Update Time

The beaches of Fort Lauderdale, Lauderdale-By-The-Sea and Boca Raton have been the focus for the past month. It’s so relaxing to just sit in the sun and people watch. Snorkeling has been fantastic. Light winds make for calm seas and settled waters. On a recent outing JoNell spotted a pompano near the water’s edge. We’ve also seen barracuda, snook and tons of bait fish.

My fishing book is at the publisher. I’ll get a first layout look early next week and then it’s time for the first big edit. No release date just yet, but hoping for sometime in November. While I’m waiting I’ve started another book. Is writing an addiction?

Fishing has taken a back seat during the mad writing sessions. That’s about to change next week. I’m headed to the fresh to see if I can scare up a few largemouth bass, peacock bass and whatever else may live in the Glades, sans gators. Gators make me nervous.

One of the best surprises about our move to the east coast of Florida is the abundance and selection of fresh seafood. Don’t get me wrong, Lee and Collier counties have their share, but it’s amazing over here. The options seem unlimited with every kind of snapper imaginable, fresh caught swordfish, Caribbean lobster, pompano, shrimp and many more. We’re eating healthy.

Lastly we started watching Nurse Jackie, a TV series on Netflix. Serious and hilarious all at once and highly recommended. I don’t know what we’d do without all the great movie and show selections during this nutty year. 

Take care, stay well. Over-and-out.

Beachin' and Bookin'

Hello readers.

Oh my, it’s almost the middle of August and JoNell and I are still hiding. Well, almost. We park ourselves in the house Monday through Friday except for masked excursions to the grocery and other stores we deem necessary. No restaurants just yet. 

We were able to enjoy our first Florida lobsters of the season a couple of nights ago. We get them here fresh with the heads on! Amazing. They were coupled with filet mignons and wine for a little surf and turf. Who needs a restaurant? 

The beach has been the hangout each weekend, weather permitting. It’s deserted in the early morning so spacing is not a problem. Heck, we spend more time in the Atlantic than we do on the beach. They say sunshine keeps the virus at bay. Who knows? It does make both of us feel better. Being cooped up inside is not our style.

My book is coming along much faster than expected. The first edit is in the bag and I’m guessing there will be at least two, maybe more. Photos and drawings and layout will follow. 35,000 words… perhaps more. I keep thinking of something that ought to be added. Maybe if I can get this to the publisher I can go back to fishing.

My recent visit with my oncologist went well. All my numbers are good and I have finally gotten the meds I need without paying a small fortune. Whew. That was a grind.

Take care, be careful, stay well.

Rob 

Bonnet House Museum & Gardens

JoNell and I lived here in Fort Lauderdale in the late 90’s. We had a condo in western Broward in an area called Jacaranda. It was good. We were close to the Glades, we had nearby canals where peacock bass hung out, and the Interstate was close by for trips to the Keys. Because of the western location we didn’t visit the beach all that much. We also kept a boat in Islamorada so most of our weekends were spent there.  

After almost 20 years in Lee County we made a decision to head back east after JoNell got a job offer. We decided we wanted to be closer to the beach, much closer. We no longer owned a boat and we didn’t want the continued responsibility of home ownership, so we took some advice from a nephew who calls Fort Lauderdale home and began hunting for a place to live. 

We now live within a couple of miles of the beach where we spend at least one day a week decompressing. JoNell, being the exerciser, walks to the beach. I prefer a bike or the truck. 

In our previous life here we would occasionally drive north on A1A after crossing the 17th Street Causeway bridge. Just before approaching East Sunrise Boulevard,  on the left side of the road, is a noticeable large heavily wooded area. A magnificent homestead called the Bonnet House Museum & Gardens is preserved there. 

The mansion and grounds are open to the public and after 25 years of driving by and wondering what was in those woods, JoNell and I finally satisfied our curiosity. It was worth the wait.

Bonnet House was created by artist Frederic Clay Bartlett in 1920. The land was given to him and and his wife, Helen Birch, by her father, Hugh Taylor Birch. A state park just north of Bonnet House bears Mr. Birch’s name. Helen died of cancer in 1925 and Mr. Bartlett remarried Evelyn Lilly in 1931. She continued to winter at the estate until 1995. 

