Reintroduction

Hi. My name is Garth Callaghan. I am also known as the Napkin Notes Dad. I have metastatic kidney cancer and prostate cancer. 

But our story is so much more than my four year battle with cancer. 

I am re-introducing myself because I have had some community members taken aback when I mention getting sick or doctor appointments. They didn't know. All they knew was that I write Napkin Notes to my daughter, Emma, each school day. 

Also, I had an MRI last Sunday and received the results today. It seems like a good idea to catch everyone up! 

The scans came back good. The cancer has not grown or spread. I still have to have daily chemo treatment, but it is working! 

My next scan and follow-up will be in 90 days. 

Living with cancer is tough, but it's a heck of a lot better than one of the alternatives, right? 

There is a distinct possibility that I'll live for the rest of my life with cancer in my body. Again, it's better than one of the alternatives! 

I wear Star Wars shirts to each and every single medical appointment I have, no matter how small. You'll see me post a photo and make a comment like, "It's a Star Wars shirt kind of day." 

When I was first diagnosed with cancer 4 years ago, I decided then to only wear Star Wars shirts for any medical appointment and made sure that the people treating me understood why I did so.  It wasn’t for my love of Star Wars, although that was an added benefit.  I wore outlandish Star Wars shirts so that some part of them might recognize me from appointment to appointment. 

I am also know as a prolific Napkin Note writer. When my daughter Emma was in kindergarten, I started to write an inspirational note on a napkin and tuck it away in her lunch box. When I was diagnosed with cancer a third time, I worried I may not live to see Emma graduate from high school. But I wanted to continue the napkin note tradition. So I set out to write all of the notes Emma would need to see her through to graduation, just in case. I wrote 826 napkin notes in all. Today they’re stored in a special box for safe keeping. 

I still write a new note each morning. 

Today has been a good day with welcome medical news. 

We have a lot of wonderful people walking with us along this crazy journey. Thank you so much for lifting my family up during this time. We couldn't do this without you. 

Pack. Write. Connect.

Not Embarrassed

I am not even embarrassed about throwing up in public anymore. 

I think I remember the first time. I was in first or second grade. My school allowed Catholics to leave once a week for off-site religious education. Each Tuesday, one of the nuns would dutifully escort a grade or two at a time down Church Street. We’d walk. The school was only 0.1 mile from St. Martin’s Church. We’d have our religious ed time in the church basement and then head back to school. 

I remember not feeling well one Tuesday in winter.  I told Sister Mary Agnes my stomach hurt. Sister Mary Agnes was a tough as nails nun. She didn’t smile a lot. She didn’t really listen to me despite my pleas. I managed to get through the rest of the class, but on the walk back to school, it happened. 

Whatever was in my stomach was coming out and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And it was right in front of one of my best friend’s, Scott Carpenter, house. It was winter. To make matters worse, I could only imagine my throw up being frozen to the ground for months ahead, in front of my best friend’s house. Sheesh! 

It’s happened more than a few times since I started treatment two years ago. I don’t have much warning. If I am lucky, I have about 30 seconds to find a bathroom or a trashcan. 
Monday was another first for me. 

I started working out about a month ago. I haven’t shared this here. I wanted it to be a surprise once I hit my goals. I am lifting weights with a few goals in mind: 1) stop my weight loss; 2) rebuild stamina and energy; and 3) stop feeling sick and tired. I plan on gaining 10 pounds of lean muscle. In order to do that, I also have to increase my daily caloric intake by 500 kcals a day. That is the most difficult part of this project. 

Mom questioned whether or not I should be working out. My response was simple, “What’s the worst that could happen? My pallbearers will have to work a bit harder!” 

Monday was a normal gym day. I had spent all day in bed Sunday because I had thrown up twice first thing in the morning. I have actually had a really rough two weeks. But I made a commitment to be in the gym Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I wasn’t going to miss it. 

I was working out my upper body. I was about 80% finished and I started to feel weird. Yup, that kind of weird. I stepped away from the machine I was using and paced a bit. I was nervously looking for the closest trashcan. I knew I couldn’t make it to the bathroom. 

My stomach was emptied. In the middle of the gym. And I wasn’t one bit embarrassed. I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t embarrassed. 

Someone handed me a few paper towels. I cleaned myself up and let someone know what happened. 

And do you know what I did then? 

I finished my damn workout because a little bit of throw up wasn’t going to get me off track. 

