I love this time of year. Everyone is preparing for the holidays and for that special eve. Whether you are checking your list twice, adding to your grocery needs or planning family events, you know that special time is coming soon. And my message is packed with so much meaning. So buckle up. 

What strikes me most about the holidays and always puts a smile on my face are the clever and timely commercials. I love the General Motors advertisement where the woman gives his and her matching watches, and the man gives himself a truck as she receives a red SUV. She runs to the truck – and he shrugs – realizing that she prefers the black truck. He then follows with the classic line, “I like red,” as he resigns to the fact that he’s going to drive the red SUV.

As you know, we are still checking things off our “celebration” list. Dave is now three years and four months into remission. Our miracle is still fresh, and His glory, grace and gift still makes me tear up. Dave’s heart surgery in February, an issue that developed because of all of the treatment, was successful and saved his life. He is back to refereeing basketball, has his hand in baseball lessons, has hunted quite a bit and is hoping to find a part time job as a counselor. That’s his list right now. 

Ralph Mahalak assisted with our list and arranged for us to drive a hybrid Jeep Wrangler this past summer. It didn’t have a big red bow on it like we see in commercials, because it was slick just the way it was. Loaded with leather and lots of gadgets, we opened the top, turned up the tunes and had the time of our life. If you have never driven a Jeep, you really need to just take one for a spin. FUN!!

What Dave and I loved most about driving the Jeep was the Jeep wave. Whenever you see someone else driving a Jeep, you casually raise your left hand. You must have your thumb and next two fingers up and your third and fourth finger are closed. If you are driving, you “wave” to the other person who is driving a Jeep. That person waves back. Well, Dave struggled with the wave on so many levels. He’d forget until we were past the other person, so he’d stick his “wave” out the window like it was an afterthought to the person who was already down the road headed the other way. Or he’d wave to another vehicle that wasn’t a Jeep, but maybe looked like a Jeep… sorta. I’d just shake my head and sigh. Or he’d remember and do it perfectly and then look over to me with a “Joe Cool” smug smile. We laughed so hard last summer every time we drove the Jeep anywhere. The Jeep wave made our summer one to remember. Thanks Ralph.

When we took the Jeep back after our summer of “test” driving it, it felt like a gray winter day in Michigan. Sad, gloomy and … well sad. I was secretly hoping Dave was going to say let’s order a red one. That’s better than any red bow. The saddest week followed when we realized our Jeep “waving” was over. This secret code made us feel special; it had us smiling and laughing every day when waving at complete strangers. I didn’t want that joy to end. 

Driving to work one morning in my Equinox, (yes, I’m working again and that story I will share in my next post), I did the Jeep wave just because I wanted that “feel good” moment. And then it struck me that I’ve seen this sign hundreds of times. Hundreds, no, probably thousands of times. Two hands, held out to each side, nailed to a cross. This realization should not make you stop smiling, because Jesus did this for us. It was the gift he gave. His great love for us as he paid for our sins. 

This gift came as a babe in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. 

We are days away from the most beautiful gift of all. I can’t help but smile and sigh in awesome wonder.

Jesus is coming. The time is near.

Emmanuel.

It has been quite awhile since the last update, and this one comes with the hope to inspire.

Dave and I hit another milestone May 17, reaching 1,000 days cancer-free. Dating back to August 21, 2019, Dave’s most recent bone marrow transplant, the chronicles of his recovery stretched from weight loss to his weight gain. We all anticipated the horrible mucositis recovery because it was key for his survival. We battled the mental part of this game as well, pulling from all of the lessons learned from past victories. We also awaited the long-term affects, which seemed inevitable, as we had been warned that they would. Those unwanted visitors arrived and sat on the opposing team’s bench, just itching to enter the game. One by one, they have stepped to the plate to take their respective hacks.

Dave’s kidneys took the first hit as hours of chemotherapy took a toll. His counts are still stable, but we take great care now in what he eats – or doesn’t eat. Keeping his potassium levels in the recommended range is crucial. He has laser-focus when it comes to how he feels daily, and nothing eludes him. Late last year, something resembling a wipe-out darting slider arrived. Heart issues developed in November. In February, that issue was answered as a stent was placed in the left anterior descending coronary artery. No one told me that blockage in the LAD artery was dubbed the “widow maker.” That was after we touted the procedure as a win for the Tag Team. In fact, we now laugh about the seriousness of that issue because at the time we viewed it as a minor delay in the game.

