficult to replace the unconditional love of your mother. In her eyes, I was perfect despite all of my flaws.

Knowing my mother, I’m sure it hurt her a great deal, but I’m also sure she forgave me before she died. The thing is, I still haven’t forgiven myself. It is 36 years later and I think about it constantly. It is probably why I have lived much of my life avoiding regrets.

I often have conversations with Justin and Jason about regrets and how terrible they can be. Do not let opportunities slip by in life because they often do not return. I let one slip away that I wish I hadn’t. Don’t make the same mistake.

August 27, 2011 Wonderful

2011-08-27T07:19:00.000-07:00

I have touched on this topic in the past, but now is as good of a time as any to dive into it a little bit deeper. Life is filled with ups and downs. What we make of life is how we deal with that inconsistency and how we work to minimize the damage caused by those dips. There hasn’t been a successful person that didn’t have to deal with some type of adversity in life. They are successful because they were able to get past that.

When you are dealing with disease, you are often confronted with those ups and downs on almost a continual basis. It becomes very easy to become myopic and only see the latest information and become fixated on the potential outcome. Even inside of that vortex, there is the likelihood that bad news is greeted with certainty and good news with a significant level of skepticism. You really want the positive to be true, but it is very easy to keep your level of excitement at a minimum because of the potential for an even greater letdown with the next set of tests.

This is where your own beliefs and attitude need to become even more important. It is easy to get depressed when things aren’t going your way and it can be in anything in your life. It can be the new job that just doesn’t seem to be going as well as you had anticipated or the new boy friend that doesn’t seem to be paying as much attention or the fact that the stock market has taken another dip. Don’t even get me started on how the Reds are doing this year. If you let those things get in the way of the positives that are still there, there is the possibility of making things even worse than they really are. It is here where faith in God or your friends or even yourself is so important.

There are days where I just don’t feel quite right and some days just flat out poor. Part of that might be the cancer or the medication or the fact that I’m just plain old. Yet, when someone asks me how I am doing, I almost always tell them that I am doing great or wonderful or some other positive descriptor. I actually do this for a number of reasons but the most important of which is to remind myself that I have to stay positive. More than anything else, I do what I can to battle to downs with a little bit of my own pep talk which is something that I have learned to make part of my everyday life (away from cancer.)

I hate to admit this but in years gone by I have allowed some really idiotic things to make my mood less than positive. Probably the worst of these is my love for the University of Dayton Flyers. Over the years there have been many Saturday nights that I would drive back from Dayton completely disgusted with the outcome of a basketball game. I would then allow it to creep into my Sunday and even my Monday. In retrospect, I had to be nuts. It was a stupid basketball game! As stupid as I was, I’m sure that I wasn’t alone on those evenings and my guess is that there is something in your life that is just as trivial that depresses you far more than it should.

The thing that I have learned over the course of the last two and a half years is that the little things just should not do that to you. Use the little things to perk you up, not drive you in the other direction. Even if it is a bigger thing, one has to learn to move it from your normal thought process, because that depression or worry will never make you better or make you happy. All of this is certainly easier said than done, but unless you work at it, there is no chance for it to happen.

Since the beginning of January, my blood tests have continued to deteriorate month after month. It was easy to read the handwriting on the wall and see that chemo was on the horizon. It was hard dealing with that, at times, but I still did my best to stay “wonderful.” Now the chemo is here and I’m still saying “wonderful.” But now I have a better reason to say that because after my first round of chemo, the level of cancer in my blood dropped from 20.8 to 16.9 with normal being below 2.0.

Dr. Mikhael was very pleased with the result as is shows a nice slow controlled drop which is preferable to a quick drop that often signifies a stronger, faster growing cancer. In addition, the kidneys held their own and there was no significant drop in my red and white blood cells which often happens with Revlimid. So far, so good, with hope for another drop next month. Now when someone asks me how I am doing, saying “wonderful” comes just a little easier.

August 15, 2011 -- Side Effects

2011-08-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

Before this goes too far, I have to admit up front that I am a TVaholic. I understand that this is not acceptable to many people, but it is who I am. I enjoy TV and I like to go to movies. Maybe it is just an escape from normal life, but it is what I like to do.

That being said, I have seen more than a few commercials in my life and have really noticed a change in the last 10 years. Ten years ago, there were not too many commercials for prescription drugs. They were what your doctor prescribed and as a patient, you just left it up to them to decide what was best. The world has changed and we are continually bombarded with commercials for all of these new and exciting drugs, everything from drugs to help you in the bedroom to drugs that allow you to eat all the wrong foods and still have good cholesterol.

The other thing that you can’t help but notice is all of the potential side effects. After they read the list of potential side effects, it is a miracle that anyone takes anything. My favorite is the anti-depression drug that may cause you to have thoughts of suicide. Heck, all I have to do is look at my tax bill every year and I have thoughts of suicide.

The problem with these side effects is that they come from clinical trials that want to know everything that happens to you when you are participating in the clinical and they consider anything abnormal as a side effect. Yesterday is a perfect example of what would have been a side effect if I was actually participating in the clinical that had been discussed several months ago.

After running a load of towels through the washer and dryer, I decided to do some of my husband duties and fold the towels. There were a few too many bath towels to put on our towel shelf, so I laid two towels on the tub. All I did was bend my back about 30 degrees and I felt a little pop in my back and instant pain. I managed to mess up my back by laying down two towels that didn’t even weigh a pound. The fact that I have had a history of pack pain and I seem to be falling apart would have nothing to do with the requirements of the clinical. It would have to be reported.

So today, I took a look at the potential side effects of Revlimid and found that there were potentially 242 side effects. Yes, you read that right, 242. There was everything they from heart attacks to hiccups. Just about everything that could go wrong was on there. Right in the middle was a listing for back pain. Obviously, my back pain had been caused by the drug. It seems to me that because of the way the clinicals are run, some of the information becomes worthless and you have to look at everything with a jaundiced eye.

In my particular case, I have run into some side effects that I would prefer to avoid. The first one that hit took about 3 days to rear its ugly head. Before I went to bed that night, I noticed that my scalp had become itchy. I didn’t think much of it until the next day rolled around and it had become worse. Three days after it started, I looked like a dog with flees, scratching at every opportunity. Luckily, it started toning down the next day and eventually went away.

The next side effect was a continual cramping of muscles. This could happen at any time and just about anywhere on my body. This started about two weeks in and seems to have settled down to where I only occasionally get a cramp.

However, the last side effect that I have noticed is the one that is going to drive me crazy if it doesn’t go away. I have a further confession to make. I am not only a TVaholic but also a foodaholic. It’s not that I eat a lot of different things or even things that are good for me, but I do like food, probably to a fault. I am now finding that food is losing its flavor, especially salt and other spices. I eat spicy food and think it is boring, which has never been the case. I have already found that adding a shake or two of the salt shaker is worthless. I can live with this, but what a bummer!

On a related front, water suddenly tastes like bleach. Now, I’m not exactly sure what bleach tastes like, but this has got to be it. Since all of this started, I have gone from drinking a lot of tea and soda (pop for you mid-westerners) to drinking almost exclusively water due to my kidney issues. I will typically drink at least 80+ ounces of water each day. This has now become a chore as we search for fixes.

Don’t get me wrong, I will trade all of these inconveniences for a few more years of life. We tend to become spoiled in life and always want things to be perfect. It is only when other things become more important that we are willing to compromise. I have found my reason to compromise. In the end, I needed to lose a few pounds before my 40th high school reunion, anyway. There is always a silver lining, I guess, you just have to look hard enough.

July 26, 2011 The Miracle of Medicine

2011-07-30T15:52:00.000-07:00

Battling cancer can be an interesting journey. You think you have it all figured out and you get thrown into a new phase and you have to figure it out all over again. I guess you can say that I have had three phases so far: 1) first rounds of chemo after cancer detection, 2) transplant and 3) post transplant recovery and aftermath.

Phase one was scary because I didn’t know if I was going to live or die. If you haven’t gone through this before, it is very easy to think the worst because you really don’t know enough. I somehow got through that phase and then it was on to the transplant. Unlike the first stage, I felt very confident that the transplant was going to work.

I knew it wouldn’t be a day at the beach, but I felt pretty good about my survival chances. I wasn’t 100% sure that I would walk out of the hospital so we had family pictures taken so the boys would remember their dear ole dad. Although I thought they were decent photos, they don’t see the light of day in the Churan household because I guess I was the only one that liked them. Luckily, I did make it out of the hospital so we can have another set done sometime.

Phase three, the post transplant stage, was not without its time of worry. After only 5 months, my numbers started spiking and I thought all was lost. That settled down and for two years, I lived a life of someone without cancer save the monthly blood letting at the Mayo. Other than my now ever present high blood pressure medications, I was just like everybody else.

I have now entered phase four, the stage where everyone realizes that the transplant has run its course and it is time for another intervention. When I first came to the realization that my body just couldn’t handle the cancer on its own, I was disappointed. The next two months were tough as I hoped for a miracle that just wasn’t going to come. There was no doubt; I needed to go back on chemo.

It wasn’t the fact that I was going to start up chemo again, it was the fact that it is likely that I will never get off of it, more than anything else. Aside from the transplant, there is nothing that can be done to make you chemo free. It took me another two months to get over that setback, but now I am fully ready to start that next leg of the journey.

This morning, I took my first dose of Revlimid. It is a perfectly innocent capsule that doesn’t look a whole lot different than any other over the counter capsule. It isn’t until you read the fine print that you realize that this isn’t your mother’s multiple vitamin.

Before I was even allowed to get a prescription for Revlimid I have to sign my life away. On four separate forms I had to state that I would not have unprotected sex with a woman of child bearing age. Of course, those were easy to sign as Julia looked over my shoulder. But it went even further than that. The fact that I had a vasectomy wasn’t good enough; I had to agree to have a second protection in place. Needless to say, they don’t want you fathering any children while using Revlimid.

The same holds true for women taking Revlimid. There is enough proof in laboratory animals that there is a good chance that any offspring could have some severe birth defects. In fact, I am the only one in the house that is allowed to handle the stuff. As you can imagine, swallowing that first capsule made me twitch a bit. So much for my life as a sperm donor (Can’t do that either, not that I ever would have. Who would have picked me anyway?)

Of course, it is going to keep me alive for a bit, so I’m not complaining. As a matter of cost, if it wasn’t for my insurance company I would be twitching all over. I don’t know the actual cost to the insurance company, but I have heard costs ranging anywhere from $5,000 to $10,000 per month. At this point, I don’t care what it costs (I can say that because I am only responsible for a $20 copay per month) because Dr.Mikhael believes I might be able to get another three years out of this drug. If you would have told me 2 ½ years ago that I would be worrying about what I would be taking in five years, I would have kissed you. Every minute matters now, another three years are a lifetime.

July 22, 2011 -- Mr. Tanner

2011-07-22T14:22:00.001-07:00

It was a couple weeks ago when we were making our way back from our mini vacation in Las Vegas that I took the opportunity to listen to some songs on my IPod that I hadn’t enjoyed in a while. Not sure what it was, but I decided to listen to Harry Chapin’s Greatest Hits. If you are not familiar with Chapin’s work, he was a master story teller. It was more than the music, it was more about the words and his words were captivating.

You might be familiar with his hits, “Taxi”, “Cats in the Cradle” or “WOLD”, but the one that really grabbed me as it always does was the song, “Mr. Tanner.” Mr. Tanner owned a dry cleaning shop in Dayton, Ohio (coincidentally my home town.) As he would clean clothes he would sing to himself in a beautiful baritone voice and his customers couldn’t help but hear and appreciate the melodic tone.

Customer after customer would tell him that he should give up the shop and become a professional singer. Although reluctant, “music was his life” and finally gave it a shot. He arranged a concert in New Your City. It took all of his savings, but it would be worth it.

When the evening came, he gave it his best but only noticed his mistakes. Sadly, the critics only heard the flaws also. “Mr. Martin Tanner, Baritone, of Dayton, Ohio made his Town Hall debut last night. He came well prepared, but unfortunately, his presentation was not up to contemporary professional standards. His voice lacks the range of tonal color necessary to make it consistently interesting. Full time consideration of another endeavor might be in order.”

Mr. Tanner returned to Dayton and never let on what had happened in New York. He became just a shell of himself, never singing loud enough for anyone to hear. He had become a defeated, destroyed man. You have to wonder how often each of us face this same type of defeat and how we all handle it. Life is a series of defeats and victories, but too many of us allow the defeats to overwhelm us and not give equal justice to the victories.

Early in life, I would allow a defeat of my favorite sports team to ruin a weekend. I have since gotten past that. In my own life, I have had so many defeats that if I dwelled on those, I would have to hide in a cave all day. I think we all have to face the reality that we are not perfect and will, indeed, make mistakes and have failures but that is not what should define us. It should be what we do with the rest of our lives.

Harry Chapin died nearly 30 years ago when his car was crushed by a tractor-trailer. He had made a decision early in life that he would dedicate himself to more than the simple, easy things. Although music was his livelihood, it was not his passion. He did everything he could while he was alive to wipe out world hunger. It was something he knew he could never do alone, but he made it his driving force. He cared about others to the point that he angered his own band because he would donate as much as 50% of their income to fight hunger. The article below gives you an idea of just what lengths he would go to.

http://www.victoriaadvocate.com/news/2011/jul/14/bc-us-remembering-harry-chapin/?news&national-entertainment

Take a look at you own life and evaluate if you are doing enough with it. Don’t give something up because you failed at it once. Find something that invigorates you. Find something that makes you love life. Find something that makes others love life. In the end, get off the couch.

On the medical front, I will begin my next round of chemotherapy next week. It looks like the clinical will not work out, but I will be following the same protocol, with a high level of predicted success. Because it will be delivered through pills instead of IV, this will go a lot easier than my previous experiences. With luck, Revlimid will give me another 2 or 3 years of good health. During that time, you never know what else might become available.

Thanks for all of your thoughts and prayers. Keep them coming, they are appreciated.

June 17, 2011 -- They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

2011-06-17T17:09:00.000-07:00

In 1969, the movie “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” was released to a certain level of critical acclaim and 9 Academy Award nominations. Sadly, that acclaim meant little to me and my 16 year old brain as I watched a movie filled with depression. The movie is set in the Depression era and centers on the life of a young girl and the trials and tribulations that she faced.

To make money, people would do just about anything including dance marathons which is the center piece of the movie. These marathons could last for weeks as people would be on their feet for hundreds of hours with brief bathroom breaks in between. The title comes from the belief that we shoot horses when they are in great pain, but we have no solution for people when they are in either great physical or mental pain.

The reason that I bring up this movie is for two reasons, one being my current mental and physical state and the second being an incident that happened last weekend.

As has been stated by many in the past, when someone finds that they have an incurable disease, they go through many stages including disbelief, despair, hope and many others. I currently find myself in an interesting state of mind that finds my cancer slowly advancing, but it having little or no effect on my state of mind.

The nice thing about Multiple Myeloma, if there is a nice thing about MM, is that it is not a very fast acting cancer. Certainly it can take people very quickly, but generally you have years as it goes through its cycle. I’m now 29 months into that cycle (which coincidentally is the median life span of someone with stage III MM.) Despite the fact that my cancer inches slightly worse every month, I am in a great state of mind. I feel so good that it is easy for me to forget the fact that I am sick.

I’m sure others with cancer go through this stage. It is one that my doctor even talked about as an intermediate stage before the cancer starts to take its toll. The other reason that I feel good about where I am is because I have faith that God and the medicine that is out there will keep the cancer at bay for several years. It works for most, no reason not to believe that it will work for me.

However, the main reason that I picked this title is because of a run in I had with a couple horses on the way back from San Diego. Jason was in a 7 on 7 football passing league tournament on Friday and Saturday with his football team. As we have become accustomed, they won all seven of their games and won their second tournament of the season. He then participated in a football camp on Sunday put on by San Jose State.

We didn’t get out of San Diego until after 5:30 because some of the coaches wanted to talk to Jason and a couple other Hamilton players. The ride back was pretty uneventful as we did a quick McDonalds drive through and didn’t see a great deal of traffic. That all changed at 10:30 p.m.

The shortcut back includes a trip through an Indian Reservation. It is out in no man’s land and as dark as dark can be. The speed limit is 55 and the road is as straight as an arrow. I looked at the GPS to see how much further we had to go and that 27 minutes will be etched in my memory for the rest of my life. When I turned back to the road, there was a herd of wild horses rather casually walking across the road, far closer than I would have liked. In fact, far closer than at least two of the horses would have liked. I slammed on the brakes, but to no avail.

The sound was deafening as an adult and her young offspring were struck by the front of the car. The young horse was lifted up by the car and was probably dead before it knew what was happening as it crushed the windshield, the sunroof and Julia’s window. In addition to damaging the bumper, the hood and the roof, all four panels on the passenger side were dented. There were hoof marks on Jason’s window. The other horse that I hit just damaged two of the four panels on my side.

Amazingly, only Julia sustained any injuries as she had some minor cuts from the flying glass on her arms. The sight of those horses in my headlights is now etched in my memory despite my less than a second view. It happened so fast that we hardly had time to be scared. I still marvel how lucky we were.

I have been saying for a long time that I was not going to let Multiple Myeloma be my last chapter. I have gone so far as to actually say that I would not die because of it. I did not mean for God to interpret that as a wish to die at the hands, or I should say, hooves of a herd of wild horses. I need to be more careful what I wish for.

May 31, 2011 - Have you had your physical today?

2011-05-31T10:32:00.000-07:00

As I approach my second rebirthday, I was reminded the other day how I got here when Justin asked Julia if she would set up an appointment for him to have his annual physical. I have to wonder how many 20 year olds even think about a physical let alone ask to have one. Understand that Justin is similar to his dad in that he is not an intimate friend with needles. Despite that, he will bravely go where few other people his age care to go.

Justin is realistic in his view of his life and health. Both of my parents died of cancer, his other grandmother currently is fighting tooth and nail with the disease and no one needs to be reminded that I am in the middle of my own fight with cancer. The chances of Justin getting cancer in his lifetime is certainly larger than the average person. He is attacking that the best way he knows how and that is to get an update on his health every 12 months.

One of the main reasons that I write this blog is to remind people that it is so important to keep their eye on their own health and to have a physical yearly. If I hadn’t, I very likely would not be here to enjoy my life. I might have been just a few short days away from a deadly heart attack.

