The Final Frontier...

“I thought up an ending for my book. ‘And he lives happily ever after, till the end of his days.'”
– Bilbo

No matter how far we go, how far we run, pedal, push, pull or coast, it's still a long road...

And that is exactly the point. Having a long road. Hopefully it's a road of choices and riches. A road of decisions, joys, emotions and any of the fruits of life we desire.

It doesn't always work that way, of course. There are always bumps along the way.

As survivors, we know all too well. We have our markers in the sand more than others, it would seem.
Whether it's a periodic appointment with a specialist or a date with a scan, we are constantly reminded of the bumps we had to overcome. Forever chasing time.

And yet there is a feeling of loneliness in the journey. I've never been quite sure why.

I think a lot of it has to do with the singularity of the diseases we have had to face. Sure, there are millions of cancer patients but you never really experience the millions, just your "self" in the whole process.

Everything is done to you, specifically. They don't crop dust one thousand cancer patients at a time. They pierce your arm, cut your gut, or radiate your brain not the person who stands on the side of you.

Funny thing, though...most of us aren't in this alone though we feel the pang of inner loneliness.

We have had a support group right along. A cast of many who have stood by praying, swearing, crying and laughing. For that, we should reach deep into ourselves and be thankful no matter what our disease has labelled us.

I've been blogging for 6 years now. In the 6 years of writing my thoughts, fears, strengths, joys and sadness, I have been remiss in not thanking those I love around me for everything from a funny line to a punch in the arm.

To my mom and dad. Not many realize that my mom had cancer as well. Our joke between us is that we are both 'stoic' patients. Sure Ma :).  Dad has had to watch his wife and son both go through the process. Here's a glass of red wine to both of you. I love you very much.

To my brothers Gino and Mark.

I've learned from Gino that you can make your own miracles every day just through hard work and determination - spitting into the eye of what everyone tells you is impossible. Here's to your homemade vino. Love you, G.

Mark and I share our writing passions and I've always learned to laugh from Mark. He is 14 years younger than I am and was, in many ways, my first child. Life is what you see around you and you better take a good long look at the beauty right at your daily reach. Live long and prosper. Love ya, Mark.

To all of my buds at the survivor group. We all started with that awkward silence and staring. That is until we all realized we were all of the same oddity. From Fred who originally ran the group to Stephanie who continues to carry the torch today. Here's to Ali, Jerone, Kim, Adam, Mike, Xenia, Nicole, Luis, and all of the others. Love you guys from head to toe. Hollywood may not have picked us for their superhero movies but you are all super stars with me.

Then there are all of my writing peeps. All of those who see my spiritual true self. Dark, brooding, sometimes violent, but hopeful in the end.

To JD, always the sensible one.Thank you to you, your husband and your family for inviting me into your household and for always supporting my wacky writing ideas. Hugs...

To Heather and Christine who always make me laugh at myself and feel like an actual author in the same breath. Two friends right off the written page. Heather who is RISD all the way and Chris who helped me cut the yellow ribbon that started us on our artistic journey. Let's always talk till we don't remember our names in our old age.

And to all of the other artists I've come to know. Some are inspirational beyond words...I pray that I can repay you with my artistry some day.

My final chapter is dedicated to my final hero - my wife Pam.

Many don't know that Pam had her battle with Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. She has never preferred the spotlight. She's never needed or wanted the attention.

Pam, you stood tall and graceful even at 5'0". Through chemo and radiation. Through treatments and hair loss. You stood there, took it, and gave it back. You once told me that you can't leave this world, you had a child to raise (Matteo was app. 3 at the time). And you held your promise.

I've long admired you for the person you are and I have never said it. Not enough anyway.

I love you for however long forever is. You are my hero.

To all those who supported, followed, cheered and cried during this blog - I thank you.

Belay your fears, Universe. No matter the ending of the night, there is always a new dawn.

I am still here....

2016 You and The Right Mojo

A triple bypass

Two sets of front squats

Half a liver resected

20 minutes intervals

Splenectomy

A glass of carrot, pineapple and kale


Motivation is where you find it. Sometimes it's quite easy to find. But not all of us have a path of pain behind them to push ourselves to the limit.

The questions are always the same, however - What? Why? Who cares?

Why should I?

What do I have to do?

In the end, who cares?

Two packs of cigarettes a day....who does it hurt? I need them. I smoke in the woods at work, in the rain...who am I hurting?

One beer, two beers, a six pack a day...I do it in the front of the TV....who am I hurting?

Yourself...

If 7 billion people decided, simultaneously, to hurt and damage themselves at the same time, it would be the end of the human race.

When you take care of 'self', you take care of humanity in your own small way - that's the why.

You start. Period. What you are doing is irrelevant...that you do it, that you start, means everything.

Everyone knows how to move. Everyone knows how to move quickly. Everyone knows how to breathe hard. Everyone knows how to live by just getting by so now you must learn how to live at full capacity.

One block turns into one mile.

One pound turns into 100 pounds.

The chronometer slows and starts to turn backwards.  The body starts to respond. The mind follows alongside.

It's not about the beach. It's not about the inches. It's not about the bench press.

It's about starting.

You can start at midnight. You can start at noon. You can start at 10 in the morning or 10 at night. You can start on any point, at any time, on an place on the planet.

Once you start, you are instantly better.

You will fail. It will be real or imagined but you will fail. And you will start again, and again, you still will be the better for it from your previous start.

Your life is going to be new. It may be hard and unforgiving. It will be a joy to see the sun. You will hear things you do not want to hear. You will smile at an unexpected sound. 

And you will rejoice at something you never saw coming - the new you.

You are tough enough.

You are strong enough.

After all, you are the only you there is. Might as well be the best...

2016 is our year...

Stitches and 42 years later

As a Survivor you always live in the past.

Some will argue this isn't true. I don't believe it.

Sure, you may not look back often. But the flashes of a reality's past are there. They wait to spring at a moment's notice. You don't know when or where they will come but they do. It may be a sound, or a change in the weather.

Today was one of those moments.

On November 7th, the local hospital is hosting a Survivor's Ball. Very swanky. Black tie, perish the thought, and all of the accouterments of a royal wedding.

It's a money affair. The local rich and famous gather to bid, dance, eat, yadda yadda yadda.

This year there is a unique survivor table. Cutting to the chase, I've had the opportunity to attend and part of that attendance includes a special appearance page in the extravaganza program. The party committee requested a quote from each of us at the table and, if possible, a 'before and after' pic.

Before, meaning pre-treatment. After, of course, well, being after treatment.

