All I do is win

All I do is win…

Okay, so a hokey title but stick with me here.  First, this is a chemo week.  Instead of my 12^th full bore treatment, the doctors at MDA and Texas Oncology both recommended switching to maintenance medication protocol.  That means eliminating two really toxic portions and an hour and a half less in the chair.  I still have to take the Avastin and the 5FU both of which are unkind to normal cells.  I am sure there was still some residual stuff in my system because although it wasn’t crippling, it was still unpleasant.  That and I still had my trusty pump for three days.  The results were good, relatively speaking.  First, I wasn’t nearly as nauseous. I still had to take the anti-nausea drugs, but not as much.  The “freshly poisoned” feeling was very faint.  I only had to take one Imodium per day (although I may have to kick this up a unit).  It may not sound like a major victory, but trust me it is.  (I should have spelled butt with two “ts” don’t you think?).  My mouth thrush was very light and I only needed a few swish and swallow treatments.  I still had that metallic taste in my mouth, but you can’t have everything can you?

I’ve been fussing at Nita for letting Connor play with her iPhone.  On Monday on his way home from school, Connor texted me a voice message.  It was almost a full minute of “I love you, you’re the best dad, etc.”  It was wonderful.  I felt inspired and fired up Windows movie maker and put together a slide show.  As is my normal MO I, of course, got carried away and it turned into a 10 minute tribute to my family with three songs, half of Connor’s voice memo, and the pictures timed with phrases in the songs.  If you are interested and have 10 minutes to kill, here you go.  Hopefully this will come across as positive, but this video will maybe be a nice thing for the kids to watch later…maybe even with their kids someday.  I’ll do another one or two with me saying a few things so (as noted in a previous blog) they’ll have a voice to match and remember.

Connor has made some big strides this week.  His schoolwork has been fantastic, his attitude has been amazing, and his love obvious.  We had a really in-depth cancer talk Tuesday at dinner.  Of course on chemo week I have a pump which is both visible and audible, thus hard to ignore.  He said, “Dad, if I get cancer, I will be tough like you are.”  What I wouldn’t do to make sure that never happened.  In fact it is making me tear up just writing this, real tough huh?   So we talked about it and it was the most he’s spoken about it in, well, ever.  Josie then said, “Dad I wish I could get the cancer instead of you.”  I begged her to never utter that phrase again and we changed the subject. 

 

A friend brought Connor some cow bones to dig up

Josie had baseball practice later that night and I couldn’t attend (pump).  When Nita brought her home she said that Josie took a bad hop off the leg and had to sit out a few minutes.  Josie then explained to me that she didn’t want to go back in, but a voice in her head told her to go back on the field.  The next night was game day.  While we were putting on her uniform, you could very easily see her fresh baseball shaped bruise on her leg.  We talked about baseball not being her favorite sport, but that Martinez’ don’t quit.  We then went outside and took a little batting practice before dinner.  Later at the game she got two hits, and RBI and scored a run.  While playing third base a ball was hit to her and although she didn’t field it, she didn’t shy away or move away from the ball.  She stood right in front of it.  After the game I told her how proud I was of her and she announced that she didn’t quit.  Another kid on her team started saying, “I quit, I quit” to which Josie responded, “Other families might quit, but Martinez’ don’t.  Right dad?!”  That is exactly right my love!  My girl!  It’s all coming together.

I stayed up Tuesday night because I couldn’t stop watching Pitch Perfect 2.  Don’t judge me!  It was hilarious and I remember seeing it with my best friend and our wives.  It was actually funny because Pete and I sat together and our wives sat together, truth be told, we dragged them along to the show.  We originally saw this in the theater well before the cancer presented itself.  There were a few songs that have since become more relevant  Two of which are: “Live like you are dying” and “All I do is win.”  Plus it’s a fun movie about some underdogs doing the unlikely and finding a way to win.