Disease can sneak up on you as my good friend Paul Nardini found out when he had his physical last year. He felt fine but the physical revealed that he had Multiple Myeloma. He caught it early enough that he suffered no kidney damage and is currently in full remission. Had he not gone, who knows where he would be today.

It only takes an hour of your time to get a good idea of where you stand. Why not do it? I know a few of you have taken my advise, but I feel pretty confident that many of you have not. Don’t cheat your loved ones, make sure you are as healthy as you can be. It just takes an hour.

I had my visit with Dr. Mikhael on Thursday and despite the fact that my latest blood test showed additional growth of the cancer, we decided to wait another month to begin the clinical trial utilizing Revlimid and dexamethasone. After reviewing my blood test it has become clear that last month was a fluke and my body just can’t handle the disease on its own any longer. The continued worsening of the level of cancer in my blood stream is now a trend but has not yet begun to impact either my kidneys or my bones. Unless we see some kind of miracle in my results this next month (haven’t we heard that before?) I will start the clinical either in June or July.

This is hardly the end of the world for me. I still feel great and this combination of drugs has been very effective for the last five years. The potential side effects are numerous (blood clots, low blood counts, serious skin reactions, metabolic complications, diarrhea, constipation, tiredness and other complications.) However, every drug has its potential side effects many of which never happen. After going through the transplant, this will be a walk in the park.

I just view this as another step in the process. When I actually saw the results last Tuesday, I was disappointed but not despondent. Once I got over the fact that the transplant had run its course a few months ago, I came to the realization that this step was going to happen soon. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not excited about this, but it is something I can deal with. It’s just another speed bump on my way to an eventual cure. As always, I just strive to stick around until that happens.

May 21, 2011 - Fighting Your Handicap

2011-05-21T13:52:00.000-07:00

It is one of the days that has been etched in my memory for nearly 50 years. It was a summer day like all of the rest in Ohio, hot and sticky. It was a day that I was playing with Tim and Mike Markus , the only neighbors that I ever spent time with. We had decided to hit a golf ball around their back yard. We each had a decent size yard, but we could never tie them together as they had a chain link fence designed to keep their long gone dog penned in. So we were in their yard hitting the one golf ball we shared. I was a year older than Mike and two older than Tim. Although never a superstar, I was bigger and more athletically inclined.

That size, however, caught up with me as I sliced a ball toward the Markus’ house. My eyes got bigger than a golf ball as I saw it hit the house and glance off. I thought I was safe but when we walked over to where it hit, it was easy to see that it hit in the middle of the kitchen window and Mrs. Markus was standing there looking out at us. No one made a big deal of it, but I felt like I had broken somebody’s arm. I was devastated and swore off golf. I probably should have stopped there.

However, time passed and another summer rolled around. Being that I was too young to really go too far away from the house (I wasn’t allowed to get a bicycle until I was in the eighth grade, but that’s another story), I had to find things to do around the house during the long summer. As a result, golf was rejuvenated. This time I stayed in my own yard and hit away from the house. I got some tin cans and buried them in the ground and made my own golf course. I would play for hours despite the fact that putting on two inch high grass was tough.

I finally talked my dad into taking me golfing. That is another day that is etched in my memory as we lasted two holes and about 25 shots apiece. We decided that golf wasn’t our game and headed home. It wasn’t until I was 15 that I started golfing again with two of my friends from high school, Mark Kroger and Mike Meixner. We weren’t very good, but we had some great laughs at each other’s expense. We would get a ride from a parent and then rent a hand cart and play 18 holes and then get picked up by another parent. It would take us all day and not drain our piggy banks.

The third day that is blasted in my memory was one of the days that we played 36 holes. Apparently, Mark had not told his parents that we were playing 36 holes and they somehow tracked him down on the course and left without Mike and me. Not to be undone, we continued to play. When we finally got back to the clubhouse and called home from the pay phone, we found that there would be no ride home, we would have to walk. We had just walked 36 holes and would have to walk home carrying our bags. For me, that walk would be three miles. It is amazing what a 15 year old body can do.

The fourth day that I will never forget was years later and is the day I shot a 77 on a par 72 course. I was on fire that day and could not miss a putt. You have to understand that I probably only had a handful of rounds that I have shot in the 80’s and high 80’s at that. Not sure what happened that day, but I can remember almost every shot. I still have that scorecard somewhere in my collectibles.

The fifth and last day that is etched in my brain just happened a couple of weeks ago when Justin and I went out for the first time. All four of us have played together before in a league when the boys were young, but this was different. It was the first time since Justin decided to give up baseball that he utilized his athletic abilities. We had been hitting at the driving range for a few weeks, but this was the first time he would stand and the first tee and know that what he did mattered. Despite a bit of nerves, he was able to get the ball into the fairway and we were on our way.

Not sure what it is or why it is, but there is something special playing golf with your son(s). Hopefully, I will be able to get Jason out, but that might be a while or at least until he, too, gives up baseball. That Sunday was special. We didn’t set any records, but we did have fun. There is something about the game that brings people together that are playing. It is a game that has more frustration than any other. You can be playing a great round and one hole can ruin the day. There is no maximum on a hole, there is a reason that the game can make you cry.

It was a couple months ago that I decided to get back into golf. It had been about a decade since I had really played much and the first time out I lost one of my clubs. I took that as a sign from God to buy a new set. Understand that I have only owned three sets of golf clubs in my life. I have friends (Jim Sibert, you know I am talking about you) that can have that many in five years as they look for that elusive smaller handicap. It was my way of rewarding myself for lasting this long with my new handicap, Multiple Myeloma. It was also a way to push back at the disease that I wasn’t giving up and was going to live life like nothing was wrong with me.

There is just something about the game that despite driving you nuts, just keeps calling you back. Now I get to do it with my son. Life can’t get any better!

April 26, 2011 - Mark Twain Lives!

2011-04-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

I’m starting to feel a little bit like Mark Twain. One of his most famous quotes was "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." There has been a great deal of discussion if those were the exact words that he used, but the fact remains that he made a heck of a comeback from what many thought was his demise. There haven’t been any reports of my death, but it certainly crossed my mind a few times after my last blood test.

I’m not going to try to kid anyone on my thoughts after that test, but no matter how hard you try to stay positive, it sometimes gets tough when what you have worked hard for seems out of reach. That is the way I felt last month when I saw my blood work up and realized that remission was indeed gone and I was bound for more chemotherapy, probably for the rest of my life. But at the same time, the fighter in me gave my pessimistic side a swift kick in the head and Yogi Berra’s famous quote came to mind, “It ain’t over ‘til its over.”

The optimist in me found its way back to the top and I realized that no matter what, I needed to take every day as a gift from God and just continue to move forward. With that in mind, I went through a series of tests at the Mayo with the intent things had not gone too haywire and I would be starting some brand of chemo next week.

The day went pretty well considering I had had some level of mishap with just about all of the tests that I would be part of. The first was the 24 hour urine test that, if you remember, I had a rather embarrassing moment when I turned it in once after not sealing it properly and the container was drenched in you know what. This time it went off without a hitch as I triple checked how I screwed on the lid. I did forget it in the car, but Julia was kind enough to make the trek out to the parking lot to get it while I waited for my blood test.

The last time I had a blood test I almost passed out. The technician (and I use that term lightly) seemed to be digging for gold instead of actually placing the needle in the vein. I can handle that for a bit, but this seemed like it lasted the entire gold rush. This time, it went in the first time and I was out almost as fast as it took me to sit down.

The next test was the bone marrow biopsy. The last time it went well but I ended up flirting with the gay nurse while I laid there half naked. Amazing what drugs will make you do. This time it was in and out and I got to keep all of my clothes on. I was a little sore after, but that is the price you have to pay for progress.

The last test was the easiest which was the full body scan. I have never had a problem with this test other than it is about 30 x-rays and I am always afraid of glowing in the dark at night.

So other than the fact that I was rather sleepy, it was a good day. I knew that I would get the blood test back today, so I would have a good feeling of where I was even before the bone marrow biopsy was back. That was when the real surprise came and I started to feel like Mark Twain. Instead of continuing in the downward spiral that I had been for the last few months, I actually showed improvement.

Because the cancer was up the last few months, my kidneys were starting to throw a pity party for themselves and my creatinine went from 2.2 to 2.6 as the cancer number had risen from 5.6 to 14.0. As Dr, Hogan told me last week, that wasn’t the end of the world, but it was important that we kept an eye on it. It is my own personal opinion that as long as my kidneys keep working, I will have a much longer shelf life.

The blood test showed my creatinine back to 2.2. The cancer dropped back to 13.2 from 14.0 and most of the other issues came back down into the normal range. My bone scan showed no appreciable decline since the test I had in December, 2009.

I have no idea what this means in the long run but as my daddy used to say, “It’s better than getting hit with a stick.” Will it continue? I have no idea. But what it does mean is that I can put off chemotherapy for another month. Now we are looking at another blood test at the end of May and a decision will be made at that time. Who knows, maybe I have another minor miracle in me!

Keep up the cards and prayers! You have no idea how much they are appreciated.

April 11, 2011 - The Vacation Is Over -- Time to Get Back to Work

2011-04-11T15:59:00.000-07:00

June 4, 2009 was the start of a new life for me as I received a stem cell transplant. For the next 22 months I was afforded the opportunity to live my life, although not free and clear of cancer, but without major worry about my condition. It truly was a vacation from the disease as I did not have to do anything but show up for my blood tests. I was able to put my feet up and, in a way, relax at the beach. It was 22 months that went so fast, I felt normal. As with all vacations, mine has come to an end. It was confirmed last week that I am no longer in “remission.”

I look at this not with dread, but with a renewed sense of determination. This is not something that was unexpected. As like all other Multiple Myeloma sufferers, I knew it would again rear its ugly head. It just happened a little sooner that I would have liked. However, that 22 months gave me an opportunity to get pretty healthy and ready to begin the fight anew. If you compare where I am today versus where I was when this started or even where I was before the transplant, there is no comparison. This stupid disease has no idea what I have planned.

In the past, I did the things I should do such as taking supplements, vitamins, adding some exercise to my daily regimen and eating my vegetables. That all will continue and I plan on taking it up a notch. I will become even more diligent in my workouts and take a closer look at what I am eating. My guess is that it can’t hurt. In addition, we will put together a full-frontal attack on the disease using the best drugs available.

Dr. Mikhael laid out three different options:

1) Another stem cell transplant. I have said all along that I would happily do another one of these if I could get an extra two years like I have had. The only problem is that typically the second one does not last as long as the first one. I might only get a year out of the second one. As it stands, I am going to keep this one in my hip pocket just in case we get to the point that nothing else works.

2) A combination of Velcade (which was the main chemotherapy that I had when all of the is first started), cyclophosphamide (or cytoxan) and dexamethasone. Velcade seemed to work well for me, but as soon as I got off of it, the cancer had a field day, almost going back to there it was when it was discovered in just five weeks. Because of that, I will likely pass on this possibility for now.

3) Join in a clinical trial. This trial was put together by Dr. Mikhael and has now gone nation wide. It will include Revlimid and dexamethasone. Revlimid is one of the more popular drugs that is used to fight MM. Dexamethasone is a steroid that is also used as a direct chemotherapeutic agent. At this point, I would have to say that this is the leader in the clubhouse. After doing a little research, this offers the most promise at this time. The article below offers some good news surrounding the use of this combination including some participants actually seeing an improvement in kidney function

http://www.myelomabeacon.com/news/2010/03/11/dose-adjusted-revlimid-dexamethasone-combination-is-safe-and-effective-in-multiple-myeloma-patients-with-reduced-kidney-function-study-suggests/

After we receive the results from next week’s tests, we should have a better idea which process makes the most sense.

Needless to say, this was tough news to swallow. The body can be deceiving. The fact that I feel good right now is such a fooler. If I didn’t know better, I would say that the blood work was botched and I am perfectly fine. But just know that I will be going at this with 110% effort as Pete Rose used to say. I am not going to let this disease beat me. I will NEVER give up.

My vacation is over and I’m ready to go back to work.

March 14, 2011 Sometimes It Just Takes Longer Than You Think

2011-03-14T20:52:00.002-07:00

Well, it seems that I am not as good of a prognosticator as Joe Namath. Even though I guaranteed a better result in my new blood test, I fell short of that promise. All is not lost, however, as the cancer seems to have stabilized. My kidney numbers worsened a bit and I seem to have some additional stuff running around in my bloodstream than I need, such as calcium. As a result, I am backing off my One-A-Days for a while. Not sure if that is causing the additional calcium, but it does give me an extra 210 mg. which I don’t seem to need right now.

Dr. Mikhael seemed positive as always, actually sparing me the humiliation of begging not to go back on any chemo. I was willing to ask for a couple weeks and then do another blood test, but he was OK with waiting a month. Since I negotiate for a living, I know a good deal when I see one. I really do need to get better this next time, or there is a decent likelihood that I could start using REVLIMID®.

REVLIMID® (lenalidomide) is used with dexamethasone to treat patients with multiple myeloma (MM) who have already had another treatment such as Velcade, the original chemo that I took or the transplant that has given me 18 great months. This would be a pill and certainly less rough on my system. As I have discussed before, there is a myriad of treatments that can be thrown at MM and this seems to be the most frequently prescribed for those at my stage of the fight. Of course, if I can hold off for a while, it would be even better.

I’m afraid I got some bad news today as one of my cancer buddies passed away. Steve Kerrigan who has battled MM since 2008 lost his battle this morning. Steve worked on the radio in both Dayton and Columbus so I’m sure many of you heard him at one time or another. Steve fought hard but lost his kidneys early in the battle. Trying to beat this disease while on dialysis is extremely hard. He helped raise thousands of dollars in donations for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. He will be missed.

Click here to read more on Steve's run in radio and against cancer.

There was an incident that happened in Dayton a couple weeks ago that I have to share with you. It is a story of sadness and joy that really shows that we should never give up.

Ebony Gainey was likely going to be the best recruit Jim Jabir had brought into the Women’s Basketball program at the University of Dayton. She was a two time All-State player and also the salutatorian of her graduating class and in the National Honor Society. She had size and speed and could handle the ball like a guard. Then tragedy struck. During the summer after her graduation, Ebony’s 21 year-old sister died in her sleep from a heart-related complication.

As hard as it was to do, Ebony worked through that by becoming even more focused on basketball. That was until two weeks before the first tip-off when Ebony’s world once again came crashing down all around her. In the middle of practice, she found that she could not catch her breath. Because of her sister’s death, UD took every precaution and Ebony went through a complete series of tests. In the end it was confirmed that she suffered from cardiomyopathy, ending her college career even before she had stepped on the floor.

Ebony was crushed. Not only had she lost her sister, but basketball now, too, was lost. Jabir was in a unique position to lend a hand, however. If was just 3 years before that Jim almost lost his life to a heart ailment, Arrhythmogenic right ventricular dysplasia (ARVD). ARVD is a genetic, progressive heart condition in which the muscle of the right ventricle is replaced by fat and fibrosis, which causes abnormal heart rhythm. Jim faced death and survived. His experience could only help.

But that wasn’t the only help that Jabir would be. Some of you may not know this but when an athlete signs a letter of intent with a college, that scholarship may only be for one year. It is not unusual for some of the top programs in the country to pull a scholarship after one or two years. However, this was not to be the case for Ebony. Jim and the UD administration stood behind their commitment to Ebony and she received the scholarship for the entire four years. She helped whenever she could with practice and everything else with the program; she just wasn’t allowed to suit up and play.

As the end of her senior approached, Jabir just wasn’t satisfied with letting Ebony sit at the end of the bench and not experience being on the court with the rest of her teammates. After secretly checking with several medical experts, he received an OK to have Ebony suit up on Senior Night.

As Senior Night grew near, Ebony was called to the office of Amanda Fischer, the director of basketball operations for the women’s team. When she got there she found Jabir in the office and was told that she would not only get to suit up, but start and have a play run for her.

Entering the UD Arena that day she spotted her dad and tears started running down her cheeks. Her dad had spent endless hours working with both she and her sister teaching them the fundamentals of basketball often challenging teenage boys to play against them. Even though it was going to be brief, it was going to be a dream come true.

As is often the case when great plans are made, things fall apart. The Flyers ran the designated play but the pass to her was slightly off and it dribbled through her fingers and out of bounds. Her eyes immediately went to the bench expecting to see someone coming in for her, but that was not to be the case. She would have one more try. The next time down the court, they ran the same play. Ebony received the pass and drove by two Fordham defenders and banked in the shot. She would finish her career with a perfect slate. It was over so fast but it was wonderful.

Ebony never gave up. She just showed up every day and did her job. She did it knowing that she would never see the floor, but in the end a small miracle happened and she got the wear the red and blue for one last time. That is why you never give up in life. That is why I can never give up in this fight with cancer. You just never know when that small miracle will happen.

March 6, 2011 Lester Miller

2011-03-06T09:18:00.000-07:00

From the moment that we are old enough to understand the concept of death, we all know that one day we will have to face the end. Yet, thankfully, we somehow put off those thoughts and go about our lives assuming that there will be a tomorrow for us and all of our loved ones. But then there are days when those thoughts must be put off because of the loss of someone close to us.

Yesterday, Julia’s grandfather, Lester Miller, passed away. Lester was a wonderful man that lived a long and rewarding life. Yet, even at 96, we all feel the sting of his passing. It just didn’t seem to be his time. He was still too vital despite being slowed down by the grips of aging. His health had been deteriorating for the last few years and it was just a few short weeks ago that Lester found out that he had a form of leukemia. He had been amazing in his fight with prostate cancer that should have taken him over a decade ago. We had every reason to think that he would be able to conquer this demon, too.

I have known Lester for almost 24 years. I was never lucky enough to know either of my grandfathers but he quickly became my surrogate. He brought a certain wisdom to every conversation that made you think. He and I were on different sides of the political table, but that didn’t keep us from having good discussions in those areas. However, it was our love of baseball that really brought us together.

Lester had been a Reds fan forever and his passion matched mine. In fact, the only time I ever caught a ball at a major league fan was when Lester was in the seat next to me. We would talk Reds just about every time we got together. If it wasn’t his love for the Reds, it was watching Justin and Jason play.