Back in the day, before phones, shut it, before selfies, thank the maker, before texting, pictures of events were for special occasions. It was a process to simply take a picture and catalogue the event. Instagram was more a mail delivery idea than present day social media.

My parents dug through their artifacts....today was a flash of memory I wasn't 100% prepared for.

It's not the Flashback Thursday most are used to seeing.

The first picture is post resection of the 1st cyst my father found on a summer day. Below are the multiple lumps that were later removed through radiation (insert ominous thunder crash).

The second, in a fit of irony (Note the cartoon face), was the original markings for my radiation on the recurrence of my Hodgkins. Also note the careful drawing around my heart...If someone, anyone would have had an inkling into the future, that picture would have been more finite - oh well, I am breathing today.

The pictures are surreal to me. I have to admit, I marveled at the fact that I am almost smiling in both even under duress. In the next instance, I am filled with sadness.

And in the next instance, my dad put it all in perspective.

"Joseph, you are still here. You are going to still be here."

 In a span of minutes, the tide had flowed and ebbed. The sights, sounds, smells, and fear, I admit that, flowed over in wave after wave.

Then nothing. There is still reverb, don't forget that. But the worn path was already set behind me.

That's exactly that....behind. 

Yes, there was personal suffering, pain, emotion upheaval...feel free to add the descriptions you see fit.

But I am here. 

We are here. 

It is something a growing band of brothers, sisters, husband, wives, siblings and strangers all share today. 

All striving to have a Before and After. We can never forget those who don't have an After. It's a reminder that we should cherish every moment.

Just breathe.

We all have had our stitches removed and we would all go through it again to put our flag in the ground.

It will wave and say "Still Here".

Number 13

The anesthesiologist had kind eyes. That's all I saw of her face. The rest was tied in a mask and surgical headwear.

"You are getting some medicine now..."

I remember those being the last words I heard.

I fully confess - I look forward to the artificial euphoria. Call it an addiction. For a precious 20-30 seconds, my world is of superhuman feats, flying, laughing and anything else the Land Of Oz that is my brain can conjure.

This time was different.

I saw Eddie.

I have spoken about Eddie in the past. He was a hockey buddy from a long time ago.

The connection was lost as our lives moved on. Then one day, a few years ago I received the word - Eddie died.

For the next 20 seconds, I saved my attempts to fly and melt things with my mind. I recalled being very somber before the lights faded.

As the drugs passed through my system, I didn't try to fight the way I always do. I saw Eddie skating away.

Eddie had a stage whatever pancreatic cancer and four months after the discovery, he passed.

I don't believe in premonitions. I do believe in lost memories.

I interpreted the dream anyway. It wasn't my time. Not yet.

The burn was not as intense this time around. They "spot checked" as was described to me later in my delusional awakening.

Number 3 is in September. I'll carry on till then. A lost memory turned into motivation days later.

Cut to the gym in the 48 hours that passed...Eddie still skated by in my mind.

Every now and again, we should remember our fallen friends, relatives, even strangers you may randomly hear about. Walk their path for a few meters. Snap out of it and realize you ARE walking for real.

I go take my cardiology test tomorrow knowing what I know about myself and my conditioning.

I wasn't going to be tested but I insisted. We all want to measure how far we have come and how far we have to go.

Eddie didn't go very far in life and that is simply unfair...I think we can use that as a blanket statement. We know it's not fair but we can't dwell on it. At least I try not to.

Now we grab our chips when we can.

I can laugh with my family for one more day. That's worth a drug induced dream.

I'll run the treadmill tomorrow. They will burn me again in a month.

Eddie, this one is, well, quite frankly, this one is for me...

Rest easy number 13...

And the Planets Continue to Rotate...

I never purport to understand anyone's choices. It would be shameful of me to assume or presume.

I firmly believe everyone shares their glories with all (or should) and suffers their tragedies alone. Those tragedies will be judged and measured by someone else's standards. We all care on some level but, trust me, I'd walk away from the comparing. I actually have on many occasion.

A cat stuck in a tree or a baby in chemo? You decide. I have given up on comparisons. We all hold our personal tragedies as just that - personal.

Your suffering of a bad hair day will be measured. The long line at the store that is making you wait, will be measured. Traffic. Work. Your team losing. Your hair falling out. The next test result. The pain. The anxiety.

All measured to what the world is dishing out.

Someone starving in Africa, cares little for the dying patient in Hospice care. They can't afford the feelings. They have their own survival to worry about.

It doesn't always have to be to this extreme. We all do it. We all go under the knife, scope or needle and feel there is no greater tragic injustice. And really, at the time, there isn't.

But just walk away for a moment and try to feel someone else's tragedy. It can be easily dismissed when measured. You can also empathize and absorb shocking sobriety from it.

I am convinced that true courage comes from the situations we're put in. Some may seek out certain instances in order to be brave, but a vast majority have courage because the situation demands it. You can't hide. You have to take it with everyone watching.

One such act of true courage, and there are many, many examples surrounding us, comes from the patient documented in the Facebook Status above.

She is someone I confess to not knowing in high school very well. To be fair, I didn't know many very well.

Through the glory that makes Facebook actually useful for once, I have grown to know her story. I don't know details behind the details. I know enough.

I know that what I go through is measured to what she has gone through. I do it purposely this time. I do it as a reminder to me and anyone who may listen. I measure it because if I didn't know what courage was then, I know what it is now. I may not witness it ever again. It may never be measured in my lifetime.

I have measured now.

What I see, feel and hear is someone who can't don a cape and fly away. She can't wave a wand and grow a cure. She has no armor or stasis chamber to slow down the bullets.

She is armed with a slight flower of faith.

To me? It has been measured. And it is the human spirit beyond what I believed humanity could exhibit. Shame on me for that.

I do not pray. I do not cry.

Just sobering admiration.

I will say what will be blaspheme in the eyes of others. I've lived through it and I have never understood this lord's choices.

It is my hope her story as well as anyone else's never ends....

Thoughts that burn...

So 'the zone' has been mapped out. The all too familiar area in my chest where I was blasted as a child...

They will go in and burn away the layers - the theory being new cells will grow back.

A new chance. There are all sorts of official stats that I am not going to read. The words morbidity and quality of life have been bandied about.

I just hear "a new chance".

They can burn once or six times. I'm in it. I'm nasty. I'm in the mood to get it done. I've left the pity for myself behind. Deal with it, Joe. Deal.

Stark reminders have a habit of showing when you least expect it and most need it.

It was the end of March. She was just 9 years old. A diminutive, piano playing daughter, with her whole path before her, a life yet to be lived, died on a Thursday.

