One hour left of this godforsaken year. I take some comfort in knowing that there is virtually NO FUCKING WAY 2008 can get any worse.
Good riddance.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Dec. 30
I look young. And rather like a vampire. A young vampire.
Had a pretty good day, today. My brain's working again, and all that. Also got my Ashley Wood book (Complete Popbot) in the mail. Very happy. Also got approved for the Trillium drug program. That means my drugs are now covered. Wheeeeee!
That's all I got. Fuzzy scalp.
Had a pretty good day, today. My brain's working again, and all that. Also got my Ashley Wood book (Complete Popbot) in the mail. Very happy. Also got approved for the Trillium drug program. That means my drugs are now covered. Wheeeeee!
That's all I got. Fuzzy scalp.
Dec. 29
I have got to start updating earlier in the day. Then again, it makes sense to update at the end of the day.. I should probably just go to sleep earlier, then...
Today finally felt like a really real normal day, at last. I think my brain is finally back 100%. In celebration of my returned sense of taste, and general gluttony, today I had a cinnabon for the first time in at least two years, if not more. Mm mm yum. I have much more of a tolerance to sweet tastes, of late, so that was pretty awesome. Cue me bitching about getting fat again, tomorrow.
The numbness in my left hand is still there, but it feels like it's slowly going away. I say that, because I'm starting to feel some pain in my index finger, but that may also be because I've been tenderizing it for the last few days, trying to feel something there. The itching is worse than ever. Stupid toxins, etc.
But hey... No more night sweats for quite a while. I can't describe how glad I am to be rid of that symptom.
I guess the most perplexing thing about my experience with cancer is how earth-shattering, yet how mundane it is. It affects every aspect of life, but at the same time, life still remains fairly normal. It's all symptom management, really.
I've never really considered myself "lucky", especially when you throw in, you know, the cancer, etc., but as far as this is concerned, I'm having an easy go of things. Here's hoping it lasts.
Today finally felt like a really real normal day, at last. I think my brain is finally back 100%. In celebration of my returned sense of taste, and general gluttony, today I had a cinnabon for the first time in at least two years, if not more. Mm mm yum. I have much more of a tolerance to sweet tastes, of late, so that was pretty awesome. Cue me bitching about getting fat again, tomorrow.
The numbness in my left hand is still there, but it feels like it's slowly going away. I say that, because I'm starting to feel some pain in my index finger, but that may also be because I've been tenderizing it for the last few days, trying to feel something there. The itching is worse than ever. Stupid toxins, etc.
But hey... No more night sweats for quite a while. I can't describe how glad I am to be rid of that symptom.
I guess the most perplexing thing about my experience with cancer is how earth-shattering, yet how mundane it is. It affects every aspect of life, but at the same time, life still remains fairly normal. It's all symptom management, really.
I've never really considered myself "lucky", especially when you throw in, you know, the cancer, etc., but as far as this is concerned, I'm having an easy go of things. Here's hoping it lasts.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Dec. 28
I think the numbness in my left hand is slowly going away, but instead I've been feeling pain in my right knee. Hurray for uric acid and gout. Only two more weeks of alopurinol, though. After that, my lymph nodes should be more or less back to normal, size-wise. Already my neck is pretty much back to its pencil-thin dimensions.
I'm kinda all over the place, lately. Very moody. Not a happy chappy. I don't know how much of that is because of physiological factors, and how much of it is purely psychological. Fun fun.
I want to read more. I have a stack of books friends have lent me, that I've yet to plow through. I also traded in a lot of old textbooks at the K-W Bookstore downtown today, and have quite the sizable store credit. I'd like to load up on photo/art books, however. I picked up a small Ashley Wood art book that was on sale, the other day, and I ordered the "Complete Popbot" book online, at last. God Bless his smutty, robot and zombie-ridden soul.
On a final note, and this will likely be a recurring theme... I wonder why people are so afraid of confronting negative attitudes and feelings. I know there is a hefty body of research that shows the links between affect and illness perceptions, and prognosis. However, there is research to document the fact that unrealistic expectations, and unwarranted optimism ("objective optimism", I believe they called it) are damaging as well.
Too tired for a rant. It's way past my bed time.
I'm kinda all over the place, lately. Very moody. Not a happy chappy. I don't know how much of that is because of physiological factors, and how much of it is purely psychological. Fun fun.
I want to read more. I have a stack of books friends have lent me, that I've yet to plow through. I also traded in a lot of old textbooks at the K-W Bookstore downtown today, and have quite the sizable store credit. I'd like to load up on photo/art books, however. I picked up a small Ashley Wood art book that was on sale, the other day, and I ordered the "Complete Popbot" book online, at last. God Bless his smutty, robot and zombie-ridden soul.
On a final note, and this will likely be a recurring theme... I wonder why people are so afraid of confronting negative attitudes and feelings. I know there is a hefty body of research that shows the links between affect and illness perceptions, and prognosis. However, there is research to document the fact that unrealistic expectations, and unwarranted optimism ("objective optimism", I believe they called it) are damaging as well.
Too tired for a rant. It's way past my bed time.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Dec. 27
So, here's tonight's ponderous question: why me?
A friend was asking much the same, in regards to impending chemotherapy. I wish I fucking knew.
I was sort of touching on the subject earlier on. If someone could give me an answer, *any* logical answer, I'd be glad. I joked earlier tonight about confronting the "spiritual counsellor" at the hospital about it. Asking him how a benevolent, all-seeing, all-knowing, omnipresent and omnipotent god can allow things like these to happen. I guess even if someone told me that it was "survival of the fittest", I'd be satisfied. If someone told me that I'm genetically programmed to die young so as to leave room for better, fitter individuals, I'd accept that. But this is random. In the words of Gwen Stefani: this shit is bananas.