To say I was amazed at what is hidden behind a wall and thick woods along a bustling A1A would be an understatement. The 35-acre estate is a blessing. There are beautiful gardens, a hardwood barrier island forrest, lagoons, orchids and of course, wildlife. The historic home is also a museum to countless works of art painted by Fredric. He and Helen also collected art from all over the world. After Fredric and Evelyn were married Fredric encouraged Evelyn to take up painting in 1933. To say she was prolific would be an understatement. 

Evelyn also had a passion for orchids, shells and tiki bars. The onsite Shell Museum Complex, built for Evelyn by Fredric, contains Evelyn’s shell collection, an Orchid House and her private Bamboo Bar. You enter through a small rotunda with floor to ceiling display cases of collected shells. To the right is an honest to goodness tiki bar complete with stools and a fully equipped bar. Straight ahead is the orchid room. Evelyn was a very lucky lady.

The Bonnet House Museum & Gardens is open everyday from 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. Admission is $20 for access to the home and gardens. At this time, due to Covid-19, the tours are self-guided. They have added a considerable amount of electronic information via your cell phone so bring headphones. Be sure to check their website for additional information. www.bonnethouse.org

Low Pressure

We are barely past the halfway point of 2020 and now tropical storms and a possible hurricane have been added to the list. What a mess. As most of you know I tend to look at the bright side of all of this. This too will pass.

I still haven’t been fishing! The weather and the book I’m writing have both gotten in the way. Hopefully there will be time for that after the “impossible to pronounce” Isaias has passed. I’m not holding my breath. 2020 seems to have other ideas.

Here’s a fishing tip. Low barometric pressure causes an uptick in the feeding patterns of fish. Actually most animals are affected by this phenomena. The approaching tropical blow will most certainly lower the pressure. If you have the time to wet a line, and it’s safe to do so, perhaps Friday afternoon or early Saturday morning would be a good time to hit the water.

Stay well, wash your hands, stay 6-feet apart and wear that mask if you are anywhere near me.

Still hiding in Fort Lauderdale

Capt. Rob

Hiding

Survived another week in South Florida. Apparently the Covid-19 is running rampant, so extra care has been taken. Trips to the store are more limited and the only outings are exercise walking and beach related. We’ve figured out how to socially distance at the beach in a big way. Go early. Most of the folks here are much younger than us old folks, so they tend to sleep in on Saturday’s and Sundays. We can have most of the beach to ourselves until about noon.

I was hoping to go fishing this week, but that was not to be. Weather was terrible so I stayed put in front of the computer and knocked out a lot of writing for my book. Crossed the 28,000 word threshold yesterday. I’ve got a lot to say about fishing.

Hopefully I’ll be able to wet a line this coming week if the nicer weather returns. I’m anxious to get back to the Glade’s canals and see if I can’t stir up some bass and peacocks, and perhaps get a big ole snakehead. Yes, that’s a fish. Ugly sucker, but they pull like crazy.

Be safe out there and stay well. More to come shortly…

Fishing Books

Photo: Rob Modys

While I was writing for the Fort Myers Beach Island Sand Paper I compiled a list of article ideas. These would pop into my head driving down the road, fishing, beaching and showering. By the way, it’s really tough to write down an idea while in the shower. Perhaps I need one of those dive message wet boards. Anyhow… This blog post is from that list and I must give credit where credit is due.

Capt. Debbie Hanson of SheFishes2 had a segment topic a couple of months ago on Reel Talk Radio about favorite fishing books. It was great and she garnered a lot of responses, not only on the radio show, but also via social media posts. I really enjoyed the anglers’ choices. They ran the whole gamut from technical to comedic.

While I don’t consider myself a book critic, I do have what most folks would call a vast collection of fishing how-to books and literature. Many of them were garnered though my own collecting efforts, and a great deal of the books came from my grandfather Modys’ library.

So without further ado here are some of my favorites.

Crunch & Des, Classic Stories of Saltwater Fishing, by Philip Wylie is a collection of stories pulled from almost 30 years of his writings for the Saturday Evening Post. The tales are about the adventures and antics of Crunch and Des, two Miami fisherman. It’s very funny and an enjoyable read. Even though dated, these stories will ring true for many of today’s saltwater anglers. Thanks to Kevin Dunn for sending this book to me. I’ve throughly enjoyed reading it.