Most in my area will know of the accident - a tragedy in every sense. There was no blame, no protagonist to point a finger at. There were only victims.

A wake of people forever changed. A ripple that resonated for many and spoke too loudly for many more...

For other Survivors, this was a reminder, not a harbinger. This isn't a telling of what is to come. This is a statement of what life really is.

Moment to moment, until the universe deems the end of all moments. Snapshots put before you to savor not ignore. A feast if you can inhale all of them...a famine if you let the moments slip away.

Some of us wallow, and I confess that I am one, too long in our own personal circumstance. When you pick your head up and look around, you can at least say you have a fighting chance fore you can pick up your head AND look around.

You are in the colosseum of life. You wield a knife, even a dull one. There is a puncher's chance of getting out of this. There is a chance...slim or great - a prospect, or probability.

For the 9 year old girl, there is no more drum beat. There is nothing save for a fading undulation in time.

In a few weeks, I go in for the burn. Knife in hand. The colosseum doors open once again.

There are definitely stats on success and failure. It all speaks to be given a chance.

To walk at dusk. To stare at the stars. To hear a park full of laughter. To breathe.

For that, I am thankful. We all should be.

Hurdles...

*Note - harsh language - This particular post is not for children.

I've learned that it's best to admit your fears.  There is no room for posturing bravery.

Let's face it, we never truly conquer fear in the long run. We do adjust, fight, dig in and stand up to our fears situationally.

A fear of spiders will always be deep rooted in one's psyche. But faced with life or death, you wouldn't hesitate to hold one. It's the situation that dictates what you do and how you will handle it.

I'll admit it. I am scared. I am afraid more often than not. The world has made me this way.

I watch cartoons and escape with fantasy. I write worlds of violent, triumphant hope. All in order to escape the fear.

It builds on itself. Brick by brick. Diagnosis by diagnosis.

I've learned to live with it. There are hours I ignore it. You have to. You have a job. You have a family and friends. You can't cowher or you would be rendered useless as a human being.

I have a 'radiation' zone. Documented or not, I may be redundant, but part of my childhood cure was to be "blasted" in the chest region with radiation.

Part of the routine is to keep an eye on the area. I've done my best to keep my part of the bargain (that much has been documented).

I turned vegetarian.

I'm a border line athlete/workout whore. Excuse the language but it's true. It's my definition not yours.

My "few times" food list is longer then it ever was and my "always" food list is my religion.

Still, they found something.

Never one to have anything routine, I went in for the endoscopy - a test where a flexible tube with a camera is pushed down your throat to the esophagus.

Another confession? The drugs are stupendous. I totally understand why someone would be an addict. But I'm moving on.

Now I'll be frank, I've had chronic GERD (see heartburn) for decades. It has never been stated that the radiation caused such scarring but if I had money, I'd make the bet.

A lesion was found. Most of the time, most of the polyps are very early or just removed.

I got the call from the Gastro doc a few days later. He called himself. A sign.

It displayed something that wasn't correct in our industry of surviving. Now I want to point out in really large letters - IT WAS NOT CANCER.

A step below.

In the information age, I immediately did something inane, insane, and downright stupid - I went to the internet.

Something I tell people not to do...I broke my own rule. Stupid.

What I found? Of course, everything I did not want to see.

Everything from odds on becoming cancer to full esophageal resections (read, removing your esphagus).  Bad....

I melted a little. Nothing you can do about that. I have targeted 90 as a good life.

It's a slap in the face. It's a mind-fuck.

There was an immediate appointment. There had to be. The doctor stated he wanted me in no less than 2 weeks.

The appointment came through - 4 weeks. Four weeks? Wait a second. When did this double? Couldn't get an anesthesiologist? What?

More despair.

For the short time after, my wife was the only voice of reason - we were in preventative mode.

She was right.

Fuck it. I was in preventative mode. I did not have cancer...This was found. Had they not found it? We won't discuss that part. You don't dwell on perceived losses only reality. The focus began.

On the hour I would recite (still do) - I am healthy. I am healed. My results have shown that.

This was my life. I caught myself. I was breathing. Hell, I even felt good.

Here is where I tell other Survivors - You have to be your own advocate.

It so happened I was seeing my surgeon - simply known as The Man. As stated previously, he is the director of surgery for Rhode Island Hospital. A Sloan Kettering transfer...read: he's that good.

It's like having an issue on a 757 and you're sitting on the side of the pilot who designed the aircraft.

He knew of my situation - I told him the urgency.

"You work your end, and I'll work this one."

The appointment was moved up 2 weeks. Urgency.

This time I was going under. They found an anesthesiologist. It was cut time. The drugs weren't sedatives but hard core knock outs.

His name was Dr. Bert.

He was reading my chart...."Whoa, you've been through a lot."

A brief explanation and he simply said, "I'm sorry."

He kept reading but continued, "We didn't know back then."

He confessed to being half deaf so he talked a little louder then most. He stuck me, first try, when all others shied away and promptly stood up to leave for a moment.

He wheeled around. "Need anything to relax you?"

".......not yet....."

He turned and walked out, humming. The nurse came in and whispered. "Do you know him?"

"No..."

"He's the Chief of Anesthesiology. He's fantastic..."

She said nothing else, and left me alone.

Another rock star. Coincidence or not I was feeling blessed.

Dr. Bert came back in and wheeled me down the hall while wailing out the song "Amazing Grace".

I had just previously accepted the feel good stuff. "This isn't a funeral," I slurred.

He chuckled. "Thumbs up if you need more sedative."

I don't remember what happened next.

Resection was the easy part for me. I am used to cutting things. You do what you have to do. The pain is always temporary(ish).

Be your own advocate...I called the office days on end. No results to be had.

Finally, the admin simply said, "Call back Monday."

Monday 9 am, I found out the office was closed.

Tuesday 9 am...I left what had to have been my eighth message in 7 days.

The call came back at 10 am. It was the admin again.

"The doctor wants to see you in two to three weeks. Which do you want?"

"What are the results?"

"Two to three."

"Two."

"Ok, he wants to discuss some medications and routine with you."

"Is there something urgent? What's the urgency?"

"No.....not urgent. If it was, we'd have you in tomorrow."

Two weeks it is then.

For now a hurdle has been jumped. My focus is still clear.

I am healthy. I am healed. My results have shown that.

Yet, I am still afraid.

But I am healthy...That focus is greatest of all.

Changes 2015

*Author's note - all embedded videos can be viewed on laptop*

"You gotta be willing to take the hits..."

2015 is here. I salute you for getting here. Hell, I salute anyone who got here.