I just want a logical answer. I need something tangible. Oh well, one mini breakdown per month is not too bad, I guess.
A friend was asking much the same, in regards to impending chemotherapy. I wish I fucking knew.
I was sort of touching on the subject earlier on. If someone could give me an answer, *any* logical answer, I'd be glad. I joked earlier tonight about confronting the "spiritual counsellor" at the hospital about it. Asking him how a benevolent, all-seeing, all-knowing, omnipresent and omnipotent god can allow things like these to happen. I guess even if someone told me that it was "survival of the fittest", I'd be satisfied. If someone told me that I'm genetically programmed to die young so as to leave room for better, fitter individuals, I'd accept that. But this is random. In the words of Gwen Stefani: this shit is bananas.
I just want a logical answer. I need something tangible. Oh well, one mini breakdown per month is not too bad, I guess.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Dec. 26
Good old chemo brain. I completely forgot to update earlier. That's why today, in the spirit of a belated boxing day, you get two entries for the price of one! One now, one tonight! I'm all tingly with excitement.
Here's a quick run-down of this chemo experience:
- No nausea
- Little dizziness
- Much motion sickness
- Some drowziness
- Loss of feeling in left-hand index finger and thumb (eep.)
That's about it for chemo-related symptoms.
The cancer itch is still here. I scratched my ankle too hard the other night and broke the skin. That's no good.
Also, all that bacon I was eating last week is catching up with me. Hoo boy. Right to the thighs.
Actually, I was going to leave it at that, but wait, there's more! I weighed myself yesterday, and I was roughly 175lbs. (okay, 180, but I was wearing my boots and my big-ass leather coat). That puts me at 10 pounds heavier than when I started chemotherapy. I guess that's good. However, body image is not doing so well. I'm glad I don't look quite as emaciated anymore, but between feeling sluggish and useless, the stupid new haircut, and the weight-gain, I'm kinda really really looking forward to the spring and health and a gym membership.
Here's a quick run-down of this chemo experience:
- No nausea
- Little dizziness
- Much motion sickness
- Some drowziness
- Loss of feeling in left-hand index finger and thumb (eep.)
That's about it for chemo-related symptoms.
The cancer itch is still here. I scratched my ankle too hard the other night and broke the skin. That's no good.
Also, all that bacon I was eating last week is catching up with me. Hoo boy. Right to the thighs.
Actually, I was going to leave it at that, but wait, there's more! I weighed myself yesterday, and I was roughly 175lbs. (okay, 180, but I was wearing my boots and my big-ass leather coat). That puts me at 10 pounds heavier than when I started chemotherapy. I guess that's good. However, body image is not doing so well. I'm glad I don't look quite as emaciated anymore, but between feeling sluggish and useless, the stupid new haircut, and the weight-gain, I'm kinda really really looking forward to the spring and health and a gym membership.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Dec. 25
Merry happy, everybody.
This round of chemo's going okay, I guess. Still feel like my knees are getting kicked out from under me, and I've got butterflies in my stomach constantly, but it could be worse. I'm at least semi-useful. Ish. Kinda.
I'm feeling extremely nostalgic lately.
That is all.
This round of chemo's going okay, I guess. Still feel like my knees are getting kicked out from under me, and I've got butterflies in my stomach constantly, but it could be worse. I'm at least semi-useful. Ish. Kinda.
I'm feeling extremely nostalgic lately.
That is all.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Dec. 24
Yesterday I communicated with my doctor via the chemo nurse about the effects of Kytril. I told her that last round of chemo, I felt fine one morning, until I took Kytril. She said it's probably the chemo, still.
I woke up at 8:30, and felt fine. I'm still feeling alright, but I just took the Kytril. I wonder how I'll be in a little while.
Chemo sucked especially hard yesterday, as I hadn't slept the night before, so I was exhausted, and kept falling asleep. That wasn't so bad, but I was having some pretty wild hypnagogic twitches, and well, to put it bluntly, I kept sliding down the propped-up bed, while my pants did not. Chemo hurt my balls!
Well, that, and the fact that my veins started BURNING. Hoooo, port-a-cath, I can't wait for youuuuu...
I rented Rock Band 2 the other day, and picked up a microphone. I figure I can't really run or bike*, but I need to do SOMETHING. I haven't sang since High School, and even then I was quite awful at it. Now's my chance to learn this relatively useless skill. But, in typical me fashion, I kinda overdid it yesterday. Since I couldn't sleep, I was up from the time I gave up sleeping (2:30) until I had to go to leave for the hospital (7:30), singing. After my chemo nap and all, I went back to the singing for some six more hours. It may sound like a waste of time, but if anyone needs to hear a stunning rendition of Duran Duran's "Hungry Like The Wolf", I'm your man.
* My sister has an exercise bike in her basement. Hmmm... I hate stationary bikes, but that might just work.
I woke up at 8:30, and felt fine. I'm still feeling alright, but I just took the Kytril. I wonder how I'll be in a little while.
Chemo sucked especially hard yesterday, as I hadn't slept the night before, so I was exhausted, and kept falling asleep. That wasn't so bad, but I was having some pretty wild hypnagogic twitches, and well, to put it bluntly, I kept sliding down the propped-up bed, while my pants did not. Chemo hurt my balls!
Well, that, and the fact that my veins started BURNING. Hoooo, port-a-cath, I can't wait for youuuuu...
