Category: WWdN in Exile

On June 4th, Wil and I and our friends Shawn and Michelle will be running in the Rock-n-Roll Marathon in San Diego as a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation. This will be the second time we have participated in this marathon. The first time we did it was in 2004, because our friend Kris was diagnosed with leukemia and we wanted to do something to help funding for finding a cure. If you didn’t read about this when we did it the first time, here’s a brief summary of what happened.  

In August of 2003, our friend Kris was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia. A month later she started chemotherapy at her local hospital. Treatment was unsuccessful, so she was admitted to City Of Hope Hospital in Duarte, California to begin an aggressive treatment of radiation and chemotherapy. The cancer was taking over quickly so her only hope was to harvest her own stem cells and transplant them back to her after treatment. This was a very grueling time for Kris as well as her family and friends as we all felt so helpless to do anything. I wasn’t Kris’ blood type so I couldn’t donate to her. I tried donating platelets three times, but my body decided it didn’t want to let me. Then I heard about the Rock-n-Roll marathon in San Diego for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and knew that was the way to help. A nurse at the hospital told me it costs $25,000 a day for cancer research so I decided that would be our fund-raising goal. I wrote about Kris’ progress on Wil’s site and our own training progress for the marathon. So many people wrote such wonderful words of support and had stories of their own with loved ones battling cancer and making it through, I printed out all these comments and brought them to Kris in the hospital to read. It was very inspirational for her and a great distraction while she spent all those weeks in bed. Kris said her treatment was the hardest thing she had ever done and would never do it again. When it came time to do the marathon, we were so excited because not only did WWdN readers raise $28,420, but Kris was waiting for us at the finish line.

Over the past two years, Wil has mentioned to me on several occasions that people wanted to know how Kris was doing, and if I’d make a post for his blog about her. Today, I can finally tell you. The first year was great. Kris’ bone marrow biopsy came back clean and her health continued to improve. She got her hair back and was able to go on vacation.

In October of last year, Kris went in for a check up. She had been feeling a little tired, but didn’t think anything of it. A biopsy revealed that her leukemia was back. Fortunately, doctors had been searching for a stem-cell donor since Kris first started her treatment in 2003, so they had a match for her. With the progression of the cancer, she needed to start treatment immediately. She went home for a week, and tried to decide if she wanted to go through the treatment again. She finally decided to do it so she could see her son graduate from high school, and Kris spent all of the holidays as well as her birthday in the hospital. I would visit her as often as I could, even if it was just to bring her some lip balm or a crossword puzzle. We would watch TV together and talk about her son’s college plans. Some days were so bad for her I would only be able to write a message on the dry erase board in her room letting her know I had been there. It was so hard to see her like that; I was so worried she wouldn’t make it. She had the maximum amount of radiation with her first transplant, so this time was all chemotherapy which made her really sick. She was worried her transplant wouldn’t work (and so were we) but it did. She fought like crazy, didn’t give up, and came home shortly after her birthday at the beginning of January.

In late January, Kris wasn’t feeling well again. A high fever put her back in the hospital with an infection in her Hickman catheter and bacterial pneumonia. This time, Kris spent 45 more days in the hospital. It was really scary but she’s been home for a couple of weeks now. Last week she got her biopsy results: All clear!

During Kris’ second round of treatment, we were thinking about how she said she would never go through it again. At the end of the marathon in 2004, we said we would never do it again because it was the hardest thing we had ever done. To see Kris’ strength as she goes through all this is amazing. So we decided if she could do it twice, so could we. And this time, we are going to try to get twice as much in donations!

We were overjoyed by the kind words of support for Kris and for all the donations that came in from all over the world. Every single dollar makes a difference, and every single comment and e-mail helped lift Kris’ spirits. Her doctors told us in 2004 that she was a fighter; she told us on several occasions that she was fighting so hard because she didn’t want to let down all the people who were pulling for her. It was incredible to see how many people were willing to be a part of something so great. We have a donation page set up through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. We only have a couple of months to reach our donation goal. Please help us reach it as we prepare for the marathon in San Diego on June 4th.

I’ll drop in here from time to time with more Comments from the Wife, to update you all on fundraising and our training progress (We’re way behind. Someone tell my husband to step away from the computer and exercise more!) Wil is going to have some in-person fundraisers in Los Angeles, and at least one charity poker tournament at PokerStars, so watch for that, too.

Thank you so much!!

-Anne

Note from Wil: The original "Comments from the Wife" posts are: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 4.0.
(Yeah, we just went for an entirely new version after 3.7, because we,
uh, found a new version of the working-it-out software in the CVS and
decided to, uh, recompile the . . . uhm . . . unit. Yeah.)

I saw Menage A Trois last night on TNG, which is the episode where Picard gives Wesley his field promotion to Ensign, complete with cool regular spacesuit and slightly-less-dorky haircut. I’d forgotten the promotion happened in that episode, because, despite fantastic performances from all the actors (especially Majel) the bulk of that story just feels a little too close to slashy fan fiction for me. In my mind, I’d uncoupled the B story about Wesley from the A story about Riker, Troi, Lwaxana, and the Ferengis.

