I spoke with the representative from the National Marrow Donor Program this morning. We filled out a questionnaire over the phone and she told me what would happen next. Now that I've given them permission to test my blood, they are going to do more tests, and in about 6-8 weeks, they may tell me that I will not need to donate, need to draw more blood to do more tests, or ask me to be a donor. If they draw more blood, then it could be another eight weeks to see if I am the best candidate.

I asked her a few questions about the actual process of donating marrow and she described two options. One is a needle to my pelvis, and the other is through the collection of stem cells. She said that about 70% of donors go through the latter procedure.

This procedure includes being injected for 5-7 days with filgrastim, which causes the body to create an abundance of stem cells. On the last day, the potential donor is placed on a machine that filters the blood, collecting the excess stem cells, and returning the blood to the body. She said it usually takes 5-8 hours to collect enough stem cells. It kind of sounds like a dialysis machine. The filgrastim has flu-like side effects, and will usually cause people to miss work. The effects include bone pain, weakness, muscle aches, nausea, vomiting, and stomach pain. If it could save a life, it's worth it.

I also found a tiny bit more information about the girl that is needing the marrow transplant. She has myelogis or myeloid leukemia. While they couldn't release her location to me, she did say that one year after the transplant, if her parents and I agree, we would be able to meet. That would be exciting.

She also gave me the organization's Web site address, which is http://www.marrow.org/index.html. It has a lot of useful information that I will definitely look over before I proceed. Like the Web site says, "You have the power to make a difference. To save a life. Join the NMDP Registry online and be a part of a global movement 10 million strong. And tell a friend. Do it because you care. Do it because you can."

Finally, I asked her how she found my contact information, after nine years. I had signed up in April 1998 and had moved, changed each of my home phone number, and my cellular phone number multiple times. She told me she found me on MySpace. Imagine that.

If you received a phone message that you could save someone's life, but weren't told the details about how exactly to do that, would you agree to do it? I did today. I received a call from the National Marrow Donor Program at 11:27 AM. I had registered back in April of 1998, and today was told that I was a possible match for a nine-year-old girl with leukemia and in need of a bone marrow transplant. Imagine that. I don't know what the exact statistics are for being a match, but if I am, it's certainly quite amazing. I called the Program and left a message for my contact, exuberant to do what it takes. I'm imagining an epideral needle right into my spinal column. It's not very attractive, but if that's what it takes, I'll do it. I will probably find a lot of information on the Internet. I hope that they call me back soon and let me know what I need to do.

I believe in organ donation. I benefitted from an organ donation, because my mom received a kidney that kept her alive an additional 14 years longer than the original prognosis when she hadn't received the donor kidney. Give blood, join the marrow registry, sign up to be an organ donor. You could save a life.

I think it's wild because I performed cardio pulmonary resuscitation (CPR) earlier this month. I am so proud that I could save my lola's life. If I can save a child's life, there is no question in my mind that I should do it. There is no greater gift to give, than life.

Happy birthday to me! Every day seems like my birthday. I know how lucky I am to do what I do, know who I know, and feel the way I feel. My family and friends are constant reminders of how blessed I am. I have a tendency to focus on the bad things, but actually, I am very fortunate. That's the difference between reality and actuality. Reality is a human-like perception, and actuality is a God-like perception. For example, a person's reality may be that they are broke because they have rent to pay, a cell phone bill, and a little gas in their tank. However,in actuality, they have an apartment to stay in, and the luxury of a cell phone and personal transportation. Happiness in life is dependent a lot on perspective.

My perspective is that I have a job that I enjoy and has meaning, a lola that I love with all that I am, a mom that did all that she could for me and then some, fraternity brothers that I am proud to call brothers, a roof over my head, and so many other blessings. Sure, my reality is that I have a lot of responsibilities and people counting on me. Yet my actuality is that I am totally capable of financially, emotionally, and mentally supporting the people and causes that I do.

I put myself out there and I got burned. Anytime you leave yourself open and expose a vulnerability, you take a risk. I took a risk and it didn't work out for me. Yet, I'm okay with it. I'm not sulking, or wondering, or trying to figure out if I did the right thing. That type of confidence is liberating. I took a risk, because I knew that if it worked out, it would be worth it. When something is worth the risk, one must go for it. It didn't work out and I realize that it was still worth it. I know I'd be wondering if I didn't do it. What a great epiphany. You don't regret what you do, you regret what you don't do.