Fisherman’s Coast, An Angler’s Guide to Marine Warm-Water Gamefish and Their Habitats, by Aaron J. Adams. This book hits all my science receptors full force and is the basis for many of my seminars and classes on the science of fishing. There is a wealth of information with details that will take many reads to digest.

Woodsmoke and Watercress, by Dana S. Lamb is from my grandfather’s collection and was published in 1965. It’s a series of short fly fishing stories from northern freshwater streams, well told with a good many anecdotes. I love the older stories, especially the descriptive words used and the way they sound like something told around a campfire.

Secret Spots, Florida’s Best Saltwater Fishing From Sarasota Bay to Marco, by Frank Sargeant. This little jewel went out of print and then reappeared via Kindle ebook. On a recent check I found it back in print via paperback. When I first bought this book I immediately took a gander at the locations to verify if they were really secret or not. They were, as in past tense. Oh crap. While published in 1993 it has a ton of good information about fishing the Southwest Florida waters. Things have changed over the years, but as a guide for new anglers, it’s still a must have.

Marquesa, A time & Place With Fish, by Jeffrey Cardenas. This is still, by a long shot, my favorite outdoor book. The author, a former Key West fishing guide, spent six weeks alone in the summer of 1994 on a 26-foot homemade houseboat in the Marquesas 25 miles to the west of Key West. He had a skiff, a canoe, a few boxes of canned food, fly rods and books. As he also points out in the introduction, there was no TV, telephone, air conditioning, shoes or a schedule. He was there only as an observer of the cycle of life on this remote atoll. I’m thinking that 2020 would be a good year to do this myself.

***All of these books are available via online sellers, but be aware that some are collectables and come with a collectible price.

Endings And Beginnings

 
First and foremost, Happy 4th of July! Long live America!

For the past year I've been writing a column for the Fort Myers Beach Island Sand Paper, a local beach newspaper written for and about the locals and tourist that live and visit there. My column was called Footprints In The Sand. Yes, note the word "was." All good things must come to an end. The Covid-19 virus shut the paper down along with hundreds, if not thousands of other small businesses. In my last column for the Sand Paper I noted that I will once again go back to blogging and working more feverishly on my book(s). As a matter of fact I knocked out almost 1,800 words yesterday and I'm hopping to finish the manuscript by early Fall.

I loved writing for the Sand Paper. It was a way of sharing my knowledge about the area and the many hobbies I've been a part of for most of my life.

I was once complemented by a former fishing charter customer. He said I reminded him of 'renaissance man' Thomas Jefferson. He pointed out that Jefferson's life was a constant motion of one achievement after another that was driven by hobbies. Hmm. Here's the interesting part. I've been a long time fan of Thomas Jefferson since visiting his Virginia home, Monticello, in my youth. I was amazed at all the things he'd invented that are on display there. Needless to say, my customer's compliment was well taken.

Officially I'm no longer writing for publications, although if one comes along that fits my style I'll be sure to consider the options. In the meantime I'll get back to blogging about my hobbies, my travels and my beloved Florida, a state that has approximately 1,350 miles of  coastline, over 4,500 islands and the only coral barrier reef in the continental United States. That's a lot of ground to cover and I'm pretty sure I've only touched the tip of the iceberg.

Thanks again for reading Reflections On The Water.

Hello Again

Hello Readers.

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve posted on this blog and a lot of water has  gone under the bridge. I was going to start anew, but changed my mind. There’s a lot of me in the old posts and I don’t want to lose them to the aether. 

We and most of the world are currently under ‘stay at home’ recommendations, and in some cases orders for a pandemic caused by a virus called Covid-19. It’s flu-like and deadly. More about that later.

I’ll start where I left off a little over 4 years ago.

The stem cell transplant went well. There were a few setbacks early in the process, but I won’t bore you with the details and I honestly don’t want to relive it again via writing. I spent about 6 months starting in early March of 2016 in a bubble unable to associate much with outsiders. Your immune system is a wreck after stem cell replacement so it’s imperative that you avoid just about anything that might cause an infection. Well, that’s just about everything.

