Mo' Than Movember

My Son, Travis, is growing a moustache for Movember, National Prostate cancer Month.

Now you've read––or not––my post on Breast cancer Awareness Month. It was a rant that basically called for recognition for all cancers all the time. So while it might seem a bit hypocritical to support those with prostate cancer, tough shit. I've lost 2 family members to breast cancer so I get it, unfortunately. I'm a 2-time cancer survivor myself. And right now, my Dad's prostate cancer is back. Again. And his prostate is already gone thanks to that sneaky, rat-bastard, cancer.

Travis is raising money in honor of his Grandfather. Travis has really grown up in the last 2-3 years, finding himself and maturing in ways that make parents proud. And relieved we didn't screw it all up. His 'stash is helping bring a smile and a chuckle at his '70's porn star look––but also bringing awareness to an illness that hits way too close to home. Travis David––middle name after his Grandfather––is doing what he can do in a big showing. He's got it all over his face. You can check it out here.

I'm growing mine––in a multi-colored fashion––to support my Dad. Who told me right before we walked into the LA Auto Show that "the cancer's back". He also told me he didn't want it to ruin my day but he wanted me to know and hear it from him, or as he put it, "But I wanted to tell you." Funny thing is, I remember when he told me the first time he had cancer. I hadn't had my turn with it yet. My reaction this time was much more peaceful, as strange as that seems. I know that life is one day at a time and cancer doesn't play fair or have favorites. And we've beat it before. So I too, wear a reminder on my face that cancer is killer.

And more than just a month for awareness.

Part Of My Network

I pulled this from Being Cancer, a blogger who has built an awesome cancer community support system. I only hope I can deal with death with such dignity as this person below.

La Cootina
aka The Coot, aka Aunt Crankypants. I am the mistress of Villa DeCay, and dogmom of Miss Molly. I have Multiple Myeloma, a blood and bone cancer. I am trying very hard to be the heroine of my story instead of a whiny crybaby. I succeed about half the time.

So Long, Fare Well

Dear Friends,

Having enrolled with hospice this week has changed my perspective. I’ve been thinking about signing off the blog for quite awhile, and this feels like the right time. I can’t believe it finally happened…but I really don’t have much more to say! Oh, I’ll miss ranting over major and minor annoyances, but you deserve better. My readers — family, friends, and friends I haven’t met — have kept me going for more than two years. I never expected to be here this long, and I certainly never expected to find such a warm, caring community, especially in MM patients and caregivers.

Technology continues to amaze me: this little white box on my table, this seemingly inert piece of electronics, has connected me to an entire network of smart, kind, thoughtful people. Your good wishes and support have meant more to me than I could have imagined. I will leave the blog up for awhile, on the chance that there’s anything helpful here for newly diagnosed MM patients. I will continue to read and occasionally comment on your blogs. But out of concern and respect for other MM patients and their loved ones, I’m going on the next leg of this MM journey on my own.

I have been touched and privileged to share my story and get to know you. I wish all of you great joy, peace, and most of all, good health. Fill your hearts with gratitude and forgiveness until there is no room for anything else. Be good to yourselves and each other.

Love,
The Coot

Why The Long Wait?

I have putting off posting for a while because. (Sounds like an answer we all gave as a kid––"why did you give the cat a haircut, Greg?" "Because").

Here are my "becauses".

Because I've been in a "quote" writing style lately and I'm "all quote marked out".
Because I've been extra cynical. And sarcastic. And a nasty bastard.
Because I have too many things I want to write.
Because I just had another cancerversary and I've already posted about that once. Or twice.
Because I'm still having bouts with chemo brain.
Because computers can't write for me. Yet.
Because of daylight savings.
Because my dog ate my computer.
Because I can't fit it all in 140 characters.
Because life has been so great lately.
Because I don't want to repeat myself.
Because I don't want to repeat myself.
Because I don't want to repeat myself.
Because I want to write a post in Spanish.
Because I'm having to rewrite the document that the client revised––revising their own words. Again.
Because I was waiting for pigs to fly.
Because I was waiting for a monkey to jump out of my butt.
Because I was waiting for money to grow on trees.
Because the Lakers haven't lost since my last post. (Oh crap, now I did it).
Because my Halloween Party has dominated my life outside of work.
Because bullshit walks and money talks.
Because three years after my last cancer treatment, I've been wondering about if the cancer will come back.
Because I'm making a comeback. (Insert ridiculous, unattainable and fantastical comeback here).
Because people need me more than my blog needs me.
Because I promise the next post will have a video, a few links and a picture of Big Foot.
Because.

Chasing Normal

I'm coming up on an important anniversary. It will be 3 years since my last treatment next week.

As I was saying to Mom on her last visit, it sometimes feels as if the whole "cancer thing" never happened. Then I try to swallow, feel the hole in my stomach that's still there and look in the mirror and see how quickly I've aged since being diagnosed with Head & Neck cancer. Three years later, I'm just now getting back to a comfortable weight––I lost almost 50 pounds––and starting to feel like myself again. Sort of.

I've had this conversation with my Doctors and other cancer survivors over the last few years, trying to understand and get to "normal". When I was working with the VA at my last job, I got to talk to the Doctors about this at length. The discussion was in regards to military personnel coming back home from the current theaters and trying to adjust to every day life. Their "normal" changed dramatically while serving in the field in the Middle East. Normal for them is NOT brushing your teeth every day, not being able to take a shower for weeks and always wondering when you're going to take a bullet or get hit by an enemy you sometimes can't see. Your habits, perspective and decisions are altered forever for most, unfortunately. Normal becomes anything but normal.

