Fight or Flight.

Fight or flight.

What kind of person are you?  Usually we aspire to be one thing, but when the challenge arises we may or may not be that same person.  I found myself watching an ESPN 30 for 30 the other night and it was the one about the Bay Bridge Series.  The 1989 World Series between San Francisco and Oakland.  If you remember that was the year a huge earthquake hit the area and the bay bridge actually collapsed in certain sections. 

Although this episode used the World Series as a pivot or a point of reference, it really told the story about the people it affected both community and athlete.   As they interviewed people who were involved, there were some who got the heck out of Dodge, and others who rushed to the danger areas to help.  Some of the players were concerned about their families’ safety and pulled them out of the stands.  Some went to assist rescue workers every day.

It made me reflect on my life a bit.  Have I always charged into danger?  Luckily I can honestly say that I never shied away from a sports situation that arose.  I was one of those “Hit it to me” kids, not a “Please don’t hit it to me” kid.  But what about life situations?  I think when it came to my wife and children, I certainly have stepped up to the challenges.  But when I was alone or with my friends, I’m not as sure.  Some of it was instinct and being smart.  Like getting out of a high school party when you know something bad is about to happen.  But I also watched a few fights go south and just stood by.  Should I have intervened?  I don’t know.  I don’t mind two bulls squaring off in a fair fight and frankly think it’s part of nature. But I hate nothing more than a mass melee of cheap shots and people jumping in and piling on.

I thought about our honeymoon in Italy.  I was on gypsy lookout and was making eye contact with those who posed a threat, while my oblivious but lovely new bride took in all the sites and architecture.   I watched potential threats peel off when they realized we were no easy mark.  Nita thought I was overreacting and being silly.

I suppose it can be taught or drilled.  Our military is a great example.  I took my CHL class from a former SAS commando who also taught a tactical pistol class.  He would load jams in your magazine as you ran through a course and when your gun jammed, he’d be screaming “GET BACK IN THE FIGHT” while you either cleared your jam or ejected the magazine and reengaged. 

So why am I bringing this up?  Next week I leave for MD Anderson for a week of testing, and as crazy as this sounds, I’m almost looking forward to it.  I am ready to begin my treatment.  I am ready to get better.  I am ready to tackle this, win, and get back to being just a regular dad who coaches baseball and soccer.  I’m not afraid, I’m very much at peace.  I know my support group is strong and counting on my success and I believe in the healing power of God.  The kids have no idea that something could be wrong, we’ve kept their lives as normal as possible.  We’ll inform them if we need to depending on how I react to the chemotherapy.  So wish me luck, keep those prayers coming, off we go.  It’s time to get back in the fight.

The Refiner's touch

The refiners touch.  September 17, 2015.

I’m currently in the testing and preparation phases for chemotherapy.  There are a lot of folks who are still in shock and asking “why.”  It’s a perfectly natural reaction.  Personally I’m not much of a “why” guy, I’m more of a “well we’re here, lets fix it, break it, or learn to live with it” kind of guy.  My PET scan is scheduled for September 17^th, am trying to get an appointment at MD Anderson the week of the 28^th, and will have my port installed on October 5.  Chemo should start either later that week or the following.  Technically I’m not supposed to start any chemotherapy until a full six weeks after surgery. 

Had a fun little scare today.  The oncology nurse called me and said I needed to come in today to go over my PET scan report from 6:30 this morning.  I asked if I could just get an email and she said, “What if I told you that you REALLY should come into the office today?”  Yep, that is exactly what I was thinking.  So I showered and tried to calm Nita down.  She started making arrangements to have the kids picked up from school so she could go with me.  I asked her simply, “Can you hold it together?”  She said she could.  Minutes later I get a call back from the nurse and she apologizes and says, “The doctor said you had already accepted the situation, you were well aware of the plan, and having the PET confirm the findings would not be a boot shaker (not his term).  I’m sorry if I alarmed you.  He can call you, but since you already know all this, then you don’t need to come in.”  Surely she knows I’m on blood pressure meds right?

So the good news is, it isn’t any worse than we thought, the lung spots might be a little smaller than originally anticipated; the bad news is that it isn’t really much better either.  It is what it is.  We have the same fight ahead of us, so there really is no change in plan.  I did get a heartwarming note from one of my customers who said not to give up on the power of faith and love of family.  His father had just celebrated his 75^th birthday after having been diagnosed and treated for a brain tumor and cancer.  After being given a poor prognosis he’s now completely healed.

I'd also like to give a little shout out to my company.  They had shirts and wrist bands printed and as I dropped into the office yesterday for an on-site visit they were showing their support.  Our Houston office even got into it.  I guess going from a big corporate conglomerate to a smaller company was a good choice after all.  And I love my team. It has been my opinion that what you do is not as important as for whom you are doing it, well this certainly has validated my decision to come to PDME!

 

So while we do this, I’m living my life as normally as possible.  I might spend a little more time with the kids, read an extra story, and maybe my hugs are a little longer and tighter.  I was even able to have breakfast with my son at school Wednesday.  

So back to the “why.”  As it turns out another friend was going through a tough time at work and one of his friends posted this story and I find it both helpful and inspiring:

The Refiner’s Touch
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three they came across verse three which says, "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.

One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week the woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that, in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot - then she thought again about the verse, that He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver. She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. For if the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?" He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's the easy part -- when I see my image reflected in it."

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you and will keep His hand on you and watch over you until He sees His image in you.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN.

