Bali Blog 2: Awareness

Over the past years I've done a bit of writing. Below is an excerpt from a larger project I've been working on. It's roughly edited, and I shortened it up quite a bit to make it blog-friendly. Hoping the idea still makes its way through the fragments...

Awareness

Each morning, after a sunrise surf, I would head down to the common area and up the stairs to the yoga loft above the “lobby”. It was a small, open-air studio, just close enough to the beach to be filled with echoes of ocean waves and just far enough away that the surfer yogis wouldn’t’ be distracted by watching the surf roll in. Most mornings, the only people in the loft were the young woman yogi named Nicole, a Brazilian skateboard pro named Gunther, and myself. The intimate setting made for an awesome practice.

One morning we took some time at the beginning of class to work on meditation. We began by clearing our minds and rinsing them of any thoughts, good or bad. The point of the art is to think about nothing – easier said that done. I’d spent some time practicing mediation prior this trip, at the occasional yoga class and on my own, so I was decent at it, but not great. We were a few minutes into the meditation, and I was just becoming deeply focused (on nothing), when the lawn maintenance crew began ripping around the landscaping just below the loft. Based on the noise level, they may have had every electric lawn tool on the island of Bali. Though I was a novice, I saw this as just another obstacle to reaching full focus, and so I did my best to tune out the lawn crew.

The dawn patrol lawn patrol was on its second lap around the shrubbery when Gunther broke the silence in the loft and asked Nicole, “Can you tell them to stop??!” I noticed her chuckle to herself as she stood up and walked out to the balcony where she asked the maintenance men to stop…or at least delay their noisy activities 30 minutes. Ironically they were so loud that they couldn’t hear the yogi's request. After giving it a mediocre effort (and being less than upset when they didn’t fulfill her wishes) she stepped back into the room. 

I understood immediately why she lacked disappointment. We were practicing meditation. The goal is to be able to enter a depth of focus to the point that you are able to block out all external diversions and eventually be unaffected by them. With that said, you can be aware of the things taking place in your external environment, but after becoming aware, you have the choice whether or not to engage in them. The current situation was the perfect display of that challenge. Your external environments does not need to be in a state of perfect calm for your internal to be - heck, you could meditate at Monster Jam! Nor does your internal need to begin in a calm state; the whole point is to get it there

The practice is about sifting through thoughts and throwing them all to the wayside for a period of time. On this morning we were being challenged, perhaps to the point that would be difficult for a rookie meditator to overcome, but the challenge was to concentrate completely on our internal selves without being distracted by the weed whacker roaring just feet below us.

Being aware of the disturbance outside was okay; it was deciding whether or not we were going to let it bother us that was the challenge.

Awareness as it applies to negativity

Oftentimes, people striving to better themselves put themselves down for having negative thoughts. Regardless of what it's about, they believe that once the thought comes to mind, they’ve failed. “I’m a bad person for having these thoughts.” If this were the case, we’d be living on a planet where 99% of the population was doomed. Truth is, though we should do our best to think positively, IT’S OKAY to have negative thoughts, and if you wait around until the day when you don’t have them, you’ll most likely think you're a crummy person your entire life. What is important is what you do with the thought after it's come to you. 

We all have the conscious choice to engage or not to engage in any particular thought. You can either let it go immediately, in one ear and our the next, or choose to engage and allow the thought to grow. Being lured into a negative thought allows this snowflake to hit the ground, begin to roll, and as you become more and more focused, it builds momentum. Growing rapidly in size, the tiny snowflake is now a giant snowball bound to crash at the bottom of the hill.

Engaging negative thoughts carries you farther and farther away from where you started, your original mindset, until you’ve lost sight of the breadcrumbs and can’t remember the way home. This is not only harmful, but also a waste of time. You can be disappointed in yourself for engaging in a negative thought but realize that next time you can decide not to feed it and get swept down the hill. Simply notice the snowflake and let it float away in the breeze.

Awareness as it applies to productivity

In addition to wanting to alleviate stress and increase positivity, I practice awareness because negativity it is a time waster. Being slightly obsessed with efficiency, my biggest fear is finding myself chasing my tail around in circles.

Simple example: In my last semester of college, being eager to finish and perhaps having some tendencies to overachieve, I bit off more than I could chew, taking five upper level classes at the same time. Shortly after committing to the heavy load, I could NOT stop dwelling on the thought of not getting good (perfect) grades in all 5 classes. I was so nervous, even having GPA of 3.8 at the time. I actually believed there was a chance I was going to fail the most difficult of my courses. Unable to slow the constant flow of anxiety, one day I considered the amount of energy I was expending on the idea of not succeeding. I was burning incredible amounts of perfectly good energy on the idea that I wasn’t going to have enough time or energy to do well. The semester hadn’t even started yet.

It was a truly contradictory thought when I actually stopped to think about it. I became aware of the situation and realized that the stress wasn’t helping me in any way; it was actually wasting precious time and energy. Then I decided that instead of burning one calorie, or whatever unit brainpower is measured in, on worrying, I’d instead save all of my energy to actually do the coursework. And it worked. I shut the what if part of my brain up and got to work. I got a 4.0 that semester.

Philosophical blabber aside, engaging in negative thoughts is bad for you, and, like a dog chasing it’s tail in a circle, isn’t going to get you anywhere. Regardless of how enticing the red apple of negativity is, following it will never lead you to happiness or any resolution for the short- or long-term. If it regards to an anxiety based thought, and you want to completely stop having it in the first place, you must DO something about it. There is absolutely nothing helpful about dwelling on anything, whether it's something you can control or not. If there’s something you can do: do it; if there’s not, let it go.

Negativity Be Ware!

Awareness is something I practiced long before ever stepping into a yoga studio or learning about meditation. But until the Bali lawn maintenance crew showed up that morning, I’d never seen it depicted in a situation involving others. It’s a helpful tool that can be applied in many ways and areas of your life, including anger, fear, loss, frustration, or just time management. For me, it’s been a helpful tool throughout my cancer journey and other various anxieties I’ve dealt with throughout my life. With that said, it is not easy, and like any skill, takes practice.

It’s important not to get frustrated if (and when) you can’t master it immediately. Your brain is a muscle and your thoughts are habitual – you must train your brain and kick your bad habits. With practice, it will become easier and easier, and eventually become routine. 

Difficult experiences are not fun, but each one is an opportunity for us to practice awareness. Life doesn’t get easier, but you can get stronger.


So be aware of your internal environment and your thoughts. Be aware of your external environment and what’s happening around you. You should always be aware, but remember you  always have the choice in which thoughts to engage in. Challenge yourself and choose wisely.

Namaste, bra's,

a.score

Bali Blog Part 1: Adventure


“Bali Blog” – too soon??...

Surely any trip of Balinese magnitude could not be covered in one post, so the Bali Blog will consist of two installments. Part 1: Adventure & Part 2: Awareness

Adventure

By late spring, my friend Spencer and I were jonesin’ for another surf trip. Yeah, we’d already been to Barbados just a couple months prior, but we wanted to go a little farther from home for this time around. The top destinations on our list included: Hawaii, Fiji, El Salvador, and Bali. I’d really only started surfing less than a year before that, so I had absolutely no business surfing the world class waves at any of these locations, but I knew they'd all certainly be adventures.. On a mid-May Saturday, we threw a dart at a globe and on Sunday we booked two tickets to Bali. On Tuesday I flew to LA to meet up with spencer and from there we headed to the other side of the globe. Bali is literally halfway around the world from Orlando... booking just two days prior to departure made things even more exciting.

