9-29-2010 2nd day after 4th Chemo

9-29-2010 2nd day after 4th Chemo

Strangely enough, the hiccups show up for a very short time and then disappear. They've not been the problem that they were in the past. Why would that be?

Food does taste different. I'm trying to avoid things somewhat that are totally familiar to me, things that I crave, like Diet Coke, because it's SO obviously different that it is really off-putting. Seems better to drink something you don't drink a lot of because then you really don't notice so much.

Ankles are swollen, my face is some too. And the inside of my mouth I think, will be getting tender again.

I offer these facts to document my journey only. I have no complaints given the circumstances.

Although I don't feel 100% terrific, I did feel good enough today to get out on the bike and ride about 20 miles at a pretty good pace, considering. I think this was the first time I rode so soon after treatment. So I'm feeling pretty good about that.

It was a beautiful early fall day in Illinois and I got out of work in time to take full advantage of it.

To the river and back. Bad cell phone picture included at no extra charge.


I enjoyed the day. Hope you did too.

1st day after 4th chemo 09-28-2010

1st day after 4th chemo 09-28-2010

Not feeling too bad. A little bit of hiccups (nothing like before) but mostly I've had indigestion and urpiness. Made the mistake of having a spicy Mexican entree for lunch and I've had it about 120 times since. First time was the best I must say.

I was a little wired earlier today but now I actually feel a little fatigued.

Also, the usual detached feeling and floaty head are present. And I've taken Tylenol two times for headaches today.

Trying to stay ahead of the curve and be a regular guy. Here's hoping.


It's about 9 PM. I'm going to grab a snack (gotta maintain all this weight I've worked so hard to put on) take my lorazepam, watch a little TV and hit the hay as soon as the sandman arrives.

**

My main boss at work, the guy who hired me, Chuck, is a little under the weather presently. He's scheduled for a medical procedure tomorrow. He took a chance on an unknown quantity when he hired me 6 years ago and he's been great to me through all my challenges. I talked to him tonight and he's in good spirits. Here's a shout out to Chuck, hoping everything goes well.

Chemo # 4 09-27-2010

Chemo # 4 09-27-2010

*** WARNING, this is pretty boring!!! no pictures, either***

Reported for duty at 7:25.

OK, for starters, I gained 7 freaking pounds! In 3 freaking weeks! Maybe that's why I was dragging ass on some of those bike rides. 199.8 lbs. Dr. said maybe now my body is getting some of the nutrition that the cancer was getting before. I think it's just because I've been eating SO much. Prednisone gives me a big appetite. And then I use my frustrating medical condition, lack of taste, etc. as an excuse to strap on a big feed bag.

Counts - wbc 3.5 (LOWest it's been, and out of range) rbc 4.65, hemo 13.9, platelets 152, gran abs 1.9.

I get the feeling from the nurse AND the doctor that they feel my wbc will soon force them to kick my bone marrow in the ass to get it back in range... I think it would be a nuprogren (sp?) injection. We'll see. (Editor's note: It's Neupogen, hello!)

Dr.R asked how I'd been feeling. I told him it took a little longer to get back to normal this time and that I had a little bout with constipation and quite a few minor headaches lately. He asked if I had any more trouble with numbness and I told him very little.

Dr. R. told me to be sure to stay ahead on the anti constipation front via over the counter products, and I am a believer now. Hopefully I won't have to deal with that again. He said the chemo drug vincristine was the likely culprit.

I asked him if my experience with chemo was typical given my diagnosis and the specific regimen I'm on. He said, "well, you're young..." so there was that again. Young is in the eye of the beholder, I guess, and if your patients' average age is 65 (I'm pulling a number out of the air) maybe 52 seems young.

Flu shot: doc said it's ok to get one, 2 weeks post chemo. Nurse said she thinks the standard flu shot includes swine flu vaccine as well this year.

PET scan coming in two weeks also.

I told Dr. R. what the Dermatologist told me (I hadn't gotten a chance to 'blog that yet, sorry).

BEGIN REPORT FROM MY DERMATOLOGIST VISIT 9/23:

That strange thing on my back? Turns out it's a seborrhoeic keratoses, which is a benign epidermal neoplasm, but you probably already knew that, huh? It's a funky but harmless skin lesion.

It's a 'tose, not an 'oma! Sweet!

Anyway, evidently these sometimes develop but they are harmless. They can bleed easily if scratched sometimes. At least that's what I got out of it. He said if I DID get another one, he would want to have a look at it to be sure.

He gave me a good looking over and said I should have my warts blasted. About a year ago I got my first ever wart on my middle finger left hand. I put some meds on it but it never really went completely away. Just recently I developed one on a finger on my right hand and then a tiny one back on the other hand.

The derm doc said with my immune system being compromised with chemo, the warts can run wild. He said it would be best to blast them before they take off. So he cryo blasted 'em and said I should see him again in a month.

He also did a body scan and didn't find any suspicious activity.

I feel obliged to tell you that I was expecting some sort of bad news from this guy, but it all worked out OK.

BACK TO CHEMO

Chemo went well. I hardly napped at all. Got back in my Jeep at 1:09 and was going to go back to work but decided against it (with some prodding via text from Sherri. They must have been stealing stuff from my office and didn't want me to catch them). I've felt mostly fine. I started back on the prednisone and sennokot and now lorazepam. Slight headache is my only symptom.

Came home and lounged, watched the Bears (3 and 0? I've seen it but I still don't believe they're that good). And now I'm not that tired (come on, lorazepam) so I thought I should blast this out.

4 in the rearview mirror, 2 in the windshield.

Thanks for checking.

**
I'm a great-great uncle. Again.

My niece Jonna had girls. Only. 5 of them. Her daughter Alison had girls. Only. 3 of them.

Tonight Jonna's daughter Missy had a baby. Girl..... NO BOYS in that family!

That great a concentration of estrogen could be dangerous!

Congratulations, love and best wishes to Missy and baby girl (no name yet).

09-26-2010

09-26-2010

My second cousin died last week, after a 3 year battle with cancer (leukemia, in this case). I only knew him from family reunions and didn't even know he was sick. He was 364 days older than me. He left behind a wife and 3 children.

**

Tomorrow's Chemo Day, number 4.

I felt really good today. I mowed and trimmed the lawn, burned some yard clippings and an old picnic table we'd cut up. It was sunny and cool this morning. Then this afternoon it was overcast and cool. It was windy all day.



This afternoon I had a really nice bike ride, 26 miles. Funny but today the hills really didn't bother me at all and the wind didn't either. What a difference a couple days make!

I visited my father in law's grave in Millington.



I love to ride but sometimes I wish I had someone to ride with. Then today, something occurred to me. What if I had someone to ride with me but they couldn't keep up? Or, what if I had someone to ride with but I couldn't keep up with them? That might be a drag.

For me, so far, riding is a solitary pursuit. The thing about riding is that I'm alone with my thoughts. I can think through a problem I'm having or I can just not think at all, just keep mindlessly turning the pedals. Or I can concentrate on my riding technique, or on climbing a hill. Whatever I want to do, I do, because it's all mine.

And, I am only racing myself. There's no one to compare myself to, no one to compete against but myself.

Why do I ride? I've asked myself that question a million times. I ride because I feel good when I ride, I feel good after I ride, and I feel good thinking about my next ride. There are a ton of other explanations I could offer (physical fitness, endorphin release, setting / accomplishing goals) but it all boils down to how it makes me feel. Riding is its own reward. I dare you to find out for yourself.

