When I graduated from college I felt a lot of pressure. I graduated with a Bachelor's of Science Degree in Journalism from Ohio University, and now I had to go out and actually do something with it.
I sent resumes out everywhere. I felt desperate. I feared spending all this time in college and then not being able to do anything with it. I told myself that I was going to take the first offer I was given.
I had graduated in December. Since I transferred from Shippensburg to Ohio I was on the five-and-a-half year plan. After graduating I was doing some writing as a correspondent for the local paper. But it was just part-time stuff, not a full-time staff job.
Easter came around and my Uncle and Aunt joined us in Myerstown for dinner. My Uncle asked me what I planned to do now that I graduated. I told him I was looking for jobs everywhere.
Suddenly he said, "Why don't you do what my son did? Travel around the country for a year and smoke a lot of pot?" Suddenly I heard this loud "THUNK" under the table. My Aunt had just kicked my Uncle. LOL
Shortly after that I earned a job at a newspaper in Philadelphia. I took it.
When I started the job, I assumed that it was a suit and tie position. And that is what I wore to work everyday. But after a couple of weeks I realized that the suit and tie were not working with this job at all.
Sure there were days when a suit and tie were necessary. Some days I had to cover court cases, or deal with city officials, and I dressed appropriately for the occasion.
But most days I dealt with normal, average folks around the city. I realized very quickly that the average folks really didn't trust me in my suit and tie. They weren't opening up to me and gathering information for stories in a formal outfit was very difficult.
So I started dressing like an everyday guy and it worked. People trusted me more, opened up to me more, and my stories became stronger and stronger.
This worked for me, because I've never been comfortable in a suit and a tie. I never understood the purpose of a tie. For me it was just something to drip lunch on.
Once a fellow reporter told me that he loved ties because of the historical significance of them. I thought about it for a second and responded "Well men used to wear powdered wigs too. But I don't see you wearing one of those."
As I branched away from newspaper and entered the field of art and design I discovered unique fashion requirements. I learned over time, as I met with more and more clients and potential clients, that people were generally fearful of designers who looked too business like. They didn't trust them.
People expected designers to be a little whacky. People did not want to see designers in a tie.
That worked for me. I like to dress for comfort and practicality. I've found that if I'm honest with myself, and let that reflect in my wardrobe, that projects an honest reflection to my clients. And more often than not, it works.
Now I didn't run out and get any tattoos, or piercings, or dye my hair or anything. That's not me. I just dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. If people ever questioned my professionalism I could quickly put them at ease when we started speaking.
Recently I purchased something that I have wanted all my life, but for some reason had never acted upon. It arrived yesterday and I was very excited - a Rolling Stones tongue logo t-shirt. Now that's my kind of work wear!
I think I'll wear it to the medical center this morning where I have to have some bloodwork done and tinkle in a cup.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Seven Down Two to Go
I'm pretty beat-up and bloody from a long tough day yesterday. And I'm happy about it.
Yesterday I went through another Gamma Knife radiation treatment to the brain. It was a very long day. I think the hospital is going to start having to give me a time card.
First a big, HUGE, thank you to Barb, my wife, and Susan, her Mom, for getting me in there and waiting all day for me to be done. I just can't thank them enough.
The radiation/oncologist called me Friday and told me he had seen four tumors that should be treated "sooner rather than later." Yesterday after in-depth study of an MRI of the brain done with double contrast dye, the radiation team decided there were actually nine tumors.
Seven were treated yesterday. Two will be treated in two-weeks. They held off on the remaining two because they were on the opposite side of the head as the rest, and I have a big head I'm told.
In all honesty, the worst parts about the procedure are having a metal frame attached to your skull and laying in one position inside a machine for such a duration of time.
By the end of the day I couldn't sit up without assistance. My lower back was just burning and aching from being in one position for hours on end.
When the screws finally came out from my skull and the frame was detached I started bleeding. The nurses rushed to stop the flow, but it was already all over my shirt.
I came home exhausted. I took a pain killer and fell to sleep in the Lay-Z-Boy. I decided that it would be best if I just stayed in the living room for the night. I was in enough pain I knew that I would only be flopping around in bed keeping Barb awake. And since they can't put Band-aids on the back of my head because of all the hair, I was still slowly seeping blood.
I've been carrying an old towel around all night to protect the furniture. Setting it wherever my head may go. I've been sleeping for a few hours, and then I'm up for a few hours, and that pattern will probably remain through tomorrow.
Washing the hair in the morning is going to be an interesting endeavor. I can already picture the grimace on my face.
Ugh. I feel like somebody hit me with a baseball bat, and I have the lumps on my head to prove it.
But I will just suck it up and deal with it. It is all good. I was feeling so strong and so great through May and June. Then the chemo stopped working and the cancer ran wild. Yesterday was a necessary step towards getting back to feeling strong again.
Cancer has no idea what kind of guy it picked on.
Yesterday I went through another Gamma Knife radiation treatment to the brain. It was a very long day. I think the hospital is going to start having to give me a time card.
First a big, HUGE, thank you to Barb, my wife, and Susan, her Mom, for getting me in there and waiting all day for me to be done. I just can't thank them enough.
The radiation/oncologist called me Friday and told me he had seen four tumors that should be treated "sooner rather than later." Yesterday after in-depth study of an MRI of the brain done with double contrast dye, the radiation team decided there were actually nine tumors.
Seven were treated yesterday. Two will be treated in two-weeks. They held off on the remaining two because they were on the opposite side of the head as the rest, and I have a big head I'm told.
In all honesty, the worst parts about the procedure are having a metal frame attached to your skull and laying in one position inside a machine for such a duration of time.
By the end of the day I couldn't sit up without assistance. My lower back was just burning and aching from being in one position for hours on end.
When the screws finally came out from my skull and the frame was detached I started bleeding. The nurses rushed to stop the flow, but it was already all over my shirt.
I came home exhausted. I took a pain killer and fell to sleep in the Lay-Z-Boy. I decided that it would be best if I just stayed in the living room for the night. I was in enough pain I knew that I would only be flopping around in bed keeping Barb awake. And since they can't put Band-aids on the back of my head because of all the hair, I was still slowly seeping blood.
I've been carrying an old towel around all night to protect the furniture. Setting it wherever my head may go. I've been sleeping for a few hours, and then I'm up for a few hours, and that pattern will probably remain through tomorrow.
Washing the hair in the morning is going to be an interesting endeavor. I can already picture the grimace on my face.
Ugh. I feel like somebody hit me with a baseball bat, and I have the lumps on my head to prove it.
But I will just suck it up and deal with it. It is all good. I was feeling so strong and so great through May and June. Then the chemo stopped working and the cancer ran wild. Yesterday was a necessary step towards getting back to feeling strong again.
Cancer has no idea what kind of guy it picked on.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Here We Go Again
Rubbing the sleepy out of our eyes and getting ready to head to the hospital for another Gamma Knife radiation treatment.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Rules and Regulations
I have incredible faith and trust in my oncologist. He's just outstanding.
I have incredible faith and trust in my radiation/oncologist. He's outstanding too.
I spoke with one on Friday, and the other on Monday, and we all agree that it would be in my best interest to get in for another round of Gamma Knife radiation treatment to the brain sooner rather than later.
There's only one problem. We need to find a neurosurgeon to come along for the ride.
Barb and I lost confidence in the neurosurgeon that we were working with previously. He had made some recommendations, and done some things, that we just felt were odd and we were very uncomfortable about. So recently we made a switch to a young neurosurgeon fresh out of Yale Medical School.
I always remember a surgeon, who worked with me through my initial cancer diagnosis, tell me that in cancer treatment young doctors are often very good because they're up on the latest greatest techniques and drugs in an ever-changing field.
He did impress us, although for our first meeting he did come rather unprepared. We learned that he is not allowed, according to hospital regulations, to perform Gamma Knife procedures without an experienced neurosurgeon present for his first ten procedures. The other neurosurgeon in that practice is on vacation for two-weeks and won't be able to schedule a treatment until the last two-weeks of the month.
What I've discovered over time is that the neurosurgeon really doesn't do much. It's just hospital regulations that one is there for the procedure. A neurosurgeon certainly could become involved in following up on the procedure. But, so far, that just hasn't been our experience.
So I've got to stop bloggin and start making phone calls to try to pull all of this together and make things happen. Wish me luck.
I have incredible faith and trust in my radiation/oncologist. He's outstanding too.
I spoke with one on Friday, and the other on Monday, and we all agree that it would be in my best interest to get in for another round of Gamma Knife radiation treatment to the brain sooner rather than later.
There's only one problem. We need to find a neurosurgeon to come along for the ride.
Barb and I lost confidence in the neurosurgeon that we were working with previously. He had made some recommendations, and done some things, that we just felt were odd and we were very uncomfortable about. So recently we made a switch to a young neurosurgeon fresh out of Yale Medical School.
I always remember a surgeon, who worked with me through my initial cancer diagnosis, tell me that in cancer treatment young doctors are often very good because they're up on the latest greatest techniques and drugs in an ever-changing field.
He did impress us, although for our first meeting he did come rather unprepared. We learned that he is not allowed, according to hospital regulations, to perform Gamma Knife procedures without an experienced neurosurgeon present for his first ten procedures. The other neurosurgeon in that practice is on vacation for two-weeks and won't be able to schedule a treatment until the last two-weeks of the month.
What I've discovered over time is that the neurosurgeon really doesn't do much. It's just hospital regulations that one is there for the procedure. A neurosurgeon certainly could become involved in following up on the procedure. But, so far, that just hasn't been our experience.
So I've got to stop bloggin and start making phone calls to try to pull all of this together and make things happen. Wish me luck.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Dreams
I was sitting around yesterday afternoon, relaxing, watching the Phillies whip the Cardinals, and I started feeling a little sorry for myself.
I have an incredible wife. I love the house I live in. I have my own business. This is everything I've worked so long and hard for. I'm not ready to give any of this up.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized, that I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I should be happy. I should be proud.
