The Los Angeles experiment has come to a close! In March, 2013 I accepted a position with the U.S. Government to work in Los Angeles. The decision to move to LA without my bride was one made out of a number of considerations; beautiful home along the river, oldest daughter residing in San Francisco and our youngest attending her first year in the northern outreaches of the Golden State. ¶ The decision was also made to get my foot in the door of the government while holding out faith and promise to return to the Bay area in a reasonable amount of time. ¶ Courtesy of a phenomenal travel agent (Bonnie) and Southwest Airlines I’ve been able to return home to Sonoma County nearly every weekend over this eighty week span, only to wake up at oh-so-dark-thirty on Monday mornings for a return flight to LAX. ¶ Relationships are forged on strong foundations and with this experiment coming to a close on Friday, October 17th, and starting a new job with the government in San Francisco next week. ¶ I am very fortunate to say, the foundation itself is not only twenty-six years strong, but getting stronger daily. ¶ Lucky dude for sure. ¶ So with just one more night having to be spent alone down here in the City of Angels, and my car packed and ready to roll … I find it appropriate to use the lyrics of a hometown band, the Beach Boys to dedicate the title for this post before I put LA in the rear view mirror! ¶ Honey, see you soon. With all my thanks and all the love in my heart … ¶ I may not always love you / But long as there are stars above you / You never need to doubt it / I’ll make you so sure about it / God only knows what I’d be without you / If you should ever leave me / Though life would still go on believe me / The world could show nothing to me / So what good would living do me / God only knows what I’d be without you / (God only knows what I’d be without you) / If you should ever leave me well life would still go on believe me / The world could show nothing to me / So what good would living do me / God only knows what I’d be without you / (God only knows what I’d be without you) / God only knows / God only knows what I’d be without you / God only knows what I’d be without you / God only knows / God only knows what I’d be without you / God only knows what I’d be without you / God only knows / God only knows what I’d be without you. ¶ Keeping her close, ♥ Paul
We’ve Moved!
Hello all … I know it’s been forever since you’ve read the goings on here in the Cheney house. Bonnie is doing GREAT, even after today’s most recent surgery to repair a flipped implant. Who knew, right? Turns out this happens, so this afternoon while the two of us relax, I’m inviting all of you to the facebook page created just for you beautiful boosters, appropriately named Bonnie’s Beautiful Boosters!. Love all of you from the fifty states and forty-six countries abroad that have enjoyed these posts. Hope to see each of you on this specially dedicated page to my bride ( of 26 years this Thursday)! Keep her close, love Paul. The page is here.
Negative Results = Positive News
Thanksgiving is and always has been my favorite holiday. Memories return images of childhood football games with kids in the neighborhood, to later growing up and not being home for the holiday which makes every Thanksgiving extremely special to now be with the ones you love and cherish. ¶ This year’s holiday was no exception as our annual pilgrimage down to the San Jose/Menlo Park area to feast upon cousin Arnie’s kitchen creations was a rinse and repeat session from years past. ¶ The kitchen is certainly the love center of any home during the holidays. The kitchen at our cousin’s also acted as the nerve center where the liquor was poured, the bird cooked and the pies were stacked. White Russians were the drink of the afternoon this year, and this liquid candy was just what the doctor ordered. ¶ Cousins Arnie and Micki travel from Florida each year for this celebration and it’s absolutely wonderful to spend this time with them, their daughter and granddaughter. ¶ With football games on in the background, and the masses huddled on the couch, our special girl was able to provide this portion of the family with some pretty darn special news, certainly news to be “thankful” for. ¶ Bonnie’s surgeon recently ordered a PETSCAN to ensure and validate no cancerous tumors or masses had leaked or spread further into her system. A PETSCAN, known in the medical field as a Positron Emission Tomography (PET) is an imaging test that uses a radioactive substance (called a tracer) to look for breast cancer. The tracer can help identify areas of cancer that an MRI or CT scan my miss. This scan requires a small amount of radioactive material given through a vein, usually on the inside of the elbow. It travels through the blood stream and collects in organs and tissues. The tracer helps the radiologist see certain areas or diseases more clearly. This breast PETSCAN is used only after a woman has been diagnosed with breast cancer. It is done to see if the cancer has spread to other parts of the body such as lymph nodes, liver, lung or bones. ¶ Bonnie’s diet for forty-eight hours prior to this event required her to abstain from carbohydrates, sugars, and caffeine. We called Starbucks prior to let them know their gold card member will not be in for two days!! We are very fortunate to live in an area where PETSCANS are available as they are very expensive and sophisticated tests requiring special expertise. ¶ Bonnie received the results of this PETSCAN on Wednesday, the afternoon before we packed our bags for our family Thanksgiving and the word “NEGATIVE” continues to be a very “POSITIVE” term in our lives. ¶ Sharing this with family during the Thanksgiving holiday is certainly one more reason to keep the glass holding the White Russian full (whipped cream if necessary)! ¶ We continue to be geographically separated, which gives stockholders of Southwest Airlines reason to rejoice, just as this news was regarding our special girl.
