Everyone in our house now wears underwear!

Jack got underwear today.  2T/3T with super heroes on them.  He is so cute and he hasn’t had an accident in his diaper for a few weeks.  We think he is ready.

Tomorrow, Luke starts pre-school.  He is excited.

His godparents, Matt and Sande, took him to the pool yesterday.  He felt so special.  He is special.

Sports were canceled tonight and we had a nice evening as a family.  It was good.

I hope tomorrow goes well for Luke.  I won’t be there as I will be having surgery while he is in school.  Big day tomorrow for the Kennedy clan

That is right.  I have cataracts.  Both eyes.  Left eye much worse than the right.  I have surgery tomorrow.  They say it is no big deal, but I am nervous.  I am scared.  My dad will drop me off at 9AM and marcia will pick me up at 1PM.  In between, they will put me in twilight and cut into my eye.  They will remove my lens and replace it with an artificial one.  The cool part is that I will no longer have to wear contact lens in my left eye … ever again.  I hope that all goes well.

After receiving the news on Monday from JH, I came home exhausted and passed out in the bed for several hours.  When I awoke, I told myself that I need to prepare for a fight.  I need to fight my body, and whatever may be attacking it.  And I need to be ready.  I need to be ready mentally.  I need to be strong mentally.  I will need mind over matter.  And so I need to be strong physically to give me the confidence to be strong mentally.

I went running on Monday after waking from my nap.  And I went running this morning.  Neither run was easy.  I ran less than a mile.  Familiar routes, but sluggish.  I fell asleep at work yesterday, and am sleepy already this morning.  No matter what the fight ends up being, it will not be easy.  I am going to struggle.

I woke up yesterday and got on the internet.  I decided to google survival rate for lung cancer.  I had looked up GGNs the day before and was scared by the percentage that are malignant.  It provided me no comfort.  But I had not looked up what the outcome might be if they were malignant.  The night before, I told the kids I was a fighter.

I found an article with some statistics.  65% of patients are alive 6 months after diagnosis.  40% are alive after a year.  4% are alive after 5 years.  I wept.  Like I never had before.  I wept.

Now I am scared.  So scared.  This may be my last summer.  My kids’ last summer with their father.  And I couldn’t get a dr appt for a month!  I cannot waste any more time.  I am scared and getting desperate.

I have asked for help, and I have gotten it.  My friend, a lifesaver, Deb Baker, has helped me in many ways the last few days.  And she has helped me to get an appt with the pulmonologists next week!  Hallelujah.

I will not need to wait as long to know if I have challenges ahead of me.

My own mortality is staring me in the face.  I went to the hospital on Sunday.  I have been very tired lately … exhausted.  Extremely exhausted.  Falling asleep all day long.  On Sunday, I was tired on a trip to IKEA.  Afterwards, when we got in the car, I couldn’t drive.  Fell asleep the whole ride home.  Eden asked me to carry her desk up to her room.  I struggled getting it out of the car.  Struggled getting it to the front step.  Marcia opened the door and I struggled to get it in the house.  I stopped to catch my breath.  Marcia told me I couldn’t carry it upstairs.  So I did, all the way up to Eden’s room in the attic.  I struggled up the last stairway, didn’t make it to the top stair, and pushed it the rest of the way into Eden’s room.  I let it fall on the floor, and I fell on Eden’t bed.  The desk only weighed 61kbs.  I was breathing hard and my chest was pounding.  I told Eden I needed water, and I passed out.

When Marcia came up a few minutes later, she had trouble arousing me, and she decided I should go to the ER.  So, we went.  George’s friend, Rodney, made sure that I was well taken care of.  When I was seen, they checked my vitals and did EKGs on me every 3 hours.  They were planning to release me by 1AM, and Marcia explained to the doctor how I have struggled over the last few months with exercising and staying awake.  The doctor changed the course of action, and decided I would stay overnight and get a scan of my heart in the morning.

The scan showed that my heart was fine.  But also that I had 3 pulmonary nodules in my lungs.  Very small – 2, 4 and 5 mm in diameter each.  But that I needed to see pulmonary.  I started my googling, and am now very scared.  Ground glass nodules, GGNs.  The outlook for these suckers is not very promising.

When we got home, we told the kids.  We told them that my heart was fine, and that there was something wrong with my lungs.  And that we needed to see the doctor before we would know what was wrong with my lungs.  Then Marcia decided she would tell Liz that it might be cancer and that I might die.  So the kids all freaked out when Liz told them.  I told them I didn’t know anything, and that I am scared.  But I am a fighter.

I am struggling and wracked with worry.  I do not want this to be my last few months of life.  I do not.  And if it ends up being my last few months, I don’t want to waste it.

Everyone tells me not to worry until I have something to worry about.  Nothing conclusive yet, so look on the bright side.  That advice provides me no comfort.  I am not a stupid man that will be comforted by such words.

Facts are that my heart is fine, and that there are 3 nodules in my lungs.  That is all that I know.

Liz was clearly nervous.  And scared.  I think that the moment may be was a little overwhelming for her.  And neither of her parents will be there for her this week to help her through it.  She told me that she is a little scared.  She gave me a hug and held onto me for a minute.

As the hours and minutes and then seconds drew closer to her departure, I could see that she was getting more and more nervous.  It was wearing on her.

