If you fail to plan, plan to fail

If you fail to plan, plan to fail

My dad and probably most of the great coaches you ever had have uttered those exact eight words.  They are simple, obvious, and so underutilized. How many folks do you know that just go through life simply hoping for the best?  How many kids when you were young dialed it in and figured they’d “do okay” on the test? Preparation is the key to almost everything.  Clearly you can’t prepare for any and every possibility, but you can, in fact, get the big rock stuff (rocks in a jar) more or less squared away.

I changed financial advisors about 11 years ago when we watched almost 30 percent of our assets take a dump.  We moved to a new guy who was a member of our golf club.  His book was comprised of mostly older folks but he made one very big impression on me.  He said, “Marco, on the investment side there isn’t much I can do for you that any other broker couldn’t also do. I don’t have a crystal ball.  But, because of my experience, I know how to handle probate, social security, and any other issues that might come up in the event of a tragedy.  I have helped countless people who were left floundering after a negative life event.  I promise that should anything befall you or Nita, I will prove why you chose me.”

I just had a meeting with him Wednesday afternoon and he was right.  He has been an avid blog follower and has been managing our stuff for a while.  In fact it was he that proposed I purchase life insurance outside of my employment.  He said, “You may not work there forever.”  Imagine if I had declined?

The numbers aren’t as high as they once were, because we’d been subsidizing my lost salary since last May, but he had a multi-step plan for Nita and the kids for when the time came.  He offered to stand in line with Nita at the Social Security office and help her through probate (although our wills are sound and were very generously discounted by a lawyer in my Aggie Yell group).  Parlay that with the amazing gift of a college trust offered by one of our dear friends and things are looking good financially for them.  There are two more pieces, one I cannot mention yet, but the other is the auction raffle.  We funded the wedding for Josephine and honeymoon for Connor accounts and with 20 years of growth (or more), those should turn out very nice for them.

So I came out of the meeting feeling pretty blessed.  I don’t know what my future holds and I’m sure the family would rather have me around, but I feel very much at peace knowing they will not be selling pencils or chiclets on the corner, noble a profession as those may be.  And I looked back and asked myself if I had honored my father’s words on what it takes to be a good man, good husband, and good father and I can honestly say I did okay.  I obviously made a ton of mistakes and did and said some really stupid things, but all in all, I give myself a strong B. 

I feel a little bad about baseball this year.  The commissioner keeps asking for volunteers to be head coaches, but I simply cannot commit.  I have NO idea what my travel or chemo schedule might be, or worse (we’ll get to that). I would love nothing more than to get out there and continue to teach these kids the fundamentals of baseball, being good sportsmen, good teammates, and good mechanics.  But I cannot guarantee that I’ll be available for any practice or game, much less all of them.

So here is what my dance card looks like.  On Feb 13, my buddy Lance will drive me to MDA for my EKG, anesthesia intake, and bloodwork.  On Valentine’s Day, I’ll be having the surgery.  The interventional radiology team will go up through my groin area and into my spleen.  There they will choke off a few arteries that feed the spleen to effectively kill a portion of it.  The goal is for the spleen to stop cannibalizing my platelets so they’ll rise above 100,000.  Luckily the recovery is supposed to be short but painful.  Work drugs work!  I think I’ll stay one or two days in the hospital, then they’ll release me home.  The following Monday, Feb 20, I’ll have to hump it back to MDA for bloodwork and follow up. My chauffer will be a wonderful friend from way back who I met in the political world. (I don’t have permission to use her name – will let you know if she’s okay with it). This should be a day trip, but the bloodwork will let us know if we’re over the 100K mark or not.  If that is the case, then we can start getting trials moving.  Leaving a better than average chance that I’ll be heading back to MDA the following week.

My oncology team here in Austin mercifully decided, with surgery so close, to suspend chemo until we can get a trial or see if the surgery works.  I am still feeling side effects and severe neuropathy, but nothing like it could be.  I saw a funny thing from a friend and have made mention of this before but it was referring to the fact that chemotherapy is in fact poison.  And it is.  One of the first jokes I ever heard in the oncology ward was, “if the cancer don’t kill ya the chemo will.”  And I believe it. By the way, for any of you acid reflux sufferers due to chemotherapy out there…if you still drink coffee – put honey in it.  It cuts the acidity and won’t make you gag.  You’re welcome.

