KENNY'S MEMOIRS
May 4, 2013---Fuck You Cancer
Today was a good
day. As I sit here writing this email. I reflect on the past 2 months that have
been hell. Today I rode my motorcycle for the first time since my surgery. I
groomed my face. I made myself all three square meals. These are huge
steps to recovery for me.
Today’s inspiration was from watching the run for the roses, the Kentucky Derby. I thought about my parents and the way I was raised. Blue collar, work hard, earn your money, show up. As I listened to the stories about the horses I related to every connection intimately.
I had two favorites in the Derby. Oxbow, trained by the hall of famer D. Wayne Lukas. A man of consistency, like my father. Ridden by Gary Stevens, a man coming back after retiring for 7 years, back in the saddle. At 50 years old Gary Stevens is in the twilight of his career considered by most professional athletes. Not Mr. Stevens. He's in his prime. It's all state of mind.
My other pick was Orb. Trained by the hall of fame trainer Shug Mcgahey. A man who despite all of his accomplishments has never won the Kentucky Derby. As I watched the race intensely, I got goosebumps listening to the call to the post. My ears pricked up like a horse that hears the feed being mixed.
The start of the race, I had my eyes on both horses that I liked. Oxbow was stalking the pace. "Smart ride" I thought. Staying on the inside. Just off the pace. Poised for a stretch run. I was looking for Orb, couldn't find him. He was way in back of the pack. The opening fractions were very fast for a sloppy track and as I did the math in my head I knew that these times were going to set up for someone to come from behind to win. Sure enough, stretch run, here comes The Field!
We all know Orb wins the Kentucky Derby. It's the way the horse wins that gets me going. Relative to my life, my family, and the past few months of this surgery for me. Orb comes from 17th place to cross the wire in first place. Exactly the style that my dad trains his horses. Exactly the way that I'm going to beat this cancer.
Right now the race is on, the pace is set and I’m definitely not in the lead. Keep your eyes open and don't ever give up on a Terra Firma Farm baby. I'm a COME-FROM-BEHIND THOROUGHBRED and I'll be there to light the board.
PS forward this email to family, let them know I'm doing well. I don't have many email addresses.
I love you all and thank you for your love.
Go Sonics. Aloha.
Love, Kenny T.
Today’s inspiration was from watching the run for the roses, the Kentucky Derby. I thought about my parents and the way I was raised. Blue collar, work hard, earn your money, show up. As I listened to the stories about the horses I related to every connection intimately.
I had two favorites in the Derby. Oxbow, trained by the hall of famer D. Wayne Lukas. A man of consistency, like my father. Ridden by Gary Stevens, a man coming back after retiring for 7 years, back in the saddle. At 50 years old Gary Stevens is in the twilight of his career considered by most professional athletes. Not Mr. Stevens. He's in his prime. It's all state of mind.
My other pick was Orb. Trained by the hall of fame trainer Shug Mcgahey. A man who despite all of his accomplishments has never won the Kentucky Derby. As I watched the race intensely, I got goosebumps listening to the call to the post. My ears pricked up like a horse that hears the feed being mixed.
The start of the race, I had my eyes on both horses that I liked. Oxbow was stalking the pace. "Smart ride" I thought. Staying on the inside. Just off the pace. Poised for a stretch run. I was looking for Orb, couldn't find him. He was way in back of the pack. The opening fractions were very fast for a sloppy track and as I did the math in my head I knew that these times were going to set up for someone to come from behind to win. Sure enough, stretch run, here comes The Field!
We all know Orb wins the Kentucky Derby. It's the way the horse wins that gets me going. Relative to my life, my family, and the past few months of this surgery for me. Orb comes from 17th place to cross the wire in first place. Exactly the style that my dad trains his horses. Exactly the way that I'm going to beat this cancer.
Right now the race is on, the pace is set and I’m definitely not in the lead. Keep your eyes open and don't ever give up on a Terra Firma Farm baby. I'm a COME-FROM-BEHIND THOROUGHBRED and I'll be there to light the board.
PS forward this email to family, let them know I'm doing well. I don't have many email addresses.
I love you all and thank you for your love.
Go Sonics. Aloha.
Love, Kenny T.
June 10, 2013---Chemo Brain
Monday June 10th. As I sit in the lay-z boy chemo chair. I feel like I'm part of a knitting club. The chemo room is filled with old women. Women with wigs, bandanas, bald heads, loud hats. They talk about garage sales, Weekend talk shows and the most recent celebrity gossip.
