[11:47am]
My appointment for the super important pet-CT scan is scheduled for Monday, the 25th. The following day, I will meet with an oncologist in Berkeley (mine remains on vacation) to discuss the next step. Will I have 2 more ICE treatments? Can I use the salvage ICE for apheresis, instead of waiting longer and using Cytoxan? When will Stanford begin their part? Hopefully, all these questions will be answered by then.
Until then, I am on vacation. School is far away from here; treatment is far away from here. Until the 25th, there's not much I can fret about... or reason to do so. It's not just the distance -- it really feels as if the whole "cancer" thing is further from my mind, here. Plus, there's the whole "don't sweat the small stuff" feeling that arises when there's a diagnosis of this magnitude. So, basically, here I am, without a worry in the world... for the next 4 days. Until then: it's vacation.
After the 25th? Who knows? Treatment could pick up pace (which I hope), or I could have yet more time to burn. Regardless, I'm not counting the month or so in Stanford in my vacation category -- that's probably not going to be a picnic.
My current plan? To have a good time, of course. Tentatively, that also includes a new video game every day. :) Yesterday was Sid Meier's Civilization Revolution -- a pretty fun game where you strategically build and develop a civilization from scratch. Today is a game called Condemned -- I haven't yet played it, but it looks like some sort of horror/sci-fi adventure. Looks fun.
[5:49pm]
I've been spending the day help Dan install a new bathtub. It's a lot of work, and I do get more tired easily, but it is nice to know that I'm still capable, ya know? Those hemoglobins aren't going to stay high forever.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
[8-19-08] Getting Settled.
[12:06pm]
Now's the part where I get settled into my new home! First things first: establish the command center (i.e. computer + desk). It's actually a pretty big deal, since I have waaaay too many peripherals. Also, the desk was located up in the office, so you had a pregnant woman and a chemo kid lugging this desk through the brush. But we made it!
So, I guess I'll stay here for a month or so, then head to Stanford. Then, who knows? I feel like somewhat of a nomad. Yet another good reason to live minimally. The strangest part is being out of school: what am I supposed to do with my spare time? When I was in the hospital, that was one thing. In a hospital, you're expected to slack off. Now, in my new home, I get that all too familiar feeling to start accomplishing things. Maybe I'll beef up on my coding skills a bit. Or...play xbox 360 games until my eyes fall out.
On the cancer front, things are going well. The worst passes as you get out of the hospital. All that lingers now is a real lack of stamina and the feeling that I ate (and swallowed) several pennies. An odd feeling.
[3:51pm]
Grades are in! I got an A- in Technical Writing! Woohoo!
Now's the part where I get settled into my new home! First things first: establish the command center (i.e. computer + desk). It's actually a pretty big deal, since I have waaaay too many peripherals. Also, the desk was located up in the office, so you had a pregnant woman and a chemo kid lugging this desk through the brush. But we made it!
So, I guess I'll stay here for a month or so, then head to Stanford. Then, who knows? I feel like somewhat of a nomad. Yet another good reason to live minimally. The strangest part is being out of school: what am I supposed to do with my spare time? When I was in the hospital, that was one thing. In a hospital, you're expected to slack off. Now, in my new home, I get that all too familiar feeling to start accomplishing things. Maybe I'll beef up on my coding skills a bit. Or...play xbox 360 games until my eyes fall out.
On the cancer front, things are going well. The worst passes as you get out of the hospital. All that lingers now is a real lack of stamina and the feeling that I ate (and swallowed) several pennies. An odd feeling.
[3:51pm]
Grades are in! I got an A- in Technical Writing! Woohoo!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
[8-16-08] ICE, Day Three
[9:21am]
Got a good night's sleep. So nice. It's hard to get to sleep in a strange place, on a strange bed, with random people waking you up at random times of the night. Sleeping pills are necessary to get a full night's sleep, at least for me.
Anyhow, I did the normal routine. Since I have to water-protect my port, I wash my hair in the sink. And, I just could not believe the amount that came out! It looks like I'm going to lose my 10 day bet -- it's going to be like 3 or 4 more days, I believe. I already have bald streaks on the side of my head. Interesting to note where the hair is first lost.
Also, they've been giving me some "magic mouthwash" for some of the sores I have under the tongue. It's not all that bad, just really annoying. Makes saying a few words and eating Cheetos a little painful. So, even though my case is about as mild as it gets, I always take the path of least pain. Apparently, it's due to a low white blood count (though mine is not *that* low).
The downside to the mouthwash, is that it makes me feel a bit queasy for an hour or so afterwards.
[10:45am]
It seems I've been talking so much about events, that I haven't said much on how I am feeling about all this. The cancer, the hospitalization, the hair loss, the chemo, withdrawal from school, scary BMT, moving in with family, and general emotional state. So, I thought I'd say a few words about it. In general, I'm doing absolutely fine with all this. Mood is good. Don't worry, I'll be sure to complain or be pessimistic when the time comes. But, right now, it's all good.
Specifically,
The Cancer: I'm confident that ICE will show enough progress after 2 or 4 cycles to send me to the BMT program. My belief that 2 cycles will get it done is going up with time. I believe the BMT will send me to a remission, with a decent chance of a permanent cure (although I recognize the chance of a relapse or secondary cancer). Also, I am fairly certain that I will have some long-term side-effects maybe 10 years or so down the road. But I am also sure that they can be handled with proper healthy behavior, and medical upkeep.
The BMT: Looking forward to it; it should be interesting. I know it will be totally tough, and I'll be pretty decrepit at times... but, I expect the BMT to the coup de grâce for the evil tumor, and that's exciting. Liz told me not to use the word "burden," so instead I will say: "I want to minimize how much of a workload I am to my family through all of this. I totally recognize that this is tough on everyone, and don't want anyone to feel any obligation whatsoever."
Hair Loss: It sucks, but I'm cool with it. Kinda neat, in a way. But, then again, it's like wearing a hospital gown: an indication to the world that you are sick. I don't like that.
Hospital: Things are great here. I do feel a bit trapped, but with the internet, and movies, and my book, I'm pretty well entertained. Food quality and quantity needs a little boost though. I'm starting to get into this novel, so I look forward to getting totally lost in a fantasy series (thanks, Liz!).
