The stage is set...

Not many things frighten me. Well, thats a complete lie, Im a total baby when it comes to scary movies, haunted houses and yes, even the dark. But thats a different type of frighten than the one I mean to talk about. Getting stuck with needles, what might happen to me, and even the complete unknown don't particularly bother me. But like every cancer patient, roughly two times a year we get to go in to the hospital for a battery of tests to judge how the cancer is, or is not progressing. Then, based on those scans, we map out or course of action for the next battery of treatment, hence why these scans are referred to as 'staging scans'.

These scans scare me, the haunt me, they worry me. Everyone fighting cancer, and everyone who roots for a person fighting cancer hopes and almost assumes that chemotherapy and radiation treatments work. Well you know what they say about people who assume... yes thats right - that they have sexy asses... But in seriousness, I have found over the course of my treatment that naivete' of 'assuming' its working can be a slippery slope from a patients perspective and from the oncologist point of view as well.

It was just over 13 months ago when my specialist at The James, Dr. Biaocchi, (Bi-yolk-ee) had come to the conclusion that since I clinically presented in such great conditions and my current staging scans showed so much improvement we should suspend chemotherapy treatments and come back to the local Dayton oncologist in 3 months to get a check up.

I was elated, overjoyed, thrilled to say the least. I was not only going to have the opportunity to have a normal summer but the chance to be normal, a feeling I had lost what seemed like so long ago. So summer started, and I said my goodbyes to the Oncology department in Dayton for a few months wishing them a happy summer and that I would see them in a few months. It seemed like all the hell I had gone through at The James, the suffering, the pain and the tears had actually paid off in the long run. It was that day that I was so glad to not end my fight months prior. Unfortunately for everyone, we all were a little premature in our celebrations. I didn't make it to the end of summer before being admitted back in to both hospitals.

It turns out the cancer was still actively growing and the good that had come of my stay in Columbus originally, was virtually all for nothing. The cancer had invaded my lung tissues again all the while I was thinking my body was strong enough to fight on its own. I was wrong.

I mention this only because for one, Im petrified of a recommendation to take me off chemo, at least when Im healthy enough, because in my mind the cancer is always growing. But also, the disappointment that comes with the result of "stable", meaning little if any change. I don't think I can express how disheartening it is to know you have put your body, internally, through hell and back and pushing it to its absolute limits for the hope of shrinking of these tumors/cancer cells to find out that 6 months of chemotherapy resulted in little if any improvement. To me, someone who has pretty thick skin and prefers straight shooters (well, actually, I don't prefer straights, or shooters... 2 points for Drew)... getting that result is fairly devastating, because I start playing "what if" in my head subconsciously.

Don't get me wrong, I would much rather have a "stable" result than one of "increased masses, little to no improvement" but we assume chemo will work and, I guess, it is.

I once asked my Oncologist in Dayton, Dr. Nanda - "If the scans continue to come back stable, why don't we increase the chemotherapy - or, moreover, how do you calculate how much to give me" ... Her answer gave me reason to pause...

She said... "Well, you're on the maximum dose. Essentially we figure out how much chemotherapy we can give you without killing you and that's what you get"

Thats a little unnerving

So the stage is set, for August 12th I think, and we always hope for good news and I've generally been fortunate to get that good news... So heres hoping!

When 'thanks' is not enough

When do you say 'thanks'? I say it all the time... When Im at a restaurant and the server brings my food, when someone passes the salt, when the random old lady takes your picture at Kings Island, when the douche bag cuts you off on the highway (followed by 'prick' and a honk with a finger), when you get your hair cut, when someone yells "faggot" out of a moving vehicle, especially when the pharmacist gives me my refills!

Thank you, or thanks, is the simplest expression of gratitude or appreciation so you would think that simple phrase would be enough when wanting to express the aforementioned. Its simplicity is also its problem, at least for me. How do you express your gratitude to the person, or persons, who were responsible for saving your life. Very few of us will ever know what it feels like to have your life saved, and even fewer to know what its like to save a life. Herein lies my dilemma...

