With the heatwave we had today, I knew it was a good day to get outside. With temperatures soaring just above freezing, I took my wife's car to my workshop for an oil change. I put on my "abdominal brace" and waddled to work.
Up to this point I have only been wearing my abdominal brace when walking around the yard. I haven't been doing anything that requires bending with it on, because quite frankly you cannot bend with it on. For just walking around the yard, it doesn't do too bad.
With the snow beginning to melt, I also put on my heavy snow boots. I was up in my workshop with the abdominal brace's lattice work digging in to my back and immobilizing me from the waist up, and clomping around in the heavy rubber steel-toed boots that really don't bend at the ankle at all. I was stumbling around up there like an arthritic Frankenstein after hemorrhoid surgery.
I will say this much for the abdominal brace, it did help my ailing incision with only a mildly intense pain in my back. I don't know if it was from trying to bend over with this complicated contraption on, or just the nature of the brace itself, but I feel like I have been bailing hay for eight hours, then decided to lift weights for another eight hours, all after spending the night sleeping on the hood of a '54 Cadillac...sideways. In other words, my back is really hurting. But the oil is changed and that is all that is important. Now I don't have to worry about the car breaking down while my wife drives me to the emergency room.
My incision area is still bothering me, I am assuming it is the stitches dissolving like the doctor said. Even though the brace causes severe back pain, that is a lesser evil than severe abdominal pain. Until I heal I will just continue to wear it and walk around in the snow like a cowboy mummy.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The First Three Month Cancer Results Are In!
I took an unwanted break from writing mainly because I couldn't focus long enough to write. Between the doctors' appointments last week and the appointment yesterday, I was thinking about results, questions, possibilities, outcomes, etc.
The good news is that my results from my first three month cancer check-up were clear! I didn't really expect any result other than that, but no matter how much I try to tell myself everything is going to be fine, it is kind of hard to convince myself completely. After all, I didn't expect to find cancer in the first place. But that is behind me, and I have three months before I start worrying again.
I was more anxious to talk to the oncologist about my swimmers though. Although I trust my urologist, I feel like he was a little rash when he told me to basically forget about any baby making for another six months. I have been anxious to get back to baby making, and not just because of the fun involved in mixing the ingredients. There are several reasons, but I think there is a part of me that feels like I will be moving past all of this cancer crap once the baby stuff gets back on track.
My tests revealed that my swimmers weren't the strong swimmers we initially thought. I suspect part of that is my fault for getting tested as soon as they said I could. In my haste to move on with my life, I ran to the spankatorium to find out if we could start again. I wonder if I would have waited a few more days if the problem swimmers would have completely left the pool. That is where I differ with my urologist. His idea is to just do another test in May. Well, my first problem with that is that I don't know that we have to wait the full time frame to see if I rushed things the first time. My second problem is that his math was way off! The amount of days he said we should wait would have landed me somewhere in March, but then he said May.
There is a part of me that is a little embarrassed about all of this too. I don't want to become a regular at the jerknasium. I walk in and they tell me they have my favorite magazines laid out for me already and the video is cued up to where I stopped it last time. But I want to know when the games can start again. I don't care if I have to go in there a thousand times, I want to know exactly when it is safe to start again (although admittedly after a thousand times I may be a little chafed).
I had a heart to heart with my oncologist about this yesterday and he kind of agrees with me that the sooner the better. I asked him how to keep from offending my urologist and he said to not even go through him. He suggested working through my wife's doctor to order the test since she is the one I am trying to impregnate (my wife, not the doctor). He called this plan the "backdoor way" of getting my tests done. I go out to the car, excited about my oncologist's idea, and as soon as I said the words "backdoor way" in relation to getting pregnant, I was immediately vetoed. However, once she heard what the "backdoor way" was and that it had nothing to do with the plan that was conjured up in her mind by those words, she was more receptive to it (figuratively and literally).
So, that is where I am currently at as far as getting cancer behind me. I am clean. I don't plan on getting recancered anytime soon. I just want to be that One Nut Wonder. Now off to the Backdoor Cave and make a call with the Back Phone, to put the Back Plan in action.
The good news is that my results from my first three month cancer check-up were clear! I didn't really expect any result other than that, but no matter how much I try to tell myself everything is going to be fine, it is kind of hard to convince myself completely. After all, I didn't expect to find cancer in the first place. But that is behind me, and I have three months before I start worrying again.
I was more anxious to talk to the oncologist about my swimmers though. Although I trust my urologist, I feel like he was a little rash when he told me to basically forget about any baby making for another six months. I have been anxious to get back to baby making, and not just because of the fun involved in mixing the ingredients. There are several reasons, but I think there is a part of me that feels like I will be moving past all of this cancer crap once the baby stuff gets back on track.
My tests revealed that my swimmers weren't the strong swimmers we initially thought. I suspect part of that is my fault for getting tested as soon as they said I could. In my haste to move on with my life, I ran to the spankatorium to find out if we could start again. I wonder if I would have waited a few more days if the problem swimmers would have completely left the pool. That is where I differ with my urologist. His idea is to just do another test in May. Well, my first problem with that is that I don't know that we have to wait the full time frame to see if I rushed things the first time. My second problem is that his math was way off! The amount of days he said we should wait would have landed me somewhere in March, but then he said May.
There is a part of me that is a little embarrassed about all of this too. I don't want to become a regular at the jerknasium. I walk in and they tell me they have my favorite magazines laid out for me already and the video is cued up to where I stopped it last time. But I want to know when the games can start again. I don't care if I have to go in there a thousand times, I want to know exactly when it is safe to start again (although admittedly after a thousand times I may be a little chafed).
I had a heart to heart with my oncologist about this yesterday and he kind of agrees with me that the sooner the better. I asked him how to keep from offending my urologist and he said to not even go through him. He suggested working through my wife's doctor to order the test since she is the one I am trying to impregnate (my wife, not the doctor). He called this plan the "backdoor way" of getting my tests done. I go out to the car, excited about my oncologist's idea, and as soon as I said the words "backdoor way" in relation to getting pregnant, I was immediately vetoed. However, once she heard what the "backdoor way" was and that it had nothing to do with the plan that was conjured up in her mind by those words, she was more receptive to it (figuratively and literally).
So, that is where I am currently at as far as getting cancer behind me. I am clean. I don't plan on getting recancered anytime soon. I just want to be that One Nut Wonder. Now off to the Backdoor Cave and make a call with the Back Phone, to put the Back Plan in action.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Fears Subsided But Validated
I met a friend for lunch today. She is a fairly good friend and she asked how my appointments went yesterday. I told her about how the nurse mistakenly told me my swimmers were OK and how my wife and I thought it was OK to start trying for baby again and her face went pale. Luckily (?) we are not preggers right now, so I don't have to worry about any damage done from my chemo cooked swimmers. But her reaction today showed me that maybe I wasn't over reacting yesterday. It is one thing if God gives you a special needs child, it is another thing to do something that caused your child to be a special needs child. That is why most of us don't smoke, drink, do drugs, bungi jump, work in nuclear power plants, or watch Jersey Shore while pregnant. I can't imagine the amount of guilt I would have had if we had a child that was born facing challenges their whole life because of something I had done, i.e. chemo side effects (knowingly or unknowingly). So, I am feeling a little better about that issue today.
Other bad news I almost got was that our dear rescue basenji darted out the front door when a delivery driver came to drop off a package. My wife and I were both gone at the time so it had the potential to be a very bad situation. Luckily it was very cold and snowy yesterday so she ran all the way from the front door to the back door to be let back in. She made it back there before my mother-in-law could even put on her coat to go chase after her. I guess it is a good thing that African dogs don't have much fur, otherwise she may have tried to stay out longer.
Daisy the abused and neglected basenji paid me back this morning for her little excursion by eating part of a stuff toy causing the stuff toy to re-emerge while I was trying to sleep...three different times. The mistake I made was telling my wife and mother-in-law about it. To understand why that was a mistake I will run through my first waking moments today. I wake up to the unmistakable noise of a dog puking, and knowing I am too late to do anything about it. I lay my head down in disgust, not wanting to deal with it, then I hear that same sound again, but this time I am awake so I am able to throw a dog blanket under her to keep it off the carpet, and success! I lay back on the bed to revel in my success, when I hear a third mess being created and instantly deposited on the carpet. I drag myself out of bed, walk the dogs in the bitter cold, then come in to clean up the messes. I come out from my cleaning just to get asked to explain everything in detail to my mother-in-law. I finally think I am done talking about dog regurgitation, when my wife calls. I mention Daisy ate another stuff toy, with the usual outcome, and I again get asked about time, coordinates, etc. And now for some reason I am writing about it...
I did briefly try out my "abdominal brace" today while I walked the dogs, and it actually works very well and allows me to walk normally. I don't know if I will use it out in public or not. It would have a rather slimming effect the way it compresses the gut to hold everything in place, except that the adjustable scaffolding in the back, the contraption that allows it to brace, is a huge bulge that sticks out so much it won't even fit under clothes. I guess I will have to find a long jacket. I plan to use the brace tomorrow as I take advantage of the bitter cold and clean out the snake haunts in my shop and hopefully leave them with nowhere to hang out anymore.
So that is my life about now. It's just a rootin' tootin', doggy pukin', snakepit bootin', workshop lootin', Daisy losin' 'n' return to roostin', tummy boostin', no swimmer shootin' kinda week.
Other bad news I almost got was that our dear rescue basenji darted out the front door when a delivery driver came to drop off a package. My wife and I were both gone at the time so it had the potential to be a very bad situation. Luckily it was very cold and snowy yesterday so she ran all the way from the front door to the back door to be let back in. She made it back there before my mother-in-law could even put on her coat to go chase after her. I guess it is a good thing that African dogs don't have much fur, otherwise she may have tried to stay out longer.
Daisy the abused and neglected basenji paid me back this morning for her little excursion by eating part of a stuff toy causing the stuff toy to re-emerge while I was trying to sleep...three different times. The mistake I made was telling my wife and mother-in-law about it. To understand why that was a mistake I will run through my first waking moments today. I wake up to the unmistakable noise of a dog puking, and knowing I am too late to do anything about it. I lay my head down in disgust, not wanting to deal with it, then I hear that same sound again, but this time I am awake so I am able to throw a dog blanket under her to keep it off the carpet, and success! I lay back on the bed to revel in my success, when I hear a third mess being created and instantly deposited on the carpet. I drag myself out of bed, walk the dogs in the bitter cold, then come in to clean up the messes. I come out from my cleaning just to get asked to explain everything in detail to my mother-in-law. I finally think I am done talking about dog regurgitation, when my wife calls. I mention Daisy ate another stuff toy, with the usual outcome, and I again get asked about time, coordinates, etc. And now for some reason I am writing about it...
