Friday, December 20, 2013

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!


NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY
Summary of Intercepts :: The Boyle Cell
The agency has intercepted telephone and internet communications related to the shadowy revolutionary organization known as the Boyle Cell throughout the 2013 calendar year. In the wake of the unauthorized Snowden disclosures, the agency has decided to release a summary of our analysis of these wiretaps.

WINTER: Social media intercepts indicated that three agents of the extended Boyle Cell network arrived in Detroit, Mich. with the express intent of humiliating an American treasure, Miss Michigan. Boyles with the known aliases of “Joe,” “Ellie,” and “Papa” threw up an “O-H-I-O” with the beauty queen. Local prosecutors considered terrorism charges until it was confirmed that Ohio indeed does own Michigan. Soon after this exploit, “Ellie” suffered a broken arm in what intel indicates was a ‘basketball incident.’ This story is expected to grow larger over time.

SPRING: Medical staff have examined electronic medical records to confirm that “Joe” Boyle had surgery on a particularly sensitive area for complications from a cancer treatment-related procedure the previous year. We have not corroborated the specifics, but intel indicates he really had a ball! At approximately the same time, phone intercepts imply that the middle Boyle – code name “Joey” – was initiated into the organization through a rite they call “First Communion,” and the shortest Boyle (with the nom du guerre “Mark”) graduated from an indoctrination camp called “Child Development Center.” “Ellie” undertook a rigorous physical training program through a religious extremist group monikered “CYO Track.” Much of the training focused on hurling metal objects at high velocity.

SUMMER: The entire Boyle Cell made an unexpected trip to Orlando, Fla. in mid-June. Agency assets conducted 24-hour observation of the cell during this trip, observing a number of suspicious interactions. The small Boyle Cell members were observed in physical embraces (likely live drops) with disguised, and as-of-yet unidentified characters with the street names of “Mickey,” “Minnie,” and “Goofy” and various superheros and wizards. Analysts have pored over the situation, and can find no way the Boyle Cell could have financed this complex of an operation without the help of angels. Later in the summer, “Joe” attended one of the most dangerous gatherings of suspected insurgents seen in recent years, the 20th class reunion of the St. John’s Class of 1993.    Throughout the summer, the Boyle Cell seemed to be preparing for a water-borne attack, as they spent so much time at the city pool, the children were said to have sprouted gills. “Joe” went so far as to complete a triathlon in late summer, and the sight of him in tight trunks was a clear threat to national security.

FALL: As summer closed, the Boyle Cell lost one of its most potent weapons, a ferocious 13 year old canine named “Emerald.” Considered the heart and soul of the Cell, the dog’s death cast a pall on the organization. Weeks later, “Joe” went back to his job in recruitment and training of young ideologues in Toledo, Ohio. Simultaneously, all three of the small Cell members began attending a madrassa known as “St. Aloysius.” This development was greeted with enthusiasm by “Joe” and “Katie” because it eased the daily logistical problems of infiltration and exfil. The Cell was broken up for a few days as “Katie” snuck out to eastern Pennsylvania with a subset of radicals informally known as the “Mom Friends.” “Joe” undertook a training regimen at the end of the year aimed at running 26.2 miles in the dead of winter. We expect he will be successful as he has already completed 13.1 miles but will monitor his sanity closely. Near the very end of the year, “Joey” was indoctrinated into the dangerous doomsday cult known as the “Cleveland Browns.” His excitement level was recorded by thermal monitoring equipment at Fort Meade, Md.


NSA will monitor the Boyle Cell into the foreseeable future. The Cell has made clear that they are thinking of their friends and family this winter, and are ominously hoping for a great 2014 for all.
















2013 Christmas card
View the entire collection of cards.



Wednesday, November 6, 2013

“I can’t surrender. I don’t know how to.”