This is my dream. This is what I strove for, what I wanted. And I've achieved it. I'm not sure how many people can say that.
I have a beautiful, sweet, loving, incredible angel of a wife. Someone who is a true partner that I can share everything with. It's what I always wanted.
I have a historic, old house, listed on the National Registrar of Historic Places. I've always dreamed of having a place like this that I could care for, fix-up, work on. Now I wake up in it every morning.
And, I have always wanted my own business. Something that I could build the way I felt was right. Not letting my fate in someone else's hands. But something that I could call my own, something that I could take pride in and sink or swim on my own merits, not someone elses. And a successful business I built.
I smiled. I smiled broadly. I realized that my dreams have come true. I should be happy. How fortunate I am.
Sure, when I was 12-years-old I dreamed of being the first NBA all-star to also sell out Madison Square Garden with his rock-n-roll show. But, hey, what would a kid be without some wild ambitions?
But throughout my adult life I've always been pretty much of a realist. I really didn't strive to be President of the United States, or a Nobel Prize winner. I wanted to have an incredible wife, a beautiful old house, and a successful business. I made it!
It wasn't easy. I worked so hard. I took many wrong turns. It's been rough at times. But I made it!
(smile)
I have an incredible wife. I love the house I live in. I have my own business. This is everything I've worked so long and hard for. I'm not ready to give any of this up.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized, that I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I should be happy. I should be proud.
This is my dream. This is what I strove for, what I wanted. And I've achieved it. I'm not sure how many people can say that.
I have a beautiful, sweet, loving, incredible angel of a wife. Someone who is a true partner that I can share everything with. It's what I always wanted.
I have a historic, old house, listed on the National Registrar of Historic Places. I've always dreamed of having a place like this that I could care for, fix-up, work on. Now I wake up in it every morning.
And, I have always wanted my own business. Something that I could build the way I felt was right. Not letting my fate in someone else's hands. But something that I could call my own, something that I could take pride in and sink or swim on my own merits, not someone elses. And a successful business I built.
I smiled. I smiled broadly. I realized that my dreams have come true. I should be happy. How fortunate I am.
Sure, when I was 12-years-old I dreamed of being the first NBA all-star to also sell out Madison Square Garden with his rock-n-roll show. But, hey, what would a kid be without some wild ambitions?
But throughout my adult life I've always been pretty much of a realist. I really didn't strive to be President of the United States, or a Nobel Prize winner. I wanted to have an incredible wife, a beautiful old house, and a successful business. I made it!
It wasn't easy. I worked so hard. I took many wrong turns. It's been rough at times. But I made it!
(smile)
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Coming Along
I've been feeling a little better the last couple of days. It could be because the new chemo is having an effect. It could be because the increase in steroids is starting to have a cumulative effect. It could be a combination of both.
Yesterday, one of the main doctors in radiation/oncology also called me and I appreciated that. It made me feel a little more secure. He reviewed my recent scans and let me know that there were four small lesions that we should and could treat. He made it sound like no problem at all. He also assured me that everything we had treated was responding well, shrinking or disappearing entirely.
One thing I had been worried about was the status of an available neurosurgeon. The hospital requires that a neurosurgeon be present for the Gamma Knife radiation treatment, although they really don't do much of anything.
My current neurosurgeons are a tag-team, a young, intelligent man recently out of Yale, and an experienced surgeon who has been doing this in Lancaster for the last ten-years. Problem is, the young surgeon is not allowed to do this by himself until he has had 10 procedures with an experienced surgeon (hospital regulations). He is allowed to do tradiational brain surgery, just not radiation surgery (where he really doesn't do anything). That's a little strange.
And the experienced surgery is on vacation and will not be back until the third-week of August. So...
Barb and I discussed going back to our original neurosurgeon. But we quickly agreed that we just do not trust him. We had several bad experiences with him. He offered us bad advice and a general lack of advice. We decided against that idea.
But I wanted to know, if need be, if I could get back under the knife in the first two-weeks of August. The radiation oncologist who called yesterday assured me that I could, that there were other nuerosurgeons in town who could be called into action quickly. It made me feel better. I did not know that. I was under the impression that we had met with all the neurosurgeons in town.
So I do have to take it easy on myself. I have to learn to sit still, watch the Phillies, eat some fresh local peaches and sweet corn, and just relax. I'm not always real great at sitting still. I always want to be doing something. But for at least a couple weeks I have to stay relatively mellow.
One thing I am planning on doing, and am looking forward to, is taking some photos for Alyssa and the Hoke family (Barb's sister, brother-in-law, and nephew). I'll get the strobe lighting out for those shots, and really look to pull of some great, fun shots.
OK, typing while eating a peach just isn't in the best interest of my keyboard. lol
Yesterday, one of the main doctors in radiation/oncology also called me and I appreciated that. It made me feel a little more secure. He reviewed my recent scans and let me know that there were four small lesions that we should and could treat. He made it sound like no problem at all. He also assured me that everything we had treated was responding well, shrinking or disappearing entirely.
One thing I had been worried about was the status of an available neurosurgeon. The hospital requires that a neurosurgeon be present for the Gamma Knife radiation treatment, although they really don't do much of anything.
My current neurosurgeons are a tag-team, a young, intelligent man recently out of Yale, and an experienced surgeon who has been doing this in Lancaster for the last ten-years. Problem is, the young surgeon is not allowed to do this by himself until he has had 10 procedures with an experienced surgeon (hospital regulations). He is allowed to do tradiational brain surgery, just not radiation surgery (where he really doesn't do anything). That's a little strange.
And the experienced surgery is on vacation and will not be back until the third-week of August. So...
Barb and I discussed going back to our original neurosurgeon. But we quickly agreed that we just do not trust him. We had several bad experiences with him. He offered us bad advice and a general lack of advice. We decided against that idea.
But I wanted to know, if need be, if I could get back under the knife in the first two-weeks of August. The radiation oncologist who called yesterday assured me that I could, that there were other nuerosurgeons in town who could be called into action quickly. It made me feel better. I did not know that. I was under the impression that we had met with all the neurosurgeons in town.
So I do have to take it easy on myself. I have to learn to sit still, watch the Phillies, eat some fresh local peaches and sweet corn, and just relax. I'm not always real great at sitting still. I always want to be doing something. But for at least a couple weeks I have to stay relatively mellow.
One thing I am planning on doing, and am looking forward to, is taking some photos for Alyssa and the Hoke family (Barb's sister, brother-in-law, and nephew). I'll get the strobe lighting out for those shots, and really look to pull of some great, fun shots.
OK, typing while eating a peach just isn't in the best interest of my keyboard. lol
Friday, July 24, 2009
Building a Foundation
When I was growing up my Mom constantly emphasized that she did not want us camping out in front of the television.
She offered to buy us books, subscriptions to magazines, anything we wanted to read she promised to provide it to us. But she did not want us baking in front of the TV.
I remember in elementary school there was a little book club. We were given catalogs that we could pick out books from to order. We'd bring the order form back in to the teacher with a check from our parents and in a few weeks a box of books showed up for us. I always seemed to be ordering more books than anyone else. It was so exciting when those books showed up. I would scour through them all from front to back.
By middle school I started to feel a little left out. All the kids were talking about the Welcome Back Kotter or Charlie's Angels episode from the night before, and of course, I never saw them.
When it came to TV I pretty much only watched sports and Saturday morning cartoons. I have fond memories of my Dad making Saturday morning breakfast for us and then sitting down to watch a little Bugs Bunny with me.
I think this foundation that my Mom built for me was what really stoked my interest in publishing. I was fascinated by books and magazines and everything about them. The writing, the illustrations, the photography, the printing, how they were put together, everything about publishing I was very curious about.
Although my Mom probably would have preferred that I became a doctor. I do think she is greatly responsible for my career in publishing. Thanks Mom! It has worked out well for me!
I do remember that I had subscriptions to the Sporting News and Sports Illustrated. Back then the Sporting News was the bible of pro baseball. Sports Illustrated was the glossy show for all sports.
I also remember when I asked her if I could get a subscription to Mad magazine. Hey, I liked cartoons. She was so disappointed.
Like thousands of other young boys across America, one day I was stunned (and thrilled) to see the very first issue of Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue show up in the mailbox.
My Mom wasn't quite so thrilled. I think she penned a nasty letter out to the magazine's editors about that one, as many other Moms likely did as well.
Unfortunately newspapers and magazines have really fallen in popularity. I guess there aren't many parents left who shut off the TV on their kids. Maybe they should?
She offered to buy us books, subscriptions to magazines, anything we wanted to read she promised to provide it to us. But she did not want us baking in front of the TV.
I remember in elementary school there was a little book club. We were given catalogs that we could pick out books from to order. We'd bring the order form back in to the teacher with a check from our parents and in a few weeks a box of books showed up for us. I always seemed to be ordering more books than anyone else. It was so exciting when those books showed up. I would scour through them all from front to back.
By middle school I started to feel a little left out. All the kids were talking about the Welcome Back Kotter or Charlie's Angels episode from the night before, and of course, I never saw them.
When it came to TV I pretty much only watched sports and Saturday morning cartoons. I have fond memories of my Dad making Saturday morning breakfast for us and then sitting down to watch a little Bugs Bunny with me.
I think this foundation that my Mom built for me was what really stoked my interest in publishing. I was fascinated by books and magazines and everything about them. The writing, the illustrations, the photography, the printing, how they were put together, everything about publishing I was very curious about.
Although my Mom probably would have preferred that I became a doctor. I do think she is greatly responsible for my career in publishing. Thanks Mom! It has worked out well for me!
I do remember that I had subscriptions to the Sporting News and Sports Illustrated. Back then the Sporting News was the bible of pro baseball. Sports Illustrated was the glossy show for all sports.
I also remember when I asked her if I could get a subscription to Mad magazine. Hey, I liked cartoons. She was so disappointed.
Like thousands of other young boys across America, one day I was stunned (and thrilled) to see the very first issue of Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue show up in the mailbox.
