What season is your favorite? Mine is hockey

This is my winter season team, during our last game of the season, needless to say we were short a few players.


Hockey.

I have written about it many times.  It has helped me get through a lot of things.

Sports.  One thing that helps cancer survivors survive ( I hate the word thriver or thrive, just my personal thing.)

Some people run 5Ks, half marathons, marathons.  Never understood the excitement about that,  maybe I just don't like running, after all marathon comes from the legend of a Greek Runner who was sent from Marathon to Athens to announce that the Persians had been defeated in the Battle of Marathon, and supposedly dropped dead after he relayed the news of the victory.



This does not make me want to run a marathon.

Back to the ice.

We draft two seasons: Fall (Oct-Dec) and Winter (Jan-March)

Fall season I was Co-captain of Apple Tree Inn.  We were last in our 5 team league, with an abysmal 3-8-1 record.  We didn't win either of our two playoff games and well we finished.  

We didn't win the season, however we didn't lose it either.  My fall team, team Apple Tree Inn (seen below)

short once again, without our Co-capt who was out of town on a job, had fun.  We had a game where we got totally blown out by another team 8-0 and my team was in great spirits, because we were having fun (well I am not a goalie, I hope he had fun, even though we lost, sorry Zach.)  I think I missed one game in the fall, I was going to participate in a bike race and, well that didn't happen.  We didn't do great, but when one of the best players in the league tells you it was the most fun they had playing hockey, then you know, as a captain you did your job.  ( I did a good job drafting the team, the hockey gods deemed it a non winning season.

Winter season.

New sponsor.  It happens, businesses decided not to renew sponsorships,  We have had several businesses do that.  Since my co-capt and I had gotten 2 sponsorships, we decided to captain Trish Hartwick Coldwell Banker.  Doing so we became the first all female sponsored and captained team in the league.  Unfortunately once again my co-capt. was out, this time with an ankle injury.  

So we had more jerseys ordered before the season and then we drafted.

I think I drafted pretty well, but again the hockey gods were not favoring us.  We had a 4-6 season and we made it to the semi finals of the playoffs, if you look at the photo at the top of the blog you will see why we lost, most of our team was gone that day.  Most people didn't expect us to make it that far.  I am thinking our team didn't expect us to make it that far.  

I never doubted us.  Not for a second.

You see, every season that you draft, you draft not just people, but your team, that team becomes your family.  For 13 games those player were my family. 

Family.  if you have played hockey you understand.  If you haven't, then it is difficult to explain.  

I don't like missing games.  Most people don't.  I really hate missing games.

I know what it is like to not be able to play.  

I know the feeling when your body hates you, and you can't lace em up, step out onto the ice and skate with your team.

I missed 1 game in the winter, I had bronchitis, I was coughing so much my doctor, who was also on my team, told me to come see her that week.  

I missed a game, 

I wasn't able to play.

I coached from the bench.  (Yelling probably wasn't good for my throat, but I am not the quietest person out there when I am at the rink)

Having bronchitis reminded me of what it was like when I had to stop playing after I was diagnosed.  It is weird how things can take you right back into that moment.  

It was a moment I will never forget.

It was a moment I do not want to repeat.

I may not be the fastest player out there, or the best, but when I am out there I will give 110% every game, because I know that any game you play could be your last.  That is a scary feeling to know about the sport I love so much.

So if you see me play, you will know why I skate hard, yes I like to win, but there is more to that sheet of ice that most people can see.  

That is why to me every game is a victory.

To some it is just a game.

To me it is a whole lot more.

That is why I will keep skating.

 Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com available on demand, on iTunes, IHeart radio, the podcast app on your iPhone and on stitcher.

In Retrospect

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?

Never really sure what that song meant... Should we forget about the past and not think about it? Or never forget it. Not really sure.

2012 has been an interesting year for me.  

One of great happiness, as well as great sadness.

I celebrated my 5 year anniversary of being cancer free.

And I also lost some good friends along the way.

People like me, who have faced their own mortality, realize how precious life is.

How important it is not to waste even a second of it.

If you are full of hate you miss out on joy

If you are angry you won't be happy.

If you worry  you won't have hope.

You never know when the last time you will see someone will be.

One of my friends passed away this year suddenly from a stroke.

