Author: Jgknjlapk

Summer of 98, my lease in the Roosevelt Mall was coming to an end and it was time to go. Seventy five hour weeks would become a happily welcomed bygone. After what I had lived through since May of 96, it was time to slow down. Business after ten years had been going well and my customer base was growing exponentially. So here we go! I could probably throw a baseball across Bustleton avenue and hit my new store. The store was attached to a Pep Boys Automotive center and was formally an ice cream store called Hillary’s. The store was empty for a few years but had great visibility, parking and traffic in the small strip center. I would have to be ready to move in by November 15th to capitalize on the Holiday season and provide a seamless flow of business without interruption.

We had an blank slate/palate to start with and this made things easy. I always built my own stores with the help of various contractors who were friends of mine. I used to do tenant fit-ups for many retail chains for years, another of my many talents/businesses, so it was easy and cost efficient. Working day and night between stores, we built quickly and with just a shut down for a few days opened right on time. The biggest issue always was moving the safe. So Heavy!

I was able to now reduce the unnecessary business hours we had at the mall and generate the same amount of business. This was sweet! We had a great holiday season as well as our first TV commercial that aired locally on Monday Night Football throughout the holidays! So cool! I was in it as well as two friends and employees. We added billboards all over and promoted, promoted, promoted! The Northeast Times and the Carrier Pigeon were crucial print avenues too! Who needed an “Internet”! Those were the days.

We entered into 1999 with a full head of steam, a new store, more free time to spend with my family and a new lease on life. Life was good. My January visit to HUH went well and I didnt have to see Dr.Dave again until June for my next sixth month check up. “Relax” and “Breathe”were my new words to live by…according to Dr. Dave. “Ok Then”.

Next up: It Was Such a Beautiful Day

December 25th,2020. We all know about what a year this has been! I drove myself to Abington hospital this morning to the ER. Last Sunday I felt a tremendous pop in my head akin to, but not as severe, as the Subarrachnoid Hemorrhage that almost killed me in 2017. Couldn’t go to the ER this past Sunday because I had five more days to get through the Santa season and deliver at the store. My head has been killing me, so here I am with time to kill. This leads me into my next planned blog of my Christmas present from Lor and the boys…1997. It was amazing!

After returning from Europe, I settled back into my work regime and life as normal as it could be. Everything was fantastic! Felt good, business was getting better and my visit to Dr. Dave went as well as could be expected. Platelets were still coming along slowly but making great progress. No more anti rejection drug and no sign of Leukemia. That was such a relief. We were heading into the summer of of 98 and some big changes were coming. My lease was up at the Roosevelt Mall and the management would not allow me to decrease my hours. I requested this in the new lease because seven days a week, 10 to 9 was very hard on my recuperation and family. In the latter part of summer, I decided that I would be moving the store across the street to a small strip center where I could make my own hours. Much better! About that present now.

Everyone who knows me, knows that I love cars. I’ve had so many. From my 75 Formula Firebird to my 82 Z-28 Camaro, my 85 Nissan 300ZX, my 87 Mazda Rx-7, my 00 Corvette…. it goes on and on. Porsche, Cadillac, Infiniti, Lexus, BMW, Mercedes, etc… had them all. I Love cars. The gift? A gift certificate to the Nazareth Speedway and the Richard Petty Stock Car Experience! The Saturday was in early summer of 98 and beautiful. My friend Rob and I drove up together so that he could video the event and check out the scene. It was very cool! We began with an intro to the actual cars, safety precautions and driving devices. Each rider, there were about 15, had to show that they could get out of the vehicle quickly in case of fire or crash. We were fitted with driving suits like the ones that the Nascar drivers wear and of course the drivers helmets. Looked pretty good I must say! At that point we all made our way to the racetrack where we loaded into window vans and took a trip around the one mile oval where the instructor showed us where we needed to accelerate and decelerate as we went into the four turns. Nazareth Speedway was not like Pocono Speedway . Pocono was a 2.5 mile tri-oval where top speeds could reach 165 to 185 mph. At Nazareth, it was a four turn, one mile almost round oval where top professional drivers peaked at 125 to 130 mph. Meanwhile, Rob bought himself a ride-along with a pro race care driver. Top speed. He loved it.

