I have some videos, pictures, thoughts and reviews that I am still putting together. Please check back soon....but, for now, check these 44 photos out!

Something else...if you are curious to learn more about the foundation, check out their Manifesto (click on "broadband") - a very powerful and emotional video stating the drive, vision and purpose of the foundation....I get tears in my eyes every time I watch it.

I've had the opportunity to reach out to a bunch of people via the Summit's online messageboard. I put together a little "get-together" for some people tomorrow night down in Austin. This small group has grown into quite the crowd. I've got a GREAT group of people talking, representing all ages, from all over the USA and Canada - and with all different stories and all types of cancer. Everybody seems to share my excitement with this weekend, and I cannot wait to finally meet a lot of these people I've been trading emails with!

We'll be hitting the Cedar Door in Austin Friday night starting at 7pm...so, if you're in town, drop in! Corner of Brazos and 2nd!

Needless to say, I'll be returning from Austin with lots of thoughts, stories and pictures...I'll be pulling them all together and publishing them here...so please, check back. Thanks to all the people who have emailed me wishing me well this weekend!

I’m celebrating something today. I’m celebrating what I’ve come to understand about myself. I’m celebrating what I’ve come to understand about others.

October 5, 2005 saw me being hospitalized in a mad rush to explore what turned out to be non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Last night, as I sat on my couch, I couldn’t help but drift back to a year ago. I remember what a scary time it was. I knew very little about cancer. I only knew that it took the lives of some older family members of mine. The thought that I had cancer, while still in my twenties, was so incomprehensible that I almost couldn’t believe it. I thought I would be dead very soon.

Soon after this day I would meet some new people who would enter my life in a very unique way. My oncologist, radiologist and nurses at Dana Farber would take a pivotal role in my battle to regain my health. I’ve been so fortunate so have such caring, empathetic, and intelligent medical resources in my life. Obviously, I still work closely with them as I still ride down this road. I owe a lot to them.

I also owe a lot to the millions of people that are affected by cancer everyday. Cancer doesn’t only disrupt the lives of people with it, it also has an impact of the people surrounding that patient. Family, friends, co-workers, employers…think of it, you’re probably reading this right now because you’re following my journey…or, you probably found this site by searching the web with cancer-related keywords because you, or someone you know, might be facing this.

1 in 3 people will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime.

That is a fact…nobody is alone.

I’ve cleared two significant hurdles as I look back on the last year. The first was getting through my treatment. My cancer treatment (CHOP chemotherapy + rituximab and radiation) wasn’t easy. I wouldn’t lie to you. It pushed me beyond what I thought I was limited to. I had numerous (and often life threatening) speed bumps, but I made it through so that I could see the second hurdle…which was my first post-treatment scan. Getting a “thumbs up” from this first (of many more to come) PET scan meant that I could start to re-enter the world I had been missing.

What I wanted to do when re-entering this world wasn’t very clear. I knew that I needed to do the usual, everyday stuff…like, get a job, spend more time and energy with my son, go to the gym and paint the downstairs bedroom. The ability to do these simple things was taken from me by cancer, and my battle against it…I knew that I would need to re-claim them. And I have.

But there is a need for something else…something greater than just getting my own life back together. My experiences, my feelings, my story – they’re all here for some reason. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I know that I need to help people. I need to use my talents, resources, contacts and determination into some kind of action to help men, women and children struggling against cancer.

A good friend, Beth, sent me Lance Armstrong’s autobiography when I was struggling through my treatments. She had read the book and told me that it was an inspiring story, and she felt that it would have a positive impact on my fight against cancer. I began reading the book one day while I was receiving my chemotherapy…truth is, I didn’t get very far with it. Some of what he wrote made me feel VERY uncomfortable. I had to put it down. It scared me too much. When Beth asked me what I thought about the book, I lied and told her it was great.

Sorry, Beth. I didn’t want to tell you the truth that you gave me a book that scared the shit out of me. :)

After I cleared that second hurdle of my first post-treatment PET scan, I picked the book back up. I read every page with a new set of eyes. It is the most significant book I’ve ever read in my life. It has afforded me the chance to put my past year into perspective and, more importantly, has helped me put some words to the feelings I’ve had.

Its called “survivorship” – and it’s the most powerful and inspiring force I’ve ever experienced. As scary and demoralizing as finding out you have cancer, the feeling of coming out on the other side dwarfs that in a positive way.

It is the antithesis of “diagnosis.”