He was there for Jason’s first home run, a walk off grand slam when he was 10. He was there when Justin struck out 14 in a seven inning game and then sprung for a steak dinner after the game. He was there when Justin hit tape measure home runs in each of his first two at bats in the American Legion State Tournament in Athens when he was a junior in high school. He loved to watch and he loved to tell everyone at the game that they were his great-grandchildren.

Lester was a proud man and even more proud of his family. He could never stop talking about his grandchildren and what they had accomplished in life, this coming from a man who had met Presidents. He was especially close to Julia and her brother John. The three seemed to have a special connection. In fact, he had requested that they give the eulogy at his funeral when the time came. How they will be able to speak those words, I don’t know as I am sure their emotions will be overwhelming.

Lester had accomplished a great deal in his life, coming from a very modest background to eventually lead the National Rural Letter Carriers Association. So respected in the industry, he was commissioned to write the history of the Letter Carriers and was asked to speak at the Smithsonian to commemorate its publishing and the 100th anniversary of the Association. His negotiating skills were so valued that he continued to assist in contract negotiations with the postal service in his eighties.

He was a man that was a friend to everyone. His funeral will be attended by hundreds. There would be thousands if so many of his dearest friends hadn’t already passed. Everywhere we went; there was someone there that knew Lester. When he and Marge, his wife of over 70 years, moved from the only home they had ever shared a year ago, they were both amazed at how many people they knew in their new retirement community. When people came into the lunchroom, they would have to stop by Lester’s table and say hi. People loved to hear him speak and he certainly was happy to oblige.

We are all in a state of mourning as we have lost a great friend, husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather. We mourn, not for his loss, but for ours. There is now a hole in our hearts knowing that we will never again see his smiling face and loving hug. It is for us that we mourn, not Lester. We all know that he is now with God. We now have to decide how we remember him and keep his great spirit alive.

February 27, 2011 A Different Point of View

2011-02-27T09:41:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, Julia and I attended a Leukemia Lymphoma Society (LLS) dinner which included two speakers. The first speaker was Dr. Rafael Fonseca, who heads up the Multiple Myeloma area at the Mayo. When I was first diagnosed, Julia contacted the Mayo and was told that we could not get in to see Dr. Fonseca very quickly which led us to Dr. Mikhael. I’m certainly not upset about the course of events as we love Dr. Mikhael, but it was interesting to hear another viewpoint.

It seems that Dr. Fonseca does not view stem cell transplantation as the cure-all. It is a tool that is available, but he is more likely to utilize other means of chemotherapy to battle the disease. This seems to be different than was our understanding and certainly different than what we have experienced ourselves. I have four other friends that have Multiple Myeloma and all four have undergone transplantation, one twice.

This just drives home the belief that there is no one way to battle this disease. It is a field that is widening rapidly as the researchers learn more about MM, but it shows that there is no one best way to attack the problem. It also drives home the fact that MM is as different as the people it attacks. Of the four people that I have close contact with, we are all different. One has had it for nearly 10 years. It took forever to diagnose it and he had to continue to bug his doctors to continue to dig until they finally discovered the problem. He has had two transplants and went into complete remission after the transplant.

The second individual did not have very good results with the early chemo but went into complete remission after the transplant, but no longer has kidney function. The third went into remission before the transplant but also has to battle Amyloidosis. The fourth also went into remission before the transplant which he received just three weeks ago.

We are all different but we are all the same. Others utilize a maintenance drug before and after transplant and I have not. It seems there are numerous answers to the problem, but none complete.

The second speaker, Jim Bond, was flown in from Ohio to talk in both Tucson and Phoenix. Jim is a miracle; he has battled MM for 19 years. His original oncologist suggested to him when the cancer was discovered that he quit work and enjoy what little time he had left. Jim and his wife disagreed and started researching the problem on their own. He decided that he wanted to live and not just fade away. Three transplants and numerous medicines later, he still survives.

Survive is probably the wrong word, Jim flourishes. For the last four years, he has participated in a four day bicycle tour that travels the 300+ miles from Cleveland to Cincinnati. Lord, I would get tired driving from Cleveland to Cincinnati and he rides a bicycle. Jim is a true survivor, one that has made sure that he isn’t voted off the island.

Read the Jim "James" Bond story of survival.

When you have an incurable cancer, it is very easy to get discouraged. It is very easy to wonder just how many more birthdays you will see. Yet, when you hear experts explain options and see a 19 year survivor ride a bike for four days it makes the journey just a bit easier. We will know in about a week if my journey has taken a detour or not. I will go in on Thursday for my follow-up blood test after the no so great blood test of last month. If I am lucky and can get someone to send me the results on Friday, I will have a better idea if my cancer GPS is pointing me in the direction or not.

The good thing is that if the results aren’t better, I know I have alternatives. But I have confidence. Just like Joe Namath guaranteed a huge upset before Super Bowl III, I told Dr. Mikhael when we last met that I would have better results. Let’s see if that winning trophy can come my way.

February 9, 2011 My How Time Flies

2011-02-09T17:37:00.001-07:00

It was just a couple of weeks ago that I discussed the importance of anniversaries to me. Today probably is the one that means the most to me. It was twenty years ago I took a job without one bit of experience. The fact that the pay rate wasn’t the greatest didn’t really mean much to me. It was something that I wanted to try for years and finally got the opportunity.

Despite my lack of experience, I jumped in with both feet. The work was very hard at times, but it did have its rewards. There were many times that the job took me well past eight hours and early on, I spent a great deal of nights working on probably the biggest project of my life, often going into work the next morning looking like I had been run over with a truck.

I made mistakes along the way, but luckily I wasn’t replaced. Some of the mistakes were probably just looked over because of my lack of experience and others because there just wasn’t any standard operating procedures. Certainly there have been SOPs written in the past for similar jobs, but I’m a stubborn guy and I tend to like to write my own. I’m not afraid to take advice, but in my mind, unless you are doing the job itself, you cannot possibly understand all of the potential consequences.

Despite the poor pay grade, this job has enriched my life more than any other. Just because you cannot look at a huge stock portfolio doesn’t mean that you haven’t been paid well. This has been the job of a lifetime and is worth more than anything money can buy.

You see, today is the 20th anniversary of the birth of my first son, Justin. It was 20 years ago that I became a dad. I may have lacked the proper background on my resume’, but I made up for it with hustle.

Growing up as an only child, I really missed not having a sibling. I really wanted someone that was like me. Many of you are probably happy that they threw away the mold after I was born, but that didn’t keep me from wondering what it would be like to be a big brother. As I got older, I decided that I would change my goal to something more attainable, that of being a dad.

Julia and I reminisced this morning about the morning that Justin was born. It was a cold night and both of us had fallen asleep on the couch. When Julia woke up, she knew that something different was going on. Little did we know just how different our lives were going to be starting in about six hours.

Justin was the joy of my life despite his many flaws. He cried all of the time, including the middle of the night, and spit up on anything that wasn’t moving. To get him to fall asleep at night, I would have to lay on the floor next to him until he would nod off. He started walking way too soon and bashed into everything. If anyone would have seen him on a regular basis, we would have been sent to jail for child abuse. He had more Power Ranger band aids on his face than a UFC fighter.

In reality, those were the easy years. It’s when they get older that you begin to question your decisions and wonder what to do next. Knowing that he should wear a coat out when it is cold is easy. Knowing that he should not be eating sugar is easy. Is a time-out good enough to get the child to understand who is in charge is not easy. Is spanking a capital offense? I’m not sure.

That is just getting you started. Soon they will be in high school and the number of issues that you have to deal with literally explode. Instead of wondering what small present you will get little Suzie for the birthday party at Chuck E . Cheese’s on Saturday, you have to worry if little Suzie is sexting with your son on Saturday. Instead of worrying about your son eating too much candy while at the party, you have to worry if there will be beer at the party.

We used to be able to dress the boys up in whatever we wanted. When they were little, we would dress them in similar, complementary clothes. Now you just hope they don’t kill each other because they happen to have similar clothing on going to the same event.

We used to worry that they would jump off of the swing when it was too high in the air. Then we began to lose sleep on a regular basis because we knew they were out driving at night shortly after they had gotten their license. Now we have to worry about what they are taking in school and if they will be able to get a job when they graduate.

Once you accept the job as parent, it is a job you should never give up. There are too many among us that just walk away from being a parent. Even when it isn’t easy, you need to hang in there. They may not like your advise, but you still need to offer it. Even if they think you are an idiot (I have officially entered that part of my life. Should get out of it when they reach 25.), you need to stay involved. They may not admit that they like it. If fact, they may think that they hate it, but in the end they want it. It is all part of the job of being a teenager.

Having children has brought me more joy than I can ever count. It has left me next to broke, but that is part of the deal. You give them something and they give you something. My boys are never going to win any scholarships, but they are smart kids. They never clean their rooms and you don’t even want to see their bathroom. But I have learned not to worry about them because they are mature kids that have a mind of their own, not that of their friends. They know the difference between right and wrong. They not only know it, they live it. When I recount what they are, I can only smile.

I’m not sure Julia and I deserve a raise when we get our performance appraisal as parents, but I think we will get a passing grade. Did we make mistakes? You bet. But I have to say that somehow the boys ended up as two young men we can be proud of. It has been an experience unlike any other. It is one that I wouldn’t trade for anything. It is a job that I plan on keeping for a while (If they like it or not.)

February 3, 2011 Crap!

2011-02-03T18:56:00.001-07:00

When you have a disease of any kind that lasts long enough that you can get results on a regular basis, there are going to be good days and there are going to be bad days. Since my transplant, I have generally been getting results every two months. For the most part, those results have been pretty good. There have been some bumps in the road, but generally the news has been good when I get a sneak peek before I actually see the doctor.

Because I am terribly anal and very numbers oriented, I have to get my hands on the results as soon as possible. If I have to wait to see the doctor, I go nuts. It’s funny. During the two month period, I really don’t think about it much, but once my blood has been extracted, I want the results. If I could get them while they were taking the five or so test tubes of blood, that would be great. When I was going to Doctor Obenchain, I would have to wait a week and drive poor Jeri crazy as I would ask her each day if the results were in. Now that I am back at the Mayo, I can get results in a day. Thus, I just have 24 hours of clock watching.

Yesterday, I made the hour trip up to the Mayo to have the blood draw. It normally isn’t that bad, but for some reason traffic was bumper to bumper. I really need to get a blow-up doll to put in the passenger seat so I can use the HOV lane. It sits there almost idle since most people drive by themselves. I understand the purpose, but it sure seems like a huge waste of concrete to me.

I waited as long as I could and finally send Dr. Mikhael a note around noon to try to find out who I could bug to get my results. Luckily he got back to me fairly quickly and it wasn’t long before the results were in my computer.

When I get those results, I look at two things, my kidneys and the level of cancer in the blood stream. The printout was a little different that I had seen in the past and the fax machine at the Mayo was not the best in the world, so everything was a little fuzzy. Not fuzzy enough though. The kidneys were still in their normal 2.2 range. Not great, but no worse. The cancer number was not exactly what I was looking for, however.

Because it was fuzzy, I could not see the decimal point. I had a good idea of where it was, but I was hoping it wasn’t. So I sent a note back to the Mayo and to my dismay, my eyes were good enough to decipher where the decimal point was. My new number was 11.5. If this was the percent raise I was getting this year, I would be happy with that 11.5. If it was the number of games that the Reds led the second place team in September, I would also be jumping for joy.. But the fact that this was an indicator of how much cancer was flowing in my veins and the normal scale is 0.57 to 2.63, I was not quite as excited as the raise concept would have been.

To put that 11.5 number in context, my number two months ago was about 5.5. The previous test was a little over 4. The 11.5 is the worst I have had since my transplant. However, because I am now a seasoned veteran at the whole cancer game, I am not about to jump off any bridges. As Dr. Mikhael told me, this number fluctuates, the Mayo tends to be a little higher than other labs, I’ve been almost that high before and the rest of the lab work was pretty normal. With all that in mind, I’m not too concerned.

The next test is the important one. The next test is always the most important one. It’s like getting to do a do-over every couple of months. It doesn’t matter how good or how bad the last one is, it’s the newest one that is the most important if it confirms a trend. That is my story and I’m sticking to it.

The other reason that I’m not too worried is because I just got done losing a two month battle with the cold of the century. For over six weeks, I fought that sucker. I eventually won, but not without a struggle. The last time I had a cold, the cancer looked at it like a little vacation from my white blood cells and it jumped a bit. So, I was really expecting a jump. Not this much, but a jump, nonetheless. It seems my body isn’t smart enough to battle two things at a time and the cancer seems to have won that skirmish.

So the bottom line is this. I just had my worst blood results in 19 months, but I’m not too worried about it and you shouldn’t be either. Nobody ever said that this was going to be easy. I just view it as another challenge that I plan to meet head on. I feel great, so it is not having too much effect on me. That makes my job a lot easier and there is nothing I enjoy more than an easy job!

I plan on starting a regimen of CoQ10 tomorrow. There has been some research on the value of this naturally occurring supplement and its effect on cancer. The information below was taken from NaturalNews.com:

“Inspired by these results, Japanese researchers at the National Cancer Center Research Institute in Tokyo wondered if CoQ10 could even prevent cancers from beginning and proliferating? They used a deadly carcinogenic chemical, azoxymethane, to induce colon cancer in rats. For one month the animals were fed a defined unsupplemented diet, while another was fed a diet containing CoQ10. The results were remarkable. At the first signs of colon cancer in the rats, they found the cancer was less than half that in the unsupplemented group. This led scientists to conclude, ‘CoQ10 may be an effective chemopreventive agent against colon carcinogenesis.’"

Now I’m not going to compare myself to a rat, but this and other studies lead one to believe that there may be some value. Coincidentally, during the time that I had my two best blood tests I was taking a supplement that we sell at Isagenix called Ageless Actives. I started taking it because it was a combination of resveritrol, Vitamin D and CoQ10. There was a clinical study taking place at the time involving resveritrol and Multiple Myeloma and I thought it might do me some good. However after the four months, Julia noticed that the resveritrol study was stopped because there were some findings that it was causing kidney damage to the participants. As a result, I stopped taking it.

In the end, it might have been the CoQ10 that was helping my results. So, I am going to become my own little lab rat and see what happens. I ran it by Dr. Mikhael and he gave a thumbs up. We see what happens over the next two months.

January 23, 2011 The Importance of Anniversaries

2011-01-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I have always been very interested in anniversaries. When young, the only thing that mattered to me was the anniversary of my birth. However, as I grew older, my birthday became less important and the other remembrances in my life took over even ones that did not always bring back good memories.

The anniversaries of my parents deaths have always been important to me. I have even taken days of vacation to travel to Dayton to visit Calvary Cemetery and visit their graves. When the 30^th anniversary of my first marriage came around, I kidded that I wondered if I would get an anniversary card from my ex. I guess she not only forgot about our second anniversary when we were still married, but also the 30^th.

Then there are the more pleasant anniversaries, like UD playing for the national championship in 1967, or the Reds winning the World Series in 1975. Then there are the ones that are close to the heart like the anniversary of Julia and my first date or, of course, our wedding.

However, I have a new favorite anniversary, although it is more of a bad remembrance than a good one. It was two years ago today that I receive the call that is etched in my memory. It was the call that began the journey that has brought me to today. I can still hear Dr. Oesch’s voice telling me to go to the closest hospital immediately as I was at high risk of a heart attack and my kidneys were in failure.

It was a call that was completely unexpected. It was a call that made my heart skip a beat. It was a call that would change my life forever. Within days I would know that it was more than just a bad chemical imbalance. It was a sequence of events that made me wonder if I would still be alive in two years.

Doctors would not answer my question of how long I might still have. The internet is full of information, but how do you interpret it? I was in stage III of a cancer that doesn’t have a stage IV. The internet told me that people that find out that they have Multiple Myeloma when they are in Stage III have, on the average, 29 months to live. I also found that only 15% of those finding the cancer in stage III live for five years.

Now I find myself at 24 months and feeling great. Twenty nine months will not be a problem. I will have beaten the odds and lasted longer than the average. I am a person that is driven by challenges. Don’t challenge me if you don’t want results. I would be the guy most affected by the coach’s half time speech challenging us to go win the ball game.

I am now challenged to make it to five years. Only one out of six or seven make it that long. I am determined to be one of those six or seven. I don’t know what percentage makes it to 10 years, but as soon as I find that out, look out, I have a new challenge!

December 12, 2010 Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

2010-12-12T16:18:00.001-07:00

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

2010-10-29T16:35:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-23T16:13:00.006-07:00

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

2010-10-05T12:13:00.002-07:00

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

2010-10-03T14:49:00.003-07:00

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

2010-09-03T05:31:00.003-07:00

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)

2010-08-25T15:48:00.004-07:00

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

2010-08-16T10:15:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-08T17:24:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-23T18:24:00.002-07:00

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

2010-06-16T06:36:00.002-07:00

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!

2010-06-04T11:32:00.003-07:00

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)

2010-06-02T21:53:00.003-07:00

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

2010-05-22T09:49:00.001-07:00

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)

2010-05-07T17:43:00.004-07:00

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?

2010-05-02T14:36:00.003-07:00

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.

April 23, 2010 Baseball

2010-04-23T18:53:00.001-07:00

My first recollection of sport was in 1961 when the Reds were battling the Dodgers for the National League pennant. About the only way that you could follow the games back then was on the radio. Seeing a game on TV was rare. One of the Reds announcers was Waite Hoyt who had pitched for the Yankees during the glory years with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

It as a time that you would sit by the radio while reading or playing board or card games. There were only two TV channels in Dayton and only black and white TV. You would actually pray for rain delays because Hoyt would begin to talk about his days with the Yankees. Certainly I was no fan of the Yankees but to hear him talk about what they did and how they did it made me fall in love with the sport.

It was a game perfectly suited for me because it was a game that wasn’t in a hurry and was all about strategy and numbers. God, I loved those numbers. I would memorize the backs of baseball cards and create my own All-Star teams with the stats from those cards. Because my parents owned a grocery store, I had a field day with packs of baseball cards. I actually collected one full set when it was nearly impossible to do. Baseball was my game.

It was the one game that I could play with any level of skill. I wasn’t very tall or very fast, but I knew the game and how to play it. The only problem was that I peeked just a little early, at the age of 12, in fact. I was an All-Star and was one of only three kids from the league to move up to the 13-15 year old team the next year. Little did I know that I would be able to count the number of hits I had left in my bat on two hands.

