Columbus and the Valley magazine

Find Your Music

I’m going to be okay because music has come back into my life. Until tonight I haven’t felt the hair stand up on my neck when I was listening to music. I haven’t been listening to music. My rhythms were not tight drum backbeats, they were of the sinus variety. Medical, not melodic with hospital smells stamping their not-soon-to-be-forgotten signature on what were formerly inoffensive packaged goods. There are soap and tissue smells that will instantly cause my gorge to rise. It takes months for that to go away. No matter how great the care, hospital stays just set a body back.

Riding in my car into a low sun with the volume at 49 makes me feel alive and hopeful. That I still remember every drum lick and lyric anchors me in the here and feels like order. I carefully apply a news governor on content. My life is about magical experiences with people I love and I am not affected a whit by anything ignorant or mean. I won’t let it rain on this blue sky. I only have time for joy.

Listen to me. It is much easier to be happy under these conditions. If you choose to do it another way, go ahead on, but don’t turn around and expect to see me standing knee deep in that shit with you.

I reconnected with a friend today. He’s got a friend with a fresh diagnosis. The fear of that news can be crippling and how you respond to it can have spectacular outcomes in your life. I do what I can every day to try to squeeze my spectacular into a north facing green arrow. A righteous Fibonacci Queen buy trigger. Apparently music comes with the trigger. I want that young man to know cancer will give you more than it takes. If you’re lucky. And, young brother, I’m living proof that you can make your own luck. But you have to learn to want it. Look into the eyes of the person you love the most and vow to do what makes you the happiest for as long as you’ve got to do it. Then put one foot in front of the other until you walk yourself into a place where smiles take zero effort.

Find your music. Look for joy. It is blatant when you’re looking for it. I’m seeing it almost on demand. We put our next magazine to bed today. Next stop is a monster Heidelberg press under the Duck’s steady gaze. I can’t wait for you to see it.

The Eagles are coming to Atlanta. Vince Gill in that mix has got to be unforgettable.

Nothing Happens Until a Sale is Made

This is a sales success story — one I can’t wait to tell. It needs be told because the sales transaction is at the epicenter of what keeps our world on its axis. That spark, sizzling on dry tinder, catches up and a nice little fire just happens right in front of your face. The sales guy knows exactly what to say. He’s sharp. He’s got kind eyes and gets a meaningful conversation underway without delay. His time is valuable and he acknowledges that ours is, too.

This was a perfectly executed three-minute cold call. During my career I’ve made so many of those kinds of calls and they are mighty difficult — unless you’re Rod Spain. Rod is an account executive at Knox Pest Control, a new Columbus and the Valley advertiser.

Rod had just a few moments to get me and I’m not an easy get. Ask Jill or anyone else at 214 10th Street. I apparently have a sold case of Resting Bitch Face. That, and a sharp dismissal of a different, much less well-executed cold call have been witnessed by most of my office mates. Sometimes it is abrupt, but I figure that’s better than dancing around when the thing isn’t going to go anywhere anyway.

Then came Rod.

He said just the right things. I’ll admit I provided moist, dark soil on which a seed could land, but he was smart to recognize a glimmer of need in my eyes. In an instant, he was back in my office, sitting in a chair opposite my desk and my chair. In short order, he determined that I am related by marriage to my brother-in-law, Marshall Myers, and I felt like we made a professional connection. He has a great gift and the cool thing is that gift springs from his goodness. I like to be around people who have a light that comes from somewhere down deep. Those people are rare.

We have commercial real estate in downtown Columbus and it is my responsibility to keep it running by handling leases, rent payments and arranging for repairs and maintenance on buildings and landscapes. Termite inspections and treatments are part of that, and Rod Spain sells termite services for a local company. Not only did I get a fair price for the services that would be rendered, we were able to do business with a locally-owned company and we got to meet Rod Spain.

Once we signed the agreement, Rod gave us a clear outline of his timeline for the services they’d provide. He communicated with me often and Knox showed up on time and got it done. I left that sales experience with a sense that good business was done and I got a bonus by an inspiring salesman.

We’re in the middle of a financial transaction that involves a piece of property we own in Phenix City and we need a termite letter on that property as a part of the transaction. Guess who I called? Yep.

Rod doesn’t handle Phenix City accounts, so he passed me off to the right guy. The right guy didn’t call me, and several days later I reached back out to Rod, because I know him to be laser focused on my experience as a customer of Knox Pest Control. “I will make sure this gets done,” he said. I reminded him of my extremely short deadline and he came by our office today with the results of his inspection, less than 24 hours after he made his commitment to get the job done.

