Try to wiggle your fourth toe and ONLY your fourth toe. Can't do it?
I think I can pinpoint the problem - your right calf muscles haven't been twitching for the last several days, and the involuntary spasms aren't somehow causing your fourth toe to curl.
It hurts, but not a lot. Very annoying, though, especially around bedtime. Typical lymphoma stuff. I guess?
(Incidentally, if anyone CAN wiggle their fourth toe by itself, I am VERY impressed.)
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
Hair Ye Hair Ye
Almost everyone loses their hair due to chemotherapy. Uh, of those people who receive chemotherapy. Good first sentence. Great start. All-Star form right off the bat.
So, duh. You've seen a movie before, and you know that people lose their hair when they are given drugs that disrupt rapidly growing cells. You might be surprised about what order your hair disappears - why is my ear hair holding on strong, but my nose hair not so much? Why do I even have ear hair? Is that the grossest hair I have, or is it the little strands the grow up through the two moles on my right shoulder? Do you love reading my blog?
When the lady at the hospital went over our "Welcome to Cancer" booklet or whatever, the subject of hair came up and she asked if I was concerned about losing every bit of hair on my body. It was an easy "No". I've got bigger things to worry about, yeah? But I'll admit some disappointment when it started to leave my scalp, primarily because of the WAY it fell off. It lost its will to stay anchored. When watch yourself in the mirror, easily removing chunks of your hair from your head, you feel pretty strange, because that's not what hair is supposed to do. I wondered if it was a Samson-type thing, a virility thing, but I think I figured out why it makes you feel so weak. It's because you look like Steve Guttenberg's character in "The Day After"
(Watch the scene - filmed in Allen Fieldhouse!)
Of course you're going to feel discouraged if you remind yourself of Steve Guttenberg! I mean, the man is a star and a legend, but his Icarus-like journey can be too much to contemplate. You've got to re-frame the situation. The Mom approach is to show you've been here before.
After a brief flirtation with Captain Jean Luc Picard, I decided to adopt a more modern and real role model for this hair phase. With thanks to Shawn's photoshop skills, I fear that I am ordinary, JUST LIKE EVERYONE:
So, duh. You've seen a movie before, and you know that people lose their hair when they are given drugs that disrupt rapidly growing cells. You might be surprised about what order your hair disappears - why is my ear hair holding on strong, but my nose hair not so much? Why do I even have ear hair? Is that the grossest hair I have, or is it the little strands the grow up through the two moles on my right shoulder? Do you love reading my blog?
When the lady at the hospital went over our "Welcome to Cancer" booklet or whatever, the subject of hair came up and she asked if I was concerned about losing every bit of hair on my body. It was an easy "No". I've got bigger things to worry about, yeah? But I'll admit some disappointment when it started to leave my scalp, primarily because of the WAY it fell off. It lost its will to stay anchored. When watch yourself in the mirror, easily removing chunks of your hair from your head, you feel pretty strange, because that's not what hair is supposed to do. I wondered if it was a Samson-type thing, a virility thing, but I think I figured out why it makes you feel so weak. It's because you look like Steve Guttenberg's character in "The Day After"
(Watch the scene - filmed in Allen Fieldhouse!)
Of course you're going to feel discouraged if you remind yourself of Steve Guttenberg! I mean, the man is a star and a legend, but his Icarus-like journey can be too much to contemplate. You've got to re-frame the situation. The Mom approach is to show you've been here before.
After a brief flirtation with Captain Jean Luc Picard, I decided to adopt a more modern and real role model for this hair phase. With thanks to Shawn's photoshop skills, I fear that I am ordinary, JUST LIKE EVERYONE:
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Very Chairy
Remember how new and classy my new office looked?
Well, when you need a very cushioned surface before you can comfortable sit in a typing posture, your room looks a bit less classy.
The chair of unknown age and origin is on loan from my next-door coworker. "Please take it so people will stop hanging out in my office," she said. She's fun. (She really is.) I brought the beige pillow in from home, and yes, I was daring anyone I passed on the way to the second floor to make fun of the guy carrying the large cushion to his office.
This isn't really new to me, but now that I have such an excellent excuse to walk slowly in the hallway or take use the elevator to move one floor, I'm on edge about possible challenges from strangers.