I rented Rock Band 2 the other day, and picked up a microphone. I figure I can't really run or bike*, but I need to do SOMETHING. I haven't sang since High School, and even then I was quite awful at it. Now's my chance to learn this relatively useless skill. But, in typical me fashion, I kinda overdid it yesterday. Since I couldn't sleep, I was up from the time I gave up sleeping (2:30) until I had to go to leave for the hospital (7:30), singing. After my chemo nap and all, I went back to the singing for some six more hours. It may sound like a waste of time, but if anyone needs to hear a stunning rendition of Duran Duran's "Hungry Like The Wolf", I'm your man.
* My sister has an exercise bike in her basement. Hmmm... I hate stationary bikes, but that might just work.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Dec. 23
Just had chemo. Don't like it. Going to stuff myself with vitamins and protein now while I still have an appetite.
Dec. 22
Well, I can't sleep, and since I once again forgot to update today, here I am.
Chemo in less than six hours. In some ways, I can't wait. My neck hurts, I'm anxious and fatigued, and I'm about to tear my skin off, I'm that itchy. I've bitched about the stats before. In the United States, there's some 1000-1200 people diagnosed with Hodgkin's every year. Given that treatment is roughly six months, at any time, there'd be only half as many patients. But for use of easy numbers, let's say there's 1000 people with it. Canada's population is 1/10 that of the United States, so let's assume there's 100 people in Canada with Hodgkin's, then. Only about a quarter of these people have the wonderful symptom of pruritus. That would mean that in all of Canada, there's maybe 25 other motherfuckers as miserable as I am right about now.
Seriously, fuck cancer. Twenty-five people? That's not even a school bus. That's a SHORT bus. That's an honours seminar.
That's fucked up.
I'm not going to start being all "woe, woe is me", but I can't help but feel as though I got really, really fucked over.
Once I kick this, I'm fucking buying a boat and living off-shore, L. Ron Hubbard-like. Minus the Xenu, though.
Maybe I'll look into Sealand. I'm not going to be the same coming out of this, and I think it'll only hurt me in the long run, if I try to ignore that. I'm going to need to make some radical changes, but I don't know which way to go. Some people, when they get sick, they become kinder. I can tell you that that's not the case. I've just realised how precious little time I have, and how limited my resources are. I'll just choose to allocate them more appropriately, towards the people I love, and to hell with everyone else. Some people find religion when they get sick. Some people find comfort in faith. Let's say that my feelings towards the all-powerful healers are less than positive, right now.
Fuck cancer. Fuck it so very, very hard.
Chemo in less than six hours. In some ways, I can't wait. My neck hurts, I'm anxious and fatigued, and I'm about to tear my skin off, I'm that itchy. I've bitched about the stats before. In the United States, there's some 1000-1200 people diagnosed with Hodgkin's every year. Given that treatment is roughly six months, at any time, there'd be only half as many patients. But for use of easy numbers, let's say there's 1000 people with it. Canada's population is 1/10 that of the United States, so let's assume there's 100 people in Canada with Hodgkin's, then. Only about a quarter of these people have the wonderful symptom of pruritus. That would mean that in all of Canada, there's maybe 25 other motherfuckers as miserable as I am right about now.
Seriously, fuck cancer. Twenty-five people? That's not even a school bus. That's a SHORT bus. That's an honours seminar.
That's fucked up.
I'm not going to start being all "woe, woe is me", but I can't help but feel as though I got really, really fucked over.
Once I kick this, I'm fucking buying a boat and living off-shore, L. Ron Hubbard-like. Minus the Xenu, though.
Maybe I'll look into Sealand. I'm not going to be the same coming out of this, and I think it'll only hurt me in the long run, if I try to ignore that. I'm going to need to make some radical changes, but I don't know which way to go. Some people, when they get sick, they become kinder. I can tell you that that's not the case. I've just realised how precious little time I have, and how limited my resources are. I'll just choose to allocate them more appropriately, towards the people I love, and to hell with everyone else. Some people find religion when they get sick. Some people find comfort in faith. Let's say that my feelings towards the all-powerful healers are less than positive, right now.
Fuck cancer. Fuck it so very, very hard.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Dec. 21
Wow. Bad photo.
Getting used to the short short hair. Ah well. It's only transient, as well. To those who don't know me personally, I'd like to point out that roughly this time last year, my hair was down to my chin, or at the very least my mouth. Then I cut it short because it was starting to fall out... Then I cut it short because it's going to fall right the fuck out altogether.
Good things have come of this. I have good friends. I've made new friends. I've befriended this truly awesome lady who's blogging much in the same way I am, about her experience with cancer. She's shown more courage in her openness than I think I will ever be able to muster.
She also said she likes my twisted sense of humor. Deborah, this is for you. Why did the cancer cell cross the road? To avoid apoptosis. *cough*
There are good things to talk about. However, I'm nowhere near the proper emotional space to talk about them now.
Getting used to the short short hair. Ah well. It's only transient, as well. To those who don't know me personally, I'd like to point out that roughly this time last year, my hair was down to my chin, or at the very least my mouth. Then I cut it short because it was starting to fall out... Then I cut it short because it's going to fall right the fuck out altogether.
Good things have come of this. I have good friends. I've made new friends. I've befriended this truly awesome lady who's blogging much in the same way I am, about her experience with cancer. She's shown more courage in her openness than I think I will ever be able to muster.
She also said she likes my twisted sense of humor. Deborah, this is for you. Why did the cancer cell cross the road? To avoid apoptosis. *cough*
There are good things to talk about. However, I'm nowhere near the proper emotional space to talk about them now.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Dec. 19
On a depressing note, I'm starting to feel energy wane every day, and also, the swelling in my neck is growing again. On one hand, I'm dreading the next round of chemo. On the other, I can't fucking wait.
Hair is probably going away tomorrow. I'm not going to wait around to have it come out in swaths. It'll do that anyway, but at least it won't be as dramatic. Either way, it was getting long for my newfound liking...
