Traditions

Traditions

The Martinez family has a few family traditions some of which are integrated into those of our neighborhood.  I also went to a school that taught me the importance of maintaining traditions no matter what.  In fact, even after I transferred to Texas Lutheran, I took a few fellow baseball players with me to the very next Aggie Bonfire.  They constantly remind me what an amazing experience it was.  So they are important, they matter, and they do make impressions.  Now we don’t actually do anything to the magnitude of setting up four rows of logs with a crane and spraying them down with Jet A, but we do have some pretty neat things to discuss.

Last year was Connor’s first year to throw trees.  Our neighborhood does not have streetlights…except during Christmastime.  The lights are actual Christmas trees decorated with C9 lights.  Our HOA sells and delivers 650 Christmas trees each year to the neighborhood.  We start around 6:30AM using four trucks with flatbed trailers. About 20-30 guys, and 10-15 kids load up these trees and we drive around delivering to all that ordered one…no matter what the weather is like.  Some years you are in jeans and t-shirts, others in snow gear.  This year was high 30s, low 40s and clear, not too bad.  Instead of throwing, I was the navigator this year, checking off the boxes for the neighbors who did and didn’t order (I felt like Santa).  Connor had a blast in the back of the flatbed dragging trees to the front yard with two other kids.  It’s great to see all the neighbors come out and start putting up their tree that early in the morning, I love the spirit and how deeply they embrace the tradition.  Our hood goes pretty Griswold and it is a fun place to drive around during the season.

This year we put up our first live tree as a family.  We had previously used a pre-lit artificial tree and I actually set a record (personal) one year with complete set up in under 7 minutes, including the fluffing (now go wash your mind out with soap, you know who you are).  Because of the convenience of front steps delivery, we didn’t go cut our own tree, but just might next year.  The smell in the house is fantastic and the wife and kids had a great time hanging ornaments and as usual it is bottom heavy.  Of course after the last ornament is hung our tradition includes putting the angel on the top to bless the house and remind us the true meaning.  Afterwards Connor and I went outside and did the lawn decorations.  It usually takes three times longer with his “help” and last year it annoyed me…but I wouldn’t trade it for the world this year (what was I thinking last year?).  I hope that we continue this for a while, and when the time comes, Connor knows to do it on his own for his mother and Josie.  He’s a good boy, I’m sure he will.

The next day is Christmas cart caroling.  Living in a golf community that allows personal carts has given life to this event.  People come to the  golf club (who provides carts to those who don’t own their own and a hayride for the kids) and we decorate our golf carts in a Christmasy way.  Then we go to five or six predetermined homes in the neighborhood and children and adults sing carols. Josie is turning into quite the performer and was pretty much center stage complete with hand gestures and some dance moves.  Nita was a drum major in high school and marched in the Longhorn band for three years, so she led the music.  There are hot toddies, fireballs (this year), and lots of fun.  Then we head back to the club where cookies and cocoa are set out to reward the worn out carolers.  I’ve been the traffic cop for the last 7 or so years and enjoy my post.  Most people are excited and understanding about a slow tractor pulling 20 kids in a trailer followed by 20 more golf carts…some are not.  At the end of the day, everyone has a great time and it’s a wonderful event to which we look forward each season. 

While we’re on tradition, my mother’s favorite musical is Fiddler on the Roof.  My first job out of college in 1992 was selling fax machines and copiers.  I made $1,000 per month plus commission.  When I got my very first paycheck I purchased tickets to a small theater rendition of Fiddler on the roof for my parents and me to attend.  It was a small production, but that was my way of giving back as much as I could afford for all the years of love and support.  Since then, mom has obviously been taken care of and is now living a mile away from us, including her own golf cart to shuttle back and forth. If I have done my job, the kids will do the same for their mother.

So why am I writing all this?  I really hope this doesn’t come across like a Facebook version of “hey here’s a picture of my lunch.” There are a lot of reasons, but a very important one is so my children will know me.  I want them to read the stories I may not be able to tell them later.  I want them to know how much I love them, even when they fart at the table.  (20 year-old Connor is either thanking God that this never got published, or wondering why and how in the hell Nita was able to get this published).  I want them to know that I’d fight to the depths of hell and back and endure anything for them.  Hopefully someday I can just read these to them and we’ll all have a nice laugh.  Realistically, I probably won’t see them graduate from high school and won’t be around to help them select a college, a career, or give relationship advice.  It is certainly a VERY long shot to be around to help advise (solicited or “un”) on parenting.  So this is my medium to guide them.  A further benefit is some of you can find inspiration, strength, love, support, and comradery through my experiences.  I’m happy to help any who want or need it.  Finally, by pouring out my soul many people are reaching out to me, praying, crying, laughing, you name it with me.  And that helps me.  Going through this knowing you are loved and supported makes it a lot easier than wondering why you are getting another round of shots, taking another med, being bled again, etc.

 

Monday before I took off to Houston, I was able to have lunch with my son at his school.  After lunch he gave a presentation to his first grade class.  He was poised and handled it like a boss.  He controlled the room, had a nice steady cadence, and then called on classmates to answer their questions.  I was very proud of him and he may even be a better presenter than his daddy.

Tuesday after seeing customers it was time to see if the current drug protocol is working.  The unnerving thing is that I get to go back to the condo (thanks George) and sleep knowing that my Doctor and nurses know if it’s working…but I won’t, I get to wait until 11AM the next morning.  There are worse spots in which to be I suppose.  When I got there I was looking forward to using my port-o-catheter instead of having my arms stuck for blood draws and the contrast dye. I showed up at the MD Anderson (MDA) facility just before my appointment at 5 for my blood draw, they had to stick my arm.  I then had until 6:30 to start my Barium cocktail for my contrast CT scan. Well, for all you MDA potential visitors, here is a tip.  If MDA didn’t install your port, they won’t use it, unless you have an x-ray of it to “verify” the location.  They can schedule an x-ray…before 5.  Or you have to go to another wing to get it done…and the port has to be started by the nurses in Infusion, on another floor.  I didn’t have time to navigate the maze so I chose arms one last time…and of course they missed and lanced one vein for good measure nd I leave with three puncture wounds including one heroin chic bruise.  Also, I was hoping that between 5PM (bloodwork) and 6:30PM (CT check in) I could grab a bite; I hadn’t eaten since lunch.  Nope, one is supposed to fast for three hours prior to lab check in.  Plus of course they were running an hour late, which I found out by experience not at the front desk.  By the time I was done, I wasn’t even hungry anymore, but I’m not supposed to skip meals, so I had an Ensure and a banana around 11:00PM.