“I can’t surrender. I don’t know how to.” The Cap, Captain America #437 (1995)
Dark thoughts are seldom more than a nightmare away when youget diagnosed with cancer. They inhabit every corner of your mind. You can ignore them, you can play around with them, you can even taunt them from time to time. But they’re still there. All the time. Ask anyone who’s had a chronic disease, and they’ll tell you the same thing – the physical battle is child’s play compared to the cumulative mental toll. Over the past two and a half years, I have been incredibly, freakishly,and characteristically, lucky. I had a couple of physically bad months after the surgery. I had a bad July 2012 with the IL-2 treatment. But, more often than not, I have physically felt pretty damn good. Sure, a good mile split now is 10’15” in a 5K as opposed to 7’30” before I got sick- but most days, I feel pretty much like myself. It’s fairly easy to deal in the more or less abstract with the darker thoughts; thoughts of what’s next, thoughts of decline, thoughts of mortality. I guess that’s what made yesterday’s news difficult. The euphemistic “spots” on my lungs are still growing. They’re growing slowly, which is great –because growing fast would be bad. But they’re growing. And that means at some point, probably in the next four to eight months, I’ll have to go on a pill-form treatment. These drugs, called receptor inhibitors, have proven over time to slowthings down, and give you time. How much time is a matter of great debate; there are freakshow cases who have made it up to ten years on these things. The pills will, with near certainty, extend my life. That’s obviously a good thing! So I feel sort of like a whiny little shit for what I’m about to write. The most common side effects for this class of drug includes hand-foot syndrome; swelling, redness, and pain in the hands and feet. I’ve known this for a while. Knew it since I was on that trial back in 2011-12 that turned out to be placebo. And that’s why this moment has scared me for so long. Hand-foot syndrome will mean the end of running. I’m not ready to be done with running. Not by a long shot. I spent most of my life avoiding it, and when I found it, it saved me in well-documented ways. I can’t lose it. I just can’t. No matter how slow I am, even if my running at anything more than five miles has to be run 2, walk 2 (repeat for 2.5 hours), it’s what makes me who I am. When I cried yesterday, it was more about possibly losing running than it was dying, and yes, I know exactly how f***ed up that statement is. I can’t surrender. I don’t know how to. Our great hope is, naturlich, God. Our more proximate hope is for His help in getting on a clinical study of a drug called nivolumab. Itis a new kind of drug, called a PD-1 immunomodulator. It basically stops the ‘programmed death receptors’ which slow down the immune system. They’ve had a lot of luck with it on melanoma patients, and an early trial last year on kidney cancer looked REALLY good. My doc is working on one of these trials. He unequivocally  said that if he could get me on, he would. The problem is the study design. They’re looking for people who are virgins to kidney cancer treatment. Since I had the IL-2 battery in summer 2012, I’m not exactly a virgin to treatment. But there is still a possibility I could get in. The PD-1 regimen would be similar to what I went through with IL-2, but a little easierside effects, and even outpatient. I am full of hope that I can get on that trial. But I’m also still full of uncertainty, sadness, and maybe just a hint of depression right now. Basically, it’s this: I know that, ceteris paribus, I’ve got four excellent months ahead of me, maybe eight, where I can run, I can bike, and I can have adventures, and live a more or less normal life. I intend on packing as much asI can into the time between now and March. In a lot of ways, it is giving me a focus I have been lacking since just after the surgery. Meetings? Yeahhhhhhh, not gonna happen. Committees? After the one this next week, I’m taking a pass. Running? I’m running (if you can call what I do ‘running’) 26.2 miles by Valentine’s Day – it may or may not be in an organized marathon. Maybe it’ll be a group of my local friends and I huffing it out to North Baltimore and back, and being able to say that we DID IT (in less than six hours with any luck). Finding time to get in adventures with my family & closest friends? YES. Teaching stuff at school that’s REALLY important – and, my American studies friends, guess what I will NOT be teaching – the catalytic converter. Suck it, ODE! YES.That’s what I’m gonna do. Most of all, it’s this: Things are good RIGHT NOW. They might not be later. I am having a difficult time with this, but I’m tryingto remember what I teach in the World War II class: Hitler lost a lot of campaigns because he was unwilling to allow tactical retreats. Getting on these pills, when it happens, may be a tactical retreat that allows us to pursue strategic victory. But dammit, I sure would like to skip the tactical retreat, and go for a Hiroshima with the PD-1 drugs! I can’t surrender… I don’t know how to. The quote at the top is one of the all-time Captain America classics. He's dying, and hallucinating, and remembering battles past. Iron Man rescues him in the nick of time. And did Cap die? Maybe for a second. But in the end, even though it looks bad, he makes it. Because that's what Captain America does.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Chris McDougall visit to Bowling Green.

