So, one year ago, someone threw me a curveball that I was not expecting in my world of slow pitches that come right down the heart of the plate.
  In January of 2023, I was diagnosed with something called CLL.
  Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia.
  Yes, you read that correctly.  Cancer.
  As you can well imagine, this floored me.  I hadn’t been sick at all, other than a mild bout of Covid in the spring of 2022.  This diagnosis came after a routine blood test.  I get these every year because I do have a little hypothyroidism, plus a weird chronic condition called sarcoidosis, which to this day, I don’t even know what that’s supposed to be.  All I know is that I have had some slightly raised lymph nodes that I have probably had for a long time.  No worries, says the doc, we’ll just keep an eye on it, but this sarcoidosis thing is really nothing that warrants real concern.
  So I get the results from the blood test, and the white cells look a little funky, they are flagged for being too high.  At the same time, I get a call from my primary’s office that they want another round of blood tests and that I need to make an appointment with an oncologist.  
  Ummm. . .what?
  I take the tests, and then those results start pouring in.  Word of advice. . .if you are on OSF MyChart, turn OFF the notifications.  You do not need these frightening results coming in while you’re watching Elf or some darn thing over the weekend.
  Then you start making your own Google investigations, bad idea, we’ll talk about that later.
  Then the doctor’s visits that can’t come soon enough.
  Now, the good news is that, for the most part, CLL is not a life-threatening condition, it is chronic, many people have it without even knowing it, and if it progresses, it is treatable.  In fact, with the advances in medicine these days, the treatment is most often just a series of pills.    What CLL simply means is that the white blood cell count is higher because of some pesky little things coming out of the bone marrow called lymphocytes, which grow erratically, corrupting some of the WBCs and crowding out some of your immune system-important platelets.  All this makes you more prone to infections – and those are the things that can spiral out of control.
  This is probably oversimplifying it, but you get the idea.
  So yeah, that first month, I was walking around with a “holy crap” kind of mindset, because I didn’t know which end was up.  Here’s the thing;  doctors tell you not to Google search this stuff, but you can’t help but to do so, I mean, it’s human nature.   And searching stuff on Google can basically scare the pants off you.  I have learned the hard way that anything you read on Google, especially as it pertains to health, diagnoses and prognoses, is that everything is about five years out of date  I have a very good primary doctor and an exceptional oncologist.  I love the oncologist really, he’s a nice young guy who always walks into the exam room with two or three beautiful interns.   I’m always like “Can’t wait to see the Doc and his harem today.”
  I’ve got a good friend who was recently diagnosed as well;  he’s doing fine, thankfully, and was the first to spray the fire hose on me to cool me down.  Panic attacks are an ugly thing. (Thank you, RP!)
  They, as well as my participation in online groups, have eased my concern about CLL.   In fact, it’s led me to start exercising/working out again and really upping my vitamins and supplements.  My family hates the smell of my soursop tea, but hey, it’s keeping the lymphocytes at bay, so just put a clothespin on your noses while I try to wrangle the bad guys.
  The long and short of it is that this is something that you will die with and not from.
  So what does this all mean, almost a year after the diagnosis?
  Well, I am still here, still healthy.  The WBCs have not climbed too much, I feel none of the symptoms (fatigue, night sweats, sudden weight loss).  As for the last one, I wish!  But not for that reason. . .
  I’ve battled a common cold for the last couple of weeks, the same one that has pretty much hit everyone in the country.   My back is starting to feel the repercussions of far too many Charlie Chaplin/Buster Keaton-like pratfalls over the years.   Beyond that, all is well;  family is healthy, the kids (now in their early twenties, how the hell did that happen?)  are working and with excellent jobs, they are fine young adults that make me very proud.  I am not shy with the hugs.
  The theatre group that I manage through the Evergreen Park Recreation Department just closed a wonderfully successful three-day run of a Youth Ensemble Christmas musical, with more theatre to follow after a little break.
  Hey, my house needs some repairs and they’ll get done.  The cars need work from time to time;  we’ll get those done.  My dad is almost ninety-three years old and in excellent health.   In fact, it is a privilege to visit him (my favorite Korean War veteran!) every Tuesday night to bring him and my stepmother a dinner treat.  Be it Burger King, or a pizza, or White Castles,  I happily make the weekly trek up those three flights of stairs in the Condo-Without-An-Elevator.
 How they can deal with the White Castles is beyond me, let’s just say I leave before they start “working their way through”.
 Although my brothers have heavy work schedules…as well as helping my dad out…we don’t get to actually see each other all that often, although we do keep in touch via texts.   Out of nowhere, we’ll start a group chat to discuss the latest thing on Turner Classic Movies or Antenna TV, or some wave of nostalgia.
  My wife has been promoted to a nice position with a local bank, and though it is not without its difficulties and aggravations, she is able to work from home three or four days a week.
  She also has a love affair with my daughter’s cat, which is funny, because five years ago, she was the one not exactly sold on the idea of getting the plucky, wily calico.  Now, they are inseparable.
  Bottomline?
  We made it through the year.   It’s not always perfect, it never is.  We took some lumps, but Weebles wobble and don’t fall down.   We were able to take a nice vacation with the aforesaid twentysomething kids, which is kind of bittersweet, because you never know if it’s the last one you will take as a family.
  I often say it is bittersweet when you look back on the moments you had while rearing your kids;  in a particularly bizarre example, when you are changing that diaper, you never really know that it is the last time you will do so.
  I don’t mean to draw a simile between that and going to Disney, although the smells are not as far apart as you may think, but whatever.
  But we are here now, just having passed the newfound peaceful boredom of New Year’s Eve and heading into 2024.   We stand ready to do our best, take it day-by-day and hope that health and happiness stays with us all…and you…for the next three hundred and sixty-six day trip around the sun.
  Yup, it’s a leap year, set your clocks forward a month.
  Never mind, ignore me.
  So what is the point of starting this blog?  Well, I sit here now at the typewriter. Yes, you read that right, I am banging this first draft out on my 1919 LC Smith, it’ll be a different typewriter each time. Don’t get the impression that I am that out of date, these musings get rewritten and polished many times over on the iMac.  I just like that clickety-clack of the the keys hitting the paper on that first draft. It makes me feel I am accomplishing something. I’m listening to the Big Band LP that is playing on the Victrola, and I am asking myself the same question;  What is the point of this blog?
  The long and short of it is that I talk to people all the time, I see things (good and bad) and there are stories to tell, gripes to be gripes to be griped, harassment and injustice to discuss. . .but, most of all, praise to be made.  I am a guy of many interests (well, to be fair, probably borderline A.D.D.), so I’ll probably “touch ‘em all” if you are so kind to stay with me throughout the year and refer a friend. 
  Who knows?  I will call it as it is, but I will always be fair and take the pushback;  most of all, I hope to give you a good laugh or two, or perhaps coax a tear out of you with a given story.   I don’t pretend to be Hemingway, I am just a guy.  A dumb guy most of the time.   This vehicle is just a place to ramble, to document fully what I see and what I do.  One day at a time.
  For now, I kinda-sorta repeat what Bruce Oscar says at the end of his music program “Swing Shift” on Saturdays on WDCB-FM.  That is, “Be good to yourself, be good to your neighbor, and don’t forget to tell someone you love them.”
  Now, I’m going to start practicing hitting those curve balls.

Email: glennpniewski@yahoo.com