Hair is probably going away tomorrow. I'm not going to wait around to have it come out in swaths. It'll do that anyway, but at least it won't be as dramatic. Either way, it was getting long for my newfound liking...
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Dec. 18
The last few days, it feels as though my metabolism has shot up like never before. I'm hungry pretty much all the time, and egad, I'm eating enough for three people. But really, I'm not complaining... I love food...
Had sushi today. That was pretty awesome.
Drew a robot today. That was pretty awesome too.
Had sushi today. That was pretty awesome.
Drew a robot today. That was pretty awesome too.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Dec. 16
Aaand I nearly forgot to update today.
Felt like cookin', so I cooked. Dirty, dirty, tasty recipes are up for grabs, people. That was pretty much most of my day. Got an awesome dress shirt. It's got epaulets. I know the sizing is screwed up for it, but it's a "small." I've never purchased a "small" anything in my entire life. Cripes, my silhouette screams "Treblinka".
Energy was good, yatta yatta. Was. Bed time.
Felt like cookin', so I cooked. Dirty, dirty, tasty recipes are up for grabs, people. That was pretty much most of my day. Got an awesome dress shirt. It's got epaulets. I know the sizing is screwed up for it, but it's a "small." I've never purchased a "small" anything in my entire life. Cripes, my silhouette screams "Treblinka".
Energy was good, yatta yatta. Was. Bed time.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Dec. 15
Good good day today. First day back at work in a week, and it felt wonderful to actually do something. Managed a whole seven hours (which I haven't been able to do since about August), and still did a bunch of mostly useful stuff afterwards. Melissa and I are making progress (though really, I'm not much help...) in clearing out a bunch of extraneous stuff, as well as packing things up for the inevitable move, and it's nice to feel busy busy busy.
That's all. Bed now.
That's all. Bed now.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Dec. 14
What a dreary fucking day. I can't tell if I'm sleepy because of the weather, or the low red cell count.
Yesterday I decided to venture in the scary outdoors for the first time since Tuesday. SARS mask in tow, Melissa and I went to the Stitch N Kitsch show uptown. I stopped to chat with one of the vendors, who asked about my mask. She said that one of her children, I believe, had a depressed immune system, and was used to the hypervigilant lifestyle. I mentioned I was undergoing chemotherapy, and she pointed out that one of the adjacent sellers had just finished chemotherapy herself. We chatted for a while longer, and I moved on to the next table, and the next, etc.
A few minutes later, one of the sellers -- the one who had recently finished chemotherapy -- came up to me and gave me one of the hand-made pillows she was selling at the show as sort of a "healing aid". I don't know exactly what did it, something between my drug-addled brain and her absolutely surprising display of generosity rendered me rather... stupid... and I am kicking myself like all fire for not getting her contact information, so I could properly thank her. She told me she had just finished her second battle against breast cancer, this time having undergone chemotherapy and surgery. We talked a bit about drug-induced states and the such, and I can only hope I didn't come across as a total space cadet, etc.
All in all, I was very touched and surprised, and am extremely grateful. Also, this pillow, made with vintage Japanese printed cotton, is really awesome.
Yesterday I decided to venture in the scary outdoors for the first time since Tuesday. SARS mask in tow, Melissa and I went to the Stitch N Kitsch show uptown. I stopped to chat with one of the vendors, who asked about my mask. She said that one of her children, I believe, had a depressed immune system, and was used to the hypervigilant lifestyle. I mentioned I was undergoing chemotherapy, and she pointed out that one of the adjacent sellers had just finished chemotherapy herself. We chatted for a while longer, and I moved on to the next table, and the next, etc.
A few minutes later, one of the sellers -- the one who had recently finished chemotherapy -- came up to me and gave me one of the hand-made pillows she was selling at the show as sort of a "healing aid". I don't know exactly what did it, something between my drug-addled brain and her absolutely surprising display of generosity rendered me rather... stupid... and I am kicking myself like all fire for not getting her contact information, so I could properly thank her. She told me she had just finished her second battle against breast cancer, this time having undergone chemotherapy and surgery. We talked a bit about drug-induced states and the such, and I can only hope I didn't come across as a total space cadet, etc.
All in all, I was very touched and surprised, and am extremely grateful. Also, this pillow, made with vintage Japanese printed cotton, is really awesome.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Dec. 13
I feel kind of like Clive Wearing today. My mind's finally cleared up somewhat, and I just feel like saying "Now I am finally awake for the first time!" over and over again. For those of you who are not acute psychology nerds, the Clive Wearing reference may be lost, but worry not, you're not missing much. It's a rather lame joke.
I'm still not 100%. Reading is still difficult. Poor sentence structure is my enemy. I can manage short online conversations and the like, but I still can't read a full article, or anything of the sort.
The ciprofloxacin (antibiotic) is messing with my stomach something awful. I had some pretty bad pains last night, but I can't mix it with any antacids or anything of the sort. I'll try going back to good ol prevacid tonight, an hour or two before I take my second round.
Food is starting to taste normal-ish again, but I still have no appetite. I somehow managed to thankfully put on a few pounds before I started chemo, but I've lost roughly 7 pounds since then, if my bathroom scale is to be believed. As long as I don't start looking like Perry fuckin' Farrell, all's good. That little gnome freaks me out.
I'm still not 100%. Reading is still difficult. Poor sentence structure is my enemy. I can manage short online conversations and the like, but I still can't read a full article, or anything of the sort.
The ciprofloxacin (antibiotic) is messing with my stomach something awful. I had some pretty bad pains last night, but I can't mix it with any antacids or anything of the sort. I'll try going back to good ol prevacid tonight, an hour or two before I take my second round.
