[1-31-08] It begins...

[1:00am]
     Guess the pills the doctor gave me are ineffectual: another night of restless and scattered sleep. I'm getting so little sleep lately, making it impossible to do my new and routine 8am exercise.
     Maybe the insomnia is a symptom of the disease.

[7:00am]
     Thursday, sweet Thursday! I've been waiting for this day. Today I get a CT scan, and I get a chance to talk to my new oncologist. Even better, is that the scan is before the appointment -- the diagnosis and prognosis will be even more accurate.

[7:30am]
     Here I am, at the CT center. I'm excited -- this is going to be so cool. I mean, I designed software to calibrate x-rays: could this device be using some part of my software?

[8:10am]
     They take me to this room with a huge, white and doughnut-shaped device. It looks like something from a bad dream out of a science fiction story...
     Suddenly, I get a smile on my face, thinking: "Ha ha (teasing), all you people in front of me have to use the lame x-rays. I get to use the bad-ass one!"
     The technician put me on the conveyor belt/bed and told me that he was going to inject me with iodine, and that it would cause parts of me to feel warm. So, as I was fed into the machine, the machine started to spin very quickly. I was instructed to hold my breath, and the iodine was automatically injected. I didn't really feel warm, but I was getting a metallic taste in my mouth. Then, all of a sudden, my balls were getting nice and toasty (excuse me for being candid, but that's the truth!). Then, when the technician helped me out, I said: "I'm not going to tell you where I got warm." He looked at me with an expression saying, "Sheesh, I wish all these patients would stop making that joke."

     New experiences and interesting stuff. Plus, who says cancer can't have humorous parts?

[11:00am]
     I just attended my Artificial Intelligence class, and now I am waiting for my appointment at the Alta Bates hospital. I have bad memories here...
     Anyhow, I get to see the oncologist -- how exciting! Now I get to find out a qualified opinion of what this is. It may not even be cancer. If it is cancer, I hope it is Hodgkins (that one has a 5-9% mortality rate!). Apparently, it is the best lymphoma to have.
     But even if it is something else, I know I'll be fine. I can just see myself bald and puking all over the place, supporting myself with an arm on the doctor's desk, saying, "Is that all ya got?!?" It'll suck, but that's what makes the victory sweeter.
     Buddhism says that without suffering, there will be no happiness. This experience will make my life better in the long run.
     Ugh, when I get home, I'm going straight to bed.

[11:30am]
     Well, I just got out of the oncologist's office -- the nurse is going to set up a whole mess of appointments: pet scan, heart scan, HIV test, blood work, bone marrow sample, and chest biopsy (big needle + chest = bad). Ack. Then there's the appointments to see the nutritionist and social worker...and that's all before I start chemo.

     It's definitely a lymphoma cancer: the doctor said it was "extremely likely, but that there was a non-zero chance that it is something else." Alright... LET'S GET 'ER DONE!
     I feel really scared to tell my family... I hope things can be as close to usual/fun as they usually are. I know now that I have to tell them. They have a right to know, even if they don't like the news. I just don't want to be the cause of anguish...especially not now.

     I need to take at least 2 technical classes for the semester. Considering the circumstances, I suppose I should drop a class.