100

I made it.

When I started this blog in July 2008, I had a modest goal that I never told anyone. (Yeah, imagine me not telling anyone anything. Go ahead. Now stop smiling that "no way" smile). I wanted to get to 100 posts. Why? It would mean I would at the very least live another 100 days. Beat cancer's ass day after day after day after day.

July 20 is quite another number. The first walk on the moon, 41 years ago. Bill Singer pitching a no-hitter for the Dodgers in 1970. A game where I bought tickets for me and my Dad to go see––but he couldn't make it so I didn't go. (Still haven't seen a no-hitter live in the 1,000 games I've been to). Which brings me to another July 20 special number––my Dad's 71st birthday.

But another reason for celebration of my 100th post is that I am changing jobs. Gave my 2 weeks notice last Friday. Going to build something from scratch. It's going to be challenging. It's going to be fun. It's going to be strange going to a place where I don't know anyone except for the people I met. And it's going to be the first job I got after cancer. If only you could see the tears of joy and pride on my face. Maybe I'll take a picture and use on my next post.

If I make it.

Time Flies When You're Living

It's been a great three years.

Three years ago, I was going through a maze of emotions as I was trying to figure out why I wasn't feeling well. I've posted before about this and the signs I received––the first being the voice in my head that kept asking the rest of my body, "why do I feel like I have cancer"––but looking back I'm so grateful for all that happened to keep me alive and posting. Lance Armstrong has been quoted as saying his cancer odyssey "enriched my life." That may seem strange to many people. For a fellow cancer survivor like me, it seems quite normal. Why? Because every day is more precious than the day before. More meaningful. More time to live.

I've had quite a few conversations with myself about my future lately. (C'mon, we ALL talk to ourselves. And we answer ourselves, too.). As a cancer survivor, I do not have time to waste. I'm not going to waste my time with people who don't respect me. I'm not going to waste my time wondering why I'm not perfect. I'm not going to waste my time trying to change the things I cannot change. I'm not going to waste my time trying to be something someone else wants me to be.

My friend, Cap, is one of my most loyal followers. (Means a lot to me, Cap.). Lately, we have been talking about the time we have, the time we waste and the future of our time. (It's nice to talk to someone else about this, instead of just having these conversations in my head.). We talk about the time we have with our children and all the time away from our children. We get caught up in our work––it's one of our passions––and then get caught in all the other BS that goes with it. Don't get me wrong. Being able to do what I do for a living is a gift. I am so lucky to be in the position I'm in and I thank my higher power every day.

It's time to enjoy the time I have.

The Scary Thing About cancer Blogs

Being able to write about my experiences with cancer is a blessing. (No, it really is. Read on.).

Why? While all of us have to face our mortality one way or another, cancer has this dastardly way of ruining your day––because it's such a deadly disease today could be the day cancer wins over your life. No life, no posts. There are many who stop blogging because they have stopped breathing. And sometimes, they just loose interest. Run out of things to write. Move on to other endeavors. The weird thing is, how do you know?

One of the first connections with the cancer blog community––and it's a big one, people––I made was with Dennis and his blog, Being Cancer, which has been a source of inspiration and information that has really helped me. (If you peek to the right of this post and scroll down just a bit, you'll also see Being Cancer listed as one of the blogs I follow.).

Dennis "found me" and this blog and sent me an email. He wanted to feature one of my posts on his blog. Cool. Happy to do it. Share the love, pain, stories and inner-most thoughts of a cancer survivor. Hell yeah. This made me feel connected to so many people, even if I never get to "meet" them in this viral world or face-to-face. (Does that happen anymore?). But now I'm worried about Dennis. He hasn't posted in a few weeks. Dennis was diagnosed with T-PLL, a rare aggressive form of chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL), in 2001. Had a bone marrow transplant in 2004. And tons of other treatments and cancer-related issues since. (Visit the link above for more info.).

Now I could send Dennis an email. I could. But what if he doesn't answer? What if he can't answer? What if he never answers?

That's the scary part.

Unplugged To Recharge

I know, it sounds and looks weird.

If you've noticed a lag in my posts, it's because I totally and completely unplugged––no Crackberry, no emails and only checking the scores online. I even didn't know where my phone was half the time. Not that I was keeping time or track. I was on vacation. A half stay-cation and va-cation. I had lost track of time. And that was the reason I needed to go on vacation in the first place.

I was abusing my time. Working way too much and not taking time to stop and think. Stop and love. Stop and just stop. Minutes would roll into hours that would roll into days and roll into weeks and you get the idea. I had lost track of my time and place. I had begun to ask, more than once or twice, "did I survive cancer so I could work my life away?". Now don't get me wrong. I am thankful every day I have a job. I've been on the jobless side. I love what I do for a living and feel fortunate to have the type of job I have. But there's more to life. Right?

At least 2-3 times a day while we were on vacation, Teresa and I would say "we can do whatever we want, when we want. Because we're on vacation." As if to remind ourselves we were actually taking time to just be Greg & Teresa. Time, which I have said repeatedly, is the most precious gift and greatest result from cancer. Sounds strange, I know. But I have a whole new respect for every increment of time that I learned from cancer. So I had to re-learn that my time is precious. And it's up to me to make the most of my time. And I'm much better when I'm all charged up.

