Stuck

There is the most beautiful tree in our front yard. We have never figured out what it is, but we love it. In early May this tree decks itself out in a robe of pink and purple flowers that can be seen from blocks away. Of course the blooms don't last long and stick to the grass in the yard creating a mess that has to be blown into the gutter several times a week. The blooms are then followed by seed pods which are just as messy and harder to blow so they require raking. Then just when if seems like you should be done, the leaves start falling out along with several twigs that get dislodged during our famous Santa Anna winds. Nature never takes grooming into consideration. Things fall where they may to be reclaimed and used by the ground below, or become food for insects. Trees never think, I shouldn't drop those leaves there it will make a mess.

I sit at my window lately trying to learn this trees lesson. Nature is beautiful both in expected and unexpected ways. I'm sure who ever planted that tree did so because of the beautiful blooms and the fact that the tree would grow to shade the entire front of the house, which it does quite nicely. Did they regret their decision when the tree started to drop it's blooms? Did they complain when the seed pods started to fall? I opened my front drapes yesterday and marveled at the tree's beauty. I wondered what would happen if I didn't blow out the front and allowed my lawn to become a symphony of pink petals. For a moment is seemed beautiful, until I thought eventually I'd have to clean the mess up. It seems easier to keep up with it that let it go.

Disease and healing is much like this tree. There is so much beauty in our bodies capability to heal.. There is a certain beauty in science and the ability of our doctors. When I explain my cancer to people and tell them about having half of my tongue removed and replaced by a flap of skin from my arm the most common reaction is one of amazement! "It is amazing what they can do these days." is the most common thing I hear. That is very true. I have heard about several people who have had cancer of the tongue and just had a portion of their tongue removed with no prosthetic to take up the space in the mouth. I think alot about that these days, because I have been so frustrated with my progress. While on a number of levels I am almost back to normal, I am frustrated with my tongue flap (as the prosthetic is called). It is still swollen and though it has reduced in size quite a bit, it still feels like it is taking over my mouth. My speech is still slurred. I grow weary of having to repeat myself. Still, I have to wait to jump into speech therapy until the bridge is put in.

In the mean time, I feel stuck. I look out my window and ponder the beauty of nature. It can be messy but my home would not be the same without the beautiful tree in front. I know that there is a lesson there for me.

Push

Answers are in front of us all of the time. All to often the answers are already in our head, just looking for a way into our conscience. Post treatment this has really been the case. I have decided that I like the weight that I am at, but have started to put on weight as I have started to eat more of a solid diet. I frequently feel tired and need naps to keep going. Of course the answers are obvious. I am a Weight Watchers success story. I know how to loose weight. Eat less, move more. An easy equation, and yet I've been feeling really stuck, that is until last night when one of the gentlemen in my support group started to speak about exercising.

He is only one week out of Chemo and said that he feels better than he has in a year. He attributed it to the exercise that he did while undergoing treatments. Paddling in the bay, basketball, running etc. Talk about an aha moment! No wonder I'm tired, when was the last time I've walked more than a mile? When is the last time that I pulled my Wii Fit out? My weights are gathering cobwebs in the garage, along with the "perfect push up's and god only knows what. I also have furniture projects that require a great deal of sanding (let me tell you if you have never tried this it is most definitely a workout!)

All of this brings me back to the beginning of my journey. The first thing I did was to let myself and everyone else know that I was going survive this. The second was pray. It takes body, mind and spirit working together to recover. It is time for me to get my body involved in this process and start pushing it a bit. I think I've had plenty of sleep and yes if I get tired I can take a nap. But for now, I'm pretty sure the dogs would love a long walk!

Our Caretakers

The most fortunate among us in the fight against cancer are blessed with care takers. I am among that group. My life partner has been by my side since day one. In spite of overwhelming emotions and fear, he usually appears to be a rock. Of course now that I am on the backside of surgeries and treatments and can state that I am cancer free, he finally is able to relax. Of course, true to form he isn't relaxing. He marches forward, continuing to read books on health and cancer. I watch and wonder if this is typical of caretakers. Is there a "post care" depression or confusion that they experience?