For anyone following me or March Madness or basically not living under a rock, you have to know by now the Texas A&M Aggies own the greatest basketball comeback in NCAA history…in any capacity.  Down 12 with 44 seconds left, they came back and shocked the basketball world last Sunday. It was nothing short of miraculous.  A win for the ages.  And to the consternation of some that last 44 seconds will forever be replayed in every NCAA tournament for the rest of time.  It will most likely play in a loop along with the Christian Laettner shot.  They did more than win a game, they etched themselves into borderline immortality.  And after all, aren’t we all trying to leave a legacy of some sort?  Even with the exit on Thursday, that record may never be broken.

I’ve had a full week now to digest the results from last week’s scan.  I probably expected too much and didn’t really allow the amazing news to truly sink in. I finally see what an amazing gift I was given.  A full stall on the cancer’s progression.  Significant reduction in the size and density of the tumors.  A go-to protocol that my body can mostly tolerate to destroy the cancer.  A break from the poison that was wrecking my white blood cells and bone marrow.  Finally, more obvious as I was making my video, more time with my amazing family and friends.  In the movie Meet Joe Black, Anthony Hopkins was visited by Death.  Death was curious and decided to stick around a few extra days instead of taking Mr. Hopkins with him on his designated day.  Anthony, though somewhat frustrated with all the conditions, did realize that he was given the very precious commodity of time to be with his family a bit longer.  He was a media mogul with zillions in assets, but found that his family was really his greatest possession.  As we celebrate Holy Week I am reminded of the conversation I had with my priest a couple of weeks ago.  No matter what, I’m going to be okay.  I have done some pretty amazing things in my life, have asked forgiveness for my sins, and forgiven those who have and haven’t asked it of me.  My fare was paid 2000 years ago almost to the week.  So my job is to enjoy life, love my wife and children fiercely, and rack up some quality experiences with my friends and family.  If the remission comes later on, well, that just extends the party.  Happy Easter and God bless.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com

The dream where you skipped class all year…

The dream where you skipped class all year…

Remember that dream where you get your finals schedule and you forgot to drop that class but you show up anyway?  Or a better analogy remember that feeling where you kind of dialed it in for a test or presentation, didn’t really prepare, but figured you’d do okay anyway?  Then you get the results and you pretty much get what you deserved, but mentally hoped or thought it might turn out better?  It’s kind of like that.  I have everything for which to be thankful, and I’m fully back on the positive vibe now.  But I can say with all candor that there was a part of me that was hoping for even better results.  Is that greedy? 

My whole family came with me to Houston this week for my MD Anderson tests.  They didn’t actually go with me for the testing, they went to the Museum of Natural Science and broke a door (more later).  I did the testing solo and the more I replay it all in my mind it was a fantastic visit.  First there is a new computer system at MDA.  Things are a little different and everyone is still getting acclimated to it.  But my phlebotomist (blood test nurse) was a total pro and nailed the vein like a sniper.  Perfect stick.  When you get stuck as much as I do, you start to judge and grade these things.  The CT scan phlebotomist also hit my other arm like a pro.  This was so they could inject the contrast radioactive dye.  Another bullseye.  The intake tech at the CT imagining center was amazing.  Turns out she had colon cancer, was in a coma for 40 days, is a devout Catholic and according to her “started her new life” six years ago.  I think we spent more time visiting than completing the paperwork.  She was very insistent that we only expect great news, and not allow even a modicum of doubt, “Don’t give the devil an inch brother!”

The butterfly whisperer
 

While I was doing this testing Nita called to inform me she had left her wallet in the car.  I took the car instead of a cab because after my tests I was going to visit a customer (that’s just how I roll).  Anyway, she and my daughter scraped up 11 dollars from my old backpack and hailed a cab to come meet me at MDA.  After a $19 cab ride, she apologized and swore she’d pay the driver back (which she did and then some – made his day).  Before she got in the cab, the condo my friend’s boss lets us use has a squirrelly door lock.  You have to jiggle the key to get it out of the lock.  Nita was in a hurry and frustrated so she succumbed to Connor’s continuous looping offer to help…and he broke the lock.  The family shows up at MDA for the hand off just as I wrap up.  So I offer to take them to the children’s museum.  Did anyone else know the Houston rodeo was in town?  I had 2 hours to go the 5 miles to the condo, change into presentation clothing, then drive to Aldine about 18 miles away.  I barely made it.  It literally took 30 minutes to go 1.4 miles from MDA to a sight line to the museum.  I say sightline because I finally gave in and allowed them to just exit the car in traffic (safely) to walk to the museum.  It then took another 20 minutes to go the remaining 3 miles to the condo.  Meanwhile my lunch was just sitting in the passenger seat.  I ate quickly and made it to my meeting and back.

