...of resolutions & new beginnings...

So here it is. 2011 is just around the corner and I for one am elated beyond belief. I cannot wait to put 2010 behind me, and I think I speak for my wife when I say that she feels the same. This has definitely been the year from hell and soon it will be in my rear view mirror.

A lot has happened in 2010, Sarah and I pretty much had our whole lives turned upside down. Life as we knew it had been completely changed in an instant. If the past year were a book it would be called "2010: The Year That Sucked." I never would have expected 2010 to start off the way it did. That was supposed to be our year, full of promise and hope. But it's weird how life works out. You never fully get what you expect and things don't always turn out like you planned. What matters is how you handle what life gives you.

And now, 2010 comes to a close. It was tough. It was a battle. We faced challenges that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. As I reflect on how it all unfolded and how I responded, I like to think I did well. There were times when I just wanted to curl into a ball and cry on my living room floor (and there were times I actually did that). There were times when I thought that if I hoped and tried real hard that I would wake up and it would all be a bad dream. But that's not real world thinking. In the real world there is no do over. No reset button. It would be nice if there was though. We'd reset 2010 and get some magically happy outcome, a complete 180 from the 2010 we know. But like I said, life doesn't work out that way.

Sarah and I are ringing in the new year the same way we have for many years now and that's in the comforts of our own home. We stay in, enjoy a nice dinner we cooked together, lounge around in our pajamas and are generally in bed shortly after midnight. It may be a silly tradition, but it's our silly tradition and I wouldn't have it any other way.

With each new year comes new beginning. A fresh start, where you can wipe the slate clean -- put the old year behind you and begin anew. What's done is done and everyone looks forward to the new year with a fresh faced new hope. A hope of things to come and, if the cards are right, a promise of better days.

That's what's great about New Year's Eve. We flip the calendar and look forward to what is in store. And with that change comes a certain awkwardness. We clumsily fumble through those first few days and weeks getting used to putting that new year on our checks and forms. We wish our family, friends and random strangers a "happy new year" in the days leading up to and thereafter the new year and then wonder when we stop saying it (mid-January?). Some of us nurse nasty hangovers which span well into January 2nd and beyond. Yes, the change has different effects on everybody.

Another tradition many people have are New Year's resolutions; silly promises one makes to improve or otherwise change who they are. Maybe its to lose weight or exercise more. Maybe its to give up smoking. Maybe its to spend less money on luxury items or to save for that vacation. Maybe its to finally pay off debt. Maybe its to be more charitable. Maybe its to call a loved one more often. But how many of us really mean it? I mean really, really mean it? Sure, most of these promises are nice, but they're just that...promises. How often do we keep these promises? Most of these resolutions will be broken with in the first 30 days. Fewer make it past 6 months. The real sticklers make full life style changes.

So what's my New Year's resolution? It can be pared down to a simple two word motto: BE RELENTLESS. It's that same core belief that Sarah and I have had since this was all thrust upon us.

I will stay that way, no matter what I am faced with. No matter what challenges lie ahead. And that's the takeaway from this past year. 2010 has taught me a lot. It's taught me the value of friendship and family. Its taught me to never give up, no matter what the odds are. I've learned that I can rely on certain people and not others. I've learned that life doesn't always work out the way you think it will. And I've learned that inside my wife, the girl I call Beanz, lies the heart of a warrior.

So here's to 2011. May it bring us -- all of us -- a lifetime of health, wealth and new beginnings.

Happy New Year and as always: BE RELENTLESS.

So THIS is Christmas.

So here we are, approaching the one year mark where everything changed for us. One year, man -- it seems it went by so fast -- so much has changed. Truth be told, so much has happened over the past 11 months that I can't remember much of what happened in 2009. My brain became completely focused on everything that happened in 2010.

I've had a lot to reflect on over these past few months. We've faced challenges that we never thought we'd have to face: cancer, surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, countless doctors visits and a hospital stay that lasted way longer than it should have. Yes, it has indeed been the year from hell, but through it all Sarah has remained steadfast to beating this thing and true to her motto of: be relentless. And be relentless she has been, the fighter within her can rival that of any boxer, soldier or samurai warrior.

Sarah tells me almost daily that I am her rock, her pillar of strength. But it's really her that is my pillar of strength. Without her, I am nothing. She is by far the strongest person I have ever met and I'm thankful that she is my wife. Never once has she faltered from her determination to beat this.

This is for obvious reasons a very unique Christmas for us. No, it's not the one we planned on at the start of the year, then again you can never predict the future. Last Christmas we were just two young at heart, carefree "kids" (I say kids because we aren't old yet). I don't even recognize the person I was then. So much about me has changed. I've tackled things no 32 year old should, things I never thought I'd face in my entire lifetime. And I could sit here and complain about it all and bitch about it until I'm blue in the face, but I won't. Don't get me wrong, I'm mad as hell that this disease has touched our lives, but I'm thankful that my wife is a strong, powerful woman...ready to take this on.

Things are getting so much better and have been progressing at such an astounding rate. Sarah is officially off the blood thinners, which means she can have a salad whenever she wants and not have to worry about it screwing up her blood work. Her hair has grown back to the point where her hair is actually longer than mine. And of course, the chemo and radiation have been done for some time now. Yes, 2010 is ending a hell of a lot better than it began. And 2011, that's our year.

Do you hear us, cancer? We're taking 2011! You won't fucking stop us! You won't beat us!

a moment of thanks...

Generally I am not one for traditions. As a matter of fact, the whole idea sort of bores me. But if I've learned anything over the past ten months it's to be thankful for what I've got. And while 2010 has been an all-time low of a year, I've decided to take pause and reflect on all that has happened.