It was soon to be my turn. The anticipation of jumping into the 650 horsepower race car was intense. The pro driver would pull into the pit in front of you and the instructor would slam on the roof for you to go! If you stalled out…you were screwed! Back in line. Not happening. It was so freaking loud you could barely hear the pit crew. Here he comes. I revved the engine to 2500 rpm, let off the clutch and BAM here we go! Five laps of Holy Shit! Had to come out of the pits in third gear and hit the track at 85 mph. The lead car had to be three lengths ahead and you better keep up. That was the rule. If not he took you off the track. If you were too aggressive he waved at you to back off. Fourth gear we were up to 105 mph and already heading into the third turn. Just like you can imagine or see when you watch NASCAR. Like five inches from the wall… flying along it at a blur…then diving down to the infield at the turn. Let up on the gas diving down and hitting it full throttle back up to the wall. This was fun! But wait, where the heck was he going? I was losing him at 115 mph! I was following directions…as usual…what was going on? The radio in my helmet went on….”You’re doing excellent come catch me!” Ok then. BAM! The next three laps we were cruising! 118 mph…121 mph…124 mph! What a rush! Just amazing…thanks Lor! The checkered flag waived me in after the last lap, let off the gas…put it in neutral…Cruise into the pit and into the slot for the next driver. The crew gave me a high five and you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face! Or the bruises on my ribs.

When I got home that night and got undressed, I knew that I was sore but OMG! Each side of my rib cage was completely black and blue. The race car seats, literally all aluminum sides, were so tight to your body that the vibrations from the 650 horses and the pressure from the G forces flying around the track did a nasty number on my body. I guess my platelet count was still too low. Completely purple and black from my hips to my armpits…both sides. But boy was it worth it!!

Next up: Time to Move

It was a valiant effort. Our sixth game of the tournament. We made it to the semifinals. Italy, Holland, France, England, Germany and now the Swiss. Every game was a battle. If we didn’t know it when we went in, we knew it now. Nobody likes Americans. Really. Especially while playing against us in hockey. Like we are the perennial Broad Street Bullies. The Europeans play a wide out open skating style in a huge rink. We play a hard hitting, kind of nasty style, dump and chase, in a small rink. Tough to adjust too that big surface, but we did our best. Our best wasn’t good enough as we bowed out to a slick skating Swiss squad that showed us the locker room and an end to our week. No worries, it was a great time and a good showing from the boys from the USA. We had four days to kill now. We’re going to London!

A three day, two night trip across the Channel would be our move. Four tired puck players from the states. Should be good times. Our first task was to secure hotel rooms which we completed with the help of our hotel concierge in Holland. Next, we packed up a small bag and headed to the train station in Amsterdam. A huge facility bustling with a massive flow of travelers headed out to various locations throughout Europe. At the ticket counter we spoke with a Danish teller. Her broken English was less than capable as was her attitude. It would be $120 US dollars for a round trip through Belgium and then the Chunnel train into London and back. Non refundable. We purchased our fares and asked her for directions to the terminal. We were on our way. NOT! Wrong directions, wrong platform and wrong time. We missed our train. The beginning of a crazy three days. Back at the teller window, our ticket girl told us sorry, no refunds. Was she kidding! Our wild man Chris took the lead. That led to our almost being in a brawl with a few KAL Dutch Airlines pilots standing up for their countrymen. Chris got right in the lead pilots face, nose to nose, and told him how it was going to end up. Pretty funny. Top Gun backed down while I took over and averted our first international incident. Requesting the manager, I politely excused my friend and was able to restore our passes and head on our way. The trains we started on were like Septa commuter trains. Plastic seats, Aluminum bodies, swaying back and forth. We crossed into Belgium in about an hour, passing through many brick and stone neighborhoods adjacent to the railway. Pretty sad though, almost every home had graffiti sprayed all over them. Not what I had envisioned. In about another hour, we pulled into the Chunnel terminal for our high speed, underwater ride under the English Channel into the city of London. And the famous Tube. The Underground.

The Tube was awesome! The underground subway train that ran all throughout the city stopping in every neighborhood and historic district. You had to master it. The timing, the entrances, the maps inside the trains, how to stand on the platform amongst the masses. The platforms were very thin too. Same as they were since World War 2. Pretty cool. Just needed a pass for the three days to get us around. Our first stop was to check into our hotel. It was literally right near where they filmed that movie Notting Hill. Cool area, lots of brick paved streets and pubs. First problem though, English food sucks. Literally inedible. The Chinese and Thai and Indian places were the go to eateries. We made the usual trips to Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, London Tower, etc. Then back to the hotel to rest. It was a long day.

The next day we planned to check out another part of the city, Piccadilly Circus. A lively part of town with entertainment, restaurants, arcades, shops and shows. It was a lot of fun…but pretty cold and rainy. I saw a sporting goods store with young Pakistani teens playing soccer in the doorway. I went in and grabbed a really cool lime green Fila jacket that was perfect for my trip. I hadn’t planned on the English rainy weather. I still have that jacket! Wish I could still fit in it! We ventured into a side neighborhood to check out how the real folk lived. Nice clean tightly knit homes. All brown brick and cobblestone streets. Fancy cars that traverse the wrong side of the road. I still don’t get it. We came upon a class of about twenty Kindergarten age kids walking with there teachers in a single file line, all holding hands, and dressed in very professional looking uniforms. I struck up a conversation with their teachers and told the kids that we came from America on a very special quest. With that, I asked them if they could point us in the right direction to where the Teletubbies lived. That we wanted a picture with them to take back to our kids. The looks on their faces was priceless! They laughed and laughed and told us good luck…we were crazy! It was great. Now, back to the tube again to get back to the hotel. Got lost and had to ask a BFI garbage man how to get to our destination. He drove slow and said follow me. Worked for us!

