A few things to get you updated about. I went with Michele to her plastic surgeon appointment last week (not the Oncologist< digs me) and it was an interesting encounter to say the least. After examining Michele he seemed pleased for the most part.  He indicated that he thought the wound was healing nicely and surgery was not going to be necessary but then his face turned to a befuddled look and he said:

“These look good to me. The only question really is how they feel to you.”  As he said ‘you’, his voice trailed to stretch out the word and he simultaneously shifted his attention and gaze from Michele towards me.  It was crystal clear that when his eyes met mine he saw the face of the poor Native American man  from those ‘Keep American Beautiful’ commercials in the early 80’s and he realized that I had not yet had a genuine test drive to answer his question honestly.  Here he was, recognizing that he built a Ferrari and just wanted someone to tell him how awesome it was and there I was telling him that I was Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman and if he wanted the full Car and Driver road test, he is just going to have to wait.  I can, however, affirm that my zero to 60 time is unparalleled, much to Michele’s eternal disappointment.

OK, OK, I have finally subdued the little creature that was pummeling my brain tissue that created that brainfart induced full break stop of reality and so I can tell you that the above encounter with the plastic surgeon did not happen. No, there is not another version that is based in reality. Michele opted not to meet with the plastic surgeon as she felt confident enough that her wound was healing and she did not think she needed to go see him at this time. It was a judgment call and it was certainly OK with me.  Michele reported just today that she could not even get the dressing into the wound and nobody knows you as well as you know yourself so I think we can declare this wound finis.

In other news, we are in the midst of a very busy weekend. Today (Saturday) we joined some old friends and some new to celebrate the lives of children who have succumbed from I-Cell disease (what our daughter Gabriella passed away from at age 5) as well as give hope to children and families that are currently fighting this extremely rare but unforgiving disease.  Tomorrow Michele and I are heading to the Giants/Ravens game.  A friend of ours (The Beef- if you do not know who he is, shame on you) hooked us up with VIP access to the Giants pre-game ceremony that will honor breast cancer survivors.  If you are watching NFL football tomorrow, keep an eye out for the pre-game ceremony at Met-Life stadium, you just might catch a glimpse of Michele.

But back to the event related to I Cell disease. It is organized by the Gandhi family, who was the first family that we got in touch with after Gabriella was diagnosed.  Their son Yash, passed away shortly before Gabriella did and we have worked with them over the past several years to raise money and awareness for I Cell.  The Yash Gandhi Foundation does an awesome job of generating funds for research for I Cell, a disease that lacks the funding of the more common diseases.  Each year it hosts a 5K walk/run that brings together the families that deal with this disease and its aftermath and that is where we spent our Saturday.

I will not lie, seeing beautiful little children afflicted by I Cell always bring back painful memories. To speak and exchange stories with parents and grandparents is an equally cathartic and tender experience.  We were in the same place as many of these parents, heartbroken but determined parents of a terminally ill child (or children in some instances) and hoping against hope that someone or something would alter the destiny that we knew was the ultimate sorrow.

There is no greater torment that the demise of your own child and I suppose there is nothing that could heighten that torment more than knowing that there is nothing you can do to alter that outcome. But get-togethers like we had today, where families gather to share heartache, to provide comfort and to attempt to make sense out of the senseless does deliver comfort.  We come together scarred, cracked, and bruised but we are not broken.  We come together to defiantly say, we’re not going to take it anymore and we are confident that we will meet again one day in celebration of not just the people who have suffered before but in celebration of the children that will be cured.

This video was done with childhood cancer in mind, but it applies to any childhood disease. We’re not going to take it and we are so proud to know, love and fight with the people we spent the day with today.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-DhlrMqKNk

For the people in the northern NJ area, Michele’s friends have organized a fundraiser benefitting the Nutley Thriving Survivors, a group that celebrates and provides support for breast cancer survivors in our community. It is being held at the Franklin Steakhouse in Nutley this Saturday October 22 from 4-10PM and it will have multiple activities for kids.  If you have extra cash that you are willing to donate to a great organization, please consider coming out this Saturday.  We would love to see you.  Michele’s friends are really putting their blood and guts into this and we are so very humbled, proud and thankful for their efforts.  The link in facebook only works if you were invited so if you do not has FB or were not invited and are interested in the event, please contact Tricia Cammarata Amadio@ tamadio212@yahoo.com.

https://www.facebook.com/events/649612665207497/

Michele visited her plastic surgeon on Wednesday (Sep. 28) this week and we think and hope it his decision to cancel the surgery to close the wound on her breast (originally scheduled for Sep. 29) will be a permanent one. He sees the wound making progress in closing but did not want to totally rule out surgery so Michele has another appointment with him next week to reevaluate.

Our lives at home have started to return to normal and by that I mean that I am certain the hairs growing back in on Michele’s head serve as an official counter for the number of times Michele has pointed out how many things I do wrong on any given day. This creates a very odd psyche within me as Michele’s onslaught on my imperfections, while irritating, simultaneously serve as a very comforting feeling that our lives are turning back to a sense of normalcy.  That said, I am in the beginning stages of a new hobby which is researching if chemotherapy drugs have an undocumented side effect of periodically impacting patients with spasmodic episodes resembling a sex starved orangutan in a branchless jungle when it comes to criticizing their spouses.

The night before Michele went to see her plastic surgeon I ventured outside to stare at the sky for a few moments. I do that from time to time when I feel I need to ground myself and I will normally pick out one star arbitrarily.  My skyward gaze never fails to deliver an acute sense of insignificance.  There is that star, light years away, blinking at me. And there I stare, knowing that it took light years for that beam of light to reach my eye. All of human existence that we know of has taken place before that beam of light left the starting gate from that star.  Taking it in, it is enough to make you feel stripped of significance, wondering whether you and your troubles or your fortunes amount to anything at all.

I believe we would all be consumed by these perplexing questions about our own significance if it were not for that unquantifiable human emotion of love. Love forces us to steadily grip the things in our lives that ground us, the experiences that deliver meaning and motivate us to carry forward and lead our lives as best we can.  This self-reflection always ends up with my realization of how fortunate I am to share my life with Michele.  Whenever dour circumstance rears itself and that lurking sense of insignificance creeps into my head, there is Michele, reminding me that she is so utterly significant to me and who I am and how I love her unconditionally (she is also reminding me of the things I need to do around the house).

So as we await the next appointment with the plastic surgeon who will hopefully decide surgery is unnecessary, I will steal some lyrics and hope what I wrote in this post resonates with you.

“Last night I fell apart,

Broke from my swollen heart,

Born at a simple time,

Raised with a simple mind,

You may be a natural woman

I may be worthless without you

I’ll never decide to replace you,

Amen, the worst is behind us now”