tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16833180956183378742024-03-21T14:06:03.857-04:00Benjamin J. Carey🔥🔥Impassioned Marketer<br>
🗣️Speaker 📋Coach ✍️Writer<br>
🚑Aortic Aneurysm Survivor<br>
🙏Devoted DadUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-63717897757916377612023-02-21T05:43:00.006-05:002023-02-21T05:56:07.570-05:00Comeback Szn: 7 months left of chemo, spinal taps, pills, and bloods<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9PpAxSdaqNZSD9ZgoK6Z7yV5iM3UdY92lkDgmuOk5m3N76gv8Y-dPPnMCq-BCKSF8Ym6sSOu-pf-nIwbeYqU2sxllZBLh6EELkPut0P1f49hssrCvGN0ReysTFoobDcryR0pY6CILqrVUbJ9fGmRs0ylC9Qsb95pFVHDmW9ACjGj4Mxx4uJ75UMB/s6048/IMG_2234.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="6048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9PpAxSdaqNZSD9ZgoK6Z7yV5iM3UdY92lkDgmuOk5m3N76gv8Y-dPPnMCq-BCKSF8Ym6sSOu-pf-nIwbeYqU2sxllZBLh6EELkPut0P1f49hssrCvGN0ReysTFoobDcryR0pY6CILqrVUbJ9fGmRs0ylC9Qsb95pFVHDmW9ACjGj4Mxx4uJ75UMB/s16000/IMG_2234.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>When Sully was diagnosed with B-Cell Lymphoblastic Leukemia<a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank"> two and a half years ago</a> a lot changed. Fortunately COVID happened at roughly the same time and while he was in the hospital recovering his friends were isolated at home so he didn't feel like he was missing anything. School resumed for his friends, and eventually for him. He continued chemotherapy and treatment while going to school, only staying home on the sickest days. He had to give up sports because of the post-treatment effects of the spinal taps and drugs, and the medical port in his collarbone. It seemed like a small insignificance in the grand scheme of things, but I could tell it left an emptiness in him.</p><p><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/08/tackling-cancer.html" target="_blank">He was as passionate about football as my older son</a> and I could see the effect that having to sit out was having on him. For a while I left him home from his older brother PJ's football trips because I was concerned he would get more depressed. I tried finding ways to lift his spirits. We reorganized his game room and I bought him a new PC and we upgraded his bike. I've spent an exorbitant amount of time with him and on things to keep his spirits up, we all have. We made a protective pad for his medical port and tried soccer but ultimately it didn't seem to fill the void of football. </p><p>After the first year his weekly treatments became our new norm. While everyone else has been living their regular work and family life, we too have been doing the same, only with this cloud over our heads since <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1683318095618337874/9165889189426610182#" target="_blank">May 20th, 2020. </a></p><p>I do a great job of turning shit into sunshine, and as a marketer my social media is an intentional snapshot of Silver Linings. It's a lot of work to maintain that appeal for business reasons but in reality I'm often in the dark bumping into things trying to figure shit out as a single dad. </p><p>This whole ordeal has been a litmus test on my relationships. I've gotten rid of a lot of dead wood and grown closer with the kind people who actually get it. I have learned not to waste my energy on negativity; to not give a fuck what anyone thinks of me or how or why I do things. Everyone has a story, but no one could comprehend this journey except the few in our circle. My approach to each day is with "<a href="https://www.meaning.ca/archives/archive/art_frankl_prophet_P_Wong.htm" target="_blank">tragic optimism</a>" as coined by the existential-humanistic psychologist <a href="https://www.meaning.ca/archives/archive/art_frankl_prophet_P_Wong.htm" target="_blank">Viktor Frankl</a>.</p><p>After time had passed I decided to try <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2022/08/texas-time.html" target="_blank">bringing Sully on PJ's football trips again</a>. He seemed to enjoy them and once I realized that he never left my side. He traveled with us to all the camps and had the opportunity to see some of the best football colleges in the country. He particularly enjoyed talking with Coach Schiano at Rutgers and Coach Robinson at Texas A&M. They were very kind and made the in-obligatory point of making him feel special and having lengthy conversations with him. </p><p>Sully didn't miss a single game of his brother's freshman season, often running onto the field and into the locker room where he was welcomed by Coach Minucci and PJ's teammates. He was a fixture right next to me at every game from the summer scrimmage to the state championship in snowy Buffalo. It turns out that something I thought would make him sad turned into a great distraction. </p><p>A couple weeks ago he came and informed me "I'm playing football next year."</p><p>I had to explain to him that when he finishes treatment in mid-September it's not like they just pop out the medical port and you're good to go. I told him he would need time to heal, would have to get up to speed physically, and ultimately have bone density and other tests to get cleared. I reminded him the same way I do my older son, that the world doesn't revolve around football. I had to be candid with him and explain that it was a great goal but he had to prepare himself to accept whatever the terms were after treatment.</p><p>With that, he has come home from school every single day to run and join us on weights without my impetus. The last thing I am concerned with is him playing football, but "the process" is somewhat of a distraction in the last and final part of this treatment. He is also fortunate to have a good friend group that he rides bikes around town with, goes fishing, and is connected with on the X-box and PC.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLExSgodtLd7n3Uawv3mgmcBbg1Yl6gBxryi24Ff79dQya09me6z7zs4aqA8i16SJw3XIO2beZ0F-G5uMCr5LVbMXQuudW_ly8HeYNcACnBVJI2lkiQU8Bm4cf8KiUEpxJ3DiVxmkDbj0NkuL9SQ8CgyvdZyS4_73gWbY8Syhj4No6pe4rX6sJUd2b/s2635/IMG_1954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2635" data-original-width="2635" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLExSgodtLd7n3Uawv3mgmcBbg1Yl6gBxryi24Ff79dQya09me6z7zs4aqA8i16SJw3XIO2beZ0F-G5uMCr5LVbMXQuudW_ly8HeYNcACnBVJI2lkiQU8Bm4cf8KiUEpxJ3DiVxmkDbj0NkuL9SQ8CgyvdZyS4_73gWbY8Syhj4No6pe4rX6sJUd2b/s16000/IMG_1954.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2JMhhTrHRXDwxE5aqMHh9crHR9p2dlXKWcM5aPUCgcDW9x08E3X07agtXRFn1c8q1C3jRMQOX4X602ifqHD7XadHDFG8seMvsYYvHxQsZRMWxB3M1688IH2kOj4oGRq0YXtf3lQul3T_PFVlUAftnoZE-4i9qUwCB7EcgaGylm9c2xKASquVudLv/s1830/szntu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1830" data-original-width="1830" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2JMhhTrHRXDwxE5aqMHh9crHR9p2dlXKWcM5aPUCgcDW9x08E3X07agtXRFn1c8q1C3jRMQOX4X602ifqHD7XadHDFG8seMvsYYvHxQsZRMWxB3M1688IH2kOj4oGRq0YXtf3lQul3T_PFVlUAftnoZE-4i9qUwCB7EcgaGylm9c2xKASquVudLv/s16000/szntu.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJONOUlVzNfC6delucNU-jr3QLPAT4rY1qJzuoEjdJVANKgq9dIy8L5VX5xIcXykGxnQ-0eoyPRGkB1hNIavG59TLi8xtWNMtvnW8T0vFtpkmDxlD3giLPFj51HcFmcR3AFzPezYuzOyJK9tw-5FN9gCvQDgFLIyUVof16888np1vXG1N9sV8VkNB3/s1816/IMG_2134.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1816" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJONOUlVzNfC6delucNU-jr3QLPAT4rY1qJzuoEjdJVANKgq9dIy8L5VX5xIcXykGxnQ-0eoyPRGkB1hNIavG59TLi8xtWNMtvnW8T0vFtpkmDxlD3giLPFj51HcFmcR3AFzPezYuzOyJK9tw-5FN9gCvQDgFLIyUVof16888np1vXG1N9sV8VkNB3/s16000/IMG_2134.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBOzUop6TqdRv_NJU6L2KwHeBupOaGkK21uj1fGQE2lzubl7B99hdQbsOYF3V88eyQnOo6lw5QyBtRZK8RbuL5pXhs8Xv9jb0aP78xrZTNa8LG7lz8sxOuRDR7Jq3K67ftN8cIJSiop3GA4gdP67dkxk2yy8o0ifwycB1djdYUSCNVos3Gv07JFKX/s2316/sezn.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="2316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBOzUop6TqdRv_NJU6L2KwHeBupOaGkK21uj1fGQE2lzubl7B99hdQbsOYF3V88eyQnOo6lw5QyBtRZK8RbuL5pXhs8Xv9jb0aP78xrZTNa8LG7lz8sxOuRDR7Jq3K67ftN8cIJSiop3GA4gdP67dkxk2yy8o0ifwycB1djdYUSCNVos3Gv07JFKX/s16000/sezn.JPG" /></a></div><p>For the time being he's occupied with something new and I've assured him that whatever the outcome is; if he is able to play he will have the opportunity. But if he is not able to play I reminded him that it's not the end of the world. In spite of us being a crazy football family, and believe me we are; football is not our only derivative of happiness or the bond that binds us. It's also not my ultimate expectation or what we define our manhood on.</p><p>I write because it's an outlet for me. It's a breather from all the craziness in my life and a way to stay connected with friends and relatives wanting updates.</p><p>Coincidentally I receive quite a few emails from these posts from the kindest cancer survivors, and from parents and families who are going through the same thing or are on the other side having finished treatment. </p><p>Last week I met <a href="https://www.instagram.com/dittybos/" target="_blank">@DITTYBOS</a> a tough young cancer survivor who is also a football player and has kicked cancer's ass. He is playing football in college and has an amazing attitude about life. Follow him if you get a chance, he's an inspiration. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhjCWEQzFkVV8OyRqTbLzQWR9d6GC6REjlS_c6yKrEzK5x3dFlxBjC1MKos4lANeWJctVd8E03wRszjlqtGG3qmx6xlvVK2w7hbykXWa_Tfz1Xg52fV31-246Q7rd6f8fQHMnYEhFfiKiGMJUvPnJicnYwtyEkYOt0db-Yi1LRqME1g9ALhGSfbf0/s3697/IMG_1911.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3697" data-original-width="3697" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhjCWEQzFkVV8OyRqTbLzQWR9d6GC6REjlS_c6yKrEzK5x3dFlxBjC1MKos4lANeWJctVd8E03wRszjlqtGG3qmx6xlvVK2w7hbykXWa_Tfz1Xg52fV31-246Q7rd6f8fQHMnYEhFfiKiGMJUvPnJicnYwtyEkYOt0db-Yi1LRqME1g9ALhGSfbf0/s16000/IMG_1911.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: x-large;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</span></b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: x-large;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: x-large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-84784258488709005302023-01-25T15:09:00.024-05:002023-09-30T00:43:19.111-04:00Vs. Acatenango<b><i>January 25, 2023: My Fifty-first Trip Around the Sun:</i></b><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJIipsCZBwljfSRpS_ZPYjKC5Xt4U4dXNaupsymLJwO_gscfDvQkdOUUdQYYPyg5qJdG4L4_2fjYhWGUmUTm8sMzdrQW2QKBRKUAm61a6cJHNqKN73FyS8m924EL8Q8yHlWRHaUeF8bp6dNwLhci6qxiNZAIkQLtNas0wyPGRo635ojTIigwp73AQ/s1600/109C6D29-22EE-44B6-92FC-8F0F8E3F1D45.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJIipsCZBwljfSRpS_ZPYjKC5Xt4U4dXNaupsymLJwO_gscfDvQkdOUUdQYYPyg5qJdG4L4_2fjYhWGUmUTm8sMzdrQW2QKBRKUAm61a6cJHNqKN73FyS8m924EL8Q8yHlWRHaUeF8bp6dNwLhci6qxiNZAIkQLtNas0wyPGRo635ojTIigwp73AQ/s16000/109C6D29-22EE-44B6-92FC-8F0F8E3F1D45.jpeg" /></a></div></b><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfNFvQTeKADVnnLZEZ4Fy7D6c-cFYD7xpK8shMUYij8jDhGG8-BRZzBPM4nzZQotqhJwEnUQLF8cmSd7OCO8yFWRlQLZLopddgFyYPM2HIaXIE7PzDJhnMSMhK6q0Crsc1AaBhlul3AyZ2ApGL6b5i_QSd0TViF-07PpkLcUBwTVDOXLHQ6gKLwcB/s4032/F4A98FE9-CD88-4104-A371-AEAD4EE87DF4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfNFvQTeKADVnnLZEZ4Fy7D6c-cFYD7xpK8shMUYij8jDhGG8-BRZzBPM4nzZQotqhJwEnUQLF8cmSd7OCO8yFWRlQLZLopddgFyYPM2HIaXIE7PzDJhnMSMhK6q0Crsc1AaBhlul3AyZ2ApGL6b5i_QSd0TViF-07PpkLcUBwTVDOXLHQ6gKLwcB/s16000/F4A98FE9-CD88-4104-A371-AEAD4EE87DF4.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4_E4bgZuNlXKJA___9u0RsPEMYpqNZEidH0RmYYtP9SlnCG43XVt-qaAUDMmrFFhOFLViL93QRQ3Wxy1Xg39eGqi0uyP009aYtwCsZdAl8d4R_1eRaV4hjA-HpwHXSnf0m8P7SiYVz3_vZ88laoYT5KrdZhPRbscB4Zb2d1I0eIxLxnvuSY5xtYV/s3088/E76205E4-2CA1-42E8-9CF9-B8E21F6736B8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4_E4bgZuNlXKJA___9u0RsPEMYpqNZEidH0RmYYtP9SlnCG43XVt-qaAUDMmrFFhOFLViL93QRQ3Wxy1Xg39eGqi0uyP009aYtwCsZdAl8d4R_1eRaV4hjA-HpwHXSnf0m8P7SiYVz3_vZ88laoYT5KrdZhPRbscB4Zb2d1I0eIxLxnvuSY5xtYV/s16000/E76205E4-2CA1-42E8-9CF9-B8E21F6736B8.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6WjZwPeJeym0bXEjEslygItT4NjMSbrhp_qA6XVhWxyrG650U10eeTJC3FugDx4XccrlUZ4pU2lP9qdjOxDveWcEzbS9tSvi5suNmjfpDdybY0ju6w-n7ZxZz-kX8emDrEwO1d_1VH4pTODQpQedu_dnYT-adzbWlVEue8NbGM01O7s5-2bebiuq/s2293/68C4919A-7E9D-4224-A25C-CA5C758E54F0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2293" data-original-width="1290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6WjZwPeJeym0bXEjEslygItT4NjMSbrhp_qA6XVhWxyrG650U10eeTJC3FugDx4XccrlUZ4pU2lP9qdjOxDveWcEzbS9tSvi5suNmjfpDdybY0ju6w-n7ZxZz-kX8emDrEwO1d_1VH4pTODQpQedu_dnYT-adzbWlVEue8NbGM01O7s5-2bebiuq/s16000/68C4919A-7E9D-4224-A25C-CA5C758E54F0.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>“Cinco mas minutos” said Memphis, one of the guides as he approached me. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvvkJDOV6wVRDhDpB91ajR1skaqTJOBqFjzrKqnJfd4C45n9GNND_irantSpV6Pr_ZOXak9AdBSN73eBtavfzbvRSOeArfttItxD3LED9r5-KAQS0MHoRLJHoDZJXMRIO1lXc0NSNm60Tseviyj--G8GI-urv_xxco_LBDwR4wRsNbZaw2g5b_a3U/s4032/D0B6F9D1-0CE2-4AC8-9EFE-0B98F9981FD9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvvkJDOV6wVRDhDpB91ajR1skaqTJOBqFjzrKqnJfd4C45n9GNND_irantSpV6Pr_ZOXak9AdBSN73eBtavfzbvRSOeArfttItxD3LED9r5-KAQS0MHoRLJHoDZJXMRIO1lXc0NSNm60Tseviyj--G8GI-urv_xxco_LBDwR4wRsNbZaw2g5b_a3U/s16000/D0B6F9D1-0CE2-4AC8-9EFE-0B98F9981FD9.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div>He had dropped back and walked alongside me, an indicator that I probably looked like shit. It reminded me of when I did my first triathlon and the lifeguard in the kayak kept trailing me because I looked like I was going to drown.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrNsMFJL65---QfQPFt91iDBYl-p43To3ZwFcJwr_dAi-IK7-rQX8AFBHPl6lPx-uUb1kaMadg-T8-f_DyeoLtInV_jTn0QngonPwfEZoFxLpLswrIbtpGrBJclpMX_NbQ1bQnmdBCAQaCq1uRsXSCYomQfYENJiezaIwpaV-6NyQEzSrr5XcV6GD/s2212/C9384652-CB40-4949-85CD-F8AB040611D2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2212" data-original-width="1244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrNsMFJL65---QfQPFt91iDBYl-p43To3ZwFcJwr_dAi-IK7-rQX8AFBHPl6lPx-uUb1kaMadg-T8-f_DyeoLtInV_jTn0QngonPwfEZoFxLpLswrIbtpGrBJclpMX_NbQ1bQnmdBCAQaCq1uRsXSCYomQfYENJiezaIwpaV-6NyQEzSrr5XcV6GD/s16000/C9384652-CB40-4949-85CD-F8AB040611D2.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I was five hours into climbing Acatenango, a volcano in Guatemala, and my heart was beating out of my chest. It was my 51st birthday and the trip to Guatemala was the first one in my life that I had ever taken alone. I had spontaneously planned the trip a couple weeks prior in spite of the warning on the State Department’s website to avoid travel there. I was shitting bricks, but excited and stoked with adrenaline. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I walked the last few miles I couldn’t catch my breath because of how thin the air was at that altitude, and my legs felt like they had hundred pound weights attached to them. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVi-2hERgZ-WT-K_n3cS6WEyN4EbPza4MhbZJR41I6iZ2Rr7MtM9LHIWYoNankQ3u03FrRRkw9dr2lfGOsD1cxxkBU9ifDrdpuhBjGmqo848y6MlJRwWDTALYR4lFdNNYM-XiPTwyBiLUBgZ_Lcfk6G1dUY6-n9FwY9kWZ3g5uHlXYVjOlYtrf_RQ0/s2104/56AF892D-297E-4794-8590-CE382A931851.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2104" data-original-width="1288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVi-2hERgZ-WT-K_n3cS6WEyN4EbPza4MhbZJR41I6iZ2Rr7MtM9LHIWYoNankQ3u03FrRRkw9dr2lfGOsD1cxxkBU9ifDrdpuhBjGmqo848y6MlJRwWDTALYR4lFdNNYM-XiPTwyBiLUBgZ_Lcfk6G1dUY6-n9FwY9kWZ3g5uHlXYVjOlYtrf_RQ0/s16000/56AF892D-297E-4794-8590-CE382A931851.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div>On the flight to Guatemala I read an article about an eruption in 2018 that killed 1,000 people. I read another story that others died on a climb from hypothermia. Interestingly it's 75-80 degrees in Guatemala but at night it can drop quickly to below zero on the top of Acatengango. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had no idea this climb would be so challenging until I read on the plane home that it is ranked #7 on <a href="https://www.paulapinstheplanet.com/hardest-hikes-in-the-world/" target="_blank">the list of 20 hardest hikes in the world. </a></div><div><br /></div><div>I had not done any training for the trip, and had lost five pounds from being sick right before I left. I only felt better the day before departing. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I finished the last few minutes of the climb to the summit, the extreme fatigue and crushed volcanic stone under my feet made it feel like a moon walk. My quads were cramping up so badly that I could barely walk. The only other time I felt my legs so heavy was in Harlem when I hit mile 19 in the New York City marathon. </div><div><br /></div><div>Five minutes later we reached the top of Acatenango volcano. The view was spectacular. There she was in the horizon blowing up and spewing smoke and lava every 15-20 minutes: Fuego, the most active volcano in Guatemala. </div><div><br /></div><div>I stood there astonished, with thoughts running through my head about the birth of earth and the ice age. Seeing something so primitive and powerful up close was life-changing. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cPEszBXSgXpIIC62qggUL4MgNqvFVvw5IX_cY5vvZdaUkKXoCrGnm1Qe-1DCC1OosIrSlG20V-LEH6QQXLJFuxHh2JL1nWcKVTa6UuXaqOfRKf7XhjMbR97yJDvdOJ4CDVXQdYV-3Q11OKMXCaVvUOUbmmM-ScTAb9qUN3DyYI_Mu8u1ATCEz5PA/s2730/67E80966-5553-4CFF-804B-BC1BF31235F9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2730" data-original-width="1535" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cPEszBXSgXpIIC62qggUL4MgNqvFVvw5IX_cY5vvZdaUkKXoCrGnm1Qe-1DCC1OosIrSlG20V-LEH6QQXLJFuxHh2JL1nWcKVTa6UuXaqOfRKf7XhjMbR97yJDvdOJ4CDVXQdYV-3Q11OKMXCaVvUOUbmmM-ScTAb9qUN3DyYI_Mu8u1ATCEz5PA/s16000/67E80966-5553-4CFF-804B-BC1BF31235F9.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7MH-QVo8H4Nm1JejCBNtXrIaZe-cPXkcIFkD3SSf3CKkj1TRjIHxFaTPOrwDSm2tgbe9xWJtioCqfwUKCYrcq8yQOG08iEm8eh3SN4doblptqDU7m9DQljldnVx3VdSo2Cjds_k3DTOpNgNRZ88ddnt4CGURJpMA09mdN5jk0hx0hr2OQOYvmAOP/s4032/EF0F6BB5-9741-405F-84BB-39E1FCCB3956.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7MH-QVo8H4Nm1JejCBNtXrIaZe-cPXkcIFkD3SSf3CKkj1TRjIHxFaTPOrwDSm2tgbe9xWJtioCqfwUKCYrcq8yQOG08iEm8eh3SN4doblptqDU7m9DQljldnVx3VdSo2Cjds_k3DTOpNgNRZ88ddnt4CGURJpMA09mdN5jk0hx0hr2OQOYvmAOP/s16000/EF0F6BB5-9741-405F-84BB-39E1FCCB3956.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It was a little uncanny how our tents were set up on the steep incline of Acatenango. The crushed volcanic stone everywhere made it impossible to walk around the camp without sliding. There were a few trees to grab if you started to go, but not enough to reassure you wouldn’t slide off into the void.</div><div><br /></div><div>I threw my bag inside the tent and climbed down to the lean-to where the guides had made hot chocolate from Guatemalan Cacao, and our group socialized around the campfire. There were about 15 people in our group from Germany, UK, Denmark, China, and France. I was the only American and we all spoke in Spanish to the guides and to each other. I don’t think I spoke more than 5 minutes of English for the entire trip. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYBynmsMtNUrb7pjF7pPA79DXG8zLC-3Y_lDqfJxAn8WJW8m-H7JP90_HNelW9mK9oK6DzkKyVxXCCMXqDFlPmV86FiqGsm9RDLAFHks7DPP4SdCVNxliIsmrsBc7w5uZ3GWpF6pjxcZwMis1hhUu4hbDa-Tm7BCIHKWvvUH-W_fodz5lMEe1RBze/s4036/71A5DEF3-1DCA-42D2-9B79-AC4D51F1BCBB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4036" data-original-width="2270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYBynmsMtNUrb7pjF7pPA79DXG8zLC-3Y_lDqfJxAn8WJW8m-H7JP90_HNelW9mK9oK6DzkKyVxXCCMXqDFlPmV86FiqGsm9RDLAFHks7DPP4SdCVNxliIsmrsBc7w5uZ3GWpF6pjxcZwMis1hhUu4hbDa-Tm7BCIHKWvvUH-W_fodz5lMEe1RBze/s16000/71A5DEF3-1DCA-42D2-9B79-AC4D51F1BCBB.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzO6VmZdYa8Fdy4Tb9C0GNiQYXlr6XrqeKmk_UYFh-28LNnOEU-KaxIjzI77vCfLPHwzFnneieAlG2UbfFBMvALIyN8xGxNLJBZbBZRnrJjD4Ls3y_FmnFaQgmcYvhQrQQ2beaBwkSBIPq-COqVJkKFF1vqC0hzmxxFuXrl7JIbCRptSsUy8WhJaDY/s4036/FDD28300-699C-40C3-9E2B-FB213BE934BE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4036" data-original-width="2270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzO6VmZdYa8Fdy4Tb9C0GNiQYXlr6XrqeKmk_UYFh-28LNnOEU-KaxIjzI77vCfLPHwzFnneieAlG2UbfFBMvALIyN8xGxNLJBZbBZRnrJjD4Ls3y_FmnFaQgmcYvhQrQQ2beaBwkSBIPq-COqVJkKFF1vqC0hzmxxFuXrl7JIbCRptSsUy8WhJaDY/s16000/FDD28300-699C-40C3-9E2B-FB213BE934BE.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We watched an amazing sunset, and as nightfall approached the guides made a bolognese pasta over the open fire. We had dinner and spent the rest of the evening watching the volcano erupt. The stars in the night sky up there were brighter than I have ever seen. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwXL-nW4mNljOishFCJbUj-uDnfOMeoUWWIKsa39lbmplu9VdqnfzvI8xrYx1-fx3IlrVOHDgI47R-JD_vnrr280MbZxTsDx4i-GalAIUBhS1jWDwAsL0sevEBsD8msGlfjJtufRWR0dFR4ZszQOglzpqTbiJ2wzh7XRNm7JX73dEfjWXgdCMK44Pe/s3088/431851C1-2EDA-44DD-A2BB-8EF5A3852337.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="1737" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwXL-nW4mNljOishFCJbUj-uDnfOMeoUWWIKsa39lbmplu9VdqnfzvI8xrYx1-fx3IlrVOHDgI47R-JD_vnrr280MbZxTsDx4i-GalAIUBhS1jWDwAsL0sevEBsD8msGlfjJtufRWR0dFR4ZszQOglzpqTbiJ2wzh7XRNm7JX73dEfjWXgdCMK44Pe/s16000/431851C1-2EDA-44DD-A2BB-8EF5A3852337.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aVsXJxQUMGgCJaHQXQUIIWZyWwk8gNSA9u8bDuGlq2njDPBTemyIJ7UEGwTMq06ULhChIjAn2jZpc43EubFM1w6477DDVNlqFdHNhFjGrr3CBUXRmVUOK7fWLikGR1YrKP079ZaCBM9z6-wYjF5C4UAGeuVaL30M7t8sPZWjzu3CR7Ok1O7l97uc/s4032/C3B1881D-E360-447E-98DD-57D91A58D66B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLXJ-ariUYYhmufpFuHsX8EKRPFKc2OQ_ZrpphN1SVZhGuZ1JgjiP3Y9dzGFxMfWO9HJaB5P9pE3z7WZ8yonLnKyAF3UVNc8kqYJHj9hGk3BlmAAHzarwkoVyqjLyChuKeepOlzz1zL4_V3HNSV2zslvxG43GOFziH2AukUyfSNfHHgCadC1BmWmx/s16000/60AA1BDB-B65B-49D0-95D0-51DC950A2FD2.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbxAw43xOm-2JawSjqQusTm0KKDdoD5ZfXEB8VM0ilb5CyGEx1bWjqovL7ccbJf6zR2f3WcLmv92joipH7fBweHIv-5oKlPYikCyzsQC37XSF-TOcseAcUEy33q_257Kq1J3wximQJw7joxYPzVcguGyr6_m3o8wMhX0JoIifkyCOrNSLDANCRave/s6000/07E34C0C-B3F0-499D-9AB1-9B43C7E62039.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="3375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbxAw43xOm-2JawSjqQusTm0KKDdoD5ZfXEB8VM0ilb5CyGEx1bWjqovL7ccbJf6zR2f3WcLmv92joipH7fBweHIv-5oKlPYikCyzsQC37XSF-TOcseAcUEy33q_257Kq1J3wximQJw7joxYPzVcguGyr6_m3o8wMhX0JoIifkyCOrNSLDANCRave/s16000/07E34C0C-B3F0-499D-9AB1-9B43C7E62039.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I scaled the steep incline making my way back up to my tent. When I took off my boots I noticed blisters had bled into my socks, but I ignored them and crawled into the sleeping bag and tried to get warm. The overnight was rough. It dropped to 29 degrees, my legs cramped all night, and I had the worst headache and dyspnea from the thin air at that altitude. Every time I would get close to falling asleep I would wake up gasping for air. I checked my Garmin watch and my oxygen level had dropped to 92! I don’t think I slept for more than 10 minutes that night. </div><div><br /></div><div>My back was killing me, every time I took a breath I felt a stabbing pain in my left rhomboid, a result of carrying the heavy packs for 5 hours. At the beginning of the climb they asked everyone if they wanted a “porter” (a local worker who carries up your backpack). <i>What kind of pussy would do that, I wondered? </i>Most of the people in our group opted for a porter, but a few others and I carried our own backpacks and a water pack on our front. By halfway up the bag felt like an anchor.</div><div><br /></div><div>I watched a beautiful sunrise the next morning and then ate breakfast with the group around the campfire. I went back to my tent and stretched for 20 minutes before we started the hike down. It helped a lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>The trip down was fast. It was dangerous but some of us ran at certain points because it was easier on the legs than trying to slow yourself down. I was thrilled when it was over. My ears popped as the bus descended back to Antigua, the village where my hostel was located. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn’t want to waste the remainder of the day resting. I walked around the village, and visited the ruins of an old church that was being restored as a museum. The architecture of the building, the artwork on display inside, and the grounds were exquisite. