Embodiworks - Integrative Cancer Care Resources

Embodiworks is an organization designed to support the WHOLE person as they manage a cancer diagnosis - addressing every aspect: mind, body & spirit. They address every aspect. Have a look. I really like what they are up to. They share my commitment to transform the cultural conversation about cancer into one that empowers all those affected. Perhaps you'll use it or recommend it to someone in your life.

Click here to go directly to their website.

Pulmonary Consult

I had a consult today with my new Pulmonologist, Dr. Norville. Daniela chose to go with me to see Dr. Norville, as she did for my last appointment with Dr. Sciorotino. It definitely makes a positive difference to have her with me - a second mind to process the information.

Dr. Norville said my tests were not indicative of someone with lung problems. However, after review of my Echo Cardiogram in March, she said my heart does seem to expand more slowly than it contracts, which could be from a of thickening of the heart wall, as a result of stress created by the Pulmonary Embolis. She compared it to a body builders inability to do ballet, because a large amount of muscle limit can body movement. The same goes for my heart - possible limited movement from its size. Having a heart that is all buff, apparently would not make me all cool and tough - at best (or more like at worst) it would make me short of breath and fatigued all the time.

So, Dr. Norville ordered a series of tests: an Echo Stress Test (July 8th) to get a closer look at how my heart operates under stress; a Thyroid Function test to determine if my thyroid is the cause for the shortness of breath and fatigue; and a test for Mononucleosis and for Lime Disease, which could also explain the fatigue (Thyroid, Mon & Lime are all done with blood test). Mono or Lime Disease wouldn't explain the shortness of breath, but it could be reason for the fatigue. That being said, there is a possibility I currently have more than one illness. My fatigue and shortness of breath is constant, but the other day when I slowly walked up a hill, my chest began to hurt, I experienced a headache in the back of my head and I got a dizzy. Good times! So, we'll see. There could be more going on then I realize

As you can imagine, this is driving me nutz. I really hope this is something that can be treated and healed so I get back to a normal life. I can't imagine living the rest of my life fatigued and short of breath all day long. Or to experience chest pain and headaches whenever I operate at a normal pace. Or to get tired because I "played cars" for twenty minutes on the floor with my son, which is something I will happily do, but it sure is a bit odd to have rest after rolling Matchbox cars around on the carpet. [I'm actually laughing right now because it just seems so insane.] And should that be the case, to be alive and cancer-free with such a beautiful family is a life I am absolutely thrilled to be living.

As far as cancer-free goes, I have a PET Scan scheduled for July 15th. A recurrence of cancer might explain how I feel, but not let's not drive off of that bridge unless we get to it. I don't think it's a recurrence. Justa gut feeling. Should my scan be negative, I will celebrate my one-year anniversary of being cancer-free. If you just imagined confetti, party hats and those silly noise makers that unroll when you blow through them, we are on the same page. That will be pretty damn awesome.

Some Real Honesty

It's not uncommon for people who have had cancer or something of the like to say, "My life will never be the same. I can see things so much more clearly now" or "I have a whole new appreciation for each day." Well, I recently heard someone say in response, that comments such as those "leave the rest of us to feel like we're shallow in comparison." I thought that was great to hear. Some real honesty that gave me an opportunity to reflect upon.

I don't want to be on a pedestal as a result my insights born of my diagnosis nor do I believe others who have not had a similar experience are more shallow than I am. What's so for me is that the insights I have received as a result of my experience have only provided me personal development or growth in the areas of life where I had the space for growth. In other words, where I needed it and in many areas still do.

For all I know, you may already have learned those lessons in life. Or maybe you haven't. But again, where I have grown as a person is where I've needed it, or to be more precise, where I am committed to growing. We're all in this together. And thank goodness. Your comments, emails, cards, calls and visits have provided me more strength than you know. I can't imagine having done it without you. Really.

Responding Quite Well (apparently)

I'm looking out the picture window over the creek and the sun is shining so brightly I can barely stand to look at it [I took the photo after the clouds passed in front of the sun]. But the sound of the rushing water - due to the significant thaw we just had - is quite a soothing sound, which I really appreciate considering how I am feeling right now.

And speaking of how I am feeling...as far as my side-effects go, on Wednesday, I felt nauseous from about halfway through my treatment until the wee hours of the morning on Thursday. On Thursday, I felt less nauseous and more toxic and lethargic. On Friday, I felt beyond lethargic - I was exhausted.