Yes, believe it or not, as shitty as this years has been, I've learned to appreciate the important things in life. So as cliche as it sounds, I'm going to list what I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for having a wife with the commonsense to check out her body and realize something wasn't right. I'm thankful for having some amazing friends and co-workers who pulled together and helped out throughout all this. I'm thankful for my family, who were there every step of the way. I'm thankful for my pets (Tripper, Max, Holden and Bella) for providing the deep connection and understanding that only pet-owners will understand. I'm thankful for doctors and modern medical technology. I'm thankful for those simple moments that Sarah and I share when we set aside all the bullshit she's been through and relax...those are the moments I cherish. I'm thankful for the simple things in life: smiles, laughter, friends, family, walks through the park...the things I took for granted a year ago now mean so much.

Sarah is amazing. She looks great and feels great. She's back to work and things are starting to return to somewhat normal. Things will never fully be back to the way they were. This has changed us in so many ways. This is the "new normal." It's a different type of normal, but after ten months of hell, I've got to tell you, this "new norma" feels god damn good. Things are looking up. 2010 is almost over and I have a feeling that 2011 is going to be our best year ever.

So in honor of Thanksgiving, think about what you're thankful for. And cherish the small stuff.

Be relentless.

STAY relentless.

...and then there were three

Sarah finishes her radiation treatments on Wednesday and I can't help thinking to myself how quickly these past 8 months have gone by. So much has transpired: surgery, chemo, radiation and a 12-day hospital stay...and here we are, hitting the finish line. Well, the near finish line at least, there's Herceptin treatments every three weeks until May.

Three more treatments of the ol' zip-zap. And then, a much needed vacation. She deserves it. The fact that she faces each day with her BE RELENTLESS attitude is testament enough of how amazing she is.

This Wednesday marks a transition point. Maybe that's why this year has gone so fast for us. We've gone about it with the mindset of recognizing every milemarker. The end of surgery, the first chemo treatment, the half way point, the first radiation treatment...all of these served as reminders to us that we can get through this. We're a team. We have been since the start and we will be forever.

this is what it's all about...

I wanted to take some time to tell you all about an amazing young girl with a huge heart. About a girl who puts the needs of others in front of her own. No, I'm not talking about Sarah here (though she too fits that description).

The girl in question is a relative of mine named Emma. A very bright and caring five year old who is destine to go on and do great things. Sarah met Emma at a family reunion this summer and the pair hit it off immediately. Emma was captivated by Sarah's pink wig, Sarah was amazed by how a kid so young could hold such interesting conversations.

When her mother came by our house to help donate to the benefit, Emma came along to show her support. Then when it came time for her mom to have a garage sale, Emma noticed that other kids her age were having lemonade stands to help support charities. "We could do that for Sarah," she told her mom. And that she did. She raised close to $40...not a bad haul for selling lemonade. She was so excited about her success. And the gesture alone brightened our day.

But before she could drop off the money Emma had yet another chance to do something great for Sarah. Just this past Saturday she had an opportunity to sell hot dogs in front of Valu Home Centers. They were contacted last minute and right away they went to work. Emma and her crew of friends reached out to strangers with Sarah's touching story. It's things like this that help keep Sarah smiling.

Today Emma stopped by with her mom, Christine (all wearing pink in support, of course) and dropped of the funds. Sarah and I were shocked by what a little kid managed to do in just a days work. A lot of kids would scoff at the idea of doing a full days work to help someone else, but not Emma. What's even funnier is that she seemed shy at all the attention and thanks she was getting.

Throughout this journey Sarah has gained many new friends (and lost one), but this is one friend we know we'll have for a very long time.

movin' right along...

It's been some time since I last updated here. I've been keeping a private journal of my frustrations, anger, joy and motivation. Don't get me wrong, a public journal is fine, but to spare the feelings of others I've decided to at least for now to keep those entries private.

But I'd be doing a disservice to you, the fine reader, if I did not keep this train rollin'. So allow me to bring you up to speed.

Sarah is finished with chemotherapy and on to radiation. And the treatments couldn't be going any better. Unlike chemotherapy the sessions are done and over with in a matter of minutes. That's not to say there wasn't any apprehension before hand. So much of what she's going through right now is still the Great Unknown to us, while we've both had family members stricken with cancer, a lot of this is still new. But with each new experience comes knowledge. Knowledge that we can face anything that comes our way. 2010 has been one for the record books and not in a good way, that said we have used this whole ordeal as a means to make us stronger.

Radiation is 5 days a week. I don't know how the kid does it. She goes in, gets the zip-zap and heads out on her day as if nothing happened. It's amazing, but then again that's Sarah. Nothing has ever stopped her from trying to lead her normal life. She's one tough cookie.

As strong as Sarah has been she still has her "moments of weakness" as she calls them. And that's perfectly fine. In fact, I have to encourage her to get angry. "Be pissed off," I tell her. A good cry, yelling "FUCK YOU CANCER!" at the top of your lungs, punching a pillow for a few minutes...these are all healthy ways to get out frustrations. Sarah's moments if weakness are few and far between, she doesn't like to dwell on the negative.

As shitty as 2010 has been, things are getting better. Her mother is getting married at the end of this month, which is a huge cause for celebration. In fact, the planning and preparation has served as a distraction of sorts for her. It's helped keep her mind of those very "moments of weakness" and on to something more joyous.

I promise to update this more often.

In all you do today (and everyday) remember one thing: BE RELENTLESS.

keep on keepin' on....

Today is a joyous occasion. A cause for celebration. This is a monumental day of epic proportions. A day which all others from here on out will be judged by. It marks the end of one era and the beginning of another. This was Sarah's last day of chemotherapy.

The time went by relatively fast and for the most part, it went off without a hitch (save for that 12-day hospital stay). Looking at her you wouldn't know that she's actually going through all this. To me, she's still the same Beany she's always been. She still has the flicker in her eyes that anyone who knows her will enough will attest to being Sarah's trademark. Nothing's changed. I mean, really, who else shows up to chemotherapy in a dress, looking like a knockout?

That being said, let it be known, chemotherapy has been no picnic. There's the loss of hair, the stress, not to mention the emotional hell it puts you through. I cannot fathom what she's experiencing, it's well beyond my realm of comprehension. All I can really do is try and somehow understand all this and let her know that I am here to support her. But through all this she's done it all with a smile on her face. She's a fighter & I'm proud to say that she's my wife.