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVj9JEbe_aihJ26VpZfmTCz7DEzhqmBPun5Qyiwk1DTEdvMypfHHxmlQZXNmufmNpzXbNsxDp6GtcUD1uZCPE3mZBbp4qeGk8NV-vAdW_AZSpm0bD7UWO5WYSu31BbLCZ9A96Qv8n46e9Q65sYS97BXMuc5PbaKe4yBUV56NTMdde-rR8zun4b8aUE/s4032/E9E7C571-97E2-4460-8A2D-FDC4DDA079B8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVj9JEbe_aihJ26VpZfmTCz7DEzhqmBPun5Qyiwk1DTEdvMypfHHxmlQZXNmufmNpzXbNsxDp6GtcUD1uZCPE3mZBbp4qeGk8NV-vAdW_AZSpm0bD7UWO5WYSu31BbLCZ9A96Qv8n46e9Q65sYS97BXMuc5PbaKe4yBUV56NTMdde-rR8zun4b8aUE/s16000/E9E7C571-97E2-4460-8A2D-FDC4DDA079B8.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauMdsxbJEBtqZUgbVuFS5ONu2Rurx_eS0_4YaWNwE1StaAorGImpYuFzgzEYM-gbA2dOgCBCDSYu_Qwbx7XjOvdKdbKQzs0tzGeOfhIuos9RF6LzxBh2vYuuJM5k4Go9LPRZ43Ms6gXa9mJtTWmtGnd7n4PdVgGvnmLlvhz9NcSiyut4KMgFL9xzP/s4032/5146C770-152C-4997-B72F-07AB0EB0EE5C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiow8lu94Xb9CTNARJWNwzX9Gcl0yaJ0sVtFwzVQib_l7FrWAjs-3hvu4q-e8WwKdpTA9x050n13cSTcOTvUOJrPI6fotZUahQSsgrZRUCrdlyxoxhTzi4eaacdp5Ftw4CUon75uPIltF6vlHzmJBfesR6nmJl6_8poD1JIMAQ6nERAyj5sBhvG29Oz/s16000/85DDB144-A276-49DA-918B-E2553FC40175.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Yo0HhCiQUJcEWNQdJiO_Q2m4dRUzufq3cpRWKF7Ky0jwYEUhx5MS2ER5KBRx0AfWdkPVXfa-Bh5LIIEHWekg7eQ1PJiP85h1BkKB4eVPHxXykAmwXgI2oMruFRtJmJGqlMdALsbR-u130DG723HssUeY_Ry31rgWR3P8VfKeK0vcMlMg2BIsvpnb/s4032/A8D5B815-5ED1-41F9-B146-3740B8F30BEC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Yo0HhCiQUJcEWNQdJiO_Q2m4dRUzufq3cpRWKF7Ky0jwYEUhx5MS2ER5KBRx0AfWdkPVXfa-Bh5LIIEHWekg7eQ1PJiP85h1BkKB4eVPHxXykAmwXgI2oMruFRtJmJGqlMdALsbR-u130DG723HssUeY_Ry31rgWR3P8VfKeK0vcMlMg2BIsvpnb/s16000/A8D5B815-5ED1-41F9-B146-3740B8F30BEC.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7QhidnmZSPLXgA5ZECWkokLcqP2mkgjwv4WTqzmC7KXgB2Fu5wUYdbg0zB1VxapSpEn-DGDgdV0f14AeeYet9m6s_rDq8enubZ0q1zkR1fL9wnkF9RPqG6gYiyU67dWDb7TWfNa5GqZhWWxv2lb4ERp9ymfVIyMIzpGfei6nP_a5Yhcr9Ev2_-UX/s2730/AE82F437-2B6A-4A8D-8158-8A18B6BA9B05.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2730" data-original-width="1535" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7QhidnmZSPLXgA5ZECWkokLcqP2mkgjwv4WTqzmC7KXgB2Fu5wUYdbg0zB1VxapSpEn-DGDgdV0f14AeeYet9m6s_rDq8enubZ0q1zkR1fL9wnkF9RPqG6gYiyU67dWDb7TWfNa5GqZhWWxv2lb4ERp9ymfVIyMIzpGfei6nP_a5Yhcr9Ev2_-UX/s16000/AE82F437-2B6A-4A8D-8158-8A18B6BA9B05.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I had lengthy conversations with everyone I met. One of my favorite parts of the trip was meeting the owner of a local coffee shop. Their appreciation for coffee in Guatemala is similar to how we treat wine in America. He described every bean and variety in detail and let me sample a few different blends. I spent an hour talking with him about Guatemalan history and politics while his grandchildren played on the floor and his son waited on customers. It was interesting hearing his perspectives on the UFC fruit company, their lifestyle through President Arevalo and each of the past Presidents as compared to what I had read in books. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LQzzc-3-0B5Gt4o8bwmK499W2IK5nc2DyJs6wJeQPMsDNf1QVKTWHq-7lS0pwoqP6m9TWZZywS6mPjWaWUL5HNgnJjhTP0FmEiCL9P7F3YfIEtkTENOUh5_AqOqyPEz8I4Gk5mrbgg15GMNJalb-8jdIk2AKj9M1edO_sykDiiUSG-TM27h4muad/s4032/06AD4E2E-BFFC-4F51-9532-2071A16FE999.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LQzzc-3-0B5Gt4o8bwmK499W2IK5nc2DyJs6wJeQPMsDNf1QVKTWHq-7lS0pwoqP6m9TWZZywS6mPjWaWUL5HNgnJjhTP0FmEiCL9P7F3YfIEtkTENOUh5_AqOqyPEz8I4Gk5mrbgg15GMNJalb-8jdIk2AKj9M1edO_sykDiiUSG-TM27h4muad/s16000/06AD4E2E-BFFC-4F51-9532-2071A16FE999.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKKal8AsUYFINrFaleZcjefXf9SXBA5mjvKX_B1Zlju6MM3z2-aOrbQPgesxvrQeUZqFcmJ_o_qdy0Q_16fDepjs8dDvPDeNnd6MMYf7c8eGFnkapgJI7zHdKb0QoZrGn1yl8zh_T5aKbvpUmJL93eva_PTTsoMIp-yL-pgx4SbJYfMu6BrGBe9aku/s4032/6D3E98A7-C424-423A-9035-A622682697D3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKKal8AsUYFINrFaleZcjefXf9SXBA5mjvKX_B1Zlju6MM3z2-aOrbQPgesxvrQeUZqFcmJ_o_qdy0Q_16fDepjs8dDvPDeNnd6MMYf7c8eGFnkapgJI7zHdKb0QoZrGn1yl8zh_T5aKbvpUmJL93eva_PTTsoMIp-yL-pgx4SbJYfMu6BrGBe9aku/s16000/6D3E98A7-C424-423A-9035-A622682697D3.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I called a local guy I met to drive me to the airport at 3am for my flight home. I paid him what I would have paid a driver and he was appreciative. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is nothing like the authenticity of mixing into the culture of a 3rd world country. No commercial hotels, no translators, no luxuries. It reminds you of the goodness in people, how little we really need to be happy, and how conditioned we have become to think we need all the man made bullshit.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">#LEGIONOFBOOM</div><div style="text-align: center;">@1stphorm</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='560' height='466' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxZwQJatAUcvw4ZB2h4xjWq6Pj8GOzJR6yWRMbRqQGsUhiPl0Ht7g8Msmra4hid3qtNtVOICn6MgN3d92A0HQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.3s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: x-large;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</span></b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: x-large;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.3s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-74759738000353408452022-12-23T02:16:00.004-05:002022-12-23T06:34:31.983-05:00Chemotherapy Countdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODmBrZmYST87wVsIrE0Vq1cbINJi-YlsLoxD2BZse0x6VS3eFPsPGyV58ybZLu-cI4b1nhh7XWRDgTHTe11AJzRglRsbAUufiLsdLZeoepOSEAivmspHOheAEXxvTo3J81F_yBk8av0_N84ilbpUwalbgt3U42FfozAjgnQCCEBAs_gwBlN6s67O5/s1924/DSC05144.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1924" data-original-width="1924" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODmBrZmYST87wVsIrE0Vq1cbINJi-YlsLoxD2BZse0x6VS3eFPsPGyV58ybZLu-cI4b1nhh7XWRDgTHTe11AJzRglRsbAUufiLsdLZeoepOSEAivmspHOheAEXxvTo3J81F_yBk8av0_N84ilbpUwalbgt3U42FfozAjgnQCCEBAs_gwBlN6s67O5/s16000/DSC05144.JPG" /></a></div><p>Everything has changed, yet everything has remained the same since May 20, 2020, <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">the day I was told</a> Sully has B-Cell Lymphoblastic Leukemia. By the grace of God he became cancer free, but the overall length of his treatment program is 3 years.</p><p>People witnessed his return to school, they saw his hair grow back and the color return to his face. But what they don't realize is that quietly behind the scenes he is still in the throws of twice daily meds, blood tests, spinal taps, and chemotherapy for what is supposed to be another 9 months. </p><p>Our lives have acclimated to these things in a manner whereby they have become as routine as everything else and we are just counting down the days until it's over. He still has a medical port embedded under his skin near his collar bone which prevents him from playing football and wrestling. He is not thrilled about that, but he will complete chemo in September 2023 and have the port taken out. </p><p>Life has not lost its luster, it has become more vivid. It has caused us to appreciate everything so much more, even the daily mundane aspects of life so often taken for granted. It has highlighted my relationships with others allowing me to experience some of the greatest acts of human compassion, while at the same time revealing self-absorbed idiots. My circle has gotten tighter, and stronger.</p><p>The responsibilities of a single dad have distracted me from having cancer anxieties. There is rarely any downtime. With my daughter off at college it's just me and the 2 boys at home and we've become an inseparable unit. I've had to travel all over the country with my older son for football camps, college visits, and games, and Sully has never left my side.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowYdXuVJg3gvS9LDPGa7d3D3qGmTjmvJdJeljU1x1aBGnPrK9Xu3-emKi3bes68nL0z6WagP57LUptsrSps_l7QZK1wRno7h6o10UPbJqxizCK2j4maR13P_vl0awCsSZkqp5BxepERAhM8aW34lo1pA4QbddmELZgdzaPt7_0mTa6TlfuXw9j7k8/s3147/DSC05150.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3147" data-original-width="3147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowYdXuVJg3gvS9LDPGa7d3D3qGmTjmvJdJeljU1x1aBGnPrK9Xu3-emKi3bes68nL0z6WagP57LUptsrSps_l7QZK1wRno7h6o10UPbJqxizCK2j4maR13P_vl0awCsSZkqp5BxepERAhM8aW34lo1pA4QbddmELZgdzaPt7_0mTa6TlfuXw9j7k8/s16000/DSC05150.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFqP9Qa_jGhm6qCdCJip47umx3NBxnsXJLUVvN1MRtPQObek-r0lMmgrA7bfD0EKWFEnjoLu9RYgm6c9OFgwZoHFWsajMN3aLD68Jgkty7xJr0H7sbvypKaSpZ7CtHkOJIRLnkVgysq5gub1QXTJtqKngQeXzeEpMQSa0OvZ_2kU_RrH4o0HJQW_eu/s3801/DSC05172.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3801" data-original-width="3801" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFqP9Qa_jGhm6qCdCJip47umx3NBxnsXJLUVvN1MRtPQObek-r0lMmgrA7bfD0EKWFEnjoLu9RYgm6c9OFgwZoHFWsajMN3aLD68Jgkty7xJr0H7sbvypKaSpZ7CtHkOJIRLnkVgysq5gub1QXTJtqKngQeXzeEpMQSa0OvZ_2kU_RrH4o0HJQW_eu/s16000/DSC05172.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCclu8Qka01mmOIoITDtqb5tvm5NBk4oM7Px1u45uzuHQEo03RC8ySGjeLvQibb8hduLELPlLeon6PgXoNsRX2UeeSS2FJ2ZTk9fgX-ILc2wHAcf9BH3sjbFaz2w8ZwI6vFfihR-g0SPzFsvLqtNzl6x5RjDhyjcFXmQX_i19AMZXQ-OkUMwVQ3LcD/s3274/DSC05181.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3274" data-original-width="3274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCclu8Qka01mmOIoITDtqb5tvm5NBk4oM7Px1u45uzuHQEo03RC8ySGjeLvQibb8hduLELPlLeon6PgXoNsRX2UeeSS2FJ2ZTk9fgX-ILc2wHAcf9BH3sjbFaz2w8ZwI6vFfihR-g0SPzFsvLqtNzl6x5RjDhyjcFXmQX_i19AMZXQ-OkUMwVQ3LcD/s16000/DSC05181.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPIiVKNJ-MdqLPYI1BtxLccE9Lgk8cmvaLir5mA5hn_saTgWOH5mAu3YB9sp82hhnsGuU-RlcFenz7rdAmxsSlblusX3HDcaTOEz4YuynjBGTilI66E2bs0a_S3mLfZS1A_PUMGQ_yU3H1GBaflu3goUI7lTwpcvSE6yqos5AIuK-NjrtF5YKNg7a/s3023/IMG_0568.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3023" data-original-width="3023" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPIiVKNJ-MdqLPYI1BtxLccE9Lgk8cmvaLir5mA5hn_saTgWOH5mAu3YB9sp82hhnsGuU-RlcFenz7rdAmxsSlblusX3HDcaTOEz4YuynjBGTilI66E2bs0a_S3mLfZS1A_PUMGQ_yU3H1GBaflu3goUI7lTwpcvSE6yqos5AIuK-NjrtF5YKNg7a/s16000/IMG_0568.jpg" /></a></div><p>We do everything together, and depending on the day our life can resemble a fraternity, a military school, a comedy show, or a trial-by-fire. More often than not it is a bit of a shit show, but we have a lot of laughs and they will have plenty of stories to tell when they get older. Like the night of the state championship when we got caught in a lake-effect snowstorm leaving Buffalo and a 6 hour drive home took us 11 hours. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyDcHq3Uc1w5tK8XAW0P8M4kN_vj2-kT03LXm8IaCoYCbO8D8vC1_REVkSRT0PkuGnrd1O8Kj9tzyoUvTxzKQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</span></b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-59509415869837128382022-08-04T17:39:00.002-04:002022-12-23T02:29:05.466-05:00Texas Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpicunKRmUXjwJVIi-_2OcT8TUCsjsWSWUPShqNd8S-nDCL8DHIO3q2AzCkHNLbzI7jxWvuBSL7sroqEpu67AlrcTMsH9PKLpqgkmosjsxvWVUnNrECeVk13P55Fj-_0dIQ_4wcogC3haJ9T1mEfKtYvUzhqYqKehJB1rnWttbx37sGzCtTs2ZssL/s1924/Rename.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1924" data-original-width="1924" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpicunKRmUXjwJVIi-_2OcT8TUCsjsWSWUPShqNd8S-nDCL8DHIO3q2AzCkHNLbzI7jxWvuBSL7sroqEpu67AlrcTMsH9PKLpqgkmosjsxvWVUnNrECeVk13P55Fj-_0dIQ_4wcogC3haJ9T1mEfKtYvUzhqYqKehJB1rnWttbx37sGzCtTs2ZssL/s16000/Rename.heic" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">On Friday we made a trip to Penn State University for PJ's football visit followed by a back-to-back trip to Texas A&M University after he received a last minute invite to a special event for the country's top recruits and commits at head coach Jimbo Fisher's house. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/AlexRocco13_/status/1553215623060242434?s=20&t=CXaTycV70Bfy2P78TRdB4w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2596" data-original-width="2596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKjV9_bIWJnc72UPIyJCPn_N6b9kR7V9dYbuZrsyBIYPl3LU55sZU8E2cF10ncLUtIb_VvF3xui7tqV6Kdyx2KT4xtHm3jlTkY5vN7ATWdzmSz3Hfghm2udzoQmsdfQ8Cins2ff50XK7WNB0nye3_FvG7xZbkDJRtJGJhKrBYIueBNM_lZqd6JuBe/s16000/IMG_1716.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/Perroni247/status/1553901631485493249?s=20&t=CXaTycV70Bfy2P78TRdB4w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2270" data-original-width="2270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_poczBZKA2J_cZgABgjeqg_bO8Cg35yIdJmb7DzYnDWYd1MjkOD6pUcz73yQcgZZiXjglCcOFGeOeWxTLwT78-SF7JefxtY8dq5fi2Pa3yFQcUhrIwt1D7HSkjFm5NTOh6v_mPCy5KlKRD9f0gvpLwJkQeQULmY_dxCX0BGtpCgGykWURlcJntW3/s16000/IMG_2584.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">It was 2:00am when we arrived home from Penn State. We had exactly 25 minutes to shower and be at the airport for our 6:00am flight to Texas. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTa8LTSJEoRJL72dNvwFeswrQ2y02ECH_tEF33RQhr4a-AO1m6LqmROfWtg4VS58Bk84x-MNN39rJcSo0BNYI-MPPke1jUDntkyfxwRPuvg50Kj4_nIi87Nfzz_YLUvUX1moK7wq_7SPCedGyYxKzZ3LL817_oBgYUm8lN2lsCTli4gCI5axardqP/s2764/IMG_1831.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="2764" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTa8LTSJEoRJL72dNvwFeswrQ2y02ECH_tEF33RQhr4a-AO1m6LqmROfWtg4VS58Bk84x-MNN39rJcSo0BNYI-MPPke1jUDntkyfxwRPuvg50Kj4_nIi87Nfzz_YLUvUX1moK7wq_7SPCedGyYxKzZ3LL817_oBgYUm8lN2lsCTli4gCI5axardqP/s16000/IMG_1831.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">I've been to Texas a few times, but it was my boys' first trip. They were psyched for it. Without making a political statement, my 3 children and I are socially moderate and pro-choice, but we all believe in the strong conservative values that Texas stands for. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNsvf2bBPtKut1vEeZw-NogY9U_Kyopf9gauSE6CMNLfE1xUp4sC7qkt0RLmFhnkxL_Ur5IKLCJgEeE_hQgg4_Atwyz-v7pYI1Eklk-FJsou0zEO1cOhhhMd1Sbgm7D0gCfZLIpcrmo68tfng8_ubI2KWPQ5jmzx8u8S1RLd2drj37hEy4dlw8swJ/s2419/IMG_3308.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2419" data-original-width="1361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNsvf2bBPtKut1vEeZw-NogY9U_Kyopf9gauSE6CMNLfE1xUp4sC7qkt0RLmFhnkxL_Ur5IKLCJgEeE_hQgg4_Atwyz-v7pYI1Eklk-FJsou0zEO1cOhhhMd1Sbgm7D0gCfZLIpcrmo68tfng8_ubI2KWPQ5jmzx8u8S1RLd2drj37hEy4dlw8swJ/s16000/IMG_3308.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">Aggieland was amazing. My son is a very special young man and received his 8th D1 college scholarship offer while we were there. </p><p>After visiting Texas A&M we spent a few days with my cousin at his 2,000 acre ranch in the hill country of Southern Texas. He's the banker who handles almost all of the major ranch transactions in the U.S.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9rO4Xl4LZ_P9NJKBJH516uwKZlrf1EEVwWwEl--WLpOGLZtdadl6iQ2_uh9MTnTswCXY-5slcBXzJz5Lyfb6p5oPxZAltwIk-2UwywgCfbLV6w5Uy85LsOuhf0ZjB42uxC6zZnY7X4zXn4IX7NeISSVfbejL07yDuFDM77KCzO3gapPpOAXwSXxQ/s1284/IMG_3339.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1284" data-original-width="1284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9rO4Xl4LZ_P9NJKBJH516uwKZlrf1EEVwWwEl--WLpOGLZtdadl6iQ2_uh9MTnTswCXY-5slcBXzJz5Lyfb6p5oPxZAltwIk-2UwywgCfbLV6w5Uy85LsOuhf0ZjB42uxC6zZnY7X4zXn4IX7NeISSVfbejL07yDuFDM77KCzO3gapPpOAXwSXxQ/s16000/IMG_3339.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>It was great to see my uncle and all of my cousins who we do not get to see often enough. Distance never weakens us, and we naturally picked up with hugs, sarcasm, and breaking chops; right where we left off last time we saw each other. </p><p>We will never forget these soul-satisfying days filled with fishing, hunting and eating what we got, swimming in the creek, shooting guns, racing ATV's, and the authentic conversations that happen only in the absence of cell-phones and life's everyday distractions. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZrOKE_SIFz2XMhWhBPWy5G0DYP9DQmPpPZAYiy6EwcoDmYasceok2xBmBVPjz28H4k3FMqJQ6LmGwa0tKjqCCfrTfIjOLD3RRVNP4mwZUx_E9JBugcYhOQhPRVFdl9b21rtdrY_YhY3TW8LhKzijaotwL8_y8ZH_C-b4_PurQ00l-fZf-3ghqj0k/s3699/IMG_2702.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3699" data-original-width="2081" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZrOKE_SIFz2XMhWhBPWy5G0DYP9DQmPpPZAYiy6EwcoDmYasceok2xBmBVPjz28H4k3FMqJQ6LmGwa0tKjqCCfrTfIjOLD3RRVNP4mwZUx_E9JBugcYhOQhPRVFdl9b21rtdrY_YhY3TW8LhKzijaotwL8_y8ZH_C-b4_PurQ00l-fZf-3ghqj0k/s16000/IMG_2702.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppoGj9ez3CVf9k_T5nB6gHV5aswc5cVrN_eOyF92IoXkUbDzp5-GUZTEpNEKwlYUhPRGTRWUpqqJtE-u7NjfuZCU6KxuHnDH7vF2WWmyg5Y4OKjt3Lh5wzs1lTuHYlC2Dj0jHptqkPiZxVFwVZ3EWIWCnUKQckhMx2Y2w_iYtxSpkKZcALl-yj-YU/s4032/IMG_3135.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppoGj9ez3CVf9k_T5nB6gHV5aswc5cVrN_eOyF92IoXkUbDzp5-GUZTEpNEKwlYUhPRGTRWUpqqJtE-u7NjfuZCU6KxuHnDH7vF2WWmyg5Y4OKjt3Lh5wzs1lTuHYlC2Dj0jHptqkPiZxVFwVZ3EWIWCnUKQckhMx2Y2w_iYtxSpkKZcALl-yj-YU/s16000/IMG_3135.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MCeeEwNCc0uGWN_s-wuvyTU1HXL1_2uXU-xO9iaQ7XR-pGnAu5vU72BPI6Um8dKSdMn0nM0zxnzyvsM9iUx6atbp_hgZAod1dbSkGr87WnTjQMZLcFgyrufec_naEtsYOIGZtL1_xjM0rgAHuYPlxb1H7U-PQlfr-ejp2G6zOChx-T1MThTysUky/s4032/IMG_3156.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MCeeEwNCc0uGWN_s-wuvyTU1HXL1_2uXU-xO9iaQ7XR-pGnAu5vU72BPI6Um8dKSdMn0nM0zxnzyvsM9iUx6atbp_hgZAod1dbSkGr87WnTjQMZLcFgyrufec_naEtsYOIGZtL1_xjM0rgAHuYPlxb1H7U-PQlfr-ejp2G6zOChx-T1MThTysUky/s16000/IMG_3156.JPG" /></a></div><p>There is no Wi-Fi or cell service on the ranch and the technology vacuum presents an opportunity for real conversations. Life is so short and only moments like this remind us what is so important: our wives, children, and family. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1ifxtPu1NNq4bwG2psweoH-wamTyvXj_JEpboKZVzX6do9ZEzGXMwJKgXFTe7ba_wy3DganqoNbDY24dJpuq0WbmxubgDGNQ_1Y80I1jPoBz69aaAaNfySvb4G2cmiF0-IGoWU4zhTlEpYMmya1MAzXzdyjWvkUHxPft9r7z1y_nQInHIcyEIvjZ/s4032/IMG_2765.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1ifxtPu1NNq4bwG2psweoH-wamTyvXj_JEpboKZVzX6do9ZEzGXMwJKgXFTe7ba_wy3DganqoNbDY24dJpuq0WbmxubgDGNQ_1Y80I1jPoBz69aaAaNfySvb4G2cmiF0-IGoWU4zhTlEpYMmya1MAzXzdyjWvkUHxPft9r7z1y_nQInHIcyEIvjZ/s16000/IMG_2765.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62ZoLEjAaJW6Z6s6iNf1VZknu-nhs8lzu2bTelWuL65pLvuo54G_sUZF5r8s8IAfpXm-YXKn5cY1uCvwtv4zZbqcwiP6qjYG8HaTNJAAEByJ3MQdtLtqPv9vKd3z-tK5UF-h1DImM7flxFiMgones5ktilaRS92YVgJTb3N0XjuzFHioKp-bsqOev/s4032/IMG_3074.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62ZoLEjAaJW6Z6s6iNf1VZknu-nhs8lzu2bTelWuL65pLvuo54G_sUZF5r8s8IAfpXm-YXKn5cY1uCvwtv4zZbqcwiP6qjYG8HaTNJAAEByJ3MQdtLtqPv9vKd3z-tK5UF-h1DImM7flxFiMgones5ktilaRS92YVgJTb3N0XjuzFHioKp-bsqOev/s16000/IMG_3074.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgl6-_FTmXGFkV7PNCHzTWZfSydsRZ_u8OFacgmvfP0w9Lm18i1VVfcplLLkupUogpRMnKazNnNabqKdaemdj5aq3T9-4-4IgPolnDkiuZ3t_sJC-UwGhMsn1YbOnYw5ixsuAOrP9xMCmfA4fzI30UZAP3UIJBdnbUW4nmHckfGtHCQqBIUA-QeIwJ/s4032/IMG_3083.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgl6-_FTmXGFkV7PNCHzTWZfSydsRZ_u8OFacgmvfP0w9Lm18i1VVfcplLLkupUogpRMnKazNnNabqKdaemdj5aq3T9-4-4IgPolnDkiuZ3t_sJC-UwGhMsn1YbOnYw5ixsuAOrP9xMCmfA4fzI30UZAP3UIJBdnbUW4nmHckfGtHCQqBIUA-QeIwJ/s16000/IMG_3083.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYJIBLZWG2prQz6UW6mfIdX3naGXkE_Cl77k-PpRJ1lSwwdrF8iHpNJUgW1ZfIwga6dUxPSOkBuwNqwo2sE8o5UIlYV6k6OPewGyFfMIpGRZwI2squ_P9-H1Nop7IFh0a0FltcYcF6okmEPqrEMMvyDmK4T7hhhjywN1FwK3lR0t4LfVkxAKQx7Rj/s2364/IMG_2770.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2364" data-original-width="2364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYJIBLZWG2prQz6UW6mfIdX3naGXkE_Cl77k-PpRJ1lSwwdrF8iHpNJUgW1ZfIwga6dUxPSOkBuwNqwo2sE8o5UIlYV6k6OPewGyFfMIpGRZwI2squ_P9-H1Nop7IFh0a0FltcYcF6okmEPqrEMMvyDmK4T7hhhjywN1FwK3lR0t4LfVkxAKQx7Rj/s16000/IMG_2770.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2aVjLCn11c9haORmnQvv155adYOyy2WFDAKCdKWAZK-geDpWxwqA3vag9xi_iLjpUGA78PmbSod8sfIhlM3ZoaSWXGgtwLcEDS6OCkn9lTA4oL94IAqdILQ686O0RLz1GzKB1WN8TnALUCDxPc-ZujDPeNmq9vQlIjlWy6EbuPFUywZC9PRuHfUt/s4032/IMG_2771.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2aVjLCn11c9haORmnQvv155adYOyy2WFDAKCdKWAZK-geDpWxwqA3vag9xi_iLjpUGA78PmbSod8sfIhlM3ZoaSWXGgtwLcEDS6OCkn9lTA4oL94IAqdILQ686O0RLz1GzKB1WN8TnALUCDxPc-ZujDPeNmq9vQlIjlWy6EbuPFUywZC9PRuHfUt/s16000/IMG_2771.JPG" /></a></div><p>My cousin Stephen is a hard working man that puts his family first. By day he's one of the country's top bankers but he's also a fieldsman that could make fire from sticks and hunt his own dinner with a spear. Melissa is a strong and beautiful alpha-woman, the matriarch of the family. Their daughters and sons are beautiful people inside and out and they all tower at over 6ft. </p><p>My Uncle Mike and his wife Lindy are the epitome of Texas class, the kind from the old TV series Dallas. </p><p>Tonya and David and their kids are so kind. David manages an oil refinery near Houston. They are people who find happiness in the simplicity of life, a contrast to the common New York lifestyle. They are loyal, generous, and warm.</p><p>The sky is different down here. It is vast and endless and during the day it is a deep blue with wisps of cotton clouds floating effortlessly. At night the sky is the blackest of black and accompanied by such a silence that you can hear your own heartbeat. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4s-VM93RyCcagjdLnZxnJA5X6-vHjdUtjMQGQt09Gr_10yF0izrwSx1ZX4lluGsIQIe0mftOZTGLCqVJw0wh00bAqoW7jdmKWo4OpI9erq79WyXMuvNMV24NmQHRScaZLg-yqX1TxoZ0grxhpjoaJPyQUc8xrp4-aa1P1BtkbIJuiIFG3No0DJL_R/s4032/IMG_3295.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4s-VM93RyCcagjdLnZxnJA5X6-vHjdUtjMQGQt09Gr_10yF0izrwSx1ZX4lluGsIQIe0mftOZTGLCqVJw0wh00bAqoW7jdmKWo4OpI9erq79WyXMuvNMV24NmQHRScaZLg-yqX1TxoZ0grxhpjoaJPyQUc8xrp4-aa1P1BtkbIJuiIFG3No0DJL_R/s16000/IMG_3295.JPG" /></a></div><p>My boys are growing up. So much has changed, so much has stayed the same. I watch them wrestle over the last deer sausage and for who is driving the ATV. They take turns driving it up and down the riverbeds while we are here kicking up dust as they speed by the camp. A Morgan Whalen soundtrack plays in my head as I watch these moments of my life fly by.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiui0s0neGE4t0tX6ORMRVoiguEl78n1jLnwD0TjAL7WPk174YAXS6WZtz__6U5udhQPfC8hQDUlvV_mpTBe-ruYmWTw5HnGXxw2h8GdZXqXZUHMMvFcGigr8j4w0Hcy5z374pzPo0938Yw1jYobQ0wqz_sAu0BdOzh34TUB7fIrDRKRZt5ktwnsdcs/s4032/IMG_2766.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiui0s0neGE4t0tX6ORMRVoiguEl78n1jLnwD0TjAL7WPk174YAXS6WZtz__6U5udhQPfC8hQDUlvV_mpTBe-ruYmWTw5HnGXxw2h8GdZXqXZUHMMvFcGigr8j4w0Hcy5z374pzPo0938Yw1jYobQ0wqz_sAu0BdOzh34TUB7fIrDRKRZt5ktwnsdcs/s16000/IMG_2766.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDw-h9qDhG1d5Uuvf1kDOloi8O67OfTJKIY5QqEtT7PmE7rtwbBU7CZsiDhCe_YAxXIsUYJUDTPJbQJnuUYsrO9l8vBO4MIqep2Y7feRWqBjXy7scmjoVojRSXwZ_YQtgY36N25K5zuF48H_4Q7-wcikHCCPrylt_aE8fTpgR6Z-ip3tqI6TAcVwX/s4032/IMG_2816.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDw-h9qDhG1d5Uuvf1kDOloi8O67OfTJKIY5QqEtT7PmE7rtwbBU7CZsiDhCe_YAxXIsUYJUDTPJbQJnuUYsrO9l8vBO4MIqep2Y7feRWqBjXy7scmjoVojRSXwZ_YQtgY36N25K5zuF48H_4Q7-wcikHCCPrylt_aE8fTpgR6Z-ip3tqI6TAcVwX/s16000/IMG_2816.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlVrcHvIaDb4NxBONk0qLvAQ1XL88oeOqd5liI6fykjgJfHNJZiypzhvh1TW7n3YdlpB4B6Fvf8k31CIRt8Wtokbzyc8F_N8_n1rVVRxWeOd8MrPcYjsxZmpsFOZIHTPPPEgnG_AXyy56dSXyRGN8cJ5kNdsBJTcBHeCj0hBxT52GWAnP9uowG0nc/s4029/IMG_3025.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4029" data-original-width="2266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlVrcHvIaDb4NxBONk0qLvAQ1XL88oeOqd5liI6fykjgJfHNJZiypzhvh1TW7n3YdlpB4B6Fvf8k31CIRt8Wtokbzyc8F_N8_n1rVVRxWeOd8MrPcYjsxZmpsFOZIHTPPPEgnG_AXyy56dSXyRGN8cJ5kNdsBJTcBHeCj0hBxT52GWAnP9uowG0nc/s16000/IMG_3025.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTn6ozMhJvsBQaPYJcOokcaTe-5bmmgr2otyW-yktfTRgyry6pC8uxkACyF9CROuNiWGRakVpuko1RL8HACcImfnS2GpHmquabIy6Y7gSyX45HJ0yskPPkC4q_AEiLAfKGHQgxEks0dLmONa-lmOxtaD8aq_xcc4Op0mhD5EjHpY6NF2l1on7mbf1/s4032/IMG_3032.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTn6ozMhJvsBQaPYJcOokcaTe-5bmmgr2otyW-yktfTRgyry6pC8uxkACyF9CROuNiWGRakVpuko1RL8HACcImfnS2GpHmquabIy6Y7gSyX45HJ0yskPPkC4q_AEiLAfKGHQgxEks0dLmONa-lmOxtaD8aq_xcc4Op0mhD5EjHpY6NF2l1on7mbf1/s16000/IMG_3032.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2-9nsHFMq6hFyngifBVv8HhNDaolQXyycQtUDpct4c25UnqIYF8Xjpb9jRURcLJbWVMXUMveX4UL0vbBWE59H29vvsraFfgLGtL_zspudSNw01fqVEGQx9Arrp9XrQVM16lheEIw8sI9TPLX-m1R0IbTzJBZJ8xmpjrTv2RCcjDeoxOCS_UEkKAf/s4032/IMG_3135.