We Really Need To Find A Cure For Testicular Cancer By November

I have been participating in Movember for three weeks now.  For those that aren't familiar with Movember, the short version is that you grow a horrible, conversation starting mustache by being clean shaven on November 1st.  When someone asks you about your horrible, conversation starting "Mo" you take the opportunity to talk about men's unmentionables...specifically cancers affecting their unmentionables.  Through Movember.com you can also support men growing a Mo with a donation and the money goes to organizations that deal with the aforementioned unmentionable cancers, such as Lance Armstrong's Livestrong Foundation.  All in all it is a good cause, but I hate my Mo!

I really don't see how cops, firefighters, old ladies, and perverts do it.  I have never tried growing a mustache before, and I don't think I ever will again...until next Movember.  For God's sake, we have eleven months to find a cure to prostate and testicular cancer, someone please find a cure so I don't have to grow a Mo again next year...and I don't lose my lone remaining nut, that's pretty important to me too, I guess.

My Mo, although still thin and scrawny, is now becoming long and uneven.  It looks like a cross between a thirteen year old's and Wilford Brimley's.  It is to the point where a few ambitious whiskers are starting to touch my actual lip, making it feel like a bug is constantly trying to sneak into my mouth, making it impossible to distinguish between the actual bugs sneaking into my mouth.  Plus it is getting just thick enough to be absorbent, but not uniformly so.  I take a drink of something...OK Pepsi, and there are random wet patches across my upper lip.  Eat something sugary and/or sticky (which is pretty much my whole diet) and now you have all sorts of dynamic forces acting upon your Mo.

These aren't the only drawbacks, my wife won't even kiss me anymore, saying my Mo pokes her, but the dogs haven't complained one bit (but they are basenjis, so they don't make much noise at all).  In my wife's defense, she stopped kissing me a long time ago, I mean we have been married for nine long, long, long, long, long, long, long years, but this is a new excuse for her. 

The thing is just out there collecting dirt.  I feel like a humpback whale, partly because I am going through life filtering out plankton through my Mo, but also because I move slow, feel like one of the largest mammals on Earth, and ever since my surgery I walk all hunched over.  There is a reason mustaches are nicknamed "crumb catchers", because they are just out there scooping up everything they come in contact with, like lip Velcro.  Food, beverages, dust, spider eggs, toothpaste from aggressive brushing, wayward boogers, paper clips (long story), everything gets caught in it!

For nine more days I will tough it out.  I will never take for granted the ability to sit on the toilet half asleep and run the electric razor randomly over my face, I just have to be awake enough to avoid eyebrows.  At least my Mo is serving it's purpose, it has me complaining about it, and when people ask why I don't just shave it off, I can explain the purpose behind it.  So, support the Mo Bros!  The world will be a better place if there is no reason to grow Mo's next Movember.

Tom's 2010 Comeback Tour

I am still fatigued, but I am continuing on my Comeback Tour.  And much like Elvis' Comeback Special, I feel overweight, I sweat and grunt with just a little bit of exertion, none of my clothes seem to fit the same as they did (especially my sequin jumpsuits), and some days I feel like I am going to die on the toilet.

Yesterday I met with an older friend who I enjoy talking to a whole lot despite the forty year age difference.  It then dawns on me, that when I finally do have a child, there will be a forty year age difference.  I wonder if my child will see me as a source of wisdom and great stories as I view my friend, or will I still be just an embarrassing parent?  My money is on the embarrassing parent, at least that is what I am aiming for.

Today I met with another good friend I haven't seen in a while.  The first thing she said was that my mustache looked good.  That is a good friend, to tell a bold-faced lie to you just to make you feel good.  Liz, I know my Mo looks ridiculous, you can admit it.  It was good talking to her.  Of course the cancer stuff came up, I mean it has been a big event that I have been dealing with, and she hasn't seen me since it all started.  But we also got to talk about a lot of non-cancer stuff, which was good.  She showed me lots of pictures of her recent trip to China, in which I learned I am not going to China unless I am allowed to bring my own toilet.  I have seen photos of friends' visits to China before, but her visit was away from the traditional tourist areas and I found them fascinating, and I am not just saying that because she sometimes reads my blogs, I am saying that because they were a lot better than most people's usual boring vacation pics (like the ones I show people that frequently involve a large cartoon rodent).