For the longest time I have toiled over how to express my gratitude to my Oncologist, Dr. Nanda. To me, quite frankly, she is the reason why I am still living. She's just a few years older than me, and someone I find very easy to talk to. I believe she has a vested interest in what happens to me and she has gone above and beyond what her responsibilities as my Oncologist require. I trust her, and I trust her opinion more than I trust any other physician I have come into contact over the past two years. If you think about that for a second, that's a fairly high number. I know she finds my case interesting because she used me as a case study, which of course I was flattered by, though there was no photo shoot for me to be on the cover which was slightly disappointing. She is the one who sat with me and convinced me that I had to go to Ohio State not only the first time, but knowing my fear of going back and knowing it was where I could get the treatment I needed, convinced me to go back the second time. I adamantly refused getting a bone marrow biopsy because I knew how painful they could be and only agreed, after much persuasion from my mother, if Dr. Nanda would perform the procedure. There have been countless procedures and countless times where she has explained to me in the kindest way, yet most honest way, that I needed to do said procedure/test/etc. but I finally realized how special she was, and how much she really did care about me was when I transferred back to Grandview from The James (the second time i was in columbus) and just out of the blue the second day I was back, she walked in to my room and said "I heard you were back from Columbus and I wanted to come say hi and see how you were doing". She wasn't there for any clinical reason, just to say hi.

I dont generally like to be visited in the hospital, I know how I look when Im there, and its embarrassing enough wearing an ass-less gown that is definitely not Abercrombie branded...

(Im convinced that if Abercrombie and Fitch made a line of hospital gowns - people would flock to them like bees to honey... but i digress) As much as I don't like being visited, her brief visit that day stood out in my mind because it made me feel like Im more than just a patient #395819 who presented with symptoms x,y,z. I was Ryan, I was very sick and I knew from that moment I could trust her to fight for what was best for me no matter what. And she has...

She has gone to bat for me more times than I'm sure I even realize. If you knew some of the other doctors on my case that I see semi-regularly, you would know how intimidating they can be and I certainly wouldn't want to get in an argument with them yet I know she stands her ground and stands up for whats ultimately best for me.

I know that my case is fairly serious, even though sometimes I act though its not, but I have said from the beginning I hope my case can help the doctors I see learn more about my illnesses and in turn be able to forego some of the stumbles we've had in my treatment. I think it's safe to say my case has increased her knowledge with regards to my specific cancer.

She has my unwavering trust, my total admiration and above all, my utmost respect. She is a true professional and I will always be loyal to her. So how do I thank her? I think by letting her read this might be a start.

But there is another person I can't just thank. A friend in the truest sense of the word. To be honest, she can't be my friend when she's family. This person comforted my parents while they were watching their child lay on a table with a tube down his throat, a tube down his nose, machines breathing for him and hoping and praying he would walk out of this hospital. As one of the most emotional individuals I know, she has the courage of 10,000 lions. She came and saw me everyday I was intubated, driving more than an hour each way to get to spend at most fifteen minutes with me, to just hold my hand and talk to me knowing I may or may not have heard her. Knowing that this could be goodbye. After waking up she still visited almost daily, bringing me all sorts of snacks and meals, sending me every card that makes a sound when you open it, watching TV with me and even helping me clean myself after some of my more humiliating times. She did for me when I could not do for myself. What I regret most are the times the drugs I would be on caused me to say hurtful things that I know caused her pain yet, she looked past it and still came back. She's my motivation, she's my strength, she loves me unconditionally through all my faults and no dollar amount could ever repay her for what she has done for not only me, but my family. To say my mother is stoic is an understatement and she keeps her emotions in check, but for my mom to be able to use this friends shoulder to cry on when things weren't looking the best for me and having essentially made up my mind to end my fight - again, is priceless.