When the scan was over around 10:30, I also discovered that the shuttle stopped running...at 8:30.  So I had to carry my stuff about a quarter mile to the main building through the sky bridge all the while with a feeling that the valet stand had closed for the night. Fortunately it hadn’t.  I was talking to my wife on my walk back, semi-complaining about how late it was, no shuttle, etc.  And then I got hit with my own dose of perspective.  While standing in the valet area waiting for my car, a child was wheeled in.  A child with no hair, wheeled presumably by her parents, balloons on the back of the chair, IV lines in.  A smiling child, enjoying a moment outside before heading back to her room for the night.  I immediately thought, “My God, what if this were happening to Connor or Josie?”  Thank God this is happening to me instead.  As strong as some of you think I am, I don’t think I could bear watching my child go through this.  Perhaps I could find another gear, but I’m not very confident.  Sure I can take this for me, and I think I know where my mental and physical tolerance points are (thank you wrestling team and Dell).  I would crumble into a mess and probably drink myself to death if it happened to my children.  So, in the course of five seconds I went from complaining to thankful. And it was sincere.  Nita even said, “Honey, don’t even think that.”  But it was true, I’m sure some of you read this and thought, “I would gladly suffer so my children would not (those without teenagers I presume)” and now you know how I felt.  It was one more log on my bonfire. By the way, my bonfire is my imaginary bonfire of strength (something like Ed Norton’s ice cave in Fight Club).  As things come along, another blessing, a smile or laughter from my wife and children, another reason, another act of kindness, etc....I take that virtual log and toss it on my fire to keep it burning.  It’s a visualization thing that helps me confidently: rest, sleep, take on whatever; as long as my fire is burning with plenty of fuel nearby to keep it going.

It reminded me of Connor’s surgery this year.  He’s a redhead and as some of you may or may not be aware, they need more anesthesia than non-redheads.  So when he went to the dentist for a filling(s), the Demerol and nitrous could not get him comfortable enough for the work to be done.  We’d also been told by an ENT (ear, nose and throat doctor) that his tonsils were large (4).  In fact he contracted strep throat twice in three weeks a couple of years ago.  When we were told the dentist needed to fully sedate him for his fillings we called the ENT to see if he could do the tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy concurrently (consecutively).  Apparently they do this all the time.  It was pretty easy all things considered, 1.5 hours for seven fillings, two teeth pulled, and the tonsils/adenoids.  (Before you ask if he eats candy before bed every night…he had hyperplasia due to a couple of high fevers as a child.  It affected his enamel formation).  But one night in the hospital then home.  Connor was a stud.  No complaints, and within 3 hours of his surgery he was bouncing on a core ball and watching Kung Fu Panda.  As bad as I wanted to stay with him of course he wanted his momma.  I suppose it is pretty normal, Daddy drops the discipline hammer at home and momma cleans up with hugs and kisses.  So if you are bleeding and need attention, you run to daddy (former EMT if you are getting here late); if you need soothing…well momma has a special rocking chair just for such occasions.  The point is, I was never worried about his surgery.  He’s a tough kid, the doctors were awesome, and I knew it was a quick temporary thing.  I am thankful my kids are so healthy but realize and will have to tell them someday they’ll have to get screened early because they have my genes.  I am praying my situation was a fluke mutation and not a genetic hand-me-down.  Not a very good gift.

Wednesday, results day.  But first another Aggie from my Aggie Yell group is meeting me for breakfast.  He is also an MDA visitor and I supposed we’d talk about our cancers and joke about our experiences.  We met at a joint called the Breakfast Klub.  If you haven’t been to this restaurant in Houston you must go!  It is awesome, soul-food/comfort food, but worth the trip if you are downtown. Phil was a great family guy, good Ag, and we did in fact joke about our cancers and treatments and the behemoth that is MDA.  We also talked about our support networks, the importance of attitude, and we talked about the end game a bit.  He’s a good dude and will be in my prayers, he even snagged a few wristbands.  He also reminded me that I need to articulate how awesome my family is.  They are fighting right along with me and even though they aren’t “feeling” the effects, they are in the middle of it for sure.  I get a lot of the attention, but my wife and kids are sweating out every treatment, infusion, lab test, and therapy along with me.  And bless their hearts they are helpless to do anything more than watch and love me, which they do in droves.  So thank you Nita, Connor, and Josie!  And thank you to all those near and far who check up on me, drop by, bring food, provide lodging, cookbooks, send treats, contribute, and pray for me.  And thanks to the Houston family for all the love and support and the delicious dinner at Patrenellas (Nita's uncle and cousins) Wednesday night.

Enough suspense, the tumors are shrinking!  They are shrinking in both size and density!  My bloodwork also showed a decline in tumor markers (as illustrated by the graph in last week’s blog) which is good.  There was one lone-wolf lymph node tumor that grew, but by a very small margin.  There was also some thickening in the colon, but not uncommon with the surgery, Imodium, diet change, and probably that damn pie/cake.  It’s something to be aware of, but not freak out about…right Thiru? Before anyone starts hiring mariachis and signing me up to partner in that 2025 four man scramble…this is a lifelong battle.  Remember, also from last week’s blog post, there may be a ping pong effect of good results, possibly even remission, but the tumors will more than likely come back…and we’ll fight them again.  I don’t mean to dilute the great news, but I also don’t want those closest to me to create unrealistic expectations.  The good news is I have plenty of logs on my fire.

Back to the good news. There are two more approved drug protocols!  From just the three months I last visited MDA, there were two more new drugs that were approved and have shown efficacy for my cancer.  That means if my current cocktail loses momentum, and the FulFox doesn’t work or loses steam, there are two more options I can take before clinical trials (which insurance may or may not support). This is great, because it also means there are advancements being made.  Like my friends Dr. Shaw and surgeon Dr. Lakshman said, “Stay in the ring, fight until the next advancement is made/approved.”  One round has already been made, so my job is to stay above room temperature until the next set are released.  Let’s enjoy our victories when they come, but not set ourselves up for crushing defeats.  But in the meantime how does one celebrate news like this?  Why you go pick up your son from school early, take him to the airport where your buddy Bart keeps his plane.  Then you fly to Lockhart for a BBQ lunch!  Right?!  And what the hell, hire the mariachis! Not really mom, just a metaphor (mom loves mariachis, but that is a story for another time).  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com

The Thanksgiving that wouldn't quit

The Thanksgiving that wouldn’t quit

Wonderful holiday this year.  Everyone had a proper dose of perspective and the silly arguments that most likely plague everyone’s holiday season were blissfully absent from ours this year.  Just when things barely started to get tense I gathered the crowd and said, “There is only one life and death issue this year: turkey, sides and dessert are not any of them.”  After a quick exhale, all concurred and we went about quite possibly the most pleasant holiday meal we’ve ever had.

