Blue Suede Shoes

Moms can be a little unintentionally cruel to their kids.

Take the time I had to show up at the church's pre-school in leather, German Lederhosen. How humiliating. I was so uncool. My stature as a Myerstown 4-year-old just went down the drain. I still remember the embarassment I felt, the faces of my fellow classmates - somewhere between shock and laughter.

So when my Mom told me that I was going to be allowed to pick out my own pair of shoes for the first time I was incredibly excited. Finally I was going to start to pick-out my own clothing. I'd be the coolest kid in town!

Now, it turns out that my Mom thought that I'd wear shoes more often if I had a say in picking them out. I was, afterall, a sneaker kid, if I had anything on my feet at all.

Mom has never stopped trying to dress me. And I've learned that she has some talents for it, beyond the Lederhosen incident. If you see me in a yellow shirt, and I have quite a few of them, it's guaranteed that it came from Mom. My Dad used to come to the breakfast table, pose briefly, and ask "How did I do?" to my Mom and Sister. Most mornings he'd get sent back for another try or two. I've learned that taking Mom's, and now Barb's advice too, keeps me out of just jeans and sweatshirts.

But my first chance to pick-out my own shoes. This was BIG! This was HUGE! I could not screw-up this opportunity.

I think the store was called "Dinger's," along Route 422 in Myerstown, next to the water tower. I sauntered in, brimming with a feeling of power like I've never felt before.

I browsed quite a bit. My Mom offered suggestions, and I soaked them in politely. I may even have tried a couple of shoes on. At some point I spotted a pair of Hush Puppies. They had a little bit of a heel and they were blue suede. That's right blue suede.

These were the ones. They glowed. They spoke to me. No one had shoes like this! They were so cool! I was going to be the envy of everyone in 5th grade.

My Mom was a little surprised by my selection. But she respected her promise and we made the purchase.

I couldn't wait to wear my new blue suede shoes to school the next day. I was all decked out and ready to roll. There was definitely a draw-back since these shoes would not serve me well at recess. But they were happening, they were the tops. I was ready to strut my stuff.

I'm more comfortable blending in with the crowd, rather than being the center of attention. So I did not march into the classroom announcing my cool new shoes. I quietly took my place in class and listened to the slight buzz around me . . .

". . . buzz buzz buzz . . . Pssst....check out those shoes Albert is wearing . . . buzz buzz buzz . . . "

Then I heard it. The voice I never wanted to hear. The voice that left a shrill down my spine.

It was the toughest, meanest, scariest kid in class. There was no facing off against this kid, no winning, you just had to walk away and practice damage control.

"JIM ALBERT IS WEARING GIRL'S SHOES!!!!!"

"Jim Albert is wearing what???" I thought to myself in horror.

It was Heidi Shaffer. I avoided her at all cost. If she was a boy I could just slug her. But against her I had nothing. It was generally better to run and hide. She could tease anyone in the class down to a quivering little dust ball.

My heart sunk in my chest. The room filled with laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the fingers all pointing at my shoes. Slouching in my chair I turned my head towards Heidi and there she stood, wearing the exact blue suede shoes I was wearing.

I made it through the day, laid low, and avoided Heidi at all cost.

I know I had picked out boy's shoes. There was no question of that. And I knew it was actually Heidi that was wearing boy's shoes. But it was not worth arguing, not with Heidi. I would not win that one.

After that the shoes stayed in the closet. It only took a few days or a week until my Mom asked why I wasn't wearing them. I couldn't tell her the truth. It was so significant that she left me pick out my own shoes that I couldn't let her know that I had blown it.

I was better in sneakers afterall. Playing football at recess was much more important.

(Quick Tummy Note: Last night I made it through the night without being called to the bathroom at midnight - the first time in a week. Abdomen in general is also feeling stronger today. So I hope this is the sign of recovery from the latest strong side effect.)

Sometimes You've Just Got to Get Mad

I'm a pretty mellow guy. Ask anyone.

I like things easy-going. My idea of a day off is lying on a beach somewhere, warming in the sun like some blood hound baking on a porch. I'm not much of a thrill-seeker, not much for amusement parks. Someone once asked me if I wanted to join them and jump out of a plane. Jump out of a what?!?!? Jeesh, just driving is plenty exciting for me. No thank you.

And I'm not much for temper, or arguing. It takes a lot to get me riled up. I have to feel like some great injustice is being done.

With cancer treatment, sometimes I have to get myself riled up. Sometimes I have to get things done, whether my body agrees with the gameplan or not.

Like with eating - I had really lost my appetite at the end of summer 2007 and I had to put my foot down and make eating start to happen again. And it did. I adjusted my mental perspective towards eating, planned the best times for me to eat, the best foods, and the best environments to eat in.

It wasn't easy by any means. I had to get a little mad and force some things. But eventually eating was natural and enjoyable again, and it's been that way ever since. I still continued to lose weight (?????????) but I was eating more than enough every day.

Now after babying my tummy and digestive track for the past week - it's time to get mad and make some things happen.

Chemo can really be a strange thing. I can't imagine that chemo spreads out evenly across the entire body each dose. It can't be that smart. So it probably concentrates in certain areas. Who knows where? It probably just heads for anywhere there's fast dividing cells.

This past week it's concentrated on my digestive track - and I've had enough. I've been nursing my sore abdomen and lower back. I've been spending too much time in the la-z-boy keeping the mid-section still. Now, forget it, I'm getting up and getting stuff done whether it feels like Mike Tyson used my belly as a set of bongos or not.

I'm getting mad at the chemo.

The mind can be a powerful thing. And I'm going to put it to work.

A Little Better

Cancer, and cancer treatment, has a way of narrowing your priorities down to the simplest things - eating, sleeping, exercise. In general you find yourself concentrating and working on just keeping the body functioning as best as possible.

Other things beyond that sometimes just don't seem to matter.

I've blogged this week about my very upset digestive system. It's been bad enough that it has become my priority for the week. Trying to manage the diet and the drugs to bring everything back to calm.

Today, well, it's a little better.

At least last night I did not wake up in the middle of the night to a volcanic eruption, as I had the two nights before. That was one major accomplishment I was really striving for.

And this morning things are better, not perfect by any means, but better. My mid-section and lower back are both just sore from a week of the digestive system in complete revolt. The tummy is still growling. But it's not quite as bad. And I'm trying to quiet it with the medications.

Hopefully another day or two and everything will level out again. And then I can write about something besides my tummy for a change!

Riding the Rollercoasters

I haven't been able to accomplish a whole lot this week. The digestive track is still staging a revolt. It feels like a couple guys took me out back and went at my abdomen and lower back for a few rounds. And it's hard to get involved in things when you feel like you've just been beat up.

