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.