When G-d Gets it Wrong

I had two wonderful teachers in nursery school at Cliff Valley, Mrs. Hirsch and Mrs. Weiner. Sharon (Weiner) had two children - Kenny, who was my age, and Vicki a year younger. Kenny died several years ago - from a hearth condition as I recall.

Vicki died today, from cancer.


G-d got it wrong this time. For parents to bury not one, but two adult children, is heartbreaking.


A few days ago, knowing her fight was nearly over, she wrote the following. Over 200 people responded before she passed away and her husband mentioned that he had read most of those comments to her.

This post from Vicki and the comments that followed it, are among the most moving things I've ever read. You can see more at http://www.vickihamersmith.com/

From Vicki

Hello to All My Family and Friends,

While I simply can’t thank everyone by name, I did want to express my deepest and heartfelt gratitude for all the calls, e-mails, text messages, thoughts of prayer, and overwhelming support I have received over the last (2) years.  I cannot begin to tell you how much each and everyone has meant ot me.  It is necessary for me to rest and save my strength for my Family, whom I have devoted my entire life.  As a result, we have set this up to allow a central site in which comments can be posted.  I will try to read them all; however, please understand I simply cannot respond to them.  If I can, I will post more.  It is important that you all know that I have tried to live every waking moment in an exemplary manner, one in which will both inspire and motivate to do good. I truly feel that I have made a difference and left a lasting impression both in my professional life and to those I have touch in my private one, especially my immediate Family, Steven, Sofie, Cameron, and Kasey. I feel most proud of the job I have done with my children and have always tried to give them unconditional love and admiration.  I am certain they know that and hope the lessons I have taught them will serve them well.  They are my pride and joy and cannot adequately express the love I have for them.  To my husband, I love you with all my heart and thank you for being my “everything” for all these years. I also want to tell my Parents thank you for always being there for me and making me the person I am.  To my close friends, family, and people of faith in my life, thank you for helping me during these difficult times.  If my time here is short, I want everyone to know that I love them, will miss them dearly, and appreciate all they have done and will do for Me and my Family.  With Sincere Love and Gratitude, Vicki.

Live From the Chemo Room #15

As Huey Lewis once crooned, I Want a New Drug. And just like Huey, I am switching my bone-regrowth elixir to something called Xgeva, which according to one person on staff here “we must’ve gotten a good deal on because it’s our preferred drug.” I found that funny, then disturbing, then funny again.  Dr. Z tells me it’s better because it’s a shot, not an infusion. 

I also met Nellie today. She has small-cell lung cancer, the kind you can get without being a smoker. She came over to me because one of the other patients in the waiting room told her I was an author. She’s not doing too well today, but I’m not sure if that’s a temporary thing or a bigger deal. She’s been fighting for 2.5 years. The cancer is gone from her lung, but it keeps coming back elsewhere.  She asked if I go to church, and invited me to come to hers, a Church of Christ location in Buford, GA, which I imagine means lots of fire and brimstone.  I’m thinking about it…

Otherwise, things have been good lately. It was great to have a family Thanksgiving with my dad and Marcie's folks, and then to spend time with my cousins on Friday, just like old times, only everyone else seemed much older. Funny how that happens - to other people.

Living Solid!

I have friends at SunTrust. They're good people, not just good business partners. Case in point:

Jeff gets a blow dry
for no apparent reason

Kelli and Jeff are my main direct contacts. Another member of their team at ST named Samantha  recently started chemo treatment and lost her hair. (If you're reading this Samantha, I've got a few good lines about chemo and hair loss in my book and there's a copy on the way to you.) So Jeff and several other guys on the team shaved their heads. It's fair to say that some had less to shave than others, but what an incredible gesture! 

People often ask "how can we help?" Well, the folks over at SunTrust did more to brighten Samantha's day than any amount of driving, cooking, or puke-bucket holding ever could have done. 

Solid guys, very, very solid!

Surviving and Thriving

If you've read my book, you've heard of Dawn, who's going on nine years as a survivor of colorectal cancer. Dawn's my hero - she's the one who taught me the valuable lesson that Stage Doesn't Matter. Her cancer was Stage IV and had metastasized to her liver. I used to think that meant certain death. I was wrong.

Dawn not only survived, she has thrived. It wasn't easy, but today Dawn is healthy, happy, full of energy and a tireless supporter of the Colon Cancer Alliance's Undy 5000 run. She was the top fundraiser this year, and was the top female finisher among the survivors who ran this past Saturday. As she said after the race, given her stature, she has to run twice as many steps as most of the other runners, including that tall guy next to her, the one who was the fastest male survivor in the race. Nice legs on that guy, I must say.