I did briefly try out my "abdominal brace" today while I walked the dogs, and it actually works very well and allows me to walk normally. I don't know if I will use it out in public or not. It would have a rather slimming effect the way it compresses the gut to hold everything in place, except that the adjustable scaffolding in the back, the contraption that allows it to brace, is a huge bulge that sticks out so much it won't even fit under clothes. I guess I will have to find a long jacket. I plan to use the brace tomorrow as I take advantage of the bitter cold and clean out the snake haunts in my shop and hopefully leave them with nowhere to hang out anymore.
So that is my life about now. It's just a rootin' tootin', doggy pukin', snakepit bootin', workshop lootin', Daisy losin' 'n' return to roostin', tummy boostin', no swimmer shootin' kinda week.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Apparently, My Swimmers Should Stay In The Shallow End...
Today was my scan and my urologist appointment. Two things I wouldn't necessarily say I was looking forward to, but I was anxious to get them out of the way.
With the foretold doom and gloom from the purveyors of precipitation prediction, I left the house a half an hour early and with all the inclement weather...I ended up at my doctor's office an hour early. I am not sure where I drove through a time shifting wormhole, I think I should have taken a left turn at Albuquerque, but whatever the reason, I suddenly had an hour to kill. Luckily my scan orders weren't for any specific time and the hospital was less than a mile from the urologist office. I thought an hour would be more than enough time to get irradiated. I forgot, however, about hospital bureaucracy. After all the red tape and going to this desk, then that one, then the other one, I flew into my urologist's office with less than five minutes to spare. I don't get the scan results until I talk to my oncologist next Friday, but the lady didn't have the "Oh, crap!" look on her face when she looked at them that the nurse that did my ultrasound had on her face when they found the cancer. I am taking that as a good sign.
While signing in at the urologist's office, the receptionist was asking the usual litany of questions, among them was if I had a procedure done. I wasn't sure what she meant or why she was asking (maybe it looked like I had lost weight in the groinal area) so I said I had the one procedure in September. She responded by asking if that was the only procedure. I stated that I only had one left, so there wasn't too many more procedures he could do.
I go back to the exam room and tell the doctor of the problems I have been having. First he discussed the results of my testosterone level test. He said I am at the bottom end of normal, which isn't bad considering I have only half of the production facilities. Next, he looked at the area that my general practitioner had suspected that a stitch trying to push its way out. He grabbed a package containing some fierce looking tweezers, and digging around down there, pulled out a stitch! It was like a magic trick...that hurts and bleeds a little. Next we addressed the thorn in my side ever since the operation (figuratively and literally). He came up with two scenarios. Option one is that I could have scar tissue that is constantly building up, and for some reason the walking is breaking it apart causing the pain. I am still not sure I understand that explanation, which is probably why he gave it to me to shut me up and get me to quit whining. The other thing that could be happening is that my stitches are dissolving. Apparently they dissolve at different speeds in different bodies, and the fact that he pulled one out of me today is evidence that they haven't dissolved completely yet. He says as these stitches are starting to dissolve they get weaker and break, which could be that "popping" feeling I have been experiencing. The only solution he had for me was an "abdominal brace" to use just when I plan on doing a lot of walking, since every time it has let loose, I have been doing a lot of walking.
So I went to Wal-Mart, which in itself is a lot of walking, and found their assortment of braces and supports. Most focus on the back, but I did find an abdominal one under a pile of dust. It basically looks like a back brace that has been slid around to the front and had $10 added on to the price tag. I haven't really walked with it yet, since I was already hurting pretty bad from walking around trying to find it, but I did try it on. Basically, you strap on this elastic and velcro thing fairly snugly. Then, there is a ring that you pull and through a complex series of cables, pulleys, and winches in the back, it supplies the added support. I must say, just from walking around a little bit to test it tonight, it feels really good. I am just fortunate that this is happening in the winter, where I have heavy jackets to cover up this contraption! My wife says is looks like some S & M mechanism. I will admit I am not that up on S & M paraphernalia, so I guess I have some research to do the next time I can't sleep.
There is one final bit that I have left out about today. The urologist discussed the last test I took and I will admit, it has me more than a little bummed, even on the verge of depressed. When I went to read my dirty magazines, the nurse called and said I didn't have many swimmers, but I had swimmers. I specifically remember asking her, if they were good swimmers and she said they were. Today, I found out that was not the case. I don't have many swimmers, and a good portion of the ones I do have are not very good ones. I don't remember the exact term he used, I just know as he was describing them, I am thinking of little sperm swimming in neverending circles, a few ramming repeatedly into random objects, and other sperm just wiggling around aimlessly screaming "I want a juice box!". The good news is that I am producing the little guys so the chemo didn't shut down the factory. However, it appears that the factory hasn't yet been retooled after the chemo (pun intended), and that I haven't completely gotten rid of the affected guys yet. It can take as long as seventy two days for the little guys to regenerate, so he wants me to wait another three months, and test again. And I am definitely NOT supposed to try to have kids in the mean time.
First of all, I know this wasn't a big setback. We have frozen guys, and it isn't out of the ordinary at all for the little guys to be affected like this. When the factory starts pumping out quality product again, the baby making attempts can resume. What I will admit was absolutely devastating to me today was that two weeks ago the nurse told me I was good to go. When you hear so much bad news, the good news really lifts you up, and to get told today that what the nurse told me was incorrect seemed like it knocked me down lower than I was before. I know it shouldn't bother me. It is a minor set back. But it is bothering me. A lot. Four months from now, I should be able to move on with our plans for baby making. It is just that I thought I had a bulk of this cancer crap behind me, and today I get told I have this Klingon that won't get off my butt.
Trying to always find the bright side in everything, I admit it was kind of tough today. I was just blindsided by that news. The one thing that kept me from really getting down in the dumps was I had told my good buddy Willie before today that I would stop by his house that is within a mile of my doctor's office. As usual, Willie cheered me up with random fire department stories and tales of the latest thing he hid from his wife and got busted on. It worked out well that I saw him within five minutes of the news today. I guess one of the few bright spots is by May, there should be some new magazines in the jerkatorium for my next test.
With the foretold doom and gloom from the purveyors of precipitation prediction, I left the house a half an hour early and with all the inclement weather...I ended up at my doctor's office an hour early. I am not sure where I drove through a time shifting wormhole, I think I should have taken a left turn at Albuquerque, but whatever the reason, I suddenly had an hour to kill. Luckily my scan orders weren't for any specific time and the hospital was less than a mile from the urologist office. I thought an hour would be more than enough time to get irradiated. I forgot, however, about hospital bureaucracy. After all the red tape and going to this desk, then that one, then the other one, I flew into my urologist's office with less than five minutes to spare. I don't get the scan results until I talk to my oncologist next Friday, but the lady didn't have the "Oh, crap!" look on her face when she looked at them that the nurse that did my ultrasound had on her face when they found the cancer. I am taking that as a good sign.
While signing in at the urologist's office, the receptionist was asking the usual litany of questions, among them was if I had a procedure done. I wasn't sure what she meant or why she was asking (maybe it looked like I had lost weight in the groinal area) so I said I had the one procedure in September. She responded by asking if that was the only procedure. I stated that I only had one left, so there wasn't too many more procedures he could do.
I go back to the exam room and tell the doctor of the problems I have been having. First he discussed the results of my testosterone level test. He said I am at the bottom end of normal, which isn't bad considering I have only half of the production facilities. Next, he looked at the area that my general practitioner had suspected that a stitch trying to push its way out. He grabbed a package containing some fierce looking tweezers, and digging around down there, pulled out a stitch! It was like a magic trick...that hurts and bleeds a little. Next we addressed the thorn in my side ever since the operation (figuratively and literally). He came up with two scenarios. Option one is that I could have scar tissue that is constantly building up, and for some reason the walking is breaking it apart causing the pain. I am still not sure I understand that explanation, which is probably why he gave it to me to shut me up and get me to quit whining. The other thing that could be happening is that my stitches are dissolving. Apparently they dissolve at different speeds in different bodies, and the fact that he pulled one out of me today is evidence that they haven't dissolved completely yet. He says as these stitches are starting to dissolve they get weaker and break, which could be that "popping" feeling I have been experiencing. The only solution he had for me was an "abdominal brace" to use just when I plan on doing a lot of walking, since every time it has let loose, I have been doing a lot of walking.
So I went to Wal-Mart, which in itself is a lot of walking, and found their assortment of braces and supports. Most focus on the back, but I did find an abdominal one under a pile of dust. It basically looks like a back brace that has been slid around to the front and had $10 added on to the price tag. I haven't really walked with it yet, since I was already hurting pretty bad from walking around trying to find it, but I did try it on. Basically, you strap on this elastic and velcro thing fairly snugly. Then, there is a ring that you pull and through a complex series of cables, pulleys, and winches in the back, it supplies the added support. I must say, just from walking around a little bit to test it tonight, it feels really good. I am just fortunate that this is happening in the winter, where I have heavy jackets to cover up this contraption! My wife says is looks like some S & M mechanism. I will admit I am not that up on S & M paraphernalia, so I guess I have some research to do the next time I can't sleep.
There is one final bit that I have left out about today. The urologist discussed the last test I took and I will admit, it has me more than a little bummed, even on the verge of depressed. When I went to read my dirty magazines, the nurse called and said I didn't have many swimmers, but I had swimmers. I specifically remember asking her, if they were good swimmers and she said they were. Today, I found out that was not the case. I don't have many swimmers, and a good portion of the ones I do have are not very good ones. I don't remember the exact term he used, I just know as he was describing them, I am thinking of little sperm swimming in neverending circles, a few ramming repeatedly into random objects, and other sperm just wiggling around aimlessly screaming "I want a juice box!". The good news is that I am producing the little guys so the chemo didn't shut down the factory. However, it appears that the factory hasn't yet been retooled after the chemo (pun intended), and that I haven't completely gotten rid of the affected guys yet. It can take as long as seventy two days for the little guys to regenerate, so he wants me to wait another three months, and test again. And I am definitely NOT supposed to try to have kids in the mean time.
First of all, I know this wasn't a big setback. We have frozen guys, and it isn't out of the ordinary at all for the little guys to be affected like this. When the factory starts pumping out quality product again, the baby making attempts can resume. What I will admit was absolutely devastating to me today was that two weeks ago the nurse told me I was good to go. When you hear so much bad news, the good news really lifts you up, and to get told today that what the nurse told me was incorrect seemed like it knocked me down lower than I was before. I know it shouldn't bother me. It is a minor set back. But it is bothering me. A lot. Four months from now, I should be able to move on with our plans for baby making. It is just that I thought I had a bulk of this cancer crap behind me, and today I get told I have this Klingon that won't get off my butt.
Trying to always find the bright side in everything, I admit it was kind of tough today. I was just blindsided by that news. The one thing that kept me from really getting down in the dumps was I had told my good buddy Willie before today that I would stop by his house that is within a mile of my doctor's office. As usual, Willie cheered me up with random fire department stories and tales of the latest thing he hid from his wife and got busted on. It worked out well that I saw him within five minutes of the news today. I guess one of the few bright spots is by May, there should be some new magazines in the jerkatorium for my next test.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The Nutrition Paradox
Even before all of this cancer crap, my wife had been urging me to eat better. Although that was kinda thrown out the window during chemo, when I was supposed to just eat anything (or in my case everything), now she is coming down on me hard about finding better food to eat...and then she beats me. OK, I am joking about one of those things.
