Oh, So That's Why.

One of the big questions is my life has always been "why?".

Why do I have to take the trash out every night? Why do I have to always be the responsible one? Why did I get cancer? Why twice? Why did I live?

I consider that "why" gene to be a blessing and a curse. The answers to tough questions has always been a chase for me, a pursuit for the truth and facts that explain or make things real and understandable. I have to know why. No, I demand to know why.

A big reason for my inactivity on this blog has been trying to figure out why I am still writing my innermost thoughts. What do I share? Is it still relevant? Does anyone care?

After the last few months, I think I have a clearer picture of why. I have had half-a-dozen friends, family members and just people I know battle with cancer. Some have lost the fight. Others in various stages. Amazing connections from my past have taken place. And perhaps the biggest news came when someone near to my heart was recently diagnosed with the same cancer I had.

Why was that big news? Because of my treatment in 2007––and the results of success––the Doctors had a better cure. Better information. Better results form clinical trial treatments. Better chance for cure. And my friend is better off than I was at this stage.

Why, that's the best news I've heard in a long time.

To learn more about HPV infection and HPV-related cancers, visit hpvandme.org

Nine Years Extended Warranty.

August 7, 2007 was the day I was told I had cancer. I can still see myself sitting alone in my car, shocked and angry and crying. Tears of anger, despair and uncertainty streamed down my face as I sat in the parking lot of the Pathologist's office.

As I reflected on that day nine years ago, I talked to Wife about what I was feeling at that moment. My biggest fear was how to tell her and my kids I had cancer. I was more worried about what they would do, how they would act and how they would feel. The reason: control. I cannot control the emotions and reactions of others. But I wanted to, to tell them I'm going to live and beat the shit outta cancer no matter how bad it was or where it was in my body.

This is not a "I told you so" post. While there is great joy in the satisfaction that I lived through that first cancer, I have had to face "cancer" a few times after that day. Skin cancer is the next cancer I'm battling. In 2008, I had two surgeries to remove huge chunks of cancer. I just recently had another chunk frozen off of may face and a biopsy on my finger to see if it was cancer. Thank God it is not.

This is a post of hope, happiness, fear and anger. Hopefully that I can have another nine years of life. Happy that I get to personally experience so much love and joy in my family. Fearful that the cancer will come back again in another form. And angry that we keep losing loved ones to this nasty, fucking disease.

My cancerversary is also close to my Father's sobriety birthday. He has been sober for 40 years. One day at a time. Living on an extended warranty.

I'd like to continue to do the same.

A Jazzy And Stormy Night.

I was not motivated to write down my thoughts.

After all these years of sharing my inner most thoughts, I began to think that no one was out there listening. Which is fucking stupid because I didn't begin writing this blog for anyone but myself. Then I thought I was being too much of an asshole to think that way. And I was thinking and thinking and yeah, thinking waaaaay too much. Get. Outta. My. Head.

Then I got a call from a dear friend. And it wasn't a good one––someone was beginning the battle against cancer. Again. And it is a BFF. You know the kind of BFF–––Brothers/Sisters from another Mother. When they hurt, you hurt. When they need you, no questions asked and you get there by their side any way you can.

I was listening to Stormy tell me about her friend. Stormy wanted to know what it would be like going through chemo––for her BFF, Jazzy and for HER. You know, the other side of cancer. (I've heard that phrase before). She wanted to know what she could do because she felt she wasn't doing enough. She was there by her side through all the upfront Doctor meetings and through the first chemo. She was there taking care of Jazzy when she came home from the treatment. She was there when the tears and fears came to the surface. I told her, "you are doing more than enough." She didn't think so.

She asked what else she could do. All I could tell Stormy was what I knew. This is what I said: "You are doing exactly what Jazzy needs. When you have a cancer diagnosis and go through treatment, you'll find out who really loves you. You'll find out who your real friends are and some of them will completely surprise you. I told her to keep it real. Tell Jazzy the truth. If she looks like hell, tell her. When she looks great, tell her over and over. She'll know you really mean it because you already told her she looks like crap. You may both even laugh at that, I know I did. I laughed because that meant I was ALIVE. We are all going to die some day. When you have cancer, the reality of life and death stares at you in the mirror every day. It what you see inside and the love of others that gets you to fight one more day. Because in reality, that's all we have. Today. And today if you're listening to Jazzy cry, complain or tell you she can't take it anymore remind her she is alive while telling you this. Being there unconditionally for someone you love is the greatest medicine. For Jazzy and you." There was much more. But that will be between me and Stormy.

