It Takes a Village . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry about that," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smooth Sailing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cancer is Weird

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Junk Man Cometh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do the Right Thing

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

But after awhile, it wears you down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get in the Pool

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's go swimming," he exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

(smile)

Here We Go

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

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

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

Think about that.

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

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

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

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

Think about it.

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

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

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

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

Ugh. It makes my stomach upset.

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

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

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

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

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

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