After reviewing my postings here, I'm lead to ponder my state of mind. Granted, being dealt a blow like cancer at 35 years old is staggering, but does it need to be the epicenter of every thought? Does every posting need to revolve around it? Are there not other parts of my life worth writing about?
I've come up with two answers thus far;
1) It makes sense, the name of the blog is "My Cancer" after all. I've made other attempts at blogging in order to share my words. One, The Drinking Club, is a shared blog with Dave and Lance to showcase our writing prowess, but we've not posted there in a while. The other, People I met that remind me of Jean Reno in The Professional , was ill fated from the beginning.
2) Yes, it is a big deal.
Dealing with the reality of having cancer is a mentally and physically exhausting. September of 2004 struck me with a whirlwind. I was set into a tossing sea. Surgeries, procedures, and then the first round of chemo. When my mother was sick, I asked her many times; "Where do you get the strength to fight?" Every time she answered me the same way; "You don't know you have that sort of strength inside you until you need it. You just find it." From the beginning, I've just found it.
I had a small respite over the summer, when I was allowed to enjoy all those things in my life that in sadder times gathered together to offer me that strength. Then it all started again. On the periphery right now, loom several aspects of my life that otherwise would receive my attention. Things may be changing at my job. My social life is far from perfect. My sister just got married. One of my best friends just had a baby. Strange things are afoot at the Circle K. But, for now, I need to focus my energy on this, the cancer. I am fighting now so that some day soon I will be able to look at cancer and expend only enough energy to think of it as a time in my past.
"Some part of the world still cares what color the kitchen is." -E. Ness
Monday, January 30, 2006
Saturday, January 28, 2006
And who are you again?
It's Saturday night, just one more day before my next IV chemo. I had a fairly good week. I was feeling well, and even went to my office for a few days. The whole situation still takes a toll on me though. The first day I went back to my office I spent a lot of time talking to my friends, explaining what was going on. It's wonderful to see everyone again, but it really wore me out. I know, this sounds incredibly wussified, but all that talking made me tired. I went out last night for a little bit, and then lounged around the apartment today. I sort of feel guilty about it, knowing that tomorrow is the last day I'll be a functioning human for about a week.
It's funny how your mind and your body can conspire against you. Another strange phenomena that I've come to experience is that my mind and body can also operate outside the realm of reality. I noticed this during the first round of chemo last year, but now I'm reminded of it again. After having a good week, and figuring in that every day that goes by after my IV treatment I feel better, it would follow that I would be in terrific shape this weekend. BUT, and here is where my mind and body just don't listen to reason, I feel pretty crappy. My stomach is a little off, I'm tired, and I just know I'm not getting to sleep tonight. Do you understand why? It's because my mind is showering my synapses with warnings of my upcoming visit to the oncologist, and my body is responding by getting into sick mode. Sick before I get sick. Wonderful.
It's funny how your mind and your body can conspire against you. Another strange phenomena that I've come to experience is that my mind and body can also operate outside the realm of reality. I noticed this during the first round of chemo last year, but now I'm reminded of it again. After having a good week, and figuring in that every day that goes by after my IV treatment I feel better, it would follow that I would be in terrific shape this weekend. BUT, and here is where my mind and body just don't listen to reason, I feel pretty crappy. My stomach is a little off, I'm tired, and I just know I'm not getting to sleep tonight. Do you understand why? It's because my mind is showering my synapses with warnings of my upcoming visit to the oncologist, and my body is responding by getting into sick mode. Sick before I get sick. Wonderful.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Pittsburgh; It's the Iron City
Today's missive shall not contain any references to bodily fluids, irregular bowels, or involuntary gastro-intestinal reactions. At least, at this point, I don't believe it will. Today's story is about another gruesome side effect of my cancer; it's seriously impeding my social activities.
But Billy, what does this have to do with Pittsburgh? I'm getting there.
During my first tour of duty at Hackensack Hospital I spent some time doing what every good cancer patient should do; contemplate existence, evaluate my life so far lived, and vow to make changes in the future. At that point, between being told you have some sort of disease and mustering all your strength to fight it, you're suppose to realize that life is short and you must grab all you can from it. Isn't that how the book/movie/poem/song goes? But, as it so happens, when I looked back over how I spent my life, I was rather pleased. I realized that was exactly how I lead my life.
But Billy, what does this have to do with Pittsburgh? I'm getting there.