So we’ve all heard similar stories of iron smiths, glass blowers, hell even Sam Elliot telling us about truck making, etc., and what it takes to forge the finest blade/vase/whatever.  Also, I’ve often said that no athlete accidentally wins the Olympics.  It takes hard work, tremendous effort, and a never-give-up attitude.  I’ve had a very blessed life.  I’m no stranger to hard work, but can admit I’ve also gotten a little lazy and complacent over the last few years.  So maybe my “why” is there are some impurities that need to be burned away and it is my time to sit in the fire.  But I have faith that my Refiner (intentionally capitalized) has His eye on me and will pull me out at the exact right time.

265 likes for a fart

265 likes for a fart

This is a blog post to help explain the series of events that has occurred in the course of the last week.  It’s hard to believe that just 10 days ago my biggest problem was forgetting to bring my readers to a restaurant and having to long arm the menu.  It’s also a way for me to not continuously tell the same story 200 times.  Finally, it’s an easy way for someone who cares or is just curious to know what all happened but can’t bring themselves or find the words to ask the question when we’re face to face.  This is the story of how I went from wondering if I was drinking the wrong protein shake to stage four colon cancer, surgery, and a long road of chemotherapy in front of me. It got away from me so it might turn into three or four blogs for ease of digestion, no pun intended…okay yes it was.

The beginning.

I’ve bounced around on different diets over the years with some working better than others over the last 20 years.  The Atkins worked best for me, but was not practical with young children or an Italian wife.  Plus on business travel it was pretty limiting.  You can always avoid fast food, fried food, etc. But grains and starches are sneaky and who doesn’t enjoy a cupcake once in a while?  Then a friend invited me to read a book called the 4 hour body.  In it he calls for no sugar, but most importantly to get your metabolism moving correctly, within one hour of waking up you need 30 grams of protein.  Well that is great if you are a Billionaire and your chef can have your two chicken breasts and spinach salad ready when you finish your morning dump.  But for guys with kids and wives and jobs, protein shakes are really the only answer.   So for a while I found one I liked and would work out every morning.

As luck would have it my financial advisor gave me a treadmill when he moved and then a buddy found me a free home gym.  I’d do 30 or so minutes of cardio then about 20 minutes of strength training before work.  Combined with the morning shakes, the pounds came off and I was feeling good.  Then two things happened.  I left Dell and went to a small company.  That impacted me in two ways.  First, now instead of 120,000 people not caring where I was as long as my job got done I had 20 people who all of a sudden cared where I was at all times and were watching me like an hourly employee.  I guess it was harder for them to understand that the complexities of the role were not time bound, nor were they location specific, but that didn’t matter.  So my work at night, before work and on weekends went ignored if I wasn’t at my desk by 8:30 AM or if God forbid I left at 4pm to work from home for the rest of the afternoon.  That impacted my ability to continue my workouts in the mornings.  Plus Connor started kindergarten last year and he was a full hour ahead of Josie and my job was to get him to school at 8.  So my choices were wake up at 4:30, work out, S.S.S., dress, get him to school, then go to work.  Or wake up at 7.  Get him to school, come home and work out, and get to work by 10:15.  The latter was not an option.

The second major factor was during this period I had a minor hand injury while playing golf and it morphed into a herniated disk.  Possibly the continuous changing of my swing to guard my hand and still get the big boy yardage, in any case I lost my swing, my confidence, and enjoyment of the game.  My back also hurt so bad I could hardly walk at times much less do any cardio and strength training was limited to lifting kids into car seats and grocery baskets.  So the net result was I stopped the shakes, ate bad food, quit working out, stopped golfing every week and essentially watched sports, drank bourbon all night and read.  This led to gaining about 25 pounds, feeling bad about myself and just general lethargy.

 

Before the beginning. 

 

Backing up a few years/decades I was quite an athlete.  I played year-round sports including soccer, basketball, ran track, gymnastics, volleyball, etc.  In HS I wrestled in to a high level and won state honors, played football and won district honors in baseball. I also played baseball through college, and even into my late 20s still played competitive baseball.  Wrestling probably had the biggest impact on me because it was a team of guys who could take anything our coach dished out.  Many on that team went on to become Special Forces guys and we all had a similar mentality that nothing could defeat us.  Now when I check back in with those guys they are still the ones who thrive, are mentally tough, and can overcome trivial issues.  The point of this resume section is I’m pretty coordinated, have been a decent athlete, and have an athlete’s mind of sacrifice, determination, and grinding through to the win.  I don’t expect things to fall in my lap, I don’t ask “why me,” and I don’t think of things in terms of what is fair and unfair.  Things just are, you adapt, make your plan and execute.  There is no time for second guessing.  You learn from your defeats and are humble in your victories.  It’s just how I was brought up to respect the game(s).

Further, because of this wrestler’s mentality I don’t know if it was by luck or God’s will, but most of my time at Dell was spent with the DoD/Intelligence community teams and I’ve met many SF guys throughout my years. There is a documentary I watched once with a SEAL buddy. It was a Discovery thing you can find on You Tube called BUDS class 234. There are six 45 minute segments of what it is like to overcome the first six weeks of Basic Under Water Demolition School (BUDS) training. In it you watch these 20 somethings being tortured and pushed and most of them ring the bell to stop the pain. He told me then the secret was controlling your mind.

When my buddy found out about my cancer he called me and said, "The true secret is to find one thing, anything, but always find a reason to keep going. Never let go of it, you hang on and keep going."