The tummy has gone to Hersheypark, and it's riding the rollercoasters - all of them.

The chemo has a tendency to evolve these type of things. I don't get too excited, just because I've went through them before. Something seems to rear its ugy head, stick around for a few days, and then return to normal.

I hope this runs its course real soon.

It's officially been over a year now since I started chemo. That's a pretty long-time for chemotherapy. I feel like I need a little break from it, or maybe at least a reduced dosage for a couple of weeks.

I won't pull back though, of course, without the doctor's blessing, whether it be the oncologist here in Lancaster, or the kidney cancer specialist we'll see April 8th in Philadelphia.

I've only been able to brave two slices of banana bread so far today. I think I'm going to get courageous and dive into a meatball sandwich - slowly.

When days like this hit it's all I can do to concentrate on the simplest of things, like eating and trying to keep everything in me. Meatballs here I come.

Is it safe to eat a meatball sandwich while riding the rollercoasters?

Quick Update

We received the results of Tuesday's brain MRI and everything is looking good. I really wasn't stressing this one too much. But I feel a lot better knowing we checked things out before considering possible surgery, or a switch in my chemotherapy.

Just wanted to share the good news.

All Out Warfare

The bombs are falling across the field of battle as the black smoke thickens the skies, and the rumble of battle shakes the ground beneath.

The digestive track decided to go into full revolt last evening - thanks to the chemo no doubt. It had been building up for a couple of days and the battle ensued last evening.

You never know what you're going to wake-up to while taking chemo. Last week it was fatique. I had to take a couple of afternoon naps last week. This week there's no fatique, it's the digestive track. My stomach is just rumbling, "Just try to eat something. I dare 'ya."

This morning I'm licking my wounds, taking my medicine, and slowly trying to eat a little banana bread, just to see what the digestive track is going to do with it.

I'm still not sure where the battleground will open up today. If I'm lucky, the battles inside will quiet for a day. We'll see. It does happen occasionally. But most days there is a fight going on with the variety of side effects, somewhere in the body.

Take cover, it's still unclear where the body is going today.

Rest Stop

Whew. I get to stay home today, catch up on some work around the house, and some work in the studio.

I get to spread out my little meals today, and I have no excuses today for missing exercises.

Last Thursday was the butcher, the state store and the grocery store. Friday was getting ready for Easter Sunday. Saturday was a day of baking and prep work for Easter dinner. Sunday was Easter - what fun! Monday was services for Barb's Uncle Larry. Tuesday was a check-up MRI.

It's good to just have a day here to catch up.

When we bought this 200-year-old house in Marietta we had a laundry list of improvements we wished to make. There's been a new furnace, new water heater, new fixtures, fresh paint, a new sidewalk, the list goes on and on. I'm just not quite as far as long as I wanted to be by now.

But as of yesterday a big check was added to the list next to "fix back decks." The decks have been in terrible shape since we bought the place. The decks were all wood and all rotting and falling apart. Everything's been replaced and is now brand spanking new. The ground level deck was in such bad shape it could be considered hazardous. Now it's sparkling with new stone pavers instead of wood. It looks great. We're both thrilled to finally get this done, just in time for Spring.

We're supposed to be in the 50s today, although the rain is coming by this evening. With a day at the house I might even be able to get out and play in the dirt in the backyard a little bit.

First Taste of Music

I don't remember whether it was 3rd or 4th grade, when I was first introduced to making music. One morning we took our seats in the classroom in Myerstown Elementary and everyone was handed a white, plastic, tube-like thing that was filled with holes - the flutaphone (pronounced "flute-a-phone").

It was a mini-recorder. A little flute like thing. And it sounded terrible.

When I ran this memory by Barb her face lit up and she exclaimed, "You mean the Tonette!"

I thought it was interesting that she had the same introduction to music, at the same age, just under a different name.

Did everyone have this thing? Do they still have these things?

We practiced a lot. But the practice didn't help a lot. We stank. In all honesty I don't think it's possible to make sweet sounding music on one of those plastic little flutes.

The flutaphones didn't sound good period, and we were a bunch of 3rd graders with no sense of rhythm or pace, some blowing into the thing harder than others, some playing the notes with their fingers different than others.

Way in the back of my mind, I can still somehow remember a recital we performed for all of our parents. I can almost hear the awful, whistling sounds of our grand performance.

My Mom did a great job at making sure I had exposure to everything. And where the flutaphone left off my Mom picked up and kept my music education going.

There was about three-years of piano. You know, she'll disagree - but that's why she's Mom - but I was really awful. In all honesty, I was a young kid, bursting with energy, and I just wanted to be outside, running around, ripping my jeans, riding my bike. i didn't want to be sitting inside, in front of a piano, "plink plink plank plink."

But looking back, I do greatly appreciate it. My Mom was super at getting me a taste of everything so I could find the things in life I most enjoy - which became basketball, soccer and art.

The piano ended and along came the French Horn - yes, the French Horn.

With 4th or 5th grade came the introduction of "band." I think everyone had to participate at first. I wanted to play the drums. My Mom insisted that any idiot could play a drum, and she happened to have a French Horn . . .

French Horn it was.

Can you imagine carrying this thing on the bus?

I just couldn't purse my lips and make this thing work. I tried. But it wasn't there. In the years to come the French Horn faded and my days of making music were over.

Today I love listening to music. The TV is mainly there to watch sports. I could listen to music all the time, and often do.

My Mom had a huge collection of music, and just about every recording from every Broadway show produced. She never wanted kids who were planted in front of the TV all day, everyday. But she played music. And as we grew old enough to work the stereo we played her records too.

I think the flutaphone, the piano lessons, the French Horn, and my Mom's general affection for music was the foundation for my appreciation for music today. Thanks Mom!

It's All About Family

We enjoy being able to play host to a family get-together, especially when both sides of the family have an opportunity to all gather.

Now I'm not saying we'd want to do it for every holiday, lol, but we do enjoy being able to have a chance to have everyone gather here in Marietta at least once a year.

It was great to have everyone here for Easter Sunday yesterday. We did miss having both of Barb's grandmothers with us, but their hearts were with us we know, and our thoughts were definitely with them.

And we did miss having my sister's family here, although we certainly understand that it was time for them to spend a holiday with her husband's family.

But we did have great representation of both families generations, from our wise elders to our smallest pipsqueaks, from our newest puppy to our mean, old cat Freckles.

Ellis, one of our pipsqueaks, really did not want to wear a tie yesterday, I've been told. But when he heard that Freckles wanted him to wear a tie he had no problem donning the tie.