Food is starting to taste normal-ish again, but I still have no appetite. I somehow managed to thankfully put on a few pounds before I started chemo, but I've lost roughly 7 pounds since then, if my bathroom scale is to be believed. As long as I don't start looking like Perry fuckin' Farrell, all's good. That little gnome freaks me out.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Dec. 12
Okay... Chemo... Not so cool. Imagine being very, very drunk, but with a rather clear mind (for the most part). Butterflies in the stomach and shaky knees... And everything tastes like dreams.
In other, non Timothy Leary news, lookit my neck! LOOKIT! The swelling's gone down a whole lot. Still no clavicles in sight, but you'll have to take my word for it. No topless pics for you. Yet.
My head looks HUGE!
In other, non Timothy Leary news, lookit my neck! LOOKIT! The swelling's gone down a whole lot. Still no clavicles in sight, but you'll have to take my word for it. No topless pics for you. Yet.
My head looks HUGE!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Dec. 11
I think the Kytril is making things worse. I'm sure I'd probably be puking up a lung without it, but it's funny... I woke up around 7:40 this morning, and just sort of lay in bed for a while. I felt fine. At about 8, I thought "I should take my pills..." About 15 minutes later, I started feeling shaky and drunk again.
This may be wishful thinking, but I think the swelling in my neck has already visibly gone down, and I already have some improved mobility. It doesn't do me much good, 'cause all I do is lay on the couch, drool, and pray for death, half the time, but I'm that much closer to doing a Linda Blair a la Exorcist impression.
I wanted to go into work today, at least for a change of scenery, but I feel all wobbly still. As long as today is better than yesterday, I can do this. But if I have to go through another day like that, I don't know how I'm going to do this. My brain is still foggy... I can't remember what the hell I wanted to say... Here's a piece of advice to you all: Don't get cancer! It sucks!
Anyway, I never talked about how chemotherapy played out. Well, here's the basics:
You come in, and have your choice of either a chair or a bed. I chose a chair. First they heat your arm up in a warm blanket to make the veins more accessible, and they start you off with a saline solution (that is, once they find a vein. Ouch.) Following that, you get a bottle's worth of Benadryl. Then you nap for a bit. It's kinda nice. Then more saline, and then they start pushing the drugs with a syringe over a short period. Now you get to make awkward conversation with the nurse about how your pee will turn red, and perhaps some of the work you do. Then they stick you with another IV bag that goes along with an equally-sized saline bag, and let you stew there for another hour or so. And then you're off home, waiting for the shit-kicking to begin. For me, it didn't take too long. I was out of the hospital by about noon, but started feeling like shit by about 4. Took a nap, and I've been in a haze since. Every morning starts with Kytril and an antibiotic, then an hour later I try to eat and take my allopurinol. Eleven hours later comes round two of antibiotics. Usually around this time I take the other nausea med (the name escapes me), because I start feeling like crap. Shortly after, I'm back in bed for 15 hours. It's really not so bad, if you hate life.
Tune in next time for an in-depth description of lymph node biopsies, bone marrow biopsies, and gallium scans. Oh my!
This may be wishful thinking, but I think the swelling in my neck has already visibly gone down, and I already have some improved mobility. It doesn't do me much good, 'cause all I do is lay on the couch, drool, and pray for death, half the time, but I'm that much closer to doing a Linda Blair a la Exorcist impression.
I wanted to go into work today, at least for a change of scenery, but I feel all wobbly still. As long as today is better than yesterday, I can do this. But if I have to go through another day like that, I don't know how I'm going to do this. My brain is still foggy... I can't remember what the hell I wanted to say... Here's a piece of advice to you all: Don't get cancer! It sucks!
Anyway, I never talked about how chemotherapy played out. Well, here's the basics:
You come in, and have your choice of either a chair or a bed. I chose a chair. First they heat your arm up in a warm blanket to make the veins more accessible, and they start you off with a saline solution (that is, once they find a vein. Ouch.) Following that, you get a bottle's worth of Benadryl. Then you nap for a bit. It's kinda nice. Then more saline, and then they start pushing the drugs with a syringe over a short period. Now you get to make awkward conversation with the nurse about how your pee will turn red, and perhaps some of the work you do. Then they stick you with another IV bag that goes along with an equally-sized saline bag, and let you stew there for another hour or so. And then you're off home, waiting for the shit-kicking to begin. For me, it didn't take too long. I was out of the hospital by about noon, but started feeling like shit by about 4. Took a nap, and I've been in a haze since. Every morning starts with Kytril and an antibiotic, then an hour later I try to eat and take my allopurinol. Eleven hours later comes round two of antibiotics. Usually around this time I take the other nausea med (the name escapes me), because I start feeling like crap. Shortly after, I'm back in bed for 15 hours. It's really not so bad, if you hate life.
Tune in next time for an in-depth description of lymph node biopsies, bone marrow biopsies, and gallium scans. Oh my!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Dec. 10
I think old Mr. Dante may have been wrong about the approximate number of circles there are, to hell. I think I found one seemingly reserved for chemotherapy patients, and probably eastern european dictators.
I should mention that I have not thrown up once, from this. However, I've been feeling like I am absolutely stone drunk, minus the mental fogginess. Extreme fatigue, exhaustion, and a cold feeling in the stomach... though the last one could be from all the water I'm drinking...
I had a point to this, but I've got the "chemo brain". I can't think at all.
I'm trying to not sleep too much, but sometimes it feels like that's all I can do to stay... alive... ish... Blech, I hope I feel better tomorrow.
Only eleven more rounds, right?
I should mention that I have not thrown up once, from this. However, I've been feeling like I am absolutely stone drunk, minus the mental fogginess. Extreme fatigue, exhaustion, and a cold feeling in the stomach... though the last one could be from all the water I'm drinking...