Friday Camp in.  The kids had been looking forward to the camp in for a week.  They stayed up way too late, we made s’mores in the fireplace, and even the dog got in on the act.  I lit a huge fire, we broke out the sleeping bags, an air mattress and watched:  The Year Without a Santa Claus, Rudolf, and The Grinch that Stole Christmas.  The kids finally conked out 2 ½ hours after their normal bed time.  Josie even unzipped her sleeping bag and said, “Daddy if you get worried, or if Brownie pushes you off the mattress, you can sleep in my bag.”  My little sweetheart.  I then remembered in the middle of the night to move Rupert.  Rupert is our elf and he is an amazing tool (good way). The kids are better behaved when Rupert is “watching” than any other time of year.  They get WAY into it.  In fact, he made his first appearance the day after Thanksgiving showing up in a Barbie sleeping bag on the mantle so he could join the camp in.

Saturday Nita made her famous/infamous smoked turkey enchiladas. We had some folks over to watch football, eat too much, and help us get rid of some leftovers and that amazing pie/cake. Saturday night? Blah, blah, blah, don’t get me started (game related).

Sunday we had a nice easy day and then went and had dinner with my friend and the doctor who assembled my surgical team.  We talked about everything, treatments, chemo, next steps, percentages, etc.  The kids played together and we had a nice time.  I kind of feel what it must be like to have a third boob.  People notice or know about it, they want to be polite, but they also REALLY want to know.  So the blog is designed to accomplish a lot of that.  But there are still a lot of folks who don’t read but want to call or text to see what’s going on.  And that’s okay too.  I’d rather they care than not.  One more prayer just might be the tipping point, you never know.

Well, the hair is thinning.  For a lot of guys my age I will get no sympathy, I know.  But I really underappreciated thick curly hair.  I thought it was impossible to do anything with, you essentially have 3 options and one is a hat.  But if it thins out a bit more…when it thins out a bit more, I’ll go ahead and shave it.  I’m really not that vain or superficial about it, I suppose I should feel lucky it hung around as long has it has.  It’s getting patchy, not really obvious, but I notice.  But my friends are mostly athletes and mouthy golfers so I can just hear the nicknames “patches” or “spot” rolling off their tongues, so it’ll be resolved before it comes to that. One poor woman in chemo camp is still having a very hard time with the hair loss.  We all face our demons in our own way I suppose.  It’s Winter, stocking and beanie hats are in, hell even a ball cap.  At the very least I’ll save money on shampoo…and haircuts.  And of course I’ll make good on my promise to Josie to let her “ink me” in her own special way.

Infusion day wasn’t too bad.  I didn’t feel as nauseous as usual but more tired. I did take an hour nap during the Browns MNF game.  Tuesday was pretty busy with work and it is still an adjustment to navigate everything with my little electronic leash.  The kids are more careful around me and I really miss helping them get ready for bed with stories, prayers, and kisses.  But it’s only two days every two weeks…so far.  Wednesday the neuropathy showed back up as well as some mouth issues.  Luckily I had my B complex and mouthwash (Constanzi’s compound…not covered by insurance) to help lower the effects.  I also started working on the kids portable North Pole videos.  It’s an online thing where you can have personalized messages from Santa.  Additionally, you can choose what they are “working on” and if they were naughty, nice, or needs work.  Last year as Connor was watching his video, it came to the part where the machine is cranking out his year and will flash red or green. I asked Connor what he thought the result would be naughty or nice?  He replied, “Could go either way dad.”  My boy!  We’ve been working a lot on honesty even when it doesn’t make things easier. He’s doing great.  This year he was really anxious about the result. I asked him what he thought and he said, “I’ve been getting check pluses on my tests, but sometimes I don’t always do what I’m asked to do the first time and I fart a lot.”  Santa gave him a good.

So good news and reality news.  First the good.  My latest blood test showed the tumor marker numbers (CEA) are lower than ever over a three month scale.  They are still in the high probability range, but it shows that there is less activity, are a full point down over September (12 points down from October, but that could be a number of factors), potentially no “new” growth, and we’ll find out at the CT scan if there has been any shrinking of the existing lesions.  Although way too close to call with only four treatments in, things seem to be pointing in the right direction.  The CT scan will tell the tale, but the lower numbers are showing efficacy.

The reality news, remember when I said if you have friends in the medical community they are more likely to give it to you straight?  Well a very common question is “how many treatments do you have left?”  It’s a simple enough question on the inside, but for the early detection folks, there is usually a certain number of treatments either before or after a surgery, then the expectation is you might be done.  For me, my answer is “all of them.”  I understand my battle is forever.  I may get to a remission(s), maintenance meds, etc….but it will come back and I’ll fight it again.  It really is that simple.  What my medical friends told me was that my attitude is going to win the day (not forever, but you know).  The reason is I have already accepted that this is a constant, not a variable better put a war not a battle. Many in my position go through a six month or yearlong set of treatments, get to a remission and hope the miracle has happened.  Then it comes back, and they are devastated, and you hear the term, “I just can’t do it again.  I don’t want to fight anymore.”  I am not judging anyone who chooses that path, everyone has their tolerance and choice to make.  I don’t have that gene.  I know I’ll be in a fight like Rocky I. Take a beating, win a round, take a beating, and like the Rock, I plan to keep getting up.  You can only quit this fight once, as Apollo says, “There is no tomorrow!”

The net effect is I may be gaining on a possible remission.  That would be cool.  Then again, I might not, and that’ll be fine too, I’ll just take what comes and deal with it at the time.  We’ll just keep praying, fighting, and living the life in front of me.  I have the gift of today and it’s beautiful.  I was clicking around Facebook and came across the old Jim Valvano speech from the 1993 ESPY awards.  “Don’t ever give up.” God bless y’all and stay safe this Holiday season because I know my battle isn’t mine alone and I thank you all dearly for participating in the ways you do...and for that I give you thanks!  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com. Oh the cookbooks order form is finally updated for billing and shipping.  Here is the site: https://ultimateimaging.formstack.com/forms/ay_reservation

 

A Happy Thanksgiving with the Bookmaker

A Happy Thanksgiving with the Bookmaker

Well pass the turkey and a pillow, it’s Thanksgiving!  Happy Thanksgiving all!

Last Saturday my wife decided to attend a Wonders and Worries workshop.  This turned out to be a really beneficial trip.  The kids are growing not only more aware, but are increasingly concerned with the situation.  One or both are routinely waking up in the night and coming downstairs to share their fears and then Nita comforts them and takes them back up to bed.  Well at this workshop there was a suggestion to create a magical worry box.  Each night before bed we sit around as a family and everyone expresses any worry that may potentially keep one up at night or make one sleep less soundly.  We then write down our fears/concerns and put them in the magic worry box.  Josie added that we have to shake it exactly ten times for the magic to work.  Connor added we need to pray to God for the box to work all night.  So of course both are now part of the pre-bedtime ritual.