I answered the door when Ellis arrived and he shot passed me saying, "Happy Easter Freckles!" Freckles, of course, was hiding beneath our bed upstairs. He stayed there all day. Ellis would not be denied the chance to say "Hi" and "Happy Easter" to Freckles so we escorted him upstairs and let him talk to Freckles under the bed.

The simple joy of having so much family together in this busy world was certainly the highlight of the day.

The ham, I've heard, was also a star.

The secret?

It's all about the butcher, Groff's in Elizabethtown. No two smokehouses are alike, and Groff's is just head-and-shoulders above them all. Get a ham at Groff's, glaze it with some Dr. Pepper and brown sugar (that's right Dr. Pepper), and there 'ya go, one unbelievable ham.

The most touching thing to me, by far, was how everyone muscled me out of the kitchen when the meal was done and took over all the clean-up duties. I really didn't expect that. I tried to resist, but to no avail. "Go sit down," I was told repeatedly. I lingered, worked on stripping down the ham, but eventually had to give in as the kitchen became more and more populated with family pitching in to help clean everything up.

Thank you.

It's great to see the family come together for the holiday, and it's even more touching to see the family come together to work together.

It's an Easter we will remember for sure.

Easter Gifts

Of course the greatest gift of Easter is our risen Lord. The greatest gift of all.

This Easter another great gift for us is having so much of both of our families come together in Marietta to enjoy this holiday together. We're really looking forward to it.

I wrestled the 20-pound ham into the roasting pan at 5 a.m. this morning. As soon as I opened the packaging and begun trimming away the netting, Freckles scrambled to my side to see what this incredible aroma was (and if anything might fall onto the floor).

I looked down at Freckles and laughed, his face looked like he was drooling. Of course, Freckles will not get any ham. Not the kind of food that's good for a cat or a dog.

After a little over an hour the house is already being filled with the smell of Groff's smoked ham. It will soon be time to add my special brown sugar and Dr. Pepper glaze. That's right, Dr. Pepper.

We'll see you all here very soon. Make yourself at home, stay awhile, eat a lot, and we'll celebrate this special day, the cornerstone of our faith.

Proving We're Not Terrorists - Day 6

We only wanted to open a simple business checking account. Stop in at the bank, transfer some funds from one account to this new account. Sign a couple papers. There 'ya go.

There we went, right out the front door, told that we have to prove that we're really a business and not terrorists trying to launder money around the world.

I was really only thinking about getting a sign made up for the front of the building. And the business account just plain old helps us track expenses much more effectively.

This headache, we're all told, is the result of the federal Patriot Act.

How do we prove we're really a business? Well the bank wasn't very good at understanding that part of it. This morning we're going to stop in again and we're bringing everything: state sales tax license; a letter from the borough and the local tax collector; business cards and stationary; an invitation to visit our Web site; driver's license; social security card; and my Goofy Goober Ice Cream Club membership card just to make sure.

Jeesh, we have borough officials waiting to call if all of this stuff doesn't work.

Talk about a bunch of silly red tape.

I have done some research. I used to love libraries, just so much to see and read and so little time. Now my library is on the computer and the internet. No wonder I like the computer so much, my own personal library at my fingertips.

According to the provisions of the Patriot Act, a general partnership of husband and wife can be treated as a sole proprietor, and only needs a social security number to begin banking.

Our bank is real good with the provisions of the Patriot Act and how they apply to different structures of business. Not enough, according to our bank, we need more.

But what?

They're not sure.

Graphic Arts is not a licensed business in PA or any state. We don't use a fictitious business name, our surname is part of the business name so we don't have to. I didn't need a prenuptial agreement to marry my wonderful wife, and I certainly don't need paper work drawn up for our business partnership.

So what do they want?

They're not sure.

We're going in this morning with everything, absolutely positively everything. I might take baby pictures.

Considering all the non-sensical hoops we're being asked to go through, it makes me think. Are the terrorists winning? I feel less free.

Good Friday

Today is certainly an important day in our history. The day of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. From birth to death it seems to me as if Jesus' life was to serve as an example to us all. And if that alone was not enough, we received through this important part of history forgiveness for our sins, and the offer of eternal life.

Think about that for a second.

WOW!

It seems really almost to good to be true. And there are plenty of doubters. But there are so many more believers.

Growing up it was really easy for me to have faith, and to believe in the scriptures. Afterall there does seem to be a wealth of historical evidence in place. And there also seems to be row after row after row of people much, much smarter than me who have examined the evidence and truly believe.

And just looking around at this planet we call Earth, with all of its delicate balances, I just can't believe that all of this occurred by mistake. It certainly seems as if a great power, beyond our true understanding, must be responsible.

Good Friday to me is a mixture of feeling solemn and feeling great joy, almost the feelings I have when any loved one passes. On one hand I feel sad for any suffering, for the personal loss I may feel, and on the other hand I feel joy for the passing to God's side, the true quest we search for from our journey.

Battle Stations

Nexavar, the chemotherapy drug I take, does not know the difference between good and bad, from good cells to cancer cells.

Nexavar attacks cells that seem overactive because cancer cells are overactive. But a lot of normal cells are overactive too, like the skin, like hair, like the digestive track.

I have no idea how these little orange pills find and target fast moving cells. Some lure must draw them in. And I have no idea if these little orange pills make complete rounds of the bloodstream through the body, or if they drop into the stomach, dissolve, and together yell "Charge!" heading for a specific area.

I've often thought that the latter is likely true. Because every day, and every week, it feels to me as if specific battles in specific areas of my body are going on.

Once I had a sore, swollen area around my breastbone. In a couple days it went away.

Once I had a sore, swollen area in my right chest. In a couple days it went away.

I've had sore spots around my skull, not headaches, just a couple moments of surface level slight pain. And in a couple days it goes away.

The favorite battleground seems to be the digestive track. Since the chemo starts in the stomach it seems to be a favorite place to pick on.

Earlier this week the battleground became just behind my right eye, sporadic pains that felt like eye strain. Now it's going away.

This morning the stomach laid site to the chemo battles again, enough to make my back stiff and sore. I'm sure in a couple days it to will go away.

Somedays the Nexavar does not seem to be able to find any battlegrounds. I look forward to those days with great anticipation.

And I look forward to the development of a chemo that can target cancer cells with great accuracy, while leaving the rest of my body's normal cells alone.

With A Heavy Heart....

With a heavy heart, I am sorry to say that my Uncle Larry passed away on March 18th, to a much better place. I have many fond memories of him during the childhood years and for years to come. I remember as a child they had a home with a swimming pool and we would go there and swim. I also remember birthday parties that there had been for Mark and Andy (his two sons).