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2-9nsHFMq6hFyngifBVv8HhNDaolQXyycQtUDpct4c25UnqIYF8Xjpb9jRURcLJbWVMXUMveX4UL0vbBWE59H29vvsraFfgLGtL_zspudSNw01fqVEGQx9Arrp9XrQVM16lheEIw8sI9TPLX-m1R0IbTzJBZJ8xmpjrTv2RCcjDeoxOCS_UEkKAf/s16000/IMG_3135.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDnJu_U42DXZn33zXNnfBql4CIkNih0Cdy6M-NkQTU_50XkHnkyTnhuyBkpYIO0wBRJXrthpeAjqRaF4d8Xol2NeHgCoEqBRyqxUmA1rJWE98MK3VMjZ3LLfpn-TXz7CWnjGpmeDorUnlfDCctQ8MFQKyV_TZrXBQvcodfEDEkNiDZ-NjDWClC5cV/s3519/IMG_3243.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3519" data-original-width="1979" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDnJu_U42DXZn33zXNnfBql4CIkNih0Cdy6M-NkQTU_50XkHnkyTnhuyBkpYIO0wBRJXrthpeAjqRaF4d8Xol2NeHgCoEqBRyqxUmA1rJWE98MK3VMjZ3LLfpn-TXz7CWnjGpmeDorUnlfDCctQ8MFQKyV_TZrXBQvcodfEDEkNiDZ-NjDWClC5cV/s16000/IMG_3243.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTfoPgYbUubUGhKIRyGgW4XK5R7Upvnq2vU3b0jAFeh1MrAycGC6mVDDZw0RDvgKCokgHAb_m13p1D6RXy6_iSiCrdFmN1Rt8AsYK7InnU0KlzKWgXbx-bjZY2BB3Gcv2EZWb2mp4Tp8IQ_ZI-miSw2R4nBEWKp4ocKIM2RGpMFZ7DyOhlKG0qJ2R/s3464/IMG_3240.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3464" data-original-width="1948" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTfoPgYbUubUGhKIRyGgW4XK5R7Upvnq2vU3b0jAFeh1MrAycGC6mVDDZw0RDvgKCokgHAb_m13p1D6RXy6_iSiCrdFmN1Rt8AsYK7InnU0KlzKWgXbx-bjZY2BB3Gcv2EZWb2mp4Tp8IQ_ZI-miSw2R4nBEWKp4ocKIM2RGpMFZ7DyOhlKG0qJ2R/s16000/IMG_3240.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I've had a life of ups and downs, love and hearbreak, but God damn I always manage to find the silver-lining every single time. If you are lucky, you know that no one loves better than me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If I died tomorrow I die a happy man. My cup is full. It always is. Life is what you make it.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5nNqXvCUD79JdbsteM-dfq_xaJaTue5jd0HQ6foKAGyGHn4mFKDFX0asA1JEop8cmRbWeomtgho-rDINwho1R_j91XMRATabMSBbKB7h2ubbI4ogVDEorWjpEknEbWHJi_b33ryvW63Z9xOOhRNLd0FnJSIlSmlU6ka94L5B-J5umwtGW8gMMef0/s2193/Texas2.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2193" data-original-width="2193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5nNqXvCUD79JdbsteM-dfq_xaJaTue5jd0HQ6foKAGyGHn4mFKDFX0asA1JEop8cmRbWeomtgho-rDINwho1R_j91XMRATabMSBbKB7h2ubbI4ogVDEorWjpEknEbWHJi_b33ryvW63Z9xOOhRNLd0FnJSIlSmlU6ka94L5B-J5umwtGW8gMMef0/s16000/Texas2.heic" /></a></div><br /><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</span></b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-79674652403538380682022-05-20T10:00:00.001-04:002022-05-21T00:42:56.400-04:00Dear Lord has it really been two years?<p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GHnVZNK_kvSnBawKYrjezyYt3mS_Gk77e1HHpsZslq9QjENXuyn5Jy5RjZzjJdNuSoH-rIMfpJUY8eKGmGExJEukiZ0LhMYjo90PUs19YhVXHGtTSUQlf0Iz5m4eQB_ZmH5ZxPKoaEiYOXTb6PbUgWgfWGjIegAEwhwWGF5QLvZP1nN1dABkUNb4/s1440/0685E011-0632-43BE-83A3-E989AFC0E6A0.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GHnVZNK_kvSnBawKYrjezyYt3mS_Gk77e1HHpsZslq9QjENXuyn5Jy5RjZzjJdNuSoH-rIMfpJUY8eKGmGExJEukiZ0LhMYjo90PUs19YhVXHGtTSUQlf0Iz5m4eQB_ZmH5ZxPKoaEiYOXTb6PbUgWgfWGjIegAEwhwWGF5QLvZP1nN1dABkUNb4/s16000/0685E011-0632-43BE-83A3-E989AFC0E6A0.JPG" /></a></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A social media memory that appeared on my timeline is the impetus that causes me to take a seat in the kitchen reflecting on Sully's Leukemia journey. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The kitchen is dark except for the glow of the utility light over the sink. It's a school night and the boys are in bed sleeping. The house is quiet except for the dishwasher running and the faint sound of Darius Rucker playing from the Alexa. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I sit at the table waiting for the last load of laundry to finish so that I can fold it and go to bed.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">My God has it really been two years since <b><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">that day?</a></b></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We have another year left of chemotherapy, spinal taps, blood draws, MRI's, pill cases and doctor appointments, but my boy is cancer free. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">How will we get through another year? Exactly how we've come this far: I'm not sure how we've done it. I just pray to God before bed, we wake up and plant our feet, and we go through the motions. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In the blink of an eye Sully has been through an unpleasant divorce, cancer diagnosis, his sister leaving for college, and then the dog that slept with him every night; his best friend, <b><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2021/10/saying-goodbye-to-lennox.html" target="_blank">got slaughtered in the road in front of our house</a></b> by a passing truck before his very eyes. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnldZqipdT45t7vrdh9Mq1014V3hfdIzMtmmnIAzv70iGT_Ww2Z8QIEBU_CKuRMkPBP5TGlWut-QZvhmipXylcL-d6iOE45wy6MKm9IAdrztWDd4AhhWY5BJ9H_c3T6VCznRp_1iT6coO8kl67KDxwp6s0Rh-zR2QAw-bnxv7FsamMv6Vqb4eohcId/s1216/IMG_0545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnldZqipdT45t7vrdh9Mq1014V3hfdIzMtmmnIAzv70iGT_Ww2Z8QIEBU_CKuRMkPBP5TGlWut-QZvhmipXylcL-d6iOE45wy6MKm9IAdrztWDd4AhhWY5BJ9H_c3T6VCznRp_1iT6coO8kl67KDxwp6s0Rh-zR2QAw-bnxv7FsamMv6Vqb4eohcId/s16000/IMG_0545.jpg" /></a></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgL_KEdIQQBU5inGmk1UcnpymWE15CUsdE3twFBO1gRszeQ9OhbNN8UZsFfdlEqsyJA17l2MaF0RPQqYvI_izwWWabpWYr38jQSu-Zk1XOpd8d9vVQ8yZnv9DBNS49NlAtUlpqe49T-Funo1aPifWXL3io2KkFpDY5a-KclhR0clYf-4_NEyCKHld/s2673/IMG_0538.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2673" data-original-width="2673" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgL_KEdIQQBU5inGmk1UcnpymWE15CUsdE3twFBO1gRszeQ9OhbNN8UZsFfdlEqsyJA17l2MaF0RPQqYvI_izwWWabpWYr38jQSu-Zk1XOpd8d9vVQ8yZnv9DBNS49NlAtUlpqe49T-Funo1aPifWXL3io2KkFpDY5a-KclhR0clYf-4_NEyCKHld/s16000/IMG_0538.jpg" /></a></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">One of these experiences alone is a challenge for a kid. All of them shoved into a short time period is a lot.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">But he is so resilient, optimistic, responsible, and such a pure soul. He is the epitome of a good boy. We find positive vibes and laughs in every day.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">One day recently I was upstairs and happened to pass by his game room while he was playing the piano. It was bittersweet. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He had been on a visit to my mom's and taught himself how to play a couple of songs on my brothers keyboard while he was there. Naturally she sent the keyboard home with him. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He set it up in his game room and I noticed that he began choosing the keyboard over the X-box. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">That day he sat there with his back to me playing Beethoven's <i>Fur Elise</i>. I stood outside and watched from the doorway. It was one of those moments that touches you in a way you never forget. All I could think of was how much he had been through and how beautiful it was to see him find such enjoyment in the notes of the classical song he was playing. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I was impressed by his choice of music and ability to play that song with no experience. I stood there listening, careful to leave before he finished and noticed me. Later that evening I told him how proud I was and he told me how much he enjoyed classical music. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The past year has brought many changes. I have watched him become a better chef; his specialty being fried rice and chicken. He is on a soccer team, builds forts in the woods, bikes all over town, and has a friend group that has grown very large. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxvmo_ABUuOzYma9oMzwSR4OJCyky8y7g_psTGkTmKmpwlC2TzJ-nxorX99Ae3X9PDTO79QdOjnGXwvcZZozI-v0Teac3eXC--D_ONizPfTHNflZACUTLGQfkaOpScaZnpC409jvDPQWkVjez47n1T5tEo-Xl2S4HOCtOStPc0xB7xToZYMKjX1o3/s433/IMG_9116.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxvmo_ABUuOzYma9oMzwSR4OJCyky8y7g_psTGkTmKmpwlC2TzJ-nxorX99Ae3X9PDTO79QdOjnGXwvcZZozI-v0Teac3eXC--D_ONizPfTHNflZACUTLGQfkaOpScaZnpC409jvDPQWkVjez47n1T5tEo-Xl2S4HOCtOStPc0xB7xToZYMKjX1o3/s16000/IMG_9116.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaA2no6uMO3YM4BfHFX9B8o9DMRea7yQh2wjKZRSj12M93fiq0ytriyrGHFAbhHqLaott6DHZwQUD_eAmYMEazePEaENOvR76WWOqSfIOiUMbOsSKZYZ1AG4VUjx5-GFuW1mWeKuAChJxvUd7cgbAqJWBPSHCPio0l_OmfFndPP2JX71KCrkuyobm/s3024/IMG_1263.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaA2no6uMO3YM4BfHFX9B8o9DMRea7yQh2wjKZRSj12M93fiq0ytriyrGHFAbhHqLaott6DHZwQUD_eAmYMEazePEaENOvR76WWOqSfIOiUMbOsSKZYZ1AG4VUjx5-GFuW1mWeKuAChJxvUd7cgbAqJWBPSHCPio0l_OmfFndPP2JX71KCrkuyobm/s16000/IMG_1263.jpg" /></a></div><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He has become extremely independent which makes me proud but melancholy. Some of his independence is his natural personality but the rest is a derivative of growing up in a single parent house. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Recently we reorganized his closet, I taught him how to use the washer and do his own laundry, and he has been spending a lot of time with his friends. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">One Saturday I left to do a road race and called his phone to check in on him and his older brother: </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Hey bud, what are you guys doing?"</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"I'm eating", he said. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Where are you?"</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"I'm at the Mexican place."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"What do you mean you are at the Mexican place Sully? You and your brother were supposed to call me if you left the house."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"I'm with a friend having lunch at the Mexican place across from the gym where we go. We rode bikes."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I paused and stared straight ahead for a moment with the phone at my ear ready to kick his ass; but oddly this 12 year old man boss on the phone made me feel like I was interrupting an adult lunch. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"You have to pay you know. How are you paying?"</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"From my account, I have my card. I got $500 for my birthday", he said. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I paused again, and then replied.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Oh, okay. Well, uhm... you better have your helmet, and stop spending so much money on door dash and food or it will be gone quickly. We have food at home."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Okay Dad bye."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I smiled and shook my head. His maturity in the overly coddled environment these kids grow up in today amazes me. He is an old soul, brilliant, and streetwise. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He told me a week later that he had a girlfriend. Coincidentally I learned that was the friend he ate lunch with at the Mexican place! </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He got a flat tire on his bike last week because the tires were so bald. He said he skidded and just heard air leak out. Sure enough I looked and the rear tire was flat and so bald it had almost worn through. I asked him why he didn't tell me the tires were bald and he just shrugged his shoulders. After a closer inspection I saw that one of the break pads had broken off and his seat needed to be raised because he had grown. I looked up at him and he just shrugged again. I shook my head. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"You can't just ride it and not maintain it. Look how filthy it is you need to wash it once in a while, oil the chain, and check everything."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He looked at me like I was speaking Chinese. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He rides back and forth to school so I needed to get it fixed immediately. The local bike shop was closed on Monday. I called one a little further away that was open but the man told me they were too busy to fix the flat while we waited. So we hopped into the car and drove there and bought two new tires, tubes, and brake pads. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He liked the idea that we were going to do this ourselves. We got back in the car and he said "I'm going to help you". </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Yes you are" I said. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The next hour consisted of grabbing the right tools for the job, having to explain every detail about the tools, the parts, and a plethora of questions as we disassembled and reassembled the bike. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Didn't you used to build bikes when you were a kid dad?" he asked. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Yes sort of, I raced BMX bikes"</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Listen this part is important" I said as I was assembling the first new tube and tire on the rim. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"You have to be very careful as you inflate it that the tube stays fully inside the tire. If it's not on properly and sticks out it will get pinched and pop."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">He was hyper attentive his eyes didn't blink, he loved this project. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We inflated the first tire and put it back on. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The most memorable part of the job was when we were reassembling the second tube and tire onto the rim. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I got hasty and made the mistake of putting it on the bike this time before inflating it which made it more difficult to keep the tube aligned. As we started to inflate it, it exploded twice!</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">BOOOM! BOOM!</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Sully's face lit up and he cupped his ears. I started laughing. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Uhm..... THAT. That is what I meant not to do Sully."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"We should have inflated it while it was off the bike and been more careful. Good lesson."</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"That was loud. Are your ears ringing dad?"</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We finished the job reusing one of the old tubes that wasn't popped, installed the new brake pads, adjusted all the cables, and oiled everything.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Thanks I can do it myself next time now that I know how to do it" he said.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkPlHz61vshGPgKk9HyJB72Eo-6usZUt_5BUSYXpx_wPaX0kq_5mhWPz67kE4PFtlYDF18p7BvzRmKjshwzWvEHwAukoZqBJb5dzmQaz9H0X4niwQLoppOz0_O8uZfH3cTi6nDJexM6vvnGMfJ4my1Z0YEOXd1B-TDVPoXYiN63yU2tiqoN-yic6Z/s3227/IMG_4892.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2607" data-original-width="3227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkPlHz61vshGPgKk9HyJB72Eo-6usZUt_5BUSYXpx_wPaX0kq_5mhWPz67kE4PFtlYDF18p7BvzRmKjshwzWvEHwAukoZqBJb5dzmQaz9H0X4niwQLoppOz0_O8uZfH3cTi6nDJexM6vvnGMfJ4my1Z0YEOXd1B-TDVPoXYiN63yU2tiqoN-yic6Z/s16000/IMG_4892.jpg" /></a></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;">Earlier in the month I took him for chemotherapy in the morning and then dropped him back at the house because I had a short meeting for work around the corner. He stays home from school on chemo days and lays low watching TV or playing the X-box. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I returned an hour later.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Sully" I called out when I walked in the door. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Nothing.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Sully!" I yelled. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">After two more times yelling louder the side door of the house burst open and he walked in. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">He had his red <i>Beats </i></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">headphones on and was breathing hard, dripping with sweat, and had a tomato red face. He looked like someone hit him with a flame thrower.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">My eyes widened.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"What are you doing?" I asked. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Working out" he said as he nonchalantly pushed past me without even making eye contact.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I turned around.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"What? Where? What?" I asked. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"In the gym" he said not even turning around or breaking his grown man stride.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">During COVID I had built a fully equipped gym inside of a solarium on the side of our house. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Where are you going now?" I asked</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"To take a shower" he said. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I stood there eyes wide and had one of the hardest internal laughs I've ever had.</p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Amazing. </p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</span></b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: x-large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></span></div><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBt6bi2yOqpeqxfMRjqXdu8XM0i6YNat7GUv-7xLBi-T0vgK2SN_9eaNtb8FOn3N61WzwnNd1C7XcbR15J02SGETEJa2gzbFgQjUsowZiZK3Gghflfjh6T9FP-sPN7zuxdhk4oAUupvY73YJHqJKqrsMSf5NzYrOixy3XA6j-7NVb1tFYNsOqaS5D/s3024/IMG_3518.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBt6bi2yOqpeqxfMRjqXdu8XM0i6YNat7GUv-7xLBi-T0vgK2SN_9eaNtb8FOn3N61WzwnNd1C7XcbR15J02SGETEJa2gzbFgQjUsowZiZK3Gghflfjh6T9FP-sPN7zuxdhk4oAUupvY73YJHqJKqrsMSf5NzYrOixy3XA6j-7NVb1tFYNsOqaS5D/s16000/IMG_3518.jpg" /></a></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbFtLgXNqhaXidk18bo1AD6n3x4HofHJsjJglE473w2w09Q1Hyv66NrYx7Z4MVFNI5g4PSBtdngwf8NmkpPzwgOKMXW61lzVgVzshGYQx3KNohGmjGYRqydWT6OVRKZ4g1g6dqFzQ3u15M5PuCZa8AWKMvTmX8wA8b6aIEIDmVnKU0KJMaASu0690/s843/IMG_3379.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="843" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbFtLgXNqhaXidk18bo1AD6n3x4HofHJsjJglE473w2w09Q1Hyv66NrYx7Z4MVFNI5g4PSBtdngwf8NmkpPzwgOKMXW61lzVgVzshGYQx3KNohGmjGYRqydWT6OVRKZ4g1g6dqFzQ3u15M5PuCZa8AWKMvTmX8wA8b6aIEIDmVnKU0KJMaASu0690/s16000/IMG_3379.jpg" /></a></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-75373633262601874192021-10-05T01:56:00.017-04:002022-12-07T14:40:42.350-05:00Saying Goodbye to Lennox<p></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0i92eONUy3S1Tyz43_MkmbAc7Bquw3IESwxE7B42x6COBsFpaguSGnxkPj3qcNAcs3oc8pU-WzInrQscbqzNDztZXq9l4c8WdmHFLzwVBiM1hfczpvPbHvJXrOHJJyVpq-_a6yjvBwK0/s2048/IMG_0538+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0i92eONUy3S1Tyz43_MkmbAc7Bquw3IESwxE7B42x6COBsFpaguSGnxkPj3qcNAcs3oc8pU-WzInrQscbqzNDztZXq9l4c8WdmHFLzwVBiM1hfczpvPbHvJXrOHJJyVpq-_a6yjvBwK0/s16000/IMG_0538+2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><blockquote><h1 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: xx-large;">“At the end of the day people won't remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.”<br /></span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: xx-large;">― Maya Angelou</span></h1></blockquote><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></p><blockquote style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><i><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaq-P494cJU-VaZ8shcsCjylsJPPdBnsqse_0_RS449wBfpgUvoZ0Bi2D0WE7ZjHyI7hwX79hVMCDtA3L8uKMd9kEmfx1_cHvz9thHSsGU1zmHdDWdFuYomZCh7ZmMXZUcHYa8VMAJrD0/s1184/CowboyEditedHeadshot.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1184" data-original-width="1184" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaq-P494cJU-VaZ8shcsCjylsJPPdBnsqse_0_RS449wBfpgUvoZ0Bi2D0WE7ZjHyI7hwX79hVMCDtA3L8uKMd9kEmfx1_cHvz9thHSsGU1zmHdDWdFuYomZCh7ZmMXZUcHYa8VMAJrD0/w200-h200/CowboyEditedHeadshot.jpg" width="100" /></a></div>I write it as I see it. My exercise in understanding this crazy thing we call life. A simple archive of stories to survive me. </b></i></span></blockquote><p></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><i></i></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="color: #666666; font-size: x-large;">I</span> was showering today when I heard my 17 year old daughter Milan screaming at the top of her lungs.</p><p>"Dad!!!" </p><p>I thought it was because I had the radio turned up, but upon grabbing my towel and getting out she shrieked "Lennox has been hit by a car hurry!" She was crying. </p><p>She had just arrived for a 3 day visit from college in Alabama. We didn't even get a chance to say hello and I was running around my bedroom frantically looking for a pair of pants to put on and run downstairs to see what happened. </p><p>I threw on a pair of jeans and ran outside passing my 11 year old Sully on the front porch who was also crying and looking at our dog Lennox who sat in the driveway. </p><p>I looked back at Sully as I ran over to the dog and told him "calm down it's going to be okay." </p><p>I told Milan the same thing but after I saw the dog I realized I might be bullshitting them both. He sat in the driveway upright. He was alert, but stunned and not moving. They had thrown a towel over him and there was blood everywhere. </p><p>"It's his legs Dad, you can see the bones and they are bleeding badly," said Milan. I was proud of how calm and collected she was, clearly a result of her EMT training in high school. Sully cried harder.</p><p>"Okay everyone relax it's going to be okay, we're going to take him to the hospital just calm down," I said.</p><p>I ran inside as fast as I could and pulled 5 or 6 beach towels out of the closet. Pots and pans crashed onto the floor that were stored next to them but I left them and ran out the door. I wrapped the towels all around Lennox and then I picked him up and laid him in my back seat. </p><p>I ran upstairs to put a shirt and shoes on and returned to them waiting in the driveway. The towels were quickly soaked in his blood. </p><p>"Stay here. I'll be back I'm going to take him to the hospital, I have to get him there quickly before he loses more blood." </p><p></p><p>"You aren't going anywhere without me he's my dog," Milan said. </p><p>I saw the look in her eyes and knew there was zero chance of changing her mind. </p><p>"Get in the back seat and sit next to him then. Sully get in the front seat, let's go," I said to them as I hopped into the car. </p><p>I wasn't even sure where to take him. We pulled out of the driveway and called his vet. They told us not to bring him there, but instead directed us to the veterinary emergency room nearby. I put my hazards on to excuse my excessive speed and got us there safely in less than 10 minutes. </p><p>I parked the car out front and picked up Lennox in the bloody mess of towels and carried him in. The doctors descended upon us immediately and brought us into the operating room where they had me lay him down on the table. </p><p>Sully and Milan stood near me as they tried to keep him from moving. He began moaning in pain. The doctors took off the towels and you could see most of the bones in his rear legs. All the skin was torn away and the blood was still seeping out. I directed Sully to the waiting room.</p><p>"You shouldn't be here now. Go sit down out there and I'll be right out," I said to him. </p><p>Tears rolled down Milan's cheeks but her poise was great. I have always had an innate ability to stay calm in the worst of situations and put people at ease. It appeared that trait had rubbed off on Milan over the years because she just stood at the foot of the operating table politely asking questions as if she was one of the doctors. </p><p>The weird thing about veterinary E.R.'s is that they allow you to remain with the pet. Milan stayed beside him the entire time while I went out to console Sully and make trips back and forth between them. </p><p>Sully had calmed down and went through bouts of staring out the window silently followed by more crying. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8MHMOOa05dRoeSobgAGHNRmPiDprChZWmEzM3L1pnr6CcLa4IeG23MN98rWtPqiaS3JH9wRCLzu-U4rZWWvnewijoGIlyPs8CCMp1gY85DH5ipmqhNoJQMa-yfxlZ8vIWscJ6nNjTVo/s2048/IMG_0532.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8MHMOOa05dRoeSobgAGHNRmPiDprChZWmEzM3L1pnr6CcLa4IeG23MN98rWtPqiaS3JH9wRCLzu-U4rZWWvnewijoGIlyPs8CCMp1gY85DH5ipmqhNoJQMa-yfxlZ8vIWscJ6nNjTVo/s16000/IMG_0532.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Over the course of the next hour and a half we learned that Lennox had multiple fractures in his hind legs, the tissue was torn off, and he had potential damage to his bladder and internal organs. They told us that his needs were beyond the scope of what they could do there and that we would have to take him to a hospital that was more advanced where they could do further tests. </p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOK-LNPHBI5C0dfEVd9IChve0vb6743z_dUXrEUzn7np2KyE3lnIaxs723Z8e3wHsUZPSZ3ROHLt5A6_sQzCeBGBdrl_LNXOaxBOzwoqPAPlKHwV-e3fDIyT2pvdeVVFD5Jvh4oxeIFE/s1901/Sully+Dad.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1901" data-original-width="1901" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOK-LNPHBI5C0dfEVd9IChve0vb6743z_dUXrEUzn7np2KyE3lnIaxs723Z8e3wHsUZPSZ3ROHLt5A6_sQzCeBGBdrl_LNXOaxBOzwoqPAPlKHwV-e3fDIyT2pvdeVVFD5Jvh4oxeIFE/s16000/Sully+Dad.HEIC" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>They told us if he made it he would be in the hospital at least a week and would need multiple reconstructive surgeries adding up to an estimated 20k in medical bills. </p><p>After listening to the doctors I took a breath and went outside. I noticed Sully trying to go back to the dog and I motioned through the window for him to sit back down in the waiting room. </p><p>I went on the side of the building where no one could see me and I cried. Not as much for the dog as for the idea that I would have to explain this to him and see him go through the pain. </p><p>They were inseparable. They were like the boy and his dog in <b><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0050798/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Old Yeller</a>.</b> He was constantly doing stupid things with the dog, laughing at him, having full blown conversations with him, and entertaining himself til no end. The dog slept with him every night. I knew his world was about to cave in, and the kid had been through so much in the past year with <b><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">his cancer battle</a></b>. The situation sucked. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCsRUPOpxHuSliR3S6hylpIpWpQOnxpruYSvS8z-YXc5mxutpTT0qhcHDr_stmcj46q8zJEaakwPbpagfDdHKYiSKYDTvsgdfvqCZD_DslYj5Ic_oToFFmASyUn6FWsnMBZTjkmXF1zs/s1216/IMG_0545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCsRUPOpxHuSliR3S6hylpIpWpQOnxpruYSvS8z-YXc5mxutpTT0qhcHDr_stmcj46q8zJEaakwPbpagfDdHKYiSKYDTvsgdfvqCZD_DslYj5Ic_oToFFmASyUn6FWsnMBZTjkmXF1zs/s16000/IMG_0545.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHfbe6JyY3OM00EYhNNdNtk5tD993vr8I_0EHXx76OI98OafOWOPMVLPqHd2MZW0rn9_QuUwEZtscWPHFVsU0JySi-MvLfE7wCdzZij1xI7bclZBF7csptvGPl8zfjlBE5tdLMT1gCs0/s1106/IMG_0546.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="1106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjHfbe6JyY3OM00EYhNNdNtk5tD993vr8I_0EHXx76OI98OafOWOPMVLPqHd2MZW0rn9_QuUwEZtscWPHFVsU0JySi-MvLfE7wCdzZij1xI7bclZBF7csptvGPl8zfjlBE5tdLMT1gCs0/s16000/IMG_0546.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ULHxSQJjjdUsCws3mKns72IkI41VH6pnkZhTYHrHdrm21Yx6j2GEWBMdOZDD-8av0yeBZVvCIprfNOILFiJNcQ4bPdktRZCSn-0Tj5DZmqbJR_Ik9o0ggPN1DX4ctZqQEXVAq4WJUHw/s1000/111111111111.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ULHxSQJjjdUsCws3mKns72IkI41VH6pnkZhTYHrHdrm21Yx6j2GEWBMdOZDD-8av0yeBZVvCIprfNOILFiJNcQ4bPdktRZCSn-0Tj5DZmqbJR_Ik9o0ggPN1DX4ctZqQEXVAq4WJUHw/s16000/111111111111.jpeg" /></a></div><p>Milan who had just stepped into the house from her plane ride when this happened was still in shock. It was some homecoming for her first trip back I thought to myself. </p><p>I began to look for the silver-lining and realized this whole instance was probably written long before it happened. And that Milan was supposed to be here for this because the universe knew Sully would not get through it without her. That was the best sense I could make of the tragedy. She was the second closest to Lennox, often calling home from college begging me to put him on Facetime. We named him Lennox after the NYC hospital that all 3 kids were born in.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRSnSj1xeX4C9YTByBvqbImdQ3V-PJ-d1LPd3_giWbo3SwpCNFHVRZ9jeZeCrrMPJIEMLJTF3D2rFxTa1ujiVig7F8okx0wf9Nvnz7BOjnDFzj_sLURO2hCxBwMYkra0e_EhIgP-ln3k/s2609/IMG_0556.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2609" data-original-width="1205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRSnSj1xeX4C9YTByBvqbImdQ3V-PJ-d1LPd3_giWbo3SwpCNFHVRZ9jeZeCrrMPJIEMLJTF3D2rFxTa1ujiVig7F8okx0wf9Nvnz7BOjnDFzj_sLURO2hCxBwMYkra0e_EhIgP-ln3k/s16000/IMG_0556.PNG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjur1sOm0JZqN6QbgxLD-g_2y1ZbpIvNnfNuaJAFmDm_9R8JZyJavXItdDB3-5jlBD5RBkM5RGN_1smv__QrJu-MnVX3nObm7Poktyfm-VSSCBjI8VYTL7xFrw6Hq0yDiGT2EMBv-hXe78/s2609/IMG_0555.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2609" data-original-width="1205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjur1sOm0JZqN6QbgxLD-g_2y1ZbpIvNnfNuaJAFmDm_9R8JZyJavXItdDB3-5jlBD5RBkM5RGN_1smv__QrJu-MnVX3nObm7Poktyfm-VSSCBjI8VYTL7xFrw6Hq0yDiGT2EMBv-hXe78/s16000/IMG_0555.PNG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQnMn5bbmMyL1EqMj_PltwmVnE28ZBH75j_I6MxFk5N_e9KBk5BxUeB5hzfiS4MQ8AGiWDP_kcbVZtU0QH9goRPSQ2YqH3q5oE1GefuqgrN2_FskEoHAiegvh2TqeOZGWYTYcMRq6MPY/s2609/IMG_0554.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2609" data-original-width="1205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQnMn5bbmMyL1EqMj_PltwmVnE28ZBH75j_I6MxFk5N_e9KBk5BxUeB5hzfiS4MQ8AGiWDP_kcbVZtU0QH9goRPSQ2YqH3q5oE1GefuqgrN2_FskEoHAiegvh2TqeOZGWYTYcMRq6MPY/s16000/IMG_0554.PNG" /></a></div><p>Finally we left the veterinary hospital and the two of us went to pick up my middle son Preston from basketball practice. We pulled up and the door to the gym was open. We were late but there were still kids shooting around. I told Milan to go in and surprise him. He had no idea that she was coming home for a visit, and he had no idea the dog was just ran over. </p><p>The rain poured down as Sully and I watched from the car. She called out to him as she stepped inside the gym, and a few seconds later we saw him walk across to her smiling. They hugged in the frame of the doorway for what seemed like an eternity. That image will stick with me for a long time. </p><p>"Why is he sniffling? Why you sniffling Sully???" Preston asked when he got in the car. </p><p>I smirked because his tone was so abrasive and out-of-context for what we had just been through. </p><p>"Lennox got hit by a car," I said. </p><p>My eyes welled up. Sully burst out crying and Preston sat dumbfounded and blessed us with a few profanities. He is probably the most compassionate and sensitive one of my 3 kids, but he has a shell of armor and rarely shows any emotion when he is hurt except for anger. </p><p>We discussed dinner options on the drive home but unanimously scratched them. No one was hungry. </p><p>About an hour after we were home the doctor called. </p><p>He was gone. Lennox had died from the internal bleeding and injuries. </p><p>I gathered the 3 kids and told them the news. It was a bad scene. Sully's heartbreak and anger reminded me of his emotions on the day I had to tell him he had cancer.</p><p>"Why!? Who's going to come to the door when I get home!? Who's going to sleep with me!?" he shouted. </p><p>The deep belly cries continued as Milan tried to console him with some sort of explanation about God which he didn't seem to be buying. </p><p>Milan started crying and then said "I have to go for a walk, I want to call my friends." </p><p>Sully stayed on the sofa sobbing with his face planted in the pillow uttering things I couldn't make out. </p><p>Preston walked in from outside. </p><p>"What were you doing??" I asked. </p><p>"I was washing the blood off the driveway with the hose" he said. </p><p>When I heard him say that it put in perspective how each of them was handling things so differently. Sully was emotional and needed physical affection and love and reassurance. Milan needed space and respect, and Preston needed to feel helpful through his acts of service and also needed some space to process it by physically exerting himself. </p><p>I wanted to force Milan and Preston to stay home. I wanted to hug them and let them cry on my shoulder, but I realized that all 3 of them were dealing with it in different ways.</p><p>I needed at that moment to love them each differently in spite of what I felt myself. When you love someone you love them in the way they need to be loved, you don't force your own coping process on them because that's how you think they should handle things.</p><p>Everyone handles shit differently when life comes down on you. There is no wrong and right, it's not about age or gender. And to be enlightened and armed with that knowledge is to have the most fulfilling and healthy relationships. </p><p>They left and I stayed with Sully rubbing his back until he calmed down a half hour later. </p><p>I turned on the TV for a distraction, and later in the evening everyone returned to the living room on their own terms. When they were receptive to it I was able to love them the only way I knew how; with affection and words of encouragement. I reminded them that Lennox was an old man and lived a nearly full life. I asked them to focus on the memories and not his absence in the days ahead. I told Sully what a great dog owner he was. </p><p>And I shared something someone had told me earlier in the evening that I thought was so appropriate: </p><p>"Everyone knows on the first day they get a pet, that someday they will have to say goodbye."</p><p>Sully has been robbed of so many things over the past year and a half due to <b><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/09/when-he-cries.html" target="_blank">his treatment for Leukemia.</a></b> I am nervous that he will become depressed. He was so close with Lennox, we are going to have to fill the void.</p><p>The man who was speeding down the block in the pickup truck and hit him saw us off when we left for the hospital and he returned later in the evening to apologize again. I am glad my kids were able to get that closure and saw that there is still good in humanity. I'm not sure how destiny connected him with the event, but I'm sure there is a lesson learned for him. I can't imagine how he felt standing in my driveway with the kids crying over their bleeding dog. </p><p>On a lighter note; we love everyone in our neighborhood, but coincidentally the only asshole on our block stood on his lawn shaking his head when the dog was hit and the kids said he didn't even come over to offer help before I arrived. The same "Karen" that calls the town on his neighbors that park on the street. He hated the fact that our dog was trained to piss at the curb. Another hollow man. </p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-47986419925256508172021-09-23T01:53:00.010-04:002022-12-07T14:40:54.506-05:00ABC News Interview: Sullivan Carey - Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month<center><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="267" src="https://abc7ny.com/video/embed/?pid=11041797" width="476"></iframe></center><center><br /></center><center><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></div></center>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-3644171111762276942021-08-30T16:59:00.010-04:002022-12-07T14:41:10.861-05:00Love, Affliction, and the Alchemy of Satisfaction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin68dJfdTv9cFxzzdOj_MFaZz7pYKlpzqDAbatiuvq4e0SQhuh7yfgN24FmltbkTLIEym-ibGK6YTfvoCrafX3sMEHatYGaLMZF7LWIkOZyCZDj5qN3hejlWwrP21ds0h95OX285nmLvg/s2048/IMG_3248.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin68dJfdTv9cFxzzdOj_MFaZz7pYKlpzqDAbatiuvq4e0SQhuh7yfgN24FmltbkTLIEym-ibGK6YTfvoCrafX3sMEHatYGaLMZF7LWIkOZyCZDj5qN3hejlWwrP21ds0h95OX285nmLvg/s16000/IMG_3248.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />The room is dark except for the glow of the dimmed sconces on the brick wall over the fireplace, and tiny flames flicker in a mason jar candle on a table nearby. I sit on a sectional sofa with my legs stretched out on the coffee table in front of us. It's quiet. It's after midnight and the light from my macbook glows on my face. Sully my 11 year old has fallen asleep next to me after our movie night together. He lay on his back with his arms stretched out over his head. His hair has finally begun to grow back and gotten just long enough to squirt some gel in. It's been a little over a year since he was diagnosed with B-Cell Lymphoblastic Leukemia. The look on his face and his reaction <b><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">when I had to tell him he had cancer last year</a></b> will haunt me forever. </p><p>He is slowly getting back to his old self. He is able to socialize now when his blood levels are up, and he has started exercising a couple times a week. Although <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/08/tackling-cancer.html" target="_blank"><b>he can't go
back to football</b></a> yet as he would like, we are going to create a
protector plate for his medi-port and he's going to play soccer for
now. <br /></p><p>The past couple months have brought up a lot of emotions as all of the memories from a year ago began popping up on my social media feeds. He has completed one year of treatment and has two more years to go. For the past year he has been at the hospital almost everyday for chemotherapy, blood tests, spinal taps, or blood transfusions. </p><div>He will need to complete two more years of chemotherapy and testing. The good news is he is cancer free and only has to visit the hospital once or twice a week for the maintenance phase. </div><div> </div><div>After two years if everything goes well he will stop chemotherapy and just have to go for annual tests. It's a long program, but that's the treatment standard for young boys who have Leukemia to minimize the chance of it coming back. </div><div><br /></div><div>My daughter graduated high school and I dropped her off at college in Alabama a couple weeks ago. It's just me and the two boys at home now. Once again I am in the middle of changes and transitions. I find my thoughts and emotions pulled in many different directions, as a dad, as a man, and as a human being trying to figure out the meaning of life. </div><div> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFoyYAiSBjQUBY9rQO-rUnWMgP8uDwI34uQf6qb39T2-oz8E8nDspxAlEM0ivnOwpMMkBOy0INX88AYItBw4UbnrPav7_AeiI0aH3-FIvx8Qicza9HZLUkxobiMA1GWnVPXkdrZntvYo/s2048/IMG_6224.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFoyYAiSBjQUBY9rQO-rUnWMgP8uDwI34uQf6qb39T2-oz8E8nDspxAlEM0ivnOwpMMkBOy0INX88AYItBw4UbnrPav7_AeiI0aH3-FIvx8Qicza9HZLUkxobiMA1GWnVPXkdrZntvYo/s16000/IMG_6224.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Sully finally went back for the last two weeks of school and his friends and teachers gave him a warm welcome. It was a long time coming. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxG2cov5jaaMcff4WijEDOoWQStaxKMeHfS3dX791Gq2Bj8zuNE5cAp6UU0BOeuo2xnbyQzByoC9z-F_wCEgQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Now summer is almost over and he'll be starting middle school in September. </div><div> </div><div>I took him for 6th grade orientation this morning, and although COVID has changed how they are doing things, it was great to see him back with his friends. We went for lunch at the diner afterward and a morning filled with our usual banter and humorous moments. </div><div> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJ193-ed0KFXX7VyXz2TOodtZhnh4jIJzt80p7gkbg1kM-BL_74dcYcKFTq0EIBIPG7XRokp6LV0KGvA9MomWEybvVXVX6_HEeRTVRKkxtUiQHGHjkjMtwPZm53lczIKKtA4rah2lW_4/s2048/IMG_7992+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJ193-ed0KFXX7VyXz2TOodtZhnh4jIJzt80p7gkbg1kM-BL_74dcYcKFTq0EIBIPG7XRokp6LV0KGvA9MomWEybvVXVX6_HEeRTVRKkxtUiQHGHjkjMtwPZm53lczIKKtA4rah2lW_4/s16000/IMG_7992+2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VcAqUy0bdzn0fXw-ToZwwQVRgOImSXTgJUZNF_d80JJ6ouNUJ9qDcCMCX_zU9Tgie4VSkdwtooSd7O4inc2dOs_BUBbRNZfqfKhbYVfJ0EJkOZzaDG8zpoo8t35XRzWM_G4zlihXP7Y/s2048/IMG_7996.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VcAqUy0bdzn0fXw-ToZwwQVRgOImSXTgJUZNF_d80JJ6ouNUJ9qDcCMCX_zU9Tgie4VSkdwtooSd7O4inc2dOs_BUBbRNZfqfKhbYVfJ0EJkOZzaDG8zpoo8t35XRzWM_G4zlihXP7Y/s16000/IMG_7996.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4ebpupvrbm7yqZRsCCnJKnDJYoZ_q-J_4ilnGyQhyphenhyphenw9FicEWEt4dFDUTbTx7yv3W3MjZcuHY8dHj3KGVE8BCNLvds0484wbyJeCPXe403h4o6uRAMgwvMlHRWtF0sUC1qrQkg2wz4kQ/s2048/IMG_7995.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4ebpupvrbm7yqZRsCCnJKnDJYoZ_q-J_4ilnGyQhyphenhyphenw9FicEWEt4dFDUTbTx7yv3W3MjZcuHY8dHj3KGVE8BCNLvds0484wbyJeCPXe403h4o6uRAMgwvMlHRWtF0sUC1qrQkg2wz4kQ/s16000/IMG_7995.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>After lunch we pulled up the list of his school supplies on my phone and we headed to staples. <br /></div><div> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHh4mmarlURMSfIrZ64iuuxUDEvf7J8LBw-2Xu8vy92xUbOqR9pWlrN234ptA8wcBohWcR_Jwb_uwuGJ-EySfVPzFNLsF2G8ulYE_8HtQuJUB75gYwc_9RqUYl7efk0UUlaNWHuUfXqw/s2048/IMG_8004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHh4mmarlURMSfIrZ64iuuxUDEvf7J8LBw-2Xu8vy92xUbOqR9pWlrN234ptA8wcBohWcR_Jwb_uwuGJ-EySfVPzFNLsF2G8ulYE_8HtQuJUB75gYwc_9RqUYl7efk0UUlaNWHuUfXqw/s16000/IMG_8004.jpg" /></a></div> </div><div>After debating which folders were the right ones and searching for a "stylus pen" we moved on to scissors. </div><div> </div><div>Scissors: <b>A dozen different types. </b></div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KNdAbYEhoPZ0ffRTn40d3ahvRgAPWKWtQki0a9jopJxiLCnrv77pvSMuvWosnCghVVlA6wZ6ghKYJ72afeXjNPrbYNn86vEVqLDCnTBvo-_pj73qLV4ZAlR-EwVQNZdnCANlFOPpqbo/s2048/IMG_8002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KNdAbYEhoPZ0ffRTn40d3ahvRgAPWKWtQki0a9jopJxiLCnrv77pvSMuvWosnCghVVlA6wZ6ghKYJ72afeXjNPrbYNn86vEVqLDCnTBvo-_pj73qLV4ZAlR-EwVQNZdnCANlFOPpqbo/s16000/IMG_8002.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><div>"Get these dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>Sully handed me a pair of blue scissors for $3. I didn't even look at him as he placed them in my hand, I was still standing there entranced by the array of different scissors on the wall before us. </div><div><br /></div><div>"What about these?" I asked. </div><div> </div><div>I handed him a pair of $6 non-stick scissors. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Okay" he said. </div><div><br /></div><div>We stood there, my eyes still fixed on the wall of scissors. </div><div><br /></div><div>"No wait, how about these." </div><div><br /></div><div>I handed over a pair of "non-stick TITANIUM" scissors, my eyes still not leaving the rack in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sully smirking and looking at me. </div><div> </div><div>"Dad these are 11 inch scissors, the list says we have to get 7 inch scissors."</div><div> </div><div>"Let me see that", I said. </div><div> </div><div>"Oh shit you're right. Okay, I guess they're afraid of someone using them as a weapon."</div><div> </div><div>He laughed. <br /></div><div> </div><div>I went back to the rack of scissors and over the next 10 minutes I worked my way through all of them, moving shit on and off the racks, opening and closing them, and trying to figure out why one pair was $3 and another was $29. </div><div> </div><div>Finally I grabbed the $21 non-stick titanium forged scissors with LIFETIME WARRANTY.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We'll get these. Look at these Sully, the Mercedes of scissors!" I said, holding them up and laughing. </div><div><br /></div><div>He looked at me and we both started laughing as I was opening and closing them. It was 100 percent a <b><a href="https://www.hbo.com/curb-your-enthusiasm/cast-and-crew/larry-david" target="_blank">Larry David</a></b> moment. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Wait these blades have a nick in them and they don't close smoothly", I swapped them for a different pair. </div><div><br /></div><div>We started to walk away and then I said "Wait! These have pointed tips! The list says the tips have to be rounded!"</div><div><br /></div><div>We laughed our asses off and finally settled on a middle of the road pair of 7 inch scissors <i><b>with rounded tips</b></i>, and agreed that what just went down in aisle 12 of staples was definitely a <b><a href="https://www.hbo.com/curb-your-enthusiasm" target="_blank">Curb your Enthusiasm episode</a></b>. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>#FUCANCER</b></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyPL8KeGJcn4ePaCvo8CWA-4zhIOnxdNh5-C5-i_EQJFU-CjNb1sNtzaMtQTIJ7orkJIKHuHEZc3r2vIeGZZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><b>READ MORE BLOG POSTS</b></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">Follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-69797949634242531612021-03-26T22:58:00.002-04:002022-12-07T14:41:27.666-05:00Raindrops on my Face<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3icvUSP20hoKQThfotUd8xLs2VgIIwI1RG14RcGlJcqOzZbnW-A-D8iq-umkRrG2tYu7Sbyj-lw_sX20d3oTodcWVgWk9GlyrjRWJ-D6BGjKZXMs3GKj1hy1FJfsqYtCG-5Eu7PaslBM/s2048/IMG_0327.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3icvUSP20hoKQThfotUd8xLs2VgIIwI1RG14RcGlJcqOzZbnW-A-D8iq-umkRrG2tYu7Sbyj-lw_sX20d3oTodcWVgWk9GlyrjRWJ-D6BGjKZXMs3GKj1hy1FJfsqYtCG-5Eu7PaslBM/s16000/IMG_0327.heic" /></a></div><p>According to my health tracker I slept 7 hours Monday night. 1 hour and 28 minutes was "REM sleep", but only 45 minutes of it was "deep sleep" as compared to the 1 hour and 20 minute minimum recommended. I suppose that's why I still felt tired when I woke up at 6:30am. </p><p>It was another chemotherapy day and I went into Sully's room to wake him up. He lay sleeping with the blankets pulled up tightly to his neck, and the window was cracked. An icy breeze blew in. He insists on sleeping with the window open regardless of the temperature outside. Our dog Lennox lay next to him like a human, also with his head on a pillow. </p><p></p><p>I kneeled over Sully, gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered in his ear that it was time to wake up. I told him he needed to get moving so we weren't late. I told him I would grab his towel and that he needed to hop in the shower. After 5 minutes of coaxing he finally got up and made his way half-asleep to the bathroom. Once I heard the water running I went to get ready myself. </p><p>The usual routine ensued, coffee stop on the trip to the hospital, loud music and silly conversations, and him complaining that my driving was making him nauseous. He was on an empty stomach because he was getting another spinal tap this visit. </p><p>The morning progressed as usual. He has a spinal tap every few months to test and ensure there is no cancer in his spinal fluid. They have become routine, but never routine for us. He gets the same nervous look on his face each time they wheel him into the procedure room to sedate him. They allow me to go with him until he falls asleep. I rub his feet the whole time. I tell him I am there and that I won't leave his side until he falls asleep. It makes me sad. </p><p>Once they have him all connected I move up near his head before they administer the anesthesia. I rub his furry head and whisper in his ear reassuring him that everything will be fine and that I'll be there when he wakes up. I don't know what else to say or how to take away his fear. I say mostly the same things every time, simply trying to do my best to quell his anxiety. </p><p>The nurse pushes the syringe and within a few minutes his eyes slowly close and he falls asleep. It gives me an eerie feeling and I wonder if that's how it goes when they do lethal injections. I leave the room the same way each time: with a kiss on his cheek and a lump in my throat. Each time I go back and sit in the empty room. I just sit and stare, and it feels good to just sit there and do absolutely nothing. I don't use my phone, I don't work on the computer, I don't read. On these spinal tap days I spend a good 20 minutes just sitting there becoming one with the moment. </p><p>After a half hour or so they wheel him back into the room. I stand up and help the nurses move him from the stretcher to his own bed. His body is flacid and I prop him up and arrange his limbs in what I think would be a comfortable position. I rub his head for a while, and I Doordash some food because I know he will be starving when he wakes up.