I hope everyone had an enjoyable Memorial Day holiday weekend!

I was fortunate to be able to spend some rare, quality time with my wife and caregiver, Pattie.

We shopped a bit, saw a movie, and shared a relaxed meal at a restaurant near our home.

While we dined, Pattie and I began to discuss my upcoming stem cell transplant, which was recently re-scheduled to begin around July first.

It was then Pattie reminded me about an unfortunate summer holiday cancer-related tradition we share.

It started over a decade ago, when my wife was diagnosed with cervical and uterine cancer.  She underwent surgery this very weekend.

Six years later, we spent the 4^th of July together as she recovered from a second surgery—and then chemotherapy—for ovarian cancer.

I had forgotten most of the timeline for her treatments—it seems so long ago.  But Pattie hadn’t!  She remembered to the day when she was admitted and released from the hospital, which days she received chemotherapy, and how long she was laid-up following treatment.

All I remember is watching her—curled up in a fetal position on the couch—unable to move for days at a time.

Fortunately, Pattie fought her way through and is still cancer-free today.

Fast forward a few years to 2007, and now it was my turn.  Both my Memorial Day and 4^th of July Weekends were marred by serious complications caused by treatment for my multiple myeloma, including a serious pulmonary embolism (blood clot) in my lungs that left me hospitalized for almost a week just before the July 4^th holiday.

As we sat discussing our next cancer-related challenge, Pattie was quick to point out the irony of another summer holiday that would be spent in a hospital.

Someone who doesn’t understand might think, “How sad that they spent their Memorial Day ’date night’ planning for Pat’s stem cell transplant.”

But I look at things differently.  Spending quality time together planning means a lot to me.  Pattie and I have faced so many challenges together over the years, for me it has become part of our DNA—a part of who we are.

As a matter of fact, for better or worse, over a decade of real-life, cancer-related drama has left me disinterested in meaningless socializing and small talk.  I just don’t have time for it anymore.

Fortunately, I am still able to appreciate a lot of simple things in life—watching a sunset, spending time with my dog, walking along the beach, or enjoying lunch with a fellow patient and friend.

Most of all, I enjoy spending quiet time with Pattie.

Imagine all we have faced together over the past 13 years.  Now that’s something worth celebrating every summer!

Feel good and keep smiling!  Pat