The woman to my right has 6 months to live. She was beautiful at some point. the chemo and caner have destroyed her body. She clings to her beauty with makeup, loud clothes and accessories. The woman to my left is on her second to last chemo treatment. She is given a year to live. She has liver cancer. She enjoys animals and art. She has lost all her hair and looks like the typical cancer patient. The woman in front of me sits stoic and poised. She hates being in this room. She's a runner, she tells me about how she's an athlete and she runs marathons triathlons and scuba dives.
I'm sitting in a room full of tough bitches. These woman have been told that their life is going to end very soon. They live with the knowledge that their last breath could be soon. They look at me like I'm the lucky one. I have more life to live than they do. They're jealous that I am allowed to experience many more things that these tough, beautiful women took for granted. I get to thoroughly enjoy 30+ years of my life. These women only get less than one. I am lucky. They're on the fast track to eternal sleep. I'm on the slow track.
Here is sit. A cancer patient. Side effects kicking in. Tingling, numbness, nausea, vomiting, dizzyness.
Here I sit, fuck the side effects, life has a new perspective: I'm the thoroughbred in the starting gate. The boxer walking to the ring. The warrior. I am the proud member of the toughest knitting club ever known.
The woman to my right has 6 months to live. She was beautiful at some point. the chemo and caner have destroyed her body. She clings to her beauty with makeup, loud clothes and accessories. The woman to my left is on her second to last chemo treatment. She is given a year to live. She has liver cancer. She enjoys animals and art. She has lost all her hair and looks like the typical cancer patient. The woman in front of me sits stoic and poised. She hates being in this room. She's a runner, she tells me about how she's an athlete and she runs marathons triathlons and scuba dives.
I'm sitting in a room full of tough bitches. These woman have been told that their life is going to end very soon. They live with the knowledge that their last breath could be soon. They look at me like I'm the lucky one. I have more life to live than they do. They're jealous that I am allowed to experience many more things that these tough, beautiful women took for granted. I get to thoroughly enjoy 30+ years of my life. These women only get less than one. I am lucky. They're on the fast track to eternal sleep. I'm on the slow track.
Here is sit. A cancer patient. Side effects kicking in. Tingling, numbness, nausea, vomiting, dizzyness.
Here I sit, fuck the side effects, life has a new perspective: I'm the thoroughbred in the starting gate. The boxer walking to the ring. The warrior. I am the proud member of the toughest knitting club ever known.
June 20, 2013---The Champ
Everyday above ground is a good day. As I watch the NBA finals I get chills.
When I watch what kind of preparation these athletes go through for the final
game, game 7, the most important game of their professional lives. I feel like
I'm walking in their shoes. I live vicariously through Lebron James and Dwayne
Wade. Hoping for that NBA championship. On the contrary, I have a huge
advantage to these heroes of mine that are under the bright lights. I'm on a
championship quest as well. And if you read this, you are too.
Every day of my life that I am able to wake up and make my own cup of coffee. I feel lucky. Breathing air is an inspiration to me. I feel like brushing my teeth is a privilege. Little things we do every day are taken for granted. I try to appreciate these little things and I want to convey to the people that I love how lucky they are. There are three things I do every day that makes my day a full, productive day. "Number one is laugh. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears. Could be happiness or joy." Words from Jim Valvano. If you think about these words. A day filled with laughter, thoughts and tears. That's a full productive day. If that can be done every day. Life will be special.
The advantage that I have to Mr. James and Mr. Wade is without a doubt, a selfish one: Every day for me is Game 7. Some days are wins. When I can get out of bed with a spring in my step and accomplish my daily chores. Some are losses when cups of coffee and a beautiful, breezy Hawaiian day can't get me out of my apartment.
Life as I see it is a boxing match. Every morning when I look at myself in the mirror, I mentally prepare myself for the boxing match. My conscience is the Voice of Muhammad Ali. The Challenger: LIFE. I say to life like Ali announced to Foreman while in the same room. (Banging on the Congo drums.) "THE CHAMP IS HERE!! THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD IS HERE!!"
Every day is Game 7.
Every day of my life that I am able to wake up and make my own cup of coffee. I feel lucky. Breathing air is an inspiration to me. I feel like brushing my teeth is a privilege. Little things we do every day are taken for granted. I try to appreciate these little things and I want to convey to the people that I love how lucky they are. There are three things I do every day that makes my day a full, productive day. "Number one is laugh. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears. Could be happiness or joy." Words from Jim Valvano. If you think about these words. A day filled with laughter, thoughts and tears. That's a full productive day. If that can be done every day. Life will be special.