Our relationship is more than unique. Its beyond that of a friend, a confidant, a best friend or even le' fag hag... She is loyal to a fault, as hard as it was for her to come see me in some of my worst times, she was there knowing it was going to be painful. Driving herself into massive debt to be there for me. Spending countless hours reminding me that I was going to be okay and making me as comfortable as I could be. Reminding me despite everything I'd gone through, I was still Ryan, and still normal and still had a life to live. I know she's learned a lot from me, but I don't think she understands what a gift she has been to me. Through her I've gained the extended family I never had and the truth is - if I could be half the person she is, have half the integrity, the loyalty and the love she has I think I'd be pretty fortunate.

I mean this from the bottom of my heart:

You are my partner in crime, my companion, my biggest support. I trust you, I admire you and above all you have my unwavering respect . Lauren McMullen, I love you more than you could ever know, and you will be with me always.

So to Dr. Nanda and Lauren....

Thanks

HIPAA

(I wasn't going to write about this tonight, but the more I thought about it, Id save my original topic for my next entry... this topic though has been bugging me so why not briefly write about it)

One thing I am not, is shy and I tend to not become embarrassed easily. I am who I am, and I own it knowing full well somewhere there is a person who probably doesn't care for me for their own reasons to which I respond - to each his own. I don't hide the fact I have cancer or the trials and tribulations that have accompanied that diagnosis. Though I don't hide it, I also don't broadcast it for everyone to know. The people who know, are people who I trust won't judge me for one, but secondly I know won't gossip about it behind my back - these people respect my privacy.

Courtesy of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996, anyone working on my case from a hospital standpoint cannot divulge virtually anything about me and why I am at the hospital. For nothing more than to protect patients privacy. Its a great thing to be able to go to your healthcare provider and be able to be perfectly honest with he or she and get the appropriate care in a timely manner. How would you feel if you couldn't trust your doctor, nurse or other tech/staff member because they might gossip about your diagnosis behind your back? How honest would you be with these people? Would you lose trust in the healthcare system altogether? It might sound silly, but the truth is, there are people who will refuse treatment because their trust has been abused, and their story has been used for nothing more than playground gossip.

Now, like I said, Im not embarrassed by my diagnosis and I don't think cancer is something to be embarrassed about but if you pause for a second and think... Im fairly certain you could think of at least five diagnoses that could be considered embarrassing that you would want kept private.

So seriously - think of five diagnoses that could be embarrassing for you and then lets say, for the sake of argument, you have been diagnosed with the worst of the five.

A good friend of mine who was recently diagnosed with one such illness trusted me enough to tell me about his condition and conveyed how important it was that it remain private but that he wanted me to know and that furthermore I was one of only three people who knew. This friend called me a few weeks ago, sounding bewildered and disconcerted at the same time, telling me one of his friends with whom he had not shared his recent diagnosis had essentially asked if he had plans to start treatment. After a somewhat brief interrogation, it came to light my friends physician, who happens to be "younger" in age had been telling people about his patients who had 'interesting' cases and using names.

I have always been a member in the school of thought that respect for a friend means keeping private and confidential matters just that - confidential. Trust is probably the biggest aspect you can have in any relationship, be it with a partner, a friend or in this case especially, a physician. Without trust what do you have? Not much to me.

Please don't take away my right to tell who I want, when I want, what I want. If I choose to keep certain things private, I do so because I choose to, and everyone should be afforded that luxury. I'm not sure what course of action I would take should my trust have been abused like my friends has been, and I hope I never have to even think about that happening. Needless to say, when I heard about this all I could think of was - I hope I never have my privacy invalidated and treated like I'm a water cooler gossip topic.

I suppose the point of my entry tonight is trust is the most important aspect of a relationship...

Always grateful, never disrespectful

I guess this will be my first blog topic, since I don't really count an introduction and a copy from facbeook. So here goes...

Having been raised by parents in the medical profession, I have always had a somewhat unique view of patients, nurses and doctors and the relationships they have with each other. In the ER it seems there are those who are genuinely sick and need the help, there are those who use the ER as their family physician and then their are the frequent fliers of the world who come in to try to get a quick drug fix.