Chemo: Starting to feel the effects of the chemo again; getting flashbacks to the harder parts of the Stanford V. But, still, I'm handling it extremely well. So, I'm not bothered much by it...yet.
Withdrawal from School: I'm more bothered by this, than by anything else. School represents moving forward in life. Not only that, but redemption. Having to withdraw previously, and basically wasting away my potential for three years has really taught me the negative aspects of myself. Doing well, being productive, and generally being positive to those around you are what it's all about. That's why graduation from Berkeley is so profoundly important to me. I know that a bit hard on myself, but that's the plain truth of how I feel.
Staying in school (finishing fall and summer sessions) while undergoing chemo and cancer treatment has been a personal victory for me. I'm proud of that. Having to withdraw due to cancer evens the score. It is a battle. :P
Moving in with family: Same "workload" considerations as before. I'm really looking forward to their company. Just yet another example of how awesome my family is. I mean, I think most people envision long time spent with their family with some amount of dread. But we're a tightly knit group. We're friends; we hang out for no occasion whatsoever. Awesome and special. The downside is that I'll see Liz less frequently.
So, that's the status report. All in all, things are quite good.
[11:40am]
Heh heh. I just ordered more Japanese food. I love spoiling myself... might as well. :)
[12:51pm]
Food Delivery Fiasco: About ten minutes after I ordered the Japanese food, I was sent to have my pulmonary function test. I thought it would be a short affair, but it actually took about 25 minutes. But priorities, you know? A PFT is *way* more important than Japanese food. Anyhow, so about 20 minutes into the PFT, my nurse runs up to the room I am in and says: "Did you order take-out? There's a guy with takeout waiting next to your room." I asked the nurse if he could take some money out of my wallet, left in the room. They nice guy just asked me if I had enough money, then said I could pay him back. Super cool of him. I imagine the delivery guy was quite upset, though. He was tipped well, but I don't believe they'll be delivering to my room again. [Edit: Actually, the nurse thought my tip was too big. Gave him a 3 dollar tip on a 22 dollar meal -- ouch!] :P
On a good note, it looks like I've passed the PFT with flying colors. So, nothing's stopping me from Stanford BMT!
Oh, and when I was sorting through my delivery, a food-service person came in because I forgot to turn in my menu. I was standing next to the window when she asked, "Do you know where the patient is?" I thought that was awesome.
[2:06pm]
Chemo is starting a little late today. Time for a little pre-chemo Ativan nap.
[12:35pm]
Just shaved the last of my facial hair with my fingers. Looks like I was short on the bet by about 8 days -- I've definitely hit the 50% marker. Good night, hair.
Got a good night's sleep. So nice. It's hard to get to sleep in a strange place, on a strange bed, with random people waking you up at random times of the night. Sleeping pills are necessary to get a full night's sleep, at least for me.
Anyhow, I did the normal routine. Since I have to water-protect my port, I wash my hair in the sink. And, I just could not believe the amount that came out! It looks like I'm going to lose my 10 day bet -- it's going to be like 3 or 4 more days, I believe. I already have bald streaks on the side of my head. Interesting to note where the hair is first lost.
Also, they've been giving me some "magic mouthwash" for some of the sores I have under the tongue. It's not all that bad, just really annoying. Makes saying a few words and eating Cheetos a little painful. So, even though my case is about as mild as it gets, I always take the path of least pain. Apparently, it's due to a low white blood count (though mine is not *that* low).
The downside to the mouthwash, is that it makes me feel a bit queasy for an hour or so afterwards.
[10:45am]
It seems I've been talking so much about events, that I haven't said much on how I am feeling about all this. The cancer, the hospitalization, the hair loss, the chemo, withdrawal from school, scary BMT, moving in with family, and general emotional state. So, I thought I'd say a few words about it. In general, I'm doing absolutely fine with all this. Mood is good. Don't worry, I'll be sure to complain or be pessimistic when the time comes. But, right now, it's all good.
Specifically,
The Cancer: I'm confident that ICE will show enough progress after 2 or 4 cycles to send me to the BMT program. My belief that 2 cycles will get it done is going up with time. I believe the BMT will send me to a remission, with a decent chance of a permanent cure (although I recognize the chance of a relapse or secondary cancer). Also, I am fairly certain that I will have some long-term side-effects maybe 10 years or so down the road. But I am also sure that they can be handled with proper healthy behavior, and medical upkeep.
The BMT: Looking forward to it; it should be interesting. I know it will be totally tough, and I'll be pretty decrepit at times... but, I expect the BMT to the coup de grâce for the evil tumor, and that's exciting. Liz told me not to use the word "burden," so instead I will say: "I want to minimize how much of a workload I am to my family through all of this. I totally recognize that this is tough on everyone, and don't want anyone to feel any obligation whatsoever."
Hair Loss: It sucks, but I'm cool with it. Kinda neat, in a way. But, then again, it's like wearing a hospital gown: an indication to the world that you are sick. I don't like that.
Hospital: Things are great here. I do feel a bit trapped, but with the internet, and movies, and my book, I'm pretty well entertained. Food quality and quantity needs a little boost though. I'm starting to get into this novel, so I look forward to getting totally lost in a fantasy series (thanks, Liz!).
Chemo: Starting to feel the effects of the chemo again; getting flashbacks to the harder parts of the Stanford V. But, still, I'm handling it extremely well. So, I'm not bothered much by it...yet.
Withdrawal from School: I'm more bothered by this, than by anything else. School represents moving forward in life. Not only that, but redemption. Having to withdraw previously, and basically wasting away my potential for three years has really taught me the negative aspects of myself. Doing well, being productive, and generally being positive to those around you are what it's all about. That's why graduation from Berkeley is so profoundly important to me. I know that a bit hard on myself, but that's the plain truth of how I feel.