After that great visit, it was time for my cancer support group.  One of my favorites showed up today!  I was getting a little worried, because neither my wife nor I have seen her or her husband in our respective groups, but it turned out that it was just a coincidence that we kept missing alternating groups, and they are doing OK, despite being cancer patients.  The non-therapying therapist that I like is doing the snowbird thing and we were introduced to our winter non-therapying therapist, who tends to therapize a little more that I thought they were supposed to.  But to be fair, I really like our snowbird guy, so I guess I need to give this new guy a chance.  One of the subjects we discussed today was paying for long-term care of loved ones.  I suggested that if insurance refused to pay for long-term care of your loved one, you could always abuse them, then the state would step in and take care of them for you (which should scare the crap out of my parents that I even came up with that thought, I hear an American made Paul Reed Smith with double cutaways and twenty four frets makes children forget a lot of things and really want to treat their parents well in their twilight years...I'm just saying...).  Everyone seemed to be amused and laughed at my comment, knowing that I only half meant it, including the person that brought up the subject that seemed to laugh a little too hard, I don't know if they were so frustrated with insurance that they were actually considering my plan or not.  However, new non-therapying therapist didn't seem to be near as amused.  Heck, we are cancer patients, we can joke.  Does he want us to just sit around and talk about how much our lives suck right now?  Because I do that in my blogs and to my wife and to the basenjis, I don't need to do that in group too.  After all, that's why my wife goes to her group to complain about my complaining.  The two basenjis don't have a group, except each other, and since they are barkless dogs they don't say much.

And speaking about how life can suck, one of the best things about group is getting the experience of the group and hearing about new technologies, treatments, and treatment center reviews.  This chemo fatigue is really bothering me.  I feel like such a lazy bum because I can't lift much and I get so exhausted, even from eating pancakes and changing channels.  So I mention it to the group (and I can say this about group in specifics because it was about me) and all of the other people that have been on or are currently on chemo said I am perfectly normal...well as normal as an unemployed, one nutted, cancer patient that suggests elder abuse to pay for medical bills, can be.  They said shaking the chemo fatigue does take a while, a lot longer than all of the other chemo symptoms.  One suggested taking a regular midday nap until I get my strength back (I liked to hear that), while another said with chemo fatigue naps may have little effect (which I didn't like hearing as much, so I took a nap).  As usual, group was very helpful.  We laughed, we cried, we group hugged-which I still don't like group hugging, but I don't mind tolerating if it helps someone else.

I need to rest up for tomorrow as my tour continues.  After hanging out with a seventy nine year old yesterday, I am hanging out with two twenty year olds tomorrow.  I need two of them, just to give them a fighting chance.  Although I am closer in age to the twenty year olds, the seventy nine year old is still easier to figure out what he is talking about.  I enjoy the twenty year olds' company regardless and I am sure we will have a great time talking about what a wonderful person I am.  Plus, compared to the boys the twenty year olds hang around, my Mo will look normal.

Going Out On The Town, No Matter How Annoying That Town Has Become

Today was the day that we hit all of my favorite haunts from college...well the second time I went to college.  We went all of the places I used to go to except for the half that have went out of business. 

We started the day off at a pawn shop.  Now pawn shops in this college town are different than other pawn shops.  You have the advantage of having a bunch of over privileged kids, who have their parents (or their parents' credit cards) buy them the latest toy that they desperately need.   Then the weekend comes, and not wanting to ask their parents for beer money, they take their new stuff to the pawn shop and go straight to the local watering hole.  This is a good thing for bargain hunters and a bad thing for parents.  There is a trick in dealing with pawn shops, and the most important is, you have to know about the products you are thinking about buying.  Pawn shops are just like any other business or politician, they will try to get as much money out of you as possible if you aren't paying attention. 

The first one we went to is not one of my favorites, but you never know where you will find treasure, and I have gotten a deal or two there in the past.  Today was certainly not one of those days.  They had their usual assortment of crap and rip offs all marked up about ten percent more than you can pay anywhere else, including new.  We leave that store quickly and head to the next pawn shop.  It had better prices, but worse crap.  We hit one more pawn shop today, which had decent prices but sub par crap, even for crap.

We also decided to hit the music stores.  As predicted, I walk into my favorite, and hear my name yelled out.  Even though they have plenty of good prices and lots of good stuff, luckily, I didn't need any of it.  I say luckily, because I am still a broke, unemployed, cancer patient so it would have sucked to find something unbelievable and not been able to buy it, especially if it was an American made Paul Reed Smith with twenty four frets and double cutaways. 