When I first got back in the saddle 3 years ago, I really surprised myself by sticking with it. If I would find a reason NOT to ride one day, I'd beat myself up about backing out after-wards. It occurred to me that I could think of a million reasons to back out and it would be SO easy just to say, 'chuck it, I'm not going'. But if I took all that negative energy and turned it into positive energy by just turning the pedals, I could accomplish something.

15 years ago or so I used to run - a little bit - and it did wonders for me. But I got away from it and although I tried to go back, it never worked for me again. One problem I had was that I pulled a muscle high up on the back of my right leg one time and if I run, I have a problem with that. It gets so sore I can hardly walk. I imagine I must have partially torn a muscle or something and it doesn't bother me unless I push it a little too far. But oh, boy, if I do go too far, I pay dearly. So I gave up running.

I couldn't swim to save my life, so that's not an option.

I really don't like walking but I will do it if I have to. Last winter I walked at an inside track. Boring but effective.

Which brings me to riding. Low impact, anyone can do it, and you can make it whatever you want to make it. You can even make it no exercise at all, by pedaling a little bit and coasting a lot. And I see a lot of people doing just that. Hey, we're Americans, we want to have our cake and eat it too. Lots of it. Then we want to take a pill to make us skinny. We want to act like we are exercising, we buy a bike and pedal 1% of the time and coast the other 99% of the time. And then bitch because we're not losing weight or getting in shape. And then we're so stressed by all this that we need a chocolate donut. Or 2.

But if you get on the bike and slowly work your way up to some decent distances, and concentrate on slowly but surely eliminating the coasting... pretty soon you're actually EXERCISING. And hopefully enjoying it. So you might even keep doing it.

And it's not that hard, and it seems like a ride in the country. Because it is.

You can find bike trails or a country road or some nice side streets in the city. Personally, I don't feel like I want to spend half of my allotted time getting to the venue, so my ride starts when I pedal out of my garage. I have a lot of nice roads around here, and my preferred ride is a road bike, so paved roads it is.

The biggest challenge for me is the motorized vehicles I encounter. You meet all kinds of drivers.

Most people are very courteous. They may not like you on the road with them, but they do accommodate you, some only begrudgingly.

Next are the uninformed, distracted, or unaware. These people mean you no harm but don't understand the law or maybe don't realize how their driving endangers you.

Then we have the first class assholes. They would run you over for sport, then (if they were caught, they would never stop on their own) they would claim you pulled right out in their path and there was no way they could avoid you. There are not a lot of these people out there, but believe me, there are some. And since you don't know when you will encounter these people, you have to assume that every driver you encounter MIGHT fall in this category. Or you could get yourself killed.

These are sick, evil bastards. I have had people pass me at 60 or 65 miles per hour, probably 8" from my left ear. Not funny, not cute, just plain deadly. I truly believe that if they came back to confront me (after I flipped them off) I would physically assault them. I'm not like that. But for them I'd likely make an exception.

I have had my share of close encounters just as anyone who rides a lot has. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that there are bicyclists who don't obey the law, too. As usual, a few ruin it for everyone else.

I weigh under 200 pounds. I have a Styrofoam helmet. My bike weighs 15 or 20 pounds. I am no match for any motorized vehicle on the road. The law says motorists have to share the road with, and make accommodations for, bicyclists. They don't have to like it, they just have to do it.

I love to ride and I try to choose my roads carefully, for traffic, visibility, etc. There's nothing I can do about the idiot that might kill me but be vigilant, ride defensively, watch my mirror, and be prepared to dive into the ditch if I have to.

I won't give up the hobby I love because some people are idiots. But I do try to minimize my risk.

Tomorrow, Chemo Number 4. After that, only 2 more to go.

Thanks for checking in. Have a great week.

Levels 09-21-2010

Levels 09-21-2010

My levels are good: (see chart) wbc 5.4, rbc 4.62, hemo 13.8, platelets 161, gran abs 3.5.

As usual, click on the chart to view larger version, use browser's back button to get back here.




OK, I look at how my levels fluctuate and I CAN'T FIGURE AN EFFING THING OUT FROM THAT!

Or am I just stew-pid? Rhetorical question, please don't answer. Out loud, anyway.

I think I may need to graph that to see if there's any rhyme or reason.

OK, I graphed it (the Cs at the bottom show when I had chemo):


Note that to keep the chart readable, I had to do some manipulation on the numbers, e.g., divide the platelets by 20, etc. Otherwise the chart was unusable because the wide range of numbers flattened everything out.

Even after I chart it, I CAN'T FIGURE AN EFFING THING OUT FROM LOOKING AT IT!

Maybe it shows that taking prednisone brings your levels back up. And nothing much affects your rbc or hemoglobin. What is just occurring to me is that I should have charted my bike rides to see if there was any correlation with exercise and levels. Wait, that would be goofy.

OK, I'll admit it. Looks like the chart was a stew-pid idea. But it kept me entertained for a while. Maybe it's time to stop tracking this.

I have been feeling good and riding my bike quite a bit.

Last week at the end of the week I rode 21 mi. Thursday, 25 Friday, and 25 on Sunday, tonight I did 21. I don't feel exactly as good as I did pre-chemo. May through August I kicked the hills' asses. I could ride in a tall gear and climb the hills without hardly breaking a sweat or even grabbing a lower gear. Now it's definitely more of a chore and when I get to the top I am grabbing gears and chugging a bit. I had plans for this year, including at least a couple of centuries (100 mile rides). But that didn't work out.

If it weren't for the cancer and the chemo, I'd be pretty bummed about it. But I've basically taken every 3rd week off. It's hard to recover from that quickly, especially at my advanced age (I think my scientific name is fossil-us AARP-eligible-us).

I keep reminding myself I have FREAKIN' cancer, I'm in CHEMO-FREAKIN'-THERAPY and I'm fiftyFREAKIN' two years old. So I think the thing to do is thank my lucky stars and figure that next year will be my break out year, cycling wise.

Yeah, a break out year at 53. It could happen. Not.

I could break out in a rash, maybe.

Oh, another thing. Obviously my treatment has been going very well. I would like to take the proper amount of credit for that. Zero would be the proper amount. I think I've been doing well because of 1) the miracle of modern medicine, 2) excellent health care via Dr. R. and the staff at the clinic, and 3) dumb luck. And some stuff I've read seems to validate that viewpoint.

I spoke to a business acquaintance the other day who lost both parents to cancer. She told me her father had brain cancer. His chemo treatments were given 21 days out of every 28 for 20 months. He was miserable. At the end of it, he died anyway.

My treatments are 1 day out of every 21 for a total of less than 4 months (not counting maintenance). I have hardly been sick.

So I feel very fortunate and almost guilty. Things could be a lot worse.

So far, I've gotten a good prognosis, have had excellent care, and have barely been sick. If I beat this rap, it will be thanks to all the good care I am getting and me not screwing it up by doing something stupid.

Monday's my next chemo and I'm going to ask the doctor when he'll do another PET scan. I'm thinking that must be coming up pretty soon and I'm anxious to see how I'm doing.

If all goes well, I should be done with my chemo (except for the maintenance) before Thanksgiving. I don't remember the last time I was so excited about a holiday.

Hope all is well with you and yours. Don't put off that checkup!

Levels 09-14-10

Levels 09-14-10

(Editor's note: this was originally published with the wrong date. Hello!)

Dear Diary, er, I mean, Dear 'blog,

My levels are all OK. Click on picture to view, BACK button on browser to return here.


I am feeling better, I would say I'm pretty close to 100% now. I have been functional, as far as that goes, just not feeling completely like myself, and I would say the issue is mostly a lingering, dull headache.

I'm trying to think of how to describe it for you... lingering, dull headache... hmm.... won't go away.... hmm...... have you ever been married? It's like that.

