Date Night

Dori is feeling much better and learned yesterday she's still 100% donor DNA. She trained this morning for her upcoming half marathon, walking in unseasonably warm weather. It may top 60 today. She'll receive the Vidaza treatments next Monday through Friday, one week after they were scheduled.

I'm in between kids' basketball games, and may actually ride the bike after a five-miler with Pepper late yesterday. I didn't run Monday through Thursday, still lethargic from "the crud." Last night's run was worth the wait and couldn't have been more timely. I had a rough week.

I'm realize I'm not going to be appreciated much the next few years. I remember how much of a pain I was from age 13 to 16. I thought the world owed me something. No one around me was perfect, certainly, but my approach didn't make things better. I took awhile to mature, 15 years frankly to cover all bases.

I'm learning what it's like to be on the other side of this. It's hard, doesn't seem rewarding, and sometimes leads to frustration. Part of it is emerging from a challenging three years of dealing with cancer. More of it, however, is just being a parent dealing with our childrens' transition from adolescence to [fill in unflattering Noun of the Day here].

I needed to vent, and did earlier this week. I may have said a few words I shouldn't have, but I did get some things on the table. I was honest, raw and emotional. I think it helped, but it isn't something I want to do again soon. Nor does my family. But it came to a point where I had to make things clear - I'm not just a dad trying to provide but a person with feelings.

One pounding thought all week was, "When do I get time for just me?" The constant feeling of having to be somewhere in 15 minutes can be taxing, especially if I don't get to run or do something different every so often.

The good news? Dori and I have a date night tonight and the house to ourselves. I'm feeling mighty fine about that.

High Anxiety

We're reminded from time to time that we're not in control of everything, no matter how hard we wish or try. That about sums up last weekend.

Dori has been battling a cough and some minor stomach issues the last few days. I thought for sure she had a cold, maybe the onset of a rough one. I've had one for a week, but nothing too bad.

When I looked at Dori yesterday, I knew she was thinking of other possibilities, like the dreaded "R" word. I was about 95% sure that wasn't occurring, based on my extensive (tongue) medical (in) training (cheek). No fever, a cough and that was about it. Today, she headed to Vanderbilt for a scheduled visit - Round 5 of 6 of Vidaza - with my Mom accompanying her for support.

I was at work when Mom texted Dori's counts were normal and the real experts were getting her a Z-pack and postponing the Vidaza round. Despite my confident prediction, I almost cried when I learned she simply had a cold, triggering a release that included a push away from my desk and a hug from a co-worker I trust.

Dori sounded hoarse, when I called her. I told her I would pick up the kids, asked what errands I needed to run, and said she only needed to focus on rest, hydration and eating well.

The other part of the weekend was spent watching a child struggle, then refocus on moving forward. It's hard to watch children come up short, but it's good for them to face adversity. Teaching children to deal with shortcomings is what we're supposed to be doing as parents, I believe. Too many parents coddle and lose those moments.

I think parents do best when we present challenges as opportunities. I like to ask hard questions, relate my own shortcomings and how I dealt or deal with them, seek buy-in and encourage positive responses. Yes, once in awhile, a butt-chewing is in order, especially when pep talks or reason aren't working. The easy way out is the loser's way.

As I look back on last weekend, it was an exhausting potpourri. I invested a lot in my family, working with half a tank. I tried to run six miles Saturday and struggled. The cold had taken too much of me; I had to walk at Mile 4 for a short spell. I didn't beat myself up, but went out yesterday for a short run that felt better.

We move on.

For a Great Cause

Dori has set up her fundraising page in support of Gilda's Club. Of course, we encourage anyone interested to consider making a secure donation.

We continue to support three important organizations - the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, the Kanzius Cancer Research Foundation and Gilda's Club. I believe LLS certainly had a hand in enabling Dori to continue to be with us, Kanzius holds great promise to find a cure for all cancers and Gilda's supported our family through tough times.

Dori walked three miles Saturday morning with 150 Gilda friends, and came home and ran a mile on the treadmill. Inspired, I ran six hilly miles Saturday in our neighborhood and eight flat miles in Shelby Bottoms today with Pepper.