My uncle had a horse farm at one point in his life and raised Appaloosa horses, and they were very attractive horses. Aunt Alice had bred Australian Shepherd dogs.

I will always continue to think that I don't know where the times goes and I will miss my uncle a great deal. Uncle Larry had a big heart and tried to do what he could for everyone. I will always cherish the time I was able to spend with him and deep down he knows how much he is loved.

Strength in Differences

For all intensive purposes my Mom and Dad really shouldn't be with one another. They're so different in so many ways.

But what my Mom and Dad have taught me, through watching them my entire life, is that differences can be strengths if you allow it. With the right perspectives, with mutual respect, and trust, differences can be the best thing of all. The skills my Mom may lack, my Dad fills in for. The skills my Dad may lack, my Mom fills in for. It makes them a formidable team, complete in many ways.

They probably don't even realize how they've taught me this important lesson through my life. I don't think they've consciously realized this through the years, although they very well may have. But it certainly has left an impression on me.

How different the world could be if we all took our differences and turned them into strengths, instead of excuses to butt heads over.

I've always embraced differences in ethnicity, culture, background, perspective. Quite frankly I'm thrilled that our next President will likely be a woman or an African-American (even though I'm not too thrilled with the candidates themselves). Overall, to me, that diversity in perspective in that office is long overdue.

Why am I not to thrilled with the candidates themselves? Well they may be different in appearance but they still come from the same "old boys' club." Clinton pockets money from lobbyists she swears to stand against, including a gratutious position on Wal-Mart's board. Obama has made a mini-fortune representing slum-lords in Chicago. They're all already in Washington, all already in "the club."

They may claim to be bringing fresh perspective to Washington. But, c'mon, I may have been born at night, but it wasn't last night. I'm not fooled by a nice speech. It's all more of the same. I want a REAL outsider, a farmer, a banker, a candlestick maker, anyone who's truly outside the current games of today's politics.

It's a commonly held belief that things like racism occur through ignorance, a lack of understanding, thus fear, of another culture. But, using the example my parents have set their entire life, I embrace differences. With an open mind, these differences make me broader, wiser, stronger.

Barb and I put these philosophies to work everyday. She is so great at things that I am so terrible at, and vice versa. I'm intimidating, purely by nature and not by intent. People do not approach me, or try to start a conversation. Barb is friendly, very approachable, and everyone loves to interact with her. So we make that difference a strength. Most of the time Barb represents us with her kindness and courtesy. And, every now and then, the big mean guy needs to step in and read someone the "riot act."

Yesterday, at the bank, was a prime example of how together, combining our differences, we're so much stronger than if we'd be apart.

All we wanted to do was open a simple business checking account. But because of the Patriot Act, we were told, opening the account was anything but simple. We had to prove that we were really a business and not a terrorist organization setting up to launder money. But, they couldn't tell us how we needed to prove it.

Talk about frustrating.

"What do you need to see?" I asked.

"A business license," I was told.

There is no such thing. Sure, if I was opening a barber shop or a nursing home I would need to seek a license from the state. But the state has no licensure of graphic artists.

"Well what's that paper from the state people hang up in their businesses?" I was asked.

"That's the sales tax information for the business. Do you want to see that?" I asked.

"No that's not acceptable," the bank representative said. "You can use the fictitious name paperwork."

"We don't have a fictitious business name. Our last name is part of our business name," I answered.

"Oh," she said. "How about a license from Marietta?"

"Marietta doesn't have licenses," I answered, shaking my head and really frustrated.

Now, after a dizzying dispute, after the bank rep calling the main headquarters (who refused to talk to me directly), I let the bank have it.

"Tell me specifically what you need and I will bring it to you. But don't tell me to bring you things I don't have and will never need."

The entire time Barb kept calm, smiling, reassuring, keeping the bank personnel feeling good about us.

Me? I left the bank personnel shaking with nervousness and confusion, leaving my mark behind. I don't get riled up often, or easily, but when I feel like I'm butting heads with idiocy, well I let everyone know.

And this is ridiculous. If I was looking to launder money to the Middle East I would have no problem filing for a fictitious business name for a couple hundred bucks. How does that prove that I'm a legitimate business?

I called the main office of the bank immediately, recounted the situation and demanded answers. The verdict? We have to get a letter from the borough stating that we are a genuine business and not a terrorist organization - all because of the Patriot Act.

Barb, the nice one, called the borough office. The borough office, a bit confused, said that we should probably contact the borough's zoning officer. Messages have been left with the zoning officer who may get back in touch with us over the next couple weeks, and I'm confident that he'll be thoroughly confused by this request.

Combined, pulling our differences together will be our strength, and we'll get a simple business checking account open - someday.

No wonder business is dwindling in America. I'm consistenly amazed by how much innane things, how many useless hoops, businesses have to jump through.

But, as I've learned through watching my parents my entire life, combined Barb and I will use our differences to be our strength, and get things done.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

I have always liked dark, thick beer. Set me up with a Guinness on tap and I'm a happy camper.

It's ironic that now I live within walking distance of two of the best pubs in Lancaster County, both with Guiness on tap, and now I can't touch beer, not a drop. Life can be funny. All you can do is laugh.

We had the pleasure yesterday of running over to Myerstown to visit with my Dad and Mom, and their new puppy. It was a visit that was overdue. And we both enjoyed catching up with my parents.

As far as Noel the new puppy is concerned, she is a furball full of energy. Writer Kevin Kling raises dachsunds, and he wrote "There is no more of a can do attitude in a can't do body than that of a weiner dog."

That pretty much sums up Noel. Noel suffered a birth defect, and the breeder brought her to the vet to have her put to sleep. The vet decided instead to perform surgery to try to correct the problem with her hind legs. The vet then thrust the puppy on my Mom, who despite her tough personna is really a big softy, and she couldn't turn the puppy down.

You would think that her kids already cause her enough headaches...lol...but she's taken on another one. But Noel is really a great puppy. As my Mom said yesterday, she's never seen a dog that smiles like this one.

And it does.

We greatly enjoyed a stop-in to the Stouch Tavern yesterday, a historic restaurant in Womelsdorf which has always prepared top-quality food. It was good to interact with the owners, both of whom are friends of my parents. And it was good to get back into the restaurant before the owners sell and retire.

I've learned, especially in the past year, that once a restaurant sells it is never the same. It happened to Josephine's, The Railroad House, and Moseby's. All of these local places were led by such outstanding people that they are impossible to replace. And someday soon Stouch's Tavern will join that list.