Oh, and one last thing. Jazzy, if you are reading this––I have never met or spoken to Jazzy, ever but I hope I will––I am here for you. Any time.

Especially on a Jazzy and Stormy night.

  

Another Life.

It's been awhile.

Why? A lot has been going on in my life that last 4-5 months. I was uninspired to write. I was living to work. I was trying to do too much. I wasn't doing enough. I was losing weight without reason––or so I thought. I had death in the family which has led to more problems within the family. And on, and on and on.

During this tumultuous time, I decided to look for another job. Because I didn't have enough to think of or decide. It's my personality to think I can conquer the world––even before the two cancers––and take on anything and everything. I'm self-aware but also an optimist at heart. I believe that's what guided me through cancer twice.

This time in my job search, I took a different approach. I would tell people I'm a cancer survivor. I didn't do that my first job search after the cancer diagnosis and treatment. I thought corporate America couldn't/didn't/wouldn't understand that my cancer journey has made me BETTER. So I went ahead and told people. And it was liberating. It was a "hey, this is me and I have a different perspective on life." It also told me how comfortable or uncomfortable they would be working with me in the future.

It also gave me a wonderful opportunity––I have a new job that I love. Or to put it another way, I have another life.

And a new outlook.

Thanks For Giving.

In two days, we will gather around the dinner table as we do every year at this time.

It will be a time for family, football, friends and full stomachs. (Some may say it's full of something else but I'll let you go there). And I'm sure we'll all say "Happy Thanksgiving" at some point and even say it 10-15 times.

Now I'm thankful for a lot of things but won't bore you with those. I'm sure we have some of the same things to be thankful for––right? And it is Thanksgiving, after all.

But I'm going to take a different approach this year. And I'm starting today. I am going to begin every day with a great big THANKS. To myself. To celebrate the fact that I am alive and begin each day by giving thanks. To realize that there is more to life than work, work and more work.

I have lost myself a bit the last few years after cancer. While cancer changed my life completely, I still face the same issues of pushing too hard, being too focused on work and not enjoying life as I should. So I'm going to be a little more selfish from here on––selfish with my time for me. It doesn't mean that I'm going to become a selfish bastard. It means I'm going to take the time to live and enjoy life.

Thanks.

Nanoo Nanoo

It was the usual Friday night @ 6pm for me in 1980. I was working at a radio/TV station in Los Angeles––actually Hollywood––that was next to Paramount Studios. I was a "runner" or vehicle messenger working in the mailroom. But ironically I didn't have a car––used the work vehicle for deliveries and pick-ups––which meant take the bus or get a ride. Luckily for me, I had made friends with one of the DJs who lived right outside my neighborhood but his shift was from 3pm--6pm. So I would wait for him next door, at a little bar tucked in between the radio/TV station and the studio.

It became a regular thing. I would get off work, go next door and try to secure a booth in the back. That's where I would hang out with my DJ friend and one of the actors from a popular TV show that was filmed at Paramount Studios. Since Fridays were pretty busy, I would continue my "runner" duties and go get drinks for my friends. They in turn would buy my drinks for me as I had to fight my way to the bar––which meant they also got their drinks faster. We usually only hung around for an hour or so as it frequently ended with me driving my friend home––I was not and still am not a big drinker––parking his car and walking to my house a mile away.

Now I grew up in "Hollywood." I lived there for a few years until my family settled into a neighborhood right outside of Hollywood. Which meant we knew people "in the business" from all walks of life––actors, TV news people, prop masters, set designers, caterers, you get the picture––so it wasn't unusual for me to be around celebrities. And working at the radio/TV station, one of my jobs was to greet people in the lobby and lead them to make-up for the local morning TV show. So I would meet tons of "celebs".