Back to the hotel area for more Chinese and some rest as tomorrow would be our last day to explore. We would only have a few hours before heading back to the train station. Our destination was the World Famous Harrods Department store to experience it’s so called majesty and grab some souvenirs to take home to our families. We packed up or backpacks, checked out of the hotel and headed to the store. It was not far, walking distance, and I had my nice new Fila jacket to keep me warm. We entered Harrods and were immediately taken by the huge size. Ten floors at least full of luxury clothes, furniture, shoes, electronics, jewelry, you name it. Some items were millions of dollars! So Expensive!! I picked up a few knick knacks for the boys and Lor, some t-shirts and snacks for the ride back. The department clerk was a beautiful young lady dressed like a bell hop Barbie Doll. Knee length skirt, white tailored shirt and blue matching jacket with a fancy hat. She was very proper and a bit snobbish. After all she could probably spot an American tourist a mile away. I payed for my gifts, like two hundred dollars of nothing with nary a thank you. I asked her for a favor though. Bad move. Here comes another International incident. The clerk in Piccadilly Circus had forgotten to take the security tag off from the inside of the jacket. I asked her if she could help me out. She had the removal device right on her counter. She called security. In a moment, a huge British mate in a police style uniform came and asked me for a receipt for the jacket. I told him that I bought it the night before and that I had thrown the receipt away at the hotel. Can you help me? Hard no. Treated me like I was a thief and were going to escort me out! Chris to the rescue. “Are you calling my fine friend a thief??” They then called the main head honcho, Chief of Security of Harrods! Now we’re scared! Here comes this Heavy, short, really short dumpy guy with round rim glasses and bald head and his sidekick Ultra Girl. OMG! I said to the guy that we were gonna have a real issue if he couldn’t simply and courteously just take the freaking tag off of my jacket! They finally said, after a cold stare down, “Certainly Sir”… with that condescending British accent and escorted us to the main entrance. I gave them the jacket and these two monster guards struggled with it before Ultra girl stepped in, finished the job and handled it to me. “Your jacket sir”. Humpty Dumpty said to me. USA-2/ HOLLAND/GREAT BRITIAN-0.

We made it to the Chunnel train for our high speed ride back to Belgium. The boys were wiped including me. It was early afternoon and hardly anyone on the train. Chris and I sat caddy corner across from one another. The seats faced each other like booths, four to a section. He put his feet up on the opposing seat, tilted his hat over his eyes and handed me his ticket and ID for the conductor. Goodnight. Other passengers on the train, mostly locals, assumed the same position. About thirty minutes later, this long haired, skinny, Conductor hat wearing French guy around our age came to collect our tickets. I handed Chris’s ticket and mine to him. He looked at me and said “Please ask your friend to remove his feet from the chair.” I said that he was sleeping, we were very tired, and there were many others in the train that were in the same position. He began to tell me how rude and disgusting we Americans are. That we think we can come to his country and do as we please. Chris’s eyes started to open. Here we go. I told the guy to apologize for his rude remarks and ask Chris politely to remove his feet. At that point my boy got up and in true fashion, got nose to nose with him and of course, the guy took off with a huff and some French expletives…we assumed. Great trip. USA 3/ EUROPE 0.

We made it home to the states in one piece, a little banged up, but proud of our accomplishments nonetheless. I couldn’t wait to see Lor and the boys! It was a trip of a lifetime. I’m very sad to say though, Chris, Tom and Steve, have all passed away since our trip together. I am the sole survivor. The guy with Leukemia. Unbelievable. Tom passed in the forest near his home in Minnesota. He had gone out alone in the woods to cut down trees for firewood in the winter when a tree inadvertently fell on his leg. Breaking it and trapping him. He died of exposure. Steve, I heard from Chris…died of a heart attack a few years after. And Chris, well Chris found his dream job out West for years in hospitality. Working for ski resorts from Sun Valley to Tahoe. I got a call one day from his brother that they found him dead in his bed with his two Pugs guarding him. Otherwise, he was alone in his apartment and to this day I never found out what happened to him. Chris and I were great friends and hockey teammates for many years. Very sad. All were great men. And great hockey players too.

Next Up: I Get to Use My Christmas Gift!

