[1:33pm]
I definitely like the recovery phase much more than the treatment phase: getting better each day is far more agreeable than getting worse each day, no matter the initial conditions.
It feels silly to say something so obvious, but I love feeling better -- I want this to continue more rapidly; I want to facilitate this. I want to run! I want to be in better shape than I was pre-BMT. Accordingly, I've decided to push myself harder and get some exercise. So, I got out today and went for a walk.
The physical therapist recommended a walk of 20-30 minutes a day, but since I was new to all this, my target time was 20 minutes. I think there's some rules about being around a caregiver at all times while outside the home or something, but I figured that if I made a bee-line from here to the hospital that no one could really complain. I mean, what can they say? "What if you collapsed all by yourself?" Then I'd say, "Yeah, I'd collapse in a hospital -- that'd be real bad."
The worst part about all this is that I had to put on my stupid HEPA-mask. Let me tell you, there is nothing worse than a runny nose while wearing one of those. Then there's the people looking at you strangely as you pass them... Now, I could lie to everyone and say that I don't care what people think of me, but that's not entirely true. I could say that I defiantly glare at those staring at the man in the mask, but that's not true either. On the other hand, I don't sheepishly avert my eyes either -- I'm certainly not ashamed about all this. The truth is in the middle ground: I don't care what random strangers think of me... as long as I don't notice it. So, my strategy: Look where you'd normally look; act how you'd normally act, but when you get the feeling that you're being stared at and you're about to make eye contact... just defocus your eyes. :P
There was this kid that was running gleefully in front of his parents. As he approached me, he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at me, then looked at his parents, then looked at me again. He simply stood there, waiting for his parents, unsure how to proceed in front of this strange person with a strange mask. Some defocusing was helpful there...
Other than that, I was too distracted by the world around me to even consider people's reactions. I remember seeing a little finch on the side of the sidewalk, and thinking to myself: "I want to be as free as this bird from now on; I'll never be hospitalized again." And I looked at the trees and the plants and the nature and all the good outdoorsy stuff. I felt happy, and I thought to myself, "As much as I don't like the effort and difficulty of getting outside and going for a walk, I'm glad I did. That seems like a lesson I keep learning: life is about the journey, not the destination. I need to hit the textbooks." Then I stopped by the fountain at the main entrance to the hospital and watched the ducks...
From a distance, it looks like a fountain, but upon closer inspection, you learn that it is really a duck playground. There's the larger fountains shooting water that the ducks like to hide under, and there's the smaller fountains that the ducks like to sip from or clean themselves with, and there's these little islands with plants to conceal the ducks when they feel like hiding from the world.
Then I saw these two ducks playfighting with each other. They were relentless! Both ducks would bite each other's legs and they would swim in furious circles like a dog chasing its own tail. Then they would break apart, but you could always see this particular pair eyeing each other across the water. One would swim a little closer, and the other would veer away or pretend not to notice. And, suddenly, one of the two will furiously attack the other. This would repeat over and over again.
And I stood there, just laughing and smiling at the ducks... with my sounds of joy somewhat muffled by the mask, but not prevented in the slightest. I'm going to go see those ducks every day.
Showing posts with label beautiful. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beautiful. Show all posts
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
[10-23-08] Mariska!
[10:43pm]
I got a new niece! Mariska was born today in the early afternoon, and everyone is fine and happy. I haven't seen her yet, but I plan to get a ride down to Santa Cruz for a day visit on Friday -- to hell with the 20 mile radius, I feel quite nominal.
As for me, well I've just been playing my video games... I'm trying to waste as much time as possible -- I can't wait to get this started! It's like when you're a kid and you're waiting for Christmas... a valid strategy is to sleep excessively :P
To bad I can't sleep to well. It's funny: most people look at their alarm clock with a sense of dread in the morning. I do as well, but in a way that is totally different than you'd expect. One typically says, "Oh man, it's almost 7:00am -- I only have ten more minutes of sleep." I, on the other hand, say, "Oh man, it's almost 7:00am -- last time I was awake was at 6:40am.. it's only been 10 minutes, so little time has passed."
Oh well. It's mostly the mattress, I think. Perhaps I should score a Tempurpedic. But those hospital beds were darn comfortable... I wonder how I'll sleep there... So much anticipation!
I got a new niece! Mariska was born today in the early afternoon, and everyone is fine and happy. I haven't seen her yet, but I plan to get a ride down to Santa Cruz for a day visit on Friday -- to hell with the 20 mile radius, I feel quite nominal.
