Hit by Pitch

Hit by pitch

With MLB starting and little league in full swing, there is a lot of baseball going on.  Baseball, to me, has a lot of life stuff to teach.  You have to be ready for anything at any time, it is a quick twitch game, five tools (you can’t just be good at one thing), etc.  I played a lot and analogize of a lot of things in terms of baseball fundamentals.  A funny thing about baseball is that it is a game of imperfection.  You can't be perfect all the time.  But you can give perfect effort, but even that is hard.  There are so many games played that things normalize over the season and you can be sure eventually everything that goes around comes around.  It is a game of repetition.  Like in life you don’t just show up and are automatically good at something.  You have to do it over and over again to become serviceable, much less great.  We used to have a saying, it takes 10,000 swings for a swing change to feel normal.  That’s a lot of cuts in the cage.

Connor had his first baseball game after spring break on Monday night.  We have been practicing his hitting and things were really starting to click.  Right before the game, we hopped out to the side yard and did a little batting practice, he was smoking the ball.  Then we headed over to the field where the coach had secured the batting cage for us and we went in to take our cuts.  Connor hit the ball so well that even his teammates were making positive comments…unprompted.  Connor’s smile was a mile wide.  And truth be told, mine was too.  The head coach made the lineup and put Connor third.  I was pitching.  Connor came up to bat and I was really confident, by the look on his face, so was he.  I threw the first pitch and Connor smacked it down the left side just foul.  Nice job son.  And then I did the one thing I could not do.  I hit him.  Plunked him right on the arm.  As you get better at this game you can hit your target pretty well…unless you get the yips.  So what was I looking at?  My son.  And what did I hit?  My target.  Shit! At that moment he stopped trying to hit and started trying to not get hit.  He bailed on every pitch after that.  Back to the drawing board.  You might think you know how bad I felt, trust me it was exponentially worse.  I’ve pitched every game and half the practices and I’ve only hit two batters…my son…twice. 

Back at Texas Lutheran there was a fall baseball tradition.  The pitchers would practice something that is harder to do than it sounds.  Effectively throw at a batter.  You see it in the Majors and in College all the time.  A batter will show up the other team, or their pitcher will hit the best player and retribution is swift and automatic.  Your next guy or best guy will get hit.  However, it is harder to hit a batter than it sounds.  When you are in little league, it is never on purpose.  The kids just don’t have enough control.  When you get older and better it’s 50-50; maybe a ball got away from you, a slider didn’t break, or maybe the batter is a little too close to the plate…or asked your girl out for the weekend.  When you are a pro, you better believe that 99% of hit batters are intentional.  So at Texas Lutheran, fall ball began with a week of every batting practice pitcher throwing at (and usually hitting) the first batter they faced.  So when the game situation arose, you could hit your man with confidence.  Whether you agree with this philosophy or not, it’s as much a part of the game as fighting is in hockey.  I may explain more another time, but rest assured your number 1 goon does not fight the small scoring wing, he squares off with the other number 1. There are rules and they are honored, or again, retribution will be swift.  The baseball season is so long and there are so many games that almost all things even out.

Josie had a practice on Tuesday night and I was hitting some outfield fungo to the team.  Yes they are tee ballers so of course I wasn’t hitting it hard.  But I also didn’t have a catcher with me.  So the kids would throw the ball back to me and I’d block it with my bat, knock it down and then fire off another one to them.  About ½ hour into the practice a kid threw a ball to the left side of me and I lunged with the bat to knock it down.  It was wet out and of course the ball skipped off the bat and hit me right in the face.  Thank goodness it didn’t hit my nose or it might still be bleeding.  But it hit just below my left eye and I have a very minor bruise… baseball karma didn’t take long to settle the score.  In tee-ball kids get hit all the time.  Many can’t catch well and take one off the shin or chest regularly.  I was able to show the kids how to “walk it off” and get back in the game.