In some instances, I have been working towards a healthier lifestyle. I have greatly increased my water intake, until I had the recent bout of hurting myself. I haven't been drinking as much water since I hurt myself Saturday because more water equals more peeing, which means more walking to the bathroom, which means more hurting. I would continue to drink lots of water, but my wife hid the little porta-john thingy they gave us at the hospital after my surgery. Many people have said I should cut back on my Pepsi intake, however I don't agree with them, and neither do Pepsi's stockholders. But I have been cutting back. As I mentioned, I have been drinking more water, and instead of Pepsi, I try to drink healthier stuff like root beer and Big Red. I am assuming the Red in Big Red comes from some healthy fruit. And I think Pepsi should count as a vegetable serving anyway, because it says "corn" right there on the label, and corn is a vegetable.
Which leads me to the servings count. One thing I have been doing since chemo is drinking a very large glass of orange juice first thing every morning. And a serving the size I drink in the morning counts as two fruit servings. To keep from messing with my stomach I only drink the "Low Acid" orange juice. I also make sure it is the "No Pulp" version from Tropicana. It has to be from Tropicana, because it is made in Bradenton, Florida, which means a few times a year when I am down there, I can drive by there and give them the "stink-eye" to make sure they are doing everything correctly. So far, it's working. And Tropicana is owned by Pepsi, and we all know that they only make quality products. I am also eating at least one banana a day, so we are up to three servings of fruit.
Now is where the serving sizes get a little sketchy. I have been snacking on carrot slices, which come in a giant bag. It says there are only five servings in that bag, which I find hard to believe. If I ate carrots in those quantities I would get so orange I would be mistaken for a Jersey Shore cast member (provided I was also a alcoholic whore). Despite what it says on the bag, I am counting it as a serving. Then there are olives. I can't find out whether those are counted as a serving of vegetables or not. I only eat the green ones, and the people preaching that health crap are always talking about eating green stuff. I say it is a vegetable and since I eat several queen olives while I cook lunch, I am counting it as another serving.
Next we have the gray area fruits and vegetables. First up, my wife tries to claim raisins don't count as a fruit. I say they most certainly do count as a fruit. After all, they are just dried grapes and grapes are a fruit, so why aren't dried grapes covered in chocolate a fruit? I did mention they were chocolate covered raisins, right? Not that it matters. My wife's argument is that the chocolate negates the benefits of the raisin. The way I look at it, people will order a salad, slice fried chicken strips and throw them on top, then drench the whole thing in ranch dressing and call that a healthy meal, I think a raisin, that happens to be covered in its BFF chocolate, is just as healthy. My live in nutritionist/warden also claims that a potato is not a vegetable. I don't know what she thinks it is. It is not an animal or a mineral, which according to my 20Q game, only leaves one thing. And I eat that particular vegetable all day long, as fries, tater tots, and chips. Not too mention that some of the chips I eat are CORN chips, and corn is a vegetable too. I have argued several times that I eat more servings of fruits and vegetable than she does.
By my math, I am intaking approximately fifty servings of fruits and vegetables a day. If anything maybe I should cut back and not eat so many carrots (just in case being orange turns you into a drunken slut). The bottom line is I am trying to be a healthier Tommy. And after all, the doctors and nutritionists are constantly changing their minds on what is good and what is bad. One day it's meat is bad, the next day it's carbs that are. First no alcohol, then it's good for your heart (not that I can do anything about that one since I can't drink). Used to be eggs were good, then bad, now they may be good again in certain situations. Everything with nutrition seems to be an oxymoron. Things have changed just since I have started going through my cancer ordeal. On one hand they say to eat pecans, almonds, and cashews, but the FIRST thing they told me to do when I was diagnosed with cancer was cut back on my nuts...
In some instances, I have been working towards a healthier lifestyle. I have greatly increased my water intake, until I had the recent bout of hurting myself. I haven't been drinking as much water since I hurt myself Saturday because more water equals more peeing, which means more walking to the bathroom, which means more hurting. I would continue to drink lots of water, but my wife hid the little porta-john thingy they gave us at the hospital after my surgery. Many people have said I should cut back on my Pepsi intake, however I don't agree with them, and neither do Pepsi's stockholders. But I have been cutting back. As I mentioned, I have been drinking more water, and instead of Pepsi, I try to drink healthier stuff like root beer and Big Red. I am assuming the Red in Big Red comes from some healthy fruit. And I think Pepsi should count as a vegetable serving anyway, because it says "corn" right there on the label, and corn is a vegetable.
Which leads me to the servings count. One thing I have been doing since chemo is drinking a very large glass of orange juice first thing every morning. And a serving the size I drink in the morning counts as two fruit servings. To keep from messing with my stomach I only drink the "Low Acid" orange juice. I also make sure it is the "No Pulp" version from Tropicana. It has to be from Tropicana, because it is made in Bradenton, Florida, which means a few times a year when I am down there, I can drive by there and give them the "stink-eye" to make sure they are doing everything correctly. So far, it's working. And Tropicana is owned by Pepsi, and we all know that they only make quality products. I am also eating at least one banana a day, so we are up to three servings of fruit.
Now is where the serving sizes get a little sketchy. I have been snacking on carrot slices, which come in a giant bag. It says there are only five servings in that bag, which I find hard to believe. If I ate carrots in those quantities I would get so orange I would be mistaken for a Jersey Shore cast member (provided I was also a alcoholic whore). Despite what it says on the bag, I am counting it as a serving. Then there are olives. I can't find out whether those are counted as a serving of vegetables or not. I only eat the green ones, and the people preaching that health crap are always talking about eating green stuff. I say it is a vegetable and since I eat several queen olives while I cook lunch, I am counting it as another serving.
Next we have the gray area fruits and vegetables. First up, my wife tries to claim raisins don't count as a fruit. I say they most certainly do count as a fruit. After all, they are just dried grapes and grapes are a fruit, so why aren't dried grapes covered in chocolate a fruit? I did mention they were chocolate covered raisins, right? Not that it matters. My wife's argument is that the chocolate negates the benefits of the raisin. The way I look at it, people will order a salad, slice fried chicken strips and throw them on top, then drench the whole thing in ranch dressing and call that a healthy meal, I think a raisin, that happens to be covered in its BFF chocolate, is just as healthy. My live in nutritionist/warden also claims that a potato is not a vegetable. I don't know what she thinks it is. It is not an animal or a mineral, which according to my 20Q game, only leaves one thing. And I eat that particular vegetable all day long, as fries, tater tots, and chips. Not too mention that some of the chips I eat are CORN chips, and corn is a vegetable too. I have argued several times that I eat more servings of fruits and vegetable than she does.
By my math, I am intaking approximately fifty servings of fruits and vegetables a day. If anything maybe I should cut back and not eat so many carrots (just in case being orange turns you into a drunken slut). The bottom line is I am trying to be a healthier Tommy. And after all, the doctors and nutritionists are constantly changing their minds on what is good and what is bad. One day it's meat is bad, the next day it's carbs that are. First no alcohol, then it's good for your heart (not that I can do anything about that one since I can't drink). Used to be eggs were good, then bad, now they may be good again in certain situations. Everything with nutrition seems to be an oxymoron. Things have changed just since I have started going through my cancer ordeal. On one hand they say to eat pecans, almonds, and cashews, but the FIRST thing they told me to do when I was diagnosed with cancer was cut back on my nuts...
Scanxiety, The New Caffeine
I really didn't think this week's test would bother me as much as it appears to be. The cancer insomnia is back in full swing, as bad or worse than it was when I first got diagnosed. I can operate on just of few hours of sleep and not seem to be tired at all.
My wife has been picking up on it, but hasn't found a way to make me sleepy, outside of poisoning me, and I catch her before she is able to slip stuff in my meals like "vegetables". She sometimes convinces me to lay down when she does, but I lay there for an hour or two, then get back up again. Once up, I stay up for another two or three hours until I decide I had better lay back down before she gets up for work, or she will beat me (it's happened before).
The worst part of all of this, is just like last time, there is very little productivity in all of these extra waking hours. I wish I could exercise, but that late at night all of the wheezing, moaning, huffing, puffing, crying, and whimpering would wake up the rest of the house, and that is just from putting on my exercise shorts (because I have found you can't work out in a camouflage snuggie, it keeps getting tangled on the uneven bars). I don't really do anything creative, either. If I were to play my American made, twenty four fret, double cutaway, Paul Reed Smith in the dead of night, it would also wake up the rest of the house (although every note that comes out of it is pretty much a sweet lullaby in my hands...). I haven't done anything like written a great novel about giraffes ruling the Earth and starting their own Puritan society until some giraffes with poor morals start wearing turtleneck sweaters and that risqué clothing starts eroding their moral fiber and the giraffes start fighting so much within their own group they don't notice that the impalas are starting their own society which is a lot better because all impalas are cool (provided they were made before 1996). I have spent some of the time late at night in the insomnia hours looking for jobs, but the jobs you find yourself looking for at 3am aren't the same jobs you would apply for at 10am. Apparently the later in the night it gets, the better your perceived abilities are.
When I finally do get to bed and it is really late (or early) that is when my mind starts running rampant. I am usually still not tired physically, but my mind is completely fatigued and not working correctly. I lie there, still wide awake, and in the still of the night I hear every little sound outside. I can hear that damn raccoon farting in my workshop, and I just know he is doing it on Michelle the Impala. Then I lie there thinking of elaborate ways to assassinate flatulent raccoons, but I know the squirrels will never cooperate with the plan and I just plain don't trust the 'possums. The longer I lie there, the more my mind conjures up weird thoughts that scare me awake, like images of little trolls doing backflips on trampolines with cutlasses in their mouths, kinda like lederhosen wearing, green Shawn Johnson's, but not near as cute. And I don't know whether I should tackle them and steal their swords, or jump on the trampoline with them and pinch their little cheeks (because that is what I would do if I were jumping on a trampoline with a green Shawn Johnson, is that weird? Hmmm, I guess it is. Forget I said any of that last bit. Unless your Shawn, you're into that sort of thing, and have a place for me to stay after my wife kicks me out and beats me...not necessarily in that order. I'll bring the lederhosen.)
I tried listing some of the crap that I am trying to unload on ebay while I was up that late, but nowadays everyone always waits until the last minute of an auction to bid, and what I found out, is people are not on ebay at 3am, they are either asleep, coming downstairs to ask me why I'm not in bed, or looking at porn. Maybe if I could sell porn on ebay I would have the perfect combo, but first I would have to get some porn to sell. I doubt I could make any myself, because I don't think there is a market for "husky" guys with one nut. If there is, how much does that sort of porn pay, and will there be trolls or a trampoline involved? (I'll provide the lederhosen.)