That night we went to my wife’s uncle’s Italian restaurant.  Most of the family came and we had a great time. We laughed, ate, told stories, ate, talked about the tests and expectations, ate, explored the garden, and ate.  Josie was way out of bullets and Connor discovered the mint bowl around 9PM and frankly I was tired too.  It was time to leave, which is borderline offensive at an Italian gathering.  Additionally, Nita took the kids swimming on the rooftop pool before dinner so they were pretty tired.  And I was anxious! I was ready to sleep, wake up and get to MDA the next day to get my test results back.  Another nice treat was one of my baseball ex-college roommates volunteered to meet and sit with me while I was waiting for my appointment.  I showed up early to check in, then grab a coffee with my brother (about the time the locksmith finally called back to come fix the door).  The MDA receptionist said I couldn’t leave the waiting are, in case someone cancelled I had to be there.  So I cancelled my check in to keep my commitment. We joked about the old times, and parenting.  He has a new 18 month old and we both had a ton of stories to tell.  We then walked over to my wing, checked in and we shared a final hug when they called me back. 

As you can imagine, I was on pins and needles at this point.  I’m almost preparing to hear the words “cancer free” or “remission.”  I mean my CEA scores indicated that it was not out of the realm of possibility and might even be likely.  But it was not to be.  I had two doctors this time.  They both told me two very important things: 1. there was nothing in my test results that should be taken as negative; 2. I needed to remember that I had metastatic stage four cancer and there is no cure.  The second point was something they told me on day one.  I knew it, accepted it, and used it as bulletin board material for my fight. As excited as I was about my scores, I suppose I allowed it to drift away from me.  Sort of like shopping for mansions when you buy a ticket for a Billion dollar lottery.  You don’t think it’s likely…but there is chance.  But the odds are about the same.  Yes it can happen, someone has to win, but one must use care in pinning one’s hopes to a cure.  Back to the first point, I really did get great news.  My cancer is shrinking.   The drug protocol is working.  My tumors are getting smaller and some have gone completely.  There is no new growth.  Further, I would be able to go on a maintenance protocol.  I still have to get the pump every two weeks, but the Irinotecan would be dropped.  That is the most toxic (I think) and will give my body a little bit of a break during the routine. These are wonderful test results! 

While we were visiting, my old roommate and I spoke about religion, faith, mental toughness, and the fight.  If you remember from a few months back, this was the guy who was given a 10% chance to live, and there we were.  His wife became a believer during his return to health.  We both concurred that having that fight in you is what helps your body, mind, and spirit use the medicine to work more effectively.  That and faith, if you don’t believe, you can’t achieve.  I’m sure you’ve all heard it a million times, but I do believe, and the power of prayer has done more for me than you can imagine.  Again, believe or don’t, it won’t change my mind on this one. I’m good.  I’ve had too many great things happen in a row for it to be coincidence.  I’m in a positive place.  In fact during the initial assessment and intake stage of day two they asked me questions like: How is your nausea? What is your pain level? Any depression? Do you feel like hurting yourself? Have you ever thought about throwing your toaster in with your bath?  And my answer came from a friend who is living a better life because of my situation.  The answer is, “I’ve never been happier and I’ve never felt closer to my family.  I live like I am dying.”  Thanks Pete.  Another old friend said he got a colonoscopy because of me and they removed a couple of polyps.  He then mentioned that it shaved two strokes off his golf game, but this guy is a real comedian. Really.  Glad you did it Rodney.  Finally, we took the family up to the club for the St. Patrick's day party on Thursday.  I was quickly reminded how many people are fighting alongside me, praying for me, and generally willing to do anything to help.  It was exactly what I needed.