In the main room where the patients receive their treatment, there's a sign that reads: "Enter as strangers, leave as friends" and these words ring true. There is an undeniable feeling of camaraderie in the air. They are all soldiers in the battle against cancer. The treatment room is not a somber place. There is a ton of laughter and jokes. One lady, Annette has become Sarah's bestie.

So today we celebrate. We celebrate Sarah. We celebrate the next step. We celebrate all those fighting the good fight. Those fine folks out there with a be relentless attitude. Because that's what this blog is all about.

BEERZ FOR BEANZ

The benefit for my wife was a huge success! All told, my expectations were well exceeded.

I first off have to thank Dominic and Collen Vaccaro. Your benevolence, generosity and compassion mean the world to us. Sarah and I are forever grateful for your friendship. You put up your home, decorated and had some great food (plus a ton of beverages). I could type until my fingers fell off, but even then I don't think I'd fully articulate how much we appreciate what you both have done. A simple "thank you" would seem inadequate, but seriously, we thank you.

The one thing I realized in the weeks leading up to the benefit was how lucky we are to have such great friends. This benefit was originally just going to be a small gathering of friends, what it became was so much more than we could ever have imagined. It just goes to show you what happens when people pull together. We grossly underestimated how many baskets there would be, so much so we had to get another tent and somehow snag another table.

It was just so overwhelming to see this all come together. From the baskets, the food, the donations and the silent auction items...I would have never thought would turn out so epic. This benefit literally started as an idea in Dom's basement. I'll never forget it's humble inception; it was one of the first nights I had gone out since Sarah was diagnosed and we're having a beer in his basement and he turned to me and said: "Dude, we gotta do something." I was reluctant to accept any help, because that's just how I am, but Dominic wouldn't take no for an answer. And he and Colleen quickly got the ball rolling. What's amazing is that they never told us "This benefit it too big, let's scale back." Instead, they said "Let's go all out." And that they did.

What was most eye opening to me was how many people pitched in. Our friends are great people who just want to help and for that, I am forever grateful. Buffalo is truly the City of Good Neighbors.

I say a lot of times how much Sarah inspires me, but after last night I realize that she not only inspires me, but she inspires others. But more-so, the benefaction that was on display last night inspired me. And for that, I thank you all. benefaction that was on display last night was downright life-changing. You are all marvelous and wonderful people. I love you all.
Be relentless.

Never tear us apart...

Three years ago today I married my best friend. It's hard to believe that three years have gone by already, yet here we are. It seems like only yesterday we were taking our vows and taking that next step in our lives. We've had some great times over the past few years. Some bad times too -- the past five months being the toughest -- but if I've learned anything over the past few months its that I'm married to the toughest, bravest, most remarkable woman I know. She's taken anything life has thrown at her and came back fighting.

Still I can't help wondering, "What else can life throw at us?"

We've already been through so much over the past few months. Diagnosis. Surgery. A 12-day hospital stay. Chemotherapy. It's been overwhelming. A fucking whirlwind. Yet Sarah has not broken. Her spirit is resilient. Never once has she asked for one ounce of pity and if there's anyone I know more deserving of sympathy, it's her. A lesser person would feel sorry for themselves or simply just give up. But Sarah sees every obstacle as an opportunity. A chance to learn, grow and enrich the lives of others as well as her own. This whole thing has already inspired us both to look at our lives and question: "What else can we do?"

And that's the spirit of "be relentless." It's more than just two words that sound cool together. It's become her battle cry for the past five months. She lives it. She embodies it.

So now there's four more weeks of chemotherapy. Boom. You can count that on one hand.

Today, at lunch after treatment we were talking about how fast our past three years of marriage had gone by and how even this year, as shitty as it's been is moving so quickly. Now we're rounding the corner of whats been the hardest few months of our lives.

Normally, Sarah and I would be in Boston right about now. Soaking in a ball game at Fenway Park, watching our boys from the bleachers and eating delicious, stale, over priced ballpark food. This isn't the anniversary we had planned at the start of the year, yet we're making the most of it (an afternoon nap with her and four of the craziest pets ever seems about right).

It's strange to think that the girl who was pushed into me 12 years ago at a concert would wind up being my wife, fate brought us together. A chance meeting through a crowd of thousands. Good thing I stuck around after the end of the show...even better thing that she approached me and asked for my number! It took two weeks of hanging out everyday before I finally worked up the guts to officially ask her out (looking back, I can't believe I was too daft to realize that she totally was into me). It would be another 8 years before I'd ask her to marry me (thanks for waiting so long, Beanz!). And looking back that far, it seems like it wasn't really all that long ago. And here we are, twelve years later...that's beautiful.

Happy anniversary, Beanz. Here's to 90 more! That'd make me what? 122?

above all things: be relentless

Beanz with her friend Julie who came from Louisiana

Sarah told me to make this entry pretty much exclusively about my experience during the Ride for Roswell, so if it seems like I'm acting like a pompous ass talking about how I conquered 42 miles on a dinky bike...well, blame her. She wants you all to know that she's doing well, kicking ass and dealing with a crazy dog. Life in the Maury household is pretty normal.

So, yeah...this years Ride for Roswell was a huge success! Collectively, Beanz Brigade has raised over $7,300! That's enormous and well exceeded my expectations. I didn't know what to expect being that this was my first year as team captain. I had no idea what to do or how many people would actually join my team, but I somehow I wound up getting 15 other able bodied riders to sign up for something they've never done before.

This year I raised $1,885. Doubling what I raised last year. Couldn't have done that without the generosity of some really awesome people -- far too many to list -- I thank you all.