My Mom wasn't quite so thrilled. I think she penned a nasty letter out to the magazine's editors about that one, as many other Moms likely did as well.
Unfortunately newspapers and magazines have really fallen in popularity. I guess there aren't many parents left who shut off the TV on their kids. Maybe they should?
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Health Care Reform
I understand why many people are opposed to health care reform. Frankly, the idea of the government taking anything over frightens people.
I'm somewhat ashamed to say that before I was diagnosed with cancer I was rather oblivious to health care. I knew I had health insurance. I assumed it would be there if I ever needed it. But I never really tried to understand it.
Now, I've experienced the entire process very personally. If you walked a day in my shoes you might change your perspective.
It is a complex issue.
Let's start with one basic question - what kind of society do we want to be?
We don't have any problem using tax dollars to fund public libraries, museums, some colleges. That's all good stuff. That makes us a better society. I do believe there are certain basics to a culture that everyone should have access to. It's what separates us from many other countries around the world.
So why wouldn't we want everyone to have access to health? How can anyone sit there, of good conscience, and say "I don't care if people of our country suffer and die because they can't access care."
Shame on us.
Under the current system, the wealthy can pay for care, the poor can get assistance, and all of us in the middle-class, the largest class of all, have our life savings completely drained.
It's not right.
I hear a lot of people say that the government involving itself in providing health care to all would be equal to socialism. But I haven't heard one proposal yet that is suggesting the end to private insurance. The proposal is to add government funded insurance programs to compete with existing private insurance.
We have a state and federally funded college system in Pennsylvania which offers kids a more affordable option for higher education. Without that many students could not afford to go to college. Not everyone can afford the University of Pennsylvania, and no one has ever suggested that Penn should go away.
No one is suggesting that private health care go away either. This is an issue of compassion, of morales and values. This is an issue of being truly a more advanced, civilized society.
If you do not support health care reform, then you do support peoples' suffering.
I'd like to share some of the examples of the stupidity of the current system, that I've experienced personally.
Some years ago Congress passed the HIPPA statute that guarantees that any person joinging a group insurance policy could not be denied insurance based on a pre-existing condition.
But, for some reason, anyone seeking their own personal health insurance policy could be denied insurance based on a pre-existing condition.
If the company you work for went under and you wanted to be a responsible person and buy your own health insurance, and had a pre-existing condition, you would be denied. Barb was. We finally had to settle for an insurance plan that would cover her at a steep monthly premium without covering her pre-existing condition.
Once I was diagnosed with cancer, I was stuck with my health insurer. Because of my pre-existing condition, I couldn't possibly get health insurance anywhere. And the insurance company knows I'm stuck. They screw me every chance they get. My monthly premiums have doubled in four-years. How's that for cost of living increases? Whew, talk about inflation. Health insurance is easily our biggest cost every month.
My insurance company has denied me coverage, changed my policy, broke our contract. They know I can't do anything about it.
I've gone to legislators. I've gone to the Pennsylvania Insurance Commission. The insurance commission found my insurance company in the wrong but the only result was forcing them to abide by the original contract until the end of the contract year - three months.
Talk to a doctor about the current system. See what he or she thinks. I hear it all the time. The way the current system operates insurance companies are the ones who make treatment decisions, not doctors. Everything comes down to whether the insurance company will pay for it or not.
The health insurance companies are doing very well financially. The hospitals are absolutely rich. The profits earned by Lancaster General Hospital this past year were unreal!
Haven't we learned anything from our recent financial crash? Haven't we learned anything about the problems of greed?
And what area could possibly be worse to practice greed than in one of the basic essences of life and society - all of our own health?
Please consider health care reform carefully.
I'm somewhat ashamed to say that before I was diagnosed with cancer I was rather oblivious to health care. I knew I had health insurance. I assumed it would be there if I ever needed it. But I never really tried to understand it.
Now, I've experienced the entire process very personally. If you walked a day in my shoes you might change your perspective.
It is a complex issue.
Let's start with one basic question - what kind of society do we want to be?
We don't have any problem using tax dollars to fund public libraries, museums, some colleges. That's all good stuff. That makes us a better society. I do believe there are certain basics to a culture that everyone should have access to. It's what separates us from many other countries around the world.
So why wouldn't we want everyone to have access to health? How can anyone sit there, of good conscience, and say "I don't care if people of our country suffer and die because they can't access care."
Shame on us.
Under the current system, the wealthy can pay for care, the poor can get assistance, and all of us in the middle-class, the largest class of all, have our life savings completely drained.
It's not right.
I hear a lot of people say that the government involving itself in providing health care to all would be equal to socialism. But I haven't heard one proposal yet that is suggesting the end to private insurance. The proposal is to add government funded insurance programs to compete with existing private insurance.
We have a state and federally funded college system in Pennsylvania which offers kids a more affordable option for higher education. Without that many students could not afford to go to college. Not everyone can afford the University of Pennsylvania, and no one has ever suggested that Penn should go away.
No one is suggesting that private health care go away either. This is an issue of compassion, of morales and values. This is an issue of being truly a more advanced, civilized society.
If you do not support health care reform, then you do support peoples' suffering.
I'd like to share some of the examples of the stupidity of the current system, that I've experienced personally.
Some years ago Congress passed the HIPPA statute that guarantees that any person joinging a group insurance policy could not be denied insurance based on a pre-existing condition.
But, for some reason, anyone seeking their own personal health insurance policy could be denied insurance based on a pre-existing condition.
If the company you work for went under and you wanted to be a responsible person and buy your own health insurance, and had a pre-existing condition, you would be denied. Barb was. We finally had to settle for an insurance plan that would cover her at a steep monthly premium without covering her pre-existing condition.
Once I was diagnosed with cancer, I was stuck with my health insurer. Because of my pre-existing condition, I couldn't possibly get health insurance anywhere. And the insurance company knows I'm stuck. They screw me every chance they get. My monthly premiums have doubled in four-years. How's that for cost of living increases? Whew, talk about inflation. Health insurance is easily our biggest cost every month.
My insurance company has denied me coverage, changed my policy, broke our contract. They know I can't do anything about it.
I've gone to legislators. I've gone to the Pennsylvania Insurance Commission. The insurance commission found my insurance company in the wrong but the only result was forcing them to abide by the original contract until the end of the contract year - three months.
Talk to a doctor about the current system. See what he or she thinks. I hear it all the time. The way the current system operates insurance companies are the ones who make treatment decisions, not doctors. Everything comes down to whether the insurance company will pay for it or not.
The health insurance companies are doing very well financially. The hospitals are absolutely rich. The profits earned by Lancaster General Hospital this past year were unreal!
Haven't we learned anything from our recent financial crash? Haven't we learned anything about the problems of greed?
And what area could possibly be worse to practice greed than in one of the basic essences of life and society - all of our own health?
Please consider health care reform carefully.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
There is Always Good and Bad
I started on my new chemo yesterday and got the results of Monday's MRI of the brain.
Barb and I were, of course, disappointed to learn that the cancer had spread in the brain. We were reminded that everything was still very small and very treatable. But, still it certainly was somber results that we were not hoping for.
It was also confirmation for us that the chemo I had been taking since January had stopped working. Chemo is not known for working through the blood/brain barrier in general. But it does seem to at least slow things down. Cancer spread to the brain is a very difficult thing.
So it was good and bad. Bad news to hear. But it was still good to know that it's treatable. I'm not done yet. One thing I believe, in my faith, is that we are meant to fight, to live, to do everything we can to be strong and survive, no matter what.
I think that's a part of every religion worldwide. Actually I believe that religions worldwide have much more in common than they have differences. Well except for a few odd ones that worship Kermit the Frog or something.
Unfortunately man (and woman) seems to corrupt the basic essence of the word of God. There is no doubt in my mind that Muslims have corrupted the Koran to teach that suicide and murder would be rewarded by God.
Throughout history man has used faith to control the populace. We have often selfishly gotten in the way of the purity of God's message. We have often corrupted the word of God for our own selfish goals.
The monarchies of England used the churches to help exert control over the citizens. It's what led to the flight to the new continent America and helped form our country in search of freedom of religion.
It's obvious that life is filled with complexities, with good and with bad. I don't know why people are born, or why they die. I don't understand why everything on this planet depends on feeding on something else on this planet to survive. There are a lot of things that I don't understand.
But, I don't worry about what I don't understand because of my faith. My faith tells me to accept these realities and do the best that I can.
Jesus is the son of God, the King of Kings. Yet he was born and lived impoverished, a simple man. He suffered and faced a horrible, excruciating death. He faced it all with dignity and courage.
I take a lesson from this.
I don't get depressed about my cancer. I know that there are going to be challenges in life. I try to do the best I can, as hard as it can be, to stand-up to it, to fight it, to face it with dignity and courage.
I won't give up. Sooner or later God will call all of us. When God calls me, I will go.
Barb and I were, of course, disappointed to learn that the cancer had spread in the brain. We were reminded that everything was still very small and very treatable. But, still it certainly was somber results that we were not hoping for.
It was also confirmation for us that the chemo I had been taking since January had stopped working. Chemo is not known for working through the blood/brain barrier in general. But it does seem to at least slow things down. Cancer spread to the brain is a very difficult thing.
So it was good and bad. Bad news to hear. But it was still good to know that it's treatable. I'm not done yet. One thing I believe, in my faith, is that we are meant to fight, to live, to do everything we can to be strong and survive, no matter what.
I think that's a part of every religion worldwide. Actually I believe that religions worldwide have much more in common than they have differences. Well except for a few odd ones that worship Kermit the Frog or something.
Unfortunately man (and woman) seems to corrupt the basic essence of the word of God. There is no doubt in my mind that Muslims have corrupted the Koran to teach that suicide and murder would be rewarded by God.
Throughout history man has used faith to control the populace. We have often selfishly gotten in the way of the purity of God's message. We have often corrupted the word of God for our own selfish goals.
