It Takes a Village . . .

I'm an introvert. I don't like to be the center of attention.

I take after my Dad. I remember when he became the controller at the pharmaceutical plant in Myerstown he had to travel to New York City about once a month to report to the big bosses. He hated to do that, stand-up in front of everyone and give a talk on progress in Myerstown.

I understand how he felt. That wouldn't be my cup of tea either.

I've probably blogged about this subject before. But with what I've dealt with these past couple years I continue to be touched by the support all around me, and this for a guy who has spent most of his life trying to escape attention.

It has really made me aware of the value of a community, especially a small community like Myerstown where I grew up.

For some reason, I have no idea why, I seem to be a memorable character. Wherever I go, whatever I do, people just seem to remember me. I imagine for some people this would be a great thing. But for me it's a little embarassing. I am just a shy, quiet guy.

I guess maybe because I'm such a big goofball, a living, breathing, cartoon character, it makes me stand-out. I don't know. But I'm constantly amazed by how people I've only met once seem to remember me like we were life-long friends.

By the time I graduated high school I would be recognized all around Myerstown. It made me uncomfortable.

Once I spun the wheels of the family's yellow Chevy Impala station wagon at a stop sign and to my horror the hub cap came off and rolled up into the front yard of a home. I stopped quickly and ran after the hub cap. I noticed a gentleman sitting on his front porch.

"Sorry about that," I said.

He nodded and then asked "Does your Dad know you drive like that?"

Gulp. No matter what bonehead thing I would do everyone would seem to know about it.

In many ways it's why I left Myerstown. I wanted to be anonymous, a fly on the wall, the guy in the back of the room in the shadows.

But with all the support I've received through this cancer fight I've realized the awesome power and value of the community, of the church family. I've realized how wrong I was to consider being a recognized member of a community a burden, when it was actually a blessing.

I always remember a friend of our family telling me, after I returned from a few years living in Philly, "You're just like I was. I thought I had to leave Myerstown to pursue the things I wanted in life. Then, finally, I realized that I had everything I needed all around me the whole time."

If I could do it all again I'm not sure if I would have done it any differently. Afterall, my introverted, shy personality would still be the same. It's who I am. But with what I've learned through this cancer fight, all the unbelievable support I have received that just amazes me more and more everyday - who knows, maybe I would have chosen to become more involved, be more like all the great people who have shown their support for me. You're all heroes to me.

And hey, there's still time. Maybe it's time for me to shed that shyness and be the man I should be.

Smooth Sailing

I was up and at 'em and out the door by 6:30 a.m. yesterday. I was off to have my weekly bloodwork done. The chemo won't start until my blood counts are checked every week. They've always been fine.

For whatever reason my veins are always tiny in the morning and big and plump in the afternoon. But the nurse hit me well on the first try yesterday, and I was heading back toward home quickly.

We reached the cancer center at 10:30 a.m. and again it only took one stick to set-up the IV. Wow! A chemo day with only two needle sticks overall. That's good stuff.

The nurses at the cancer center are just great. They keep everyone light-hearted and smiling and I try to keep them laughing too. One nurse blew a rubber glove up and drew a face on it for a little one that had accompanied her Mom into the chemo room. It cracked Barb and I up also. We're little kids at heart.

I greatly appreciate the nurses at the cancer center. They do an excellent job. They're ready with blankets, pillows, food, drinks. We even have big lounge chairs with a little TV at every chair if we chose to watch TV.

Barb and I always do crossword puzzles. Every week we finish about two and a half puzzles in the time it takes for the chemo process. We buy really easy crossword books because it makes us feel smart. lol

I'm getting into the swing of things for my Fridays. The Benadryl they give me, to protect against infusion reactions, makes me sleepy. So when I get home I take a little two-hour nap and I'm good to go. That evening I'll take one preventive Immodium to keep the tummy calm. And now I'm up and feeling well and ready to go come Saturday morning.

I keep feeling stronger and stronger. And I keep getting more and more done. I'm exercising regularly. I still have to work on my endurance a little bit. But it's all falling into place.

Yesterday we came home to quite a surprise. Someone had mailed us a money order. We have no idea who. It was purposely anonymous, simply signed "A Friend in Christ." It was made out to "Jimmy Albert," so I know it was from someone in Myerstown, someone who knew me as a little tyke growing up.

We're doing OK financially, and this gift was not necessary, but very touching and incredibly appreciated. I can only hope that the person who sent it to us reads this blog so I can say "Thank You" and may God bless you for your kindness and generosity. It warms my heart to think of what a great community I was raised in, and the experiences of growing up in such a community have followed me always.

Cancer is Weird

Well the junk man was scheduled to come by at 7:30 a.m. yesterday morning. He showed up at 10:30 a.m.

I mildly complained. I have work to do, I explained to him. I have my own schedule to keep.

He started yelling at me. "I can't keep exact times," he said.

OK. Whatever. How much is this going to cost me? There's no use discussing something with a man who believes being three-hours late is acceptable. Plus I thought he was going to have a heart attack.

I don't get into arguments anymore. It's just not worth it. Especially when they're really dumb arguments.

Plus it wears me down. It wears me down mentally. Just getting into it with the junk man for a minute put a funk on the rest of my day, not to mention waiting for him for three-hours.

Cancer is weird. Almost everyday I have an ache or a pain somewhere. And they aren't normal sore muscle types of pains. They're odd pains, that show up anywhere from head to toe. I shake them off and go with the flow.

Somedays my brain is absolutely crisp and clear. Other days my mind feels like I'm in a fog.

Tuesday I felt terrific. Not only did I work from morning to night, but then we went out to eat that night.

Wednesday I spent the morning waiting for the junk man, and then I just felt worn down all afternoon. Dinner and bedtime just couldn't come fast enough.

Cancer is weird. Or maybe it's the chemo.