We're going to transfer the title and tags on Barb's new wheels this morning, her brand new 1987 Oldsmobile.

Then we need to stop in at the bank and open the business bank account for the start of business April 1.

And all week we'll be getting ready for Easter in Marietta. Eighteen family members are due in for the holiday and we're really looking forward to it. I'm not sure Freckles is looking forward to it though. He'll be spending the day hiding under an upstairs bed.

Spring can't come soon enough. The days are getting slightly warmer. But it is still slightly below freezing this morning. But the birds are showing up with more frequency, as I watched two cardinals late yesterday afternoon chase one another through the yard.

Maybe just one pint of Guinness? It is St. Patrick's Day? No. I just can't. (pout)

Getting Back to Work

With plans to re-open the business April 1 we've been preparing and getting our "ducks in a row."

(The origins of expressions always amaze me. Ducks in a row? I don't have ducks. And what advantage is there to them being in a row?)

A few weeks ago I did a little price sheet/brochure for our daughter Alyssa and her business. It was a good test for me to see if I could get back to the design business. And I believe I am ready, with Barb's help.

Barb and I had previously looked forward to the day when it made sense for Barb to join the business. Now, through the coincidence of my health situation, she will. With Barb on board it will take all of the daily business functions off my desk so I can solely concentrate on designing print collateral, and Web sites, and also my photography. For me, that's a big deal, really the only way that getting back to the business could be possible.

Knowing the official opening of the business is near, I've been handing out some business cards. I realized though, to my horror, that my business cards referenced by Web site, which was no longer posted. So through the past two weeks I've worked to get a previous version of the site posted, with a few updates.

The site is now up at www.albertdesignstudio.com

There are quite a few more updates I have in mind, and hopefully over the course of the next few weeks I'll work through them.

One neat new feature I have added is the ability to e-mail Freckles, our cat. Please, go ahead, try it out.

I'd love to hear what everyone thinks.

I've decided to not bog down the site with too much text that people seem not to read. I've really aimed for just making the site very visual, and very fun. But there are some things I'm just not happy with yet. I'm my own worst critic.

We've already bid on one job. I'm working to find a web programmer to partner with so I can concentrate solely on the design end. And a lot of my former clients have recently contacted me to let me know how anxious they are to see me back and working. I'm very touched by their support.

And in closing . . . I have no idea when Doris Ursu took this recent picture of me. But, as they say, photographs do not lie. Here is a recent pic of me . . .


. . . striking resemblance! (smile)

Makes You Think......

With all the health problems that seem to be going not so well within the family......I have to give my mother the highest regard. With the troubles with my Granny, Uncle Larry and Uncle Bill, she still continues to hold herself together. She does everything she possibly can for everybody. The strength she carries, I am fairly certain that she got from her father carries on.

Until you grow up and actually become an adult (for some people later than others) you just don't realize how much your parents and family means to you, and what they have done for you as a child and a young adult. I think I was pretty much considered the mild one of the three of us, but that didn't always lead me to have an outgoing personality. I am better than I had been in that respect, but it has never been an easy thing for me to come by.

I have such a deep respect for my mother, she carries on no matter what and I know how difficult it can be. I am so thankful for a mother like her and I am so very glad that we have the relatiionship that we do. Mother, I Love You!!!

Fighting Spirit

One thing I've found helpful in the fight against cancer is to just plain old get mad.

Well I really don't get mad. I get determined.

The chemo makes cancer patients lethargic, nothing feels better than just sitting there doing nothing. The toughest part is getting up and getting started on something. Once you get started, well it's kind of like pushing a ball down a hill, the most challenging part is the initial push and then it's just rolling along from there.

It's hard for me to start exercises everyday. My motivation for exercise always seems to fall in the mid-morning. If I get mad, get determined, if I just say to myself "I'm going to get up and kick cancer's butt!" before you know it I'm up and at it.

If this isn't enough there's always competition for time, something we all deal with each day. Many times during morning hours there are other things that need to be done, trumping my exercise time and making me try to be flexible - although the body and the chemo has little room for flexibility.

Once I start exercising it helps for me to get mad, to be determined. I think to myself "I'm going to beat this horrible disease. I'm not going to let the chemo continue to eat away at my body weight, my muscle mass." I get angry and add 10 repititions to every exercise.

You have to have confidence. You have to believe. You can't approach life thinking only about when something difficult may end, but thinking about how much you're going to push it and how much benefits you're going to enjoy from it for working hard.

Oh, I have my moments. Moments when I just want to sit back and relax. Moments when I feel completely unmotivated. But overall I'm a fighter. And cancer has no idea who it has just picked a battle with.

As I said to my oncologist earlier this week, "You can count on me being here to bug you for years to come."

Little of This, Little of That

This blog must be magic. Just hours after I blogged about losing Freckles' toys on a regular basis, one of his toys showed up. Somehow Barb found his little cat-nip filled mouse tucked between a club chair a coffee table and a wall. We still have not found the mouse yet this morning though...hmmm.

It's a busy day today. The contractors are entering their third day of work on our back decks this morning. They're doing a good job, and working hard. Last night we took a little stroll out back to check out their work and everything's looking great so far.

The three decks out back have been in miserable shape since we moved into this house and it's been on our shortlist for that entire time to have them repaired. It will probably not all be entirely finished by Easter. But it will be close. The final stage will be replacing the ground level deck with stone pavers. That will really be the icing on the cake. It looks like it's coming together as envisioned, and will be a tremendous improvement.

I wanted to do a lot of this work myself. But...with the excitement of the past year, I'll just be happy to have it done.

We're adding a car to the family today also, Granny's 1987 Oldsmobile. Barb has shown interest in learning to drive this Spring and it seems a perfect match, a good car for her to learn on. The idea of her starting out on the manual 6-speed FJ Cruiser seemed a little intimidating to me, and to her.

And we're going to start in motion a front window replacement today. When you have a 200-year-old house all work is a little interesting. There is no such thing as a right angle anywhere in this house.

When I was out with the contractors yesterday one worker claimed, "This deck flares out a little bit." I laughed and said, "This whole house flares out a little bit." You either love it or it drives you mad. I love the quirkiness of it all, and the long history of the house.

To top things off today, the rebirth of Albert Design Studio is now official. A printer in Harrisburg called to ask if we would design a web site for them. It should be a perfect job to get the ball rolling again, and a good client for Barb to gain experience interacting with design clients.

So it's saws and calls, new windows and old cars, things will be bustling at 31 West Market Street today.

And hopefully within the next hour or two Freckles' toy will present itself again.