I wouldn't say the hospital, Grandview, my mother worked at when I was younger was "inner city" but it is in the downtown area and definitely most of the clientele are from the western part of town and I think its fair to say most that come through the ER there are either Self Pay or Medicaid/Medicare. Courtesy of the Medicaid act though, you can't be turned away for service and they have to see you regardless of your ability to pay which unfortunately leads to people getting the idea they can use the ER as a doctors office that just happens to be open 24 hours a day. Moving on...

I happened to be at a rather interesting point in my life/career when I was diagnosed, I had just dropped off my parents health insurance plan but had not yet been able to enroll in insurance at my employer, though it was right around the corner, so in essence I was no more than a Self Pay who just found out he had cancer. Lets be real for a hot second, cancer isn't cheap, a z-pack doesn't make it go away. So to make a long, yet fairly painless story, short, I applied for medicaid the first day of my admission, so when it was approved it would cover everything, and thus far has. People may trash the system, and talk about how its so slow and this that and the other thing, but I tend to think the system is in place to be used by people like me. Since my diagnosis came with a 'total disability' stamp on it too, I was unable to work and medicaid was what I qualified for.

Now before I continue, you must realize, in case you didn't already know - Medicaid "insurance" is not like Anthem, UHC, Aetna, Humana etc. Medicaid pays literally pennies on every dollar billed to the hospital. So outside of a hospital, a doctors office that takes medicaid really sees very little reimbursement for their services.

With that in mind, growing up the way I did around the hospital and seeing how the nurses and and doctors are treated by the patients at times I swore I would never bitch or complain about the care I receive especially since I know that they are getting such little money in return for the services rendered. People tell me it shouldn't matter, but in my mind, it does to an extent. I do have at least one ace in my back pocket, since most of the people at Grandview know my mother I get the benefit of the doubt most of the time, but regardless, when I was at the James I never complained. I am always polite, and I try to not irritate the nursing staff or other techs that are there to do there job, which is to help me. The reality of the situation is, its a job, and like it or not, they are helping you get better. The common misconception though, I think is the word nurse being spelled M-A-I-D. You have to 'do' for yourself. Its not a day spa, and there is no mani-pedi department.

It astounds me how rude patients can be to the people who are trying to help them heal. I equate that to nothing more than biting the hand that feeds you.

For instance, when I first started chemotherapy in December of 2008, I was in the big treatment room and the one nurse who works the whole oncology clinic at Grandview, and who is a saint in my eyes, was delivering lunch to those of us who were receiving treatment that given day. (In case you weren't aware its an all day affair) . I generally don't eat lunch provided by the hospital, something about a rubbery piece of "chicken" breast, jello and steamed veggies just doesn't do it for me, so I politely decline. After the nurse had left though, this woman sitting across from me had the audacity to complain how the hospital was cheating her out of a full meal and the meals get smaller and smaller every time she comes for treatment and furthermore, she thought she was going to write a complaint letter. Now herein lies the problem... Its a free meal provided by the hospital, so the appropriate response is "thank you", not give me more. Additionally you know she was either a self pay, or medicaid so she isn't actually paying the thousands of dollars for her chemo, let alone the 2.99 for her meal she would have been charged. Add to that the fact she had earlier in the day treated the rest of the patients to her lip smacking for 15 minutes while she cleaned the meat off a couple chicken legs and a thigh from KFC she brought in from the night before.

I wanted to reach across the room and hit her upside the head and ask her if she even realized how ungrateful she was being. Im pretty sure there are homeless people on the street corner who would work a full day of labor for that meal but yet she's entitled to something more. That sense of entitlement is one of the most infuriating attributes in today's society. Everybody deserves more and more... But then I realized the actuality of her writing a letter to complain would be one giant 'failure to launch' ... and heres why...