Yesterday in my writing seminar there was a delightful mother of a 24 year old, who had stage four cancer, but thru alternative medicine his tumors were shrinking. Upon the day that he is pronounced cancer free will she be able to separate herself from caretaker and resume the roll of mother? Will Ken eventually resume the roll of my partner and not feel the need to manage my well being? Will my parents and in-laws see me as healthy and relax back into their retirements and once again enjoy life without the treat of disease disturbing the family? Will my friends ever stop telling me that I'm brave and start picking on me again?

I had never thought about all of this before. Of course I had never had a reason to. Are there support groups for transitioning caretakers to help them resume their normal roles in our lives? And with cancer can it ever be normal? There of course are two major milestones. 18 months and 5 years. 18 months cancer free you are on the right track, at 5 years you are pronounced cancer free, the statistics start to change in your favor. Yet does it ever really leave your mind? I actually had a radiology nurse tell me that with as much radiation as I was receiving, it would most likely lead to cancer in the future. No cancer patient needs to hear this during their treatments. And what do you do with that into? As we all try to purge negative thoughts, how do you purge that information? For the time being I am reminding myself that that is only his truth. It is not mine.My daily mantra is that I am cancer free. I am in perfect health. But what of our caretakers? What is their daily mantra? Can the care that I show for Ken now release him from fear of what the future might hold? Only time will tell. Right now is the present. Today is a gift. And even when my caretaker is in a bad mood I have to remind myself that I am so unbelievable fortunate to have him. Moods will pass like the wind, but the love will stay steady.

When did I move?

For all of my life I've lived in my head. Always thinking, processing, fantasizing, etc. I was comfortable there. Most of my life I felt like an outsider so being in my head was a safe place. The best part was that didn't need to retreat to my head, I was already there. Already planning, and plotting just how I would react, or how I would let anyone see me react. Most of what I did was planned and rehearsed. While you were talking, I wasn't listing, I was planning on what I was going to say next. The miracle here is that I somehow managed to seem coherent. With the exception of my partner Ken, who's biggest complaint is that I don't listen to him, I managed to get away with it for years. I was a master of it. No wonder I frequently fantasized about going into acting. The reality was that I was acting.

I the 90's I met Cynthia Lingg. She set an example of what it was to live in the moment. She was herself no matter what! After working for her for about a year, I began to drop some of the act. I figured that if she could be that crazy and be loved by everyone, then maybe I stood a chance. I would say that for the years I worked for her I dropped about 50% of it. Hey, it's a start. I also started discovering my spiritual side which was helpful in letting a lot of the facade go. One thing I was not able to do back then was balance my sexuality with my spirituality. The two would never meet. I am not sure if it was the judgemental teachings of my mother that sex was evil, or what but God was never invited into my bedroom (or anywhere else I was planning on engaging in carnal activities for that matter). This was how it was to be. I even remember one of my teachers commenting on this duality and all I could think of is "what does she know"? It never occurred to me that it was obvious.

Of course God had other plans for my life. I was given the gift of love almost 12 years ago. Ken knew about my spiritual side and accepted my anyway. I wasn't some freak, in fact he seemed to embrace my journey (as long as I didn't try to drag him into it. He is pretty set in his own beliefs). In spite of a gift like that I managed to ignore my spiritual connection for years. In fact I managed to ignore it until I was diagnosed with cancer. We used to talk in church about the 2 x 4 to the head experience. This was most definitely mine. It was an instantaneous wake up and welcome home kind of call.

I was at a writing similar earlier today and made a discovery. Somewhere along the way, I moved out of my head and into my heart. (although I must confess that I am using my head as a storage unit!). Emotions are readily available. The most shocking for me is compassion. I used to feign being a compassionate person. I knew from film what it was supposed to look like and could give an amazing performance. Today in class, thru tears I realized just how wrong I had it. How I got away with it is beyond me. All I know now is that somewhere in the past few months I moved. I didn't turn in an notice and don't remember receiving an eviction. All I know is that I woke up today and had changed residences. Physically they are so close together but spiritually it is like living in another world. I don't know when it happened but I do know that I am happy to be here.

That's gonna leave a mark

This morning, after getting up I stumbled over the dog door leading into the kitchen and hit my arm on the frame. My first thought was "that's gonna leave a mark", which it did. A nice little lump popped up to remind me that I am still a klutz. My second thought, though, was "what else is new"? Since my surgery it seems that I am covered with marks. The scar on my arm, the scar on my leg, the scars on my neck and so on. All reminders that I've been through a lot in the last six months. I sometimes find myself being envious of other cancer survivors that I have met. No visible scars. But then I have to question would that have been any better? My bout lasted only six months to reach the "no evidence of disease level" that so many patients would love to be at. It seems that a few scars is really a small price to pay.

