They spoke to Jack’s doctor about managing bedwetting. Jack’s doctor suggested trying desmopressin tablets. Before the trip, Jack tried a couple of different doses to find the dose that worked for him. Now that he had a treatment, Jack decided he’d like to go on the trip after all. Jack took his medication during the trip and stayed dry, and the whole family enjoyed their visit.

As a working-student and dad, I don’t have ample time to spend with my son during weekdays. However, despite my very hectic schedule, I make it a point to go straight home after work, so I would be there when he wakes up, and we could spend breakfast together everyday. I read him a good story, play with him, and talk to him before I go to bed. I know that the usual thing is, parents reading their kids a good story before their kids go to sleep at night, but it’s the other way around for us, especially when Iñigo learned how to read. I feel bad sometimes coz I don’t want to sleep on him and I can’t help but fall asleep.

Sleeping time  for me is during the morning until after lunch. I go to school in the afternoon until 7PM, sometimes 8pm, depending on my schedule. I go home right after class to have dinner with my wife, son, and the rest of our family.  Then I work from 9PM to 6AM.  Sometimes, I go to work right after school, most especially when my class ends at 8PM, and whenever I can’t  go home, I just have my dinner at the office’s pantry.

My wife Dee is also a student. She wanted to find a job to help me out with our expenses,  but I insisted that she focus on being a full-time student and at the same time full-time mom to our son Iñigo. She wakes up early in the morning coz her classes start at 7AM, so she’s not home the moment I arrive from work. She goes home in the afternoon, and spend her time with Iñigo for the rest of the day.

I must admit, it’s tough to be a student, an employee, a dad, and a husband at the same time. But, I have gotten used to it already.  Although there are still times that I feel so tired and I just wanna give up, but I tell myself that I can’t and I have to stay strong for my family.  I  just keep in mind that things will change  soon as Dee and I graduate in college this March.  When that happens,  we will have more time to spend together as a family before Iñig0 reaches schooling age.

I guess you’re asking, how did we survive this kind of set-up? or How am I able to maintain a good relationship with my wife and son, as well as the rest of my family,  given that I have a very limited time to spend with them.

It’s pretty simple. I make sure that during the weekend, or whenever I get the chance to, I give them 100% of my time.  Like during weekdays and we have no class, I ask Dee to go out with me, either just the two of us in a date, or with our son.  We go strolling at the mall, go window shopping, and of course, drop by Iñigo’s  favorite McDonalds or Jowibee(Jollibee).

With Saturdays and Sundays being our only days off from work and school, we declared weekend as our official family bonding time. Dee and I  make use of our time to spend with Iñigo, talk to him, and play with him.  It’s also during the weekend that we get to bond as a whole family.

One constant thing that we do is find a good movie to watch every Saturday night. Imagine how much it would cost for a family of 10 members to eat out and watch a movie at movie houses. So, what we do is we just find a good movie either on the net or borrow a DVD , then watch it at home. We just buy the ingredients, prepare good food, and enjoy our time together at home without having to spend too much, or waste our precious time on traveling to go somewhere else, except during our trips to the beach during holidays.

During Sundays, we go to church together, then when we go to the grocery to buy stuff for the whole week’s supply. We do activities at home together, from simple household chores like washing the dishes, to general house cleaning. We also find time to help our Abuela Anna (grandma) with her gardening. The girls usually spend more time bonding at the kitchen, while Dad bonds with me and my brothers.

Home has been a place where I don’t just just find rest from all my cares and worries, from work, from school, but it’s a place where I find comfort and happiness. I guess it’s also the reason why no matter where I go, at the end of the day, my feet would always lead me back home where true happiness is.

Some people find my life crazy, hectic, tiring and at the same time boring. Some even ask how am I able to survive without having fun?

You know what I think, those people don’t know the real meaning of quality fun and happiness, coz they can’t even tell what sets  true happiness  that lasts apart from short term fun and  enjoyment. It is never boring to spend quality time with your family, it is not crazy to show them how much you love them and how important they are to you by finding time no matter how impossible.