I am definitely counting down the days until I do this latest test and I get my results. Hopefully I will find my normal sleep patterns again. If I can't get my normal sleep patterns back, I hope I at least find something productive to do with my time. Maybe I could rearrange the basement while no one is awake to get in the way. You know, if I move the couch over there, and the TV there, and the computer desk there, I should have just enough room for a trampoline and I tripod,hmmm....I gotta run, I think I just found a way to make money and occupy my time.
My wife has been picking up on it, but hasn't found a way to make me sleepy, outside of poisoning me, and I catch her before she is able to slip stuff in my meals like "vegetables". She sometimes convinces me to lay down when she does, but I lay there for an hour or two, then get back up again. Once up, I stay up for another two or three hours until I decide I had better lay back down before she gets up for work, or she will beat me (it's happened before).
The worst part of all of this, is just like last time, there is very little productivity in all of these extra waking hours. I wish I could exercise, but that late at night all of the wheezing, moaning, huffing, puffing, crying, and whimpering would wake up the rest of the house, and that is just from putting on my exercise shorts (because I have found you can't work out in a camouflage snuggie, it keeps getting tangled on the uneven bars). I don't really do anything creative, either. If I were to play my American made, twenty four fret, double cutaway, Paul Reed Smith in the dead of night, it would also wake up the rest of the house (although every note that comes out of it is pretty much a sweet lullaby in my hands...). I haven't done anything like written a great novel about giraffes ruling the Earth and starting their own Puritan society until some giraffes with poor morals start wearing turtleneck sweaters and that risqué clothing starts eroding their moral fiber and the giraffes start fighting so much within their own group they don't notice that the impalas are starting their own society which is a lot better because all impalas are cool (provided they were made before 1996). I have spent some of the time late at night in the insomnia hours looking for jobs, but the jobs you find yourself looking for at 3am aren't the same jobs you would apply for at 10am. Apparently the later in the night it gets, the better your perceived abilities are.
When I finally do get to bed and it is really late (or early) that is when my mind starts running rampant. I am usually still not tired physically, but my mind is completely fatigued and not working correctly. I lie there, still wide awake, and in the still of the night I hear every little sound outside. I can hear that damn raccoon farting in my workshop, and I just know he is doing it on Michelle the Impala. Then I lie there thinking of elaborate ways to assassinate flatulent raccoons, but I know the squirrels will never cooperate with the plan and I just plain don't trust the 'possums. The longer I lie there, the more my mind conjures up weird thoughts that scare me awake, like images of little trolls doing backflips on trampolines with cutlasses in their mouths, kinda like lederhosen wearing, green Shawn Johnson's, but not near as cute. And I don't know whether I should tackle them and steal their swords, or jump on the trampoline with them and pinch their little cheeks (because that is what I would do if I were jumping on a trampoline with a green Shawn Johnson, is that weird? Hmmm, I guess it is. Forget I said any of that last bit. Unless your Shawn, you're into that sort of thing, and have a place for me to stay after my wife kicks me out and beats me...not necessarily in that order. I'll bring the lederhosen.)
I tried listing some of the crap that I am trying to unload on ebay while I was up that late, but nowadays everyone always waits until the last minute of an auction to bid, and what I found out, is people are not on ebay at 3am, they are either asleep, coming downstairs to ask me why I'm not in bed, or looking at porn. Maybe if I could sell porn on ebay I would have the perfect combo, but first I would have to get some porn to sell. I doubt I could make any myself, because I don't think there is a market for "husky" guys with one nut. If there is, how much does that sort of porn pay, and will there be trolls or a trampoline involved? (I'll provide the lederhosen.)
I am definitely counting down the days until I do this latest test and I get my results. Hopefully I will find my normal sleep patterns again. If I can't get my normal sleep patterns back, I hope I at least find something productive to do with my time. Maybe I could rearrange the basement while no one is awake to get in the way. You know, if I move the couch over there, and the TV there, and the computer desk there, I should have just enough room for a trampoline and I tripod,hmmm....I gotta run, I think I just found a way to make money and occupy my time.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Twit Happens
One thing that is nice about the "new media" is the ability to get together with people from all over the world that you have no idea who they are. However, as a cancer patient (trying to make the transition to calling myself a cancer survivor), there has been one surprising fact about this new media. Cancer patients seem to be able to find each other on-line, befriend each other, and actually talk to one another and offer support! That seems to be especially true on Twitter.
As I had mentioned before, very early into my ordeal @noboobsaboutit and I connected and she was a constant source of inspiration, support, and information. Shortly after that @pharmacistmike offered support with his @TCSociety Since then, many other people have offered their support on-line. I may put a little note how I am not having the best day, and inexplicably I will get someone sending me a note to hang in there, or relating how they made it through the same thing. Granted, Twitter does have it share of celebrities trying to say something outrageous just to get in the public eye for another fifteen minutes, and it is impressive how some can manage to tick off so many people in only 140 characters! And there are the comedians that try to say something ridiculous in their bio to show you what you can expect on an hourly basis. And there is the obsessive tweeters who let you know what size coffee they bought that morning. But I would rather hear from my fellow cancer warriors any day. It is surprising the number of very busy people that take the time to send a private message or tweet back. I have even seen Lance Armstrong send several notes of support (but never to me, c'mon Lance, send some love, my doc knows your doc...) Even if it is a day where you don't need the encouragement, seeing that someone else that has gone through it is thinking about you, puts a smile on your face.
So, I offer this friendly advice to anyone that is going through their own cancer battle. Create a Twitter account. Follow the American Cancer Society, Livestrong, or in my case the Testicular Cancer Society or any of the others, and you will be surprised how much support finds you! That is just some friendly advice from @the1nutwonder I would write more, but I am probably coming close to my 140 characters.
As I had mentioned before, very early into my ordeal @noboobsaboutit and I connected and she was a constant source of inspiration, support, and information. Shortly after that @pharmacistmike offered support with his @TCSociety Since then, many other people have offered their support on-line. I may put a little note how I am not having the best day, and inexplicably I will get someone sending me a note to hang in there, or relating how they made it through the same thing. Granted, Twitter does have it share of celebrities trying to say something outrageous just to get in the public eye for another fifteen minutes, and it is impressive how some can manage to tick off so many people in only 140 characters! And there are the comedians that try to say something ridiculous in their bio to show you what you can expect on an hourly basis. And there is the obsessive tweeters who let you know what size coffee they bought that morning. But I would rather hear from my fellow cancer warriors any day. It is surprising the number of very busy people that take the time to send a private message or tweet back. I have even seen Lance Armstrong send several notes of support (but never to me, c'mon Lance, send some love, my doc knows your doc...) Even if it is a day where you don't need the encouragement, seeing that someone else that has gone through it is thinking about you, puts a smile on your face.
So, I offer this friendly advice to anyone that is going through their own cancer battle. Create a Twitter account. Follow the American Cancer Society, Livestrong, or in my case the Testicular Cancer Society or any of the others, and you will be surprised how much support finds you! That is just some friendly advice from @the1nutwonder I would write more, but I am probably coming close to my 140 characters.
Monday, January 17, 2011
NAKED CHURCH! Now That I Have Your Attention, Read About What It Is...
Recently I was invited by my parents' pastor to be part of his internet radio show, the Naked Church's Naked Talk. Before you get your hopes up, it is strictly a voice interview, not webcam and the name is definitely misleading (something I embarrassingly found out after the fact).
Throughout my ordeal I have tried to look at the positive side of things, because frankly, I don't have a choice. Sitting around stewing about things doesn't help anyone, so why not be positive? And I think I have a lot to be positive about. I found my cancer early, and even though I ignored it for a month, it still didn't spread. I was Stage I and had the "best kind of cancer". I had doctor's that moved swiftly and quickly treated me before things had a chance to get any worse. I only lost approximately half of the balls I started with, and just found out what is left still works (in theory, still trying to make it work in practice by having a mini-me running around). Even the one hiccup with the bad oncologist resulted in me finding a great oncologist that helped to unite all of my doctors into a team. I only had to do one round of chemo and I made it through that fairly unscathed. All in all, I think I am pretty lucky.
We have all heard that there are no atheists in a foxhole, and I wish I could say the same for cancer patients. many of us do depend a lot on faith in God and man (now Bowie's Modern Love in running through my head). On one hand, you have to have total faith in your oncologist, because your life literally is in his/her hands. So in that sense, you are putting your faith in man to cure you. Many of us also spend a lot of time on the horn to God asking that he guide that man to help us through what we are going through, as well as help us as we fight to survive the cure (which can sometimes be a harder fight that the sickness, but at least you have a fighting chance of surviving the cure).
The people I don't understand are the ones that curse God for their cancer. As I said in my unfortunately clothed radio interview on the unfortunately clothed Naked Church, for those that say "Why me?", you can also say "Why not me?" In this world, we can't all walk around with everyone having the perfect life. Some of us are going to lose jobs, some of us are going to get cancer, and some of us are going to be given American made Paul Reed Smith guitars with twenty-four frets and double cutaways for Christmas. I had all three of those things happen to me last year, and I think I made it through OK.
For the atheists, they don't have anyone to curse, and they also have no one to put their faith in other than man. Personally, if I were an atheist with cancer, I think I would hedge my bets and find some faith quickly. After all, if there isn't a God, you won't be any worse off than you were already, right? It's the people that curse God for giving them cancer that really confuse me. If you think God gave you cancer and you are cursing Him, what sense does that make? If you believe He is the type to do something like give you a disease, won't cursing Him just make things worse?
One of the ladies in my group said a friend of hers said, "NOTHING is a surprise to God." And I don't think that phrase needs to be expanded on or thought about in depth, just repeated when you think life has taken a dump on you. Nothing is a surprise to God. I don't know if it was a plan, a punishment, a blessing, a break from working, a rest, a teachable moment, a way of that extra scrotal weight I have been carrying around all these years, or what. I just know that I experienced it. I made it through with God's and man's help. And now I will hopefully use these life experiences to be a better person and help others. And if you are the type that doesn't believe in God or curses God, what do you have to lose by becoming a better person from all this?
Don't get me wrong, there are periods of frustration, or confusion, or exhaustion, or apprehension. But there are also periods of relief, elation, joy, and a whole different outlook on life. So far I think my faith has served me well, and I don't plan on giving that up anytime soon, which is a good thing because I already have the tattoo (wish I could say the same thing about the wedding ring tattoo, guess I am stuck with her now). I don't mind talking about my ordeal and I don't mind talking about how my faith got me through it and continues to get me through things. The only time I think I have really asked "Why me?" is when I found out, that the Naked Church is false advertising, but I still managed to enjoy that too. I guess I will have to find somewhere else to show off my new, slimmer sack.
