Return To Zero

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It has been quite a long time since last I wrote on this site and for that I apologize. Life had manage to overtake me as it quite often does. Now, I stare at a long list of stories that I have neglected to write and realize that I need to get back to work.

A few months ago I received an email request asking about parting with this domain name and I am hard pressed to agree. This site will continue on for now unless I can be swayed to the contrary.

To be clear, I have no advertising on this site and I do not take any donations.

This site is now returning to zero as I work to get this moving again.

Hacking the Fear

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So you’ve put on a brave face when telling everyone about the diagnosis; you’ve stoically made it through the preliminary tests; and then comes the day of surgery. You manage to hold it together for your loved ones as you’re called back alone to the pre-op area. A little jaunty wave, I’m just going for an x-ray, see you in a bit. You are stripped down and dressed in the cloth gown, socks and cap, and you lie down on the gurney, cold, as people cheerfully come in and ask you the same questions over and over again. Then they leave, draw the curtain closed around you, and you wait.

You wait, and wait. Nobody comes by; their checklists are done. You have nothing, not even a clock, to tell you how much time is passing. It could be half an hour, it could be three times that. The IV catheter aches in the crook of your arm.

This is when the fear comes. You let yourself wonder whether this was the last time your loved ones would see you. You think about what’s about to be done to you, and you wonder how much it’s going to hurt. There is nothing to distract you from the fear.

I went through this every time I had a procedure done. As hard as I tried to talk reason to myself, nothing could make the fear dissipate.

Finally, I tried contempt: Look at yourself, sniveling on this gurney. How would you like Bob to see you in this state? What would he say?

Bob was someone at work whom I couldn’t stand. We locked horns, directly or indirectly, all the time. It was all I could do when I saw him in the hall to be cordial to him.

As soon as I pictured Bob, my fear and panic went away. It was as if a new defense had been locked in. Instead of flight, I had someone to fight. I went through my memory, bringing up everyone I didn’t like, one after another. Like magic, it kept the terror at bay.

I kept doing this over and over, until the nurse came to inject me with that blessed Versed that would take all my thoughts away. Thank you, I said. Then I was instantly transported into the recovery room.

One Year Later, A New Beginning

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This is the first post on what I sincerely hope will be a long journey of information sharing and help people navigate through their battles with cancer. Be it as patient or a loved one dealing with the trials that are borne out of that. This site will be built by hackers who have dealt with cancer to share information for the benefit of us all.

One year ago today our world was turned upside down.

On Facebook I shared this message,

My wife, Diana, was diagnosed with leukemia today.

That was a calmer reaction than my missive on Twitter earlier that day. It was a hellacious year in no uncertain terms. I was drained trying to take care of my three year old daughter, work a full time job and support my wife who was in a hospital bed for months.

On July 19th I wrote this,

Where do I begin. Thursday morning (July 14th) I was having breakfast with my daughter. I dropped her off at her daycare and then I received the call that my wife had been diagnosed with leukemia.

There really aren’t any words to describe the feeling one endures from a sucker punch like that.

I am typically a rather private person, no really. But, I felt an urge to share that with anyone I could. I needed support and wow, did it ever come pouring in. For that, I am eternally grateful. Between friends and the security community I was blown away by the response. Thank you all.

We got through it. Most importantly, my wife is now in full remission.

She was able to beat her leukemia.

We weren’t able to do this alone. Without the support of so many great people we would have been lost. We would like to thank the James, Jackie and the entire Arlen family who swooped in and helped when we didn’t even know which way was up. Thanks to the Thornhill boys Shines, Cheech, Dusty, Warden and Rhino and their families. Thank you to the group of ladies I affectionately refer to as the “Mummy Mafia” for the nonstop parade of meals. Thank you to Rich Mogull, Mike Rothman and Adrian Lane at Securosis, to Alex Hutton, Jennifer Leggio, Bill Brenner, AMD, Nick Selby for their support and the countless others that reached out to offer a hand or a chance to chat.

This experience was hell. I will not candy coat it. But, my wife fought and she won.

Today my wife posted this message,

Remembering today, exactly a year ago, I was diagnosed with Leukemia…

My life turned upside down. It was one hell of a ride but, even in the darkest moments there was no doubt in my heart that I will win this fight. I have learned so much through this journey but the one thing that has profound meaning to me now is how precious life truly is….

Thank you all for all the prayers and support that you have given me and my family. You know who you are! I couldn’t have done this without YOU!!!

Never give up hope. As a community we can lean on each other for support during the dark times and celebrate in our victories.

We are one.

(Image used under CC from ~*Gillian*~)