Staying in school (finishing fall and summer sessions) while undergoing chemo and cancer treatment has been a personal victory for me. I'm proud of that. Having to withdraw due to cancer evens the score. It is a battle. :P
Moving in with family: Same "workload" considerations as before. I'm really looking forward to their company. Just yet another example of how awesome my family is. I mean, I think most people envision long time spent with their family with some amount of dread. But we're a tightly knit group. We're friends; we hang out for no occasion whatsoever. Awesome and special. The downside is that I'll see Liz less frequently.
So, that's the status report. All in all, things are quite good.
[11:40am]
Heh heh. I just ordered more Japanese food. I love spoiling myself... might as well. :)
[12:51pm]
Food Delivery Fiasco: About ten minutes after I ordered the Japanese food, I was sent to have my pulmonary function test. I thought it would be a short affair, but it actually took about 25 minutes. But priorities, you know? A PFT is *way* more important than Japanese food. Anyhow, so about 20 minutes into the PFT, my nurse runs up to the room I am in and says: "Did you order take-out? There's a guy with takeout waiting next to your room." I asked the nurse if he could take some money out of my wallet, left in the room. They nice guy just asked me if I had enough money, then said I could pay him back. Super cool of him. I imagine the delivery guy was quite upset, though. He was tipped well, but I don't believe they'll be delivering to my room again. [Edit: Actually, the nurse thought my tip was too big. Gave him a 3 dollar tip on a 22 dollar meal -- ouch!] :P
On a good note, it looks like I've passed the PFT with flying colors. So, nothing's stopping me from Stanford BMT!
Oh, and when I was sorting through my delivery, a food-service person came in because I forgot to turn in my menu. I was standing next to the window when she asked, "Do you know where the patient is?" I thought that was awesome.
[2:06pm]
Chemo is starting a little late today. Time for a little pre-chemo Ativan nap.
[12:35pm]
Just shaved the last of my facial hair with my fingers. Looks like I was short on the bet by about 8 days -- I've definitely hit the 50% marker. Good night, hair.
Monday, August 11, 2008
[8-11-08] The Beaten Dog Analogy
[8:36am]
Ah, what a beautiful morning! Everything's a bit more lovely without all that pain. And, believe it or not, I am not currently hopped up on Vicodin. :P I was afraid that the severity of the pain meant that it was something chronic or permanent. But it looks like it was passing. I did have to take like two Vicodin's every four hours until about 5am, when it started to resolve. It was a rough night's sleep.
Not just due to the pain, but also because of the sweating. For some reason, I was sweating a bunch -- mostly in the scalp. I'm talking, "wow, my pillow is wet" type sweating. I hope it's due to the pain medications, and not the traditional Hodge "night sweats."
By the way, I'd like to briefly mention the "Beaten Dog" analogy. It is perhaps one of the most widely applicable metaphors/analogies in existence. Basically, it describes the result if, 1>A Jerk were to beat his dog every day, then 2>Immediately stop beating his dog, and, as a result, 3>The dog loves him more for it.
I think people are very similar to the dog. If some entity causes me extreme pain, then causes it to stop, then I will wake up the next morning professing the beauty of his creation. Or, why is it that I feel profoundly grateful when the doctor who just gave me a bone marrow biopsy finishes the procedure?
Back to symptoms...
Then there's another thing on my mind. I can feel the tumor again. To put it eloquently, when I am in the bathroom applying "butt pressure," the tumor protrudes a bit from my chest. The first time I noticed this was after I received my second biopsy; I hadn't had any chemo yet. After I had some chemo, it gradually went away until I couldn't notice it anymore.
About a month after the Stanford V ended, I noticed the tumor's presence, but it wouldn't protrude like previously.
Now, it protrudes again. However, as strange as it sounds, I think this is a good thing. First off, it is a substantially smaller protrusion than before. More like a small plum, and less like an apple. Secondly, my gut feeling is that the tumor is just "loose." Give it a biopsy, or zap it with chemo, and the supportive structure of cells holding the thing upright breaks apart, and it has mobility. So, I'm not panicked. Still, it is disconcerting.
Oh yeah, I've got to start my final term paper, due in 25 hours. "gotta keep moving..." :P
[8:25pm] Food Celebration
I forgot to mention that this is my personal spoil Austin with food month. :) I'm making good progress today.
7:30am: Three Egg Breakfast, over easy, bacon, and potatoes.
11:45am: Super Nachos (Carne Asada) with grape flavored energy drink.
5:00pm: Tempura Roll, Crunchy Delight Roll.
8:30pm: 7-11 Nachos + 4 Jack-in-the-box tacos.
Ah, what a beautiful morning! Everything's a bit more lovely without all that pain. And, believe it or not, I am not currently hopped up on Vicodin. :P I was afraid that the severity of the pain meant that it was something chronic or permanent. But it looks like it was passing. I did have to take like two Vicodin's every four hours until about 5am, when it started to resolve. It was a rough night's sleep.
Not just due to the pain, but also because of the sweating. For some reason, I was sweating a bunch -- mostly in the scalp. I'm talking, "wow, my pillow is wet" type sweating. I hope it's due to the pain medications, and not the traditional Hodge "night sweats."
By the way, I'd like to briefly mention the "Beaten Dog" analogy. It is perhaps one of the most widely applicable metaphors/analogies in existence. Basically, it describes the result if, 1>A Jerk were to beat his dog every day, then 2>Immediately stop beating his dog, and, as a result, 3>The dog loves him more for it.
I think people are very similar to the dog. If some entity causes me extreme pain, then causes it to stop, then I will wake up the next morning professing the beauty of his creation. Or, why is it that I feel profoundly grateful when the doctor who just gave me a bone marrow biopsy finishes the procedure?
Back to symptoms...
Then there's another thing on my mind. I can feel the tumor again. To put it eloquently, when I am in the bathroom applying "butt pressure," the tumor protrudes a bit from my chest. The first time I noticed this was after I received my second biopsy; I hadn't had any chemo yet. After I had some chemo, it gradually went away until I couldn't notice it anymore.
About a month after the Stanford V ended, I noticed the tumor's presence, but it wouldn't protrude like previously.
Now, it protrudes again. However, as strange as it sounds, I think this is a good thing. First off, it is a substantially smaller protrusion than before. More like a small plum, and less like an apple. Secondly, my gut feeling is that the tumor is just "loose." Give it a biopsy, or zap it with chemo, and the supportive structure of cells holding the thing upright breaks apart, and it has mobility. So, I'm not panicked. Still, it is disconcerting.