The advantage that I have to Mr. James and Mr. Wade is without a doubt, a selfish one: Every day for me is Game 7. Some days are wins. When I can get out of bed with a spring in my step and accomplish my daily chores. Some are losses when cups of coffee and a beautiful, breezy Hawaiian day can't get me out of my apartment.
Life as I see it is a boxing match. Every morning when I look at myself in the mirror, I mentally prepare myself for the boxing match. My conscience is the Voice of Muhammad Ali. The Challenger: LIFE. I say to life like Ali announced to Foreman while in the same room. (Banging on the Congo drums.) "THE CHAMP IS HERE!! THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD IS HERE!!"
Every day is Game 7.
July 13, 2013---The Lotus Flower
The power of
positive thinking is powerful. As I continue to write about myself and put my
thoughts on paper, I wonder what my life will be like in the future. My
thoughts are consumed with the fear of cancer recurrence and/or another
sickness. I wonder if I will be able to father my own child and most
importantly I wonder what my basketball skills are like. As I dig mentally
deeper and search for strength within myself. I realize that if I fill my head
with positive thoughts. Positive things happen. It has been scientifically
proven that an affirmative thought is 100 times more powerful than a negative
thought.
Cancer treatment sucks. I have probably 15 different inconveniences that I want to complain about but, I won't. Nobody likes people who complain Instead, I prefer to stay positive. I want to whine about the pain. Today I choose to stay silent and focus on the positive things. Every time I get knocked down, the four letter words creep in: quit, cant, stop. It's time to get up.
My energy has been focused on life after treatment. What I'm going to do after treatment. How life will be for me after treatment. Cancer is a challenge. It challenges every square inch of life.
Some of the most beautiful things in the world come from the ugliest foundations. The lotus flower: a sacred, beautiful flower with deep spiritual meaning. The lotus flower grows from its own pile of mud. Butterflies are so beautiful that the ancient Egyptians permanently carved their beauty into their hieroglyphs. Before a butterfly grows its wings, it spends its time as a caterpillar until it matures into the flying beauty.
As I see it, I'm the seed stuck in the mud. I feel like the hairy worm crawling around storing my nutrients. I'm reaching for the sky. I'm soaking up as much knowledge as I can while I'm down here in the mud. I know that one day soon I will be able to fly.
I’m not the smartest person in the world. I’m not the prettiest. I know I'm not the richest. For the time I've been here in this proverbial mud: getting cut open, pricked, prodded, injected, bleeding, burned and embarrassed. Pain to me doesn't come from a knife or a wound anymore. To me, pain is a lesson. Wisdom often comes with pain.
I write these thoughts because I hope that whoever reads this can see things differently. I see people who can't see past their cell phone screen. I was guilty of that. My message is to appreciate and respect the struggle.
'Sometimes our greatest struggles are between where we are and where we want to be.' - Rashida Rowe
Aloha,
Kenny T.
Cancer treatment sucks. I have probably 15 different inconveniences that I want to complain about but, I won't. Nobody likes people who complain Instead, I prefer to stay positive. I want to whine about the pain. Today I choose to stay silent and focus on the positive things. Every time I get knocked down, the four letter words creep in: quit, cant, stop. It's time to get up.
My energy has been focused on life after treatment. What I'm going to do after treatment. How life will be for me after treatment. Cancer is a challenge. It challenges every square inch of life.
Some of the most beautiful things in the world come from the ugliest foundations. The lotus flower: a sacred, beautiful flower with deep spiritual meaning. The lotus flower grows from its own pile of mud. Butterflies are so beautiful that the ancient Egyptians permanently carved their beauty into their hieroglyphs. Before a butterfly grows its wings, it spends its time as a caterpillar until it matures into the flying beauty.
As I see it, I'm the seed stuck in the mud. I feel like the hairy worm crawling around storing my nutrients. I'm reaching for the sky. I'm soaking up as much knowledge as I can while I'm down here in the mud. I know that one day soon I will be able to fly.
I’m not the smartest person in the world. I’m not the prettiest. I know I'm not the richest. For the time I've been here in this proverbial mud: getting cut open, pricked, prodded, injected, bleeding, burned and embarrassed. Pain to me doesn't come from a knife or a wound anymore. To me, pain is a lesson. Wisdom often comes with pain.
