Because I'm cool like that

After receiving a great idea from her sister, my wife went to work and ordered some fantastic wristbands!  Having cancer has its advantages.  

Now I am cool.

Kiki's Gift to Little Man

Customize your own scrapbooking design

Happy Heart

There are many things that make me happy, but the greatest blessing in life is my family.  Seeing my wife and son enjoying a few evening stories gives me a warm, smiling feeling in my heart.  We may not have a lot of money, but we are rich.  

I have a great life.  

Just another reason why I love my wife so damn much...

...she thinks that getting a beef patty with cheese on the walk home is a good snack!

Awesome!

Half a Man

I suppose I ought to start this post with an apology.  It isn't very polite of me to make a major announcement about my health on a blog then not provide any follow-up information.  I am sorry.

Now that I have that out of the way, I will tell you what I have been up to.  First, and most important, I got married!  It turns out that the cute lady I proposed to was serious about marrying me, and we done got hitched.  There was even a small blurb about us in an online article; it was pretty cool.  Some of her family came to town, and some of my family came to town.  It was small, and I loved every second of it because Kim is a fantastic woman.  I would like to say that we had a wild honeymoon, and I suppose in a way we did, but two days after tying the knot, I had a radical orchiectomy.  In layman's terms, I had a testicle removed.

It hurt.

A lot.

It has been two weeks since the surgery, and I am still walking with a small limp.  The pathology reports came back, and I have  Stage 1 Testicular Cancer.  I met with my oncologist today, and he recommends that I have a lymph node dissection.  This is needed to verify that the cancer has not spread beyond the testicle and to eliminate future threats of a return.  Depending on the results of that surgery and subsequent biopsy of the lymph nodes, the chemotherapy treatment will begin.  If the cancer has spread to Stage 2, there will be a more aggressive form of chemotherapy.  My doctor said that I could have the option of doing the treatment at Sloan-Kettering or the hospital right across the street.  This is something worth doing, but it will be hard to give up the easy commute of walking across the street for treatment.

I don't know when this will begin.  Little Man has a birthday next week, and I want to play with him on that awesome day.  I also need to bank some sperm.  This might be Too Much Information for some of you, but I don't care; I like saying it.  I think it is funny--banking sperm.  After all the adolescent jokes I made about sperm banks, I now get to go to one!

On a more reflective note, I have had some small emotional struggles with my recent surgery.  While I have never felt my identity was directly connected to my genitals, having a testicle removed has made me reflect on what it means for me to "be a man."  As much of my study in Religion deals with gender roles and sexuality, I feel that I keep an objective view of gender performance, but losing an essential part of my "manhood" has allowed me to understand the world found outside of the traditional heteronormative society a little bit better.

I decided to not withdraw from school for the semester.  My professors are amazing people that will work with me if I start to fall behind, but I do not plan on letting that happen.  I love college, especially Columbia.  It is a kick-ass school, and my peers inspire me.

 Despite the upcoming difficulties, I consider myself blessed.  I have a beautiful wife who has not complained about the many extra chores she has picked up in my sickness, who never tires of showing love, who is always ready to give kisses and hugs, and who has enriched my life with more happiness than I have ever known.  I have a wonderful son whose infectious energy and excitement allows me to see my world as a giant playground.  I have a relationship with a Power greater than my own that grounds me to a truth of love, compassion, and hope.

The Power of Chocolate

Sometimes I just need chocolate, and when we found ourselves just a few blocks away from Max Brenner's this afternoon, we knew just where to go:

You see, at Max Brenner's, all of your problems are left on the street while you sip, and lick every last drop of, a delicious Italian thick dark hot chocolate.

It is even better when dining with a friend.

But when I start to think about it, Little Man is the real winner because we both got the same amount of hot chocolate, but I outweigh him 10:1.  That would be like me drinking an entire gallon of the stuff... no wonder he isn't asleep for his nap yet.

btw- he finished his entire glass--I am a proud father.

