Please

Come

Down

To

Earth

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You

May

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Experiencing

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If

So,

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Hope

This

Journal

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Be

A

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Of

Hope

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Strength

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If

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Read,

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Hope

You

Find

Some

Value

In

The

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Spent

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You

Are

One

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Pretty

Dramatic

Opening,

Huh?

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People I know probably looked upon me as someone in good health. A person who grew his own vegetables on a peaceful little farm. A person with little stress in his life, who exercised frequently and exhibited litle fraility. A man of strength. Yet, I would be stricken with a rare form of Leukemia.

I had some physical accomplishments to my credit. On water, I'd experienced the torrential downpours of the Amazon River basin in steamy Equador. On several occasions I'd canoed the wilderness lakes and rivers of Canada carrying my canoe over portages deep with underbrush; I'd seen Grizzly bears on a canoe trip within the arctic circle in Alaska on the beautiful and exciting Noatak River. I had done numerous river canoeing-camping trips in the Midwest and Florida.

I was an experienced cyclist, having been to Europe twice, once cycling for six weeks in five different countries. My wife and I had cycled a month on Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia, completing the gruelling Cabot Trail, a 180 mile round trip of Cape Breton Island, complete with her winds, rain and steep climbs. We'd even taken our bikes to Hawaii to cycle the Garden Isle of Kauai.

I was a backpacker. I'd hiked in the mountains of Colorado. I hiked three different times to the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. I could hike from sunrise to sunset if necessary.

IN 1980 I had become a runner. I participated in road races, and I trained hard, once running 13 miles. A ten-mile run was something that I could do any time I felt the urge. Yes, I was in good shape, but I let it slide.

As the years went by, I exercised less and less. My knees hurt from running, so I quit. I started drinking alcohol. My motivation about my work started to wane. I started drinking coffee, strong coffee. My life style got freer, my partying deeper but my health suffered. I still felt pretty good, but there was no denying it, I was getting old. Even though, by the accounts of my friends, I had it made, I felt stressed, unsettled. In June of 1996, I had my 50th birthday. One year later I would be facing the ordeal about which I now write......