I write these thoughts because I hope that whoever reads this can see things differently. I see people who can't see past their cell phone screen. I was guilty of that. My message is to appreciate and respect the struggle.
'Sometimes our greatest struggles are between where we are and where we want to be.' - Rashida Rowe
Aloha,
Kenny T.
August 6, 2013---Picture Perfect
Sitting on a fake,
deteriorating, peeling leather couch. Trade winds blowing through the 267
square foot apartment. Inhale the potpourri of the neighbors cooking their
delicious, greasy breakfast. The sound of the sirens and cars are the
soundtrack to this beautiful moment in time where everything is picture perfect.
The previous paragraph isn't most people's idea of paradise. Paradise is a state of mind. Right now, I sit here connected to a pump that blasts me full of toxic drugs. I'm a 27 year old cancer patient and I'm in paradise. Oh how times change.
Happiness and joy to a 26 year old boy is a lot different. I thought money paid to take me to paradise. I thought that happiness was whatever helped put a smile face. Including alcohol. Joy to a 26 year old single boy was filling his phone full of different girls' phone numbers.
The present day 'me' isn't infatuated with liquid possessions. Quick relationships or how many friends I have. The present day, 27 year old cancer patient, manufactures a smile when my friends get what they work for. I get excited to hear about my co-workers daily successes. I cry tears of joy when my parents win a horse race because I know how much heart and effort they put into their work, their passion.
Things now are not important. People now are much more valuable. The relationships we build throughout our life last forever. Relationships are priceless. My paradise is knowing that I have people that truly care about me.
I hear all the loud noises; I can smell my neighbor’s gourmet meals being cooked. I stomp on my pet cockroaches when they decide to come out and watch TV with me. I'm happy to be able to experience these details. There are many things that I don't have. To some people, it’s called being poor. I consider myself rich. Rich with opportunity. Life began when I realized how easy it is to die. My fight with cancer is halfway over. My life is just beginning.
The previous paragraph isn't most people's idea of paradise. Paradise is a state of mind. Right now, I sit here connected to a pump that blasts me full of toxic drugs. I'm a 27 year old cancer patient and I'm in paradise. Oh how times change.
Happiness and joy to a 26 year old boy is a lot different. I thought money paid to take me to paradise. I thought that happiness was whatever helped put a smile face. Including alcohol. Joy to a 26 year old single boy was filling his phone full of different girls' phone numbers.
The present day 'me' isn't infatuated with liquid possessions. Quick relationships or how many friends I have. The present day, 27 year old cancer patient, manufactures a smile when my friends get what they work for. I get excited to hear about my co-workers daily successes. I cry tears of joy when my parents win a horse race because I know how much heart and effort they put into their work, their passion.
Things now are not important. People now are much more valuable. The relationships we build throughout our life last forever. Relationships are priceless. My paradise is knowing that I have people that truly care about me.
I hear all the loud noises; I can smell my neighbor’s gourmet meals being cooked. I stomp on my pet cockroaches when they decide to come out and watch TV with me. I'm happy to be able to experience these details. There are many things that I don't have. To some people, it’s called being poor. I consider myself rich. Rich with opportunity. Life began when I realized how easy it is to die. My fight with cancer is halfway over. My life is just beginning.
Without a solid
foundation, a house is not worth building. Comparable to a man. Without a solid
foundation a man will struggle to succeed. My personal foundation was laid by
my heroes. My heroes shaped my life and prepared me for my battles.
Every time we are faced with a challenge, we have a choice. We can choose to accept the challenge or not. As my Cancer challenge winds down. People pat me on the back and tell me how brave and tough I am. I accept the praise but I couldn't overcome without the guidance and strength from the people that poured the cement.
My mother and father raised me with tough love and trusted me with lots of important responsibilities. My mom raised me through the toughest part of a young man’s life, puberty. She suffered lots of hormonal outbursts from me and endured enough pubescent reactions for any one parent. She still loved me and still made sure I had a roof over my head. My father wasn't around much but I know why he wasn't. He wanted to put food on the table for my mom, sister, and me. If my dad thought we didn't have enough he would go to work. Whatever it took. If he had to sell horse feed and bedding to make a penny. He would. If it took 10 hours to make enough for dinner. My dad would work for 12. It took a few years for my dad to say he loved me. Actions speak louder than words. My dad showed me how he much love he has through his work. Thanks dad. I love you too.