Back to the bar. It had to be a little after 6pm because my DJ buddy was already here as well as "Arnold" in the booth in the back that I had successfully secured that night. I had finally made my way to the bar rail and was waiting. And waiting. (The stars were there and they got served first most of the time). Finally the bartender looks my way and as I start to voice my order, he skips my eyes and asks the person next to me "what'll you have?". As I'm about to get vocal I hear a familiar voice––"I'll have a vodka gimlet but get this gentleman's order first because he was here before me."

I look to my right to say "thank you" when I see it's Robin Williams. He was starring in a show called "Mork and Mindy" and was now about as close as you can get to someone without being romantically involved. "Thank you, appreciate that", I said to Mr. Williams. He said, " well it's only fair, you were here first. Wow, you drinking all that?" I said, "if I did, I don't think I'll walk outta here tonight. I'm getting drinks for my friends. They buy, I fly." As I point to the booth, he says, "oh you know Pat?. And who is that sitting with him?" Me: "yes I do. And that's Bobby Ocean, a DJ next from the radio station next door. That's where I work." Mr. Williams: "I work next door. Robin, nice to meet you." "I'm Greg, nice to meet you. And thanks again for helping me out here." He says, "My pleasure. And let me pick-up the tab for these." Before I could say "no, that's OK, those Dudes are paying" he drops some cash on the bar, tells the bartender to keep the change and shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you, Greg. Good luck with everything."

I was a fan of his already. I had seen him on Happy Days and thought he was crazy funny. And now I find out he's real good dude. So I became an even bigger fan. And I have to admit, I kept going back to the bar to see if I could run into him again. But it never happened.

Needless to say when I heard of his passing, I was stunned. I still am, which is why it's taken me a few days to get this post out of my head. And I'm not going to talk about how he died or any other stuff––I know addiction and depression pretty well and I'll leave it at that. But when I hear his name from now on, I'll smile upon that one Friday night and tell anyone who wants to listen this story.

Nanoo, nanoo.

Found Some Inspiration.

I often wonder if not posting sends a message. That message being "oh crap, he's not writing––is he still alive?"

Taking time to share has not been a priority lately. At that's not good. The reason is ridiculous, actually, I was looking for inspiration and a "cause." As if being blessed to live today is not cause enough. So the excuses piled up. Until today.

I listen to Mike & Mike in the morning on my commute to work every day. For me it's a diversion from work, the daily bullshit and the horrible drivers I encounter each and every morning, most of them looking at their cell phones instead of the road. This morning, I couldn't stop crying when listening. Because it's the 10 Annual V Foundation Auction and the stories, call-ins, text messages and emails were so powerful. And sad. And hopeful.

I'm coming up on my 7th cancerversary. August 7, 2007 was when I was diagnosed with cancer for the first time––skin cancer being the second and last, God willing––and that means seven extra years of life. SEVEN YEARS. Hard to imagine it's been so long. Even harder to imagine all that has happened in these seven precious years. Some of things I would have missed had I not been alive: the birth of two Grandchildren, the marriage of my Daughter, her Graduation and my Son's Graduation from college, a new job that has brought me lifelong friends, more conversations with my Father and spending more time with the love of my life, my Wife, Teresa.

No more excuses. No more extreme lapses between posts. Much more living. And one last thing, something that Jimmy V said that helped me forever in my cancer battles. Don't give up. Don't ever give up.

#DontEverGiveUp

Pierson Robert Rader

Hey Pierson. It's your Grandfather. Or Papa is what I'm sure you'll call me one day.

But let's talk about today, your birthday. Tuesday, March 4, 2014. You were only 30 minutes late according to me. I always thought you would come meet us at 3:21––and was really hoping for it to be PM and not AM––but instead you showed up around 3:51pm. Your Mom & Dad said you were ears out about 3-4 times but didn't want to get outta there. I don't blame you. It gets rough out here sometimes. We'll have plenty of time to talk about that later.

I've been waiting for you. So has your Grandma, Teresa. You're going to love her like I loved my GranMarie. Your Big Sister Madison calls her Grandma T. She's the best Grandma ever, the kind of Grandma everyone wants because she loves her children so much.