She was one of the greatest people I have ever known.

I still remember the last time I saw her, it was like any other day.

I watched her walk away with her coffee as I was continuing my job,

I had no idea it would be the last time I saw her.

Tell those important to you that you love them.

Know that everyone who comes into your life is there for a reason.

Enjoy every day.  

Drink in the sheer awesomeness that is life, and this earth.

Life is precious.

Enjoy every second of it.

There are 31,536,000 seconds in a year.

 Don't waste any of them.

I'll leave you and 2012 with this quote from John Hughes, from the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off:

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com.  Available on demand, on Itunes and on the Podcasts app on your iphone

AGAIN

There is a scene in the movie Miracle where Coach Herb Brooks makes the 1980 Olympic team do the now infamous blue line drill after a game that the team was paying more attention to the girls in the stands to the Norwegian team they were playing.


It is a drill that no hockey player wants to do:  Goal line, blue line, Red line, blue line, goal line and any variation therein.

In the movie it is referred to as the AGAIN drill.

Again.

Never a word a cancer survivor wants to hear.

Had a routine blood draw, although I guess after cancer nothing is really routine.

Got a call from the nurse practioner that she wanted to talk about my labs. 

I knew it wasn't too bad since the doc didn't call me, those are the calls I dread.

The blood draw I had was to test my thyroid and D3 levels.  Somewhere along the way during cancer treatment I got hashimoto's thyroiditis, yeah its really called that.

So the Nurse Practitioner and I do the phone tag thing.

Labs show your levels are up.

No wonder I have been tired, I know I stay up late and enjoy a good nap, but seriously, people who have these diseases that give you chronic fatigue should be pillow testers or something.

Hmm I may be on to something maybe I should write relax the back or tempurpedic for a sponsorship.

Back to the story.  Doc thinks I should up my dosage and do another blood draw in 6 weeks.

Hopefully this is the last time I have to think about my thryoid...

AGAIN

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com.  Available on demand, on Itunes and on the Podcasts app on your iphone

Meeting the Challenge of Cancer and Care-giving

 

 

Another guest blogger!  Enjoy!

There have been numerous times when my wife made the comment to me that she cannot fathom the things I went through when she was diagnosed with mesothelioma. I’m writing this to shed some light on my experience as a caregiver for her during her illness.

Our daughter, Lily, was born just three months before the mesothelioma diagnosis. After the birth of our daughter, we were radiant and hap

py and were enjoying our new, beautiful family. Suddenly, we were tossed into a sea of worry and uncertainty when my wife received her unexpected diagnosis. I recall looking at my tearful wife and wondering how we were going to survive this period of our lives. It all seemed so frightening and daunting to us as new parents.

Shortly after the diagnosis, I went through an emotional state that was pure outrage at this turn of events. I cursed and shouted and felt completely helpless. My anger got the best of me for a bit; but I soon realized I needed to be strong and stable for my family because they needed me now more than ever. This realization hit home and while I still had my moments of weakness, I did my best to be a solid rock my wife and daughter could depend on.

Once the diagnosis was given, I had a huge to-do list. My regular responsibilities of work, taking care of household chores and helping with our daughter were added to significantly. On top of these tasks, I also began helping my wife with basic care, making regular travel arrangements and scheduling frequent appointments. It was a lot to deal with, but I kept my priorities focused and became determined to accomplish each task set in front of me. I also had a lot of help from the community and family members. I am truly not sure what I would have done without the remarkable outpouring of support that was offered to our family.

Following Heather’s surgery in Boston, the next two months were incredibly hard on me. It is difficult for my wife to imagine what I went through during this time frame. After her surgery, Heather flew to South Dakota to be with her parents while she recuperated and prepared for her next round of mesothelioma treatment. Her parents had watched Lily while we were in Boston during Heather’s surgery. While Heather was recuperating, I only got to see her and my daughter one time during their stay in South Dakota. This was harder on me than I can put into words.

The obligation of maintaining my job while being separated from my family was really hard on me. I made a long drive to visit them one weekend and then returned home to work again. Looking back now, I know we had to face difficult choices while my wife was going through treatment, but I am grateful we still had options. Through all of our struggles, Heather is still here and still healthy over six years later. I hope
that our story can be a source of hope and help to those currently battling cancer.