It was in this moment that I thought I should give her advice.  I told her that it does not matter to me how she performs.  It does not matter to me if she does well or she does poorly.  All that matters to me is that she tries her hardest and has a positive attitude.  I asked her if she was nervous when she played Diamonds the day before.  She said no.  I told her that a bunch of her teammates were nervous, and she was surprised.  She said that she doesn’t know anybody on her Brine Maryland team.  I told her that she knows Julia and Amber.  “Amber is on another team,” she said, “and Julia knows people.”  I told her that she may not see it, but all of the girls will be nervous.  And they are in the same boat.  She said that she wishes I was going with her.  I told her she can call me or mom any time.  She gave me another hug.

When she called me from the road a few hours later, she said again that she wishes I was with her.

I wanted so desperately to be there with her this week.  But it didn’t work out.  I have my own journey.  And I have my own obstacles and fears to overcome this week.  And I need to do my best as well.

I hope that, in her moments of fear and self-doubt, Liz finds the strength to overcome her fears.  I hope that she is able to perform to the best of her abilities.  And I hope that she can relax, be confident and have some fun.

For me, I hope that I am able to do the same.  Opportunities lie before me.  They are just out of reach, and I need to work hard to obtain them.

I hope that Liz and I both have good weeks.

When a player leaves the club, I am often sad.  And sometimes mad.  And sometimes confused.  Sometimes I even doubt what we are doing.  I think these are natural emotions.

A player recently left the club.  Her father was a coach, and she was put in a leadership position on her team, as a captain.  The parents went mid-season to another club’s practice and committed to play for that team.  They did this without telling us, and wanted us not to find out.  They got very angry when they could not control the flow of information as people found out what they had done.

A few different points about this bothered me.  First, the parents and player were dishonest with us and with the rest of the team.  Second, the player had become very selfish, and the coach had been bragging about the daughter on multiple occasions.

These are two things that I can learn from.

Never lie.

Never brag about my kids.

Tough lessons.  Especially the 2nd one.  I have been very good about not posting things to social media promoting my kids’ successes.  And I have limited my praise of my children when talking to others.  But sometimes I get caught up in the moment and brag.  It is hard not to when you are so proud.  So I need to work on that.

We are on the eve of another tournament weekend.  Two tournaments nearly 2 hours from each other.  A boys tournament in Annapolis and a girls tournament in Bel Air.  This is the first time that Liz will be playing in a tournament in front of college coaches.

And Noah will be playing against some of the top competition that is around.

I think they are both up for the challenge.  I am upset that I have to miss some of their games.  I get to go to Noah’s first games on Saturday and Sunday, but have to spend the afternoons at Liz’s games in Bel Air.  My father wants me on the sideline coaching the 2019 team that Liz will be playing with.

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In a few short months, I will be opening a facility with Patrick and my father.  At the moment, Patrick is carrying the majority of the workload.  These are two of the most positive influences that I have in my life.  They are so positive and full of energy.  I believe in them both.  And I am excited to work with them.

I was able to visit the site the other day with these two.  This was the first time for me inside the building.  Pretty freaking cool.  A ton to do, and I am not comfortable.  But I am excited.

There was an old show in the 50s.  It was called, “My Three Sons”.  I used to watch it on Nick at Nite.  I am one of 3 boys.  And I am so blessed to have 3 wonderful sons of my own.  Everyday, I am proud and thankful to have such wonderful boys, Noah, Luke and Jack.  They are uniquely wonderful children.

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Marcia and I recently took two of the boys out to lunch, as they are not in school yet.  We went to Nick’s Fish House.  Luke ate his first oyster.  He was so brave; he just slurped it into his mouth.  5 seconds later, it came out, but he was brave for trying.  It was joyous to see the innocence in my boys, as they walked the piers, looked at the boats and the ducks, and enjoyed being with each other and with their mom and dad.

Luke’s First Oyster

Luke and Jack

Luke = Superman

Not a care in the world

It was a fun day with these two.  A few weeks later, we went to Beach Lax.  Out of all of our kids, Noah was the only one playing, so we all got to go to his games and cheer him on.  He played some of the top teams in the country.  On Saturday, his team scored 7 goals total, and he scored 5 of them.  I was so proud of him, and he really enjoyed being with his friends.

I am enjoying coaching him in lacrosse.  He is fun to watch, and he is so talented.  What I most enjoyed about beach lax though was building a sand castle with Noah.  He and I spent an hour building a sand castle.  It was the most magnificent sand castle I had ever built.  We worked together and we had fun.  I think he was as proud of it as I was.

Noah and Jack – sand castle

The pictures above, and my experiences with my boys recently remind me often of my childhood with my two brothers.  There were times when we got along, times when we fought, times when we were angels, and times when we disappointed our parents.

Yesterday, our youngest boys did something that I am pretty disturbed by.  They took 5 fish out of the fish tank and killed them.  I don’t know if they did it on purpose or not, but it was apparently a gruesome scene.  And Marcia laid into them.  I told them this morning as well that I was disappointed.  But that Mom and I believe they are good boys.  And we believe in them.

I recall a time when George was 5 and I was 3.  We thought a good idea to paint the outside of our house blue.  The bricks.  And the trees.  And ourselves.  Boys, did we catch heat for that.  Not just from our parents.  But our parents let the painter take us into the bathroom and yell at us.

I do not want my sons scarred by the fish incident.  I do believe they are good boys.  I don’t believe they understood what they were doing.  They said they were trying to dry the fish off.

I love my boys.  I believe in them.  I love them.  And I always will, no matter what.