Remember how you spent your life in college, or for those of you not lucky enough to go to as many or for as long as I did, how you spent your late teens and early 20's? I spent this time with many of you, so I know what you did! We would spend all night watching bad movies. We would play poker for two days in a row. We would have cocktails at 3 in the afternoon and discuss how we are better than the world. We would go to a public place and make fun of everyone. We would disappear into the woods for a weekend. We would make last minute plans, and change them halfway through. We would road trip someplace 3 hours away because we heard there was a diner with kick ass apple pie. We lived in the moment, but remained conscious of the bills to be paid for our folly, and were responsible enough to meet them, well, most of the time. I still do all these things.
But Billy, what does this have to do with Pittsburgh? OK, now I'm getting there.
The Pittsburgh Steelers are going to the Superbowl! As previously noted, I'm a fan of the black and gold through adoption, but Dave is a fan from birth. As to be expected, Dave, who currently resides in San Francisco, will be hosting a party on Superbowl Sunday so that he and his friends can cheer on Bettis and Roethlisberger and Ward and Porter and VonOelhoffenhimerburgerstien and the rest. Dave will do as much as he can to bring a bit of the Burgh to his abode on the west coast. This will include all things black and gold, Primanti sandwiches, and the alcohol icon of Pittsburgh, Iron City Beer. But alas, there is a slight problem with Dave's plan; the nearest purveyor of said Iron City is located in Portland Oregon, 10 hours to Dave's north. Dave's initial plan was to road trip to Portland this coming weekend, spend some time with Devyn, and then return home with enough premium lager to truly instill a sense of the Steel City in his little section of the Mission.
Here is where cancer has put a dent in my fun. In other times, I would have taken vacation from work, flown to California, joined Dave on the road trip, spent the week lounging around his apartment trying not to drink the Iron City, and then celebrated the Superbowl with some very cool people. Instead, I'll be curled up in the fetal position on my father's couch, weakly shouting cheers for the Steelers.
This concept of taking all that you can out of life is associated with many cliches; carpe diem, gather ye rosebuds, grab the bull by the horns, suck the marrow out of life. (you'll notice most of them are from poetry and other literature) To this time honored list I would like to submit my own phrase. From now on, when you want to emphatically impress upon a person the overwhelming importance of understanding the preciousness of life, grab them by both shoulders, look them straight in the eye, and tell them "you have to drive to Oregon for Iron City!!!!" As we are apt to shorten the greatest of our literary quotations to fit our hectic schedules, the phrase will from here out be "drive to Oregon".
Go Steelers!!!
But Billy, what does this have to do with Pittsburgh? I'm getting there.
During my first tour of duty at Hackensack Hospital I spent some time doing what every good cancer patient should do; contemplate existence, evaluate my life so far lived, and vow to make changes in the future. At that point, between being told you have some sort of disease and mustering all your strength to fight it, you're suppose to realize that life is short and you must grab all you can from it. Isn't that how the book/movie/poem/song goes? But, as it so happens, when I looked back over how I spent my life, I was rather pleased. I realized that was exactly how I lead my life.
But Billy, what does this have to do with Pittsburgh? I'm getting there.
Remember how you spent your life in college, or for those of you not lucky enough to go to as many or for as long as I did, how you spent your late teens and early 20's? I spent this time with many of you, so I know what you did! We would spend all night watching bad movies. We would play poker for two days in a row. We would have cocktails at 3 in the afternoon and discuss how we are better than the world. We would go to a public place and make fun of everyone. We would disappear into the woods for a weekend. We would make last minute plans, and change them halfway through. We would road trip someplace 3 hours away because we heard there was a diner with kick ass apple pie. We lived in the moment, but remained conscious of the bills to be paid for our folly, and were responsible enough to meet them, well, most of the time. I still do all these things.
But Billy, what does this have to do with Pittsburgh? OK, now I'm getting there.
The Pittsburgh Steelers are going to the Superbowl! As previously noted, I'm a fan of the black and gold through adoption, but Dave is a fan from birth. As to be expected, Dave, who currently resides in San Francisco, will be hosting a party on Superbowl Sunday so that he and his friends can cheer on Bettis and Roethlisberger and Ward and Porter and VonOelhoffenhimerburgerstien and the rest. Dave will do as much as he can to bring a bit of the Burgh to his abode on the west coast. This will include all things black and gold, Primanti sandwiches, and the alcohol icon of Pittsburgh, Iron City Beer. But alas, there is a slight problem with Dave's plan; the nearest purveyor of said Iron City is located in Portland Oregon, 10 hours to Dave's north. Dave's initial plan was to road trip to Portland this coming weekend, spend some time with Devyn, and then return home with enough premium lager to truly instill a sense of the Steel City in his little section of the Mission.