And We Thought Freckles Was Strange

Freckles, our cat, needs some play time to keep active and to help him stay fit. Usually this is my domain, since I too need some play time to keep active and stay fit.

We've bought Freckles countless toys. We don't know what happens to them. We can keep track of them for a few days, then suddenly, they disappear.

We search and search, pull furniture away from walls, and nothing, these toys just keep disappearing. I keep thinking that someday we're going to find a cache' of cat toys somewhere in the house.

Recently we bought Freckles a little mouse filled with catnip and it was a hit. It was hilarious to seem him throwing it into the air and chasing around after it. Then it disappeared. We've looked everywhere, to no avail.

The only toy we've been able to keep around is a heavy mouse, wrapped in harsh rope and filled with some kind of beans. The only reason we've kept track of this is because it's tied to the back of a chair at the breakfast table.

This is not a soft, plush toy. It's kind of rough, heavy and harsh. But then so is Freckles. Freckles loves to smack the dangling mouse around like he's playing tether ball. He spends some time with it every day. He gets so enthused about it he actually moves the chair around. He's a beast. The mouse comes down and smacks him in the head and I think to myself, "that had to hurt." But, no, it just bounces off his head to his own delight.

One game that I start with Freckles is hide-and-seek. He loves it. I'll get his attention and then take off running, ducking behind the kitchen counter, or hiding behind a doorway in an adjoining room. Freckles hustles after me and then lets out a loud "Meow," when he finds me. And I take off again. And we repeat the process again and again. He loves it. I laugh.

Last night I started the hide-and-seek game with Freckles and all of a sudden Barb got caught up in it too. We hid behind the kitchen counter, and he found us. We scampered into the family room and hid on the stairway landing, and he found us. We rumbled up the stairs and tucked around the corner, and he found us. We streaked down the hall into the bedroom, and he found us. We dashed into the bathroom and pressed up against the wall near the shower . . .

At this point Barb and I stood silent, waiting for Freckles to turn the corner and let out a huge "MEOW!" The seconds seemed to last minutes as we tried to stand there in utter silence. Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore and started giggling. I tried to cover my mouth but the giggles came out my nose instead. That's all it took to set Barb off. In seconds we both stood there giggling uncontrollably.

Then Freckles carefully peered around the corner.

"MEOW!"

Back from the Oncologist

It's pretty difficult for me to read a radiologist's report. We always ask for the report as soon as it is available, and we have a copy faxed to us. But I never really know what I'm looking at until I visit the oncologist for interpretation.

We just received that interpretation from the oncologist and it's all quite positive.

Basically I have one tumor in my body, in the upper lobe of the left lung. It's the same tumor that has been there for more than a year. It's started as a tiny dot, grew to as large as an inch, shrunk back down to a quarter of an inch and now measures about half an inch.

Now if the cancer had never spread to my brain, the doctors would have gone after this isolated tumor by now. But once the spread to the brain occurred, the feeling is that more tumors will appear so it's not wise to chase one just to see another one show up.

But since I've gone a year now without any spread beyond this one isolated tumor the doctors are thinking about going after it.

So I'm off to Philadelphia, sometime after Easter.

I've met with a doctor twice at the University of Pennslvania in the early stages of my cancer's spreading, over a year ago. He is a leading figure in the kidney cancer field, is close to clinical trials, and the author of numerous studies.

My oncologist felt it was wise at this time to revisit him to collect his feelings on my current situation and best course of action to take from here.

The specialist in Philadelphia will have the best access to the latest techniques to eliminate the tumor in the lung. Radiation? Surgery? There is even a new technique now where they insert a fine tube directly into the tumor and then inject radiation right to the site.

And then the specialist in Philadelphia will decide what chemotherapy to go with after a procedure such as this, either to continue the Nexavar, switch to Sutent (both oral pill-based drugs), or Torisel (which is administered via IV at the hospital once a week).

So, sometime after Easter we'll make that loathesome trip to the University of Pennsylvania. How such a fine college ended up in such a terrible neighborhood only history knows.

This doctor is a real hot shot when it comes to kidney cancer, so I expect a very distinct plan after we leave his office. We'll likely have follow-up meetings with a surgeon or two who would implement the first half of the plan.

But I really take this all as good news. I'm happy to go after this thing in my lung and rid it from existence in my body. And there's no question that the cancer has remained in a passive state, showing no new growths and no signs of spreading.

From here I'm ready for Easter. We've got a 20-pound ham on order.

Too Much La-Z-Boy

I guess all the blogging on the laptop from the comforts of the La-Z-Boy have taken its toll. Yesterday the AC adapter cord frayed and wore through. Somehow the laptop recognized this event and pronounced my AC adapter dead upon starting up the computer.

But that still leaves two other computers in the house. At one time we had five, but that was getting a little ridiculous.

I just got off a support chat conversation with Dell. They are going to replace it for free since it's less than a year old.

I chatted on line with a customer service representative named "Harpartat." You guessed it. Dell has virtually all of their customer service based in India now. This morning went pretty well. But that's hardly always been the case.

What jobs do we still have in the U.S.?

I know that there are some online free-lance sites where people can hire graphic designers now. And most of those graphic designers are from Pakistan, India or Brazil, and they offer to work for peanuts. Once I used one of those sites to hire a web programmer for a small project. I didn't trust going abroad though and hired someone from a more trusted Seattle.

Are we teaching kids how to farm out work to third-world countries in school now? I think we better be because that seems to be all that we do anymore.

Right now my brother is in China on business. It's unclear what his company's exact goal is. Anyone care to guess?

Well it's Monday so I have to shake off the cobwebs from a nice, relaxing Sunday. Barb spoiled me by making a whole chicken roaster with her famous mashed potatoes, gravy and a vegetable. That meal fills me up like no other. I think there's magic in those mashed potatoes.

I've got to get my questions together for the oncologist tomorrow. The appointment is at 8:30 a.m. so my brain can't be trusted to remember everything I want to discuss. I almost always type up a list of discussion points before a doctor's visit. Some docs like it, some don't. My family doctor just chuckles and says, "Everyone should do this!"

It's another Monday off and running in Marietta.

Important Visit

I had my first opportunity to visit my Granny (my mother's mom) in a care facility yesterday. It seemed as though yesterday she had been doing fairly well. She has come so used to my mothers cooking that she has a very low tolerance for the food she is served there. When Jim and I went to my parents house yesterday she had homemade chicken noodle soup and chicken salad sandwiches ready for lunch.

She took the same over to my Granny and she ate pretty much everything that had been offered to her including a small slice of chocolate cake and fruit salad. I needed to see her to let her know that I have been thinking about her alot and to remind her how much I love her. My family has never been afraid to show their true feelings. It was also time I needed to spend with my mom.