Oh yeah, I've got to start my final term paper, due in 25 hours. "gotta keep moving..." :P
[8:25pm] Food Celebration
I forgot to mention that this is my personal spoil Austin with food month. :) I'm making good progress today.
7:30am: Three Egg Breakfast, over easy, bacon, and potatoes.
11:45am: Super Nachos (Carne Asada) with grape flavored energy drink.
5:00pm: Tempura Roll, Crunchy Delight Roll.
8:30pm: 7-11 Nachos + 4 Jack-in-the-box tacos.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
[8-07-08] Life... is good!
[12:03pm]
I'm not implying causality or anything, but ever since this Hodgkin's thingy, my quality of life seems to have gone up. Interesting how that works, isn't it?
Take, for example, last night. I had a huge final presentation today that had been bumped up a week early so I could stop attending class early (due to hospitalization on 13th). Was I diligently cramming the material before the impending doom? Nope - I was hanging out with Liz until late at night. Priorities!
Then, I calmly woke up at 5:00am the next morning, had a coffee, and got to work. Calmly I plugged along, not sweating the small stuff, just enjoying the act of creation. In short, I was in the flow. Had I been stressed, concerned about my grade, or anything else, my efforts would have been frantic, and disheveled. Most importantly, it wouldn't be fun anymore. Somehow, I am slowly learning how to enjoy things a bit more -- and that's making all the difference in the world.
I got an A- (my first non-hybrid grade!) on my final 10min presentation, did a great job, and had a good time doing it. I'm willing to wager that, had I studied and crammed all night before, and failed to have fun, that I would've gotten a considerably lesser score.
Then it all comes full circle: is this new perspective a result of the Hodgkin's? Perhaps so. Silver lining indeed. Just for argument's sake, let's take it one step further...
To my friends and family, let me first apologize a bit... I know that me having this disease is a terrible pain and burden to you all; I don't want you to think that I'm belittling that by talking about this "silver lining." But there are some positives...
Come Tuesday, I'm out of school! Normally, this would have me in a frenzy. But now that I think about it, it is a true and genuine vacation. For once in my life, I don't have to worry about future career ambitions, or getting good grades for grad schools, or how I'm wasting away my life. All that is put aside. Just enjoy.
Oh, and what people think? If they're not my friends and family, who cares? Make stupid jokes to random strangers. Assert yourself! Be silly!
And friends and family, most of all! It may not be PC to say, but this whole thing has brought us together! TJ, Mom, and Dad are leaving fun little comments on my blog; we're more connected now. Liz's mom is working in tandem with Barbara, and sending me best wishes with a quilt. And Liz, where just the mention makes me smile... Jen, Dan, and the kids are all being there, together, to do what they can. Taunte Laurie, Taunte Theresa, my aunts, my cousins, all keeping in touch and wishing me well. I've never felt so connected in my life! Thank you all.
So hell yeah, I'm happy! And if it helps, consider me getting chemo with a smile on my face -- because I'll be wearing one. "Nothing like a little Cisplatin in the morning to take the edge off."
I'm not implying causality or anything, but ever since this Hodgkin's thingy, my quality of life seems to have gone up. Interesting how that works, isn't it?
Take, for example, last night. I had a huge final presentation today that had been bumped up a week early so I could stop attending class early (due to hospitalization on 13th). Was I diligently cramming the material before the impending doom? Nope - I was hanging out with Liz until late at night. Priorities!
Then, I calmly woke up at 5:00am the next morning, had a coffee, and got to work. Calmly I plugged along, not sweating the small stuff, just enjoying the act of creation. In short, I was in the flow. Had I been stressed, concerned about my grade, or anything else, my efforts would have been frantic, and disheveled. Most importantly, it wouldn't be fun anymore. Somehow, I am slowly learning how to enjoy things a bit more -- and that's making all the difference in the world.
I got an A- (my first non-hybrid grade!) on my final 10min presentation, did a great job, and had a good time doing it. I'm willing to wager that, had I studied and crammed all night before, and failed to have fun, that I would've gotten a considerably lesser score.
Then it all comes full circle: is this new perspective a result of the Hodgkin's? Perhaps so. Silver lining indeed. Just for argument's sake, let's take it one step further...
To my friends and family, let me first apologize a bit... I know that me having this disease is a terrible pain and burden to you all; I don't want you to think that I'm belittling that by talking about this "silver lining." But there are some positives...
Come Tuesday, I'm out of school! Normally, this would have me in a frenzy. But now that I think about it, it is a true and genuine vacation. For once in my life, I don't have to worry about future career ambitions, or getting good grades for grad schools, or how I'm wasting away my life. All that is put aside. Just enjoy.
Oh, and what people think? If they're not my friends and family, who cares? Make stupid jokes to random strangers. Assert yourself! Be silly!
And friends and family, most of all! It may not be PC to say, but this whole thing has brought us together! TJ, Mom, and Dad are leaving fun little comments on my blog; we're more connected now. Liz's mom is working in tandem with Barbara, and sending me best wishes with a quilt. And Liz, where just the mention makes me smile... Jen, Dan, and the kids are all being there, together, to do what they can. Taunte Laurie, Taunte Theresa, my aunts, my cousins, all keeping in touch and wishing me well. I've never felt so connected in my life! Thank you all.
So hell yeah, I'm happy! And if it helps, consider me getting chemo with a smile on my face -- because I'll be wearing one. "Nothing like a little Cisplatin in the morning to take the edge off."
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
[8-06-08] Term Paper and Appt. Results
[11:53am]
Well, I just received my term paper back. I got somewhere between an A- and a B+, whatever that means. For some reason, every grade I have received has been some sort of hybrid of some kind; no point scale.
Anyhow, what caught my attention was what was written in the margin below the grade... It said, "Good Work, Mr. A., no doubt under trying circumstances -- to say the least."
It made me smile to read that. That was better than the grade, you know?