8 - 28

Part 2

8/28

After a week of trying those protein shakes again and getting diarrhea so bad I had to take an Imodium, Nita asked me to either switch brands or stop all together.  So Thursday August 27, as we went to a Dr.s Appt with her, my stomach started rumbling.  It could have been any number of things.  Stress, I didn’t have time to eat what normally eat, I changed shakes, etc.  Anyway by that evening my stomach was distended and I was feeling sharp stabbing pains in my abdomen.  That night was terrible.  I couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t pass gas, and even alka seltzer didn’t help.  In the morning I informed Nita that I was going to just get a laxative and maybe buy an activa yogurt, but I couldn’t take Connor to school.  I said I’d wait there with Josie until she got home.  She made me promise to go see a doctor. 

There is a new Austin Regional Clinic on 620 that is the best kept secret in Austin.  They have an awesome facility and no one knows about them, so you can always get a convenient same day appointment.  I made my appointment and at 9:30 went to see a provider.  He didn’t like the stomach distension and asked for some X-rays.  Again, this is a great place because the other facilities would have farmed me off to some other place and it might have been hours before the lab results were read and orders given.  This place has a lab and X-ray lab on site. When the film came back he pointed to two lines that he “didn’t like.”  He asked me to pick an ER.  I had that “Really” look like is it that big a deal?  He said I needed a CT scan, it might be nothing, but it could be a blockage and there was no sense in messing around with it. 

Now I’m thinking, this is going to get expensive fast, but what are you going to do.  So off to St Davids North Austin where a very good friend of mine Koushik Shaw, a Urologist, rounds and does surgery.  I texted him what was going on and he said he’d stop by.  The CT scan showed an inflamed appendix and a blockage of my colon (upper intestine).  The general surgeon was just coming around to say they were going to put an Nasal Gastro intestinal (NG) tube (runs from nose to stomach) to relieve some pressure because I wasn’t releasing any gas, there was a blockage, and frankly something would rupture if we didn’t relieve some pressure.  It would also buy us some time to figure out what might be causing the blockage.

Dr. Shaw walked in and asked if he could look at the CT scan.  He introduced himself to the surgeon on call as he had never met her.  When he had seen the scan he came back and held my hand and said, “Marco, there is more than just appendicitis here.  I’m sure this doctor is very capable, but with your permission, I’m going to replace your entire surgical team.  I’ve got guys who are specialists in every field you’ll be needing, and it might get a little political early on, but the NG tube will buy us enough time to get the right people in place to do everything the right way.  I also want you to know that the CT scan showed some nodules on your lungs.  That indicates that the blockage may be caused by a tumor in your colon that is cancerous and may have already started spreading to other organs.  But you hang tough, and try to relax, just know that I’m going to do my very best to get you the best.

He came to visit me that night and said I would spend the next three nights in the hospital getting drained, and having his team gear up.  They all accepted my case on a favor to him and I do not say lightly that I firmly believe Dr. Shaw saved my life that night.  He said he was up all night assembling this team and it also was pretty hard on him due to our friendship.  Afterwards I told him I would be one of the five people he meets in heaven.

Dr. Shaw showed up with Neil Peart, Paul McCartney, Jimi Hendrix, and James Brown and said, I put together a little band for you, I hope you don’t mind.  In reality he did assemble the best colo-rectal, oncology, GI, etc. team that checked on me daily.  The surgeon Dr. Lakshman is a pioneer in robotics and because of him alone I left surgery with minimal entry points, small scars (mostly laparoscopic), no NG tube, and more importantly no colostomy bag.  He cut out 9 inches of colon, several polyps, high 20s number of lymph nodes, appendix and then reattached my upper and lower intestine.  He then went inch by inch over my colon to look for any polyps and found a few and removed them.  He was operating somewhat blind in that since the blockage was so severe they could not perform a pre-op colonoscopy.

Most were encouraged by my attitude, ease of acceptance of my situation, and willingness to do whatever it took.  I don’t think they see a lot of resolve anymore and it may have been refreshing because the oncologist was really wanting to come at me aggressively.  He then said, for the sake of your children and their medical history (any my lack thereof), I should schedule an MD Anderson visit to see his colleague.  He said the facilities are great, equipment is superior, and they can do some better genetic testing that my children can use down the road.  They were also very straight with me. There is no cure.  This will be a constant battle of getting me to state of remission, testing, re-attacking when it springs up again.  The finish line is when I decide to ring the bell.  The fight will last as long I choose to continue the fight.

Pre-Op and Post Op

Part 3

Pre-Op.

So before my surgery when news hit the interwebs and social media networks, I was flabbergasted by the number of people who jumped on the “what can I do” train.  It became unmanageable.  The number of visitors, the texts, messages, posts, and calls were beyond overwhelming, when I got home Saturday there were so many cards as well.  It actually got to the point where I was unable to rest much less respond.  So my best friends Pete and Omar took over and started somewhat guarding me being information intermediaries as well as setting up visiting, food for Nita and the kids, etc.   The rest was me sitting in a room, with the best nursing staff being poked, prodded, medicated, and monitored and waves of family and friends in between drug induced naps and episodes of How I Met Your Mother.  Thank goodness at night there was baseball and college football started.  I had the nurses post “no visitors” signs which people ignored and walked straight through.  Don’t take this as a slight, I’m glad I saw each person who came, it meant a lot and in the grand scheme of things would not have changed the outcome.  Plus I couldn’t imagine some of the poor folks just a few rooms down who had no one to visit, write, or call.

Pre-op also included a lot of folks offering ANY-thing they could do to help as well as housing in Houston should I need to go to MD Anderson.  Turns out I might have to cash a few of those offers.  The favors included setting up a care calendar, food, errand running, kid watching, limo service (okay car rides), and offers to sit with me during treatment.  A friend actually suggested a “sit with Marco during Chemo” calendar.  I thought that was generous but clearly need to figure out how my body reacts and decide if those are moments I want to share.  Finally, as mentioned earlier, I’ve played a lot of baseball and done some pretty fun/crazy things.  Well two of my running buddies came in from out of town just to sit with me before I went to the OR.  We told old stories, relieved Al Bundy days, and just laughed about the good old days.  Finally the nurse kicked them out and my wife came in for final prep.