What this essentially does is allow the children to take their fears and deposit them into a repository to hold until morning, freeing their minds of any concerns while they sleep.  If they choose or remember they can pick up their worries or wonders the next morning after a refreshing slumber. And lo and behold it worked.  As of Thanksgiving morning, only one kid has come down with a fear or nightmare and that may have been due to the alien talk at dinner Monday.  So a well-rested Nita is a much happier Nita which makes for a much happier Marco. J

About those aliens.  So my mother allows the kids to use her computer at her home without supervision.  Thank goodness they are 7 and 5 if you know what I mean (nothing that rhymes with corn). Last week, however, Connor was curious about aliens…so he googled them and started watching youtube videos (I’m told).  Full disclosure, Nita is an X-phile. She loves and loved all things X-file and I’m frankly shocked she’s never suggested that we Halloween as Mulder and Scully in our 12 trips around the sun together. So when the kids started talking aliens at dinner Monday, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. The conversation turned to how we protect the house including shooting lines and escape routes.  Josie had just taken a school field trip to the fire station and she was all about fire safety and having more than one exit, etc.  In any case, we played along with the most impossible and irrational scenarios and were laughing for the entire dinner.  At one point for fun, while determining friend or foe, I asked Connor, “But what if the alien knows your name?”  He stopped, turned and looked me square in the eyes and replied with a completely straight face, “Dad that would be ridiculous.”  That brought down the house.  Nita couldn’t catch her breath for almost two minutes and it was quite possibly the best dinner conversation we’d had in a year.  It might sound silly or stupid, but I honestly wish the entire thing was on video, it was hold your side, tears in your eyes funny.  And it provided a full 20 minute escape from reality. 

 

This week’s new side effect…nose bleeds.  I was invited to the Thanksgiving company party of the good Aggie who is printing and binding the cookbooks (not too late to order I’m told - AY cookbook).  They showed me around and then I had a wonderful lunch with the entire team.  Bill is a great guy and has a fantastic team who can cook and bake with the best of them.  After answering questions about my situation and my company, it looks like they may even become a new customer.  The only disappointing part of the trip (no fault of anyone there) was I caught a nosebleed.  I went to the bathroom to excuse myself and blew out what looked like a crime scene. I hope no one called NCIS when taking out the trash.  When I was home later in the day, it happened again.  Not a steady flow, but a big coagulation in the back near the sinus/septum area.  I asked the nurse about it and she said to be careful when the air gets dry or allergens are up.  My platelets might be low and I have clotting issues so we’ll have to check for that on Monday when I go back for infusion day.  Just another little thing to add to the list.

Speaking of amazing staff, I had an employee situation this week and which has created an exciting turn of events (not in a good way).  The good news is while I have to go to Houston to meet with some of our customers and make sure everything is okay, my lovely and talented wife was able to reschedule my MD Anderson visit to coincide with that schedule.  So customer meetings by day, scans and prodding by night.  I feel like a super hero and hope my body holds up like one. Special thanks to my best friend’s boss for allowing me to use his condo again which is only minutes from the MDA campus.  We really do have a talented group at my company who are constantly going above and beyond.  It makes a huge difference, trust me.  And my boss specifically has been amazing in his support through my ordeal.  It’s a tough combination to beat and it allows me to truly focus on what needs to be done.  All you management students out there checking your “hierarchy of needs” chart, I’m pretty close to the top of the pyramid and it feels pretty good.

Last Friday I received another white blood cell booster.  I was given a compliment that I looked good and didn’t show signs of distress at a staff meeting on Monday (yes I still go to the office).  However those WBC boosters really set into my hips, femurs, and a little in my lower spine.  I guess that is where the magic happens in the marrow regeneration.  It isn’t debilitating and I can power through it, but it does hurt.  And I now know that my game face is pretty good, we’ll keep that going for a while.

Speaking of Friday the kids are out of their minds excited for the day after Thanksgiving.  We decided to do an indoor campout.  The forecast calls for rain and cold Friday and Saturday: so we’re breaking out the sleeping bags; I’m building a huge fire; we’re going to roast some marshmallows; and sleep in the living room as a family.  The Kids have already put new batteries in their flashlights and have told us what games we’re going to play as we “stay up super-late.”  In all honesty I’m excited too.  It is a way to get the family to do a camp out without exposing me to the elements.  I’m sure at some point we’ll hit the great outdoors together, but we’ll see what my scans show that second week of December.

So the week of December 7 will tell us a lot.  The CT scans will show if my tumors/lesions are shrinking, growing, or unchanged.  It will have been the fourth round of chemotherapy and I would think some effect should have taken place.  If not, we could either keep going (perhaps it is still not long enough for a full assessment) or switch to the Folfox (the neuropathy side effect).  By the way, quick aside, the B complex worked and the pain and sensitivity to heat in my fingertips is minimal/tolerable.  So we’ll hope and pray that either the current regimen is working or switching to the Folfox works.  During testing it was discovered that I have a genetic mutation to the third chemo option so that would leave only clinical trials as the remaining viable option.  The downside is my insurance company may be reluctant to pay for any “non-gold standard treatment.”  They’ve already denied funding one genetic screening test which would have enabled the MDA researchers to test the malignant tissue taken out during my surgery against some of the trial medications.  Plus it would require me humping it back and forth to Houston each week instead of the friendly confines of Texas Oncology just up the road.  And I would miss out on Alien-centric dinner conversations which may not sound like much but it would be devastating to my morale.

Don’t ring out.  That is the mantra.  I think anyone who has been reading long enough and/or is a wristband wearer knows what it means. My SEAL buddy told me to find one thing, hold it, and use it to find a way to win.  I guess you all know by now that my family is my one thing.  The antics and laughter of my children.  Their morning hugs and kisses make each day a new gift. The beauty and strength of my wife and her hugs and kisses help me keep fighting and make me want to be a better person.  Those moments hold me together when the pain sets in and doubt momentarily flashes in my mind.  No offense to the rest of you.  My support group is extremely important and I cherish your feedback, prayers, notes, letters, cards, prayer shawls, calls, emails, texts, and acts of kindness and generosity.  I love you all, thank you!  They are all immensely important to my frame of mind and confidence to keep on keeping on. We should take you up on more of your offers, so don’t feel like we don’t appreciate them when we try to hoe our row alone for a while…while we can.  We will eventually accept, so please don’t take our independence as a refusal or lack of appreciation.