The weekend was amazing.  The Dell Match Play golf tournament was in town and I honestly had no idea how they were going to handle the foot and car traffic to the event.  Well I should have had more confidence.  Dell and the PGA Tour did a fantastic job and erected a foot bridge under the 360 bridge.  Friday I went as a guest with my pal Lance.  He had skybox tickets for number 12 (that par five they constantly showed on TV behind Faldo).  It was amazing to see the talent and distance gap even among the top 60 golfers in the world.  Some guys hit Driver three wood, some even laid up.  Dustin Johnson and Jason Day hit Driver wedge.  Those boys can pound the golf ball.  The next day I ran into my old buddy Michael.  He works for ESPN and was able to get me the “media experience.”  I can’t say much more, but I did have a press conference and hold the trophy.  I also was able to hear some “inside baseball” type conversations with some of the top professionals that were off the record and will remain so.  In the media control center I ran into an old friend who used to have the golf beat in Austin a few years ago. He recently published a biography on Harvey Penick, and sent me home with a signed copy.  Go pick it up if you are a golf fan who ever poured over the little red book.  Thanks Lance, Kevin and Michael.

It was a great time and I hope within the next couple of years I can bring Connor to enjoy this with me.  Currently he’s got too much energy for a pro golf event.  I’ll also make a prediction, within 2 years the boats on the lake will be replaced by double deck pontoon boats sponsored by companies entertaining clients (water luxury boxes).  They can control food, beverage, do it at a fixed cost and still have access to three water-facing and exciting holes.  By year 3, the PGA will figure out a way to charge those boats a fee to be in the vicinity.  Let’s see if my prediction holds up.

My boss and I had a discussion the other night and we mutually decided that it might be time for me to look for another job. I won’t go into details, but there were some events at the company and in the industry that have created the perfect storm.  As such, it’ll be better to take my game to another field.  I really have a lot more to offer and am looking forward to whatever my next role will be.  We are still friends, my boss and I, and no matter where I land I will still help and consult for him as he navigates the industry environment.  There is no effective date set, but if you hear of any sales or marketing leadership roles, don’t hesitate to shoot me a note.  What I can say with confidence is although I don’t know how much time is on the clock, I’m a leave it all on the field kind of guy.  I feel I’m as mentally tough as anyone you may run into, and I’ll leave it at that.  (Not an April fools joke btw).

This was an off week for me and I’m wondering how much residual chemo is still hanging around.  My appetite was very low, but the nausea was very controllable, and I only needed one Imodium per day.  I was able to do all the baseball things with the kids and a lot of walking on the golf course over the weekend, even on my foot; but I did receive a steroid injection a couple of weeks ago.  I was told that plantar fasciitis takes a full six months to a year to recover, so I guess that brace will be my nighttime friend for a while.  The nosebleeds are somewhat subsiding and my platelets must be getting better because that ball to the face I took didn’t cause a huge black eye like I thought it might.  I think it is just the pollen in the air causing throat soreness but I am paying close attention.  Several kids in my children’s classes have had strep.  Luckily for me there has been no fever.  Actually, I’ve been quite lucky/blessed and have not gotten ill since my surgery and cancer diagnosis last August.  Frankly my energy level seems higher as well.

Next week is my 47^th birthday. I’m really paying attention to milestones now.  It seems like every one of them is a new gift that I had previously under-appreciated. Not anymore. I am really enjoying life, my family, and my friends.  My wife was talking to one of the ladies with whom she walks and mentioned that our marriage has never been better.  I have to agree.  I definitely work harder at it, that and being a better dad; and being a better friend.  It's not all rainbows and unicorns, but I do the best I can with what I have.  Sometimes that's enough. TeamMarco@austin.rr.com

 

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

Being there, it matters

Being there, it matters

I would like to give a little background on both my wife and mother.  Not the whole family history, etc. but rather how my situation directly affects them and triggers certain memories.  Nita’s father passed away from pancreatic cancer just a year after my father died in the mid 90’s.  Nita was in her mid-20s and still figuring things out.  But watching her father go in a hospice bed at home made her grow up pretty quickly.  Her father had a traumatic birth with the doctor using forceps to remove young Luke Patrenella. During birth his eye was damaged to the extent that he needed a glass eye.  During the hospice stay, young Nita would help her father remove the eye so he could rest.  I believe some of the calm Nita is showing is due to the fact that she has seen this play out before, the first time is always the hardest.  She could have gone one of two ways with my situation and luckily (for us) she chose to be composed and strong.

Sixteen years ago my mother was alerted that her only brother was about to pass away. She flew out to San Diego to be with him.  While his family was out arguing about who knows what, she was alone with him as he went.  She held his hand and prayed with him.  In the course of four years she’d lost her husband and brother, from 2000 on, I’m all that is left (grandchildren notwithstanding).