Challenge Accepted

As I have recently received some troubling news from my doctor, the same poem by Edmund Vance Cooke has been circulating through my mind:

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there – that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts;
It’s how did you fight and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t that fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

For the last month, I have had an aggressive growth on my right testicle.  After several blood tests, my doctor has decided to operate to remove the testicle and biopsy the growth to determine what kind of follow-up therapy I will need.  I do not have an official diagnosis, but with complicated jargon, my doctor explained that some form of chemotherapy will be required after the surgery. 

It hurts, and I am scared.  

Part of me wants to pretend that nothing is wrong and live a normal life, but there is another part of me that needs to get life organized to deal with this problem.  Fortunately, I am blessed to be surrounded by loving and understanding people to help me through this problem.  I have a job that is very understanding and will allow me all the time off I need.  My school schedule consists of three seminars (they are great classes!) which requires a lot of reading, but I have a good rapport with the professors, so I do not plan on withdrawing from the semester.  I have a beautiful fiance who is constantly providing me with love and support.  My family is mobilizing to come out to New York and help with Little Man and whatever other needs arise. 

While I have no intention of dying, I am certain that I am going to be thrown around pretty hard, but just as Cooke advises, I will "be proud of [my] blackened eye!"  The silver lining is that my family is healthy--I don't know what I would do if Little Man had this diagnosis.  I have the makings for a fantastic graduate school application (who wouldn't want a student that battled cancer while attending classes full-time?).  My new health insurance through Columbia will cover most all of the expenses, and I live right across the street from the hospital, so I won't have to deal with traffic or the subway in my commute.

I am scared, but I am also strong, confident, blessed, and ready to fight!  This challenge has been accepted! 

Toby

This is Toby:

Toby is a good dog.  We adopted him from a shelter in Syosset, and he is now part of our family.  There are many things that we do not know about Toby.  We do not know his birthday, his age, why someone left him tied to a tree, what his previous family was like, and why he loves other dogs so darn much.  However, there are many things that we do know.  We know that he is very sweet, he loves to eat all his food in under 30 seconds, he loves the dog park, he likes balls, and he will always have a home with us.

We also know that Toby loves his big/little brother.

They like to tease each other.  When Toby is asleep, Little Man will shout "TOBY!" to wake him up and then run away.  When Gabriel is asleep, Toby will bark and try to pull his pillow away from him.  They will chase each other around the house, and it is impossible for Little Man to walk past Toby without getting kissed or pressed against the wall in a big Rottweiler hug.

We love our Toby.

The Boys

Little Man loves the new dog, Toby. However, he is no match for the affection of a growing Rottweiler, so he finds safety on the table.

I love these boys!

It's Getting Closer!

I know that this picture is blurry, but I still love it. I was a little reluctant to go to Rockefeller center last night as there are constantly large crowds this time of year, but I wanted to show Little Man the big tree, and seeing his excitement made the trip worth it. The tree is up, the stockings are hung, the music of the season is always playing, and there is a lot of love in our little apartment.

The boy loves his Jamba...

Even on a cold day, he still loves this stuff.

Dessert!

The Sufi Path

Reading the “Poem of the Sufi Way” as the final work this semester, seems the most fitting way to end a course that captured the varied life experiences of these ancient mystics.  From Rabi’a to Ansari, the philosophies and practices of numerous Sufis came to life in al-Farid’s prose.  From this poem al-Farid connects all Sufi fraternities into one great whole; there is no separation of belief, just separate methods of expression.  Perhaps the most compelling stanza in his poem is found on page 141.  Stanza 237 reads:

For after I fought, I witnessed

      that he who made me see,

             my guide to me, was me—

                               me, my own example.

The first line implies a struggle against some force.  The opposing force is not defined as each Sufi will encounter their own struggle in their own time.  Whether that struggle comes in the form of power, wealth, fame, hunger, abuse, or even a lack of faith, each person on the Sufi path will only have a witness after they struggle.  It would appear that the victory over the struggle is not the important part, for there is no mention of a win, but the glory is found through the tribulation and not around it.  This means that the seeker must come to accept what is placed before them and not try to avoid it or become something that they are not.  The Sufi must not only accept the world in which they live, but they ought to also forge through the obstacles that stand in their way.