Here is where cancer has put a dent in my fun. In other times, I would have taken vacation from work, flown to California, joined Dave on the road trip, spent the week lounging around his apartment trying not to drink the Iron City, and then celebrated the Superbowl with some very cool people. Instead, I'll be curled up in the fetal position on my father's couch, weakly shouting cheers for the Steelers.
This concept of taking all that you can out of life is associated with many cliches; carpe diem, gather ye rosebuds, grab the bull by the horns, suck the marrow out of life. (you'll notice most of them are from poetry and other literature) To this time honored list I would like to submit my own phrase. From now on, when you want to emphatically impress upon a person the overwhelming importance of understanding the preciousness of life, grab them by both shoulders, look them straight in the eye, and tell them "you have to drive to Oregon for Iron City!!!!" As we are apt to shorten the greatest of our literary quotations to fit our hectic schedules, the phrase will from here out be "drive to Oregon".
Go Steelers!!!
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Detroit Motor City!!
The Steelers won the AFC conference championship and they are going to the Superbowl! Of course my team of choice is the Giants, and should one day they meet the Steelers at the Big Dance I will be torn, but the Steelers are my adopted favorites. As luck would have it, the Superbowl is going to be the first Sunday after a chemo treatment. I'm really hoping I'll be in some sort of shape to enjoy it.
I have to admit, I still get a bit misty when I hear a wonderfully rendered Star Spangled Banner or Amazing Grace. Music can be so beautiful.
And in case you were wondering, I feel pretty good! I'm actually going to go to my office this week. The chemo pills that I take are giving me some blisters on my hands and feet, but other than that, all the side effects have subsided. I'm going to make the most of this week. I learned a while ago to enjoy the good moments during chemo because they are few and far between.
I have to admit, I still get a bit misty when I hear a wonderfully rendered Star Spangled Banner or Amazing Grace. Music can be so beautiful.
And in case you were wondering, I feel pretty good! I'm actually going to go to my office this week. The chemo pills that I take are giving me some blisters on my hands and feet, but other than that, all the side effects have subsided. I'm going to make the most of this week. I learned a while ago to enjoy the good moments during chemo because they are few and far between.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Crash
I just got done watching the movie Crash. The 2004 collection of stories revolving around a group of people in LA, not the 1996 James Spader movie about sexual fetishes involving car accidents. I have to say that I was very impressed. There is so much here to write about, but I am going to let it digest before I tackle it.
Oh, by the way, I feel pretty good. My mind is clear, well clearer than it's been in a couple of weeks. My body is doing ok, just some simple digestive issues that may be more due to my overall intestinal health than anything else.
Peace out. Word to your mommy.
Oh, by the way, I feel pretty good. My mind is clear, well clearer than it's been in a couple of weeks. My body is doing ok, just some simple digestive issues that may be more due to my overall intestinal health than anything else.
Peace out. Word to your mommy.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Please pass the jelly
I've made it back home!! I've also found another side effect of my current regime. It sucks the energy right out of you. Just the drive from dad's to my place was enough to wear me out. It's a good thing it also takes your sex drive. Not that I would have any opportunity for that either, which is a subject for another blog at another time.
I'm feeling much better, but oddly don't have much to write today. I'll try again a little later.
I'm feeling much better, but oddly don't have much to write today. I'll try again a little later.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Doug and Naomi
I would like to preface this post with two warnings:
1. This post contains language and situations not suited for persons under the age of 18, and those with no sense of humor.
2. If you are Dougie Stephens, PLEASE TAKE NOTE! This posting discusses wonderful things about you, so I want you to read it. It also contains some information I do not want you to know. I have devised a plan; The information I do not want you to read will be offset by two markers. The first one DougieStop, telling you to stop, and the second one DougieGo, telling you to go. You may read everything leading up to DougieStop and you may read everything following DougieGo. You may not read what is in between the markers. You are on your honor. I thank you.