The monarchies of England used the churches to help exert control over the citizens. It's what led to the flight to the new continent America and helped form our country in search of freedom of religion.
It's obvious that life is filled with complexities, with good and with bad. I don't know why people are born, or why they die. I don't understand why everything on this planet depends on feeding on something else on this planet to survive. There are a lot of things that I don't understand.
But, I don't worry about what I don't understand because of my faith. My faith tells me to accept these realities and do the best that I can.
Jesus is the son of God, the King of Kings. Yet he was born and lived impoverished, a simple man. He suffered and faced a horrible, excruciating death. He faced it all with dignity and courage.
I take a lesson from this.
I don't get depressed about my cancer. I know that there are going to be challenges in life. I try to do the best I can, as hard as it can be, to stand-up to it, to fight it, to face it with dignity and courage.
I won't give up. Sooner or later God will call all of us. When God calls me, I will go.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Golf
I grew up beside the 11th hole of the Lebanon Valley Golf Course. I often have wondered if I hadn't grown up there would I ever have played golf?
But since I did grow up next to a golf course, it was only a matter of time before I was out there knocking the little white ball around.
I used to pay around $1.50 and play all day long, two or three rounds, just by myself. I'd get out there in the sunshine in cut-off denim shorts and no shirt. I would drop a couple balls, practice my game. It was fun. I became pretty good.
But golf isn't fun anymore. It hasn't been fun for me for years. For the industry Tiger Woods saved golf. For me, he ruined it.
When Tiger hit the scene, suddenly everything about golf changed. All of these people who never golfed before came out of nowhere and started golfing and spending. It wasn't a fun little game anymore. It was a industry.
Almost overnight, everything became very expensive, very uptight, and very snobbish.
I remember coming down the 18th fairway at Galen Hall one day and suddenly this lady came out of the clubhouse and screamed at the top of her lungs, "PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!!!"
I'm young. It's hot. It's summer time. Why do I need a shirt? I'd put it on before I went into the clubhouse of course.
Now tell me, what was more offensive - me without a shirt, or this lady screaming across the golf course at the top of her lungs?
The more I looked around, the more I noticed that golf had become some kind of weird fashion show. There were all these guys that suddenly appeared. They were all outfitted very well with expensive clubs and bags and golf clothes, gloves and shoes.
Suddenly I noticed that everyone was looking down at me and snickering at me in my shorts and a t-shirt. One thing I loved though, was the first tee.
I'd step up on the first tee and I could hear all these guys who spent hundreds of dollars on their outfits and equipment making fun of me beneath their breath, laughing at me. Then I would swing and nail the ball 275-yards down the middle and listen to them all swallow their tongues.
You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover.
My boss at a magazine asked me and the business manager to go out golfing once. I was typical shorts and a t-shirt, with sneakers too no fancy spikes. My boss was decked out with everything from the Greg Norman hat to the spikes to the Big Bertha metal driver. My clubs were old. My woods were actually made of wood.
Into the back nine I was building a pretty big lead on him and his game was falling apart. He hit another one into the woods, and as he was searching for his ball the business manager came over to me and said, "You better back off and let him win. He doesn't like to lose."
No way, I thought to myself. That's childish.
One hole later I looked back and there was my boss bent over beating his club into the ground. That was childish. I beat him. He didn't talk to me for a week. Then he fired me. Good riddance. He was a scam artist and a thief who had already spent time in jail for running confidence games in Virginia Beach.
I do miss golf. I enjoyed getting out there and taking a walk through a well-groomed park-like setting.
But guess what - you're not allowed to walk anymore. It slows down play too much. Golf courses now all make you get a cart.
You're not allowed to play by yourself anymore either. If you show up by yourself they will pair you with strangers to make sure that every group as four players. They need to smash as many players onto the course as possible to make the most money.
And guess what - it doesn't cost $1.50 anymore either. It's expensive. If you can find a course that costs $25 on a Tuesday afternoon that's rare, and probably not one of the better courses around.
The last time I golfed was at a sales meeting for a company I worked for. The salesman in my four-some were all snickering at me on the first tee. They all had the latest, greatest, most expesnive clubs. They were all dressed head to toe in the latest, greatest, most expensive gear. I, of course, wasn't.
I got up on that first tee, rested my wooden driver on the turf behind the ball and swung these long orangatang arms for the fences, smashing that little white ball way down the middle.
I listened closely to them all swallowing their tongues.
But since I did grow up next to a golf course, it was only a matter of time before I was out there knocking the little white ball around.
I used to pay around $1.50 and play all day long, two or three rounds, just by myself. I'd get out there in the sunshine in cut-off denim shorts and no shirt. I would drop a couple balls, practice my game. It was fun. I became pretty good.
But golf isn't fun anymore. It hasn't been fun for me for years. For the industry Tiger Woods saved golf. For me, he ruined it.
When Tiger hit the scene, suddenly everything about golf changed. All of these people who never golfed before came out of nowhere and started golfing and spending. It wasn't a fun little game anymore. It was a industry.
Almost overnight, everything became very expensive, very uptight, and very snobbish.
I remember coming down the 18th fairway at Galen Hall one day and suddenly this lady came out of the clubhouse and screamed at the top of her lungs, "PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!!!"
I'm young. It's hot. It's summer time. Why do I need a shirt? I'd put it on before I went into the clubhouse of course.
Now tell me, what was more offensive - me without a shirt, or this lady screaming across the golf course at the top of her lungs?
The more I looked around, the more I noticed that golf had become some kind of weird fashion show. There were all these guys that suddenly appeared. They were all outfitted very well with expensive clubs and bags and golf clothes, gloves and shoes.
Suddenly I noticed that everyone was looking down at me and snickering at me in my shorts and a t-shirt. One thing I loved though, was the first tee.
I'd step up on the first tee and I could hear all these guys who spent hundreds of dollars on their outfits and equipment making fun of me beneath their breath, laughing at me. Then I would swing and nail the ball 275-yards down the middle and listen to them all swallow their tongues.
You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover.
My boss at a magazine asked me and the business manager to go out golfing once. I was typical shorts and a t-shirt, with sneakers too no fancy spikes. My boss was decked out with everything from the Greg Norman hat to the spikes to the Big Bertha metal driver. My clubs were old. My woods were actually made of wood.
Into the back nine I was building a pretty big lead on him and his game was falling apart. He hit another one into the woods, and as he was searching for his ball the business manager came over to me and said, "You better back off and let him win. He doesn't like to lose."
No way, I thought to myself. That's childish.
One hole later I looked back and there was my boss bent over beating his club into the ground. That was childish. I beat him. He didn't talk to me for a week. Then he fired me. Good riddance. He was a scam artist and a thief who had already spent time in jail for running confidence games in Virginia Beach.
I do miss golf. I enjoyed getting out there and taking a walk through a well-groomed park-like setting.
But guess what - you're not allowed to walk anymore. It slows down play too much. Golf courses now all make you get a cart.
You're not allowed to play by yourself anymore either. If you show up by yourself they will pair you with strangers to make sure that every group as four players. They need to smash as many players onto the course as possible to make the most money.
And guess what - it doesn't cost $1.50 anymore either. It's expensive. If you can find a course that costs $25 on a Tuesday afternoon that's rare, and probably not one of the better courses around.
The last time I golfed was at a sales meeting for a company I worked for. The salesman in my four-some were all snickering at me on the first tee. They all had the latest, greatest, most expesnive clubs. They were all dressed head to toe in the latest, greatest, most expensive gear. I, of course, wasn't.
I got up on that first tee, rested my wooden driver on the turf behind the ball and swung these long orangatang arms for the fences, smashing that little white ball way down the middle.
I listened closely to them all swallowing their tongues.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Wine, Sweet Corn and Peaches
I was on a mission yesterday to visit a farmer's market in Columbia that I never knew existed. I was on a mission to get some local sweet corn and peaches.
Columbia is a river town just south of Marietta. It has a reputation as a rough town. It is a very historic town. It has a history as a rowdy party town. Riverboats used to stop there regularly and there were many bars and bordellos.
Today Columbia is not much different. It has some of the lowest priced real estate in Lancaster County, so it draws a very diverse population. It is very vibrant and active, but also has a lot of poverty.
I've never had a need to go south of the Route 462 bridge that connects Columbia to Wrightsville on the York County side of the river. Once I reach Route 462 I either turn right to head toward York, or turn left to head to Lancaster.
The market is just south of Route 462. I'm amazed it took me so long to find it. But then I'm not the brightest crayon in the box.
The market building is beautiful, very historic, federal style brick building. Unfortunately the market inside wasn't so vibrant. Since it was just my first visit, I cannot know for sure, but I'm guessing the economy has had it's impact here like everywhere else. There were too many empty stands. Nothing makes a market look worse than empty stands.
We did find some sweet corn and some peaches. But I think I'm a little over anxious. It seemed like both the corn and the peaches were picked a little early, just not quite at their full potential yet.
I had so much hope for this farmer's market, and it wasn't terrible. But I'm not sure we'll hurry back.
Besides the farmer's market we needed to pick up some wine to use in our cooking. I have several dishes I use wine in, both red and white. We hit the state store and I picked up a California cabernet and a white wine from southern Germany. The California wines have really come a long way. And I still have met a white wine that matches those of Germany.
I haven't had a drink in I don't know how long. But my scampi wouldn't work without the white wine, and my filet mignon wouldn't be the same without the red wine reduction.
We were headed to the cashier when this young guy with a big poof of hair and an untamed beard stumbled through the door. He was out of breath and shouting "Oh man it's hot out there! I drove a bike here! I thought I was going to die!"
Drove a bike here?
He gathered himself. Then he went straight for a big bottle of cheap whiskey, paid for it, and got back on his bike. It was a kids' bike.
Barb and I looked at each other in disbelief.
Now who would drive a kids bike into the state store for a big bottle of cheap whisky on one of the hottest, most humid days of summer?
An alcoholic who couldn't drive because of a D.U.I.
What a world we do live in.