We had plenty of down time while we weren’t playing games during the tournament. Chris and I became friends with two players from Minnesota that were also friends and played together in their home state. Tom was a scary looking guy. About 6 foot 4 inches tall with long hair and a long beard. He looked like Jesus Christ. One hell of a hockey player though, he was about 40 years old and fun to play with. Steve was about the same age and more of a dry Midwestern kind of guy with a nasty temper on the ice. Two guys you were glad that they were on your team. Chris and I hung out with them a lot during our down time and subsequently got into some really interesting situations. Our first trip, into Amsterdam, was very eventful. A mandatory visit to the Red Light District was crazy! Countless tiny streets of red neon trimmed windows, each with a different themed prostitute inside depending on which street you wandered down. We didn’t dare indulge in the festivities of course being the married men that we were, not Chris though. He was single and a bit of a wild child. He took up a conversation with a pretty young Russian girl who invited us into her “Domicile”. A scant room with a small bed, sitting area and a wash area. What a way to make a living. We would wander around and catch up with Chris a little later. We strolled past the multitudes of foreign sailors and soldiers that indulged themselves with the girls of their dreams. I guess. Our next stop was the Anne Frank house. Blew me away. What was so interesting was the fact that there was really nothing interesting about it. Aside from the way the house was disguised inside to hide Anne and her family from the Germans, there was nothing unique to the fact that a normal family was living in a normal house that was decorated like houses that I had been in back in the day. Like an old Frankford rowhouse. I couldn’t comprehend that the atrocities that happened to Anne and her family and millions of others at the hands of the Nazis, could happen only like 50 years prior. When I walked through, I felt like I could have been in my grandmothers house. Anne’s room had pictures of American celebrities I knew well of and newspaper clippings of current events thumbtacked to the walls. A normal teen bedroom. It sickened me to think about what happened there. A must visit and experience if you are ever in Amsterdam.

The next and final stop for the boys was a small bar in town. Marijuana is legal there and you just need to be inside the bars to partake. They literally bring over a tray with a selection of different strains to choose from. Not my cup of tea. After grabbing a Coke , I watched two young American guys next to us blabber incoherently figuring how they would be able to persuade their parents to let them remain in Holland, legally and constantly inebriated. Pretty funny. I excused myself. I made my way down a tiny side street, exploring the area. The streets were so narrow there. So old. Brick and stone paved, only bicycles could make there way through. And there were zillions of bikes everywhere! Just sitting parked everywhere. All along the canals of Amsterdam, on the bridges, lined up along the sidewalks, everywhere. I came upon a tiny shop on one of the streets near the bar. A beautiful blond Danish woman was behind a glass counter/ case. The place was maybe ten feet wide. The case held several trays of hot food and assorted salads. You picked what you wanted and she doled it out to go in plastic containers. There was no kitchen. That was upstairs. Her daughter would send down more food as she needed it on a dumbwaiter. Business was brisk. She spoke excellent English and we had a great conversation about her business, family and my trip there. There was one small table and I had a great lunch as well as three servings of the best Chocolate Mousse I ever had! And those guys just got drunk and high. Ha!

Next up: One More Adventure

I was enjoying my re-entry into the hockey world and taking full advantage of the situation in this new league. The A division was actually pretty competitive and I had my challenges with some opposing players. Always handled it in a most diplomatic way….except for Lerch. Lerch stood about 7 feet tall on skates, a very imposing figure. He looked just like Lerch from the Addams Family. A really scary looking dude. And he hated me! I would chirp him incessantly and he was constantly trying to hurt me. I didnt blame him. On the last face off of our championship game, I was in our left defensive corner. The center pulled the puck back to me and with only 10 seconds left in the game I turned my body towards the boards and covered up the puck in my skates. The bodies started flying at me as I kept the puck secure and my teammates all tried to fend off the attack. Out of the corner of my eye, this huge animal of a man, full of rage and spitting nails, came flying at me. Lerch was trying to kill me. I ducked. He missed and slammed ferociously into the glass. I took off and the refs grabbed Lerch and escorted him, one ref each side, away from the fracas. At that point the celebration began, the Championship won. While the refs were holding Lerch I skated up to him and jumped up and punched him square in the face. I took off like a lightning bolt to my locker room and locked the door! Sorry but not sorry!

I was heading into my first full Holiday season at the store and now it was time to make the money. Hockey had gotten me in shape and ready for the grueling season. Twenty four straight working days until Xmas eve. Crazy but satisfying as we would always catch up so much on the debt. Never fully, but close. I always closed the 26th of December. A day of rest for my employees and a day for our family to be in New York with the In-laws. Christmas was so hectic being a Jeweler. The holiday turned out terrific. The boys loved their gifts and Joey at one and a half was finally feeling it. I was feeling great and life was good.