I made it through the sequester and have been doing well ever since. My numbers are good, the cancer is still there hiding, but too small to measure. I currently take a low dose chemo pill and get regular checkups. Onward and upward.

I found the true meaning of friendship. Some good, some not so good, but all in all positive. I’ve also been enlightened, thanks to my inevitable demise, that there are a lot of things that just aren’t that all fired important anymore. I worry far less about the world, and much more about me, my family and my friends. 

Several years ago JoNell began to get a bit burned out with her job at the Collier County Visitors and Convention Bureau. Seems she was doing all the work with very few pats on the back except from her clients. An offer came in from the Broward County CVB and as they say, the rest is history. We sold the house and moved to Fort Lauderdale this past December. Our friends and some of our family thought we were crazy to head back to the big city, but we are very happy here and love the ability to travel quickly to one of our favorite places, the Florida Keys.

Before the move I was teaching fishing classes at Bass Pro Shops in Fort Myers and I continued to do my radio show. When the news came that JoNell was offered her dream job in Fort Lauderdale I made the decision that driving across Alligator Alley would be a bit much. I quit teaching and retired from my radio show after almost eleven years on the air. Bittersweet, but I’m actually enjoying sleeping in on Saturday mornings and sharing weekends with JoNell.

I’m going to promise to be better about writing on this blog. Not only for readers, but for me. I find writing very therapeutic.

Remission

It’s been a long while since my last writing and there has been a lot of water under the bridge. First and foremost, I’ve hit the remission numbers for my cancer. I really can’t believe it’s happened. It seemed an unobtainable goal just six months ago and then suddenly it happened.

Now comes the next step and it’s a very scary step. Stem cell replacement. It’s actually considered transplant surgery. That alone is pretty scary. Just a couple of months ago I was on the fence about going to this step, but then I got to thinking about the prospect of doing chemo from now till the day I die and that was a bit overwhelming, provided I live a long time, and I certainly hope to do that.

So the calendar has been marked and it looks like the process will begin in late January and continue through all of February and into early March. More about that later.

In preparation for the stem cell event I’ve had to get the rest of my body in order starting with my teeth. I’ve been terrible about going to the dentist. Oh, I brushed my teeth every day, but going to the dentist was way in the backseat. No, it was in the trunk. I had to get a cleaning and then a deep cleaning. I had to get several fillings and a couple of crowns. All is well now.

The next step was hernia surgery. It was an inguinal hernia. That’s the one in the groin area. All went well with that too, except the recovery, is very painful. It seems that everything in the entire body is attached to the gut. If you blink your eyes it is somehow connected to the groin. Seriously.

So now I’m ready. I’m still scared.

Senior Citizen

There are a couple of “old age” symbols that I feel show you’ve crossed over the edge if you qualify. An invitation from the American Association of Retired People (AARP) and that little blue card that hangs from the rear view mirror of vehicles, the handicap parking tag. I know that the latter can be used by anyone that’s disabled and I respect that, but I personally associate it with older people. I guess it’s from spending so much time in Florida where the handicap parking space is usually taken by a senior citizen. I guess I’m officially a senior citizen.

On a recent trip to my doctor I was told that it’s time to file for permanent disability with the U.S. government. My back is as good as it’s going to get and more importantly, I can no longer do the job I love to do. As a matter of fact, it would be impossible for me to do any 40 hour workweek job. It’s tough to get hired when you can only stand or sit for short durations. That pretty much sucks because I’m a type A workaholic. I love to be doing something pretty much all the time and my back won’t let me.

It’s also tough for me to walk long distances, so I asked about the handicap parking permit. The Doc said I certainly qualify, filled out the form and next thing you know I have the blue tag on the mirror. Like I said, I guess I’m officially a senior citizen.

I’ve never feared old age. It beats the alternative and the alternative is what I’m currently fighting against. Death is a scary thing. I’d really like to avoid it if possible. At least for now. I’m going to work hard at that.

It's not the fishing, it's the conversation

All this time I thought what I missed most on the water was the fishing. Interesting. It’s really not. I miss the conversations.

