A Great Weekend and A Night of Classic Americana

Life really is an unbelievably beautiful experience. I have always loved life and lived with a carpe diem mentality that has led others to occasionally label me as spontaneous and fun-loving at best, a bit too easy-going, sporadic, and carefree at worst. Yet, I have no regrets. It is how I chose to live my life pre-cancer, and I wouldn't change a thing if given the opportunity.

As much as I enjoyed life and experience before cancer, I have said before, and will say again, that it is in contrast that we find the most happiness.

Cancer sucks, there is no question. If I am honest -- and I'm not looking for sympathy but rather write for you and myself in the search for raw and unabated truth -- I never considered how much we can suffer psychologically and physically as individuals until I was diagnosed and began treatment.

Yet, I cannot completely reject cancer and the suffering it has caused because it has resulted in a deprivation and contrast that makes life experiences that were enjoyable but regular events pre-cancer, amazing and euphoric experiences in a post-cancer world.

This lens on life makes me appreciate weekends like this last and nights like tonight -- ones that would have been pedestrian to me one year ago -- in ways that would be impossible without the suffering and insecurity that cancer and treatment have brought.

This weekend Katie and I were able to head up to Upper Michigan and the Big Lake, Lake Superior. Arriving Friday night, I awoke at dawn to wake Dad up to head out on the Big Lake, as it was a beautiful calm day, the first I've been healthy enough to be up north when the weather would permit us to get out on the Big Lake after some fish -- I've never hidden my connection to the big lake, and fishing on it has quickly become a a religious experience for me.

After grabbing some gas station breakfast sandwiches from the M64 Marathon -- an early morning fishing tradition, Dad pushed me out in the boat and pulled the trailer out to go park. After sliding out into the Ontonagon river near its mouth at Lake Superior, I went to turn the boat to the pier but heard snap, snap, snap and the motor wouldn't turn to the right...

"Sh*t."

After getting back to the pier using crafty and well executed series of left hand turns we pulled the boat back onto the trailer and to the local marina -- which was closed. We then headed to the cabin to examine our options. After calling across Upper Michigan, it appeared that our hopes of getting out on the big boat were lost so I pushed the kayak out and paddled around.

It was great to get out on the lake silently paddling on a beautiful morning -- a broken boat ended up being a blessing in disguise. Five minutes out and a pair of common loons surfaced not 15 feet from me on the calm cool water calling and displaying, a truly beautiful sight. Katie was able to snap a couple of pictures of a loon fishing next to me as I tied on a spoon to fish myself:




After coming back in, I went to work again trying to find someone to fix the big boat. My friend, Schmidty, is now back in Wisconsin from D.C. and was planning to come up to visit and I very much wanted to get out on the water with him if possible. We found a mechanic willing to take a look at it, but the steering column was busted, needed replacing, and there wasn't a part in town, so the big boat was out.

Being a calm day, My dad offered to head to back to Rhinelander to get the small fishing boat. We don't have half the fishing equipment we need on the little boat, but with a day so calm at least we could get out on the big lake and drag some baits through the water. He headed down and retrieved the boat as I rested and recuperated from a sudden bout of queasiness (chemo does have some drawbacks after all). He spent four hours driving to get the boat so I could get out on the Big Lake which I have been dreaming of for months, and I cannot thank him enough for doing it.

And it paid off. I wouldn't have cared whether we caught anything or not, but Schmidty caught a great Lake Trout as the sun set (they'll be referred to as Lakers from here on out). He fought it like a girl, but I can't blame him because some just weren't blessed with innate masculine instincts for doing things like fighting fish -- sorry, Buddy, I've got to give you a hard time.

It was great to get to see my old friend. I'm happy to have him back in Wisconsin. He's a brilliant and talented individual whose serving Teach for America, and his presence will undoubtedly have a profound impact on the lives of many youth that need strong role models in their lives. Our state needs smart, dedicated, civilly minded people like Schmidty here and truthfully I'm just happy to have a close friend back near me again. Here's a picture of us with his fish:



Today was another great day -- a day and night of classic Americana that would have been a regular night a year ago but was made amazing through the lens that is cancer.

This morning I woke up and not having to be into the clinic until 10:00 prepared a pot roast for dinner in the crock pot with potatoes and onions. After labs and a productive afternoon at work I stopped by Fraboni's Italian Market for some cold pasta salad and potato salad as sides (an amazing treat I don't get to eat when my counts are low) and then my local east side farmer's market for some freshly picked organic sweet carrots to add to the pot. Mom, Katie and I enjoyed our wonderful dinner, then watched the beginning of the Brewer game.

Well into the seventh inning of tonight's great game, Katie and I got the hankering for some ice cream so headed to Micheal's Frozen Custard -- a throw-back root beer style ice cream and burger shack for some frozen malts and french fries. We then drove our bounty to Olbrich park and sat in the car enjoying our fries and ice cream, listening to the smooth voice of Bob Ueker calling the end of the Brewer game while overlooking Madison's beautiful skyline across Lake Mendota. It was a quintessentially American way of spending a summer night and more beautiful to me than I can explain with words.

And to cap it all off, the Brew Crew pulled out another fun victory -- icing on the cake of a wonderful night.

Well a quick medical update before I go -- Labs only today and the last day of steroids so a couple of rough days lie ahead but I'm ready for it. The counts are starting to come down so it looks like it will be close next week on whether they'll be high enough to move on to the second -- rougher -- half of this stage. If not we'll have to delay a bit until they come back up. I hope to move on but without control am content to wait, see, and do whatever is necessary.

Comment question of the day:

Send me a life update -- what are you up to, what are you excited about, what fun is going on this summer???

Shout Outs:

SO to Shelly: Seeing your smiling face in the clinic always brightens my day. You have been a friend and inspiration to me since the day I met you.
SO to Schmidty: Great seeing you this weekend, Buddy. How was the fish?
SO to Cousin Diane: Thanks for the card and book -- I'm enjoying it immensely.
SO to Abby and Alex: It was great getting to see you and hang out with you last week, we should do it again sometime soon.
SO to Stuart: I hope you're feeling well and that your counts are on 'el rebound
SO to Momma Amy, the Little One and the New Grandparents: I can't wait to meet the new member of the family.
SO to Grandpa Weis: I hope you're recovering well and getting plenty of rest.
SO to Philly: You're missed in Madison, but I sincerely hope you're having fun in the woods of DC.
SO to Grandma Giles: I hope you're feeling well and getting through the steroids -- I understand how rough they can be.
SO to Scott: I hope this early summer finds you well

All right, because it seems fitting I'll end with an old phrase I overused far too often on wonderful alcohol-induced summer nights that fill my memory with joy. It's a bit crude but seems eerily relevant and perhaps foreshadowing given the events of the last year. In life, writing, and this blog my goal is to search out truth, raw wisdom, and happiness. If one phrase captures my philosophy of life, if my experience and journey can imprint one idea in the minds of others, I hope that I can convince them to examine what is important and consider my lens on life:

"Life's too short -- Carpe the F-ing Diem."

Sam