Oddly, on Thursday, one of my favorite nurses told me I was responding quite well to the treatment, which meant the side-effects I was experiencing were quite minimal. That left me feeling relieved, yet at the same time, my heart really went out to the other folks whose symptoms are worse than mine. Most of my fellow patients are significantly older than I am and it saddens me to imagine what many of them are going through.

Naturally, I asked my nurse what additional symptoms my fellow experience. And guess what? She wouldn't tell me! She reminded me that, in the past, I had manifested the chemo side-effects the day prior or the morning of my treatments and she had no interest in my doing that with any additional symptoms I wasn't even experiencing. And either did I! No argument from me! Thank goodness she had the foresight to keep it to herself. Not every nurse would have responded that way. She's a sharp one - thank goodness.


I am also so grateful for the rides I received to and from the clinic every other week. Sayre, PA is an hour drive each way, not to mention the hours spent sitting with me as I receive the pre-meds and then the infusion. I tried to drive myself a couple of times and that clearly did not work. The pre-meds and the chemo are just too strong. And I can"t imagine Daniela going with me and chasing Beau all over the hospital for five hours - not to mention the days our 11 year old needed to be picked up from school before Daniela and I would have arrived home or the days he stayed home sick from school. And I still can't figure out how people go to work while on chemo, unless they simply don't have such difficult side-effects. Between the nausea, lethargy and chemo-brain I experience, I can't imagine myself at work being anything less than a huge liability!!! And, assuming my post-chemo tests in April come back clear, all of this will be over soon.

Tuesday's Anomaly

On Tuesday December 30th - day two of my 7th chemotherapy treatment - I surprisingly, felt well. I got inspired and at 10 PM, I was at Castaway's - the club in Ithaca that generously hosted our October benefit - for Reggae Tuesday. Reggae Tuesday is a weekly event in which all are welcome to join the house band on stage and participate in an impromptu performance of the song(s) of their choice.

I had been an occasional participant at Reggae Tuesday for a number of years - singing harmonies with my friends who write reggae tunes or occasionally performing one of my own which they masterfully play reggae style. But as you can imagine, stage performance hasn't exactly been on my mind for the last year and a half.

Well, Tuesday December 30th was an anomaly in my chemo-filled world and I can say I had an absolutely amazing night. I was up on stage in a way that I have never been before. I didn't nail every harmony nor did I expect to, but I did some lyrical improvisation like I've never done before. Most importantly, I returned to the stage with two of my dearest friends - Rob & Kevin - which meant more to me than I can put into words. However, I can say with certainty, I felt like the life I had before cancer was returning to me.

I have no plans to get back on stage before my chemo treatments are over. I'm not saying it won't happen, because I never imagined I would have it in me to begin with. I simply consider it a gift that I accept with no expectation attached. Right now I will simply keep my shoulder to the wheel as I tolerate these bi-weekly infusions. They certainly don't get any easier. And as soon as I receive some photos of the evening, I'll definitely post them!

Coming to Life

I have just begun my seventh chemotherapy treatment...I think. Guthrie Clinic provides it's patients guest access to their wireless internet system, which makes it even easier to pass the time during these chemo infusions.

It's amazing how each week after I receive an infusion and return home to rest and trudge through the side-effects, watching movies, football, basketball, hockey - what ever's on - I will judge myself because I'm not working or taking care of the kids or doing things that need to be done around the house. Then when my mind is clear and I start to see through the "fog," I recognize that my feeling sick - too sick to be up and about and too sick to read because I can't focus - is expected. And for me to do only what I can tolerate is equally expected. But the chemotherapy affects my memory and I actually forget that my being in no condition to do much of anything is expected or at least understood and the self judgment arises.

It seems to be just another version of my resistance to rely on Daniela for so much - care of the kids, the home, etc., etc. Yet these emotional struggles and something I am quite accustomed to ever since my treatment began. But it's amazing how the forgetfulness I experience from chemo keeps the cycle of judgment in motion - every other week, the thoughts repeat themselves. I must continually remind myself that I am in treatment, because I literally forget at times. Doing the same thing over and over - treatment after treatment - creates a familiarity with the side-effects and they start to feel like the norm. My mind begins to believe that my experience is who I am. And that does not leave me feeling good about myself.