In addition to her ignorance, she couldn't compose a complete sentence if her life depended on it. It is doubtful she knew the address to the hospital, and lastly, would you take a letter written in broken english with crayon seriously? No? Me either.

The point is, I've gone through a lot of painful procedures. I have had giant biopsy needles shoved into my lungs on more than 5 occasions, I have had biopsies that had to be repeated because of poor samples, Ive had my bones drilled into to take marrow samples from, Ive had IV's started more times than I can count, Ive had tubes in every hole in my body - yes, ive been plumbed like an apartment building... (now thats a pretty picture, no?) Ive been poked, prodded, jabbed and jarred... forced to do things I didn't want to do, forced to make decisions I didn't want to make and I've even been forgot about by the nursing staff from time to time, because they were so busy. Yet the truth is always the same, its to help me get better and unfortunately a lot of people lose sight of that very quickly when placed in a hospital scenario.

I don't take the mentality of 'I am a somebody, and will get what I want', I've always been courteous and exceptionally grateful for the care I've received, I've always done what was asked of me and what did I get out of it? My life was saved... on more than one occasion. The ability to keep living is priceless in my book.

My health in a nutshell

I recently posted this on my facebook as a note to share my health with all the people who had been thoughtful enough to send me at least a kind word or two over the past two years. I don't hide what I've been through, but I try not to make a big fuss over it because I know there are people, and one comes instantly to mind, who have had much harder battles than I have. But given the fact I have now 'almost died' 3 times I figured I owed these folks an honest rundown of what I have been through. So this is a copy from Facebook... not too long...

After my initial diagnosis and 2 week stint at Grandview in Dayton I started on chemotherapy and all sorts of other drugs to help me not get silly illnesses (prophylaxis medications). I felt 'good' for a few months and then mid-March I started to develop a cough that became increasingly more prevalent and persistent, additionally my appetite waned and stamina dwindled. On the inside, I knew my body was failing but couldn't quite put a nail on the 'why' so I chocked it up to being side effects from chemo. I was attending a chemo session before I was to leave for a vacation in Las Vegas, could barely walk into the hospital without passing out and naturally I was admitted into the MICU at Grandview while the oncologists discovered the chemotherapy had internally not been as successful as they originally thought and the cancer had spread into over 80 tumors filling my lungs. Unsure as to what course of action to take I was transferred to The Ohio State University Medical Center's Arthur G. James Cancer Center d/b/a The James (or the Jimmy). The story from here goes down hill. I really only remember the first night, when I started to become unable to breathe for myself.
- The next part is all second hand as I dont remember any of this -

It was explained to myself as well as my family that because of the rapid progression of the cancer I could chose to be intubated, sedated, and undergo a rigorous radiation treatment regime set up by my specialist at The James, or, I could chose to end my fight in which the physicians promised me they would make me comfortable until I was unable to fight any longer. They explained if I did chose option A, but they were unable to successfully intubate me or if for whatever reason problems occurred, a 're-intubation' would be extremely difficult and nearly impossible given the damage to my throat. With this information I signed a DNR (do notresuscitate) order for the duration of my sedation which lasted somewhere between 12-14 days) Luckily I made it, and the radiation diminished the tumors by over 65-70 percent and my chemotherapy was switched to a more aggressive version.

I woke up not knowing what had happened or the extreme hell I had put my family and very, very select friends through. My legs had atrophied and my arms could barely move. My hair had fallen completely out and I hadnt shaved in 2 weeks. I looked like I had just won Survivor. How humbling to be fed by your parents at age 25 right? So I spent another 6 weeks at The James before being transferred back to grandview for another 6 week stay in their inpatient rehab unit so I could learn to walk again and function. Even after leaving I was only able to walk on my own for, maybe, 40-50 feet. But as time went on I regained my strength and my stamina. Unfortunately the lung tissue that died with the tumors I wont get back, so I have a somewhat 'limited' lung capacity and walking up more than a few flights of stairs causes me to lose my breath quickly.

