The Blog of The Letter B Photography » Los Angeles Maternity, Birth, Newborn, Baby, Child and Family Photographer

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  • we spell trouble with a capital B.

    welcome to the blog of the letter b photography. we are johnny and jade brookbank. a husband and wife duo of old-fashioned weirdness based in los angeles, california. we shoot maternity, birth, newborns, babies, children, families, seniors and any other randomness that comes our way. this blog serves as a show-and-tell for all of our professional work, family goings-ons and any other wacky adventures we find ourselves in. so please….kick back, stalk around and hit us up if you have any questions.

    visit our website for more info about scheduling a session.

CANCER?…….but I’m a Virgo…

I was peeing the other day and felt a lump on my testicle.

Oh no…

I went to the doctor and he felt the lump and didn’t know what it was so he sent me to a specialist – a urologist.

I went there today – on my birthday.

The urologist told me to pull down my pants and underwear. I just kept thinking, “I hope he doesn’t try and give me an oral exam…..”

I told him it was a little touchy, a little tender. He started to squeeze and I said, “whoa – I said tender”.

He tells me his ultra sound guy is in and he wants to give me the once over so I follow him into a room where a little Indian (India Indian, not Native American) man stands in a white lab coat.

In his thick Indian / Apu from the Simpson’s accent he says to me, “Please pull down your pants and underwear and sit up here”.

He pats the table with the white paper and I drop em and hop up.

He picks up my weiner and says, “Here, hold this, but don’t pull on it”. I’m not sure what he means, but I comply.

He says, “I’m going to apply the jelly” and as he’s lubing me up for the procedure, I say, “Hey man, you’ve got the best seat in the house”.

He smiles, but not because he thinks it’s funny. He smiles because he’s a polite Indian man.

He starts rubbing the laser gun all over me and I’m watching the screen and I’ve got the urge to shout, “Is it a boy or a girl – NO WAIT! – don’t tell me, I don’t wanna know!” but decide against it. I don’t think he’ll get it.

He takes a bunch of black and white photos of my testicle, tells me to wipe myself off and go wait in Room 3.

The doctor comes in and tells me I’ve got a tumor and the testicle has to go.

CANCER?

But I don’t even smoke……ALTHOUGH, I HAVE suspected that my testicle has been sneaking cigarettes with my butthole for quite some time now….

I’m thinking, “These things happen to friends of my friends – these things happen to people I don’t know. These things don’t happen to ME.

GOOD NEWS – 98% survivability. APPARENTLY, if you’re going to have cancer, this is the one to go with. Brain, liver, stomach, skin, bones – testicle is the one you WANT!

AND I GOT IT!

WINNER WINNER WINNER!!!

Tell em what he’s won, Johnny!

You’ve WON……A NEW CAR!……Truthfully, Announcer Guy, I really could have went for the winning lottery ticket or Ed McMahon’s giant cardboard check. Heck, I would have settled for a used toaster oven to be honest…

I spent some time this morning being very angry. Angry at lots of different things. But now I’m sort of feeling like……really this is more of a nuisance than anything – I just want to get back to……….normal. I’m hoping we can just move through this and have it exit our lives as quickly as it entered.

I plan to talk about it and write about it and say it’s name:

TESTICULAR CANCER.

Say it with me. If we don’t say it, if we treat it like a secret, it gains power over us – like Voldemort – and that, friends and neighbors, will not be happening this year.

MORE GOOD NEWS – next year’s birthday has GOT to be better.

Now listen – I don’t want sympathy – sympathy implies that we’ve lost.

I want battle cries……cuz we’re gonna scalp this bitch.

You are not welcome here.

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[…] Johnny was fighting cancer I can vividly remember the cloud of stress that followed me around as I watched the unbelievable […]

My Second Born.

Allow me to introduce Clementine. She’s one of our replacement babies. And yes before you ask, I used to make her wear sweaters. But don’t worry, I’ve recovered – thanks to John and his incessant teasing. But I digress……………

So…………Clementine. She is one of the greatest joys of our lives but sometimes she is the biggest, most spoiled PUNK ever! Yeah, I said it. Don’t let that face fool you and beware the onion bagel breath. Of course this has NOTHING to do with John and I’s superb parenting skills. NEVER!

The other day John and I gave the girls their weekly bath. I always love the feeling of getting them nice and clean. It makes them smell like puppies again – for some unexplained reason. Anyways, I had just released Clem from the tub and watched her run away while I chanted “run wild, run free!” when I remembered that I had left the back door open! This is a definite no, no when it comes to the Clemenator. By the time I scrambled across the very wet bathroom floor and bolted across the kitchen to the now VERY open back door, this is what I discovered:




If you look deeply into her eyes I believe you might hear “Clean me again and die”! No respect!

Oh, look! My awesome parenting skills in ACTION!

P.S. That’s not leg sweat you see there! It’s battle wounds from bathing the monster. It IS!!!!!!!!

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cutest kid to fall out of our family tree.

This unbelievably beautiful little whippersnapper is my cousin Amanda’s son, Cain. And let me tell you, this boy has dimples and a smile that can melt you on the spot to a whimpering pile of jello.

John and I were back in South Dakota this week to attend my Grandpa Tom’s funeral. Very sad circumstances but it’s always nice to be able to catch up with our family.

Amanda was kind enough to let me come over and try my hand at photographing this little monkey – who definitely was more interested in playing with his mom’s broom than smiling for the camera. But he warmed up and was soon hamming for the camera like the best of them!

Thanks for the smiles Cain and don’t outgrow those dimples.

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