This lead me to really thinking about life in general. The scars and marks that we all carry. Some physical and some emotional. One of the things that unites all people is that we all have them. Of course some try to hide or ignore them. Some try to cover them up, but in the end when we really let our hair down and start to reach out to another person, the marks and scars show up. This is a great thing. Yes, the pain involved can suck, but the outcome of honestly reaching out and talking about it can be liberating like nothing else. Digging around in our house of pain can sometimes be the only way to actually feel at home in our bodies. That is if we look at it and can let it go.

Then there is the pain that we caused. The scars we left behind on others. Sometimes we are forgiven and sometimes not. Just thinking about this I can be filled with shame and pain. I have said some pretty mean things in my life that I'm not proud of. I have lost friends. There are a lot of people out there who actually hate me because I could be so mean. Odd, I used to just think that I was being funny. No so as it turns out. One of the most painful memories for me dates back to the death of my mother. My oldest sister Carla came to stay with me for a few days. One thing that can be said for her is that she is one of the most loving and accepting people I've ever met. For that reason alone, I used to find it nearly impossible to be around her. I was used to living life on a fast and superficial level. I blurted out that she should have extreme levels of plastic surgery or she would never be loved by anyone. It was a cruel thing to say. It took me years to understand what was really behind those words. It was never intended for her. It was meant for me. I was so insecure with my looks and myself. I believed that I would never be loved. The funny thing there is there was so much evidence to the contrary. I was surrounded by people who loved me for me, I was just incapable of seeing it. I was of course blinded to the truth because my own lack of self love.

Yes, today things are different. I was eventually able to apologize to my sister for being such an ass and of course she forgave me. (love is her nature. I seriously doubt if she has ever held a grudge in her entire life). It would be years after the apology that I actually forgave myself. Forgiving myself didn't come until I figured out that I didn't love myself. I was able then to open the door just a crack and start seeing me for who I really was. Truth be told, it wasn't so bad. The door didn't open the rest of the way, though, until my diagnosis. I finally realized that it was either love or die and I was not ready. Yes, I am aware that I will eventually go the grave. Just not today or anytime soon for that matter. I'm busy these days working on leaving my mark. This time it is a different kind of mark. It is the kind of mark that I am proud of!

Support

I grew up as the only boy in a house hold full of girls. Because of this I started to understand support from a young age. My mother would constantly warn my sisters of the dangers of not being supported by a bra. How their breasts would sag later in life if they ever for even a second took the miracle garment off. It was so ingrained that even I preached at them when they rebelled in the 70's and wanted to go without. But watching women my whole life, I learned the importance support in different areas. How women were so comfortable relying on each other. Sharing recipes and guidance of how to take care of the house hole. In fact had it not have been the advice from a friend of my mothers, I would have had to wear braces on my legs as a child. My mom had turned to a friend of hers and was told to simply put me to bed with my shoes on at night. It worked and my leg straighted out goes the story. Thank god, I was already one of those children destined to be picked on without adding that to the list.

One of my biggest lessons on support came when my parents divorced when I was 7. In spite of the child support my mother was forced to work full time. I remember her saying children don't realize whether or not they are rich or poor. She was wrong. I knew we were suddenly poor. We moved and I hated our house. I couldn't stand to have friends over. I was embarrassed by the peeling paint and mismatched furniture. I wanted things to be as they were. I learned quickly that in order to be OK in this life I would have to rely solely on myself, or just like my mother and my present circumstances I would be screwed. To make matters worse, I was jealous when I went to visit my dad and saw him living our old life, but with a new wife. Well actually a few new wives. Thank god he finally got it right on his last try! It is a miracle that I learned to love and be loved and live in a supportive relationship. I'd like to think that the spiritual nature of support was there within me all along just waiting to be rediscovered. Of course I still have to work on it. That has been one of my biggest and best lessons from cancer. Our spiritual connection has to be worked on and exercised, it is not something that can go ignored, lest it be forgotten.