After 36 hours of traveling and a quick pit stop in Taipei, Taiwan, we arrived in what’s arguably Indonesia’s most beautiful island, and perhaps one of the world’s most magical places: Bali. We were staying at a surf resort at Keramas, a world class surf break, which included indoor/outdoor rooms and showers, a pool club on the black sand beach, and fresh exotic fruits and juices squeezed daily. This laid back paradise makes you rethink the way we live our fast paced, highly technological lives back home…
Keramas

One of those sunrises that just keeps getting better and better....
Needless to say, in addition to shoes and makeup, pants were a rarity on the trip - I was in heaven. Each morning, we rolled out of bed before sunrise and scurried our way down to the beach, hurrying to paddle out to ensure we'd be in the water on our boards to witness the first sign of sunlight peak out from behind the volcanic mountain, Agung. We'd surf the morning, grab breakfast, and spend the rest of our days surfing other various breaks and exploring the island. We hired a driver, who also happened to run a surf camp on the island, and he chauffeured us to multiple different cities and destinations each day. From hiking in the rice patties, getting attacked by monkeys at the monkey palace, to exploring an eerie old Buddhist temple late at night, our days were filled with adventure. 
More like a FUNrise!
Rice hikes, historic temples, etc.
Attention! Blond white girl in the market!
Those monkeys are nothin' but trouble!

One day we took a boat trip to Lombongan Island, a small landmass just a mile or two off the shore’s of East Bali, where I surfed my first reef pass, and we experienced a minor scooter “incident” - naturally. We may as well have had “gringo” tattooed on our foreheads.  Anyhow, we survived and caught the boat back to the mainland just in the nick of time. 
Lembongan
Managed to have a little fun, too.
In the clouds
 Having some of the best cuisine in the entire SE Asian region, smoothies for breakfast and American trail mix the other two meals of the day, towards the end of the our trip we couldn’t help but splurge on dinner a couple times. When in Bali, right? I think so. When in Ubud, Mozaic is a world class option, named SouthEast Asia's best French restaurant last year, or head to RockBar at the Ayana Resort for appetizers and drinks while you watch the sunset from a platform hanging off the side of  a cliff just above the ocean (get there EARLY as there is only room for a set amount of people and is a top sunset lurking destination) After the sun sinks below the horizon, try one of the resort's 6+ bad ass restaurants. Our choice: Dara. No Regrets.
Rock Bar
Typical street in Ubud - magical.










As any stress-less adventure, ten days flew by and we were back stateside before we knew it. Spencer and I parted ways, and I hung out in LA for a couple of days followed by a trip up to Sacramento for the Liquid Force Free For All stop at Wake Island. I ended up changing my flight from the next morning to evening so I could milk a few more west coast hours. That day, my Califriends and I rode the newly built Velocity Island Park, which had yet to open to the public.  Worn out from riding all day, I was able to sleep through my redeye back to the sunshine state. 

 Liquid Force Free For All - Wake Island, Sacramento, CA
 Adventure is good, but home is good, too. 

I appreciate vulnerability.  It's an opportunity to learn and grow, and being halfway around the globe in lands unknown for the first time pushed my out of my comfort zone, and I welcomed vulnerability every mile of the way. Yes, it's much easier to accept being vulnerable on a fun trip to paradise as opposed to some of life's less enjoyable situations, but you've got to start somewhere. You don't have to travel halfway around the world to get out of your comfort zone, learn, and grow, but if you want to, Bali's a not a bad place to start. 

TBC....
a.score

Sunrise to sunset, Bali was magical.

A post about nothing.

Let’s take a break from reliving 2014 and fast-forward to last week. On Friday, I sat down to write a post about irony. My day-to-day life has been riddled with irony for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure if it’s just me or if I just notice the irony in situations more than others but serendipity seems to find it’s way into my life often, as if Larry David himself was writing the story of my life. Most of the time, the situation is so silly, no one would believe me if I told them, but a couple of random things happened this month, and I felt like sharing anyway.  

I returned to Orlando from Aspen, CO late on New Years Eve, and rang in 2015 sound asleep in my bed. On New Years Day, Tiff, Steve, and our friend Heather cruised down the street to the Citrus Bowl to join our fellow Gophers watch Minnesota take on Missou. Even though we had phenomenal seats in the 8th row on the 50 yd line, we somehow we ended up on the field for the entire second half, but that’s another story. Anyhow, I was beat from my Aspen escapade, so that evening as the gameday bowl party rolled on, I headed home and then made my way to the gym or a late evening session. As you can imagine, the gym was fairly quiet at around 9 o’clock on New Years Day, it was only me and 3-4 other people in the main cardio room. I was on a Stairmaster climbing to heaven, when something caught my eye. I looked to my right and there was a tall kid, prob 18-19 years old, lying awkwardly on the floor next to me with a dazed and confused look on his face. In a split second, I looked up to the front desk, which was only 30 feet from where he lay. The guy working didn’t move a pinky. I jumped down off of the machine and quickly asked, “Did you just pass out? Are you okay?” The boy, very confused, replied, “Yeah……I think I was trying to get to the bathroom.”

I propped his 6 foot 4 inch frame up on mine and walked him to a chair near the front desk area. Glaring harshly at the guy behind the desk, I said, “Umm HELLO can we get a water or a Gatorade for this guy?!!” Annoyed, he said yes and leisurely grabbed a Gatorade, completely unconcerned with what was happening. The kid’s name was Brendan, and as he regained his brainpower he said, “I was sitting here and yelling at the guy at the front desk for help. I needed water. He did nothing. That’s when I got up to go to the locker room.”

Just then the desk man brought the Gatorade and returned to his perch, where he continued to take selfies, seriously, and didn’t move an eye from his phone to check on us, or anything else happening in the gym, for that matter. Needless to say, I was infuriated. It is absolutely sickening and deeply saddening to witness our human race completely lose respect and care for each other. We are SO  worried about our social media fame, knowing what other people are doing, and/or caring about how we're being perceived, to take a step back and care for each other. It’s upsetting.

After admitting to me that he’d been partying the night before, I gave Brendan a brief lecture on dehydration and the science behind water and electrolytes. For the next 30 minutes, I completed my workout and periodically came back to check on him. When I was ready to leave I asked where he lived. “Just down the road on Michigan Street,” he informed me. After minutes of banter, demanding to let me take him home, he wouldn’t accept the offer, and newly hydrated Brendan drove home. Having had enough excitement for one day, I headed home as well.

Halfway home, I saw a large dog running back and forth across Michigan St. Worried for his safety, I wanted to see if he had a collar and return him to his home. I parked three different times and coaxed him for a half hour before he came to me. No collar. Long story short, I brought the dog home, and Rod Stewart, our Jack Russell, had a new, large, friend, “Ritchie Cunningham”, for the night.

That night I posted on Craigslist, Facebook, and multiple local and national lost dog websites in hopes his owner would emerge. Nothing. The next day, Tiff and I went into the SPCA to see if the dog was chipped – he was! We were so excited, until an hour passed and the vets still couldn’t track down the owner; although he was chipped, the owner had failed to register any of their information on the account. There was obviously no way we were going to leave Ritchie Cunningham at the pound, so we brought him home and advertised him to our dog friendly Facebook friends. Near the end of the day, our big-hearted neighbor, Kyle, took him. Ritchie had found a home.  

Two days later I got a call from the SPCA. They’d tracked down the owner who then called me to get my information to come pick up the dog. I was pissed. Though fired up, I calmly lectured this person. “So, your dog was missing for three days, and you didn’t post a Craigslist ad? Or check with the SPCA? He was running wild on West Michigan Street!” “Well I live on East Michigan, so he’d only went a couple miles then. I mean he has a chip.” he responded. I wanted to punch him through the phone. “Okay, well you can come get him, but I don’t want to give this dog back to you unless you’re going to take care of him. Having a dog is a responsibility.” He, unemotionally said “Yeah, whatever” and I grudgingly gave him my neighbor Kyle’s address to pick the dog up. Just before hanging up, I asked him, “What’s your name?” “Brendan,” he said.