This was my third year doing the Ride for Roswell, but for obvious reasons it was the most important to me.
I dedicated my new team to my wife and the final results needed to be huge. So I was quite persistent when it came time to ask for donations. I was relentless. I raised enough to qualify for the peloton leg of the Ride, which is a 12-mile pre-Ride ride. At first I was a little reluctant to join this part. After listening to a Roswell volunteer explain it to me (and a little convincing from the hand of Sarah Beanz) I was swayed. After all, what's another 12-miles? Nothing, right? Easy. Simple. And for the most part it was, save for the fact that I'm riding a BMX rig that is tiny with no gears and weighs a ton, so it's not exactly built for long distances. But the peloton leg was great. I got up at 3:30 AM, made my way to Roswell and signed in. I hung out with some cool folks and lined up for a nice leisurely ride. Before the start of the ride the marshal asked everyone to take a moment to think of the person or persons they're riding for. I put my head down and rattled off so many names. Ones who had their lives taken by cancer and those who are fighting now. I started to well up with tears, but then they gave us the signal to roll out... 

During the peloton I met a guy named Bob who talked to me through out the ride. As we crossed Main Street he asked me who I was riding for. I told him why I formed my team because my wife is battling breast cancer and he looked at me with shock. "You're just a kid yourself, man. That's not right." I told him how tough she is and that she's doing fine. We talked at great length about that...for most of the ride actually. As we made our way through the UB parking lot you could hear the roar of the crowd. It was unreal. It was overwhelming. I felt like a real athlete. I felt like I was part of something bigger than me. I felt accomplished. It was awesome.

After the peloton I got ready for my 30-mile ride. Right off the bat I started getting compliments on how I was taking a BMX rig out on a 30-mile ride. A legit cyclist pulled alongside me and took a look at my bike. "You're taking that out for 30-miles?" I nodded then told him I already did another 12 this morning "God damn, man...that's impressive." This coming from a dude who was shredded like Lance freakin' Armstrong. And he wasn't the only one, a lot of people seemed to be impressed that a short, out of shape tattooed dude was grinding out 42 miles on a bike built strictly for vert ramps.

The reason I do the blog. The reason I ride.

There were points in the ride where I wanted to give up, to go home and curl up in my bed. I was tired. I didn't sleep the night before. My bike weighs a ton. I listed off a ton of excuses to NOT finish, but only one to keep going...and the reason was right on my shirt. There it was, my team crest: Beanz Brigade and the motto: "Be relentless." 

I couldn't give up. I'd finish out that ride with two god damn broken legs and massive head trauma if I had to. I set out to make Sarah proud and no amount of fatigue was going to do me in. So I kept riding. Kept forging on. Kept being relentless. 
 
The last 5 miles were all adrenaline. I don't think I stopped pumping my pedals once during that stretch. I fought from the gut there. Legs churning at a perfect cadence. As I got near the finish line we were stopped as the line bottle-necked to near single file. I saw the throng of people. There I was at the end. The culmination of months of hard work. I stood next to survivors and co-survivors. I stood still and took it all in and started to cry. Right at the finish line was my beautiful wife, pink wig and all holding up a sign cheering me on. I threw my arms around her and gave her the biggest hug ever.  

My legs were like Jello. They still are actually, but that's because as I mentioned my bike isn't designed to take on long routes. That's why I'm looking into getting a more fitting bike. I'm also going to go on longer ride. Maybe conquer a triathlon. Maybe ride cross-country to help raise cancer awareness. Shit, maybe I'll join the Tour de France. The sky is the limit. And as long as I have a "be relentless" attitude anything is possible.

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

Tuesday I accompanied Sarah to chemotherapy for the first time. It's something I probably should have done from the start, but she insisted that I stick to my normal routine of work and since she's the boss I dare not argue.

I didn't know what to expect. What would it be like? Who would be there? What should I do during this? I had a ton of questions.

The first thing that struck me upon arrival was how vibrant everyone was. The people getting their treatments had such amazing attitudes. Everyone was smiling, joking and sharing stories. Not just about their treatments, but about their daily lives. They talked about their kids and grandkids. They talked about places to eat and what movies they last saw. Everyone knew each other and had a genuine concern for one another. It was refreshing to see such happy faces.

Since Sarah is the youngest one there, she's pretty much a celebrity. Everyone loves her; from the staff to the patients. And who wouldn't love her? The girl is amazing. I sat and listened to two women discuss my wife. "She's such a doll," one said to the other. "She's always smiling." I nodded at them in agreement. That's my wife, she's awesome. Others marveled at her fashion sense, Sarah strutted into chemo sporting white denim capris, proving that even during treatments my little Beany is as fabulous as ever. cancer be damned, nothing ever stifles Sarah's style.

Eight more weeks to go. That's all we keep telling ourselves. Eight more weeks of this. I'm sure that last treatment will be an emotional one. It'll mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new one. It's still hard to believe everything that's transpired over the past five months. It's been unreal.

The other day I ran the Susan G Komen Race for the Cure in celebration of my little Beany. It was the first outdoor run I've done in over two years. With all that's been going on over the past few weeks I had little time to prepare for it, but I didn't let that stop me. I signed up to run in her honor and I'd be damned if something like a little physical discomfort got in the way of finishing my goal and making her proud.

By the second mile I felt completely gassed. My side was cramping up. My legs were tight because I didn't stretch. I just wanted to walk. And just as I began to slow down I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around and it's my wife. Suddenly, a burst of motivation hit me. I started taking bigger strides. As I looked back at her bright smile I thought "This is why I'm running."

And now with that run behind me I focus on bigger goals. Longer runs.

The Ride for Roswell is June 26th. If you haven't donated yet, I encourage you to click the link below and give what you can:

http://giving.roswellpark.org/beanzbrigade

Thank you and as always, Be Relentless.

try, but you can't bring me down....

"In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
'I am leaving, I am leaving'
But the fighter still remains"
- Simon and Garfunkel, "The Boxer"

If you would have told me at the start of this year that my wife would be battling breast cancer I would have said you were crazy. Actually, I probably would have punched you in the face for suggesting something so awful, then...then I would have called you crazy (and probably a few other things too).