I almost didn't make it to see you in this life. That fucking disease, cancer, tried to kill me. Twice. Oh, and you're going to learn two things right now about being a Johnston––that's on your Mom's side, I'm your Mom's Daddy––is we have a tendency to cuss and we're as tough as they come. Wait until I tell you about your Grandpa David. Your Mom will tell you, too. The man with nine lives. Your Mom's tough. She got the tip of her finger caught in the spokes of your Uncle Ryan's bike. Cut the tip almost completely off. She hardly cried, as I held her in my arms while your Great Papa Chuck burned out the emergency brake on the way to the hospital. In Mexico. But I'll tell you that story a hundred times.

I got to hold you in my arms today. It was one of the best things I have ever done. You were so calm as I rocked you back and forth. I told you who I was. That we were going to be best friends. And talk sports. I felt a connection so deep I can't explain. Just like I did when I cut the cord for your Mom when she was born and I got to hold her. It's a feeling I will never be able to explain. (And I call myself a writer).

You know what's really cool? You, your Dad, your Papa and your Great Papa David have the same middle name. Your name is the most important thing you have. Your Dad, Spenser, loves you so much he really took his time working with your Mom, Kaity, to give you your name. Your Uncle Travis had a name in a dream. I'll let him tell you that story. You have a great name. You have the chance to be great, at whatever you do.

The rest of the family is so eager to see you. Your Grandma Angie––you also have a Great Aunt Angie––was there but your Grandpa Roger is in England. He'll have lots of stories for you too. Uncle Adam came to see you but they wouldn't let him. Your Sister had to peek through the window because there's a flu epidemic. Why? Well it was 4 degrees this morning. Yes, 4. I know it's still winter. But 4? 4 should be your number. Your the 4th Grandchild, from the 4th child of your Grandparents born on March 4. (Your Papa is a numbers geek. You will be too).

I love you, my Grandson. I will always be there for you. Whether you can see me or not. By the way, don't be pissed I posted this pic of you. I couldn't help it.

It reminded me of me.

Dates To Remember.

No, this is not an online site to find your mate or dish about your best/worst date.

I have always been fascinated by numbers and what they represent. Being a cancer patient and now a cancer survivor, the sheer volume of numbers can be overwhelming. But the numbers that stick out the most are the calendar type. They have an intrusive way of sticking in your mind––at least mine––because milestones are HUGE.

Yesterday, February 19, was one of those days. All day I kept thinking "why does today feel so different?" I checked all my blog posts. Nothing but a bad Valentine's Day post I wrote last year. No biggie. But as I began to look through past posts, I rediscovered that my first post on this site was July 19, 2008. And that I had a journal before––hand-written, not digital. Yep, let's go back in time.

My Sister-In-Law, Claudia, would have been 60 this year. She passed away from cancer 16 days after my diagnosis (the first cancer, head-and-neck) in August of 2007. Claudia loved life and her family. I know my Wife misses her every day. I miss her, too. That didn't come from my journal but after telling my Wife, "I keep feeling this is a monumental day somehow" she reminded me of Claudia's birthday (I have always thought it was February 18). "Oh yes, that's right, " I said. But I knew there was more to this day, as callous as that may sound.

February 19, 2008 was my first scan after all the treatments. It was a scan to see if the cancer was GONE completely. A little over 12 weeks after my last chemo treatment––I had finished 7 weeks of radiation, 5 times a week two weeks prior––I was going back in the tube. And it scared the shit outta me. I was a shell of my former self––both physically and mentally. I had already been back to work for almost two months and was struggling to perform. Fuck, I was struggling just to live every day.

Now I remember.

The Color Purple.

So today is World cancer Day, huh? (I don't put a cap on the "c" in cancer, ever. I don't want to give it that distinction).

Full disclosure: I am employed in the social media world. Any opinions expressed here are my own and do NOT reflect the opinions or practices of my current employer. The reason I write the above is because I'm a little conflicted on the efforts of some brands and their support of cancer research and prevention. Most notably, Chevy and their truck line's current Facebook posting https://www.facebook.com/ChevyTrucks which promises to give money and support to the fight against cancer. I'm also conflicted because I like their position which is "to make this cancer's last century" and the fact they are united with the American cancer Society.

The reason for my consternation is this: Purple Your Profile will receive the following info: your public profile and friend list. Uh, no thank you. Why? I'm afraid what they'll do with my profile and friend list. Meaning, will it clog up my FB friend's news feed and right rail with countless other "promotions"? What are they going to do with all that information? Are they going to help me pay my medical bills when cancer comes back? Do they really care about my story?