When on a boat with two or more people you soon find you are stuck in a very small room, and in the case of charter fishing you may not even know these folks at all. The conversation is what rules, not the fishing. If you have great talks and stories the fishing can take a backseat. Heck, the fishing can almost be bad and no one cares.

The subjects often travel the full gamut. If you’re with friends it usually covers old fishing trips, family happenings, gossip and what the kids and grandkids are up to. It’s a place to brag on them and to show concern if there are problems brewing. Sharing solutions also takes place and, of course, fixing the worlds problems are high on the agenda.

When sharing the boat with strangers the conversation often starts with a simple question. “Where’s home?” It’s amazing how much information that little question elicits. People want you to know not only where they are from now, but where they have been and how they got to where they are now. From there it heads to safe places. How many kids, grandkids, past fishing trips and just about every sport you can think of. Mostly football. Strange how football and fishing are somehow linked. I’ve told new fishing guides that they had better brush up on football teams, cities and stats if they want to keep conversation moving in the third and sometimes fourth hour of a trip.

The only taboo subjects are religion, politics and race. These sometimes enter the conversation, but very rarely. Family members will talk about all of the above, but not a new guest. That is best. In the world of charter fishing it’s important to not offend.

I can’t wait to get back on the water and wet a line, but I really can’t wait for good conversation. I really miss it.

I Can Do This

I can do this.

That is my motto. I’ve had the monster in my body for about 4 months now. I was brought to my knees by multiple myeloma cancer on February 25th and got the diagnoses a day or two later while in the emergency room at the hospital. My two weeks there was hell on earth. I’ve never been in so much pain before. As a matter of fact, this is the first time I can actually write about it without having to stop. It was worse than anything you or I can imagine. I thought I was going to die and that the only way I was leaving was going to be in a bag.

Nope. I can do this.

It started with a nurse named Hope. Yes, that really was her name. I took it as a sign. She’s a spry black woman that I’d guess to be about 50 years old. Obviously she was in charge and didn’t take shit from anybody, especially me. She had an attitude that was scary. There’s no other way to describe it. My immediate goal was to win her over. I’ve met a lot of grumpy folks in my lifetime. Most are retired CEO’s that are used to being in charge. Not on my boat. I’m proud to say that many of these same men with the attitudes are now close friends.

So I started out asking her questions about her family and why she was a nurse. I don’t believe any patient of her’s had done that before. She warmed a bit, but it took several days to win her over. We did each step of my hospital recovery together and she even made a point of stopping by to see how I was doing, even when she was working a different area of the ward.

Thank you, Hope. I can do this.

Dying

I must admit I hadn’t thought much about dying. It had occurred to me that it will happen but only as a background thought. Up until my cancer diagnosis I was feeling fairly bulletproof. I’ve been told by many that I look young for my age. When I tell people I’m over 60 they look at me like I’m lying. Most guess middle 40’s. Very flattering, but wrong.

And then along came the monster, cancer. I now think about death on a daily basis. I don’t know if that’s normal or not but I have to believe it is. I’ve met a lot of people that are not as sick as I am and they say the same thing.

I’ve been told that the survival rate for multiple myeloma is anywhere from a few years to over 10 or so. That’s a pretty wide range with seemingly no rhyme or reason to it. I read about a young man who died in about 2 years. I’ve also read about quite a few that have survived over 10 years and that’s with older technology and chemo medicines. Obviously a lot has been learned over the last 10 years and it’s paying off in longevity.

I do know that if you are diagnosed with MM at a later age in life you are more likely to survive longer. Odd but true. Young people don’t survive very long, whereas older folks do.

I really don’t know why I’m worried about dying. If you die you leave all the problems behind and everyone else has to deal with it. Maybe that’s why I have a problem with it. I love for everything to have an order and if you die too young you are messing up the order. Then again, perhaps it is best to die first. What I mean by that is I really don’t want to lose all the family and friends I have, first. I’d rather go first. Selfish? Maybe.

OK. So now back to reality. I’m going to do everything I can to survive this. I’m going to work toward remission and then hope that the powers that be find a cure for this disease. That’s the plan. I had plans to make it to 90 and I’ve got to figure out a way to survive 29 more years. 