<br /></p><p>I return to my chair next to his bed and I go back to work on the computer. He wakes up after an hour or so, we chat, and then he goes back to sleep. They start his chemo drugs. He gets 3 drugs today; Methotrexate, Pentamadine, and Vinchristine. It's a lot compared to a regular day.</p><p>He wakes up and eats. Time passes as they feed the poisons into him to attack the cancer. </p><p>At one point he starts getting severe cramps. It's not uncommon. Normally he does well with the chemotherapy sessions, only occasionally getting some nausea and fatigue, but today the cramps make him restless and bring tears to his eyes. I was working on the computer and he yells "Dad" to get my attention. I was in the middle of a Zoom call and had to log off. He pointed to a huge pile of vomit on the floor next to the bed. </p><p>His stomach was a mess. Within a few minutes he asked to go to the bathroom. The diarhea poured out of him. We spent the next couple of hours returning to the bathroom a few times. He was miserable and stayed that way for the rest of the day. We carried a puke bucket with us upon our departure, and he fell fast asleep when we got home. </p><p>Over the next 24 hours I pumped him full of water and forced him to eat even when he wasn't hungry. His ass was on fire from the diarhea but nothing a little A&D ointment couldn't fix. Eventually he returned to his normal self. </p><p>He was at my ex-wive's house the next night and I kept tabs with his brother and sister. He was feeling a little better. </p><p>That night there was a peaceful rain. The highlight of my night was going out in the rain to cook on the barbecue grill. The old screen door clapped loudly behind me as I carried the plate of meat out to the patio. The raindrops sizzled as they landed on the lid to the grill. I arranged the steaks and closed it back up. I could hear the light rain hitting the leaves on the trees all around me. I thought of Sully. I looked up to the dark sky and it felt so good to feel the raindrops hitting my face. I enjoyed it and took a little longer returning to the house. </p><p>Later that evening I went back outside to take the garbage to the curb and bring something to the cottage. I took my time again enjoying the darkness, the rain on my skin, and the sounds around me. These still moments are the ones that people overlook and under appreciate. These instances weave our entire lives into brief moments of silence. <br /></p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-size: large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"> </span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB77c0sAAOU4iDdyAUosaLzm99F6YqAzLAg0opCOj_QrzFtRjN-dTBtcu5epylbV8NpaAUfNCdRd9VxFiw6VX35JVdpyEYBgwSl6Vt3MWbwoMKu4Hd0LpQJ-9l_qGuzbwSsdey8uGh23c/s2048/IMG_0330.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB77c0sAAOU4iDdyAUosaLzm99F6YqAzLAg0opCOj_QrzFtRjN-dTBtcu5epylbV8NpaAUfNCdRd9VxFiw6VX35JVdpyEYBgwSl6Vt3MWbwoMKu4Hd0LpQJ-9l_qGuzbwSsdey8uGh23c/s16000/IMG_0330.heic" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-77915928784522552282021-03-11T14:24:00.010-05:002022-12-07T14:41:49.236-05:00When Heads Break Off<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkJjsHAB-ZhbpQPPXvfFYOSSzkHpyhHvLu1r6nR-DZ4g_qFk2rencQb2CTUrou7avPFb9o6zwiWg99pdPGGklDzM1Ribo_gxB7xCW9ygPkGjNxHziw1nLujSBM-O6EJSSvk4D07bAqPo/s2048/BJCSULL.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkJjsHAB-ZhbpQPPXvfFYOSSzkHpyhHvLu1r6nR-DZ4g_qFk2rencQb2CTUrou7avPFb9o6zwiWg99pdPGGklDzM1Ribo_gxB7xCW9ygPkGjNxHziw1nLujSBM-O6EJSSvk4D07bAqPo/s16000/BJCSULL.HEIC" /></a></div><p>I was on my knees playing with Sully in a snowstorm. It was a cold and gray vignette, and the snow was coming down hard. The strong wind blew snowflakes onto our faces that stung, and as we pushed together mounds of snow it became very cold. At one point I looked over and saw that Sully's body had become frozen stiff. He stopped moving and his flesh was solid like ice.</p><p>He was gone. </p><p>I wasn't sure how or if I could fix him. I went inside the house, for what reason I'm not sure. I stood there for a moment confused, and then went back outside. </p><p>I looked at him frozen, now with huge layers of ice covering his body. </p><p>I wrapped my arms around him and tried to pull the ice off of him. When I did his head came off, and I panicked. </p><p>I held his head in my arms trying to make sense of what had just happened. I ran my fingers underneath his decapitated head and to my dismay the inside of his neck was soft flesh, it wasn't frozen like the rest of his body. </p><p>I cried.</p><p>I woke up and sat up in bed, my heart racing. </p><p>Another one of the many bizarre nightmares I've had over the past year. </p><p>Sully had a 10 day break from chemo recently and spent most of that time visiting his grandmother in Saratoga. He didn't do much because his immune system is still not at 100 percent, but he enjoyed the change in scenery and seemed refreshed when he returned home. </p><p>This past Monday he told me he was out of breath and asked me if it was from the chemotherapy. </p><p>"No, it's because you spend almost all of your free time on the X-box" I told him. </p><p>"Maybe I should start working out again" he said. </p><p>"Good idea, we'll start tomorrow"</p><p>"But my platelets are low I don't know if I'm supposed to do that."</p><p>"You're fine, you just can't bang up your body" I replied. </p><p>So with that we started an easy routine of running and calisthenics. Hopefully he will stick with it. </p><p>His birthday is April 14th. </p><p>I can't believe it hasn't even been a year yet. He was diagnosed last May with B-cell lymphoblastic leukemia with Philadelphia signature. </p><p>He is happy. I am happy. F#ck cancer. </p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">READ MORE BLOG POSTS</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"><br /></b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 550; line-height: 18px;"> View this post on Instagram</div></div><div style="padding: 12.5% 0px;"></div> <div style="align-items: center; display: flex; flex-direction: row; margin-bottom: 14px;"><div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; height: 12.5px; transform: translateX(0px) translateY(7px); width: 12.5px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; flex-grow: 0; height: 12.5px; margin-left: 2px; margin-right: 14px; transform: rotate(-45deg) translateX(3px) translateY(1px); width: 12.5px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; height: 12.5px; transform: translateX(9px) translateY(-18px); width: 12.5px;"></div></div><div style="margin-left: 8px;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; flex-grow: 0; height: 20px; width: 20px;"></div> <div style="border-bottom: 2px solid transparent; border-left: 6px solid rgb(244, 244, 244); border-top: 2px solid transparent; height: 0px; transform: translateX(16px) translateY(-4px) rotate(30deg); width: 0px;"></div></div><div style="margin-left: auto;"> <div style="border-right: 8px solid transparent; border-top: 8px solid rgb(244, 244, 244); transform: translateY(16px); width: 0px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; flex-grow: 0; height: 12px; transform: translateY(-4px); width: 16px;"></div> <div style="border-left: 8px solid transparent; border-top: 8px solid rgb(244, 244, 244); height: 0px; transform: translateY(-4px) translateX(8px); width: 0px;"></div></div></div> <div style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; flex-grow: 1; justify-content: center; margin-bottom: 24px;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 4px; flex-grow: 0; height: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; width: 224px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 4px; flex-grow: 0; height: 14px; width: 144px;"></div></div></a><p style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0px 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/reel/CMSlj4hhAr8/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by BenjaminJCarey (@benjaminjcarey)</a></p></div><</blockquote> <script async="" src="//www.instagram.com/embed.js"></script>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-16568436900992704852021-02-26T21:31:00.005-05:002022-12-07T14:42:04.736-05:00Managing Sunrise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p>Last week when Sully's ANC (his immune level) was up, we ventured out for a rare trip to a restaurant. Normally we don't go out much because his ANC is low due to all the chemotherapy he is getting. He asked to go to "Hibachi" and that's exactly what we did while my other two kids were away. </p><p>The two of us enjoyed a nice dinner and lots of laughs. After our ritual conversations about politics and computers we imagined that it would be a cool Tik Tok video if instead of the chef spraying Saki in people's mouths and doing tricks on the grill that he spray the patrons with soy sauce. </p><p>It was nice to get him out and see him eat like a champ and enjoy himself. We are a good team, we had the whole table talking and laughing during dinner.</p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3rg0m_jzQL3vcayivzM7t4Qyq_FOp98gKQCTmwhn1-LJ6CCdZ96RNudcm3PSTCkTVXCv3VAU0A5sChyphenhyphen4xZcl5RDenPBNUQPXyz4WVi2VzaO9qHx6HbznA9v3IA7AmXwQ3o2_F1E1Xhk/s1642/IMG_2983.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1642" data-original-width="1642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3rg0m_jzQL3vcayivzM7t4Qyq_FOp98gKQCTmwhn1-LJ6CCdZ96RNudcm3PSTCkTVXCv3VAU0A5sChyphenhyphen4xZcl5RDenPBNUQPXyz4WVi2VzaO9qHx6HbznA9v3IA7AmXwQ3o2_F1E1Xhk/s16000/IMG_2983.HEIC" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OoZgyDM31nGuhivPc_aX12WYnxIlfDST6NehXGBlvcvCAAPcV6iqYlhunStU_vNa3418tNcFDWy21dVBajlA1J-v_fxr1SSk-SVn5CVNfYAHcZLHW0GOV1r6GckVY67cOIu4DjDna9c/s2048/IMG_2987.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OoZgyDM31nGuhivPc_aX12WYnxIlfDST6NehXGBlvcvCAAPcV6iqYlhunStU_vNa3418tNcFDWy21dVBajlA1J-v_fxr1SSk-SVn5CVNfYAHcZLHW0GOV1r6GckVY67cOIu4DjDna9c/s16000/IMG_2987.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1UYsjEUh0X5JAJdxam07lnD5plrE8g3Pd9Uw5ad7a7UliSugOxVTAx0ZF44HYYsxEGKbmzS8-82CM5qFeGBkvhhxnkZOkpNFRc8uM7LJbv0blreQzuU2LMaxF81QFdVPYDAsorSAZoE/s2048/IMG_2981.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1UYsjEUh0X5JAJdxam07lnD5plrE8g3Pd9Uw5ad7a7UliSugOxVTAx0ZF44HYYsxEGKbmzS8-82CM5qFeGBkvhhxnkZOkpNFRc8uM7LJbv0blreQzuU2LMaxF81QFdVPYDAsorSAZoE/s16000/IMG_2981.HEIC" /></a></div><p>Almost a year ago I wrote <b><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/04/the-last-sunrise.html" target="_blank">this post</a></b> about taking Sully to see the sunrise at the beach. It was a picture perfect morning. Sometimes I go back in my head and try and recapture the memory. The world was perfect, just another father son bonding moment in the sand and salt. As we played on the beach that morning I had no idea that he would be diagnosed with Leukemia only a month later. </p><p>We are into his treatment almost a year now, and sometimes I can't remember what it was like before he had cancer. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/04/the-last-sunrise.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Udj33TyJuwNh39ertxWCGr59QJSZ4_k54AiCnt72Fv1eLC5XrZcCjPMb5B_hwzd1unoAfPLXBm1OHAhrf6UYqz5p_izF9Gx6Xu3CWCfaQmjtfHblllpP6cKhRxG4FJg8KDYIBEMtxB0/s16000/IMG_3218_EDITED.jpg" /></a></span></div><p>There are all the normal stresses of life, raising 3 kids, and running a marketing business during COVID. Then there is this fight we are in. There is an excess of doctor appointments, chemotherapy sessions, spinal taps, finger sticks, pharmacy visits, pills, potions, and creams. I juggle it all like hot embers from a fire. </p><p>Most days our collective optimism eliminates room for any doubt, and on the bad days I don't know who the fuck is juggling, but we still get through them. In a weird metaphorical sort of way I find myself trying to manage sunrise -- just get through 24 hours and make it to the next sunrise. </p><p>It has changed me. It has changed us. It has been a magnifying glass to see people's compassion and occasionally their lack of. It has made us appreciate each other and the value of a moment. The kids have stopped telling me I take too many pictures. They finally understand why I do. They've gotten used to me yelling at Sully to take his pills or get off the X-box. </p><p>Sully: he who spends an exorbitant amount of time on the X-box and Tik Tok; and I who begrudgingly bites his tongue and allows him one of the few things that gives him pleasure under the circumstances. </p><p>"Oh...... killing people or watching 'dumb TV' again?" I ask as I walk by his game room, shaking my head. </p><p>He smiles at me like I don't get it. </p><p>I do get it though. I know it's one of the few things he does where he is able to socialize with his friends. I can't remember the last time we ran together, biked, or had a catch; all things we did regularly before cancer. I can't remember the last time I saw him sweating, chasing his friends, or running from the wraith of his brother who he pissed off. I can't remember the last big sleepover with his friends. He has mostly been too weak for it, platelets too low, his ANC has been too low, or there have been other circumstances restricting him.</p><p>During one of the recent snowstorms I went against the grain and sent him out to play with his brother and sister.</p><p>"I wish I could go out and make an igloo with Milan" he said. </p><p>"Go ahead" I told him.</p><p>"Dad my platelets are low they said I shouldn't go sledding or play in the snow" </p><p>"You aren't ruled by this Sully, I don't care what they said. Go ahead, go out, just don't do belly flops into the snow."</p><p>"Are you sure, they might get mad" he said. </p><p>"We rule Sully" I said, with that same maniacal smile dads have when they build a ramp for their kid to jump with their bicycle.</p><p>I watched him out the window, jumping and running in the snow for over an hour, and making an igloo with <b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/milancarey/" target="_blank">Milan</a></b> and <b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/prestonjcareypj/" target="_blank">Preston</a></b>. </p><p>When he came in he was completely exhausted and took a long nap. No catastrophes. </p><p>He sits in his glitzed out gaming room day-after-day in between online classes as the rest of us come and go. But he's happy. </p><p>I hear him laughing with his friends, and every once in a while I hear someone whose voice sounds exactly like his cussing up a storm and saying things my son would never say. 😆 </p><p>He is my pride and joy: my smart, handsome, blond hair, blue eyed, boy to the core. An old soul, a man's man at 10 years old. He has an undeniably happy disposition and the best sense of humor. </p><p>Last week I had the chance to speak with Bill Fetzer, a dad from Oyster Bay who runs <b><a href="https://matthewfetzerfoundation.org/" target="_blank">a foundation for his son Matthew</a></b> who had Leukemia. A friend put me in touch with him.<br /></p><p>There is nothing like talking to another father who has been through this. It is a familiarity I wish I never knew, but it is a great feeling to talk to someone who has felt all the same emotions, encountered the same challenges, and is simply there to listen and fill-in the blanks for you where other people can't. </p><p>Bill's son Matthew had very close to the same type of cancer that Sully has. His battle went on for many years and there were some setbacks. Ultimately Matthew succumbed to the cancer and passed away. That was the hardest part of my conversation with him. I cannot imagine such a thing, and it was a reminder that every god damn single day with my son is a gift. </p><p>The emotions from that call and from this fight bring me to a place where I see everything as a gift: the air I breathe, the sun on my face, the touch of someone's skin. I am blessed, these are things that some people don't pause long enough to even entertain because they are swallowed up by the distractions of everyday life. </p><p>I have always been an optimist, I have always enjoyed the life God has given me no matter what the circumstances. This experience has amplified that perception. It has been sensory overload and an even greater appreciation for people and the little things. ✌️</p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>READ MORE BLOG POSTS</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-57592747461043699372021-02-10T01:29:00.002-05:002022-12-07T14:42:16.171-05:00Chalk Lines and Dogs that Kill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7DZLzgOpfGoDghdkpctGCJVZyfBuzfZVPmeI3_zvHds-qlO-EpvgupRK1iGesXlpf82KtA5QLIqODiccW3Oko8tgSbou73lALC77MJpPafRgd3z5ApN0QZbPLTgIA9GkzdMaPApPau4E/s2048/IMG_2615.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7DZLzgOpfGoDghdkpctGCJVZyfBuzfZVPmeI3_zvHds-qlO-EpvgupRK1iGesXlpf82KtA5QLIqODiccW3Oko8tgSbou73lALC77MJpPafRgd3z5ApN0QZbPLTgIA9GkzdMaPApPau4E/s16000/IMG_2615.HEIC" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I can’t sleep. It dawned on me that Sully will be 11 in two months. There is <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/12/cancer-chicken-salad-and-number-11.html" target="_blank">that number</a> again. </p><p>The room is dark and <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">Sully</a> lay on my shoulder. We are in his bed. My little Martian man with his long skinny legs and arms, pale skin, and bald head. His hand is inside of mine on my chest and I feel his little fingers fidgeting as he tries to fall asleep. They are so tiny and I realize soon these moments won’t happen anymore because he’ll be grown up. My mind wanders to the usual places as we lay there in silence, the subtle glow of the moon casts shadows from the window panes and a gray tint onto everything in the room.</p><p>Most of the days are good as we continue chipping away at the 3 year chemotherapy program. A few days ago however was not a good day.</p><p>We arrived at the hospital for his chemo session. The valet took our car, the security guard at check-in knows us and already had our passes printed. We exchanged pleasantries and continued on to the elevator to the 2nd floor. </p><p>As usual the room was full of kids of all ages who had cancer. Sully was called for his finger stick and went in without me. I stopped going in with him for that a while ago. His finger stick became a ritual and confidence thing that makes him feel independent and brave. </p><p>He’s back in 5 minutes and we wait to see the doctor.</p><p>Eventually we are called in and put in a treatment room to wait. As we are sitting there I remind Sully he has to take his meds that we brought. I hand him his pill case from my bag and I resume working on my laptop as he takes them. A few minutes go by and suddenly I hear water hitting the floor and it sounds like a fire hose. I look up and Sully is projectile vomiting and it’s blasting all over. I quickly move him to the sink, and he immediately motions that the garbage pail is probably a better option. I rub his back and tell him it’s okay as he heaves into the trash. A nurse comes and throws towels on the floor which is plastered with puddles of vomit. He’s embarrassed. I tell him it’s okay and that things like that happen all the time, that it’s nothing to be ashamed about.</p><p>“What happened do you feel okay?” I asked.</p><p>“I gagged on my pill and it made me puke” he said.</p><p>For a moment it had created a stir on the floor, but things calmed down when they heard he had gagged on his pill and was not sick.</p><p>They moved us to a different room. We had to step on towels and in between puke puddles to get out. It looked like a crime scene.</p><p>“They should throw down chalk lines” I said as we exited. Everyone laughed, and Sully asked what that meant.</p><p>Soon the doctor came and examined him. He had a bump on his belly a couple days ago, and another one had appeared overnight. They were red and sore and the doctor seemed very concerned. She called in the infectious disease expert to evaluate them. </p><p>The specialist came and checked the bumps and didn’t seem alarmed. She told us they were likely just infections from his ANC (immune system) being low and that she would prescribe an antibiotic. She also told us that she wanted to biopsy one to send out a sample and make sure it wasn’t anything more serious. </p><p>I watched Sully’s face flatten when he heard her say biopsy. I reassured him it would be okay and would just feel like a little pinch. Meanwhile I had no idea what the fuck I was saying, I just didn’t want him to feel scared.</p><p>We were sent upstairs and they did the biopsy before his chemo session. He laid in the bed and I held his hand, and she did it quickly.</p><p>He winced and I thought it was over. </p><p>“Great job, see it’s done!” I told him.</p><p>But then to my surprise his face turned a delayed red and he started crying.</p><p>“What’s the matter? Are you in pain or are you just afraid?” I asked.</p><p>“I’m afraid” he cried.</p><p>I felt horrible, the poor kid is so innocent.</p><p>I looked at him sternly. </p><p>“Look at my face” I said.</p><p>“It's okay. You don't ever worry about anything, I’m here with you and I will never leave and you don’t ever have to feel afraid of anything. We are in this together and will kick ass.” I told him.</p><p>I may have also used some colorful expletives in that pep talk.</p><p>He smiled, and we moved on to watch the news together as they administered his chemo for the day.</p><p>Later on the ride home our conversation was entertaining as usual.</p><p>“Are the British Irish like us?” he asked.</p><p>His unique questions and opinions kept me laughing and entertained, and quickly washed away the drama of the morning.</p><p>“You can come and watch us skeet shooting this spring when it gets warm” I told him. </p><p>I had to explain what skeet shooting was. </p><p>“Can we bring Lennox?” (our dog) he asked.</p><p>“No Sully you can’t bring a dog to a shooting range.”</p><p>“He’s a hunting dog though.”</p><p>“I know but it’s not hunting”</p><p>“Well maybe we can bring him to Texas with us when we go”</p><p>“Only if we drive” I said.</p><p>Our dog is a Viszla. A Hungarian hunting dog, cousin of the Weimaraner.</p><p>“What was Lennox’s name before we got him?” Sully asked. </p><p>“What do you mean he was a puppy he didn’t have a name” I replied.</p><p>“You said he was in the Hungarian army” he said. </p><p>I laughed out loud. </p><p>“Yes, oh yeah” I said. </p><p>“Asiiiiiiiiaaaaaaago HIKE!!” I yelled out. </p><p>Sully laughed hard.</p><p>I had told him years ago that Lennox was a Hungarian war dog and responded to attack upon the command “Asiago, HIKE” a silly phrase that I must have conjured up on the spot from a combo of my favorite cheese and the football command for snapping the ball. Over the years I would have the kids laughing til no end as I would stand in the kitchen and demonstrate. </p><p>I would draw out “Asiago” as long as possible and finish with an abrupt “HIKE!” and Lennox would go batty. The dog loved the playtime and the kids were amazed and begged for more. </p><p>The only house on the block with a cuddly floppy eared dog that kills.</p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDt4Rh4jDyscr8nv3p5CfAHFIaHtAaO0il3JdOTp_r35bp5rAa-FRiwNjAUboxsuKOSHNSfDHWoxj4WxXXKcTQqb3NoLCZtkhMOxVhgMilEpHBG104MNHKK-a9YjmytlkoKVRvSsEoZG4/s2048/IMG_9202+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDt4Rh4jDyscr8nv3p5CfAHFIaHtAaO0il3JdOTp_r35bp5rAa-FRiwNjAUboxsuKOSHNSfDHWoxj4WxXXKcTQqb3NoLCZtkhMOxVhgMilEpHBG104MNHKK-a9YjmytlkoKVRvSsEoZG4/s16000/IMG_9202+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-15319031144018406952021-01-05T18:07:00.004-05:002022-12-07T14:42:28.695-05:00Dad I'm NPO <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhsVu9NcKXwbz4UHJz5Rp6ssYdWCtapeDhaB1N51OfjFbx1786WDaH7ae-3MrzOIACiaO_E83tAgwOVLrtouJJWSLfsmWPvCrO_pRnUEBkqIGhrxEJrCPAYIOsEmCBEbmoSvBx3Jzfeg/s2048/IMG_1345.