As a sidebar … please continue to think about sending me your thoughts regarding the post “YOUR TURN”. I look forward to hearing from you.
Keeping her close …
Love,
♥
Paul
Your Turn
“Words can help. Here are mine. What are yours?” has been the tagline for the “CANCER … WE “CAN” BEAT THIS!” blog since its inception in January, 2011. ¶ I find it hard to believe three years has nearly passed since launching a blog site dedicated to my wife, my friend, my bride, and now a breast cancer survivor with two-hundred and fifty-five posts on the subject. The original intent of the blog was to keep friends and family on the east coast notified of our challenges, and ultimately our achievements. ¶ The binary success of this blog has reached all fifty states and some forty-four countries across the globe! I remember early on after receiving the diagnosis when wine bottles seemed to be the order of the day, followed by a heavy dose of pain killers actually prescribed by her medical staff where weekends were normally spent on the laptop while Bonnie started her Vicadin Vacation; menus to plan, groceries to purchase, laundry to take care of and toil with the forty hours each week. ¶ All of that was over within a flash and here we are three years later with a very healthy, happy and beautiful woman who never once asked the question “why me?”. ¶ On my way into work this morning I planned this post to ask you this question … if you were in my shoes, what would you have done differently? I am asking you to write to me with what you’ve learned about breast cancer, care giving, parenting, and relationships after reading these posts. ¶ From now through the end of December, 2013 I am asking you to submit your thoughts in a word document to my personal email address to give your prospective on this subject. ¶ Nothing is off the table. I have no plans of closing shop on this blog, none whatsoever, and during the month of December I would love nothing more than reprinting your stories through this medium as a way of closing out these three past years. Thoughts? I truly want to hear from you. ¶ Sit back, think about it and send your work to my email address at: papapaul94952@live.com. Words can help, these have been mine … what are yours?