Turns out we have a small issue that needs attention and Rod has made another promise to get it done within our time constraints. Rod, I hope you get the chance to read this. Your commitment to excellence in your chosen profession and the stellar representation of your employer have secured my future loyalty to Knox Pest Control.

Nothing happens until a sale is made.

I Always Listen to Sam

Sam Wellborn is one of my favorite people on the planet. I still feel that way about him in spite of that time several years ago when he walked into an appointment with Jill and me and asked us — with a completely straight face — to write the Springer Opera House a check for a double handful of thousands of dollars.

We responded — also with straight faces — that we’d take that request under advisement.

Sam left.

Jill and I couldn’t wait for him to get out of earshot before we both nearly fell over laughing. I remember saying to Jill, “Do you really think he thinks we could write a check that big!?!” Until just now, that was one of mine and Jill’s most treasured private pieces of family lore. It seems appropriate for me to tell it here, because of this post.

Seriously, how many couples can measure up to Dusty and Sam? He is handsome as hell and they both look like they just graduated from college. Not many folks are as generous as Dusty and Sam and Lordy, when that man gets on a project, you need to lead, follow or get the hell out of the way. He’s like a dog on a bone.

If Sam loves it, some folks are going to know about it. I love that about him. I’m the same way.

One of the reasons I’m a Sam fan is that he made a decision twenty-one years ago, during his storied tenure as president of Columbus Bank and Trust Company, to buy the back page of a certain local business and lifestyle magazine . (Sam, if my timing is off on whether or not you had ascended to the presidency of the bank during the time in question, I apologize.) CB&T continues to anchor the back page of Columbus and the Valley magazine. We have greatly appreciated our partnership with CB&T and we have reciprocated with our business.

When Sam calls me, I look forward to his call because I’m assured that whatever he has to say will be delivered with enthusiastic bluntness. I love that about him. It works with my style.

I’ve been on this end of a bunch of those calls over the years, depending on what Sam was excited about that day. I remember a call about the Camellia Society. I recall one about the Columbus Botanical Garden, Mayor Teresa Tomlinson and the Springer Opera House. And, with my chemo brain, I know I’ve forgotten a few others.

A few weeks ago, I got another call from Sam. In case you didn’t know it, Sam is into yoga. He called to ask Jill and me to pay a visit to the building where Scott Ressmeyer’s dad’s chiropractic clinic in Lakeland, FL was located. Sam asked us to go see Erika Junco, the proprietor of The Up! Factory and the glue that holds together a well-chosen group of units that operate out of the building.

We set an appointment with Erika and she has quickly become a part of our lives.

Please allow me to digress: On March 29 we met with Dr. Andy Pippas to follow up on my last scans and labs. We had a happy meeting, as I continue to be free of the knee walking terror I once lived with when I thought I might be heading over the rainbow bridge. As we wrapped up our time together, I remarked something to the order of “I feel great and I don’t see anything in front of me that scares me.”

“Well, I do,” he snapped back and grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper, scratched three letters down and shoved it toward my face.

BMI

Body Mass Index

Nice way of saying, to quote retired Judge John Allen, “you are the fattest sick man I’ve ever seen!” Andy was steely-eyed as he said, “Mike, you WILL lose 26 pounds before I see you again.”

I’m thinking, “Dude, I’ll see you next year,” but the stone cold sober look that came at me over the top of his glasses was enough to muzzle me.

Hmm. Sam called me about his yoga instructor. Andy told me that I’m fat and I’ve got to lose 26 pounds. Then we met Erika and had a talk that ignited a hopeful spark inside of me.

When The Up! Factory’s front door opens, a healthful spa smell greets you. Essential oils blended with an inviting craftsman style embrace, the wood surely holding stories from the decades.

I labored up the steep stairs the first time I scaled them.

Erika Junco is fit. Her husband is a military man and she has a special place in her heart for soldiers. She is a natural trainer, gracefully toeing the thin line between a shove and gentle encouragement.

At our first meeting, I told her about those 26 pounds. I love what she said in response. “Don’t give them another thought. Let’s work on your flexibility, your balance and your core. Once all that gets in the right place, you’ll lose the weight naturally if you’ll pay attention to your diet, too.”

We have completed two one-hour training sessions and I’m in awe of how perceptive Erika is while we’re actively working her plan. We’ve learned that I am glute-driven person and that Jill uses her quads to drive her legs. Who knew?