But here we are. My wife is battling breast cancer and here I am, her co-survivor. I still get a bit weirded out by that term. I feel it's a tad selfish. She's the one who has to go through the hell of having surgeries and treatments. I feel like I haven't earned the "right" to call myself a "co-survivor."

Right from the start of this whole ordeal Sarah & I made a pact: "Cry once every two weeks and that's it. Have one cathartic release of emotions and then move on." Recently, it seems we've been breaking that rule quite a bit. To be honest with you, it's completely warranted. Cancer is no picnic. It's hell. It tries to consume the body and the human spirit. But it can't destroy love. It can't break the stone-cold will and determination of a girl named Sarah. Sure, it may rattle her, but try as it may, it can't bring her down. She's better than that. She's stronger than some disease. She's relentless.

I've said it several times, this girl is tough. She's a fighter. And I know it might be redundant for me to keep bringing it up, but her resolve is nothing short of amazing. Here you have a girl who had her entire world rattled no more than five months ago. She's gone through surgery, treatments and a twelve day stay in a hospital. And still, she trucks on.

Tomorrow she goes back in for chemotherapy. After that she has nine more weeks. That's it. NINE. MORE. WEEKS. In any other condition that would seem like an eternity, but we've come so far that nine weeks seems like it's nothing. Soon that nine weeks will be down to five weeks. Then four weeks, then three, then two...then one. Then a return to something that resembles a sense of normalcy.

While I have your attention, please check these links below:

I'm running in the Susan G Komen Race for the Cure (yeah, stop laughing...yes, I'm really going to run). You can donate below:
http://komenwny.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=332266&supId=293617517

Also. it's not too late to donate to my Ride for Roswell page:
http://giving.roswellpark.org/beanzbrigade

Thank you all for all the support & as always: BE RELENTLESS.

To hell and back...(or how we spent our BUMMER vacation)

A lot has happened since that last blog update. The fever that had sent me into a late night scramble two weeks ago didn't go away, in fact it got much worse and Sarah wound up going to the emergency room that Friday, which was the 7th. What we thought was going to be a routine visit for a minor case of pneumonia wound up being a twelve day Hell Ride.

It was scary shit. I think I may have slept a total of ten hours in the span of those twelve days. During her twelve day stay she had a battery of tests, scans and biopsies. Her will to forge on was pushed to its limits and beyond. There were times when she questioned herself. There were times when she didn't know how much more she could take. There were times when she didn't think she'd make it out. But in the end her motto of "be relentless" rang true. She's a cancer warrior. A tough cookie and the most remarkable person I know.

She was immediately given a arsenal of antibiotics, one of which was a nasty little fucker called Vancomycin. This stuff was absolute garbage. It gave her what's known as Red Man Syndrome, a condition that caused her skin to become beet red and actually INCREASED her body temperature. I hated when she was on that. She hated it.

I went to work Monday, got out a bit earlier then expected and went home to prepare things around the house thinking she'd be home by Tuesday. I went back to the hospital and saw her at her worst. She had these awful chills that would cause her whole body to shake violently. Her head felt super hot yet she kept saying how cold she was. It was terrifying. Then out of nowhere the chills would stop and her fever would drop a few degrees. This happened a few times each day for the first few days.

After a few days of antibiotics bringing about no solutions, they moved to the option of performing a bronchoscopy. Basically they put a camera down your airway and into the lungs to check for foreign bodies, inflammation or fluid. That procedure went well. It didn't produce an answer, but rather ruled out a few things. After she was wheeled out she mistook an Aquafina machine for a Good Humor Ice Cream machine...ah, the wonders of anesthesia.

While waiting on the biopsy from that test, we learned that her kidneys were coming back with high levels of creatinine. Just what we needed to hear, right? More medical jargon. More scary terminology. When you hear things like: "renal failure" your mind goes into overdrive. "What the hell is creatinine?" I wondered. Good thing I have an iPhone. I was able to use the Google machine to it's fullest. Turns out, those high creatinine levels were do in large to that Vancomycin garbage, so thanks Internet. As soon as she was pulled off of that her levels returned to normal.

After it was determined that it was not in fact pneumonia or an infection in the lungs, they went to a transesophageal echocardiogram. Again, she had to basically swallow an extension cord so they can get a good view of the heart. They wound up finding a clot in her heart which was being caused by her Medi-Port where she gets her chemo injections. Turns out the catheter from the port was causing the thrombus (blood clot). The port was removed and she has been put on blood thinners. She'll remain on them for some time now and they'll reexamine the blood clot in a few months.

I can't imagine the utter hell she went through. I know it was tough enough for me just seeing her go through it. Twelve days, man. Can you imagine? She told me chemotherapy is nothing compared to what she was going through with the fevers and chills.

I've stated several times now that the most frustrating part of my wife having cancer is the utter helplessness on my end. The fact that i can't do anything to make it better and this stint in the hospital only amplified that dread. At night I would stay there and just stare at her while she attempted to sleep. I'd count her breaths. I'd check her head for a fever every hour. When I'd go home to go take care of the pets, I'd drive in silence. I wanted to shut myself off from the world outside. I just wanted her to get better. And somehow, she did.

There's much more I want to cover, but right now her and I have some serious cuddling time to catch up on. And that to me is the biggest thing I've missed over the past week and a half.

As always, BE RELENTLESS.

We've come a long way, baby

The past few days have been a little hectic in our household. Sarah came down with a pretty nasty fever on Sunday night. Truth be told, it was some scary shit. The weekend that started with so much promise, it ended with a late night dash to a 24-hour pharmacist and a sense of worry that stretched to the next day.

That fever couldn't come at a worse time; just days before she was slated to begin her next round of chemotherapy. Tests were run to see if she was OK to proceed . And she was. Because she's Sarah and she's tough as nails. So she went ahead with week #1 of this 12-week run. Eleven more weeks left. Eleven more weeks of hell. Eleven weeks is a long time on the calendar, but it's nice to be at this mile-marker. Then on to radiation and then we can put all this garbage behind us and try to get back to some sense of normalcy.

