Being NED Can be a Good Thing



NED

529 days ago I was told my increasing hip pain was actually a Metastatic Tumor caused by Advanced Lung Cancer which was diagnosed way too late and had already spread to other parts of my body.  My world turned upside down.  Stats gave me 6-9 months.  My doctor told me to ignore it.  1 nasty surgery, 35 rounds of radiation and 16 courses of Chemotherapy later I got the best present I could get considering the diagnosis and prognosis.

Although the original lung tumor still shows up on the CT scan, the PET scan shows no active cancer in it or any previously identified areas. This is commonly called NED. (No evidence of disease) Not too shabby. It's just too bad I had to get it just as I finished my Chemo treatment.  I hold no grand illusions for the future, but every day, week, or month with no spread or evidence of the disease gets me closer to a less debilitating treatment (still doing maintenance Chemo once every 3 weeks). 

The lesson to all of us is that losing hope or being negative is a self fulfilling prophecy for others; not for me and my friends and family.  I am convinced that my positive attitude and that of all those that think about me contributed as much to my improvement as the drugs.  The “miracles” of Hanukkah, Festivus and Christmas are not lost on me. 

Yes, Cancer Sucks, but fighting it as we have has made me (and presumably others) better people with a better perspective of what is truly important in life.  Regardless of what the future brings, I will never forget these things.

Am I Secret Santa, Hanukkah Harry or the Grinch?

Every year around this time I get the same queasy feeling in my stomach. Between the second week of December and New Years I am faced with the same decisions as the year before. Luckily, we have spent the last 20 New Years Eves with the same friends, so that is easy (except for the “where” question).  My real angst comes from the gifts category.  In our house we have Meredith’s Birthday (12/16) Hanukkah (floating) and Christmas (12/25).  Each joyous even has gifts associated with it. That’s a good thing, right? Well, not so much.

In our home, I’m the gift guy. That means accumulating and refining lists, shopping and communicating lists to interested parties.  In years past my siblings, their spouses, Meri and I participated in a Hanukkah Harry slash Secret Santa tradition.  Simple enough, right? WRONG.  Selecting names was stressful as it was an end of Thanksgiving day activity, and not always with all participants. Then there was what to do about the nosey person who wanted to know who had who.  Finally there was the delicate matter of calling the spouse of the person you picked to see what their spouse wanted (for exactly $100.00).  Rarely did anyone just go out and buy the person a gift from the heart or something they thought their person would want.  It got to the point where I suggested we all stand in a circle with each of us holding a $100 bill. We could then pass the bill to the person to our left and just move on.  I mean what was the difference anyway?  What about the spirit of gift giving.  After I insulted my family with that, the tradition quickly ceased.

With that out of the way we move onto telling grandparents what the grandchildren want.  Too often the grandparents neither have the ability, nor inclination to go out and get something themselves so they resort to either money or a request that I select a gift from the kids’ list and get reimbursed.  Next, my siblings want to know what to get for Hanukkah for the kids and pick off any $30 items I have accumulated on the list (or they just get cash).  Finally, we happily get together with our cousins and their kids for Hanukkah.  Again, they want to window shop on my list and repay me or just give cash.  When I ask them for ideas of what I can GO OUT AND GET for their kids, half say cash and some have a few good ideas.  I actually like selecting items for those kids and getting things for them (many items I just order online).

I truly like helping my kids select Birthday, Hanukkah and Christmas presents for their mom.  It’s just too bad that Jackson does not understand why he should pay for those things he chooses to buy.

By the time the vultures (family) have left me with the bones my neatly organized gift list (excel spreadsheet with 7 years of history, prices, tax, place of purchase, wrapping status, holiday name, etc) there is nearly nothing left to put under the tree.  Luckily Meredith cannot be bothered with my anal retentive list and fills in for the kids quite well.  The only items left standing on the list is those with prices greater than my family was willing to spend.

Please understand, I really do like giving gifts to my kids and those of my sibs and cousins. I just want the spirit of gift giving to re-enter the gift giving process.  Why can’t people take the time to really consider what they can get a kid that might even strengthen their relationship and/or be a memorable one from that chubby uncle or pretty aunt? There is no need to involve the kids in the circular passing of $100 bills. It’s not fitting.  So I suppose the real question is am I Secret Santa, Hanukkah Harry or just a Grinch?

My Clique Didn’t Click

Growing up in the 1970’s seems like light years away from today’s world. My kids “virtually hang out” (playdates are way out) with friends via xbox, facetime, Oovoo, Skype and other oddly made up names.  Back then, we were kicked out of the house until dinner time. My life was simply playing with the 3 boys on my block (Steven Roth, Steven Brown and Michael Zweibel). It almost did not matter how much we got along because we are all we had.  Every day after school was the same thing. Basketball or Baseball in the park, tag, or crab-apple fights. “Brown” and I used to actually get into fights, break for dinner, come back and resume after dinner. Pathetic, right?

I grew up in Plainview, NY (actually Old Bethpage). It was a mostly middle class town where just about everyone was Catholic or Jewish.  I couldn’t even imagine what a Methodist or Lutheran was. We had very few minority families. The only black family I remember was named White (no kidding).  As I grew up, I gravitated toward a small group of friends.  We focused on Rock ‘n’ Roll, cars and occasionally girls.  Maybe it was just the late 70’s, but Plainview Kennedy High School was one cliquey place.  Truly exclusionary, where people acted as if their shit did not stink. 

It was around that time that I honed my sarcasm with great precision.  I like to joke that I was the president of the Apathy Club. We had no members, no meetings and no mission.

At JFK there were Jocks, Dead Heads, Burnouts, Rowdies, Choir Fags, Motor Heads and Bookworms (to name a few).  My friends (Mike, Kenny, Evan, Glenn, Scott, Steve and a couple of others) and I moved relatively seamlessly through many of the groups.  I had a girlfriend in the choir. I worked at the School Radio Station.  I played the violin (but gave that up for Billy Joel Piano playing). I avoided getting beat up by the Rowdies thanks to old relationships, and I played in Rock Bands with very many burnouts.  I also learned how to change an engine in a ’66 Mustang thanks to my Motor Head friends.  There were many decent people, but just enough “not so decent” folks to spoil the party.

Ironically, in such a clique-laden environment, I never felt like I clicked with anyone other than my inner circle of friends.  They are truly what sustained me through my adolescence.  Sadly, as the years have passed, our relationships have faded.  Their impact, however, is everlasting.  I learned long ago that it is much better to have a few good friends than lots of meaningless relationships.  My clique may have never clicked, but I still appreciate them to this day.