I did see something unbelievable, but not necessarily in a good way.  A quick lesson for people not up on the latest 1980's music gear.  The Roland TR-808 Rhythm Composer, is a vintage drum machine that is pretty much useless today, but is still collected by some people who remember that the "808 kick drum makes the girlies get dumb".  However, nobody really cares about the sister models such my TR707 (if you are, I will give you a great deal on one) or the one I saw today the TR727...at my favorite music store...WAY overpriced.  The reason no one wants these drum machines is that they are old and outdated, hard to program, and most of all the 707 and 727 never made the girlies wanna get dumb they just made them airsick (the two people out there that are fans of Roland, Boeing, and early 90's rap are laughing their butts off right now...if they were reading this, which they are not, because they don't have access to the internet in their group home).  The ironic thing about these drum machines is to use them correctly, you have to be able to read music, which to make a totally prejudice statement, I will ask how many people wanting to use a drum machine have any idea how to read music?  So, as the owner of the music store came over and I saw the TR727, I immediately started laughing.  He instantly set me straight in a way to say that wasn't his choice to purchase that item, nor would he have purchased that item, and yes he knows it is overpriced, but they paid way too much for it and are trying to recoup their money.  I told him that the only person that is interested in old vintage 80's electronic crap like that is me, and unfortunately, I have one!  He couldn't get mad at me because he knew I was right.  I then offered to sell him my TR707 and he respectfully declined.  We then left there and headed to the next music store.

This music store promised lots of equipment and arms...yes weaponry.  We get there and it seemed to fall a little short on both.  We look around the store at the sparse amount of music instruments and I am not sure if this is a music store or if we caught a high school garage band between sets.  At least with my teenager mustache I would fit right in.  We didn't look long for two reasons, he didn't have much of a selection, and if we actually bought anything, it would leave a gaping hole in his inventory display.

Finally, we decided to go grab some food to take home.  The food my wife wanted was in the heart of campus.  I decide to go the easy way...by the stadiums...not realizing the home basketball opener is tonight.  After four hours of cursing at alumni that actually still keep up with the university, we make it past the stadiums and onto campus where the students are taught everything but what a crosswalk is and how a stoplight works.  There were students all over the road, but I wasn't able to run over a single one of them, not even a fat sorostitute that is just there to make her "sisters" look better.  It dawns on me that we are driving around in a glorified "mom-mobile" with out of state plates and two older guys (one with a cheesy pervert mustache), people must have thought we were a same-sex couple coming to school to pick up our daughter.  I tried to pick up a few random daughters, and that didn't work either...not even the fat sorostitute.  We get to the restaurant and I talk my dad into ordering his own stromboli, neglecting to point out that is it basically just a twelve inch pizza folded in half.  The funny thing is, my wife pulled the same trick on my mother when they called us with their order.  We got our food, picked a way off campus that was nowhere near the stadiums and got out safely.

All in all it was a good day.  Going to some of my old haunts showed me that although chemo is still messing with my taste buds, the appetite is back with a vengeance and then some.  And it also showed me that chemo still refuses to give me my energy back, although I feel I am getting stronger everyday.  To celebrate, the family will gather tomorrow to eat even more than we ate today and then sit around and do nothing but argue over which of the six dogs to blame our farts on.  I can't wait!

Being A One Nut Wonder Has Its Benefits

Ever since my nutectomy, my gastro-intestinal system has gone cattywampus (it's a medical term).  That has become very evident over the weekend.  Without going into too much detail, let's just say I have gotten a lot of reading done this weekend...and nothing else...nothing...just reading...a lot of reading...only reading.  Usually just the opposite is the case.  I mean, I get a lot of reading done, but I am usually multi-tasking at the same time.  No multi-tasking at all this weekend.  I tried one of the usual ways to get things going, drinking lots of liquids, which only resulted in waking up every fifteen minutes to either pee, or unproductively read.  Anyway, my GI doctor and have been trying to get my medications adjusted, with little luck.  We completely cut one medication out and have cut way back on the other.  Even that seems to be too much.  And then something dawned on me.