Keeping her close …
Love,
♥
Paul
My Fortune Cookie
I spend an awful lot of time aboard an aircraft. My week will start here in Los Angeles, but when the calendar turns its page three days from now you’ll find me packing the duffle bag I purchased in Sitka, Alaska nearly thirty years ago with my belongings for a weekend in San Francisco to be spent with my bride which aligns well with a recent fortune cookie which read “You will have a happy adventure soon.” ¶ Bonnie and I have been geographically separated now for nine months and after another wonderful and productive weekend in Northern California I find myself looking at the clock more than I should waiting for the afternoon whistle to blow so I can head to the apartment, unpack that duffle bag and throw my head down for a late afternoon-er. ¶ These nine months apart from each other have not been the easiest in the world for either of us, and I am without words to express my thanks for her unwavering independence. An attribute she picked up over the years while I was out to sea. In our twenty-five years with each other we’ve endured nearly a thousand inches of snow, numerous relocations, a devastating house fire, a hotel robbery, the tragic loss of her mother, battled and beat breast cancer and each morning she awakes with the same question she’s asked me since I’ve known her … “what time is it?” ¶ This past Sunday morning my response to that question was “10:00 AM” … her response? “Oh shit!” She had things to do that day, I had things to do as well and as she took her morning shower I could hear her humming which remains music to my ears. We all know the saying “a happy wife is a happy life”, and I’m here to tell you … that’s just what’s going on, geographically separated or not. ¶ Not only did she awake this morning at 3:30 AM to drive me into San Francisco for my early commuter flight back to Los Angeles, and then to return home, take care of a few things, and is now driving even further south of San Francisco into Silicon Valley to take care of her eleven-year old cousin for a week. If there’s one person anyone in this family can count on it’s the one person this blog is focused on; my wife Bonnie. ¶ After my nap this afternoon I’ll ramble down the street and say hello to all the cronies at Hacienda Playa, grab a bite to eat, see if I can talk the bartender into turning on a hockey game, have a few cold beers and heard back up the hill to the apartment for the evening. I’ll rinse and repeat this operation through Thursday night and what will my wife be doing? She’ll be taking care of her niece. Why? Because her cousin needed her to. ¶ People come into our lives in one way or another and as I look at the framed photograph of my wife here in front of my monitor I thank the day she came into mine. She’s truly one special young lady. One I’m fortunate enough to call my bride.
Keeping her close …
Love,
♥
Paul
WITH HOPE, THE ODDS DON’T MATTER
Do you often wonder your reason for existence? This morning I have the distinct pleasure to share with you a phenomenal story regarding the acceptance of receiving the diagnosis and the courage to simply disagree with the prognosis. ¶ The world population is ripe with new cancer diagnosis on a daily basis, affecting everyone in its’ wake. ¶ You know Bonnie’s story and because of this blog you’ll be introduced to Heather’s battle, and yes, her acceptance and her achievements. ¶ We cannot win this battle on our own, and unfortunately I realize there are men and women, right now, struggling without a support system other than the white lab coats they see on a more than regular basis. ¶ I am proud to call Bonnie my “bride” as I often refer to her within this blog, and from the email you’ll read below there’s another very proud husband and father who has shown how much he cares for his bride as well.
I viewed the below link to this video yesterday and am so thankful for providing this conduit to Cameron and his beautiful wife Heather, and of course to the rest of Bonnie’s Beautiful Boosters. Enjoy.
http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather
“Hi Paul,
Thanks for getting back to me! I was thrown into the role of caregiver when my wife, Heather, was diagnosed with a very rare and deadly cancer called mesothelioma. It happened just three months after the birth of our only child. We were initially told that she could have less than 15 months to live, but she was able to defy the odds and eventually beat the cancer. Heather has now made it her mission to raise awareness and hope for people experiencing hard times.
I was wondering if you would be interested in sharing a short video about her story with your readers? You can see the video at http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather. I know that cancer isn’t necessarily the focus of your blog, but a positive, uplifting story of survival can be inspiring for anyone. I would be honored and grateful if you would share our message of hope with your readers, who might take something away from it. Please take a moment to watch it, and let me know if you think it’s something you’d be interested in sharing!
Cam”
Keeping her close …
GO SOX!