As I grew older and started hanging out with more and more men, I seemed to loose much of my nurturing spirit. Men connect at a much different level. They tease and joke with each other, shooting verbal darts across the room at one another to show who has the tougher hide. There are really no winners in this game. After awhile being mean even in fun starts to wear on your spirit. I remember going to dinner with a group of friends and someone brought a date that I didn't care for. I was simply polite. Later my friends commented that I must really hate them. "But I was nice, what would make you thing that?"I asked "Because you were nice, your never nice. We know that you like us by how mean you are" came the reply. I simply laughed and acknowledged that they were right. Looking back now, I see how sad that really is. Being mean to show I care? Where did that come from? And more importantly how do I unlearn the behavior? I am realizing even as I write I am guilty to this day of doing it, especially with my partner, Ken. Sounds like I have some amends to make.

Last night in my Cancer Support Group we talked about support. We covered some of the ninth chapter of Anticancer by David Servan-Schreiber. The book talks about a scientific study of a group of women with breast cancer who were in a support group. It was found that in two years the women from the support group were emotionally much healthier than the control group and to the shock of the doctor performing the study they were physically better as well. It even goes on to say that the women who attended on the most regular basis were doing the best. I thought about that I went back several months ago in my mind to my diagnosis. One of the first things I did was reach out via facebook. It seems that I still had the natural sense to seek out one thing that would help me and that was support. The support came too. In the form of prayers and well wishes. It came in the out pouring of love from friends and family, many whom I had lost contact with. And most importantly it came in the form of cancer/disease survivors who walked me thru the most challenging time of my life.

Support may be frightening, but it is critical. Giving support does not entitle you to anything other that the good feelings you receive from doing it. That being said,  accepting support when needed doesn't obligate you to anything. Support given with strings attached isn't support. That is a business arrangement, which is fine if both parties willingly wish to enter into it. Giving and accepting support is liberating for both participants. Being selfless is an act of love and devotion. Being needful can free someone to offer you support. It is also an act of love and devotion. When we support each other we truly live and truly love!

A Step back

Anytime you are healing it is important to remember that there will be days when you seem to leap ahead and days whee you may take a step back. This can be both physical and mental. When you take the step back you have to remember that you weren't 100% every day even at your healthiest. That all being said it is hard to step back. Your mind starts to wonder into the mine field of "what did I do?" Unless you have been working at clearing out the negative thoughts from your mind, that is no place to wonder around, because it is almost guaranteed that you will step on a mine. I know this from experience!

Today's told me that I was lazy and had lost my ambition. OK, I didn't feel like getting out of bed. Does that make me lazy? Maybe. But the reality is that just a week ago I was sleeping some 14 plus hours a day and then last week jumped down to only 8. Maybe my body needs a little more rest. The most important thing is to make it OK. I'm not going to beat myself up. I've had an entire lifetime to do that, I don't think I really need to keep doing it. If I've learned anything from having cancer it is that I need to be forgiving with myself. I'm not always going to be at 100%. 

The other thing is I'm on leave of absence. If I were on vacation it would be completely acceptable to stay in bed all day if I wanted to, so why not now? That doesn't negate that I realize that I have a whole house to clean and tons of filing to be done. The truth is that is it Monday. I worked on the house on the weekend. I can choose to get back to it tomorrow.

One thing I am finding by being kinder to myself these days, that even a step back can be a step in the right direction. It's like being at a museum and looking at a painting. Sometimes to really see it you have to step back. And if that logic doesn't work remember that Ginger Rogers lived her whole life going backwards and in high heels no less. Let up on yourself!

Every day is better than the one before it!

I admit it. I am typically one of those annoying people that wake up happy! If you're not a morning person I'm not someone you would typically want to spend your morning with. Back in the day when I was managing a Starbucks coffee, my partners would frequently complain that I was too perky! Years prior to that, I knew the honeymoon was over when I jumped up and exclaimed "Good Morning!" to Ken and he told me to "Shut the F#%K up!" Ken is not a morning person! I had to learn over time to be quite in the morning and not say anything until he had had his juice or coffee and even then I was stepping into murky waters.

It is no wonder that during this journey he and I have gotten along so well. I have felt like crap thru most of it and he has been grateful that I have been quite and sleeping in. That is until this week. I have been getting up earlier lately and pretty much have started to feel like my old self again. After years of training I am still trying to be respectful and quite as not to disturb Ken, but I actually feel really good! It's hard not to want to sing and chat. It's like summer after a 5 year winter. I want to jump up and open up my arms and welcome in the day. That is without being verbally assaulted!