"Feelin' lazy today, huh?"
"Yeah, I took the stairs earlier today but the chemotherapy makes me tired."
You know. My mind is cluttered with possible retorts. Let's hope I get to use a few.
Well, when you need a very cushioned surface before you can comfortable sit in a typing posture, your room looks a bit less classy.
The chair of unknown age and origin is on loan from my next-door coworker. "Please take it so people will stop hanging out in my office," she said. She's fun. (She really is.) I brought the beige pillow in from home, and yes, I was daring anyone I passed on the way to the second floor to make fun of the guy carrying the large cushion to his office.
This isn't really new to me, but now that I have such an excellent excuse to walk slowly in the hallway or take use the elevator to move one floor, I'm on edge about possible challenges from strangers.
"Feelin' lazy today, huh?"
"Yeah, I took the stairs earlier today but the chemotherapy makes me tired."
You know. My mind is cluttered with possible retorts. Let's hope I get to use a few.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Worst Bucket List
I had the idea to make the world's lamest Bucket List after I saw a commercial for Keno. I enlisted Shawn's help and here's what we've got so far:
1. Learn to play Keno
2. Learn to polka
3. Read the novelizations of the "Back to the Future" films
4. Write a comprehensive history of German comedy
5. Try every fountain drink offered at Quik Trip
6. Sail across Lake Huron
7. See the Blue Man Group
8. Pet a horse
9. Read a Danielle Steele novel
10. Learn to speak Welsh
11. Get a tramp stamp
1. Learn to play Keno
2. Learn to polka
3. Read the novelizations of the "Back to the Future" films
4. Write a comprehensive history of German comedy
5. Try every fountain drink offered at Quik Trip
6. Sail across Lake Huron
7. See the Blue Man Group
8. Pet a horse
9. Read a Danielle Steele novel
10. Learn to speak Welsh
11. Get a tramp stamp
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Love Buzz
Today Kim buzzed my hair, and I shaved my biopsy beard. We documented the whole thing, of course.
gif from picasion.com
My captions are as follows:
1. Let's do this!
2. I have too much hair.
3. I have too much beard.
4. When I'm not stealing meth, I'm wrenching with my dirtbike.
5. Where did I put the fourth graders' dodgeballs?
6. Last time I rocked this cut I played tee ball and drank Shasta.
gif from picasion.com
My captions are as follows:
1. Let's do this!
2. I have too much hair.
3. I have too much beard.
4. When I'm not stealing meth, I'm wrenching with my dirtbike.
5. Where did I put the fourth graders' dodgeballs?
6. Last time I rocked this cut I played tee ball and drank Shasta.
Back From The Honeymoon
I started writing again on Thursday, July 7, but I ran out of steam before anything was posted online:
Man, it's been a while. Been busy, dudes. Been pretty busy. Went to Ireland. And Northern Ireland. Annoying that you have to specify both, but that's imperfect post-WWI treaties with the British, I guess.
I've also been busy being sick. Sick? Injured. Pained. On May 10, I sat through a four-hour meeting at work. Afterward, my hindquarters felt sore. (HAHAHAHA GAY!) That's not an unusual feeling for me (HAHAHA COULD YOU BE ANY GAYER GAYWAD??), as my haunches are tiny and poorly padded -- I was never very comfortable when sitting for long periods, so some pain was not out of the ordinary.
That night, my back hurt badly enough that I skipped my weekly basketball game (WITH ALL DUDES, HANGING OUT WITH SWEATY DUDES AND BALLS YOU'RE A TOTAL GAY!). The pain subsided, then migrated down to some upper leg muscles, then felt better a few days, then the reset button was punched and more back pain was followed by more leg and tailbone pain. On Sunday I'll celebrate two months of chronic pain! (During this time there have been many visits to physical therapy, where I am consistently surprised and saddened to think about the vast number of people coping with constant pain in the world.)