As you probably already know, I’m preparing to attend the LiveSTRONG Summit in Austin, TX later this month. I’ve been lucky enough to have been selected among all the people who have applied to attend. Every time I stop to think about this trip, I get butterflies. The goal of this summit (obviously put together by the Lance Armstrong Foundation) is to inspire those attending to broaden awareness and impact the unmet physical, emotional and practical needs of people living with cancer.

I know it is going to help me put some words and actions to my feelings and drive. I hope that this summit, and the people I will meet, will help me put my action plan together.

10/5 is always going to be a day of reflection for me. I’m taking the single scariest day of my life, and I’m turning into a positive celebration of life. I’m not just celebrating that I’m here…but I’m also celebrating that YOU’RE here too! I’ll think about what life is, and what it can be. What actions can we take to make tomorrow better than today? How can we live “stronger” for ourselves, our families, and our planet?

I’ll be raising a pint tonight, and I hope you do too.

Happy October 5th!

I've been using a private LiveSTRONG message board to try to organize a group of people to get together for a little "meet n' greet" down in Austin. I've been receiving a lot of interest, and I'm really looking forward to meeting and talking with some fellow cancer survivors.

I should be hearing back from the Lance Armstrong Foundation on 9/20 about my scholarship...like, if I get one or not (and if I do, how much it is and what it covers). Check back!

The Summit looks like its going to be the bomb. I've applied for a scholarship (financial assistance to attend the event) and I'm still waiting to hear back. It runs Oct. 27-29 in Austin, TX. Lance Armstrong and John Kerry (among others) will be speaking at the summit. Here's a quick overview:

What is the LIVESTRONG Summit? The Lance Armstrong Foundation's inaugural LIVESTRONG Summit is a three-day event to organize, inspire and direct the efforts of cancer survivors from across the country to change the face of cancer survivorship.

Through the LIVESTRONG Summit, the LAF will lead a survivorship movement to broaden awareness and impact the unmet physical, emotional and practical needs of people living with cancer.

Inspired by speakers and motivated through roundtable discussions, 800 to 1,000 Summit delegates will identify needs, set goals and develop action plans to change the face of cancer survivorship in their own communities and nationwide. Then after the Summit, we'll look to our delegates to take what they learned and apply it back home.

In other news, I'm still re-shaping almostzen.com. I've going through lots of changes since I've received the thumbs up from my doctors - I'm trying to define my "survivorship"...how to be a better husband, father, and survivor. almostzen.com will be shaping with that. Please, sign up for the email updates to stay in touch.

I'll post more thoughts on the summit as I hear more....and of course, there will be lots of updates and pictures from the summit itself (if I can make it down there).

I've been very busy lately (not used to this)...and I have neglected my blog. Bad, Jeffrey...bad, bad, bad. But, alas...I have some great news.

My sleepless nights, my nervousness, my anxiety, my frustration...and a bunch of other things are gone. My scan on Aug. 4th revealed that I am cancer free.

Free.

Yes, I'm not totally out of the clear...yes, my cancer could come back...but hey, all the crap I went through worked...and now I hold my son with a different feeling. I don't fear a life cut short with him. I can hold him and know that all that fighting was for him...he really was my inspiration.

I'm scheduled for a follow up with my oncologist and radiologist in three months...and another scan in 6 months. But I'm now shutting the book on the past year...its going to be a great year. I finally feel like I can make plans for the future...so much was riding on a positive scan...and I got it.

I won't stop posting on this website...but I do want to re-shape its direction a bit. The easiest way for you to stay in touch is to enter your email address over on the bottom right, and click on "subscribe."

I've got a million pictures to post, an insane backlog of thank you letters, and more thoughts...I'm going to get to them, I promise.

The event was somewhat bitter/sweet for me. As some of you know, my grandmother had passed away. I found out she had died right after I was on Fox 25 last Thursday morning. Doctors had discovered cancer in her liver and colon (and it was probably in other places as well). They had given her 6-12 months to live.

She lived for a week.

I had been going to her hospice facility every day at the beginning of the week. She passed away late Wednesday night, and I found out a few minutes after my television appearance Thursday morning. After seeing her earlier on Wednesday, I knew she didn’t have much time left.

I don’t have to tell you that seeing somebody close to me die of cancer is really tough for me...especially with my fight against cancer AND a fundraiser coming up that weekend. We held her wake Sunday and her funeral yesterday (Monday). It was a very emotional long weekend for me. I was so excited to see so many friends and family come out Saturday night to help support me, Jenn and Dante...and at the same time, I miss my grandmother terribly.