The New year brought an invitation to join the Team USA tournament in Holland, Europe that May. My great friend Chris Longo and I were chosen to represent the Philly area to play on the Team USA Mens Senior team in Europe. Players were chosen from all over the US to join together and play against similar teams from France, Italy, Germany, Holland, Belgium, England, Sweden, etc. It was a big deal. We arrived in Holland and traveled to an area just outside of Amsterdam. We settled in and met the other members of the team at the hotel and prepared for the next day. Two games. Italy first and then Germany. At the rink the next day we received our beautiful Team USA jerseys. It was a proud moment wearing the red white and blue jersey, listening to the Star Spangled Banner and getting ready to play against guys who didn’t speak your language. Well here goes.

First off, I never played on an Olympic surface. Absolutely huge! The first shift, an Italian winger came at me with the puck…no problem. I had him forced to the outside. Not. He just went so wide and blew past me. Way too much room on this wide rink. I adjusted for him the next time, poked the puck away from him and then immediately got a nasty elbow to my eye! Not easy being an American in Europe. We won though. We adjourned to the hotel to rest and get ready for our second game of the day. We had some lunch, rested, taped and iced my eye and then made our way back to the arena. Getting dressed, I realized that I forgot my jersey back at the hotel. The USA B team had just finished their second game so I ventured into their locker room to beg for a replacement. A nice guy threw me his jersey to use. Lifesaver! I put it on and jumped out on the ice. This game was against the local favorites. A Dutch/ German team comprised of area referees and named “the refs”. Good luck. We were in trouble. In the first 10 minutes we had 5 penalties called against us. It was fixed. To make things worse, a non check game became a slugfest, no holds barred war. Chris got the moniker of the “Hammer” by the fans for running the Dutch players and piling up the penalties. I just got a bloody ear! Standing next to this humongous Aryian assassin at a face off, the guy elbows me with all of his strength right in the side of the head. Like What! That freaking hurt. I took off into the play and kept my eye on him. The next face off, guess what? Slam! Elbow to my head! That was it. Slashed him across his wrist..that hurts, and got into a major tussle that “the Refs” gave me no help with this monster. Like a scene out of a WW2 movie. I said ” What the F is your problem!!! He looked at me and said “Juden”! What! I skated to the penalty box to join Chris in his new home and immediately asked him what the name was on my jersey? He started laughing and said …GOLD. I was Jewish! 1998 and being discriminated against for being Jewish but not being Jewish. I felt violated! When the Hammer and I got out of that box we ended up right back in. But not before teaching that big dude a lesson. By the end of the game we had won. It was a war. The Dutch fans knew how much the refs were screwing us all game and towards the end, were standing and chanting USA..USA..USA! AMAZING! I got my “Keenan” jersey back ASAP! Good times!

Next Up: Chris, Tom, Steve and Jeff Go Exploring.

I was coming up on the one year anniversary of my diagnoses. A conundrum of sorts, I guess. Do you celebrate one of the worst days of your life or do you celebrate because you are alive to see it? I didn’t know either. But I was grateful to be alive. What the future would hold was a big question mark. We were moving in the right direction. Gradually returning to work and getting on with life. My doctors appointments were now increasing to bi weekly and then to monthly visits. The usual bloodwork, weight check, and the occasional Chimerism. A Chimerism showed the percentage of my brothers DNA versus my own DNA. The test was done using a normal blood draw and was a welcome substitute for a bone marrow aspiration. The goal was to be one hundred percent my brother. Full change. From my type O blood to his B positive. We were close coming into the summer, almost there. It wouldn’t be long and the anti rejection drug was working well.

We are going to fast forward a bit. The status quo and my daily life becomes pretty mundane at this point. By June of 1997 I was working full time again and trying to put the past year in the rear view mirror. I had gained about thirty pounds back and my appetite was on a roll. It felt so great to be normal again. I was enjoying my boys so much now, life was good. Also, my Platelet count was gaining ground, over one hundred thousand and stabilizing. Still way below the norm of 250k to 450k, but guess what? Dr. Dave gave me the green light to start playing hockey! The season was coming up in the beginning of September and as long as my platelet count was above 100k, I was good to go! Now, where do I play? I was still underweight, hadn’t skated in over a year and a half and I knew that playing in the normal men’s league level that I was used to would be no good. I wasn’t ready for that.

Enter the NNHA. The National Novice Hockey Association. A fairly new National organization that was setting up beginner leagues across major U.S. cities. We called it “The Not Necessarily Hockey League”. The league was set up with four different levels of A, B, C and D. Now, I wasn’t sure how beginners were classified into four divisions, but whatever, I made the call. I explained my situation and was put on a D level team to start the season. Entering the rink for the first time again was like heaven. The smell, the cold air, the usual crappy locker room… Heaven. The players that I met were guys from all walks of life that loved and wanted to start playing hockey. I coached guys like this for many years as a Learn to Play instructor at the Wintersports Ice Arena near Philly. They were literally taking the ice to play in a real game for the first time. I had played for twenty five years. This would be interesting.