So I have a favor to ask. It seems as though the first question everyone asks my wife and mother are, “How is Marco?”  While I appreciate this immensely and am firmly convinced that the thoughts and prayers are working…would you please ask how they are doing first?  They are suffering right along with me, not physically, but definitely feeling some pain.  Nita has to worry about which day in the future I might be in the hospice bed, where the children will be, and going through this again.  As was evident in my blog about my father, I still think about him and miss him dearly.  I can only imagine what thoughts cross the minds of Nita and mom.  Thank you for this extra step.

If you have been following all along, my second entry was about the Refiner’s touch.  Well I sure hope He sees His image soon.  My daughter Josie even asked me if the “cancer was almost gone.” We had a discussion about remission and return, but that daddy is always going to fight.  The side effects are getting worse.  My oncologist even backed off the doses 10% which he said is standard practice this far along and with my results showing positive reactions. God forbid we would have to go full throttle again in two weeks.  Monday night was the worst one yet.  I literally (not just figuratively) felt poisoned. It felt like waves of nausea and dull organ pain were dueling for attention.  If you’ve ever had food poisoning it felt somewhat like that, but I didn’t feel like there was anything to throw up.  Or maybe another way, remember that last really bad hangover…where you had chills and ached?  Multiply that by 20.  My anti (everything) meds just weren’t getting it done this time.  And my night time sleepy meds did not kick in either.  I was up until about 1AM (about 3 hours passed my normal bed time).  The bright side was I was able to hear the thunderstorm roll in.

I’ll be in Houston in a couple of weeks for a scan at MD Anderson.  I’m bringing the family this time.  They’ll go do fun stuff while I get the pokes and prods.  But we’ll be together and we’ll get to visit the extended family at the restaurant.  Feel free to join us at Patrenella’s or drop in for a drink Tuesday or maybe Wednesday night March 15/16.  The results will hopefully show some big gains and the recommendations will be the key to how my spring and summer go.  As it turns out, another coach on Connor’s baseball team had cancer and is seven years free.  I feel like I am surrounded by positive energy and for that I am thankful.  Usually there is a lull after an event, the first few weeks or months everyone is there for you, asking what they can do.  Then it tapers off as life continues and one gets busy with their own things.  I want to say thank you to my friends, family, support network, etc.  I have never felt alone throughout the last six months.  A celebrity friend of mine even recorded a video singing a song and sent it to me to cheer me up this week.  Another buddy took me to lunch on Thursday.  I firmly believe that healing is a combination of what your body can tolerate, your faith, your mental strength, and the love and prayers of your support group.  The latter is what helps you feel surrounded by love when you are alone in a chair with an IV attached.  Trust me, it matters, and it makes a difference. God bless you all.

The weekend before was great.  I was heading into the last two days of my off week where I absolutely feel the best I can feel.  Saturday Nita pulled off an impromptu play date with some of our kid’s best friends and parents at a local park. How many times had I seen this as an opportunity to take a break from the family, watch something mind numbing on the tube, or squeeze in some work?  Too many is the answer. This time I loaded up the golf cart with our baseball stuff, some water and snacks, and off we went.  We sang songs on the way and had a great time at the park.  One of the other dads and I started throwing and hitting the baseball.  Connor and Josie quickly moved down to where we were to join in the fun (nobody pinch me).  It was just a great day, we finished off with a fun family movie night in the man cave.

Sunday was Josie’s first day of tee ball practice, unfortunately I had to break it to Josie’s coach.  He was asking about practice days and my thoughts and I had to come out and tell him about my cancer and my pump limitations three days every fortnight. Although I don’t really feel weird about my situation anymore, the awkwardness is palpable the first time people hear the news .  And I try to soft sell it to avoid the inevitable, but how soft can you say, “I have stage four cancer.”  Anyone who has ever been around the disease knows it isn’t good.  But that brings up another aspect that too many people take for granted.  By now you know I’ve adopted the Live Like You Were Dying mantra (I will not be attempting a bull ride by the way).  I am constantly reminded that you don’t have to be diagnosed with a terminal disease to adopt this philosophy.  One of the most heart breaking moments of my entire cancer reality was a few weeks after my surgery.  A very dear friend and a man for whom I worked at Dell called me and texted me to tell me that HE was heartbroken and was praying for me every day.  He was a very devout Christian and a good family man.  A week later some dipshit running from the police crossed over the median on HWY 130 (80-85MPH speed limit), and hit my friend head on.  His son was in the car, and was badly injured but survived and healed.  Wally was killed instantly.  He was taking his son to practice. 