This morning my tummy is doing cartwheels. But I have to pull it together because I have to go for bloodwork, then we have plans to go to the butcher, then the grocery store, and the dry cleaners. Then I have some business contacts to make. Then Alyssa and Charlie are coming over for dinner.

It can be tough. Everyday I wake up and try to figure out what cancer and chemo wants me to do today. And everyday I wake up and try to figure out what life has scheduled for me. Sometimes the two are in sync. Sometimes they are not. Somedays I'm swimming with the current. Somedays I'm swimming against it.

The Junk Man Cometh

I did some things yesterday that I don't think I would have been able to do over the past year and a half.

I couldn't have done it without Barb's help. But it was quite physical work for me all the same.

Since we moved into this old house in Marietta we've been working on the house and collecting junk in our basement. It was junk that was too much for the weekly garbage pick-ups. It would require a call to the junk man to haul away.

The former owners of the house left us with six window air conditioners. Four of them failed over the years. We had two large televisions that were old and broken down. We had all kinds of stuff, including a huge pile of insulation we pulled from the attic because it was incorrectly installed directly to the roof.

Yesterday we finally hauled it all out of the house to one parking spot out back where the junk man is due to pick it up this morning, 40-minutes from now.

I took it slow, but steady, and overall I'd say it felt good to work up a little sweat and do such physical work. We were both tired and filthy by the time it was all hauled out and piled up out back.

Barb was scheduled to make us chicken parmagania and spaghetti last night. But I said, "Hey, let's just go out to eat. We earned it." She didn't argue a bit.

Now we've lost a lot of good restaurants lately. Josephine's was one of the top three restaurants in all of Central Pennsylvania, often winning the top-rating overall and best French restaurant in the area. It was incredible. The owner retired and it's now twice as expensive and half the restaurant it used to be.

The Railroad House was incredible because of its owner/chef. But he had to sell the place due to his wife's cancer. Now it's quite disappointing, and nowhere close to the quality it once was.

This past year Mosby's in Mt. Joy sold and I was certain that another local favorite had fallen. Barb and I went there last night to check it out for ourselves.

I am very proud to report that Mosby's is as good as ever, maybe even a little better. I'm sure my cousin in Florida will be thrilled to hear that the chicken wings are still the best around, bar none. And Barb fully recommends the Snickers Pie. lol

Do the Right Thing

When I was first diagnosed with cancer I wanted to talk to everyone about it, especially others who had cancer. I wanted to read about it, everything I could get my hands on.

But after awhile, it wears you down.

The Kidney Cancer Association operates a great blog where fellow cancer survivors can compare notes, share stories, and generally interact. Early on I had forged regular communications with a couple in northern California. The husband and I had both experienced metastic cancer to the brain, went through whole brain radiation and were on the chemotherapy Nexavar. It was a valuable and cherished experience. Then he passed away.

I also made contact with a gentleman in Georgia whose experiences were much like mine. He was a strong-willed, a well-versed individual who referred to kidney cancer survivors as "warriors." He opened himself up to kidney cancer patients everywhere. He was a champion to many. Then he passed away.

I face a decision everyday on how much to turn myself into a resource for other cancer patients. It's a tough decision.

On one hand it's such an honorable thing. To share the burden of others on your own shoulders. To reassure others, to help others, from your own experiences. But it will wear you down.

It's difficult to focus your life solely on the disease, not just your situation, but everyones. I have so much admiration for those who do.

I could easily "advertise" myself on the Kidney Cancer Association's blogs, and the e-mails would stream in from across the United States. I could start everyday hearing about everyone elses situations and sharing mine.

Sure I'd pull value from these interactions and it would enrich my personal experiences. But it does come with a price. It can be very sad at times, very discouraging at times, very depressing.

On the other hand, there is life, continuing to live, to love, to laugh.

There are events to attend. The junk man is coming for a major pick-up tomorrow. I want to design, take photos. I want to draw. I've been dying to get a huge canvas and have Barb and I splash paint around in the backyard and make a big abstract painting for the house. I want to live.

So to those who do lay their experiences out there for others, my hat is off to you. You are a genuine hero. At some point, at some time, I may attempt to achieve that lofty goal as well.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about cancer everyday. I do. But I don't think about it all day.

Get in the Pool

I had a friend growing up who never learned to swim. His parents just never tossed him in the water when he was young. By the time he was in his mid-teens to this day he's just scared to death of the water.

That always blew my mind. It's swimming. It's like walking. Just jump in. We float. You won't just sink to the bottom.

There's a quarry outside of Myerstown that is the number one in-land scuba diving site in the United States. It's an organized quarry. It's a business. There are lifeguards, floating piers, a children's area, volleyball, horseshoes, grills. It really is an awesome place to go.

In the summertime you'd find us at the quarry, swimming, sunning, giving the lifeguards a hard time and having lots of fun.

My Dad and his pals used to swim there. Generations of locals all know the Millardsville Quarry.

I tried and tried and tried to convince my friend to come out and give it a try. Nope. I'll teach you how to swim, I offered. We'll take it slow, I told him. Nope. He was scared to death of water. It all went back to not being taught at a young age.

One of my babysitters growing up was the YMCA in Lebanon. What a babysitter! Swimming and basketball, swimming and basketball - if my Mom had to get rid of me for awhile she dropped me off at the YMCA. She did slow the car down enough so I could jump out. lol

My parents signed me up for swimming lessons at both the YMCA and the pool in Myerstown. I had all my life saving certificates at a very young age.

It all led to a love of the water, and a love of the ocean. I'll always remember my Dad taking me out in the surf in Wildwood, New Jersey. He took me out until the water was up to my neck and I'd jump up to keep my head above each upcoming wave. He kept a firm grip on my hand. For him, of course, the water was only up to his waist.