I couldn’t believe it.

Orlando’s population is upward of 250,000. I’d never seen this kid before at the gym, he passes out, and I get him home. Driving home I find a dog 3 miles away on Michigan St and for some reason take him in. Find owner. Owner is Brendan from East Michigan Street. The irony was unbearable.

Here's where it gets out of control: As I sat down to write this post, I was looking through my most recent writing folder on my month old Macbook Air and thought to myself, “Why don’t I have these files backed up? I can’t imagine losing them if anything happened to my computer! All of that brain power down the drain.” So, I immediately backed up the files via Dropbox, and as I did so, made a swift gesture reaching for one of my handwritten notes when I knocked my entire mug of freshly brewed coffee onto the keyboard of my laptop.  Mug FULL of coffee directly INTO my brand new $1,000 Macbook Pro. It was too ridiculous for me to even get mad.

Despite hours of effort to drain, dry, and revive my laptop, it is done for (that’s “donzo” for you Millennials). When I went in to the Apple store, the worker confirmed my fate as the first thing he said to me after I showed him the computer was, “Mmmm, smells good -  French vanilla? 

It was Hazelnut, but thanks.

So, one thousand dollars later, I’m writing from my old slow laptop risking explosion, and after all that, there’s not even any real point to this post; I wrote it mostly for amusement. However I will leave you with this closing note: Please take responsibility for and care for your belongings, your dog, your computer, the people around you, and yourself. From Brendan to the guy at the gym front desk, both were irresponsible and disrespectful not only of others, or their dogs, but of themselves. We’ve all got things to work on; Let’s start ironing out the wrinkles. Now.



Work Hard, Skol Hard.

Life's a garden, and I dig it, but that doesn't mean there aren't going to be a few weeds to pull along the way...

Just as I returned from Barbados, I was nominated by The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society as North & Central Florida Woman of the Year. I was one of three women and four men to be asked to take part in the 10 week Man/Woman of the Year fundraising campaign, which was to kick off on Feb 19. Participating was going to require endless amounts of work, energy, and time - a full time job in itself, really. It was looking as though “The Year of A.Score” was going to end before it had even began! 

Furthermore, unlike the other candidates whom were asked to participate months in advance, I was asked 10 days before the campaign kicked off, giving me little to NO time to strategize, plan, or line up sponsorships. The decision had me in between a rock and selfish place…. Alas, after getting my sister’s full commitment to help me, I signed my life away.

I am, after all, forever in debt to these people. Aside from being a Leukemia patient/survivor, The LLS funded the researcher who developed the drug (Gleevec) that saved my life. Which is actually how I justified taking part I the campaign and aligned it with my resolution - I, in participating, was being selfish in hopes that these donations would someday lead to another miraculous Leukemia breakthrough, in which I could benefit from (joking, obviously). The Year of A.Score lived on!

Despite being in over my head managing work, wake, and fundraising 24/7, throughout the same ten weeks I managed to have a few adventures as well… Imagine that! I made a weekend trip to Nashville to drink green beer with some Tennesseans, checked off a bucket list item by attending a Molly Hatchet concert, celebrated my buddy Shane’s birthday at his annual Clear Lake bash, made appearances at multiple Liquid Force Free For All’s at some of Florida’s finest wake parks, attended Tortuga Music Festival in Ft. Lauderdale with my pal Chase after which I took him shredding at OWC (video below), turned 24 years old, and bought myself my first Chevy Silverado. 
I will find a vineyard in any geographical location, even Nashville.
Molly Hatchet - a dream come true!
Liquid Force Free For All. See you at a park in 2015!
Chase & Mama Rice at Tortuga <3    //   Homeboy, Church            
            My friend Shane.   //   My friend Shane laughing.  //  My friend Shane surprised.
My friend Shane's party.

'merica
Work hard, play hard.

The ten weeks flew by, and three days after my birthday, the Man & Woman of the Year campaign came to a close at Grand Finale Gala. Knowing we’d raised over $34,000 as we approached the finale, Tiff and I were proud regardless of if we had “won” or not. So when we ended up coming in second to Dr. Jennifer Cultrera, who raised over $50,000 (thanks in large part to two $20k donations) we were still downright thrilled with what we and our supporters had accomplished. It was truly amazing. (Okay, so my ego was a little hurt, and I drank an entire bottle of champagne at the finale, but I was proud, nonetheless.)

FYI: As a chapter we raised over a quarter of a million dollars in ten weeks, and nationwide, the 2014 campaign raised over $27 million…Given the potential impact that money has in the fight against cancer, in the end, we all won. 
One of the many donations for the LLS Grand Finale auction. Thanks, Shecks!
Regardless of the dollar amount, the outpouring of support, generosity, and consideration behind the donations from friends, family, and complete strangers was the most rewarding part. It was a humbling experience to say the least, and to be honest, despite being a wordsmith, I can’t fully describe how grateful I am to have the amount of absolutely wonderful people in my life - I’d list all the people who deserve a thank you right here in this post, but I think I’d shut down the Internet. Thank you all!
My supportive and damn good looking crew at the Grand Finale Gala.
Being that I started the year with no plans, as summer approached and I’d already crammed a plethora of things into the first four months of the year, I was feeling pretty good. What I’ve yet to mention, is that all the while this was happening, I’d been on endless calls and visits with my doctors trying to figure out just what I was going to do about my newly returned Leukemia. The adventures were a good distraction from the reality of the situation, but it remained in the back of mind like a weed in a garden. Just when you think you’ve pulled ‘em all and you go sit on your porch and crack a Bud heavy while admiring your freshly weedless shrubbery, a little green punk has already sprouted up and shown it’s leafy little face. But that’s life, and that’s reality. You see the weed, you acknowledge the weed, and you remove it. There’s no pretending it’s not there – you get off your porch and take care of it.

Life’s a garden, and I dig it. But that doesn’t mean there’s not going to be a few weeds along the way... Acknowledge, deal, and dig on. 

A.Score
Dig it.
 

Blast Off


2014 was another year for the books. Looking back I can’t believe the amount of adventure I squeezed into 365 days, not to mention all the while maintaining a full-time commercial real estate job, dealing with that old cancer thing, and wakeboarding.

Then again, maybe I can.

I’ve never needed to travel to find adventure – fun is what you make of it. “It” being your situation, location, etc., but I did find myself all over the map this year, both domestically and internationally for one reason or another. Throughout each trip, regardless of purpose or destination, I was certain to travel mindfully, soaking up all information with each of the five senses in order to learn and broaden my horizons. I had intentions of sharing my experiences via blog, however, as noted earlier, my 2014 new years resolution was to be more selfish…and I did a pretty good job at it. As each trip came and went, I was so deeply involved in fully living each experience that I didn’t get the chance to write about it (in my spare time, I also had a full-time job to tend to). With that said, we’ve now blasted off on the space ship that is 2015 and my resolution has taken a contrasting turn. For me, 2015 is The Year of Creation and Expression.  Lucky you.  Though I have many more adventures penciled in for the coming months, I’d also like to share a few of my experiences of the past year, even if briefly, and touch on the importance, or non importance, of each. We'll start with the first couple, and I'll proceed unleash the rest of them in posts over the next couple of weeks.

It’s always been easier for me to write in the past tense, anyhow.

(Disclaimer: I apologize in advance for the lack of pictures. During any special experience, stopping to take a photo isn’t the first thing on my mind…I have some photos, but most often I save the best parts for myself.)

January was a mellow month I spent shaping my first surfboard and battling the flu resulting most epic sinus infection ever documented. I shaped, I fished, and I was recognized as the Solar Bear’s “Hometown Hero of the Game” for Hockey Fights Cancer night.  #OldTimeHockey.
Eddie Shore.