OK, that was a joke, honey, I swear, I was kidding. Please don't hit me. Again. Please.

So, anyway, my point being that it takes longer after each successive chemo to get back to normal. Took about 6 days this time. And then after I do get back to "normal" it seems like I am more susceptible to headaches than I was previously.

Not complaining, just 'blogging, you understand.

**

After my blood draw/level readout, I jetted home, wolfed down some chow and hopped on my trusty steed for a quick ride. It was late enough that I had to sprint, basically, to get in 11 miles and get back home before dark.

With regards to cycling, I definitely felt better than I did the other day, but still not exactly my best. Having said that, I hasten to add that I think the difference (cycling wise) between 2 months ago and now is due to not riding enough and therefore getting out of condition, NOT chemotherapy.

**

The nurse that has drawn my blood is a contract employee. We had chatted every time I had a draw and she had told me that she and her husband were selling their house and moving somewhere else. She has been interviewing for a new job at some different locations. She still hasn't landed anywhere yet. When she took this draw, she told me it was her last day.

After she reviewed my results with me, I told her that although this journey wasn't one I would have chosen, I had certainly met some nice folks along the way, including her, and thanked her for her help. We exchanged a hug and best wishes. I hope everything works out for her.

**

I notice that the nurses at the cancer center seem to enjoy their work. I'm sure that's a difficult job at times. I'm sure the terminal cases and people who really suffer present situations that are difficult to cope with. But I guess the patients who are in for a tough time are in for that tough time no matter who their nurses are. So for nurses who are good at their jobs and have good people skills, maybe it's an opportunity to make a positive difference in someone's life, at the MOST important time.

**

Thanks for checking on me! Take care of yourself.

WEEKEND ending 9-12-2010

WEEKEND ending 9-12-2010

Kind of a boring weekend. Friday and Saturday I had a dull headache pretty much the whole time. I didn't do much. Friday after work when I got home, there was a book waiting for me. My sister Mary sent me Robert Penn's "It's All About The Bike". Terrific book for a cyclist nut like me, and highly recommended.

A guy who's ridden bikes his whole life, literally all around the world, decides to build a bike to his exact specifications, from the custom frame to the spokes, seat, etc. As he tells the story of his custom tailored bike, he revisits the history of the bicycle. Sounds boring, I'm sure, but it was actually a great read. Then sister Mary sent me links (youtube) to the original videos (BBC) of his adventures when he was putting this bike together. So, Friday PM and Saturday off and on all day, I read the book and watched the videos. Reading the book was a terrific way to ride out a "feel bad" storm. THANKS, MARY!

Also on Saturday, Austin had gotten some paint and wanted a football field painted out back so we did that (!) and cooked burgers for dinner. Then we watched some TV. I was feeling about 60% of normal, I'd say.

This morning I felt better, so the whole family road tripped to Montana Charlie's, a flea market up in Bolingbrook. Julie's idea. $3 admission for a carload. There were some bargains there and some interesting stuff to look at. It was a beautiful day and we had a good time there.

After we got home, I watched some of the White Sox (done, they're done!) and Bears (suck, they suck!) games (funny thing is they both WON and I'm still disparaging them) and then worked on my bike a little bit. Ever since I got caught in a downpour about 2 months ago, squeaks keep showing up when I ride my bike. What's happened is that the rain drove the lube out of some strategic metal to metal contact points. Today I finally got brave enough to disassemble the headset and found another lubricant-starved location. Then I hit the road.

It felt good to ride again, but I don't think I had ridden in a week and it felt like it. I didn't have the lungs or legs I usually have for the climbs. Not sure if it was because I hadn't ridden lately or because I'm feeling the effects of the chemo. Then again, I have been eating like a hog since my last chemo, maybe that had something to do with it, too. I did about 22 miles and by the end, it was a little bit like I was ENDURING it instead of the usual, which would be just knocking it out. But better that I'm sitting here GLAD tonight that I did it instead of REGRETTING that I didn't.

I would say that today I felt about 75-80% of my usual self today. Still had a little bit of a headache through a lot of the day. But things do taste normal again, which is great.

I notice that the inside of my mouth is a little tender. I'd heard that could happen, because the chemo attacks cells that divide a lot and the cells in your mouth would fall in that category. Soft toothbrush, gentle flossing, and zero-alcohol mouth wash are in order.

Have a great week!

09-09-2010 2nd day after 3rd Chemo

09-09-2010 2nd day after 3rd Chemo

Hello,

Some of this I hesitate to share, but in the interest of accurately documenting my journey, I feel I should.  If you are squeamish, turn back now!
.....

.....

.....



YOU WERE WARNED, HERE GOES!

Last night Captain Constipation stopped by.

I hate that guy!

It was not pleasant, dear reader. 

I will try not to get too graphic here.  The battle raged all night and into the morning and finally about 3 AM it was all over, after the echoes of my tortured screams died out

(Editor's note: illustrations omitted)

There, I just wanted to log that, er, I mean, 'blog that.

On a less disturbing front, the hiccups showed up right on schedule yesterday.  Now it's more like a lingering heartburn.  Food is now definitely tasting different.  Even my beloved Diet Coke tastes foreign.  I have eaten like a complete pig today, I think I'm trying to taste something.

Don't know how to describe it but it seems like the hiccups / heartburn / impaired taste is all part of the same thing.  I think it's mutated into nausea as well. 

Not much energy tonight, and the detached, foggy feeling I get is worse now also.

Maybe this is where it starts to get ugly.  The cumulative effects of the chemo may be catching up with me.

I'm still functional (if you don't count that little problem last night) but not having much fun.  BUT I CAN DEAL WITH IT. 

I'm crossing my fingers that I'll bounce back strong in a day or two,when the chemo drugs taper off,  or when I come off the prednisone.

Hope you are doing well.  Thanks for checking in.  Try to cut down on your cheese intake.

Chemo III 09-07-2010

Chemo III 09-07-2010

At 9 AM sharp I walk up to the reception desk. I am called in for for my draw quickly. Nurse says that with the holiday, they are pretty busy. Draw complete and port installed, she sends me back to the waiting room. I steal a couple of ancient gearhead magazines for Chemo. They're two years old, so I don't even it's technically stealing, but if you think so, feel free to call the authorities. Anyway, it's an old trick, I'm getting pretty good at it.

Cancer, and a thief, too. How far I've fallen.

15 min later, next nurse calls me in and takes my vitals: Temp, pulse, BP all OK. Weight CLIMBING to 192.8. I knew that was going to happen, been eating like a horse and haven't been getting my road miles on my bike in like I should, for various reasons. The upside is I'll be halfway through my first regimen for Chemo and I'm gaining weight, go figure.

I tell my nurse I have NHL. Turns out her father has it also. I offer my 'blog address in case he might want to compare notes. We have a nice chat.

Dr. R. arrives, cheery as always. Last week I discovered a strange spot on my back. The history of this is that a few months ago I noticed a bloody scab (sorry to be so graphic) on my back and thought I had just scratched it... then I forgot about it. After that I was diagnosed... and I forgot all about that spot. Last week I was scratching my back and discovered this strange skin texture, next day it was a scab... I believe it's the same spot.

Upshot is he told me to call dermatology and have them take a look. He does NOT seem to be very concerned. I will call.

WHAT THE HELL ELSE will I be diagnosed with? Not to complain, but my body is wearing my ass out right now. Enough with the afflictions, already. I just want to treat my Lymphoma and be done. I don't want anything else that ends in -OMA, can I get a freakin' AMEN, brothers and sisters? Thank you! The collection plate is coming your way, please give generously.