I still looked pretty sad. Hair was still growing in, pale, skinny and totally out of shape. I had to completely reign it in. OMG, you would of thought that I was an NHL hockey player. It was fun though and such a great feeling. It only lasted a couple weeks though. I was getting my wind back and my legs. The league moved me from D to C to B to A in about four months. We did have a few hiccups though. Twice my bloodwork came back and my Platelet count was under 100. I had to wait it out and bite the bullet. If I had gotten hit too hard or with the puck, it could cause me to bleed uncontrollablly. I was already full of bruises anyway but it could get worse if I didn’t follow Dr. Dave’s orders. When I moved up to the A division, I recruited some friends to play on my team and we won the Championship. I was back Mr. Rod Brindemour, just like you said I’d be.

Next up: Team USA and A Trip to The Netherlands

After the New Years mishap, it was time to start getting back to normal. Time to heal and time to be me. It was a new year. 1996 was an absolute whirlwind of huge changes. Ups, downs, tragedy and triumph. This was life dealing with cancer. 1997 would be much better. I had two healthy baby boys, a wonderful wife, a supportive family and a lot of hope.

In February, I would start spreading my wings and venture out a bit more. A few days a week I could go into the store and take care of some business. I still had to wear a mask and had to limit my exposure to customers. A baseball cap was imperative. My bald head and the wisps of hair starting to grow back in were not my best look. But they were growing back in! WooHoo! It felt great to be back. Things were normalizing at home too. It was a new beginning for me with my boys. I was able to spend more time with them than I would normally. Before I was diagnosed with Leukemia, I was averaging seventy hours a week at the store. Mall hours are brutal. 10 am to 9 pm, six days a week and 11 to 5 on Sundays. It would be a while before I could work those hours again. My recuperation would last almost a year as long as there were no more major setbacks. Spending so much extra time with my family was wonderful. So much time to bond with my boys. These two little guys were the reason that I knew no matter how hard the fight, I was winning. Joey was five months old now and Nicky was getting ready for his big third birthday. Every day, every week, every month and every new event was a milestone. This may sound over dramatic but dealing with cancer really alters your sense of being. The World changes. Perceptions change. Life changes.

My trips to see Dr. Dave were gradually spreading out too. The weekly visits for bloodwork and examination were expanding to two week increments. My counts were improving gradually as well as my weight gain. At this point in my recovery, the most watched stat was my platelet count. We were hoping to hit 100,000 in the near future. The average normal count is from 250k to 450k. As long as my count was under 100k the risk for bleeding uncontrollablly was very high with even slight injury. Bruising was a constant issue right now. My White cells were improving very well, correlating to a stronger immune system and response. It was Cruise time. Keep eating as well as possible. Keep vigilant with my meds and my interaction with the public. Keep enjoying my new lease on life. Start getting back into the Groove.

Up Next: Life Goes On

The Holiday season was flying by and the business had survived another crazy season. I was also surviving a very special season. Recuperating from the Bone Marrow Transplant was grueling yet satisfying as every day was a milestone of sorts. I was so appreciative of my doctors, my family, my employees and everyone who had a hand in my well being and making it this far. My appetite was getting better as well as my ability to taste some foods again. Heaven. The main medication that I was on, Cyclosporine, tasted as bad as you can imagine and crushed my taste buds. As time went on I got more used to it. I still had to quarantine a bit and wear a mask if I was venturing out though. The holiday festivities were changing gear. The weekend between Christmas and New Years Eve was pretty mild weather wise and some fresh air would be very welcome. Lori had ordered pizza for dinner that Saturday evening and I really wanted to pick it up. I hadn’t driven my car in so long and this would be the perfect chance. The first ride in my beautiful dark green Cadillac STS sedan. The shopping center was right around the corner. An easy first attempt behind the wheel since July. I was on my way! A quick stop at the Super Fresh for milk and some drinks and then the Pizzeria for a couple pizzas. I had a hard time eating pizza. The texture and taste were awful for a chemo palate. So be it.