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhsVu9NcKXwbz4UHJz5Rp6ssYdWCtapeDhaB1N51OfjFbx1786WDaH7ae-3MrzOIACiaO_E83tAgwOVLrtouJJWSLfsmWPvCrO_pRnUEBkqIGhrxEJrCPAYIOsEmCBEbmoSvBx3Jzfeg/s16000/IMG_1345.heic" /></a></div> <p></p><p>It's the first week of 2021 and all I see in my social feeds are resolution posts and dozens of inspiring proclamations to do better this year. Me? It's 8:00am and I'm sitting here in the hospital with a lump in my throat trying not to spill out my emotions as I watch my son prepare for another spinal tap. Dramatic? Perhaps if you're reading this and not living through it like us. </p><p>With every week that has gone by since May none of it gets any easier, we just get a little more numb to it. From the moment we arrived this morning Sully said "I hate that place". </p><p>"What place" I asked. </p><p>He pointed to the emergency room.</p><p>"It gives me bad memories" he said. </p><p>I've felt the same way on many of our visits but never vocalized it. It's the first time I've heard him say anything like that. I don't even know how to reply to him so I just tell him it's okay. </p><p>He's so good with his routine and the array of medication he takes 3 times a day. Last night he told me before bed "don't forget dad I'm NPO for tomorrow". </p><p>"Right so no more snacks" I said as he finished a bag of pretzels and we both laughed. </p><p>NPO means no eating after midnight before his spinal tap procedure. </p><p>There are times during this ordeal where I feel like I'm just putting one foot in front of the other and trying to hold it all together for him and his siblings. Emotions run high and low and then there are the times like last night where I'm numb and I just go through the motions. </p><p>I started taking down the Christmas tree after the kids went to sleep which led into pretty much taking down every single decoration in the house and packing them away. Normally a whole day's work but once I started on the tree I zoned out and just kept going. Sometimes being a single dad running the house is fucking exhausting. I'm not complaining, I wouldn't have it any other way, but there is always so much shit to do some of which I never had to do before. There is no manual, we do the best we can, and surely make mistakes along the way. Apologies and hugs keep us thick like thieves. </p><p>I sit here in the hospital this morning watching over him and I can feel what he feels before it even happens. Empathy at it's best. I see the look on his face in the moments before they insert the big needle in his medi-port. As often as they do it I'm sure it never gets easier for him. I see the fear on his face, I know he still thinks of that one time they messed it up. </p><p>Finally that part is done and we wait while the spinal tap team begins to assemble outside the door. I watch the solemn look on his face as he sits in the bed and watches the doctors and nurses appear. Even though he is silent I can feel his anxiety. He is good though. He's all business and never complains. It seems harder for me than him. <br /></p><p>The anesthesiologist arrives. He's an awesome doctor always full of the cheesiest jokes you've ever heard. He has us laughing quickly and I stand at the bed rubbing the fuzz on Sully's head as they prepare to put him to sleep. I tell him I'll be there when he wakes up, and of course I always get choked up at this point. I don't care how much of a macho badass you think you are, you've never felt knots in your heart like this until you've seen your own kid in this space. </p><p>Normally they kick me out at this point but today they allow me to stand on the other side of the curtain during the procedure. It feels like an eternity, and the nurse comes to my side during this time to review his blood tests and list of medications. There is a new drug, and some updates. I see her lips moving and nod repetitively but my mind is not there. I know I'll have to review it all later on the photocopy she's giving me. </p><p>The procedure finishes and when I return to the bedside my boy is asleep. He sleeps for quite a while, and while he does I order door dash so that he can't eat when he wakes up. </p><p>We eat, and then we sit all day as they pump the 3 different chemotherapy drugs into his port. I am so sad. Some days it just hits me like that. I sit in the chair next to the bed and the hours pass by while everyone else goes on with their normal lives outside of here. I work on the computer, I read a little, but mostly my mind wanders into different places, some happy, some dark. </p><p>Sully watches cartoons all day except for the time I convince him to play tic-tac-toe against me. He doesn't want his iPad or anything, he just wants to lay there today which makes me more upset. </p><p>I am so grateful that we made it through the holidays with smiles on everyone's faces. They think I'm a superhero, they have no idea how many sleepless nights I have had, and that's the way it should be. </p><p>Sully is resilient and almost always upbeat. He handles everything in stride but I could never put into words how hard or painful this has been for me personally. I'm not a superhero, a mere mortal, imperfect at that. </p><p>I enjoy bloging, I do it for selfish reasons not for sympathy. It's a great therapy and way to keep family and friends in the loop without having to answer 100 calls or texts. I get emails and connections from strangers going through similar challenges, and all I can say is keep chopping wood, this too shall pass. </p><p>I've drowned myself in work and abused my body in the gym as an outlet, but frankly the only space I find any real peace is in the company of my <span class="ILfuVd NA6bn"><span class="hgKElc">fiancée</span></span>. Nothing makes me happier than sharing life with her, training together, listening to her quirky stories, and caring for her in ways that feed my soul. <br /></p><p>It's dark outside. At some point we'll be released. He's retaining fluid today so they're keeping us longer. It will be a long drive home, and we need to come back again in the morning. I'll shoot for a workout tonight to exhaust myself, and this little guy will sleep off the chemo drugs. We'll string together a few more of these days and call it a week. </p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpqNS9C77SKvfsTk4vTSqV_NTbrra7w4qwq9C3X0F2hgXnxXuOK7Az8p5qm5kj6DNzUcHC_0Pp9kxVuZT_RaA0EjAAKlIxJHdFURWBvsUU5D9is03ujDfwVxTUHUbLCMHBmTEc4AD9-U/s2048/IMG_1346.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpqNS9C77SKvfsTk4vTSqV_NTbrra7w4qwq9C3X0F2hgXnxXuOK7Az8p5qm5kj6DNzUcHC_0Pp9kxVuZT_RaA0EjAAKlIxJHdFURWBvsUU5D9is03ujDfwVxTUHUbLCMHBmTEc4AD9-U/s16000/IMG_1346.heic" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-62916318651196448392020-12-23T22:34:00.007-05:002022-12-07T14:42:43.320-05:00Cancer, Chicken Salad, and Number 11<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv79l5p3q4EJ3QE37qPWntP9fS_P0dvVYTrDvgxFf_PEZ0mVzTt8sg3tWwsSls7QUbsayaxJFsSk26sZcChCushyyZGjT0rJsuA2ibwz83NU3FVlTR_5LjTYwOoenvBlT1MbiMbLjFSJ4/s2048/IMG_0444.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv79l5p3q4EJ3QE37qPWntP9fS_P0dvVYTrDvgxFf_PEZ0mVzTt8sg3tWwsSls7QUbsayaxJFsSk26sZcChCushyyZGjT0rJsuA2ibwz83NU3FVlTR_5LjTYwOoenvBlT1MbiMbLjFSJ4/s16000/IMG_0444.jpg" /></a></div> <p></p><p>We've been up and out early to Sully's weekly chemotherapy
appointments. Sometimes they last a couple hours, sometimes we're there
from 8:30am until 7:00pm, and other times we're in-patient for 4 days. It has become a part of our regular routine and we knock it
down while handling the rest of our affairs. It's been an interesting year for sure, with COVID adding to the challenges. These kids going to school virtually stay in their
pajamas half the day, lay in bed with their laptops, and
occasionally they sit up at a desk for class. It's not just my kids, it's most of their classmates too. They have become all too comfortable with this new way of learning. </p><p>My kids have managed to stay on honor roll, but this new way of doing things seems to
have dulled their spirit. I wonder when things return to normal
if it will be difficult for them because they've become so comfortable
at home, or if they'll embrace getting back into the classroom. Only time will
tell. As for Sully the virtual learning has been a blessing because he
could not return to the classroom right now even if it was in session because
his immune system is compromised from the chemotherapy treatments. We are hoping that he will be able to return in the spring or sometime soon
after. </p><p>It's hard to believe that it's been almost 7 months since
<a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">that night back in May</a> when he was diagnosed with Leukemia. It was <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" target="_blank">the worst night of my life</a>. The number 11 has been a recurring theme in my
life since I was a child. It hasn't always been a bad omen, just something that seems to mark and emphasize notable events in my life;
beginnings and endings, good things and bad things. </p><p>I
remember how uncanny it was when the doctor in the emergency room told
me there as a "malignancy" in his blood and that there was a chance it
could be Leukemia but further testing needed to be done. I started
crying and looked over at him in the glass bubble, immediately noticing he was
in room 11. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2020/05/the-day-no-parent-can-imagine.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjfG8e82bjToodWjwUTmLvrjXGRa1MTtYhSokJTTIXgiBOPXshM-wsr3ww502-L5CCrFttZylA8ZAbajqlsLedxovkM4Z-2_PG4NmUwtyzW-w8gIK5FKYS7FfdJlorFJRQg06-Ctobt8/s16000/Sully+Room+11.jpg" /></a></div><p> <br />The days since then have taken on a new importance, but we have somehow found consistency in our daily routines.</p><p>Last
night I went into the kitchen after doing some work in my home office
and I caught Sully making chicken salad. Maybe it's me, but I was impressed. It reminded me how independent,
driven, and undeterred this 10 year old is. He is so smart and
ambitious and sometimes seems more self-sufficient than my teenagers.<br /></p><p>As he was putting the container into the refrigerator I asked him what he was doing and he replied matter-of-factly, </p><p>"I have class at 8am. I made chicken salad so that I can have lunch on my break."</p><p>I
had everything I could do to not laugh as he walked by me with his chest puffed out and proceeded
to the basement. He returned slapping a bag of frozen rolls onto the
counter to thaw for morning and exited the room in a strictly business
manner without even making eye contact with me. </p><p>Just another day. </p><p>I love him.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg677wz9dwG8pAIFJIbgdBIVb4MO_7D8zinXeSOAht7C0-SbjloruNt1C0ShNB1dcd1ZIWGMiEvW6kSdjPBdBgzMGHVcRUPU-1oy9zl_gRqL1VOj7Qa095OIMuYgBFxNo1jpFt3c8yRN_E/s2048/62975311988__229A93F3-FC3F-4203-96B1-D639575E38B0.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg677wz9dwG8pAIFJIbgdBIVb4MO_7D8zinXeSOAht7C0-SbjloruNt1C0ShNB1dcd1ZIWGMiEvW6kSdjPBdBgzMGHVcRUPU-1oy9zl_gRqL1VOj7Qa095OIMuYgBFxNo1jpFt3c8yRN_E/s16000/62975311988__229A93F3-FC3F-4203-96B1-D639575E38B0.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2BhYwvb52QQUItccWSBv8zpXJYzno2tDFVCEa2F-fotIwXJrrJOV6vswAsmLtD3k-s533PXD4tzCT5fpSdgaDdZbR9Q07pOV6s7HZkqDZPi8P55jK6VP-KDr1BO9h2SMc4JDYTFnnis/s2048/IMG_0509.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2BhYwvb52QQUItccWSBv8zpXJYzno2tDFVCEa2F-fotIwXJrrJOV6vswAsmLtD3k-s533PXD4tzCT5fpSdgaDdZbR9Q07pOV6s7HZkqDZPi8P55jK6VP-KDr1BO9h2SMc4JDYTFnnis/s16000/IMG_0509.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-81457532053417317292020-11-20T12:09:00.001-05:002022-12-07T14:43:18.104-05:00Day 186 of 1,095<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Rng26sCgRecenhDaSH7a5koNYdVlOuRM-qK7rZska_uQepz8WgaZ11e31BUEs6iJnSINxVWm9VNJa4ysXMSh8iZTT23tBfepBzY2NnsR1Pw4pV3TSckdPSktQCuYvHcBD3C3OG2Nrf0/s2048/IMG_1767.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Rng26sCgRecenhDaSH7a5koNYdVlOuRM-qK7rZska_uQepz8WgaZ11e31BUEs6iJnSINxVWm9VNJa4ysXMSh8iZTT23tBfepBzY2NnsR1Pw4pV3TSckdPSktQCuYvHcBD3C3OG2Nrf0/s16000/IMG_1767.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>Sometimes we're in the hospital for 4 days in a row for chemo, and other times we are just there for the day. </p><p>These day trips to chemo: I never would have imagined bonding so closely with my son in of all places, the car.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOgniDPMi9f1IpqNAdznuVjgtzgrEo5Sf1u0XpPmPDnRP8rj_zOoWjTxrUSXCkLvg9vIXtKvPBqxO3c4hfz-i39r6NBNdEZmMuV13i6RB7tXltWayGqzbbm8uHps_nEhWDrom7OrEPmk/s2048/IMG_0507.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOgniDPMi9f1IpqNAdznuVjgtzgrEo5Sf1u0XpPmPDnRP8rj_zOoWjTxrUSXCkLvg9vIXtKvPBqxO3c4hfz-i39r6NBNdEZmMuV13i6RB7tXltWayGqzbbm8uHps_nEhWDrom7OrEPmk/s16000/IMG_0507.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>We put the numbing cream on his access port before we leave the house so that it has time to work before they connect him. We've learned to make sure he has a full stomach so we don't have to stop on the side of the road for him to throw up. </p><p>The sun rises, we turn up the music, and I feel the soft skin on his tiny hand inside of mine. I hold his hand almost the entire ride. I don't allow him to use his iPad during these trips. Sometimes we talk about politics or gaming, and other times we just sit silently and listen to the music. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVnrDt_BG8hoz3NFslfNnLUvfcGoMbAn1ma9vEQ4dwTzRMFpqXYudXwqqBDLRC-l9QuQs6BlmrV-odC07RceVRLioN2SL7HjW9TP-23v-gN5c-KERXFaqDNByAW7MZJMIca_Nw6d5stA/s2048/IMG_0647.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVnrDt_BG8hoz3NFslfNnLUvfcGoMbAn1ma9vEQ4dwTzRMFpqXYudXwqqBDLRC-l9QuQs6BlmrV-odC07RceVRLioN2SL7HjW9TP-23v-gN5c-KERXFaqDNByAW7MZJMIca_Nw6d5stA/s16000/IMG_0647.heic" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqzHcyMrn8pJGFtVlmXM7aR5k4SXV7btwNkDL1INggBULrp3n8tQzA-vI5PurECIxiIH1bf5u5r-IHNbY2MRYyPvzVopO0vgpMywuab5NNOm5mTZQowCckXU6vQMKSh4yWaZwT25Tie0/s1329/IMG_1797.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1329" data-original-width="1329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqzHcyMrn8pJGFtVlmXM7aR5k4SXV7btwNkDL1INggBULrp3n8tQzA-vI5PurECIxiIH1bf5u5r-IHNbY2MRYyPvzVopO0vgpMywuab5NNOm5mTZQowCckXU6vQMKSh4yWaZwT25Tie0/s16000/IMG_1797.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>My father left when I was eleven years old and I didn't have contact with him for more than 20 years. Perhaps this is why loving and being loved has become the driving force in my life. There's nothing I want more, and nothing I do better. I can't imagine having no contact; not talking to my children or not having a relationship with them. I wanted the perfect family, and even though what I have been left with is far from that, I'm okay with it being perfectly imperfect. I thank God that every time life has brought me to my knees something spectacular happened or someone special appeared in the wake of it. A life lived with such highs and lows has been like the <a href="https://www.bullrunpamplona.com/" target="_blank">Running of the Bulls</a> in Pamplona, but it has taught me that nothing else matters but trust, love, and kindness. If you're in my circle you can count on me for that.</p><p>Yesterday while I was giving my older son a haircut Sully came into the room, and I noticed new growth on his head. There's roughly 909 days left of his chemo program, so I'm not sure if it will disappear again during one of the cycles, but for now I took the opportunity to clean it up. I trimmed the soft fur that was growing slightly over his ears, and I ran the clippers along the back of his neck to clean up the base. My mind wandered as I rubbed my hands on his head trying to remember what he looked like with his thick blonde spikes. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4lpV8RaH_nubpA-Y2ftdRgEiNgoW4zk_3TyvZjhMJty_SXsGnsXWPz0Ma1a31WvHcQYQtsFwyc7CK75iExFawfvRHNPBNC5jTxjFNmPWhDUUAsarIO85pgFnIITFgeUmMmTcGmUdldQ/s2048/IMG_1229.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4lpV8RaH_nubpA-Y2ftdRgEiNgoW4zk_3TyvZjhMJty_SXsGnsXWPz0Ma1a31WvHcQYQtsFwyc7CK75iExFawfvRHNPBNC5jTxjFNmPWhDUUAsarIO85pgFnIITFgeUmMmTcGmUdldQ/s16000/IMG_1229.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>I was thrilled that his last <a href="https://www.lls.org/sites/default/files/National/USA/Pdf/Publications/FS35_MRD_Final_2019.pdf" target="_blank">MRD reading</a> was negative. He is so easy and simple, and outside of being occasionally tired and cranky, he is usually in good spirits. He is continuing his normal schooling albeit virtually, but it's not so bad because there is a virtual component even for the healthy kids due to the <a href="https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/covid-data/covidview/index.html" target="_blank">COVID</a> mandates. His teacher Dr. Fitzsimmons has been a godsend and gone above and beyond for him. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cx1HLFBUQp-ma2ycQcTK536uZ-Q7QRqGV0lyzJ5FnyGf9lAVBjsG_L4afoxOL7oLu9UOLVbzf2fd1Oda02qizjjwL_aVS1lu7hlxYnvcJHyCHphl0wj6NSoBPTfphFHKDGLKfUSoewg/s2048/IMG_1813.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cx1HLFBUQp-ma2ycQcTK536uZ-Q7QRqGV0lyzJ5FnyGf9lAVBjsG_L4afoxOL7oLu9UOLVbzf2fd1Oda02qizjjwL_aVS1lu7hlxYnvcJHyCHphl0wj6NSoBPTfphFHKDGLKfUSoewg/s16000/IMG_1813.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>My other kids have been trying to navigate the COVID changes to their normal school and sports schedule. My oldest is finishing her last year of high school, and my middle guy made honor roll again. They are great with Sully except his brother shows no mercy wrestling with him. My fiancé is the light in my life; my peace & serenity, and my mom and some of my friends have been kind and helpful, and constantly checking on us.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdP4Lj3bZlXZCdYMeWDSJ62ip4rDITm_asFZhcsCvEnZ5h9oJORrH3s9qstj_XypRUpsRkvmy_O1_EU270fKEErKZlRFWfF2UHJa-VbffrlAG9ucHe9LDYsIEGkkazBFg0pXPjLQqNls/s2048/IMG_9659.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdP4Lj3bZlXZCdYMeWDSJ62ip4rDITm_asFZhcsCvEnZ5h9oJORrH3s9qstj_XypRUpsRkvmy_O1_EU270fKEErKZlRFWfF2UHJa-VbffrlAG9ucHe9LDYsIEGkkazBFg0pXPjLQqNls/s16000/IMG_9659.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz6f9LdiGP5genD9Cxj2ytN1GryhPN4o3CXiDjaiYDiZ_oSJdJM86aYRUZ5dGJt7vEWRW6k5K9hxdFzYXpwsw2htqopgBx1MxYdkxCk5Ncx_7Fe4lWzu7Q30PyxeuPWasSIhwDrs-uz6A/s2048/IMG_0603.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz6f9LdiGP5genD9Cxj2ytN1GryhPN4o3CXiDjaiYDiZ_oSJdJM86aYRUZ5dGJt7vEWRW6k5K9hxdFzYXpwsw2htqopgBx1MxYdkxCk5Ncx_7Fe4lWzu7Q30PyxeuPWasSIhwDrs-uz6A/s16000/IMG_0603.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGX9pNtqR3VS6WjMokyuz1eDVB0aa47Y3u1J1wx36Wjp0QmMFimOSIhLahunlNqnj_5XUWTtXjASKlsltsJBps9_ZHvquCAl7MOFue1H8P-C0_UnOvmYCefqwvxEoSleKNXP5kDXViZWw/s2048/IMG_0628.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGX9pNtqR3VS6WjMokyuz1eDVB0aa47Y3u1J1wx36Wjp0QmMFimOSIhLahunlNqnj_5XUWTtXjASKlsltsJBps9_ZHvquCAl7MOFue1H8P-C0_UnOvmYCefqwvxEoSleKNXP5kDXViZWw/s16000/IMG_0628.JPG" /></a></div><p>The nurses at <a href="https://childrenshospital.northwell.edu/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=cmcc_brand&utm_content=pediatrics_ccmccohenbrand_suffolknassauqueens&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI-oXOkcaR7QIViuCzCh2CrApnEAAYASAAEgIJ6fD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds" target="_blank">Cohen's Children's hospital</a> have been phenomenal. They are always so upbeat, kind, and accommodating. They make you feel like family, not like they are doing a job. During our last hospital stay Sully got tired of losing to me in scrabble (they have to beat the old man on their own I show no mercy), and bored with my jokes and banter so he took his IV cart and roamed the halls outside our room. One evening I lost track of time and realized he was gone for an hour. When I found him he had convinced the nurses to use their computer to play Call of Duty. They were all laughs when I found them sitting at the nurses station and they told me how amazed they were with his 1980's movies knowledge. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFC7ZwmFuyBzVEmzFhoEv5qc5qkfb53iTNM9YVjQjggd3RYYnm6WiE9tpbvJwGT_CrZ9qO6p3jahy2fLlWqWeleaXGAT65QLN2Q_YsD9sbpBOmas2JWs5BKuZzF-LuNveEvbUNrNl_tJ8/s2048/IMG_0713.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFC7ZwmFuyBzVEmzFhoEv5qc5qkfb53iTNM9YVjQjggd3RYYnm6WiE9tpbvJwGT_CrZ9qO6p3jahy2fLlWqWeleaXGAT65QLN2Q_YsD9sbpBOmas2JWs5BKuZzF-LuNveEvbUNrNl_tJ8/s16000/IMG_0713.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;">Like many businesses and industries COVID has hammered my online marketing business. Life is not what it used to be for anyone right now. I try to juggle the challenges and stay positive while we chip away at the calendar in this face-off against cancer. Life is what you make it.</p><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;"> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: inherit;">follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBsA3BniKDllVyStNXzNw29Qec5Y85Hfi2VBVvox42wTiGsmkIU9zhjP7F4Gk-lv4ekCsy0eFtozyQON6-Sumw74sDOzFdGzGuESDGjZvD0VeA_Xt2_gzeUcPO1WdXJEWXs0U7u1BukE/s1952/IMG_4144.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1952" data-original-width="1952" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBsA3BniKDllVyStNXzNw29Qec5Y85Hfi2VBVvox42wTiGsmkIU9zhjP7F4Gk-lv4ekCsy0eFtozyQON6-Sumw74sDOzFdGzGuESDGjZvD0VeA_Xt2_gzeUcPO1WdXJEWXs0U7u1BukE/s16000/IMG_4144.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCL_CK256kPuS-FUIndI8qsbIqvibj402ia7BGu11pD5HEndl-kXBcFRZE7bqwCZYIqUjc_9pD0M5AtPHhpEuX2HkMghMfbePTcukgQKOFNTlYZvhd_XBctHuulN3fLy9GNLmyK3BQwq0/s2048/IMG_9202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCL_CK256kPuS-FUIndI8qsbIqvibj402ia7BGu11pD5HEndl-kXBcFRZE7bqwCZYIqUjc_9pD0M5AtPHhpEuX2HkMghMfbePTcukgQKOFNTlYZvhd_XBctHuulN3fLy9GNLmyK3BQwq0/s16000/IMG_9202.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-25354214564883858682020-09-14T09:28:00.001-04:002022-12-07T14:43:28.265-05:00When he Cries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLEf87HlU970qr0JmLCNrOIIwMZbXS61Un0aQvi1QoAq2Dzp6EhEza2ft8qUeu2HHor6kf3hiw1mNWYqOQQQs5-rWLzRhbhZptrTvqvZlv3llQatI9jnH9yLIfue4KFtj5diAETJD-Ys/s2017/IMG_8126.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2017" data-original-width="2017" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnLEf87HlU970qr0JmLCNrOIIwMZbXS61Un0aQvi1QoAq2Dzp6EhEza2ft8qUeu2HHor6kf3hiw1mNWYqOQQQs5-rWLzRhbhZptrTvqvZlv3llQatI9jnH9yLIfue4KFtj5diAETJD-Ys/s16000/IMG_8126.jpg" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Today we reported for blood tests to see if Sully's levels are high enough yet to start his next wave of chemotherapy. He's been holding for 3 weeks because his ANC and platelet levels have not been high enough to begin. Inasmuch as cancer treatment is advanced, the general idea still seems arcane to me. The chemo drugs kill all of the cells including the good ones, and as a result there are recovery periods in between to allow the body to naturally build back the good cells. It is a delicate process of killing every Leukemia cell over the course of 3 years without compromising the host.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So far Sully has been a trooper, but he is nonetheless still a frightened 10 year old boy whose normal life has been uprooted by Leukemia. This morning was accompanied by his usual anxiety about getting "accessed" the procedure in which they tap a large needle into the </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">medi-port</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> that was installed under his skin months ago. He obsesses with me each time before we leave the house about putting the numbing cream on the area so that it has enough time to work by the time we arrive at the hospital. This part -- these recurring instances remind me that no matter how much we say this is the "new norm", there is really no such thing; it's really that we have just become oblivious to the affairs thrust upon us.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">We arrived for his appointment, he sat for his finger stick and made his usual request with the nurse to prick the "side" of his finger. We returned to the waiting room and eventually the doctor came to see us and informed us that his blood levels were finally high enough to resume chemotherapy. After waiting for 2 hours we were summoned to a treatment room so that a nurse could stick the needle into his medi-port and attach the hose for the upcoming week of chemo. A young man arrived, not the usual nurse who handles the procedure. I could see some anxiety in Sully's face. On two occasions in the past in which he had a different nurse do this they messed up and the doctor had to come and handle it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The man proceeded with the process, he talked to Sully kindly, but I sensed a tremendous lack of confidence in him, he seemed new and nervous. I'm sure Sully picked up on the vibe as well but neither of us made a fuss, we didn't want to insult him. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Sure enough he messed up inserting the needle, and before I knew it he had apologized and left the room. After the man left Sully started crying in a delayed sort of way. It wasn't from any pain, my sense is that he probably felt violated, like an object, like a pincushion; and the anxiety of having to be subjected to it again was overwhelming him. I reached over and rubbed my hand over the soft skin of his bald head. "What the hell" I said. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV5LoQSem84NQfITFIxrSrhZmEmrWTDZJSiQga6M3fZAtM3Xm1WqlNxejdgWjuRPzEv1vZTA4I532iruaJ_PVmNGd4ZGQ1jVxJ76Mj_oB7ARBtYe4HStzJs_HjWJAYzDRyNIxHu5dBEjY/s2048/IMG_8144.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV5LoQSem84NQfITFIxrSrhZmEmrWTDZJSiQga6M3fZAtM3Xm1WqlNxejdgWjuRPzEv1vZTA4I532iruaJ_PVmNGd4ZGQ1jVxJ76Mj_oB7ARBtYe4HStzJs_HjWJAYzDRyNIxHu5dBEjY/s16000/IMG_8144.jpg" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I reassured him it wasn't a big deal and that it was going to be fine, but it didn't prevent the shaking, and the tears from falling, or his eyes from turning red. When he cries it breaks my heart. It puts dots on this timeline of life and causes me to wonder how the hell we got here. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Soon the usual nurse appeared and handled the accessing. It was over in a pinch, and of course Sully reminded me why he only likes two specific nurses doing the accessing. I told him I would speak to the doctor and in the future we wouldn't let that happen again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Tomorrow he'll be readmitted to the hospital and stay for a few days for this part of the chemo program. I stay positive in all my interactions with him and remind him this is not a big deal, it's just a job that we need to get done and before you know it will be behind us. He is attached to my hip more than ever now which results in some interesting experiences. He has no problem giving me advice after hearing me on a business call, he repeats humorous bits of other conversations that he probably should not have heard, and has been subjected to watching shows that he normally would not choose on the rare occasion I get to turn on television before retiring for the day. He's grown an affinity for classical music as a result of watching <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mozart-Jungle-Season-1/dp/B00I3MNGCG" target="_blank">Mozart in the Jungle</a> with me, an Amazon prime series, and was quick to explain the characters and adult themes to my fiancé when she was visiting. He cracks me up and continues to amaze me. </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-4779962533291051412020-09-02T18:52:00.003-04:002022-12-07T14:43:54.502-05:00Road Trip Mt. Marcy<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNx_TiTY0Qz6MBgPggp3QbYBf-cfLIMW4ewmfT6MH3gVt1YmpxuUn7rJOwwiqlFhGUvyQOPIKwk9jP37SabyzBApqt3e38JkqaENcEkf5umZSEC__sA4L_ceeO1LIED-DpYKhRelEC_Ds/s1889/IMG_6802.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1889" data-original-width="1889" height="1250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNx_TiTY0Qz6MBgPggp3QbYBf-cfLIMW4ewmfT6MH3gVt1YmpxuUn7rJOwwiqlFhGUvyQOPIKwk9jP37SabyzBApqt3e38JkqaENcEkf5umZSEC__sA4L_ceeO1LIED-DpYKhRelEC_Ds/w1250-h1250/IMG_6802.jpg" width="1250" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>My sons and I took to the road for an overnight trip to the adirondacks. From Keene Valley we hiked in to Marcy Dam and set up base camp. Our goal was to climb Mt. Marcy the following day, but weather put a damper on it. </p><p>Strong thunderstorms rolled in with heavy downpours. The thunder and wind were so loud overnight. It felt like we were sitting right under the heavens. We stayed dry in our tent and lean-to but the next day presented with more drizzle and low visibility so we climbed Phelps mountain, a much shorter route, and then packed up camp and left for home. I taught the boys how to set up a safe base camp, cook freeze dried food with a primus burner, carve with their new knives, read a trail map, and use a compass. We read from "creatures great and small" a book I've been sharing with them, and of course the trip was filled with questions about the universe and the usual adolescent potty humor.<br /></p><p>It wasn't a planned trip but it's important to do and say the things that come to mind with the people you love. Put your thoughts and feelings into words, let your actions reflect them, and turn your ideas into memories. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkh9ntZhQfbs7P3-SVTwhwrdfDYXVdaIUDs8s0V3kcSm1BdNjgQFZi9jMzdIlJipDTM8q1fYIpsI3RocJS6d9yNQcTJ4AUSTbHDq9PC2cUFRzmjWnTaMD35iLDRXiaoV2tIwL4GSO-THY/s2048/IMG_6805.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkh9ntZhQfbs7P3-SVTwhwrdfDYXVdaIUDs8s0V3kcSm1BdNjgQFZi9jMzdIlJipDTM8q1fYIpsI3RocJS6d9yNQcTJ4AUSTbHDq9PC2cUFRzmjWnTaMD35iLDRXiaoV2tIwL4GSO-THY/w1000-h1000/IMG_6805.jpg" width="1000" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjewKA-2te7XBeYfa5uNFYeWq_jJ9vmk2ilykzunkneWc7CoZsz-rT77-PavDerrC7ZTG-yDx85gewOKjHLi-rTG0w2wUQCHt2TpGB7fixUbfgLuMCZnqTXYaQr1WtOh-Lx44DRM6ciyUk/s2048/IMG_6843.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div><br /></div></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-79745654196781449212020-09-01T08:32:00.002-04:002022-12-07T14:44:06.779-05:00Chapters, Senses, + Legacy<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6G5W_BVTxR7KYRtBXy0qvpfFuPk46dQ9qRqcVfGpmOGegYgK1AwmIkDom7tumGiYEhP7uAjRNwebvDGnWCZsVUqknMnltyBKqIe2att5GLvhhs6IS9coWrwnlsSEMfMerUujCbXRXoE/s2048/IMG_6686.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="1250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6G5W_BVTxR7KYRtBXy0qvpfFuPk46dQ9qRqcVfGpmOGegYgK1AwmIkDom7tumGiYEhP7uAjRNwebvDGnWCZsVUqknMnltyBKqIe2att5GLvhhs6IS9coWrwnlsSEMfMerUujCbXRXoE/w938-h1250/IMG_6686.jpg" width="938" /></a> <br /></div><p></p><p>Yesterday I rubbed my son’s back as he threw up out the car door. The seat, the door, and the window got sprayed. I had to pull over immediately, but I’m sure passersby knew what was happening when they saw my pale, skinny, bald little Martian hunched over at the door.<br /><br />This morning we are in Lake placid watching the sunrise and preparing to climb Phelps mountain, and Mount Marcy the highest mountain in New York State. This is something we have always wanted to do together. We are setting up base camp at Marcy Dam, climbing Phelps today, and then taking the Van Hovenberg trail to Mt. Marcy and back tomorrow. </p><p>This is how we have faced every obstacle in our lives — with blatant fortitude. <b>#FUCANCER</b><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiby6nsvPIaHghRqdD4askD9A-Tz4qajn2V3g5f4NW7dvjQGm0MQr5xS1peePZ9fbZr2zyS1icEdEaeZT9RjXZ2d_HDeK02KIA_8Zn0qLNN8iSIw5DQlxSSff4bk6T3qTKgSlFh_ESpJ1o/s275/tt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="700" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiby6nsvPIaHghRqdD4askD9A-Tz4qajn2V3g5f4NW7dvjQGm0MQr5xS1peePZ9fbZr2zyS1icEdEaeZT9RjXZ2d_HDeK02KIA_8Zn0qLNN8iSIw5DQlxSSff4bk6T3qTKgSlFh_ESpJ1o/w1051-h700/tt.jpg" width="1051" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Every day is a new chapter in the book of your life. Don’t be handcuffed to a boring agenda. Don’t fall into line like a sheep and accept a life relegated to monotony.<br /><br />When you are gone people will not care whether you were a janitor, a doctor, or an attorney. Their memories of you will be etched by their five senses. They will remember what it felt like to touch you, what you smelled like, how are your voice sounded, and what you looked like.<br /><br /><b>But there is an X factor </b>— <i><b>How you made them feel will leave behind the most vivid memories. </b></i><br /><br />So write the chapters of your life boldly and focus less on things that no one will even remember when you are gone. No one cares. Everyday you are writing your legacy. Do it with grace and passion.<br /><br />Sully has been on hold for the past two weeks to begin phase 3 of his chemotherapy treatment because his blood levels have been too low to start. <br /><br />Chemotherapy kills cancer cells, but it also kills all of the cells even the good ones. As a result it is necessary at different points in treatment to take a break and allow the body to reproduce the good cells and recover before beginning the next phase. <br /><br />We are hopeful that he will be ready to begin phase 3 next week if his blood levels are sufficient.<br /><br />His spirit is upbeat and positive but he has had frequent bouts of nausea and his eating has been poor.</p><p>His total treatment timeline is 3 years. There will be more chemotherapy, spinal taps, bone marrow biopsies and blood draws ahead, but this is our new norm and no one is complaining. <br /><br />He was cancer free on his last MRD reading a few weeks ago, and that is the positivity we embrace and hold onto.</p><p>Follow us on Instagram for updates from the trek.<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-13298488055281366652020-08-14T12:39:00.010-04:002022-12-07T14:44:16.671-05:00Tackling Cancer 🏈🏈🏈<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i></i></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63RGGLJaSG5zJ4wRpTiSG5LkqDoURDlYx6xaUiLeGySkaqdowToagXoO8wZF4-GX0bV4NRKZfn1Sf8idr6BEtBo9cqWgrrmOUOzYNT4rxqy3JJ2000hxYMyTv7jqwhHg4Tb-Eyk1Y61s/s1208/Screen+Shot+2020-08-14+at+1.07.56+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="1208" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63RGGLJaSG5zJ4wRpTiSG5LkqDoURDlYx6xaUiLeGySkaqdowToagXoO8wZF4-GX0bV4NRKZfn1Sf8idr6BEtBo9cqWgrrmOUOzYNT4rxqy3JJ2000hxYMyTv7jqwhHg4Tb-Eyk1Y61s/w328-h216/Screen+Shot+2020-08-14+at+1.07.56+PM.png" width="328" /></a></div><i><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='550' height='457' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxKZL_b8EC_bqr6kAdCWZmCx-KDK__Iahtoz1U0t97vxA7pw4oAj0TyQIxXLeAZqmXO-ozCFYSSvCehnMnVFg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> ⬆️⬆️⬆️ CLICK THE VIDEO ⬆️⬆️⬆️<i><br /></i></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>A year ago my 10 year old was running touchdowns. Today we're tackling cancer. Can you imagine?</i></span></span></span><br /></p><p>I still find the circumstances stunning, but my guy is doing his thing and we are determined to make this just another series in the playbook of life. </p><p>Sully's spirits are unbroken in spite of the many things that most 10 year olds never have to consider: swallowing a handful of pills twice a day, reporting for chemotherapy sessions almost everyday, having to get a needle of some sort everyday whether it be a finger stick or having his medi-port accessed. Then there are the other things like the frequent stomach aches, loss of muscular strength, constipation, lethargy, easy bruising, and the spinal taps and bone marrow biopsies. The chemotherapy kills all of the cells even some of the good ones, so once in a while he needs to get blood transfusions if his levels drop too low. There are also periods where his immune system gets dangerously low and when that happens we quarantine him for a bit. Right now he is fishing his 2nd stage of his chemotherapy plan and getting ready for the 3rd stage which will be more intense and require a couple hospital stays. <br /></p><p>We take everyday as a gift while trying to keep things as normal as possible for him, and while trying to manage our own emotions, finances and responsibilities. I sometimes don't know whether I'm coming or going or what the future holds, but I make sure to find something to be happy about on a daily basis and I share that energy with Sully. </p><p>The combination of COVID-19 and his cancer diagnosis have made this our most challenging year ever, but the support of our friends and family have helped tremendously. </p><p>Sully's last MRD reading was negative which is very promising. All we can do is keep at it, enjoy each day, and pray. I know he'll beat this, and although he can't hit or fully participate in football this fall, you can be sure he'll be suiting up and making some practices with his teammates. In the meantime he's getting some blood on today's visit!<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGWaoX-zYn8b-XXge8auRKPYdevQOwMlLEcJtAV1Yc7nVPYAr4_E_C9WFCgNZxBY-aODoaR0Bbj3BY1aPyzED2_Z3GfwpZCYWSJ1P-v4SqMQBi9RxY8kbnIMTfhuyaIXgYHnRNmfcmJg/s1902/IMG_5081.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1902" data-original-width="1902" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGWaoX-zYn8b-XXge8auRKPYdevQOwMlLEcJtAV1Yc7nVPYAr4_E_C9WFCgNZxBY-aODoaR0Bbj3BY1aPyzED2_Z3GfwpZCYWSJ1P-v4SqMQBi9RxY8kbnIMTfhuyaIXgYHnRNmfcmJg/s640/IMG_5081.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-50031817982891800282020-07-18T15:55:00.003-04:002022-12-07T14:45:38.303-05:00Forever and a Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday I heard a song with the expression "forever and a day" in the lyrics. It's an expression that was originally coined by Shakespeare and it means "for a very long time". </div>
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As I listened I began thinking how the meaning would change if you twisted the phrase to: "forever <b><i><u>in</u></i> </b>a day"?</div>
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That's what some of the days seem like in this journey with Sully. I've done a good job trying to distract myself from the shadows of the Leukemia battle, but when things quiet down, when I am alone, and mostly at night it feels like forever has been squeezed <b><u><i>into</i></u></b> one single day. </div>
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I sit alone and my mind plays a time lapse slideshow of every memory of my life, and then it flashes images of every imaginable uncertainty of the future. It seems like forever in one day.</div>
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All we have is the day; the moment that is right here in front of us. It's so important to find happiness in the simplicities of each day. I remind myself that there is always something to be grateful for, always something to appreciate and be positive about.</div>
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Sully was readmitted to the hospital to treat some side effects of the chemo. Hopefully we'll be out of here quickly. The peaks and valleys of cancer treatment are becoming more familiar, and we are just taking each day as it comes and trying to manage everything the best we can. His spirits are okay, we are all positive, and we will keep at it hoping for good news at each milestone of his treatment. </div>
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We bend, but we don't break.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-35671956777186956272020-07-03T13:56:00.003-04:002022-12-07T14:46:00.163-05:00That's Why they Say "Fight" Cancer<br />
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It was our first week home. He trembled in pain as I lay next to him in his bed, trying to put him to sleep for the night. It was the first time I had seen him in such agony throughout this ordeal. Sully has a high pain tolerance, and I've never seen him in a condition that would prevent him from falling asleep.<br />
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He was having excruciating pain in the bones of his lower back, hips, and knees. At the time every nightmarish possibility ran through my head of what could be causing it. The next day I would find out that it was "neuropathy", a common side effect of Vincristine, one of the chemo drugs he was taking.<br />
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"Why is this happening?" he cried, as we lay there next to each other in the dark. He couldn't stay still. I wasn't sure how to answer him.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: #666666;"><b>"It's a side effect of the chemo medicine Sully. This is why they say "Fight Cancer", because it's a real fight dude. You have to fight and fight, no one said it would be easy."</b></span></i></span><br />
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It seemed to make sense to him, but nothing was consoling him, it was horrible, and instinctively I laid my full bodyweight across his legs. I thought the pressure might help, and it did.<br />
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It was a rough night, neither one of us slept more than 20 minutes, and in the morning the pain was still raging. We left the house at 7:00am for his scheduled chemotherapy appointment at the hospital. When we arrived the nurses were alarmed at how much pain he was in. He was shaking with the kind of pain I could only imagine if someone was pushing a nail into your skin. It was so upsetting to watch. The pain was so bad they re-admitted him to the hospital. Eventually they gave him Oxytocin, and when that didn't work they had to give him Morphine later that afternoon. I was shocked that they were giving him a drug that they routinely give wounded soldiers on the battlefield.<br />
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Over the next day or so they started him on a medicine called Gabapentin, to resolve the neoropathy. It worked.<br />
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That was a couple weeks ago.<br />
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So much has happened since that fateful day Sunday May 17th when I got the news that my boy had B-Cell Lymphoblastic Leukemia.<br />
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Sully spent nearly a a month in the hospital and I've navigated an array of emotional ups and downs, a cycle of good news and bad news. There have been lots of solemn meetings with his doctors, where tons of complex biology and treatments were discussed. Further studies showed that he has a "Philadelphia-like" variant of cancer with a "Jack" signature, something we were hoping not to hear.<br />
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Each meeting has concluded with the doctors leaving, and me left alone in the room; sometimes sobbing, but always sitting, staring, remembering, wondering. They are scenes from a Lifetime movie. I love deeply, and as a result the emotions are proportionate.<br />
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Our friends and family have been wonderful. The amount of love and support for him and for us has been nothing short of amazing. Two of the most touching moments were the police escort homecoming that our community arranged for him, and the "head-shave party" where 25 of his friends and their dads joined him to lessen the emotional impact of losing his hair.<br />
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Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Lauren & Anthony Picone, Brian & Chrissy Silk, and all of our friends and family who have reached out, sent cards/texts/emails, donated to the go-fund-me, brought dinners, and done so many other thoughtful things. Most importantly we've appreciated the love and concern. There is no better feeling than knowing we have an army of support, and we are not going through this alone. Sully is fortunate. You have been our foundation. Thank You.<br />
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Full treatment will be roughly 3 years. It will be a long journey, but we have indefatigable resolve in this family. We are relentless, and we refuse to let anything get in the way of our happiness or living life. This cancer battle is just another inconvenience, and my boy will beat it. With the exception of the meds, chemo treatments, and lost hair we refuse to let the disease cast a shadow of limitations on our life. <br />
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We've had enough lessons in our family already to remind us how short life is, and how important it is to live each day like a story getting the most out of even the most mundane things. I've always taught my kids to live life with an undying love and passion. To appreciate everyday as a gift. This resonates now more than ever.<br />
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My ex-wife and I spend the days carting our boy back and forth to chemotherapy and doctor appointments while trying to keep up with our career and business obligations. There are so many weekly blood tests, phone calls, meetings and fights with the insurance companies. We are optimistic Sully will be cured and we continue to pour ourselves into the latest research and treatments. Right now he is on the best path and there are case studies of patients with his condition who have been cured.<br />
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I have 4 of the best doctors in the country working collaboratively on Sully's Phildaelphia-like B-Cell Lymphoblastic Luekemia with Jack signature cancer. They are the doctors who have discovered and/or participated in all of the original and ongoing research and studies on this type of cancer. I am grateful for their expertise and interest in his case.<br />
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Medical bills have been rolling in, 7k for the ER intake and first day, 15k for the cutting edge Ruxolitinib medicine just approved by the FDA. The fundraising has been a godsend.<br />
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My days are mostly so busy that I don't have time to reflect, but boy when things slow down and mostly at night; it hits like a ton of bricks. I look and see a boy that is hard to recognize from a month ago, and I put my faith in God and try and re-focus on the moment before me not the past or future.<br />
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<br />
I take my own advice and remind myself that Sully is here today, he's
with us and that is all that matters. I can still laugh with him, hold
him, touch him, hug him, and be frustrated by him. It's a great day. Sometimes that is the only thing we need to focus on.<br />
<br />
My
bald-headed baby boy rides shotgun with me back and forth to his
chemotherapy appointments. We drop the sunroof and windows and play loud
music yelling over it to hear each other. The wind blows on us. We
laugh and sometimes we speed. I hold his hand and he talks to me about
aliens, slime, and politics.<br />
<br />
He is happy. It gets at my heart.<br />
<br />
I wonder how the FUCK this happened.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-26451864776982771612020-05-28T22:40:00.004-04:002022-12-07T14:46:12.528-05:00Negotiating with God<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I haven’t slept much this week. I’ve only slept in my bed once, and not because I haven’t been home for a break or because I couldn’t, but because subconsciously I just don’t want to be comfortable. I watch this kid go through so much every day and I think I am trying to avoid the guilt of feeling comfortable myself. I sleep sideways in a chair next to his bed without pulling out the footrest. On the nights I am home I sleep on the sofa instead of my bed. My mind, body, and soul are restless.<br />
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Yesterday he had another spinal tap. The results came back negative and showed no cancer cells in his spinal tract, so I was happy about that. He needs to get 3 negatives in a row in order for them to stop the spinal taps. He has another one tomorrow, and then one next Wednesday.<br />
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In the late afternoon he had another chemo treatment, this time with a stronger medicine.<br />
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He hates the hospital food so for dinner I ordered him a burger and Oreo milkshake. He ate like a champ and said he felt stuffed and tired afterward. He became very sleepy as the night wore on, and I assume part of it was from the chemotherapy.<br />
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I performed my usual routine of trying to make him laugh with stupid antics and jokes, and I asked him if he had facetimed his friends. He often doesn’t want to be bothered he just wants to sit and vegetate which is so unlike him. I remind him every day that it’s important for him stay connected with his friends because they’ll distract him and lift his spirits.<br />