The first man to tell me "I love you" that wasn't a family member was my high school basketball coach. He had a weird way of showing me how much he loved me. At the time I didn't understand why he kept telling me that he loved me. He never gave me much playing time. He never ran plays for me. When I made mistakes I got punished. When I farted, I had to run. When made a joke, I ran lines. When I stole beer from 7-eleven, I got my jersey taken away. When I tore my ACL he said I should just quit. After he gave me my jersey back he said I would never play varsity. He always told me two things I will never forget. "Discipline is something that you do for someone." And he would tell me "Kenny, don't forget, I still love you." Thanks Coach. I love you too.
I cannot discount my family from my list of heroes. My grandfather showed me how to live with class and taught me how to have good taste in everything, including clothes and women. My grandmother showed me how to love everyone and everything. My brother would beat me up and teased me and also taught me how to get what I want. My sister is my biggest fan. She is always looking out for me and always wants to help me with my love life.
My aunts and uncles are always caring and always accommodating. Without their love, it would be a tough road.
The one person who has been through it all with me, my side kick, my partner in crime, literally. Is my best friend, Brian. When I talk to people about Brian, one would think that we are a homosexual couple. If I was gay, I would be lucky to have Brian as a boyfriend. I am lucky to have a friend like Brian. We have been friends since middle school. We have done everything together. We stole a hop truck and took it on a joy ride around Yakima. We stole beer from 7-eleven. We've lived together all over Washington state and moved across and ocean together. When Brian needed a roommate, he called me. When I needed help with my car. I called Brian. No matter how far away I am, Brian has my back. As tough as some people think I am. Most people don't know that I have support from the best friend in the world.
I'm sitting and writing this in a familiar place, the chemo chair. I'm thinking about how long it's been and what I've been through. This letter is for everyone who is applauding me through my battle. I couldn't do it without the support of my heroes.
Every time we are faced with a challenge, we have a choice. We can choose to accept the challenge or not. As my Cancer challenge winds down. People pat me on the back and tell me how brave and tough I am. I accept the praise but I couldn't overcome without the guidance and strength from the people that poured the cement.
My mother and father raised me with tough love and trusted me with lots of important responsibilities. My mom raised me through the toughest part of a young man’s life, puberty. She suffered lots of hormonal outbursts from me and endured enough pubescent reactions for any one parent. She still loved me and still made sure I had a roof over my head. My father wasn't around much but I know why he wasn't. He wanted to put food on the table for my mom, sister, and me. If my dad thought we didn't have enough he would go to work. Whatever it took. If he had to sell horse feed and bedding to make a penny. He would. If it took 10 hours to make enough for dinner. My dad would work for 12. It took a few years for my dad to say he loved me. Actions speak louder than words. My dad showed me how he much love he has through his work. Thanks dad. I love you too.
The first man to tell me "I love you" that wasn't a family member was my high school basketball coach. He had a weird way of showing me how much he loved me. At the time I didn't understand why he kept telling me that he loved me. He never gave me much playing time. He never ran plays for me. When I made mistakes I got punished. When I farted, I had to run. When made a joke, I ran lines. When I stole beer from 7-eleven, I got my jersey taken away. When I tore my ACL he said I should just quit. After he gave me my jersey back he said I would never play varsity. He always told me two things I will never forget. "Discipline is something that you do for someone." And he would tell me "Kenny, don't forget, I still love you." Thanks Coach. I love you too.
I cannot discount my family from my list of heroes. My grandfather showed me how to live with class and taught me how to have good taste in everything, including clothes and women. My grandmother showed me how to love everyone and everything. My brother would beat me up and teased me and also taught me how to get what I want. My sister is my biggest fan. She is always looking out for me and always wants to help me with my love life.
My aunts and uncles are always caring and always accommodating. Without their love, it would be a tough road.
The one person who has been through it all with me, my side kick, my partner in crime, literally. Is my best friend, Brian. When I talk to people about Brian, one would think that we are a homosexual couple. If I was gay, I would be lucky to have Brian as a boyfriend. I am lucky to have a friend like Brian. We have been friends since middle school. We have done everything together. We stole a hop truck and took it on a joy ride around Yakima. We stole beer from 7-eleven. We've lived together all over Washington state and moved across and ocean together. When Brian needed a roommate, he called me. When I needed help with my car. I called Brian. No matter how far away I am, Brian has my back. As tough as some people think I am. Most people don't know that I have support from the best friend in the world.