I also remember a sudden huge wave coming in and knocking me off my feet, pressing me flat on my back on the ocean floor. With one big tug he pulled me right back up again.

"Wow! Let's do it again!" I remember thinking.

Swimming has brought a lot of joy to my life. I always felt so bad for my good friend whose parents never made sure he knew how to swim. Please, throw your kids in the water.

Saturday we went to Breana's fourth birthday party at her parents' new house. There was a little above ground pool available for use. I saw four-year-old Ellis appear with his Mom from their car with a U.S. flag swimsuit.

"Let's go swimming," he exclaimed.

I smiled. How great that he's already loving the water.

I went over to watch him in the pool. He was swimming on his back, kicking with his feet, with his arms folded behind his head.

Odd, "What's he doing?" I asked.

"Oh he's being an otter," his Mom replied.

(smile)

Here We Go

Almost every day I get an e-mail about how Barack Obama or John McCain is the worst choice for President, and either or will probably end life on earth as we know it. These are mass e-mails that are forwarded to thousands upon thousands of people.

For some reason we all seem to feel that we HAVE to attach ourselves to one candidate or another. We HAVE to. It blows my mind. We develop such strong feelings that one is the answer and the other is the worst thing possible for us.

I witness people fight, argue, develop hard feelings for one another.

Think about that.

I'd like to share something with you - they're both the same.

Both are millionaires. You can't get to Washington without being one. Both are completely out-of-touch with you and with I and with our lives and the struggles we face.

Chris Matthews grilled Obama's campaign manager this week on Hardball and asked him simply to name one legislative accomplishment that Obama has championed. He stuttered. He shaked. He couldn't name one, not even one.

A reporter asked John McCain this past week how many houses he owned. He didn't know. He didn't know how many homes he owned?

Think about it.

What is one of these men going to offer you that is that significant over the other one? Nothing.

Not to mention that our President is kind of like the Queen of England, a figure head without any real powers.

Sure, our President can declare war on anyone anywhere. That's pretty powerful. But everything else has to go through Congress. That is where all the power is, in Congress, the guys and gals that take two-months of vacation at a time. The same place our Presidential candidates came from.

Congress, the place where we find sex scandals, pork-barrel politics, corruption, votes for hire by corporate lobbyists. It's business as usual in Washington and you either learn to play the game or the powers that be will make your term a miserable one.

Ugh. It makes my stomach upset.

By definition, this country is not yet a Democracy but a Republic. We vote for people to represent our interests. It is not one man, one woman, one vote. Maybe someday.

But in someways it is a Democracy because public opinion is still powerful, waning, but still strong. I doubt it will make much of a difference to your life whether Obama or McCain ends up as our next country's leader. But if we speak our minds on the issues that really mean something to us and to our lives, possibly, maybe, it will.

For me? My philosophy is simple, just don't let either party stay in power for more than two terms. Mr. Bush, a Republican, has reigned for the past eight-years, time for a switch to the Democrats. If a Democrat had been in office the past two terms I'd be pulling for a Republican. It's the closest thing I have to Democracy, just keep it switching up. And that is what we have chosen to do since at least World War II.

I don't believe in a majority of the millionaires we choose to represent us. But I do believe in our collective whole, the will of us all together, true Democracy.

Peace, love and happiness - may God bless us all.

OK, I'll step off this pulpit I built for myself now.

Recovering From Chemo Friday

As I've been moving through Friday after Friday after Friday of chemo I've noticed that I feel my worst every week in the 24-hours just after chemo. It wears me out.

Typically come Mondays I'm feeling "normal" again, and getting on with the business of life.

It's becoming predictable, which is appreciated. It's chemo, then fatique, then a rough stomach and digestion into the next day, then working back to normal again by sometime Saturday.

Yesterday did have some uniqueness though. Every now and again over the past 10-months or so I'll have a couple hours on some random day where my brain seems to go whacky. My thinking process is the same (which some have called whacky anyway). But my eyes kind of go loopy, speaking becomes difficult for me, and it feels like I have a giant knot in my head. Yesterday was one of those days, for about two-hours between blood work and chemo.

MRI's of the brain have shown nothing but residual scarring from the radiation. So the doctors really don't know why I feel this way and kind of shrug their shoulders. All I can figure out is that it is somehow, in someway, connected to the whole brain radiation I endured. I have heard that radiation does have long-term, unpredictable results.

But it goes away as fast as it arrives, and after a couple hours of relaxing I'm back to "normal" again. It is very random, and does not occur very often, maybe twice a month.

After a good night's sleep I'm starting to pull it back together this morning as we get ourselves ready for Brianna's fourth birthday party. It looks like it's going to be ideal bocce' ball weather, so fine tune your lawn bowling arm Alyssa, we'll be ready for 'ya!

Three Faucets in Three Days, and Stinky Crabs

If you ever told me that we would go through three shower faucets in three days I certainly wouldn't believe you.

But it happened.

First the original faucet that came with the house just wore out. It was filled with some kind of some kind of sediment and was just past it's time. It was a pretty cheap faucet to begin with.

Barb was just about to jump in the shower and all she got out of it was a trickle. She called me upstairs to try to address the problem.

Fortunately Barb thought of a hand shower faucet that we had bought but never had used. We just never got the right plumbing connections for it to be connected properly.

So I hooked it up and it worked. It had four different settings for the water, including a pulsing massage. You could hang it up for a typical type shower experience or pull it off and use it as a hand-held spray.

Barb had already used the other bathroom for a shower. So the next day she got ready to jump in the shower and then all of a sudden I heard her calling me to the bathroom for help once again.

Somehow this faucet had suddenly "exploded" and fell to pieces, spraying water around the bathroom.

Jeesh, two days in a row and Barb still can't get a simple shower. She took one in the second bathroom again.

I try to fix the second shower head in two days, but it was beyond fixing. A critical ring which held it all together had snapped. We head out to purchase a new one.