Left is from December; Right is from Tuesday March 15.  Bones are "lighting up" because of the WBC boost shots

The doctors went over my results and showed the improvements on the scans.  I very patiently listened as they showed the tumor sizes and numbers in my liver and lungs.  To describe what it looks like, picture a painter who dips a brush into the paint and then flicks it on the canvass. That’s what it looks like.  And when you really think about it back to that first day when it may have just been “appendicitis,” they didn’t just “notice” a couple of lesions on my lungs.  It must have looked like a black light in Charlie Sheen’s house. So realistically, I have known all along, and it was silly of me to visualize skipping out of the building with my “I’m cured” t-shirt.  I knew better, or should have known better.  I did ask about the possibility of remission and the head doctor said that realistically there was a four to five percent chance, but the fact that my body was responding so well was still fantastic news. You know what? I’ve been an over-achiever my entire life.  I’m not afraid of 5%.  I have no problem living in the 95^th percentile. None whatsoever. I’ve done it all of my life.  So if there is a five percent chance…that’s good enough for me.  Thank you all for your love and support.  Let’s win this! TeamMarco@austin.rr.com

Great Expectations

Great Expectations

Another chemo week down. That makes 11.  Speaking of 11, today (March 11) is the anniversary of my father’s passing. It was exactly 20 years ago.  It’s hard to believe it has been that long.  I still have dreams about him at times and I can hear his voice, see his face, etc.  I converted some VHS tapes to DVD a few years ago and there are a few videos of him and that helps keep his voice fresh in my head.  While flipping channels the other night Field of Dreams was on, and it is still impossible not to cry when he has a catch with his dad at the end.  Sometimes I wish my kids could have seen me play.  I also wish my dad were here to play catch with Connor too. I project and internalize this scene more than ever now.

Connor and I were outside working on his hitting last weekend.  We were using wiffle balls and finally after a LOT of cuts (swings) he got the hang of it.  He went from asking if we could go inside to asking if he could stay out and hit another bag.  Of course I was ecstatic. I even picked him up and spun him around.  Apparently the scene I made was pretty big because just as I put him down some older boys in the neighborhood (who happened to be playing a wiffle ball game of their own) called over to Connor and asked if he wanted to play in their game.  Connor excitedly ran over to join and of course my pride was bursting at the seams.  He is such a sweet boy and one of his teammates gave him a little guff at their game the other day.  I felt a little bad for him and I hope this little bump in his skills enables him to contribute a little more, but in all honesty as long as he is having fun, and doing his best…I don’t care.

Josie has gone guardrail to guardrail on me.  One day she wants to quit baseball all together and then just Thursday comes into my office and declares that she’d like to be the best player on her team.  She then asked if I could help her.  Well, gee, let me check my schedule sweetie, have your people call my people.  Hell YES I can help her. Let’s see how long this holds up.  Perhaps she’s seeing the attention Connor is getting while trying to improve and she wants a piece of the action.  Either way, everyone wins.

Peyton Manning retired this week.  He had a pretty moving retirement speech and showed a lot of emotion and class.  The sure thing first ballot hall of famer showed how much respect he had for the game and for his peers.  He also spoke about not taking things for granted, how the moments you think you are cherishing are fleeting.  Another good reminder I suppose, kind of like the old saying “you can’t put your hand in the same river twice.”  Everything changes, time keeps rolling by and you can’t get those moments back.  Gotta make the memories while you can.

Have I mentioned how much chemo sucks?  This was another “on” week and it was miserable.  The poison feeling made it hard to sleep on Monday night and Tuesday wasn’t much better.  Then on Wednesday it settled into my bowls.  Not even Imodium could keep it completely under wraps.  Also, it was probably not the best time to crave and eat jalapeno biscuits and gravy.  Just saying.  And if those weren’t enough, the mouth issues came back, but luckily I had my trusty bottle of Constanzi’s compound in the fridge to help with the symptoms.  By that time, however, it’s almost too late.  You just have to sit there and wait for those things to work.  I guess in my excitement about my test scores I didn’t stay ahead of my preventative treatments.  I have to remember that even though the numbers look positive, I’m still injecting poison into my body.  And it has a cumulative effect, I should know better by now.  A funny occurrence this week.  Josie was bitten by an ant and was showing off her ant bite, making me promise not to pop it.  She said, “Dad, it hurts but probably not as much as cancer right?”  “Well, probably not sweetheart, but your ant bite is just as important to me.”