Just as we were attacking that “pitch,” he was thrown another nasty breaking ball. Dave began to have hearing issues, which stemmed from sinus infections that had plagued him since August, 2021. One infection after the next made his immune system work harder than ever. This led to seeing another specialist, an ENT, and it resulted with tubes in his ears and a balloon sinuplasty. No longer can he remark, “Oh, I didn’t hear you”!

What’s most important is that on the day Dave reached his 1,000th day of being cancer-free, we said good-bye to a dear friend who battled a dangerous, relentless cancer. Tony Pollzzie lost his life after a courageous fight. Like so many of us who support those who are battling cancer, we took this loss personally. It stung our hearts to the very core. It pained me to know that not a single word to Tony’s wife, Theresa, would make it any less painful for her. And as we prayed and hoped to witness yet another miracle, our prayers were answered – just not in the way that we had hoped. What gives us peace is knowing that Tony has found his place in God’s kingdom.

The funeral on May 17 was not only beautiful, it was inspiring. Deacon Mike Stewart approached the family and began to weave a web of understanding for all of us. He reminded us that Anthony J. Pollzzie was a beacon of light in an incessantly cruel world. Tony stayed positive, even in his bleakest moments. His light continues to spread far and wide. Those who were blessed to know him will mirror his actions and words, spoken and unspoken. We all learned from the words of Deacon Mike, “Be light to other people.”

Dave and I were honored to share our very special day with a truly special man. “Be the ‘right’ in what is right about the world” reminds us to be that light. Tony Pollzzie…may you be the reminder to all of us.

Be the light.

Today is Dave’s birthday, as we celebrate two years since his last transplant. Most importantly, we celebrate two years that he has been in remission without acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL). I have written this post in my head about 101 times. Without it sounding like it was the last post, I wanted it to sound like it is the end of over three years of the most difficult time in our lives. It’s important that it reflects the recent nudge we have clearly been given and the next path for our continued journey. And, it’s time to sum up all of the parts.

The Power of One.

This week, Dave was on a mission with the yard work after we had returned from a week of work in southern Texas. He actually cut the grass twice in the same day – because he said that it needed it. It’s a guy thing I think. Never do I say, “I think I’ll run the dishwasher twice because it needs it.” So, after cutting the grass twice, he pulled out the leaf blower to clear the sidewalk. He had his earbuds in as the extension cord was trailing behind him. He was soaked with sweat from head to toe – and was loving it. I…Mean…Loving…IT.

I pulled out my phone to take a picture because he then started strumming the power blower like he was Bob Seger. He was listening to and singing (appropriately) a song from one of his favorite groups – “Peace of Mind” from Boston. For those of you who know Dave well, his musical talent is of amateur status. Luckily, I caught the act and recorded part of his performance. Hysterical. Click here to see the video I secretly captured.

Then, I began to think about what powers this man and what incredible Power is within him. The power lies in the one who is holding that leaf blower, as he has inspired so many. Dave has been an influence for innumerable people far longer than the last three years. But, this difficult journey was powered by something much bigger than all of us. And we said long ago that we were honored to be chosen, if it meant we could inspire and influence others. It was with a sense of purpose that we never surrendered. It was all made possible by the power of the One who held us in His hands the entire time.

Like those hands that held us, Dave and my hands fit perfectly together. Our steps uniquely stride as one when we walk hand-in-hand. Our inhaling and exhaling beat at a similar tempo. So, it’s apropos that we try to encourage others – together. Now, the power is with us – that which we can now help those who face what we faced.

In retrospect, there was enormous power from so many who helped make our journey purposeful. Without missing anyone, we gained strength from the numerous people who stood behind us along the way. People from Seattle to California to Florida to Texas to Alabama to Michigan…from Toledo to Detroit to Baltimore to New York City to Cleveland to Saginaw to Munising to Saline to Monroe – and from many places in between. They made a resonating impact on us, one in which we will always treasure.

We now join them. We will pass along our sincerest effort to help those who are battling similar health hardships.

It only takes one. Choose the One who holds you. Be the one who holds and supports others.

The Power of One.