(Can you do two consecutive parenthetical expressions? Fuck it, I'm doing it anyway! I actually played basketball the week after I'd bowed out, and we only had enough personnel for 2 on 2. My right leg hurt, particularly when I would bend my knees during the first motions of a jump shot, but the muscles warmed up enough for me to play normally. Normally? Spectacularly! I never lost a game, and in the final game I scored 18 of my team's 20 points. The final shot was a dn staple, driving right toward the top of the lane, then spinning clockwise on my left leg before rising, floating (in the sense that a white 31-year-old with limited physical prowess "floats"), and releasing a perfect mid-range jumper. The pessimist in me thinks of this as a decent end to my underwhelming but highly enjoyable basketball career.)
So. The grim specter (specters are ALWAYS grim) of nerve pain has seasoned my past few months, which happens to include my honeymoon journey. I will be writing about the fun and interesting aspects of the journey soon. For the moment, though, please let me show you my map of pain.
[stopped writing for the day]
* * *
On Friday, July 8, I had a CT scan first thing in the morning. Before I had made it home with my three Muncher's Bakery self-pity donuts, my doctor's office was calling to schedule another appointment. The nurse wanted me to come by in a few hours to discuss the scan results. Since my everything still hurt when I drove, Kim agreed to take me.
* * *
We started the puzzle that weekend, as a way to pass the time until Monday's biopsy. I activated my mp3 player to start the live recording of The Pod F. Tompkast.
"It's nighttime on the internet...
...a graffiti artist suspects an E-Harmony profile of deceit...
...a 2,000 year-old vampire views her Netflix queue with disgust...
...a raccoon Googles 'raccoons'."
Kim was above the puzzle at that moment, and I was walking to the sink to fetch a glass of water. "Raccoons" had barely emitted from the speakers when I began to well up. I'll never understand why. It just seemed like a perfect joke - maybe my mind raced ahead to consider how much additional perfect humor I could miss out on.
I calmed myself and took a drink.
* * *
The biopsy results took a long time, and we were finally told the lymphoma was malignant, as we'd expected. It was several more days before we could meet with an oncologist, who assured us the scenario was far from worst-case, and that chemotherapy should treat it sufficiently. There was a heart test, a PET scan, blood tests, a bone marrow biopsy - every time we walked into the hospital they found another reason to perform another test. The final summary:
Large (~10 cm) mass in right presacral space, pushing against muscle and the sciatic nerve.
Smaller masses nearby, all below the diaphragm, all of which can be managed simultaneously without extra treatment.
Up to 6 rounds of chemotherapy, starting Monday, July 25.
* * *
When I was a kid, I would fantasize about having cancer. It wasn't because I needed an in with the Make-a-Wish racket - I wanted to be an inspiring, famous person that courageously beat the odds. It was weird, especially considering that person already existed. His name was Sterling, he overcame brain cancer, and he was in the class above me. We played summer baseball together.
I never liked the analogy of cancer management as a "battle". Fighting is reserved for an odd assortment of diseases, and if you've got diabetes or malaria you're somehow not a soldier, just a participant. I don't feel like I'm in a battle with cancer, which is great, because I've always considered myself too much of a realist to fill the shoes of a brave soldier. Fight or flight? If given an option, I'd apologize to cancer, sign a treaty, and retreat back to safe territory. I am intimidated.
But there is no option. A month ago Kim and I were exploring Ireland. Monday they try to shrink my tumor. Life is overwhelming and impressive even when it's threatening.
Man, it's been a while. Been busy, dudes. Been pretty busy. Went to Ireland. And Northern Ireland. Annoying that you have to specify both, but that's imperfect post-WWI treaties with the British, I guess.
I've also been busy being sick. Sick? Injured. Pained. On May 10, I sat through a four-hour meeting at work. Afterward, my hindquarters felt sore. (HAHAHAHA GAY!) That's not an unusual feeling for me (HAHAHA COULD YOU BE ANY GAYER GAYWAD??), as my haunches are tiny and poorly padded -- I was never very comfortable when sitting for long periods, so some pain was not out of the ordinary.
That night, my back hurt badly enough that I skipped my weekly basketball game (WITH ALL DUDES, HANGING OUT WITH SWEATY DUDES AND BALLS YOU'RE A TOTAL GAY!). The pain subsided, then migrated down to some upper leg muscles, then felt better a few days, then the reset button was punched and more back pain was followed by more leg and tailbone pain. On Sunday I'll celebrate two months of chronic pain! (During this time there have been many visits to physical therapy, where I am consistently surprised and saddened to think about the vast number of people coping with constant pain in the world.)