Now during all this Nita has been a rock.  She’s gotten my boy off to first grade, changed my daughter’s preschool schedule from three to five days, and gracefully answered all inquiries, brought me things I needed, supported our mothers (who were not taking the news well), and kept the children fed and entertained.  I definitely married up.

Post-Op

I had my operation on August 31.  Also from one of my Aggie recruiting sites, a gentleman whom I’ve never met came to the hospital and brought food for my entire family and vigil group waiting for me to return.  The surgery was supposed to start at 3:30, but I didn’t return until 11pm. So I was just coming out of my anesthesia just in time for bed. Nita spent the first night with me and my sleep apnea was so bad it kept setting off the oxygen alert.  My surgery took so long because the rockstar surgeon was so thorough and wanted to make sure I didn’t go through chemo carrying a bag like many on my floor.  But poor Nita was exhausted from entertaining and keeping her painted on smile and I’m sure she was asking why, coordinating events, etc.  So she “woke up” still exhausted and upset.

Anyway we bickered a bit in the morning, really how could she get much sleep due to my alarms and the nurses coming in every 2 hours, so we decided two things.  One, she should spend the rest of the nights at home.  Two, that she schedule a visit with our counselor.  Without betraying confidences, it turns out he has had colon cancer and not only could he explain things to her in way that was supportive, he also told her how best to support not just “a person like me” but Me.  He knows my personality, tendencies, etc., and told her what to expect and how to get me through it.  I’m fairly certain when I am able to drive again, I will schedule an appointment with him so he can give me the cliff notes on what to expect just so I can get my mind right.  No one plays a game without watching film on the opponent, or calling a coach who has coached against the other team.  This battle would be equally stupid to enter unprepared.

So the first step was getting me through the surgery.  Check. 

The second step is getting my bowels moving regularly.  It all starts with a fart.  The nursing staff pushed me to start getting up and walking the hall on the first morning.  They pushed for three to four times the first day to get things moving.  The second day, four to six times with at least two double laps.  One Polish nurse was WEARING me out.  Turns out she had beat leukemia and knew the road home.  So she was pulling me to the light and she was by far the best!  So on September 2, it finally happened.  I farted.  The nurse’s station seemed more excited that I was.  Then to my surprise there were 265 likes and comments.  Not to mention the texts and PMs I received. 

The third step is to poop.  The gum chewing, diet changing, walking the halls, finally worked.  The nurses told me that I was close and not to feel bad if well the air was not so lonely.  My instincts were correct and what felt like it could have been a bit more, was in fact my first poop in six days.  I thought there was going to be a parade over the excitement.  There were FB posts, nurses coming in to congratulate me and the numbers were astounding.  I had no idea that many people were so interested in my bowels.  I also found that this was the ticket home.  So now, I had one more day and I’d be eligible for release and just in time for the first A&M game of the season…on my own couch…with permission to drink in moderation…and another Aggie who would bring me some fatty brisket to make it feel more like game day.  The stars lined up and Nita got me to the church on time.  I was released with two hours before the game, plenty of food and a few friends who dropped by to bring treats and bourbon (as if I’d be out).

How deep is your love

Part 4

My two best friends are so funny in how different they are.  One is somewhat of an introvert, but is constantly on the phone.  Either on a call or texting, but I think he recently had a Bluetooth headset surgically implanted.  The second is a big crossfit guy who always has a group of friends he’s going to see whether it’s out of state, hunting, golfing, or well cross fitting and eating paleo.  He occasionally ends up on my couch for a chat and a few bourbons.  They both have more contacts, friends, parties to attend, than you could imagine.  My life has become somewhat routine with work, school for the kids, sports for the kids, and weekend field trips with the kids.  My back injury took my regular golf weekend schedule off the books, and I’ve been really focused on our business to honestly get more income since Nita decided to become a stay at home mom. 

So I had this conversation with myself, if I died tomorrow, would Nita be able to find enough pall bearers to carry the casket?  Sure I have acquaintances, and know a lot of people, but how many people, would drop everything and come check on you?  This week answered the question in spades. When I look at the ebbs and flows of people in my life, I can categorize them into several groups:

 There is my old grade school group. I attended a private catholic school and with FB have been able to stay in touch.  Next is High School.  This is a closer group and with the 30 year coming up, more people are calling for mini-reunions and other events.  Third and fourth are college.  I started at Texas A&M and have a great community of Aggies from a recruiting site I frequent and my time and fraternity brothers, and there is Texas Lutheran where I graduated and kicked a baseball around for a few years.  Fifth are friends from the Capitol and legislature where I met my wife (but that is quite another story).  Sixth is Dell where I spent 15 years. Seventh is my golf club and neighborhood community.  Finally the schools where my kids and their parents meet.  One often wonders the impact you have over all these groups that over the course of 40 years you weave in and out of.  Some you spend decades with, some 10 minutes.  As a sales and marketing guy I enjoy talking, presenting, and being “on.”  But that also means on my free time, I usually melt into the background.  I enjoy just listening to the conversation, and essentially to decompress.