I was so sure that I would make it to the majors, it bothered me that because my birthday was in January, I would not be able to celebrate it during the season. When we are young, it is easy to dream. Despite my failure to become a major league baseball player, I persevered. I would listen to every game and read the Sporting News from cover to cover. I remember sitting in the living room on Thursday waiting for the mailman to come so I could run out to the mailbox and get the paper. It was just about baseball back then and the best source for baseball information.

As I grew older, I continued my love affair with the game, but only from the stands. I would eventually play a little slow pitch softball, but I didn’t get into the beer drinking that accompanied it, so it was back to the radio and Marty and Joe. It wasn’t until the boys were born, that I rekindled the love of being on the field. When Justin turned eight, I finally talked him into giving the game a shot.

It was love at first sight for Justin as he made a spectacular play in his first game to catch a ball that had bounced off of the shortstops chest and glove and made a bullet throw to first base to complete a double play. How he knew to do that, I have no idea because it wasn’t something that you practice.

That first game started a streak that is still going in which Julia and I watched the boys play baseball. I am sure that we have watched close to 1,000 games by now, but I still look forward to each game like it was the first.

Baseball is a game that I have always loved and will continue to love until my last days. Yet, it was just the other day that something I had never anticipated happened. Doug Hare, the father of Matt Hare, my fellow sufferer of Multiple Myeloma, contacted me and wanted to know if I would mind if the put my name on a poster to be shown at a baseball tournament that will be played in Columbus on May 5-7.

The tournament is called the Coaches Against Multiple Myeloma and you can find out more at http://www.baseballcoachesagainstmm.webs.com/

Over 125 teams have already signed up with proceeds going to Multiple Myeloma research at Ohio State University Hospital. It is a wonderful cause that you can help by sending a donation to:

Doug Hare - Central Ohio Youth Baseball League

PO Box 1425 - Pataskala, Ohio 43062

Make your checks payable to MMORE and it will be tax deductable.

I may not be able to play anymore but my love for the game hasn’t changed and my feeling about this cause has only strengthened. If you can, please help.

I received great news today with a sneak peak at my blood work-up. I have been feeling great and anticipated good news, but with cancer, you never know. When I got the fax, I was relieved to find that my cancer count is now at an all time low of 5.76 (normal being 0.57-2.63). That is down over half of a point from two months ago. In addition, my creatinine is down to 2.0 (normal 0.8-1.3) which would lead you to believe that my kidneys are better. Again, the best that I have had since all of this started. Keep the prayers coming, God is listening!

April 19, 2010 Family

2010-04-19T17:44:00.003-07:00

It was a few weeks ago that I happen to be wasting some time on the internet and I stumbled upon a site that had deaths listed. I have for years tried to get a better understanding of my last name. My father had mentioned a number of times that it was shorted when my grandparents came to America from Chuhran to Churan. So I thought I would give that a shot on this site and as I have in other attempts found nothing. But while I was there, I started looking around at other family names and found that my Aunt Edna had died last year at the age of 88 while I was in the hospital.

Aunt Edna was not “officially” my aunt as she was married to my dad’s step brother, but I always considered her as an aunt, often visiting her in Florida when we would vacation there. Aunt Edna was a tiny little thing maxing out at somewhere under 5 feet tall. She was my last grasp on my parent’s generation. All of my aunts and uncles have now passed away. I feel like I have lost a part of my past.

The first thing that struck me when I saw that she had died was that it took me so long to find out. There are a few things that I am good at, but keeping in touch with friends and relatives is not one of them. I’ve tried to stay in touch with my friends in Columbus, but haven’t done a very good job. I have been even worse with my own relatives. If it wasn’t for Julia sending out seasonal cards, they probably would not have even known that we moved to Arizona. They probably should have disowned me from the family by now.

Because we were going back to Columbus this past weekend for family pictures with Julia’s family (I’ll have another blog entry on that topic), Julia asked me if there was anyone that I wanted to see while I was back in town, as we had a few non scheduled hours available. I wasn’t sure at first because there were so many people that I would have liked to have seen, I didn’t know where to draw the line. Then it hit me that this might be a good chance to see my relatives in Dayton.

Then I had to decide which side would I see. Lord knows you don’t mix sides of families except at weddings and funerals. To break precedent, I thought I would get crazy and invite both the Churan’s (although none of them actually have that last name) and the Pregon’s (and most of them don’t have that last name either.) To kill two birds with one stone, we would meet at my favorite pizza place, Marion’s.

On a side note, we ate very traditionally in our home when I was growing up, never having Chinese, German or Italian food, including pizza. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in high school that I ate pizza for the first time. I was given the task to order a dozen pizzas for my homeroom end of the year celebration. I was told to call Marion’s for the pizzas. I knew how to dial the phone, but I had no idea even what went on a pizza. Luckily the folks at Marion’s helped me out and I have had a soft spot in my heart for that place for the last 43 years.

Julia sent Easter cards to my cousins in Dayton and mentioned that we would be at Marion’s at 6 PM on April 16 if anyone wanted to stop by and say “hi.” It had been years since I had actually seen of my relatives, so I really didn’t know what to expect. Julia estimated that we might have as many as 20 people, so Marion’s set aside an area for us and reserved some tables.

We got there a little before 6 and my cousin Maggie and her husband Roger were there so we knew, at least, we would not be eating alone. Then more and more people started flowing in. I didn’t count, but we had to have over 60 people there. It was wonderful getting to see everyone again. Not only did my cousins show up, but so did their kids and they brought their kids. It was like a funeral without all of the sadness.

Sometimes we take our friends and relatives for granted as in many ways it is a part of our past. When you move away, it is easy to just worry about the here and now. Hopefully, our getting together will rekindle some relationships, not only for me but for everyone there. Friends come and go, but your relatives are there forever, no matter how much time and many miles keep you apart.

It was a great way to start off a pretty important week for me. This Thursday, I will have possibly my last blood draw at the Mayo Clinic. Because of insurance constraints, my coverage at the Mayo ends on June 4. I am hoping and praying that some type of miracle has happened and my cancer has continued to recede. Despite the fact that I have been given this burden, it has been a great year with the people at the Mayo and I will miss them. Hopefully, we can part with smiles on our faces.

April 2, 2010 Hurts So Good

2010-04-03T15:51:00.002-07:00

My, what a difference a year makes. One year ago, I still was in the middle of my chemo and radiation treatments. I was still two months away from my transplant and my life was still up for grabs. All I could do was hope that the poisons that they were putting in my body would help me get another year out of my life.

Now I sit here feeling like a million dollars. (That is aside from the first cold I have had since I found out I have cancer. Another use for chemo, a cold eradicator.) In fact, I have been feeling so good that the last two weekends I ventured out into the yard and started replacing all of the plants that had died in the last year.

Doesn’t sound like much, but it is only now that I realize how much the transplant took out of me. I marvel how easy it is to deal with the steps at a movie theater. After the transplant when I actually ventured out to a theater at an off hour to stay away from people, I had to hang on to the handrail like an 85 year old man. I would take one step at a time for fear of falling. Now it is like a walk in the park.

Julia has done a great job with the yard while I have been laid up, but she has never been a planter. She has become very good at pruning and manicuring the plants, but I have always been the shovel man in the family. And now it was time to not only replace but also rearrange.

Last year, after a great deal of fighting with our lovely Home Owners Association, we agreed on a design for the yard. Not sure why they call it a home owners association, it is more like a hateful hall monitor, but that is another story. We had a friend of our pool guy put in the landscaping and we relied heavily on his knowledge of plants that will thrive here.

Needless to say, we have learned a bit and decided to make some changes. So between Julia, Justin and myself, we either moved or replaced at least 30 plants over the two weekends. By Sunday on both weekends, I was completely whipped. I would never have thought that five hours of real work could do me in.

By Monday morning, my body was in a severe state of rejection. I didn’t realize that I had that many muscles as each one of them was screaming at me for my actions of the previous two days. But in the end it was a good pain. It felt good to hurt from something other than medical procedures. I finally felt like I was back.

March 14, 2010 Do You Believe in Miracles?

2010-03-15T22:50:00.003-07:00

As an individual, we rarely get an opportunity to see a miracle take place. By its very definition, miracles don’t happen every day. From dictionary.com “mir·a·cle -- an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.” Yet, despite this seemingly impossible happenstance, miracles do happen.

Most people would not consider the fact that I am still here a miracle. I beg to differ. Several things had to fall into place for me to be living the normal life that I am. If I had just put off my physical, I might have died of a heart attack or at a very minimum lost the use of my kidneys. Without the intervention of chemotherapy, who knows how badly damaged my bones would have been.

The real miracle would be the transplant itself. If you think about the process, you cannot help but be amazed. Within a two week period, I was given injections to stimulate the growth of stem cells. They were then extracted from my body and frozen. I was then given a massive amount of chemotherapy that virtually destroyed my immune system, my red and white blood cells and my platelets. My stem cells were then given back and nine months later, I am as good as new (give or take a few wrinkles and sags.)

The original chemo helped, but it was obvious it was not the answer. Just 6 weeks off of it and I was almost back to the same level of cancer I had when it all began. Somehow, the transplant not only reduced the cancer but weakened it to the point where my body can now fight it without any medication. To me this is a miracle.

However, this weekend, I witnessed an even more special miracle. Julia’s brother John, his wife Angie and their two children, Ryan (4 ½) and Elena (2 ½) visited us. It had been almost a year since I had seen them and in that time the world had changed for little Elena. When she was born, Elena was deaf in one ear and soon to be deaf in the other. Hearing is a sense that we can often take for granted even to the point that some buy $400 headphones to completely wipe out sound. Hearing will never be taken for granted by Elena.

Soon after the discovery of Elena’s hearing loss, John and Angie began searching for alternatives to her future situation. After a good deal of study, the answer was clear. A bilateral cochlear implant was warranted. As described below by the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association, a cochlear implant does not cure hearing loss but offers an alternative.©1997-2010 American Speech-Language-Hearing Association

“A cochlear implant is a device that provides direct electrical stimulation to the auditory nerve. In sensorineural hearing loss where there is damage to the tiny hair cells in the cochlea, sound cannot reach the auditory nerve. With a cochlear implant, the damaged hair cells are bypassed and the auditory nerve is stimulated directly. The cochlear implant does not result in "restored" or "cured" hearing. It does, however, allow for the perception of sound ‘sensation.;’”

It was not an easy decision as there are potential complications from the surgery, but in John and Angie’s minds it was the one that had to be made. The real question was should only one or two implants take place. John and Angie felt that two would be more beneficial than one and began to battle with the insurance company to get both approved.

It was a battle that seemed to make little sense to those of us who understood the difference between this little girl living a world of silence and a world of near-normal sound, but the insurance company was only following the instruction of Angie’s employer. Not only did they not standardly approve implants for children under the age of one, they refused to cover a bilateral solution. Children of this age rarely get two implants but their doctor at Children’s Hospital in Columbus was seeing great success in getting the children “hearing” at younger ages to help establish improved speech. Elena would be a special case and with the cost of the procedure at $40,000 per ear it was going to catch everyone’s eye. They finally had to seek outside assistance from a State of Ohio fund in order to accomplish both implants. Elena became one of the youngest children to receive the double implant in Ohio.

The follow-up was not easy. Elena suffered from several infections in one of the implants and eventually it had to be removed. After time was given to heal, the implant was again implanted. This time, all was well.

When Julia visited Columbus in January she was amazed at the progress that Elena had made. With a significant amount of training and constant attention from her parents and caregiver, Elena was talking as well as any two year old. She could even carry a tune to songs like “Rock-a-Bye Baby” and “Jesus Loves Me.” When I saw Elena last week, I could not believe how easy she was to understand. Don’t get me wrong, she is like all two year olds. Sometimes you have to look to their parents for translation, but this was no more than I had experienced with other children in the past.

Elena is a bright little girl with eyes that will keep the boys hanging around the house when the time comes. She is as sweet as the day is long and gravitated to both Justin and Jason like they were her best friends. She was introduced to some friends of ours who later admitted that they had no idea that Elena was deaf.

There has been a good deal of controversy in the deaf community about this procedure. Some feel that it should be the individual that makes the decision to reject deafness and have the implants and not the parents of an infant. I can certainly understand their feelings but after seeing Elena and how happy she is, there is no doubt in my mind that John and Angie made the right decision.
We have entered a period in medicine that in the past was reserved for the Bible. Short of a miracle directly from the hand of God, I am certain that both Elena and I are examples of miracles facilitated by man with the help of God. One can only wonder about what the future will bring.

February 25, 2010 Living in the Past

2010-02-25T20:54:00.003-07:00

While watching the Olympics on Sunday, Al Michaels interviewed several members of the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” team that won the hockey gold metal. About midway through the interview both of the boys mentioned that they wanted to watch the movie “Miracle.” It really got me thinking about how much we enjoy thinking and reliving the past.

Last week I received a facebook request to add Denise Cline Derge as a friend. I about fell out of my chair. Denise and I dated for about three months during our senior years in high school. My best friend from fourth grade on, Mike Meixner, had been dating a girl from Fairborn High School for a while and I had been dateless for longer than I cared to think about so his girl friend fixed me up with Denise. We hit it off well enough to go to two proms together and actually “go steady” for a week. Boy, there is a term that our kids could not comprehend. They don’t even know what a date is anymore. They just get together and “hang.”

Because I went to an all male high school and moved away from Dayton after college, there really haven’t been any opportunities to reconnect with any of my old girl friends. I couldn’t just stop in at Fairview’s 30th reunion and check out Judy Bible. So it was great to talk to Denise again just to see how her life had gone. As they say, it was a “blast from the past.”

If you think about it, we constantly hang on to the past. I have XM Radio in my car and I more likely than not am listening to something that was popular anywhere from 1960 to 1999. (Current music dropped off the face of the earth for me around the turn of the century.) You hear a song and it immediately brings back a memory from the past; good, bad or indifferent. It was funny that Denise had contacted me because I heard the song “If” by Bread on the radio driving home the other day and it immediately reminded me of my long drives to Fairborn.

When the boys and I went through all of our old pictures during our clean-up phase of a month ago, we would often share a picture with one another and it was often accompanied with a “Remember when….” We all love to look at old pictures, often commenting on how young we looked at the time. Actually, we didn’t look young, we looked the way we should have, we just look old now.

After we found out that my dad had cancer in 1989, I borrowed Tim Loar’s video camera to record my dad’s thoughts about his life. (Tim and I go way back. At one time I interviewed him and turned him down for a job. Twenty years later he became my boss. God has a way of evening things up.) I now have seven hours of my dad reliving his life. When watching, you can see the ever present smile on his face as he relives not only the good times, but also the hard times.

I still utilize some of the sayings that my dad used that have long been forgotten by most. “Deader than a doornail” when referring to some road kill, “Hotter than a June bride in a feather bed” when talking about how hot it was outside, “Devil hates a coward” when we would be playing cards and he would make some wild move and my all time favorite when he wanted me to go play outside “go outside and get the stink blowed off you.” Not always the proper English, but they always got the point across. I have tried to pass these down to the boys to keep them alive after I’m gone, but they just haven’t grasped the concept.

Even though I have loved every stage of Justin and Jason’s lives, when Justin was five and Jason three has to be my favoritetime. They believed everything that I told them. I was still a god to them. I knew so many things that they didn’t, they probably thought I had an encyclopedia in my head. Now I’m just the guy with the wallet that 20’s fall out of. The guy that pulls the money off the money tree.

Since I have gotten sick, you don’t even want to know how many times I have longed for the first 56 years of my life when I was healthy. Certainly, some times are more desired, but just the fact that I couldn’t see the sands falling in the hourglass of life made living easier. But in many ways, I think that logic is a mistake. I think we all glamorize the past and miss out on how good the present is.

High school was fun, but I tend to forget all of the dances that I went to as a freshman and blended into the paint on the walls because I was sacred silly about the thought of asking a girl to dance. I fondly look back on college, but I tend to forget about the gargantuan set of nerves and the resulting trips to the bathroom that I had to face before every big test. Playing with the boys when they were young was a blast, but I tend to forget about the sleepless nights when they were sick or afraid of the thunder.

We all face difficulties in our lives and the most recent always seems like the worst, but in fact, they are not. Our lives are filled with ups and downs that we tend to minimize as the number of years increase. We all need to learn to enjoy the moment in which we live. In many ways, it can be the best time of our lives.

February 19, 2010 Delaying the Inevitable

2010-02-19T20:31:00.001-07:00

In the last 10 months, the Mayo Clinic has become my second home. Not only did I spend two weeks vacationing there, but I have made in the vicinity of 50 other trips to visit to the Mecca of health care. I remember hearing about the Mayo Clinic decades ago and knowing that it truly was the place to go if you needed medical care. It is where people go when there seems to be no hope form anywhere else. Little did I know that I would eventually become one of their patients.

Last year there were roughly 20,000 people that were diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. Of those 20,000, zero have been cured. That is a problem for all of us. The good thing is that there are advancements made every day in the fight against this disease. There was a recent release by the Mayo in Rochester, MN that talked about mapping out the genome of the disease.

http://discoverysedge.mayo.edu/multiple-myeloma-genomics/

It took a week on a super computer to actually get it mapped out so I doubt that I’m going to get a shot at it anytime soon. However they did study a woman that has had the disease disappear and reappear several times since her battle started. What they found was that the disease morphed each time it came back. Not too surprising in that viruses are famous for their ability to adapt to our defenses and come back strong.

The hope is that the more they know about the disease, the better they can fight it. The real truth is that it doesn’t have to morph to be different. I am a perfect example of how everybody’s disease is a little different. Matt Hare, who I wrote about a short time ago, just completed his transplant. He is going through the post transplant Hell that is inevitable no matter how much you believe it won’t.

During his chemotherapy treatment that he had before the transplant, he reached full remission with no MM found in his bone marrow. We both took the same chemo and took it for the same number of treatments. My particular brand of the disease proved to be a little more resilient and I only reduced me level to about 1/5 of what it once was. Then in the month before the transplant, it rebounded to three times that level. I obviously had a determined little bug in me.

The transplant is the equivalent of bringing in Batman and Superman to fight the bad guy. That is as good as it gets. It is the best shot at wiping out the disease in your system. Obviously, my bug brought along a bit of kryptonite because even the transplant didn’t wipe it out. Significantly reduced, but still hanging around.