As for me, well I've just been playing my video games... I'm trying to waste as much time as possible -- I can't wait to get this started! It's like when you're a kid and you're waiting for Christmas... a valid strategy is to sleep excessively :P
To bad I can't sleep to well. It's funny: most people look at their alarm clock with a sense of dread in the morning. I do as well, but in a way that is totally different than you'd expect. One typically says, "Oh man, it's almost 7:00am -- I only have ten more minutes of sleep." I, on the other hand, say, "Oh man, it's almost 7:00am -- last time I was awake was at 6:40am.. it's only been 10 minutes, so little time has passed."
Oh well. It's mostly the mattress, I think. Perhaps I should score a Tempurpedic. But those hospital beds were darn comfortable... I wonder how I'll sleep there... So much anticipation!
Friday, September 26, 2008
[9-26-08] Mobilization Routine
[1:25pm]
Cytoxan has been... difficult. However, I am somehow pleased that the side effects are so apparent -- it means it is working. Maybe there isn't a correlation between side effects and chemotherapy effectiveness, but it still feels somewhat reassuring to feel what a chemo-patient is supposed to be feeling.
I mean, I was drinking beers and doing construction throughout ICE and Stanford V! Right now, water is difficult to drink and I can hardly get out of bed! Well, I'll get a PET/CT Scan in a few weeks; we'll see just how effective this has been.
Anyways, I thought I'd post a bit of my routine to help illustrate my situation:
7:00am Go to bathroom, take Rifampin (the drug that causes you to sweat and cry orange), drink lots of water, take Neupogen out of fridge, go back to sleep.
9:00am Take 2mg Ativan (dissolve on tongue, don't swallow!). I need the Ativan to eat; I need to eat to take the other pills. Eat a bagel...slowly. Take the Zofran and Compazine (other two anti-nausea pills). Drink lots of water.
9:30am Take Famotidine (reduces acid in stomach). Put Aquaguard over catheter dressing so that I can take a shower. Take a shower.
10:00am Take Cipro and Welbutrin (stomach should be able to handle it at this point). Inject 3 needles of Neupogen. Drink lots of water.
10:15am Take remaining drugs and flush catheter with Heparin. Brush teeth.
10:30am Go back to sleep.
That's my morning ritual. Takes a bit longer than reading the morning paper, eh? The key is to take things very slowly; my stomach is incredibly sensitive. Today I nearly puked from eating a bagel too fast, can you believe that?!? The bagel...my staple food. No wonder Barbara says I'm eating 1/4 what I normally eat.
Then, for the most part, I spend the day sleeping. For some reason, I have the uncanny ability to sleep FOREVER now. Which is strange because I usually have difficulty sleeping. Oh well, I'll take it!
On another note, I managed to withdraw from school yesterday. So, I'm out! It's a sad/scary feeling, but at least it allows me to move on. I'm no longer a student. Bah
Also, I'll be heading to a symphony Sunday with Liz, Barbara, and Gloria -- can you believe that? That means I'll be wearing my Darth Vader HEPA mask in a symphony hall! That should get some stares. But if Liz is cool with her date from the dark side, so am I.
Cytoxan has been... difficult. However, I am somehow pleased that the side effects are so apparent -- it means it is working. Maybe there isn't a correlation between side effects and chemotherapy effectiveness, but it still feels somewhat reassuring to feel what a chemo-patient is supposed to be feeling.
I mean, I was drinking beers and doing construction throughout ICE and Stanford V! Right now, water is difficult to drink and I can hardly get out of bed! Well, I'll get a PET/CT Scan in a few weeks; we'll see just how effective this has been.
Anyways, I thought I'd post a bit of my routine to help illustrate my situation:
7:00am Go to bathroom, take Rifampin (the drug that causes you to sweat and cry orange), drink lots of water, take Neupogen out of fridge, go back to sleep.
9:00am Take 2mg Ativan (dissolve on tongue, don't swallow!). I need the Ativan to eat; I need to eat to take the other pills. Eat a bagel...slowly. Take the Zofran and Compazine (other two anti-nausea pills). Drink lots of water.
9:30am Take Famotidine (reduces acid in stomach). Put Aquaguard over catheter dressing so that I can take a shower. Take a shower.