I would never in my wildest dreams have been able to imagine the amount of support, love, prayers, thoughts, and actual activity stirred up by the news of my cancer.  People and cousins I hadn’t seen in decades, just popped into the hospital room.  Friends whom I knew were buddies were offering me their homes in Houston for places to stay for trips to MD.  People from all over the neighborhood were dropping off enough food that we might have to buy a deep freezer.  And it was a never ending deluge of “what can we do? How can we help?”  I heard personal stories of victories, homeopathic remedies, and everything in between.  I had folks who have never met me, or know me through Nita or my children perform amazing acts of generosity and kindness.  I even had an old college friend ask if they should start a “go fund me account.”  Thanks but tap the brakes there kiddo, I’m still kicking and my mind has always been my sharpest weapon.

As a quick aside  I also found out that my facebook community created a meme that really caught fire and I won't name names, but I can tell you that at least 50 fans and graduates of Texas had some form of this as their FB picture for at least a couple of days.  Thank you.

What I did not get was pity.  I think everyone to a person said, “If anyone can beat this, it is you!”  And I promise to fight like hell to prove them right.  My new boss even came to me and gave me more support and peace of mind than you could imagine.  Thanks PD, I won’t embarrass him, but it was impactful.  Grown men would see Nita and start crying.  I’ve been getting letters and cards from churches that I’ve been added to the prayer rolls.  The nicest part was the offers were genuine and not lip service.  And usually the pattern is everyone hits hard on early news, then it cools and things dry up.  I have a feeling this will not follow that pattern.

People have let all animosity, any old wounds, and generally let all bygones be bygones.  It has restored my faith in humanity, showed the true generosity of the American spirit (or I am either incredibly lucky, blessed, or have chosen extremely wisely…or some combination).  It has given me two major advantages.  First, I have a lot to fight for and a lot of people who are counting on me to fight.  That kind of thing is perfect for me.  I don’t usually need or get a lot of motivation, but when presented, I react well to it.  Second, it has given me peace.  I am confident that in the unlikely event something should happen my family will be well taken care of.  I know there is a long road ahead.  I know this will not be easy, but I will grind out small and large victories. 

Final thoughts

I wrote a 10 page manifesto to my unborn son called “how to be a man” in the case of my untimely demise, I’ve thought of adding a few chapters since this new situation has occurred.  My Christmas letters have become, I don’t know if I’d call them legendary, but let’s just say people remind me to never take them off the list.  If you’ve come this far with me, feel free to go back and check a couple of them out.  I’ll post the first few years just for fun. 

I tell my children and they can repeat it upon request, “What are daddy’s three jobs?”  The answer, “To love me, protect me, and make me a better person.”  Well I intend to keep my jobs.  And they won’t be sufficiently prepared until they are at least young adults.  That means I have at least 22 years of fight to personally prepare to endure to properly meet that goal.  I thank each of you for the part you have played in my life to prepare me, help me, or in some cases carry me in this fight.  But you can count on me, I won’t let you down. 

Christmas letter 2010

Sorry in advance.  If you thought the last two years letters were long, well, buckle up, grab a cup of coffee (bourbon/tea/scotch/etc.) and settle in.  This year was a doosie.  To start the year, we had a wonderful Christmas holiday and Marco has healed from this Achilles quite well.  He also loves his new job with the only drawback being that he travels so much more.  But that gave me more time for projects.  Connor is healthy and growing and my company is still making money.  Enough about the boring beginning…. Welcome Josephine Marisela Martinez.  Born 11-10-10, 7 lbs 5 oz, 20 ½ inches long. God blessed us with another beautiful and well-mannered child.

The traveling heart event.  As mentioned earlier, Marco has been traveling more. On one trip in January, he was talking with a colleague who had a heart event.  Well Marco (failing to mention it to anyone else) had been having chest pains for a couple of weeks.  He decided to finally be responsible and check it out…two days prior to a golf tournament and four days prior to another trip. So again without telling anyone he went down to the Dell wellness center and, being a former EMT knowing the chain of events he was about to trigger, told the receptionist that he was having “chest pains.”   He was rushed to the back for an EKG.  Low and behold an irregular tac line showed up.  So they called the paramedics and asked if he’d ever had nitro glycerin before.  Again, being a former EMT Marco started to freak out.  “Am I having a heart attack?” he asked.  The doctor said, “We’re not sure, but your blood pressure is too high and there is that tac line.”  Marco then asked if he could call his wife and drive himself to the hospital and they said, “ha ha, no way.  You cannot even go upstairs for your computer; your only choice now is which hospital you’d like to go to.”  He chose North Austin.  Once he was checked in to cardiac 8 and Nita was notified they started the testing.  To make a REALLY long story shorter, Marco was told his EKG was fine but needed a stress test.  While sitting in the ER he texted a friend at work who happened to office at North Austin Medical. Within minutes Dr. Koushik Shaw was on his way down to check on Marco.  Marco’s care immediately was upgraded from coach to first class.  Thank you Koushik.  He was then assigned a cardiologist.  The results of the stress test were negative.  No heart damage.  While diagnosing the symptoms his new cardiologist stated that it didn’t seem consistent with heart trauma, but resembled chest trauma.  He asked about possible events.  Well Marco responded with, “I do let Connor jump on my chest.”  There was a collective sigh of relief.  However, he did say that Marco’s blood pressure was way too high.  So he put him on Diovan and asked him to do some blood work.  He was told to continue the diovan and lose 30 pounds in six months.  He was also asked to go see a pulmonary specialist for a sleep study to determine whether or not he had sleep apnea.  He lost 12 pounds in the first three weeks.  He’s already lost the 30 at the writing of this, runs, lifts and looks great.  Although he did put a little back on during the later stages of the pregnancy and there are those pesky Thanksgiving and Christmas sweets to contend with. 