Way to go Dawn, the members of Team Blue is the Next Pink, and all of those who helped us raise over $100,000 in the Atlanta Undy 5000 race this weekend!

Memory Lane (aka I-16)

Danny (left), me, Luis, and Dave

The weekend in Savannah was a huge success. I pre-celebrated my cancerversary with three of my oldest friends as planned. Despite a general lack of preparedness and over the concerns of more than one of our wives, we all started and finished our half-marathon, more or less as planned (meaning vertical).

On the drive down, we hadn't even made it a mile down the road together before we'd slipped back into our youth, as planned. We laughed about lines from old movies, stupid things we'd done in our teens, teachers we'd disrespected, girls we'd dated (except for Luis - we did not laugh about any of his girlfriends since he remains married to all of them), career choices we've made, places we've lived, and, at least by Saturday afternoon - running related injuries we'd recently suffered.

We walked through beautiful but breezy downtown Savannah, enjoying those extra few cobblestone blocks compliments of the one of us who allegedly knew the town best. We enjoyed great meals (also compliments of that same built-in tour guide), ample beverages, the sort of camaraderie I was hoping we'd have, but wasn't sure we could rekindle so easily.

There's not much in this post having to do with Kickin' Cancer's Butt, other than to remind us all, as I was reminded this weekend, that friends matter. I'd encourage any of you to pile into an SUV with your three closest friends from your youth, drive a few hours away, and start running. Or drinking.

Live from the Chemo Room #14

Well this is a first. No visit with Dr. Z, nor with Tawana, his PA. Just vitals, blood work, pee in a cup, and straight back to the infusion room for a little Zometa with an Avastin chaser. Then the real party begins - the drive to Savannah with my 3 buddies for a half marathon (see last post). I'm not complaining, since the $45 copay only applies if you see the doc, leaving more beer money for this weekend.

I am concerned for my friends, since two of their spouses have now reported to me that they are not at all prepared for the race, and Danny even predicted it would be a "bloodbath." All I can say is, as Elizabeth reminded me yesterday, it's been less than I year since I was diagnosed with, you know, metastatic colon cancer, and I'm planning to run the whole 13.1 miles. But no pressure. I'm sure they'll only walk if they really need to...
Look out I-16, here we come!

Marathons that Matter

Life is a marathon, not a sprint - some guy who never ran a marathon in his life.

I have run a marathon, two in fact, along with about 10 half-marathons. Last Sunday, I ran my first marathon relay, teaming up with Mary-Gay, Wes, and David P. to form the team Three Straight Guys and a Mary-Gay. We took second place in the mixed gender division, lagging the leaders by a mere 30 minutes, but besting the 3rd place team by a full 6 seconds. I'd like to think that skipping the 3rd water stop on my 5.5 mile leg made the difference between silver and bronze.

But the marathon I want to talk about is the metaphorical one, not a real one, even though I am running in another half marathon this coming Saturday in Savannah. It's who I'm running with that brings the topic back to life, as in lifelong friends. You see, while Team 3SGAAM-G have known each other for 6 years or less, my friendships with Danny G., David S, and Luis G, easily total over 100 years (or if you prefer, a good 4 marathons worth of years.) I used to go to David's birthday parties when we were 2 and 3. We moved in a few doors down form Danny in 1973, and I seem to recall meeting Luis on the playground at Kittredge that same year.

By the time we were in high school together, we became a foursome. Well, there were others we hung out with regularly too, like Gregg, David C., Paul, Goofy, etc. but if I had to pick the core group, the four of us were it. We had much in common - we were reasonably "good" kids, with dark hair, Jewish (actually Luis isn't, but we passed him off at more than one party as Luis Schwartz from Baltimore and nobody doubted it for a minute). We had our first beers together, followed by a few hundred more. We drove crappy cars to even crappier jobs, then cruised around on weekends, going to midnight movies with one-handed ticket takers and making lists of the prettiest girls we knew, a couple of whom apparently read this blog from time to time.

We stayed tight right through college, with three of us in Athens and David down on North Avenue back when it was safe to walk around the campus. As often happens, we drifted a bit in our twenties, some moving far from home, then we started getting married, having babies, etc. But we all ended up back in Atlanta, 3 of us within a short run of the old 'hood and Luis  about a marathon away, give or take a couple miles. Now we're going to pile into what I hope is a slightly less crappy car and head down to Savannah where I suspect the post-race celebration will be more memorable than the race itself.

I'm looking forward to shuffling down River Street with three lifelong friends, reminiscing about bad teachers, cheap drinks, and whatever happened to all the pretty girls on that list.