OK, I'll stop complaining, at least until I see how this plays out. And I had just mentioned how lucky I was to be gaining weight.

Dr. R. asked how I was doing. I told him that other than a couple of recent headaches (a near-migraine Monday morning) that I was doing pretty well. Don't like prednisone but I can tolerate it.

He asks about numbness... OK, that's what I was NOT going to mention because I had some numbness in my feet a couple years ago and they couldn't figure it out. They thought it was a pinched nerve. A back Xray came out OK and we never looked past that because it went away shortly afterwards. But the last few days my left foot has had numbness / tingling. So now that he's asked, I tell him that. He says if it gets worse to let him know. I tell him I will. Asks about the sedative and I am careful to mention that I ONLY take it when I'm on the 'roids (and that's the truth, to quote Edith Ann).

He starts doing the administrative stuff on his computer, then pauses and turns to me and says, "OK, my friend, go and get your treatment". He stands up and shakes my hand with both of his, smiles, and sees me out the door.

I get such a great vibe from this guy. He always seems concerned and sincere and has a great smile that seems genuine. I guess the things that would have escaped me at 22 now really touch me at 52. Maybe because I saw my life pass before my eyes when I was first diagnosed? Maybe because I've buried a parent, an in law, siblings? Or because I have been blessed to have some terrific people that have helped my special needs kids?

Or maybe because I've simply become a soft old man?

Many of the things I just mentioned are not unique to me, they have happened to or likely WILL HAPPEN to anyone that lives long enough. It's just so nice to have such "dear hearts and gentle people" on my side and looking out for me. At 22 I never would have noticed, but at 52 I am acutely aware.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really appreciate this Dr.'s help and the special gift he has for helping people. I know it's his job, but not everyone I've encountered in this journey has had this gift (although many truly have). He has helped make a traumatic event very tolerable. I wish good things for him and his family.

While I can't know for certain this Dr.'s religion (or even if he has one), I believe he is probably Muslim. And that brings me to another point, something I read about in the news today: why (in the name of God) would you have a party to burn Qurans? I'm not saying all Muslims are like my Dr. And I'm not saying my Dr. is like all Muslims. What I AM saying is it's pretty Stupid to burn Qurans, that's all. Just as Stupid as it would be to burn Bibles or Talmuds or whatever.

To condemn an entire religion for the actions of a few doesn't make that religion look bad, it makes those burning the books look Stupid. But obviously, some people are So Stupid that can't even see that they're Stupid. There's no hope for them, they're just Stupid. And if they've entered the gene pool, we need more chlorine.

Did Lennon have the right idea? "Imagine there's no countries*It isn't hard to do*Nothing to kill or die for*And no religion, too*Imagine all the people*Living life in peace*

Dreamers? I don't think there are any dreamers left.

Here's an idea for all the religious zealots out there, no matter what God you worship: Drop your religion. You are mentally unequipped to interpret the message. How many people have been killed by other misguided morons in the name of your God? Adopt a new philosophy. All you have to remember is this: Treat others like you would like to be treated. Live by that rule and the world will be a better place, I promise. Don't pray, don't chant, don't wait for Divine Intervention, you sorry dumbasses. Just leave other people alone.

I guess a reply from the Amen chorus might seem inappropriate here.

Sorry, I got off on a rant there. I'm back now, and I feel better. But trust me, there is NO HOPE!

Chemo: Nurse Becky (WSox fan, excellent!) did a nice job taking care of me. First she gave me my levels: wbc 4.3, rbc 4.71, hemo 13.9, platelets 163, gran abs 2.7. Charts will follow soon. Everything is in range except the WBC which is barely below (it should be 4.4 to 10.4). Although wbc was low, it wasn't low enough to stop Chemo.

The Administration of Poison went smoothly, swimmingly, even snoozily (I slept a LOT). My friend Ben E.Dryl kicked my sorry ass. I rolled over sideways in the recliner and slept like a baby, in the fetal position. I had it all going except for sucking my thumb. And for good measure, after I woke up I ate everything in my chemo-bag: Two Quaker Oats Bars Of Some Sort, and an entire bag of my patented Cinna-Corn (microwave popcorn tossed with cinnamon and nutra sweet, it will take the top of your head off). Washed it down with Diet Coke.

Next time I'll pack a more wholesome lunch. Promise.

The trusty Chemo Bag:

I got done about 2:35 and headed... to the junk yard for a tail light for my Cherokee as the original had been busted in an unfortunate but very minor accident in my driveway. And since I had to drive past work to get to the scrap heap, I reported to my desk for about an hour and a half, thereby setting a personal best for working THE DAY OF Chemo. I'm so proud I could just get all puffy!


I'M HALFWAY DONE WITH THE FIRST ROUND!

On the ride home I jumped back on the Steroid Express. Then I came home and installed my tail light and had some dinner. I'm feeling a little disconnected, as usual. And a little wired. Now when I'm caught up on the 'blog, I'll drop some lorazepam and hit the hay. And no doubt I'll dream, of hiccups, of swollen ankles and swollen cheeks. You caught me, now YOU MAY SAY I'M A DREAMER!

**

A couple weeks ago I was waiting to get my levels checked when a lady walked out from the care area. I don't even know how to begin to describe her. She was probably 50-ish and absolutely had the look of death to her. There was a color, or lack of color to her that was striking. Her being and her clothes gave off the same signal: inanimate, vacant, lifeless.

Our eyes met and I am sure that mine betrayed me and flashed pity. I did my best to give a weak smile and I quickly looked away. To stare or to even look again would have robbed her of whatever dignity she had left at that point.

I was so disappointed in myself. I felt like I had a look into her soul and saw that her light was fading. And that when she looked at me, she knew exactly what I was thinking. It was the last thing I'd want to communicate to this fellow patient.

But this was an unconscious, involuntary reflex, honestly. And there was no way I could stop it.

She presented as miserable, spent, and defeated, but was doing her best to put a good face on it. I hope she was just bottoming out on her treatments and would soon be on the way back, but obviously I have no way of knowing.

My conscious reaction was that this person was losing her battle. But what really struck me more than anything was that she was ALONE. I tried to imagine what she was going through and what she was thinking, and more than anything, WHERE WERE HER PEOPLE? I thought about 'blogging it, but quite honestly it was so unsettling that I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wish I had so that I could have done the encounter justice. I feel something's been lost in my description because I waited so long to put thoughts into words.

Today in the waiting room there was an elderly woman, I would estimate her at 80 or so. She had an oxygen container and the cannula in her nose. She was sound asleep, mostly, and all alone. She had the funniest little snore going. I can't explain it but it sounded more like a machine than a human. Maybe it was the breathing apparatus making the noise, I don't know for sure. She did not look good. I made it a point not to make eye contact this time. Out of respect, no one did.

I see all these different people in the waiting room, in the chemo room, in the parking lot. All God's children. And I wonder what their stories are. Some look upbeat, like they've just hit a little bump in the road. And some look like these 2 ladies I'm talking about here, like they are nearing the end of their journey on this planet.

What is the 80-ish lady on oxygen doing here? Is she extending her life by 6 months?
Is she extending it by 10 years? If / when she's cured, will she be able to get off the oxygen? How did she get here when she can't even stay awake in the waiting room?

WHERE ARE HER PEOPLE? How sad that she faces this alone. Does she have sons/daughters/grandchildren? Well, where in the hell are they? Does she go to church? Couldn't someone from church help her out? Can't someone that she knows come to her aid? Has she hidden her cancer from everyone, for fear of burdening them?

The poor soul.

Julie and I have two special needs children. They would never be able to help us out in a similar situation. If we get sick in our old age, will our fate be to die miserable, terrified, and alone? I don't think so. But these people probably didn't think so, either.