Thank you for being part of our journey. 

Pack. Write. Connect. 

20 Questions

Do you have a question you'd love to ask Garth? Emma will interview Garth live (using either Facebook or Google Hangouts) in the next couple of weeks. 

But, we need your help! What should Emma ask??? 

Submit your question here and we'll pick at least 20 community submitted questions! 

Pack. Write. Connect. 

http://www.napkinnotesdad.com/20-questions

An interview with Luke Tyson

It was incredible for Emma and me to sit down and speak with Luke Tyson, a local reporter with Scholastic News Kids Press Corps. Please read his article here:

http://kpcnotebook.scholastic.com/post/just-write

About Luke:

Luke Tyson is from Virginia and was born in 2001.

- Luke volunteers for two local community organizations, the SPCA and Beds for Kids.
- His favorite book is Paper Towns by John Green.
- Luke is studying French and Spanish, and he likes to play ping-pong in his spare time.

Luke can be found on twitter: @luke_tyson0

Two years ago

Two years ago today, my friend Alex Sheen, shared our story for the first time. He wrote: 

“What does high risk mean?” Garth asked. His oncologist looked him in the eyes and responded... “You are going to die of this.” Garth is 44 years old and has been diagnosed with cancer three times since November 2011. Prostate cancer once. Kidney cancer twice. Although he appears healthy today, statistics say he has an 8% chance of living past 5 years. 

Garth has one daughter named Emma. He has been writing napkin notes for Emma’s lunch box since she was in the second grade. They are just a few words of encouragement, but in the busyness of their separate days at work and school, it’s a moment when they can connect. It’s a moment when Garth knows she is thinking about him.

Garth may die, but he will not let Emma eat lunch without that note. This is his promise to write one napkin note for every day of class Emma has until she graduates from high school. To date, he has completed 740 notes. 86 to go. 

Here's a two-year update from Garth: 

Medical: I was diagnosed with cancer one more time, in Feb of 2014. That one was a doozy. I had 5-6 metastasis on my liver, and one growth on my remaining adrenal glad. I have been in treatment (think daily "chemo") since then. It's hard, but I will do what I have to do to fight another day! 

Napkin Notes: I finished the remaining 86 notes right after that post. It was easy. The notes are in a box for safekeeping. I take them out from time to time when a reporter wants to see them. Emma gets a new, fresh note every day. My goal is to present her with the Napkin Note box for her high school graduation in 2 1/2 years. 

Alex's post was the one which launched our story worldwide. I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to talk to parents from around the world about the importance of writing notes to their children. 

Thank you for walking on this journey with us. 

Pack. Write. Connect. 

The Jolly Jedi

2013

Christmas was approaching. Another Christmas overshadowed by cancer. Plus, this year, the medical bills were really piling up. I kept getting diagnosed with cancer and there wasn't any end in sight. Paying the mortgage was a struggle. I looked around my home office and saw things. Some were very special. Yes, I might even say I loved having them. I saw tons of Star Wars figures. I saw limited edition Star Wars Legos, a Boba Fett Limited Edition (1 of 250!) Figure, my Sony PSP that I purchased on its release date (I was the first person in line!), a laptop, and my iPad. I sold them all. I didn't think twice. Things are things.  I was able to pay the mortgage, buy a few Christmas presents, and took care of some bills. I didn’t think about what January would look like. 

Months later, a large box of Star Wars toys appeared on my doorstep from someone that I was proud to call a friend. I was brought to tears. I had no idea how or why, but Alex wanted to help replace a piece of my life. I unpacked the box and replaced the holes on my shelves. But, something didn’t feel quite right. Those Star Wars toys weren’t mine. Over the next couple of years, I decided that I was the toys’ steward. They were in my care, but they didn’t belong to me. I needed to find them a home. 

2015

I had tried to visit various hospitals locally over the past couple of years. None seemed eager to have a Jedi walk through their halls handing out toys. It was incredibly frustrating! I really wanted to help out some kids that would need a bit of light during December. 

And along came St. Joseph’s Villa, a place where children with special needs can thrive. I was overcome with emotion. The kids were a source of never ending questions ranging from writing to the inner workings of my lightsaber. Quite a few tears were shed. I can’t count how many times I heard, “This is the best day of my life” uttered. I was genuinely surprised at the excitement over an old Jedi and his Star Wars toys. 

“My” Star Wars toys are home. 

Merry Christmas