Yesterday, Will and I watched a lot of football, something I haven't done in awhile. We love the Chicago Bears, who have four former Vanderbilt players who play important roles. Will's godfather Al joined us in watching the Bears beat the Seahawks 35-24; then Will and I watched the Jets shock the Patriots. The entire family plowed through rotel queso and chicken fingers, not the best training food. Today's run, however, was surprisingly fine.

Work has been busy and is about to get busier. To deal with the inevitable accumulating stress and to have a goal, I plan to train for the Tom King Half Marathon, a local race in March that I PR'd a few years ago. I'm not gearing for record time, but would like to run a good race.

Someone's Training

Dori the Warrior started training this morning to walk a half marathon. She's walking three miles with the folks at Gilda's Club, for whom she will raise funds. The race is in late April.

When she asked me for an opinion, I said I think it's awesome, but you might run it by Dr. Jagasia at Vanderbilt. His simple reply? Go for it!

On the way out the door, Dori said, "This is so not me," as she trudged into the cold. New sportwear covered her like an eskimo.

Oh, but it is you, my dear. You've already completed 20 marathons in the hospital and at home, more than most humans could endure. I'm looking forward to yelling my a%$ off for you in the spring. Let the miles pile up and the funds come in.

I think I'll do a long run today.

Winter Progress

Dori completed Round 4 of Vidaza with flying colors. Her donor DNA is a perfect 100%. She feels good, and her itching is gone. Good riddance.

Snow hit Nashville early this morning. With four inches on the ground, I took the kids sledding early to the hill I enjoyed as a boy. Will and Kathryn had a ball, and I made one Franz Klammer run down the slope with Will. My back is thanking me, but it was worth it to hear Will howling with joy as we went full speed.

I talked with the sister of a dear high school friend, as our children sledded. She said she didn't know anyone who has been through more than our family. I said, "Really?" I know many folks who have been through much worse than us. I replied the last 10 years have been the most challenging and rewarding of my life. Dori said "we're still here" when I recounted the episode.

I worked from home today, but managed to get over to Radnor Lake State Natural Area with Pepper for a brief hike. I'm glad I brought our camera. Walden Pond in Nashville ... pretty awesome.








The kids are playing some fun basketball this winter. Both teams are improving. Will's team is surprisingly undefeated, having endured a few thrillers. Kathryn's team finally broke into the win column, with a half-court three-pointer to end the third quarter and a traditional three-point play near the buzzer to win by one.

I may not have mentioned I'm not coaching this year because I want to enjoy the games WITH DORI from the stands. It's one of the best calls of my life. I still have some coach in me, which is hard to muzzle, but I so want Dori to see the kids improve and excel, which they're doing.

But you may not want to sit near me. My voice carries, like a coach's should.

Incalculable Odds

Dori is beginning Round 4 of 6 of vidaza therapy today. She just called me from the hospital, encouraging me to view her good counts online. Platelets and white and red blood cell counts are all normal.

The good news is welcome, since I've been somewhat on edge this break. I've had too much time to think, really. I needed a good run yesterday to combat some negative thoughts, along with the decadent apple crumb pie my "evil" sister brought Christmas Day. After breakfast, Will and I drove to Shelby Bottoms, a flat greenway along the Cumberland River. Will biked, while Pepper and I ran into a cold northwest wind.

Midway through the run, the sun broke through after days of cloud cover. The massive low pressure system that's wreaked havoc along the east coast and dropped a few inches of snow around here finally departed. We took a break at 3.4 miles, stretched and hydrated, and started a downwind return. It felt great to be outside with my son, who I praised for being so active in his life.

My pace was intentionally slow, 10:55/mile, because I didn't know how I would last on an eight-miler. Finishing felt great. Pepper ran a PR distance and had plenty of energy left. Amazing, since he could barely run a few miles only months ago. Now he's fit. I rewarded myself with a latte and Will with a hot chocolate, and we split a scrumptious sugar cookie. Food tastes so good after a long run.

Last night, Dori and I went to our friend Kathy's house for some great Italian food, company and conversation with friends. I toasted Kathy, who is an unsung hero in our lives. Kathy has helped start four hematolgy clinics and commutes to Atlanta each week, which is eight hours on the road. Her team is on the cutting edge of treatment for blood cancers.