The first cut is always the hardest!
"Rubbin' one out."
The finished product -"William Bass"
Finally, after having absolutely zero taste sensation for over 10 days, my friend Brett brought some homemade chicken noodle soup over, and for the first time in two weeks, I experienced the ever so slight taste of the savory broth. I knew then that my year was about to get underway, and I was comin' in hot.

The following Thursday, Tiff, and I, after one glass of wine too many, decided we needed to go to Key West….the next day. So, we booked the last hotel room on the island, literally, and headed South.

Tiff, Steve, my friend Spencer, and I arrived at the Southernmost Florida island late night, but with the help of the instigator known Patron, we were able to catch up with the rest of the folk on Duval Street in no time. It wasn’t easy getting up at 7am the next morning, but to feel like Hemingway’s Santiago fishing the sea, I’ll do just about anything. Our guide, knowing we’d be late, showed up just as we did and got us out on the water in a jiffy. 85, sunny, and no wind - perfection. We chased a few fish, drank some hair of the dog, and ended up catching a good sized permit on the fly. The Old Man would be proud. What followed was standard Margaritaville protocol, involving lobster dinner, Guinness chugging at Irish Kevins, and a not so pretty ending to the night at the Garden of Eden…
El Capitan
Having been told to bring my passport for unknown reasons, I woke up the next morning to Spencer telling me to pack my bags – the waves were firing in Barbados, and he’d booked fights out of Miami at 5pm – surf trip. Miami International is a 3-hour drive on the two-laned US Highway 1, the only road connecting the keys to the mainland, so we’d need to leave by 12 noon to make our flight. Being only 10am, we packed our bags nonchalantly until we realized that we’d misplaced the car keys. Frantically, we tore up the hotel room - no luck. The only place they could have been was the trunk of the car. We called the only locksmith in the southern keys, who just so happened to be near and miraculously showed up at 11:15. After telling us he didn’t have the proper equipment to open Spencer’s BMW, he somehow jimmy’d his way into the trunk and sure enough, the keys were in there. I’m not sure if that’s a trick they teach you in locksmith school, but starting off by getting our hopes down only to “somehow” get the doors unlocked worked. We gave him proper praise (and tip) and blew him kisses as we left Key West in the dust just one minute after noon.

Heading north, having just avoided catastrophe, it seemed as though nothing else could go wrong – vibrant blue water on either side of the car, seabreeze blowing through the windows. Even as we came to a stop on the road for what seemed to be a minor hold up I said, “Man, even being stuck in this little traffic jam is enjoyable. FL Keys traffic jams don’t suck!" 

Until they do. 

After 15 minutes passed and we hadn’t moved an inch, we began to sweat a little. As the clock ticked away, our dream of making it to the airport began to fall apart. We phoned a bait shop located a couple miles up the road. They let us know there’d been a wreck and the road wouldn’t reopen for 2 hours. The dream imploded. Barbados would have to wait.

After a few much needed minutes sulking in self pity, we realized that we just so happened to be stopped in Islamorada, only a mile away from my favorite restaurant in the entire 200 mile chain of keys. So after moving a few inches a minute, we’d had made it to the restaurant around 4pm. I ran across the street to the nearest hotel and booked a room since everyone in the keys was trying to get out and it would have taken us 10+ hours to get back to Orlando. We sat next to the water at Lorelei restaurant and drank margaritas, enjoyed fish tacos, reminisced about our Key West extravaganza, and listened to the three salty man island band that played barefoot in front of the setting sun. Not a bad “plan B”.  We ended the night by narrowly avoiding getting into a skirmish with a local at the "Wild Hog", which is nothing out of the ordinary for a visit to the group of keys known as "Islamorada". 
Lorelei sunset
"Plan B"

Waking up in a hammock in Islamorada instead of Barbados...could've been worse.

Turns out we were able to reschedule our Barbados trip for two weeks later. We had a blast.
It was worth the wait.

This was only the tip of the 2014 travel iceberg for me, but it reminded me of an important lesson and set the tone for the rest of the year's adventures: Sometimes you need to simply sit back and let things work themselves out, and, oftentimes, the journey becomes the trip itself. 

Fun is what you make of it. 

To be continued,
a.score

Celebrate.

Most people probably wouldn’t consider the anniversary of a cancer diagnosis to be a celebratory matter, but I personally celebrate the other 364, so I figure what the hell. I try not to make a big deal out of it, but it’s hard to think of the significance of December 1st each time the day rolls around....especially this year. And for a couple of reasons.

Last week I had the chance to visit with a girl friend from high school who was very close to me when I was diagnosed. To be honest, since my "recovery" eight years ago, I haven't talked about my sickest, darkest times with...well...anyone. So, as we chatted about the details of my diagnosis and the weeks that followed, I heard, for the first time, what many of the people around me were feeling, thinking, and talking about when I was sick.


I certainly knew how severe my situation was and how dark it got, but I didn't know if anyone else knew of its severity. I never knew what it looked like from the outside...mainly because I’d not asked. After I initially started feeling better, none of us ever really looked back.

“You were so sick…none of us knew what to do. I remember one day you were so weak you couldn’t even stand up.”

I had totally forgotten about that. It was true – there were many instances when I was so weak, and in so much pain, I couldn’t get out of bed. On multiple occasions I was too weak to stand in the shower, so I’d sit, cross-legged and just stare at the wall. Provoked by our conversation, I started getting flashbacks.

These newly recovered memories brought back a flood of emotions and sparked a sense of curiosity. “Did you think I was going to die?” I asked, genuinely intrigued, and slightly nervous to hear the answer. “We weren’t sure…but it is something we thought and talked about…you were just so sick, and we didn’t know what to think...”

That’ll put things into perspective pretty quick.

I think hearing that was scarier than living through it at the time. It makes it so real again. I knew that my family and I were aware of the gravity of the situation, but I’d never really heard about how it looked from the outside. To hear that your 16-year-old girlfriends thought they might have to watch their good friend die, is though to hear.

With that said, I know some people didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation, and that’s okay too. The people who were close to me knew, and that’s what matters. They could see and feel the pain I was in.

The memory of the emotions I felt when I was sick have slowly faded over time. While telling my story for different charities, and support causes, etc., I’ve mentioned the pain and the hurt I felt, but in sharing it so many times over the past eight years, the severity of it has lost much of it’s realness. During the conversation with my good friend last week, the memory of those emotions came back to me in an all too real way. I could remember the pain so clearly again and feel the desperation in my heart.

I look back at all the things I’ve done over the past year, not to mention, the past eight years, and it’s incredibly humbling to think of how close I was to not having those opportunities. Don’t get me wrong, I had accomplished plenty and had lived a wonderful life by the time I was 16, but it would have been a shame to get cut off that soon. I had, and still have, more work to do.

As I shared in previous posts, one year ago my cancerous cell counts, which had been controlled at a VERY low level for 7 years, began to creep up and grow at an alarming rate. My doctors assumed the cancer had become resistant to the medication I was on, which is typical within 2-10 years, and I’d have to make a change in medication. Unfortunately, the two other realistic treatment options I have are even newer than Gleevec, still relatively experimental, and are very dangerous. One has an alarmingly high risk of heart attack, and the other an alarmingly high risk of stroke. Both not good.

I’m worried,” my doctor said to me last November, “you’re an athlete. I’m not sure how we’re going to manage these risks.” I was told I was going to need to change my lifestyle; wakeboarding would have had to stop and my physical activity would have to have been dramatically decreased. Less strenuous activities were all I would be able to do. Needless to say, I was pretty bummed.