The good thing here is that I am defiantly on the mend! The human body is nothing short of a miracle! You can punch holes in it shoot it with radiation and it just keeps healing and showing up for more. And to that I say thank God! I am ready for more. More Love, more life, more friends, more of whatever life wants to bring my way. Lately every day is better than the one before it!

Oh, side note: I mentioned that I was meeting with a Qi Gong master today. As it turns out it is a year long program and I don't think I am prepared to make that kind of commitment at this point. So the hunt continues and in the mean time, I will keep using my DVD.

It is what it is

I would imagine that everyone who has struggled with cancer has had someone call them brave. It must be true. What else but bravery could lead anyone to face the terrifying news and subsequent surgeries and treatments? Facing friends and family. Letting people "in" or for some of us deciding to keep some people "out". All of the day to day decisions that must be made. Some made at lighting fast speed and others made that will effect the quality of our lives forever. Yes bravery is a good description and yet I don't feel brave. I'm not sure what I feel but I wouldn't say that today after my surgery and therapy I feel brave.

This is fresh on my mind because I was having coffee with one of my best friends this morning and he was telling me how brave I was. I was most certainly moved by his words yet still felt disconnected from the bravery aspect. Maybe it is because I think of the men and women defending our country as brave. I don't think I have what it would take to go to war and face gun fire. Heck, I remember hanging out in a park after hours with a friend of mine while I was in my twenties and we were approached by a man that I thought was carrying a knife. I screamed like a little girl and ran as fast as I could out of the park to torrents of laughter. He had only wanted a light. What I thought was a knife was a cigarette case. I was also one of those kids who got picked on a lot growing up. It wasn't until junior high that I was able to show that I had some skill in track that a lot of the guys started giving me a pass. Of course then I moved to Texas and it all started over again.

It could also be that because I have such an amazing caretaker in Ken, that I haven't felt the need to be brave. He has been my rock throughout this ordeal. To this day he is still studying books on cancer related topics to make sure that he is caring for me. I have to say that I don't know what I would have done without him and for that matter my in-laws. They have been so willing to drive me here and there when I wasn't able to, run errands and just show up and be with me. It has all meant the world to me. I feel that I have another mother in Ruthie. I think even they would all say that I have been brave. I know I have read facebook posts that Ken has made describing me as brave. All of my friends see it but I still feel blind to the bravery aspect.

I just feel like a guy who had to deal with cancer and did what he could do from day to day. No, in writing that statement I think that there is more to it. But bravery? I'm still not still not sure. To be honest I think it is more like the poem footsteps. I feel that God has carried me through this journey. From the minute my cancer manifested to today. I think that that is what I am feeling. No bravery required. I have from the earliest moments of dealing with this disease when I said very clearly that "I'm not going to die". God was there. For years I had forgotten about my connection with the Divine. Just muddling through life and making a mess of things. It wasn't until faced with life threatening situation that I was able to open my eyes and heart and feel that God was there with and for me. To know that I am part of the plan and have more to do. I can't imagine being atheist and dealing with this any more than I could imagine dealing with this without my friends and family. To me they are the brave ones. Ken staying strong even though I know he had to be terrified. My Mother in Law who worries enough for all of us. My amazing buddy, Scooter, who looking at me the day after surgery while I was black and blue and my tongue was so swollen it stuck out of my mouth, told me that I still managed to be sexy. (That or he has a really twisted idea of what sexy is) That is what I call bravery. To look at a loved one who is broken and still see them as whole. My friends and family are angels who have carried me these past months. I can't speak for how they feel exactly but I see them as part of the Divine. And as for feeling brave all I can say is Maybe I am. Or maybe it is what it is.

changing the game

Sometimes healing is a matter of changing how we normally play the game. Just being bed ridden for a couple of days can deplete your energy and strength to the point that you can't believe that this is your body. If you have had something changed or altered your conscience mind might be aware of it, but your brain keep issuing the same old instruction to your body. The altered body might not comply. My right arm will not raise over my head without great effort any more. Because of that I exercise it daily. My neck is still stiff from the insision so I have to stretch it daily. These changes made sense to me. I was prepared for them because they seemed logical.