I had a point to this, but I've got the "chemo brain". I can't think at all.
I'm trying to not sleep too much, but sometimes it feels like that's all I can do to stay... alive... ish... Blech, I hope I feel better tomorrow.
Only eleven more rounds, right?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Dec. 09
Go go gadget bedhead!
Started ye olde chemo today. So far so good. No real nausea or anything of the sort. Some massive fatigue, but that may have been last night's sleep, or stress, as well. Took a nap (hence the bedhead), and I think I'm fine.
Chemo got off to a bad start, but that's just how things go. The nurse accidentally went right through my vein (ouch #1), and hit a nerve in my wrist (ouch #2)... But it was smooth sailing from there on, I suppose.
I'm really considering a port-a-cath right now. It's a subdermal implant in the chest that gives them a line right into a main artery, and it minimizes the risk of vein damage. However, it also raises the risk of infection, as it is minor surgery. But I'd get to feel like an awesome cyborg, 'cause I'd have a "port".
Three last things of note. 1. Cancer patients are fucking annoying. Always living under the strange delusion that everyone wants to hear about their illness. (Haha, oh, the irony). 2. I'm having a very tough time with people. I'm getting the sense that I'm being seen as "damaged goods" or at the very least unable to take care of myself. 3. The african place downtown is officially on notice. I've tried to get food from them twice in the last week or so, and though they claim to be open, their doors show otherwise, and they have no hours posted!
Ooh, I think something's a-brewin'. Nausea med time, methinks.
Started ye olde chemo today. So far so good. No real nausea or anything of the sort. Some massive fatigue, but that may have been last night's sleep, or stress, as well. Took a nap (hence the bedhead), and I think I'm fine.
Chemo got off to a bad start, but that's just how things go. The nurse accidentally went right through my vein (ouch #1), and hit a nerve in my wrist (ouch #2)... But it was smooth sailing from there on, I suppose.
I'm really considering a port-a-cath right now. It's a subdermal implant in the chest that gives them a line right into a main artery, and it minimizes the risk of vein damage. However, it also raises the risk of infection, as it is minor surgery. But I'd get to feel like an awesome cyborg, 'cause I'd have a "port".
Three last things of note. 1. Cancer patients are fucking annoying. Always living under the strange delusion that everyone wants to hear about their illness. (Haha, oh, the irony). 2. I'm having a very tough time with people. I'm getting the sense that I'm being seen as "damaged goods" or at the very least unable to take care of myself. 3. The african place downtown is officially on notice. I've tried to get food from them twice in the last week or so, and though they claim to be open, their doors show otherwise, and they have no hours posted!
Ooh, I think something's a-brewin'. Nausea med time, methinks.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Dec. 08
Another day, another... uhm... something unpleasant.
Hospital fun today. Got my first round of meds before chemo, and they came up to something around 200. I'm applying for the Trillium Drug Plan, because $200x12treatments=$2,400. Oh, life, you so funny.
I'm glad, because I don't really have to worry about the financial aspect of things, even if I can't get the drug plan, what with my parents and all, but fuck. As though this couldn't be more of a burden.
One of the meds (allpurinol, I believe it's called) is essentially gout medication. Do I have gout? No. Will I develop gout? Likely! You see, when lymph nodes shrink as a result of chemotherapy, they release a lot of uric acid. Excess uric acid leads to gout, and gout leads to pain. So much for ambition...
Finally, my doctor also prescribed a 10-day course of antibiotics, as I think I'm developing a cough.
To quote the dude from Superbad: "Fuck my life."
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off for my last supper.
Hospital fun today. Got my first round of meds before chemo, and they came up to something around 200. I'm applying for the Trillium Drug Plan, because $200x12treatments=$2,400. Oh, life, you so funny.
I'm glad, because I don't really have to worry about the financial aspect of things, even if I can't get the drug plan, what with my parents and all, but fuck. As though this couldn't be more of a burden.
One of the meds (allpurinol, I believe it's called) is essentially gout medication. Do I have gout? No. Will I develop gout? Likely! You see, when lymph nodes shrink as a result of chemotherapy, they release a lot of uric acid. Excess uric acid leads to gout, and gout leads to pain. So much for ambition...
Finally, my doctor also prescribed a 10-day course of antibiotics, as I think I'm developing a cough.
To quote the dude from Superbad: "Fuck my life."
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off for my last supper.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Dec. 07
Today's been a very bad day for pain. In fact, I woke up from it. My neck was hurting, and radiating down into my shoulder and spine. Kind of like a pulled muscle, but combined with a tourniquet ... made of knives...
More coedine... More wooziness. I don't like it, but at least I'm kinda mobile. I've been working on a work project for... a really long time, now. Every time I think I've got it, I lose my train of thought and... shiny! I'm close, though. To the geekily-inclined, it really is quite fascinating, communicating between Flash and the HTML document where said flash document is housed. I've got that done now, I'm just creating the user interface... All my variables are named after foods I'm craving, and most of them start with the word "bacon."
More coedine... More wooziness. I don't like it, but at least I'm kinda mobile. I've been working on a work project for... a really long time, now. Every time I think I've got it, I lose my train of thought and... shiny! I'm close, though. To the geekily-inclined, it really is quite fascinating, communicating between Flash and the HTML document where said flash document is housed. I've got that done now, I'm just creating the user interface... All my variables are named after foods I'm craving, and most of them start with the word "bacon."
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Dec. 06
I'd like to first off mention that I do not look or feel as ill in real life as I do in my picture.
I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping lately, but that's very likely due to the itching and the such. I've felt as though I'm missing an integral part of my life, these last few days, since I haven't gone to the hospital since Wednesday...