We don't give ourselves enough credit for the journey. We always want the goal.

Well, here's to the journey...remember to relish each and every step.

This is also the time of year where resolutions abound - I tend to make them as the year goes on but for tradition's sake I'll give it my best shot.

- I will listen more, and talk less
- I will write till I am sick of it then I will write some more
- I will be as fit as I possibly can - sole reason for being there for those around me
- I will attempt to find balance in all things, life, work, and play
- More green veggies
- READ more
- LAUGH more
- SMILE more
- I will keep moving as best as I can. I find moving makes all of the other resolutions easier
- I will be myself to the best of my ability and apologize to no one
- I will give more of my time
- I will work on patience for all things
- I will dream more
- I will say I love you more

These are short list items....most of us have them as a To Do.

As we stand at the precipice of 2015, we stick our toe in the water to see what we are in for - truth is, we have no idea. We find comfort in the fact that will embrace the same old routine as we did last year but if you look back it wasn't exactly the same now was it?

Spread your arms and dive in.

2015 will be ours for the taking. We will own all of the victories and all of the bruises.

We will have patience with the baby steps forward, and we will have hope with the major steps backward.

We will laugh more.
We will cry more.
We will know that we make a difference to one or many.
We will lend a hand and a heart.
We will not ignore a cry for help.
We will know that there is work to be done in life.

We are willing to work on ourselves because the best 'you' that you can be makes this world a place worth saving....

Enjoy your accomplishments.....more to come....2015. Own it.

Have a happy and safe New Year...

I appreciate you and I am thankful for all that you are.

JM

Obsession

I want the future now.

I've often said, especially when someone is first diagnosed, that there is no better time than here or now for medical miracles.

They didn't exist 50, 30 or, for some, even 10 years ago like they do today.

Still, I'm borderline obsessed.

On the hour, I seem to have to remind myself that I'm alive...breathing....thankful.

Still....there's an obsession.

I've had the fallout. I've had the shock. I've had the cure.

What about the scars?

I don't mean what you can/cannot see. I don't mean those squiggly, jagged folds of skin that healed long ago. It's not the stapled areas in your chest or the scar that runs down your arm.

These are what I call, the topical scars. They never go away so I don't fight them. Muscle and hair don't hide them so why bother?

There are other fallouts that I haven't discussed.

I'm obsessed.

Stem Cells. Regenerative properties. Proteolytic enzymes. Hormone therapies. HGH.

I want what was taken from me and I don't care why. I actually don't know why...yet.

But my obsession comes with a price.

My dreams have been invaded with doctors I've never met - All promising me reversal of some of the fallout.

The guilt over the audacity and selfishness of my ask hits the back of my head like a hammer. Those Catholic days are never far behind.

I believe in my heart that the reversal treatments are within reach. I don't want to wait. I don't want go a generation. I want the experiment. I want to be first.

It's as if my Id is in full bloom. It wants what it wants when it wants it.

Then I realize, what a wonderful thing to live a generation more. More guilt. More thankfulness.

The wrestling of 2 halves. Hang on and enjoy or take what I want. It's all mental. All restless nature. Fix it. Do it now.

I have to go back into my mind and strap myself into a hospital bed. Hook in the tubes that stuck out of my side, through my nose, down my lungs, between my ribs...

Walk the hall when one leg couldn't bend because of the glued scar that ran its length. Breathe in a tube no matter how much it hurt.

Online research after online site. Query after query. Doctor after doctor.

Maybe it's an obsession.

Actually, I know it is.

23 Things you didn't know about me...

OK so it all started when I was searching for a good, I mean GOOD, vegan egg nog recipe.

Trust me. Being anti-dairy, anti-meat, all that, doesn't mean I don't yearn for the good ole days, like when I was a kid.

I am always on the lookout for good replacement recipes and I've found, more often than not, those clever vegans seem to come through.

That's when I stumbled onto this blog - http://www.produceonparade.com/

The woman's name is Katie and she is an animal saving, mammogram taking, vegan who lives in Alaska. *Author's note: this is SO begging to be a character in a book.

Anywho, not only does this person seem genuine, I found that she used a unique way to introduce herself by listing 23 things that most people wouldn't know about her.

OK, ok, yes, Facebook LOVES to make a game of 23 Titles You've Read, and 58 Selfie Locations and so on....

Many people know me and my family. Let's face it, Rhode Island isn't just a small state with the most awesome restaurants. It's just flat out small.

Still, I wondered what it would be like to introduce myself this way.

I DO NOT like the spotlight. But my goal for this blog is always to show that we are, in many ways, all the same.

23 things you may not have known about me....

1. I hate to fly. Check that...I used to hate to fly. On a particular air trip across the country, I was virtually paralyzed - then the light came on. I'll never see parts of the world if I don't get over this affliction. Now, I sit near the window seat (not comfortably) but I can look out for a few minutes at a time.

2. I am cryptic. Correct. As black and white as I am on this blog, I still talk in metaphor and riddles. Why? Because it stimulates conversation. Just a habit, I guess.

3. I was lead singer in a rock band. Sure it wasn't at Gillette Stadium but for a year? It was fun to pretend to be a 'rock star'...

4. I always firmly believe, beyond a doubt, that I am faster, stronger and smarter than I look.

5. I am an author - yes, I still get surprised looks about that.

6. I am a three time cancer survivor - This is a fact. And I'm not going for a fourth time.

7. I never had a prom date.

8. I was raised a Catholic but I have replaced that religion with music to fulfill my spiritual needs.

9. I have loner tendencies but I love people.

10. After my dog Yukon died, I don't have it in me to have a pet in my life (I confess to owning two goldfish called Cuff and Link)

11. I love football today, because I wasn't allowed to play as a child.

12. I was a true introvert in my teens. Every sense of the word. People scared me. Although I shed my introverted self in my late 20's, I still hold those traits. They come out at THE wrong time. I am still not thrilled about throngs of people I don't know.

13. I abhor cruelty of any kind - ANY kind

14. Two topics I can't tolerate hatred in, is religion and politcs

15. I do believe my spirit guide is a wolf....macho crap aside.

16. I made THE wrong education decision and the wrong college choice.

17. It took me almost all of my life to discover who I am and, more importantly, allow myself to be that person.

18. The nickname Mad Maz was made up by me after the character Mad Max

19. To further that point, I am told I can be intimidating but I do that to see who will look past it. If they do, they are worth it.

20. I grew up loving Spiderman but graduated to Wolverine in my teens.

21. I don't like horror movies.

22. Someday I want to visit Tokyo.

23. My biggest motivation comes from someone telling me that I can't do something...



That's all for now....no big life secrets or home of the Yeti...Until next time...