Oh the sleep study.  I’m thinking they should rename it, “annoy you all night and attempt to sell you an oxygen mask experience.”  First of all, when they advertise a room that’s “just like home” let’s just say it ain’t my home.  I know I’m blessed and spoiled but good Lord I haven’t stayed in a room that crappy since I was 23 and went 6 to a room at a baseball tournament. When they hook up (and I’m not exaggerating) about 30 cables to your face and head with paste and tape and then ask you to relax and sleep…well let’s just say I don’t hook up the car battery to my ears before I kiss Nita goodnight.  Then there is the position.  The tech asked me to sleep on my back.  I said, “I sleep on my side.”  He said I need you to try to sleep on your back.  I said, “I also don’t sleep sitting up do you want to see how that works out?”  He said, “No, just on your back because that’s the worst position for people.” “Why would you then encourage it? I asked.  He said the doctor said to study your sleep while on your back (which I later learned was not true).  I said, “Then you aren’t studying my sleep because I don’t sleep on my back.”  He said, if you can’t sleep on your back, we’ll hook you up to the mask. Meanwhile, it starts raining.  And it sounded like it was raining acorns.  The roof was so thin I thought this had to be a set up.  AND, you could hear the tech talking to some other torture victim in another room across the hall.  My experience was so bad, I was wondering if I could have just been waterboarded for 30 seconds, told them where Osama was and then get on my way.  So at 2am tech boy comes in my room and says, okay we’re strapping on the mask, you aren’t sleeping well.  (No shit).  So let’s strap a mask over your nose and latch it to your head.  Yep, that should bring sweet dreams.  So about an hour and a half later I finally doze off again and it seems like 30 minutes later he says, “rise and shine it’s 5:30. You slept good with that mask on.  How do you feel?”  I said, “you must be joking because I feel tired, annoyed, and do not feel well rested.”  He then started to argue with me again mentioning the wonders of the mask.  He also added that since I opened my mouth a few times which threw off the wind tunnel he had created in my nose and esophagus I might consider a chin strap to keep my mouth closed.  I told him that unless my doctor said my heart would stop tomorrow without it, there was no @#&*^ chance I’ll ever see him or that mask again.  If this is how “good sleep” works, y’all can keep it.

“I’m watching him.”  I have been teasing Nita for about six months (ever since Connor started getting mobile) about her using the term “I’m watching him.”  I found that my definition and her’s do not match.  To me, watching him means he is actually in your line of sight, so you can prevent injuries or unwanted events.  To Nita, apparently it means, I’m assuming he’s still in the house with me and I’m doing other things that need to be done.  This was no more apparent than one weekend in February when I was playing in a golf tournament and while waiting on the green to clear I sent Nita a text saying I loved her.  She responded with, “Connor got out through the doggie door.”  To which I replied, “Did you see it or discover it?”  She responded with, “I heard him in the game room, I was making breakfast for us and I looked out the kitchen window and there he was….on the patio.”  Luckily he didn’t get hurt and we all had a good laugh about it.  Nita now has to qualify, “I’m watching him” and she has no room to complain.

Sea World.  Connor loves animals, especially sea animals.  It’s been amazing to hear the evolution of his little vocabulary-- by summer he could specifically request Baby Einstein videos mostly asking for the “Daw-min.”  (That’s Dolphin).  So we thought we’d take him to Sea World in July.  He really enjoyed the fish tanks, turtles, aquariums, penguins, and the water park.   But he LOVED the dancing stuffed animal people and wanted to go pet them. I thought they might freak him out but he kept jumping in front of other kids photos with them.  I think all the screaming kids at the Shamu show kind of freaked him out.  That, and the lack of air in the stadium.  By the end of the show, he was bawling and even an ice cream cookie couldn’t settle him down.  And let me tell you he can solve a trig problem if it means getting a cookie.

Circus. In spite of our Sea World experience we thought we’d try the circus.  We ended up front row and he LOVED it.  By August he could say “elephant, tiger, puppy, and horsey.”  He was able to describe all the animals in the show.  He was quite pleased with himself for this.  He also loved digging into mommy’s popcorn and nachos.  Remember Nita was 6 months pregnant by now. There was plenty.

New Baby.  No matter what you read in the next two minutes you may not hate Nita.  As our new baby girl was cooking and Nita was nearing term, we decided to induce on the actual due date.  Her Doctor was on call and it was a good day. So, we loaded up the car and I drove Nita to the hospital.  Then after the check in agent came down, I went back home and got Connor ready for preschool.  I got him fed, clothed, dropped off, and then raced back to the hospital.  They had just started the Pitocin drip.  Then around noon, the anesthesiologist came in and popped in the epidural, shortly followed by our OB to break the water.  One push at 2:48 and we had Josie.  You read that correctly.  As soon as Nita got to 10 cm, Dr. Mills came by and we started to load up the stirrups and get ready.  As we discussed whether or not to get the mirror because we were all dying to see if we’d get another red head or not, the baby started crowning.  Dr. Mills said, “She’s got dark hair, and she’s coming now.  Okay Nita, one easy push.”  BANG, Josie’s here.  Just like that.  She is even easier than Connor.  She’s been putting her weight back on, she doesn’t seem to be allergic to anything Nita eats, she’s becoming a more efficient eater (Connor was kind of a grazer), and she only cries for wets, poops, gas, and hunger.  So far.  A little cluster feeding early, but was able to string it out more at night and just pound food in the day.  By one month, Josie was sleeping four and five hours in a row at night. As of the writing of this, she’s gaining about 2 oz per day and is already 9 lbs 11 oz.