Paul
Boston’s Blood Brothers
The native Boston tongue has words akin to the region. A few of these words are only used in the New England territory and when you hear them outside those six states you look around to see if he or she who spoke them is wearing the colors of their birthplace, you know, a SOX hat, a PATS jersey, an ORR shirt or even a CELTICS jacket. Nine times out of ten when you hear the words “wicked”, “pissah”, “reeetahhhdid”, “ballzy”, or even a dual combination of these terms you’ll have a penchant for walking up to them and confirming where they’re from. ¶ The rest of the nation knows of these terms because oddly enough we New Englanders are prone to be the loudest ones in the joint. Perhaps it’s pride, or possibly we just need to be loud enough to be heard over that particular state just south of us. ¶ In any case, I used a number of these idioms last night here in Playa del Rey while wearing my blue and very worn SOX hat. The regulars at Hacienda Playa know me well enough now to know the reason I’m here – that’s right, to sit down, enjoy a beer and watch our boys from Fenway take on the Cardinals in the World Series. ¶ As I mentioned in a previous blog, my first Cardinals/RED SOX World Series was at the age of six. Forty-six years later I find myself on the other coast doing the exact same thing … running to find this game on TV. ¶ When the ninth inning concluded, I paid my tab, walked on home with a smile and received a text from a truly dear friend I’ve been fortunate enough to know since I was about eight years old. His text referred to the possibility of hoisting the World Series trophy at Fenway for the first time since 1918. Now that the whole “curse of the bambino” is over the entire RED SOX NATION (RSN) is patiently awaiting the arrival of the RED SOX to return home for games 6 and *7 (*if necessary). ¶ The text from my buddy started this blog as I usually write the premise in my head and then sleep on it, but then the stars aligned and you’ll understand how in a moment. My buddy Mark and I have known each other since the early sixties, we’ve been to Fenway with each other multiple times, been to the PATRIOTS/Oilers divisional playoff game in 1978 together and we grew up on Springsteen, Skynyrd and The Who. As I got ready to assault my pillow last night I fired up my IPAD to watch a movie and found the program “SPRINGSTEEN and I”, a documentary on how the fans around the globe feel about Bruce. A perfect way to end the evening with the SOX taking two of three in St. Louis with my buddy Mark on my mind. ¶ As a few of you know, I’ve pumped a few dollars into the Springsteen machine since 1975 and have been lucky enough to stand in the pit during a live show in Charleston, SC a few years ago, close enough to put my elbow on the stage and be on the jumbo-tron with Bruce right there next to my bride. ¶ The movie itself is hero worship in the most extreme sense with an unabashed sincerity to it raising goosebumps on my arm as I write this today. ¶ The stars are so aligned; I had to provide you a fitting set of Springsteen lyrics to capture the moment we in RSN are feverishly placed in right now. Hope you enjoy … GO SOX!
Blood Brother
We played king of the mountain out on the end / The world come chargin’ up the hill, and we were women and men / Now there’s so much that time, time and memory fade away / We got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take / We stood side by side each one fightin’ for the other / We said until we died we’d always be blood brothers / Now the hardness of this world slowly grinds your dreams away / Makin’ a fool’s joke out of the promises we make / And what once seemed black and white turns to so many shades of gray / We lose ourselves in work to do and bills to pay / And it’s a ride, ride, ride, and there ain’t much cover / With no one runnin’ by your side my blood brother / On through the houses of the dead past those fallen in their tracks / Always movin’ ahead and never lookin’ back / Now I don’t know how I feel, I don’t know how I feel tonight / If I’ve fallen ‘neath the wheel, if I’ve lost or I’ve gained sight / I don’t even know why, I don’t know why I made this call / Or if any of this matters anymore after all / But the stars are burnin’ bright like some mystery uncovered / I’ll keep movin’ through the dark with you in my heart / My blood brother
Mark – thank you (always) for being there when it matters most!
Bonnie – I love you with everything I have.
To the SECCEN Seven … you guys are the best. Keep the faith. This post and these lyrics are for you and the rest of RED SOX NATION!