So Happy Thanksgiving.  I am thankful for the gift of family, friends, strangers who care enough to come into my life and help, and those whom I have never met but are praying for us anyway some even continents away.  I am thankful for my staff, team and boss at work.  I am thankful for my neighbors who are very present.  I am also thankful that I found that pumpecapple pie/cake on the interweb.  It came on Tuesday and it is beyond decadent. I’ll post the picture of the uncut product because I fear when we try to cut it for dessert I’ll accidentally destroy it...which will only impact the presentation not the taste.  The kids saw it when it was delivered and while it was being moved it to the beer refrigerator.  I am still in awe of the size and depth of it.  It measures (this is not a typo) 11 inches in diameter and 11 inches in height.  Read it again, I’m including a picture next to a dos equis for scale.  One final thank you.  Yesterday I received a gift that is so profound I can’t even mention it, but it is nothing short of life changing.  Thank you R and K (to protect the innocent/guilty)!  Now go hug everyone in your home, tell them you love them.  Call those who can’t be with you and cherish each moment today even the stupid political argument you are bound to have.  Click your heels, appreciate and notice the gifts you have been given that have been around you all along.  And while you rest in your tryptophan induced nap, may you dream of friendly aliens who know your name (the good ones). God bless you TeamMarco@austin.rr.com.

Adding the actual pie with the cuts.

 

 

 

I've Been Violated

I’ve been violated.

First and foremost the white blood cell booster shot worked.  My WBC levels doubled in just a few days and that enabled me to keep all the plans we had for my off-week.  I took Nita to a movie Thursday night, Friday we did our traditional fun family movie night in man cave, Saturday I wrangled three friends and we headed to College Station for the A&M game, and Sunday was my children’s birthday party.  All were a resounding success.

Straight to the game. The drive was easy and I’m actually ashamed I haven’t been doing this more when, well, before.  It was an easy 2 hours, and traffic was light on the way back. We did leave before the game was over with my fellow 2%-ers, but I had to rest before what turned out to be an 11 hour party.  Upon arrival into the parking lot, the tailgaters who invited us to swing by made sure we were stuffed before we got to the stadium.  We had ribs, chili, brisket, fajitas, sausage, corn dogs, more ribs, gumbo, and turned away more food than we were offered.  The boys drank a bunch of beer and no one would take a nickel from us.  The hospitality was what most Aggies are never surprised by, but always appreciative of, a sense of family.  I ran into old friends, old golfing buddies, and an old classmate (3^rd grade, HS, and A&M).  It was an amazing time and my boys were blown away by the entire experience.  It was my first glimpse of the new Kyle field and it was nothing short of spectacular.  Our seats were very close to the cannon which scared the hell out of Pete about five times. 

At the field I had one snack.  I won’t go into the entire story, but my wife calls everyone on Aggie Yell the “nacho guys” after reading a side splitting thread criticizing the nachos at Kyle last year and the lack of jalapeños. By the third page she was in tears. From that point on, they were affectionately labeled the “nacho guys.”  So of course I had the nachos.  They were light on the cheese, but the jalapeños were all you could carry.  Special shout out to my nacho guys for the tickets, parking pass, and tailgate fare.  Another special shout out and reminder that if you want the Aggie Yell cookbook, you must order before Thanksgiving. To order click the link Cookbook order form. Delivery will be in time for Christmas gifts.

Sunday the insanity was kicked up a notch. We had our sixth annual petting zoo birthday party.  How do you follow 100,000 fans the night before? 40 adults and 50 children at a petting zoo…and it was awesome.  There were ducks, geese, chickens, pigs, rabbits, goats, a foal, a calf, and a pony ride.  The kids just loved it.  Then Queen Elsa showed up to surprise my daughter (huge fan), and we ate the obligatory pizza lunch.  I must have looked like Shrek to the kids and parents for shooing everyone away from the food until it was all set up.  It must have been even more alarming to the kids considering almost every other kid party is a free for all, but in all honesty, I had to grab my few slices before the germ warfare wave set in.  Same with the cake.  All the kids were crowding around and I had to push the crowd back like a Missouri protest (too soon?).  But again, we wanted to get a couple of photos and if I didn’t get a slice of cake first, I wasn’t going to get one.  It sounds rude on the surface, but I can’t risk it.  Chemo day is the very next day. If I get sick and have to skip a treatment, it messes up the entire holiday schedule.  And I do NOT want to wear a stupid poison pump while my kids unwrap presents…or worse have to skype them from the intensive care unit at the hospital.  If that seems selfish, I can live with that. 

 

One of my best friend’s wife is from Louisiana.  She brought over the meatiest gumbo I had ever had.  Apparently the secret is thigh meat too.  So my other road trip buddy brought over a rice cooker and bingo, dinner is served.  Against my initial instinct I added some Cholula and survived unscathed…relatively.  I’m telling you this was the best gumbo I had ever had.  I might ask for the recipe and send it in to the cookbook.

We also had a jump bounce house with a smoke machine.  Later in the afternoon my tough as nails boy walked up to me and said, “Dad, someone stepped on my mouth in the bounce house.  Can you help me wash it?”  Now this was an almost 7 year-old who was tasting his own blood and the swelling had already started.  Not one tear, not one blame of who did it or why.  Just a deadpan account of the situation and his solution.  I made him sit on my lap and ice it for ten minutes which he did not like, but accommodated.  I love that boy!  Then Monday night at dinner he was being disruptive.  So I sent him to a time out.  He came back to the table and promptly farted.  Well we certainly admonished his behavior and explained the protocol.  One should excuse oneself, go to another room, and then return once the dissipation is complete.  He promptly and calmly said, “I have to fart again.”  He walked out of the dining room to the door jamb of the next room stuck his butt towards the table, had a slight knee bend, back arched, and then with the slow pull of a chainsaw cord or perhaps a “superman” gesture, he ripped off the next one.  He turned around, faced his audience and my wife and I lost it.  It was about a full minute before anyone at the table could speak.  Two blogs ago notwithstanding, I have no idea where he gets it!  We may need a paternity test. ;)  My boy.

Monday was infusion day.  In my quest for efficiency I parlayed a follow up appointment with my colorectal surgeon who offices across the hall.  We talked about my surgery scars healing and diet.  He’s also a reader of the blog and said my description of the “eating but not hungry” sequence was the most accurate account he’d heard from all his patients in similar circumstances. I then asked when I should schedule my “first” colonoscopy.  He said, I could get another one within a year.  The first step is to try to knock out/reduce the cancer and stay on schedule.  To which I replied, “Another one?”  He said, “Yea, right before your surgery for the large intestine removal and appendectomy I scoped you.  Remember I told you I did some exploratory work, cleaned you out, and removed some polyps?  Well, you my friend have been violated!”  I said, “But I thought I was still clean and pure.” He replied, “Nope, that ship has sailed my friend.” Prison has changed me yo.