Columbia is a river town just south of Marietta. It has a reputation as a rough town. It is a very historic town. It has a history as a rowdy party town. Riverboats used to stop there regularly and there were many bars and bordellos.
Today Columbia is not much different. It has some of the lowest priced real estate in Lancaster County, so it draws a very diverse population. It is very vibrant and active, but also has a lot of poverty.
I've never had a need to go south of the Route 462 bridge that connects Columbia to Wrightsville on the York County side of the river. Once I reach Route 462 I either turn right to head toward York, or turn left to head to Lancaster.
The market is just south of Route 462. I'm amazed it took me so long to find it. But then I'm not the brightest crayon in the box.
The market building is beautiful, very historic, federal style brick building. Unfortunately the market inside wasn't so vibrant. Since it was just my first visit, I cannot know for sure, but I'm guessing the economy has had it's impact here like everywhere else. There were too many empty stands. Nothing makes a market look worse than empty stands.
We did find some sweet corn and some peaches. But I think I'm a little over anxious. It seemed like both the corn and the peaches were picked a little early, just not quite at their full potential yet.
I had so much hope for this farmer's market, and it wasn't terrible. But I'm not sure we'll hurry back.
Besides the farmer's market we needed to pick up some wine to use in our cooking. I have several dishes I use wine in, both red and white. We hit the state store and I picked up a California cabernet and a white wine from southern Germany. The California wines have really come a long way. And I still have met a white wine that matches those of Germany.
I haven't had a drink in I don't know how long. But my scampi wouldn't work without the white wine, and my filet mignon wouldn't be the same without the red wine reduction.
We were headed to the cashier when this young guy with a big poof of hair and an untamed beard stumbled through the door. He was out of breath and shouting "Oh man it's hot out there! I drove a bike here! I thought I was going to die!"
Drove a bike here?
He gathered himself. Then he went straight for a big bottle of cheap whiskey, paid for it, and got back on his bike. It was a kids' bike.
Barb and I looked at each other in disbelief.
Now who would drive a kids bike into the state store for a big bottle of cheap whisky on one of the hottest, most humid days of summer?
An alcoholic who couldn't drive because of a D.U.I.
What a world we do live in.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Unhappy Doctor
Barb and I felt pretty good going into the appointment with the oncologist yesterday morning. We expected to discuss my PET scan results from Wednesday. And like always I had a few side effect issues I wanted to discuss with him.
We were very positive an upbeat. Afterall, what could the PET scan tell me that I didn't already know? I certainly already knew I had cancer. And I already knew the cancer had spread all over. So, how bad could it be? If anything, we figured it could only be good news.
But as soon as the oncologist entered we could tell that he wasn't happy. One of the first things he said to us, after a little small talk, was "I'm not very happy about these PET scan results."
That threw us for a bit of a loop. That was the start of our confusion.
One of the things that I don't like about our healthcare system is the little amount of time you get to spend with a doctor. Doctors are on rigid schedules and plan out appointments in 15-minute increments. That's not much time.
My oncologist does come prepared for appointments, which I appreciate. But being prepared he also had a pre-set agenda, which pretty much took up our entire 15-minutes. It was kind of like bombarding us with his perspective and then sending us home with our heads whirling about with all the information we just tried to digest.
Barb and I drove home yesterday relatively confused.
In my oncologist's defense, he has given me his cell phone number and he does welcome my calls (I've used it only twice). And yesterday, upon leaving, he did say, "If you want to talk some more give me a call."
The PET scan shows any areas of high metabolic activity in the body. So by the nature of it, it will show more than a normal CT scan.
The oncologist felt that the PET scan had shown further spread of the cancer, enough so that he felt it was time to switch to a different chemotherapy.
I was OK with this because this chemo had been going for about six-months and that is about the expected time for the chemo to work before failiing.
But I wasn't as convinced over his reasoning. A lot of things that the PET scan showed were not new tumors but areas of general activity that the PET scan would have picked up and traditional CT scans would not.
The oncologist questioned me thoroughly about my lungs and my breathing. I've had no trouble with either. He inspected me closely, listened closely to my lungs, and there were no problems.
The oncologist had me undress and he did a thorough inspection of my buttocks.
Confused, he finally explained to me that the PET scan showed activity along the lining of my lungs, and the surface of my buttocks. He almost seemed disappointed that he didn't find any evidence of anything in either area.
He barely touched on a lot of the good news: there was activity in the liver before and now there was none; there was activity in the kidney before and now there was none; there was activity in my right hip bone and now there was none.
All in all, I take this as a "push." There was possibly some bad, but certainly some good. I'm still feeling good. And I'm OK with switching up chemos. Some of the best results I have had from chemotherapy have come from transitions from one type of chemo to another.
There is work to do. I've acquired a copy of the PET scan report and have been able to study it. I want to see if a traditional CT report also accompanies this. That will tell me a lot more about the lungs.
We also have to pursue the activity in the brain, and the potential successes of my last radiation treatment. I have an MRI scan of the brain scheduled for early Monday morning.
I'll meet with the oncologist again in the first week of August, as well as the neurologist.
The new chemo is not a pill but an IV administered at the health campus. I'll have to have the IV for two-hours one day every other week.
My approach today is no different than yesterday or the day before. As unhappy as the doc was over the PET scan results, I just can't justify it and feel that he may be over reacting a little.
As Barb said, "We'll just have to do daily butt inspections."
We were very positive an upbeat. Afterall, what could the PET scan tell me that I didn't already know? I certainly already knew I had cancer. And I already knew the cancer had spread all over. So, how bad could it be? If anything, we figured it could only be good news.
But as soon as the oncologist entered we could tell that he wasn't happy. One of the first things he said to us, after a little small talk, was "I'm not very happy about these PET scan results."
That threw us for a bit of a loop. That was the start of our confusion.
One of the things that I don't like about our healthcare system is the little amount of time you get to spend with a doctor. Doctors are on rigid schedules and plan out appointments in 15-minute increments. That's not much time.
My oncologist does come prepared for appointments, which I appreciate. But being prepared he also had a pre-set agenda, which pretty much took up our entire 15-minutes. It was kind of like bombarding us with his perspective and then sending us home with our heads whirling about with all the information we just tried to digest.
Barb and I drove home yesterday relatively confused.
In my oncologist's defense, he has given me his cell phone number and he does welcome my calls (I've used it only twice). And yesterday, upon leaving, he did say, "If you want to talk some more give me a call."
The PET scan shows any areas of high metabolic activity in the body. So by the nature of it, it will show more than a normal CT scan.
The oncologist felt that the PET scan had shown further spread of the cancer, enough so that he felt it was time to switch to a different chemotherapy.
I was OK with this because this chemo had been going for about six-months and that is about the expected time for the chemo to work before failiing.
But I wasn't as convinced over his reasoning. A lot of things that the PET scan showed were not new tumors but areas of general activity that the PET scan would have picked up and traditional CT scans would not.
The oncologist questioned me thoroughly about my lungs and my breathing. I've had no trouble with either. He inspected me closely, listened closely to my lungs, and there were no problems.
The oncologist had me undress and he did a thorough inspection of my buttocks.
Confused, he finally explained to me that the PET scan showed activity along the lining of my lungs, and the surface of my buttocks. He almost seemed disappointed that he didn't find any evidence of anything in either area.
He barely touched on a lot of the good news: there was activity in the liver before and now there was none; there was activity in the kidney before and now there was none; there was activity in my right hip bone and now there was none.
All in all, I take this as a "push." There was possibly some bad, but certainly some good. I'm still feeling good. And I'm OK with switching up chemos. Some of the best results I have had from chemotherapy have come from transitions from one type of chemo to another.
There is work to do. I've acquired a copy of the PET scan report and have been able to study it. I want to see if a traditional CT report also accompanies this. That will tell me a lot more about the lungs.
We also have to pursue the activity in the brain, and the potential successes of my last radiation treatment. I have an MRI scan of the brain scheduled for early Monday morning.
I'll meet with the oncologist again in the first week of August, as well as the neurologist.
The new chemo is not a pill but an IV administered at the health campus. I'll have to have the IV for two-hours one day every other week.
My approach today is no different than yesterday or the day before. As unhappy as the doc was over the PET scan results, I just can't justify it and feel that he may be over reacting a little.
As Barb said, "We'll just have to do daily butt inspections."
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Meeting with the Doc
We're both up early again. The coffee is brewed. Freckles has been fed. We're getting ready to go see the oncologist.
Our oncologist is an impressive doctor. We're fortunate to have him on our team. He really addresses the complete picture of cancer, physical, emotional, quality of life, everything.
Upon our first meeting with him I was immediately impressed when he turned around, looked at Barb, and simply asked "How are you doing?" He not only recognized the trials and tribulations this disease puts me through, but also the effects it has on those who are close to me.
We expect to discuss the results of yesterday's PET scan this morning. It should be interesting.
I've also been concerned about the possibilities of neuropathy after more than three-years of continuous chemo. In the past two-months I have random moments of numbness and my eyes will get very tired and go a little blurry on me. I'd like to question the doctor extensively on these issues.
We have learned that there are yet two more chemo drugs that have been approved by the FDA for the treatment of kidney cancer. The current chemo Sutent has really been working like a champ. But, like all kidney cancer chemos, the day will come when it stops working.
I've really been pushing lately to spend more time outside. It can be tough because at home I always know that I have my best chances of handling however I might feel day-to-day. But it is important to get out too.
We've started taking walks, which has been great. Everyday I want to get out.
Today after the visit with the doctor I'm hoping to make a couple stops in Columbia. We need wine, white and red. No we don't drink it. We don't drink at all. But we do cook with it.
It is ironic. I've always loved a nice pint of Guinness. Now I live within two-blocks of two great, historic pubs who both serve Guinness and I don't drink. I don't drink at all. My stomach just can't take it. No big deal though. I laugh at the irony of it. Life is peculiar. All you can do is laugh.