Throughout my ordeal I have tried to look at the positive side of things, because frankly, I don't have a choice. Sitting around stewing about things doesn't help anyone, so why not be positive? And I think I have a lot to be positive about. I found my cancer early, and even though I ignored it for a month, it still didn't spread. I was Stage I and had the "best kind of cancer". I had doctor's that moved swiftly and quickly treated me before things had a chance to get any worse. I only lost approximately half of the balls I started with, and just found out what is left still works (in theory, still trying to make it work in practice by having a mini-me running around). Even the one hiccup with the bad oncologist resulted in me finding a great oncologist that helped to unite all of my doctors into a team. I only had to do one round of chemo and I made it through that fairly unscathed. All in all, I think I am pretty lucky.
We have all heard that there are no atheists in a foxhole, and I wish I could say the same for cancer patients. many of us do depend a lot on faith in God and man (now Bowie's Modern Love in running through my head). On one hand, you have to have total faith in your oncologist, because your life literally is in his/her hands. So in that sense, you are putting your faith in man to cure you. Many of us also spend a lot of time on the horn to God asking that he guide that man to help us through what we are going through, as well as help us as we fight to survive the cure (which can sometimes be a harder fight that the sickness, but at least you have a fighting chance of surviving the cure).
The people I don't understand are the ones that curse God for their cancer. As I said in my unfortunately clothed radio interview on the unfortunately clothed Naked Church, for those that say "Why me?", you can also say "Why not me?" In this world, we can't all walk around with everyone having the perfect life. Some of us are going to lose jobs, some of us are going to get cancer, and some of us are going to be given American made Paul Reed Smith guitars with twenty-four frets and double cutaways for Christmas. I had all three of those things happen to me last year, and I think I made it through OK.
For the atheists, they don't have anyone to curse, and they also have no one to put their faith in other than man. Personally, if I were an atheist with cancer, I think I would hedge my bets and find some faith quickly. After all, if there isn't a God, you won't be any worse off than you were already, right? It's the people that curse God for giving them cancer that really confuse me. If you think God gave you cancer and you are cursing Him, what sense does that make? If you believe He is the type to do something like give you a disease, won't cursing Him just make things worse?
One of the ladies in my group said a friend of hers said, "NOTHING is a surprise to God." And I don't think that phrase needs to be expanded on or thought about in depth, just repeated when you think life has taken a dump on you. Nothing is a surprise to God. I don't know if it was a plan, a punishment, a blessing, a break from working, a rest, a teachable moment, a way of that extra scrotal weight I have been carrying around all these years, or what. I just know that I experienced it. I made it through with God's and man's help. And now I will hopefully use these life experiences to be a better person and help others. And if you are the type that doesn't believe in God or curses God, what do you have to lose by becoming a better person from all this?
Don't get me wrong, there are periods of frustration, or confusion, or exhaustion, or apprehension. But there are also periods of relief, elation, joy, and a whole different outlook on life. So far I think my faith has served me well, and I don't plan on giving that up anytime soon, which is a good thing because I already have the tattoo (wish I could say the same thing about the wedding ring tattoo, guess I am stuck with her now). I don't mind talking about my ordeal and I don't mind talking about how my faith got me through it and continues to get me through things. The only time I think I have really asked "Why me?" is when I found out, that the Naked Church is false advertising, but I still managed to enjoy that too. I guess I will have to find somewhere else to show off my new, slimmer sack.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I Can't Wait For The Urologist...
I can't wait for my urologist (who was also my surgeon) appointment this week. No, not because of the slap and tickle I will inevitably have to experience as soon as I get in his office. I am hoping I will get an answer to why no matter how long it has been since my surgery, my incision just never seems to heal.
Today we took the abused basenji to her class that is supposed to break her out of her shell. On the way back we decided to reward her for her hour of torture by taking her for a walk in the park. I was a little gun shy about the whole thing after hurting myself so bad in Florida. But that has been well over a month, and I haven't hurt myself that bad since. However, we didn't get too far in to our walk before I felt something happening. My wife asked if I was OK, and knowing how much I could potentially be hurting myself, I did the guy thing and said I was fine. I don't think it took her too long to tell I was lying. I think it was walking like an off balance Weeble Wobble that gave me away.
I think the best way to describe what happens is to compare it to taking a Band-Aid off. You know how when a Band-Aid is on, most of the time you aren't even aware it is there. Occasionally, your Band-Aid will catch on something while you are changing clothes or something, just giving you a little reminder that it is there, but not really hurting. When it is time you take off your Band-Aid you start to peel it back and it doesn't hurt too bad, UNTIL you get to the point that you have to just rip it off because it is going to hurt no matter what you do from that point on.
Ever since my surgery, on a good day, my incision feels like wearing a Band-Aid. Occasionally, I have a little tenderness there along my waistline where the incision is, but most of the time, I don't even notice it. When I start doing too much physical activity it is like I am brushing against the Band-Aid. Sometimes, I can feel the incision about to let loose, like today, where while walking, it was like I had pulled the the Band-Aid, but if I took one wrong step, the Band-Aid would be completely ripped off and leave me laying around for another two weeks.
I am tired of living like this. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to when I get to that Band-Aid ripping point. I can Wii up a storm with only a slight irritation, but I start walking on uneven terrain, and the effects are almost immediate. However, when it let loose in Florida I was walking on the pavement, but I had been rolling around under a car for hours earlier. I would have thought it would have pulled apart when I was practicing yoga underneath a Highlander, not when I was just walking minding my own business. I don't like walking around through life like I am in a minefield, and I don't know when I am going to step on the one that will send shockwaves through my body. It is bad enough just avoiding the minefield of poop during dog walks.
So, I am hoping this week's appointment will give me answers. I don't care if he says I have to have another operation, use a walker, wear a girdle, sit around in traction, or drive a Rascal scooter through Key West getting stuck on curbs (that one was just for you, sisters), at this point I will do it. Unfortunately, the first option they always offer is painkillers, which I always refuse, because I don't want to mask what is going on, I want to be healed! Until I get an answer I will just keep tiptoe-limping through life praying that my next step is not onto a landmine that rips off my Band-Aid.
Today we took the abused basenji to her class that is supposed to break her out of her shell. On the way back we decided to reward her for her hour of torture by taking her for a walk in the park. I was a little gun shy about the whole thing after hurting myself so bad in Florida. But that has been well over a month, and I haven't hurt myself that bad since. However, we didn't get too far in to our walk before I felt something happening. My wife asked if I was OK, and knowing how much I could potentially be hurting myself, I did the guy thing and said I was fine. I don't think it took her too long to tell I was lying. I think it was walking like an off balance Weeble Wobble that gave me away.
I think the best way to describe what happens is to compare it to taking a Band-Aid off. You know how when a Band-Aid is on, most of the time you aren't even aware it is there. Occasionally, your Band-Aid will catch on something while you are changing clothes or something, just giving you a little reminder that it is there, but not really hurting. When it is time you take off your Band-Aid you start to peel it back and it doesn't hurt too bad, UNTIL you get to the point that you have to just rip it off because it is going to hurt no matter what you do from that point on.
Ever since my surgery, on a good day, my incision feels like wearing a Band-Aid. Occasionally, I have a little tenderness there along my waistline where the incision is, but most of the time, I don't even notice it. When I start doing too much physical activity it is like I am brushing against the Band-Aid. Sometimes, I can feel the incision about to let loose, like today, where while walking, it was like I had pulled the the Band-Aid, but if I took one wrong step, the Band-Aid would be completely ripped off and leave me laying around for another two weeks.
I am tired of living like this. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to when I get to that Band-Aid ripping point. I can Wii up a storm with only a slight irritation, but I start walking on uneven terrain, and the effects are almost immediate. However, when it let loose in Florida I was walking on the pavement, but I had been rolling around under a car for hours earlier. I would have thought it would have pulled apart when I was practicing yoga underneath a Highlander, not when I was just walking minding my own business. I don't like walking around through life like I am in a minefield, and I don't know when I am going to step on the one that will send shockwaves through my body. It is bad enough just avoiding the minefield of poop during dog walks.
So, I am hoping this week's appointment will give me answers. I don't care if he says I have to have another operation, use a walker, wear a girdle, sit around in traction, or drive a Rascal scooter through Key West getting stuck on curbs (that one was just for you, sisters), at this point I will do it. Unfortunately, the first option they always offer is painkillers, which I always refuse, because I don't want to mask what is going on, I want to be healed! Until I get an answer I will just keep tiptoe-limping through life praying that my next step is not onto a landmine that rips off my Band-Aid.
Friday, January 14, 2011
One Wall, Two Walls, Three Walls, Four Walls...
I am officially tired of being in my house! At first being unemployed was a nice vacation from the long hours I had to put in at work. Then being unemployed was nice while I was dealing with cancer recovery. And with all of the doctors' appointments this month, it is nice not having to beg for time off, but I am sick of seeing the inside of this house.
I am still afraid to push myself too hard. I went up to my shop for the first time this week and was able to tell when I was coming close to doubling over in pain and able to stop before I did, thus saving me another two or three weeks of sitting around immobile waiting to heal for the one thousandth time. See, I do eventually learn not to over do it. But I am limited on things to do in my shop because my marine projects are all fiberglass, and messing with them while it is this cold can cause some serious cracks and greatly increase the scope of those projects. The non-marine projects are behind the marine projects, and I know if I try to push projects around in my shop, like I normally do for the winter, I will also push my insides through my incision. So, although I am enjoying what little I have been able to do in my workshop, I am itching to do a lot more.
I have been Wiiing up a storm, though, trying to lose weight. Today I was "helped" by a basenji, which doesn't work too well when I am moving like a cokehead doing the "Cabbage Patch" trying to get the EA Sports game to recognize my "Kick Ups". The dog decided he needed to be right next to me during whatever exercise I was doing. Then the abused basenji, who likes being around the non-abused basenji, comes down to see where he is while I am doing the "Combo Boxing" portion of my Wii exercise routine. I don't know if she was hit by a Wiimote as part of her abuse before we got her, but I do know she flinched every time I did that motion, which required me to do that exercise in slow motion, while my trainer yelled at me, and abused basenji cocked her head trying to figure out if I just had a stroke or something.
Wiiing is about the only exercise I can do right now. We have lots of exercise equipment, that normally sits in front of the fireplace we don't burn wood in, but got repaired in case we ever want to burn something in it again. The problem is, they didn't completely repair it. So I can't put the equipment back until they finish what they are supposed to do, then I have to clean up after them, then slide all the equipment back, which will probably result in my pulling something, and not being able to use said exercise equipment.
So, I don't know what to do now. I have pretty much surfed everything I have ever wanted to surf on the internet. I think I have seen everything there is to see on cable. And I have been playing my American made, 24 fret, double cutaway PRS so much that I feel like I have dimes taped to the end of my fingers. I still enjoy doing that, but I am making a lot of typos with my left hand since I can't feel my finger tips. I am hoping one of my job opportunities comes through soon, not just so I can finally get out of this house, but so I can quit getting the "Have you heard anything..." questions. Until then, I guess I will keep surfing, Wiiing, and watching crap.