It's frustrating to see her go through this. I just want to hold her and make all this awfulness go away. And I think that's the hardest part for me, just the feeling of helplessness. I can't make her better. I can't make it go away. I can only be there by her side. And I guess that will have to do.

Last week while mowing the lawn I had a moment of clarity. I've never really considered myself a grown-up. Even at 32 years old I'm still in denial that I'm an adult. It's a scary world out there and this is the scariest thing I've ever had to face up to. I'm facing some grown man shit right now and how I handle it will be the measuring stick of what type of man I truly am.

feel good inc.

This morning I was getting ready to leave for the gym, downing some Cream of Wheat (the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast) when Sarah called me back to the bedroom and pretty much dictated the tone of how this blog update would be, and as her husband it would be within my best interest to listen to her. She's the boss after all.

She wanted to use this update as a means of thanks to everyone who has donated to our Ride for Roswell team. So far, Beanz Brigade has raised $1,325 towards cancer research. That's huge. So, to all those who have donated so far, thank you. I never visioned raising that much money so quickly as a team, it's been overwhelming to say the least. We'd also like to thank all the folks who have signed up to ride with the team, we're 11 members strong (and hopefully that number will DOUBLE come June 26th).

You all have no idea how much this means to Sarah. To see so much support attached to something with her name...it really lifts her spirits. This morning, she looked at me and said: "You're doing a great job...the whole team is." We can't stress enough how impressed we are with the turnout so far, it's been amazing.

Supporting cancer research has always been an important cause for both Sarah and myself. Sarah's father, lost his battle with cancer in 1998. My grandfather battled cancer for years. Many of us have had our lives impacted by cancer. And I think that's why the support has been so huge for our team. Not only is Sarah a gentle, sweet girl who everybody loves...but cancer is a dreadful disease that has affected the lives of so many people. The statistics are staggering: one out of two men and one in three women in America will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime.

This is the part where I get in a shameless plug to get donations:

http://giving.roswellpark.org/beanzbrigade

Follow that link, click the flashing: DONATE TO MY RIDE button. It's simple and it's for a great cause.

This is my third year doing the Ride for Roswell. I love it. I love riding my bike. I love being part of something that goes to a greater good, but to be completely honest with you...how great would it be to live in a world without cancer? That's a question I pose to myself daily.

To all the donors, riders and supporters of the BEANZ BRIGADE...

BE RELENTLESS.

for my beans...

Today is Sarah's birthday, she's 30. That's a pretty big one. Most people faced with her situation would see this milestone as bittersweet. They'd let the news of cancer ruin them. They'd sulk. They'd hide. They'd whine. I know that's what I'd do for one. But not Sarah...she's better than that. Last night she told me as she has many times over the past few months: "This will not bring me down," I believe her and anyone who knows her well enough can say the same thing.

And that's what I love about Sarah. I consider myself lucky and blessed to be able to wake up each day with such an amazing person. Sarah has been so brave in the face of such a huge obstacle, I use her attitude of "be relentless" in my every day life. The fact that's she's turned such a negative into something she can use to spread positivity speaks volumes of what type of person she is.

If the past few months have taught me anything it's to expect the unexpected, as cliché as that is. I can safely say that last year I did not see us being in the position we're in now. Hell, I didn't see us in the position when the year started. It was all so sudden. When you find out someone you love has cancer, your world just stops for a bit. Things change, what seemed to matter so much, doesn't seem to even matter.

Yet, you learn to deal with it. And suddenly, it's not the obstacle defining you, but it's how you handle that obstacle that defines you. And that's what she means when she says: "be relentless." To borrow a line from the movie "The Breakfast Club," in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions, being relentless is facing up to what challenges come along. It's more than just a two word motto. It's a means to inspire, not just herself or people around her, but to inspire others. To inspire others who face the same challenge or any challenge for that matter.

So, while it's not the 30th birthday she or I envisioned, it will be a special one nonetheless. And her next birthday she'll be cancer free.

The thing about cancer...

Since being diagnosed with breast cancer Sarah has always tried to remain as positive as possible. Nothing seemed to bring her down. Every obstacle she's faced since that awful day in January, she's faced with an amazing sense of optimism.So, when chemotherapy began to take her hair she did the next logical step...shave it off.

I know it had to have been a difficult decision for her to make, but she was fed up with waking up in the morning and finding clumps of hair on her pillow. So when she asked me to do the deed, I went about it with the utmost care. I mean, its not like when I shave my brothers head and I can take certain liberties (like leaving his hair in a Mr. Burns style for hours before I finish shaving the rest). For Sarah, I had to be gentle...it was an emotionally draining event for us both, but when it was all over Sarah actually was happy with the new 'do. I have to say, underneath all that hair, she has a great shaped head. Hair or no hair...I love my Beanz with all my heart.

I'll never fully understand what she's going through. I can only stand by her side and be strong for her. And that's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I can only hope that I'm being a supportive husband.

This cancer bullshit aggravates me. She's too young to have to go through this. But I know that she'll beat this. I know she will because she has the love and support of friends and family. I know she'll beat this because she's getting the proper care and treatment. I know she'll beat this because she's the strongest person I know.

...be relentless.

...and so it begins...

Sarah begins chemotherapy tomorrow. It's something that no one "looks forward to" with a traditional sense of anticipation, yet it's something that needs to be done. It needs to be done so that she can rid her body of this dreadful disease. It won't be pleasant. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's going to suck like nothing has ever sucked before.

Yesterday was a tough day for me. We went over the informational packets about all the treatments she'd be receiving and I just broke down a bit. I feel like a selfish jackass for crying the way I did. I'm not supposed to show weakness. For one, I'm a man -- weakness isn't supposed to be in our DNA code -- that's just the way it is and the way it has been since the dawn of time. But also, I'm supposed to be "her rock." I can't do that if I'm a crying mess. That's not fair to her. It's something I need to work on. I need to be strong for her.

Tomorrow is going to be tough. It's just the start of things, but the quicker we get this started, the faster it will be over. This is what "be relentless" is all about. She's going to rock this.

