We're one week away from the Super Bowl. For the 39th year in a row, the Vikings aren't in it. Nonetheless, I've watched probably every super bowl since 1968, except for one, and that was the 1999 game with the Denver Broncos and Atlanta Falcons. The Vikings were 15-1 that season (1998 season), set all kinds of records and were the best team in the league. Randy Moss was a rookie and he absolutely dominated that season. You know when I hit 84 months since my diagnosis, I'll use Randy Moss's picture. Sadly, the Vikings hit a bump in the NFC Championship and lost to the Falcons. I just couldn't watch the SB after that. To this day, I hate the Falcons and cringe at any mention of the dirty bird.
This week, all the talk has been about the Patriots using deflated balls. It probably didn't matter, they dominated the whole game and would have dominated with balls at any pressure. Note all this talk of deflated balls has turned many of us back into 9 year old boys, snickering at any mention of balls.
(note, as I am writing this I just saw a Bud Light commercial for Up For Whatever, where a random guy got to be a human pacman. Awesome!! Reminds me why I actually like commercials and at one point in my life wanted to work in advertising.)
Anyhow, what does deflategate has to do with cancergate? Really not much. I just wanted to use cancergate in the title.
I haven't been writing much. I have written about my myeloma burnout. It continues, although it's not so much burnout, as putting my head in the sand. This week I do maintenance chemo. It's the last treatment of this cycle. Later in the week, I'll do my 24 hour urine collection and give half a dozen vials of blood. My kidneys are better than they've been in four years, Physically, I feel great. So I'm fairly certain my labs will be good. Which means we continue on this path. That's all good. I keep doing what I need to do, but my mind isn't into it. I suppose that's good. I think when I do think about, anxiety hits. What's my future look like? Recently I bought a new car. Well a new used car. It was a fricking tough decision. But what a stupid thing to get worked up about. It's a damn car. The funny thing is that now that I've made my decision, I wonder if I bought the right car for me, given my circumstance. My circumstance? That I have an incureable cancer that could ramp up in strength any time. It goes back to the whole thought process....I need to live for today, but also live so I'm good for a long time. And that's probably the reason why I'm putting my head in the sand. Out of sight, out of mind.
Just thinking out loud here. Once in a while, someone I know says something to me about what I've written on the blog and I get little sheepish. Like why the hell I am writing what I write. Why am I spilling my thoughts into this blog?
When I was first diagnosed, I got a letter from a friend of my mom's who was battling the disease. He (Dan) set me a letter telling me what to expect. I was so fricking angry and sad when I was diagnosed. I didn't want to hear from anyone about anything. The anger is gone. Dan and his wife Tib live in Minnesota. My mom knows Tib from the woodworking and art community. They live in Minnesota, my favorite state. I follow Dan on Caring Bridge. Recently they both wrote about how Dan is out of options for treating his myeloma. He's tried it all. Next up for Dan is home hospice. They're starting now. But their post of how they were preparing themselves for the inevitable was absolutely beautiful while also so very heartbreaking. Dan wrote about purchasing cat food and how in his mind, he wondered if he'd be around to see all the cat food get consumed. They recently took a trip to spend quiet time in nature before settling in at home. Dan and Tib are amazing. Dan's honesty is inspiring. But like I said, also heartbreaking. I asked Tib if it'd be ok to mention them in my blog. There's not much I can do from 2,000 miles away, but I wish I could help. The best I can do is send peace, love and energy their direction.
I also want to mention my buddy Brad. He continues to fight the disease with an approach and attitude that I can only hope to come to close to matching. Another case of a person and family that moves me to be a better person.
I've got some work to do. I can't have my head in the sand forever. I can't just keep going through the motions. I must do more.
I never met Arnie Goodman. But from reading the Myeloma Beacon, I felt like I knew a bit about him. He had an amazing outlook and attitude. Arnie passed away this past July. His wife wrote a recent post for the Beacon about Arnie's last few days. It's beautiful and tear jerking at the same time. Please give it a read.