We are fully vaccinated and have peace of mind knowing that we can be more liberal when visiting our family. So, it was well overdue for our three grandkids to sleep over this past weekend. Ryan and Amy had the night to themselves, but elected to just go home and rest from a long and crazy week. And what did we do? The five of us drove through McDonalds to start. Then, we arrived at our home on the lake, where Emilee, Easton and Everett noticed the most recent changes to our home. Quickly, they all took showers and baths while I washed their clothes, which were filthy from a busy day of baseball. While Dave was putting the movie on, I made popcorn. Within an hour of arriving home, we were all snuggled in and watched the Disney movie, Solo.

Before Everett stepped in the bath, he noticed that I was getting the popcorn and Whirley Popper. I was on a step stool reaching high over my head to grab the prized popper. I then heard him behind me. He said, “Straight up awesome cool house.” From the eyes of our four-year-old grandson, he made this remark while standing in the entrance of our pantry closet. He wasn’t referring to all of the changes. All he saw was that the shelves were packed with really cool things that he doesn’t usually see in his pantry. There were animal crackers, Rice Krispie treats, Ruffles and Fritos. He noticed my canister of Sanders sea salt caramels, Snap’d double cheese Cheez-its, honey roasted sesame chips and Brownie Brittle. I won’t lie to you. I have the mother-load in that pantry right now.

Everett just stood there and kept looking, taking it all in. What he didn’t see were all of the nutritional items behind the goodies. Extra virgin olive oil, peanut butter, diced tomatoes, tomato basil soup, Cheerios, flour and sugar filled in the space behind the “unhealthy” items. That second tier also included apple cider vinegar, pure pumpkin and coconut milk. You get the picture. On the outside, it looked pretty darn inviting, but the inside of the shelves were staple items and not so enticing.

Both Dave and I have written about our three-year journey, and you have seen and read some pretty rough stuff. Sometimes, I updated everyone with the “staple” items because it was easier to tell the story once. Oftentimes, the writing was a form of therapy in an attempt to help me trudge through some life-shattering moments. However, I always tried to find at least one good thing behind it all. There was always at least one shelf filled with the “good stuff.”

A reason does exist why the shelves in the pantry are pretty full right now. Dave has now surpassed Day 612 in remission since his transplant, August 21, 2019. He is doing very well and is back at his “fighting weight” of 208 pounds. He looks and feels great. Still lifting weights and working out, he has also gone out a few times and has run. Remaining side effects are just something we have learned to live with, and they are remnants of the last three years.

So we celebrate 612 days and counting. When we reach 730 days – two years cancer free – we are going to have a heck of a celebration. Not only will our shelves continue to be filled with the “sweet” stuff, they will also be filled with staple items like family, friends and prayers.

We played a new game this holiday called Things. It’s incredible how even our four-year-old grandson was able to participate and create some spot-on answers. Questions included: THINGS… that are confusing, THINGS… people should stop trying to do, THINGS… people should be more concerned about or THINGS… that have gotten worse. All of these questions peppered our evening games. Recurring answers seemed to be “Politics,” “COVID19,” “Dale Duty” and “Weather.” Dale is the latest addition to the family – Amy and Brendan’s 9-month-old red labrador retriver. Needless to say, he’s still a lot of work right now. So, taking turns with Dale was like a coin toss. But the other categories like “Politics,” “COVID” and “Weather” are really THINGS…we can’t control. And those responses also fit the question, THINGS…that we all don’t agree on.

Now the weather topic is what I’m going to focus on. Not because it’s frigid and gloomy, although Dave would say, “It’s beautiful out today.” To which I would reply, “It’s too cold out there for me.” And not because our driveway and sidewalk are so icy that they can’t even be chipped away. Because, Dave would say, “I’ll just go out later and give it a go because I like doing it.” That’s when I just roll my eyes and huff out an exaggerated sigh that pretty much implies he’s crazy.

I’m focusing on weather because of the difference a day makes … or a year makes. Last year, January of 2020, Dave was just four and a half months outside of his last bone marrow transplant. He was quite thin, his coloring was that of a gray sky, and he was just recovering from a dreadful case of mucositis. If you can recall, mucositis is the painful inflammation and ulceration of the mucous membranes, which affected his mouth, throat and digestive tract. In January, he was just starting to eat solid foods and was focusing on gaining strength, stamina and weight. Additionally, he was always cold. Shivering cold. His hands and feet were like ice. And more than once I’m sure I said, “Welcome to my world!” I know. Not nice. But he has never empathized with my opposition to cold weather and always feeling cold. Why? Because he had never experienced the constant iceberg-feeling until post transplant.