So this week, I kept a more time based medication schedule instead of waiting for symptoms.  As of Thursday afternoon it is working.  Not much nausea on Monday and Tuesday morning, not too bad downstairs (metaphorically).  I now take my Imodium after breakfast and lunch.  I do not dose after dinner and then the morning is explosive…rinse repeat, but at least I get cleaned out and it’s only once (or twice) per day.  My fingers are still crossed for the WBC report on Friday.  Either way my oncology doctor has ordered another boost injection so I can survive the holidays (not just mentally).  By the way, I know there are a lot of cancer patient readers now…Dark Chocolate!  You are welcome!  It helps with the nausea.  One or two Ghirardelli squares of the 72% or 86%, and not a whole bag.

A new side effect has sprung up, but I’m not completely convinced it’s an actual thing.  I have pain and sensitivity to heat in my fingertips.  Now remember I chose hair loss over neuropathy and I still have hair (although my beard is thinning).  But here is my dilemma.  I did a lot of moving, lifting and tying on Sunday for the birthday party.  I also was in charge of the piñatas, and of course I didn’t wear gloves.  I used a nylon rope and wonder if maybe I just got some minor rope burns and my body’s slower healing rate and cell regeneration rate is keeping my hands from coming back as quickly.  The jury is still out, but it kind of sucks.  I tried to hold hands with my wife the other day and it was like sticking your fingers in a hot cup of coffee.  I’m going to be patient with this and see if it dissipates, I’m hopeful it was my dumb ass oversight and a reminder to use gloves in the future. Friday update: it’s real.  Now my feet are showing signs of pain walking around.  It’s not so bad with socks or shoes on, but barefoot I can feel little bumps in the floor and it stings a bit.  My oncology nurse recommended taking a B complex solution.  So I’m trying that to see if it helps.  I saw my lab reports and am confident they didn’t “switch recipes” on me.  Oh well, it’s kind of like trying to pick up a bead of mercury with your fingers.  You get some, and it slips away, you corner it and it oozes around your grasp.  So I’ll keep fighting the big stuff with the big stuff and the little stuff with the little stuff.  So goes the new reality.

I found an interesting message that came across my FB feed this week.  It as piece written by a cancer victim’s friend.  It’s too long to include the entire thing, but in short, it spoke about how some find hope in tribulation and some fine hopelessness. It includes a verse from Romans 8:28.  “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”  I feel as though my purpose is to help others through their times of pain and uncertainty.  To teach my children how to deal with adversity.  To ensure my family is properly prepared for the future, and to create a legacy for my children.  That legacy is how to be a good father, husband and friend, and to never give up.  This cancer has already helped me lose weight (that I needed) and stop drinking as much (which I also needed).   I am definitely more focused on the important things in life while still fulfilling my business obligations.  I hope I do beat this and when I do, I can keep my focus and discipline in line with my new reality.

Today (Friday November 20) my son turns 7.  We are all so excited for him and he’s finally “two years older than Josie” again rather than the 10 day stretch where he was only one year older.  Last night while Nita was putting Connor to bed Josie said something that was a little troubling.  Now, as some of you are all too aware, Connor is a silver lining kid.  He finds the best in almost any situation, and is a pretty happy go-lucky kid – all smiles.  Josie is more thoughtful about things.  Anyway, last night Josie said, “Dad, you are more important than me.  I want you to live to be 100.”  Well I don’t even want to hit the century mark, but the premise bothered me.  “Sweetheart, there is no way daddy is more important than you, you are way more important.”  She then started to talk about, concerns around if something happened to me, or Nita would they be homeless?  And she didn’t want to be a homeless kid.  WTF?  One might think that because of my candor it might be all I talk about, or an open forum around the house…let me assure you it’s quite the opposite.  The only discussion is when I come home with my pump and I ask the kids to be careful with my IV needle in my chest during hugs.  I don’t tell them about symptoms, pain, medical power of attorney, advanced life directives, etc.  This is my outlet, my vehicle to vent and get it out of my system.  I wouldn’t dream of dragging my children in to my horror movie.

Who has been talking to them about this nonsense?  I certainly haven’t, in fact I’ve been gutting through a lot of shit to avoid having the kids worry.  They can’t read the blog and I most certainly don’t talk about anything morbid within earshot, even jokingly.  I hope it’s not family, but I’ll find out and we’ll nip it in the bud.  5 year old girls should be more worried about which dress or Barbie they are going to play with, not whether or not they need to get a job to stay in a house.  Can you believe that?  She actually asked if she would have to go work to pay for things?!  Who and what has she been talking to and about?  The good news is I was able to calm her down and reassure her that she and her brother were very safe, and there would be no issues and that I was going to be okay.  I can honestly tell you it was heartbreaking to think that such a small girl with such a big heart was expending that much energy on this.  I’m going to email/call wonders and worries and make sure I’m doing the right thing, but my instincts are to deflect and redirect.

Thanksgiving is coming up next week.  We’ve ordered our turkey and pies.  Yes there is plenty to be thankful about.  I am constantly surprised by the number of people who reach out to me and share their private battles.  Some I have known for years, and some only through message boards.  But each have shared very intimate details of their fights with various maladies, and even better have given me guidance on what to expect and how to combat certain things. Most of them who have been in the fight for a while have a very thankful attitude.  Once you accept your situation and realize that each day is a gift and a blessing it gets easier.  Every new day is an opportunity to do something great with someone you love and the BS seems more tolerable.  It’s like your mind has downloaded and internalized both Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and Chicken Soup for the (fill in the blank) Soul. You actually do stop and smell the roses.  For those on the front end of the fight, be patient (if you can) it gets easier and you find more reasons to be thankful.  For those on the sidelines watching and praying, thanks for the support for me and all of us in the fight.  It means a lot more than you may know.  Sorry for the length this week.  Short week next week and I had to squeeze in the game and birthday party.  God bless.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com.  Happy Thanksgiving! Next week teaser. I ordered the Pumpecapple pie/cake from Three Brothers in Houston.  I’ll tell y’all all about it.

 

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

What a huge week this was to be.  Here was the plan: My daughter’s birthday on Tuesday with her pre-school honoring her in both Tuesday and Wednesday chapel service.  Then for dinner we head off to Kobe which is our Teppanyaki style restaurant near the house (think Bennihana). Thursday, the wife and I were going to do a date night, check out a movie at the Moviehouse and Eatery.  Saturday, I would be heading to Kyle field with three buddies to take in a couple of tailgates and the game.  Sunday my children’s joint petting zoo birthday party and pony ride (with a cameo from Queen Elsa).  Connor is turning 7 and Josie is turning 5.  We even went to East Austin on November 8^th to pick out piñatas for the party (and not a minute too soon – get that Halloween candy away from everyone!).  But when I went in for my fluids and bloodwork on Monday…my white blood cell count was down. 

