Just finished a small mound of articles that I've been reading, and came up with an additional 3 sources to check out. But soon, soon, I may begin writing.
Had my doc's appointment today. Opted for an additional four rounds of chemotherapy (bringing the total to a whopping sixteen). I'm not happy about that, but I'm not crushed, either. As per my last CT scans, my largest lymph nodes are down to .7cm. That's half what they were a short while ago. If protocol is to go two cycles (four rounds) past the time of remission, then I think it's very much a good idea.
Remission. Heh... I'm in remission. I beat this fucking obscure little cancer that barely has any literature on it, because, well, I'm guessing since there's not a lot of sufferers, it wouldn't sell. When I was first diagnosed, I bought a Chemotherapy and Radiation for Dummies book, because it mentioned Hodgkin's. I also bought a hardcover, limited edition of Where the Wild Things Are. The latter was a much better use of money.
I'm having a grumpy moment here, so excuse the profanity (and its mere presence will be quite shocking, I'm sure)... But fuck this stupid cancer. I'm glad that if I had to get get sick, I at least got a rather curable one, but for some reason, it hasn't hit me until now. I had no fucking resources to tap into. Thank you, wikipedia. Your statistics sure do provide comfort on lonely nights.
At least I got a cool purple ribbon out of it.
Ahem.
I don't even know what the hell I'm talking about, anymore. I need to get back to work. It's chemo #13 tomorrow, so I'd better get my stuff sorted out today.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
May 22
So, long story short, blah blah blah, I still don't get to find out whether I'm done chemo until Monday.
But oh yeah, this is a rather small detail, you know, rather trivial, but it would seem I beat cancer. You know, one of those things.
If the facetiousness of that statement hasn't dripped onto the floor and left a sizable puddle just yet, well, allow me to spell it out. I'm fucking ecstatic.
So happy, in fact, that I spontaneously grew hair!
The fact that it's the same colour as Melissa's has nothing to do with it.
But oh yeah, this is a rather small detail, you know, rather trivial, but it would seem I beat cancer. You know, one of those things.
If the facetiousness of that statement hasn't dripped onto the floor and left a sizable puddle just yet, well, allow me to spell it out. I'm fucking ecstatic.
So happy, in fact, that I spontaneously grew hair!
The fact that it's the same colour as Melissa's has nothing to do with it.
Monday, May 18, 2009
May 18
So I decided to switch it up with the facial hair. I was trying to maximize the skeeze factor, but still not go full-out linebeard. That's just not cool. Anyway, Melissa detests it. Because I'm somewhat of an awful person, and draw pleasure from others' misery, I very much enjoy it.
You know, I think this is the first time my chin has seen the light of day since I was 17 or so.
I'd like to stop having nightmares about cancer. The other night I dreamt lymph nodes in my neck were so swollen, that my throat was threatening to close up. I've been having a bit of trouble breathing -- not sure if it's chemo attacking lungs, or a mild chest cold. That's been leading to lung cancer nightmares. Muscles and joints have been aching. I dream of swollen, blackened limbs. I really wish I could get all this to stop, already.
My teeth hurt. I'm clenching my jaw all the time.
So... uh... life's good, yeah.
You know, I think this is the first time my chin has seen the light of day since I was 17 or so.
I'd like to stop having nightmares about cancer. The other night I dreamt lymph nodes in my neck were so swollen, that my throat was threatening to close up. I've been having a bit of trouble breathing -- not sure if it's chemo attacking lungs, or a mild chest cold. That's been leading to lung cancer nightmares. Muscles and joints have been aching. I dream of swollen, blackened limbs. I really wish I could get all this to stop, already.
My teeth hurt. I'm clenching my jaw all the time.
So... uh... life's good, yeah.
Friday, May 15, 2009
May 15
Fuck fatigue. Same with cancer, same with chemo, etc. Lots o humpin' to go around. Vicious, angry, spiteful humping.
I slept about 15 hours today, and I'm ready for more bed. I got nothing done. Just slept. When I'm not asleep, I'm feeling exhausted and drowsy. I think my bone marrow must be pretty much clear by now.
I feel like my body is a rolled up sheet of copy paper, and a mere flick could fold it in half. I'm miserable.
But today, for the first time, I had morels for dinner. Oh sweet lord, those are yummy.
Also, I make poor decisions. It's hard for me to keep up with the blogging, but I've hopped on the twitter bandwagon, and I can update that more easily from my phone. And lo, I tweet.
As a final cancer note for this entry, I think the chemo is starting to attack my lungs. I'm having a bit of difficulty breathing. I don't like it. I want to be done.