However, the transplant did knock it for a loop as it hasn’t yet been able to rebound to previous levels. I have been able to remain in very good partial remission since the transplant. Not the ideal situation to be in, but certainly better than the alternative. Because of the roller coaster trip that my blood counts have taken, I have to return to the Mayo every month for another blood draw and visit with the doctor.

One of the scariest times that a cancer survivor has to face is that yearly check-up that confirms that the disease has been put to sleep, so to speak. I get to do that every month. Even though I feel great, I always have the fear that the MM has gained the upper hand. It is not a pleasant feeling. Today was the latest visit to the doctor to find out if my body is doing its job and keeping the disease at bay.

Luckily things have continued to improve. Since my high post transplant light chain mark of 9.45 in December, each test has shown a decrease with it now resting comfortably at 6.72. The lowest it has been is 5.98. I met with Angela Mayo (no relation) today, Dr. Mikhael’s physician’s assistant, and she gave me that latest good news. I now get to take a month off from the testing since it seems to have leveled off and I will go back in April. You have no idea how good that sounded.

She dropped another bomb on me when she told me that they have a patient that has had the disease for 16 years. Sixteen years!!! When I first got the disease, I wondered if I could do a deal to be assured ten years, would I take it. Not any more. If somebody else can do 16 years, so can I.

February 16, 2010 Making Mistakes

2010-02-16T18:17:00.001-07:00

There are many jobs that we take on during our lives. We typically think that the job that we go to five days a week that actually supports the family is our most important job. In many ways it is; in many ways it isn’t. In my life, I have only had three of those “real” jobs. After I graduated from college, I worked at Timken for three years followed by nearly 30 at Ross Labs/Abbott Labs. I have just completed my second year at Isagenix which I hope will be the last of the “real” jobs that I have.

I have made a fairly good living at those jobs and I have been lucky enough never to have been out of work one day. The day after I graduated from UC, I started at Timken and didn’t take any days off between each of the other two jobs. Not many people are that lucky in life.

I have had other jobs along the way, none of which paid me a dime. However, in many ways, those other jobs were far more important and rewarding to me than the ones that paid. For 20 years I was a consultant for Junior Achievement and worked with over 1,000 high school students to give them a better idea of what it was like in the business world and away from the safety of home. Even though Jason might disagree with my value added to the equation, I was either a head coach or assistant coach for his baseball teams for five years. Teaching has always been important to me and probably my most important job centers on that task.

As I have mentioned more than a few times during my illness, one of my main concerns was that I wouldn’t be able to finish my job as dad. I’m not sure that job is ever finished, but I think the older you get the less help that you need from your parents, but that need always exists. That’s the rub, the child doesn’t always agree with that assessment and if you would ask Jason, I have a good idea that he might have some very specific thoughts on the subject. If I were given a performance appraisal for my last week of parenting, I’m not so sure that I’d be able to keep my job.

Baseball has always been a big part of my life and the only organized sport that I ever played. As often happens, both Justin and Jason spent a great deal of their youth playing the sport that “dad” loves. Luckily, they have both been very good at it and have generally enjoyed the twists and turns of their brief careers in the sport. One of my biggest joys in life is watching the boys play baseball. I have always looked forward to the spring and the resumption of the games. That all came crashing down just a little over a week ago.

With the success that Jason had playing football last year, there was a question as to if he had a chance to get significant playing time next fall. Unlike when I was in high school, the multiple sport star is a dying breed. To keep up today, you have to work at your sport virtually year ‘round. With an interest in both sports, Jason had a decision to make. Should he continue to play both sports for the high school and risk being left behind in both because of his inability to train for both or drop one and concentrate on the other.

Despite a great deal of persuading to the contrary, Jason decided to give up baseball. I was devastated. To get him to reconsider, I acted like the 10 year old that wasn’t getting picked to play in the neighborhood game and basically told him that I was going to take my football home with me. I was not going to let him play baseball in the summer. I was going to take away his Xbox and generally make his life miserable. At the time it made a lot of sense to me. In retrospect, not so much.

As parents, we always think we have the answer. We don’t want our children to make mistakes. When we see that a perceived mistake is about ready to be made, we jump in to try to save our child the pain associated with that mistake. At the same time, you have to watch that you don’t overstep your bounds which is what I did with Jason. Every once in a while, it is the student that teaches the teacher. He had some solid logic behind his decision that I just didn’t see at the time. If anyone made a mistake, it was me. I hope he holds off on that performance appraisal for a while.

February 9, 2010 Justin

2010-02-09T06:53:00.003-07:00

As most of you know, I am an only child. You probably think that once my parents got a glimpse of me, they decided not to have any more children. On the contrary, I was so exceptional that they wanted to have more. At least that is what they told me. Unable to have another, I did my best to work the only child thing as long as I could. My mother felt that I was perfect. Not so sure she understood the full picture, but it was always nice to know she thought I was pretty good. My dad usually didn’t agree with her assessment, but that is another story.

Although I enjoyed the fruits of being an only child, I also suffered the pain of being the last of the Churans. I wasn’t allowed to get a bicycle until I was in the eighth grade. Do you know how hard it was to learn at the age of 13? My curfew was always early and I was rarely allowed to leave the yard growing up.

As a result, I was certain that I would never be the father of an only child. I always wanted three. Not sure why, but it just seemed like a good number to me. It was never my plan to wait until I was 38 to become a parent for the first time, it just happened that way. Children were always part of the plan and I couldn’t wait until my first was born.

Unlike, my mother, who had to wait 17 ½ years to get pregnant, Julia was a quick learner. The very first month that we decided to start a family, she became pregnant. Boy, was this going to be easy.

I had read enough over the years to believe some of the propaganda that you should enrich your child’s time in the womb by playing music and talking to the fetus. Because we wanted a child that was mild mannered, I decided that Julia should be listening to New Age music whenever possible. We had become fans of David Arkenstone and decided that our child should also. We even played it at the birth.

Being somewhat old fashioned, we did not press to find out the sex of the child before the birth. We picked out names, Justin Andrew and Jessica Alise so that we would be ready for the blessed event. So as not to prejudice the result, we never called the baby anything but “Ralphie” after the star of the movie “Christmas Story” which had come out several years before but was a favorite of ours.

It seems that either Ralphie loved to dance to the David Arkenstone music we provided or he was just a maniac. He was behaving just the opposite inside Julia as our music intended. It was not unusual to see Julia’s belly bulge out from a stray foot or fist. It almost became comical. It seems as though Ralphie never slept, there was always something punching Julia.

The day before Justin was born was like any other. It was a Friday and Julia and I even drove over to the West side of town to eye a Christmas tree that we had been watching the price hoping that it would drop. The store was closed but we still admired it through the window. You would think in February, they would be paying us to take it off of their hands. We would eventually buy it and it still is the tree that we use for Santa to “drop off” as Justin would later say.

Later that night we fell asleep on the couch watching TV, needless to say, we were relaxed. Julia awakened around 11 PM and realized that it was time. She very casually took a shower, shaved her legs and made herself beautiful. I ran around in circles accomplishing very little. Thankfully she didn’t tell me that the contractions were progressing fairly quickly or I would have run into a guardrail on the way to the hospital.

The birth was pretty uneventful but I’ll be honest with you, I really wasn’t very prepared. All I thought about was how special it would feel when I held my child for the first time. I just knew it would be an instantaneous bonding. Yet despite that build-up, it just didn’t happen.

Justin came out looking like a boxer that had lost a hard fought 12 round match. His nose was bent to the side and when he cried, one side of his mouth dropped down about an inch more than the other. I immediately started looking at the warrantee to see if there was a chance to trade this one in on a new one. When we commented on the obvious defects, the doctor just laughed and said he would look normal by the fourth or fifth grade. What had we gotten ourselves into?

It didn’t get any easier after we got home. He was colicky and cried all the time. I would have to lay on the floor next to his crib just to get him to go to sleep at night. Sleeping through the night was unheard of. For three months, we looked like the “Dawn of the Dead.”

Thankfully, after three months he settled down but he maintained his main fault which was spitting up. You could not hold him for more than 10 minutes without him spitting up and soiling your clothes. When we put him on the floor, there had to be a sheet, or the carpet would be ruined. Despite this problem, he was quickly becoming a Suma-sized baby. He had more chins than I had debts. The kid could eat.

We always felt that he has half alien in that he always did things early. He could hold on to my thumbs and stand on his own at one month. He had teeth at about four months. He crawled for only a month because he walked 3 days after his seventh month. He could walk across the room on his own five days later. This kid had more bumps and scratches than you could count because he wanted to walk everywhere before he really knew how to control his body.

As he grew older, he had more energy than Lance Armstrong. He was running everywhere. He would do summersaults non-stop. After his brother was born he constantly did cartwheels just to get attention. There wasn’t anything tall enough that he didn’t think about jumping off.

Many years later, we found out that he liked to put metal objects into electrical outlets once we felt it was save to de-babyize the house. How he is still alive, I’ll never know.

Even though I did not feel that instant bond when I held Justin for the first time it certainly got there soon there after. I just don’t know what I would do without both of my boys. They have created more challenges in my life than I could ever imagine, but I wouldn’t change one part of the last 19 years.

Justin no longer does cartwheels every time I bring out the camcorder, but he still brings a special joy to my life that I cannot describe. In many ways we have become great friends without making it unparentlike. I still yell at him when he does something wrong and praise him when he does something right. We often see things with the same eyes, but there have been more than a few times we have been on the opposite ends of the spectrum. In many ways we are a lot alike. Despite that, I love him more than he will ever know.

February 8, 2010 Chris Daniels

2010-02-08T11:53:00.003-07:00

The date was February 8, 1996. It was going to be a very special day for Justin and myself. Since the next day was going to be his fifth birthday, I had scheduled something a little special for him. Justin’s favorite player on the University of Dayton’s basketball team was Chris Daniels. He was a 6’ 10” skinny African American kid from Columbus. After he had announced that he would be attending UD, I started following his high school career, even attending some of his games.

I had been a season ticket holder at UD for 7 or 8 years, but my seats were still up in the rafters. Every year I would check the little box on my season ticket application that I would like to move up if any seats were available. In those eight years I had moved one whole row closer to the action. I filled out the form, as always, hoping for good news. When the tickets arrived, I had only received one ticket, not the normal two and in a slightly different location. There had been a mix-up in the ticket office and my tickets had been sent to someone else.

In calling the ticket office, I spoke to the manager, Gary McCans. He assured me that we would work something out and I would always have tickets. As he worked that out, I was fortunate enough to sit by some of the parents of the players. One of those games I sat next to a rather tall African American woman who was certainly into the game. I finally grasped the fact that she was a mom of one of the players and we started a casual conversation. I came to find out that she was Chris’ mom.

It was Chris’ freshman year and he didn’t play much, but Alice Daniels came to all of the games and we became good friends. That friendship lasted all the way through Chris’ senior year when he finally exploded. He has averaging in double figures leading the NCAA in shooting percentage. He was no longer the skinny kid that I had seen in high school and was getting some looks from the NBA.

For Justin’s special treat, I had arranged for Alice to go to Dayton with us (sparing her the 90 minute drive each way) and then the four of us would go get something to eat after the game. Justin was so excited, he could barely sleep the night before. You see, Chris and he had struck up quite a friendship.

We would always wait around after the games and get Chris’ autograph and he would get to talk with him for a while. It was a cute picture, the tall black kid with the little towhead. We even stopped at Chris’ house on campus when we would be in town.

Chris was a special kid. Despite his huge popularity on campus and the pending professional career, he was just a sweet kid. He never let the fame or notoriety get to him. He was the kid next door.

It was cold that morning and I wasn’t looking forward to making the drive into work. I was just about ready to leave the bedroom when the phone rang. It was before 7 in the morning, never a good time to receive a call. On the other end of the phone was my best friend from High School, Mike Meixner. The words that sprang from his mouth were incomprehensible. Chris Daniels had died.

They were words that I could not grasp. They were words that I refused to believe. My hands shook as I dialed the phone to talk to someone at The Dayton Daily News to confirm the report. To my great sorrow, it was true, Chris Daniels had died at the age of 22.

Even though we knew we could do nothing of substance, Julia and I felt that we needed to go to Alice. We got in the car and drove to her house still in complete disbelief. Aside from her daughter, we were the first ones there. We just held Alice and cried. There was nothing else we could do.

Chris was buried just three days later and I cried uncontrollably at the funeral. I had only cried at my parent’s funerals before, but I felt that in a way I had lost my own son. Chris was the kid we want ours to aspire to. He was smart, considerate and loving.

Chris’ brother, Antonio, was to play a game later that week for Bowling Green University and debated if he could actually go through with it. Antonio, who would go on to a fabulous career and was the number four pick in the NBA draft of 1997. Through his own faith in God and Chris, himself, he decided to play. Bowling Green would defeat the number 23 team in the country that night on Antonio’s twisting layup. Antonio knew that Chris was there.

I spoke to Alice today as I have for the last thirteen years on this date. We remain friends to this day and share a love for one another that is hard to describe. She is a remarkable lady that has gone through a great deal during her life yet still has a smile and a kind word for everyone. I could not have a better friend.

January 30, 2010 Fran

2010-01-29T21:46:00.001-07:00

When we made the decision to move from Ohio to Arizona there were a number of issues that were considered. Some were easy, some were not. The opportunity to take a new and challenging job was at the forefront of the easy ones. I was miserable in my old job and I was starting to bring it home. Even the boys noticed a change in me. At the time, I thought that if I stayed, it might kill me in the end. Little did I know that cancer might have already been in me when I left.

On the other side of the argument to leave was what we would be leaving behind. Justin would be giving up his senior year in high school. This is the part that I will second guess for the rest of my life. We moved to Powell with the intension of staying there until the boys graduated from high school. Because of my need for change, I asked a lot of Justin. I hope he understands how much I appreciate what he did.

For Jason the move was easy. Yes, he was moving away from all of his friends, but he looked at it as an adventure. He couldn’t wait to get out to Arizona. It meant great weather and more baseball. He came out earlier than Julia and Justin just so he could be networked by the time summer came.

As tough as the move was for Justin, it was even tougher for Julia despite the fact she has never said a word. Julia has always been very close to her family and I know the move was hard on her. I guess that is what love and marriage is all about.

The reason that I am bringing this up is that Julia has gone back to Ohio to spend some time with her family and in particular with her mother, Fran. Fran and I have shared the burden of cancer for almost the exact same time period as she found out just days after I did. We have always been close, but I think this has drawn us even closer.

Fran and I have always referred to ourselves as the “outlaws.” It seemed like it was us verses the rest of the family, not in a bad way, but in the way that we were put together. The Millers are a great group, but they all seem to have the same tendencies. Julia, her dad, her brother and grandparents share a number of the same qualities.

They are all very methodical about how they run their lives. They study everything before they make a decision. Fran and I tend to move without thinking sometimes. The rest of the Millers tend to take their time and enjoy smelling the roses. Fran and I take a quick look and then move on to the next flower. We are more worried about getting there on time than what happens when we get there.

I’ll never forget the first time that I visited Rockford. Julia and I had only been dating for a short time, but she felt it was time to show me off. There was inherent danger in this because I did not fit the Miller mold. I was divorced, old, Catholic and worst of all, Republican. Yet despite all of this, Fran made the house look like the President was coming.

That was just the start of it. I would come back from every visit weighing five pounds more than when I got there. The food was always great and there was plenty of it. I have always kidded Fran about being my favorite Mother-in-law, but the cooking clinched that title long before Julia and I were married. My ex-Mother-in-law wasn’t a bad cook, but I would always have to eat rhubarb pie every time I visited. Ugh.

Christmas always took Fran and I to a new level of togetherness. The only real present that I cared about was the one Fran would give me and the present that I took the most time getting was the one I gave her.

It all started pretty innocently when I was presented a huge lump of coal. Not to be outdone, I spent the next 364 days plotting how to get her back. I had some good ones over the years including a book on Monica Lewinsky(Bill Clinton was always her favorite.) Despite all of that, she always seemed to outdo me. My favorite was the used toupee. She always enjoyed the hair thing as I also received a few chia pets over the years.

Fran and I have always had each other’s back when it came to disagreements within the family. It was the Millers against the outlaws. We now have taken on cancer together. We talk more than ever before and prop each other up when we need it the most. We have even used the same chemotherapy. We have made a pact that we are not going to give up on living. I’m just glad I have a fellow “outlaw” to keep me going when the time get rough.

Make sure you keep Fran in your thoughts and prayers as we both try to do the impossible.

January 23, 2010 The Beast

2010-01-23T05:29:00.002-07:00

It was sometime in the early 1960’s when my dad took Paul Decker and me to Coney Island in Cincinnati. It was the first time that I had ever been to an amusement park and it was still the day of buying tickets for each ride. It was that day that I rode my first roller coaster. It was love at first scream.

Coney had been around since the 1880’s and was on it’s last legs. In 1972, the company that owned Coney moved the rides away from the banks of the Ohio River to a community north east of Cincinnati called Mason. In the blink of an eye, the amusement park went from being old and crumbling to new and exciting. At one point, the company held 1,600 acres of land. Kings Island was now an adventure with many new rides on the way.

In 1979, the Beast was added. It was long, fast and scary. Roller coasters were still made out of wood at the time and 30 years later it is still the best way to make a coaster. When you get off of the Breast, your body hurts, but it is a good hurt. Since that time, I have ridden nearly 100 different coasters and the Beast is still my favorite.

The reason that I even bring this up is that I was reminded by my latest trip to the doctor that our lives can easily be compared to a roller coaster. It doesn’t matter what we do with our lives, it will be a series of ups and downs. The thing you have to learn is to not get caught up too much in either of those swings.

I’ll never forget the excitement of getting married in 1975, but I’ll also never forget the fact that my wife (ex-wife, not current) didn’t bother to come home the night of our second anniversary. The thrill of holding Jason for the first time was one of the highlights of my life, but having to rush him to Children’s Hospital 13 months later with a 105 degree temperature reminded me just how precious life is.

Shortly before I graduated from college, I was still looking for a job. I was lucky enough to get an interview with Timken, a roller bearing company located in Columbus. Getting a job was extremely hard in 1975 and just getting the interview was exciting. That same day, my mother had a good section of her lung removed in hopes of stopping her cancer. A cancer that took her life four months later.

