Since I've spent much of the past month losing weight, pulling my hair out, and incessantly whining about finances, I'm posting multiple entries today written over the past weeks.
Yesterday (July 14) would have been the 13th anniversary of when I was married. Divorce changes what the day means, but it's still a day that has meaning. July 15 is another day I will never forget for a few reasons and July 16 is the birthday of the greatest pal of which a man was ever blessed.
“My Scars Tell A Story” is Mark’s personal battle surviving Stage IV Rhabdomyosarcoma.
TRANSPLANT
29-years ago on July 15th at 12:15 PM EST, I received my bone marrow transplant at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center (July 15, 1991). In the 28 preceding years, I always publicly recognize the date (as I'm doing now). In the past few years, I've written about my experiences online and, finally, my book, "My Scars Tell A Story."
My thoughts are different today compared to previous anniversaries, obviously due to my current situation. Regardless, surviving that taught me life lessons I will always remember.
Here is a brief description of that day, from Chapter 9 of "My Scars Tell A Story." I promise the full story is worth purchasing my book (I'll even sign said purchased copy if you send it to me - lucky you!).
"On July 15, 1991, I received my bone marrow transplant. The marrow was inserted from a thing that looked like a turkey baster into one of the lumens in my chest. The doctor didn't slowly inject this stuff either. He pushed it in full throttle. That was the strangest sensation that I had ever felt. After that was over, my body kind of went into shock, and I vomited for a couple of hours.
About a week after transplant was when, as they say, the shit started to hit the fan. By then, I had no blood counts, and sores were forming all up and down my esophagus and mouth to where I could not swallow for about two weeks. My mom would give me ice to suck on that I would just let trickle down my throat. That was just the beginning.
The first real scary experience from my transplant occurred when I started to see blood in my urine. This was the most frightening thing that I had ever seen. My doctors thought it was from my body's shock from the transplant, but when the bleeding increased, they decided to operate more and more. When my surgeon went in, he discovered why the bleeding was so severe."
SAMMY
July 16th represents one of the greatest days on the calendar year. In 2003, my faithful, loving, loyal, and now deaf and blind with an appetite stronger than ever, dog Sammy was born.
Sammy officially joined my life in October of 2005 when I agreed to find him a home. His original owner (my Aunt Geraldine) was dying of cancer, and Sammy needed a home. After a few weeks of him sneaking away to the upstairs closet to poop (my Aunt lived in Manhattan, so going in the house was the preferred option), I couldn't help but fall in love with him. He has been with me ever since. Time isn't much longer for him, but I will NEVER love another animal like I love Sammy.
Every day dogs depend on their owner for survival. Providing for Sammy often means I choose him over anything else. He comes first, and he's taught me invaluable lessons about loyalty, kindness, and how special the love of an animal, especially a dog, can be.
SURVIVORS NEED HELP
To help Mark, this blog and his efforts to support himself living with the permanent long-term side effects of treatment, visit his Patreon page.
I can always be reached by email (CKMagicSports@gmail or MEKelly@CKMagicSports.com). Please see the links below to follow me or contact me on social sites. I welcome (need) more followers and supporters. Please don't be shy about sharing your thoughts.
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