Continuing on with the gifts on my mom's birth date, on Monday, Chi Rho Omicron, Inc. was offered a fraternity house in Davis. It's a 10-bedroom facility that the brothers are very excited about. While, it will only be a leased home, this is certainly the best opportunity to arise thus far. Of course, along with a house comes a lot of responsibility. I certainly do not want it to turn into a parallel of the houses in Animal House or in Old School. The financial obligation is pretty high as well, at an original quote of $4,600 a month. I'm going to be very careful going into this, as Chi Rho Omicron, Inc. will be the name on record. Because I am the Interim CEO, that means I am the person that will be signing the paperwork. I will not sign unless everything is in good order and the deal is fit enough that I would sign personally as well. This certainly is not a contract to enter into lightly, or without proper analysis.

I received a great and wonderful gift on March 12, 2007. My lola came home from the hospital and I have a second chance with her. It also marks what would have been my mom's 67th birthday. However, instead of her receiving a gift, I received one. We often aren't given second chances. Priceless.

It's important that we express to our loved ones that we love them, because those opportunites can be taken away in an instant.

Also, Chi Rho Omicron, Inc. was offered a fraternity house.

I like to think my mom had something to do with both of those incidents.

I might have saved my lola's life last night. Lola and I had finished eating and I had already washed the dishes. She likes to sit and finish off her bottle of ensure while watching Wheel of Fortune. I've been so busy with Sacramento County History Day, that I went to my computer to look for an important e-mail. I started to hear an unintelligible sound, and I knew it was lola. I immediately stood up and came into the hallway. I saw that she was falling over in her chair, still making this horrible sound. She was limp. I immediately grabbed her, saw that she was drooling and foaming at the mouth, and tried to talk to her. She wasn't answering and her arms were limp. No response. No movement. No breathing. No pulse. I picked her up and laid her down on her back on the floor. A seizure? A stroke? A heart attack? Did she fall? Was she choking? I had taken health if ninth grade and in the class we covered cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). Although I never went through with the certification, the training must've stuck. I acted, practically without thinking. She coughed, and started breathing on her own. I could hear IMs going on in the background. Her pulse was back. I kept speaking to her, making sure that she could breathe again, hoping that she would respond to me. Eventually, she was nodding, and she moved her arms and legs. I ran to the phone, which was near my computer, quickly typed in the IM box to call 911, that I thought my lola had a heart attack. I got a call as I made my way back to lola, who was still laying there, displaying signs that this event had taken a lot out of her. It was a brother. Thanks for calling. I wasn't even sure who I had typed my message to. Fortunately, I can truly count on my brothers. They have displayed that committment to me numerous times. That's why I work so hard for them. It's also why I work so hard for lola. I held her the whole time, stroking her hair, continuing to talk to her. She fell asleep as we waited for help. We went to the hospital, where they hooked her up and monitored her stats. Her blood pressure was elevated. Confirmation of a heart attack. I'm home now. She didn't want to stay. Lola is a savage, a soldier. She complained to me that I had dialed 911 so fast because she was embarrassed that she had an accident and that her pants were stained. Lola can be so vain sometimes. It made me smile. It was the only smile that I have been able to manage the whole night. Actually, I did not save her life. She is my life. I might have saved my own life tonight.

But if God takes lola away from me tonight, I would thank God for allowing me the time with her. I wonder if I did the right thing. Did I contribute to her quality of life or detract from it? I don't want her to suffer. All I hope is that she enjoys her remaining days and that she dies peacefully. Not the way she was last night. That was not peaceful. It was violent. If one request of mine were to come true, it's that lola doesn't suffer.

I went to a Kappa Psi Epsilon-Chi Rho Omicron, Inc. social last night. It was a nice affair. Semi-formal dinner at a Chinese restaurant. It was a step up for the brothers, who are self-described as "a little rough around the edges." At the beginning of dinner, we introduced ourselves and a quick tidbit about what we look for in a significant other. Physical features, as well as personality features, came up. Things like a smile, buttocks, a sense of humor, ambition, and honesty.