Answer The Call

Every now and then I'll get a call to play.

I play ice hockey less often these days. I prefer the solitude of individual routine now. Still, I haven't officially retired from goaltending.

I ask myself why. It's not the late nights. It's not the freezing temperatures at 6 am in the morning. It's not the aches and pains of vulcanized rubber hitting you in the few spots that don't have armor.

Why indeed.

Eleven years ago, I was told I may not play ever again. I may not be able to do what I want to do. Walk. Run. Lift. Whatever.

Five years ago, I thought I was going to die. More scars, recovery, healing.

I was told all of this and yet here I am.

This isn't a reflection in a spotlight. It is an acknowledgement of thankfulness.

To breathe is only part of our autonomous functioning but on certain days, I find myself saying Thank You for what someone may feel is no reason.

I am thankful to breathe. I appreciate being alive. I want to grasp, throw, shout, be physical, stay mental (interpret that as you wish) - all that.

We will say Something Strong....Boston Strong. Planet Earth Strong. We should say Me Strong. Sure it falls as a byline in a bad Tarzan film, but it's true.

Mentally, being much more problematic, then physical.

You may lift 200 lbs, but mentally, you have to hold the world on your shoulders.

You can run 5 miles, but you may still cry yourself to sleep.

There is tragedy all around. Life is for better and for worse. Don't mistake the answer - it's both.

There was a time I was so obsessed with seizing and sensing every moment of every day, I would stay up until the dawn - afraid to die in my sleep. Afraid of missing life.

We seize our moments. We get them in 24 hour increments. Most of us ignore a great deal of what happens around us.

A smile. A wink. A laugh. The wind. Birds...leaves. Sun. Rain. On and on and on.

We concentrate on tasks in front of us - a product of our ancestry to be sure. But even our forefathers would stop to see a double rainbow or the lay of the land. An awesome image burned into their minds and our genes.

We can't change tragedy. We sometimes can't alter cataclysm.

But you are breathing. We are breathing. As long as that happens, then life will continue to happen.

It can be on the road, on the ice, in the fields, in your room - anywhere.

Say what you mean. Give what you can. Move someone else to do the same. It's a simple formula.

The average life of a wolf is only 6 to 8 years give or take. If I retain anything from my spirit animal, then I plan to skew the numbers.

May you do the same...

Taking The Plunge

For the most part, I blog to create a reality that some may not understand. Many instances are inspirational to some, many are simply informational/casual to others.

There is a battle that isn't discussed but, rather, hinted at, glossed over, or scientifically/politically cleansed. It's the ultimate battle - the battle within.

Physical trauma.  Emotional upheaval. Call it what you need to call it. D) all of the above.

I've stated the fact before - The roller coaster ride will start without giving notice and all you can do is hang on.

Maybe one isn't as helpless as that statement rings. But it does ring of some truth.

The range of emotion ebbs and flows from calm to calamity. Pain to healing. Psychotic to well-being.

Some of these emotions are absolutes....then again, you sign the treatment papers that states you will have all of these side effects or you will have none at all.

See? Absolute...

True or false - yes.

A patient turns into the ultimate roulette wheel. Spinning, forever spinning until the ride is over.

Where you stop depends on the minute, hour or day.

Anger - Go ahead....make my day. Who are you and why are you in my way? And how dare you  assume you know what I am going through. Don't ask me to be normal just to make you feel comfortable. Your job is to excuse me while I take it out on you and know that I don't really mean it.

Sadness - Why me? You will see a ripple from your shore to the horizon and you only hope you get to continue to see the sun set and rise. See Anger.

Depression - More why me. What's next in every sense of the word. Sleep can be difficult making being awake more painful. The future isn't what you thought it would be.

Sobriety - This is it. I go forth. I can't do anything about it so I am going forward. Today I am resolute - tomorrow...we'll see.

Impatient - Well? Let's get started. You've been threatening me since Day 1 so let's dance. Let's go. I have a life to lead.

Bravery - Head held high, you aren't taking me down. Attitude is everything. Mine is just fine. Bring it.

Fear - I know nothing of what you tell me. And the internet has everything from real life medical publications on my disease to places where voodoo is still practiced. In fact, all of this is witchcraft to me. Stop it from spinning.....just stop it.

But the wheel continues to spin. There are hundreds of shades to every inner thought. Too many avenues to take and too many tributaries being formed to keep it all straight in your head.

There will be moments of calm in the eye of the storm. Today you step forward an inch little by little until at the end of the day, you are across the hall.

Don't bother looking back - you are HERE.

Survivors who thrive today live their new normal. It's not even 'new' any longer - just normal. Their normal. Our normal.

Maybe that's why, after the plunge, the air tastes that much sweeter when you break the surface.

Thriving not Surviving

Eleven years running.

This is literal and figurative.

Eleven years, I've had to take a stress test because of the heart condition caused by radiation therapy.

Two nurses, and one technician later, I was launching off the treadmill. This, too, is a literal statement.

It's a tricky maneuver. You have to jump, electronics and all, to the resting table, flip on your left side and get your arms out of the technician's way so that they can get the all important heart picture while it's pumping hardest.

Eleven years.

This time was a little different, however. Voices, dialogue, all commonplace in my head as the nurses chittered on, sorted themselves out until one voice whispered through.

A fragment of texted conversation slipped through the barbed wire and murmured to me.

My friend and fellow survivor, Ali, poignantly pointed out her disdain for the word survivor.

"I prefer thriver..."

Those words echoed as I threw myself onto the table, with a waiting sonic wand being pushed into my ribs.

Since the first patient with cancer was diagnosed, we have all been tabbed as survivors - People who held on just long enough for the storm to pass.

Some more than others. It's as if a prophet spatters you in paint, showing you to the gods as one who has been afflicted. You've been compromised. You have the scarlet letter.

All true? Perspective.

I will sip from this cup. I have my days of doubt, more than some, less than others. But I am thriving.

As the saying goes, I am not just strong for my age, I am strong.

I can move.

I can think.

I can work.

That's not surviving. That's thriving.

We aren't hanging on. We aren't digging in waiting for the tornado to pass by any longer.

The day you walk out of the doctor's office, the hospital, the treatment room - you are replanted. You are back in the soil of life and you have a shot to thrive.

Circumstances change? Possible. Then you replant yourself again. And again...as many times as it takes.

Look in the mirror. Show yourself how strong you are. You may see yourself in a new light - someone staring back that you've never seen before.

Be angry. Curse.

Smile.