About the author:

"Cameron is husband to Heather Von St. James, survivor advocate for the Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance, and father to Lily Rose. He, along with Heather and young Lily, had their world's turned upside down when Heather was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma, just 3 1/2 months after the birth of his only child. When faced with the very real possibility of raising Lily on his own, he fought alongside Heather in her battle with mesothelioma.
Like Heather, Cameron is passionate about bringing awareness to mesothelioma and the dangers of asbestos exposure. It is his hope that sharing his story will help others those battling cancer and their caregivers who provide them care and guidance in their journey."

Help Chris Ryff

BLOG REPRINTED BY PERMISSION

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Chris Ryff is a father of a 2 year old boy, a devoted husband, a much loved son, a loyal brother and a good friend to so many.  He is also fighting a battle against stage IV breast cancer in which time is not on his side.  Chris has identified a potentially life saving treatment called Personalized Gene Targeted Therapy at the Burzynski Clinic in Texas, which he believes is his best option at this stage of the disease.  We estimate that the cost of treatments, travel to the clinic and lost wages during this time could be around $60,000. 

We have created this page in an effort to chip away at these costs so Chris can focus on beating this disease. Please give generously and forward to others and ask that they give too.  

You can see a video of Chris and his family here during a recent photo shoot

Here is the link to the wepay page we've set up to donate for Chris and his family.

 -or-
To contribute by check, please make check out to exactly: William C. Ryff
And mail to:
RCF
Post Office Box #834
Ridgefield, CT 06877

Pay it forward.  Because it rocks....

Looks can be deceiving

If you stopped by my house and saw this winter hat, you would think nothing of it.  I live in a cold climate, something anyone would wear during the winter. 

But this hat means a lot to me.

Cap
Chapeau
Toque
Hat

There are many names for it.

But this particular one is important.

I wore this when I lost my hair during chemo.

I knew when I got my head shaved I would probably be cold.  I usually have long hair and not having any well that was an abrupt change.  When I thought about what hat I should get to wear during the winter, to treatment, at home and when I slept I knew I wanted this one.

Under Armour.

I know its a good brand because I wear it when I play hockey.  I think I started wearing it before it was the normal thing to do, wear a dry wick material shirt under gear.  Bought my first shirt in El Segundo, California, where the Kings train, back when it was called HealthSouth, now its the Toyota Sport Center.

I wore the hat because it not only covered my head, but it reminded me I would get stronger.

Its funny what we cling onto when we go through something like cancer.  I imagine other people have trinkets and lucky stuffed animals that they cherish, that to other people look like a knick knack on a shelf, or just another stuffed bear.

But to survivors, these things can mean the world.

To me its a reminder of where I have been, and how far I have come.

Are you wondering do I still have my cap?

Damn right I do.

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com
Also available on Itunes and on the podcasts app on the iphone

Goodbye Nancy

I check facebook when I get home.  Tonight I got home late after a 14 hour day working my 2 jobs.  I saw the link from my friend Betsy De Parry.  Komen CEO Nancy Brinker to step down.

Wow.

It is late and I almost didn't want to make dinner before I wrote about this.

This is huge in the cancer world.


 I have written about Komen before in a prior blog post about what Susan Komen would say to her sister about the organization that was created in her name

Now Nancy stepped down.  The article says it was from backlash from Planned Parenthood funding, but I would like  to think it had to do with their pinkwashing of everything from cat treats to toilet paper.

There are many cancer survivors, including myself, who are sickened by seeing the pink ribbon on everything.  We don't need ribbons on Friskies, toilet paper or tennis balls.  We need cures, we need better treatments, we need better detection for the disease.

Somewhere Nancy Brinker lost her way.

The damage has been done, but nothing is irreparable.

We can fix this.

We have the technology.

Surely if JPL can send a rover to MARS our amazing cancer community can help the Komen Organization see the error of their ways.

Until then..

So long,
Farewell
Auf Widersehen
Au Revoir
Goodbye
Nancy.

Don't let the pink ribbon hit you on the ass on the way out....

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com.  Available on demand, on Itunes and on the Podcasts app on your iphone

All I wanna do

Recently I was reading about how Sheryl Crow told the public she had a brain tumor.  I was shocked and stunned.  I was (shockingly) not by a computer so I didn't know the full gist of the story, my heart sank, thinking she had a recurrance or a new cancer.