She was the first who enlightened Dori and me about vidaza, which her team is using in Georgia. When we mentioned vidaza to Vanderbilt's doctors, they'd heard of it, but weren't really using it much. I am convinced if 1) Kathy had not mentioned vidaza and been "kindly aggressive" in the process; and 2) we had not asked Vanderbilt to present Dori's case to the team at Fred Hutchison in Seattle that Dori would not have had the turnaround she is experiencing.

During the toast, several folks fought back tears. Dori chimed in and said what's she's told me before: Kathy always seems to call her at the right time and say the right things. Kathy's husband Kevin calls her an angel, and I couldn't agree more. Kathy is a very special angel.

How do we know her? Kathy's daughter is classmates with Will. Last night, she presented a Chicago Bears' winter cap to give to Will, who beamed this morning when he received it. Several Vanderbilt graduates are stars on the Bears' team, so Will is in Ten-Year Old Heaven.

What are the odds a hematology expert with a heart of gold would have a child at our kids' school, let alone in our son's class? Infinitesimal. How does one make sense of such a thing? There is no rational explanation. We can only trust and believe in a greater reason for having to endure so much.

We'll know soon if Dori's December itchfest is GVHD-related. I'm beginning to think so, especially after Kathy's review and diagnosis last night. Dori said if the itching is necessary to keep leukemia at bay, she's all for it.

Christmas Smiles

Snow is still in the forecast for this evening and Christmas Day. It's been a long time since we've had measurable snow in Middle Tennessee. We'll see.

Dori has improved after last week's scare. Her vitality is back and that nasty rash continues to subside. We'll celebrate Christmas at Mass tonight, open presents in the morning and visit family. Words can't describe how happy we are not to be in the hospital. Instead, we're busying ourselves around the house, enjoying our tree and listening to good music. Santa has already given us the best present.

Yes, fellow runners, I'm still running. I ran seven miles last Saturday, five yesterday afternoon at Radnor Lake with Pepper and another four this morning in our neighborhood, again with Pepper. There are too many goodies around the house, so it's best if I leave it as much as possible in running garb. I'm still not training for anything, but could probably tackle anything under 10 miles. I might run the 11.2 in Percy Warner Park over the break to see where I stand.

Two days ago, we spent a great day with Will's friend from pre-school. We hadn't seen him in some time, but learned his mother recently was diagnosed with breast cancer. We know what it's like to have your world turned upside down, so the two Moms thought it would be a good idea for the boys to be together.

I took the boys, Kathryn and Pepper hiking in Beaman Park, which is a 1,600-acre gem property about 30 minutes away in Northwest Davidson County. The boys reacquainted well. They found a secure 80-foot vine on a very tall tree and took turns playing Tarzan. They probably elevated five feet off the ground, howling at their accomplishment.

We didn't talk much about cancer, but the implicit message was a good one. Keep active, and your mind will thank you. Darkness doesn't like light.

Christmas Snow?

It doesn't snow much around here, especially on Christmas. But those zany folks at Weather.com have issued a statement that makes me glad we live on a hill. Snow is possible Christmas Eve and Christmas.

To me, Christmas is a season for reflection. Thanksgiving will always be my favorite holiday, but Christmas makes me think about life's priorities, much like Easter does: God, family, work, play. All four are important, but I'm especially mindful of that hierarchy during Christmas and Easter. Life is a gift, an opportunity and a test. Make the most of it, but realize what the prize is.

I say that not in a preachy way. The message in this picture, which I took at lunch, is something I personally support. I wondered when I took it, "Is this business owner preaching? What about my sandwich, dude?"



My read is that such signs are an aggressive attempt to counter the culture of declining church attendance and increasing secularism. Some people are afraid, even angry, and have different ways of expressing it.

My view? The sign is fine. Americans enjoy free speech. But I respect opposing views and religions other than Christianity. I don't have the answers, but I love the conversation.

And I believe what I believe, which is that we need snow this Christmas.

The Handyman Can

What a week.