Yesterday I installed that shower head. Barb is trying it out this morning. I'm sitting here blogging and anxiously waiting to hear the news. Wait...here she comes...

"How'd the shower work Barbie?"

"Oh it worked fine, thanks."

Woohoo. Three shower heads in three days. Let's not make it four.

In other household weirdness - we planned on making crabcakes last night for Alyssa and Charlie, who come over every Thursday evening for dinner. We got a pound of crab meat from Henry's outside of Wrightsville.

Henry's is a large distributor of seafood in this area. They have a little retail business with limited hours. Wholesale is their main business. We've found there seafood to be the best in the area.

But last night was not good. The crab gave off a smell, a terrible smell, like nothing either of us had ever smelled before. It quickly filled the house. It was enough to make you sick.

As soon as Alyssa and Charlie stepped in the house they were stunned by the horrible smell, stunned and sickened.

We got together for a quick pow wow and decided that we would order out for sandwiches and still salvage the baked potatoes and fresh sweet corn.

We quickly worked to remove the crab cakes from the stove top and get the crabs, the can it came in, and everything outside in the trash. We lit candles and turned on every fan in the house to remove the horrible smell.

This had never happened to us before. It was beyond what you could possibly imagine. Barb called Henry's to warn them this morning.

Sometimes life can be anything but normal.

Generation Gaps

There's nothing that makes you feel quite as old as kids.

Ask a kid what a typewriter is. A what?

According to one recent news report, kids were asked what Watergate was. Their overwhelming answer - the hotel where Monica Lewinsky stayed.

Try to explain to a kid that you had a little radio in your room, no computer, no television, no game console, no cell phone - they look at you like you're from Mars.

I remember when my Mom would drag me along shopping. There's nothing like 30-seconds in a women's wear department to bore a young boy into a coma. I remember listening to the muzak in the stores and thinking to myself, "What is this stuff?"

Years and years later I was doing some late Christmas shopping (the only reason I'd find myself in a mall) and low and behold, the store was playing a muzak version of a song by the Grateful Dead.

I've made it, I thought to myself. I'm old enough now that they're marketing to me, trying to communicate with me, playing muzak that I can relate to.

I guess in 10-years I can look forward to muzak of a Snoop Dog hip-hop song. Well there's another reason to stay out of the shopping mall.

As someone who has made his living as a communicator I find it both important and very challenging to try to bridge the generational gaps. It's difficult to effectively communicate with a 16-year-old and a 66-year old simultaneously.

Personally I find it important to explore the years, the past and the future. You will find both Frank Sinatra and G. Love and Special Sauce on the playlist in my car.

As we move into the upcoming Presidential election, it looks like bridging the generational gaps could be the key to the election. Many older people I speak to feel that McCain relates more to themselves, and what they believe in, what they feel is important. Many younger people I speak to feel that Obama represents their interests best.

According to Madison Avenue, the advertising mecca of the world, I am the one that everyone wants to talk to right now. I am at an age that is known for buying a lot of televisions, washers and dryers, refrigerators, cars, all the big-ticket stuff. It won't last long though. In a couple years that will all pass, and Snoop Dog will begin playing on the muzak in a mall near me.

Potty Mouth

A few days ago I was looking for funny t-shirts on the internet and I came across a shirt for infants that said, "I Potty Like A Rock Star."

It made me laugh. I was searching my brain for a two-year-old I could buy that for.

Then I started thinking about it. Constant travel, bad diets, drugs, alcohol, smoking...rock stars probably don't potty that well at all! lol

Forget finding a two-year-old, I should probably buy that shirt for myself.

A nurse at the cancer center told me that chemo can come with all kinds of side-effects, but two that seem to be there with every kind of chemo is fatique and roughing up the digestive track. My energy levels have been pretty good. But the digestive track, ugh, I potty like a rock star.

I know. I know. What a thing to talk about. But this blog tends to be a place just to empty the thoughts in my head.

I was looking at other blogs this morning and was very interested in finding blogs from athletes competing in the Olympics. I was able to read about families first-person accounts of visits to the Great Wall, of trying to catch a cab, of people, people everywhere, of all the Chinese black-market goods - you know Calvin Kliene, Ralph Laren.

I enjoyed the first-person stories much more than the canned, well-planned info we tend to get from our mass media outlets.

The internet is certainly changing how we communicate and interact. And it continues to evolve faster than anyone can keep up with. I can only imagine where it will be 50-years from now.

In five minutes I can talk with someone in Arizona, check out the price of a condo in London, and check the surf conditions on the Outer Banks.

It's becoming a smaller world with a lot more voices.

Now I've got to find that t-shirt again, because I "Potty Like A Rock Star."

The Bocce' Ball Diaries

I sat out on Steve and Maria's deck yesterday, smells of a grill filling the air, just taking in their breathtaking view of eastern York. Puffy clouds filled the crisp blue skys, stationary in the sky like it was a painting.

It was where I wanted to be, just soaking it all in.

It reminded me of home. It reminded me of the top of the hill on Golf Road. Growing up with views of the whole valley stretched out as far as the eye can see in every direction.

(sigh)

It was a nice, relaxing day yesterday. We helped Charlie break a glass, spill a soda, and break-in his parents' new house. We all got together with Alyssa, Charlie, Susan, Bill, Debbie, Jay and last but certainly not least, little Ellis, at the invitation of Maria, Steve and Guitano.

It was great being able to all get together and share some laughs and share some food and share some stories. We even got to see Debbie with her Gene Simmons hair.

I dusted off the Bocce' balls and took them along just in case. It's been years since I've played. And I was lucky enough to stir up a game yesterday after lunch.

My very first experience with Bocce' was when I went to Ireland as a young teenager. Every Sunday, in a park next to my host family's home, older gentleman gathered to lawn bowl on pristine grass courts all day long. I thought it was so cool.