I'm sitting and writing this in a familiar place, the chemo chair. I'm thinking about how long it's been and what I've been through. This letter is for everyone who is applauding me through my battle. I couldn't do it without the support of my heroes.
I was born into competition. My family's life is based on competition. Thoroughbred Horse Racing is an extremely competitive sport. I’m the little brother that wanted to be better than my bigger, faster, stronger brother. I play sports; I've been part of teams. I love my job and where I work is very competitive. The main goal with competition is obvious, to win. With competition there is always an opponent. The other horses. The other team. The seller next door. My formidable foe in my personal horse race is something unseen and incredibly tough to put down.
I've been in the gym: sparring, playing one on one, running marathons. Against my opponent; the Brick Wall. I have understood now that brick walls are there for a reason: they let us prove how badly we want things. I want to live. More specifically, I want, No, I'm going to the moon. The more I search for inspiration the broader my horizons get and the horizons become less limited.
My current treatment makes me physically weaker. I feel my body slowly breaking down. My hair is thinning and 2 gallons of milk feels like 10 gallons. Mentally, I get tougher. I'm a big fan of the underdog. The heavy favorites can always get complacent and the favorites can easily walk into a match expecting a win.
The American Cancer Society estimates that 142,820 people will be diagnosed in 2013 and that 50,830 will die from colon cancer in the United States. I make sense of these statistics like I'm reading a racing form or comparing sports teams. The headline: Colon cancer vs. Kenneth J Toye.
If I were a gambling man, I would bet on cancer. This dirty opponent is to blame for lots of my recent losses. This year I've had 24 weeks of chemotherapy. 8 weeks of radiation. I spent 25 days in the hospitals with countless setbacks. 1 failed chemo port that will inevitably produce two gunshot scars in my chest. My surgeon took out all but 2 inches of my large intestine. I will be living with an ileostomy for 6 months. An ileostomy is a procedure that
brings my small intestine above my abdomen so that my waste can flow into a pouching system that I change every 2-7 days. I've had two girlfriends. Keyword: had.
My losses are countless but the fight isn't over. The hospital is a very depressing place. Chemotherapy kills people. My body is failing but, my mind is getting stronger. These brick walls become wet paper walls. My scars become trophies. The women that couldn't handle me become unworthy of the Title shot for the Champion (me). A smart man once told me that some people just "can't stand prosperity." (Dang right Dad)
If you're reading this, you might tend to feel sorry for me. Please Don't. My goal is to inspire with my words. Take it as a reality check. I am thankful for everything and completely happy to have a second chance.
As the underdog and with God as my only referee. The Man in the striped shirt made a mistake by calling a foul. With each mistake I get better. It's the fourth quarter, lots of time for the comeback.
October 8, 2013---The Cowboy
I consider myself a
Cowboy. I don't wear boots and chaps. I don't own a cowboy hat. I can't rope
and I'm not the greatest rider. I'm not your typical Cowboy.
Part of riding a horse includes getting bucked off. Just like any authentic cowboy will tell you about losing their seat. The bucks that you aren't prepared for, get you knocked out of the saddle. There are some people that never get back in the saddle, not because they don't want to but, because they don't have the opportunity.
I got bucked off on November 13th 2012. My stirrups were way too short. I got caught up thinking I looked good. Just as fast as I was high on my horse, I found myself face-down in the dirt. My horse ran away. My clothes were ruined and my pride; eliminated. I laid in the dirt for a few seconds.
I don't fit the description of a Cowboy. (I wear basketball shoes, t-shirts and baseball hats.) I do however, live life by the Cowboy's code of ethics.
I started living my life on November 14th, 2012. Life began for me because I almost died. I picked myself up, mouth full of dirt, dignity stripped. I laced up my cowboy tennis shoes. On that day I was happy to have a choice. I felt lucky to open my eyes and breathe. I knew life was going to be extremely difficult. I also knew I had only two choices: get better or get worse. I mustered up a dirt filled smile. A smile that nobody could see except for the person looking at me in the mirror.
Here I am 27 years old. I’m back in the saddle. I'm on a new horse. A young, powerful thoroughbred. My past performances are suspect to a breakdown and I'm aware of my odds to win. In a few weeks I will be finished with training and poised for a return.