I searched online and read this article  about her brain tumor.  Fortunately it is benign.  Unfortunately it is causing memory loss.  The writer of this article joked: "Man, if we ever forgot any Sheryl Crow songs, we’re gonna to start freaking out. Doctors should start including “Crow forgetfulness” in the list of benign brain tumor symptoms. If you can’t at least get through the chorus of “My Favorite Mistake,” straight to the MRI machine you go!"


Ha freaking Ha...

It is one thing for a person with memory issues to make fun of themselves, its a whole other ballgame if someone else does it.

I have chemobrain, cognitive memory issues caused by the chemo I took because of my cancer.

It sucks.

Ok I know I am not a grammy winning songwriter with millions of fans, and while making light of Crow's situation may be funny for Halle Keifer (and for the record, I have no idea if she has ever had cancer or what her relationship with cancer is) it strikes a deep nerve with me.

It's hard knowing what you want to say without being able to say it.  To visualize an object or place in your mind when you are wanting it, say a pen or want someone to get something out of, for example, the kitchen.

When I meet people I don't know, which I often do, I hope I don't forget the name of my friend with me, which has happened on occasion.

Or if the grocery store clerk asks if you want paper or plastic and you stare at her blankly, knowing the answer but not being able to verbalize it.

Or being on a live radio show, trying to explain something to the host on air only to speak in either gibberish or fight for the right thought.

My friends understand, its one of those side effects that I have, they know if they ask me a question and it takes me a minute its not because I am slow, or stupid.

It is chemobrain.

It sucks.

It isn't funny.

Try to remember that, Halle Keifer, next time you write an article about someone with a serious condition.

I may not recall everything Halle, but I will remember YOUR name...



Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com
Also available on Itunes.

PBS Series A Wider World Segment "Cancer Etiquette"

Survivorship and Depression

I was recently on the PBS series "A Wider World" to talk about my cancer survivorship. Here is a segment they filmed about my battle with depression.

What its like to survive

Another guest blogger. Enjoy.

What’s it like to survive? Have you or someone you really care about ever survived something that could have changed things forever?

Being a survivor sets you apart from other people in that you have a totally different view on things after “surviving”. No, I am not suggesting that we survivors are better than other people or anything like that; after all it’s friends and family who helped us survive, bring us through the hard times, and stand behind us as we continue on our journey. In a way, they survived too and are a part of the survival team. Think about it, a mom having to watch her child go through treatments for cancer? When that’s all over, you better believe she feels like a survivor also!

Survivors of car wrecks, wars and other diseases all know that they have, for some reason, been given a second chance; and I’d like to think that second chance, was not by “chance” exactly. Now my next comment is not to just show my fascination with conspiracy theories and secret clubs like the “Skull and Bones”, but I would like to think of survivors as being in their own little club too. (Unfortunately, we don’t rule the world though!)

As a survivor, first and foremost, we realize that we are temporary. No matter how great things are today and at this moment, we know that it can all change in an instant. We carry this attitude with us at all times. Whether we are at the Christmas party hanging out with friends and cutting up (break dancing in some cases), or at home relaxing with our families, our survival and what “could” and “could have” happened is always tucked away within us. We know that the unthinkable does not just happen to “other people.”

Now, this all shouldn’t read as the “poor little survivors”, because we are not “poor little survivors”; we are “blessed little survivors.” We now have a new appreciation for the smallest things, for all kinds of people that enter our life; we now take the time. That’s what it’s like to survive!

Ryan Hamner is a 4-time survivor of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and a singer-songwriter who travels performing and speaking to those affected by cancer. Please check out his new song, “Survivors Survive” online at http://www.hearthehearttour.com and learn about his community for cancer survivors at http://www.2surviveonline.com .

FIGHT

Another guest blogger enjoy

To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
My Dad died a year ago. Esophageal cancer. It was a choice he made. No, no, no… not to GET cancer – but to not treat it. The doctors all said it was contained and curable. He just didn’t want to fight it. At the time I couldn’t understand. Not that I do now… but a year’s worth of time does change a person’s opinions. I honestly don’t think he had any idea what he was in store for. Essentially he ‘committed suicide by cancer’. I wrote a blog about it via my friend The Cancer Warrior last October.