The nurses handed me some ice water. I stared at my time on the treadmill and guzzled. Sure, someone can do better. I don't care.

Many do worse.

Me? I am too busy thriving...

Fear and Motivation

Cringe as some people may, there are few things in the world that motivate more than fear.

Fear of failure.
Fear of rejection.
Fear of dying...

As a survivor, I've lived with all sorts of fear. Many of which most people share. We've all been in a fearful place.

What we sometimes won't admit is that the fear itself motivated us to do something.

It's fight or flight. No wrong answer.

There is no sin in living for another day.

I've learned, or should I say continue to learn, to use my fear as a positive.

Fear can be the worst kind of constriction there is. Perspective is the judge.

A doctor who presents life and death before you.

A plan to treat you that can be construed as cruel torture.

Suffering until your innards can suffer no more.

That's real fear.

The perspective weighs in when your other worldly life presents the common fears in a different light.

Standing before a crowd.

Failing on your first attempt.

Afraid of the results from personal change.

Fear? Maybe. Perspective says it's not the same.

Don't suffer in the name of fear but succeed instead. At this moment, you can have that choice. Change the situation. Fight out of the corner that fear put you in.

Easy? No. Motivating? Yes.

Getting out of bed to run in the rain. Lifting until you hear a pop. Fear motivates me to move beyond what I thought I could do.

Writing a chapter to be the artist I know I am.

To not be afraid to tell people you love them.

What do you fear? And what happens when you react to it?

The crime is to do nothing.

Learn to do it. Do it now...

I Am Another Person

Racing legend Jackie Stewart once said, "When you put the visor down, you become another person."

I've been seriously thinking. It is time to up my game.

Do I really know if any of the changes I've made in past years is doing anything for me? Is it time to do more?

Today was a typical spring day. There is still a chill but it fades quickly in the morning now.

Spring holds a sensation of promise. There is renewal, literally, in the air.

I am always filled with sensations of yesteryear. Spring was a harbinger of summer. I would break out my baseball glove to take in the smell of broken in leather. Freshly cut grass was the world's cologne and clouds would hurry out of the way to give you the best blue sky you have ever seen though you saw the same sky the previous day.

Today was also Survival Clinic day.

I remove my work tag from my hip when I walk in because in a hospital people associate anyone with a photo tag as an employee.

The clinic always makes me jittery for one reason and one reason only.

I was the first to open their door today. Ten minutes later, the flock of children began.

I've documented the clinic in the past but I can never get used to it.

One year olds. Two year olds....etc. The parade continues - All balding or with no hair showing scars that run up the back of their naked skulls. Multiple tubes on multiple poles sustain them.

I'm the enigma or at least I feel that way. Nervous parents shoot quick glances wondering where, if any, is my child.

It's just me. I try to shrink in my chair.

A flock of bald boys hound one of the workers for the Spiderman House. Another wanted his mom to reset his video game for him. Still another sat in his stroller, wilted, his eyes barely staying open. He may be 5 or 6 years of age but he barely weighed 20 lbs.

A teenaged girl wheeled her way around the room in her wheelchair - All of this in a room no bigger than 20x20.

Chaos. Desperate chaos. Parents faking small talk. Children trying to be themselves.

I had no phones to play with. No technological distraction. I was thankful for that. I did it purposely. I find it cathartic to severe myself from the world even for a little while. This is what's real to me.

Still, I found myself looking out of the window. I followed a trellis made of pipe where starlings were hopping from point to point, heedless to what is going on inside.

One particular bird was busy ruffling its feathers over and over. He sat above a small roof paved with smooth gray and beige stones. I tried to find the flattest one for skipping along an imaginary lake. This takes up my time as more children poured in.

It was finally my turn. They called the only Joe in the room. As I slid my way around the large table filled with an enormous puzzle and a quizzical little girl who was lost in what must have seemed an infinite amount of pieces, I tried not to interfere with all of the play. Truth is, I tried not to step on the tubes, wheels and strewn clothing. I was the odd puzzle piece here.

I was sharing their world but I felt like an outsider. I am always reminded of how my parents must have felt when they took me to the clinic.

It was a long survivor conversation. Again, questions abound but it is all good. I am doing the right things. I am asked to tell others about it at some point. I have testing to perform for next level conversations. Always vigilant.

The nurse practitioner kept talking but my mind was elsewhere. The children get to me. I damn myself for thinking some may not make it to their next birthday. Many can't comprehend the precarious position they are in.

This fuels the nagging thought I've had about what is 'enough'. Can you make a difference? Can we change it all in the end?

Some days I say yes. Emphatically, yes.

Other days, I trip. In my head, I wonder. Lift your weights. Eat your greens. Run like crazy. Rinse. Repeat. All for what?

The children really had gotten to me. They always do.

Tomorrow, I will resolve to do it all better. Tomorrow, I will be a different person. It probably won't be noticeable. Deep down, I will feel the kick. It's a low tremor. All tomorrow.

I know within the changing tides called Me there are more untapped resolute feelings to expose.

I told the NP that viewed me today that I won't know if any of this works for another 47 years. The brings a smile to her face per usual.

I may have to be a different person to keep going. The only way I know how to do that is to put my visor down.

Change

Change.

Everyone deals with it every moment of every day.

Some plod through everyday changes that don't affect the sun from coming up.

Others deal with change on a cataclysmic level.

Survivors do both but change represents a resonating ripple that never stops. It's a twang that pierces and reverberates throughout our lives.

So much so that any change, good, bad, ugly or indifferent, marks a stress that is hard to describe. I am sure there is a psychological term for it but that is irrelevant.

In the darkest of days, replete with pain, nausea or worse, survivors rely on routine and comfort points to pull them through. The simplest items such as a favorite TV show at the regular time or the cacophony of crickets on a spring evening can mean being above or below the line of sanity. A simple tune on the radio can mean salvation or a tumble into despair.

When those dark waters ebb, change still reverberates.  It still clangs within our minds. Fear's flame never truly snuffs out. A new school. A new home. A new job. A new life. Fear. There are no comfort points to hold onto.

Survivors struggle to free themselves into a brave new world. Those that take a step, are loathe to make mistakes or venture too far. Some even fail...

Change. Always a constant in the universe.

But there are many who swallow their fear and push outside of their realm. They will take cues from those before and "just do it". The are truly naked and afraid but in their tremble, they seek to put their steps in another arena.

Change can bring about a sense of normalcy. There is a small bravado that comes with conquering the fear of the unknown.

I grew up an introverted loner. The world was scary. It still is. To this day, I will not watch the news. New people, places....all long shadows that cast over me to this day. They lay hidden. Lying in wait. They will not influence me like before but they are still there.