My contribution was the honesty part. After dinner, and during my 30 minute commute back home, I had more time to think about that, and why honesty is so important to me. There is a common saying, "Honesty is the best policy." It's well known among every generation, but I would venture to say that it's not gernerally practiced. Shows like House, M.D. have main characters that practices a belief that "everyone lies." Along the same vein, I even read an article in The Sacramento Bee that explained that many patients lie to their doctors about sticking to a prescription, whether it be a limited diet, medicine, or a recommended exercise or stretching regiment.

Society has also introduced degrees into the description of a lie. For example, a white lie is supposedly not a big deal. I find problems in that. I strongly believe in honesty. Straight up, blunt, uncensored truth works for me. White lies, I believe, are gateway lies. They lead to bigger lies in the future. Biblically, a lie is a lie. There is no mention of degrees of lying in the Bible.

My strong behef in the truth stems directly from my life experience. From birth until 17, I was told by my entire family that my biological father was dead. Then, at 17, when I was applying for college, and filling out the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA), my mom told me that he was alive. The conversation went, "Mom, the FAFSA is asking for parental financial information. I just check off deceased for dad right?"
"No," she responded. She proceeded to tell me that he was living in Sunnyvale. Immediately, questions ran through my head about whether he had tried to contact us, why he left, if I had half brothers and sisters, etc. However, she didn't want me to see him. I respected that and left it alone, because I didn't want to hurt her. Yet it always stayed in my mind.

Then, at 20, a so-called cousin (actually, a close family friend), called me. I hadn't talked to her in over 10 years, but she contacted me and wanted to meet with me. We met at Starbucks in Arden and talked. I got reqcquainted with her,  learning that she had gotten married and was living in Sacramento now. I was excited to be speaking with her. The whole time, however, she was looking at me funny. She was really studying my facial features. I asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You might be my brother," she responded. She continued, saying that her parents had been fighting because my uncle went around saying that her father had gotten my mom pregnant, and I was his illegitimate child. They wanted me to take a DNA test. They were going to pay for it and everything. We settled that she would contact me again, but she never did. I assume that they swept it under the rug and ignored it, living their lives together and never speaking of me again. He has only contacted me one time since - when my mom died.

During and after the encounter, all kinds of thoughts ran through my head. I knew that her dad and my mom used to date in the Philippines. When she moved to the States, they stopped seeing each other. She went back in 1978 to visit, and it was during that time that she married the individual that I was named after. Even at the hospital, my mom had originally named me Dalton, and the story is that this old boyfriend visited and suggested that she name me after Roberto, who she was married to, and who I thought for 17 years was my late father. She listened. All my childhood, I spent time at my mom's former boyfriend's home. When I was in trouble in high school, he drove to Sacramento from Fairfield each night to help me work on my car. When I got my first computer, he paid for it. He bailed my mom out of major financial trouble. I even went so far as to say that he was an engineer and I wanted to be an engineer. And when my mom died, he checked on me. He said that he couldn't stay around, probably because his wife still held hard feelings toward me. If I was his child, they would divorce. He didn't want to risk his family. I wouldn't want him to either. He has a good family. I come from what most would call a broken one, although it's more common now.

Even my mom could not tell me herself that she had cancer. She needed the doctor to tell me. I still believe that she staged the situation for the doctor to announce to the both of us that she had cancer. I don't know for sure, but it makes more sense to me in hindsight. In my mind, I believe that she found out she had cancer, and she wanted to go to the Philippines one last time. One month out from going, her doctor said she was critical, not medically able to go, and she stayed for treatment. I get back from the Philippines after a month and she gets her doctor to tell me she has cancer. She gets admitted to the hospital a week later and within a week is put in hospice care. I take care of her for about two weeks, and she dies. How much more would I have utilized my time if I had known sooner. I would not have gone to the Philippines. I also would have taken the quarter off to be with her, and I done so much more with her. These are all things that, in retrospect, I should have done anyways. But I always thought I had more time. And I didn't.

I believe in honesty. I feel that it is important. And I hope that I can meet someone that believes in it as much as I do.