So I am grateful to have an extraordinary wife, who gently reminds me - often with a bit of a laugh - that all of this is temporary. And as she tells me this, she knows that the next week I will feel great about my life. And that in the week to follow, I will once again be revisited thoughts of inadequacy.

Chemotherapy is a peculiar drug. Accepting that I forget over and over week by week isn't an easy thing because it's not like what I've just shared with you is obvious to those who come and visit or even to myself at times. It's not that I will forget what I was doing or why you are visiting or where we are going. It's a far more subtle experience that shows up in my thoughts during the repetitive and mundane moments throughout the day. As I lay on the couch or in the recliner feeling achey and out of focus, watching basketball or a movie or as I prepare myself something to eat and move about slowly because of the flu-like symptoms I experience, I start to: "think this is my life" - completely forgetting that not only is this not my life, but it's scheduled to be over in March of 2009.

And oddly, it's not disappointment I feel when I realize that I am caught up in the murky fog of chemo side-effects. I actually feel relieved when I realize I am actually doing exactly what I need to do and that it is in fact only temporary. March will come and with that Spring. And as the sweet smell of blossoms and sprouting green plant-life begin to take over the odorless browns and greys of winter, I too will come to life. Chemo will be done and it will be time to experience the energy of a healthy life - one that was so familiar to me only two years prior. I am delighted and even more so for an incredible summer.

a letter to santa...

dear santa,


daniela here...

i know it has been awhile since I have written. ok...years, actually...i know you have much to do this time of year, so I thank you in advance for taking the time to read my letter.

you probably get a lot of mail now, so i'll give you the penny version recap & then my request:

it's been almost 2 years now...bert has had cancer, survived cancer, and is undergoing post-op treatment for cancer. this will go on till april. as you know, we had a baby, who is now 2, and an 11 year old. honestly, the last couple of years have been a bit hard, especially for bert. always in the background, like an old 'frenemy', lingered the curiosity, "am i going to live?". with cancer, there is little escaping it. throw into the mix the inability to walk much or move more than from one room to another (in significant pain) for a whole year, it added up to quite a whopper of a time...

our income went from pretty workable to $1300/month. it had our extended family make significant financial sacrifices in their lives in order for us to remain in our home by supporting our rent & heat (we just missed the cutoff for gov't $$ assistance), and then we were just able to pay for our other bills and buy food for the family out of our monthly income. the added kindness of friends, loved ones, and total strangers helped lighten the burden from time to time.

there was one point not long ago that none of us even liked one another in this household, when bert began his post-op chemo. it was like all the love, laughter & joy we had generated through all the crap just got sucked out of existence, and we were left simmering and stewing...eyeing one another with judgment & criticism...of course, we brought it right back around to Love, laughter & playfulness, but it really took something to do so...it was like a miserable delayed reaction to all the difficulties this whole cancer journey had on each of us individually and in different ways...the impact of cancer on a family as a whole is just enormous.

so, the flip side of this coin was the deepened appreciation & gratitude we have for one another. it's a sacred and precious thing to partner up with someone you love and cherish for the brief & fleeting time we are here together on this planet. we are honoring that sacredness. we also can see how intimately connected to our life purpose this cancer journey has been. that is beginning to reveal itself to us, and is very exciting (more on that later...) !!

so, here are my christmas wishes for this year ( and i do understand fully that i am ultimately responsible for creating my life...i also gratefully accept any help from outside forces!!)

1. health & happiness for our global family, all around the planet.
2. independent $ ease, when we eventually shift from this chapter of our lives into the start of the next.
3. an extraordinary year with our new president
4. no more cancer for bert... e-v-e-r!!!!!!!!!

well, that's it, santa. that's all. if i can only have one, i'll take number 4, hands down. it might be selfish of me to pick that one over global wellness, but right in this very moment, all i want is for bert to just be done with the varying forms of suffering he has endured. like, he got every form possible, i think....can it just be done, soon??? i love him so dearly, that i'm pleading his case to be over soon....so, whatever pull you have to make this happen, i'd be ever grateful...

by the way, i'm Cc-ing God, Buddha, and Papa Smurf on this...i'm leaving no stone unturned...

love,
daniela

ps: please leave something x-tra nice for bert's doctors and the nurses who take such amazing care of him during chemo. they should be sainted.