So we're going to stop quick to pick-up some cooking wine. I need some Cabernet to deglaze the pan and finish off my tenderloin filets.
Then we're hopiing to visit a farmer's market in Columbia (just a mile south of Marietta) that we didn't know existed. Our hopes are high that this will be a nice market. I've definitely been on a hunt for a good local source of produce.
We were in the grocery store the other day and they had a big sign up in the produce department "California Strawberries."
I thought to myself, "I wouldn't be too proud of that."
Our oncologist is an impressive doctor. We're fortunate to have him on our team. He really addresses the complete picture of cancer, physical, emotional, quality of life, everything.
Upon our first meeting with him I was immediately impressed when he turned around, looked at Barb, and simply asked "How are you doing?" He not only recognized the trials and tribulations this disease puts me through, but also the effects it has on those who are close to me.
We expect to discuss the results of yesterday's PET scan this morning. It should be interesting.
I've also been concerned about the possibilities of neuropathy after more than three-years of continuous chemo. In the past two-months I have random moments of numbness and my eyes will get very tired and go a little blurry on me. I'd like to question the doctor extensively on these issues.
We have learned that there are yet two more chemo drugs that have been approved by the FDA for the treatment of kidney cancer. The current chemo Sutent has really been working like a champ. But, like all kidney cancer chemos, the day will come when it stops working.
I've really been pushing lately to spend more time outside. It can be tough because at home I always know that I have my best chances of handling however I might feel day-to-day. But it is important to get out too.
We've started taking walks, which has been great. Everyday I want to get out.
Today after the visit with the doctor I'm hoping to make a couple stops in Columbia. We need wine, white and red. No we don't drink it. We don't drink at all. But we do cook with it.
It is ironic. I've always loved a nice pint of Guinness. Now I live within two-blocks of two great, historic pubs who both serve Guinness and I don't drink. I don't drink at all. My stomach just can't take it. No big deal though. I laugh at the irony of it. Life is peculiar. All you can do is laugh.
So we're going to stop quick to pick-up some cooking wine. I need some Cabernet to deglaze the pan and finish off my tenderloin filets.
Then we're hopiing to visit a farmer's market in Columbia (just a mile south of Marietta) that we didn't know existed. Our hopes are high that this will be a nice market. I've definitely been on a hunt for a good local source of produce.
We were in the grocery store the other day and they had a big sign up in the produce department "California Strawberries."
I thought to myself, "I wouldn't be too proud of that."
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Well That's Done
Barb and I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning. With very sleepy eyes we got ourselves ready and drove to LGH's Health Campus for my 6:45 a.m. PET scan.
The PET scan is specifically used to detect cancer. Cancer cells divide very rapidly. Rapidly dividing cells draw and gather sugar. So cancer cells draw and gather more sugar than other areas of the body. So for the PET scan they inject me with radioactive sugar, let me sit for an hour reading old magazines so it can run throughout my system, and then run me through a tweaked CT scanner.
We'll get the results tomorrow morning when we meet with the oncologist.
I'm not feeling very anxious about any of this.
I already know I have cancer. So there's not going to be any big news there.
The reason for this scan is to see if some of the small spots I have are just dead cells and scar tissue or active areas. If areas are active they will "light up" on the PET scan.
The lack of sleep and the early hours, combined with an hour of bad magazines, has taken its toll on me. There could be a nap this afternoon.
But I have learned about creating stark, muted designs from some home decorating magazine.
The PET scan is specifically used to detect cancer. Cancer cells divide very rapidly. Rapidly dividing cells draw and gather sugar. So cancer cells draw and gather more sugar than other areas of the body. So for the PET scan they inject me with radioactive sugar, let me sit for an hour reading old magazines so it can run throughout my system, and then run me through a tweaked CT scanner.
We'll get the results tomorrow morning when we meet with the oncologist.
I'm not feeling very anxious about any of this.
I already know I have cancer. So there's not going to be any big news there.
The reason for this scan is to see if some of the small spots I have are just dead cells and scar tissue or active areas. If areas are active they will "light up" on the PET scan.
The lack of sleep and the early hours, combined with an hour of bad magazines, has taken its toll on me. There could be a nap this afternoon.
But I have learned about creating stark, muted designs from some home decorating magazine.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
State of My Profession
Someone named "Rennie D." called me the other day from India. In broken English he told me that he worked for a company that offered excellent graphic design.
I told him, "No thank you." I was not interested.
He pushed on. I hung up.
I never thought I'd see the day when my profession was threatened by cheap labor from places like India or Brazil. But it's happening.
There are several sites online where businesses can post jobs for interested graphic designers, photographers, copy writers, videographers, etc. They are all littered with bids from around the world. And the bids are incredibly low.
I don't know how many companies may actually be using communications services from places like India or Brazil. But it looks like fairly many may be because companies from these countries always seem to rank the highest on these sites for money made and jobs acquired.
Now someone in my position could try to take advanatage. I could hire someone in India for five dollars and hour and resell their work for fifty dollars an hour.
NEVER! There is so much wrong with that, I don't even know where to begin. First of all I am a professional communicator. It's what I do. If I want to buy and sell services from around the world I would have studied business.
Secondly, anyone who buys designs from other countries enjoys no intellectual rights to the design. Designers in India can set-up simple templates and dump client after client into the same framework. Nothing like building a business image by using a look that shows up again and again and again.
Thirdly, have you ever made a call to a customer service department and ended up in India? Enough said.
I could go on and on.
Graphic Design has always been a rough profession. People think it's easy and it's fun. You just color stuff right?
Every year there are hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of new, young, graphic artist. Almost all of them quickly melt away into other professions. They learn that it's actually work. It's actually difficult and requires a lot of technical knowledge. They didn't count on that. Not to mention there are very few positions available for way too many candidates.
The profession is also a favorite of housewives, raising children and hoping to do a little work from home. Again, there is a feeling that this is a fun profession, and not really a difficult job.
No one tells a surgeon where to make the first incision. But everyone knows design. No one tells a civil engineer how to build a bridge. But you'd be amazed how many people are experts at what I do.
I've met with a lot of young graphic artists, and interviewed many as well. I often ask them why they wanted to do this? Almost all of them tell me they think it seems fun. I always tell them, "Well, when it starts to feel like a job, then you'll know you're actually starting to become good at it."
I don't mind competing with the rest of the world. As long as the competition is fair. If I'm charging $50 an hour and someone in Brazil is charging $5 an hour...how can I compete with that?
It's not just manufactured goods being sent abroad any more. It's also professional services.
When I worked for an outerwear company (who made everything in the U.S.) the owner of the company decided to start manufacturing in China. Why? Greed of course.
I thought it was a terrible decision. But the whole sales force just shrugged their shoulders and reasoned that everything else was already made overseas. Shortly after the goods from China started coming in, sales fell tremendously, eventually the business laid-off many, many workers, and had to sell to a competitor.
I left the company when I saw the downward spiral starting.
I told him, "No thank you." I was not interested.
He pushed on. I hung up.
I never thought I'd see the day when my profession was threatened by cheap labor from places like India or Brazil. But it's happening.
There are several sites online where businesses can post jobs for interested graphic designers, photographers, copy writers, videographers, etc. They are all littered with bids from around the world. And the bids are incredibly low.
I don't know how many companies may actually be using communications services from places like India or Brazil. But it looks like fairly many may be because companies from these countries always seem to rank the highest on these sites for money made and jobs acquired.
Now someone in my position could try to take advanatage. I could hire someone in India for five dollars and hour and resell their work for fifty dollars an hour.
NEVER! There is so much wrong with that, I don't even know where to begin. First of all I am a professional communicator. It's what I do. If I want to buy and sell services from around the world I would have studied business.
Secondly, anyone who buys designs from other countries enjoys no intellectual rights to the design. Designers in India can set-up simple templates and dump client after client into the same framework. Nothing like building a business image by using a look that shows up again and again and again.
Thirdly, have you ever made a call to a customer service department and ended up in India? Enough said.
I could go on and on.
Graphic Design has always been a rough profession. People think it's easy and it's fun. You just color stuff right?
Every year there are hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of new, young, graphic artist. Almost all of them quickly melt away into other professions. They learn that it's actually work. It's actually difficult and requires a lot of technical knowledge. They didn't count on that. Not to mention there are very few positions available for way too many candidates.
The profession is also a favorite of housewives, raising children and hoping to do a little work from home. Again, there is a feeling that this is a fun profession, and not really a difficult job.
No one tells a surgeon where to make the first incision. But everyone knows design. No one tells a civil engineer how to build a bridge. But you'd be amazed how many people are experts at what I do.
I've met with a lot of young graphic artists, and interviewed many as well. I often ask them why they wanted to do this? Almost all of them tell me they think it seems fun. I always tell them, "Well, when it starts to feel like a job, then you'll know you're actually starting to become good at it."
I don't mind competing with the rest of the world. As long as the competition is fair. If I'm charging $50 an hour and someone in Brazil is charging $5 an hour...how can I compete with that?
It's not just manufactured goods being sent abroad any more. It's also professional services.
When I worked for an outerwear company (who made everything in the U.S.) the owner of the company decided to start manufacturing in China. Why? Greed of course.
I thought it was a terrible decision. But the whole sales force just shrugged their shoulders and reasoned that everything else was already made overseas. Shortly after the goods from China started coming in, sales fell tremendously, eventually the business laid-off many, many workers, and had to sell to a competitor.
I left the company when I saw the downward spiral starting.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Change of Plans
Barb and I were just about out the door this morning when the health campus called to inform us that my PET scan had been cancelled.
Apparently the maker of the radioactive sugar in Philadelphia had a machine break down and the order for Lancaster General Hospital couldn't be delivered.
LGH gave me the impression that they would be back and rolling again very soon, just not in time for my appointment. Soooo....we rescheduled for Wednesday, 6:45 a.m.
Yesterday we had to scramble a bit to get ready for this scan, and tomorrow we'll have to do it again. A nurse from the PET scan area called me on Friday and requested that I do not eat any sugar or carbohydrates on Sunday, all day, before the scan scheduled for today.