The hardest part of recovery is managing the expectations of others. Your family wants you to be like you were before. Your job demands not only a return to the performer you were before your illness, but expects you to outperform yourself. After all, it's a what-have-you-done-for-lately (cue Paula Abdul) kind of world. I make my living with my brain. My title of Creative Director brings a certain amount of pressure and expectation that I'm all-creative, all the time. And I've always put more pressure on myself than others have––I believe because of the many, many years I was a competitive athlete. I used to chase perfection. Chase the great American Dream. Aspire to be the GOAT (Greatest Of All Time). But that nearly killed me.

Time to stop chasing and just live.

Family

I've been away from the keyboard for a few days while my family came to visit. My Mom and my Cousin spent three days with us last week. It was the first time my Mom has seen me since recovering from cancer. It was the first time I'd seen my Cousin in about 7 years.

It was a great visit. It was also a reminder how important family is to all of us. We all have some sort of family unit, which takes on many shapes and forms. And that type of diversity is a GOOD thing, no matter what your beliefs, traditions and practices may be. I say this because we have lived in the DC area for 16 years, away from all of our extended family and have come to rely on each other for so much support. My family is the most important thing in my life.

I've always desired to have a close knit family, one that enjoys each other's company––most of the time, 'cause 100% of bliss, happiness and getting along is TOTALLY out of the question––and above all else, understands that love is the eternal bond no matter what the circumstances. My family means everything to me, and as a cancer survivor, that love is what pulled me through to recovery. The love from those far away. And the love that was and is, close by.

This is somewhat of an interesting post for me, as a member of our family passed away suddenly as we all we're just feeling so good about spending time together. So it is with a heavy heart I write this somewhat somber post, dedicated to La Familia. I treasure the time I have with my family. It can be taken away in an instant and an excruciating family time/moment can seem like a lifetime. But I do believe in one major factor that is at the center of any family, no matter what your definition is of "family".

Love fuels the family. Family is love.

The Great Thing About cancer Blogs

Since my post "The Scary Things About cancer Blogs" was, well, somewhat scary I thought I'd share the good stuff.

I've been fortunate to have many friends. But like the days on the calendar, friends can come and go depending on where you are in life. Never in a million years did I think I would EVER live on the East Coast. (I've said this before and I'll say it again, after 16 years on the EC I still feel out of place and get more stares than I ever did in L.A.). Distance across the terrain equals distance across friendships that were formed face-to-face, not tweet-to-tweet. And while Skype, video sharing websites, IM and other Interweb stuff is great to stay in touch, there's a lot more to friendship than just touching a keypad.

This was never more true when one of my oldest friends, Tim, found me on the wire. Tim and I met in the First Grade at Holy Trinity Elementary School. To this day, Tim is the smartest person I know. How? When he was a Junior in High School, he didn't attend school enough to "qualify" to pass the 11th Grade. (Tim, if you're reading I won't tell anyone why in case your Mom reads this). But he did have all A's. Yep. Aced just about every test, knew the material inside and out and could outsmart just about every Brother at our school. (By Brother, I mean the Franciscans). They thought they had him, just like they thought they had me the year before when I informed the school I was transferring. (That's another post).

I hadn't talked to Tim in at least 16 years. And when we did, it was as if we had never stopped. We have been through a lot together. Helped raise each other, actually. We lived a couple blocks from each other for many years and did something together every day. And when our friends changed, as they often do when we get older, Tim and I still stayed close. It went from Greg, Tim, Danny and Robert to Greg, Tim, Ben and Ray until I left for DC those 16 years ago. So hearing a familiar voice from someone who has watched my hair go from Red to Grey, knows way too much info on my past and still is around to talk about the old and the new days ahead was a great feeling.

Who says the Internet is impersonal?

cancer Awareness Month?

It's been almost three years since my last treatment.

Because of living one day at a time, the thought of seeing three years down the road was somewhat distant and some even thought not possible. cancer is still thought of as a "death sentence" in many ways by many people. And while we are "celebrating" Breast cancer Awareness Month in October, it makes me somewhat angry. Now before you start thinking, "what an asshole!", let me explain and give a little background.

I have lost two Sisters-In-Law, a Step-Father and a Grandfather to cancer. All of them from different cancers. They didn't all pass away the same day, month or year. My Wife is a skin cancer survivor. Me, head & neck and skin cancer as well. We didn't "wait" to get cancer so we could bring awareness to this killer disease. Now I'm sure some of you are still not seeing the point, which is this: ALL cancers kill. EVERY DAY is cancer awareness for survivors, family members of survivors and those who will be diagnosed as I write this post.

I have done work for Susan G. Komen. I have donated my creative talents--be that as they may--to fight breast cancer. I did pro-bono work for NBCC, a great organization. So I'm not the insensitive bastard I may be coming across here in this writing. I'm more interested in making every day cancer awareness day. Every day HIV/AIDS awareness. We have to stop thinking about these things only when they do hit home. Because they will, unfortunately, hit all of us directly or indirectly in our life. Or will it?

It's up to us to stay aware and take action every day.