I have two wonderful friends in Doug and Naomi Stephens. They live in Oxford, which is in England. I first met Doug and Naomi about three years ago. They showed me great hospitality while I was in Oxford, and I was able to return that favor when they visited the states. Dougie is a warm, friendly guy. He's tall, thin, bald, has a wonderful smile, is uproariously funny, is a wonderful conversationalist, and an awesome drummer. Naomi has pixie short brown hair and big cans. (you probably think that is something I should have hidden from Dougie, but nah, he's cool like that)
Recently, Dougie informed me that they may be moving to the States. I really hope that they do. It will be wonderful to have them so close for a while. In anticipation of this move, Naomi is going to be visiting Connecticut next week. Dougie emailed me the other day to let me know she will be here, and asked if I would be able to meet up with her. DougieStop gonna meet up alright DougieGo She is going to be staying in Stamford, so I don't see any reason why I can't drive up there DougieStop gonna get her drunk DougieGo and spend some time with her. I'm very excited to see her again. DougieStop gonna get her real drunk DougieGo I'm not familiar with the area, so I'm not sure what we'll be able to do. DougieStop gonna shag her brains out DougieGo I do know that whatever we do, we'll have a ball, because Naomi is a lot of fun. DougieStop gonna spank her and make her call me Mr. Bond DougieGo Luckily, I'm feeling much better now. The chemo seems to only be a problem for about a week, and then the side effects DougieStop Oh YEAH!! I'm friggin Superman now!! Look out Naomi. DougieGo are very manageable.
1. This post contains language and situations not suited for persons under the age of 18, and those with no sense of humor.
2. If you are Dougie Stephens, PLEASE TAKE NOTE! This posting discusses wonderful things about you, so I want you to read it. It also contains some information I do not want you to know. I have devised a plan; The information I do not want you to read will be offset by two markers. The first one DougieStop, telling you to stop, and the second one DougieGo, telling you to go. You may read everything leading up to DougieStop and you may read everything following DougieGo. You may not read what is in between the markers. You are on your honor. I thank you.
I have two wonderful friends in Doug and Naomi Stephens. They live in Oxford, which is in England. I first met Doug and Naomi about three years ago. They showed me great hospitality while I was in Oxford, and I was able to return that favor when they visited the states. Dougie is a warm, friendly guy. He's tall, thin, bald, has a wonderful smile, is uproariously funny, is a wonderful conversationalist, and an awesome drummer. Naomi has pixie short brown hair and big cans. (you probably think that is something I should have hidden from Dougie, but nah, he's cool like that)
Recently, Dougie informed me that they may be moving to the States. I really hope that they do. It will be wonderful to have them so close for a while. In anticipation of this move, Naomi is going to be visiting Connecticut next week. Dougie emailed me the other day to let me know she will be here, and asked if I would be able to meet up with her. DougieStop gonna meet up alright DougieGo She is going to be staying in Stamford, so I don't see any reason why I can't drive up there DougieStop gonna get her drunk DougieGo and spend some time with her. I'm very excited to see her again. DougieStop gonna get her real drunk DougieGo I'm not familiar with the area, so I'm not sure what we'll be able to do. DougieStop gonna shag her brains out DougieGo I do know that whatever we do, we'll have a ball, because Naomi is a lot of fun. DougieStop gonna spank her and make her call me Mr. Bond DougieGo Luckily, I'm feeling much better now. The chemo seems to only be a problem for about a week, and then the side effects DougieStop Oh YEAH!! I'm friggin Superman now!! Look out Naomi. DougieGo are very manageable.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
And then there was today
My stomach is still a little funky, but overall I'm feeling pretty good. Looks like that's how it will go, one bad week, two good weeks, back to one bad week. I'm sure I'll discuss it with my doctor, and knowing him, he'll adjust the medicine to get that one bad week down to just a few bad days.
With a broad smile on my face, I would like to add that I simply adore Little Jody H.
With a broad smile on my face, I would like to add that I simply adore Little Jody H.
Right here in River City
Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital 'T' and that rhymes with 'C' and that stands for cancer!
It's about 4 in the morning, and I just can't sleep. Physically I'm feeling ok. Not the best ever, but considering the week I just had, not too bad. When dealing with the hideous side effects of the cure I'm forced to see the enormity of the disease. How bad could something be if I'm willing to endure this sickness in pursuit of killing it? Pretty bad.