My speech is a different matter, however. What the surgeon tells you is that as the swelling goes down in the tongue, you will speak more and more clearly. That made sense for a short while. The new portion of my tongue (affectionalty known as frankentongue) is still swollen after 5 weeks and my speaking voice sounds like I have food in my mouth. Speaking of food, eating is difficult with a swollen tongue. I eat everything

Let the Light in

I've always wanted to write from a positive mindset in my blog. Over the past two weeks not being able to pull myself together to do that I've instead opted not to write much at all. Looking back I see how much I have cheated myself. This page is where I put it all down, release my pain and frustration and just the truth of my experience. It feels as though I have been living a lie lately. I have not been a ray of sunshine. I have been laying in bed sleeping. Some it needed, actually a lot of it needed, but there are times when I just haven't wanted to get out the of safety of my cozy sheets. I want to be protected from the outside world and all of it's demands. Demands to hurry up and heal, get yourself together, clean the house. go to work, water the yard, pick up after the dogs, make dinner.....

Let me back up here just a bit. Two weeks ago today I finished my chemotherapy and radiation. I announced to the world that I was cancer free and got ready to start healing. I slept for almost three days after that. My partner, Ken, woke me up for meals, but I just slept. It was really all I could do to get up and feed the dogs and then go back to bed. It felt like someone had syphoned my tank in the middle of the night and left me with nothing. Looking back this was the only period of my recovery that I had been on pain killers (for the radiation burns on my neck). That Saturday I was able to get out long enough to go to an acupuncture appointment. But it was right back into bed as soon as I got home. I felt that I was inconveniencing everyone because I couldn't drive and I think knowing that made me want to stay home even more. Finally it got to where I wasn't sleeping so much so I would pop a vicodin and zone out and sleep some more.

The good thing is that I continued to heal more every day. By the time one week had gone by my neck was almost clear of any evidence of being burned with the exception of 3 small scabs which persist to this day (although smaller) and some flaky skin that is easily controlled with body butter. My mouth was basically burned the same as my neck. I watched every day as the skin on my donor tongue shed and revealed new skin (sans hair!) The swelling is going down on my donor tongue as well. By Friday of last week I was starting to speak without any pain (well physical pain. I still don't like not being able to speak clearly as 1/2 of my tongue is still swollen and I have much speech therapy looking at me in the future). Everyday there was the evidence of healing, of being better.

Still something was missing. I just wanted to sleep. Or if not sleep just not be here in this body with it's strange new Frankentongue and scars. I didn't want my old life back either. I now find myself stuck in the middle. I believe that when God closes a door he opens a window but I have lately been keeping my drapes drawn. I feel stuck. I want to make changes to my life in order to live happily, but feel pressure to join the world where I left off. I hate that idea. Not that I mind going back to work. I actually look forward to it, but one major thing that will be different for me is that I will never seek my identity through my occupation again. It is mearlie a means to make a living. I will do it and do it well, but it will not run me. I also want to start a more disciplined spiritual practice but have no idea what to do there but start searching and reading. 

Last night I got out and finally attend a new support group. (So much better than my last try!) One thing I realized while listening (yes, listening, me! I was listening!) last night, is that I am not special because I have had cancer. I'm just one of millions who have had to deal with it. I believe that I manifested it to correct my life. Now that is my opinion. I have never asked anyone to agree or disagree. It is not up to me to tell anyone why they have cancer or any disease for that matter. But as I turn my life around and begin to live more happily, it is not a bad belief to have. I am glad also that I finally did reach out. Just hearing that you are not in this boat alone is comforting.

So here I am. I threw out the remaining vicodin last Friday realizing that I needed to clear the fog in my head. It is time to let some light in, so I opened up my drapes this morning. I fully intended to get up after eight hours of sleep but still managed to sleep for eleven. Nothing to beat myself up over though. It is really possible considering what my body has been thru that it needs the sleep. Today my mind is clearer. I will not succumb to depression. Today I will clean and water and start, piece by piece, to rejoin the world. After all I am the one who diagnosed my cancer as a cry for a different life. That make me my own doctor. It is up to me to learn how to do this but I am grateful that I don't have to do it on my own. I have so many amazing people around me to cheer me on. Some are survivors and some are just great people who inspire me every day. I am also grateful for Ken my family who have made this journey as easy as it could possibly get. Now on to writing my first prescription: It's time to let the light in!