[4:49pm]
After getting my labs done, I spoke with Dr. Cecchi and got the plans rolling. My labs were good: RBC falling very slowly, while the WBC was up at 13.7 (due to Neulasta shot). In other words, I was good to go.
They're scheduling me for more inpatient ICE at summit (on the 13th), a pet-CT scan to verify ICE is working (around the 20th), and a follow-up oncology visit to discuss results (before 26th). The thought being, if I have clean scans after the second cycle(probably not likely), then I can skip the last two cycles of ICE and go straight to the bone marrow transplant part. If, after the next cycle of ICE, the pet-CT scan shows significant reduction (which I think is most likely), then we continue with two more cycles and finish with the BMT. Lastly, if the scans indicate little or no progress, then that's no good -- from what I read, response to ICE is necessary to indicate the BMT procedure. In other words, I'd have to look for different options. But that's getting ahead of things. I'm just hoping the next scans show a reduction.
So, that's the plan so far!
Well, I just received my term paper back. I got somewhere between an A- and a B+, whatever that means. For some reason, every grade I have received has been some sort of hybrid of some kind; no point scale.
Anyhow, what caught my attention was what was written in the margin below the grade... It said, "Good Work, Mr. A., no doubt under trying circumstances -- to say the least."
It made me smile to read that. That was better than the grade, you know?
[4:49pm]
After getting my labs done, I spoke with Dr. Cecchi and got the plans rolling. My labs were good: RBC falling very slowly, while the WBC was up at 13.7 (due to Neulasta shot). In other words, I was good to go.
They're scheduling me for more inpatient ICE at summit (on the 13th), a pet-CT scan to verify ICE is working (around the 20th), and a follow-up oncology visit to discuss results (before 26th). The thought being, if I have clean scans after the second cycle(probably not likely), then I can skip the last two cycles of ICE and go straight to the bone marrow transplant part. If, after the next cycle of ICE, the pet-CT scan shows significant reduction (which I think is most likely), then we continue with two more cycles and finish with the BMT. Lastly, if the scans indicate little or no progress, then that's no good -- from what I read, response to ICE is necessary to indicate the BMT procedure. In other words, I'd have to look for different options. But that's getting ahead of things. I'm just hoping the next scans show a reduction.
So, that's the plan so far!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
[8-05-08] Wednesday Oncology Appt.
[8:59am]
Good news! I have an appointment with Dr. Cecchi on Wednesday at 2:45pm (labs) and 3:30pm (doc). So, my evil plans for more ICE treatment on the 13th are still in-place. Mwa ha ha. Er, ok, I'm still half asleep.
Becky had me agree to a quick lab check-up on Monday the 11th before re-admit.
On a side note, this whole "get the ICE treatment done every two weeks" thing makes me feel like I have some power in all of this, ya know? Like I'm cheating the system. The secret they don't tell you in school: cheaters win. :P
Mwa, oh yeah. Time to turn in my completely terri...I mean, my complete term paper!
[3:26pm]
More good news! After consulting with my school's social services person, we have outlined a plan that will enable me to have school insurance for the Fall and get a tuition refund! The downside to this is that I will be ineligible for any financial aid whatsoever for Fall 09. Still, things are looking good today!
On the school front: I talked to my professor, and got everything worked out. It was a bit scary because I half expected him to say, "Well, you might as well just drop the class..." But he worked with me, and outlined a pretty rigorous schedule (since next Tuesday will be my final day of class). Final Presentation: This Thursday. Final Paper: Next Tuesday. So at least I should be busy this next week!
Currently Eating: A giant heap of blackberry frozen yogurt.
Good news! I have an appointment with Dr. Cecchi on Wednesday at 2:45pm (labs) and 3:30pm (doc). So, my evil plans for more ICE treatment on the 13th are still in-place. Mwa ha ha. Er, ok, I'm still half asleep.
Becky had me agree to a quick lab check-up on Monday the 11th before re-admit.
On a side note, this whole "get the ICE treatment done every two weeks" thing makes me feel like I have some power in all of this, ya know? Like I'm cheating the system. The secret they don't tell you in school: cheaters win. :P
Mwa, oh yeah. Time to turn in my completely terri...I mean, my complete term paper!
[3:26pm]
More good news! After consulting with my school's social services person, we have outlined a plan that will enable me to have school insurance for the Fall and get a tuition refund! The downside to this is that I will be ineligible for any financial aid whatsoever for Fall 09. Still, things are looking good today!
On the school front: I talked to my professor, and got everything worked out. It was a bit scary because I half expected him to say, "Well, you might as well just drop the class..." But he worked with me, and outlined a pretty rigorous schedule (since next Tuesday will be my final day of class). Final Presentation: This Thursday. Final Paper: Next Tuesday. So at least I should be busy this next week!
Currently Eating: A giant heap of blackberry frozen yogurt.
Monday, August 4, 2008
[8-04-08] Procrastination.
[9:35pm]
I think perhaps this past week of chemo has stripped me of all rational thought. I'm tired, and I don't want to finish this dreadful term paper. I'm not going to school next semester. In fact, I'm barely going to school now. What am I moving toward? Where am I going? What will happen? What's the point? Lack of motivation? You bet.
But, the key is to not over think... not to dwell.
In the spoken word of an obscure downtempo EP:
"Keep on doing what you're doing... gotta keep moving."
"Keep on doing what you're doing... gotta keep moving."
"Keep on doing what you're doing... gotta keep moving."
Back to the paper.
[1:23am]
Stupid noisy neighbors... Grr... I miss my quiet hospital bed. Just for once, I'd like a sound night's of sleep.
I think perhaps this past week of chemo has stripped me of all rational thought. I'm tired, and I don't want to finish this dreadful term paper. I'm not going to school next semester. In fact, I'm barely going to school now. What am I moving toward? Where am I going? What will happen? What's the point? Lack of motivation? You bet.
But, the key is to not over think... not to dwell.
In the spoken word of an obscure downtempo EP:
"Keep on doing what you're doing... gotta keep moving."
"Keep on doing what you're doing... gotta keep moving."
"Keep on doing what you're doing... gotta keep moving."
Back to the paper.
