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.

September 2, 2010 The Devil in the Details

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 24, 2010 - Save the Whale(s)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 12, 2010 -- Lessons in Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 6, 2010 Learning to Let Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 23, 2010 - Staying Grounded

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 15, 2010 Adult Decisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 4, 2010 -- Happy Rebirthday to Me!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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