Instead of going out, partying, spending your hard earned money on senseless things, or exposing yourself to temptation… then buying  your family material things in order to cover-up your guilt or make it up to them… Why don’t you give them yourself and your time?

Rule 2:  The world won’t care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3:  You will NOT make 40 thousand dollars a year right out of high school. You won’t be a vice-president with a car phone, until you earn both.

Rule 4:  If you think your teacher is tough, wait until you get a boss. He doesn’t have tenure.

Rule 5:  Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping – they called it opportunity.

Rule 6:  If you mess up, it’s not your parents’ fault, so don’t whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7:  Before you were born, your parents weren’t as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you are. So, before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parents’ generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8:  Your school may have done away with winners and losers but life has not. In some schools they have abolished failing grades and they’ll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9:  Life is not divided into semesters. You don’t get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10:  Television is NOT real life (nor are video games). In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11:  Be nice to nerds. Chances are you’ll end up working for one.

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The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

“What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

“I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded. “Just the two of us.” She thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I would like that very much.”

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up, I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel’s.

“I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,” she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.”

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.

“It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said.

“Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation – nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so much that we missed the movie.

As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.

“How was your dinner date?” asked my wife when I got home.

“Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: “I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates – one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son.”

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: “I LOVE YOU” and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till “some other time.”

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Over the phone, his mother told him, “Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.” Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

“Jack, did you hear me?”

“Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It’s been so long since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago,” Jack said.

“Well, he didn’t forget you. Every time I saw him he’d ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce about the many days you spent over ‘his side of the fence’ as he put it,” Mom told him.

“I loved that old house he lived in,” Jack said.

“You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man’s influence in your life,” she said.

“He’s the one who taught me carpentry,” he said. “I wouldn’t be in this business if it weren’t for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important… Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral,” Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown.

Mr. Belser’s funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.

The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture… Jack stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” his Mom asked.

“The box is gone,” he said.

“What box? ” Mom asked.

“There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the thing I value most,’” Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

“Now I’ll never know what was so valuable to him,” Jack said. “I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom.”

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. “Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by
the main post office within the next three days,” the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package.

The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

“Mr. Harold Belser” it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope.

Jack’s hands shook as he read the note inside.

“Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I valued most in my life.” A small key was taped to the letter.

His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover.

Inside he found these words engraved: “Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser.”

“The thing he valued most… was… my time.”

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days.

“Why?” Janet, his assistant asked.

“I need some time to spend with my son,” he said.

“Oh, by the way, Janet… thanks for your time!”

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He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He’d better get a move on. You know, he almost didn’t see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill that only fear can put in you. He said, “I’m here to help you m’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm. By the way, my name is Joe.”

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk.

She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been alright with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Joe added “…and think of me”.

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor, it didn’t ring much.

Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe.

After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes, when she read what the lady wrote. It said, “You don’t owe me a thing, I’ve been there too. Someone once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here’s what you do. Don’t let the chain of love end with you.”

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay
sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s gonna be alright, I love you Joe.”

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They conducted an experiment by creating two fictitious job candidates David and John. The candidates had identical resumes and letters of reference. The only difference was that John’s letter included the sentence “Sometimes, John can be difficult to get along with”. They showed the resumes to a number of personnel directors. Which candidate did the personnel directors overwhelmingly prefer? Difficult to get along with, John.

The researchers concluded the criticism of John made praise of John more believable. Admitting John’s wart actually helped sell John. Admitting flaws gives you more credibility. A key to selling.

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“There is no justice. I may be the victim of many unfortunate circumstances in life of which I have no control over. Regardless, I will not make excuses. I will not whine and complain. I will not feel sorry for myself. No!

Instead, I will find solutions! I will encourage others around me to think more positively. Most importantly, I will reconcile myself to a life of action, the kind of action that will set an example for others to emulate.

I will push myself beyond the limits of what I felt was possible before. I will remember the phrase: ‘If I believe I can, or if I believe I can’t; I’m probably right!’