Change can be a sugar. Sweet. And you once you experience any change, you will start to crave more.

Many survivors never learn this. I know many who have.

I salute them and I walk with them in spirit.

This is who we are. We can make a difference in this harsh world.

And we welcome the change...

On My Own

"I don't have to see you for a full year....get out."

Those were the words of my oncology surgeon. I am now moved from 6 month scans to waiting a full year.

Like most survivors, I am not sure how I feel about this. It is the best of times and, can be, the worst of times - in my head.

The checkpoint was comforting. Who, today, has a team of doctors that poke and prod to be sure they are on top of any circumstance?

Call it a safety net.

Now it's a whole year.

I know - this is a good thing. In May, it will be 5 years from my last bout. I am doing what I can so that I can make it 50 more years.

Still, I can't afford taking anything for granted. It's another year of battling weight gain, ditching sugar, running, gyms, aches...

Waking up every night for no reason.

Shooting pains on strained muscles...pulls, twitches, sprained fingers...all of it.

Just thinking on it makes me tired. And, yes, there are days I am oh so tired.

Is it worth it? Ask in 40-50 years. I hope to tell you yes.

Don't let anyone, me included, fool you - it is hard.

I am a creator. A writer. Though I have few channels for my creativity, I still push off using them. I want to sit, sleep, think, sleep more. I think they call this depression. It's a constant battle. Stay still and sip on time. No more big gulps.

Don't worry, I always win, but the days get long and the nights grow shorter and shorter. Thinking is more tiring then running for me.

The mind never stops. And I hope that it never will. The only constant is turmoil.

It has been misdiagnosed as ADD at times. Paying attention is not my strong suit. Focus is a struggle. I want to tell them it isn't that I don't find what they say interesting. It's that I have full conversations colliding in my head. Dialogues that never end. Scenes of real life that never cease. I have learned to nod....a lot.

Now how do I get stronger when men my age prefer a beer and a larger belt? How do I get leaner, and yes, maybe meaner? How do I fend off cancer?

I don't find other bits of life trivial. Then again, yes I do. Stress needs to be mitigated but sometimes stress keeps me going as well. The job has to pay the bills, the job be damned.

Moving forward and always looking back over my shoulder.

What have I missed? What was stolen? Can I get it back? Can't I have another hack at life?

I think I can.

Can I remake myself?

I think I can.

Hard. So very hard for me to do so. Someone do it for me. Please?

I once wrote a story in 5th grade about a soldier in a war. The line I put down that caught the teacher's attention was, "I kill to survive, and survive to be killed."

So much to think about.

Looks like I have another year to do so.

Ready, set...re-set

*Note to reader - I am not a certified trainer or nutritionist. I do what I do and eat what I eat based on years of research and, sometimes, painful trial and error. Please take my thoughts as just that - my own thoughts.

It is usually this time of year that I get many questions. It's my intention to put down my thoughts for 2014, controversial as they may be to some.

The following is in response to the queries I often get and my perspective on those questions posed to me.

Resolution -

1 her resolution not to smoke: intention, resolve, decision, intent, aim,plan; commitment, pledge, promise.

2014...Resolutions abound. It is at year end where we all decide change is imminent. Truth is, change is always imminent. Not a moment passes in which change hasn't happened.

As the year closes and the new year takes hold, know this truth - Negative change is coming. Positive change is up to you.

Okay, before the emails, IMs and FB messages start in on me about negative change, let's be realistic. What you view as a negative may not be so negative to someone else. A hangnail and hornet sting are two different types of pain. Negative can all be in perception. Yes, we all have our tragedies, both great and small. They happen and can't be avoided. Take note of this and remind yourself whenever negativity hits you, you will hit it back and hard.

My emphasis is on the positive. We can wait for positive change, check our Powerball tickets and hope for the best. Or we can force the positive. Daily if need be. The aim of this article is to force positive change from within. It all starts there...

Here are my thoughts on...

Smoking.

I'm not talking about what Native Americans had experienced in the 1700s. Today's smoking has no health benefit. Period. If you need studies, upon studies, then you are addicted. If you stand in the rain, the snow, the fog, or the earthquake at work to have a cigarette, then you are addicted. If you find it hard to simply walk away - then you are addicted.

But Joe. What about alcohol? Bad food? Smog?

True. All of these in bunches are just as harmful. But know this - if everyone quit smoking, then maybe some of the pollutants of our era would be less tolerated.

Now don't go all ga ga on me about beer, wine, etc etc. I am not the Health Police. I am not slapping Molsons from everyone's hand. Your twinkie is safe. And the person who ran his finger through the frosting on the cake was probably me. Do I believe in moderation? Damn right I do. Trouble is, most of us don't know what moderation is.


Sugar.

Our ancestors knew the difference between bitter and sweet. It's engrained in our DNA. Our instincts still love fat and sweet. We needed the energy, both stored and burned to survive. Our cultures have twisted this into the cravings we have today. With sensory overload, the addictions and cravings are still there.

Can you break this cycle? Sure. I am a recovering sugar-holic. As a teen, I would take out a spoon and scoop the white stuff out of my mom's sugar bowl to eat it raw. I would have Cocoa Pebbles with chocolate jimmies on top. No lie.

Does processed sugar damage you? Yup. If you ween yourself off you will find that the lure isn't as great. I've come to appreciate the treats I do have. It is never easy but certain items like candy bars and snack cakes are easy to avoid. If I do go off the wagon, it is usually around a celebration or holiday and even then, my body tells me when enough is enough. The bang is no longer worth the bite.

Vegetarian.

To be clear once again. I am a vegetarian who eats eggs, fish, but no dairy. Go figure. This decision didn't happen over night as some may have thought.

After my heart surgery, I panicked. Plain and simple. I gobbled, no pun intended, all of the nutritional information I could. I had to get better. I couldn't die this young.

http://www.ornishspectrum.com/proven-program/nutrition/

Dr. Dean Ornish had a radical plan. I bought into it. He not only removed processed fat from your diet but he removed ALL fat. His theory, which was slightly radical at the time, was to 'starve' a body from fat so much that heart disease could literally be reversed.  Backed by years of study, I had to attempt this approach even just from my mental state.

Talk about hard. After many months, I settled down. Radical as this change was, and a promise of what it could do for me, I had to look at what my body really needed. Fats are what our bodies need. In our sheltered worlds, this has a different meaning. Fat was where you found it. It roamed for miles over a landscape. We chased it. We hunted it. We died for it. Now? We reach for it, packaged neatly in cellophane.