According to Alyssa, the courts weren't too pristine yesterday. But it was still very competitive, and still lots of fun. Bill and Guitano dominated the courts. But it was co-ed Bocce' ball and Barb and I are still considering an appeal.

A big thanks to Maria, Steve and Guitano for getting me out of Marietta and into the sun yesterday, and for the hospitality and great food and fun and friendship.

Just A Very Nice Sunday

Jim and I have a family function to attend to today. We get to enjoy the company of my daughters in-laws for awhile this afternoon. They have invited us over to an outside picnic type meal, that we both are looking forward to. We rarely get to spend time around them, because everyone is so busy all the time, unless we venture to York County to see them briefly.

They moved into a new home themselves this year, so I am somewhat anxious to see the place, I have only seen it from the outside in passing. It seems as though alot of people have moved within in the past year including not only Steve and Maria, but Alyssa and Charlie and Jay, Debbie and Ellis and Jim, Becky and the girls. They all have very nice homes that suit there needs.

Otherwise, everyone have a wonderful and pleasant Sunday.

Good Week

I've kind of come to measure weeks from chemo Friday to chemo Friday. And this past stretch of seven days leading up to another chemo Friday has been a pretty good one.

We did get out for a couple of bike rides. I did stay true to the work on the Bowflex. And I got some good design time in on the computer.

The Torisel has had much less side-effects on me than the Nexavar had. But it still has had some nuiscance effects.

One standard, with chemo, it seems is some appetite loss and digestive woes. Torisel has been no different. But it is better overall than it had been previously. And I am eating, sometimes with a little reminder from Barb.

One thing I never experienced on Nexavar was rashes or hives. The Torisel does give me both. But I think the rashes and hives are almost more of a reaction to the infusions every Friday, rather than just a result of the Torisel alone.

My energy on the Torisel is much higher. The Nexavar had worn me down. But, now afternoon naps are mostly a thing of the past. The only day I'm likely to seek a nap is on Fridays after treatment. And I think that's more of an effect of the drip bag of Benadryl they give me before every dose of Torisel.

The strangest thing has been my hair growing back, not just on my head, but my arms, my legs, my belly. And my hair is returning dark and thick. My beard is the darkest and roughest it's ever been. It's sandpaper.

I do still have a blonde vertical streak down the back of my head, so I'm told. But just this week the hair on the back of my head started getting a little curly. Curly? What's that about? I have no idea.

I do have a gigantic afro wig that I wore on Halloween a couple years ago. It's pretty darn realistic. I'm tempted to wear it into the cancer center today. But I'll probably chicken out. Two Friday's ago an older gentleman came into the chemo room singing a Sinatra tune! And I don't mean singing to himself. He was belting it out for everyone to hear. That's my kind of guy!

It's an adventure. In summary I'd say that I can deal with the Torisel without much effects to normal life. I do have to keep rebuilding myself physically. My strength and endurance is still not what it once was. My tummy is still sensitive. And I do have to take care of the itchiness from the hives and the rashes. But I don't think there is such a thing as chemo without side effects. So I'll take it and make the most of it.

If the corporate headquarters of the Hilton hotel chain gives their approval, I'll be building a new website for the main restaurant at the Harrisburg Hilton in the weeks to come. I hope they don't have to ask Paris.

Whale Sounds

Whenever I say something to Barb, like "I love you," she responds with this animal-type noise.

Now I thought it sounded like growling. But she assures me that she is not growling.

She doesn't really know what it is exactly, she said, just a content, touched kind of sound that she lets out.

Well after studying the sound she emits at great length, I've concluded that it is the sounds of the whales. You know that kind of muffled moaning kind of noise that we've all heard on some animal or science show at one time or another.

I've practiced my abilites to make whale sounds in return, and I think I've finally got it down.

So everytime she lets the whale sounds rip now, I am ready with a return.

Ooooeeeeeeaaaawwwwwooooooeeeeeeemwa.

Keeping Busy

I got so caught up in redesigning our website yesterday I left no time for blogging, or much of anything else.

There's nothing wrong with our website. I like our website. It's probably due to be freshened up. But, more than anything else I just felt like I needed to do something creative.

So I sat down, went at it, and next thing you know it was dinner time. I'm usually really tough on myself and the work I do. But I felt good about the work I was doing yesterday, energized by it. Hopefully with a couple more weeks of work I can unveil a new crazy Albert Design Studio site.

We do have some leads for some work. But not a lot has presented itself so far. A printer in Harrisburg wants us to do a site for them, but they've been dragging their feet getting us information to start working. The Hilton in Harrisburg wants us to design a site for their star restaurant (if they can get permission from corporate headquarters). The pub behind our house wants us to reprint some business cards.

So there is stuff in the works. It takes time to build business. Once you get going it's like rolling down a hill, and things just move faster and faster.

We had mailed out 200 postcards a few weeks ago to try to stir some interest. We were hoping for between three and six calls from that promotional effort. Our website visits went way up that week. But it didn't result in any phone calls.

The economy isn't helping.

Yesterday wasn't completely spent in front of the computer. Barb and I did get out for another nice bike ride. I love it because it's the only thing I do that really works my lungs and works my endurance. Today is a Bowflex day, and the Bowflex has been good too, primarily at building back some muscle mass.

I was sucking air yesterday morning after the bike ride. It wasn't a real long bike ride, probably about a mile. But it did the trick. Each time we go out I get a little stronger.

The Granny Mobile was also towed away yesterday. It was a little sad, like we had a piece of her that we had to let go of, but didn't really want to. They paid us $100 for it.

I just didn't want Barb to be out driving somewhere and have a part in the car break down, and leave her stuck somewhere along the side of some road. When it comes time for Barb to start driving we'll look into a gently used, high mileage, car for her.