Speaking only for myself, I think I would fix miserable. I think I could fix terrified.

Alone would be tough.

Levels, etc. 8-31-2010

Levels, etc. 8-31-2010

I apologize for not 'blogging for a while, but my status is very Bo-ring!  I guess I feel like I've settled into a very predictable routine.  Thing is, if I want people to read my 'blog, I have to update it on some kind of regular basis.  I'll try harder. 

Levels yesterday, 8/30, as shown, click to enlarge, use back button to return.

Chemo next Tuesday, 9/7.  I usually get Chemo on Mondays,  but I guess the staff wants off for Labor Day!  Go figure!

I'm feeling very good.  Last week I managed to get out on the bike 3 times, for a total of about 50 miles, which was pathetic.  Part of the reason was that I had some stuff going on, but really I could and should have done better.  This week I had levels last night, then went to see my mom tonight, so no bike rides yet.  Hopefully I'll get a few more rides in yet this week.

My mom is doing well.  Seems to be getting her mind around the idea of being in a care facility while she heals up. Tonight when I arrived to see her, I bumped into my brother Ed and sister Deb, singing for the folk.  It was very well received.  The two biggest sing alongs were Home on the Range and God Bless America. 

 I'm sure it's nice for the people to hear live music, real people singing familiar tunes.  Nothing lifts the spirit quite like music. 

They sang quite a mix, a few religious songs (The Old Rugged Cross got a nice sing along), Everly Brothers, ...some Jim Croce (I Got a Name...no, wait, I got a... No. 2 engine out!).

OK, that joke was in very bad taste, but as we all know, tragedy + time = comedy and so that is what I was going for.  Feel free to crack jokes about me when I'm gone.  We both know you will.

Anyway, my mom's doing OK, waiting for the arm to heal so she can get to rehab.  She's impatient but seems to be settling in for the long haul.

Our pals The Bs belong to Florida now. A bunch of us helped them load their moving truck on Saturday.  Saturday night we posed for our version of the "Last Supper".  Judging from the picture, our Last Supper was grain based, pretzels and hops.

Notice the LIVESTRONG bling.

Monday morning they closed on the sale of their house and pointed their moving truck south.  About 9:00 tonight we got a picture of them in their new home in The Villages.  Our 'hood will never be the same. 

Austin was crushed, I'm sorry to report.  But he's doing better now.

RANDOM THOUGHTS:

My beloved White Sox are in the playoff hunt, at least, and that makes things interesting.  I find sports a nice distraction in my old age.

I've been DVRing some old movies.  For some reason, I like watching them.  I don't mind that they're in  B & W.  I've watched 3 or 4 old Bogart films recently, Dark Passage, Key Largo, The Big Sleep, Treasure of the Sierra Madre (the ORIGINAL source of "Badges? We don't need no stinkin' badges!"). 

OK, was Bogey a matinee idol?  Or were people drawn to him because they perceived him to be a good actor?  He was a scrawny dude, looked old in every movie I remember seeing him in, baggy eyes, and his teeth were pretty tobacco stained...

Betsy Bacall, to me was a babe in her day (is she still alive?).  I do "get" her as a star.... Bogey, I'm not so sure.

Edward G. Robinson (Johnny Rocco, Key Largo) was part lizard.  You expect him to zap a fly with his tongue from about 10 feet away at any moment.  A face only a mother could love, indeed.

Why did they pull their pants up to their armpits, back in the day?  Most of the stuff you see in the old movies seems pretty normal.  Then you see a guy whose shoulder blades are rubbing the top of his waistband, and it makes you wonder wt_ was up w/that.

And the ties, which hung down about 3" below the knot?  Was there a textile shortage?  Please explain.

Here's another thing that LEAPS out at me:  Hair care products in 1948 were for shee-ott. Girls hair looks like a giant frizz bomb.  What's up with that?

... So, like I said, very boring right now. I guess I should hope something exciting happens, but maybe I shouldn't wish for that either. 

Hope this finds you all well.  Thanks for checking in.  I'll be 'blogging again real soon.

Levels 08-23-2010

Levels 08-23-2010

Levels are good (what's up with my wbc? way up!), click on a chart to see full size, use back button on browser to return to this page.

Here are the specific counts: wbc 7.4, rbc 4.8, hemo 14.1, gran abs 4.8.

Positive changes are in white boxes, negative changes are in pink, e.g. "11%" in a white box means the count went UP 11% whereas "-2%" in pink means the count went DOWN 2%.

Feeling OK, I wouldn't say terrific yet, though. Coming off the prednisone this time wasn't as dramatic as last time.

Saturday 08-21-2010

Saturday 08-21-2010

I took my last prednisone for this cycle of chemotherapy yesterday morning. My ankles are still swollen but hopefully not for much longer. I don't feel too bad today, just a little tired. Looking forward to tomorrow.

**

Today we went to see my mother at the nursing home. She fell last week (see previous entry) and broke her right arm. Since she can't take care of herself, she's gone to the home to heal up and get the help she needs for daily living.


After she heals, the plan is for rehab and then to get her back home.

Here's the story:

Jori is nice enough to watch our kids so we can visit my mom. It's strange to be without both of our kids on the ride over. It's about 30 miles and Julie and I are anxious to see my mom, but a little bit apprehensive as well.

50+ years ago the nursing Home was the site of the Harris Hospital, although the original building is long gone. Some of my older brothers and sisters were born there. At some point a new hospital was built across town (so long ago that its replacement is going up now) and the Harris became the Mendota Lutheran Home. It has grown and grown and grown since then. It now takes up almost an entire city block.

My father's mother lived there for some time before her death. She died there in 1978... or 1979. I had seen her there shortly before she died. That was the last time before today that I had been in the building. 31 or 32 years ago.... where did the time go? And I moved away in about 1981 or so.

We enter the building and Julie's first comment is about how clean and nice it is. Thank God (Lutherans, God, get it?) for that. We ask directions and find out we came in the wrong entrance and have to traipse through the entire, sprawling complex to find her. There are residents sitting in common areas, some asleep, some conversing. We are directed to a room with a Dorothy C, but the last name on the door is wrong... someone else stops to help and finally we find her room.

When we enter, my mom is sleeping in her bed. There is a bruise on the right side of her face from when she fell and it makes both Julie and I cringe. Her arm is in a sling and she has a call button strapped to her blouse. We look around the room. Spacious, spartan, and clean. She has a roommate but she's not in the room now. Mom wakes up.

We both say hello and I give her a kiss. We give her a flower we stopped to buy for her on the way.

Her shoulder is bothering her and she's on painkillers, which have her somewhat confused. She asks about Austin and Tessa and others family members. We have a nice talk and I think she's happy to see us. She asks how my treatment is going.

After a while, she has us page an aide to help her go to the washroom. When the aide opens the door to the washroom she finds mom's roommate tending to some business. Eventually mom uses the washroom. The aide brings her back to her bed. The aide asks if mom will have a tray or eat with the others as it's just about lunch time. Mom's not sure. She asks who's sponsoring the dinner.

A short time later, the aide wheels her to the dining room as grace is said over the PA system. We follow behind. Her table has 2 other ladies and one familiar looking man. As they are waiting to be served, I speak with mom's dinner guests while Julie talks with my mom.

My mom seems uncomfortable. Out of her element. Not in her own dining room. Not in control. This is new to her but given time I'm sure she'll adjust. She has some work ahead of her to get back on her feet. Socializing with other residents would help her pass the time.