Cancer is a solitary disease. It's very personal. I love all my family and friends, and I take comfort in all that you have to offer me, but I don't think any of you can understand what's going on. You all have your own feelings to deal with regarding this, the sympathy and perhaps even empathy you have for me, I'm sorry for that. But cancer is very personal. Dave understands, to the extent that he understands how it personally affected him and that he can't understand how it's personally affecting me. This is my disease. I own it. It's not a bug, or a virus, or something thrust upon me, it's my body, my person, turned against itself. It's a complete loss of control, which for me is probably the worst thing that could ever happen.
I am a control freak. The world throws everything it can at you, but your life is about how you define yourself in the face of it, and you can only define yourself through what you do, what you control. Fortune and adversity may trip over you, but what makes you YOU is how you handle it. My life, the person I am, the friends I have, the things I have, are all there because of who I am, and I have made myself that man. I have had help, absolutely. But a man cannot give credit for himself to others any more than he can blame others for his mistakes. Your life is your responsibility, your control. I even tried to control my own body. I shave my head, get tattoos and piercings, all because it's what I can do to control my body. What little control I have over my own body is stolen by cancer.
Cancer is personal. Not only has my body turned against itself, as if the cosmos needed to drive the point home, it looks like the my body was programmed to do this. Deep down, at the level that none of us can control, yet, my dna has slapped me in the face with a loud and boisterous "You are NOT in control!!"
Cancer is personal. While existentialism has always been a playful pursuit for me, I've come to the conclusion that no person should have to face their own mortality in their 30's. Ok, so in some distant time past 35 was actually the exact time to think about dying, today it is not so. Oh that's right, I said "dying". Since the first day that the doctors hit me with this, nobody has even whispered any derivation of the word "dead". Nobody except me. I've said it, I've yelled it, I've cried it, I've written it. Nobody in my life will let me get away with such talk. There is to be no discourse about death, no feeling sorry, no getting down. It's all positive thoughts and laughter. Of course, they do this because it's exactly what I want. It's how I dealt with my mother. But I get to have my moments of fear and doubt. Before they first opened me up there were words flying around like "big tumor" and "aggressive" and "we don't know". For someone who thinks way too much on a regular basis, this of course will lead to thoughts of "I could die". Before I got sick, I use to think that I would be ok with dying, that I'm proud of what I've done with my life and if something should happen I would be ok with it. I'm still proud of my life, I'm still happy with what I've done, but I am NOT OK with dying!!! I changed my mind! No dying for me! I'm not ready. No way, no how. Of course now it's an honest possibility. Don't know what you have until you loose it, carpe diem, blah blah blah. Almost just as much as I hate loosing control, I'm pissed that I've become a cliche.
It's about 4 in the morning, and I just can't sleep. Physically I'm feeling ok. Not the best ever, but considering the week I just had, not too bad. When dealing with the hideous side effects of the cure I'm forced to see the enormity of the disease. How bad could something be if I'm willing to endure this sickness in pursuit of killing it? Pretty bad.
Cancer is a solitary disease. It's very personal. I love all my family and friends, and I take comfort in all that you have to offer me, but I don't think any of you can understand what's going on. You all have your own feelings to deal with regarding this, the sympathy and perhaps even empathy you have for me, I'm sorry for that. But cancer is very personal. Dave understands, to the extent that he understands how it personally affected him and that he can't understand how it's personally affecting me. This is my disease. I own it. It's not a bug, or a virus, or something thrust upon me, it's my body, my person, turned against itself. It's a complete loss of control, which for me is probably the worst thing that could ever happen.
I am a control freak. The world throws everything it can at you, but your life is about how you define yourself in the face of it, and you can only define yourself through what you do, what you control. Fortune and adversity may trip over you, but what makes you YOU is how you handle it. My life, the person I am, the friends I have, the things I have, are all there because of who I am, and I have made myself that man. I have had help, absolutely. But a man cannot give credit for himself to others any more than he can blame others for his mistakes. Your life is your responsibility, your control. I even tried to control my own body. I shave my head, get tattoos and piercings, all because it's what I can do to control my body. What little control I have over my own body is stolen by cancer.
Cancer is personal. Not only has my body turned against itself, as if the cosmos needed to drive the point home, it looks like the my body was programmed to do this. Deep down, at the level that none of us can control, yet, my dna has slapped me in the face with a loud and boisterous "You are NOT in control!!"