Yes, I'm a cynical bastard. Comes from learning about life mostly from the streets and 30+ years in a dog-eat-or-kill-your-dog business. I'm also very passionate about the prospects of having cancer become a disease in which the survival rate is as close to 100% as possible. Not just for me but for my Children, my Grandchildren and my soon-to-be Grandson who is arriving in this world in less than 30 days. So you won't see me "purple" my FB profile. I don't have anything against Chevy or the color purple.

I just try to fight every day without any commercial influence.

Not Again.

Once you have cancer, the thought of hearing that word again attached to your name is no fun at all. For me, beating cancer twice has always got me thinking about the 3rd time––mainly that it never comes.

I had been feeling pretty lousy for a couple of months. I ignored it. I'm fucking Superman, right? Just working too hard for too many days, weeks, months and years. I'll be OK.

Then I realized about 7 years ago, I was feeling the same. Always tired. Weight was fluctuating. My hair was falling out more than usual. So I finally stopped for an hour. Yes, took myself away from phones, computers, TV and people to get my head straight for a whole hour. Had a talk with myself. The conclusion? If you keep this up, you won't be around very much longer. Time to go see the Doctor.

I decided that it was time for a complete physical––and so did my Doctor. I made an appointment (earliest was 6 weeks later) and went back to working myself to death. All the time wondering what the hell was wrong with me and would I be able to handle the "c" word again if it came to that.

Fast forward to the physical. I had lost 10 pounds. My blood pressure was through the roof. I had no energy. My Doctor ordered extra blood work. This did not seem to be good. At all.

Last week, I had a consultation on my test results. Seems as if the radiation and chemo I received in 2007 has damaged my thyroid––hypo thyroid it was explained to me which can be caused by radiation among other things. "Nothing to worry about right now but we need to see if we can correct it with medication." When people tell you there is nothing to worry about, there's something to worry about. And so I did worry until I got my scrips filled. Which now includes medication for: acid reflux (side effect), cholesterol (hereditary), Vitamin D (dangerously low) and thyroid (side effect). For the next 4-6 weeks.

We'll see how it all works, one day at time. Because that's all we really have, is today. And for at least today, I can say with absolute certainty that I do not have cancer and turn those two dreaded words into positive words.

Not again.

Christmas Wish List

Live.

Bad Habits Not Good For My Health.

I'm doing it again.

I'm putting work ahead of everything else. Last time I worked this hard for this long, I started to feel bad. Really bad. It was cancer. And it was only 6 years ago.

Now I'm not throwing myself a pity party here. But I am trying to take a step back and look at what I can do differently. Because I am the problem AND the solution. I need to say no more often. I need to delegate. I need to stop trying to "fix" everything. I am worried.

I have to remind myself that I can always get another job. I can't get another life. This is the only one I have. And after surviving cancer twice, I actually feel like I'm in the bonus round of life. (As if working 6-7 days a week, 10+ hours a day is a "bonus").

Last night as I was turning off the lights and locking the doors downstairs, something on the fridge caught my eye––or maybe it was calling my name. Like, "hey fuckhead. You trying to kill yourself." It was a picture of My Brother From Another Mother, Larry. There he was, with his arms stretched out wide and a huge smile on his face. It's a picture from his memorial service announcement. Larry passed away from cancer––three weeks from diagnosis to death––a year-and-a-half ago. He was my "heat check", as Larry worked in the same business as I do. This was after my Wife had told me to never skip lunch again. Later on in the middle of the night, I woke up thinking about what I could do to get myself to change.

And that's not healthy either.

cancer Victim's Rights Campaign

I received a comment on one of my posts a while back that hit home. It was from Susan Vento, Wife of former U.S. House Representative, Bruce Vento.

Unfortunately, on October 10th, 2000, Mr. Vento died of pleural mesothelioma—a rare disease caused by asbestos exposure that kills 90-95% of those who have it. Not many people know about this terrible disease, which lead Susan to reach out to me. Susan is the spokesperson for a great online resource called the Cancer Victim's Right Campaign (cancervictimsrights.org) that fights to protect cancer victims and their families. She wrote a blog piece (http://cancervictimsrights.org/my-story-opposition-to-the-fact-act-susan-vento/) that you need to read. Please share it after you read it.

