Dad

I posted this message below on Facebook last week. I was surprised by the heartfelt reactions so I'm posting it here, as written on July 20, 2012. Only thing else to say, is we never know when we'll see the people we love again, as life has a funny way of letting you know you're not in control of soooo many things.

Today in 1939, David Robert Johnston was given from God to Josephine and David Johnston––my Grandparents. My Father is an amazing person. I have learned from him to accept people for who they are. To embrace the differences in all of us. To express my love towards those who I care for the most. To share the things I have learned with others––if they are willing. To never stop learning myself. To embrace my faults. To be proud of my Hispanic heritage. To admit when I am wrong. To survive cancer. To allow my children to carve their own path and make mistakes along the way––but be there when they need it most. I learned to laugh from Dad. To love music. To look at things from a different perspective. To live life one day at a time. To treat everyone with respect. To fight for what I believe in as long as it doesn't come at the expense of others. To love sports and all the good that it teaches you. To appreciate the beauty and wonder of nature. My Dad will not read this, as he does not "Facebook". But it will live on in "digital history". So those who do read this will know that I am the man I am today because of his love, guidance, patience and perspective. Love you, Dad. So glad you're still here. Happy Birthday.

Back In The Scan

My annual "cancer Doctor tour" is about 2/3 of the way complete. It should have been over by now but I've been thrown a curve ball or two in the process.

During my annual physical, my Doc ordered a CT Scan and x-ray to see why I've been coughing more than usual the last two months. I had a little virus and cough in early May. It hasn't gone away completely, so the Doc ordered the tests. So now I'll get two scans this go around––the next one is the CT Scan with contrast which always messes with my head & body––because I need more radiation, right?

As I was being shoved into a tube for the scan, I did my usual meditation to relax and ignore the tube. Everything was cool until I got fully into the machine and it started up. The noise from the machine sounded just like it did when I went through 7 weeks of radiation. Being the human that I am, it broke my concentration and I felt my heart skip. Too similar. Too real. So unexpected.

Now it lasted all of 3-4 minutes. Radiation was about 20-30 minutes, depending on where I was in the stage of treatment. So I used that to keep me from rising up out of the slab and running out of the building. That would have been quite funny since I was half-naked and quite unnecessary. And I will have the "full monty" scan very soon.

Not looking forward to that one.

An Angel Amongst My Friends

Normally, I don't use this forum to promote or solicit raising money––unless it's something that hits close to home. As you can see by this link, http://bit.ly/HV28fG, this is about saving lives and continuing to build the end of the road for cancer.

Check out Erin's message and story. She's full of life, energy, compassion and is putting it to the best use of all––helping others.

Thank you, Erin, for being an angel.

Forget About It?

I read an article today about Kylie Minogue, Pop Star and cancer Survivor and you can find the entire article here http://aol.it/L22wwA There was one thought that stood out to me: "Over time, people have tendency to forget about it. Not me. A day does not go by without me thinking about it. Just looking in the mirror is enough––the scars are moral and physical."

Ms. Minogue is 7 years in remission. I'm on my "tour" of yearly check-ups––already went to my Oncologist––in what I hope will be the last round. I'm praying for 5 years cancer free (well, except for the skin cancer, that is). Yes, there were a few days I didn't think it was possible. But having a great mental attitude is KEY in fighting cancer. Not the idealist attitude or faking myself into thinking I'm going to beat cancer but true resolve, hope and fight to see what the day has to offer. No matter how good or bad the day turns out.

I know what she's talking about––those mirrors can be brutal and not in the "who's-the-fairest-of-them-all" way because that's NOT reality. And on my visit to Dr. Felice––my Oncologist––we talked about appearances. He said something to me that was really comforting in a strange way. He said, "you're almost 5 years from the cancer. You look great. People would never know you had cancer so recently. And that's good and bad. Good, because you are alive and cancer free. Bad, because you have long-lasting side effects that people can't see and you know how limiting they can be." How true. And something you do not want to admit when you're working and trying to stay ahead of the game.

I've posted before about my friend Matt, a cancer survivor who has been in remission for almost 20 years, who told me I'll get to the point where I don't think about cancer every day. And he was right, I don't think about it every day.

But just like Kylie Minouge, I won't TOTALLY forget about it.

Keeping It Together.

It's been a long month since my last post. I have to admit it's not been a lack of thoughts/experiences/stories to tell. Just the opposite.

My Mother's birthday was April 26. I didn't do too well the days leading up to her birthday––my Mom passed away in October of 2011––and with Mother's Day looming, I'm thinking about her even more.

I lost one of my best suddenly two weeks ago. Too young and full of life to go but he did. I still haven't come to grips with his passing. And with his birthday in less than a month, I'm sure I'll be thinking of Larry even more.

Work has been challenging, as time off seems impossible. I've already changed my vacation plans twice due to work. With 4 weeks of vacation––I negotiated that before I came on board––to take in the next 6+ months, I'm looking at losing some of that I'm sure. Not to mention the fact that I need to take days off for my cancer check-ups. Which, by the way, start today. And that's another mental process to add to the rest of the bullshit. Yeah, I'm not myself. I'm angry, frustrated, emotional and searching for answers to questions that have no answers.

Like I said, keeping it togther. One minute at a time.

Stopping For A Thank You

I've been contemplating shutting this blog down. But a few of you have told me "no."

So, for the very few who read my blog, I want to say THANK YOU. I feel privileged you take some time out of your busy life to read what I write.

And I'll keep writing.

April Fools

I was working through the day yesterday, in my yard with my Wife and oldest Grandson. It was April Fool's Day and the pranks were running through my head like a kid through a sprinkler on a hot summer day.

Then I had some of the morbidly funny thoughts I have from time-to-time as a result of surviving cancer (twice). I settled on a fantasy world created as I mowed the lawn, cut & pruned some trees and pulled enough weeds to make my arms feel like Popeye after he's downed his spinach. (For those of you born in the last 30 years, you can find more on Popeye here).

I thought, "what if this whole cancer thing was an April Fool's joke?" (Yes, a very bad and cruel joke at that. But like I said, my sense of humor was at an all-time morbid high). What if I was just part of an experiment? I mean, head & neck cancer ("you mean, throat cancer or brain cancer, right?" Wrong)? Caused by the HPV virus? In Men? Yeah, it was quite unusual in 2007, as up until then conversation was centered around cervical cancer and the PAP with HPV test for young females. (My Daughter went through this, so I have some knowledge, thank you very much). What if they looked at me and said, "well, he looks like he can handle this. Let's try to kill him while we keep him alive." We'll put a feeding tube into his stomach––and make him wait for 4 weeks to figure how it works since we've NEVER seen this kind of feeding tube in a patient––cut our part of his tongue, scrape his larynx, remove his tonsils, yank 4 teeth out of his head, give him chemo right out of clinical trials and 7 weeks of radiation (35 total) WHILE we're giving him chemo every Friday for the next 13 weeks and tell him he has to miss work for the next 6 months. Oh, and just when he's finished with all that, we'll give him skin cancer, cut it out of two places (15 and 10 stitches, respectively, and two cold "burns" to remove two other danger spots) and tell him to stay out of the sun as well as out of work.

Yeah, that would've been a helluva April's Fools joke.

I'm not laughing.