Writer’s Note – I’ve been on hiatus for about three weeks.  Why?  I don’t know.  I’ve just been busy, or lazy, with other things.  This post, along with a couple of others, was written (but not published) at an earlier date.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Today I celebrated my birthday the way it ought to be celebrated – by spending time with my family.  I took the day off from work, and went to the fifth grade transition program at my former elementary school.  It was great seeing all my old teaching comrades, along with my former fourth graders who are now moving on to middle school (hence the term “transition” and not “graduation).  Although I don’t keep in-touch with many of the teachers, it never surprises me how easy it is to “come home,” even for a short visit.

I miss many aspects of teaching, and the transition program was one of those “things” that was both exhausting (endless hours of practice) and fulfilling (seeing the students’ faces beam as they walked across the stage to be recognized).  Alas, my teaching days are over, and I don’t think I’ll ever have the mental or physical stamina to give it another go.

Happy, happy day!

When I got back to the house, Emily was the first one to greet me.  She had just arrived home from college that morning!  She had an up-and-down spring semester, so I’m glad she was home to spend the summer with us, and, hopefully, recharge her emotional batteries.  In addition, my sister-in-law, Alisa, took the day off – along with Vicki – so we had cake and presents then went to see Godzilla.  (It was a pretty good movie.)

All-in-all, it was a great day!  It reminded me that what is truly important are the people around you and sharing these special times with them.

So why is the title Happy Birthday Month?  I used to tease Vicki that the entire month of May was “My Birthday Month.” Therefore, she – and everyone else – had to be nice to me for an entire thirty-one-day period.  Additional celebratory days included Cinco de Mayo and Memorial Day.  The whole month was one  big birthday party – FOR ME!  Anyway, I outgrew that silliness (I think) and have whittled the celebration back down to one day – May 20th.

The latest on my melanoma…Continuing to sound like a broken record, but there’s nothing new to report at this time.  My health situation has not changed – although I’m getting fatter and lazier by the day.  The initial summer heat and humidity have put the clamps on my outdoor activities.  It will take time – like it did last summer – to get used to the heat, again.  On June 18th, I have a full PET scan to ensure that the cancer has (a) not moved to other parts of my body and (b) the remaining tumors in my right lung have not gotten any larger.  It’s always a time of tremendous stress because there are so many unknowns, and, frankly, I don’t want any new problems cropping up.  We’ll get the results back the following day, June 19th, so I’ll communicate that to anyone who is still interested.  I know I will likely never be “cured,” but I’d like some reassurances that this “beast” inside of me has gone away, once and for all.

Once again, the journey continues……

…Use Lots of Sunscreen and Wear a Hat!

Writer’s Note: I did not intend to publish this piece on Mother’s Day, but I did not make the time to finish before today. After getting off the phone with my parents, especially my own mom who is in the throes of dementia, I decided to get this one out there for all the moms (and dads) who want the best for their kids – like me – and grand kids, but may forget about the dangers the sun can have on anyone at any time.

For most of us, spring has sprung and summer time is right around the corner.  I always love using those tried-and-true cliches (or, trite and stupid depending on how you look at them) this time of year to signify the true end of winter and the beginning of warmer weather.  It is now the “season of the sun” as some one poetically wrote many, many years ago.  I love this time of year.  Spring in Memphis can be absolutely gorgeous with the cherry trees, pear trees, dogwoods, and azaleas all competing for Nature’s “best in show” award.  Yesterday, Vicki and I spent much of the afternoon and early evening replanting flowers in pots on the front and back porches.  Mixing color against the backdrop of deeply green lawns and trees is an art form in and of itself. 

It was hot yesterday.  Actually, it was really hot!  And very sunny…not too many clouds in the sky.  We worked late into the afternoon to get most of the flowers planted, then waited to finish until after dinner to take advantage of dusk getting later and later – and the outside temps getting somewhat cooler.  As I worked on the bushes in the front beds, while Vicki created her “masterpieces” in the flower pots, I kept hearing a far off voice…very faint, at first, but – nevertheless – still there. At times haunting, and at other times, monotonously irritating, the voice is familiar – very familiar – and its overbearing tone reminds you of those early days of your life when you could barely take care of yourself.  Over and over again….I couldn’t get those words out of my head:

Use sunscreen and, for goodness sake, wear a hat!