[1:23am]
Stupid noisy neighbors... Grr... I miss my quiet hospital bed. Just for once, I'd like a sound night's of sleep.
[8-04-08] Insurance and School
[10:31am]
It is both dreadful and invigorating to be back on my feet again! There's all these challenges to be solved, appointments to schedule, hurtles to overcome...it's life! On the other hand, there's a ton of challenges with unknown solutions, appointments unscheduled, and all sorts of tedious hurtles...I just want to crawl back in bed.
*Ahem* Such is the way things are.
First on my agenda was to get my prescriptions. I got my handy-dandy bottle of ativan last night, and it has served me well. However, to get all the really expensive meds, I needed to go to the UC Berkeley pharmacy. (They classify chemotherapy related meds in a basically "unlimited" category, unlike my other insurances.) Unfortunately, they were all out of Zolfran and Emend -- my two strongest anti-emetics. I'll have to wait for tomorrow to get them. Hehe, the pharmacist knew me and why I needed the meds, and he looked a bit concerned: "I'll hold this prescription on stand-by, if things get worse, give me a call and at least you can be set up at another pharmacy out of pocket." This is one of those aforementioned challenges... no problem. I'll just have to use what I've got for the time being. :P
Next on the agenda, was to try to figure out the insurance dilemma. After talking to the UC Berkeley insurance rep, I was given the curt answer: "Sorry, you're out of luck. If you're not a UC Berkeley student, you get no insurance, and we don't have COBRA or anything." Bah.
After a quick talk with my DSP (Disabled Students Program) advisor, I learn that the solution is quite simple: Enroll in classes, and either drop right after the 5 week deadline, or withdraw on the last day of class. I believe both lets you keep financial aid, withdrawing on the last day may be safer. I have an appointment with my Social Services liaison tomorrow -- she knows how to work the system.
So, yay! I'm not screwed! Well, at least insurance-wise. Pulling these stunts does mean that I will not receive financial aid for my last semester at Cal. Hurdle: overcome (mostly).
Last in line, is to schedule my appointment with Dr. Wexler so that I may get more ICE! I need my fix within 10 days. Bah, no one there, appointments: not yet scheduled. [Revision: They will get back to me]
Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. Now to work on my term paper... ergh, gimme another ativan.
It is both dreadful and invigorating to be back on my feet again! There's all these challenges to be solved, appointments to schedule, hurtles to overcome...it's life! On the other hand, there's a ton of challenges with unknown solutions, appointments unscheduled, and all sorts of tedious hurtles...I just want to crawl back in bed.
*Ahem* Such is the way things are.
First on my agenda was to get my prescriptions. I got my handy-dandy bottle of ativan last night, and it has served me well. However, to get all the really expensive meds, I needed to go to the UC Berkeley pharmacy. (They classify chemotherapy related meds in a basically "unlimited" category, unlike my other insurances.) Unfortunately, they were all out of Zolfran and Emend -- my two strongest anti-emetics. I'll have to wait for tomorrow to get them. Hehe, the pharmacist knew me and why I needed the meds, and he looked a bit concerned: "I'll hold this prescription on stand-by, if things get worse, give me a call and at least you can be set up at another pharmacy out of pocket." This is one of those aforementioned challenges... no problem. I'll just have to use what I've got for the time being. :P
Next on the agenda, was to try to figure out the insurance dilemma. After talking to the UC Berkeley insurance rep, I was given the curt answer: "Sorry, you're out of luck. If you're not a UC Berkeley student, you get no insurance, and we don't have COBRA or anything." Bah.
After a quick talk with my DSP (Disabled Students Program) advisor, I learn that the solution is quite simple: Enroll in classes, and either drop right after the 5 week deadline, or withdraw on the last day of class. I believe both lets you keep financial aid, withdrawing on the last day may be safer. I have an appointment with my Social Services liaison tomorrow -- she knows how to work the system.
So, yay! I'm not screwed! Well, at least insurance-wise. Pulling these stunts does mean that I will not receive financial aid for my last semester at Cal. Hurdle: overcome (mostly).
Last in line, is to schedule my appointment with Dr. Wexler so that I may get more ICE! I need my fix within 10 days. Bah, no one there, appointments: not yet scheduled. [Revision: They will get back to me]
Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. Now to work on my term paper... ergh, gimme another ativan.
Friday, August 1, 2008
[8-01-08] Bacon, Bacon, Cancer
[12;44pm]
Really tired this morning, so I slept a bunch. These hospital beds are great! On a normal mattress, I can get about 5 hours before my back starts hurting. On my special mattress, 7 hours. In here, 11 and a half hours!
So nausea doesn't appear to be an issue anymore. They started me on this drug called emend -- that stuff is bad-ass. With these anti-nausea meds, this chemo is a cake-walk... other than getting a bit tired now and then. Oh, and I found out the "super secret privilege" for those in the oncology ward: you can write whatever you want on the menu, and they'll try to make it! Awesome, huh? I hope they have hanging tenders and pepper jack sausages :P But I didn't want to push my luck, so I just ordered a bunch of bacon.
[6:00pm]
Yawn, just woke up again. Now am I just being lazy, or is it the chemo? I vote chemo, because then it isn't my fault! Other than that, it's been a pretty good day. They started the cisplatin about an hour ago, and no nausea yet! So I think adding the emend made a big difference.
I keep telling the nurses and whatnot about my term paper, and yet I haven't really worked on it. It's hard to care about stuff in that "other" world. This is my world now, a world of tubes and chemo, and repetitive (and extremely annoying) beeping sounds, a world of friendly nurses who not only give you the medicine, they give you some good company. Where does a term paper fit in to this world? In fighting for my life, of what importance is technical writing? Oh well, once I leave the hospital, I'm sure I'll be able to return to that world and finish the paper.
But there's a point to all this. When I was first diagnosed, I didn't want to be "cancer boy." I want to be "Austin, the lazy UC Berkeley student", or "Austin, the musician", or "Austin, the computer geek." But cancer? What an ugly thing: cancer. Cancer isn't attractive, or something to be proud of. And I certainly don't think I'm brave or courageous for doing something anyone in my situation would do. I don't want to identify with cancer. I want to be me. So, back then, I simply got chemo, went to school, and pretended everything was fine.