Last summer was wonderful after I was released from outpatient therapy. I took several trips to Cedar Point, and of course many to Kings Island then we rescheduled our trip to Vegas for late August which was wonderful. I also was so glad I was able to spend a good chunk of time at Lake Cumberland as well. The part I havent mentioned was that after a visit to my specialist at OSU he decided since I had shrunk the tumors so much, and responded so well during rehab etc I could stop chemotherapy. Could I be so lucky? No.

Mid September rolls around and I start to develop more coughing and fatigue but the inability to sleep - constant restlessness is fantastic incase you were curious. By the end of September I was admitted back to the MICU / SICU at Grandview for 2 weeks while my oncologists strategized what to do since the tumors were again growing larger. So it was decided again, to send me to The James, where I stayed for 2.5 weeks undergoing an extensive battery of tests and biopsies, including 2 open chest biopsies to determine why the cancer was so aggressive. I was discharged and sent home from Columbus with a little oxygen machine to help me get my hemoglobin back to an acceptable range.

Six days after getting back to my home my mother came home to find me in my bed unresponsive and barely breathing... not my first ambulance ride but certainly the first time I had the honor of telling the EMT if she tried to intubate me in the squad I would pimp slap her. From the ER at grandview I spent the next 7 weeks bouncing around all the ICU floors the hospital has to offer while being only one step away from being intubated again since my lungs were just unable to supply my body with enough oxygen. If you know what a high flow oxygen therapy is, thats what i was on. The little doo-dad they shove in your nose isnt the regualr cannula its one that forces your nostrils open as big as they go and then, quite literally, forces air down your throat. Six liters is considered "high" for a regular patient, at max the machine i was on was set at 65. I still got chemo as an inpatient and as such with the high flow O2 my lungs started to rebound yet again and I was finally able to go home.

Thanksgiving meals in the hospital - not so yummy in case anyone was curious about that too... I think I had jello and some reheated skyline.

SO - since then i havent been back to the hospital in an inpatient capacity. I still get chemotherapy every 3 weeks and the effects on me have become more minimal as the sessions continue. I just 'celebrated' my 35th chemo session this past week. I still get tired the day of treatment, but as far as nausea and vomiting its very minimal. My stamina is improving and every day truly does get better.

As far as where do we go from here... Is the cancer better? truthfully, maybe a little. Is it worse? No... so we're currently stable and the course of action for now is to just continue the chemo and let my body continue to fight it and that's what we're doing. 9 months without a hospital stay is pretty good all things considered. I think at one point I counted 165 days as an inpatient in 2009, but 0 in 2010 :-) If you were wondering how much this has cost, (its not a rude question btw, and i dont mind talking about it) - My medical bills are somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.25 - 2.5 million dollars... But im not a self pay so all is well!

That was definitely long - and there are obviously many more details I could get into but thats the important stuff about whats happened health wise with me since Jan 09.

Dancing in the Rain...

At the advice of a friend on Facebook, I decided that I would give this blogging concept a whirl.

For those of you who may stumble across my writings, or at most times ramblings, who don't know me, let me introduce myself to you. My name is Ryan Aubin, I am 26 years old and reside in Dayton, OH. I was raised in a middle class, catholic family whose parents have somewhat conservative views with the occasional liberal hiccup. At a younger age I was heavily into sports, be it baseball, football, basketball or track, my life was fairly consumed with athletic activity yet that stopped in high school when I devoted my time exclusively to music. I had been playing the piano since age 5, and picked up the trumpet early in grade school. Music was always my truest passion and I devoted most of my energy to that arena. Music has taken me places I never thought I would have the opportunity to go, and given me the ability to have experiences I thought were not possible for someone from Dayton, OH to have. Somewhat cliche' I know. I went to Wright State University and majored in Marketing / Advertising with a minor in English. How can you advertise if you can't spell and know the difference between to, too and two, or they're their and there.