Cancer is personal. While existentialism has always been a playful pursuit for me, I've come to the conclusion that no person should have to face their own mortality in their 30's. Ok, so in some distant time past 35 was actually the exact time to think about dying, today it is not so. Oh that's right, I said "dying". Since the first day that the doctors hit me with this, nobody has even whispered any derivation of the word "dead". Nobody except me. I've said it, I've yelled it, I've cried it, I've written it. Nobody in my life will let me get away with such talk. There is to be no discourse about death, no feeling sorry, no getting down. It's all positive thoughts and laughter. Of course, they do this because it's exactly what I want. It's how I dealt with my mother. But I get to have my moments of fear and doubt. Before they first opened me up there were words flying around like "big tumor" and "aggressive" and "we don't know". For someone who thinks way too much on a regular basis, this of course will lead to thoughts of "I could die". Before I got sick, I use to think that I would be ok with dying, that I'm proud of what I've done with my life and if something should happen I would be ok with it. I'm still proud of my life, I'm still happy with what I've done, but I am NOT OK with dying!!! I changed my mind! No dying for me! I'm not ready. No way, no how. Of course now it's an honest possibility. Don't know what you have until you loose it, carpe diem, blah blah blah. Almost just as much as I hate loosing control, I'm pissed that I've become a cliche.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Thanks for the comments!
Jody;
The differences between the electric Pepsi and Rush are in intensity and duration. While the soda cans are a quick jolt of sharp pain, Rush is more of a prolonged dull pain in the base of my skull.
H;
Those ribs are just one of the many reasons I have to keep fighting!! I swear I'll be eating a few racks before the end of 2006.
Lance;
While I count you as one of my closest friends, and draw great inspiration from you always, you do make my ego twitch by reminding me there are smarter people than me in the world.
Charlyann;
you're my scarecrow!
The differences between the electric Pepsi and Rush are in intensity and duration. While the soda cans are a quick jolt of sharp pain, Rush is more of a prolonged dull pain in the base of my skull.
H;
Those ribs are just one of the many reasons I have to keep fighting!! I swear I'll be eating a few racks before the end of 2006.
Lance;
While I count you as one of my closest friends, and draw great inspiration from you always, you do make my ego twitch by reminding me there are smarter people than me in the world.
Charlyann;
you're my scarecrow!
Sunday
In previous posts I noted that I was feeling good, and had made it through the day without hurling. Each time, I spoke too soon. This time I wanted to wait and make sure it was actually a good day. Saturday was the first day all week that I was able to keep food down. Now, here it is Sunday night, and it looks like I might have made two days in a row!!
The Steelers won today. It was a close game, and nobody thought they would win, except for Dave. Dave's devotion to and knowledge of the Steelers are more wonderful manifestations of his geekness. I wish I could move to San Fran.
I might go back to my apartment tomorrow. I had a little trouble sleeping last night; hopefully tonight will not be the same.
Chemo tends to fog the brain. My thoughts this week have been vague and disjointed. I had trouble forming complete thoughts in my head, and even when I did, I found it difficult to write them. My wit has been slowed, my vocabulary stunted, my creativity washed out. For someone who prides himself on his mind and writing ability, it's almost as big a struggle as the physical side effects wrought upon my internal organs. Almost.
The Steelers won today. It was a close game, and nobody thought they would win, except for Dave. Dave's devotion to and knowledge of the Steelers are more wonderful manifestations of his geekness. I wish I could move to San Fran.
I might go back to my apartment tomorrow. I had a little trouble sleeping last night; hopefully tonight will not be the same.
Chemo tends to fog the brain. My thoughts this week have been vague and disjointed. I had trouble forming complete thoughts in my head, and even when I did, I found it difficult to write them. My wit has been slowed, my vocabulary stunted, my creativity washed out. For someone who prides himself on his mind and writing ability, it's almost as big a struggle as the physical side effects wrought upon my internal organs. Almost.
Friday, January 13, 2006
My Dad's Right Wing Conspiracy
The last couple of days kinda sucked. I couldn't eat anything because I was afraid it was going to come right back up. My stomach was in constant turmoil. Today when I woke up, somewhere around 3, I was hungry, and my stomach seemed to have settled. This is how it goes. I'll be sick for a few days, then I'll slowly feel better, and just as I'm getting back to normal, it's time to go back for more chemo.
Something else interesting happened today. I love my father very much. He takes great care of me while I'm sick. Sure, like any father and son we have our tugs of war, but overall we get along great. One of my biggest peeves about my dad is his political tendencies. Dad is a bit of a right winger, while I lean way over to the left. Granted I'm not as far left as say...Dave, but then again he does live on the west coast.