Lurking in the background, those words everyone dreads…..because you know “she” is right, but you can’t stand knowing that “Mom” is always right.  In my reality, Mom made us use good ole Coppertone and wear  t-shirts while we were in the pool, but most of my “overexposure” to the sun came years later when I was off at college or living in Dallas.  Those motherly reminders about the dangers of the sun did not come until much later, after she began to have her own skin issues.  By then, it was too late for me.  

So, this post is my bi-annual warning to everyone out there.  I feel obligated to speak out and, yes, sound like a mom! 

For most of you out there, this message is not necessarily for you….we’ve reached an era where skin damage caused by the sun is so commonplace it’s like a schedule office meeting with bottles of Dasani already in-place as you take your seat.  Everyone knows the damage the sun can cause, and there’s not much more you can do to get that message out to the masses.  I just want to remind you of the nuisances of sun damage and skin cancer.  Most of us have already incurred some damage from the sun, so I’m not sure I need to remind you of this.  I’m not sure this message is for your children, either.  Most of us – myself included – have kids who are now in their 20s or even (very) early 30s, so, again, the damage – if there is any – has already been done.  No, this is for your grandchildren and, equally important, their children.

Be careful out there!

I don’t care what type of skin you or your kids have, but make damn sure you protect your grandchildren and grand babies, now, before it’s too late.  I honestly believe the next generation of young people will have much healthier skin and less skin cancers to deal with in their later years.  Awareness, just like for other diseases and cancers, along with vigilance is the key to winning the battle and perhaps even the war.

And no, I’m not sure how global warming or the effects of ozone and greenhouse gasses will “play” into my prediction of healthier skin for future generations, but I believe the vigilance that we all now have ingrained in our children and grandchildren will help to slow the future spread of melanoma.

Who knows what to make of statistics and findings from doctors, medical groups, and cancer organizations.  Some data you read says Melanoma is one of the top five most diagnosed cancers – some studies say it’s the number one most diagnosed cancer! – not only in the U.S. but in the world.

All I know if this:  “Mom” was right!  Protect your skin – especially early in life – and the benefits will be tremendous.  I don’t want anyone to go through what I – and others in much worse circumstances than me – are going through, simply to have a GOLDEN TAN.

So endeth the lesson………yes, “Mom” is always right.

March 31, 2014   As March comes to a close, it’s time to recap the madness that is the month of March in our lives.  Let’s just say this was one hectic month.  I don’t think I had one weekend in which we did nothing…you know, those lounge around the homestead and read a book or your Kindle.  It was just one thing after another, culminating in the watching of college basketball twenty-four-seven.

Except for me (and Nixie), every member of my family traveled either out-of-town or out-of-state during March.  In fact, for a small window on March 7th, Nixie and I were all alone at home while everyone else was trotting the globe…or, at the very least, flying in and out of Memphis.  Emily came home for college Spring Break on the same day that both Zach and Vicki left town.  Zach, who was already on break, headed to a tournament north of Nashville, while Vicki flew to Houston for best friends’ reunion.  She and her friends from College Station get together every two years or so.

March is one of my favorite months. It’s the beginning of Spring – supposedly.  Saint Patrick’s Day is always fun to celebrate and there’s basketball – lots and lots of basketball.  For the past few years, I have not been into March Madness as I was in the past, but this year I have been border line obsessed.  It might have something to do with my alma mater – Florida – being the number one team in the country.  Although I’ve watched a lot of other teams play, as well, I think it’s allowed me to connect with the excitement and electricity that comes with these match ups that are now all about win or go home. Even if I don’t care for either team, I still find myself rooting for the underdog or hoping the game will come down to the last shot. And this year’s NCAA tournament has not disappointed with underdog victories and last second heroics.

Perhaps that’s a metaphor for my journey with melanoma: an underdog victory over a deadly disease using the last second heroics of modern pharmaceuticals.  As Vicki likes to remind me every night, “those pills,” as I like to call them, are keeping me alive and my cancer in-check.  So, I’ll continue my maddening “march” to – someday – becoming cancer free.  That will be the ultimate underdog victory.

On March 19th, I had a CAT scan to look at the two (2) remaining tumors in my right lung.  One of the tumors continues to get smaller, but not significantly so, while the other tumor is so tiny at this point (around 1 mm) that any change is almost impossible to measure.  My doctor decided to wait on any removal procedure or other action until I have a full PET scan in mid-June.  I think the fact that the cancer is, for now, isolated and stagnant makes taking on surgery unnecessary.  We continue to hope and pray that the Gleevec will work its wonders, and I can watch my children graduate from college.  That sounds a bit melodramatic, but I have to remind myself that my type of cancer is – technically – incurable.