What does that mean?  Well it means a few things.  First, I’m now more susceptible to disease, viruses, etc. It also means that the chemo is effectively challenging my bone marrow, which is trying to keep up.  To further explain, white blood cells are your body’s immune defense system. They protect you against illness and disease.  The fix for this is an injection of Filgrastim.  It effectively tells your bones to generate more white blood cells and you’re supposed to be out of circulation for only 48ish hours (as long as you don’t get sick in the interim).  So it means that I’m on lockdown for at least the next two days.  If I am exposed to someone with the flu or a virus I could end up in the ICU instead of Kyle field on Saturday.  It also causes flu-like symptoms and bone pain (like growing pains) in the large bones (femur, sternum, skull, and pelvis) so there’s that.  Because of the elevated risk of infection I am not supposed to shave with a razor or pick up dog poop much less crowds of children or 105,000 football fans. But it’s only for a couple of days.

So my dilemma is: do I attend my daughter’s chapel service where the whole school will sing happy birthday to her?  Hell yes I do.  But I’ll have to sit in the back away from the human petri dish that is the 18 month-2 year old class.  Also my wife and kids have to slather on sanitizer and wash their hands before any daddy hugs are dished out.   It also means we have to send out a note to the party invitees and offer the proviso that if your child is sick, please do not attend the party.  I’m pretty sure by now everyone on the invitation knows my situation and will completely understand…if they don’t, well guess who isn’t coming next year.  Calling all my 40+ year-olds.  Remember when John Travolta played the Boy in the Plastic Bubble?  Well, it’s not quite that bad, but I can’t afford to take too many chances until the Filgrastim does its job. The crappy thing was this was supposed to be my “off” week where I could do all this cool stuff with my buddies and kids. The upside is I’ve already met two people at chemo camp that have similar cancer with similar treatments that did not lose their hair. Sometimes we embrace the little victories.  Although my beard seems to have stopped growing out.  I still have to shave, but it is lighter.  I used to have to trim my goatee twice a week, I haven’t trimmed it in two weeks. Oh well, one less thing.

Tuesday worked out pretty well.  I stayed home on house arrest and actually got quite a bit of work done.  I was able to attend my daughter’s birthday chapel and she couldn’t resist running to the back of the church to give me a big hug.  That evening we took the grandmothers and kids out to the Teppanyaki steakhouse and everyone had a great time watching all the fire and blade work of the chef.  I sanitized everything and kept a small bottle of purell with me at all times.  My hip bones ache quite a bit and my right femur a little. Nothing a couple of hydrocodones can’t knock out. 

The nausea is mostly in check this week and I’ve been very proactive with the Imodium.  All the anti-nausea meds have constipating effects.  I cannot imagine going through this with no Imodium or anti-nausea meds.  I would be a stick person on an IV fluid drip.  The appetite is moderate.  I’m not actually hungry, but my stomach knows when it’s time to eat.  Food tastes a little differently now, but still close to the original form or maybe that’s my mind taking over. The salt and sweet are distinctly off.  For example the fried rice at Kobe was bland no matter how much soy sauce I added, same with the Chateau Briand.  It looked right but tasted like hambuger, finally my mom’s chicken caldo tasted bland no matter how much salt I added (I got the hint and stopped).  Meals now are kind of like sleepwalking. You know you are done when you don’t feel like eating anymore and you are more interested in whether or not you need the nausea meds, Imodium, or both after each one (although I’m finding being proactive is better than waiting).  The upside is the meals don’t really matter that much anymore.  Whatever is served is fine, and I won’t be hungry afterwards so mission accomplished. And I’m holding everything down so far, I’m sure there are many who have far worse circumstances. In any case, I’m doing okay, weight is holding steady, don’t need any pity.  I’m managing and am able to maintain the game face at dinner with the kiddos.

Quick brag on my Aggie community.  You all know we are a pretty tight knit community anyway.  Well one of the guys owns a print shop.  In 2011 they did a cookbook of all their best recipes and back stories.  The books were reasonably priced and were distributed in time for Christmas.  All profits were sent to a charity.  This year, they are redoing the book with “best of” recipes from the first one and new recipes on the current cookbook.  They are generously donating the profits to offset my mounting medical bills.  I was touched by the gesture.  Hopefully and without sounding like a hack, if you are interested you can order a cookbook by going to this website: Aggie Yell Cookbook link.  All orders must be placed prior to Thanksgiving and will be delivered before Christmas.

So there has been a lot of talk about how “tough” I am.  Well, I suppose I’m tough enough, but I never had to hump an 80 pound ruck up a mountain on limited rations.  And no one (as of yet) has applied electricity to my testicles (where are my SEALs?). And to be honest I cry a lot.  I cannot make it through Love, me by Collin Raye without tears down both cheeks.  I think a lot about beating this and what my next steps are, but I also think about the math.  Facebook is a funny thing, what you had for lunch notwithstanding.  I see celebrations with grandchildren, 80^th and 90^th birthday parties, and I reasonably accept that those will never happen for me. About a year ago my wife and Josie were playing with her wedding dress.  We took some cute pictures of her in it.  About a month ago I had an idea that maybe we should put Josie in the dress and shoot a video of me walking her down a church aisle that they could play at her actual wedding.  Chances are I will not be in attendance.   These are the things that make me cry alone.  But when the family comes home, game face baby. I don’t need a pity party, I can handle the physical part well enough so far and I have the mental fortitude to deal with it.  Most importantly is my family needs life to be as normal as we can make it.  My gift to them.

Thursday I went for fluids and to check my white cell count.  The results were…GREAT!  My white blood cell count doubled and I’m firmly in the normal range.  It was awesome, my nurse (who gets my jokes and sense of humor now) just walked over, handed me my labs and said, “Have fun at the game!”  Although I’m excited about the game I’m even more excited about being able to participate in the kids’ birthday party.  How blessed am I?

One final note of housekeeping.  I get a lot of folks who apologize for bringing up their problems to me followed by “grand scheme of things” type apologies.  No one is keeping score.  Everyone’s issues are important, real and significant.  All issues matter to those who are affected.  There is no need to apologize just because they may not be well, life and death…and certainly not to me.  I get it, and I’m happy to help with whatever I can.  It isn’t a bother, I’m the same problem solving guy I was three months ago, keep ‘em coming.  I’ll let everyone know next week how the game and birthday party went.  God bless you, He certainly has blessed me.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com.

 

Bourbon Saves the Holidays

Bourbon saves the holidays

Now some of you are already saying, “Duh, tell me something I don’t know.”  This, however, is actually a case of scheduling genius/luck.  It turns out the A&M v. Alabama bourbon game bought me more than a week with my pals.  More on that later.

This week was another infusion week. Infusion is the technical term for chemo, much like “accessing the port” means they are going to stick a needle in your shoulder and pump you full of fluid, some of it good, and some not so good, but necessary.  Monday was also my wife’s birthday, dia de los muertos which is NOT celebrated at chemo camp.  Go figure. I’m starting to get the hang of the routine and the faces and names are more and more familiar.