It's a Monday

The habits of life tell me that it's a Monday, so get to work!

And I am getting to work, with pumpkin bread in one hand and a small cup of coffee in the other.

There's nothing pressing on my to-do list, nothing exciting, just a lot of pesky little Monday-type stuff. I have to talk to a client about costs of expanding their website. I have to fill the bird feeder. I have to get a doctor's referral that slipped through the cracks straightened out with Aetna. I have to make meatballs for spaghetti tonight. You know, about a dozen different things like that.

Speaking of meatballs (LOL), Barbie has aspired into quite the chef here as of late. Using fresh basil and tomatoes picked off our deck she whipped up a creamy pesto shrimp fettucine the other night that was four-star restaurant quality. Then last night she pulled a french onion soup out of her pocket that was mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

If I don't gain weight it's certainly not Barb's fault.

Not sure if the bike or the bowflex is going to be part of this Monday. But it's certainly going to be one of them.

OK. Time for me to punch that time clock.

Everything's Different, But the Same

When you have cancer you find yourself doing things a little differently, talking about things you wouldn't ordinarily talk about, everything's a little different, but still the same.

"How was the bathroom visit?" Barb asked me this morning.

"It was awesome!" I answered with over-the-top enthusiasm.

"I'm not going any further with that," she laughed.

Never thought I'd be discussing that with Barb. But cancer changes things just a little. Who knows? Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be.

I'm a little more cautious on the bike now, not as confident to speed through a downhill turn, or snap my head around to spy traffic and Barb and dogs and kids on skateboards.

I'm a little slower now, in everything. I'm the last to finish eating in any group at any time.

For the first time since I was about three-years-old, you can see my ears, they're not covered with hair.

I do believe that I am generally more thoughtful now, stuff like cancer makes you thiink about stuff. I believe this has made my work the best it has ever been. I'm now driven by quality of life, of content, and care much less about profit margin. We all still have to worry about that at some point, well except maybe Britany Spears.

I've envisioned a future where there will be no American Economy, just a world economy. Everyone will compete equally at common monetary scales. Everything will be global.

It's already happening in the design field.

There are several good, legitimate internet sites that allow businesses to list free-lance work and vice-versa. A few of these sites target graphic design work. The sites are littered with bids from India and Brazil, and they are taking in the work at shockingly low prices.

I used one of these sites once to find a programmer to add final touches to an e-commerce effort once. I would not work with someone outside the U.S. though. I found a firm in Seattle who was great.

But with time the prices will level out, I think. It's just a matter of how much time, the new world order of equality, if we all don't kill each other first.

All Eyes on Beijing

I'm noticing that the day after my chemo treatments I'm feeling a little lousy. It's no big deal. It's like waking up with a Torisel hangover.

Once the Torisel treatment is over, it's about 24-hours of feeling a little under the weather, and then I snap out of it for the rest of the week.

This morning I woke up and worked to shake off the hangover. First I had a couple of English muffins, then a tasty peach, and finally a baked chicken patty with Sweet Baby Ray's barbeque sauce. Everything was made slow and easy over a couple hours, eaten one at a time. It's part of the process back. And it's gotta' be Sweet Baby Ray's.

We woke this morning to a replay of the olympic opening ceremonies. We only caught the tail-end but it was pretty impressive, as expected.

Fortunately, I got to soak in some badminton action. I appreciate the basic principle of the sport, similar to tennis, but that shuttlecock thingy is crazy. You smash it and it takes off on a straight line like a laser, then suddenly stops and drops to the ground.

Fortunately women's soccer action came on. The olympics is on three different stations, all in high definition, and they are on all day, except for breaks for local and national news (which will also be covering the olympics) twice during the day.

It's like ESPN on steroids.

I'm lovin' it.

I mean how many times do you get to see the North Korean women's soccer team play?

Beautiful day in Central Pennsylvania though. It just doesn't get much better than this. When I woke up this morning it was a brisk 63-degrees outside. The sun has slowly punched through it's own morning hangover into vibrant, bright sunshine, now reaching 80-degrees. It's a perfect hammock day.

But there's a few more things on tap too.

We have to order and install skylight blinds for the skylight in the office so the computers aren't drenched with so much light that it becomes impossible to see the screens.

We have to decide whether to have central-air installed this fall.

We're still looking at having the parking spaces paved.

We have to reconsider rebuilding portions or all of the three chimney stacks.

We need to freshen up all the outside doors with some dark green paint and new hardware.

We need to visit the architectural salvage yard in York to find the new hardware.

We need to get some more interior painting started.

We need to furnish the room in the front of the office.

We need an umbrella stand. lol

I need to get the leaf blower out and pick up random sticks in the yard.

We need to figure out why the grass won't grow.

We need to get an estimate ready for revisions to an existing site we designed.

Well...

We need to figure out a way to get a tv out to the hammock. That's the ticket.

New World Order

Friday is the day that I'm showered by 6 a.m. and out the door by 6:30 a.m. There is no other day that I do that.

But I have to get bloodwork as early as possible the day of my chemo treatment. If my blood counts are not where they're supposed to be, they won't proceed with the chemo treatment. So far, my blood counts have held fairly steady right along the lowest acceptable guidelines.

I've never been much for being a slave to time. Time clocks at work, to me, have always seemed silly.

Although I do not like being a slave to time, I am rarely late for anything.

I worked for a company once that organized a leadership group. The owner of the company asked me to join the group, which I did. On my first day he led us in a discussion about time and about being late. Being late, he said, leaves the impression that you are more important than everyone else, that you don't care if others have to wait on you.

I couldn't agree more. I hate to make people wait on me.

Then the owner of the company was late for the next dozen leadership meetings.

I eventually stopped attending the leadership meetings. He was only interested in shaping his little minions to serve him. He didn't actually want to follow the good lessons in leadership himself.