Suddenly it occurs to me. "Are you Paul S?" I ask. His eyes light up. "Yes, I am!" "I used to play basketball with your daughter Denise in your driveway" I tell him. Denise S schooled me (and every one else I knew) when it came to basketball. She was what we called a tomboy in my day, and she definitely had game. The S'es had THE best driveway/backboard setup in the neighborhood, Paul had seen to that.

We talk about Denise and his other children, where they are and what they're doing. Paul (where are my manners? I should call him Mr. S) and his family had lived 2 blocks from us when I was growing up. I always remembered him as a quiet, nearly silent, man, with an ever present smile on his face. And there's no mistaking the face or the smile, even 40 odd years later.

One of the other ladies turns out to be the other Dorothy C, whose room we'd mistaken for my mom's. She asks if I played baseball. I tell her that was my brother Dave. I was a good spectator, that was about it (anyone picking up on a theme here? I was NO GOOD at sports!).

Her son is Dan, she says. I remember him, a legendary cross country runner when I was about 15 or so. This was before the running craze started, really. This guy ran and ran and ran and ran. He'd run past our house. Then two hours later you'd be on the other side of town and you'd see him, still running. This was all the time. He never seemed to stop running.

"Dan had to get a metal plate put in his foot".

OK, so maybe now he's stopped running.

The other lady is Lois, my mother's cousin. Always friendly and outgoing, she outlived 2 husbands. She rattles off chapter and verse where each of her children are and what they're doing. Now legally blind, she seems well adjusted nonetheless.

One of the wait staff asks if we are going to stay to eat. Lois tells us it's only $5.50 a plate and it's delicious. We opt out. I tell them that it was like old home week but that we have to be going. We say goodbye and depart.

I imagine this is how my mom felt when she dropped me off for my first day of Kindergarten.

In 1963.

3rd day after 2nd chemo 08-19-2010

3rd day after 2nd chemo 08-19-2010

Almost no hiccups today.  Had a few of those uncomfortable, heartburn type things but they didn't turn into the nonstop hiccups.

Ankles are still swollen.  Seems to be a little hard to stay on task.  And I still feel kind of floaty.

Looking forward to taking the final prednisone of the cycle tomorrow and getting back to being myself.

1st and 2nd days after 2nd chemo 8-18-2010

1st and 2nd days after 2nd chemo 8-18-2010

Going backwards to Monday morning past, here's what my counts were pre - chemo

wbc 4.1
rbc 4.76
hemoglobin 13.7
platelets 156
absolute granulocytes 2.1

From 7 days prior to that, wbc went down 2.2 pts, to out of range low, hemo and platelets went up (both still in range), but the absoulte granulocytes went down to 2.1, still in range. For my next level check, I'll drag the chart out again.

Obviously since they gave me chemo, the low wbc is not a factor... yet. It will be interesting to see if I get to the next chemo session without having to get my levels pumped up.

**

The night after chemo (Tuesday the 17th) I was up late and realized I hadn't taken my new sedative (lorazepam). So I took a half a pill, which was ridiculous because it's already super small. Finally I went to bed even though I didn't really feel sleepy. My hands started to feel funny, like they were vibrating wildly. Hadn't experienced that before. So I just laid there in bed for a while and it finally subsided. I believe I finally fell asleep about 4:00. Then I got up about 6:00.

Went to work and started with the prednisone symptoms. Hiccups, pretty bad. Then in the afternoon, my cheeks started looking puffy. What I also noticed this time is that my ankles are swollen. Never noticed that before but not sure that I had looked. Also, I don't know if the symptoms are progressively worse the longer you stay on the 'roid. This picture is from tonight. Flourescent (bad) lighting, foul looking cankle.


Today, Wednesday, I didn't start out with the hiccups but they showed up before lunch. Then they quit for a while and came back just in time for me to look stupid at my daughter's doctor's appt. It was one of those things where I didn't know if I should mention the cause or not... now that I think about it, maybe I should have. (Did Doc deduce: "Dad's Drinky"?)

I'm not sure when it's appropriate to discuss my chemo outside my circle of friends/family/immediate work associates. Probably because I don't think most people know how to react and might think I'm just looking for sympathy. And I don't want to make people uncomfortable or get distracted from the task at hand.

I came home after that and laid down and watched tv/snoozed a little bit. No hicks. Then I got up and ate and back came the hicks. The Bs came over for a short visit. After they left I worked on my bike for 45 minutes or so.

Now it's 11:15 (which is fascinating considering I took the sedative at 8:30) and the hicks are still here. Sometimes they kind of like reverberate or resonate, like they will flutter for a couple of seconds. They sometimes make you feel like you have heartburn. Kind of a drag but I can deal with them.

Looking back in the 'blog, this is following true to form. Hopefully after tomorrow morning they'll be gone.

Otherwise, I've just got that disconnected feeling a little bit that I had before with prednisone. Don't seem to have the same energy level I had last time though. Maybe I'm not caught up on my sleep.

**

My mom is doing better. The plan is for her to check into a nursing home so they can take care of her while she's without the use of either arm. The ortho thinks slinging, immobilizing, and building up her calcium, etc. along with letting gravity go to work, should allow it to heal on its own. Initially they think 2 weeks in the nursing home and then on to rehab, whether that's at home or somewhere else I don't know.

Anyway, she'd had a rough day yesterday but today her pain is under control and we think the arrow is pointing up.

**

I was questioned about my use of "scrip" for prescription today. Here's what I found:

scrip³, script

n

(Medicine) Informal a medical prescription

[short for prescription]

I had to look on more than one site to find it, so it's a little obscure, but so am I. I believe this usage is more common in GB, maybe?

**

Thanks for checking in.

8-16-2010 Chemo, the Sequel

8-16-2010 Chemo, the Sequel

Hope all is well with you. Thanks for checking in on me.

WARNING - this post is long and ... different. I've had a roller coaster of a day and I guess it comes out in my writing. A lot of artistic license has been taken here. This entry runs the entire gamut, from farce to very serious. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I should have called it Chemo II or something, maybe....

Anyway, 2nd round of chemo was today.

My sister Marta, who spent many years as a nurse at the University of Iowa, and now works at a state prison in Iowa as a nurse (this will be important later in this post), came along to chauffeur me to the appt. I love her dearly, and thanks to her for being there for me.

We stopped at the Dollar Tree en route as I've lost 3 pairs of reading glasses at home and the only pair I had, to take w/me, were my funky-ass construction reading glasses (no correction on top, +1.50 correction on the bottom, THEY ROCK, old people. Check Harbor Freight!) and Jules would rather not have me seen in public with those on. Or private, either for that matter. They make me look like I should be running a table saw or something. Nothing wrong with running a table saw, it's just that I never run a table saw, so why wear the glasses?
While we were at the Tree we also snagged what turned out to be some killer trail mix, which I highly recommend, for chemo or any other application you can think of.

I went in for the draw. The nurse was an interesting, very blunt and matter of fact lady and we had a nice discussion. She did my draws last week and I was GRILLED about each blood component. "You do know what each one DOES, right?"....gulp! "Well, I know SOME of them." Then I got "Well you better know ALL of them, they're very important!" To which I reply, silently, YIKES! Nurse Square Nuts has reported for duty! Audibly, "I will make it a point to understand them."

Just kidding, she was a nice lady, but she expected me to be the informed cancer patient, and that's reasonable. I'll do my best to do my best.

Anyway levels were good, I'll try to get my chart started back up so we can watch for trends.

On to vitals (weight was 190) with another nurse, all good, then the doctor. I introduced him to Marta. Last week Dave, this week Marta... I still got 6 siblings I can throw at 'em! He did the exam and said the tumors (do I call them tumors? They're enlarged or cancerous lymph nodes, I guess they're tumors...) were definitely shrinking.