Keeping her close …
Love,
Paul
The Bearded Brood of Boston
There is truly nothing more exciting than to see the words “2013 World Series” painted behind home plate at Fenway Park. It’s media day at Fenway today and I can only imagine the vibe and enthusiasm in The Hub as Red Sox Nation prepares for the fall classic with home field advantage. ¶ I remember my first World Series experience and oddly enough the same two teams matched up for the World Series in 1967. For some strange reason I remember running home from Brown School Elementary to our little two bedroom cape on Longview Terrace to watch Jim Lonborg square off against Bob Gibson on our black and white television set in the den down the hall from the kitchen. Unsure why the game came on so early in the afternoon back then, or was I just running home to make sure I had a good spot in the den to myself? This was Yaz’s rookie season who shared the outfield with the likes of Reggie Smith, Tony Conigliaro and Ken Harrelson amongst others. The infield that year was Mike Andrews, Rico Petrocelli, George Scott, Joe Foy, Dalton Jones with Elston Howard behind the plate wearing the tools of ignorance. ¶ I was lucky enough to get my hands on a Carl Yastrzemski baseball card that year and thumb tacked it to a wall in my dad’s basement barroom where these black and white photographs of Yankee teams, Yankee players lived. If this is your first time to the blog you need to know my father, a native Bostonian was a die-hard New York Yankee fan, so now you know a little more about how well we got along during baseball season. Hell, my dad also went to the rival Salem High School across the bridge, lucky we got on with each other at all! Several hours had passed after my putting Yaz’s baseball card up there with those b&w pinstriped photos and being all of six years old I had no idea what a conniption is but I was about to find out! ¶ About 5:30 that afternoon my bedroom door opened, and there in the doorway stood my Dad holding Yaz’s card. He flung the card into my room with orders to start my own &*)*’n wall! All righty then! ¶ In the season which followed I went to Fenway for my first time. Dad stopped off at the Blue Star Lounge on Route 1 in Saugus on our way into town for a couple of cold ones. We were about to see the SOX and Yankees, what in the world were doing at the Blue Star Lounge? That’s an entirely different story and since we’re talking Boston Red Sox baseball I won’t even litter this blog entry with any more pinstripe pollution than I’ve already done. ¶ Suffice it to say, I’ll have on my colors here in Los Angeles for Game 1 and 2, and then fly home to San Francisco where Bonnie and I can watch Games 3 and 4 properly, as in, with each other clinking newly opened beers and glasses of wine with each heralded hoorah for the bearded brood we have grown to love. ¶ Scream it from your porches, scream it from your back doors, scream it from your cars boys and girls … “LET’S GO RED SOX!!”
Keeping her close …
Love,
Paul
The Pearl in the Oyster
There are days I walk alone down Pershing Avenue here in Playa del Rey and laugh at all the traffic heading south after a hard day’s work. I laugh because my day had ended a few hours before and now it’s time to head down to the local convenience store to purchase a power ball ticket and then wait at the crosswalk to walk over to Hacienda Playa for a few beers, some great Mexican food and watch whatever sporting event is on any one of their dozen flat screen televisions. Due to my Boston sports related superstitions, I do not watch any Boston related sporting event here at the Hacienda as the Celtics got blown out by nearly 30 points by the Knicks in the NBA playoffs a few months ago; have watched the Bruins get beat by the Toronto Maple Leafs in the 2013 Stanley Cup Playoffs; so it’s clear in my mind I’ll have to find another local establishment to watch the upcoming MLB playoffs this SOXTOBER. ¶ I recently returned to LA after a wonderful six day stretch with Bonnie and Taylor. Bonnie’s eighth breast cancer related surgery was at Marin General this past Monday to remove a suspicious “lump” identified by her surgeon Dr. Laura Norton during a recent check-up. There is no such thing as routine surgery, so anytime I can have one of my daughters with me it always an added benefit. After Bonnie was carted to surgery, Taylor and I left Marin General and did a little sightseeing at Fort Baker below the Golden Gate Bridge. We returned with an hour to spare and that damn clock in the waiting room was not my friend this time around as the hands ticked passed 1:PM, and then 1:30PM before Dr. Goodman (her plastic surgeon) walked in to tell me how well her surgery went and the lump appeared “benign”. Anytime a surgeon passes along this assessment is always good news, I don’t believe a professional would ever provide that information just to put a smile on my face. As we learned on Thursday at Bonnie’s follow-up with Dr. Goodman, the lump was nothing more than fatty necrosis. Whew!! ¶ So now the “separation” in this geographical separation with Bonnie and I plays its card again. Her facebook status the other day “And now he’s gone …” really saddened me, though this portion of the separation is limited to only a few days. I’ll be in line at the Southwest Airlines terminal again on Wednesday, the 25th to return to her arms again to celebrate our 25th! Dinner reservations already established, I just have to remember to pack the directions to the restaurant. Insert reminder here!! We have visitors coming to Sonoma County to help us celebrate our Silver Anniversary, the “Polish Posse” from New Britain, CT will be in the ‘hood and we cannot wait for their arrival. Margie, Bonnie’s maid of honor, her husband Ronnie, her sister Betsy and Betsy’s husband Teddy will truly make this a memorable 25th! Life with friends like this is the pearl in the oyster. The laugh-meter will be pegged the entire time. More to follow. ¶ Thank you all for your continued support, your questions, your heart-felt concern and the phone calls during Bonnie’s most recent surgery. We’ll be in each other’s arms soon … twenty-five years later, oh my!!