I've never worked a job that made me miserable. If it made me miserable, I went and got another job.

I've also never worked a job where I hadn't put in more hours than I've gotten paid for. When I get to work I go to work. Often times there seems to be an us versus them mentality within one company, workers versus the owner(s). I've always worked as if I owned the company, because don't workers and owners alike all share a vested interest in the company?

I've certainly seen folks standing around talking, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, waiting for the time clock to punch in and begin work. When I get to work I like to go to work, that's why I drove in through rush-hour traffic.

Once a company scolded me for punching in too early. They were afraid I was after overtime pay that was not pre-approved. I don't care about the overtime, I told them, I just want to get to work. They looked at me like I was from Mars.

I've worked with a girl once that would steal from the company. She would back her truck up to the backdoor and steal stupid things - like stools. To me she was stealing from all of us, owner(s) and employees alike. I turned her in.

I was meant to have my own business. There's never been a question of my drive and desire to work. I made sure that I learned a craft that I really enjoyed. Many people were worried about my chances to earn good money as an artist - a writer, an illustrator, a graphic designer, a photographer. But what meant more to me than money was getting up everyday and loving what I do. And that is the thinking behind someone who should have their own business - not someone who is a slave to the time clock.

But many people like being a slave to others. They really do. They like being a slave to that time clock. Many people lack ambition or cannot find a career that they really love. Many people are afraid to take that giant leap and figure out how to make it on their own.

As we enter the next few decades I believe the circumstances around us will force more of us to find a way to become our own boss. Because of technology many people can work from home, in many different positions, without missing a beat.

Two dozen people in two dozen places can easily work on the same network, with the same information, without missing a beat. I can call a co-worker in North Dakota on the computer and video conference direct with him or her.

And think of all the cars we'd take off the road, all the gas we'd save. The benefits to company owners and employees alike abound.

My goal with Albert Design Studio is to secure a network of talent without hiring an employee. Everyone works and contributes from their own home office. So far I've interested a web programmer and a print designer to join us in this pursuit.

Now we've just got to stir up more business, in this tough economy, and make it work. I think it will.

Special Day

Now I've never been much for holidays. Half of them were made up by Hallmark to drive business. Valentine's Day wasn't enough. We now also have Sweetest Day on the third Saturday of every October. And, I'm sorry, but Secretary's Day?

Once when I was young I asked my Dad, "When's Kids' Day?" When he stopped laughing he said, "Every day is Kids' Day."

Quite frankly, every day with Barb is a celebration. But it was still nice to mark our specific memories of that special day.

I even decided to follow traditional gifting guidelines for a third anniversary - leather and/or crystal. That's different for me. I bought Barb a leather briefcase. I've caught her several times now with her cheek on the briefcase smelling the leather. I also bought her a crystal ring holder. I had no idea whether she'd like such a thing. But she seems to.

Whew. I'm not the best gift giver. I usually give people something like a bongo drum.

Last night we went for dinner at the Accomac Inn in Wrightsville, directly across the river from Marietta. If the river wasn't 40-feet deep around Marietta I could drive straight across the river and it would take us a minute or two to get there.

The Accomac is one of this area's finest and most unique restaurants. It's a historic site, having been one of the first west shore settlements along the river in this area and the site of the early Anderson's Ferry crossing. The restaurant is a dramatic, stone structure with a panoramic view of the Susquehanna River.

To get to the Accomac you have to leave civilization in Wrightsville and head north into hilly woods. The road to the Accomac is named "Dark Hallow." You know you're in for a ride when the road is named that. Before long the woods suddenly give way to a clearing right along the riverfront.

I had filet flambeed tableside. Barb enjoyed the fish special, a Fluke stuffed with lobster mousse.

Did you ever feel that you were in a time and place that just felt like you were dropped into some Hollywood movie scene?

That's how it felt last night. Barb was decked out in a gorgeous summer dress, looking like a movie star. The sunlight streaked through the windows mixing with candlelight to give our corner table a dramatic flair.

The sun sunk to the horizon along the river as we just stood arm-in-arm, soaking in the crystal clear crispness of undisturbed nature. Only a water tower rose above the trees, across the river in the distance. Barb gave me a peck on the cheek.

Barb often asks me where I was 20-years ago. "Looking for you," I answer.

Happy Anniversary

I have a wonderful day to celebrate today, it is our 3rd anniversary. It still amazes me how time flys. My love for Jim has just continued to grow more and more each year. We've been through alot together in a short period of time.

I am so thankful to have him in my life. I am looking forward to a nice dinner this evening at the Accomac in Wrightsville. People that know us (even people that don't) can tell just how much we care about each other.


Jim makes everyday worthwhile,
because of his terrific kindness and smile.
I can't ask for a better way,
to show my love each and every day.

We take care of each other as we should,
I would do so much more if I could.
Even when times haven't gotten rough,
and all has been very tough.

I am lucky and I know,
that our love will continue to grow and grow.
I have a very special love in my life,
and it couldn't be better to be his wife.

Noelle

My parents lost their dog Maggie this past year. It was Maggie's time. My parents offer a pet a wonderful life in an outstanding environment. Maggie lived well and offered my parents many smiles in return.

At the same time as Maggie's passing another dog suddenly entered their lives. A dog breeder showed up at the veterinarian's office in Myerstown with a Bichon Frise. The dog had a birth defect. It's one back leg was completely out of the hip joint. The breeder was asking the vet to put the dog to sleep.

The vet decided against putting the dog asleep. Perhaps it was the way this dog seems to smile. Perhaps it was the way this dog expressed so much energy and kindness. Perhaps, as the vet said, he just needed some surgical practice.

The vet performed surgery on this little white puffball of a dog, to try to place the leg back into the joint. Even with a successful surgery it would take much time of rehabilitation for the dog to use the leg properly.