I ask you this because cancer will not "just go away." And more importantly, I created this blog to help others in any way, big or small. It's one reason my blog title is Other Side Of Cancer. I'm still learning to this day, 6 years after my diagnosis, how my cancer effected my family members and friends. I just had a drink with a friend on Wednesday who asked me, "you're cancer free, right?" I said, "yeah but the side effects are killing me." He said, "all that matters is you're alive and we're here talking about it over a whiskey. I saw you go through some shit and I know."

Help Susan to help others. It might even help you.

A Reason To Celebrate.

About this time 31 years ago, I was waking up (West Coast Time) to get ready for a big day. I wasn't hungover or waking up in Tijuana on a bus with only my underwear on and a dime taped to my forehead. (Another story for another time). I was alone in my 2 bedroom duplex that I shared with my Girlfriend and a 2-year-old.

It was my wedding day. I was adamant about not getting married since the time I was 10, having watched my parents get divorced from each other and both going through another divorce with their current partners. So marriage was not for me. Until I met the kindest, genuine, caring, most grounded, beautiful and fun woman in the world. When I met her in March of 1981, I was homeless (living out of a friend's VW bug with bad breaks and having to pop the clutch often to get it started), working in the mailroom at Chiat/Day making $800/month and living life one day at a time. Not quite "the catch". I still remember laying in bed wondering why this woman would want to spend the rest of her life with me––hell, I didn't even want to spend the rest of my life with me.

Our ceremony started at 7pm. Or was supposed to. My Mother was late––as usual––so we held up the ceremony for 30 minutes until she arrived. My poor soon-to-be Brother-In-Law was singing before the ceremony as guests arrived. Thank God he was a professional and knew how to extend the show. I had not seen Teresa yet. I even thought maybe she said "forget it" and left the church.

After witnessing my Mother being seated in the church, it was time to go wait at the alter. As the music played, I got to see Teresa for the first time in over 24 hours. She glowed. She was nervous. She was stunning. She was going to be my Wife. As I read my written vows to her, I had this extereme sense of hope, calm, belonging and most importantly a love that was so deep it hurt. In a great way.

Happy Anniversary to Teresa, the love of my life. My best friend ever. I still get excited coming home to see her every night. I still can't believe she sleeps with me every night––and that she puts up with my craziness and bullshit. And I love her infinitely more today than I did 31 years ago. I hope we have 31 more years together.

Is My Body Breaking Down?

It's been awhile since I've posted. The reason? I've been searching for some answers and inspiration, quite honestly.

I had surgery June 25. It was for a hernia and I'm still recovering from the ordeal. I took for granted all the little things I could not do once I went under the knife and came home for recovery––it hurts to sneeze, cough, laugh, burp, fart, spit (brushing my teeth and rinsing) and talk loudly. It took me 4 days to finally be able to lift my leg high enough so I could put my pants on.

Since I could not do much but sit & think for the last three weeks, I've had a lot of time to think things over and do some personal inventory. It got me thinking about the side effects from the cancer and more specifically, the radiation, chemo and the anesthesia from the surgeries. Since my diagnosis August 7, 2007, I have had a few things happen to my body beyond the initial recovery from the treatments––my gall bladder had to be removed, my blood pressure has been up and down which it never was before and now a hernia that required surgery.

Doctors tell me they are not "related". Oh really? So you pump my body with enough shit to literally kill me––and it almost did––and you think that NONE OF IT IS RELATED. Yes, I am older. Yes, I have not been a saint in my actions and choices in all my years. But I was an athlete at one time and I have always thought that way––keeping my body in shape and watching my weight.

Now I can't prove that any of this IS related because I'm not a Scientist or Doctor. And I don't have the time or money to find out. I'm too busy living one day at a time and enjoying the moment. I have my annual physical in August––that's how I "discovered" I possibly had cancer––so I'll ask the question I always like to ask because I can hear Bugs Bunny ask it so clearly.

What's up, Doc?

7-Year-Old Runs Into Our Hearts.

I'm going to let the next minute+ video tell you it all. I cry every time I see it.