Saturday night began with some serious stress for me. If you showed up early or just on time, you would have known that there was a bit of a problem. There was an accident with an oil tank in the basement of the Paradise that caused an oil spill. Of course, oil is a pretty hazardous material, and the boston police and fire department were soon on the scene. We weren’t sure the night was going to get off...and I felt like I couldn’t catch ANY break at all. But knowing the significance of the night pushed some people to work a bit harder, and the night got started albeit a bit late.

The cats from Uncle Shaker had given me a small book on fatherhood. The guys in the band all signed it for me. They were so excited to be a part of the night, it was touching. Their CD is awesome, and its available on iTunes if you can’t make it out to one of their shows. Harriet Street gave a performance filled with such raw emotion, it was unreal. I was amazed at how their relatively simple set-up stirred such passion. Then they stuck around to back up Mieka Pauley (who I have to say is now my new best friend). She appeared with me on the Fox morning show the other day, and Dante was mesmerized by her guitar playing...if you saw our appearance then you saw a drooling baby completely focused on Mieka. Mieka’s music is also available on iTunes (yeah, I get all my music there). I am so glad that I am now “hip” to her music. Parkview finished the night with a “kick in the rear!” They came to the stage and showed everybody that they were a rock band to the fullest. They played my fav tune, Devil’s Queen! Their set started later than expected because of all the set backs (read: oil problems), but they stuck around and rocked. Now I know why they won Boston’s Battle of the Bands.

I want everyone to know how much I appreciated their support Saturday night. I was touched that so many people came (especially people who I haven’t seen in a long time).

I have so much to say, that I need to spend a little more time collecting my thoughts.

More to come!

It all happens live: Thursday, June 15, Fox 25 Morning Show, 8:20 am

So, this can either be your excuse to go into work late or to get Tivo - its up to you.

I’m still laying low for now. Feeling a little better, but I’m still consumed with anxiety about not receiving treatment and waiting for this flippin’ scan. The scan is now scheduled for early August. It seems so far away. I’m not sure if its my imagination, but all I seem to hear about is other people’s recurrence of cancer...and it keeps me up at night.

On the flip-side, I’ve received a plethora of emails over the past couple weeks. I think the grapevine has expanded since the big event (Rock Against Lymphoma) is generating more buzz. It is so touching to hear that people are thinking/praying for me. And everyone should know that I do read all of the emails...and I will respond to everybody, it just takes some time.

Publicity for the event is really gaining momentum. I was interviewed on the radio this past Wednesday (it will be aired at 6 am this Sunday 6/11 on 104.5 FM WXLO - you can stream it online at www.wxlo.com). I know thats pretty early for a Sunday, but I’m going to see about recording it and possibly posting it here. I have some other upcoming media appearances that I’ll let you know about. I’m way famous.

There’s been some blurbs in local papers about the event, and I’ve gotten quite a boost in website traffic...and I am very happy to share my experience and feelings.

But I do want to make one thing clear:

If you (or somebody you know) have been diagnosed with cancer, please don’t view this site as a timeline for what you should expect. I’ve had some rough speed bumps through this thing, and fortunately this doesn’t happen to everyone. I can tell you that you will most likely experience the range of emotions (fear, anxiety, anger) - but know that there is such a thing as “life with cancer.” I remember feeling that I would not see the next day when they gave me my diagnosis. Don’t spend any time or energy focusing on statistics or probabilities. Know that people do survive, and then they move on. Its either 100% or 0% for you.

If you know somebody that is going through this, please pass on the love and support that so many have given me. I cannot tell you how much it helps. I might have secluded myself a little bit during the course of my treatment, but the love, prayers, and support that I’ve received was never ignored and always appreciated. It gives you a kick in the rear, and inspires you to continue the fight.

I really cannot wait for this event. I’ve received so many emails from people saying that they are planning on attending. So many people that I haven’t seen in so long, its going to be great!

And speaking of emails, I’d like to share a sound-bite from one that I received yesterday. I think it really speaks well to how I’ve been feeling. Its from a woman who actually was diagnosed with exactly the same cancer I was (Non-Hodgkins Diffuse B-Cell Lymphoma). She ended the relatively same treatment schedule I had in 1998, and had a daughter in 2003. I hope she doesn’t mind me “borrowing” her words - but like I said, it describes my feelings so well:
 
“The thing I remember most about the time while I was in treatment and the months after was the feeling like I was on the fringe of reality..only popping in and out but not really feeling like I had a life of my own …certainly not a life of work and friends and fun like before cancer.  But now that time has passed, I try really hard to be normal and most times I think I pull it off………I hope the same for you as you start to feel better.”

Thanks.

And I should probably put some pictures of Dante on here...now that he’s getting so big!