So anyway....about today. Dad likes to listen to all the right wing clap-trap on the radio. He's a big fan of such blowhards as Rush and Hannity. As soon as he wakes up in the morning he turns on every radio in the house so that no matter where he goes he can listen to the narrow minded hypocrisy they all spew. I don't know if he does this when I'm not here. I have a sneaking suspicion that he feels if he blares it throughout the house while I'm sleeping and sick and therefore susceptible to overwhelming force, that he will somehow make me one of them. I love ya dad, but no go. Oh...so the strange thing...when I woke up today there were no radios on. Hmmm...no right wing propaganda, and I feel better enough to eat again? Coincidence?? I wonder.
Something else interesting happened today. I love my father very much. He takes great care of me while I'm sick. Sure, like any father and son we have our tugs of war, but overall we get along great. One of my biggest peeves about my dad is his political tendencies. Dad is a bit of a right winger, while I lean way over to the left. Granted I'm not as far left as say...Dave, but then again he does live on the west coast.
So anyway....about today. Dad likes to listen to all the right wing clap-trap on the radio. He's a big fan of such blowhards as Rush and Hannity. As soon as he wakes up in the morning he turns on every radio in the house so that no matter where he goes he can listen to the narrow minded hypocrisy they all spew. I don't know if he does this when I'm not here. I have a sneaking suspicion that he feels if he blares it throughout the house while I'm sleeping and sick and therefore susceptible to overwhelming force, that he will somehow make me one of them. I love ya dad, but no go. Oh...so the strange thing...when I woke up today there were no radios on. Hmmm...no right wing propaganda, and I feel better enough to eat again? Coincidence?? I wonder.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Sometimes it's not so bad
Last night wasn't too bad. Just a little nausea, but no vomiting. Today I'm just tired. Maybe this whole chemo thing is nothing to worry about. hehehehe, yeah, sometimes I crack myself up.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Reverse Peristalsis
Those of you that are squeamish may want to skip this blog.
I would like to explain to you the process of chemo vomiting.
At first I feel fine. Then, the following series of events occurs within about a minute. I get warm. It starts at the base of the back of my neck, just below my shoulders. A warm feeling makes its way up and around my head. I begin to sweat. At the same time there is a sour milk heartburn erupting in my chest. At this point I'm pretty sure it's going to happen. I usually feel acutely aware of every little thing that is going on in my body. Then the kicker; I feel a cramping at the bottom of my stomach. That's the big sign. I head into the bathroom for the final steps. The cramp moves up through my stomach, like when you squeeze frosting from a pastry bag, and up it comes. A few hurls and I'm done. The cramps stop, the heat dissipates, the sweating is over.
When I'm done I like to put on some 50's music and dance around with nothing on but socks. I'm not quite sure that part is because of the chemo.
I would like to explain to you the process of chemo vomiting.
At first I feel fine. Then, the following series of events occurs within about a minute. I get warm. It starts at the base of the back of my neck, just below my shoulders. A warm feeling makes its way up and around my head. I begin to sweat. At the same time there is a sour milk heartburn erupting in my chest. At this point I'm pretty sure it's going to happen. I usually feel acutely aware of every little thing that is going on in my body. Then the kicker; I feel a cramping at the bottom of my stomach. That's the big sign. I head into the bathroom for the final steps. The cramp moves up through my stomach, like when you squeeze frosting from a pastry bag, and up it comes. A few hurls and I'm done. The cramps stop, the heat dissipates, the sweating is over.
When I'm done I like to put on some 50's music and dance around with nothing on but socks. I'm not quite sure that part is because of the chemo.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Later that night, back at the Ferris wheel
The nausea is setting in. I had forgotten until now that Avastin also gives me strange muscle cramps and twitches. Right now my feet are going nuts. And did I mention that the nerve damage from my last surgery is now manifesting itself through the occasional sharp burst of pain in the under side of my right thigh? My knee muscles are cramping up too, damn this hurts. I tried to find some humor for this post, but sometimes bad news has nothing but bad news.