10:00am Take Cipro and Welbutrin (stomach should be able to handle it at this point). Inject 3 needles of Neupogen. Drink lots of water.
10:15am Take remaining drugs and flush catheter with Heparin. Brush teeth.
10:30am Go back to sleep.
That's my morning ritual. Takes a bit longer than reading the morning paper, eh? The key is to take things very slowly; my stomach is incredibly sensitive. Today I nearly puked from eating a bagel too fast, can you believe that?!? The bagel...my staple food. No wonder Barbara says I'm eating 1/4 what I normally eat.
Then, for the most part, I spend the day sleeping. For some reason, I have the uncanny ability to sleep FOREVER now. Which is strange because I usually have difficulty sleeping. Oh well, I'll take it!
On another note, I managed to withdraw from school yesterday. So, I'm out! It's a sad/scary feeling, but at least it allows me to move on. I'm no longer a student. Bah
Also, I'll be heading to a symphony Sunday with Liz, Barbara, and Gloria -- can you believe that? That means I'll be wearing my Darth Vader HEPA mask in a symphony hall! That should get some stares. But if Liz is cool with her date from the dark side, so am I.
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.
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."
Sunday, August 3, 2008
[8-03-08] Home Sweet Home
[10:13pm]
It's good to be home. Next time, however, I'll show the foresight to clean before I go get ICE. I've got a full day of stuff to do tomorrow:
1> Work out withdrawal from UC Berkeley
2> Schedule Appointment. with DR. Wexler
3> Get all these prescriptions filled
4> Finish Term Paper before Tuesday.
5> Find out how to solve insurance dilemma (see 1)
By the way, I just got a hand made quilt from Liz's mom. It's totally beautiful, and totally thoughtful. When she was going through chemo, her best friend made her a quilt. Now I have one of my own, and it even sports rustic colors :P No more lame hospital blankets! Thanks so much!
Ok, back tzzzzzzzz.
[2:46am]
For the summer, due to all the students returning home, a lot of Irish, for some reason, like to move into the dorms and halls of UC Berkeley. Overnight it turns into some sort of party school, with people chanting Irish jigs in the streets. It was fun when I got the bad news, to drop everything and go partying with them. Now, I just want some sleep... and they keep waking me up
with belligerent noises. Bah.
Been thinking about my schedule... [Edited, thanks Liz!]
8-13 to 8-17 In-Patient Chemo
8-27 to 8-31 In-Patient Chemo * Optional
9-10 to 9-14 In-Patient Chemo * Optional
9-28 to 10-28 Stanford BMT Program
If we time it juuuust right, we can make it so that my re-birthday (day at which stem cells are returned) coincides actually with my actual birthday! As far as I know, one can expect 5-12 days before stem cells are returned. Factoring a slight delay before Stanford, and we're set! That'd be sweet! Then I could choose between, say, 2 candles on the cake, or 29.
It's good to be home. Next time, however, I'll show the foresight to clean before I go get ICE. I've got a full day of stuff to do tomorrow:
1> Work out withdrawal from UC Berkeley
2> Schedule Appointment. with DR. Wexler
3> Get all these prescriptions filled
4> Finish Term Paper before Tuesday.
5> Find out how to solve insurance dilemma (see 1)
By the way, I just got a hand made quilt from Liz's mom. It's totally beautiful, and totally thoughtful. When she was going through chemo, her best friend made her a quilt. Now I have one of my own, and it even sports rustic colors :P No more lame hospital blankets! Thanks so much!
Ok, back tzzzzzzzz.
[2:46am]
For the summer, due to all the students returning home, a lot of Irish, for some reason, like to move into the dorms and halls of UC Berkeley. Overnight it turns into some sort of party school, with people chanting Irish jigs in the streets. It was fun when I got the bad news, to drop everything and go partying with them. Now, I just want some sleep... and they keep waking me up
with belligerent noises. Bah.
Been thinking about my schedule... [Edited, thanks Liz!]
8-13 to 8-17 In-Patient Chemo
8-27 to 8-31 In-Patient Chemo * Optional
9-10 to 9-14 In-Patient Chemo * Optional
9-28 to 10-28 Stanford BMT Program
If we time it juuuust right, we can make it so that my re-birthday (day at which stem cells are returned) coincides actually with my actual birthday! As far as I know, one can expect 5-12 days before stem cells are returned. Factoring a slight delay before Stanford, and we're set! That'd be sweet! Then I could choose between, say, 2 candles on the cake, or 29.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
[7-31-08] Evening Report
[7:29am]
My Liz just came over and kept me company. What a wonderful person she is (true, the McDonalds helped :P). Anyhow, I'm just constantly amazed with all the support I've received from you all -- it really makes me feel that I'm loved and not alone. So here's to you all!