(Can you do two consecutive parenthetical expressions? Fuck it, I'm doing it anyway! I actually played basketball the week after I'd bowed out, and we only had enough personnel for 2 on 2. My right leg hurt, particularly when I would bend my knees during the first motions of a jump shot, but the muscles warmed up enough for me to play normally. Normally? Spectacularly! I never lost a game, and in the final game I scored 18 of my team's 20 points. The final shot was a dn staple, driving right toward the top of the lane, then spinning clockwise on my left leg before rising, floating (in the sense that a white 31-year-old with limited physical prowess "floats"), and releasing a perfect mid-range jumper. The pessimist in me thinks of this as a decent end to my underwhelming but highly enjoyable basketball career.)
So. The grim specter (specters are ALWAYS grim) of nerve pain has seasoned my past few months, which happens to include my honeymoon journey. I will be writing about the fun and interesting aspects of the journey soon. For the moment, though, please let me show you my map of pain.
[stopped writing for the day]
* * *
On Friday, July 8, I had a CT scan first thing in the morning. Before I had made it home with my three Muncher's Bakery self-pity donuts, my doctor's office was calling to schedule another appointment. The nurse wanted me to come by in a few hours to discuss the scan results. Since my everything still hurt when I drove, Kim agreed to take me.
* * *
We started the puzzle that weekend, as a way to pass the time until Monday's biopsy. I activated my mp3 player to start the live recording of The Pod F. Tompkast.
"It's nighttime on the internet...
...a graffiti artist suspects an E-Harmony profile of deceit...
...a 2,000 year-old vampire views her Netflix queue with disgust...
...a raccoon Googles 'raccoons'."
Kim was above the puzzle at that moment, and I was walking to the sink to fetch a glass of water. "Raccoons" had barely emitted from the speakers when I began to well up. I'll never understand why. It just seemed like a perfect joke - maybe my mind raced ahead to consider how much additional perfect humor I could miss out on.
I calmed myself and took a drink.
* * *
The biopsy results took a long time, and we were finally told the lymphoma was malignant, as we'd expected. It was several more days before we could meet with an oncologist, who assured us the scenario was far from worst-case, and that chemotherapy should treat it sufficiently. There was a heart test, a PET scan, blood tests, a bone marrow biopsy - every time we walked into the hospital they found another reason to perform another test. The final summary:
Large (~10 cm) mass in right presacral space, pushing against muscle and the sciatic nerve.
Smaller masses nearby, all below the diaphragm, all of which can be managed simultaneously without extra treatment.
Up to 6 rounds of chemotherapy, starting Monday, July 25.
* * *
When I was a kid, I would fantasize about having cancer. It wasn't because I needed an in with the Make-a-Wish racket - I wanted to be an inspiring, famous person that courageously beat the odds. It was weird, especially considering that person already existed. His name was Sterling, he overcame brain cancer, and he was in the class above me. We played summer baseball together.
I never liked the analogy of cancer management as a "battle". Fighting is reserved for an odd assortment of diseases, and if you've got diabetes or malaria you're somehow not a soldier, just a participant. I don't feel like I'm in a battle with cancer, which is great, because I've always considered myself too much of a realist to fill the shoes of a brave soldier. Fight or flight? If given an option, I'd apologize to cancer, sign a treaty, and retreat back to safe territory. I am intimidated.
But there is no option. A month ago Kim and I were exploring Ireland. Monday they try to shrink my tumor. Life is overwhelming and impressive even when it's threatening.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Phoney
Old phone, purchased 2006:
We had some good times, old friend. You were tiny, and that was nice. But other than having a small impact on my pocket, you're kind of junk now. Still, stand proud, buddy. Your battery is still quite good, and there isn't a scratch on you! You've earned your retirement. Have fun polluting some river in China.
I'm part of a Sprint family now. New phone, received for birthday 2011:
We had some good times, old friend. You were tiny, and that was nice. But other than having a small impact on my pocket, you're kind of junk now. Still, stand proud, buddy. Your battery is still quite good, and there isn't a scratch on you! You've earned your retirement. Have fun polluting some river in China.
I'm part of a Sprint family now. New phone, received for birthday 2011:
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