There’s a scene in that episode where Wesley thinks he’s leaving the
Enterprise to go to Starfleet Academy, and as he walks across the back
of the bridge, behind Worf and to the turbolift, he turns around and
slowly looks at the bridge, you know, sort of taking the whole thing in
like he’s seeing it for the last time and wants to remember.

When I saw that last night, it reminded me of the first time I went on
Star Trek: The Experience in Las Vegas, and how I did exactly the same
thing. Art imitating life imitating art.

Most of you who are TNG fans already know this, but it’s a cool story that I’ll tell anyway: Gene Roddenberry, who created Star Trek and was a good friend of mine while I worked on the show, was field-promoted to Ensign during World War II, and when Wesley was field-promoted on TNG, Gene came to the bridge one afternoon, gathered the cast and crew together, kicked out the set photographer, and shut down production for a few minutes to present me with the bars he’d received when he was promoted in the real military.

I can connect with that memory right now as if I’m watching it on a television all over again: Gene presents me with his bars, everyone breaks out into applause, and I feel like I really didn’t deserve it — I was just an actor, after all.

I was too young and immature to fully absorb the magnitude of the
gesture, but I recall that Gene shook my hand, then pulled me into him for a big hug, and I felt that sense of pride and embarassment that
you get when your dad brags on you in front of everyone at the family
reunion for making the final out that won the All-City Championship, but you secretly know that you just held up your glove and the ball managed to find its way into the pocket.

I remember that Paramount wanted to make a big publicity deal out of it, and have a camera crew from Entertainment Tonight and a bunch of photographers there, but Gene wanted it to be a private, "family" moment. I always thought that was cool of him, and illustrates how seriously he took that moment; though I wish I had pictures from that day, if there’d been a photographer or film crew there, it would have cheapened the moment. I think Gene knew that and kept it real long before "keeping it real" was a popular pastime on MySpace.

Trent: Yeah, man just kinda… you know, you got these claws and you’re staring at these claws and your thinking to yourself, and with these claws you’re thinking, "How am I supposed to kill this bunny, how am I supposed to kill this bunny?"
Sue: And you’re poking at it, you’re poking at it…
Trent: Yeah, you’re not hurting it. You’re just kinda gently batting the bunny around, you know what I mean? And the bunny’s scared Mike, the bunny’s scared of you, shivering.
        -Swingers

I should really be freaking out now that three days have passed (eight, if you count exactly on the calendar and include the weekend — which I don’t, but I didn’t want any of you weekend-counters to feel left out) and I still haven’t heard anything about the super teriffic Sci-Fi hosting gig that isn’t on the Sci-Fi Channel.

But I’m a level 27 Bard, with a billion ranks in Sense Motive (plus Epic Skill Focus) and Regie’s Ruby Ring of Really Reliable Scrying. In other words, I usually know when I’ve gotten or lost a gig with laser-like precision. I can feel it in my soul when a decision has been made, even if that decision is made on the other side of the world. I know that’s totally ooga-booga, but it’s true. I’ve been making sense motive checks all day long, and they’re either hiding behind a wall of lead and Kryptonite, or they haven’t made a decision, yet.

Oh! They just made a decision and — oh, wait. That’s just gas. My bad.

I will admit to leaping up and racing to the phone whenever it rings,
and saying, "aw, nuts," when the caller ID doesn’t tell me that it’s my
manager giving me a ring up on the dictaphone, but other than that, and
the constant rolling of the d20, I haven’t really been obsessing about
it that much.

Anyway, I talked with Shane about it at length today, because he’s been involved in programming like this from both sides of the table. I didn’t tell him about the R³R²S, but we still came to the conclusion that it’s still too early to panic. The most likely option right now is that a decision simply hasn’t been made. Does that mean they’re looking at other guys? Probably. Does that mean I should freak out? I don’t think so. All I can do is give my best audition, which I did, and hope that the other things I bring to the table outweigh however good looking the other guys are. I’m also pretty sure I’ll have to dodge a Kimmel on the Turn and River.

I think I’ll make a call tomorrow, so I at least know if I’m buying a case of Guinness to celebrate or drown my sorrows. Hey, either way, I get to drink a ton of Guinness.

To make the continued waiting as cute as possible, please enjoy this kitten:

(Thanks, W!)

"May the road rise with you."
    -PiL

All this week, Shane Nickerson is publishing older blog entries that never made the cut for one reason or another. He introduces each entry with a brief comment about it, then shares some wonderful writing that clearly deserved to make it past the internal censor who often paralyzes writers actors actors/writers guys like us.

This one, in particular, hit me where I live:

If you want the secret, I have it.