I’m both nervous and really looking forward to my trip to MD Anderson next week.  I hope that my blood test results correlate to the scan results or it’ll be somewhat of a gut punch.  My CEA score was up to 2.3, but it is still below 3 which is “normal,” but the uptick is making me nervous.  Everyone is dealing with the anxiety a little differently. Josie as stated is comparing everything to cancer.  Connor for the first time ever voluntarily spoke about my cancer to his teacher, informing her that we were going to Houston to get “dad tested, you know my dad has cancer right?”  Nita is rearranging the deck chairs so to speak.  She is releasing nervous energy by cleaning out toy closets, my valet (where I keep my watch, keys, wallet, etc. not a human servant), and various rooms and stations around the house.  Who can blame her, we're all a bit anxious about the results.

I even had a discussion with my priest about faith, doubt, and being practical.  Apparently Father Bill is also following the blog and stated that my pragmatism was obvious and preparing for bad news doesn’t remove optimism or faith from the equation.  We discussed milestones, goals for the kids, and what I would consider a “long” life…fruitful and amazing have already been taken care of.  We spoke more about it, but I’ll conclude with the exciting part.  He is traveling to Mexico next week and the same day I’m getting my scans he’ll be celebrating a mass in the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe (big deal if you are a Catholic).  He promised to say a special prayer for me as well.  Talk about pulling out the big guns.  With all that, and all of you, what do I have to worry about?  Wednesday I’ll get my results and next week’s blog will hopefully have some really good news. 

It would be hard to diminish how many good things I have experienced over the last seven months.  First, I made it past the six month marker.  I’m not sure if all of you remember, but I was told in the beginning that my cancer, at my stage, a few years ago…well, six months would have been the number.  So we eclipsed that milestone a couple of weeks ago.  It actually occurred the same day as my best friend’s birthday dinner.  The reason for no fanfare was I didn’t want to squat on his day.  Second, I’ve grown much closer to my family and friends.  I don’t take nearly as much for granted and I certainly cherish both the simple and the special moments.  In fact, some of the simple moments are the most special aren’t they?  Finally, the support network that has sprung up and rallied around me is sincerely humbling.  I do not say lightly that you have helped me in this fight.  I cannot articulate how much it has meant knowing so many prayers, thoughts, and actions have been directed toward me and my family over the last seven months.  Thank you and God bless you all.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com

 

Watching Over You

Watching Over You

We all remember the children’s song God is Watching Over You, right?  Or maybe it is still fresh in my mind because I still have one child in a Christian pre-kinder class and I hear it… a lot.  A few weeks ago I wrote about the extremely impactful nudges we get in our lives that we acknowledge (who knows how many we ignore or just don’t see).  There are millions of things going on in life that shape our mood, impact our relationships, and the choices we make.  If you are looking for the lesson, it is usually right there and obvious.  If not, like history, it is destined to repeat itself.

Tuesday night was one of what I call lottery nights.  For those of us stupid enough to buy lottery tickets on occasion and then parlay that with a prayer to actually win, sometimes that prayer is actually answered…if you know where to look.  My daughter Josephine is extremely intelligent and articulate for a five year old.  I’m not trying to brag (every parent thinks their child is the next great *fill in historical figure*) but she has cognitive abilities that far exceed her age.  She is very in tune with my cancer and asks very specific and relevant questions.  She also knows how to articulate her feelings as opposed to the “I don’t know” kids. 

This weekend was a baseball weekend.  Saturday was a two hour clinic for Connor, more on him later.  Then each child had a practice game on Sunday.  The games overlapped and since I’m helping coach both, I had to leave Connor’s coach pitch game and go help Josie’s tee ball team.  For a tee ball team we have a pretty solid bunch.  The kids are eager, pay attention, and are having fun…except for Josie.  She is not having fun.  She made the only out as a batter on our team.  After the game she said she wanted to quit.  I asked her why and (ready for this) she said, “Dad, I’m not having any fun.  I don’t like the running or the throwing.  I think maybe I only joined baseball because you like baseball.  So I probably only did it for you.  But I don’t want to play anymore, it’s just not fun for me.”  Wow.  Where do you go from there?  So we talked about the importance of trying different things and sticking things out, etc. The result was a concession that she’d give it ONE more practice to see if she would like it, but was fairly certain that she would not.  Plus there was a lot of negative baseball energy in the house (more later).

