The Fall

I fell off a ladder last Sunday and this is was "flashed" in my head in 5 seconds or less.

We had a bad storm the night before––35-40 mph winds with rain––so a few trees around my house took a beating. Especially the one in front of my house, at the end of the porch and hanging over my driveway. A branch was cracked and it would seem only hours or minutes away from falling right on the hood of my Wife's car, affectionately called "Honey" by my her. Which meant I had to cut it down––after I moved the cars out of the driveway.

I got my 4' ladder out––I have 3 ladders of various sizes for such things––and climbed to the safest/highest spot on the ladder. With a reciprocating saw in my hand. I was extra careful so as not to: kill the plants below me, break any garden statues and wear my work boots with the steel toes in case the saw falls out of my hands. I secured the ladder and up I went. Things were falling into place. Little did I know I would be falling as well.

Now for the flashbacks. With the big branch cut and covering the driveway, I started to get down––no, not like that––I got down from the ladder. And that's when my life did a quick review in me head. The ladder sunk into the soft ground and started to lean left. I, however, was heading right. I was still holding the saw. I was starting to fall and tried to gain my balance. Until my right foot slid across the rung and got stuck IN BETWEEN the rungs. There I was, falling backwards, with a saw in my hands and no one home to help if I really got hurt. This started this "video" in my head––I'm falling with a saw in my hands, please God don't let it cut me, shit my foot is stuck, SOB I'm going to hit the porch railing, no I'm going to gore myself on the pruners I just noticed, I think my ankle is going to break, don't fall, don't fall, don't fall, SHIT there's no one home what happens if I hit my head on the porch railing or cut my jugular vein or break my back, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK.

Fortunately, I just scrapped the crap out of my right arm (had to get a tetanus shot) and tweaked the hell out of my back. I did bounce off the railing of the porch. And my back was in a knot, so much so that I finally went and got some 'killers for the pain that had been constant since Sunday. I also had an interesting though sitting in the Doctor's office yesterdayt: after all the chemo, radiation and surgeries I survived during cancer treatments I could have died falling 4 feet off a ladder.

That would've sucked.

Save The Planet Or Myself?

I had a rather interesting "discussion" with someone at work about my use of a plastic water bottle.

We were talking about "rethink, recycle, reuse" when this person pointed out in a meeting with others that I "could get rid of the water bottle. That's a big part of our problem." To which I replied, "I need these water bottles." Then it got interesting. As we walked out of the meeting together I then told this fellow employee I needed water to survive because of caner. This person proceeded to admonish me, saying I could use a permanent water bottle, made of steel––I can't because of the metal reaction that occurs in my mouth––or I could use a Brita water filter––I do, at home and at work, filling my water bottle that I use for the day over and over and use it until the next morning. I've tried glass water bottles––I have broken two––and plastic bottles as well.

The treatments I had for Head & Neck cancer were extensive––if you've read this before, sorry––and included 4 oral surgeries, replacement fillings in 4 of my teeth, surgery to insert a feeding tube, 35 radiation treatments over 7 weeks and 13 chemo treatments, one a week for 13 weeks. While I'm thankfully still alive––no ghost writing here––the side effects are permanent. Especially the damage to my salivary glands. I produce about 25-30% of the saliva I used to produce. Which means I need water by my side 24/7/365. Not just because of constant dry mouth and throat. But as a result of not producing enough saliva, I now have acid reflux. And sometimes I start choking because I'm too dry and have mucous stuck in my throat––at least that's just one of the things that make me choke or cough at any moment. Swallowing? An adventure in itself.

Now I'm not looking for any sympathy. It just struck me odd that someone would not even listen to my situation. I did say under my breath, "if I didn't have cancer I'd be drinking out of a glass just like you" but when I was asked what I said I just replied "nothing." Because this person either didn't care or understand or is just a douche bag and nothing I said was going to change their mind. This person was determined to save the planet starting with me. I have no problem with that other than it got me thinking.

Today, I'll save myself so I can help save the planet.

Would You Like Dizziness As One Of Your Sides?

After all the cancer treatments I've had, I was only taking one medication. Note the word WAS.

A recent trip to my Doctor––my GP––and some blood work revealed that my cholesterol was sky high. And that I had a Vitamin D deficiency. And that I was growing breasts. (Just kidding. Put that in there to see if you're paying attention). So now I have to swallow more pills. Which means having to navigate the side effect of head & neck cancer that mess me up the most––the inability to produce saliva. Sometimes I feel like a snake who has swallowed a rat whole, expecting to see the pills stick out the side of my neck because they are caught in my throat. (Nice visual, huh?).

By taking more pills comes more side effects. First it was dizziness. Then it was fatigue. Then it was a desire to dress up like Elizabeth Taylor. (Again, paying attention? RIP Liz). These are the side effects from the cholesterol medication. I don't need any more side effects. Especially fatigue. Fatigue was the first indication that I had cancer––I had no energy no matter what I did and I didn't think that was normal––and made me to go see my GP to see if it was all in my head. Which in a strange and twisted way, it was. And it's strange to think this is supposed to happen. Which makes me question the validity or effectiveness of the medication. There's got to be a better way to lower my cholesterol––yes, I do exercise but not enough and I do eat good food but probably not enough. And after all the crap I've been through, really? Can't I just live on my "extra time" here on Earth?

Have to go now. I'm getting dizzy.

Voices Of The Angels

I have to thank cancer––yeah, I know that sounds awful––for making me appreciate the things in life I used to take for granted.