Connor’s reaction.  Connor has been pretty good so far.  He is two, and his favorite word is “no” even when he wants to do something.  He is also learning commands and sentences and is always asking us to either “go away (so he can do it himself)” or “sit and fix it.”  One month in, he still hadn’t touched Josephine, but he is always looking to see where she is.  On Marco’s last business trip, I was feeding Josie outside while Connor played in the back yard.  Connor had been pushing his wagon, car, and digging in the dirt.  That’s when he decided it was time for him to touch Josie.  Here I was with one in and one out, Josie eating away and a 2 year old with hands so dirty I think he even had a worm on one.  “Uh, baby, you can’t touch Josie just now.  Mommy has to wash hands first.”  He then lost interest.  Back to the drawing board.  When she cries, he looks at us and once even offered one of his cars to help.  He and Marco are playing a lot together and spending quite a bit of boy time.  Marco is pretty rough and tumble with him and Connor loves being thrown up, dropped, and swung around.  He is all boy.  Marco said the other day, “You know what, I’ve really gotten the chance to fall in love with Connor again.”  How sweet is that?  Every game day you can find Marco and Connor at the mall or the store or out somewhere wearing matching A&M shirts.  Pretty cute.  Connor of course can now say, “Gig ‘em Aggies.”

Parenting styles.  Most of you already know this, but we discovered that the parenting of prevention includes vastly different ideas and priorities with each parent.  For example, as much as I love buying grotesquely large televisions, I don’t want it to be an annual event.  So I’ve been begging Nita to keep Connor away from our TVs, knowing one day I’ll eventually find “Connor” written in sharpie or worse etched on the screen.  She doesn’t share the same anxiety.  And when Connor “discovered” his penis this year, Nita said, “give him a toy during diaper changes so he won’t touch it.”  I said, “I hate to break it to you babe, but this isn’t a ‘phase.’ This one is going to stick forever.”  She said, “No, jack-hole, he’ll get pink eye.”  I didn’t believe her…he got pink eye.  But she still needs to keep him away from the electronics.

 

Finding out the sex.  If you remember with Connor we did the dessert plate after a nice dinner to find out.  For this one, we thought, “how can we top this?”  So we rented a luxury box at the Dell diamond baseball stadium for a game.  We invited 20 friends to share food and drinks with us, and convinced the Express front office to do a “boy-girl” dot race.  Yes, 20 friends and 1500 strangers watched a blue dot and a pink dot race on the big screen while Nita and I watched to see whether Connor would have a brother or a sister.  It was pretty fantastic.  For the video: http://connormartinez.multiply.com/video/item/87/Sex_and_Baseball_short_version.

Connor starts preschool at Hope.  We started preschool for Connor this year to ease him into socialization with other small children before we had a new permanent guest.  That went really well.  His teachers say he’s great, they all love him and he plays well.  He’s even started the lunch bunch program where we pack him a lunch and he stays to play another hour.  When he discovered Josie was never leaving, he (so far) seems okay with it. For his birthday they had a little chapel service, where he wore a little crown he was quite proud of.  He then got to pick from the birthday bag.  We were so proud he picked a book, and happier still he didn’t choose the play-doh that we’d eventually be cutting out of the carpet.

ManCave.  One fine evening while on the phone with Pete watching GSP in ultimate fighting Nita walked into the family room and said, “Keep it down, the baby is sleeping.”  I said, “Connor has a humidifier and a sound machine, he can’t hear anything.”  She responded, “Well I can hear you and I’m pregnant!” (Trump card.)  I said, “bull-@#$%, I need a man cave.”  So I made a few calls, took some pictures of my pool table and sold it on Craig’s list to some rednecks from Gonzales.  (Funny story but too long for the letter).  I then called an AV company about converting my game room to a man cave.  Now we have a movie screen, a high definition projector, Blue-ray, and a Wii.  Game day will never be the same, and date nights are pretty fun.  We put the kids to bed and can eat, drink, and even pause to pee without missing a beat.  Try that at the drafthouse.  Now I’m on my own side of the house with the bar and a full bathroom.  It’s been great during the early new baby days.  While Connor, Josie and Nita are all napping I can still catch the game with the volume on.  We also had them come back and install a video surveillance system around the house (and I bought a paint ball sniper rifle).  This year we’re going to catch those jerky kids who vandalize our nativity scene every year.  They may or may not leave the same color they arrived this year, and either way, there will be a video.

Happy October Birthday Connor. We had a full petting zoo for Connor’s birthday again this year, only a month early.  Since Josephine was due on Nov 10, and it would be insane to bring 30 snotty nosed kids to the house with a 10 day old, we did it early.  In any case, a year older Connor had a huge time.  He loved the pony ride, holding the bunnies and pigs, feeding the chickens, geese, and ducks, just fun for all.  He even tried to drink from the bottle used for the goats, luckily mom stopped him just short of his first drink.  There are some great pictures on the website and all the kids really did have a fun time.  I can see us doing this every year with both of them until one asks why “blank’s stupid friends have to come.”  This year Connor actually took a nap after he inhaled his cake.  Connor has zoned in on his likes.  He loves trains, cars, trucks, animals and if it has wheels, he’s going to push it.  Even Josie’s mobile incubator crib at the hospital.  It goes much faster down a hall than you would expect.