Joe did get to attend the events and meet Born to Run author Chris McDougall.

The day started with a fun run from BGSU Jerome Library to the Wood Country Library and back to Jerome- about a 2 mile run. Our kids had a fog delay so they were at work with me and we were able to step out for a few minutes to see the group run by.






Friend JD Pooley took this picture as Joe neared the finish with Chris McDougall cheering him on.



 Later JD Pooley took this posed picture of Joe and Chris McDougall

Later at a book signing Mr. McDougall signed Joe's copy of Born to Run and his Captain America shield that hung on his IV pole when he was received interleukin 2 July and August of 2012. 


Monday, September 30, 2013

Running For Victory!

Written and posted on Joe's FB Sept 29.
--
 I had no idea that the Sentinel story regarding my running journey was going to run today, much less that it was going to get the play it got. I had planned on posting this note today anyway, but I thought, what the hell, let's ride the publicity.

 This Nov. 9, I'm going to do something I never thought I'd do again: Run the Churchill Half Marathon. It's the same race I ran the week before I got diagnosed with kidney cancer. Last time, I ran it for myself. This time, I'm running for something bigger.

 The Victory Center is a place that's helped me, and countless thousands of other cancer patients, deal with the physical, and especially, the mental battles that are a part of our larger war. Services like counseling, oncology massage, reiki, and countless other therapies have given people the strength to carry on. Over the past few weeks, a few more friends and relatives have gotten cancer diagnoses, and I have felt powerless to help, except to run, and pray. This is a way I feel I can help the people who help them.

TVC is completely funded through charitable giving; no tax dollars, no insurance contribution. And the services they provide are completely free - critical, because as we know too well, money starts flying out the window when you get a diagnosis, no matter how good your insurance is.

 So the easy way for me to fundraise would be to simply note that if 100 friends donate $10, I could reach my goal of raising $1000 for TVC. But let's be honest, that wouldn't be very Boyle. So instead, I'm asking you to choose a sponsorship level based on everything that makes it absurd that I'm running this race. The following sponsorships are available:

 - one $200 "Where the Hell Is My Kidney?" sponsorship
 - one $150 "Massive Left Leg Blood Clot" sponsorship
 - one $100 "Enormous, Suspicious, and Embarassing Testicular Mass" sponsorship
 - one $50 "Hey, That Was My Adrenal Gland!" sponsorship
 - seven $40 "(Let's Hope They Stay) Itty Bitty Lung Tumor" sponsorships
 - eleven $20 "Removed Lymph Node" sponsorships

 Of course, any amount you choose to sponsor is awesome! But I can guarantee you a fine little certificate that YOU and ONLY YOU, for instance, sponsored a giant, surgically-removed nut growth. It will, of course, be suitable for framing. Hurry now and sponsor before someone else claims one of my lung tumors! Lymph nodes may go flying off the shelves! I will post on Facebook every time a body part flies off the board!

 To donate, simply write a check to "The Victory Center," and mail it to me at 943 Fairview, BG OH, 43402. When we reach the goal, we'll compile all of the checks and submit them together.