It can happen so fast, with no chance to tell everyone you love them.  No boys night dinners at the County Line (thanks brothers). No last nighttime kiss on your daughter’s forehead as you wish her sweet dreams.  No snuggle with your son as you say the nightly prayer. No last embrace of your wife to thank her for clean laundry, hot food, and loving you despite your pile of faults.  It can be over in an instant.  My gift is acceptance of my ultimate fate.  But nothing guarantees that cancer will be my exit strategy.  It could happen anytime, anywhere. So I choose not to live in fear but rather bask in the joy of simple everyday occurrences.  I don’t need to be snorkeling a coral reef to find happiness or escape.  In fact, I’m actually glad I didn’t win that 1B lottery.  What would I do with it?  I’m not a gear head so I don’t need cars. I like our house and neighborhood, and I don’t need a G650 (although I would love to fly in one someday).  I am happy with the life I have and am surrounded by the finest friends and family.  In fact, the extra time I’ve been spending with the kids looks like it is paying off.  Sitting on the couch the other day, (watching sports with my boy) Connor looked over and unprompted said, “You are the best dad ever” and he didn’t even ask for anything.  I’ve never felt more blessed.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com

 

 

The Tortoise and the Hare

Tortoise and the Hare

Sunday was Valentine ’s Day.  We took the kids to church, to eat, then to a video arcade to have some fun.  Funny thing about church was the psalm song was about the refiner’s touch (My second, or fifth depending on your perspective, blog).  Perhaps another reminder of what is really going on.  After the service the kids went through the Stations of the Cross (their idea). It was nice hearing Connor read the placards and then act out the scene.  It serves as a reminder that no matter what, I’m going to be okay in the end.  Later that night we had the grandmothers over for dinner and it was a nice fun family day.  We’re getting closer to my vision of Connor taking Nita out on a date and me taking Josie on a Valentine’s date.  Maybe next year.

Remember the story of the tortoise and the hare?  I took Connor to baseball tryouts this weekend and two things happened.  He sucked and he was all smiles.  We practice intermittently at home and it’s somewhat by design.  I know that baseball is a game of repetition. However, I have always said that I’d rather Connor love baseball and watch it with me on the couch than be awesome at it and hate the game.  So we practice enough to keep it fun and develop some skills.  So far, my plan has worked.  He loves the game and now even Josie is getting into it.  I have a feeling Connor is going to surprise people and become the most improved player this year.  Or he will still suck, one or the other.  Either way, we’re all having a blast…and I’ll be WAY less intense as a coach as I was last year.

Wednesday night I was channel surfing after the kids went to bed and I stumbled upon a Breaking Bad marathon.  It was the episode with the fly in the clean room under the laundry factory.  In it Walt is explaining when he thought he should have died.  That perfect moment before things went wrong.  I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t seen the series except to say it is a very easy series to binge watch.  But it really made me reflect on my own situation.  Walter was a cancer guy and he approached things in a somewhat similar way.  Now I have no intention of starting a meth empire, so that aside, I do think about my family.  Walt’s method was to generate revenue to set his family up.  My method is to generate experiences instead.

So I reflected on my Tuesday.  What an awesome afternoon.  After work, I told the kids we were going to practice baseball a bit.  So the kids strapped on their new backpack bat/bags to the side yard.  We put on gloves and helmets and Josie shagged balls while Connor hit some soft toss and off the tee.  Connor then shagged balls while Josie hit off the tee.  He’d field the ball and then throw it to me on the fly…unlike his tryout where he threw everything into the dirt.   But the best part was here we were, outside, laughing, sliding, falling down, and having a blast.  Like Walt I was thinking if there was a day I could choose to “go.”  That was the day.  It was exactly how I hoped parenting would be.  All fun and baseball, outside in the sun, laughing, hugging, and high fiving.  What an amazing afternoon.  I’m sure I’ll have more days like this, but it was pretty sweet.