Then I thought to myself:

Wow. I saw a doctor... and everything went okay. I wasn't injected with 12 needles... they didn't take 2 gallons of blood... they didn't make me take all these pills... and I wasn't hospitalized.

I guess I had a good day. :)

I have some follow-up appointments this month, but I won’t be having another PET scan until June or July. This PET scan will determine if there is any residual cancer left inside me. If there is, I have no idea what will happen... probably go back to chemotherapy or something. I’ve been reading a lot of the message boards for people living with cancer, and it seems like every post I read is about someone who has gone through treatment for non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and now it has come back... I probably shouldn’t be reading this stuff.

I still don’t feel close to normal yet. I imagine it will be a long time until I feel strong and able again. I’ve spent so much time nursing my health at home and at the hospital. Its very weird not going into the hospital for either chemotherapy or radiation... feels kind of lonely, believe it or not. Its a strange thing when you’ve been living for so many months consumed by a fight against cancer, and then it just stops... and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

I can’t help but feel a bit worried. I’ve put so many aspects of my life on hold to fight cancer, and the pressure of waiting for this scan can sometimes wake me up at night.

But I have to pat myself on the back a bit. I made it through a tough cancer treatment. Not everybody can say that they made it through... and there were times when people thought that I wouldn’t! Now, its wait and see. I’m trying not to focus on it, but thats easier said than done.

And I have one more day of radiation left.

I have another announcement to make. My sister-in-law (the fabulous Lindsey) has been hard at work putting together a benefit night for me. Needless to say, its going to be the bomb...and if you don’t come then you might as well spend the rest of 2006 living in an igloo. There is a website set up with all the details. Peep it at:

www.rockagainstlymphoma.org

Its going to be a great night, and I look forward to seeing everyone there!

I simply cannot tell you how damn frustrating this whole thing is.

Last Tuesday I started to get some strange pains in my chest. Now, I’ve been getting throat irritation pretty bad from this radiation. It has caused me unbelievable pain just to drink water never mind eat anything. But this was a different pain, more centralized in my chest and much more painful. I decided that if it still hurt me the next day I would talk to my nurse when I went in for treatment.

Sure enough, it hurt worse the next day. After I received treatment I went and spoke with my nurse. I described the pain, told her where it was, the whole 9. She told me it was most likely throat irritation that was just way down on my wind pipe in my chest. I repeated to her that it was a much different pain, and that it was becoming a bit unbearable for me. She had my doctor prescribe some pretty potent pain killers---

Now, let me get off track for a second here. As you all know, I have been improving the bottom line for companies like Pfizer and AstraZeneca since I started chemotherapy. I have more prescriptions than I have room for in my medicine cabinet. Now, its a bit discouraging that I was being given yet another pill...not to mention a pain killer that is pretty serious (I’m not going to print the name of it, but it ain’t percocet...its much more hard core). A few years ago I would have been grabbing these pills and posting on my blog that they party was at my house! I’m in a much different place now, and I really want to keep my wits about. It may be a bit hard to understand, but I’ve been feeling so un-like myself for months that I have no interest in taking more medication...even if it helps with pain.

Okay - where was I?

So, she tells me its throat irritation. I go home. The fatigue has been kicking in a few hours after each radiation treatment. Taking an hour long nap has really helped. But now I’m at the point where I cannot lie flat on my back. Everytime I do this, the pain is unbearable. The pain is starting to travel up my neck now. I was out of breath from walking up a single flight of stairs. I spent all night awake with these cold shakes...I must have had a fever...but I was so tired, and its so hard to fall asleep in bed sitting up, I just didn’t move.

The next day (Thursday) Jenn didn’t like the way I looked in the morning. She asked me a couple times if I was okay to drive in to treatment. Of course, I said I was...and I really thought I was. I drove in to the hospital to get my treatment, and the second I stepped in there a group of nurses who I have come to know told me they didn’t like the way I looked. The decided to put my radiation off for a couple hours while they took me to the recovery room for observation.

My nurse came in and I told her that the pain was worse and that it was starting to move up to my neck. That must have thrown up some sort of flag (finally). They made arrangements for me to have an EKG and an echocardiogram that morning. While they were making the arrangements, they sent me in to get my radiation treatment (really can’t miss these). When I came out, it was up to the emergency room.

Now, I am convinced that these hospitals have me on some sort of VIP list. They enter the name PORZIO and I always seem to be immediately admitted. Its getting pretty old, but once I started to get these tests done I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. My cell phone was in my car which was in the parking garage, so I borrowed a nurse’s cell phone to call Jenn and tell her to bring my toothbrush...Daddy’s spending the night again.