I was offered a job that day which changed my life forever. If I hadn’t been hired by Timken, I might have ended up managing a McDonalds. When I received the official offer letter, I about fell over. It was 30% more than I had anticipated. Indeed my life had changed, I was overjoyed. What I didn’t know was that the three years that I worked in that filthy, fume infested plant might eventually be the cause of my multiple myeloma.

No one knows unequivocally what causes multiple myeloma, but the belief is that environment has a great deal to do with its beginning and it may be 20 to 30 years before it manifests. Due to the fact that I never really had any exposure to any other harmful agents leads me to believe that my cancer might have been started 35 years ago just out of college.

It was a year ago today that my latest adventure started. It has been a year of ups and downs. A year of self discovery. That learning has not stopped as I found out two days ago when I visited Dr. Mikhael for my latest check-up.

If you remember, I was only going to have my blood tested every other month to see how the cancer was progressing. I was to go in November and then again in January. My cancer number increased in November but that was not totally unexpected as the results likely will have peaks and valleys since I did not have a full remission.

Because my creatinine number was up significantly in November, I was scheduled for another blood test in December. The kidneys had corrected themselves and creatinine was back down, but the cancer number was again up and up much faster than expected. I was nearly to the point of needing more chemotherapy. Dr. Mikhael even mentioned getting another bone marrow biopsy (not exactly high on my list of things to do.)

I was crestfallen. The fact that my cancer was advancing quickly was devastating to me. The transplant had failed. The up that I had felt just three months before was gone, replaced with a terrible feeling of doom. I had forgotten that life is filled with ups and downs and I shouldn’t get too attached to either.

After two weeks off from work, I insisted on another test and received some encouraging results as the cancer number had fallen slightly. Even though it was a small change, it was a positive one. Any good news when you have cancer is great news. The next test scheduled for January 18th was going to be huge. Good results and I breathe easy for a while. Bad results and it is chemo time.

When Dr. Mikhael told me that my number had dropped down to the low 7’s from the 9’s the weight of the world was lifted off of my shoulders. My body was again beating the disease. I was winning. Another time for joy. Oddly, if my kidneys had not acted up in November, I would not have had the December test and would not have worried needlessly. Funny how the ups and downs of a roller coaster can jerk you around.

What I have taken from all of this is to become less worried about the numbers each month and worry about just living. Too often we all get tied to the latest event in our life and not looking toward the future. We are too worried about the work associated with moving up the roller coaster and not thinking enough about the thrill of the dive. Enjoy your roller coaster life. Don’t spend too much time dwelling with the pitfalls and enjoy the thrill of the ride.

January 18, 2010 Avatar

2010-01-19T06:59:00.002-07:00

One of the things that I have experienced over the last year is an increased ability to cry. Obviously, this isn’t something that I going to brag about the next time I go out with the boys, but it is certainly real. As I have gotten older, I have become more emotional, but I have now reached new heights in tear flow.

Now, don’t misunderstand, I’m not sitting alone on the couch in total darkness sobbing to myself. It actually isn’t even directly related to the fact that I have cancer. It is all about TV and movies. I can’t go to a movie anymore and not find something to get teary-eyed about.

I notice that “Up” won a Golden Globe award on Sunday as the best animated movie of the year. I could have saved them all the time of counting the votes. I could have used my “tear index” to tell them the winner. I’m watching an animated movie about an old man, a kid and some animals and I am breaking down in the theater. I am now crying because a cartoon character died in the lead character’s past. Yes, a cartoon character.

This leads me to a discussion about “Avatar.” If you are not a moviegoer or have lived in a cave for the last six months, Avatar is the latest from James Cameron that has already grossed over one billion dollars worldwide. I had been eagerly awaiting it’s arrival at the box office, but through a series of circumstances took almost a month before actually viewing the blockbuster.

It became a joke in our household as I insisted on viewing the film on an IMAX screen in 3D. Just a regular viewing was not going to be enough for me. I told Julia that it was going to be a “once in a lifetime experience.” I was mocked for over a week after making that claim, but nothing was going to stop me from enjoying the movie to the max.

I have been a science fiction fan since my early teenage years. I remember watching “ 2001: A Space Odyssey” and just being mesmerized. I have followed in my father’s footsteps and had been reading scifi books for several years when “2001” hit the movie screen. My dad only read the sports page in the Dayton Daily News and science fiction books. I still have hundreds of those books stored in my basement.

As a result, it was in my blood. The fact that “Avatar” was a science fiction that was being directed by Cameron, had me at the edge of my seat for months waiting for it to arrive. You think kids look forward to Christmas, you should see me waiting for a James Cameron science fiction movie.

The day finally hit and I insisted on getting to the theater nearly an hour in advance. The last thing I wanted was to be in row 1 looking up at a six story screen. Again my actions were ridiculed, but I pushed forward. Finally, the movie started and 60 seconds into it I had a panic attack. Because of the 3-D and the movement of the camera I immediately started getting sick. My world was coming to an end.

You see, about 10 years ago, something happened to me that caused me to get a headache and upset stomach when I watch home videos that I have made of the boys if there is any significant movement on the video. No problem making the video, just watching. I was now panicking that my once in a lifetime experience would turn into a pool of vomit at my feet.

Luckily the action settled down and the once in a lifetime experience turned into even more. For the next two hours and forty minutes I became a part of the movie. The move is so vivid, so amazing that you cannot help but be drawn in. It makes you become alien and root against the humans. I’m not going to spoil the movie by telling you any more, but take it from me and even my skeptic, non-science fiction loving wife, the movie is unbelievable.

For much of the 160 minutes, I sat there, an emotional mess, crying one minute and rejoicing the next. I cannot even describe what I felt, it was so profound. I know that sounds utterly ridiculous, but I was so drawn into the action that I felt like I was part of it and it was my family, my race, my religion I was viewing.

After we exited the movie, I was amazed at how I felt. I now know what heaven will look like, save the wild man eating beasts of the planet, Pandora. The cinematography was so unbelievable that it had to be heaven. The wonders of the planet were so lifelike that you could imagine what they smelled and felt like. I have never seen anything like it in over 50 years of movie going.

I realize that I am a geek and most of the rest of you are not, but I cannot suggest any more strongly to see this movie. It is as much a love story as an action movie. Just go to be part a “once in a lifetime experience.” You will not be disappointed.

January 16, 2010 Getting Old

2010-01-16T07:40:00.003-07:00

It is amazing what happens to us as we age. Our body decides to operate differently than it did before. Often the change is so slight that we don’t even notice. It reminds me of the first time that I put on a pair of glasses.

My vision was getting worse and worse when I was 11 but I was the last to know. I was able to play baseball but the number of times I struck out was alarming. However, being 11, I just thought I stunk. Yet, the incident that drove it home was during the spring after I turned 12, I was playing in the garage because it was raining outside.

Being an only child, I had to find ways of keeping myself busy and often played games I created that had something to do with a sport. When it was nice outside I would throw a Superball (now called bouncy balls) against the side of the house by the driveway and play a modified game of baseball dictated by how quickly I would field the ball, throw it back against the wall and field it with my foot on an imaginary bag. If I would do it under the count of 10, the guy was out. If it got by me, every count of ten was another base. Twenty for a double, thirty for a triple and so on. We had weeds on the other side of the driveway, so if it got by me, who knows how high I could count.

Since it was raining, I had to make modifications and do it inside. Only problem was that I used a golf ball and the wall that I threw it against was a finished, plastered painted wall. When my dad got home, the sound I heard would have rivaled the atomic blast at Hiroshima. Apparently, every time I threw the ball against the wall it made a dent. Because of my poor vision, I did not notice the hundreds of dents in the wall. The wall now looked more like a golf ball than a wall. This was the first proof that I was slowly losing my ability to see.

After my dad cooled down, it was decided that I needed to see an eye doctor. It seems my right eye wasn’t too bad, but my left I was terrible. After I got my glasses, I remember looking out of my bedroom window and actually seeing individual blades of grass. I was amazed. Little did I know that what was happening to my eyes would eventually happen to the rest of my body. Only problem is that there is no quick fix like glasses.

A day doesn’t go by that I don’t have some new ache or pain. When I run up the stairs, I look around for an oxygen tank. When I try to wrestle with one of my kids, I feel like the 98 pound weaklink that has sand kicked in his face. What really struck me, though, was when Matt Hare updated his blog and discussed how many stem cells they were able to gather for his transplant. I was as proud as a new papa when I found out that I had gathered over four million the first day. The total goal was nine, so I felt good about having only two days hooked up to the machine. Most take three or four days, so I felt like I had kicked some serious butt.

Matt had mentioned in his blog that he hoped to get his nine million in one day. I sent him a note trying to ease him down so that he would not be disappointed when he didn’t reach his goal. How in the world could he get nine in one day when I only had four? Poor misguided kid.

Then I read his blog. Fifteen million. Yes, he collected fifteen million in one sitting. Heck, he could have taken a break and had a White Castle or two and gotten his nine million. My God, youth is a wonderful thing.

This brings me to the reason that I am talking about age. It seems that I was born on this day, 57 years ago. I have often wondered why we celebrate our own birthdays. Shouldn’t this be a day that the mother is celebrated? She is the one that went through all of the work. Back in the 1900’s when I was born, there was no epidural for the mom. It was head on pain and my mother went through 18 hours of it.

I’m afraid that I lost her 35 years ago, but I still appreciate what she did for me and what she put up with for the 22 years we had together. Thanks, Mother. (She never let me call her Mom. It made her feel old. Her mother was referred to as “Mom”, even by her grandchildren.)

Make sure you thank your mom on your next birthday. Just remember, she is the reason that you will get some birthday cake on your day.

Since this is supposed to be a blog about my health, I suppose I should stop pontificating and get to that part of my life. If you remember, I had another blood test after my two weeks of vacation. Apparently, I deserve my Dr. Kildare lab coat as my theory is at least partially right in that my cancer count dropped slightly (9.45 to 9.01). Certainly not statistically significant (just trying to use words I learned in college), but at least movement in the right direction. I take both a blood test and a 24 urine test on January 18. This will be very important as it will help decide if I need to go on some type of maintenance drug or chemotherapy. I’ll have results on January 21. See you then.

January 6, 2010 Friends

2010-01-06T17:37:00.002-07:00

There is an old adage that talks about throwing spaghetti against the wall to see if it sticks. If it does stick, you know it’s completely cooked. That phrase later became part of the business vernacular as spaghetti became ideas and the purpose was to come up with as many ideas as possible and see which ones worked.

I never really thought about it until the other day, but that is the way we are with friends. You meet thousands of people over a lifetime but few stick around as friends. In the last week, I have met at least 10 new people. I doubt that any will become lifelong friends. You never know, but the likelihood is slim.

Sometimes it just takes a while for the friendship to blossom. You may meet someone, have fairly minimal contact and then go your separate ways only to get reconnected in the future. Over the last six months I have had one of those reconnections change my life.

With all of the teams the boys have played on over the years, they each have had fifty or more coaches. Because of the amount of time you spend with those teams, there is a decent likelihood that a friendship will occur. One of my best friends in the world is Chuck Gould, who coached Jason and Justin for three years . Another of those friends is Chris Valentine, who oddly enough, became a friend as a rival coach before he actually coached Jason.

A couple of summers ago, Chris put together a team of top players from the Columbus area to play in some post season tournaments. The boys did pretty well and we all had a lot of fun travelling around the state. One of Chris’ long time friends, Matt Hare, helped coach the team. I really didn’t get to talk to Matt much, but he seemed like a good kid.

Oddly, the thing that made Matt stand out to us as a family was something Julia’s grandmother, Marge, said while we were at one of the tournaments. To fully understand why this particular comment stood out, you have to understand Julia’s grandmother.

Marge is now 93 years old and has been married to Lester Miller for 70+ years. She is as nice as they come, but she is generally a very quiet and conservative person. It was just before the start of one of the tournament games that she attended, Matt happened to walk by and Marge commented on how nice his legs looked in the shorts he was wearing.

To most, this might not mean much, but knowing Marge as we do, the entire family just about fell out of their chairs with just the thought that Marge would even be looking at a 22 year old’s legs, let alone commenting on how nice they looked. Because of that comment, Matt would never be forgotten in the Churan household.

After the tournaments ended we all went our separate ways and other than retelling the story, Matt drifted from our lives. That was until Chris noted on his Facebook account that Matt was ill this past summer.

Matt was tired and losing a good deal of weight and the doctors could not discover what was wrong with him. However, as Chris described some of the symptoms to us, it started to sound eerily familiar. After weeks in the hospital, it was confirmed, Matt had Multiple Myeloma.

This seemed impossible. Matt was 25 years old. It was unlikely that I, a 56 year old, would even get the disease. This is a disease of old people, certainly not 20-somethings. To add to his problems, Matt also had an accompanying disease, amyloidosis, also a disease that does not normally attack young people. Multiple Myeloma causes plasma cells to malfunction and they lose the ability to respond to controlling signals from immune cells. As a result, abnormal proteins are created that damage bone, bone marrow and other organs. Amyloidosis is a disease in which an abnormal protein (amyloid) builds up in organs and tissues, impairing their function. Both of these disease are treatable, but not curable.

Needless to say, Matt was dealt a hand that just should not have happened. He was too young and too healthy. As one might expect, this was a crushing blow to a young man with his entire life still ahead of him. He was in the hospital for seven weeks as they struggled to discover the cause and begin treatment. An infection from his port caused a trip to the ICU and a great deal of concern for friends and family.

Like myself, Matt has had his battle with doubts about recovery, but through it all, he has remained upbeat with the knowledge that God is on his side. He has shown remarkable progress and has wonderful results from his treatment with Velcade. His Multiple Myeloma is in remission even before his stem cell transplant. The strength that he has shown through this whole thing is amazing. I want to be Matt when I grow up.

The amyloidosis has not shown as good of a response but there is good news as his organs do not show significant damage. I know I have left out a million details so when you have a chance, visit Matt at his blog, please take a read. You will be amazed at the strength of this young man.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/matthewhare/journal

Matt will go into the hospital on January 18 and receive his massive chemotherapy that starts the transplant sequence that same day. He will follow a schedule much like mine and start to feel the effects a few days later. Hopefully, his youth will speed his recovery. Please keep him in your prayers.

Until both of us ended up on the wrong end of an IV, Matt and I lived our somewhat care free lives independent of one another. Because of Multiple Myeloma, we have struck up a friendship that will last for the rest of our lives (hopefully, long lives.) There are many things that draw people together as friends. Sometimes those things are good, sometimes they are bad. For whatever reason, God decided that we needed each other years before the actual discovery of cancer. My, He does work in strange ways.

January 4, 2010 A Week in the Basement

2010-01-04T18:22:00.002-07:00

In the movie, “Up in the Air”, George Clooney’s character, Ryan Bingham instructs attendees at a seminar that they must rid themselves of their attachments in life. In it he states, “How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack. I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life... you start with the little things. The shelves, the drawers, the knickknacks, then you start adding larger stuff. Clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, your TV... the backpack should be getting pretty heavy now….The slower we move the faster we die.”

In it, he also states that we shouldn’t keep photographs as they are for people with bad memories. To Bingham, you need to live your life without attachments, without things. He lives a solitary life that in the end, he finds disturbing. I cannot say I live that life. In fact, this last week really drove that home.

When we returned home from the cruise, I took it upon myself to attack the one major storage area in our house, one of our spare bedrooms. Unlike the Midwest, where everyone has a basement that houses all of the junk they have accumulated in their life, Arizona does not afford you that option. Every house that we have purchased afforded us a bigger basement and as a result more stuff. Although much was jettisoned during the move, much remains. That one bedroom had gotten so cluttered that we could barely open the door.

As a result, I decided to take the next several days to try to sort some things out. With some help from the rest of the family, that spare bedroom now can be entered without taking your life into your own hands. Yet, through that process, I went through 60 boxes of stuff. Some were easy and thus fast to replace. Others were not. They tended to be the ones with the most memories. The memories that Bingham looks at rather lightly.

I found everything under the sun. I found the little white hat with the small brim that I must have worn when I was two. It had “Johnnie” embroidered on the front and enough aging stains to make it look more brown than white. I found an old rattle from my childhood and pictures of my parents and grandparents from their wedding days. I found things that only hold special memories for me that when I’m gone will mean nothing to those left behind.

When the boys actually became involved, they went through their lifelong ritual of either playing with toys from their youth or trying on clothes ten years too small. They found things that they had either thought long lost or completely forgotten about. It was an opportunity to relive some of their youth. Yea, I know they are still young, but for some reason we all want to believe we are kids again.

After all of this reminiscing, Justin suggested that we watch old videos. Those that know me well, know that I have been a nut about taping the boys from day one. I probably have five hours of Justin eating baby food although that probably isn’t hard to believe if you look at him today. Julia gets to get in a shot every once in a while but that is usually to clean up a mess that the boys have created. If it wasn’t for my comments while doing the taping, you might not know that I even existed. Putting it simply, this taping is about the boys, an opportunity for them to relive their youth later in life.

What I have found, however, is that they like to watch them now, even while they are still young. It seems like we all want to go back and enjoy the good times of our lives no matter how young, old, rich or poor. Our lives are filled with a mish mosh of good and bad, joy and pain. We are drawn to the good times and want to relive them as we slosh through the times that may not be so joyful. Unlike Bingham, I’m glad I have brought along the weight of my past. It has made me what I am today.

We ended up watching about three hours of home videos last night including four of Jason’s birthdays, only one of which found him crying because he didn’t like the cake. I know that particular bit of information seems odd, but for some reason Jason found several cakes lacking over the years. Even though we have watched these videos numerous times, we laughed till we cried more than a few times

As an update to my ongoing battle, I had blood drawn at the Mayo this morning as I have once again put on my Dr. Kildare lab coat. In looking at my results over the past several months, it is obvious that the cancer began its comeback when I returned to work full time. After having two weeks off from work, I thought it might be a good idea to see how the cancer behaved while I just relaxed. Not sure what I am going to do if there is an improvement, but stay tuned.

December 31, 2009 Cruising

2009-12-31T08:32:00.002-07:00

The year 2009 has been an interesting one to say the least. It has been one that has made me rethink a number of things, but one of things that hasn’t changed is my excitement concerning vacations.