On Gleevec, I deal with a number of side effects every day: fatigue, bone pain, nausea, swelling, sun sensitivity, etc. I’ve always said this is a small price to pay to live. And it is. But everything is relative, so eventually you still manage to take things for granted. When threatened with not being able to live the way you want to live, not being able to do the things you love, and also have the constant thought of heart attack and stroke in the back of your mind (not to mention the actual risk), among a plethora of other side affects, you realize that you’d do anything for puffy eyes and swollen legs. I can live with fatigue, nausea, and bone pain. Just leave my heart alone.

For the following months I saw multiple specialists and spoke with dozens of people in search of different opinions. It was essentially the lesser of two evils that would be the drug of choice. In addition to the actual risk itself, it’s quality of life that’s hardest to deal with. Not being able to do the activities I love would have been hard, not to mention having the thought of heart attack and stroke weighing constantly on my mind – it’s just not a pleasant way to live.

I made a decision to switch oncologists and convinced him to let me stay on Gleevec for just a little while longer. I needed to buy some time to clear my head. And I wanted to know for absolutely sure that the Gleevec was no longer working. For the first time in my life, I felt a little desperate. At that time, I made a decision to eliminate all negative energy from my life and focus on myself. Really focus on myself. In fact, my 2014 New Year’s resolution was to be more selfish. It sounds worse than it is, but I really needed to make my mental and physical health a priority. (This goes without saying: I planned to be more selfish but, of course, without hurting others or negatively affecting anyone else in any way.)

Standing in the Nashville airport on July 1st, just before boarding a plane bound for Minnesota for the Fourth of July, I got a call from my oncologist. The tone in his voice said it all. “Not sure how you did it,” he said. “Your counts turned around. Looks like you’re staying on Gleevec for at least a little while longer.” The drug was working again.

I was so emotional and ecstatic that I could hardly tell my family. When I get overwhelmed, I tend to keep to myself. I’d received such an outpouring of support from family, friends, and my community six months earlier when the cancer had returned, I felt it would be selfish to make a huge announcement and draw any more attention or energy from anyone who had already given me so much. I felt selfish making a big deal out of it again. 

Though the Gleevec is "doing it's job" for now, my cancer counts are still not as low as they could be on the new drugs and not as low as the doctors would like. However, we feel that, so long as the counts are controlled, living with this level of Leukemia is a safer option for someone of my age and activity level, than risking the life threatening heart risks the other two drugs pose. Back to kickin' the can down the road!

Looks like you guys are stuck with me for a while.

I work very hard and play very hard. I love pushing limits, and sometimes I push them a little too hard on either (or both) end of the spectrum. I’m the first to admit that I need to be put in my place every once in a while, and this year I really needed it. December 1st is a wonderful reminder every year that I am not invincible…pretty darn close, but not invincible. 

This year's Cancerversary celebration didn’t include balloons or streamers, cake or champagne. I had bigger fish to fry like: negotiate real estate deals, get my oil changed, and do laundry. But I still dedicated my day, as I do every day, to celebrating family, friends, doctors, and the people who cared about me and continue to offer their support.

Yeah, being diagnosed with and living with Leukemia may not necessarily merit celebration for some, but I’ve got it pretty darn good, and let’s be honest, when’s the last time I passed up an opportunity to celebrate? So, if you'd like, please take a moment this weekend, or any day, to celebrate with me. The celebration is just as much for you as it is for me.

Stay kool,
a.score
 

Nash Lake Day

Last month I had a conveniently planned "extended layover" on my way from Orlando to Minnesota and got to hang with my boys, Chase Rice and Co., in Nashville.  Despite being slammed with nightly shows all over the country this summer, Chase and his crew were able to take a day (more like half day) off to come hang and shred on Percy Priest Lake just outside of Nashville.  TNT Watersports sent out a brand new Axis A22 for us to play on complete with our own personal chauffeur/professional stoke man, Harvey, who hauled us around for the day.  We got in some riding and surfing but mainly just enjoyed a classic summer lake day.

If you haven't heard Chase' name yet, you will soon.  His single "Ready, Set, Roll" just went gold and is well on it's way to platinum.  I can't say I'm surprised, though.  Since the first time I met Chase and his tour manager, John Lessard, it was clear that they're passionate, dedicated, and some of the hardest working people in the biz.  It's pretty rad, and unfortunately quite rare, to meet people who can work even harder than they play...and these guys can play!  They deserve every bit of their recent recognition, and I'm looking forward to sitting back and watching them blow up the music industry.  Check out the vid below with footage from our lake day and Chase' single "Do It Like This" from his new album "Ignite the Night" which drops August 19th!

Talk soon,
a.score


"From the lakes of Minnesota, to the hills of Tennessee..."


I can’t believe it.  I truly cannot believe it!  The universe allowed me to survive another full year to enjoy yet another Fourth of July in Spicer, Minnesota.  Life is good, and here is how it all went down:

The Second.  After a short pit stop in Nashville to visit some good friends (a whole ‘nother story/video coming), I continued my journey north to the Land of 10,000 Lakes.  Upon arrival in Minneapolis, I spent a moment with my mother downtown and then hitched a ride 100 miles west to Spicer in the jump seat of my high school buddy, Luke's, 1994 Toyota Tacoma.  About half way to Spicer, we ran into some construction and were stopped for 10 minutes or so.  After a minute or two, Luke looked around and got out of the car, grabbed something on the roof of the truck, and chuckled – as if the keg in the bed of the truck wasn’t incriminating enough, we'd driven a solid 50+ miles of Minnesota interstate with the tap on the roof.  I can’t think of a more fitting way to start the Fourth festivities.  Upon entering Kandiyohi county, we paid a visit to the side of County Road 8 to fertilize the dandelions, then gave a friendly two finger wave to the single car we saw on CR8 before getting to Spicer.  The boys dropped me off at the house I grew up in, known as the "Score's Sandbar", around midnight, and I headed off to sleep with stars and stripes dancing in my head. 
Home.
Ridin' out!




The Third.  After some much needed sleep, I woke up and greeted my old man (who was already sleeping when I arrived the night before).  Next, I found my favorite coffee mug, dirty in the dishwasher, poured in some Joe and headed to the deck.  A glass calm lake, birds singing, sun shining, and coffee down the hatch’.  My heart laughed – “this will never get old!”.   Next priority was a bike ride around the lake.  This could possibly be my favorite activity in life.  Twelve miles of pure bliss, nature sightings, endless waves to familiar faces, and UB40 blaring out of my cell phone – welp, Lex is in town.  Before I peddled off, Tiff had called  to let me know she and Steve were on their way from Minneapolis.  When I arrived back from my ride and they weren't at the house yet - I ditched my bike and jogged straight for the liquor store, which I assumed would be their first stop.  A mile down the road, liquor store in site, I saw Tiff and Steve’s faces through the windshield of the truck driving towards me, laughing, “How did you know where we were?!” “Just a hunch”, I said as I hopped in the bed of the truck and cruised with them home. 

Just after high noon, my dad, his girlfriend, Sharon, Tiff, Steve and I headed out to the "front yard" (actually the back yard, but Dick insists the lakeside be called front yard).  With the same mixed-tape that has been in the CD player since I was 9 years old cranking out from the Sandbar speakers, we cracked open a few cold ones.  The first gulp of Leinenkugels had yet to make it down the hatch before a pontoon full of people pulled ashore.  Once word reaches town the Score clan is in Spicer, it's not long before people start flooding into the Sandbar.  Naturally, my dad felt it necessary to host a quick “communion", so we cheers’d with a shot of Mogen David wine and made a toast to Louis Zamperini, WWII Veteran, American hero, and author of the book “Unbroken”, who had passed away the night before (a most highly recommended read). 