We're at the end of our two-week menu, and we're due for another grocery trip. There wasn't a lot of options in the house. Jeesh, I eat bread with everything.
I figured out that I could make Chicken and Andouille Gumbo, all protein, veggies, seasonings and no carb or sugar. Throughout the afternoon into the evening I had five bowls of Gumbo. It was the best I ever made, and I'm sure it had something to do with Barb and I making it as a team.
Earlier in the day yesterday I had to fill up my gas tank for the trip to the health center this morning, that was cancelled. Barb went into pay while I pumped. She told me she was going to look for lunch for me in the gas station.
The gas station?
Barb came out of the gas station with a chicken caesar salad. My expectations were pretty low. I mean a chicken caesar salad from a gas station?
It was surprisingly good. I mean I've had much better. In many ways it good have been much better. But...the lettuce was very crisp and fresh, the chicken was OK, they didn't forget the parmesan cheese, and the dressing was tasty.
I had no idea how I would get through the day on a diet of no carbs and no sugars. But it worked out with Chicken Caesar Salad and Chicken and Andouille Gumbo. I felt like I was on some Food Network TV show successfully meeting some odd challenge.
Now with the PET scan moved to Wednesday morning, I have to recreate the challenge of Sunday. I have to figure out how I'm going through tomorrow eating no sugar or carbs.
Any ideas? Please share?
Apparently the maker of the radioactive sugar in Philadelphia had a machine break down and the order for Lancaster General Hospital couldn't be delivered.
LGH gave me the impression that they would be back and rolling again very soon, just not in time for my appointment. Soooo....we rescheduled for Wednesday, 6:45 a.m.
Yesterday we had to scramble a bit to get ready for this scan, and tomorrow we'll have to do it again. A nurse from the PET scan area called me on Friday and requested that I do not eat any sugar or carbohydrates on Sunday, all day, before the scan scheduled for today.
We're at the end of our two-week menu, and we're due for another grocery trip. There wasn't a lot of options in the house. Jeesh, I eat bread with everything.
I figured out that I could make Chicken and Andouille Gumbo, all protein, veggies, seasonings and no carb or sugar. Throughout the afternoon into the evening I had five bowls of Gumbo. It was the best I ever made, and I'm sure it had something to do with Barb and I making it as a team.
Earlier in the day yesterday I had to fill up my gas tank for the trip to the health center this morning, that was cancelled. Barb went into pay while I pumped. She told me she was going to look for lunch for me in the gas station.
The gas station?
Barb came out of the gas station with a chicken caesar salad. My expectations were pretty low. I mean a chicken caesar salad from a gas station?
It was surprisingly good. I mean I've had much better. In many ways it good have been much better. But...the lettuce was very crisp and fresh, the chicken was OK, they didn't forget the parmesan cheese, and the dressing was tasty.
I had no idea how I would get through the day on a diet of no carbs and no sugars. But it worked out with Chicken Caesar Salad and Chicken and Andouille Gumbo. I felt like I was on some Food Network TV show successfully meeting some odd challenge.
Now with the PET scan moved to Wednesday morning, I have to recreate the challenge of Sunday. I have to figure out how I'm going through tomorrow eating no sugar or carbs.
Any ideas? Please share?
Monday Morning PET Scan
Barb and I are getting ready to take off for the health campus for my scheduled PET scan.
I haven't had a PET scan since 2006. Back then it was the first sign that my cancer was spreading.
I've had some good results from chemo so my oncologist ordered today's scan to see if my tumors are really tumors or just dead cells. I think it's an excellent idea and I look forward to the results when we meet with him on Thursday.
The PET scan is relatively simple on me, well except for the part where I'm not allowed to eat. I'm so hungry right now. My body does prefer some breakfast.
Basically they inject radioactive sugar into me and then I have to sit around and read bad magazines for an hour until the radioactive sugar has had a chance to make it through my body. Then it's 20-minutes on the scanner and I'm done.
If cancer is congregating in any part of the body it will draw the radioactive sugar to it and "light up" on the scan. Who thinks of this stuff?
Barb is going to try to get me a banana nut muffin at the health campus for me to jump on as soon as the scan is over.
Happy Monday everyone!
I haven't had a PET scan since 2006. Back then it was the first sign that my cancer was spreading.
I've had some good results from chemo so my oncologist ordered today's scan to see if my tumors are really tumors or just dead cells. I think it's an excellent idea and I look forward to the results when we meet with him on Thursday.
The PET scan is relatively simple on me, well except for the part where I'm not allowed to eat. I'm so hungry right now. My body does prefer some breakfast.
Basically they inject radioactive sugar into me and then I have to sit around and read bad magazines for an hour until the radioactive sugar has had a chance to make it through my body. Then it's 20-minutes on the scanner and I'm done.
If cancer is congregating in any part of the body it will draw the radioactive sugar to it and "light up" on the scan. Who thinks of this stuff?
Barb is going to try to get me a banana nut muffin at the health campus for me to jump on as soon as the scan is over.
Happy Monday everyone!
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Harleys, Freckles and Ellis
My Mom has reached Detroit safely to visit with her old Michigan friends.
At the half-way point, on the Pennsylvania/Ohio border she settled into a dog-friendly Marriott with Noel after a quick bite to eat.
Around 9:30 p.m. the phone rang. It was the front desk.
"Mrs. Albert? This is detective soandso down in the lobby. Could you possibly come down to the lobby?"
My Mom ventured down to the lobby, met the detective, and learned that a motorcycle had crashed into the rear end of her parked car. She was parked right in front of the hotel.
The biker was there. His bike was in a couple pieces. He reported the accident. He had insurance. He continuously apoligized, according to my Mom.
He must have had one wheel up in the air because he completely missed the bumper but smushed in the tailgate. My Mom said the car was ok to drive. And she drove it the final six hours, through Detroit and arrived at her good friends the Plouff's.
It's like a movie, "Alice and Noele the three-legged dog travel across America."
Enjoy, relax, and return safe guys!
Freckles knew yesterday that something was up when I closed the door between the kitchen and the sunroom. He hid in the corner underneath the pub table. So I moved the pub table.
Yesterday was time for Freckles annual check-up with the veterinarian. Our vet and his staff are great. They didn't hesitate at our request for house calls for Freckles since he hates to travel.
Still...what a scene.
Barb donned long sleeves and picked up the beast. We set him on a card table covered with newspapers. The vet noticed a story about a musician coming to town on one of the newspapers. The vet is also a fiddle player we learned.
The nurse grabbed Freckles by the scruff of the neck, completely controlling him, very professionally. Freckles hissed and cried and showed his teeth as the vet sped through all of his checks.
Freckles has a spot on his back near his tail which he cannot reach to take care of. A large clump of hair always gathers here over time and he won't let us near it.
We took advantage of the situation to cut off the clump of hair. Freckles didn't seem happy about it at the time. But he did seem happy about it when everything was all over and that big clump of hair was gone.
After a little shot in the butt, Freckles was done. He took off as soon as the nurse left go. He stopped in the kitchen and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him. I could just see him thinking, "What was that all about?" as we all stood there smiling at him.
This is also the Ellis birthday weekend celebration. Happy fifth birthday Ellis!
At the half-way point, on the Pennsylvania/Ohio border she settled into a dog-friendly Marriott with Noel after a quick bite to eat.
Around 9:30 p.m. the phone rang. It was the front desk.
"Mrs. Albert? This is detective soandso down in the lobby. Could you possibly come down to the lobby?"
My Mom ventured down to the lobby, met the detective, and learned that a motorcycle had crashed into the rear end of her parked car. She was parked right in front of the hotel.
The biker was there. His bike was in a couple pieces. He reported the accident. He had insurance. He continuously apoligized, according to my Mom.
He must have had one wheel up in the air because he completely missed the bumper but smushed in the tailgate. My Mom said the car was ok to drive. And she drove it the final six hours, through Detroit and arrived at her good friends the Plouff's.
It's like a movie, "Alice and Noele the three-legged dog travel across America."
Enjoy, relax, and return safe guys!
Freckles knew yesterday that something was up when I closed the door between the kitchen and the sunroom. He hid in the corner underneath the pub table. So I moved the pub table.
Yesterday was time for Freckles annual check-up with the veterinarian. Our vet and his staff are great. They didn't hesitate at our request for house calls for Freckles since he hates to travel.
Still...what a scene.
Barb donned long sleeves and picked up the beast. We set him on a card table covered with newspapers. The vet noticed a story about a musician coming to town on one of the newspapers. The vet is also a fiddle player we learned.
The nurse grabbed Freckles by the scruff of the neck, completely controlling him, very professionally. Freckles hissed and cried and showed his teeth as the vet sped through all of his checks.
Freckles has a spot on his back near his tail which he cannot reach to take care of. A large clump of hair always gathers here over time and he won't let us near it.
We took advantage of the situation to cut off the clump of hair. Freckles didn't seem happy about it at the time. But he did seem happy about it when everything was all over and that big clump of hair was gone.
After a little shot in the butt, Freckles was done. He took off as soon as the nurse left go. He stopped in the kitchen and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him. I could just see him thinking, "What was that all about?" as we all stood there smiling at him.
This is also the Ellis birthday weekend celebration. Happy fifth birthday Ellis!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Pretty Strong for Being Invisible
I've felt very strong all through June, all things considered. I felt strong going into my Gamma Knife radiation treatment the last week of June. And I came out of the radiation treatment feeling strong.
Then it hit me.
Radiation is a peculiar thing. It has to be delievered in just the right dosage, at just the right spot. It's delievered by some space age machine that looks like it was just pulled out of a science fiction movie.
Because of the machine, and the room, and the surroundings, I always somehow think that you zap them tumors like a laser beam or something. Just turn it on for a minute or so and "Presto!" they're gone.
No. No presto.