Since I moved to Arizona in February 2008, the family has not been able to take what I would call a real vacation. We certainly have traveled including two baseball tournaments in California and several trips back home including one together, but we never had the opportunity to travel to a vacation destination.

Before he graduated from high school, we asked Justin what he would like as a graduation present and he said that he would like to go on a cruise. We had gone on three cruises as a family and it had become a family favorite vacation. Certainly Orlando has been our number one vacation spot over the years, but cruising had always been something special.

Our first cruise was as much of an accident as anything. Shortly after 9/11 no one wanted to fly and as a result, the vacation industry was having a hard time. We had already made plans to travel to Fort Lauderdale and had our plane tickets and accommodations already lined up when the attack occurred and we felt confident that it was safe again to fly.

Just a couple weeks before we were to leave, Julia received one of those gazillion emails that we seem to get regularly now that talked about unbelievable cruise prices. It described a five day cruise that was leaving from Fort Lauderdale that practically paid you to be a part of. Julia and I talked about it and bit. We didn’t tell the boys and thought we would surprise them.

After we landed, we told the boys that the resort where we would be staying required a water taxi so we had to go to the pier. They were just 10 and eight at the time so they still operated under the belief that what ever we said was gospel. For some reason, that is no longer the case, but that is a whole ’nuther story.

While at the port, we found our cruise ship and asked the boys if they would like to see what one was like. They responded with a yes, so the ruse was on. We went through the normal check in procedure telling the boys this was necessary just to see the ship. We then went to our rooms and asked them if they thought this was cool. Just looking at their eyes told us their answer. We then asked if they would like to stay and it was a resounding yes.

After the first evening of having to eat at the fine dining room with mom and dad, we told them about room service and we never ate dinner with them again. Eating steak and french fries every night in your room while watching cartoons easily topped eating with mom and dad. Thus started the family’s love of cruising.

We were ready to schedule a cruse this last June just after Justin’s graduation when my bombshell hit. In the end, I got to cruise the Mayo Clinic receiving my stem cell transplant instead of cruising the Mexican Riviera. Everyone was understanding, but Julia and I still felt the need to reward Justin with a cruise at some point. Christmas week became the best week to travel because of the various school and sports calendars what we had to mesh.

It was different not being either at home or with family at Christmas, but we made it work. We all ended up having a great time and we all made some great new friends, one of which I saw don his wife’s bra, his daughter’s earrings and Julia’s lipstick and high heels just to win a point in a late night scavenger hunt that we played in one of the ship’s lounges. To answer the obvious question, no, he had not been drinking heavily.

One of the nice things about a cruise is that it truly takes you away from the real world. No emails, texts or telephone calls to distract you from pure relaxation. I have fallen into the trap of never leaving my laptop at home when on vacation. I use the excuse that I will have too many emails to work through when I get back to work. I would receive 100 emails a day in my old job and would waste a day and a half getting caught up when I got back. As a result, even I bought into the theory.

As most of you know, I am resoundingly cheap and there is no way that I am going to spend a million dollars connecting into the internet while on the boat. So, the cruise becomes a safe haven from the outside world. One that I really needed this time.

If you remember, after my 100 day check-up, I walked away with the belief that I no longer had cancer, even though I knew it was still in my bloodstream. It was gone from my consciousness. But after my last two blood tests showing increase activity, that feeling of freedom was gone. The feeling of normalcy was gone.

Yet, somehow, getting on board allowed me to put all of that side and just enjoy life. There is something about the vastness of the ocean and its many creatures that always slaps me in the face with the reality that there must be a God. There is just no way that all of this happened by coincidence.

One of my last discussions with Terry before he died was about the existence of God. He was a non believer and I did my best to give the other viewpoint, but as he lay on his death bed, he was convinced that when he took is last breath, it would be the end. It was hard for me to swallow, but I wasn’t about to have my last hours with him involve a bitter argument around something I could not prove.

One of my biggest aids in this cancer struggle is my belief that there is more to life that what we see. To know that I might be getting closer to the end than I would like to think is hard enough, but I can’t imagine what it would be like without the knowledge that there is more than what we can touch and there is a greater force that might give me a hand to get through this.

It’s funny, you get on a cruise to be able to eat 27 meals a day, but you can end up with so much more. I suggest giving it a try and maybe you might walk away with a little more than an additional five pounds.

Have a safe and happy New Year, everyone!

December 17, 2009 State Champs!

2009-12-17T21:34:00.001-07:00

Last Saturday I attended my first state championship game in just under 40 years. It was 1970 and I was a junior at an all boys Catholic high school. There were only two divisions for all sports at the time and they didn’t even have a football playoff. We were a big school at the time with about 1,200 students which would be the equivalent of a 2,400 co-ed school. Sports were special at Chaminade. We would pack the stands in football at whatever stadium we played since we didn’t have a home field and the gym was wall to wall people where ever we played basketball.

Going to a game was a religious experience. Unlike today in that the weekly football game is no more than a social gathering, we actually paid attention to what was happening on the field or court. When we cheered it had a definite lower, more bass like tone due to the heavy male component of the crowd. Certainly girls attended from our sister schools, but they were in the minority. Maybe that was why it wasn’t a social event.

Chaminade had won the state in basketball in 1966 and was to duplicate the feat that year. We played several games during the season at UD Arena as crowds of 7,000 or 8,000 would make their way to a game. We played Roth high school also from Dayton twice that year and both were epic battles. They proved to be the only competition that we experienced as the final two games of the tournament were 20+ point wins. When we beat Roth to win the district, we knew the rest would be easy.

The reason that I bring all of this up is that when I went to see Jason’s football team win the state 35-0 last Saturday, there wasn’t nearly the euphoria demonstrated by the students that we had felt. Winning state championships at Hamilton is a normal occurrence. It brings to mind the day that we visited the high school when we were deciding which school the boys would attend. One of the administrators, while showing us around the school, mentioned that they had finished the season as runner-up in football which was a complete disappointment. Wow, I thought.

It seems that Hamilton has won five of the last seven state football championships and will finish either second or third nationally in the ESPN high school ranking. They have won three baseball championships in the same seven years. They have had the best golfer in the state the last three years, all different young men. It is truly a sports factory. Their academics aren’t being left behind, as they have been ranked the top high school in the state.

Since Jason moved out here, he has witnessed three championships, one in baseball and two in football, one while being part of the team. Yet, I don’t sense the same level of excitement that I felt. Julia and I ran into other students after the game Saturday and it was more business as usual than bravado. This begs the question, “Can too much success dull the enjoyment?”

This all brings me to my success with regard to my treatment. I am approaching every blood test as if it were a game in the 27-0 1970 season. The test that I took about a month ago was certainly no blowout victory. Although there was some positive information, there was also the scary. Because this disease does a job on your organs which is eventually how it wins, I am super sensitive to anything that leads me to believe one of these irreplaceable organs may be losing the battle.

When I was told that my creatinine had risen from 2.2 to 2.8, I became extremely apprehensive. Dr. Mikhail was very reassuring with his normal statement that I shouldn’t get too worried about one point in time but to be more focused on trends. Easy for him to say, I’m the one headed for dialysis. Don’t talk to me about a kidney transplant. The chance of a cancer patient getting an organ transplant is about as good as Roseanne Barr being asked to sing the National Anthem again.

Waiting the 3+ weeks for my next test seemed to take forever. I had contacted my nephrologist who put me on a blood pressure medicine as my blood pressure has gone through the roof since returning to work full time. I think I need hazardous duty pay. The thought was that the high blood pressure was causing the kidney to be less effective.
I took the test first thing on Monday morning and the waiting was driving me nuts. Luckily I have a connection or two and I was able to get the creatinine reading that afternoon. The fact that it came in at 2.2 was a huge relief. My major concern had shifted from the cancer to my kidney function. That little number was a major victory for me. It was like the state championship all over again.

The numbers on the cancer itself are a little less exciting. My light chains moved up again to 9.24. This is now higher than the two month post transplant amount. However, the amount of protein in my urine is almost down to normal at .109 grams with normal being as high as .102. Because my light chains are moving in the wrong direction, I will have to undergo another blood test and 24 hour urine sample next month. If the trend continues, it looks like I will have to start up some type of maintenance drug. Hopefully the last couple of tests are not indicative of the future. I might have to ask for a refund on my transplant.

One thing I have learned with multiple myeloma, you appreciate every victory. State Championships can come every day and you still reach a state of euphoria with each and every bit of good news. This is the one place where just staying the same is like reaching the peak of Mt. Everest. I just wonder when they are going to let me hold the Championship trophy.

November 30, 2009 Big Boy Haircut

2009-11-30T16:54:00.001-07:00

It was an exciting day for me as I actually paid for a haircut. It had been since May, before I went into the hospital, that I had a professional lower my ears. Julia has been doing a good job of trimming but it was time for the plunge. I’m sure you will get a kick out of where I went. It is called “Floyd’s Barber Shop” and is reminiscent of where I would get my hair cut as a kid. Just four chairs and two barbers. These were real barbers, not twenty-something hairdressers with blue and pink hair. I even got a lecture as to why teenage girls breasts are getting bigger. Per Floyd, it is because of the hormones we are feeding chickens to get more white meat. Silly me, I thought it was silicone.

On the medical front, the last week has been a bit of a whirlwind. Julia and I met with Dr. Mikhail on Tuesday and got a bit of a mixed bag of results. My cancer cell count is up slightly, from 5.98 to 7.24. I wasn’t too excited about that since I was expecting a cure. Still better than I had two months after the transplant, so nothing to get too concerned about at this point. If we start seeing a trend going in the wrong direction, it might be time to get that rosary out again.

The other not so pleasant news was that my creatinine was up significantly. It jumped from 2.2 to 2.8 which is as high as it has been since I started taking the original chemo. Again, not the end of the world, but something to watch. The other thing that jumped out was my blood pressure. It was in the 150/90 range which is probably causing my kidneys to act up.

I spoke to Dr. Hogan, my kidney guy, and he suggested that I check my blood pressure three times a day and report back to him tomorrow. Over the weekend the pressure was up and down, but it definitely spiked when I got to work today. Imagine that, work causing your blood pressure to climb. Not to worry, as Dr. Hogan is sure that he can give me something that can get it back in shape without any side effects. In the mean time, I am trying to get a little more exercise and hope to take off 10 pounds. In the past this has helped me out quite a bit.

On the positive side of my results, the full body scan came back very good. It was hard to say that I had any damage directly tied to the multiple myeloma. This means that my body is doing a good job of getting my bones back to normal. So much for my excuse that I can’t lift anything over 10 pounds. Only problem is that I have babied myself so much, I can hardly lift anything over 10 pounds.

The other good thing is that my blood looks very good. Some problems areas have been cleaned up and my hemoglobin is back to normal. That is the first time I have seen that in a long time. So all in all, it wasn’t a bad trip to the doctor, just not a good as I had hoped.

Since this last weekend was Thanksgiving, it really gave me the opportunity to think about where I am in life. I really think we as Americans take too many things for granted. We probably don’t appreciate all that we have. We live in a land of plenty when even the poor would be looked upon as prosperous in some countries.

I guess I am just lucky and feel that way to still be here. If it wasn’t for my family physician, my oncologist, my nephrologist and all of the wonderful people at the Mayo Clinic and hospital, I might not have had the opportunity to enjoy the turkey that Julia made on Thursday. I have found that I have some of the best friends/relatives in the world. My life may not be as I would have designed it right now, but I am so thankful for the life I lead and the friends that I have. Make sure you appreciate all that you have been given and don’t take anything for granted.

November 9, 2009 The “F” Word

2009-11-10T06:02:00.001-07:00

One of the things that we have always stressed with the boys is a willingness to share. We have not always been successful with our approach, but at least we have always given it the old college try. This week, however, Jason somehow shared with his dear ole dad.

A week ago, Jason started feeling just a little under the weather. Then on Monday night he had the pleasure of food flying out of him in both directions at a velocity a great deal higher than he would have liked. We gave him Pepto Bismol and told him to get better. I’m not sure if Pepto ever works but it still gets used in our house like it was water from Lourdes. To his dismay, Jason only rented it.

Because he somehow managed to survive the JV football season and was called up to the varsity for the last regular season game, I felt it was imperative that he do everything that he could to make it to school so that he could dress for Friday night. Yea, I know he was throwing up, but this is football we are talking about. Hamilton is the number 16 team in the country and the opportunity to suit up and possibly get in a game would be a wonderful experience. The fact that I have a $30 bet with Justin that Jason will actually make it into a game before the end of the season had nothing to do with my motives.

To my (and Jason’s ) dismay, he had to come home on Tuesday and didn’t make it back to school until Thursday. Needless to say, he made it to the sideline on Friday but not dressed to play. One less game to win my $30.

As they say, God works in mysterious ways. I had not even had a sniffle since this whole cancer thing started. Chemo does wonders for the common cold, it seems. Well, I don’t think He liked the fact that I sent Jason to school just so he could play in a football game. That night I understood the wonders of sharing. Midway through the night, my stomach started to bother me a bit. By seven in the morning I was driving the porcelain bus. Later that day, I had to rush to the bathroom for the other reason.

If you add up the entire time I was out of bed on Wednesday it would not have reached 15 minutes unless you count bathroom time. By the next morning I felt good enough to go to work but by 3 PM, I was headed home not to return until Monday morning. I found that if I laid around all day, I would improve, but as soon as I did much, I would start to head back down hill. So for the most part, the weekend was a do nothing, watch TV marathon.

I hate to bring up the F word, or flu for those of you that have lived in a news free zone for the last year, but my guess is that I had some strain. Jason took one for the team when he went to see the doctor and had blood drawn to see if it was bacterial, but that came back negative. He didn’t make it through football practice today and the coach sent him home after he threw up on the sideline. Not sure what it is, but it sure has thrown us for a loop.

Hopefully, we will both be completely back to normal in the next day or two as I have my first overnight business trip since my transplant on Thursday and Jason has his best chance of getting in a game this Friday. Don’t forget, I still have that $30 hanging over my head.

A week from this Friday, I have my blood taken for my first post remission test. I also get to have my body x-rayed in every position known to man. The blood work will confirm if I am still in remission and the x-rays will determine how my bones are doing. Hopefully, both show some improvement. Tune in for results just before Thanksgiving.

October 11, 2009 A Rebel with a Cause

2009-10-11T06:43:00.001-07:00

I was reminded the other day of a famous fable about the chicken and the pig. It seems the chicken approached the pig about opening a restaurant that specialized in breakfast. The chicken tried to sell the pig on the concept as a win-win in that between the two of them, they possessed everything needed for a great breakfast of ham and eggs.

The pig was not an easy sell in that he realized that there was a catch in that the venture would take different levels of participation. It seems that the chicken would only need to be involved while the pig was going to have to be committed.

Certainly this is a lesson to be learned in the way that we live our lives. So many of us are just involved while others are completely committed. This happens in how we handle our choice of employment, our relationships and how we interact with life itself. I’m afraid that I have played the part of the chicken instead of the pig in far too many things.

I am never going to be confused with a philanthropist, but I usually am not afraid to contribute to worthwhile causes. However, I have rarely completely committed myself to the cause. I’m embarrassed to admit that it took a slap in the face with the reality of a cancer diagnosis to change my participation from one of audience to one of actor.

Next Saturday (October 17), I am going to participate in the Light the Night walk sponsored by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society to help raise funds for not only those afflicted with blood cancers but also their families. We tend to forget that the pain of these diseases afflict not only the individual but also the friends and family.

I’m asking for your help in supporting this cause. Please help by either walking that evening and collecting donations or just helping with a donation of your own. I know that many of you that read about the comings and goings of my life are spread all over the country and will not be able to participate physically, but please know that your donation can help someone in need.

Please visit the Light the Night site and help others that you may never meet.

Light the Night

The little ordeal that I have experienced these past nine months has changed me in many ways. I hope that my words have also helped you change. Make sure that you become involved like the pig and not live your life on the sidelines with the chicken. Don’t wait for that slap in the face to make you take life by the horns.

September 22, 2009 The Big “R”

2009-09-22T21:32:00.001-07:00

It is hard to believe but it was exactly eight months ago today that I went in for a simple physical. I had gone longer than I normally would because of the move to Arizona and not having a regular doctor. My life has been filled with ups and downs but today topped all of the ups that I have received during those eight months. It was today that would mark the beginning of my life as a cancer survivor.

Multiple Myeloma is a disease without a cure. I came to grips with that a long time ago. Yet, I never gave in to the belief that MM was ever going to beat me. Certainly I had my days of doubt, but I refused to succumb to the power of cancer. Deep down inside I knew that I would eventually win. I’m not exactly in the winner’s circle, but I am certainly within earshot.

Today I received the official word that I am in “very good partial remission.” Doesn’t sound like much does it? It sounds like the title of fifth runner-up in a beauty pageant. In reality, it isn’t all that bad. In looking at the raw numbers, my lambda free light chain that measures the amount of cancer in my bloodstream has dropped from a high of 65 down to 5.98 with normal being as high as 2.63. This is an improvement from last month when it was at 8.12. The amount of protein in my urine is down from a high of 1.000 gram in 24 hours to .142 with normal being less than .103. All of this puts me at a 90+% improvement which throws me in the “very good partial remission” group.

It is very difficult to put into words what this means to me. Certainly the ability to have Big Macs again last week was huge, but this makes that look like the 1962 Mets. I now have the weight of the world off my shoulders. I can go to sleep without that constant nagging of worry of ,“What is the cancer doing to me now?” I still have to carry a backpack of worries, just not the world.

This is not a cure, but then none of we MM survivors have a cure. We have to live day to day knowing that it will come back at some point. That doesn’t, however, keep us from enjoying that day and the next and the next because they are making wonderful strides with this disease and hopefully in my lifetime they will come up with a cure.

Dr. Mikhael will continue to monitor my progress and I will have another blood test in two months and a full body scan at that time. We will make decisions as we go as I am not on any maintenance drugs of any kind. If the disease starts to make a comeback, there are many options short of another transplant to keep it at bay. However, as Dr. Mikhael never forgets to remind me, the average length of time between transplants is 18-24 months. I will continue to scoff at that until my time comes.