Today's Infusion

I am currently in the process of receiving my day two infusion of my sixth chemotherapy treatment. There was a little nausea yesterday - not fun. But I stayed strong and didn't request the anti-nausea IV meds. The nausea wasn't too bad and the meds for it just knock me out cold. I'd rather be conscious and a little uncomfortable than drugged and sleeping deliriously. At least for now. Hopefully it won't get too tough during the next six treatments.

The other side effects I have recently begun to experience are headaches. Yeah, I had the migraines last week, but yesterday when I got home I had a lingering headache. It wasn't really painful as much as it was just...there. Not really bad, but just enough to be annoying. And all last week when I didn't have a migraine, I still had lingering headache pain that lasted most of the week. It's oe of the side effects of my chemo cocktail. I took a pain reliever and it helped. Something I'd rather not do- take more pills - but let's be honest. I experience so many side effects, it's important to me to get relief on a regular basis.

At the moment I'm receiving my pre-meds - they're preventative meds. And as a result I'm feeling a little better than I was this morning and yesterday. I hope it lasts.

Oh, the two gals in the photo up above are two of the RNs in Hemotology Department where I receive my infusions. Sabrina and Marianne - they're great!

The Joys of Chemically Induced Side Effects

This latest chemo treatment - or should I say the latest side effects - really took me by surprise. The weekend was pretty standard. I had my chemo infusions on Wed/Thurs/Fri, then spent Saturday and Sunday riding out the lethargy, flu-like symptoms and the feeling of being poisoned. Nothing terrible or shocking. Pretty routine.

But Monday and Wednesday - they were gems! On both days I had super-intense migraines within the first couple hours of being awake. Normally, if I take two Aleve and go to sleep for an hour, I will wake up with a numbness where the headache was, but no migraine pain. However, on Monday & Wednesday both of these migraines were only about 80% gone following the Aleve and the nap. I was shocked. Fortunately, a couple Extra-Strength Tylenol took away most of the remaining pain. But I do have to say I was just amazed by the intensity of the pain.

Once the second migraine hit on Wednesday, Daniela called my chemo doctor and they called in a script for migraine medicine for me. Part of me is actually confronted by is the idea of putting additional chemicals into my body - to counter the effects of previously administered chemicals. Chemically induced side effects being treated with more chemicals? I'm clear this is a very common approach in allopathy aka Western Medicine: "Here are your pills and here are the pills to deal with side effects of those other pills. That may be how western is medicine done, but it doesn't mean I like it. And I have to ask myself, "What will the side effects of these latest drugs be and how will I deal with them?" Hopefully the side effects will be minimal.

Yes, it will all eventually come to an end at the end of March when the chemotherapy regimen is complete, which is what I keep in mind: the ultimate goal. And I will without a doubt cleanse the living daylights out of my body once this chemotherapy regimen is complete. Carrot juice & coffee enemas? Maybe. I'll know what's next when I get there. But one way or another I will be cleansing my system in the Spring and getting these toxic chemicals the heck on out of my system!

More Than You Know

I just finished my 5th chemotherapy treatment so it's likely I may lay low for a while and wait to write until I am feeling better. Due to that strong possibility, I wanted to address the difference it makes for me when you leave your wonderful acknowledgments. A couple recently posted have really made my day.

So, I thought it important to share with you that your acknowledgment of what I am up to and how I have gone about it are part of what has me take on my diagnosis the way I have. Your kind and thoughtful words inspire me to stay strong and maintain a perspective that serves me best. Your honesty and generosity helps keep me focused on the ability each one of has to choose an empowering context to live our lives moment by moment - no matter what the situation. I think that's one beautiful thing about being human.

So thank you for "putting yourself out there" and posting your comments. It's likely you provide me more than you know.

I'm B-a-a-a-c-k!

I thought I'd post a couple pictures to show that I'm no longer a bean pole. Man, I sure was skinny!!!

Letter to the Editor

I sent a letter to the editor of Ode Magazine, expressing my appreciation for the article they did on Dr. Servan-Schreiber 's book Anticancer: A New Way of Life. And my letter made it into the December issue.

Click here if you would like to read it.

Note: Once you get to the digital issue, drag the scroll bar on the bottom to the pages 12/13. And there is a zoom option on top which makes the article much easier to read.