In other weird psychological news, I can't help but feel as though I'm somehow "almost done" with this. I feel as though once chemotherapy starts, it'll all be over, soon enough. I hope I'm not deluding myself, in thinking this was the hard part. After this, if only I can monitor my health with sufficient care, and manage to not get sick, I should be on the road to something good.
I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping lately, but that's very likely due to the itching and the such. I've felt as though I'm missing an integral part of my life, these last few days, since I haven't gone to the hospital since Wednesday...
In other weird psychological news, I can't help but feel as though I'm somehow "almost done" with this. I feel as though once chemotherapy starts, it'll all be over, soon enough. I hope I'm not deluding myself, in thinking this was the hard part. After this, if only I can monitor my health with sufficient care, and manage to not get sick, I should be on the road to something good.
Dec. 05
Once again, let us pretend this was written yesterday.
Some day, someone will ask me "What was it like, having cancer?"
I will answer "Well, in the beginning, it was very, very... itchy."
In other news, commenting on this blog should be simpler, now. I never actually went through the settings, and it seems blogspot likes to default to punishing people for trying to use it.
Energy's up, but so are all the symptoms, save for fatigue. And that includes stupidity. "I can't brain today, I have the dumb." But the ranitidine is working, so that means the codeine is working, so that means I can turn my head again. The codeine might also account for "the dumb", now that I think about it. Hmmm. All in all, I call it progress, nevertheless.
Some day, someone will ask me "What was it like, having cancer?"
I will answer "Well, in the beginning, it was very, very... itchy."
In other news, commenting on this blog should be simpler, now. I never actually went through the settings, and it seems blogspot likes to default to punishing people for trying to use it.
Energy's up, but so are all the symptoms, save for fatigue. And that includes stupidity. "I can't brain today, I have the dumb." But the ranitidine is working, so that means the codeine is working, so that means I can turn my head again. The codeine might also account for "the dumb", now that I think about it. Hmmm. All in all, I call it progress, nevertheless.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Dec. 04
There was an old lady who swallowed a spider
That wiggled and jiggled and tickled insider her.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.
I don't know why she swallowed a fly.
I guess she'll die.
I'm taking stomach meds to counteract the pain created by my other pain meds that I'm taking for my neck.
They wanted to give me morphine, but then I thought of this picture of Amy Winehouse and decided against it.
Here's to you, acetaminophen/caffeine/codeine, and here's to you novo-ranidine ranitidine HCL! (the latter's basically zantac at twice the dosage... and it was a lot more dramatic from over here, 'cause I took each pill after I typed its name. I'm so awesome).
That wiggled and jiggled and tickled insider her.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.
I don't know why she swallowed a fly.
I guess she'll die.
I'm taking stomach meds to counteract the pain created by my other pain meds that I'm taking for my neck.
They wanted to give me morphine, but then I thought of this picture of Amy Winehouse and decided against it.
Here's to you, acetaminophen/caffeine/codeine, and here's to you novo-ranidine ranitidine HCL! (the latter's basically zantac at twice the dosage... and it was a lot more dramatic from over here, 'cause I took each pill after I typed its name. I'm so awesome).
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Dec. 03
Three common reactions from those around you, should you develop cancer:
1. Thankfully, the most frequent reaction is along the lines of "Well, shit..." and then life goes back to normal. You can talk to these people about it, but you are not the cancer. They hopefully are comfortable enough to bring up the subject, and all the world is green. To the 90% of those around me who've adopted this approach, thank you for being amazing. I've come to find a great deal of support and friendship from a number of great individuals. Thank you all, a million times over.
The other two remind me of that Bart Simpson quote: "Dad, your half-assed underparenting was a lot better than your half-assed overparenting".
2. Jackasses who don't seem to click in. They will either belittle your illness, along the lines of "Ah, it's got a good survival rate, you've got nothing to worry about!" or are just plain fucking clueless. "You're going to be so sick during chemo..." Thanks, asshole, I needed you to remind me. Since this is my blog, I shall make a recommendation -- these people should be fucking shot. I don't know if it's either a) plain stupidity, b) denial, or c) attempt to show some basic knowledge of cancer and chemotherapy, but I'd rather not have to give people the benefit of the doubt.
3. The half-assed overparenters in the equation -- the ones that will coddle you and treat you like a fucking invalid. If I get one more "take it easy there, big guy", I'm going to fucking snap. Yes, I know I'm sick. Yes, I know I stand a higher-than-comfortable chance of fucking dying from this thing. I know I'll spend the rest of my life (that is, if I'm not dead in the short-term) fearing a relapse. But don't fucking treat me like I can't take care of myself! If you didn't know I had cancer, you'd be telling me to stop being a lazy asshole and get some work done, so you can take your self-righteous pity and shove it.
Here's a tip to those in the last two categories: When you are clutching at the last bit of normality in your life, when everything seems to be falling apart around you, having your nose rubbed in your misery, or being identified by it, is of absolutely no help.
Thanks for attending my educational seminar.
1. Thankfully, the most frequent reaction is along the lines of "Well, shit..." and then life goes back to normal. You can talk to these people about it, but you are not the cancer. They hopefully are comfortable enough to bring up the subject, and all the world is green. To the 90% of those around me who've adopted this approach, thank you for being amazing. I've come to find a great deal of support and friendship from a number of great individuals. Thank you all, a million times over.
The other two remind me of that Bart Simpson quote: "Dad, your half-assed underparenting was a lot better than your half-assed overparenting".