            The line “that he who made me see,” implies the existence of a force outside of oneself that has significant power over the individual.  To force one into seeing something that was not already known reveals that the revealer comes from beyond the realms of the known world.  When the seeker acquires the knowledge that can only come from beyond the known realms, they have transcended into a new sphere of existence.  This transcendence is a true religious experience as they are now left to interpret the unknown witness into the known language of those that surround them.

            Al-Farid reveals the revealer in the next line: “my guide to me, was me—“.  This captures the Sufi principle of union between the Creator and the creations.  When one moves beyond their profane knowledge into the realm of the sacred, they have joined with the source of all knowing.  This line also shows the importance of the individual along the path to attain union with the divine.  While there may be many fraternities to join and masters to learn from, the most important teacher to be found along the path is the student who wants to learn.  This is reinforced with the final line “me, my own example.”  No matter what a person may want to learn from another further along the Sufi path, there is no greater teacher than the very student in learning the correct way to travel, for there are many different ways to get to a single destination. 

            The reason this stanza resonated with me more than any other in the poem is because this captures my own personal and religious philosophies more than any other.  It is important to learn from others, but they can never be a suitable substitute for what I have to teach myself.  The union that one seeks to find with the Divine will not be found in following the path of others, for the Divine speaks to each in their own way.  The masters who have gone on before are great to use as a general template for life’s path, but they ought not to be used as the only source of knowledge.  Why should the Divine communicate to and elevate a person who cannot communicate to and elevate themselves?  The struggle that each of us face is unique therefore the path we choose must be unique also.  The emphasis on the individual found in al-Farid’s poem truly embodies the many varied works of the Sufi masters who preceded him.

The Project

A couple weeks ago we finished a project.  Little Man has been working on shapes at school, and he had a project to make a shape collage.  I thought that the only thing better than making one collage would be making three collages, so we spent the weekend cutting circles, squares, and triangles.  Personally, I think these are awesome, but I am a little biased.  He was very proud of his work, and he really likes seeing them on the wall at his school.

To Infinity and Beyond!

We spent our Saturday morning on the M116 to Target.  We bought socks, a watch, Buzz Lightyear pajamas, and construction paper to make a collage for Little Man's preschool project.  The little one wasn't as excited about his new socks as I was about mine, but he really likes having a watch and awesome jammies (that is why he is wearing them at three in the afternoon).   

Today is a good day.

Perfection

I like her.  

A lot.

Halloween!

Tonight we joined the neighborhood parade and received candy from the firehouse, two restaurants, the frat houses, and the little park next door.  The street was closed to traffic, so all the kids could run freely between locations.  I have to admit that I actually had a good time... go figure.  

As if writing wasn't hard enough...

I like writing.  I don't write as often as I should, but there is something relaxing about finding the right rhythm and letting the words flow.  

Sometimes it can be difficult to find that happy place.  

Sometimes it is impossible.  

This is one of the impossible times.  I want/need to write a critique of an author's work detailing their use of binary language to create an argument that forms a symbiotic relationship between God and man, and my Little Man wants to play trains and sing "no more monkeys jumping on the bed."

I don't know what "doctor" he called, but I have a feeling that the prescription is to put the homework aside and be a dad tonight.

Choo-Choo!  

Fun Times

The boy and I went up to Fort Tryon Park this morning, so we could arrive early at the Medieval Festival held there every year.  Just a few years ago, I was one of those guys who would laugh at every person that walked through those streets, and in some ways I still laugh at many people there, but now I am a little jealous at the merry men and women who proudly embrace their inner pauper/prince/lord/lady/knight/mage/squire/quidditch player/pirate.  They all looked like they were having a great time.

We saw some great duels, pet a few dogs, watched a magician, learned to belly dance, ate a delicious brownie, nibbled an average cookie, had a tantrum, had an extra long timeout, bought a sword, rode the bus, and almost bought a giant turkey leg to share, but the lines were too long.

It was fun, and maybe next year we will dress up--maybe.  

Time to Wrestle

Little Man has been camping this weekend with his mom, and while it has been great to have the bed to myself and sleep past 6:30am, I miss him.

I think that we are going to wrestle this afternoon when he comes home.  He gets plenty of hugs and kisses from everyone in his life, so we don't wrestle as a substitute for affection.

We wrestle because it is fun, and I miss my boy!