Thanksgiving.  What a whirl-wind week this was.  For the first time since I got out of College A&M was favored over UT.  Also, the entire house got sick.  And I mean the entire house.  Connor woke us up Sunday November 21 around … for Pete we’ll call it 5:41.  Nita got upstairs just in time for Connor to throw up on her shoulder.  The good news was that Connor was over it by the next day.  Monday night around 1:30AM Nita said, “Marco help me up, I’m going to be sick.”  So I helped her up and got some Alka Seltzer for her.  I said, “This will settle your stomach.”  She reluctantly drank it.  She then said, “Can you look up ‘Alka Seltzer’ and ‘breastfeeding’ on the internet?  I remember seeing something about not doing it.”  At this point Josie woke up and started fussing for some milk.  So I called the triage after hours nurse service while reading about all the ways that Alka Seltzer will traumatize and kill your baby if you are pregnant or breastfeeding.  You know the internet is a funny thing isn’t it?  I just wish there was a “rational common sense” section that you could check first before the CYA trial lawyers site pops up.  In any case, while attempting to settle Nita and waiting for the nurse to never call I had to grab Josie while Nita ran to go talk on the big white phone.  Nita had what Connor had.  And Josie got some of the effervescent in the breast milk.  So while Nita went back to sleep, I burped Josie for about an hour.  She’s fine by the way.  The next day was Tuesday and I started feeling a little sour in the stomach.  By 2pm I had it.  Thank goodness Mom was only a mile away, so we called to see if she could come and feed Connor while I just sat in man-cave and rested.  I even slept in the back bedroom to avoid a daisy chain of continual sickness and hopefully avoid giving it to little miss Josephine.  Wednesday, mom’s got it.  Yep, mom called and said I’m not sure about Thanksgiving at my house mijo, I’m sick.  Luckily we all knew she’d be gold in 24 hours.  But the crazy thing was Rio started looking ill.  Then he started throwing up.  We figured he’d snap out of it and start drinking water.  Last May he had a kidney issue, but there was no blood in his urine this time.  At the 4:AM feeding I got up with Nita to go check on him and he had urinated in the house and thrown up again.  So I took him to the after-hours clinic.  They started running a battery of tests and determined it might be a gall bladder issue.  The second organ failure in six months.  Rio was three months shy of his 15^th birthday, he was going deaf and blind.  On Thursday night, at halftime of the A&M v. Texas game, we got a call from the clinic that it was time to put him down.  Nita and I went to kiss him, say goodbye and tell him how much we loved him. We will miss him and remember all the fun things over the years. When we got there, he gave us that Beaches look like he’d been waiting for us to say goodbye.  The Aggie win didn’t taste quite as sweet this year.  But every year at halftime, I’ll always remember the best dog I ever had.  If you remember too, please drink a toast to Rio with me.

Connor started talking this year and he actually said “Rio Rio Rio” before he said Daddy.  He is still a little puzzled as to why all of a sudden now there is food underneath his high chair.  It was never there before, he’d drop food, but it would magically disappear.  Also the doggie door is permanently closed, Connor can’t sneak out of it any longer.  Luckily he can work the French doors and deadbolts, so he’s all set.  I also remember when Connor got mobile this year.  He would always look around the island to see if we were following him.  If he thought he could make it, he’d crawl as fast as he could towards the laundry room…home of Rio’s food bowl.  He would ALWAYS put a few bits in his mouth until one of us would run and swish them out.  He also loved playing in Rio’s water bowl.  Occam’s razor prevails.  One day while watching this, my mother grabbed a piece of Rio’s dry dog food and ate it.  Nita and I looked at each other in horror.  She then said, “It tastes a little like a graham cracker,” which of course Connor loves.  How simple, he’s not being mischievous he’s getting a cookie. Who would have thought to taste the dog food? 

Christmas has been pretty fun.  Connor has really embraced a few things.  Lights, man that boy loves him some Christmas lights.  Especially the Thomas Train display daddy put in the front yard.  He wants it on at all times. Marco went totally Griswold this year.  He even hired out folks to come and do the trees, the roof, the door, and driveway.  The electric company sent us a thank you card that included a picture and bio of the new employees we apparently funded with our continual use of lights.  He also started singing both Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman in a way only a two year old can sing it.  Really adorable, in fact, if we can get him to do it on video we’ll put it on the website.  But it has certainly made car rides and trips to see the lights a hoot.  He also never tires of the old Jimmy Durante Frosty video.  Never.  Oh, and Marco is on a Christmas crusade against political correctness.  When the photographer for the Christmas card asked “Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” Marco said, “Christmas!  If you send me a Hanukkah or Kwanzaa card, I’m not going to rip it up and throw it in your face and say I’m offended, I’m going to thank you for your thoughts during the season.  So if you get offended at the word ‘Christmas,’ I don’t care.”  I wished he’d have just said “Christmas please” but you know Marco.

Josie sets a long distance poop record.  At about three weeks old, Nita was changing little miss Josephine. I was summoned to the study where our changing table was located.  Nita said, “Honey, this is kind of disgusting…but you have to see this.”  Josie had caught Nita reaching for another wipe when she let loose her little poop cannon.  We stopped short of an actual distance measurement.  But let’s just say if you are in our study and you are looking at the globe, don’t put your finger on Istanbul you’ll get pink eye.  Speaking of poop, Connor went 1 year 322 days without pooping in the tub.  Then he did it twice in a week.  Don’t you just love the smell of Clorox in the bathtub?

Marco’s freakish need for airline status.  Next time you see him ask about his trip to New York before Christmas, his one hour trip.  Yep, Marco needed 3000 more miles to qualify for Platinum status, so he flew to JFK, and an hour later he flew back home.  I can’t be too upset; when we travel it’s all VIP. But really? One hour?

May God bless you and your family.  May He give you the strength and courage to overcome any obstacle in your lives.  We hope you had as much fun as we did last year and even more next year.  May you remember only the good things from those you lose.  We hope only kindness and blessings are bestowed upon your families.  May your coffers swell and your smiles exceed your frowns 100 fold.  Merry Christmas, from Marco, Nita, Connor, and Josephine. (Would you have gotten it if I’d have signed it brown, red, red, brown?) J