It worked, for the most part. And that was good, because school propelled me forward. It was a positive distraction, and something I could be proud of. But now, the game has changed a bit. Things have gotten more serious, and there's really no way to hide the fact that you have cancer when you're sitting in a hospital bed with tubes attached 24/7. As for school, my month in Stanford will make that impossible. Nope, no way to hide it. I am "cancer boy" now.
Even this blog will attest to that.
But there's an upside. I'm so amazed at the level of support I received from everyone -- it seems I'm loved. And this is a little vacation for me. I mean, I get fed three times a day, I get to slack on the internet all day, read the books Liz got for me, or watch the 1TB of movies Barbara downloaded for me, or work on my *ahem*midtermpaper. I can't be bored, and despite the situation, everything's pretty low-stress.
This whole thing has allowed me to step back and look at my life. Re-evaluate my priorities and whatnot. If I could do anything in the world, right now, what would I want to do? Where would I want to go? In addition, the lack of deadlines, or career ambition, or financial anxiety... all that's been funneled into a drive to beat this. Fighting cancer is swell meditation. It's probably healthy.
Really tired this morning, so I slept a bunch. These hospital beds are great! On a normal mattress, I can get about 5 hours before my back starts hurting. On my special mattress, 7 hours. In here, 11 and a half hours!
So nausea doesn't appear to be an issue anymore. They started me on this drug called emend -- that stuff is bad-ass. With these anti-nausea meds, this chemo is a cake-walk... other than getting a bit tired now and then. Oh, and I found out the "super secret privilege" for those in the oncology ward: you can write whatever you want on the menu, and they'll try to make it! Awesome, huh? I hope they have hanging tenders and pepper jack sausages :P But I didn't want to push my luck, so I just ordered a bunch of bacon.
[6:00pm]
Yawn, just woke up again. Now am I just being lazy, or is it the chemo? I vote chemo, because then it isn't my fault! Other than that, it's been a pretty good day. They started the cisplatin about an hour ago, and no nausea yet! So I think adding the emend made a big difference.
I keep telling the nurses and whatnot about my term paper, and yet I haven't really worked on it. It's hard to care about stuff in that "other" world. This is my world now, a world of tubes and chemo, and repetitive (and extremely annoying) beeping sounds, a world of friendly nurses who not only give you the medicine, they give you some good company. Where does a term paper fit in to this world? In fighting for my life, of what importance is technical writing? Oh well, once I leave the hospital, I'm sure I'll be able to return to that world and finish the paper.
But there's a point to all this. When I was first diagnosed, I didn't want to be "cancer boy." I want to be "Austin, the lazy UC Berkeley student", or "Austin, the musician", or "Austin, the computer geek." But cancer? What an ugly thing: cancer. Cancer isn't attractive, or something to be proud of. And I certainly don't think I'm brave or courageous for doing something anyone in my situation would do. I don't want to identify with cancer. I want to be me. So, back then, I simply got chemo, went to school, and pretended everything was fine.
It worked, for the most part. And that was good, because school propelled me forward. It was a positive distraction, and something I could be proud of. But now, the game has changed a bit. Things have gotten more serious, and there's really no way to hide the fact that you have cancer when you're sitting in a hospital bed with tubes attached 24/7. As for school, my month in Stanford will make that impossible. Nope, no way to hide it. I am "cancer boy" now.
Even this blog will attest to that.
But there's an upside. I'm so amazed at the level of support I received from everyone -- it seems I'm loved. And this is a little vacation for me. I mean, I get fed three times a day, I get to slack on the internet all day, read the books Liz got for me, or watch the 1TB of movies Barbara downloaded for me, or work on my *ahem*midtermpaper. I can't be bored, and despite the situation, everything's pretty low-stress.
This whole thing has allowed me to step back and look at my life. Re-evaluate my priorities and whatnot. If I could do anything in the world, right now, what would I want to do? Where would I want to go? In addition, the lack of deadlines, or career ambition, or financial anxiety... all that's been funneled into a drive to beat this. Fighting cancer is swell meditation. It's probably healthy.
Monday, June 2, 2008
[6-2-08] Completed Chemotherapy
It has been quite some time since my last entry. Overall, things have gone much better than I anticipated. I have completed chemotherapy as of 5-30-08. There was a little nausea, numbness in my fingers, and a myriad of little side effects. But I was OK overall. I start radiation sometime soon.
I managed to make it through all of my classes. Or, specifically, my AI class. I got a B-; not too bad, considering.
Now I look back through these pages to realize that I may have lost a little of my "survivor's optimism." I need to have gained something from this experience. Something must set everything straight.
I managed to make it through all of my classes. Or, specifically, my AI class. I got a B-; not too bad, considering.
Now I look back through these pages to realize that I may have lost a little of my "survivor's optimism." I need to have gained something from this experience. Something must set everything straight.
Friday, February 1, 2008
[2-1-08] Graphics vs. AI
I failed to complete my graphics programming homework. I just couldn't concentrate/care about the ugly math. The programming assignment was fun, though -- I finished that.
I saw Lisa, from the school's Social Services dept., today. Nice lady. I told her the same old story & how it would be difficult to tell my family and whatnot.
Then she told me about how I can get an extra loan for $2,800 for medical expenses. Also, that I should get the DSP (Disabled Students Program) to help me out.
[11:00am]
I went to my first AI discussion section. The TA did an example of Bayesian Maps. The sample problem was, "find the probability of certain symptoms given that the patient has cancer, and vice versa." I felt a little upset about that. At that moment, I wonder how he would react if I blurted out my situation in front of the class...
Maybe I should drop the graphics class.
I saw Lisa, from the school's Social Services dept., today. Nice lady. I told her the same old story & how it would be difficult to tell my family and whatnot.
Then she told me about how I can get an extra loan for $2,800 for medical expenses. Also, that I should get the DSP (Disabled Students Program) to help me out.
[11:00am]
I went to my first AI discussion section. The TA did an example of Bayesian Maps. The sample problem was, "find the probability of certain symptoms given that the patient has cancer, and vice versa." I felt a little upset about that. At that moment, I wonder how he would react if I blurted out my situation in front of the class...