I am still afraid to push myself too hard. I went up to my shop for the first time this week and was able to tell when I was coming close to doubling over in pain and able to stop before I did, thus saving me another two or three weeks of sitting around immobile waiting to heal for the one thousandth time. See, I do eventually learn not to over do it. But I am limited on things to do in my shop because my marine projects are all fiberglass, and messing with them while it is this cold can cause some serious cracks and greatly increase the scope of those projects. The non-marine projects are behind the marine projects, and I know if I try to push projects around in my shop, like I normally do for the winter, I will also push my insides through my incision. So, although I am enjoying what little I have been able to do in my workshop, I am itching to do a lot more.
I have been Wiiing up a storm, though, trying to lose weight. Today I was "helped" by a basenji, which doesn't work too well when I am moving like a cokehead doing the "Cabbage Patch" trying to get the EA Sports game to recognize my "Kick Ups". The dog decided he needed to be right next to me during whatever exercise I was doing. Then the abused basenji, who likes being around the non-abused basenji, comes down to see where he is while I am doing the "Combo Boxing" portion of my Wii exercise routine. I don't know if she was hit by a Wiimote as part of her abuse before we got her, but I do know she flinched every time I did that motion, which required me to do that exercise in slow motion, while my trainer yelled at me, and abused basenji cocked her head trying to figure out if I just had a stroke or something.
Wiiing is about the only exercise I can do right now. We have lots of exercise equipment, that normally sits in front of the fireplace we don't burn wood in, but got repaired in case we ever want to burn something in it again. The problem is, they didn't completely repair it. So I can't put the equipment back until they finish what they are supposed to do, then I have to clean up after them, then slide all the equipment back, which will probably result in my pulling something, and not being able to use said exercise equipment.
So, I don't know what to do now. I have pretty much surfed everything I have ever wanted to surf on the internet. I think I have seen everything there is to see on cable. And I have been playing my American made, 24 fret, double cutaway PRS so much that I feel like I have dimes taped to the end of my fingers. I still enjoy doing that, but I am making a lot of typos with my left hand since I can't feel my finger tips. I am hoping one of my job opportunities comes through soon, not just so I can finally get out of this house, but so I can quit getting the "Have you heard anything..." questions. Until then, I guess I will keep surfing, Wiiing, and watching crap.
When Are You "Done" With Cancer?
Today I went to my cancer support group. For the past two weeks the subject has come up on when it is time to "graduate" from the group. The moderator has said, he doesn't foresee ever kicking anyone out, but it has brought about a bigger question within the group. When are you done with cancer?
For all intents and purposes, I want to be "done" with all of this cancer crap. I have completed my surgery and finished my chemotherapy. My oncologist and urologist can throw out statistic after statistic about how low my chances of a recurrence are. And they can site those numbers all day long, but it is difficult to really believe them when they want to test you every three months. I have my first post-chemo scan next week, and I didn't think it would bother me at all, because according to all the people that I give co-pays to I have almost no chance of this cancer ever coming back. But as I get closer to the date, I find myself dwelling more and more on it. I can't imagine what life will be like the week between the scan and getting the results. This is where the comfort of the group came in for me. I learned about "scanxiety". At first I laughed it off as a funny term, but as I get closer to that date, I know exactly what she is talking about.
As far as cancer is concerned, I've had it easy. Many people have much tougher battles, and obviously not everyone makes it through the battle. And then there is the other side. There are people in my group that have been living with cancer eight, ten, and twelve years or more! The thing I found odd today, is that they don't consider themselves "survivors", because they are Stage IV and will always have cancer. These people are a lot more active and look a lot healthier than me! I was floored by their comments. They were given a terminal diagnosis a decade ago, and not only do they continue to kick cancer's butt on a daily basis, but they look good doing it! Heck, I look like crap most of the time and I am considered a survivor! That is probably because I do nothing but sitting around looking for jobs on the internet covered in chocolaty crumbs of whatever that was that I called lunch.
Cancer journeys are so personal in our treatment as well. One of the ten year survivors has never had a chemo treatment. Today we had someone starting their chemo and asking about the dryness that is associated with it. And I (the rookie) was able to give some advice when others couldn't. I think that is the give and take of the group as well. Not only is there a point where the group is relative to you at your point in your journey, but also relative to helping others in their journeys as well. In my opinion, which counts for absolutely nothing, when you no longer are taking anything away for group, nor contributing anything to the group, it's time to leave. In other words, if you are done with everything, and when everyone else is talking about their trials and tribulations and all you can add is how you shared a heroine needle with your STD infected prostitute while nude sunbathing without sunscreen at the equator, that is not only hurting the group, because these are all things you are not supposed to do while being treated for cancer, and you are just rubbing it in.
So, I am torn. On hand, I hope to be free and clear of all of this someday both physically and mentally and never need the group for support again. On the other hand, these are people that I have grown to care about, share with, and in many cases look up to and I don't want to miss out on the weekly talks we have (unless it was the talk about sex and cancer that I apparently missed while I was out, I can miss out on that one). But all joking aside, none of us pay anything to go there. Most of us drive a considerable distance to get there. It is obvious to me that each and every one of us is getting something out of it, or we wouldn't go. Yeah, I do hope I feel like I have "graduated" one day, and maybe I will join the "survivors" group, but I hope the rest of the group is able to come with me.
For all intents and purposes, I want to be "done" with all of this cancer crap. I have completed my surgery and finished my chemotherapy. My oncologist and urologist can throw out statistic after statistic about how low my chances of a recurrence are. And they can site those numbers all day long, but it is difficult to really believe them when they want to test you every three months. I have my first post-chemo scan next week, and I didn't think it would bother me at all, because according to all the people that I give co-pays to I have almost no chance of this cancer ever coming back. But as I get closer to the date, I find myself dwelling more and more on it. I can't imagine what life will be like the week between the scan and getting the results. This is where the comfort of the group came in for me. I learned about "scanxiety". At first I laughed it off as a funny term, but as I get closer to that date, I know exactly what she is talking about.
As far as cancer is concerned, I've had it easy. Many people have much tougher battles, and obviously not everyone makes it through the battle. And then there is the other side. There are people in my group that have been living with cancer eight, ten, and twelve years or more! The thing I found odd today, is that they don't consider themselves "survivors", because they are Stage IV and will always have cancer. These people are a lot more active and look a lot healthier than me! I was floored by their comments. They were given a terminal diagnosis a decade ago, and not only do they continue to kick cancer's butt on a daily basis, but they look good doing it! Heck, I look like crap most of the time and I am considered a survivor! That is probably because I do nothing but sitting around looking for jobs on the internet covered in chocolaty crumbs of whatever that was that I called lunch.
Cancer journeys are so personal in our treatment as well. One of the ten year survivors has never had a chemo treatment. Today we had someone starting their chemo and asking about the dryness that is associated with it. And I (the rookie) was able to give some advice when others couldn't. I think that is the give and take of the group as well. Not only is there a point where the group is relative to you at your point in your journey, but also relative to helping others in their journeys as well. In my opinion, which counts for absolutely nothing, when you no longer are taking anything away for group, nor contributing anything to the group, it's time to leave. In other words, if you are done with everything, and when everyone else is talking about their trials and tribulations and all you can add is how you shared a heroine needle with your STD infected prostitute while nude sunbathing without sunscreen at the equator, that is not only hurting the group, because these are all things you are not supposed to do while being treated for cancer, and you are just rubbing it in.
So, I am torn. On hand, I hope to be free and clear of all of this someday both physically and mentally and never need the group for support again. On the other hand, these are people that I have grown to care about, share with, and in many cases look up to and I don't want to miss out on the weekly talks we have (unless it was the talk about sex and cancer that I apparently missed while I was out, I can miss out on that one). But all joking aside, none of us pay anything to go there. Most of us drive a considerable distance to get there. It is obvious to me that each and every one of us is getting something out of it, or we wouldn't go. Yeah, I do hope I feel like I have "graduated" one day, and maybe I will join the "survivors" group, but I hope the rest of the group is able to come with me.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Braving The Cold, ReInjury, and Snakes...
Today I tempted fate and went up to my shop to finish the job that has injured my incision so many times before. However, I was successful this time...except for my incision hurting a little bit...
My shop is unheated and small animals seem to be able to breach my security without a problem (my security being strategically placed rat and mouse traps). If I am up there often, just my presence usually scares away the small mammals...well, my presence and the sound of talk radio. And it is important to scare off the small mammals because that is what the small snakes eat. And if they eat enough of them, they become big snakes. Let me just say that today there was evidence of that there may have been a lot of small mammals in there at some point. And that is exactly why I tend to do straightening up in my shop when it is really cold. That way any snakes that are still hanging around are moving slow and thus can easily fall victim to my whacking stick (some tool my father-in-law gave me before he died that looks absolutely medieval but does a good job severing tree limbs, roots, and snakes). It is supposed to get even colder later this week, and that is when I will really get into the areas that vermin like to hide. It is all part of my new plan to get rid of stuff I haven't used in a while and that I don't ever really plan on using again. I think the Goodwill my get a large donation of my crap this week.
My main goal today was to finally put away all of the tools my grandfather had given me right before I had all of this cancer crap happen. They were tools from from my great grandfather's collection, so it is kinda neat to now have them in my collection. My parent's had bought me a new tool box for the additional tools for my birthday when I tore my incision in November. And since I like my work area to be aesthetically pleasing, I had to rearrange all my tools, which is probably why I hurt myself in the first place. But, I made sure everything had its place and I was even able to spread out some of my stuff so it wasn't so crowded in my drawers (go ahead and make your own "one nut" joke here). And we thing I realized when I was finished, is that I have room for more tools! By the way, I made that same statement to my wife and got the skunk eye from her.
Even though I saw giant snakeskins today and overdid it physically and froze my ball off in the cold, I feel really good about today. I am finally starting to be able to do the stuff I want to do. I am able to push myself a little further every day without really injuring myself. And I have finished a project that I started back in August, right before my diagnosis. It is funny how the plethora of doctors' appointments this month keep reminding me that I am still a cancer patient, yet as the days go by I seem to be proving that I am not a cancer victim. Now if I can just manage to stay injury free while I clean out the rest of the area...
My shop is unheated and small animals seem to be able to breach my security without a problem (my security being strategically placed rat and mouse traps). If I am up there often, just my presence usually scares away the small mammals...well, my presence and the sound of talk radio. And it is important to scare off the small mammals because that is what the small snakes eat. And if they eat enough of them, they become big snakes. Let me just say that today there was evidence of that there may have been a lot of small mammals in there at some point. And that is exactly why I tend to do straightening up in my shop when it is really cold. That way any snakes that are still hanging around are moving slow and thus can easily fall victim to my whacking stick (some tool my father-in-law gave me before he died that looks absolutely medieval but does a good job severing tree limbs, roots, and snakes). It is supposed to get even colder later this week, and that is when I will really get into the areas that vermin like to hide. It is all part of my new plan to get rid of stuff I haven't used in a while and that I don't ever really plan on using again. I think the Goodwill my get a large donation of my crap this week.
