Happy 4th of July!

Had a GREAT 4th of July.







Katie & Coop took First and Second Place (respectively) in the Plymouth Meeting 4th of July Parade Costume contest.







Had a great picnic with Family.
Took a nap in the hammock.








Watched some fireworks.








Why am I bothering to tell you about all this?
Because absolutely none of it has anything to do with cancer.

Just like me.

Sing It, Sister!

There's A Lot Of Love In This Room Right Now

The French have a phrase: joie de vivre.
But that's just me being pretentious.
We say it even better: THE JOY OF LIFE
Let me tell you, I've got it in spades today, my friends.



After the morning psych-out (results not available), I got a voicemail this afternoon.
Want to hear a joyful noise masquerading as an ordinary voicemail?
Listen To This: DORIS' VOICEMAIL



What does this mean?
Well for me it means that for all intents and purposes, I no longer have leukemia.
It means that the amazing doctors and nurses at Penn and the Abramson Cancer Center have not only eliminated all leukemia cells from my body, they have also destroyed the bad RNA which caused the disease to begin with. I am now in TOTAL REMISSION and completely cancer-free.



Does this mean it could never come back? Of course not. I could also get hit by a bus tomorrow, too. But that's why the word remission is used and not cure. Only time will tell if it is permanent remission.



Right now I am filled with love and appreciation for everyone who has helped me and my family through this ordeal. I am so very grateful for the amazing doctors who helped get me into remission. The research scientists who worked to develop the treatment, and all the other leukemia patients who selflessly tested it.



I am extremely fortunate to have incredible nurses who kept me alive through this process. Far too many to name here, I am also too far in their debt to ever repay the thousands of kindnesses and the professionalism that saved my life.



And the virtual army of family, friends and colleagues who helped us make it through all this.



Most of all, I am so very thankful for Bonnie. She is the rock upon which our family is built; the very heart and soul of all that is good in my life. If I am alive, it is because every single day of my life she has given me a reason to live.

Today is a beautiful day, my friends, whether you know it or not.

So take it from me, Life IS Good.

Do You Want The Good News Or The Bad News?

Well, the good news is: There is no bad news.

The bad news is: There is no news. Period.

Apparently, when they said, "Five working days," what they really meant was, "Up to two weeks."

Funny little trick, huh?

Please direct all complaints to my oncologist at (215) 618-24..... No. That would be wrong.

Cancer's Many Gifts #1

Of the many gifts cancer has given me - and they are many - the most unusual is new hair.
I now have the same hair as Kung Fu Grip G.I. Joe

Tick – Tick – Tick

Clock is ticking. (get it?)

Today I had my (hopefully) final bone marrow biopsy.
Boy, it sure was a sight. Super-Oncologist Alison Loren, MD, MS, AWESOME, who, to be frank, weighs about a hundred pounds soaking wet, standing on a stool over yours truly with a biopsy needle (picture a turkey baster with a ten-penny nail on the end) digging through my pelvis bone for marrow to send to the lab. And yes, I wrote, digging.
I wish I could describe it in more detail but I was lying on my stomach on the exam table pretending it didn’t hurt. Bonnie could describe it better. She’s seen five of these now.
Five.
Five.
The first two were at Chestnut Hill Hospital. They did two because they couldn’t get any blood or marrow out of the bone the first time. In the middle of the procedure, the hematologist said, to his crowd of students, “you sometimes see this in leukemia patients.” This was the first time the word leukemia had been mentioned to us and it came out accidentally.
That’s some bomb to drop so casually.
Anyway, back to today’s biopsy.
Couldn’t sleep last night. Why? Well the test itself is no big deal, as dig-a-hole-in-your-bones tests go. But to put it academic terms, imagine a pass-fail final that you can’t study for. You pass, and you get your life back. You fail, and you have to repeat the class. And all the labs.
So now we wait for the results.
But wait, you say, you’re in remission! Yes, well there is remission and there is REMISSION.
If you were to examine my blood under a microscope right now you would find no evidence of leukemia. The treatment has worked. But the underlying cause of the disease is some damaged RNA inside two chromosomes in my cells. If the RNA have been corrected by the chemotherapy, they will no longer reproduce cells with damaged chromosomes and I will stay in remission, theoretically, forever. If the RNA is not corrected, they could, at any time begin to reproduce the damaged chromosomes and eventually allow the leukemia to return.
That’s not going to happen. You know it. I know it. But we have to prove it to medical science.
So right now my bone marrow is being sent to a specialized lab where they will examine my cells down to the molecular level and begin counting the millions of chemical combinations that make up the RNA of a bone marrow cell.
Forget what you’ve seen on CSI:Miami. It takes five working days.
Five working days.

Tick-tick-tick…

And What Have We Learned?

I have learned many things during my cancer treatment. I have learned much about myself and my family. I have learned about life. I have learned many things about the high quality and character of my friends and colleagues.

But there are many lessons that are difficult to discuss. There are things – important things – that are not, shall we say, ready for prime time. But these important facts should be known by everyone because statistics bear out the sad truth that everyone – everyone – will be, or will be close to, a cancer patient in their lifetime.

An Example:

Be kind to – take very good care of - your sphincter ani externus.
Why do I obfuscate in Latin? Those easily offended now have fair warning to move on. Those interested can easily Google it.

Take very very good care of your sphincter ani externus. Because regardless of what kind of cancer you have – leukemia, prostate, breast, bone, skin, liver… And regardless of what kind of treatment you get – chemo, radiation, alternative, herbal… Your sphincter ani externus will be affected.

Part of the difficulty of any treatment is managing the side effects. And almost all the side effects for any treatment have some negative impact on your sphincter ani externus. One day it might be too much, and the next few days, too little. Either way, proper respect and tender loving care must be paid. You don't want to be cured of cancer only to succumb to an e coli infection.

And they sure don’t tell you that in the brochure.

Another thing I have learned is that discussing the minutiae of your bodily workings with your spouse is a real buzzkill. I understand it is necessary. But you know what? Before she was my wife she was my girlfriend. And before that, she was the hot sixteen-year-old I lured to the drive-in.
So daily comprehensive discussion of my bodily fluids and fuctions… I mean, Man! Come on!

Yesterday I was frustrated with the graphic detail of my daily health report. So I decided to use my talent for spin. When Bonnie asked how I was doing down there, I replied I felt like the prettiest guy in the Gay Pride parade.

She laughed. And laughter, I have learned through all this, is the absolute best thing in the world.