Oh, here is a tip, always buy stock in battery companies before the holidays, they usually out-perform.  And this year, I may single handedly boost Imodium sales, so I’d keep an eye on that company. I’m getting the hang of my timing and dosage.  It does cause some headaches though.  It made me think of a funny commercial.  Not sure if my mind came up with it or if it has already been done, but it would essentially be some guys standing around talking about their symptoms but instead of listing the drug name, they rattle off the side effects.  Zoom in on two guys talking about their symptoms and remedies.  “So Bill, how is that incontinence? Not bad Steve, I’m taking headaches, bloody nose, and numbness in my extremities, bloating, dizziness, and suicidal thoughts for it.  Thanks for asking.”

The nausea was worse this time than the last time.  I also developed some sores and thrush in my mouth, but my trusty buddy/wrestling bro/dentist had a mouth rinse compound made for me and it helped alleviate my mouth issues in a couple of days.  The nausea has been controllable with the meds, but the feeling doesn’t dissipate as easily this time.  I’ve also developed quite an affinity for Pedialyte. The results are I look like a frat boy being hazed when I’m by myself, and a happy thespian when the kids are around.  I have to keep reminding my mother to stop looking at me with pity or sadness when my children are in the room.  I’m working too hard on my appearance to give it all away like that.  I was warned that there would be a cumulative effect to the chemo, so here we go.

Tuesday I woke up feeling better.  Perhaps the Avastin has somewhat filtered out or my body got somewhat acclimated to it.  I wonder if it’s like Wesley in the Princess Bride and his tolerance to iocane powder, either way, I feel better.  One thing that bothers me is I don’t feel dangerous anymore.  Now I’m not saying that grown men should mix it up or get in fights and I can’t tell you the last time I actually threw a punch at another human stranger.  But I was always aware of my surroundings and felt I could hold my own. Now I think I could still do most of what I could, but am also very cognizant of the damage it could do to me.  For example, I won’t clot as easily now.  I even travel with a little “go bag” which includes a puke bag, saltines, water, Imodium, anti-nausea meds, and field-grade coagulant.  Not that I was some über bad ass, but I at least knew how to get a fight to the ground and take care of business.  In any case, I’m in “setting example for my kids” mode and maybe walking away from trouble is a better lesson than blowing up a d-bag.  However, if my wife or child are in danger…it’s go time.  I don’t care what happens to me, I’m on borrowed time anyway.

That being said, the aforementioned dentist has a son in Connor’s grade.  They love to play with each other and they rough house plenty (which he and I think is great). I think we’re going to either try to get some mat time, or just use my man cave and teach them to wrestle properly. There are a lot of great lessons you learn on the mat that carry you throughout your life. Plus it might be better for them to work with guys in their own weight class instead of two dads torturing their kids yelling for them to hook a leg, or get to your base, although Connor has always enjoyed wrestling and has never gotten upset even when I put a bunch of weight on him...my boy!

Josie decided she wanted to play baseball this spring and Connor is still on the fence.  So we’ll see.  That being on the table, I’m glad I chose diarrhea and hair loss over neuropathy.  Speaking of which, as of Wednesday I still have hair. I’m sitting at a crossroads here where my hair is getting a bit long and fro-ish, but do I wait it out or go get a haircut?  I also made a deal with my daughter. She has been VERY concerned about my potential hair loss.  So since she’s really into art the deal I made was if my hair goes, she can draw on my head and use it as a canvass. So when I come to Kyle field for the Aggie game in a week or so, I don’t want to hear any shit if there are butterflies and flowers on my head.  Or if I still have hair why it’s out of control.  Wednesday addendum.  While they were removing my pump I asked about my hair, they said it would take a few more weeks and it would gradually thin out, not fall out all at once like foghorn leghorn (“I keep my feathers numbered for just such an occasion”).  So I bit the bullet and got a haircut Wednesday after my fluids. 

I’m sure many of you are asking, “Marco, how is the flatulence?”  Well let me tell you.  It’s not good.  I’m not sure if it is a result of the surgery where they removed 9” of colon and cleared a blockage, the chemo, the constant barrage of anti-nausea meds stacked with Imodium, or the new diet.  But whatever the culprit, I’ve cleared more than one room.  And it is fairly constant.  Further, sorry ladies, it has gotten to the point where I can’t just excuse myself and leave the room, it has become too frequent and I’m not training for a 10K.  So there it is, this is my scent, know me.

In the intro I mentioned that bourbon and Aggie football saved the holidays.  Well lo and behold by waiting that extra week the entire holiday schedule unfolded beautifully.  My chemo weeks do not coincide with any holidays other than New Years.  My off weeks include: Halloween, my children’s birthday party, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the NCAA football playoffs (even Valentine’s Day is straddled).  How is that for getting lucky?  Who says God isn’t watching over me?

This week was also my wife’s birthday.  Unfortunately the actual day was my infusion day and instead of lunch with her girlfriends she wanted to come sit with me…winning!  Anyway, I asked a friend to deliver her birthday present while we were away and she loved it.  If you have time to read another blog, this is why we have a big metal rooster on our front porch.  http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/.  In any case, it has been an inside joke between us for years, it was the perfect gift this year, and the kids went insane with joy.  Our’s is not named Beyoncé but rather “shiny chicken” courtesy of the kiddos.  We had a nice dinner at home and some cake.  I wished we could have done more, but maybe later and clearly everyone understands.

Our golf club has two main money game groups.  Each group thinks they are better than the other and there is a lot of smack talk.  So ten years ago the gauntlet was thrown down and we started a Ryder cup style event with dinners, speeches, uniforms and everything.  We call it the Dawg Bowl, and there is a trophy and champagne at the end that the winners drink out of while the losers watch.  The dinner is funded by the loser from the previous year.  I’ve played in all 9 previous events.  Whether I was sick, hurt, it didn’t matter.  And I always put up points for the team.  Well this year was the first time I’ve missed this event, but the gang at the club still included me by giving me a group toast at the dinner held this week. I cannot tell you how much all the love and support mean to me. I am getting it from all directions and it is beyond humbling.  It also reminded me of a dawg bowl a few years back.  I was 5 holes down at the turn and some guy from the other team came and chirped at me about losing before we got to number 15 (our signature hole).  Well that lit a fire and I fought my way back to win 1-up on 18.  Never give up, never surrender is part of my character. I hope my kids pick it up and learn this lesson.  If they do, then my time circling the sun will not have been wasted.  I have a pretty good feeling and I hope you do too.  I also just received a nice little note from Coach Kevin Sumlin on Thursday.  To whomever set that up, thank you!  It made my day.

New wristbands are on order with glow in the dark lettering and youth sizes.  If interested, let me know.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com.