As for being a veggie head? This took place not as a dare or snap decision. I cut various components out of my diet one at a time. Now? I ask what, if any, bang does my next bite give me. Truth. Next time you eat something ask yourself, nutritionally, what is that food giving you? Is it fresh or out of a can? Is it green? Does it contain more than 6 ingredients? Are any of those ingredients actually living things or are they chemicals?

Let me know what the answer is...

Joe, you have such will power.

All in the motivation. I've had cancer 3 times. Part of the treatments from those incidents had a doctor play Aliens in my chest.

I don't want to say it's easy. But I know a majority haven't gone through major health issues. Your motivation will be more difficult. Your own gun has to be placed at your temple. But I do beg you to do so. I know we are all born to die. But who said it has to be on someone else's terms? Men who hit their 40s and decide it is better to have 6 beers rather than do 6 miles. Women who think that once they are tabbed with 'Grandma', it's only a matter of time. Nonsense.

I was 220 lbs in Highschool. I am 162 lbs today.
I wrote my own abs challenge when I grew bored of doing the official challenge for 2 months.
I am still slow but I run longer at my age now, than I did when I was 27.

None of these are opinions. These are my facts. Motivated? Yes. My family and friends need me. I am no male model. I am just a person who is going into life kicking and screaming. If that is a role model then sign me up.

Don't ever be afraid to amaze yourself...you wouldn't believe how many people are simply afraid...

I can't run. I don't have time for the gym. I can't do all that. 

Don't run. Walk. Walking starts it all. Then push yourself. Walking can turn into jogging. Jogging turns in to running. Running turns into High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT).

Don't count the number of days that have passed. Just know that tomorrow, you are at it again. This is the new you.

Get an exercise ball and some dumbbells.

That's it. Start it. Start it slowly. Just do something everyday. Lift a little. Move a little. Every brick helps build your wall.

You don't need to find a track and run 10 miles your first go. It will only frustrate you. And that's the key to the life change. ELIMINATE WHAT FRUSTRATES YOU. Seems simple doesn't it?

You want to lose weight? It took me years to get where I am today. That's not a discouraging comment. What it means is that this is a lifestyle change for you. Look at what you eat, eliminate items, one at a time, and GO. Sooner than you realize, this is how you do things. There is no turning back. You won't want to anyway.

You want time to exercise? If you can't afford a treadmill, then get a 5.00 jumping rope. 20 minutes later, you are done.

Can't afford a juicer? Understood. They make these things like something paid for by NASA and built to land on Mars. Purchase a couple of bottles of vegetable juice, and experiment. Just one glass a day...

But Joe I have to make time....yes, yes you do. And here is the biggest stumbling block for most people. Invariably, this is a selfish act that benefits those around you. It is all for you. But the bennies that you give off are for everyone around you.

You are healthier, more energetic. You can 'keep up'. Mentally, you are sharper. You will tackle on subjects you may have shied away from previously. You can take care of others now that you are taken care of. Finally, you will know the difference between feeling okay and feeling damn good.

It all starts with baby steps.

Maybe there is negative change on the way. There are also thousands, maybe millions who would switch with you and the choices you will face. Be thankful you are alive and make your positive changes now. They are heavy sandbags against the tide. Stack them up. Each one counts. Your wall begins now.

At midnight, make a toast to yourself. 2014 is here. You are one baby step away from changing it all for the better....

Have a happy and healthy new year.

JM

Thoughts 2013

I might as well get it out of the way - I don't think Christians have sole possession of "good will towards men".

I think Christmas should be the true Earth Day.

Sure we all go out and plant shrubbery in April but the true Earth Day is now.

Everyone. Atheists, Muslims, Christians, Jews, Orthodox Sesame Streeters, penguins...you name it.

One single day. One day.  We all lay down our arms. We all make peace.

"Enemies becoming friends, when bitterness ends" - Faithless

That's the goal isn't it? Commercialism be damned.

For once, the alien races will look down at us not in laughter but in unity.

One day. That's all it takes.

Today's wind was biting. It's a balmy 40 degrees, but I felt compelled to take my HIIT training outside just mainly so I can breathe.

I confess to being bedeviled by thoughts of aging, dying, and time...how much is left? You can quickly cast them aside by breathing. It is proof that everything works.

You get shaken now and again so go out and prove that you are alive. Try it. You will see.

In this year of reflection, we often forget that it was "a year" to actually reflect upon.

We scratch and claw through our common lives daily. So much so, we forget that on our yearly birthday, we shouldn't count how many years are behind, but the fact that we got here in the first place.

It counts. We made it. And yet some have not.

This is a club, People. It's not solely for those who survive diseases but for those who survive life. Sure we forget. Well, here's a great time to remember.

Always remember...

You got here.

Someone probably helped along the way.

Someone new will help you in the future.

You will go it alone...and that's fine.

You won't be alone for long...

Remember Earth Day...we are united. We are thankful. We are strong in the knowledge that nothing in the known universe will stop us from simply surviving...

To all those I have met in 2013 and beyond, may you find peace during this season. And to all of those I have yet to meet?

See you soon...

Reminders

Stark reminder.

I always take a mental inventory of where I am at. That's everything - Mental, physical, spiritual...everything.

As I get older (Author's note: yet, still stunningly handsome), injuries mount and I tend to do things differently to remain on my feet, so to speak.

This year has had it's moments. In between testing, there are bad knees, hip pointers, pulled this pulled that. I'll take it all and you have to keep the perspective in check.

Then someone reminded me.

It has been 3 bouts. I stopped to take that inventory again.

Six years of age.

Then Eight years of age.

Bypass at 37 years of age.

Tumor 3 years ago.

Better than David Blaine. Criss Angel's got nothing.

All I can come up with - WTF. Not a classic line or anything but it fits. It is a reminder. The questions flood back - how many bullets do you have?

Today was a rest day with just situps in the morning. I'll admit it. I pushed harder.

I look at other men my age, and see the spoils of middle age mania setting in. Beers, TV, wings...all happy to slow it down. Comfort is key for haven't we lived to the halfway point? Aren't we due some rest before facing the later years?

I performed the 12th pull up yesterday and felt something 'go' in the back. Now I understand - shoot it up and get back out there - you can't take a play off. There is nary a breather coming. Not when the reminders are always hanging around.

Screw the shrinks.

Anger mounts.

You want a level playing field. Too much to ask?

If it's tilted then I want it tilted back. And now.

After the anger and, yes, the fear abate, then I have to dial in.

Do what I do? You bet.

Does it hurt? You bet.

Am I tired? Yes.

Do I stop?

If I did, all I need is a stark reminder.