Like a slow moving train heading around a curve, Dave’s transformation began when he started to enjoy the warmer weather in Florida last winter. And as our Florida neighbors can attest, his day-to-day progress was extraordinary. When we returned to Michigan in April, it was amazing to witness the obvious rebuilding as he really picked up steam heading into the summer months. Gaining weight, stamina and strength had reshaped him into the “old Dave.”

Dave will hit 500 days in remission tomorrow. It is monumental, memorable and motivating. The first bone marrow transplant took a turn for the worse after 107 days. That was dismal and devastating. As an MLB baseball player, if one hits 500 career home runs, he is surely a lock for the Hall of Fame. Only 27 players have hit 500 career home runs, and 17 find their busts in Cooperstown. Those not enshrined after clubbing 500 long balls mostly played in the steroid era. The likes of Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, Willie Mays and Ken Griffey Jr. all share the memorable distinction. Dave’s memorable feat parallels the grit, determination and hard work required to achieve a monumental accolade like the Hall of Fame.

Like the weather, each day hasn’t always been sunny and bright. Nor has it been all gray and gloom. We’ve certainly faced challenges that required faith in God and an abundance of prayers. Thankfully, we have always been motivated to forge ahead and fully expected to hit 500 days in remission. Moving forward past that mark and setting our sites on two years in remission is the ultimate goal. Because if Dave can achieve that holy grail, chances are he can stop looking over his shoulder every day.

It is easy to answer these questions: THINGS… that are challenging, THINGS… that have gotten better, THINGS… that are awesome. The difference in a day is monumental.

I had accomplished the task thousands of times since I first learned on a hay bale on my uncle’s farm. However, this time it was different. This time, when finished, I felt a rush of adrenalin flowing through my veins. 

Tying my shoes meant something elevated to another scale just a couple of weeks ago. They were coaching shoes – dirty, worn but thirsty for use. Once I finished the second shoe, I realized that I had overcome a monumental hurdle that I was not sure I would ever climb. After finishing the tying of my black Nike coaching shoes, I headed to my first hitting lesson in over two years. Braden and Drew were the first players to receive lessons since May 15, 2018. 

That was the day fellow coach Joe Welton dragged me off of the field at Saline High School as I was about to fall to the ground on a steamy, humid day. I saw white. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hit outfield fungos without stopping to catch some wind. Joe took me on the Gator to meet Michelle, who rushed me to the emergency room at St. Joseph Mercy Chelsea. My life would take a tumultuous turn and the battle to live was on. For over 27 months, I would wake up and thank God that I was still able to breathe. 

As far as I was concerned, every new day was a good day. 

Since that May 15, 2018, day, I have gained a unique appreciation for the gift of health. Chemotherapy, radiation, injections, infusions, coronavirus, hospital rooms and experimental procedures continuously stared at me. I viewed life’s steps as a challenge, as a process and as a grind. Dying was not an option. I still had more to give. As a dedicated husband, educator, father, grandfather and friend, I had more to offer. I prayed that God would see it that way, too. 

Today, August 21, 2020, marks the one-year anniversary of my last bone marrow transplant. It was 365 days ago today that I received my third major treatment to rid my system of acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL). On that sunny summer day on the Karmanos Cancer Center’s 10th floor, the transfusion slowly dripped in me as I awaited my fate. Two other times, once at Karmanos and once at Seattle’s Cancer Care Alliance, I swung and missed on attempts to eradicate the leukemia. But a year ago, the bone marrow transplant from a young German guy has proven to be successful. Tenuous at times, but overall, the transplant has refreshed my life. The two-strike approach to live has forced me to choke up and shorten up in a more conservative manner.

Every day matters. Every day is a blessing. Every day is a good day.

Because I would miss too many names, I cannot begin to thank everyone who has impacted this grind. From the Jefferson “He’s my Bear” crusade to the Saline “Team Tag” mantra, the outpouring of support for this arduous ascension has been appreciated and humbling. Family members, friends, fellow basketball officiating colleagues, former students and players, fellow coaches and educators, nurses, doctors and even many of whom I have never met. All of these people have fueled an inner drive to overcome this dreaded disease. Thank you for encouraging me to crawl back from such a deficit.