 Thank you all for your support, whether you can contribute to this, or not! Your positive thoughts, prayers, and comments really do help all of us here get through this thing.

 --

 Since this was posted Sunday only lung tumor and a few lymph nodes sponsorships remain. Also sponsorships for "Scary sleepless nights" for $500 and "Interleukin2-Fueled-Hallucinations" for $200 were created by generious friends and family. -Katie

Joe Boyle on the run

The Sentinel-Tribune ran a nice story about Joe Saturday Sept. 28. You can find it here.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Witness


I just want to start out by giving all the blame, and the glory, to God for what I'm about to write, because I spent 12 minutes asking Him what to do, and this is what happened...

###

One of the best things about being a middle aged runner in Bowling Green is that the campus and the student neighborhoods are nice, well-lit, well-traveled places to run at night, and I am really, really grateful for that. But one of the worst things about being a middle aged runner 

One of the worst things about being a middle aged runner in Bowling Green is that it is filled with impossibly fit and skinny college students. And some nights as I have huffed and puffed through a run, or stepped down to a walk, I have seen their beery eyes peering at me and, on occasion, have heard them mock me. It doesn't make me mad; it is a little embarrassing. And I always think, man, I was exactly the same way when I was in college, and if they knew what God has brought me through, they'd probably be cool with it and we'd all be friends. 

So tonight, I rounded the corner of Ridge and Main (my one mile mark), and a girl comes flying off the porch of the party house there, a beautiful little Arts-and-Crafts that is way too wonderful a home to be student ghetto. Anyway, this girls starts running alongside me and slurs out "Come have a drink with us!!" I begged off three times, and told her, I only have one kidney, I'm in the middle of a workout, how about some other time. By Ridge Elementary School, she'd had enough, and walked back to the house.

And I kept running.

And I couldn't get out of my head. Should I have stopped? Was this a chance to tell my story? Was it a chance to - and I really, really hate using evangelical terms - but was it a chance to witness? So I kept running up Ridge, past Sorority Row, past Mac, past Oak Grove Cemetery, and up to Student Health Services, and Fr. Mychal Judge's prayer was in my head: "Lord, take me where you want me to be, tell me what you want me to say, and keep me out of your way!" I doubled back on Ridge, and headed back toward that house, still unsure if I was going to stop. Just take me where you want me to be...

I found myself charging up their steps like a bull moose, and yelled out, "You still got that drink?!" I'd like to think that for just a minute, I saw a glint of fear in their eyes... 

The girl who had come out to run with me says, "Ohmygod, you gotta come out and run with me for a Vine!!!" and I said, "Fine, but you gotta promise to listen to my story!" So I go back to the corner of Main and Ridge, run back by the house, she runs back out next to me, to do a semi-accurate historical interpretation of her initial run with me, fifteen minutes or so earlier. I walk into this house party, which reminded me of a Joe Peiffer Columbia Courts party, and one of these kids goes to get me a bottle of water. The girl who ran with me says, "Tell your stoooorreeee..." So I tell this girl about the run, the pain (left out the 'no pooping' part), the surgery, the DVT, and being told I'd never run. And I told her, that's why I run, and it's only through God's help that I can run and deal with cancer. She gets tears (I'll put that on the Zimas, or whatever the hell it is college girls drink today), and asks me to tell the story to everyone else. So now, I'm on the front porch of this place, with God knows how many kids, telling me story. The frat boys are high fiving me. I finish my water, make a three pointer into the recycle bin, tell them I gotta go, and then these three dudes with cigarettes...

Hey God? Remember when I said "Tell me what you want me to say?"

Well, "Don't f*ckin' smoke" is what came out of my mouth. And then I ran down the porch and around the corner toward home. Celeste, tell Joe that the first thing I thought of was the night in college that he, Aaron, Riccardi and I met that bum who was our train-jumping tutor. 