As evening approached, we cleaned up and cruised down Lake Avenue to the Seventeenth (OMG) annual 3rd of July party hosted by patriotic and Honorable Cathy and Ed Anderson at their “cabin” on the north side of the lake.  Open bar and live music provided by Cruise Control – most excellent!  You know you’re at a small town party when you're drinking with both your childhood dentist and the doctor who delivered you – nice work, fellas, look at me now! (kidding) After the party, we headed back to the Sandbar, grabbed walking beers, and headed off on foot to the street dance just a half mile down the lake road in the opposite direction.  Flags a flyin’, beer a pourin’, and music pumpin’.  All 1,180 Spicer citizens and hundreds of other Green Lake enthusiasts united, just as they've done year after year, for a party in the street.  We danced, we drank, we laughed, old friends, new friends - the whole nine.  After I’d had my fill, I walked home with my childhood best friend and neighbor, Chad, who parted ways with me once we reached his driveway, and  I continued on my own to Tiki Town, better known as Home.

It's true, ya know.
American Babes at Anderson's Party

Post jog cruise!



Dancin' in the street!
The Fourth.  GOOOD MORNINGG!!  Hungover or not, everyone in the Score household, including numerous random crashers who annually find their way back to our house, wake up buzzed on the Fourth of July.  I quickly ran down and peaked in the fridge; the red, white, and blue jello shots were looking extra jiggly, and coffee was quickly replaced by Bloody Mary’s and mimosas.  As thousands of people lined the street and filled the chairs they had set up the day before, the Score tribe and crew that had gathered between 9 and 10am made their way to the end of the driveway just as the sound of sirens and drum lines came into range.  Uncle Sam, Chairs Gone Wild, and Corn were just some of the many memorable floats in this years parade.  The Mayor came down in a convertible, and like every year before this one, my fathers stars and stripes speedo made a full appearance.  It’s so fun – every year it is the same crew at our house for the Parade, most of whom I don’t see the other 364 days of the year, and some of whom I still don’t even know by name, but year after year they show face, and it is as though it was meant to be. 

Following the parade and consumption of silly amounts of tootsie rolls, we made our way to the “front yard” for the opening ceremonies.  Tiff and I prepared the 12’ x 8’ American flag I purchased when I was 18 and has since become a tradition to hang from our balcony during the week of the Fourth.  As we prepped, the 30-40 people running around the Sandbar and in our yard began to accumulate in front of the balcony.  Gradually and quietly, the singing of the Star Spangled Banner emerged and grew in strength until it was a full fledged concert.  Arm hairs  straight as needles.  After we paid our respects, we jumped in our respective water vessels and headed to “Emerald Bay”, one of two hangout areas on the lake where we met dozens of other boats for some lake fun: splashing, celebrating, cannon balls, etc. 

As evening came near, we headed back to the Sandbar where we lost a few early departers to “dehydration”.  Those of us remaining walked down to, of all places, the town’s Mexican restaurant, El Conquistador (which happens to be my old church building).  Ping pong and a brief and inappropriate puppet show were a couple of the many tequila induced activities... Nightfall was upon us and people began to gather in the town square for the annual fireworks show.  We all headed outside and split up to watch the fireworks with our respective loved ones.  As the lone wolf, I was about to begin my walk home by myself when I bumped into two high school buddies, Ian and Matt.  Next thing I knew, we were in the best seats in the house, sitting on the roof of the town’s local businesses on the main street, sipping whiskey, and watching 'bombs bursting in air'.  A fairytale ending?  No.  Just the best ending to the best day with the best people.  I walked home alone and hit the hay.  Thank you, George Washington and friends.

Breakfast is served

Patriotic cat nap
U S A


It's a family affair.
 
El patriotic puppet show
Best seat in the house (city)!
The Fifth.  Another morning with coffee by lake - same mug, same place.  Sunny skies and butterflies.  Don’t mind if I do zip around the lake on my bike...trying to keep up with my old man who, not hesitant to remind me,  had already ran five miles earlier that morning.  He rode on a mountain bike in flip flops and I rode a road bike.  What a shit head!  After some yard work, we headed back over to Emerald Bay and again floated around and visited with happy lake goers still celebrating America's birthday.  Later, Tiff, Steve, and I walked to Zorbaz, the bar on the lake and sat on the lakeside deck with hundreds of friends who enjoyed live music and a few Blue Blobbin's, the unofficial official margarita of Minnesota complete with mini bobber.  Next up was O’Neil's Pub, who also had a live band.  For the last time of the weekend, the town came together for laughs and we danced until our shoes fell off.  Around midnight I made the call, and it was time for me to go.  Walking home solo (again), I YouTube'd Neil Young's “Rockin’ in the Free World” on my phone and couldn’t help but get emotionally sentimental.  Keep on rockin', Spicer, and God Bless the free world.
Zorbaz
Steve and DO are Blue Bobbin'!
The Sixth. Sunday came and the whole family fished, kayaked, and rolled in the grass. Everyone in Minnesota and their right mind was on the lake, swimming, tubing, skiing, etc. Late afternoon I decided to take my father’s brand new jetski out to pull Tiff and Steve skiing, a hilarious time until I ran over the rope and sucked it up into the impeller. We swam the jetski in a quarter mile to shore, which just so happened to be in front of my high school classmate, Ellary’s house. Luckily, her parents were home and were kind enough to let us use their boat lift, tools….and beer. After spending an hour under the jet ski, and being told by the neighbor that I should consider a job as an auto mechanic, the rope was free and I was able to put the jet ski back together. As a matter of fact, I think it runs better now than it did prior to my mishap! (haha!) The long, shameful, and hilarious ride back, three-up on the jetski to the Sandbar house was classic. 

Us "kiddos" swam some more while my father filleted up the sunfish we had caught earlier in the day off the end of the dock on worm. We were wrapping up the weekend in true Minnesota fashion with a good 'ol fish fry by the lake, and I can’t think of a better way to do it. Just before the sun started to set, I couldn’t help but take one last lap around the lake on my bike. This time it wasn’t for exercise. This time it was for me. As I left the driveway, I told Tiff and Steve to meet me at the Dairy Queen 40 minutes later, and sure enough, as I rode up to the town's only fast food restaurant, there they came from the opposite direction on their bikes. We sat at the Spicer beach and ate ice cream, then rode off into the sunset. 
Yoga by the legs. We have mannequin legs as yard ornaments.

Yoga by the lake.
Content
As much fun and shenanigans we Scores like to have over the Fourth of July, we are the first to remember and the last to forget the true purpose of the Holiday. We couldn’t be more thankful for freedom, those who have fought in its defense, and the opportunities that being an American offers us. Being a citizen of the USA is a privilege and comes with a high level of responsibility. While we are free to celebrate as we please, we must maintain respect and responsibility for our country we love so much.

“May the sun in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more lovely, than this our own country!” – Daniel Webster

Thank you.
No, thank you!




Now go forth, skol, and prosper!

a.score


Skollercoaster


Last Monday I was told by my oncologist that my cancer counts doubled, again, since my visit three months prior.














Wednesday I got concussed wakeboarding.

Thursday I drove to Tampa to see an alternative oncologist to get a second opinion who suggested a completely different treatment path than my regular oncologist.
My head hurts.

Friday and Saturday I felt really unwell.

Sunday I spent 9 hours in the ER (with Tiff by my side) with difficulties breathing because of fluid retention in my chest.

Hi.

Since the last time I wrote, I took a trip to Nashville, raised $34,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, went on a surf trip to Bali, signed a big real estate deal, traveled for wakeboarding, worked a ton, rode a lot, made new friends, lost a couple friends, finished my surfboard, went to Cali, rolled in the grass, bought a truck, and did a lot of thinking.