Boy, was I pissed when I wrote that. The day after writing it, I bought a one-way ticket to NH from TX to help my Mom help my Dad leaving my two kids at home. We took care of my Dad at home. He died while I was holding his hand. I’m glad I went. I'm glad that some of his last words were to me.

I have no regrets. He, however, did.

The week before he died, my Uncle, Dad’s little brother, came to see him, ‘one last time’.

My Uncle had just been diagnosed with melanoma in his lungs, lymph nodes and various patches on his skin.

His PET scan lit up like a friggin' Christmas tree of the worst kind.

He tried to talk to my Dad, but his cancer had eaten him alive, his voice was essentially gone. But he made sure my Uncle sat close and heard every word he said… He said,

‘Fight’

Dad regretted his decision to ‘let nature take its course’. I’m glad he did voice that regret. It made it easier on my family to know that he didn’t want to leave us.

We just discovered last week that my Uncle’s PET scan is now clean. He’s missing part of a lung, all of his lymph nodes and chunks of skin. But, what a small price to pay when you think of the alternative.

‘Fight’

Fight, my friends. You are stronger than you know.

As Emerson said, if ‘even one life has breathed easier because you have lived..’ you have had a successful life.

Thanks for the great advice once again, Dad, and please know you indeed lived a successful life and were loved.

About the author:  Amy Lord Gonzalez

bio:
Transplanted New Hampshire girl, currently residing in the country of Texas. Stay-at-home mom, rock star wife who makes a mean enchilada and still cheers for the Red Sox and Patriots from afar.
contact info: icknamy@yahoo.com

Transformation, turning points and clarity in life.

A guest post from Mr. Wonderful

Well here we are, coming close to the end of September. Have you heard? It's Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month! There's a lot to know about ovarian cancer and cancer awareness in general. But, I would like to share something a little different today. Two stories about how ovarian cancer has change my life: the first, about my wife, Sarah Sadtler Feather (1971-2011); and the second about me – after losing my wife. Both stories are about transformation, turning points and clarity in life.

Sarah – Rock climbing at Estes Park, Colorado with First Descents, September 2010

 

A year ago, Sarah ventured to Estes Park, Colorado to attend a rock climbing program through First Descents, an outdoor adventure program offered to young adult cancer fighters/survivors that is designed to enable a defiance of cancer, a reclamation of life and a connection with others doing the same.

Rock climbing was definitely not in Sarah's standard repertoire. As a matter of fact, she'd never even tried it. She was scared, but intrigued. I know she was also excited for the opportunity to check off a new item on the bucket list. 

During her five-day trip, she experienced two incredible personal transformation points. Both would remain a part of her to her last day. One would give her strength. The other would ultimately take her life. 

It all started with the elevation. At close to 9,000 feet above sea level, the air's a lot thinner than where we live outside of Boston, MA. Ovarian cancer had raided her body, and Sarah knew her lungs were already getting weaker as metastases were taking hold, ever so slowly. Going to the gym was becoming harder, but she still went three or four times a week. In Colorado, the higher elevation made her feel like someone was sitting on her chest. Fatigue had been a part of her daily existence for more than 4 years, but now it took an even deeper hold. Suddenly the idea of rock climbing, an energy/oxygen-intensive activity, was terrifying. 

She called me via Skype every night from her bunkroom. Often in tears, exhausted, frustrated and deeply disappointed, she would say how hard things were. She felt like a failure. I did my best to listen and to be supportive. But I'm sure I also gave too much advice, reminding her of how amazing she was and of her wonderful accomplishments.

But Sarah's struggle at Estes Park is what gave her a new strength. While she had already been through hell and back with numerous major surgeries, an ileostomy, chemotherapy more times than I can count, depression and more, this new challenge was powerful and exciting.

With help from her fellow campers and the amazing staff and volunteers at First Descents, Sarah was able to complete climbs, stand at the top, see the views and embrace her successes. Something about the physical experience of climbing a giant rock face, while others cheered her on, let her find a new strength, a deep vigor that would guide her to meet her goals in Colorado, and, later, would guide her at home as she completed her journey of life.  

When she returned home at the end of the week, she was different. She knew something she had not known before: the end was coming. Nothing could stop it. It was simply a matter of time. Her lungs where getting worse. She could feel it and knew it was time to help people understand.