My main goal today was to finally put away all of the tools my grandfather had given me right before I had all of this cancer crap happen. They were tools from from my great grandfather's collection, so it is kinda neat to now have them in my collection. My parent's had bought me a new tool box for the additional tools for my birthday when I tore my incision in November. And since I like my work area to be aesthetically pleasing, I had to rearrange all my tools, which is probably why I hurt myself in the first place. But, I made sure everything had its place and I was even able to spread out some of my stuff so it wasn't so crowded in my drawers (go ahead and make your own "one nut" joke here). And we thing I realized when I was finished, is that I have room for more tools! By the way, I made that same statement to my wife and got the skunk eye from her.
Even though I saw giant snakeskins today and overdid it physically and froze my ball off in the cold, I feel really good about today. I am finally starting to be able to do the stuff I want to do. I am able to push myself a little further every day without really injuring myself. And I have finished a project that I started back in August, right before my diagnosis. It is funny how the plethora of doctors' appointments this month keep reminding me that I am still a cancer patient, yet as the days go by I seem to be proving that I am not a cancer victim. Now if I can just manage to stay injury free while I clean out the rest of the area...
2011: The Year Of The Doctors' Appointments
After the surgery and chemotherapy, I am now to the "observation" phase of my treatment and I will be at that phase for a few years to come. So far I have had four doctor's appointments this month, and I have three left.
First, I have swimmers! Before you start chemo, they tell you that the chemo will probably make you sterile, which is obviously the part that the lawyers of the people who manufacture the chemotherapy make them say. The oncologist followed that up by saying he didn't know anyone who had that particular type of chemo that actually became sterile (for example, Lance Armstrong and I had the same chemo, and he has had two successful swimmers in the past two years). What was funny, is the nurse from the urologist's office acted like she had devastating news for me, saying that my count of swimmers was low. For me, having just cleared the time period when I should be able to start making swimmers again, and after being told I may never make swimmers again, I was ecstatic. All I need is one swimmer! Maybe two, my wife and I are still arguing that point. Personally I am hoping when my swimmers do make it to the finish line we get triplets.
My second doctor's appointment was with my G.I. doctor. The best news there was I am not due for another buttsporation for another four years! The colonoscopy itself isn't too bad, it's just the prep that has you wishing you hadn't ate all of that food over the past three years so you could get off of the toilet and move on with your life. I have an upper scope in July, but all you have to do for that one is not eat after midnight then go to sleep when they inject you with the good stuff. The only bad news I received from the G.I. doctor, wasn't from him at all. He had been wanting to do a CT scan on me for a while, but we couldn't really justify it. So, since we already had one done, I had sent the scans over to him. He got to see what he wanted to look at and said everything seemed good. In fact the only thing they marked on my scan was the two cyst type things in my kidneys. The only problem with hearing that, was I hadn't heard that before then. So now I have something new to worry about. I asked him if going through chemo would help my Barrett's Esophagus at all, and I was told it wouldn't because esophageal cancer doesn't respond to chemo. Not what I was really hoping to hear, but then he reiterated that is why it is so important to do the scopes when he says to. I guess I will see you in July, doc! Other than that, some of my G.I. issues are doing so well that I have been able to back off some of my meds!
Appointment three was a blood and pee test. The only bad thing about these tests, is you do them at the same time (well a few minutes apart), and they want you to not eat anything that morning, yet still be able to pee. So I was left chugging water on the whole way to the doctor's. The vampire was nice (she always is) and let me in on a little secret. I have veins that like to roll around when stuck, and most nurses are fine when I say that they usually need a "butterfly" to stick me, but every once in a while I get a cranky don't-tell-me-how-to-do-my-job one, who manages to stick me several times before grabbing the butterfly. This nurse said the main reason nurses are like that is that the butterfly needles cost considerably more than the regular ones. And some employers will actually ration the number of butterfly needles a nurse gets in a week. Yeah, that makes sense, stick a person nine times before you break out the more expensive needle (and I speak from experience).
Saturday, I had my regular doctor appointment. I had a year's worth of questions to ask him, which just about every answer was to quit worrying about it. I asked him about my kidney cyst looking thingys. He said just about everyone has those and he is sure that my oncologist is watching those if he is worried about them. He also said it looks like a stitch may be trying to push to the surface from my incision and to have the urologist look at it. I don't know what the heck I will do if I see a string poking out my belly? The kid in me will want to pull it, which has me running all sorts of scenarios in my mind, most of them involving me unraveling. The good news is since a CT scan is much better than getting poked in the butt, I was able to avoid having to get the dreaded prostate exam (or the finger wag as my dad calls it). I don't think either one of us has been looking forward to that. Since this is my no nonsense doctor, he spent most of the appointment telling me I was doing great after my cancer treatment, and now it was time to lose weight! Sometimes I don't feel like I am doing as well as I would like after my treatment, but I definitely agree with him on the losing weight part. I want to lose the weight as fast as possible, then think of a reason to go to him just to prove I could take off the weight. What am I talking about? I am sure I will probably manage to hurt myself sometime before next year's check up. I'll probably end up hurting myself while trying to lose weight.
So, four appointments down and three left this month. I don't know exactly what to expect from the urologist and oncologist. At least the X-ray will be another one of those laydown and don't do anything tests. I am good at those tests. Oh well, nothing I can do but show up to them and then blog about what happened...
First, I have swimmers! Before you start chemo, they tell you that the chemo will probably make you sterile, which is obviously the part that the lawyers of the people who manufacture the chemotherapy make them say. The oncologist followed that up by saying he didn't know anyone who had that particular type of chemo that actually became sterile (for example, Lance Armstrong and I had the same chemo, and he has had two successful swimmers in the past two years). What was funny, is the nurse from the urologist's office acted like she had devastating news for me, saying that my count of swimmers was low. For me, having just cleared the time period when I should be able to start making swimmers again, and after being told I may never make swimmers again, I was ecstatic. All I need is one swimmer! Maybe two, my wife and I are still arguing that point. Personally I am hoping when my swimmers do make it to the finish line we get triplets.
My second doctor's appointment was with my G.I. doctor. The best news there was I am not due for another buttsporation for another four years! The colonoscopy itself isn't too bad, it's just the prep that has you wishing you hadn't ate all of that food over the past three years so you could get off of the toilet and move on with your life. I have an upper scope in July, but all you have to do for that one is not eat after midnight then go to sleep when they inject you with the good stuff. The only bad news I received from the G.I. doctor, wasn't from him at all. He had been wanting to do a CT scan on me for a while, but we couldn't really justify it. So, since we already had one done, I had sent the scans over to him. He got to see what he wanted to look at and said everything seemed good. In fact the only thing they marked on my scan was the two cyst type things in my kidneys. The only problem with hearing that, was I hadn't heard that before then. So now I have something new to worry about. I asked him if going through chemo would help my Barrett's Esophagus at all, and I was told it wouldn't because esophageal cancer doesn't respond to chemo. Not what I was really hoping to hear, but then he reiterated that is why it is so important to do the scopes when he says to. I guess I will see you in July, doc! Other than that, some of my G.I. issues are doing so well that I have been able to back off some of my meds!
Appointment three was a blood and pee test. The only bad thing about these tests, is you do them at the same time (well a few minutes apart), and they want you to not eat anything that morning, yet still be able to pee. So I was left chugging water on the whole way to the doctor's. The vampire was nice (she always is) and let me in on a little secret. I have veins that like to roll around when stuck, and most nurses are fine when I say that they usually need a "butterfly" to stick me, but every once in a while I get a cranky don't-tell-me-how-to-do-my-job one, who manages to stick me several times before grabbing the butterfly. This nurse said the main reason nurses are like that is that the butterfly needles cost considerably more than the regular ones. And some employers will actually ration the number of butterfly needles a nurse gets in a week. Yeah, that makes sense, stick a person nine times before you break out the more expensive needle (and I speak from experience).
Saturday, I had my regular doctor appointment. I had a year's worth of questions to ask him, which just about every answer was to quit worrying about it. I asked him about my kidney cyst looking thingys. He said just about everyone has those and he is sure that my oncologist is watching those if he is worried about them. He also said it looks like a stitch may be trying to push to the surface from my incision and to have the urologist look at it. I don't know what the heck I will do if I see a string poking out my belly? The kid in me will want to pull it, which has me running all sorts of scenarios in my mind, most of them involving me unraveling. The good news is since a CT scan is much better than getting poked in the butt, I was able to avoid having to get the dreaded prostate exam (or the finger wag as my dad calls it). I don't think either one of us has been looking forward to that. Since this is my no nonsense doctor, he spent most of the appointment telling me I was doing great after my cancer treatment, and now it was time to lose weight! Sometimes I don't feel like I am doing as well as I would like after my treatment, but I definitely agree with him on the losing weight part. I want to lose the weight as fast as possible, then think of a reason to go to him just to prove I could take off the weight. What am I talking about? I am sure I will probably manage to hurt myself sometime before next year's check up. I'll probably end up hurting myself while trying to lose weight.
So, four appointments down and three left this month. I don't know exactly what to expect from the urologist and oncologist. At least the X-ray will be another one of those laydown and don't do anything tests. I am good at those tests. Oh well, nothing I can do but show up to them and then blog about what happened...
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sometimes Cancer Makes You Fat
Well I finally have internet again! I guess I could have written on my phone, but I didn't want to get carpal thumb. Anyway, I am fat. I can admit it. I am not waddling and breathing hard at everything fat, just kinda limping and breathing hard at things I am not supposed to fat. But oddly, there is something bothering more than just being overweight right now.
For eight years, a big part of my job had been thinking about a contingency plan for everything. So, when I was told going into chemo that my tastes could change (and they did) and that I may not like some of my favorite foods, and I may start to crave others, I prepared by having a two week supply of just about every type of food. The nurse told us that it was important to eat healthy, but it was more important to just eat. Luckily my plan worked, and although some stuff seemed absolutely disgusting while I was on chemo (I have completely lost interest in pasta, unfortunately) I found enough stuff that I bought in preparation for chemo that I did like. And my two week supply of food was gone in about four days....OK, I am exaggerating, it probably lasted me a week. The problem is, my activity level has been severely limited the past four months due to surgery recovery and the constant reinjuring of my surgery. So, increased intake of food and lowered activity level equals a plumper Tommy. Luckily, I was such a fine physical specimen before this all happened, I just went from husky to pudgy. All my clothes still fit and everything, just not as loose as in the past (and I did notice many of my Christmas gift shirts were 2XL instead my normal XL...I guess my family was sending me a hint).