So, I think I witnessed tonight. And I'm pretty sure it would be wholly unacceptable by most religious folk, and I'm pretty much OK with that. I wrote them a letter that I'm going to leave on their doorstep tomorrow with a case water. Hopefully it will be a little more eloquent! 

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Magical


What follows is a blog post I wrote on the plane on the way home from Disney two weeks ago. I kept putting off posting it because I wasn't sure how to end it. I'm still not sure how to end it. But I wanted to get it out there...

###

During exam week, I had a great conversation with my friends Mary and Meg McVey. The topic was from their daughter's experience at Chewonki Semester School - the idea of what is natural, and what is not.

For any of us who enjoyed a geography class or two in college, the topic isn't that foreign; "natural" refers to only things that have been unadulterated by man - so a Christmas tree farm is really in now way natural, though it consists of what would obviously be recognized as "nature."

The greater idea behind making such distinctions is that the natural is what is real, and that which is sculpted by man is something less than that. On so many levels, my soul agrees with this. We are so removed in today's society from the natural that we have a hard time figuring out what is real and what is not, even in our own heads and hearts.

The past week, we've been at the Disney resorts and parks. It's hard to imagine a less natural place on earth! Every rock was put in place for a reason, and probably conceals some piece of infrastructure! One of the weirdest things to me is that our cabin was located in a swamp- literally, surrounded on three sides by water that rose with the rain, and drained throw the day. We never saw a snake. Not one. I don't know how Disney makes that happen, but it's completely unnatural (and believe me, I am NOT complaining about that one!).

At the Magic Kingdom, the artifice is the idealized Main Street that never was; the optical illusion that makes Cinderella's castle appear at least twice as tall as its 180 feet; the Frontierland of 1950s dreaming. At Epcot, the gleam and chrome and sleek lines of the future plazas; and the international showcase that highlights only the beautiful parts of beautiful nations. At Hollywood Studios, the entire park is organized around the idea of showing you just how the veneer is accomplished!

All of this should conspire to make it a fake experience. It seems like it should feel bad, the way you feel bad after eating McDonald's.

Instead, I've never felt so good.

The past two years gave our family more reality and more natural occurrences than anyone would care to experience. What could possibly be more natural than a cancer without a cure? Something that all of the technology and feats of medicine that man's mind can muster, but not master? It's the very definition of "natural." Facing mortality - it is the single most natural experience all of us will have as a shared experience!

Sometimes you can deal with it well; and it's not you dealing with alone, but in the love shared with others that some of us choose to call an experience of God. Other times you don't deal with it as well as you'd like. While there are moments of it that are funNY sometimes, I don't know that you'd call any of it "fun."

A few years ago, I don't think I would have appreciated the Disney experience nearly as much as I did now. Too fake! Not real enough! But what Disney provides, I have finally come to realize, is in no way intended to be real. It's the MAGIC kingdom for a reason! The laws of nature aren't supposed to apply at Disney. Natural isn't supposed to be part of the program. I saw a lot of people in a hell of a lot worse shape than me during our trip, and all of them had ear to ear smiles. Tell me that isn't real. Tell me that isn't natural.

It's important that we are connected to the real and the natural. Perhaps few things are more important. What I have come to realize is that the 'real' in this trip comes back to the most real thing there is: Love. This trip was made possible by love - those of you who organized this thing, those of you who contributed to it, I just don't even have the words to tell you what's in my heart tonight as I look at these three zombie kids on this airplane. Throughout this trip, we found love; in Mark hugging Minnie Mouse as hard as he could. In the tears we all shed this morning as we left our cabin, a place we came to love because we knew just how special this time was. In the love Katie and I would catch in a shared glance as something special happened for the kids. What could possibly be more real, more natural than that?

###

And I guess that's what I have for an ending. I wish I could tie it up a little neater, but I can't, and my writer's block on this is pretty much a Great Wall of China. So I'm just going to say thank you again to everyone who was part of this. Re-reading it again tonight made all of that emotion real again. Thank you a thousand times over!