As my Mom visited the vet one day, the doctor came out carrying the Bichon puppy, plopped it in my Mom's arms and said, "I have your new dog for you."

New dog?

With every dog that has passed my Dad says, "No more dogs." My Mom's not listening to him. lol

There was some kind of strange electricity between my Mom and that dog. She decided to take it home and make it theirs. She named it Noelle. Despite my Dad's reluctance, Noelle's favorite spot in the world is on his lap.

Unfortunately Noelle's paw recently became infected. It was the paw on the leg that surgery was performed on. It was bleeding and pussy. Noelle had a little boot to wear to protect it. But she would regularly chew it off and pick at her paw.

The infection was bad enough that it could have spread and been very threatening. The vet recommended amputating the leg.

My Mom says she regrets letting the vet taking this action. But it very well likely saved her life.

My Mom feels terrible. They now have a three-legged dog.

She doesn't feel bad that she has a three-legged dog. She just feels bad for all the things this poor little dog has been through in its short life.

But my Mom, and the vet, have saved this dog's life twice now. I'm proud of her. She cares far more than the breeder, to whom the dog was just a paycheck and little else.

How many people would take this little puppy on?

Noelle's going to need lots of rehab. This is major surgery, of course, and it's going to take many months to recover. It's a traumatic experience for both Noelle and my Mom.

I'm sure Noelle will be just fine. Even with three-legs the puppy still seems to be smiling all the time, and the tail just wags and wags.

From here, we just have to give Noelle some quality time on my Dad's lap.

Wonderful Weekend

Photo of the Day
Some of the Roma tomatoes ripening on our back porch.

It's that time of year. The fresh fruit and vegetables are here.

I've been eating local sweet corn almost every day.

If you're still buying fresh veggies at your local supermarket, I'd recommend trying one of the local farmers' stands instead. All you have to do is take a little ride through the countryside and you'll bump into them. Hand painted signs advertising "SWeet CoRN" will guide your way.

Yesterday we saw a sign at a farm near Myerstown advertising "Fresh Grocies." OK, they can't spell, but the corn has been great.

We've got tomatoes exploding into ripened red on our one back porch. They're so tasty it's almost criminal. Compare the flavor of a tomato grown in your backyard to a tomato grown in Chile, picked early, gassed to control ripening in the long transit from South America to your grocery store - NO CONTEST.

We've also got some basil and rosemary growing on the back porch. I'll pick off a ripe tomato, and a basil leaf or two, then slice the tomato and chop the basil leaves, drizzle a little olive oil over the mix - mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. It's a party in your mouth.

Besides throwing ourselves into fresh produce, we had a busy and very nice weekend.

Saturday became a work day. I wished for some graphics work and revisions to a Website I originally created fell into my lap. I'll finish the corrections today and then try to make peace between the client and the Harrisburg printer who found me the work.

I mean what do you do when someone finds you some work and then goes and upsets the client? Then the client says that they want to work directly with you and say goodbye to the person that found you the work? I'll just try to make peace between all parties and bring it back to some resemblance of sanity.

Sunday we made a trip to visit with my parents in Myerstown. It was a beautiful day for a drive, actually a beautiful day for almost anything. We had brunch together and then spent some time together out on the hill. It was a wonderful visit together.

We also got to visit with Noelle the three-legged dog. But more on that tomorrow.

Have a great start to the work week everyone, and get yourself some sweet corn and "Fresh Grocies."

Good Morning Friday

I was out and about in the FJ Cruiser early this morning, all showered and out the door before 7 a.m.

It was a nice morning, still a little summer haze in the air. I hit the back roads headed for the Norlanco Medical Center to have some blood drawn. I was on fasting restrictions to check cholesterol levels, and the other two regular tests which check blood counts, and liver and kidney functions. I have to have the blood tests every Friday before they will start the chemo.

The corn is getting high. The smell of fresh manure was in the air. Traffic was thicker than usual and big tractor trailers were ruining the morning mood of Lancaster County countryside.

I turned up the CD player and searched for my G. Love and Special Sauce music. I only sing in the car. It's better for everyone that way.

I'm in the Norlanco Medical Center every Friday but still everyone in there seems to act like they don't know me. At the Cancer Center at the Health Campus everyone knows us and says "Hi" when we walk in. They should give me a time card. It's like I work there.

I always try to keep things light and make people smile when I go out and about.

This week when we went to the grocery store we passed a Mom who had her two boys in her grocery cart. One was in the small top rack and one was in the main area of the cart.

"What aisle did you find those in?" I asked as we passed her.

She laughed.

Barb whispered, "Behave yourself!"

I was eager to get some Albert Design Studio work going again this week. And a couple days ago I got thrown right into some.

A printer in Harrisburg sends me web work when they stumble across it. They were working with the Harrisburg Hilton to update a site that I had originally created. For weeks the two parties (both who understand nothing about the web) argued back and forth about how to get things done. Finally they brought me into the mix and I got tossed right into the middle of it.

Turns out that both parties were extremely frustrated and at each other's throats. I immediately was able to answer all the frustrations and by Monday will have the updates done. I'll be working hard come Monday to make peace and bring everyone back together.

I was eager to start working again. But I wasn't necessarily talking about this side of the business. Ugh.

I've always been a mellow, laid back guy. But there would be work situations that would arise that would bring out the worst in me. No one tells a surgeon where to cut. But everyone tells an artist what looks best.

One great lesson cancer has brought to my life is to not let daily, little, stupid things worry me. Life is life, and death is death, and getting all worried and upset about things never helps one bit. I just smile, joke, and try to keep it all in perspective.

Sure, I've had to be firm with customer service reps with my health insurer. I've had to stand up and get attention from doctors. And even yesterday I had to listen to a company owner tell me "They don't know who they're messing with!"

No biggie. No worries. I think we all have to remember that the little human games we've made for ourselves is not really what the big picture is really all about.