Michelle has been an absolute stabilizing rock throughout this journey. Without one complaint, she has been by my side – driving me to appointments, sleeping in the hospital, making meals even when I could not swallow and offering a hand to squeeze when I needed a little extra to soften the pain. I’m a lucky guy. 

Every day matters. Every day is a blessing. Every day is a good day.

Thinking back to tying those coaching shoes a couple of weeks ago, I certainly understand the significance of such an insignificant act. Even when living seemed fleeting, I never lost hope.    

There are no little things in life. 

I’m excited to bring you a short and sweet summary of our summer. I also have a few facts to present, so I’m going to forge ahead. 

Fact #1

Two intrathecal chemotherapy procedures (lumbar puncture) have gone exceptionally well this time around. It could be because Dave’s body does not have to battle the vicious cancer cells normally wreaking havoc throughout his body. Dave has had two preventative treatments with one more slated for August 27. He tipped the scale at 200 pounds and is holding. He looks trim but healthy and we are enjoying this beautiful summer.

Fact #2

We have been vigilant and staying safe at home. There’s a sense of guilt when we do anything out of the ordinary, like run to the store for an immediate need. Or even when watching the kids’ games from a distance, we feel a sense of trepidation. Whether one believes this pandemic is political or not, it is a real threat. Never forget the most precious gift of all is a life. Any life. Dave wakes up everyday, looks upward and says, “it’s a great day. Thank You for letting me live it.”

Fact #3

Did you know that coronavirus particles have a layer of fat that surrounds them, making it difficult to destroy? Go figure. Fat has always been the enemy and still is. But, that’s why washing our hands with soup and water is critical. Soap can break it down and help slow this devastating story that has changed our lives for the last six months. 

Fact #4

Two years ago, when you began following our journey with leukemia, you asked how you could help. I asked for prayers. Lots of them. Pray. He listens. And you did. Look at the immense power of your prayers. And, many of you have remarked that you continue to pray for us daily. Just today I was reminded of this while I was talking with Sean, another player’s parent, at Emilee’s softball game. I believe you continue to keep Dave in your prayers as proof and in thanks to the miracle you have all witnessed. Because, Dave would not be here without your prayers, Dave’s perseverance and Dave’s trust in God’s plan.

Fact #5

I have a guest blogger next week who you don’t want to miss. We celebrate one year of Dave being in remission. August 21. Join us here on the blog next Friday to celebrate. Dave’s new “birthday” commemorates a milestone that even those in the medical profession have watched in awe. So next week, Dave will be walking up to the plate to thank you personally.

Pass next week’s blog on to everyone with whom you have shared our story. They will want to know their prayers have been heard and answered. 

Last night, we had the storm of all storms in Hell. Literally. Around 11 p.m. it really let loose with strong winds, a torrential downpour and equally supported with thunder and lightning. It was a storm that only Michiganders can truly appreciate – like the kind we used to sit on the front porch and watch when we were kids. With two dozen strawberry muffins baking in the oven, I was a bit disappointed that my day ended with loss of power and ruined muffins. 

But it didn’t spoil the sweetest day ever. Our afternoon was filled with laughter and red stickie hands as we picked up where we left off with our June tradition. We went to Whittaker’s Berry Farm in Ida to pluck juicy ripe strawberries. We have been doing it for years with our kids and have continued this yearly favorite with our grandkids. Except for the last two years with a break in the action, 2020 proved to be as memorable as ever. The berries were small, but sweeter than candy.

It goes without saying that when things are going well you usually don’t hear about it. You guessed it. Things have been going pretty well for us. Dave’s counts have been solid, his maintenance intrathecal chemo went well this month, and he is still in remission. To top off our blessings, baseball is returning to brighten our days. There is nothing like the crack of a bat and the pop of a ball slamming into the glove. 

Beating the Tigers to it, both Easton and Emilee started their season this week. It was only a matter of time before Dave inched his nose into another dugout. He started last night with taking the end seat on a well-worn bench at Emilee’s doubleheader. He sat there encouraging the girls and talking ball. Around the bottom of the second inning, one of the girls sitting next to him looked up and asked, “Have you even played the game?” That goes down in history as one of the funniest quotes ever. “Yes, I did play,” Dave replied. 

And in Dave fashion, he was behind the plate into the second game of the doubleheader. The game was moving a little slow for him, so he was helping the catcher out. As you can imagine, I’m still grinning about that, too. Yep, I’d say it was a pretty sweet day. One of the best – EVER.