June 15, 2010 Adult Decisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 4, 2010 -- Happy Rebirthday to Me!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 22, 2010 Empty Nesters Revisited

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

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

From UDPride.com circa 1999….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 7, 2010 Empty Nesters (Almost)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 2, 2010 Will You Remember Me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April 23, 2010 Baseball

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.