He asked how I was doing. I told him great, only problems were that I "crashed" a little the day after I went off the steroids, and I had some trouble sleeping on the steroids also. He asked if I was agitated also while on the steroids, I said only by my wife. That was to be expected. He gave me a scrip but told me it was ONLY for the days I was on the 'roids.

On to chemo.

It actually went better this time for some reason. I wonder if maybe one of the IVs didn't go as fast, or maybe since they had it on the chart that I went into hypothermia (the literary device of "exaggeration" has just been employed for comic effect only) last week that they adjusted something.

The new glasses. REORDER CODE is "Grandpa Bookworm". Dollar Tree, Devastating Fashion, FOR A DOLLAR!




All went well as I said, and I only needed one blanket. At this point, I celebrate all victories, big and small.

They have bookshelves with quilts and afghans for us chemo types. They are laundered after every visit, so there's nothing cheesy about them. Our mother has spent the better part of her life making afghans. It will be a large part of her legacy. I tell Marta that we'd best not tell Mom about the afghans or she'll begin a personal crusade to provide 500, by year's end.

Although she was not assigned to my case this week, Nurse Becky and I spoke. I apologized for not adding up 2 and 2 to get four, thereby missing the fact that SHE was Stacy's pal. It was kind of old home week for two Kids from Korn Kountry (Leland and Mendota). She's very friendly.

Marta caught up on all the latest dish as we had stolen some rags like "People, and Celebrity Underwear Drawers, Exclusive Pictures", etc. from the waiting room so that we could divert ourselves from the BO-RING wait. I don't think they'll care that we stole them as they were all circa 1992.


At one point the nurse asks if I'm warm enough, or do I need another blanket? I answer no, and think to myself that the word of my 3_blanket_day on my first round of chemo must have gotten around and that I'm branded forever as a complete wuss.... how sad. Now cancer has stripped me of my dignity, as well.

Now the nurse asks Marta if she's cold. Would she care for a blanket?... What's this, everyone in my family has a defective thermostat now, just because I needed 3 freakin' blankets? I might start to take this personally. Say anything you want about me, but don't drag my sister into it too, OK? But I say nothing. Maybe I am a wuss.

Marta replies, "No, I'm fine. I guess I'm used to it. It's always cold in the prison."

Pins drop in faraway corners of the clinic, and we hear them. All of them. Slowly I realize that the nurse is not breathing. I've got to say something... SAY SOMETHING!!

Finally I come up with "Oh, she WORKS in a prison. She's not an inmate!"

And silently, to myself, in my best Jimmy Cagney voice (think White Heat or Public Enemy), I'm saying "Don't worry about running me and my sister down by questioning our thermostat genes, see? She's not packing a home made shiv! She didn't stand up in the commissary in the Big House bangin' her tin cup on the table and say 'Hey you mother effers, my bro has the big C and I'm bustin' out of here, now, see? It's his second chemo and it's my turn to drive the Lymphoma Limo and haul his ass, and no-one here's gonna stop me, see, not even the warden, see?' "

But I never said that out loud

See?

The tension goes out of the room. Pins drop silently once more. They finish up poisoning me in order to restore my health. We thank everyone and leave.

Marta and I begin to make our way home. We go back to Dollar Tree so she can grab a couple more Trail Mixes and I buy some assorted junk. It's a character flaw I inherited from my mother... well no, I don't really NEED the ZOOM nail clippers with the 2x SUPER MAGNIFICATION, but THEY'RE ONLY A DOLLAR!



You thought I was kidding.

So you pick up a few little gadgets because everything's cheap, and get to the checkout - "Your total is two hundred eighty seven dollars and sixty five cents." What the...?


And then...

Still on our way home, I call my mom. No answer. Call my sister Deb and talk to her. Give her the 411 on my treatment. Ask if she's seen mom as she lives in the same town. No, and sister Sylvia just called Deb looking for her as well. That creepy feeling you get when a loved one turns up missing is present in my gut now. Deb offers that she's probably on her patio talking to the neighbors.

After I hang up, I mention to Marta that it's great to see her since I never do as she lives about 2 & 1/2 hours away. And I rarely talk to Deb, but I have now, 2 times in 2 days as she sent me some blueberry cobbler mix and I called to thank her. Gee, Marta, in case someone wants to talk to their family more, all they have to do is get cancer! Black humor, my specialty.

We pull in the driveway at home and Julie comes out and gives us the news: Deb just called. Mom fell in the parking lot at the grocery store and may have broken her arm. She's en route to the hospital via ambulance.

An update comes in: Her arm is broken, badly. High, near the shoulder socket.

My mother is 85 years old. She is "Granny" to all kids, and proud of it. Bore eleven children. Buried one as a weeks-old infant and lost another who was 47 years old. She never has fully recovered from either of those losses (and never will). Buried her husband of 61 years 7 years ago and has really been lost ever since. Both hips are artificial. A few years ago she fell coming in her back door and got an artificial shoulder as well. Which has failed, and as a result, she's in pretty much constant pain.

Although she needs surgery for the failed shoulder replacement, they are very concerned about anesthesia because she also has developed COPD, even though she never smoked. So she opted to live with the pain because she can still crochet pretty well without that arm. And so now, she falls and breaks the OTHER arm.

Tomorrow the orthopedic surgeon will examine her and lay out her options. I had thought that maybe they'd just go ahead and do BOTH arms but Marta says they would never do that as she'd have to be "under" for too long and they wouldn't risk it. Hope is that they can put pins in this break and it will work out. But she may need another shoulder replacement. So we will see what her choices are, and go from there.

There are a million other sweet little old ladies out there like my mom. On The Home Front, she fought the Second World War. She survived the Depression and is now living through what will probably be the Second Depression. She raised a HUGE family, and has had a good life, all things considered. And so it would be a mistake to categorize her entire life by reviewing only the sad chapters. She's certainly had her share of misery. But so has everyone else.

She's my mother, and she's very special to me and everyone who loves her, just as I'm sure yours is or was to you.

You are born, you live, you die. In between you try to make the world a better place. You make the best of what God gave you, and she definitely has done that. She's got a ton of good memories and is very proud of all her offspring. And in the final analysis, what else is there?

I hope we can get her patched up and going again.

I can't imagine life without her.

And then..

When I talked to my sister Mary about my mom, she told me that her ex-sister in law (whom I will refer to as "K" for privacy reasons) was just told that she has cancer. Her specific situation dictates intense and frequent chemotherapy sessions and she is expected to be very ill. Her long time partner died from cancer very recently.

Tonight I'm wearing my LIVESTRONG bracelet for "K" too.

It will probably never come off.

cellphone text msg update ...Round two of chemo is in the books. it"s all good. film at eleven er i mean more on this later.

8-16-2010 couldn't sleep

8-16-2010 couldn't sleep

Woke up early and I had a couple thoughts in my head about so I thought I'd get them posted.

Chemo, round 2 in about 7 hours.

**

My brother in law Bill sent me an email and asked about Austin -

Steve,

Good luck with the next round of chemo. I hope it kills all the little bastards.

I like reading your blog. In the midst of so much shit it's heartening to read something meaningful.

How are the kids? I'm concerned about Austie. Does he understand what's happening, does he talk about it?

Here's my response:

Bill,

Glad you enjoy reading the 'blog. I enjoy writing it. It's probably therapeutic in a way.

We really haven't said a whole lot to Austin. He knew I had something going on. We told him that I was sick and had to go to the doctor but that I would be OK. I think he picks up on vibes as much as specific conversation and at first the vibe was not good but now it's been good for quite a while so I think he's pretty much at ease.