Maybe I should drop the graphics class.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
[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.
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.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
[1-29-08] Oncologist
[Transcribed directly from my journal. I don't care about grammar in my journal, so please allow me to apologize beforehand.]
Today I get to hear from the oncologist. Maybe he can give me a clue about the x-ray.
I went to class, checked on financial aid (still no money), and turned in a UC loan deferrment form to have them stop billing me while I am in school. I also got permission for an emergency loan, but I decided against it because I was supposed to get the money "any day now."
[3:00pm]
I went to the health center to find out why I haven't yet received a call from my doctor. I find out that the oncologist has not returned his call yet.
My doctor looks at me and asks me how I am doing. I say, "Actually quite well. I don't really understand why, but I am doing quite good. Part of it is because the threat to my life makes me appreciate it more, you know? The other part is that, with a threat like this, I really don't care about what people think. I'm not sweating the small stuff. I can smile at a girl: no problem... chat with classmates: piece of cake."
He tell me that I should consult with one of the counselors, and to tell them that I've received a "very bad diagnosis." I thought it was silly, but I agreed to it.
So I walked upstairs, feeling fine. Then I entered the counseling center and got a knot in my stomach. "Can I help you?", the receptionist says.
"Yeah, my doctor told me to come up here to see a counselor, and that it was a good idea because I just recei..." My voice trailed up...my eyes were trying to shed tears, and it felt like there was something lodged in my throat. I couldn't speak! I looked down at the table, trying to compose myself and finish my sentence.
Talking to the furniture, I said, "I just received a..." It was even worse this time. Actual tears were shed -- a rare occurrence -- and I had to say "excuse me." I walk away for a few steps and compose myself.
"I just..." (At this point, the tears started up again, but I persisted.) "...received a really bad diagnosis."
Her face was wide eyed and startled. "Uh, yes. We'll set you up with someone today, if we can. Do you have your insurance card?"
I guess that was when it really hit me: I have cancer. Afterwards, when I talked with the counselor, I felt a bit better. A burden that I didn't know I had was lifted. This world felt a little more real, but that was OK -- I was going to be fine.
In class my phone rang (on vibrate, but to hell with the professor -- I answer all my calls now.). It was the secretary of the oncologist. She wanted to make an appointment in a few days. On the 31st, my oncologist will see me. Two days from now, not a week or two weeks. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that quick appointments is a BAD thing.
When I got home, I really wanted to tell someone. Then I started to get all teary-eyed again -- whenever I think of telling my family, I feel terrible and afraid.
As it so happens, my friend Heather just happened to call. She was like, "I've had a bad day." I say, "Me too. Well, I don't know, more crazy than bad. So tell me about your day."
"You first," she says.
"Uhm, mine is pretty long and complicated." She insisted, so I told her.
She was shocked and terribly afraid for me. Then I started to feel bad -- I shouldn't have told her. I mean, I basically just made her feel terrible worried about me because I needed to talk to someone. Isn't that selfish? How mean is that?
I definitely can't tell my family. I'll just work through this and succeed -- then no one gets hurt.
Still, I really needed to tell someone, and I am thankful for her ear, and kind words.
Today I get to hear from the oncologist. Maybe he can give me a clue about the x-ray.
I went to class, checked on financial aid (still no money), and turned in a UC loan deferrment form to have them stop billing me while I am in school. I also got permission for an emergency loan, but I decided against it because I was supposed to get the money "any day now."
[3:00pm]
I went to the health center to find out why I haven't yet received a call from my doctor. I find out that the oncologist has not returned his call yet.
My doctor looks at me and asks me how I am doing. I say, "Actually quite well. I don't really understand why, but I am doing quite good. Part of it is because the threat to my life makes me appreciate it more, you know? The other part is that, with a threat like this, I really don't care about what people think. I'm not sweating the small stuff. I can smile at a girl: no problem... chat with classmates: piece of cake."
He tell me that I should consult with one of the counselors, and to tell them that I've received a "very bad diagnosis." I thought it was silly, but I agreed to it.
So I walked upstairs, feeling fine. Then I entered the counseling center and got a knot in my stomach. "Can I help you?", the receptionist says.
"Yeah, my doctor told me to come up here to see a counselor, and that it was a good idea because I just recei..." My voice trailed up...my eyes were trying to shed tears, and it felt like there was something lodged in my throat. I couldn't speak! I looked down at the table, trying to compose myself and finish my sentence.
Talking to the furniture, I said, "I just received a..." It was even worse this time. Actual tears were shed -- a rare occurrence -- and I had to say "excuse me." I walk away for a few steps and compose myself.
"I just..." (At this point, the tears started up again, but I persisted.) "...received a really bad diagnosis."
Her face was wide eyed and startled. "Uh, yes. We'll set you up with someone today, if we can. Do you have your insurance card?"
I guess that was when it really hit me: I have cancer. Afterwards, when I talked with the counselor, I felt a bit better. A burden that I didn't know I had was lifted. This world felt a little more real, but that was OK -- I was going to be fine.
In class my phone rang (on vibrate, but to hell with the professor -- I answer all my calls now.). It was the secretary of the oncologist. She wanted to make an appointment in a few days. On the 31st, my oncologist will see me. Two days from now, not a week or two weeks. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that quick appointments is a BAD thing.
When I got home, I really wanted to tell someone. Then I started to get all teary-eyed again -- whenever I think of telling my family, I feel terrible and afraid.
As it so happens, my friend Heather just happened to call. She was like, "I've had a bad day." I say, "Me too. Well, I don't know, more crazy than bad. So tell me about your day."
"You first," she says.
"Uhm, mine is pretty long and complicated." She insisted, so I told her.
She was shocked and terribly afraid for me. Then I started to feel bad -- I shouldn't have told her. I mean, I basically just made her feel terrible worried about me because I needed to talk to someone. Isn't that selfish? How mean is that?
I definitely can't tell my family. I'll just work through this and succeed -- then no one gets hurt.
Still, I really needed to tell someone, and I am thankful for her ear, and kind words.
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