I think I needed the visit with her, just as much as she did.

Little Updates

For me, we're on the move these days. It's good for me to get out and about. It does make me feel more alert, more alive. And at the same time it can be a little challenging to keep up with my eating and exercising schedule which seem so important to fight the side-effects of the chemo.

Today we're going to run over to Red Lion so Barb can visit her grandmother in a care facility. Granny's had some tough times lately and our prayers and thoughts have constantly been with her. The decision was made for me that I would wait behind while Barb and her Mom visited. Everyone's worried about exposing me to possible illness. I can respect that. My immune system is not at its strongest.

I've been told that there is homemade chicken noodle soup and chicken salad sandwiches waiting for me. I really don't need to be lured into the trip (although I appreciate it). It's important for Barb to be able to visit Granny at this time.

Next weekend, Palm Sunday, we're planning on traveling to Myerstown for early church and a visit with my parents. I'm anxious to meet their new puppy "Noel," a Bichon Frise that my Mom rescued from the vet's office after the dog endured an accident and surgery. And I'm anxious to catch-up with my parents, always such an integral part of my life, and the center of my support.

Early this upcoming week construction starts to rehab the three decks behind our house. It's something we've been meaning to do since we first moved to Marietta. We'll both be tremendously happy to finally see this work done. The contractors are confident that they will get the majority of the work completed before Easter. The ground-level deck, which is in the worst shape, probably will not be completed by Easter since we are planning on replacing it with stone pavers.

And Easter is just around the corner. We're proud to have inherited hosting this holiday in Marietta. Afterall, we have the best access to the best ham around. You just can't beat a ham from Groff's in Elizabethtown. We're expecting 18-people, a full-house for sure. And we're looking forward to fattening up every single person.

This Tuesday morning I will meet with the oncologist to discuss my latest scans and the next gameplan from here. I also want to discuss this continued weight loss. I really have an attitude about the weight-loss right now that "the buck stops here."

The stomach is growling like an angry lion, so I better quiet it with some of Barb's fantastic breakfast bread - cinnamon struesel this time.

I hope everyone has a wonderful and peaceful weekend.

Philosophy and Approach

"Is it ok to yell movie in a crowded firehouse?"
- Steve Martin

I've always been a fairly philosophical guy. I've never shyed away from addressing the big questions, like "Why are we here?"

And I've always been willing to question everything. I am the one who will stand up and say, "The emperor isn't wearing any clothes."

But I do think that there are many things in life that we're just not meant to understand. And I'm OK with that.

Even though I will challenge and question everything, there are some things I'm willing to just accept as things we're not supposed to understand.

It almost seems inhuman to not pursue answers to the big questions in life. It is, afterall, part of our innate nature to be curious, to want to know.

For instance, why are we here?

Through the entire history of human kind we've tried to answer that question. And today we still try. It tears at us. We just want to know so bad.

But I figure if we were meant to know, we would.

I put the big unanswerable questions in the hands of faith, part of God's plan. Some may say that God's plan may include our continuous pursuit of the answers to the big questions. I'm happy to turn it over to faith, and to God. I simply believe that there are things we are not supposed to know.

There can be a lot of anxiety and fear that surrounds death. It's human. And certainly I feel those emotions with my cancer. The oncologist has given me an anxiety drug called Lorazepam to deal with the occasional stress. And I have taken it, especially around scan time it seems.

But throughout my days the best cure for anxieties, again and again, is simply faith. I put my faith in God. I use the life of Jesus as an example to live by. And I truly believe that I am in God's hands, and when he calls me I will go.

Much like the life of Jesus, our lives too are filled with hardship, suffering and pain. We all have our crosses to bear.

So in our challenging times, in times of sadness, suffering, in times of pain, turn to your faith for solice, for peace, have faith that the answers to the big questions we so aggressively pursue is in his trusted hands.

It works for me.

Initial Results

An oncology nurse called us yesterday with results from my chest and abdomen CT scans. All in all I consider the results OK.

Everytime I have received results I have never considered them great. They're difficult to understand, each one seems to get read differently, and there's always something of concern noted.

So . . .

First of all, a good sign is that a nurse called with the results instead of the doctor. The Lancaster General Hospital Cancer Center recently hired a new director and he's been changing some policies. One of those changes was that doctors must phone patients about scan results (nurses always called in the past), unless there wasn't anything serious, and then a nurse could call.

So . . . that's a positive sign.

Second, for the scan itself, everything was exactly the same, completely unchanged from my January scans except for two things.

There is a "nodule" in the upper lobe of my left lung that has been present since we first suspected that the cancer had spread. This "nodule" has been very small, then it has grown to an inch, then it has shrunk back to about a quarter of an inch in size. Now this nodule is measuring about a half an inch. It has been the long-lasting, incredible shrinking/growing tumor.

The only other new item that was noted was a speck on my liver. Now this new development I was not fond of hearing about. But from the report, the speck is so small it can't be measured and it can't be defined.

So . . . I can't help but worry about these things. But all in all it doesn't sound like a tremendous amount to worry about, at least not yet.

I meet with the oncologist Tuesday to discuss all of this and I'm sure I'll find more clarity and understanding then. One of my biggest concerns at this point is that the doctor will decide to switch my chemotherapy from the tablet-form Nexavar to the IV-based Torisel. Torisel is the newest drug released in the kidney cancer fight. It is delivered once a week, for about 30-minutes, via IV at the doctor's office. That would be quite a switch in lifestyle for me, and I've heard the side-effects can be pretty rough.

So . . . overall I think the results are pretty good. Certainly we don't see any signs of aggressive spreading.

I've always wondered whether the "nodule" in the left lung is actually a tumor because I swear the doctor described it to me as long and slender (not typical tumor dimensions). And another doctor once said to me about that "nodule" - "if it even is a tumor."

And undefined small specks tend to turn up on these scans all the time. So I can't make too much out of the speck on the liver until it at least shows itself as something of concern.

As I said, these results are never just good or bad. There is always a lot of gray. For all of our advances in medicine, we will never perfect the complexities of God's creations.

Rumble in the Jungle

I had a rough day yesterday. The tummy revolted like never before.

My CT scan was yesterday morning at 8:15 at the Lancaster General Hospital Health Campus. I like to get these appointments out of the way early in the day so I can have the rest of the day free. Also I'm not allowed to eat for four hours before the scan, so an early time is a little easier on me.

