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.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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?
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?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
above all things: be relentless
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| 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.
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| The reason I do the blog. The reason I ride. |
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.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
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.
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.
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