2. Jackasses who don't seem to click in. They will either belittle your illness, along the lines of "Ah, it's got a good survival rate, you've got nothing to worry about!" or are just plain fucking clueless. "You're going to be so sick during chemo..." Thanks, asshole, I needed you to remind me. Since this is my blog, I shall make a recommendation -- these people should be fucking shot. I don't know if it's either a) plain stupidity, b) denial, or c) attempt to show some basic knowledge of cancer and chemotherapy, but I'd rather not have to give people the benefit of the doubt.
3. The half-assed overparenters in the equation -- the ones that will coddle you and treat you like a fucking invalid. If I get one more "take it easy there, big guy", I'm going to fucking snap. Yes, I know I'm sick. Yes, I know I stand a higher-than-comfortable chance of fucking dying from this thing. I know I'll spend the rest of my life (that is, if I'm not dead in the short-term) fearing a relapse. But don't fucking treat me like I can't take care of myself! If you didn't know I had cancer, you'd be telling me to stop being a lazy asshole and get some work done, so you can take your self-righteous pity and shove it.
Here's a tip to those in the last two categories: When you are clutching at the last bit of normality in your life, when everything seems to be falling apart around you, having your nose rubbed in your misery, or being identified by it, is of absolutely no help.
Thanks for attending my educational seminar.
Dec. 02
Uh... Let's pretend I uploaded this yesterday.
Gallium scan was boring, but unobtrusive.
Intro to chemo seminar taught me some horrifying things. For example, given my lack of white blood cells, should I get an infection, I won't actually have any physiological symptoms. No swelling, no nothing. I will have to monitor my temperature like a hawk... A hawk that is very, very concerned with his temperature. Apparently, if I don't, the next step is generally death.
I'm starting to see why the death rate is so high for a cancer that is supposedly rather treatable.
I can also look forward to various gastrointestinal issues, I'm told, and my hair will fall out around day 15 of my cycle. That puts me around christmas time, so maybe Santa can get rid of Rudolph, and have me light his way, with my shiny scalp.
Tomorrow I have yet another seminar at the hospital. Then I have to meet with my supportive care nurse, and try to get some different pain meds. The current ones make my stomach feel like it's full flaming cotton candy and fists. I don't like either, for the record.
Energy's up a bit, but so's the night sweats and the fucking incessant itching. I'm about to bore straight through my right ankle, and a couple of places on my head. Nothing seems to make it go away... However, all symptoms, save for fatigue, are supposed to go away within days of starting chemotherapy. Sweet mercy fuck, I hope so.
Gallium scan was boring, but unobtrusive.
Intro to chemo seminar taught me some horrifying things. For example, given my lack of white blood cells, should I get an infection, I won't actually have any physiological symptoms. No swelling, no nothing. I will have to monitor my temperature like a hawk... A hawk that is very, very concerned with his temperature. Apparently, if I don't, the next step is generally death.
I'm starting to see why the death rate is so high for a cancer that is supposedly rather treatable.
I can also look forward to various gastrointestinal issues, I'm told, and my hair will fall out around day 15 of my cycle. That puts me around christmas time, so maybe Santa can get rid of Rudolph, and have me light his way, with my shiny scalp.
Tomorrow I have yet another seminar at the hospital. Then I have to meet with my supportive care nurse, and try to get some different pain meds. The current ones make my stomach feel like it's full flaming cotton candy and fists. I don't like either, for the record.
Energy's up a bit, but so's the night sweats and the fucking incessant itching. I'm about to bore straight through my right ankle, and a couple of places on my head. Nothing seems to make it go away... However, all symptoms, save for fatigue, are supposed to go away within days of starting chemotherapy. Sweet mercy fuck, I hope so.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Dec. 01
You know, I feel like I need a haircut. However, I don't think it's necessary, given the circumstances. 8 days until I start chemotherapy. On the 8th day of Christmas my hematologist gave to me, one major dose of ABVD. *bows* Thank you, thank you.
I'm having some truly strange dreams lately. For example, I had a nap earlier, and I dreamt I had a cake box on the floor in the back of my car. When I look again, it was smeared all over the back seat. If you want some cake, I think it might still be there...
That dream wasn't that bad, though. Weird, but not bad. I dreamed earlier that I was menaced by an oversized fox, and the only way I could keep it at bay was to occasionally flail my arms upward, and for some reason think of Peter Gabriel lyrics.
Then there was the train station/weeping/Buddhist monk dream, but that's just weird.
Tomorrow I have my Intro to Chemotherapy seminar, and my Gallium scan. I don't look forward to either of them... Still frustrated... It'll be almost a month since I got diagnosed, until I will receive treatment, and I can feel myself getting worse each day. The pain in my neck is increasing, and the T3s they gave me hurt my stomach. So it's either stomach or neck pain. Neither is good. Also, my energy is shot, and it's getting worse on a daily basis. I'm in bed at, if not shortly after, 9pm. Cancer sucks.
I'm having some truly strange dreams lately. For example, I had a nap earlier, and I dreamt I had a cake box on the floor in the back of my car. When I look again, it was smeared all over the back seat. If you want some cake, I think it might still be there...
That dream wasn't that bad, though. Weird, but not bad. I dreamed earlier that I was menaced by an oversized fox, and the only way I could keep it at bay was to occasionally flail my arms upward, and for some reason think of Peter Gabriel lyrics.
Then there was the train station/weeping/Buddhist monk dream, but that's just weird.
Tomorrow I have my Intro to Chemotherapy seminar, and my Gallium scan. I don't look forward to either of them... Still frustrated... It'll be almost a month since I got diagnosed, until I will receive treatment, and I can feel myself getting worse each day. The pain in my neck is increasing, and the T3s they gave me hurt my stomach. So it's either stomach or neck pain. Neither is good. Also, my energy is shot, and it's getting worse on a daily basis. I'm in bed at, if not shortly after, 9pm. Cancer sucks.
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