So Tuesday rolls around and all the kids are there at practice and we break them up in to small groups for drills.  Josie does not catch well, does not throw well, can run well but doesn’t during baseball, and she’s not a strong hitter.  It’s her very first year and frankly I’m shocked at her regression since we’ve been playing toss and catch for the last three years around the house.  In any case at the end of practice we did a light scrimmage with kids at positions, hitting, and running the bases.  Josie happened to be playing second base when our biggest hitter came up.  He hits the ball so hard that if you aren’t paying attention you’ll be going to the dentist for new chicklets. So this boy absolutely mashes a frozen rope right at Josie.  It was on her in less than a second…and she puts her glove down and stopped the ball cold, right in the sweet spot of the pocket. One inch higher, it hits the heel and she gets a wrist stinger; three inches left and it rockets off her shin and she cries for 10 minutes; a bad hop and she takes it off the chin with who knows how much blood depending on where her teeth, lips, and tongue were at impact.  It was truly a bang-bang play.  The kids on the team went insane and the coaches also joined in.  I went absolutely ape shit and ran over to her to give her a high five, I figured picking her up and spinning her around might be a bit over the top (but I was thinking it).  You couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.  We then went to dinner with my mom and Josie was talking about her catch and how maybe she shouldn’t quit because the team “needs her.”  Coincidence?  If you want to think so, sure.  If you know where to look, it’s a micro-miracle.  To have a person on the verge of quitting then make an impossible play (99% of all tee ballers in the world do not make that play), that completely changes their attitude, and decide they are in it for the season now…sure happens all the time.  Daddy wins the lottery.

Back to Saturday.  Connor did a baseball clinic and afterwards said it was the most fun he’s ever had playing baseball.  As stated weeks ago, he’s the worst player on our team.  But he’s having fun and we’re trying to get better.  There are issues that prevent him from making long strides developmentally, but again, he’s having fun and he’s loving baseball.  So Sunday we arrived a little early to do some work in the cage and I was the pitcher for our team in coach pitch.  Our team did okay the first time through the line-up and then I had to run to another field for Josie’s game.  My wife Nita stayed behind and watched Connor’s game from the stands.  The next time around apparently the kids were making fun of Connor and laughing at him.  Another coach stopped it and then they started chanting for him (not much better really).  But here is the thing, Connor doesn’t get embarrassed and he doesn’t understand people (other than his sister) mocking him.  He just doesn’t process that people are being mean to him.  He also doesn’t show or express pain, frustration, or anguish with failure.  He is just a little boy playing a game and having fun.  Sometimes you hit the ball, sometimes you don’t.  What a lesson we could learn from him huh?  So Nita was in tears and was thinking maybe we pull him out of it to save him from the ragging (and to be honest he’s a red head, this will not be the last time he gets some ribbing, it’s all part of my BJJ/Wrestling strategy as well – but that is another blog).  I then had to explain that it’s actually part of the game, but usually reserved for the better players on the opposing team at higher levels.  My explanation didn’t really make a dent.  But the best part was Connor.  I asked him what he thought of the game and he said it was fun.  He enjoyed playing and being out there with ME.  Not one mention of the teasing.  I’m going to talk to the team about what it means to be a good teammate and how making your teammates better will help later in life, blah blah blah.  But the miracle is this amazingly sweet boy didn’t even have a kink in his emotional armor.  He took the ribbing like any other grounder that might have come at him.  I didn’t know I could love him more than I already did.  Is it coincidence that his filter just kept this from bothering him?  And that he still loves this game?  Maybe, maybe not.