Thursday morning I had breakfast with an old friend and former business colleague.  We talked a lot about business, the blog, life, cancer, etc.  He mentioned that when he reads about my interaction with the children it is as though I’ve been given a gift.  I concurred. I have stated on more than one occasion than I truly consider my cancer as both a God smack and a gift.  There were some things in my life that needed to change and more interaction with my family was one of them. Tuesday’s baseball practice in the yard was a perfect example.  Seven months ago I might have still taken them outside to practice, but we’d be more focused on skills and drills.  I’d probably fall into coach mode and angle toward the most efficient path to improvement. But Tuesday was fun.  And that was the goal.  Get them acclimated to putting on the glove, wearing cleats, making baseball movements…but mostly having fun.  And it was.  The kids were smiling and laughing the entire time.  They had so much fun they accidentally got better.  We even had to fetch momma to come watch “how good they had become" (according to Josie).

Nita and I had a nice discussion about this.  She very sweetly said she didn’t want to lose me and was very happy and hopeful based on the new test results.  I told her not to confuse my pragmatism with a lack of optimism. I have a theory and that in order to beat this or anything, you need to stay mentally strong.  I think that if my cancer goes into remission I need to always maintain the mindset that it WILL come back.  Whether or not it happens is irrelevant.  My theory is that if I let my guard down, accept that it is gone forever then I will not be fully battle ready for another round of surgery, poison, radiation, or whatever needs to happen.  I cannot let my guard down.  This also goes along with my God smack theory.  If I don’t stay aware and allow my bad habits to creep back into my life, then I prove that I didn’t learn the lesson I was supposed to learn.  And if that happens perhaps I’m opening the door to another “nudge” from above.

So here I am, enjoying my life, enjoying my family and enduring my chemotherapy.  It sounds funny to think that I’m looking at a terminal disease through the lens of all the joy it has brought.  But I’m not in the race for the sprint.  I’m in for however long the race will be.  And I’m not sad, I’m delighted to be given this gift of understanding.  Throughout our lives we’ve all seen our peers race out to a big lead in whatever: sports, work, life, etc... only to come back to the pack.  It is why they call the pace man in a mile race the rabbit.  He jumps out to a lead, sets the pace, and then falls off. Sometimes he doesn’t even finish.  The goal in any endeavor is to get to the finish line (and win if you can of course).  The tortoise never gave up, didn’t get down, and certainly did not lack hope or confidence. 

As you may have noticed, I’m somewhat of movie buff and I find a lot of lessons in them.  In the movie Gattica the protagonist, Ethan Hawke, is a “God birth” during a time of genetic modifications designed to remove impurities.  He’s supposed to be invalid as a being in this new utopian society.  However he routinely beats his brother in a swimming competition.  His brother who was genetically altered to remove imperfections is both frustrated and confused by this.  Ethan’s character finally reveals to him, “You know why I won?  I didn’t save anything for the swim back.”  His “perfect” brother was aware of his mortality, Ethan’s character knew he was supposed to die so instead he chose to live.  So there it is.  The tortoise wins.  Connor will catch up to those who jumped out to a big lead and just watch, he will surprise a lot of people. Of this I have no doubt.  And me?  I feel like I sprinted out quickly and then got complacent and lost sight of the finish line.  Now, I’m more aware, smelling the roses, and loving my family.  Can the hare become a tortoise?  Why not. 

Next week is chemo week.  It will undoubtedly suck.  I’ll plow through it, slow and easy and pop up on the other side.  Oh, and I developed plantar fasciitis presumably while teaching Connor to run with longer strides.  Lucky for me another buddy is a podiatrist. So he’ll fix me up and I’ll manage.  It’s not too bad right now and I can still get out there and play ball with Connor and Josie.  Baseball and tee-ball seasons are just starting and my kids are excited.  To be honest, so am I.  We had a practice for Connor’s team on Thursday after work.  How did I get so out of shape that my whole body aches?  And my foot?  Holy smokes!  I iced it, put my brace on, kept shoes for support…and still this morning felt like I was walking on nails.  It was so bad that when I was limping to the kitchen, Connor came over and grabbed my elbow and said, “I’ll help you dad.” What a kid.  So what do I have to complain about?  Nothing.  Estoy en paz.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com