But, she also had this new sense of strength, combined with hope and a deep, profound love for life. She shared this with me, with our boys, our family and friends. As she moved closer to the end, she encouraged me to live my life to the fullest, to keep going, to be strong for myself and our kids, and simply to remember her and her love in the best ways I could. And in her deepest, giving way, she especially wanted me to love again.

I don't think she knew it at the time (maybe not even when she died), but she was to become a shining beacon - one that would teach so many about life, about death, about love, about courage, about living to the fullest extent we are able.

(You can read her Estes Park story in the following three posts: “Catching My Breath”, “Looking for Footholds” and “Storming the Castle”.)

Ed – New experiences - dating in Boston, MA, Summer 2011

I felt good, but nervous. We'd been talking all night about life, people, places and experiences. Few were shared between the two of us, but the many similarities and differences created some wonderful contrasts. 

The woman sitting across from me was a natural beauty. She was quite stunning with a gentle, beautiful face and long, flowing hair. If she wore makeup, it was very little, and clearly not needed.

Leaning forward, I asked, "What are you looking for in a partner? What do you want?"

"I want to be known," she said, gazing back across the table. I sensed a deeper meaning, but wasn't sure I fully appreciated the significance of her statement.

"Do you mean you want someone who understands you?" I asked, hesitantly. 

Her response was deliberate and pointed. "No, I want to be known." She paused, looked at me and then went on. "Lots of my friends understand me. But none... know me.  I want to be known."  

"Wow," I thought. This was so conceptual, and so far from what I might have expected a woman to say when describing what she wanted in a man or relationship. Her tone was serious, but there was something else. Perhaps a hint of sadness. Clearly something she had pondered, and perhaps had wanted for a long time.

"That takes a long time." I said. "You can only really, truly know someone by spending a lot of time together." 

She gave a slight nod. "Mmm" she said, mouth closed, with a hint of a smile.

That she said "I want to be known" was not as surprising to me as was the depth and importance of her statement. This idea was of a kind that, once implanted, remains active, repeatedly asking for ponderance. I went home that night with my mind hunting for a connection to my own life experience, searching for personal understanding. Of course this raised thoughts of Sarah.

Sarah and I were together for 18 years. She was my wife, my best friend, my love, the mother of my kids, my muse. I was hers. In our shared experience we touched the depths of each other’s souls. We knew each other so profoundly, so completely that our love felt infinite. Our trust was implicit and complete right up to her very last breath of life. 

I held Sarah in my arms as she died. Ovarian cancer had won. As she slipped away and fell limp in my arms I felt my soul shudder. Our love and trust and knowledge had been so complete. Now they were shattered. She was gone. 

I do believe the knowledge we shared will remain in me for the remainder of my days. I will always remember our love, our friendship and all she did for me. She wanted me to move on and be able to live a full life, and she encouraged me to love again.

So now, as I think of my date's statement: "I want to be known."  I think I may fully understand her meaning. And, I agree. I also want to be known... again.

Cancer awareness. Every month. Every year.

I have some strong thoughts on this subject and have posted them at Carcinista.com. Cancer awareness is important. What is even more important, and could have saved the life of my dear Sarah, is to go see your doctor if you are not feeling well. Don't shrug it off. Get it checked out. Be specific. Make sure they know how you feel. Make sure to get a second opinion if you don't feel like they are taking you seriously. YOU are the only one who truly knows your body.

Be well.

Mr. Wonderful

Cruising for the Cure

I am on the board of directors for  Cruising for the Cure, a classic wooden boat show to benefit pancreatic cancer research.

I don't know much about boats.  I know I like to take photographs of them.  I am not a boat geek like the other board members of CFTC.  Truth be told I get nauseous if I sit in the back seat of a car.  That has gotten worse after cancer, and even though I grew up 10 minutes away from a lake I only learned how to swim about 5 or 6 years ago.

I don't think I told the other board members about that...

I have been involved with this organization for 3 years now.  I love to go out and advocate in public.  I love to see where, in even a small way, I have made a difference.

The boat show came at a perfect time for me.  I have written extensively about my battle with depression.  If my friends haven't read this blog they don't know how hard it has been in the last couple of weeks.  I am not sure why that is, stress of everyday life.  Maybe because I started a second job to help pay the bills.  Either way it has been a rough few weeks.