There have been numerous moments throughout the past three months, high and low, when I NEEDED to write and felt compelled to do so but never took the time to sit down and do it. I guess I was too busy living. There are so many stories, feelings, thoughts, and insight I want to share, and now that I’m taking the time to let it all out, I have nothing to say. Sometimes there’s so much to say, you end up saying nothing at all.

It’s been a rollercoaster, to say the least, but the highs are even higher when you’ve experience the lows.  Over the next few weeks I am going to share my experiences with you in detailed fashion, but first I’ve got some business to take care of: There is just something about Spicer on the Fourth of July, and as long as 07/04 is on the calendar and there’s blood pumping through this American heart, I will be in Spicer, Minnesota for Independence Day.  I am sorry for the pump fake, but I assure you there’s plenty of material to come, entertaining or not.  In the meantime, say thank you to a serviceman, buckle up, and keep your arms, hands, and feet inside the vehicle at all times. This ride is far from over.

Skol on, skollercoaster…skol on.

Help me, Tom Selleck.

In honor of my trip to the oncologist today I'm posting the piece my buddy Brett put together from the bone marrow biopsy I had back in November, as well as some behind the scenes GoPro footy.  While reviewing the footage I learned a valuable lesson: when you're on Ativan and you think you look like Tom Selleck in Magnum PI, you actually look more like Nick Nolte after a few too many gin and tonics....just something to keep in mind.  Anyhow, for more details head down to my previous post "The Lowdown", and stay tuned for a health update very soon....wish me luck!

Alexa, Part. 1 from Photographic Initiative on Vimeo.
      

"Vote" For Me!


2014 has been a wild one so far, spending the first month bed-ridden from various sickness and the following month surfing, fishing, working, wakeboarding, filming, spending time at the beach, in the FL Keys, and in Barbados.  Now it's time to get down to business.  I am SO proud and excited to be nominated for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's 2014 Woman of the Year!  Ironically, this opportunity comes at a time when my health is not exactly stable, but it reminds me more than ever how important organizations like the LLS are for supporting patients and funding research.  My journey would have been very different without their help! (watch the vid!)

The Man/Woman of the Year campaign kicked off on February 19th, so we have 8 weeks left to raise some serious $$$$.  The competition is steep with 8 solid candidates.  Each dollar raised equals one "vote", and the candidate with the highest total is named Man or Woman of the Year and the Grand Finale Gala on May 1st at the Waldorf Astoria.  It's going to take a lot of hard work and cooperation, but together I think we can win this one and do some damage in the fight against cancer!  There are numerous ways to help including: cash donation, corporate sponsorship, donation of silent auction items, purchasing tables/tickets for the Grand Finale, etc.  Please visit my personal campaign page to donate and for more info on ways to contribute! Feel free to shoot me an email with questions/suggestions at alexascore@gmail.com. Oh yeah....and I want to WIN.  Just like my battle with cancer, there is no way I can do this alone! TEAM SCORE.

My Personal Campaign Page
http://www.mwoy.org/pages/ncfl/orlando14/ascore

Man/Woman of the Year Website
http://www.mwoy.org//

Your support means so much. Thank you!

ascore


ALEXA SCORE LLS from gordy cottrell on Vimeo.


Humble Pie


A few days into the new year I started feeling really run down....sore throat, body aches, fatigue, etc. I was getting ample rest and taking care of myself, but sometimes there's just no amount of Airborne that can stop you from getting sick, especially when you have a compromised immune system. I started running a 102+ degree fever and it lasted for seven days. Aside from when I was battling cancer in 2006, I've never been sick for more than a couple of days. While bedridden and thinking about the countless activities I was missing out on, I also managed to acquire a raging sinus infection, putting me out for another solid week. Midway through my sickness, just after I broke my fever and my blood stopped boiling, I went to OWC hoping to get a good ride in, as I hadn't been able to wakeboard for over a week. I was certain I'd be able to ride despite being sick. (As a do'er, and someone who goes weeks without turning the TV on, not being able to be active was killing me and my spirits. Adding to my anxiety, I had planned to spend the month of January filming and gathering footage for a couple of wakeboard edits I wanted to put out sometime in February - those plans have changed.) I did a handful of laps and had to stop. It was possibly the worst ride I've ever had. I couldn't do anything. Just holding the rope was difficult. I was stunned, humbled, and, honestly, really embarrassed. Frustrated and being as stubborn as I am, I tried to ride through it but finally knew I had to stop. My body was tired and just too weak. Having cancer and being on treatment, it's a little harder for me to fight off bugs and my body requires extra rest. I ended up sitting on shore and just watching. It was a beautiful day, after all. I cried a little too.

There are times when I feel like I'm invincible and could battle my way through any challenge I'm faced with, but oftentimes what's even harder than battling through something is knowing when to call it and let the problem heal - you gotta know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em. Coming hot off of such a great, fun-filled trip back home (see previous post), getting this sick hit me really hard... But it's checks and balances that keep life in balance, so sometimes you've just got to sit back and eat humble pie. Who says you can't have your pie and eat it too?

ascore

There 'snow place like home

There really isn't. And there is certainly no better medicine than spending time with family and friends.  I had a chance to head back to my small hometown, Spicer, MN, for about 10 days over the holidays and had an absolute blast - just what the doctor ordered!  As always, it was endless activities and so many good laughs.  It's amazing how a place so cold can make you feel so warm and fuzzy inside. 

Spicer

My favorite place on earth. Upon arriving on the evening of Friday the 20th, after dabbling into the 8 homemade duck jerky flavors our father had waiting for us, Tiff and I made our way to the local watering hole, O'Neils (by means of a truck on the lake, obviously) where we were met by a number of familiar faces and Dick Score's "legendary" framed beer can collection.  It's always entertaining to wait at the shoreline for a truck to pick you up and bring you to the bar via ice in the same spot where you wait for a pontoon to pick you up and bring you to the bar in July.  Anyway, many Busch Lights (on tap) and good times had by all.  Over the next few days we were able to do a lot of our favorite winter activity, ice fishing, thanks to Jared and Katie Swenson and Andrew Cors.  "Ice fishing" is a broad term for: playing cards, grilling, watching TV, drinking beer, and peeing on the ice.  We ended up catching two whoppers along with a number of smaller eaters.  Green lake is a walleye enthusiast's paradise, but don't go telling everyone you know.
View of the lake from home in Spicer...
Spicer is nicer.
ice chariot

Home is where your friends are!
"Dick Dynasty"

  
Apparently this beer can collection was in the rafters of our garage my entire life. It's actually really freaking cool. Every can is different and dates back to the early 1900's. I am my father's daughter.
Catchin' some rays
"fishing"
Grilling on the ice, hula skirts optional
Beautiful Lake Day!
                       

Catfish Hunter!
We had just snapped a line on a huge fish minutes before catching this guy. As we were pulling him up I knew he was the same fish we had just missed. Sure enough there was an extra hook in his mouth.




ROAD TRIP

We spent Christmas Eve at my mother's downtown Minneapolis which was so cozy! The city always does a great job filling their streets with Christmas cheer and holiday spirit. On Christmas day, Tiff, my father, and I hopped in the Chevy and headed east despite blizzard conditions. We were off to our relatives farm in what they consider a town called Boscobel, but I prefer to call it BFE, Wisconsin. On the way we spotted at least 50 bald eagles in the Mississippi River Valley, won some beer money on scratch off lotto tickets, and saw some deadly human sized icicles formed on the side of the river bluffs.  My father's sister and her husband have a beautiful 400 acre farm on the rolling hills of SouthWestern Wisco. We snow shoed, made lefse (a Norwegian "delicacy"), ate cheese, and managed to find the Castle Rock Inn, a local hunter's drinking establishment offering cold beers and "fresh dinner rolls, thawed daily!" God bless the Midwest.
Oke Dokie cheddar pop - a gourmet MN Christmas dinner appetizer. It's a tradition.
 