I Miss My Dad

I really miss my Dad. He passed away from a sudden heart attack back in the summer of 2000 and there are so many things I’d love to talk to him about. There was also a wealth of information that he held in that amazingly analytical head of his that I’d love to pry through, but it’s just not to be.

My Dad could do the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle in his head and then write all the answers in with an ink pen. It was something to behold. It’s too bad he was never on Jeopardy. He would have cleaned up.

He also gave away a ton of information and tips about fishing to me over the years. The funny thing was, he didn’t spend a lot of time fishing. He did, however, spend a lot of time reading. He was one of the most well read people I’ve ever known, so he seemed to have an answer for just about everything. He would send me tips about rigging and I think he was fascinated by the different species we had and how each had their own way of feeding and breeding.

We had a discussion one Sunday afternoon about moon phases. I've used parts of that talk to this day during seminars on tides, winds and currents. He was very insightful and pointed out things about the correlation between the moon and fish.

I didn’t start my career as a fishing pro until the year after he died. I often wonder what he would have thought about all this. He was one of those people that believed in the steady job. You know; the long term position with the big “firm” and then the career leading to a successful retirement. That is certainly not where I was headed when I decided to get my captains license and then make a living on the water. But years later I proved to myself and others that I could be a success. It made me happy. I never thought I’d find a job that I’d never view as a job.

I think my Dad would have been pleased to see how it turned out. I miss him now more than ever.

Back Pain

Back pain is a pain in the ass, not the back.

Gosh, I really never thought that a certain pain could last so long and be so persistent. I was wrong. I now clearly understand the pain that some of my older charter customers were experiencing on the boat over the years. I had one gentleman named Joe who had a bad back. He was constantly looking for the next panacea to make everything as it was in his much younger years. Medicines, rubs, braces and even surgery. It took him almost 6 years to get it right. But he did. His persistence beat out the pain’s persistence. He was so happy about it, as was I.

My pain is fixable. Or is it? I know that surgery is going to be best. I’ve read enough to know that compression fractures, a side effect of multiple myeloma, can be fixed using a glue or cement like substance injected into the spine to set things straight. But there is also the possibility of new fractures appearing if I don’t reach remission soon enough. It’s ok. I really don’t want to go through what Joe went through for 6 years. I’m going to get this done and move on to the next hurdle that MM will surely throw my way.

I’m being tested.

Conflicted

Conflicted. That sums up my feelings after the past week or so. I have lots of advice coming at me from a lot of different directions and new doctors are popping out of the woodwork. I know it’s important and I do the best I can to sort things out, but it’s difficult at best.

Part of the problem is being able to pay attention. The assortment of drugs I’m taking for the pain do make me more comfortable, but my ability to absorb detailed information has been a problem. I have to rely on written notes and JoNell’s memory. Good thing she has a great memory!

I do need a central controller of all things medical. A handler that can sort out all the doctors, their needs and request, along with insurance needs and pharmacy issues. I often wonder what pills can go with what pills and are there dangerous mixes. Just one of those things you pick up on pharmaceutical television ads.

I’ve been a very independent person for many, many years but I recognize the need for help. It’s been embarrassing though. Because I’ve always been able to take care of myself both physically and financially, it’s tough to accept the help. I’ve been the giver not the receiver. Now I need the help. I want so badly for things to go back to the way they were. That’s going to take some time.

Capt. Mike "Bush Doctor" Weingart

Capt. Mike Weingart (Left) Capt. John Carpenito (Right)

The news reported that Sawyer Sweeten had died on April 23rd of an apparent suicide at his home in Texas. He was the child actor from “Everybody Loves Raymond.” He was only 19 years old.

Why? Who knows. I really don’t understand this. There is so much to live for. I’m currently fighting cancer but under no means have I contemplated ending my life.

I lost a good friend several years ago. Suicide. I never could understand it and honestly, I’ve never gotten over it. Capt. Mike was one of those happy go lucky guys with a great attitude and was loved by his clientele and co-workers alike. And then one day he was gone.

Not me. I’m going to do everything I can to hang in there and make this an adventure rather than a depressing, God awful event.

I love you Mike. Hope you are doing OK in heaven. I know you made it there. The world would be really unfair if you didn’t.

It's Important

JoNell is my caregiver. It sounds funny to say that now. She and I have always shared our home duties.