We had a silent auction on Friday, and the boat show/parade was on Saturday.  Both days were picture perfect.  The last 2 years I didn't ride in the parade, I didn't have any dramamine, and I would rather not get sick in a classic wooden boat. This year I bought some in the hopes I would be able to ride.

And I did.

I was introduced to Suzie and Bob Davies who own the boat Tango.  Suzie is on the board of directors for a local cancer charity.  It was a good fit.

We cruised around all of Torch Lake in the parade.  It felt great to be outside in the sun, with the wind in my hair and the occasionally splash of water from the lake.

I understood why Jane Thie loved boats, and why she loved that lake.

If every cancer survivor could experience that feeling, that would be awesome.


A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.  ~William Wordsworth


Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.
 

The Monster Within

We have all heard the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial.  Most of America was captivated by this case.  Most people are outraged by the verdict.

I didn't get into it.  It wasn't the crime of the century.  Yes it was, and well still is, a tragic story.  Most people think Casey Anthony is a monster, a killer. 

Casey Anthony has, if she is indeed guilty only killed one person.

I have a monster in me.  I didn't know I had it in me.  Many of my friends do as well

The monster is cancer.

This monster kills more than one innocent child.

It kills thousands a year.

Kids like Ellie Potvin:

and MacKenzie Stuck:

Why isn't there coverage every night on the major news channels about this?  Why doesn't the fact that a disease takes so much from so many, kids as well as adults, get broadcast every night?

Where is the outrage?

There is no tangible villain to see, no young mother who would rather party than spend time with her daughter.  No person we can look at and hate.  No one to get angry at.

Like I have said.  I was not captivated by the trial.  I am not outraged by the verdict.  When I look at Casey Anthony I don't see someone scary.

The monster with in me:  (that is a breast cancer cell pictured below)

 potentially in all of us, is a hell of a lot scarier.

Film at 11?

Probably not..

Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

My Love/Hate Relationship With The Net

 Another guest blogger. Enjoy

There are a lot of things I don't like about Facebook, Twitter and the Internet.


I don't like how the Internet splits up our information source--so instead of everyone reading a headline and then forming opinions on it, we get news from so many separate and sometimes unequal places of knowledge (Huffington Post, the Drudge Report, CNN) that the credibility of the facts we get are oftentimes up for grabs.

I don't like that search engines--like Google for example--apparently track the kind of links we click on, keep score, and then "feed" us what they think we want to read when we next search a topic. The engines filter our information based on our past choices, which is okay if there's a disclaimer on top of the screen that says "Hey, I'm giving you this because you last clicked "Paris Hilton" when you were eating that gallon of ice cream and having a down day about your break up when you last searched Paris. Do you really want me to send you to a similar kind of meaningless, airy website about an heiress who does mindless things with her millions with today's new search for "Paris" or do you want to learn about the real city, its history and culture?"

All of this means you and I may not get the same knowledge about politics or food or what's going on in Afghanistan--and that leads to a much grander worry that the world will become more separate than equal. And now that I've scared you, let me tell you what I love about Facebook, Twitter and the Internet. I love--and I mean LOVE--that I can reach out to people all over the world in a moment of fear and doubt and get help when I need it. Like this week for example--

when I got an email about a doctor in Texas who allegedly has the "cure" for cancer, but--and this is where it gets scary for me--has been allegedly "suppressed" by the FDA and the government. Talk about hitting me in my sweet spot--I got so worried and upset I spent three hours googling, searching and otherwise trying to find out who this doctor is and what his treatments are--and worse, if I've been sold a bill of goods by the entire medical establishment over these last 7 years as I try to (now) beat back metastatic breast cancer at age 45.

I'm still working on that last part--I have no idea what to say about Dr. Burzynski and his antineoplastons. I'll keep googling--and asking questions, and using the Internet to help me separate fact from fiction. And for that I am FOREVER grateful for cyberspace and all of our choices out there--whether I've been handed them on a silver search platter or not.