But was has been bothering me is that I know I have gained weight, and I know I need to lose weight, but people keeping telling me it's no big deal. They will say something like that it's OK to gain weight with what I have been through and things to that effect, but I know I have gained weight and I know I need to get back in shape! I was kinda hoping to lose weight from all this crap and instead I am the only chemo patient ever to come through it fatter! I brought the subject up to my cancer group wondering if I was the only one, and I guess since it was our first meeting after the holidays, there were still a lot of sore spots, because everyone seemed to instantly agree with me. As cancer patients, we all know what we have been through, and we are all limited in some ways, and we all don't mind too much if someone is being protective, but we all seem to be a little annoyed by coddling. In other words, I don't mind being told to take it easy when I am doing physical activity, especially if it involves something heavy, but I do mind being told it is OK for me to be that something heavy. I don't know, maybe I am just getting a little fed up with being a cooped up cancer patient, that in my mind should have recovered a long time ago. This isn't the way I planned it.
So, I have eased myself back into Wiiing, and bought the newest EA Active. And unfortunately that nice cartoon lady on there doesn't coddle me at all. That snotty sack of pixels keeps yelling at me to keep up, when the only reason I am lagging behind is because I can't understand how to get the Wiimote to read my movements the way she wants me to, maybe if you made the directions a little clearer I could move the way you want me to and you could see that I am sweating my butt off over here flapping my arms and kicking my legs like an electrocuted chicken trying to get you to register my movements on the screen on my "kick backs"...sorry for that rant, it was just a very frustrating workout today.
I went to my no nonsense, honest doctor yesterday, who has told me that I should lose some weight for the past few visits, and I told my group, that if he said it was OK to be at my weight right now, I would be very ticked. Luckily (?) he told me I should lose weight in whatever way I could. He even mentioned something called a diet. I will exercise in my sleep before I give up the products from the fine folks at Keebler! Which by the way have you seen the new JUMBO Fudge Sticks that just came out? I wonder if I have any left, hold on...NOOOO, I ate it earlier today! WHY!?!? WHY!?!?!? WHY don't they put more than six in a box? That barely lasted the trip back from the grocery store. Anyway, my doctor and I discussed plans to lose the extra pounds while hopefully not hurting myself again.
With that said, I am in full swing with my new exercise program. I have only been on it a few days and already lost three pounds (possibly just because I ran out of Jumbo Fudge Sticks, note to self, buy more than one box next time). Although that EA Active on Wii is really giving me a good workout, but if I ever see the trainer on there out in public I am going to kick her pixelated butt.
For eight years, a big part of my job had been thinking about a contingency plan for everything. So, when I was told going into chemo that my tastes could change (and they did) and that I may not like some of my favorite foods, and I may start to crave others, I prepared by having a two week supply of just about every type of food. The nurse told us that it was important to eat healthy, but it was more important to just eat. Luckily my plan worked, and although some stuff seemed absolutely disgusting while I was on chemo (I have completely lost interest in pasta, unfortunately) I found enough stuff that I bought in preparation for chemo that I did like. And my two week supply of food was gone in about four days....OK, I am exaggerating, it probably lasted me a week. The problem is, my activity level has been severely limited the past four months due to surgery recovery and the constant reinjuring of my surgery. So, increased intake of food and lowered activity level equals a plumper Tommy. Luckily, I was such a fine physical specimen before this all happened, I just went from husky to pudgy. All my clothes still fit and everything, just not as loose as in the past (and I did notice many of my Christmas gift shirts were 2XL instead my normal XL...I guess my family was sending me a hint).
But was has been bothering me is that I know I have gained weight, and I know I need to lose weight, but people keeping telling me it's no big deal. They will say something like that it's OK to gain weight with what I have been through and things to that effect, but I know I have gained weight and I know I need to get back in shape! I was kinda hoping to lose weight from all this crap and instead I am the only chemo patient ever to come through it fatter! I brought the subject up to my cancer group wondering if I was the only one, and I guess since it was our first meeting after the holidays, there were still a lot of sore spots, because everyone seemed to instantly agree with me. As cancer patients, we all know what we have been through, and we are all limited in some ways, and we all don't mind too much if someone is being protective, but we all seem to be a little annoyed by coddling. In other words, I don't mind being told to take it easy when I am doing physical activity, especially if it involves something heavy, but I do mind being told it is OK for me to be that something heavy. I don't know, maybe I am just getting a little fed up with being a cooped up cancer patient, that in my mind should have recovered a long time ago. This isn't the way I planned it.
So, I have eased myself back into Wiiing, and bought the newest EA Active. And unfortunately that nice cartoon lady on there doesn't coddle me at all. That snotty sack of pixels keeps yelling at me to keep up, when the only reason I am lagging behind is because I can't understand how to get the Wiimote to read my movements the way she wants me to, maybe if you made the directions a little clearer I could move the way you want me to and you could see that I am sweating my butt off over here flapping my arms and kicking my legs like an electrocuted chicken trying to get you to register my movements on the screen on my "kick backs"...sorry for that rant, it was just a very frustrating workout today.
I went to my no nonsense, honest doctor yesterday, who has told me that I should lose some weight for the past few visits, and I told my group, that if he said it was OK to be at my weight right now, I would be very ticked. Luckily (?) he told me I should lose weight in whatever way I could. He even mentioned something called a diet. I will exercise in my sleep before I give up the products from the fine folks at Keebler! Which by the way have you seen the new JUMBO Fudge Sticks that just came out? I wonder if I have any left, hold on...NOOOO, I ate it earlier today! WHY!?!? WHY!?!?!? WHY don't they put more than six in a box? That barely lasted the trip back from the grocery store. Anyway, my doctor and I discussed plans to lose the extra pounds while hopefully not hurting myself again.
With that said, I am in full swing with my new exercise program. I have only been on it a few days and already lost three pounds (possibly just because I ran out of Jumbo Fudge Sticks, note to self, buy more than one box next time). Although that EA Active on Wii is really giving me a good workout, but if I ever see the trainer on there out in public I am going to kick her pixelated butt.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
It's Not My Fault, Blame The Cable Company...
Well, my writing schedule has is continually being thrown off because of several events. I will list the biggest one first.
Our cable modem has recently been taking a crap on my computer at random intervals. I mean that figuratively not literally, I think the competing service provider is the one taking a crap on my computer literally. Every once in a while we have these problems with the cable internet, and I think it is a very suspicious coincidence that whenever the CABLE internet starts acting up, I look outside and see the PHONE company out my window. The two boxes for the neighborhood are near each other. I can't prove that the phone guy is sabotaging the cable company, but from now on I am taking pictures of him sitting out there with every outage. So, I will probably not write too much today, because I don't know if I will be able to get it online or not. Of course, the cable company has been a big help with their usual, "We will have some one come out right away. What are you doing a week from Thursday?" Fortunately it has only been the internet except for yesterday, when someone "fixing" the stoplight in town, took out the cable for the whole town. We went nearly 24 hours with out cable and it was the longest week of my life!!! Hopefully this will all be cleared up soon, because there is a job on Craigslist that I want to apply for, but that porn star gig is probably already taken. OK, I am not really going to apply to be a porn star, but I really did see that ad in the Craigslist "gigs" section. I was going through to see what the difference was between the "jobs" section and the "gigs" section. Apparently in the jobs section you are expected to keep your clothes on...
I also didn't blog for a couple days because we went to take my father a new guitar for his birthday (OK, it was a used guitar, but it looks new. Don't tell him.) Everything went well, he really seemed to like it. He said we weren't going to make this a yearly tradition, trading guitars. I think we should, as long as the guitar I get lists new for four to five times more than the one I give him. Seems like a great deal for me!
While in town, I also talked to their preacher. He has been reading some of my entries here and wanted to put me on his internet radio show. I know I was surprised too that: A. someone actually reads these on purpose and 2. that a preacher would still want to talk to me after reading these. He was a really nice person. I normally think of preachers as being old people, at least older than me, except priests. I mean if you are a priest, you have already decided in your life to swear off everything fun (except drinking) so might as well go ahead and move into the free house, right? Anyway, the preacher was about my age. Seeing a preacher your age, kinda makes you feel like you haven't done much with your life. We talked at great length about my ordeal the past few months. It seemed a little strange talking about my most personal of body parts in a church, but we had a good conversation. I will post when the internet radio interview will be on.
I have to other bits of news to write about, but alas my internet has crashed again. So, since I don't know if this will make it online or not, I am not going to write too much more. If you are reading this, the net came back on long enough to post. If you are not reading this, then I can write whatever I want on here, like about the time my sister...well, let me make sure this doesn't post before I tell that story.
Our cable modem has recently been taking a crap on my computer at random intervals. I mean that figuratively not literally, I think the competing service provider is the one taking a crap on my computer literally. Every once in a while we have these problems with the cable internet, and I think it is a very suspicious coincidence that whenever the CABLE internet starts acting up, I look outside and see the PHONE company out my window. The two boxes for the neighborhood are near each other. I can't prove that the phone guy is sabotaging the cable company, but from now on I am taking pictures of him sitting out there with every outage. So, I will probably not write too much today, because I don't know if I will be able to get it online or not. Of course, the cable company has been a big help with their usual, "We will have some one come out right away. What are you doing a week from Thursday?" Fortunately it has only been the internet except for yesterday, when someone "fixing" the stoplight in town, took out the cable for the whole town. We went nearly 24 hours with out cable and it was the longest week of my life!!! Hopefully this will all be cleared up soon, because there is a job on Craigslist that I want to apply for, but that porn star gig is probably already taken. OK, I am not really going to apply to be a porn star, but I really did see that ad in the Craigslist "gigs" section. I was going through to see what the difference was between the "jobs" section and the "gigs" section. Apparently in the jobs section you are expected to keep your clothes on...
I also didn't blog for a couple days because we went to take my father a new guitar for his birthday (OK, it was a used guitar, but it looks new. Don't tell him.) Everything went well, he really seemed to like it. He said we weren't going to make this a yearly tradition, trading guitars. I think we should, as long as the guitar I get lists new for four to five times more than the one I give him. Seems like a great deal for me!
While in town, I also talked to their preacher. He has been reading some of my entries here and wanted to put me on his internet radio show. I know I was surprised too that: A. someone actually reads these on purpose and 2. that a preacher would still want to talk to me after reading these. He was a really nice person. I normally think of preachers as being old people, at least older than me, except priests. I mean if you are a priest, you have already decided in your life to swear off everything fun (except drinking) so might as well go ahead and move into the free house, right? Anyway, the preacher was about my age. Seeing a preacher your age, kinda makes you feel like you haven't done much with your life. We talked at great length about my ordeal the past few months. It seemed a little strange talking about my most personal of body parts in a church, but we had a good conversation. I will post when the internet radio interview will be on.
I have to other bits of news to write about, but alas my internet has crashed again. So, since I don't know if this will make it online or not, I am not going to write too much more. If you are reading this, the net came back on long enough to post. If you are not reading this, then I can write whatever I want on here, like about the time my sister...well, let me make sure this doesn't post before I tell that story.
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