I slept about 15 hours today, and I'm ready for more bed. I got nothing done. Just slept. When I'm not asleep, I'm feeling exhausted and drowsy. I think my bone marrow must be pretty much clear by now.
I feel like my body is a rolled up sheet of copy paper, and a mere flick could fold it in half. I'm miserable.
But today, for the first time, I had morels for dinner. Oh sweet lord, those are yummy.
Also, I make poor decisions. It's hard for me to keep up with the blogging, but I've hopped on the twitter bandwagon, and I can update that more easily from my phone. And lo, I tweet.
As a final cancer note for this entry, I think the chemo is starting to attack my lungs. I'm having a bit of difficulty breathing. I don't like it. I want to be done.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
May 14
I've been meaning to write an entry for some time, but I've been very busy playing catch-up with work, and before I knew it, chemo hit, and it all went to hell... Again...
I had my CT scan. That went okay, until the contrast hit and I ended up throwing up inside the machine. Not so fun. Had my Gallium scan. That was uneventful. All glory to Steve Jobs and the wonder of the iPhone. Music sure does make a 2.5 hour scan go by rather quickly. Then came chemo #12. My port stared fucking up -- couldn't draw blood out of it before the chemo, but at least they could push, and I got the fucking poison, no problem.
Now I get to wait about a week to find out whether I require additional chemotherapy. I really hope I'm done.
But, then again, I have a rather horrid suspicion that I'm not done yet. My doctor wants to make the "right decision" which, I realize is the one that's most likely to keep me alive, but it's also the one that makes me the most miserable.
I've become a bit frustrated with the gym thing. It's not my goal to become some muscle-bound idiot -- it's not a particularly appealing look, I don't think, and I don't much have the frame to support it. That being said, muscle gain has been rather lacking. Then I did some reading. Chemo patients, listen up, this is in your best interest!
The average person requires 0.8 grams of protein per kilogram of healthy weight per day in order to prevent muscle wasting. A chemo patient requires a full 1.5 grams of protein per kilogram of healthy weight per day! That's almost double!
Given my weight, I discovered that I would need to consume roughly half a kilogram of lean pork per day, to prevent muscle wasting. No wonder I'm barely building any muscle.
Also, whey protein is a precursor to... Some compound, I forget... Which allegedly helps prevent some cancers. Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
Also, in living with Melissa, I've inherited a cat. A rather stupid cat. But I love him so.
I had my CT scan. That went okay, until the contrast hit and I ended up throwing up inside the machine. Not so fun. Had my Gallium scan. That was uneventful. All glory to Steve Jobs and the wonder of the iPhone. Music sure does make a 2.5 hour scan go by rather quickly. Then came chemo #12. My port stared fucking up -- couldn't draw blood out of it before the chemo, but at least they could push, and I got the fucking poison, no problem.
Now I get to wait about a week to find out whether I require additional chemotherapy. I really hope I'm done.
But, then again, I have a rather horrid suspicion that I'm not done yet. My doctor wants to make the "right decision" which, I realize is the one that's most likely to keep me alive, but it's also the one that makes me the most miserable.
I've become a bit frustrated with the gym thing. It's not my goal to become some muscle-bound idiot -- it's not a particularly appealing look, I don't think, and I don't much have the frame to support it. That being said, muscle gain has been rather lacking. Then I did some reading. Chemo patients, listen up, this is in your best interest!
The average person requires 0.8 grams of protein per kilogram of healthy weight per day in order to prevent muscle wasting. A chemo patient requires a full 1.5 grams of protein per kilogram of healthy weight per day! That's almost double!
Given my weight, I discovered that I would need to consume roughly half a kilogram of lean pork per day, to prevent muscle wasting. No wonder I'm barely building any muscle.
Also, whey protein is a precursor to... Some compound, I forget... Which allegedly helps prevent some cancers. Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
Also, in living with Melissa, I've inherited a cat. A rather stupid cat. But I love him so.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
May 05
And a customarily belated update.
- Melissa and I are going to Vancouver! I'm presenting some research at a conference, and it sounds like a great excuse to a) meet up with some of Melissa's relatives in BC, b) check out the UBC campus, and c) travel a bit!
- Fatigue is really setting in. I need a minimum of 10 hours of sleep per night.
- ...
You know, I thought I'd have more to say.
So it goes. It goes. ... Shrug?
- Melissa and I are going to Vancouver! I'm presenting some research at a conference, and it sounds like a great excuse to a) meet up with some of Melissa's relatives in BC, b) check out the UBC campus, and c) travel a bit!
- Fatigue is really setting in. I need a minimum of 10 hours of sleep per night.
- ...
You know, I thought I'd have more to say.
So it goes. It goes. ... Shrug?
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