While the line above seems weird, awkward and maybe even somewhat stupid, I now treat every day as a blessing. You may have read some of my earlier posts that describe my beliefs. If you haven't, it's as simple as this––I am more spiritual than religious and believe in a higher power much greater than me. That means I believe in God in the way and manner I am comfortable with and don't try to convert or dismiss others who believe in the God of their choice. Choice being the winning word. (Thanks, Charlie). I have been face-to-face with death as I was going through chemo and radiation for 3 months. Not only is it terrifying but also somewhat unexplainable. And while I know my will to live and fight certainly helped me, I also knew that I would die some day. I just didn't want it to happen because of cancer. In an even stranger thought process as I was going through treatment, I also knew that I had no control of when death would decide it's time for me to go.

OK, Greg, what about the angel voices? No, I didn't hear whispers in my ear. But I did hear the most moving, powerful and spiritual voices in my life in a church in the center of the city of Detroit. These men and women sang from their SOULS. They literally brought tears to my eyes. Sent chills up and down my spine. Made me realize the power of the spirit in our lives. I was humbled. Honored. And extremely thankful that a higher power allowed me to experience this in person and right in front of me. They made me realize what was really important, in a tough day for me and my friends in the business I am in.

We are more than the jobs we do. The clothes we wear. The cars we drive. We are more than expensive homes. The number of followers we have. The titles on our business cards. How do I know?

The angels told me.

The Gods Of Communication

We're in a world where information is at our fingertips on any subject, anywhere at any time. We communicate via text, Facebook, Twitter and loads of other online or handheld portals, devices and screens. And that scares the shit out of me.

Why?

Because face-to-face communication suffers. Things are lost in translation or meaning when it's in an email or text or on a social media platform of your choice. We're so connected we've actually lost connection. For me, personally, it has made me communicate in shorter messages (thanks, Twitter), utilize more electronic devices and become desensitized to personal relationships by just firing off my POV and tons of words flowing out of my mouth like the Red River overflowing. And I fucking hate it. I've allowed the work I do to creep into my home life––something I've worked hard to avoid for the last 30 years so I can have a healthy and happy relationship with my family.

Now maybe this means I'm just getting old(er) or I'll just have to suck it up and roll with it because this type of communication is here to stay––"this" being a multi-tasking, ADD-ish, living online or on the cellie all the time while always worrying about missing something––as those who are younger than me will some day rule the world whether I like it or not. (Even my cancer Doctors communicate via email and share info electronically constantly). But as I write this post I've gone back to the realization that it's ME who chooses how/when/where/why/what I communicate. I'm the one who controls what comes out of my mouth––yeah, I can hear those of you who know me saying stuff about my mouth and the lack of control I really have––and that's something I can work on every day.

Can I get a collective "Thank God"?

Blood Work

I've been waiting to write about my latest round of check-ups.

Why? When you have cancer––or did have, in my case––you have to get checked on by ALL your Doctors, get poked, drained, pee in a cup, x-rayed, put in a tube for 25+ minutes, probed, pinched, weighed, measured (am I still growing or am I shrinking?) have a tube shoved up your nose and down your neck and get undressed and dressed about a dozen times in front of complete strangers and open windows.

I'm about one-third of the way through my rounds. I started by going to my GP––Dr. Marc Plescia, the angel who looked at the lump on the right side of my jaw and said, "I don't like this. Let's get you to see Dr. Lee right away."––who always does a thorough job. He's also the Doctor who gets the ball rolling by ordering blood work. Now if you've read my blog and posts before, you know how much I hate needles. And if you've ever had blood taken from your body after you've had cancer, they take a LOT. I felt like I was at a gas station, only they were pumping blood out of me as I was filling up test tube after test tube of blood samples. (I think there were 6 big vials, as I only looked at my arm and what was happening after I was told to "hold this and press here for 30 seconds).

I did this while I was in town for 2 days––purposely for seeing the Doctor and getting the check-ups started––knowing I would be back on the road and that traveling would keep my mind off of the inevitable results report. And that's exactly happened. I forgot to look at my mail. I forgot about the bloodletting. I even forgot about the rash on my arm that I always get from the needle and tape. So how did I remember? My Wife went to pick-up her medication and was promptly handed 2 prescriptions for ME. Vitamin D and cholesterol medication. WTF?

I then went to my stack of mail and pulled out the fat envelope––not to be confused with a phat envelope of some shit I'd really like––and opened. White blood cell count––excellent. Sodium? Cool. 25 other symbols and checks and other crap that was all good. Until I hit LDL and HDL. I guess the road was full of "good eating". And I was full of bad cholesterol. Fucking great. But it did remind me of the time when I asked my oncologist during my chemo treatments about my cholesterol levels and should I be worried about it. Dr. Felice just smiled and said, "we're putting enough stuff into your body where your cholesterol levels should be the least of your worries". So it's either another round of chemo––no thank you––or taking medication.

I think I'll let the medication work through my blood for a while.

Life, As The Road Sees It.

I write this post from the back of a rock 'n roll tour bus, somewhere in Mississippi. And yes, it's as cool and different for me as it sounds. (Never been to Mississippi before. Had a great lunch in Meridian).

I was just thinking how fortunate I am to have been able to not only take this trip but also have my Wife, Teresa, along for the ride from Nashville to New Orleans. I've been on the road for most of November, December and January. Missing our special times on the weekends. Missing out on a family meal or two. Just missing, period.

I did manage to start my annual cancer check-ups when I was home for a hot minute. But it's just the start, as I still have to get poked and prodded and shot with needles a few more times. And shoved in tube for 20-25 minutes to see if the cancer has come back. I have graduated to once a year check-ups. So that's a great thing. And despite all the traveling, 4 hours of sleep a night and waking up more than a few times thinking "where the hell am I?, it's been a life experience I'll never forget.

Thank God I'm alive to take it all in.