Great news everybody

It's been a crazy few weeks since my last true update. Sarah has been back and forth to doctor's appointments in preparation for her treatments. She had a MUGA scan which showed her heart as at peak perfection, but I could have told you that. The kid has a heart of gold.

I promised good news and I'll get right down to it.

Sarah had a bone and a CT (CAT) scans. All came back negative for cancer cells. This is a beautiful dose of news, man. It's what we needed and it couldn't have come at a better time as the road ahead is going to be tough. It's going to suck like nothing else has ever sucked before, but when it's all said and done, Sarah is going to come out on top. I guarantee that. She's going to get her treatment, she's going to fight like hell and beat this. Mark my words.

Next week begins the chemotherapy...six months of it. Sarah is ready. I'm ready. She has an amazing group of people around her. We'll get through this and like she said, we'll go on to live a more amazing life after it.

Each day I wake up, I think of ways I can do something to make her proud. That's my goal with our Ride for Roswell team; Beanz Brigade. I want it to be awesome. I'm doing that team for her. This blog, this is for her. I want her to know how much she means to me. Sure I can tell her, but I want to show her. I want to show everyone. She's remarkable and beautiful and I'm a lucky guy to have her. It might be corny of me to say this, but so be it: She is my inspiration.

BE RELENTLESS.

ride for roswell

Here's the link for the Ride for Roswell.

Join Beanz Brigade!!!

http://giving.roswellpark.org/Page.aspx?pid=615&frtid=1842

bikes 4 beanz

Started up a Ride for Roswell team in honor of Sarah. I'd love it if you all joined.

Click the below link:

http://giving.roswellpark.org/Page.aspx?pid=582

Then Click: Register (as a new or returning user)
Then sign up and then click: Join an existing team
Then type: Beanz Brigade

That easy.

The quicker I get a crew together, the faster I can get shirts designed.

BE RELENTLESS!

Waiting on a sunny day...

"It's rainin' but there ain't a cloud in the sky
Musta been a tear from your eye
Everything'll be okay
Funny thought I felt a sweet summer breeze
Musta been you sighin' so deep
Don't worry we're gonna find a way" - Bruce Springsteen, "Waiting on a Sunny Day"

Last update was downright cheerful. I was glowing when I wrote it. Damn near giddy with excitement over the good news. A bit has changed since then. We've had a few days to digest the news and had our minds put at ease today by the surgeon.

Turns out there was a microscopic cancer cell on one of the extracted lymph nodes. One tiny, rouge cell. No more than a millimeter. One tiny little fucker. Making it Stage IIA cancer. This isn't the worst news. Just a tiny road bump. That won't stop Sarah, nothing will. And I literally mean nothing. The girl is tough as nails, man.

We met with the surgeon today and he set it all straight for us. Treatments will start soon. Radiation and chemotherapy, followed by medication. Good news is that the lumpectomy went well as the cancerous lump was smaller than expected. They even took an area larger than the lump and found the rest of the skin to be healthy.

I've already told Sarah that if the chemotherapy causes her to lose her hair then I'll shave my head. Let's face it, I'll probably go bald soon anyway. I'm 32-years-old. The fact I've kept a full head of hair this long is nothing short of a miracle.

Surgery was just the start of the fight and we're ready for the road ahead. It's going to be tough and it's going to suck like nothing else. But I don't know anyone more ready to go through this. The girl is hands down the most positive person I've ever met. Her spirit is infectious. I've said it a thousand times before; THIS WILL NOT BEAT HER DOWN!

Her motto. Our motto. BE RELENTLESS. A simple statement and words to live by. We think you should live by them too.

hanging on in quiet desperation

Look. I just woke up after taking a nap with the wife. So if this entry doesn't congeal or make sense or seem coherent it's because I'm still a bit groggy...

This morning I found myself up earlier than ever to face the world. I tried to put on my optimistic face, but it became an exercise in futility. I just couldn't fake it, which is a tough thing to do when the woman you love more than anything in this world is about to go into surgery. Last night she looked at me and asked "You're not worried are you?" She had this look on her face. It was so sad and so sweet and so innocent. I was overcome. Of course I was worried. And she knew that. I was scared for her. But I couldn't show it. I REFUSED to show it. So I sort of lied and said I wasn't. For her sake, I felt it was better to have her believe that I was thinking everything was going to be alright.

But that's just me. I'm always a pessimist, my wife on the other hand is an optimist. And this morning she was raring to go. No one loves to get surgery, but she was excited to (her words here) "get this little fucker out of her."

I wasn't so much worried about the initial surgery. I met the surgeon a few weeks prior. He really put both our minds at ease and everything I've heard about him was nothing but positive. My concern was whether or not the cancer spread to any lymph nodes. That's the thing, no matter what, I always fear the worst.

We got to the hospital around 6:00 AM. And waited until they took her off to surgery around 8. And then waited some more. I tried sleeping in the waiting room, but it became quickly apparent that my racing mind wouldn't let me. I walked the floors. Checked out the cafeteria. Nothing interesting to eat.

Finally the surgeon walked into the waiting room.

"Sarah Maury's family?" he asked "This way, please." He gestured to us to come out in the hallway.

I braced myself. I braced myself for bad news. Those fears were quickly alleviated.

"She's doing fine. We're going to take her into recovery now and then she's free to go home."

The doctor said they took a cluster of lymph nodes and they all came back as being negative for cancer. Great news. Awesome news. The best news I've had in a long time, if not the best ever

I was so relieved. Sarah's mom began crying. Donald, her mother's fiancee began crying. I began crying. Tears of joy. Happy, relieved, crying faces all around. It was beautiful, man. I can't even fully articulate how much relief I felt at that moment.

We all sat with her in recovery for a few hours. She chugged a bunch of water and wound up getting a stomach ache from it. Typical Beany. She was a bit loopy from the anesthesia, but other than that she was in great spirits as usual. All she wanted to do was get home. All I wanted to do was get her home.