My father is retired from the State of Ohio Department of Transportation and currently works as a Radiology Tech at a local hospital and my mother is a Doctor of Nursing Practice. Shes gone from clinical manager to seeing patients in the ER to now teaching and moonlighting in an after hours clinic for a large practice in Dayton. I have one sister who is younger than I am, Jamie, an art major at Wright State as well, she will graduate this winter. I think at times she is lost and perhaps looking for her way. Lastly, I have a dog, Bruno. He is a 10 month old Yellow Lab with a lot of spunk and two pesky little nuts that need be chopped off post haste.

I enjoy the outdoors, I grew up at Lake Cumberland tubing, skiing, wakeboarding. I enjoy traveling and amusement parks, mainly just for the little adrenaline rushes they provide. I don't like scary movies, I do like to read virtually anything as long as its not some self help crap. Help me help you by not making me read your prophetic words of wisdom you wrote while probably higher than a kite. I don't know if I would say I am a picky eater, but I am fairly plain in what I like. I don't usually venture off the beaten path too often.

I feel extremely fortunate to have the friends I do. Plentiful? Hardly. But its about quality not quantity right? Except when it comes to dollar bills, I'll take a thousand scuzzy dollar bills over one crisp one any day. I think, if i really thought hard about it, I have about 5 close friends, 3 of which live close to me. As far as my relationship status goes, I have been dating a guy who is a couple years younger than I am, Drew, for a month now. I think he's pretty special.

I have cancer.

I'm not "A" cancer, I'm actually a Libra but thats neither here nor there. I was diagnosed on December 2, 2008. Its strange because a lot of people Ive talked to can remember the exact date they were diagnosed, although I can totally understand why, it's a fairly earth shattering day in your life to not remember. The cancer I have is in my lungs right now and is relatively contained yet it fills those lungs with what seems like countless tumors. You never realize how important those puppies are until they aren't working right. Not being able to catch your breath without the aid of a machine can be a terrorizing thought. The name of the cancer isn't important, just the what and the where.

I had thought about blogging for a while, before actually taking Alex's advice and starting this but I thought I really wouldn't have anything to write about. The strange thing is, the more I thought about I do have things to say and I would like to share my experiences and thoughts about what has happened over the past few years.

The only thing that has managed to keep me sane through all this turmoil, has been the ability to laugh at what is going on. I have had so many people tell me, including many of my doctors, 'Ryan, you're one of the most upbeat patients I've ever had given all you've been through'. And my thought is this... We all have a finite time on this earth, and we do what we do, and make of it what we will. I happen to know my time could potentially be shorter than most, so why then would I sit in a corner and boo-hoo it and have a pity party for myself? I find pity and other self deprecating behaviors to be not only a ploy for attention, but a waste of time. Instead I laugh and do what I can while I still can because you never know when you won't be able to.

Dancing in the Rain??? Strange title perhaps, the only time I personally would dance in the Rain is if it were raining men, but thats me. I really racked my brain trying to think of a name for this blog, Alex has a cute name for his blog (which Alex, I really do enjoy your blog, its going to make a great movie one day). But I didn't want to be that typical "screw you cancer"or "stickin it to cancer" or even better "keeping up the fight"... Just too typical and mundane. Then I remembered this poem I read at The James... (The James is short for The Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital at The Ohio State University Medical Center) and ever since I read it, it stuck with me, and its on my facebook and sometimes my status so I figure why not. The poem isn't super long, but it definitely relates to my relationship I've had with cancer so to close out this first blog I'll leave you with it...

There once was a woman who woke up one morning,
looked in the mirror,
and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.
'Well', she said, 'I think I'll braid my hair today.'

So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had
only two hairs on her head.
'H-M-M', she said, 'I think I'll part my hair down the middle today'.

So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she
had only one hair on her head.
'Well' she said, ' today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail.'

So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there
wasn't a single hair on her head.
'YAY'! she exclaimed.

'I dont have to fix my hair today!'

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Love simply, Love generously, Care deeply, speak kindly

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...

Its about learning to dance in the rain.