Better Off Bald

Well, there you have it. I was just losing hair faster than I could clean it up. Then Daniela walked by as I was sitting at the kitchen table and noticed a growing bald spot on my head. So, I took the initiative and shaved off all of my hair.

I'll try growing it back in the Spring!!!

Where's My Morphine???

Wow! I am amazed at the degree to which the morphine had masked the pain and discomfort that results from the Neulasta shot I receive on the day that follows my bi-weekly chemotherapy treatments. The shot stimulates the production of white blood cells because it is white blood cells that are inadvertently destroyed by chemotherapy. And as a result, there is pain that shows up in the body's largest bones since that is where the greatest number of white blood cells are produced at this faster than normal rate. A little Extra Strength Tylenol seemed to help reduce the pain a little bit.

Had I known, I would have waited to kick the morphine until after my full regimen of chemotherapy was completed in the Spring of '09 and as a result, had a far less painful experience. Oh well. Too late for that!

Eat, Drink and be Healthy

In their November 2008 issue, Ode Magazine printed an excerpt from French psychiatrist and neuroscientist David Servan-Schreiber 's book Anticancer: A New Way of Life. He discusses the impact that diet, exercise and a positive attitude has on healing. It's a great article which provides another push forward in our cultural conversation about cancer and our bodies. Click here and have a look!

Hairball!

Oh yeah! That would be a ball of my hair in my hand. It would seem the Folfiri chemotherapy is starting to pick away at my hair follicles. I'll be sure to post the bald photo should it get that far. However, considering how thick my hair grows, it may take a while for that to happen!

Movember

Have a look at this great and playful organization: Movember founded by Adam Garone in Australia. It exists to raise money and awareness for men's health - specifically Prostate Cancer - by the growing of mustaches every Novmber!

Excerpt from Daily News article:

"Mo" is Australian slang for mustache, and turning November into Movember is the brainchild of a former Melbourne phone executive, Adam Garone. Instead of strapping on sneakers for a walkathon, Garone and his fellow "Mo Bros" did something far more grueling - they raised money by growing mustaches for a 30-day whiskerathon. "The mustache is male only, and we wanted [to raise money and awareness for] a male-only disease," he said.

Read more or watch a short video interview. Note: At two different times during the video interview, the interviewees do use some slightly provocative language or terminology that I wouldn't want my 10-year old hearing. Just thought I would let you know in case yours is sitting next to you!

Giving Thanks

Being that we are coming up on Thanksgiving here in the USA, it dawned on me that it is time that I acknowledge the difference this blog has made for me. Sharing my updates, excitement, concern, joy, fears and insecurities has been incredibly fulfilling because it has allowed me to grow in ways that I had never imagined. The more honest I am with you, the more freedom I have to truly be myself everywhere else in life. Once "the cats out of the bag" there's no more pretense. I then find the freedom to be the real me and finding the freedom to be my true self with the people in my life - in my world - is a real privilege.

And why am I telling you this? Because if you didn't read it, it wouldn't exist as a blog. It would be my private internet diary. And although I initially started the blog only to inform those in my life of my health status and eventually the needs of my family, as you just read, it has become much more than that to me. So, thank you.

That being said, I would like to offer you an opportunity to ask me any questions you might have about my experience. Really - anything.

Anything from D-Day [in my world, that would be Diagnosis Day!] right up to today or my future or pre-diagnosis for that matter. It has been great to have you along thus far and at it just makes sense that you may have a question or two.

I am also aware that many people enjoy the anonymity of the internet and would not be interested in advertising their names with a question regarding the intimate details of my life. So, if you have a question and prefer to remain anonymous, simply click on "comment" under this or any other entry. Below the comment box is an option to post your name with the comment or to remain anonymous. You can even click on preview to confirm that your anonymity has been maintained.


Also, I now have a section on the left side of the blog for those of you who would like to add yourself as a follower of the blog. Initially, I couldn't think of a reason to have it here until the other day when it dawned on me that it might interest you what different types of people follow this blog. Via Google Analytics, I am able to see the number of people who read the blog, but what had me decide to add the "follower" section to the blog was the number of repeat visitors
revealed to me on my Google Analytics page. And no, I can not see who the visitors are - only what part of the world you click in from (essentially, the city or town location of the server you use) and the frequency of which it is visited. And I guess that also led me to ask folks to consider becoming a follower - so I can see who you are. I love the relatedness this blog has created.