Dori broke out in a serious rash mid week, after taking an anti-biotic before a visit to the dentist. She never spiked a fever, a good sign, but her rash was pretty intense. So much so, that on Thursday night, she blacked out. I heard the fall in the kitchen, where she was getting a glass of water. After a rest, she almost passed out again. Serious flashbacks to 11 North this summer.

Dori's blood pressure is usually low, and apparently a rash can cause it to drop further. She missed a Girl's Night Out and Will's basketball game the last few days, but showed signs of improvement yesterday afternoon. With my Mom's comfort food, some family love, and plenty of Benadryl and Sarna skin creme, she continues to improve.

Today, Dori's Dad and his wife Carol and our clan headed on a scenic Sunday drive down the Natchez Trace Parkway. We stopped for lunch at Puckett's Grocery and Restaurant in Leipers Fork. Everyone loved it, especially the family bluegrass band that entertained us as we noshed. We toured the area like out-of-towners, sharing knowledge of landmarks and history. When we returned home, Kathryn and I leashed Pepper and hiked with Dori's Dad to our area hill that is a Civil War historic site. What a delightful day!

I'm not known for being very handy around the house. Three of the most dangerous words in my life have been "some assembly required." Yes, we've hired our share of Mr. Fix-It's over the years, though not as many in recent years as I've surfed the Internet for solutions. We did hire a window repairman a few weeks ago, but that's because I greatly respect glass, especially when it breaks near me.

A few weeks ago, the polypropylene backboard on the kid's basketboal goal broke. After an exhaustive search, I realized the only options were to pay $110 for a new backboard or buy the whole goal for two or three times that amount. Four years ago, my brother-in-law, who is very handy, had a difficult time assembling the goal. I helped in spots, but he did most of it.

Last week, the complete backboard arrived. The weather turned bad immediately, probably warning me not to attempt something I likely couldn't complete. Upon close inspection of the broken backboard, I heard myself say, "This is going to take a long time." Of course, the directions were useless. The nuts and bolts were in places not made for socket wrenches to reach, or any wrench for that matter. Who designed this thing?

If I failed, I would endure light-hearted ribbing, perhaps some mockery. My brother-in-law, who loaned me some special tools for the task, playfully said just to let him know when he was needed. No way, Jose. This one's mine, I said. I may have nine fingers soon, but it's mine.

I made progress, but couldn't unthread a few of the nuts that weren't interested in letting go. Neither was I, but I was going to need a friend to help provide the necessary torque. Dori's Dad arrived yesterday, and said, "Let's go." We spent an hour breaking down the broken backboard, then getting the new one started. We had several starts and stops, but pressed on. We had to end our efforts to make it to the kids' late afternoon basketball games, but I knew we would finish this weekend. Dori's Dad said he would be back today to help finish the job.

When he drove up the driveway this morning, I was finishing the final turn of the wrench. "You didn't need me," he said. No, I did, but I had fun finishing this on my own once the stubborn bolts had been overrun by their conquerors. We asked Will to take the ceremonial first shot. SWISH! "Now put one off the backboard," I said. No clang! Just a true bounce and another score.

Feel free to sing along: The Handyman can cause he mixes it with love and helps the boy shoot good.

Please, Please Stop

Last Saturday morning, I ran with some Team In Training friends, giving the "Mission Moment" to 40 people who will be running races this spring. Obviously, I talked about Dori but also about my friend Jim Asker, a real inspiration to Dori and me.

Before the run, Jim told me a former teammate learned her mother has lymphoma. The next day, Dori and I heard a friend has breast cancer. I read the Sunday paper, in which an NHL assistant hockey coach here revealed he's battling prostate cancer.

At bedtime, my good night glass of water tasted like vinegar. Dori asked me what was wrong yesterday, and I just didn't feel like getting into it. I nitpicked and snapped much of the weekend.

This cancer thing is getting beyond old. And that's how I felt in 2008. The costs on families and society continue to soar, and we keep doing the same things - little exercise, the next cure-all, whatever.

The holidays are here, and I will cheer up some because we have Dori. But I better not read or hear any more news about cancer striking again.

I'm not in the mood.