July 22, 2011 -- Mr. Tanner

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?

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?

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October, 29 2010 - Light the Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

October 22, 2010 Weathering the Storm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 5, 2010 To Sleep or not to Sleep

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 2, 2010--Friday Night Lights

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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