I will not be afraid to take the challenge. Because of that, I can.

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My wife and I just celebrated our eighteenth wedding anniversary. We spent the day lavishly treating ourselves to a visit to the Oncology Ward in Oshawa for chemo cocktails and later a romantic interlude at Sunnybrook’s Radiation department. You may not think there’s anything sexy about having two female lab technicians hauling your drawers down and x-raying your patootie, but some people pay big bucks for that kind of stuff. Here I was getting it for free. I didn’t even have to fly to Thailand. The evening was capped off perfectly by a gourmet dinner for four (kids in tow) of burgers and fries. Does it really get any better than that?

As Suzanne and I lay in bed that night, accompanied by the mechanical whirring of my newly attached chemo pump, which lay between us like some kind of high-tech chastity belt, I asked her if, eighteen years ago, she’d ever thought we’d be spending our anniversary like this. She laughed, mumbled an exhausted something or other, patted my pump and drifted off to a much deserved sleep. But as I lay their thinking in the dark, the past fourteen hours or so playing themselves over in my head, it occurred to me just how nice a day it had been and how truly lucky we were to have one another. We had spent the day, as we spend most of our days these days, talking and laughing and listening to one another. Sharing each others thoughts on everything from bowel movements to crossword puzzles.I also thought about how much we touch each other during a day. A hand squeeze, a light rub on the back in passing, fingers through my hair (what’s left of it), a barefoot on top of a barefoot under the breakfast table. There are a million ways to tell someone you love them, from a passionate kiss to the changing of a dressing or the draping of a warm blanket over cold feet. And finally, I thought of our children, the real fruit of those eighteen years. I thought about their patience and good humor throughout every one of these strange days and their simple unbridled joy over nothing more than burgers and fries in the car. They are wonderful, fine little people that I cannot ever spend too much time with.

Finally I thought about how all these pieces fit together so perfectly into the puzzle of my life. The puzzle that day by day, piece by piece, shows me more of why I am here and what it is I am supposed to be doing. Eighteen years ago I found that puzzle almost indecipherably difficult.

And so, with my beautiful friend and partner snoozing beside me, my chemo pump buzzing along like some tiny, malevolent sidekick, and my boys deeply dreaming down the hall, I found I was able to answer my own question. No. There is no way in heaven I could ever have foreseen being so blissfully happy eighteen years ago.

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After two years of chemoterapy that helped me into remission, my body was weak and lifeless. I felt as if I were a puppet who needed help to lift his arms or hold up his head.

I began to run. After six months my strength had come back. On one of my runs, one where I felt I could run forever, I decided I was going to try to run a marathon.

After telling my Dad about my plan he told me of a program that trains people to run a marathon, while raising funds for Luekemia research at the same time. So that summer, through the Luekemia Society’s Team In Training program I started to train for the Marine Corps Marathon. During mile after mile of uncertainty, the day finally came to run the marathon.

On October 27,1996, at 8am, the cannon went off and so did I. Along with 19,000 other brave souls I started on a twenty-six and two tenths mile journey that I will never forget.

I first saw my wife Patty at the six mile mark: she seemed happy that I was still looking as if I knew what I was doing , and having a good time doing it. At mile 17, my mind was going back to those two horrible years that tried to bring my family and me down. I saw her again. The concern in her face told me she knew I was starting to struggle. I felt as if we were thinking the same, nine more miles and these last few years will be behind us.

That thought alone pulled me forward. Mile 22, 23, slowing but going, 24, 25, then there it was. The Iwo Jima War Memorial. I have seen nothing so grand and inspiring in my life. At 3 hours and 41 minutes after I started, I crossed what I think has to be the most fitting finish line in all of road racing!

That night the Luekemia Society gave me a pin at a post race party that simply says, “Luekemia 26.2″.

If God wills, and I relapse, my cancer may once again take away my hair and my strength, maybe even my life. But it can never take away my pin, or the fact that I am a marathoner.

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