First day, new chemo
So today was the first day with the new drugs. From the official list of possible side effects of Oxalipatin: Clumsiness, unsteadiness, trouble with normal daily activities; Numbness or weakness in your arm or leg or on one side of your body; Unusual bleeding, bruising, or weakness. Now those are just some of them. I've heard from a few people that have taken this drug about hypersensitvity to cold, and pain in your extremities. There are stories about having to wear gloves just to take a can of soda out of the fridge, and not being able to drink it until it's room temperature. But, me being me, I don't listen to anyone. Of course, I need to find out for myself.
The first drug I get injected with is Avastin. I took this drug the last round, and from time to time it made me nauseous and vomit. Today it wasn't bad. I got a little sweaty, but no other real symptoms. Then came the oxiuglystuff. At first it wasn't bad, but chemo drugs sneak up on you. When it was almost done going in, I started getting those pins and needles in my fingertips. Not really painful, but very, very wired.
Then I got home, and had some dinner. I was still feeling pretty good. I got some Chinese food, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and then reached in the fridge for a can of Pepsi. "Hey, this isn't bad, I can pick this up with no probl........OHHHHHHHH CRAP!!!!!!!" My hand felt like I had just jammed my fingers into an electrical socket. And if you think that's just hyperbole, remember, I've done some stupid things in my life, like jamming my fingers into an electrical socket. Again, it wasn't really painful, but it was one of the strangest feelings I've ever had. Still not believing everything I heard, I went straight to drinking it. At first it was fine, but then....OHHHHHHH CRAP!!!!!!! My tongue tingled a little, like when you eat pop rocks and soda, then there was this feeling as I swallowed, as if there were a nail in every sip of Pepsi.
I also have some pain in my jaw, that comes and goes, and when it comes it hurts like hell. Aint life grand?
another note on the day; I wore my new 2005 Chemoman Triathlon shirt to my treatment today. A few people got a good laugh out of it. See the 2006 version here. I like seeing cancer patients laugh. I also met a 62 year old guy with pancreatic cancer who was there for his first round. I talked to him about what to expect, and praised our oncologist. It's quite a thing to think of myself as the experienced old timer around a guy that is almost twice my age. Quite a thing indeed.
One last note. I'm supposed to be quitting smoking. But it's hard, especially with all this chemo stuff going on. Sorry Dave, I'm not doing as well as you, but I promise, I'm trying.
One of my favorite poems of all time!!
The first drug I get injected with is Avastin. I took this drug the last round, and from time to time it made me nauseous and vomit. Today it wasn't bad. I got a little sweaty, but no other real symptoms. Then came the oxiuglystuff. At first it wasn't bad, but chemo drugs sneak up on you. When it was almost done going in, I started getting those pins and needles in my fingertips. Not really painful, but very, very wired.
Then I got home, and had some dinner. I was still feeling pretty good. I got some Chinese food, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and then reached in the fridge for a can of Pepsi. "Hey, this isn't bad, I can pick this up with no probl........OHHHHHHHH CRAP!!!!!!!" My hand felt like I had just jammed my fingers into an electrical socket. And if you think that's just hyperbole, remember, I've done some stupid things in my life, like jamming my fingers into an electrical socket. Again, it wasn't really painful, but it was one of the strangest feelings I've ever had. Still not believing everything I heard, I went straight to drinking it. At first it was fine, but then....OHHHHHHH CRAP!!!!!!! My tongue tingled a little, like when you eat pop rocks and soda, then there was this feeling as I swallowed, as if there were a nail in every sip of Pepsi.
I also have some pain in my jaw, that comes and goes, and when it comes it hurts like hell. Aint life grand?
another note on the day; I wore my new 2005 Chemoman Triathlon shirt to my treatment today. A few people got a good laugh out of it. See the 2006 version here. I like seeing cancer patients laugh. I also met a 62 year old guy with pancreatic cancer who was there for his first round. I talked to him about what to expect, and praised our oncologist. It's quite a thing to think of myself as the experienced old timer around a guy that is almost twice my age. Quite a thing indeed.
One last note. I'm supposed to be quitting smoking. But it's hard, especially with all this chemo stuff going on. Sorry Dave, I'm not doing as well as you, but I promise, I'm trying.
One of my favorite poems of all time!!
Friday, January 06, 2006
I Still Can't Sleep
The second round of chemo starts in 4 days. Between now and then I am going to: wait for the cable guy; go to dinner with Reede, his new girlfriend, and Vinny; head into the City and hang out with Tracy; attend an OA dinner; and watch both the Giants' and Steelers' playoff games. It reminds me of a line from The Untouchables: "Some part of the world still cares what color the kitchen is."
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