I know I've said it before, but often I have to remind myself. Radiation is a slow poison. It doesn't work in a day, nor a couple days. It's a matter of weeks, even months. The radiation slowly poisons and kills the cancer cells leaving nothing but scar tissue and dead cells behind.
Throuogh this process the brain can get a little agitated at times.
I was doing great until Tuesday evening until I awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible headache. I took this pill and that pill but nothing worked. I tried a pretty strong pain reliever. I was desperate. But I stupidly took the pain reliever without food (as recommended). Now I was terribly sick to my stomach too.
(shaking head) I can really be a moron at times.
At some point I realized what was going on - it was the radiation killing cancer cells in the brain, and that activity was agitating the brain as a whole. I remembered this. I went through this before. I took three steroids and within an hour or two the headache had cleared. Now I definitely knew this had been caused by the radiation treatment.
So I pretty much laid-around, healed up, licked my wounds, and have been trying to pull myself back together again. This morning I'm feeling like I've almost returned to normal.
And that's good - today's Freckles appointment with the vet.
Then it hit me.
Radiation is a peculiar thing. It has to be delievered in just the right dosage, at just the right spot. It's delievered by some space age machine that looks like it was just pulled out of a science fiction movie.
Because of the machine, and the room, and the surroundings, I always somehow think that you zap them tumors like a laser beam or something. Just turn it on for a minute or so and "Presto!" they're gone.
No. No presto.
I know I've said it before, but often I have to remind myself. Radiation is a slow poison. It doesn't work in a day, nor a couple days. It's a matter of weeks, even months. The radiation slowly poisons and kills the cancer cells leaving nothing but scar tissue and dead cells behind.
Throuogh this process the brain can get a little agitated at times.
I was doing great until Tuesday evening until I awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible headache. I took this pill and that pill but nothing worked. I tried a pretty strong pain reliever. I was desperate. But I stupidly took the pain reliever without food (as recommended). Now I was terribly sick to my stomach too.
(shaking head) I can really be a moron at times.
At some point I realized what was going on - it was the radiation killing cancer cells in the brain, and that activity was agitating the brain as a whole. I remembered this. I went through this before. I took three steroids and within an hour or two the headache had cleared. Now I definitely knew this had been caused by the radiation treatment.
So I pretty much laid-around, healed up, licked my wounds, and have been trying to pull myself back together again. This morning I'm feeling like I've almost returned to normal.
And that's good - today's Freckles appointment with the vet.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Great Can Always Be Better
It was a relaxing holiday weekend with tremendous weather. Happy Birthday America!
This is a great country. We are blessed.
I watched a new "Globe Trekker" through Pakistan on PBS over the weekend. The living conditions in most of the country were amazing, amazingly poor. No running water, public water stations to bathe in and wash clothing in, just down-right dirty, filthy, third-world living conditions that broke my heart to see.
How fortunate we are.
This country is very patriotic and proud, and we should be.
But you can never rest on your achievements. Even when you're the best, actually especially when you're the best, you have to strive harder than ever to maintain achievement.
I sometimes worry that we rest on our laurels and ignore lessons from countries around the world who are much older and experienced than we are as a country.
But on the other hand is there such a thing as too fast? If we develop so rapidly that we leave many other countries behind, we create a division of classes, which never seems to breed anything positive.
It's a tough thing. Hopefully we can find away to continue to advance, while taking heed to the lessons of the past, and not leave anyone else behind. It's a lot to ask. It's a big task.
Unexplicably I did not pop the lid on the grill this weekend. It just happened that way. It's just one of those things.
We've got a lot going on over here. It ranges from crazy stuff like Freckles appointment with the vet to more serious stuff like health care research and funding.
I hope everyone had a great holiday weekend!
This is a great country. We are blessed.
I watched a new "Globe Trekker" through Pakistan on PBS over the weekend. The living conditions in most of the country were amazing, amazingly poor. No running water, public water stations to bathe in and wash clothing in, just down-right dirty, filthy, third-world living conditions that broke my heart to see.
How fortunate we are.
This country is very patriotic and proud, and we should be.
But you can never rest on your achievements. Even when you're the best, actually especially when you're the best, you have to strive harder than ever to maintain achievement.
I sometimes worry that we rest on our laurels and ignore lessons from countries around the world who are much older and experienced than we are as a country.
But on the other hand is there such a thing as too fast? If we develop so rapidly that we leave many other countries behind, we create a division of classes, which never seems to breed anything positive.
It's a tough thing. Hopefully we can find away to continue to advance, while taking heed to the lessons of the past, and not leave anyone else behind. It's a lot to ask. It's a big task.
Unexplicably I did not pop the lid on the grill this weekend. It just happened that way. It's just one of those things.
We've got a lot going on over here. It ranges from crazy stuff like Freckles appointment with the vet to more serious stuff like health care research and funding.
I hope everyone had a great holiday weekend!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Vacation
It's seems like everyone has gone somewhere this weekend for the holiday weekend.
We're here in Marietta. But I've decided that we'll take a vacation from cancer.
I'll be back and blogging on Monday.
Hope everyone is having a great holiday!
We're here in Marietta. But I've decided that we'll take a vacation from cancer.
I'll be back and blogging on Monday.
Hope everyone is having a great holiday!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
It's That Time Again
It's grocery store day! Wait. Hang on. Why is everyone running away?
Well I wish I would have thought of running away. But I'm too big to hide. Barb would find me.
The grocery store isn't all that bad. But it probably is the least favorite thing I have to do. Put that in the big picture, and I guess I'm doing pretty well then.
And I am doing pretty well.
The lumps on my head from screwing the frame to my head for the Gamma Knife radiation treatment have finally gone down and aren't feeling nearly as sore. I don't really feel any after effects from the radiation anymore either. So, at this point I think I'm ready to put all that in the past. Overall that's a much faster healing than I'd experience through traditional surgery.
I've been working pretty hard on business related things so far this week. I had a spell a few years back where I was working almost exclusively on web design projects. Than that took a switch and suddenly I was working almost exclusively on print design projects.
Now I'm back on the web design work again and I can just see the big chunks of rust falling off me.
The web just keeps moving and changing. Take a month off and you've missed a lot. It's exciting. But it can be frustrating too.
I'm getting to the point in my life where I want to start building my role in the business as more of a manager or director, and contract young designers and programmers to do the work. It's a natural progression. I'd still have to have my hands in things. I'd still have to make sure that everything that leaves the studio meets my expectations. But there is no shortage of young designers or programmers out there. We've been getting cold calls from them asking for jobs.
I wish I was in a position to start interviewing and meeting with some of them.
When the economy sinks the first thing that most companies cut is marketing expenses. On one hand, I can respect that because they're trying to protect employees' jobs. On the other hand, when sales are rough, one of the keys to building sales is successful marketing. So...
The second richest guy in Marietta has predicted that the economy will start to turn-around at the end of this summer. I think he may be on target. But of course it's a wacky, wild, unpredictable world.
I've been working on a rebuild of my Web site. I should be ready to release it in about two-weeks. Don't be surprised if I send a link to some of you before then asking if you would kindly click through the pages to help me test it and make sure everything is working on the diversity of computers and computer components that exist out there.
After the relaunch of the site we're going to start another targeted marketing campaign to see if we can generate any interest. I should get a good feeling then on exactly how well the confidence in the economy is doing.
In January we executed a postcard marketing campaign to select companies we felt we could be a good match for. I've done this kind of thing many times through the years and have always gotten a 5- to 10-percent response, which is considered very good. In January, however, we had no response, a big zero, for the first time in my career.
So we'll see.
I'm trying to get the 9 to 5 grind going again. Well before I'd work more like 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. But this time I'm going to try just 9 to 5.
Well I wish I would have thought of running away. But I'm too big to hide. Barb would find me.
The grocery store isn't all that bad. But it probably is the least favorite thing I have to do. Put that in the big picture, and I guess I'm doing pretty well then.
And I am doing pretty well.
The lumps on my head from screwing the frame to my head for the Gamma Knife radiation treatment have finally gone down and aren't feeling nearly as sore. I don't really feel any after effects from the radiation anymore either. So, at this point I think I'm ready to put all that in the past. Overall that's a much faster healing than I'd experience through traditional surgery.
I've been working pretty hard on business related things so far this week. I had a spell a few years back where I was working almost exclusively on web design projects. Than that took a switch and suddenly I was working almost exclusively on print design projects.
Now I'm back on the web design work again and I can just see the big chunks of rust falling off me.
The web just keeps moving and changing. Take a month off and you've missed a lot. It's exciting. But it can be frustrating too.
I'm getting to the point in my life where I want to start building my role in the business as more of a manager or director, and contract young designers and programmers to do the work. It's a natural progression. I'd still have to have my hands in things. I'd still have to make sure that everything that leaves the studio meets my expectations. But there is no shortage of young designers or programmers out there. We've been getting cold calls from them asking for jobs.
I wish I was in a position to start interviewing and meeting with some of them.
When the economy sinks the first thing that most companies cut is marketing expenses. On one hand, I can respect that because they're trying to protect employees' jobs. On the other hand, when sales are rough, one of the keys to building sales is successful marketing. So...
The second richest guy in Marietta has predicted that the economy will start to turn-around at the end of this summer. I think he may be on target. But of course it's a wacky, wild, unpredictable world.
I've been working on a rebuild of my Web site. I should be ready to release it in about two-weeks. Don't be surprised if I send a link to some of you before then asking if you would kindly click through the pages to help me test it and make sure everything is working on the diversity of computers and computer components that exist out there.
After the relaunch of the site we're going to start another targeted marketing campaign to see if we can generate any interest. I should get a good feeling then on exactly how well the confidence in the economy is doing.
In January we executed a postcard marketing campaign to select companies we felt we could be a good match for. I've done this kind of thing many times through the years and have always gotten a 5- to 10-percent response, which is considered very good. In January, however, we had no response, a big zero, for the first time in my career.
So we'll see.
I'm trying to get the 9 to 5 grind going again. Well before I'd work more like 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. But this time I'm going to try just 9 to 5.
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