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At bedtime he used the two separate anti-fungal mouthwashes which he has to rinse with a few times a day because of the chemo, and then he went to sleep. I went to the family room down the hall and made a few personal phone calls. I returned and sat in the chair next to his bed. The room was dark, and I just sat quietly as I do every night, wondering how we got here. I prayed, and kept my nightly negotiations going with God. And for a little while I dozed off.<br />
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I heard him moving around and woke up to see what was going on. He was standing in the dark next to the bed changing his clothes because they were sweaty. He’s such a thoughtful boy, he didn’t even try and wake me up. I told him he needs to wake me up no matter what he needs. I wiped him down with some baby wipes and helped him change and get back into bed.<br />
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It’s morning and I only slept about two hours. The sun is up and shining broken rays through the big windows next to us that are all covered with posters and cards from his friends. He is tired and sleeping later than usual. I crawl into the bed behind him and put my arms around him kissing his ear and the back of his neck, stroking his hair while he sleeps. I love this kid so much it hurts. I wish I could carry this burden for him. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do. I’d die for him.<br />
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I shuffle down the hall to get a coffee, and then I return to the chair next to his bed opening my computer to start my work day. I let him rest. The nurse comes in and tells me there is a possibility of him coming home next week. Yesterday I spent two hours speaking to his nurse case manager and the doctors about what his home care is going to look like. He lives with me full time and alternates every other weekend at his mom’s. Fortunately, I work remotely so I will be able to handle him. He will not need intensive care. He’ll go for chemo once a week and it’s more about making sure his medicine schedule is perfect and that he is observed regularly for any signs of infection etc.<br />
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I am beginning to feel less worry and more determination. This kid is going to kick the shit out of cancer, and this is going to just be another badge on our family coat of arms. I am so grateful for all of the telephone calls, texts, and emails. Ray Nelson, a friend I met through coaching football called me yesterday. I’ve only known him a few years and was humbled by his empathy. I spent almost an hour on the phone with this man that was a complete stranger a few years ago. It’s instances like this that strike me as amazing. They make you not lose your belief in humanity. The authenticity and concern are heart-warming.<br />
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There have been dozens of examples like this over the past week. Thank you all. That’s what love is about, being there not only to share in life’s joys but to ease the pain of your friends and family during hardships. It is appreciated more than you know. My children and I will always be there for you on the flipside.<br />
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#SullyStrong<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><div><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-63536513303068669162020-05-25T23:32:00.001-04:002022-12-07T14:46:25.246-05:00Dad You Can't Pee in that!In a flashbulb moment I feel as if I've been hung upside down by a giant and shaken by the feet until I am dizzy and can't see straight.<br />
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A couple days ago out of the clear blue, when life was on it's normal course, my 10 year old son was diagnosed with Leukemia. It's shocking, and I've spent hours crying. Sometimes it comes in waves, sometimes it's triggered watching him put through these horrible procedures. Sometimes it's a result of walking by his empty room and the silence in the house without him. I've had to summon all my strength to keep a game face on in front of him and his siblings. </div>
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Everyone faces challenges in their life, but when life hits you in the stomach this hard it takes your breath away. Now I'm stumbling through this "new normal" dazed and confused. The lonely nights have been the worst. The only place I find peace is in exercise, writing, and in the company of my fiancé.</div>
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I've researched B-cell Lymphblastic Leukemia ad nauseam, trying to do everything possible to understand how we can win this battle. As a dad I've done everything I can to distract this little guy from the war he is waging whether it's ordering up Indian food on door-dash for him, hooking his X-box up from home to the hospital television, or making him laugh. </div>
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He's on I.V. fluids that make him have to urinate literally every hour or two. The poor kid's sleep is broken because he has to go so often in the middle of the night. He has to use a hand-held urinal because they are measuring his output. Naturally I didn't miss an opportunity to make him laugh when I stood up tonight stone faced and said I have to goto the bathroom and reached for the urinal at the foot of his bed. </div>
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"Dad you can't pee in that!"</div>
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"What do you mean?" I asked, and I fell on his bed both of us laughing.</div>
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He was miserable yesterday when I told him we had to walk because his back was still hurting from soreness at the bone marrow biopsy site. I got him into the hallway and after we walked a little bit I looked at him and said "listen I'm going to teach you how to windsurf". </div>
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He looked at me confused, and I said to him dead seriously "you just step on here, and you go" pointing to his I.V. cart. </div>
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He smiled, "Dad we'll get in trouble, you can't do that." </div>
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"What do you mean, this is what you do," I said stone-faced.</div>
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"Dad..."</div>
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"No really this is what you do, get on" I told him.</div>
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He smiled and hesitantly stepped on, and of course I gave him a hard shove and he was gone like the wind laughing. </div>
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When I drove in to the hospital tonight I was distracted and drove by the main entrance. A little further up I came upon the emergency room and a heaviness came upon me. As I looked at the emergency room sign the memories of a few days ago came rushing back. Our whole life had changed in a fleeting moment inside of room 11. I will never forget driving there thinking my son was maybe anemic or had a cold only to be told he had a malignancy in his blood. </div>
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We thank you for the outpouring of support we've received over the past few days. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><div><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/p/blog.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #fc3300; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: xx-large; text-decoration-line: none; transition: all 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank">read more blog posts</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.instagram.com/benjaminjcarey/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Benjamin on Instagram</b></span></a></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/sullypatrickofficial"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b>follow Sully on Instagram</b></span></a></div></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-33853315784290699802020-05-20T05:58:00.004-04:002022-12-07T14:46:41.208-05:00The Day No Parent Can Imagine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We had not slept all night and just finished meeting with a team of doctors that delivered news no parent ever wants to hear. Our 10 year old "Sully" had been diagnosed with Leukemia. I had taken him to the emergency room at midnight the previous night, and we were now well into the day after. This was preceded by a 2 week period of peculiarities that alone did not seem like a big deal, but when added up their cumulative significance had given me concern to get him checked out. </div>
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People have different ways of dealing with stress. Some men drink, some golf, and some play cards or have other hobbies. I don't drink, and although I golf and play a little cards I have always leaned on exercise and writing as my main outlets. My blogs and books have been therapeutic, and I'm happy to have received emails and calls over the years from people who have been inspired by them.</div>
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I am divorced but maintain residential responsibility for my kids. I am a simple family guy and we are inseparable. Family; being a good father, husband, human being -- it is and always has been everything to me. </div>
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For the past two weeks my little Irish firecracker Sully had been acting sluggish and uninterested in exercising with his siblings or going outside to play. I chalked it up to the Quarantine life: lots of X-Box, tons of junk food, and an irregular schedule. </div>
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One day he complained about a headache, but had no fever or other symptoms. Another day he got angry because I forced him to get off the video games and go outside to play. He went for a run with his siblings and normally dusts them because even though he is younger, he has always been faster. On that day he fell behind both of them. </div>
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One day he got a nosebleed while I was giving him a haircut. I smiled and asked if he was picking his nose and he said no. Another day he told me his legs felt "heavy". </div>
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There were a couple similar instances while he was at my ex-wife's house, but none of them alone struck us as alarming. </div>
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One day he had a few more bruises than normal and I warned his brother to stop wrestling with him. None of these things alone were unusual. </div>
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He is Irish, and pale as hell, but he had been looking exceptionally pale recently. I also began noticing something in his eyes that just didn't seem right. They were dark and lazy. I checked his pupils and they dilated properly so I wasn't concerned. I chalked it up to the obsessive amounts of time he was spending on the X-box with his friends. </div>
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He had another headache and I finally ended up cutting off video games for the time being and ordering him gaming glasses. I didn't want to eliminate the video games completely because nowadays there is a social element to them, but I thought maybe the games were giving him a headache. </div>
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Finally he had a day at the beach with my ex-wife and his siblings and after the beach he was uncharacteristically exhausted. He cried and had a meltdown saying that he "didn't have the energy to play anymore". The kid normally can't sit still and never rests. </div>
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When he returned home to me the next day he seemed okay, but when I put him to bed he got back up to goto the bathroom. When he came out he said he had diarrhea. </div>
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"Huh?" i asked. "What do you mean diarrhea, was it like just soft or watery" I asked. </div>
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"Watery" he said. </div>
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He proceeded to tell me he had it at his moms but failed to tell her about it. I told him to get into my bed that he was sleeping with me tonight. When I went to tuck him in he said it hurt to lift his pinky because he was so tired. </div>
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At that point I called my ex-wife and told her I was taking him to the emergency room.<br />
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"Wow I didn't realize that diarrhea was so bad" Sully said. </div>
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I smiled and explained it wasn't the diarrhea alone, that it was the combination of everything. The tiredness, the heavy legs, the nosebleed, and the headache, and that I needed to get him checked out. I told him to get out of bed and get dressed. </div>
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He stood up and when he did his gait was so weak it was like watching someone with polio take a few steps. I became frightened and when he saw the look on my face he started crying. When I picked him up his heart was racing a mile a minute which frightened me even more. I wasn't sure if it was an episode he was having or if it was anxiety, but I knew I needed to get him to the emergency room as soon as possible. </div>
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Upon arrival at the ER at Cohen's Children's hospital, he insisted that it was me he wanted to accompany him inside. They only allowed one parent because of the COVID quarantine measures in place, and my boys and I are very close. </div>
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In the next few hours all of my worst nightmares would unfold. I thought at worst he was anemic, I never expected what was about to happen. </div>
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When the first blood test came the ER doctor began to explain, and I started crying. He asked me to come into the hallway. He told me there was a malignancy in Sully's blood. They thought that it might be Leukemia and were awaiting confirmation from the lab and hematologists. </div>
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I am strong but not afraid to show emotion. I had a meltdown, and thankfully while I was in the hallway Sully had fallen asleep. Throughout the course of the night and next morning the updates and blood results got worse. </div>
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So now, after meeting with the full team of doctors, my ex-wife and I had to go into the room and tell him the news. He is one of the most perceptive and intelligent 10 year olds I know, and his reaction was very adult-like and on par with that. He was also in a foul mood when we entered the room.</div>
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We started calmly explaining things to him in a roundabout way, and he immediately and directly, almost antagonistically asked <b>"Is it Cancer?"</b></div>
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My ex-wife and I paused and looked at each other and didn't know what to say. Finally I looked at him and said "Yes".</div>
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He screamed and cried "OH MY GOD! CANCER! OH MY GOD IT'S CANCER!!!"</div>
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"WHY? WHY ME?" he cried. </div>
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I turned away and burst into tears. It was the most heartbreaking moment of my life, and believe me I've unfortunately had a lot of those moments. </div>
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I went on to eventually bring him back to his senses and soothe him. His mother had cancer, and part of his reaction I'm sure was a result of witnessing what he saw her go through. I had to explain that not everything was the same, and answer a lot of questions that he had. </div>
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I'm a nasty MF. I survived a poor abusive childhood, I beat alcoholism and got sober in 1990, I had life-saving heart surgery for an aortic aneurysm in 2009, I nursed my ex-wife through a brutal 3 year cancer battle; running the family alone, draining her chest tubes everyday, and literally wiping her ass when she couldn't. I have become comfortable with adversity, in fact I thrive in it. But this........ this was a whole new level and I was defeated. </div>
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I have spent the last 24 hours crying. I went home to tell his two siblings the news. They knew something serious was going on and had spent the whole day together by each other's side. They were shocked when I told them, and had a million questions for me that I did my best to answer. </div>
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I fell asleep on the sofa exhausted. The two of them slept next to each other upstairs, undoubtedly finding comfort in one another. </div>
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The next morning my head was so heavy. I woke up and realized it was real and not a bad dream. I went back to sleep hoping it would go away. I took a shower and just when I thought I had it together I broke down seeing his room empty, the house quiet, and no wrestling matches or fighting to break up between him and his brother. I could not stop crying. </div>
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This will be the new normal, and it is gut wrenching. My only comfort has been the words and support of my mother, some friends, and I thank god for my fiancé Lisa. I would be in a very dark place without her. She fills my soul in ways that I never could have imagined, and it all makes sense now.</div>
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Tomorrow he is having a spinal tap, a bone marrow sample, and having a medi-port installed for the chemo drugs to be administered over the next 3 years. There will be a poisonous cocktail of chemo drugs, more spinal taps, more bone marrow samples, and lots of tests in the days ahead. He will not be home from the hospital for a month, and he cannot see his siblings. Only his mother and I are allowed to visit him in the hospital due to the COVID-19 restrictions in place. </div>
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This seat next to the hospital bed is a familiar place for me. My younger brother has had over a dozen heart surgeries since he was an infant and had a heart transplant a few years ago. We are "Carey Strong".</div>
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But this....... it is Kryptonite. I sit here alone, exhausted thinking about what is to come. This little guy next to me -- so innocent, so pure, so angelic. He is not like the rest of us in the family. The rest of us can summon the most nasty and aggressive fight and survival mechanisms at will. Sully does not have that same streak. </div>
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He is strong, he is a fighter, but he is so pure and angelic. I worry about him more than the others. </div>
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I connected him with some of his friends on Facetime tonight. It was so sad sitting there listening to him explain things in his own terms:</div>
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<b>"I have cancer, but it's only in my blood, it's not so bad."</b></div>
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<b><br />"I might not lose my hair."</b></div>
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<b>"I should be going home in 2 to 4 weeks."</b></div>
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<b>"I don't have to have surgery so it's not so bad."</b></div>
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and the last thing he said when he hung up his iPad and got off with them:</div>
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<b>"I didn't realize so many people cared about me"</b></div>
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What 10 year old says that?</div>
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He fell asleep and I went down the hall to speak with Lisa and say goodnight. I have learned to focus on the positive, because the dark side can quickly drag you down. </div>
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I put the railings down on the side of the bed and took my shoes off. I pulled my chair next to him so I can put my arm around him while he sleeps. It's uncomfortable for me, but I have my palm on his chest and can feel the rise and fall of his lungs and the buzz of his heartbeat. The same things I felt when he was an infant and would fall asleep on my chest. </div>
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Lord please watch over my sweet boy and my family. Give us all the strength we need, and help us in our darkest moments to find the light. Sully I will never leave your side, you are my little shrimp forever. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683318095618337874.post-61810668188621004672020-04-25T10:01:00.000-04:002020-04-25T10:10:37.601-04:00The Last Sunrise<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><b><span style="color: #666666;">You won't know the last time until it never happens again. The last time they ask to be tucked in, the last time they ask to hold your hand, the last time they sleepwalk into your bed because they had a bad dream. </span><span style="color: black;">The last sunrise. </span></b></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Life is a series of a million tiny miracles. Magnify them. Embrace them. Do it before it's too late. Say it before you run out of time.</b></i></span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2016/04/can-we-go-and-see-sunrise.html" target="_blank">Four years ago</a> my middle son PJ asked me if I could take him to see the sunrise. It seemed like an odd and mature question for a 9 year old to be asking, but I obliged and it turned out to be an extraordinary time that I would never forget. So much so, that I turned it into a tradition that I would do with each of my other two kids. <a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2017/09/sunrise-and-ihop.html" target="_blank">A year later</a> I took my oldest daughter Milan.<br />
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This morning I finished the cycle and took my youngest son Sully to see the sunrise. Perhaps I'm using "the last sunrise" for dramatic effect. But there will never be another first. I know it won't be as easy for us to find time to see a sunrise as they grow up and head into their own lives. They will carry this tradition on with their children, and I'll continue to enjoy sunrises with my best friend Lisa.<br />
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Sunsets are beautiful, but there is something about Sunrises that makes them more special. It starts with the ritual of having to get up in the middle of the night and head out into the pitch dark. There are few if any people around, a reminder of how exclusive this love affair is. The rays of first light flirt with the sky, and then suddenly you see that first sliver of orange sun crack the horizon. It's a birth of sorts, a reminder of the miracle of life and how small we are in the universe.<br />
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Sully and I shared hot chocolate and chatted as the sun came up. It was more like an interrogation, he has so many questions compared to my other two kids. It was bittersweet to see how much he has grown, to reflect on this timeline of life, and to come to terms that this will be the last sunrise.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2016/04/can-we-go-and-see-sunrise.html" target="_blank">read PJ's sunrise</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.benjaminjcarey.com/2017/09/sunrise-and-ihop.html" target="_blank">read Milan's Sunrise</a></span></div>
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