Jenn was on her way to the hospital now. I had an EKG (the test where they put all the electrodes all over your body to measure your heart) test and the reading were slightly different than the last one I had (during February’s stay)...this causes concern. After sitting around for a couple hours they sent me up for an echocardiogram (its like an ultrasound for the heart). The “echo” revealed some fluid around my heart...not good.

Now, I just want to kick something...anything. Another ‘effin’ problem. I can’t describe how frustrating this is. Seems that the radiation that my heart was exposed to caused the fluid to build up around it. It hurts pretty bad, and I cannot get comfortable.

This really sucks.

So after waiting for hours and hours I finally got my room. This time, I didn’t have a private room like all the other times...now, I have a roommate. Obviously, I’m in no mood to be social. I really just want to relax, find out whats going on with my heart, go home and watch FX’s Thief on my Tivo. But I learned pretty quick that my roommate wasn’t in great shape either. He was hacking, coughing, spitting, you name it. Jenn and I couldn’t help but overhear the doctors talk about his bronchitis, emphysema, and collapsed lung.

More blood work, more EKGs, more medical talk, and more doctors! Jenn and Dante hung with me for the night...then, it was time for them to get home. They left, and I was alone with my now snoring roommate. I watched a bit of the telly, and then they sleeping pills caught up.

The next day I was wheeled down in the wheelchair to radiation oncology (told you, can’t miss them) to get my treatment. Then I was immediately brought back up to hang out in my hospital room for hours waiting to hear what was going on with me. Jenn came to the hospital (Dante was in daycare for the day). The doctors told me that I definitely had pericarditis (fluid around the heart)...they said that it was more than likely that it came as a result of the radiation (as opposed to being from a virus). There was no treatment plan except for me to take it very slow, finish up the radiation, and it should diminish within a few weeks. I have to take a massive amount of ibuprofen around to keep the swelling around my heart down. Doctors told me that if it did get any worse, I would definitely feel it and that I should head straight to the hospital.

I was finally released from the hospital after 48 hours of observation. I walked very slowly to the car and pretty much went straight to bed.

I’m in the home stretch of this radiation thing...so close I can taste it. Four more left. I left the hospital in the same pain as I came in.

You see, I’m receiving radiation so that my cancer doesn’t come back. Radiation is a pretty scary thing because it can actually CAUSE cancer. I am receiving my radiation therapy right in the top of my chest, so my heart and the tops of my lungs are somewhat exposed. Of course, they try to minimize the exposure as much as possible, but they’re there...they’re getting zapped.

This can increase my chances of getting heart disease. So not only will the rest of my life consist of yearly scans for cancer, they will also be closely monitoring my heart. A little discouraging, but my radiologist clearly stated that in my case the benefits of receiving the radiation far outweigh the risks. And speaking of my radiologist, he’s world famous. People come from all over the work to specifically seek treatment with him. He’s like the Michael Jordon of Radiology. I’m very fortunate to have access to him.

So, I had some scans last week before we started. They scan me six ways from Sunday in order to get the proper positioning of the radiation. My chin has to be at a certain angle with my forehead as I lay flat on the huge machine. There are these lasers that are constantly going across the room creating a grid that goes all over your body. A team of doctors stand over me (I have no shirt on, obviously) and not only admire my massive chest and arm muscles, they are writing all these lines and circles on me with these markers. It really looked like they were drafting some kind of football play: fourth down and goal, 3 seconds left...its for the game!

After my chest was a Picasso canvas one of the doctors told me they were ready to tattoo me.

Ummm...what was that now?

Tattoo me. Like, dip a needle in ink and stick it in. Like permanent.

I’m in a room with about $40 million dollars worth of medical equipment, and they’re taking this small needle, dipping it in ink and sticking it in me like we were trading tattoos in prision. So, now I have these “dots” on my chest. They’re really small, but very obvious when you look at them.

At this point, I don’t care what I look like...I just want to be healthy and done.

But yeah, I have dots tattooed on my chest...like a constellation or something.

These permanent dots are what the radiation technitions use to line me up every morning. I go to radiation every single day (Monday - Friday). Its a long way to drive (Chelmsford to Boston, 45-60 minutes) for a 10 minute procedure. But I have the opportunity of utilizing Michael Jordan, so I’ll deal with the driving.

I haven’t felt any of the side effects of the radiation yet. I’ve heard a lot of the fatigue, and I’m supposed to expect some throat iritation because of the radiation traveling up my throat...but we’ll see.