The fight isn't over, we know that. But Sarah is the strongest person I know. She might not look it, but that girl is tough. Cancer picked the wrong girl to mess with.

We're at home now. At a loss of words of how thankful we are. Not just for the great dose of news we got, but also for all of you. Over the past few weeks we've had so much support from everyone. It was uplifting. I know I've posted thanks already several times, but seriously...from the bottoms of our hearts, we thank you all. You have no idea what it means to me. You have no idea what it means to Sarah. It means more than I can ever put words to, and for that, we thank you. We love you all.

I'm going to sign off now. There's a beautiful girl on my couch that's just begging to be cuddled with (gently though, I mean she did have surgery today).

BE RELENTLESS.

The girl behind the story...

Last entry I shared with you some insight from my wife on the battle she's facing. With this entry I figured I should tell you a bit about the girl herself. Looking at the list of subscribers, I can see that some of you may have never met her, so you probably don't know how special she is.

First things first. I should tell you how we met, because we love telling people the story. Sarah and I met way back in 1998. We literally bumped into each other at a concert -- well, she was pushed into me and I caught her -- and the rest is history. We've been together since then. I've learned a lot about her over the years. I know when she gets really excited she let's out this high pitch squeal, which is adorable. I also know that she has more shoes in her closet than I've ever had in my entire life so far. She's the best thing ever.

My nickname for her is Beans. In fact I rarely call her "Sarah," though her name is tattooed on my arm. She has an amazing smile and the cutest green eyes ever.

Sarah loves a lot of things. Not just me, but I like to think I'm up there on that list. She loves cats (we have three of them: Max, Tripper & Holden). She absolutely LOVES bacon. She loves shopping. She loves sleeping in. She loves her job and the people she works with. She loves her family & friends. She loves life. Like I said, she's the best thing ever.

Over the years she's even learned to love the things that I love. She started listening to the band Rush (whom prior to meeting me she wrote off as "dreadful"). She became a die hard Red Sox fan, we even went to Boston for a game on our honeymoon. In fact she follows all the sports teams that I'm a fan of. She's a Boston Bruins fan...well, she has a crush on Milan Lucic, but still she is a fan nonetheless.

No matter what she does in life, she has the most positive outlook. Whether it's trying to beat me in a game on Xbox 360 or achieving top results at her job, Sarah goes about it with the biggest smile on her face. And having cancer hasn't changed that. Her positive outlook is unwavering. Nothing has changed. She's a remarkable woman and I'm the luckiest guy in the world to have her in my life.

But above all this, she is...RELENTLESS!!!

Some words of encouragement.

Just wanted to share this awesome text message that Sarah sent to me last night. It's an example of how positive she is in the face of adversity.

"We have so much amazing support from our circle of friends. We are going to beat this and live a more amazing life than ever!!!"

If that doesn't raise your spirits, then I don't know what does. The kid is a prime example of never losing focus. Never losing hope.

Last night she said that she's lucky that she has so much support. She told me "It's times like these that you realize how important and special your friends are." I can't stress enough how much the support means to her.

But even through all this, her focus is not on herself. Instead, she throws her concern to those people without the things that she has. Things like friends and family. Things like health care. She couldn't imagine not having those things and said it tears her up to think that there are people who go without all that.

In light of something like this it could be real easy for her to give up. To sit around and feel sorry for herself. And if she did, I wouldn't blame her. But that's not Sarah's style. She's always positive. And now she's ready for the fight.

Cancer doesn't stand a chance.

Be good today, folks.
Be happy today.
Be positive.
BE RELENTLESS!

no one said it was gonna be easy...

I just wanted to take a minute and thank everyone who sent well wishes to my wife & I. Over the past week the groundswell of support has been amazing. I've gotten kind words from all over the globe (as far as Australia...thanks Becks) and believe me, the support has not gone unnoticed. The small things like that are what matters most. These are the things that make the fight easier. For her to know she has so many people pulling for her...well, it means a lot. Small gestures mean so much. Last night we got a HUGE fortune cookie with some inspirational words from our friends Rachel and Mike. Not only was it delicious, but it also reminded us of how lucky we are to know so many awesome and caring people. You all are awesome.

I woke up this morning and saw that I have a bunch of followers. And it all became incredibly clear...I have to continue this. Sarah needs this. I need this. And from the support I've been getting, you-- yes, you there eating Cap'n Crunch at your computer -- you need this. So I shall continually update this. Unlike so many of my other failed blogs, this one has substance.

When I first had the idea to start this blog, I wasn't sure how my wife would react. I could understand if she wanted to keep this matter private. But she sees this as an opportunity. An opportunity for me to express myself as best as I know how. A therapy of sorts. But also as a means of inspiration for those who may be going through a similar situation. We're in this together! We will win!

So thank you. Thank you all.


BE RELENTLESS!!!!

And now, for some inspiring music from h2o. A favorite of mine & my wife. I think you'll dig it too.

The fight begins.

My name is Bryan and this blog is about my wife, Sarah and her battle with breast cancer.

This blog is to document the struggle that's to come. One that will not be easy, but it's one that we will win. Why? Because, Sarah is a survivor. She' s a strong, no nonsense woman, who doesn't take shit from anybody, let alone some disease. She's tough. A lot tougher than she let's on. She never gives up. Never quits.

This blog is about inspiring others. Supporting those who fight the good fight.

But most of all, this blog is about an amazing woman and a battle that she is about to face.

Sarah was diagnosed one week ago on January 18th. Nothing and I mean nothing prepares you to hear the love of your life say the words: "I have cancer." Nothing. It was like a punch to the throat. Dread set in. She was mad as hell. I was mad as hell. She's 29-years-old. There's no way she should have to go through this. There's no way anyone should have to go through this.

We've had time to digest the news since then. She's set up surgery (February 6th) and made the proper doctors visits.

If there's one thing I've learned about Sarah in the 11 years we've been together is that she's a fighter.

Her motto: "Be relentless." So I felt it was only fitting to name the blog so.

- Bryan