I know I show a lot of rainbow and unicorn stuff with our marriage, but like any other couple we’ve had our moments. There was one especially rough patch where I was really wondering about where we were and how we got there.  It wasn’t our finest time and it was tough as life threw us some external hardships right as we were managing a new baby.  Sure there is love and joy with a new child, but it completely changes the dynamic you once had.  You now have to balance your social calendar while removing the word “spontaneity” from your vocabulary.  There were also financial aspects and combined with job stress, etc….it was imposing to say the least.  So I was out playing golf and having a terrible round (this was back when I was a single digit handicapper).  I was chopping it up and playing with some pretty good guys so I was just getting slaughtered on the bets.  The golf course runs through our neighborhood and hole number 15 is close to my house so I decided to run home and make a quick bourbon roadie for the rest of the way in. As I was making my cocktail in the house I was just thinking about how unhappy I was.  As soon as I got back to the tee box I promptly made my first and only hole in one.  Well, I just went from the lowest low to the highest high.  I felt a warmth at that moment and a voice that told me to look for the positives in my life.  I looked at my house, life, new family and it changed my attitude.  Magically and suddenly, everything was okay.  Thank God, because what would I do without Nita in my life?  Or Connor every day?  What an idiot I was for even thinking the thoughts that were in my head (which shows that at times of weakness I need God more than ever). So, at that moment, in the depth of my self-inflicted despair, I happen to ace a golf shot.  Coincidence?  Maybe.

Thursday night was Connor’s first baseball game.  I had gotten fluids and a white blood cell booster shot earlier in the day.  So my bones were starting to ache a little by game time and my plantar fasciitis did not help.  I had to ice and put my brace on after the game.  A Hydro and an anti-inflammatory were also on the menu, and yes it was worth every minute.  But by some miracle for one and half hours, I didn’t feel bad at all. I pitched for our team and we played possibly the best team in the league.  Our team stood tall and we lost by one run.  Connor did not get a hit or have a ball hit to him.  Unlike other times, he didn’t ask if it was almost over or if we could go.  There was one inning where he didn’t play a position and we just sat on the bench together with my arm around him and joked about stuff. During one part he hopped up on the bench chair back and had his feet on the bench.  Where did he learn or see that? (For all my baseball guys out there, that is a veteran move isn’t it?) Every synapse and pain receptor melted away as I was 100% in the moment with my son.  My mother attended and while driving her home she stated that it reminded her of the hundreds of games she and my father attended over my life.  I too remember dad icing his arm and knees at times.  In fact when I was pitching at around 10 years old, I would have to throw 100 strikes before we could go in the house.  I became very accurate very quickly (yes it did destroy my arm, but that is the least of my concerns today, besides that was way before pitch counts and money ball).  Anyway, the key is what a great way to share my love with my son who is also loving the game.  I also have a new philosophy, “Coach on the field, Dad in the car.”  So there is zero negative feedback on the drive home or in the house.  We leave it on the field.

So it all comes back to attitude.  We have a choice in every situation.  The stimulus may be out of our control, but how we react is 100% our choice.  I won’t bore you with all the events that have happened since my dad gave me the laugh or cry about the same situation speech 41 years ago.  But suffice to say that the culmination of these events have helped me endure my cancer.  Those micro-miracles, God smacks, and nudges are the foundation which have allowed me to deal with my disease with confidence, hope, and dignity.  I do not feel sorry for myself and I hope I don’t come across as someone who seeks pity…because I don’t.  I’m also hoping that my strength and perseverance are lessons my children are learning, without even knowing it.  I love my family dearly and I know that I am loved by many.  We had a dinner with my best friends and wives Saturday night.  We laughed and told the same stories we’ve told a hundred times but they are still hilarious.  It was a birthday celebration and the date of the birthday happened to coincide with the day that my chemo finally “wore off” for the week.  So instead of being completely miserable or unable to attend; I was mostly at full speed and able to enjoy the food, the company, and endure a 3 hour meal.  Two days before and I may not have made it or I would have looked like a ghost.  The timing must have been purely coincidental right?

So there it is.  You can believe what you want.  I’m the luckiest guy and things just happen to fall in place at the right time.  Or you can believe that my blessings are not accidental and my acknowledgement of them perhaps open the door for more blessings.  Like Connor, it doesn’t bother me how you choose to interpret the events, not one bit.  I’m just happy playing the game and I know that God is watching over me, watching over me each day.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com