Keep her close.
Love,
Paul
Listen to Logan
I purposely packed a journalist notebook on our trip to Kona to properly document the entire eight daze on the Big Island of Hawaii. The notebook is in the apartment and to be honest with you, since returning to the states it’s been a chore to write it all down. It’s almost as if I don’t want to recognize the trip is over. I will tell you this though … the girls were texting Bonnie and I from their seats on the plane leaving Kona reminding us “the plane is leaving!! Where are you??” Neither of us wanted to leave and we found the best mai-tai on the island, of course the day we’re leaving, but I’ll leave that Kona entry for another day. ¶ Speaking of leaving … Bonnie and I shared a trip down Memory Lane late yesterday afternoon as she drove north from San Francisco to Petaluma. She had spent the last couple of days with Taylor and Logan, and yesterday she left “T” at her apartment in the Sunset District and headed to our home along the river by herself. ¶ How in world did we get this old this fast? Bonnie, Taylor and Logan made the ride along the Pacific Coast Highway to Arcada, CA and the home of Humboldt State University on Tuesday morning. Arriving on time and getting our young freshwoman all squared away in her new room, meeting her roommate, etc. Unfortunately, our trip down Memory Lane with each other was over a T-Mobile circuit nearly 500 miles away from each other. We talked about how quiet the home will be now with Logan out of the house, we talked about potty training her in an outhouse at Woodneck Beach on the Cape (no kidding). The girls and I spent every weekend at Woodneck Beach during the months of May through the end of September for three straight years (1995-1998). Logan was born in 1995 and became accustomed to the sand, the cold water temperatures of Buzzard’s Bay, picnic lunches, walks with her sister and all the joys of being a child right there every Saturday and Sunday. I never guessed then I’d be writing a blog about it some eighteen years later but the one thing Bonnie and I both agreed on … we did a great job raising these two girls. ¶ The world has been waiting for Logan since she took her first Polar Bear swim on January 1st, 2000 at Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina. She was only five then, and you have to give her credit for suiting up for a wild and whacky event such as this. With nearly six hundred people running behind her, I had Taylor in one hand, Logan in the other and when we hit the surf a four foot wave completely swamped her. I still had a hold of her hand when the wave subsided and she was drenched with eyes as big as billiard balls! I can only imagine what was going on in her head. When I asked her if she wanted to go back to her mom she immediately said “YES” and back to the shore she went, but not before she qualified herself as an official Polar Bear! Some might question the validity of a true polar bear swim in the locales of South Carolina, but I’m here to tell you that we attended these events annually and the water temps were never higher than 47o F. Chilly for anyone and that crew at Dunleavy’s Pub on the island puts the whole thing together to sponsor Special Olympics so it’s a win-win for everyone. This is just one phenomenal memory about our little girl. ¶ We celebrated her 18th birthday on Kona which was quite fitting since there’s no way in the world I’d have ever been able to get through Bonnie’s breast cancer without her help. ¶ We have a saying in the house … “LTL” which means: “Listen to Logan” … no doubt her classmates at Humboldt will be learning that phrase soon enough! ¶ Time to dry my eyes, get back to work … I’ll be on a plane north tomorrow afternoon to find out just how quiet our home along the river has become.
Keeping her close!
Love,
Paul
CANCER ... We "CAN" beat this! 