Monthly Archive for August, 2005

Quote ~ Mark Twain

By trying we can easily learn to endure adversity. Another man’s, I mean. ~ Mark Twain

I think it’s easy to look at the things going wrong in your life and compare them to the things going right in other people’s lives and to sit and curse awhile. It’s easy, but I don’t believe in doing it. I recorded an old song today about that.

Now, I’m not a praying man, but I am a thoughtful man. I recorded this song today, not because of it’s religious bend, but rather, I guess, in spite of it’s religious bend.

Normally a bluegrass waltz, I wanted to slow this song down and put in some piano to make the lyrics a bit more…searing, I guess is the word.

My voice is a little shaky on this one. See, I stopped singing ten years ago, mostly because I sang out of tune and that made singing *not* fun. And for a long time now, my cough made singing mostly impossible. I always told myself that if I could ever get rid of that stupid cough, I would start singing again. But more than that, I realize now that life is short, and it’d be a waste if you didn’t spend it singing. So be forgiving, will you? I’m starting my life again here.

Farther Along

Tempted and tried, we’re oft made to wonder,
Why it should be thus, all the day long;
While there are others, living about us
Never molested, though in the wrong.

Farther along, we’ll know all about it.
Farther along, we’ll understand why,
Cheer up my brothers, walk in the sunshine
We’ll understand it all, by and by.

When death has come and taken our loved ones,
Leaving our homes so lonesome and drear,
Then do we wonder why others prosper
Living as sinners year after year.

Farther along, we’ll know all about it.
Farther along, we’ll understand why,
Cheer up my brothers, walk in the sunshine
We’ll understand it all, by and by.

Thanks for the Chemo Hat!

My friend Katie is a nursing assistant in a hospital’s radiation department and teaches patients to knit hats for their cold heads. She sent me two of her finest creations. Thanks Katie!

Quote ~ Unknown

Snow and adolescence are the only problems that disappear if you ignore them long enough. ~ Unknown

Must Like VD

I’ve run this by a few friends, and they don’t agree, but I’m planning on looking like Vin Diesel when I lose all my hair. I also plan on driving around in sweet cars and using one-liners that scriptwriters will write for me.

Wanted: Scriptwriters. No experience required. Must like Vin Diesel.

Quote ~ Anonymous

At the timberline where the storms strike with the most fury, the sturdiest trees are found. ~ Anonymous

Progress

This is the only time in my life where losing my hair is normal, gaining weight is a plus, sleeping late is acceptable, living with my parents is a good idea, not having a job is forgivable, and shaving is dangerous and ill-advised.

Every other Monday a nice nurse in a big, blue smock comes and gives me medications that will make me feel worse than I did the previous Monday. I schedule my whole life around this meeting like there is nothing more important than feeling worse.

I no longer need to be educated, or talented, or smart, or good-looking. I show up to my friend’s houses empty-handed and exhausted and they welcome me in. They entertain me and they feed me. We all laugh out loud and have a better time together than we ever did before.

What can I say about cancer? Everything is the opposite of what it should be. They say I’m making a lot of progress.

Tumor PET Scan Photo

Ok, I know this flies by harmless self-absorbtion and lands squarely in exhibitionism, but come on! You know you wanted to see it.

This is a photo from the PET scan I took. That black thing is not my heart, that black thing is the problem.

UPDATE: See also, PET Scan Before and After Photos

Chemotherapy Treatment #2

Revenge of the Vinblastin

Today was the second chemotherapy treatment. Peanut butter cookies today. I wasn’t as excited about that. Anyway, I’ve put on 9 lbs. in two weeks, so maybe that’s ok.

The cookie selection was really the most interesting part of the whole session. There wasn’t much to it. They took the blood tests, I saw the doc, they pumped in the drugs and there were no problems. I watched a movie and listened to music.

And I’m glad I’ve got my headphones (thanks Cindy) with me, because I kind of wanted to tune out the Room. Say what you will, but the community atmosphere of the Chemo Room isn’t really my thing. Picture it, the poor guy next to you is having trouble as the chemo burns away his veins, everybody in the chairs – especially the older ones – are pretty hard up and not in the talking mood, the nurses are going on and on about hemoglobin and saline drips, and somebody down the way is trying to drown their troubles in Oprah. I’m not saying that I really have a problem with being there, I guess I mean that I don’t want to be there anymore than anybody else would want to be there. My parents sat by me the whole time reading the paper, and I assume, listening to the cancer chatter of the Chemo Room. My poor parents, I don’t think I could read the “feel-good” Chicago Tribune and soak in the vibe of the Room’s suffering all at once. I was happy to escape.

The doctor was quick today. There is a Chemo Room in his office that is way worse, I think, than the place I go. He mentioned in passing today that I should maybe think about switching Chemo Rooms to come to his. A little marketing on the doctor’s part – very clever, pal. In his Chemo Room, all the recliners are facing each other, there’s no dividers, there’s one TV in the corner blaring daytime TV for the blue-haired, early-bird-special kind of clientele. There, I picture myself in forced conversations about youth and future plans, and possibly being awkwardly introduced to grand daughter’s when they come to pick up Grandma. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a social guy, and I’m usually golden with the blue-hair club, but when I’m at chemo, I just want to blend into the fake leather and watch my sappy movie.

I also heard from doc today that it’ll be more like 6 months of chemo instead of 4. Bring it on, doc.

The results from my heart scan are back. I have a mild enlargement of the heart (the left side for those of you studying for the test). This is called Left Ventricular Hypertrophy. The nurse says that it’s likely from both being anemic and the tumor being wedged up against the heart for so long. I don’t know much about it, but it’s mild, and it doesn’t sound like that much of a problem.

Mom and Dad took me home and I climbed up into my hammock between the trees (thanks Rick) for the rest of the afternoon.

And I went to work tonight and played piano. There was really no reason not to, and I like my job – playing piano and surrounded by people. I do find that my fingers are not as coordinated as before chemo, but it’s a very minute amount (that might be more related to a lack of practicing lately and perhaps not the chemo), and its probably imperceptible to people listening. Or maybe it’s not and people are being kind. Either way, it’s not a problem yet, but I have heard of this kind of thing happening later in treatment. No worries, future bosses, it goes away.

This Will Probably Not Happen

My chemo nurse said something last time about how great it was that I had such a supportive family during all this. That is definitely true, and I understand what she means. But I couldn’t help but think, are there families out there that are not supportive? Are there families out there that say, “Now honey, you know I love you, but I just don’t support your decision to have cancer.”

Or maybe it’s worse, maybe there’s a whole group of Tumor Rights activists out there that have bumper stickers and t-shirts that say things like “Metastasis Is a Right,” or “Tumors Have Feelings Too,” “Chemotherapy is Murder,” etc.

Perhaps when I go in to the Cancer Clinic tomorrow for chemotherapy there will be a big crowd of Pro-Tumor protesters with signs and megaphones, chanting and throwing paint on me.