Austin is big on denial and so if it seems to be going well he won't rock the boat.

Years ago I was unemployed and things were looking pretty bleak. Austin picked up on the miserable moods of both Julie and I and he was feeling very insecure. Although I didn't think he heard us, Julie and I had discussed selling our house. One day I put a political sign up in our front yard (VERY unlike me, I've never done that before or since, but there was a particular candidate that I despised deeply, and so I was moved to "signage" I guess you could say).

When Austin got off his bus that day, I was in the garage. He looked at the sign and his shoulders dropped. He walked in the garage and said "Great!" very sarcastically. I asked him what the problem was. He said "Sellin' the house!" I explained to him that the sign was for an election, not a realtor. So although he can't read and might not understand everything that is said, he is very perceptive.

I realized when I read Bill's email that I had posted previously about Austin being upset, around the time of my surgery. After that I had never really mentioned that Austin seemed to be feeling more secure after we got the prognosis and continued into chemo, with what seem to be favorable results.

The 'blog is an excellent way to communicate but I need to remind myself that I need to be sure to close the loop on some of the details... sorry about the oversight, reader.



**

The Bs.

Steve and Laurie have been our 2-doors down neighbors for 11 years. We have become very good friends. They bought a house in Florida and have finally sold their house here. They're moving out at the end of August.

Their kids and Julie and I had a farewell party for them over the weekend. It was very bittersweet. We are happy for them because they are realizing their dream, but at the same time we are (selfishly, I guess) sad for ourselves because we'll miss them so much.

NOTE TO READER: Being diagnosed with cancer and having your best friends move away, all within a period of less than 2 months, will dramatically illustrate that your life is, indeed, zipping by at the speed of light. Please heed this advice, from someone who knows: Cherish your friends and family and enjoy your good health while you have the chance.

Steve and Laurie have been so good to us, and have been so good to our kids as well. Austin loves them to death and I know he'll have a hard time with this. Very few times in my life have I made friends with people who become as close as family. Steve and Laurie are that kind of special friends.

So Saturday afternoon we lured them out of the house to go to a favorite restaurant, Santa Fe, for a cocktail.



Then we came home for the surprise party.

Drinks followed. Memories were shared. Tears were shed.

Time marches on.

8-10-2010 WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING

8-10-2010 WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING

NOTE: this post is not about lymphoma, it's about riding a bike. Hopefully it's not too boring or repetitive.

So it's gotten to where I have only been biking about once a week. Which is no good.

I've either had work, blood draws, other commitments or bad weather the last couple weeks. I did get out Sunday and did about 15 miles. Last night we had a bunch of things going on. So I told myself that tonight I WOULD NOT BE DENIED!

Only it was freaking hot and freaking humid. But, that's exactly my favorite biking weather, strangely enough. As I was preparing to go, I had both, the missus and the motherinlaw (Jean) telling me I was crazy and I better not go too far IN THIS HEAT!

I wolfed down a quick snack of Cheddar Jack Cheezits and hit the road, with water bottles, cell phone and my sportiest shades.

When I got to the corner, I heard my neighbors Doug and Mandy yell at me from the comfort of their pool that I was crazy. Which I freely admit. The air WAS awfully heavy. But I felt really good and got a good cadence going. I made sure to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

I took a favorite loop of mine, with some good hills. When I got to the river, I took a couple joyrides on a favorite climb. Then I rode into Millbrook and took a little rest in the bank parking lot.

98 degrees at 5:52. Humidity, simply ridiculous.



As I was guzzling water, another biker, young guy, rode by and pointed at me "You OK?".

Well hell yes, I'm OK. What? Does it look like I have cancer or something?



But I didn't say that. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for asking." Dude.

Nice of the guy to check. I didn't think I looked like I was in distress... just old.

Press on, regardless, that's the order of the day. From the bank it's on to Silver Springs, about 2 miles. And I'm cooking, figuratively and literally. This air is drank, not inhaled. It's hot and heavy I have to exert pressure from clear down in my lower abdomen to do the heavy lifting that breathing is on a day like today. I sail along.

I get to SS and I stop to drink some more. Then I decide I'll do a video with my cell phone so I can put it on my 'blog. Riding through the park is one of my favorite rides. There is a downhill section in the open, hard right, then a de-lightful cruise with some little bumps... now under a canopy of trees. Keep up a nice cadence and you can really haul.

Traffic is all one way, so no worries about oncoming cars. Then after a little while in the shade, you come out at a corner of one of the (Silver) springs and into the light. That part always makes me think of being born, into the light. Hard left and downhill, another left and fly right along, more springs on your left, the Fox on your right.

So I get the cell phone ready and take off... and run out of memory in about 4 seconds. I didn't get the video. But there's another one on youtube I took a few months ago if you'd like to see it (sound off the cellphone doesn't work right on youtube but you do get the visual):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NTOkEJ5chE

I cruise through the park, climb the hill back up and out, out the entrance right, right again, down the hill, cross the mighty Fox again, left on Millhurst, right on Burr Oak for the last hill. Like Jimmy Buffet, I "cruise on back home".

Legs are pistons pumpin', lungs are working hard and I feel great.

I wheel back into the neighborhood. Doug and Mandy are no longer in their pool. In my garage, I hop off my bike and just now realize that I am drenched in sweat.

18.386 miles in 1:16:19. About 14.5 MPH. Not great, but the old man feels a little younger right now.

That is WHAT I'VE BEEN MISSING. Wish you could come with me sometime. We'd have a blast.

08-09-2010 Blood Levels

08-09-2010 Blood Levels

Got my weekly blood level check. ALL my levels are considered to be OK. See charts which show deltas 1) week to week and 2) this week versus start, pre chemo. Positive changes are in white boxes, negative changes are in pink, e.g. "11%" in a white box means the count went UP 11% whereas "-2%" in pink means the count went DOWN 2%.

CLICK ON THE CHART TO BE ABLE TO READ IT. THEN USE YOUR BROWSER'S BACK BUTTON TO RETURN TO THE 'BLOG.






Seems like the ones to watch are wbc, rbc, hemo, and absolute granulocyte. I probably represented a different subset previously, that would have been due to my own ignorance. This time the nurse wrote explanations on the printout. This is my take:

wbcs fight infection, rbcs carry oxygen and ALSO carry carbon monoxide to the lungs where it can be expelled, hemo carries oxygen, platelets enable your blood to clot, and absolute granulocyte is a representation of your "BEST white blood cells" to fight infection. The Marines of blood cells, so to speak. The few, the proud, the Absolute Granulocytes!

Levels this week: wbc 6.3, rbc 4.56, hemo 13.0, platelets 138, abs gran 3.8.

She had trouble w/my port, second week in a row. For some reason they poke me and then it's like a dry well, no blood comes out without a bunch of gyrations or a re-stick. This week same as last week, except she didn't have to stick me twice.

She was having me turn my head to the left, put one arm up, try both arms up, "bear down"(?), all kinds of stuff. It was the "HokeyPokey" for sure, but it could have been worse. It could have been "La Macarena".

She finally got it to work, but it was a struggle. Evidently the needle bottoms out or is too close to the side of the well to work effectively.

With regards to counts, she said sometimes levels fluctuate in 7 days, sometimes in 14, depending on the specific drugs used, physical condition, number of chemo sessions, etc.

She told me that whichever ones DO go out of range (she referred to this as "petering" which I found both funny AND strangely emasculating) there were things they could do to bring the counts back in line, whether it was medication to stimulate the bone marrow to generate new blood cells or a platelet transfusion.

I'm still feeling great and am scheduled for my second round of chemo on Monday, 8/16.

Thanks for checking on me.