It’s about the work. Regardless of your chosen profession or station
in life, the work is what matters. Skip it and you will be caught.
Slack off, and others will catch up to you. Cut corners and you will
have to answer to yourself at some point.

Of course, that said, the hardest question to answer once it is
assumed that hard work is part of the equation is, "Now, what do I work
on?" Whatever you love. Work on whatever you love and don’t think about
the payoff, but instead the road. If part of your road is a continual
hunt for a payoff, so be it, but pick a life and career that makes you
happy even in the very pursuit of the thing you’ve chosen.

A couple of days ago, I had an epiphany: Around the time I came to Exile, I drove right off my Road. I started to take an interesting little side trip, (mostly to Prove To Everyone that I could do it) but I lost my map and couldn’t find my way back. I was so thoroughly off my road, I didn’t even realize I was driving around in circles and down dead end paths until it was way too late, and I was running out of gas.

Set phasers to Ramble, Mr. Worf:

When I went to the Grand Slam convention last weekend, I kept expecting to feel bad about it. I kept expecting to feel like I was a loser for going without anything new to show off and I really worked myself up about it. I really felt like I was in exactly the same place I was five years ago, and that seriously bummed me out.

But when I got there, that anticipated feeling never arrived. Despite my best initial efforts to really feel like a jerk, I really had a good time. I didn’t feel bad; I felt like I was at home. I felt like I was surrounded by like-minded people who all wanted to celebrate this stuff that we all love, and I felt like I had something unique and interesting to share with them. I loved how good and how right that felt, and at some point over the weekend, I realized that even though I was hanging out at a con, I’m not in the same place I was five years ago. I’ve grown as a writer, I’ve grown as a husband, and I’ve grown as a father. I’m smarter and wiser than I was five years ago, even if I haven’t accomplished as much as I’d hoped. There is no denying that I haven’t done what I’d hoped to do with acting or writing, but in all the other areas that truly matter, I’ve rolled several critical successes.

You know how everything happens for a reason? If I hadn’t gone to that convention and simply enjoyed the celebration of Sci-Fi and Sci-Fi fandom, if I hadn’t realized, accepted, and acknowledged that I really have grown and succeeded in the last five years, I wouldn’t have found the map back to my Road. Without it, I never would have been in the right place to have so much fun with the hosting audition, and I wouldn’t be waiting right now to hopefully hear good news about that job.

I thought about the last line of Just A Geek the other day, which I thought went something like, "I’m finally cool with all the Star Trek and Sci-Fi stuff, and I’m happy about that."

I just looked it up, and that’s not what it says. It actually says that I’m doing something that really makes me happy, which at the time was writing. It says a lot about my current state of mind, (and the unvarnished truth about myself at this moment) that I thought it said I was happy about my work on Star Trek and I was cool with all that stuff, though, doesn’t it?

When I watch TNG on G4, (and I do, almost every night,) no matter how hard I try to feel sad, or maudlin, or regretful, I just can’t do it. I see my friends, and I have fond memories of working with them. I see my work, and I feel proud (when I’m not laughing at the Ugly Grey Spacesuit) of a lot of the things I did with what I was given to work with. As a bonus, watching lots of TNG has brought back happy, lucid memories of of all sosrts of things I did when I was a teenager: I get flashes of painting 40K armies in my dressing room, going to Depeche
Mode concerts with my friends, watching movies like The Hidden and Alien Nation and Prince of Darkness at the AMC in Burbank with Darin when it was just 10 theatres (and 10 was HUGE back then), and going to different conventions all over the country to celebrate Star Trek. Of course, as I described in Just A Geek, there came a time where I didn’t have fun at the cons, and I started to resent them, but even those memories are hard to pull up as I watch these shows from the second and third seasons. Is it selective memory? Of course it is, and I’m totally fine with that.

I know I went over this in Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot, but it’s worth it for me to go over it one more time: I don’t have to avoid or run away from science fiction because
I was a big part of a huge science fiction franchise, and I didn’t have the acting success I’d hoped for when I quit. I was a science fiction geek long before I was Wesley Crusher, and I’ll be a science fiction geek for the rest of my life. I can’t run away from fandom, because I can’t run away
from myself. I can’t run away from who I am. Resistance is futile.

When I read Shane’s post earlier this week, I initially responded to
what he said about the work. But as I reflected on it, I kept
thinking about the Road. When I knew what my Road was, I knew where my Road was, and I knew how to get back on it. I wasn’t as far off it as I thought, in fact. I just had to turn the wheel and step on the gas. It also helped to drive with my eyes open for a change.

My Road is paved with d20s and TRON DVDs and Atari 2600 games. It’s lit
by the glow of TNG and BSG episodes and the soundtrack is by Vangelis. It’s
patrolled by Rover and they sell Soylent Green in the rest stop vending
machines. The speed limit is 42, but if you flash your Bavarian Illuminati card, you can use the FTL drive to make it to Milliways in time for dinner.

I’m back on my Road, and nobody can take the sky from me.