Meanwhile speaking of dancing…last weekend was also the daddy-daughter dance.  Josephine’s two best friends (and a little sister) were also at the dance and we all had a wonderful time.  There was a lot more running around than dancing this year, but it was very sweet and I loved holding my sweet little princess and spinning and dipping her on the dance floor.  This I know I will miss.  I still get misty-eyed knowing that someone else will have her wedding dance in my place. I do hope that I get to watch from whichever landing spot in the beyond I may end up.

So back to sports, Connor did well enough in basketball last weekend that he earned the “MVP socks” (yes, they are clean). Tomorrow will be his last game and after we’ll have a little party.  After the party, Connor has baseball tryouts.  We’ve been doing a little practice around the house and might have a tryout simulation after school today.  Josie is just looking forward to hearing on which team she’ll be placed.  She loves the names of the teams and animals.  But as girly as that sounds, she has decided she wants to play “boy baseball” not softball.  My girl. They have both improved so much over last year. 

I’m mildly concerned about my ability to help in coach pitch.  The neuropathy in my fingers has taken a modicum of control off of my game.  I used to be a pretty pin point accuracy guy, now I’m more in a general range type of category.  I think I’ll still do fine (depending on what trial drug they give me) but we’ll have to see won’t we.  When the time comes, this is one of the things I think I will miss the most.  Watching them develop as athletes, or deciding it isn’t for them, either way.  The ride would have been nice to observe. 

I started making my top ten lists and writing birthday and anniversary letters.  I needed to go downstairs for another box of Kleenex.  Goodness, that was not easy.  But at least it will prepare me for the video so hopefully I won’t fall to pieces on that.  I hope these are received in as loving and helpful a manner as I intend them to be.  I don’t want them to be weird or spooky and it’s tough to predict what they will be up to or into, but we can all count on teenagers to be teenagers can’t we?  So those letters will hopefully resonate and maybe I’ll still have some stroke in the family to help keep the peace.

So the question on everyone’s mind.  What if?  I hear you.  What if the surgery doesn’t help? Then we take the containment drugs and run out the clock.  What if the surgery works and the trial drugs kill you?  Well that would be ironic and suck wouldn’t it?  But it is certainly a possibility.  What if the surgery works and the trial drugs cure you?  Wouldn’t that be a peach?  I would hope that I haven’t worn out my welcome and that there would be more rejoicing than those who are just reading along until the coup de gras.  The next two weeks will certainly be life changing (no pun intended – okay maybe a little) and will determine how the rest of the spring plays out. 

I’m still balancing in my mind what an acceptable time-away commitment is for this endeavor.  I haven’t found an answer yet.  Day trips I can live with for sure.  A couple of nights per month, maybe even per week are still tolerable.  But where is the fulcrum? At what point do I say, “Nope, I’d rather ride it out with my family than live at MDA as a lab gerbil on the hope that while figuring out dosages they accidentally gave me a life curing medicine?”  I do not know this answer.  I will pray for guidance and hope the answers are obvious when the time comes.

I’ve received two offers to come speak to classes.  One is a high school aged class and the other is college.  After my surgery, time permitting, I think I’ll hop on down to San Antonio and give these talks.  I still need to finish the book editing, but it is coming along nicely.  Goals and timelines certainly seem more urgent now.  I’m okay with that, I’m pretty good on a deadline.

So here we go campers. We can hope for the best, plan for the worst, or anything in between.  All I can say is that I have done my best to prepare myself, my family, and hopefully my friends for what may be coming.  I am at peace and I hope you are too.  Do not confuse satisfaction in preparation with giving up.  They are mutually exclusive.  I do not intend to give up this fight until I cannot go another round.  There are some circumstances in which the fight doesn’t make sense, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there…but we’re planning for it anyway.  So I hope you fine folks have your wills in order, your plans are set, and may you never need them.  God bless you.  Team Marco.