I'm just about to start the second part of my chemo. Hopefully, this'll go better than the first. Now that the nausea is gone, I just find myself sleepy -- maybe a side effect of anti-nausea meds? Or because my red blood count is below nominal?
You know, in retrospect, the chaplain visiting kind of spooked me a bit. I mean, if you break your leg in the hospital, do you get a chaplain? They are there to address the "spiritual needs" of the patients. If you're obviously going to live, you aren't in a spiritual crisis. So, why do I get a chaplain? Spooky.
[Watching: Hancock]
My Liz just came over and kept me company. What a wonderful person she is (true, the McDonalds helped :P). Anyhow, I'm just constantly amazed with all the support I've received from you all -- it really makes me feel that I'm loved and not alone. So here's to you all!
I'm just about to start the second part of my chemo. Hopefully, this'll go better than the first. Now that the nausea is gone, I just find myself sleepy -- maybe a side effect of anti-nausea meds? Or because my red blood count is below nominal?
You know, in retrospect, the chaplain visiting kind of spooked me a bit. I mean, if you break your leg in the hospital, do you get a chaplain? They are there to address the "spiritual needs" of the patients. If you're obviously going to live, you aren't in a spiritual crisis. So, why do I get a chaplain? Spooky.
[Watching: Hancock]
Friday, February 15, 2008
[2-15-08] Orchid's Flower
A few days after I was first diagnosed, I bought an orchid. I vowed to take care of the plant like it was my own life. The flower died a few days ago...
I tried everything. I ran to the florist, and asked for advice. He told me exactly how much they liked to be watered, and that they liked to be misted in the mornings. I bought a spray bottle and went to it...
A few days later, the flower still wasn't looking healthy. I told him about this, and he mentioned that my apartment may not be getting enough air circulation. Desperate, I went to Wallgreen's and bought three fans. I opened my windows and let all three fans continually circulate the air in my small room. Leaving my windows open meant cold nights and random noises on the busy street waking me up several times a night. But the orchid had to live.
I hope this is not a prophecy.
Fortunately, the plant part is still alive. I wonder...when it flowers again next year, will it mark the cure of my cancer? Probably, I'll be cured before then...or, perhaps the orchid will flower early?
Valentine's day was awesome. Liz was great. Carpe diem!
I tried everything. I ran to the florist, and asked for advice. He told me exactly how much they liked to be watered, and that they liked to be misted in the mornings. I bought a spray bottle and went to it...
A few days later, the flower still wasn't looking healthy. I told him about this, and he mentioned that my apartment may not be getting enough air circulation. Desperate, I went to Wallgreen's and bought three fans. I opened my windows and let all three fans continually circulate the air in my small room. Leaving my windows open meant cold nights and random noises on the busy street waking me up several times a night. But the orchid had to live.
I hope this is not a prophecy.
Fortunately, the plant part is still alive. I wonder...when it flowers again next year, will it mark the cure of my cancer? Probably, I'll be cured before then...or, perhaps the orchid will flower early?
Valentine's day was awesome. Liz was great. Carpe diem!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
[2-14-08] Valentine's Day!
I have a date for Valentine's day! Woot! Things might work out for me and this girl. So, I was thinking about chemotherapy and my hair...
I called this hair replacement studio and they told me all about their products. Actually, they said that it was rare for men to come in because they were more comfortable with hair-loss.
Then the lady mentioned that hair-loss due to chemo is a "badge of courage" of some kind. I don't know how I feel about that. On one hand, getting a wig shows that you have the resolve to not "let cancer win" by allowing it to interfere in your day-to-day life. On the other hand, sporting your baldness says "I have cancer, do you have a problem with that?"
I called this hair replacement studio and they told me all about their products. Actually, they said that it was rare for men to come in because they were more comfortable with hair-loss.
Then the lady mentioned that hair-loss due to chemo is a "badge of courage" of some kind. I don't know how I feel about that. On one hand, getting a wig shows that you have the resolve to not "let cancer win" by allowing it to interfere in your day-to-day life. On the other hand, sporting your baldness says "I have cancer, do you have a problem with that?"
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