August 24, 2010 - Save the Whale(s)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 12, 2010 -- Lessons in Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 6, 2010 Learning to Let Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 23, 2010 - Staying Grounded

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 15, 2010 Adult Decisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 4, 2010 -- Happy Rebirthday to Me!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 22, 2010 Empty Nesters Revisited

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

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

From UDPride.com circa 1999….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 7, 2010 Empty Nesters (Almost)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 2, 2010 Will You Remember Me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.