I couldn’t spend too long in the supermarket. Had to be in and out. Too many people and too many germs. Grabbed the milk and a few other things we needed and almost made it out. ALMOST MADE IT OUT! THERE IT WAS. STARING ME IN THE FACE. MY FAVORITE! THE SUPER FRESH SALAD BAR! I LOVED THAT SALAD BAR! As I inched closer and closer, drawing me like a magnet. I kept thinking “No Way”. The thing was a mess. Not serviced well because, well, it was the weekend between Christmas and New Years. I was so hungry. It would be my usual. Romaine lettuce, Seafood salad, Three bean salad, green peppers, chi chi beans, croutons, bean sprouts, red roasted peppers, bacon bits and ranch dressing. Like clockwork. Always the same, for years. It was so delicious. I couldnt wait to get home! The last time that I had my special salad was probably seven or eight months prior. Let me get the pizzas and get home. Was I supposed to be watching my diet? Was I supposed to not be eating fresh or raw vegetables? Was this the worst time to be eating from a salad bar? Yes…Yes…and Yes. Whatever. It was happening!

When I got home Lori looked at me like I was crazy. I immediately began to chow down on that sucker. It actually tasted so good, I couldn’t believe how good it was and how much I missed this simple thing. When I was done, there wasn’t a morsel left in the plastic container. It was a beautiful thing. I had a full belly and a bit of contentment for once. Nick loved his pizza and he was all red faced and sleepy. Time for a quick bath and snuggle with the boys to get them ready to go to sleep. Then some TV time with Lor and an early off to bed. My first solo venture in six months, literally two blocks in the Caddy. Woohoo! It went all downhill from there.

It started very early in the morning. A very intense, sharp, gnarly type pain in my abdomen. It was getting worse by the minute. Almost unbearable. I had developed a fever and I was extremely nauseous. I couldnt make to the toilet fast enough either and was exploding as well as bleeding. This was bad. The call to Dr. Daves office was quick as well as the ride to the city would be. I was rushed right up to the 15th floor, into my corner isolation room 1515 with the clock tower view. The preliminary diagnoses was GVHD. Severe attack on my digestive system. Life endangering symptoms that needed immediate treatment. This was scary. The IV bags came pouring.in. Massive amounts of steroids to quell the attack on my system. Bloodwork upon Bloodwork to rush to the labs. Only problem, all of the primary docs were on vacation! Deja Vu…Labor Day weekend. Deja Vu …Bone Marrow Transplant. The pain meds that they were pumping in to me helped but they don’t alleviate the fear of the unknown. It happened so quick. Very unusual. I hated steroids. This was the treatment though. Steroids to reduce the inflammation and control the disease. Or hope to get it under control. The blood testing wouldn’t be ready until Monday, the next morning. The painkillers helped somewhat and I needed to sleep. The intense pain all night and day was draining me. The anxiety too.

It was a strange turn of events though. I wasnt having any issues with GVHD at that point. Very strange. Lori went home to the boys, I would call with results in the morning. Here I was, back in the bubble again. Time to sleep.

About eight am my door flew open and a huge flurry of action was whirling around me. Four nurses, grabbing IV bags, switching them all around. Adding and subtracting new bags….quickly! The on call Doc came in and asked if I wanted the good news or the bad. Don’t play with me, WTf is going on? Good news…you don’t have GVHD…bad news… you have Salmonella Food Poisoning! The bags of steroids were coming down and bags of heavy antibiotics were going up! Apparently this was a bad situation. Very bad, with my severely non vaccinationed immune system getting attacked. Then the questions. Where did you eat last? What did you eat? A supermarket salad bar? What were you thinking? Calls were made to the CDC and FDA. This was serious. Request for the food container turned out to be helpless. I had eaten every morsel in the bowl. No evidence. The antibiotics would not be completed until the end of the week. Better safe than sorry. The runs to the bathroom were frequent and fast. I was entertaining both ends of my body with waterfalls of really bad stuff. Hopefully, this would subside and my immune system would win it out.

So since I was down and out for the time being, New Years would be spent alone in my bubble. The dinner menu had hot dogs and hamburgers on it , special New years fare to enjoy and watch the fireworks from my window. Not in my condition. I didnt even want to look at food. It was very depressing. I wanted to be at home hugging my wife and kids. Kissing them at Midnight and wishing that there would be many more Happy New Years! Not this year. I would miss the special party we had planned. Just needed to get better again and get the hell out! My family contacted an attorney to handle the situation with the market. This was one messed up situation. I could have died. The food in the salad bar was found not to have been turned properly, stored properly and kept at the wrong temperatures. I was seen on store video making my salad and being clean. Making my purchase and leaving the store. The settlement was quick, but small. Just an acknowledgement to their mismanagement and responsibility on making me sick. I appreciated the apology and acknowledgement of fault. I could have died. We didn’t want that.

This was a huge scare to my family and myself. I needed to be more vigilant. Another week in the hospital was just a drag. Salmonella food Poisoning is no joke. Especially when you’re in my condition. Time to stiffen up the controls. Winters coming.

Next up: Getting Back in the Groove.