She has meticulously ferreted out all of my physical limitations. All my surgeries, my atrophied left trapezius muscle, my pair of injured shoulders, the painful neuropathy in my feet, my painful joints and my sometimes bad attitude. Erika went through our little group, getting to the bottom of each of our challenges and our chances for success.

I’m getting signals that we’re on the right track. Tonight when we got home, instead of sliding my ottoman away from my chair to make room for me to shuffle through the gap in advance of plopping down, I just stepped over it. Confident and sure about where my feet were going.

Wow!

New Chattin’ the Hooch Blog

Steve Scott writes about whatever he feels like. He is the human version of a honey badger. He’s gentle until you poke him with a stick. Then you had better watch out!

Several months ago I got a call from Steve Scott that included an invitation to lunch. He said he was on a mission to have lunch with people he either did not know or didn’t know well. I didn’t know much about him. I know he is married to Adelyn. I know he sat across from me at the first drum circle here in Columbus, Ga. and that his drum was a big plastic garbage can.

That “drum” should have been enough to let me know that I was about to meet a drummer who might just march to his own beat. We met at Uptown Vietnam Cuisine and he brought gifts.

He is a poet, a musician, a band nerd, a wonderful writer and a parade organizer — at least. I sense that Steve is a man of many layers, and that I have only seen a glimpse of some of the outer ones.

That day at lunch we talked about our lives. About my cancer, our children, his grandchildren and things that make us happy. We also talked about Steve becoming a featured blogger on our Columbus and the Valley magazine website.

We were in the early phases of redesigning our company website, so we couldn’t really talk much about how his blog might fit in. At that point, I wasn’t even sure how my own blog might be delivered.

So our paths crossed every now and again and we updated each other on how our lives were going and how the website design was coming along.

Even after the new blog platform was built and ready, we still got together every once in a while and talked about his future blog. What would he name it? What would he write about? I really think he thought I was going to make some decisions about how his blog would go, but I let him know that he would be completely in control of all those things, and that I would help him as much as he needed me to.

In January of this year, a tragedy struck Steve, his family and all the people in the world who knew his son, Kyle, who died in a car accident near Robertsdale, Ala. I would love to have known Kyle. From all I have seen and read about him, he inherited the zaniest parts of his father, Steve.

I watched Steve get through those tough days, weeks and months, surrounded by a legion of friends and loved ones. Steve has a huge collection of friends. Musicians, artists, Auburn band alumni and people who know and love him from reading the pages of children’s books he has authored.

In a recent Facebook post from Steve, he declared that his tombstone should say, “He squoze out the last drop.”

In the short time that I’ve known him, he embraces life more heartily than almost anyone I know. He is passionate about so many things and I just don’t know how he finds the time to give so much of himself to so many causes.

I hope you’ll subscribe to Steve’s Chattin’ the Hooch blog. It will be a great treat to see our world through his eyes.

Tumors Continue to Shrink

The last time I posted was March 8, 2013. I’m sorry for that. That is one thing about cancer that no one can prepare you for — you are never really ever right in the head again. I know, “How can you tell?” I know many of you are asking that question right now. Because of my transparency (at least until March 8) my open-book life has left open for all to see that I am, on a good day, not that right.

He ain’t right.

I love that we live in a place where you can say that about someone (or yourself) and people know what you’re talking about. A hell of a lot of water has gone under our family’s collective bridge since March 8. We lost two dear members of our family animal pack. Our Golden Retriever, Dixie, was killed by a logging truck and I buried her badly ruined body. I cried a gallon of tears standing there with a bag of lime and a shovel. By myself, because I wanted no one else to have to see the carnage that was once a beloved member of our family. That same week, Azrael (Azzy), who lived on our farm for at least 15 years up and left. She likely want off to die. Cats will do that. They want to spare the ones they love the trauma of their departure.

If you’ve noticed a tender spot in our latest issue of Columbus and the Valley on our stance on rescuing animals, you’d be right. We have recently rescued a beautiful five-year-old Golden Retriever we named Izzy and a big orange male cat named Garth. These new guys have joined our other inside cat, Zoey, and our only remaining outside cat, Furry Football, and the pack is back whole again. I lost the battle of having indoor cats. I thought (I just thought) I didn’t want them living inside. Jill was of the other opinion. She won that battle, but oh, so did I! The delicious goodness of being able to hug a sweet cat and to have them purr and look at you just like you were the one who hung the moon is therapeutic beyond any possible measure. Physical pain can absolutely melt away and emotional pain is soothed as if real medicine just kicked in. There is real healing in the eyes of a pet. In case you didn’t know that, you know it now.