And this blog has not been just about me for quite some time now. Your comments have made that quite clear. If you do choose to become a follower, again, anonymity is still an option for those who choose to not paste your face "all over the internet." You can post any image you like an even a username other than your birth name. Have a look at follower section. Reverend Malachi is a perfect example!


And yes, as Maria posted a comment about her experience with chemo-induced insomnia in a comment not to long ago - it is very real. And it is currently a part of my life. My friend Jim mentioned that a little golf seems to ease him back into a relaxed mode when he can't sleep - putting I suppose. But I imagine I would need a putter and a golf ball to achieve such peace and that I do not not have. However, a bowl of cereal and the internet sure are a beautiful thing when I'm wide awake in the "middle of the night." But an a more personal note, add insomnia to my already fuzzy chemo brain and it's amazing I remember anything Daniela asks me to do. God Bless her. I love you sweetheart!!!

Relapse vs. Mortality Statistics

At my meeting with Dr. Allerton yesterday, he reviewed with me the statistical probability of cancer relapse and cancer mortality. The analysis was based upon:

1. Age: 38
2. Gender: Male
3. Comorbidity (Health Status - other than cancer diagnosis): Perfect
4. Depth of Invasion: T4 - Maximum within the stage
5. Positive Presence of Lymph Nodes: 1
6. Examined Nodes (following surgical removal): >10
7. Histologic Grade (Stage):  Grade 2
8. Stage 3 (I was a stage, but treated as a Stage 3 due to minute cellular presence of cancer cells in one lymph node)

Calculation of risk of relapse within first 5 years 

without current post-surgery chemotherapy: 49%

Calculation of risk of relapse within first 5 years 

with current post-surgery FOLFURI chemotherapy treatment: 20%

Calculation of risk of mortality within the first five years 

without current post-surgery chemotherapy treatment: 42%

Calculation of risk of mortality within the first 5 years 

with current post-surgery FOLFURI chemotherapy treatment: 22%

I then asked Dr. Allerton if the software was able to account for there being no traceable cancer in the tissue removed with surgery and he said it was not. My specifics results are extremely uncommon in the world of oncology so there is no statistical equation for it. It's pretty much a random occurrence in their world.  (Gerson Therapy, BABY!!! Thank you everyone for your support. xoxo) However, he did provide say that considering the 100% disappearance of cancer from my system, the risk of relapse or mortality is even lower. I didn't ask him for a number, but I say it's down by another 50%, putting it at 10% relapse and 11% mortality.

I have to be honest - 10% ain't perfect, but it's pretty damn good when it comes to cancer. Yesterday was a good day.

#4

I am thrilled to tell you that it seems I am 100% free from my morphine DTs. I have not had any withdrawals since Saturday. Pretty cool, huh?

And I can now say with confidence that any concerns anyone has about my addiction and the possibility of my going back on morphine, can rest easy. I can say with certainty that it has not even crossed my mind to take morphine at this point. The addiction was 100% physical - not at all mental.

I also had an opportunity to be able to talk about my use of morphine addiction with a fellow chemo patient today. She's an elderly woman who has serious reservations about taking morphine. The reason? Fear of addiction. It's amazing how powerful an impact addiction can have on a person - even those in a great deal of pain, like the woman I spoke to at the clinic. She even acknowledged the absurdity of her decision, given that she is Stage IV, and at this point, receives chemotherapy treatment in order to extend her life for a little while longer. The doctors do not believe it will disappear.

So, I received my day one chemotherapy treatment today - #4 out of 12. I am now one day short of being one third of the way through my regimen. And I am thrilled to say I was given a different anti-nausea pre-med: Reglan - which also provides hiccup relief. And the result? For the first time in my history of chemotherapy treatment, I did not immediately fall asleep from an anti-nausea pre-med. I actually hung out and talked with my friend Jerry and the staff throughout the entire treatment.

And the real breakthrough is that I actually drove back home after the treatment. But rest easy - I was not pushing myself or being careless. I drove because I felt great. Jerry and I even stopped at a classic Upstate New York style diner for dinner because I was starving. And again, this was for the first time in the history of my chemotherapy treatment - to eat anything following chemo. Today was a great day.