I'm not campaigning to get your money in the betting lines. I have truly enjoyed this journey with all the inconveniences that are included for a cancer patient. I have learned amazing things about myself. I consider my diagnosis a gift. Life has meaning and purpose.
One day I hope I can give someone a leg-up. We only get one life to live. As luck will have it. I got a re-ride, a second chance. The only people who are smart enough to put money on me are the people in the barn. I don't gamble but, before you play the odds on a man, ask the odds maker if they can measure his heart.
These are the Cowboy Code of Ethics:
1. Live each day with courage
2. Take pride in your work
3. Always finish what you start
4. Do what has to be done
5. Be tough, but fair
6. When you make a promise, keep it
7. Ride for the brand
8. Talk less and say more
9. Remember that some things aren’t for sale
10. Know where to draw the line.
11. Keep your heels down!
Love, Kenny T.
Part of riding a horse includes getting bucked off. Just like any authentic cowboy will tell you about losing their seat. The bucks that you aren't prepared for, get you knocked out of the saddle. There are some people that never get back in the saddle, not because they don't want to but, because they don't have the opportunity.
I got bucked off on November 13th 2012. My stirrups were way too short. I got caught up thinking I looked good. Just as fast as I was high on my horse, I found myself face-down in the dirt. My horse ran away. My clothes were ruined and my pride; eliminated. I laid in the dirt for a few seconds.
I don't fit the description of a Cowboy. (I wear basketball shoes, t-shirts and baseball hats.) I do however, live life by the Cowboy's code of ethics.
I started living my life on November 14th, 2012. Life began for me because I almost died. I picked myself up, mouth full of dirt, dignity stripped. I laced up my cowboy tennis shoes. On that day I was happy to have a choice. I felt lucky to open my eyes and breathe. I knew life was going to be extremely difficult. I also knew I had only two choices: get better or get worse. I mustered up a dirt filled smile. A smile that nobody could see except for the person looking at me in the mirror.
Here I am 27 years old. I’m back in the saddle. I'm on a new horse. A young, powerful thoroughbred. My past performances are suspect to a breakdown and I'm aware of my odds to win. In a few weeks I will be finished with training and poised for a return.
I'm not campaigning to get your money in the betting lines. I have truly enjoyed this journey with all the inconveniences that are included for a cancer patient. I have learned amazing things about myself. I consider my diagnosis a gift. Life has meaning and purpose.
One day I hope I can give someone a leg-up. We only get one life to live. As luck will have it. I got a re-ride, a second chance. The only people who are smart enough to put money on me are the people in the barn. I don't gamble but, before you play the odds on a man, ask the odds maker if they can measure his heart.
These are the Cowboy Code of Ethics:
1. Live each day with courage
2. Take pride in your work
3. Always finish what you start
4. Do what has to be done
5. Be tough, but fair
6. When you make a promise, keep it
7. Ride for the brand
8. Talk less and say more
9. Remember that some things aren’t for sale
10. Know where to draw the line.
11. Keep your heels down!
Love, Kenny T.
Cancer is as painful as the individual lets it be. Cancer will beat someone down if they let it happen. It will test the person mentally, physically and emotionally. Such is life. We all are equipped with a two tiny voices in our minds that whisper; quit, can't, stop, no and don't. We have the luxury of deciding which voice to listen to.
Cancer puts your mind into a very scary and lonely place. I wanted to quit or stop treatment and surgery numerous times. I wasn't certain that I could endure it all. You willed me through the negative. My past experiences guided me through the dark and cloudy days and nights.
The finish line approaches on Wednesday, November 23rd. At 11:40 AM. I will officially be finished with Colorectal cancer treatment and my cancer will be considered "in remission." Unlike winning a championship. There will be no trophy presentation. No Gatorade shower. No monetary bonuses. No new cars. A cancer survivor is allowed one simple, priceless immeasurable thing: the fact that you took death by the horns, wrestled it to the ground and got it hog-tied.
Thank you for being by my side and helping me through this journey. I will forever have an open heart for you and my ears are always open. A flower needs water, light and nutrients to live. Use your Adversities as a seed. Collect those seeds and plant them in the mud. Whatever speck of light you see: reach for it. You never know what kind of fruit will grow.
Our time on earth is short. I started writing because I wanted to remind you to appreciate what you are.
I'm still here.
Cancer-0
Kenneth J. Toye- 1
http://www.gofundme.com/5hmz48
Thank you from the bottom of OUR hearts :)
Kara and Kenny
Keep your heels down :) Good work, Kenny.
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