Before cancer she kept track of the money, paid the bills and put in more hours than I did. She usually worked at her office in Naples for 8 to 10 hours and then came home and worked another 1 or 2 on the computer. She also put in another chunk on the weekends. Her other home duty was feeding the cats. They love her.

I worked on the water as a charter captain. I did anywhere from 5 to 14 trips a week. Sometimes it was a short week, sometimes it was a long week. When I got home I was the house cleaner, laundry dude, kitty sandbox changer, pool cleaner, yard maintenance dude and in charge of getting the recycle cans and garbage to the street on the proper days. I made sure the vehicles keep running. I also took care of all things SoulMate Charters, Inc. Bills, deposits, taxes etc.

We both shared the making of dinner and the trips to Publix.

All this changed when I got diagnosed with cancer. I became fairly useless and JoNell had to pick up the slack of running the entire household. It was quite a shock for both of us. I don’t think either one of us realized how much the other did and I know she didn’t know my routines.

Over the past two months we have adjusted and I am starting to feel physically better so I can lend a hand on a few chores. It’s still tough for me to last longer than 15 minutes or so, but it makes me feel better when I can help. Just folding clothes means I’m helping a bit and I really want to do that for JoNell. 

I love her so much. It’s been quite an ordeal and it has weighed on both of us. Most of the time we work toward getting it done. We don’t talk much about the future. We just keep plugging away at the here and now. Today.

Every now and then the future creeps in and that’s when the tears start for both of us. We had plans and this has pretty much wrecked that. JoNell also realizes how close she came to losing me. She was there for the incident at the hospital and she’ll most likely never forget it. She was pretty sure that was the end. We’ve talked about it and I’ve told her that she’s stuck with me. It’s going to take more than cancer to do me in.

I’m writing this as advice for couples. Married or not, you need a plan that covers your worst possible moments. What happens if...  It’s important. JoNell and I were under the assumption that things would just move along as they always have. Kind of a pre destiny. Well, that was wrong. We should have known better, but we were both lulled into a false sense of security.

Take the time to learn what the other does. How you each fit in to the overall scheme of things. It’s very important. It’s much better to be ready than not.

I'm Lucky

Learned something this week. Chemo is mostly a big surprise. I’ve been on it for several weeks, off and on, and I was pleased that I have been able to handle it through aches and pains. The Friday morning blast of steroids has been a pain saver and moved me tthrough the early week without a lot of trouble. And then that changed.

All of a sudden the double whammy of the chemo pill and shot really knocked me down. My white blood count fell through the floor and I ran my fist big fever since leaving the hospital. Terrible night sweats and very little sleep. Off to the doctor in the morning to see if it was an infection or chemo. Fortunately it was chemo related and a new shot called Neupogen was prescribed to help raise my white blood cell count. It worked and I was feeling better by Thursday. One little problem. It also makes your bones ache. Oh goody.

Chemo is all about attitude. Keep it positive and and stop worrying about tomorrow. Just hang in there, there is light at the end of the tunnel. I’m happy that I’m two weeks on and one week off. That one week off gives me something to focus on during the bad times. I also receive half of my chemo (the shots) in a room full of people also getting cancer treatments. Mine is relatively easy compared to some of the patients who have to spend all day, sometimes 2 to 3 times a week, under the gun.

I’m lucky.

Sympathy

I look at things differently now thanks to having cancer. Especially the trials and tribulations of others.

I was watching the second round of the Masters golf tournament and Rory McIlroy was having a particularly tough day. Heck, the way he was playing he might not even make the cut for the weekend. Balls off the course in the rough and in the woods and his approaches weren’t very good. He was visibly disappointed.

I thought to myself, “So what. Add cancer to the mix and be glad you are where you are. Get that chin up and play ball. Quit pouting.”

Not really a very nice thing to be thinking and a gross lack of sympathy. Saying that having cancer is tougher than his current situation might be a little off base, but his whole down in the mouth attitude kind of pissed me off.

But in defense of Rory, he had every right to be disappointed. He’s one of the best professional golfers in the world and he’s worked very hard to get to this point in his life. Shit, he’s playing the Masters!

But I still don’t have much sympathy for him.