Leasons Learned At Five

As my Daughter was telling me about another person with cancer that she knew, my mind started to think about my own mortality and battle. And how I wanted to help.

I've always been one to share. My Mom used to tell me even when I was a "big boy" as I am now, how I would always make sure whatever I had, I share it with my Sister. Or a neighbor. Or somone who didn't have as much as we did. (And we didn't have a lot). As a so-called adult, I've continued to share my stories and events of my life. Some would say too much and too often :)

Then I thought about this little blog I started 5 years ago. It was actually 6 years ago this month when I started to realize something was not right with me––I was always tired, always cranky and felt like I was in the worse physical shape of my life. I started banging on the keyboards for myself, to get my exact thoughts on everything I was going through mentally & physically in a place so I could review. Or someone else should I not make it. It was important to me and hopefully to my family and close friends that they had a little understanding of what people with cancer experience––without ever having to go through the disease themselves. What I found was that I actually learned more about myself than anything else. I wouldn't say everything was a great find––but it was and is honest, pure and true.

I learned that I was much stronger mentally than I originally thought. That I had an extremely high tolerance for pain––which is good and bad. I learned that my family was more afraid of me dying than I was. That I had fallen into a bad attitude that pervaded my entire life––and was mainly driven by the fact I was miserable at my job. I learned that I needed help. And accepting help was not a sign of weakness but a sign of loving and caring. I learned who my real friends were. And disappointed in those who used my illness against me. But the most important lesson I learned out of all the shit I went through, takes the smallest amount of effort.

Listen.

Where Does Love Go After Valentine's Day?

Right after Christmas––ok, not RIGHT after Christmas but close enough––the race for your attention is front and center with Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day has become an angst filled moment for millions of Americans, trying to show their love for one another on this special day. Candy. Flowers. Teddy bears with clothes on and supposedly cute sweet sayings attached. Bling. Rings and all kinds of special things for this special day.

Now I'm all for romance––no really, you can ask my Wife––but I have a simple question: what happens after the "love day"? Do we just stop loving? Stop showing our love to those who we love every day? We are loving people every day, aren't we? It's not "I REALLY, REALLY love you today on Valentine's Day. Tomorrow we'll go back to being our normal, take-you-for-granted selves, OK?

I don't profess to have all the answers. Hell if I did, I wouldn't be sitting here blogging about it I'd be making big $$$. But I don know one thing I'll do today that I did this past Valentine's Day. Tell those who I love, "I love you." Without any pretense or presents.

Just with love.

TV Imitates Life

It's been awhile––too long––since my last post.

Why? As I wrote in an earlier post, since clearing the 5-year cancer-free mark I've been searching internally for a spark, reason, cause in order to keep this blog going. The conclusion? Shut-up and write already.

I was thinking about how we as a society treat our discussions when it come to cancer. There is the reverent, hushed tones so as not to offend anyone. There's what I call the "cancer grab", as we have efforts against breast cancer, prostate cancer, lung cancer which causes us to compartmentalize cancer as if it were a department store? Breast cancer? That's on the 1st floor, right before you get to gynecological cancer. The 2nd floor is where you'll find prostate cancer and lung cancer. Yes, it sounds ridiculous. After all, cancer is cancer no matter where, how or why it decides to take over your life. We all have a stake in the cure.

Which brings me to the somewhat innocuous headline of "TV Imitates Life." There is a fantastically written TV show on NBC, "Parenthood." As I was watching this show, one of the lead characters is diagnosed with breast cancer. The depiction, acting, story and emotions that come from this group of people is spot on. I kept telling my Wife, "whoever wrote this must have gone through the cancer battle. This shit is almost too real for me to watch." But I did watch. Every week. And every week I cried like a baby when it came to the cancer story arc and the performances of the actors. One of the main reasons I started this blog in 2008 was to chronicle the emotions, actions and situations that arise every day in the lives of people around me. (Hence the title, Other Side Of Cancer).

Thank you NBC. Thank you David Hudgins (Executive Producer) for telling the story so honestly. Thank you to the cast of "Parenthood", who have made me realize how precious each moment we live and how if effects others. Now there's only one thing left to do.

Take it from TV and let's talk more openly about this stuff.