That animal has chosen you to be its human. They are all in. They’re job is to be your best cheerleader. They’re unfailingly in your corner. Well, at least the dog is that way. I’ve really confirmed over the past few months that we actually work for the cats. They used to rule the world and they’ve never forgotten it. But believe me, if you don’t want your heart invaded, if you don’t really want to fall completely in love with a purring pair of eyes (and the occasional claw) don’t give a cat an inch! They are incredible animals, easy to keep, and impossible not to love, if you get to know them. For those of you who either don’t like or don’t know cats, you’re not living to your full potential. I hope one day you’ll come around and know what the rest of us fully-evolved people know.

One more thing about rescue animals. During this sad time of loss and subsequent discovery, Jill and I had the opportunity to visit on several occasions our Columbus Animal Care and Control Center. Wow, is all I can say! The people there are dedicated, kind and attentive. The animals are well fed, well cared for, clean and loved. I can’t say enough good things about our experience in adopting Izzy. Please use them if you’re thinking about getting an animal. But be warned, sit on your hands for at least one trip out there on Milgen Road. There are some sweet faces out there and they’re all saying, “please take me home!”

Now, for what you came here for, here is my belated health update. My last post (March 8) I reported that the daily 800mg Votrient dose was working. The almost 4cm tumor on my left adrenal gland had shrunk by about 50%. And two small tumors in Strainer (my remaining right kidney) were less noticeable. During our visit with Dr. Andy Pippas at the John B. Amos Cancer Center, he let us know that my scans of last week showed continued, significant shrinkage of the lesions. The adrenal nodule is only about 5-10% of its original size and the two small spots on Strainer are almost entirely gone! So, the white hair, vomiting, lack of appetite, sensitivity to the sun, itchy skin and chronic diarrhea now seem to be a small price to pay for stabilizing this cancer, giving me more life to share with my family and friends and more time to make my mark on a place that I love.

I have lost a frightening amount of weight. About 70 pounds, representing over 26% of my body weight, has come off due to the lack of appetite and my inability to keep food down. I’m meeting with Beth Bussey, a wonderful nutritionist at the JBACC, and we’re plotting to find foods I can eat that I can properly digest. The big thing is my appetite. I would slap the smile off Jim Morpeth’s face for a Country’s barbecue sandwich! But, I wouldn’t be able to eat it without an almost immediate refund. Recently, we stopped by the new Meritage on First Avenue in UpTown for lunch. Chef Ashley Simmons Parsi-Graciani goes to great lengths to whip me up a vegetarian delight that hits my sweet spot (whatever that happens to be in that given moment). More often than not, when I finally sit down to eat, the nausea sets in and I just can’t bear the thought of putting something in my mouth. It is really frustrating, and the dramatic slide of my weight is becoming a concern to my caregivers.

It is a shame that marijuana is an illegal substance. I left my marijuana doctor office today with a prescription for Marinol (http://www.marinol.com/). This is a synthetic rendering of THC, the active ingredient in marijuana. It should banish nausea and also stimulate my appetite. We’ll see. It is shameful that there is a naturally growing herb that could bring relief to people who are suffering with cancer, aids, glaucoma and other serious chronic conditions, and that we can’t legally acquire it. Boy, I never thought I’d be putting myself out there to be an advocate for legalizing marijuana. But I’m there, folks. It just makes me angry that this good medicine is out there, but I can’t have it. I’m not expecting to see much public feedback on this one, but I’m curious about what people think about my comments here on this volatile subject.

I’m going to weigh in here on another volatile subject. At least, some of the local media and the nutbags — the regular 20 or so posters — who have tried and convicted MY DOCTOR, Dr. Andy Pippas for a alleged boatload of billing infractions. I know the media has a job to do. I do that same job every day. But, I really don’t like the tone that so many people have taken against a man who has lengthened lives and provided healing to thousands. I had him look me in the eye today and tell me exactly what I needed to hear to expend whatever personal energy I can to be a loud, proud member of Team Pippas. I am walking around today because of his great care and the care of the members of his John B. Amos Cancer Center team. I’ll be happy to talk to anyone about my experiences under his care. But if you want to engage me and just run him down, I’ll cut you off at the knees.

I hope to be able to keep a steady writing pace. There is much good going on in our lives and it makes me happy to be able to share it. I’ve said a lot in this post. There’s more where that came from.