Downtown Minneapolis - A Winter Wonderland!
4-wheel drive is not a frivolous add-on in the Midwest
California may have happy cows, but Wisconsin has happy farmers...look closely.
Either the beginning of a horror film, or an innocent brewski at the Castle Rock Inn

You buy cheese in Wisconsin by the 10's of pounds. The Wisconsin cheese thing is way more ridiculous than anyone even makes it out to be.
Over the stream and through the woods...
True outdoorsmen. The apples do not fall far.

Bender Ender

After Wisco, we were able to make it back to Spicer on Friday night for one last day of fishing and shenanigans on Saturday. The plan was to head back to Minneapolis on Sunday to rest before our sunrise flight back to FL Monday morning.  I was on my last wind Saturday night in Spicer, giving it all I had on the dance floor when we got the call - we were being recruited as epic fan's for both the last Vikings game to ever be played at the Metrodome on Sunday afternoon and the Wild hockey game Sunday evening.  Our teams needed us.  So, as loyal fanatics and legendary skol'ers, we stepped up and accepted our roles as "#1 fans" (proof is in the foam).  We managed to squeeze in 20 more hours of epic Minnesotanness in the waning hours of our trip.  Foam fingers, horns, and all things Skol were in play, and we had an absolute blast cheering on our Purple People Eaters at the dome one last time. We could have stopped skoling at that point, but instead, we skoled on and kept the dream alive all the way into the Excel Energy Center in St. Paul for the Wild game.  As always, the view from the blue line was super and we were able to grab dinner and drinks with a couple of the players after the game.  Huge thanks to Jay Ettinger for providing tickets to both events and for just going with the skol.  According to legend, during the few hours of shut eye we got before our 5am flight on Monday, I could be heard skoling in my sleep.  (In all seriousness, Tiff witnessed me saying "skol" in my sleep that night...) 
Last game in the Inflatable Toilet AKA The Metrodome!
Skol Vikings

Skol Wild

The End. For Now.

Alas, Monday morning came, and like a midwinter night's dream, the trip was over.  Once again, Minnesota and its citizens came through and refused to disappoint.  As I stepped off of the plane in Orlando in my fur coat, sweating profusely, and looking like a lunatic, I looked down into my purse to see a single horn from my Vikings helmet that snuck it's way in for the journey back south...  Minnesota always finds a way to come with me wherever I go.

When life gives you horns, skol.

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(Note: video and a health update coming soon!)

Part 1: The Lowdown

**Originally Posted on Dec 20, 2013
***UPDATED on Dec 7, 2017

Dec 20, 2013: After countless phone calls, texts, and emails, I knew I should fill people in on my health status soon...but once people started asking my sister, Tiff, "how long does she have?", I figured I probably shouldn't wait any longer, hah. But if we're going to do this right, we should start at the very beginning...(if you prefer to skip the boring, medical, explanation, I encourage you to skip to #4 and/or watch the video) Most people who know I have cancer, don't know much beyond that, so let me give you a "quick" explanation of my health situation, in the briefest way possible, while still be thorough:

1. What is it?

On December 1, 2006, I was diagnosed with CML, Chronic Myeloid Leukemia, cancer of the bone marrow and blood stream. There are four kinds of Leukemias, and CML makes up about 10% of those diagnosed. Oddly, the average age of those diagnosed with CML is 60+, so it was very rare to be diagnosed at 16. I've always had an old soul.... Anyway, it all get's started when a piece of chromosome 9 and 22 break off and form a mutated chromosome called the Philadelphia Chromosome. 'Ol Philly causes uncontrolled growth of Leukemic white blood cells which build up in the marrow and blood stream and leave no room for normal, infection fighting, white blood cells. Eventually, the Leukemic cells invade the vital organs of the body and stop them from working properly, etc. For reference, a healthy, "normal", white blood cell count is 4,500-10,000 per microliter. When I was diagnosed, I had over 140,000 per microliter. If anyone spent time with me in the fall of 2006, prior to diagnosis, this explains the excruciating bone pain I was having - there just wasn't enough room in my bones!

2. Treatment

Immediately following diagnosis, I was told I would absolutely need a bone marrow transplant in order to have a chance at "survival". This is a very dangerous procedure, and if you survive the initial chemo, radiation, and transplantation, there's still a 20% chance you'll be dead within 5 years. Being a Budweiser counisseur, not making it to my 21st birthday just wasn't an option, so transplant was going to have to wait. Instead, we tried a drug called GLEEVEC, which was considered experimental at the time (now the mainstream). This is an "oral chemo" that inhibits the production of the Philadelphia chromosome, and is/was extremely cutting edge as far as cancer treatments. Gleevec has since become the first line treatment for CML. Like any chemo or cancer treatment, the drug does come with a plethora of daily side affects including: nausea, fatigue, bone pain, water retention, damage to the liver, kidneys, and heart, among a few others - consider like a mild hangover every day. With that said, I consider it a small price to pay. One major downfall of Gleevec is that, becuase it is so new, long term affects are unknown. However, we do know that most people become resistant to the drug at some point, as their cancer mutates to retaliate against it and Gleevec is no longer effective. Luckily, there are now 2nd generation drugs developed from Gleevec technology which can also be used to treat CML in certain cases.

3. Remission

While the cancer can become "undetectable", leukemic cells are still present in the blood stream and CML'ers on Gleevec can never technically be in remission. I had to fight to get where I am today and to get my cancer counts as low as they are, but for the most part, for the past 7 years my health has been stable and my quality of life on Gleevec has been better than I could ever ask for...

3.5. Which brings us to today

I go to the doctor every three months to monitor my leukemia counts and make sure they're stable. Six months ago, my counts began to creep up...no biggie. Then at my next appointment they went up again, and again two weeks later. Biggie. The conclusion: it's likely the cells have mutated to become resistant to Gleevec. So, as many of you know, I went in for a bone marrow biopsy to have a closer look and have also sent out some genetic testing to see whether or not my cells have mutated and most importantly, which mutation has occurred. This is very important because of the known mutations, there are two of which are not only resistant to Gleevec, but resistant to all of the current treatment options (besides transplantation). So that's where we're at...waiting on mutation results.

4. Let's cut to the chase

- am I dying or what? Nope. Not today (not of CML anyway). Besides some annoying side affects, I feel good. I am VERY lucky to have a type of cancer with multiple treatment options. While my situation is serious and needs to treated as so, I've never found any good in dwelling on things you can't control. I'm happy and couldn't be more thankful for the support from my friends, family, and community. It really does make a difference. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I'll continue to update this blog and keep anyone who's curious in the loop.  Feel free to ride this wave with me.

***UPDATE Dec 7, 2017: Shortly after I first posted this blog, I underwent a bone marrow biopsy (not to be confused with transplant) from which we were able to determine the cancer had not mutated. We increased my Gleevec dose, and I began holding myself more accountable for remembering to take it consistently, which is critical to working properly. Now, three years later, I remain in the 2nd of 3 levels of response. I still take a dose of oral chemo each day and see my oncologist every three months. Each visit my cancer levels fluctuate slightly. As of my last labs two months ago, my cancer levels have increased more than we would have liked, but not enough to panic just yet. We have discussed the potential to switch drugs to something called Tasigna, however, we absolutely do not want to do that until we KNOW the Gleevec has lost its effectiveness. We don't want to abandon a winning horse, but switching drugs would also be very hard on my body and provide to a whole other crop of side affects that would take time for my body to adjust to. Not to mention, it's never certain another drug would work at all. So for now, I will continue taking Gleevec each afternoon and take it one day at a time. I know it's not easy to support someone for eleven years. Thank you all for your continued support, love, and encouragement. Family and friends are what make it all worth it. 

Cowabunga.

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