Plugged or unplugged.

Catching A Vibe

I believe in a greater connection––and not the Internet––that we all share but seldom use.

What the hell am I talking about? That feeling that someone is talking about you. The feeling like you've been there, done that before. (Yeah, I know it's called deja vu. Thanks, Yogi). The feeling that comes when out of the blue, you think of someone you haven't thought of for a long time. It's been happening to me a lot lately. But yesterday when it happened, it was just really too weird.

With all the hype surrounding Stephen Strasburg, I guess that San Diego State has been rolling around my brain. I went to SDSU for 2 years. OK, I was enrolled and didn't get to class much. But it was 2 of the best years of my life. And a big part of my fun time was attributed to having a great dorm roommate, Ralph. Ralph and I hit it off from the get go. Both played hoops. Journalism majors. Loved music. And debauchery was always only a half thought away. Little did I know that Ralph had been thinking of our times at SDSU and beyond as well. (We roomed together in the "Astrodome" in South Pas, but that's another post for another time.) I found him on the interweb and sent him an email asking "is this the Ralph who" and if it was, to send me back a confirmation. This is part of what I got––after a few things he said which I will not post here for fear of having to explain some of my college misadventures to way too many people––back. "was at the hilton the night before departure and i was on the can reading about LA and there's a section on Eagle Rock...Bro..I sent the vibe two Sats ago as I sat there (lol required) and thought of the "No Mas" fight we watched in Eagle Rock....freak!!! And you have my permission to add this to your blog."

I have been smiling, laughing and shaking my head ever since yesterday. I feel like a gap in my life has been filled. The cancer disconnected a lot in my brain––as I've said before, it's called chemo brain––and working the memory muscle can be very frustrating when it doesn't work. Thanks to my brother from another mother, Ralph, I'm starting to put together some more pieces in my brain. And will undoubtedly get back to California and see if we can meet in the middle, as he now lives in NoCal and my family is in SoCal.

Ralph, thanks for the vibe. I really needed it.

More Than Baseball

After celebrating life all weekend––Wife's and Son's birthdays, respectively––the other side of the life chain takes place tonight.

Tonight, I will pay my respects to Mark Fisher. Mark passed away Memorial Day weekend from cancer. I didn't get a chance to say good-bye to Mark, as I had just found out he was fighting the disease only a few days before. I was also fighting a nasty virus and didn't want to go see him and get him any worse. I now regret that decision.

I coached baseball with Mark for 3 years. That's a lot time. We also sat in the stands for another 4 years, watching our Sons play for the high school team. That seemed like an eternity. And he and his Wife, Roberta, would come and join us at our Annual Halloween Party. But as I look back, it was not enough time. You see, we spent an awful lot of time together, going over baseball strategy, working on new drills for practice to keep the boys from getting bored and asking each other to talk to each other's Son. We found that we could get our Boys to get better––as a player and a person––if they heard it from someone else as well as ourselves. And it worked. Worked very well. Little did we know we both would "get" cancer.

This is a tough loss for me for many reasons. I feel for Roberta, Tim and Bob. Good family and friends. I feel for all those––family and friends––who will miss Mark. And I feel blessed, as strange as that my seem. Because I survived cancer, well enough to be able to write down my thoughts for whomever to see. I'm extremely lucky to have a family that loves me and cares for me. And when I see another friend lose the battle to cancer, I can't help but think of my own mortality and place in life. Yes, it's more than baseball that brought us together.

Forever, we will be bonded by a killer disease. RIP, Captain Fisher.

Sick & Tired Of Being Sick

Once you've had cancer–-at least for me––getting sick takes on another life.

You get paranoid. You get a little scared. You get impatient. And I get to show everyone the asshole that grows inside of me when I don't feel well and haven't slept. I'm now on Day 6 of being sick. And it's Memorial Day Weekend. I should be grillin' and chillin'. I'm sick and tired of being sick.

This started out as a slight rawness in the back of my throat. Since the head & neck cancer, any little thing that messes with my throat gives me flashbacks and feelings of "oh shit, what's this?". So I went to a GP Doctor on Friday––my regular Doc was busy and couldn't fit me in––and saw another Doc in the practice who has treated me before. Now I'm not saying she's not good or I don't like her. She's just not MY Doc, know what I mean? After waiting 25 minutes past the appointment time––another post for another time––I get in. After I tell the nurse everything, I have to go through it again with the Doctor. (So explain to me the reason why they have these little computers that call up all your information?)

Diagnosis? Sore throat. Headache. Aches and pain. Running eyes. No energy. No fever. I could have told them that. I did, in fact. "Must be a simple virus." There are no simple virus' as far as I'm concerned. The HPV virus is what gave me cancer. A simple virus? This only made me more cranky. And have to swallow a horse pill every 12 hours for the next 10 days.

Makes me even more sick and tired.