I have to tell you…being a Jeweler during the Christmas and Hanukkah holidays is tough. Sure, the month of December is huge for business, but it comes with a lot of sacrifice. Working seven days a week, long hours, from Black Friday until Christmas Eve is grueling. Like I said in a prior post…”We are Santa Claus”. No excuse for a gift not being ready for Christmas Eve. No room for error or anything else. Got to be perfect and on time. Jewelry is often the premier or biggest gift of the holiday for loved ones. We’ve never had to say we’re sorry though and I’m proud of that record. The sacrifice is not being able to enjoy the holiday festivities with your family every year. No shopping trips or travels to see the holiday light shows or Rockefeller Center trip to New York City…you get the idea. No time. I would work straight through the month until 5:30 Xmas eve and rush home to help my wife finish cooking dinner for twenty. Every year we hosted my entire family. Lori’s fabulous array of appetizers would be almost gone by the time I got home. The ride home from the store was kind of depressing. The only people on the roads were the desperate trying to find someplace open for last minute gifts, and me. This year was different.

The 1996 holiday working season would have to take a backseat to my recovery. I was able to go into the store for a little bit to check on things and meet vendors. The majority of the time though, I would be quarterbacking the business from home. This was not easy. We had expanded the store earlier in the year and were carrying many new and different lines of merchandise. Thankfully, my employees were up to the task and things went well. First time in a while that I was able to be home for Xmas eve and yes…appetizer heaven. Except, I still was barely able to eat. What a bummer. No taste and no appetite. Santa Claus was coming to town though . It would be Nick’s first excitable Christmas. Almost three years old, it would be a big deal for him. And us. Joey would be three months old and oblivious to the excitement. We had the usual hectic and familial scene at the house on this special night. It is always special to have our whole family together, celebrating, eating, catching up and opening our pajama presents. A tradition started by my grandmother and continued by my Mom. Gifts of Xmas eve pajamas for everyone to open that night and wear while those visions of sugar plums danced in your head. When everyone had gone home, we put the presents for the boys and each other to open Christmas morning under our tree.

Six months earlier, I didnt know if I would see another Christmas Eve. This was indeed a very special year. I had made it. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! So I thought.

NEXT UP: Salad Bars and Salmonella.

It was now November and starting to get cold in our neck of the woods. The Temps were steadily in the 30’s and 40’s. Too cold for me. I was dreading the snow. I would have to bundle my skin and bones up and head out to my appointments. I was about to begin a succession of vaccinations. Measles, mumps. Chicken Pox, Tetanus, Flu, etc. Should be fun. But today was another trip to see Dr. Dave. He was waiting for me. My three month Bone Marrow Aspiration follow up. He was a scary individual with that huge needle in his hand. A daunting figure, smiling and looking forward to bringing the pain. Trying to make me feel better once he told me that he had one before…. just to see how it felt. I knew that he was lying. He finally gave in and said that who in their right mind would have a bone marrow aspiration for no reason! Agreed. But today, he wasn’t here. A personal emergency. Mike Styler would be the guy today.

Mike was a very meek and mild kind of cancer doc. Very intelligent. Very small and thin in stature, his voice was very soft and I had never seen him get really excited. He was a great Doctor. My go to guy when Dr. Dave was absent. But today would present another problem. I never had an aspiration from Mike before. This was out of my comfort zone. These things hurt like you can’t imagine. We went over the usual questions about my condition and medications. Reviewed my bloodwork and other labs. All seemed good for the moment. Now it was time for the big needle. I never had it before from Mike.

Mike needed a stool to get above me to begin the procedure. I was so nervous. Dave and I were a team. An orchestrated show of prompts and gestures. All to make the procedure as quick and painless as possible. Not today.

Mike began the needles that injected the novacaine to numb the spot where the larger needle would be used with the Lidocaine to numb the deep tissue. No issues. Now for the big boy. I am blessed with extremely hard bones, lucky me. Mike was pushing and turning and pushing and turning with all of his might. Pop!! He was in. Its all good now. Just grab the top of the table curl my toes around the bottom of the table… and sloooowwwlllyy withdrawal the hypodermic syringe of liquid marrow. AAGGGAAAHHH!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! HE PULLED THAT SYRINGE IN ONE LIGHTNING MOTION!! No warning, no hesitation. HURT LIKE A MOFO!!

That was the last time that Dr. Mike would touch a big needle around me. I needed extra motrin and extra gauze pads to stop the bleeding! Never again!! I really appreciated Dave at that point. Another week for my results. Time just hangs when you are waiting for those results. Cross my fingers the counts are good. Gotta get wrapped up warm and head out again. Pretty sore but that’s life. Got to take it easy when I get home. Now the wait begins. Need those great results. Results have run my life for twenty five years now. A wait and see game. Should have them by Thanksgiving. This would be a special feast this year. A feast of love and life and promise. A new chance, a new beginning.

Next up: The Holidays