I cannot begin to tell all of you how important all of your prayers and well wishes have been to me. If it wasn’t a comment here, it was something on Facebook, an email, a call or a card in the mail. I’m a firm believer in the power of the mind and the power of prayer. What all of you have done for me will not be forgotten and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

I am going to miss my updates on here and the interaction that it caused. Julia seems to think I should keep writing, but I’m afraid my normal life is far too boring to keep people awake. This outlet has given me the opportunity to say things I would normally not say and I appreciated that. Sometimes it is hard to say things that are in our hearts to the people we love and this gave me a way to express those feelings.

I will post updates on here as I get results from my tests so you might want to check in every couple of months.

In parting, I want you to remember that the amount of money in the bank means little when you don’t have your health. Please remember to have a physical every year. It saved my life, it could save yours.

September 12, 2009 Day 100

2009-09-14T17:59:00.001-07:00

Needless to say, this was one of the most important days in my recovery. This is despite the fact that nothing really happened. There were no tests, no results, just a ticking of the clock and a changing of the date. Day 100 is something that I have pointed to since before the transplant. This was to be the day that I was to be back to normal. This was the day that I could just be me and not be constantly thinking about having cancer. More importantly, it was going to be the day that I had a Whopper.

The problem with trying to be normal is that I’m not sure what normal is anymore. Because I had this disease for some period of time before I realized I had it, I had convinced myself that I was just getting old and I had to deal with everyday aches and pains. Some of those aches and pains have disappeared only to be replaced by others. Is that now the new “normal?”

The good thing is that I feel considerably better than anytime in the last nine months. My energy level is getting back to something that is livable. In my own mind, I had imagined that I would be ready to take on just about anything at this point. I have not yet gotten there, but I have gotten to the point where four+ hours of work does not completely do me in. When I left work on Friday, I actually felt like I had a little bit left in the tank.

I guess I shouldn’t complain. I wasn’t even supposed to come back to work at all until September 14 and I have already worked five weeks of part time days only missing one day in that time period. Everybody at work has been great (as usual) and insisted that I take it easy and not overdo it, but part of what drove me was to be back and making a contribution. My next goal will be to convince Dr. Mikhael that I can start to stretch it out a little more. I will be happy the day I feel well enough to do the traditional 8 to 5 day.

Another nice thing about day 100 is that I can get off of my medication. Due to the reduced immune system, I needed to take three different medications to create an artificial one. It seemed to work as I have not even had the sniffles. However, I think my body was starting to react to the constant bombardment of these drugs. I’m hoping that my withdrawal from those drugs accelerates the process back to normalcy.

Day 100 was as much about eating as anything. I have been religious about the little things like no fast food, no fresh vegetables or fruits and no ice due to potential bacterial infections. Saturday was my day for breaking through those barriers. Saturday was my day with the Burger King. I’m not sure why, but my first fast food was going to be a Whopper (Maybe they can do a commercial about the experience with Brad Pitt playing me at the BK. Hopefully he’d be willing to shave his head.)

I followed that up with a salad at J. Alexander’s as Julia and I celebrated our anniversary a couple days late. To make the day even crazier, I let them put ice in my Sprite! I love living on the edge.

All in all, the 100 days has gone pretty quickly. During that period of time I have had my ups and downs. I have had my doubts about recovery and felt the relief of that anxiety after the results of my first blood test. I lost my best friend which was extremely hard, but I have been able to see my kids play baseball and football. To top off the 100 days, I got to spend a night with my amazing wife celebrating another anniversary.

I’m still not 100% physically, but I am a long way from where I was. My hope is that all goes well when I meet with Dr. Mikhael on September 22 as we discuss where I am and if I can say that I am in remission. Now if I can just manage to deal with the 24 hour urine test without the difficulties I had last time, life will be good.

September 10, 2009 To Have and to Hold

2009-09-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

The date was August 23, 1975 and I found myself walking down the aisle of a church in Plymouth, Michigan. It was in the 90’s and extremely humid that day. The church didn’t have air conditioning and the reception hall lost theirs the day before. I should have realized at that point that there might be some difficulties in this marriage.

The date was August 23, 1977 and I found myself alone because my wife decided not to come home that night. No call, no nothing, just no show. It was at that point that I realized that there were more than difficulties in this marriage. I’m not the brightest guy in the world, but when my wife had a date on our anniversary and it wasn’t with me, I surmised that it might be time to start looking elsewhere.

The next decade was interesting to say the least. I had more than a few loves in my life, some only lasting a week or so, one lasting three years. But having become a one time loser, I was bound and determined not to make it two. As a result, I became extremely cautious in my relationships. Not afraid to fall in love, but certainly afraid to commit.

Then one day, I was taking out one of the administrative assistants (Diana) from Human Resources for lunch. This was one of those real stretches for me as the young lady, although certainly attractive enough, would never go for a pauper like me. When I went to her office to pick her up, I notice this cute little thing sitting at her desk. Little did I know at the time that cute little thing would eventually become my wife.

During lunch that day, I asked Diana who the new girl was. After getting all of the scoop, I played like I was in the fifth grade and asked her to see if there might be any mutual interest. To my glee, there was. One thing led to another and before long were we were in love.

On the one year anniversary of our first date, I popped the question. The first words out of Julia’s mouth was “Are you sure?” She could count the bottles of wine just as easily as I could, but I knew what I was doing. She knew my past as well as I did and she knew my hesitation to commit in the past. Yet for some reason, I knew this was the one.

So on September 10, 1988 I found myself walking down the aisle once again. Instead of it being hot and humid, it was a day in paradise. It was 72 degrees and sunny. The wind didn’t blow a bit which made the pictures that were taken outside unbelievable. For those of you in the Columbus area, you know that there are only about two days every year that are that perfect. It just so happened that God saved one of those for us.

The wedding went according to plan; that is Julia’s plan. This was one of those things that I let her drive as she was by far the expert. My biggest concern was the vows. Julia has an excellent memory (as she has proven over the years as she remembers everything I have every said) and she decided that we would memorize the vows. They were not particularly long, but I have never been one to memorize things. I tend to think on my feet and wing it. I must have said that thing to myself 100 times that day because I was bound and determined not to make a fool of myself.

As expected, Julia whizzed through hers like a hot knife through butter. It was then my turn and I started off strong with,”I, John, take you, Julia, as my loving wife.” It was then that things started spinning and I was glad that I had remembered my name, because I sure couldn’t any longer. Whatever was left of my mind had turned to Jello. I stood there for a second and even heard a chuckle from the crowd as I tried to remember what was next.

I finally gave in and looked at the minister for help. He got me started and I just winged it after that. As I like to mention to Julia and have done so several times in the last 21 years, I forgot to mention the thing about being faithful. It wasn’t until we reviewed the tape of the wedding that this fatal mistake was noted. So far I haven’t taken advantage of this missed paragraph in the contract, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to tease Julia about it.

Julia, however, has taken her belief and understanding of the vows to another level. When you actually utter the phrase, “in sickness and in health,” you never really think about the sickness part. Most people are just thinking about where they are going on their honeymoon when they get to this part.

Needless to say, the last eight months have opened up even my eyes to what those vows mean. It’s easy to stay with someone when everything is balloons and butterflies, but it is an altogether different story when you find out that your spouse is ill. That is when you really find out how much someone is really committed to the contract.

Not that I was surprised, but there wasn’t a thing that I lacked when I needed it. Julia was everything to me when I needed her. It was only through her love and devotion that I have been able to get through this. This is when you know you have someone special. Little did I know that the cute little thing behind the desk would become my everything.

September 3, 2009 Jason

2009-09-03T14:21:00.002-07:00

There are only so many dates in your life that ring with importance. Certainly, the day you are born, married and die rank right up there. Only problem is that for two of them, you probably don’t even know what is going on and the other flies by so fast, it becomes a blur. Then there are the other days that you never forget.

It was sixteen years ago today that my youngest was born. Usually your second child’s day of birth pales in comparison to your first just because the first is not only scary, but exciting at the same time. You tend to remember every detail because your senses are so heightened. However, that was not to be the case with Jason. He has never been content with being second best and the day of his birth was no different.

First of all, he was supposed to be a girl. At least that was what the book that I bought guaranteed. After Justin was born, we were pretty sure that we were only going to have one more and to give Julia an equal voting chance in the house, we agreed that a girl would be the best option. Even though we followed all of the rules, Jason appeared. The funny thing was that at the end of the last chapter, the book offered to send back the cost of the book if you didn’t get the boy or girl that you had wanted. I guess they didn’t have a boy/girl exchange program.

Julia’s mother had three children and each one of her labors was much quicker. When she had her third, John (who if you remember sent me Graeter’s ice cream when I first got home from the hospital), she barely got in the hospital when he was delivered. Since Justin came fairly quickly, I was scared to death that I would have to pull the care over on the way to the hospital and deliver Jason in the back seat of the Hyundai.

As a result, every time that Julia burped after she got close to the delivery date, we went to the hospital. Finally on the third trip, we got it right. However, the delivery wasn’t going to be an easy one. Although it went fairly quickly, the umbilical cord was wrapped around Jason’s neck. As the delivery progressed, Julia’s blood pressure dropped and Jason’s heartbeat fell right along with it.

All of a sudden, there are 7 people in the room and they have Julia on her hands and knees trying to get things in a more favorable position. Of course, I am having a cerebral hemorrhage and Julia is as cool as a cucumber. They finally got things back in order and Jason was born without a hitch.

I think the lack of oxygen made Jason as stubborn as a mule. (Certainly didn’t get that from me.) For the first two years, he refused to talk. I never heard so many “aaaaaaa’s” and “ooooooo’s” in my entire life. It seemed like the only word he knew was “no.” I don’t even want to try to count the money we spent on doctors and tests making sure he could hear.

But eventually, he did start talking and we couldn’t shut him up. However, I think he has now gone back to his old ways and he only knows how to text. He does talk to us once in a while, but it is usually about whatever sport he is playing or something he has seen on MTV or VH1. For those of you not old enough to remember, they actually used to show music videos on those two networks. Now it is just inane reality TV.

Yet, I really have no reason to complain. He cleans his room at least once per month and keeps the wear and tear on the carpet in his room down since he keeps all of his clothes on the floor. He stays out of trouble and actually gets an A or two now and then in school. Oh, and don’t forget, he did offer me one of his kidneys when he thought that would save my life. It is impossible to truly convey your innermost feelings for another person. You can say all of the right words, but words rarely give the full meaning. You hope your actions express what you want to say. I hope that years from now when I am long gone, Jason understands the love that a father has for a son. I don’t have a kidney to give him, but love, I have plenty of.

I guess we have done a few things right over the last 16 years. Now if he can just not break a leg in his first high school football game tonight.

August 28, 2009 Life as a Bachelor

2009-08-28T22:21:00.002-07:00

For the last week and a half the boys and I have lived as only bachelors should. We haven’t been eating vegetables and will only clean the house the day that Julia arrives home after visiting her mother and the rest of the family. I suppose I should wash the sheets, but that will probably be that last thing on the way to making the house look like humans actually reside there.

Despite not knowing how to find my way around the kitchen, I somehow kept everyone alive without a great deal of weight loss. Of course, we didn’t exactly dine like kings, but I do know how to unfreeze things and throw a pizza in the oven. We actually did have an evening of frozen pot roast, frozen corn and pre-manufactured mashed potatoes from the refrigerated section.

It hasn’t been the cooking that has worn me out, it is the laundry. The day after Julia left, I had the boys bring up their clothes and added to the pile that already existed. That took me four loads. We go through enough towels in two days to do a load and when you add that to the seven or eight towels that the boys had hoarded, I had another two loads to do. Then just two days later, I had another four loads of clothes to do. I swear, they hide dirty clothes for special occasions.

However, it is the endless football washing that is driving me nuts. Before the season, I bought Jason two girdles (for the unfootball people out there, this is a protective pair of tight fitting shorts that hold the leg pads under the football pants) so that we wouldn’t have to do laundry every night. Instead, he has decided to wear the school supplied girdle. With football six days a week, I have had to wash this thing 8 times since Julia left. In addition, Jason no longer wears a white practice jersey. The first string defense wears red for practice. So now I wear red just about every day so I have something to wash with the practice jersey.

Luckily, I have until late in the afternoon on Saturday to get this place inhabitable. Jason has to be at practice at 7:15 in the morning so I have already warned Justin he will be up early to tackle the house cleaning. Too bad I can’t clean like Mr. Clean; lord knows I have the hair style down pat.

August 26, 2009 The Last of the Kennedys

2009-08-26T21:32:00.003-07:00

I’m going to go completely off topic tonight. I was going to write about baching it for the last week, but I’ll save that for tomorrow. Earlier today, Ted Kennedy passed away. It was truly the end of an era and I just felt that I needed to say something about it.

Growing up Catholic was a unique experience but there was nothing as exciting as when John Kennedy was elected the first and only Catholic president. My parents were Democrats and I followed in their footsteps. I vaguely remember Kennedy getting elected. I completely missed the Bay of Pigs, but the Cuban Missile Crisis was very real to me. I remember being worried about a potential nuclear war. Our neighbors actually had a fallout shelter built in their basement, the threat was so real. It was during this crisis that Kennedy showed, Cuba, Russia and the rest of the world that the United States could not be bullied.

I remember thinking at one time that there could be 24 consecutive years of Kennedys being president. I, like so many others, know exactly where I was when we heard that John Kennedy was assassinated. When Robert Kennedy ran for president, I was very much in his corner. Watching him being assassinated was another of those memories that will never leave me.

I was so infatuated with the Kennedys that I wrote a fifty page paper my junior year in high school about John Kennedy’s life. We still lived in a world that didn’t pry into the lives of the famous as we do today. There was no talk of John and Bobby sleeping with every woman in sight. The Kennedys were saints.

That all changed the night that Mary Jo Kopechne died in a pond on Chappaquiddick Island. From that moment on, Ted Kennedy, the last of the Kennedy brothers, was a changed man. From that point on, he had to fight demons. His life was never the same as he fought alcohol, the Kennedy weakness for women, divorce, a failed presidential run and finally, cancer.

As I grew older, I changed my political views and often disagreed with the views of Ted Kennedy, but I never lost sight of his desire to help his fellow man. Despite his enormous wealth and fame, he was a man for the little guy. He dedicated much of his time in the Senate to fight for civil rights, better health care and the rescue of the impoverished.

In the end, he was no different that the rest of us. He had to fight for his life against a disease that is relentless. Despite his gallant efforts, he eventually lost to the demon called cancer. It plays no favorites. It strikes young and old, rich and poor. Some day it will be beaten, just not today.

The United States and the rest of the world is very different because of the Kennedys. They were driven men. They enjoyed the power, but they also made it there life work to serve others. Despite their flaws, they made a difference, something that we should all strive to do while we can. Make a difference with the gifts God has given you.

August 19, 2009 Fourth Quarter

2009-08-19T16:04:00.001-07:00

I have officially entered the last quarter of my 100 day experience. Because I am such a huge baseball fan and lover of the underdog (Cincinnati Reds), I am going to put this experience into baseball terms verses football despite the fourth quarter reference.

My season started off in a real slump—Fourteen days in the hospital in which I lost 15 pounds. I came home and proceeded to want to throw up anytime I tried to take a pill for the next few weeks. This is not the way to start a season. Sometimes you start off so badly that no matter what you do later, you still end up out of the playoffs. I didn’t like starting the year in the minors, but hoped for a promotion to the majors later in the season.

As the weather started to warm up, I started to feel better---Like a lot of good teams, it just took me a while to start playing up to my abilities. We had about 15 consecutive days of over 110 degrees and it actually felt good to get outside a little bit. I started to increase my activity and despite feeling a little tired, I started feeling stronger. I was ready for the call up to the majors.

As the trading deadline approached, I felt I needed to strengthen my bullpen---It was getting close to my big tests early in August and I felt it was time to really start getting my body in better shape. At the end of July, I started walking in the pool. I traded time on the couch for time in the pool. This was a deadline deal that helped me get back in the pennant race.

My big road trip to play the first place team---On August 6th, I met with Dr. Mikhael. He is the guy in first place and I am ready to meet with him to see just how good I really am. Just like when the second place team visits the first place team for a three game series to see who was the best. I won 2 out of 3 games (tests) on that road trip. I held my own and kept myself in position to make a run at the end of the season.

Bad feet, sore legs and still a bit weak would put some on the disabled list, but I said pour it on---The good thing about the trip to the doctor was that he let me go back to work. I felt much better than I had just one month earlier, so I decided to go back to work despite the occasional limp. I’ve now worked seven days and am ecstatic. It feels good to be back in the starting rotation after spending time in the bullpen. I had to skip a start on Friday, but came back strong on Monday.

Stretch drive---We are now down to the last few days of the season and I feel better than ever. I have been able to stretch work out to four hours on some days. Despite nagging foot problems, I am ready for the big final series in the battle for first place. It is still 25 days away, but I have a good fastball to go along with my curveball so I feel like I can take anything the doctor has to throw at me. Like all major leaguers, I will have to take a urine test before I am cleared to play full time. Instead of the $20 million players who have to provide just a small cup worth, I will have to provide a jug of the stuff. That is what happens when you start the season in the minors.

August 10, 2009 Hi Ho, Hi Ho

2009-08-10T21:10:00.002-07:00

After being away for over two months, I actually found my way back to work today. However, the equipment in my office wasn’t so happy to see me. Shortly before I left for my extended vacation, I was given a nice new HP laptop. It is small and light, but it has given me a few fits in its lifetime. For whatever reason, it just doesn’t like me working from home. There were times that it would take over ten minutes to come up. If I wanted to utilize Word, it would take another five minutes. No problems at work, just home.

I digress. It seems that the monitor in my office decided to go along with the laptop and its goal of me not doing any work and it decided not to come up this morning. So I thought a quick call to the Help Desk and I would be golden. However, my phone was as dead as a doornail. (This is one of those sayings I learned from my dad and done my best to hand it down to my sons, but as in most things, they have refused to pick it up.) So my cell phone actually worked and I got my call into the Help Desk. Helpful as always, they solved the problem and I was on my way.

After all of this excitement, I decided to have a short meeting with my staff to go over some items that had been nagging at me for some time. Nothing that they were doing incorrectly, just things that we needed to fix. Boy, it felt good to be back in my office, feeling some sense of worth.

However, after about two hours and thirty minutes, I hit a wall. It was time to head home. Not a bad day’s work, 150 minutes. Just enough time to get home and take a nap. I promised my doctor that I would be good and take it easy. Hopefully, that wall is a little further away tomorrow.