Still seems surreal.  I need to also tell myself to feel “blessed” everyday.

On to North Texas for the Final Four!

  

Health update – I’m doing well and making it through the last of this very cold winter.  I have had much fewer episodes of muscles cramps and pain in my feet.  We saw the doctor in mid-January and all my blood work along with other vitals are fine.  The next big date for me is March 19th.  I will have a CT scan, and, depending upon the results, my doctors will decide if they want to remove the two (2) remaining tumors in my right lung.

As I have discussed with several family members and close friends, the removal of these tumors – both of which are now less than a millimeter in size – would be similar to the needle biopsy I had back in August.  In other words, this would not be radical lung surgery.  Vicki and I will, of course, discuss the pros and cons of the procedure, but my doctor’s main concern is that sometime in the future these tumors may begin to resist the drug I’m currently taking and start to grow larger.  There may be several alternatives, so thoughts and prayers are greatly needed as we make our decision.

Today (February 19th) is Emily’s 20th birthday!  I cannot believe that our daughter is twenty years old!  I have not shared much about Emily in this blog other than to say that she is away at college.  Her arrival in this world is a somewhat unique story that I want to share.  Many of you know some of the story, but most of you don’t know how Emily’s birth profoundly changed our lives, mine in particular, and not necessarily in the cliched way that one may think the birth of child changes a new parent.

First of all were the circumstances surrounding Emma’s birth.  Vicki was more than 8 months pregnant when the infamous Ice Storm ’94 slammed into Memphis.  (As it turns out, the night the ice began to hit here, I was stuck in Dallas dealing with the same icy weather.)  We were without power for almost a week.  Vicki was a bank branch manager and had to go to work regardless of the conditions.  Needless to say, it was a crazy and extremely stressful time for us.  As our power came back on and things began to get back to normal, Vicki kept complaining of back pains and just not feeling “right.”  We finally saw her ob/gyn who told us that her water had broken, and we were going to have a baby in the next 24 hours!

Now our world was really getting turned upside down.  We went to the hospital late Friday evening – Vicki was having serious labor pains at that point, and she spent almost the next twelve hours in labor.  She was exhausted when Emily was finally born.  (I was pretty tired, too.)  Everything seemed to be okay as Vicki rested and Emily was in the small incubator near our bed.  The neonatal doctor came in, did his examine, and matter-of-factly said he wanted to take Emily away to do some tests.  We were so tired we didn’t think anything about it.

After a while, however, we started to sense something was not right.  The nurses kept coming in to check on us and they kept saying things like, “Oh, they’ll be right back with the baby.  The doctor just needs to check on one more thing.”  The neonatal guy finally came back and basically said that Emma wasn’t “pinking up,” and he wasn’t sure why.  He called a couple of specialists who were on call that day – thank God – along with our ob/gyn.  Even though it’s been twenty years and a lot of these memories have begun to fade, I still remember – even now with so much dread – Vicki’s sad, sad face lying in that bed.  She began to cry.  I couldn’t believe this was happening to us…it was just one more incredible thing to pile on top of the ice storm and twelve hours of labor.

Stuart Birnbaum was a pediatric cardiologist, and, at the time, one of a handful of pediatric heart specialists who specialized in genetic heart defects.  We, Vicki and I, still believe – even when our faith continues to be tested, even when I have this tenuous relationship with God, even at the worst of times – that we were meant to be in Memphis, Tennessee because of Stuart Birnbaum and the surgeons at Le Bonheur Children’s Hospital.

Recent pic of Emily playing in the snow at Maryland.

Dr. Birnbaum, who sadly died in a car wreck many years ago, quickly and gently explained to us what was wrong with Emily’s heart.  Emily had transposition of the great vessels, a genetic defect in which oxygenated blood does not cycle back into the body like it is supposed to.

Thus began our unimaginable three-week journey of getting our daughter to remain in this world.  The journey continues to this day – 20 year later – as Emily has annual and bi-annual heart check ups.  She wears a reminder of her surgery – only five days old! – with a scar down the middle of her chest.  Otherwise, she’s a normal, happy – sometimes – college student, who makes her parents proud each and every day.