But this early time meant that I had to start drinking the CT prep liquid at 6 a.m. in the morning. The CT prep liquid (berry flavored) is a chalky, milky, thick, gooey, disgusting drink. It has to be drank slowly over the two-hour period leading up to the scan. I think it's about 24-ounces total.

I'm kind of used to the stuff, if that's possible, and I downed it without a problem. The scan went off without a hitch. I know the drill by know for sure, unfortunately. An IV was hooked up, yet another needle stick, and they filled me with contrast dye for the scan.

Afterwords we scampered towards home in the FJ Cruiser. I was starving so I braved two sausage and cheese croissants from Burger King, no egg please. I inhaled the two sandwiches before we made it home.

And that's when it hit.

Now I suspected that Burger King was probably not the best decision. But looking back today I really think the thing that upset my tummy the most was the CT prep drink.

I sat down to rest for a few moments and suddenly my stomach and digestive track started going wild. It was rumbling, moving and thrusting about. It was angry. I had took the Immodium and Paregoric liquid before we left, but determined that maybe I should hit this with a second dose.

It didn't do much.

I'm dedicated to continuing to try to put weight on, and the deli did have it's famous chicken croquettes with mashed potatoes and gravy for lunch. So I ate. Best I could. I finished one croquette and all the mashed potatoes. You can have the corn. It's from a can and reminds me too much of the high school cafeteria.

Things continued to get worse. My stomach was cramping, then going through spasms. It was really rough.

The rest of the day I relaxed, stayed still, took a brief nap, and tried my best to settle things down. Reluctantly we cancelled dinner. I was really looking forward to it also, I make a mean Chicken Alfredo.

This morning things seem "normal." I feel like I got into a fight with a wild boar. But today seems like I'm off to a much better start. It's amazing to me how the upset tummy can just knock the wind out of you.

We'll call to see if we can collect scan results later this morning. I would expect to hear something back either by day's end, or sometime tomorrow.

And tomorrow takes me to the dentist office, just for a routine cleaning. I hate going to the dentist, but love leaving with nice clean teeth.

And for today . . . just keep voting for my tummy to settle down, no more rumble in the jungle.

Chemo and It's Surprises

Yesterday started as a normal Sunday. I woke up at 5 a.m., took the Nexavar, and let it get into my system for a good hour.

Then I followed that up with the other morning meds that I take, all are meant to offset the side-effects of the chemo. I spread the meds out in about 15 minute increments, rather than just throwing them all into the stomach at one time.

Come 8 a.m. I was ready for breakfast. I eagerly ate two good sized slices of banana bread and then followed that with a banana.

I sat down for a moment and suddenly I was overcome by unbelievable, extreme fatique. It was barely 9 a.m. and my body and mind wanted to go right back to bed and sleep.

I've run out of steam in the afternoon before. But even that has gotten a lot better. It's really rare these days that I take a nap during the day at all.

So I rationalized if I got up and got busy with something I could fight off the fatique. I hung two clocks that Barb bought for us. I did a little of this, and a little of that, nothing big. But the fatique was not going away.

By 11 a.m. I told Barb that I had to give in and go take a nap. I was incredibly exhausted.

So I slept, restlessly. Actually I fell asleep and started having a dream that I couldn't go to sleep. Now what would Freud say about that one?

I woke up around 1 p.m. and after 30 minutes of stretching the legs and rubbing the sleepy from the eyes I was ok. I felt kind of "blah" the rest of the day but my energy levels had returned to normal.

I really can't attribute my fatigue to anything but the chemo. It seems that you never really know what's in store for any given day.

I'm still analyzing today to see what good old Nexavar may have in store for me. It sure makes it tough to plan out your schedule.

Thinking of Others

First, Happy Birthday Heather! My niece Heather turns 2 in a few days. Karen and Jamie are throwing a little birthday party this morning. We're very sorry we won't be able to make it. But we've been running ragged the past two-weeks, and the upcoming week will be no exception.

And Happy Birthday Karen! My sister will turn, ummm, well we won't divulge her age, but she moves up another year on March 6th.

Meanwhile my brother has left for a business trip to China. We wish him a safe and productive trip. And we look forward to his speedy return.

Maggie, my parents' dog, was buried yesterday on the hill alongside Shawnie and Casey. To all of those who are dog owners I do not have to explain the close attachment and bond that is formed between man and dog.

A new puppy is now gracing the grounds at Golf Road, a Bichon that had been injured and put back together by the local vet. My Mom may come off as a tough woman at times, and she is. But I know she's a big softie inside. When the vet offered her the puppy she could not turn it away. The dog is in rehab from its injuries and has special needs beyond your normal puppy.

On Barb's side of the family we've been fighting a few illnesses that we're monitoring very closely. Barb's grandmother has been under-the-weather for the past few weeks. Our prayers continue to be with her. She's a tough cookie.

And her Uncle Bill is staging his own fight against illness. We pray that he will continue to find the strength to recover.

Barb's Uncle Larry is in the midst of his fight against lung cancer. Our thoughts and prayers are with him and his wife Alice as they move through treatments, something we know way to much about.

Our prayers are also with Sheridan, Barb's second cousin, who recently learned that he has a cancer fight ahead as well.

With the support and love of the fantastic family and friends who surround us all we will get through these difficulties. And there's not much better therapy than a grinning two-year-old smearing birthday cake all over her face.

It's Easy to Complain

When I was working as a reporter I received my share of complaints about something I had written. It comes with the territory.

It was rare that someone would call to compliment me on a story. It did happen. But the proportion of complaints to compliments was lopsided. It's human nature. If we're upset about something we feel driven to stand-up and be heard. If we feel something's well done, well we just expect that that's the way it's supposed to be.

I've had plenty of complaints about Aetna, my health insurance carrier, and I think the complaints are well deserved. But there are bright spots that deserve compliments in my cancer experience.

One of those bright spots has been Bayer Pharmaceuticals, the company that produces Nexavar, the chemotherapy drug I take.

Bayer created a special division they call Operation Reach to interact with patients who are taking Nexavar. Nexavar has recently been approved by the FDA to treat liver cancer as well as kidney cancer.

The staff at Operation Reach is incredible. They call you ever month to schedule delivery of the drug. They are always there for you to answer any question, and they're extremely well-trained, extremely knowledgeable, and very caring.

Sometimes I actually feel fortunate that Aetna refuses to pay for Nexavar. Because if Aetna did pay for the Nexavar they would force me to use their own pharmacy. And I can only imagine the mess that would be. I'd likely go without the chemo as they fumble through everything like the Keystone Cops.

So as we're so eager to complain, please take time out to compliment.

And I've got a big hats off to Operation Reach of Bayer. They've been nothing short of miraculous to me. Thank you guys!