But I absolutely LOVE Facebook, Twitter and the Internet for this one reason--my friends out there who are helping me weigh in on this huge, important, life-in-the-balance matter by reading what I post, doing their own research and then commenting and helping me figure this mess out. I know our IT World is a crazy one--full of potential misrepresentations, mistakes and misnomers--

but knowing I have people from San Francisco to an island 20 miles off the coast of Maine helping me figure out my scared-out-of-my-wits fears-for-my-life makes me feel like I am not alone--that I can do this, I will figure it out.

And if that's the price I pay for spliced up news and misdirected cyber information, I'll pay that bill-- all day long.

About the Guest blogger: Ann Murray Paige is the author of 'pink tips. breast cancer advice from someone who's been there,' available at www.annmurraypaige.com.  She is an award-winning writer, co-founder of the breast cancer non-profit Project Pink, mother, wife, blogger and breast cancer fighter now battling metastatic breast cancer.  Read her blog, "Ann's Diary" at www.projectpinkdiary.com. 

Out of your comfort zone

Everything about cancer takes you out of your comfort zone.

When I heard those words "It's cancer"  my life changed forever, for good and for bad.

Bad, well, because cancer sucks, and the treatment and side effects are worse than the disease.

Good because of the friends I have made, the better person I have become, the voice it has given me.

Work recently did a team building day retreat at a local camp.  It had a rock climbing wall and other things that you could climb.  Not something that I would normally do.

I tried the rock wall.  Didn't get very high.  Disappointed in myself that I couldn't climb to the top.  Rock climbing really isn't my thing.

Then I tried climbing up a rope ladder to a beam 30 feet in the air.  Looked easy from the ground.  Halfway up I thought "What the hell was I thinking??"

I made it up to the top, and actually walked across the beam to the other side.  Then yeah you just jump off.  You are well harnessed in.  Bad pr if you get injured on a team building retreat and work at the local radio station.

As I watched my co workers climb, cheer each other on I was reminded of my battle with cancer.  How it takes you completely out of your comfort zone. Into a whole new world that you are not prepared for mentally or physically.  That most of us face challenges we would otherwise would never be subjected to, and how afterwards we do whatever we can to stay strong, whether it be run in marathons, do triathalons, bike races etc.

I walked in a Making Strides walk 11 days after my lumpectomy surgery.


We strive to stay strong, because we know what it is like to feel so weak.

Some of my friends have called me a machine, because I barely stop to take a break.  I do my radio job, then I usually exercise, I do grab a nap when I can, then I am on the computer working on pr/marketing for The Cancer Warrior or my other facebook clients, or surfing the net, talking to other survivors, reading blogs and posting.  Fighting the fight.

They say there is no rest for the weary, I don't completely agree with that. I am determined to stay strong, so that those who are weary, those survivors who I advocate for, can rest.

Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

Until Every Woman Knows

PASS IT ON

Getting back on track

As a cancer survivor I am used to the waiting game.  Waiting for doc appointments, waiting for results from scans.  Waiting, waiting, waiting.  I wonder how much of my cancer experience I have spent waiting.  Probably over half of it.

I am used to waiting for other people, but not for myself.

I am used to going all out all the time.  When I had two jobs I would start my day at 5am as a server finish up  around noon or 2pm, get to the radio station, do some voice tracking, go to the gym, then maybe head back to the radio station to work on a Tigers or a Red Wings game. A 5am-10pm day.  I would do this about 2 or 3 times a week.

I am 3 years into my survivorship, and I am still waiting to be able to get back to that level of energy.  Don't get me wrong, I do have energy.  I still get up early, my work day ends around noon -2pm.  I do pilates twice a week, its winter so I play hockey, but I am still not back to what I was before.  I have to nap during the day to be able to do what I need to do.


Its hard waiting for me.  Its harder not knowing if I will ever get back to where I was before.


I am close.


But not quite there.


This is one of the things they don't tell you about when you have cancer.


This is just one of the many charming aspects of survivorship that I have to deal with on a daily basis.  Just one of the many thoughts that go through my head wondering when I will be back to me, or as close to it as I possibly can be with everything that I have been through.

There are some friends of mine that I haven't seen since I moved from California.  Since I was diagnosed.  Since I had cancer.

Sometimes I wonder how much I have changed and if they will even recognize me.  The Me that they knew.

Its a scary thought to think that they wont.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said "All things come round to him who will but wait."

I hope he was right. 


Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com


Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.