I asked myself what has changed since all of this happened.  I have lost my job.  I have gotten cancer.  I have had surgery.  I am going through chemotherapy.  The first thing to rule out would be stress, of course not having a job to answer to does cut down on stress levels, but at the same time being out of a job and having cancer tends to stress one out pretty good.  As for the chemo, these latest GI symptoms started showing up before I started chemo.  That leaves one thing (literally and figuratively), the surgery.  My testosterone levels were cut in half with the surgery.  So, that is where I went to the internet to do a little research...very careful research, using only medical terms and making sure the pages didn't have pictures.  It turns out that doctors are investigating a link between high testosterone levels and GI problems like mine.  A-HA!  The problem is that most men are not willing to have a nutectomy just to see on the off chance that this makes them feel better.  Lucky for them, I happened to cut my testosterone levels and get the results for them.  I "took one for the team", well technically I guess the doctors took one from me for the team.  That makes me a testicular martyr, and I feel I should be heralded as such.  Who knows, because of what I went through, men may be asked in the future "Would you rather poop too much or keep both of your balls?".  You know, seeing it written down doesn't make my new research sound near as noble.  But there are other ways to lower testosterone levels, without resorting to getting rid of one of the twins.  You could join a theater company, or watch Oprah, or become a hairdresser, or rent Sex and the City, or drive a Mini, or a Miata, or a VW Bug convertible, or play softball...oops, that last one was a way to increase testosterone in women.  But all joking and offensive stereotypes and prejudices aside (no matter how true they are), there are medications that can lower testosterone levels (and I am not just talking about Appletinis and Cosmos).  On a serious note, there is a link to testosterone levels and "mens'" cancers so in some cases the testosterone levels are knocked down to prevent cancer from reoccurring.

Where does this leave me?  Well, luckily I have a doctor that is very open to new research.  One of the beautiful things about the internet (no, not porn) is that those of us that were previously scattered around the globe with various maladies, now have a way to get together and compare notes.  My stomach surgery is generally so successful that people quit going to the GI doctor, so side effect research ends there.  However, several of us Nissen procedure people got to talking on the internet and we were developing reactive hypoglycemia.  I told my doctor about it, who was very interested, and developed a game plan for me to deal with it, now that we suspect what mechanism is causing it.  I am anxious to talk to him about this latest thing that I have stumbled upon.  Usually when I mention something I have read on the internet he is familiar with it (except for that Richard Gere/gerbil thing, I thought everyone had heard about that), and anxious to see some facts that back them up.  Losing half of your testosterone production and feeling more like a regular pooping person are some pretty interesting results (don't worry, not interesting enough for me to document photographically).  Don't get me wrong though, I still have other GI issues, this doesn't mean I am going to run out to Chipotle, stuff in some Indian food, and top it off with some wasabi and a ghost chili.  But it does give me hope that as a side effect from this cancer stuff, I may be one step closer to being a normal person...with one testicle...and stomach surgery that left wire in my stomach...and an incredibly pathetic mustache.  Well at least as close to normal as someone like me can get.

Can I Be Normal?

Yesterday was the oncologist visit.  I had been half dreading this day and half looking forward to it.  I didn't want to hear when my next CATscan was, but I am ready to get on with my life.

We get to the oncologist's office and I take the required blood test.  I think my mind set is switching from dropping my pants every time I see someone in a white coat to rolling up my sleeve and telling them they are going to need a butterfly.  We had a very nice chatty nurse.  She was fairly painless as well, but today it bruised pretty bad.  I don't know if she was that good or just I have been stuck in the same places so many times that I can't feel anything there anymore.  I don't care about bruising, I will take the bruise over the pain any day.  She gives me my CBC (complete blood count) numbers and tells me I'm perfect.  Tell me something I didn't know...oh, apparently she was referring to my CBC.  I don't necessarily agree with her.  They are within tolerances, but my white and red blood cells are still down considerably from my pre-chemo numbers.  However, my platelets are almost up to normal, so I can bleed as much as I want.  Maybe that is why she bruised me, just to show how good the numbers were.

Next we are led back to the doctor's waiting room.  The wait seemed forever and the walls were paper thin. We could hear him talking to a breast cancer survivor and saying things to lighten her mood, and it was working, we could hear her laughing.  However, if he starts doing a comedy routine while playing with my balls...ball, I don't think I will be laughing.  He finally comes in and seems to be in a good mood.  As a cancer patient, you want to see your oncologist in a good mood, because that means he is telling you good things...unless he is a very bad and inappropriate oncologist "Well, the good news is you want live long enough to pay off this bill!"  He looks at my CBC results and says they are the best he's seen all day.  I tell him that could mean I am doing good or that he has seen a bunch of really sick people all day.  Not missing a beat he said that both were the case.  I mention some of my concerns with my numbers and some other things and he said I worry too much.  Of course I do, I am the cancer patient!

We then come to the part I am absolutely dreading, the follow up schedule where I find out how many CAT scans I have to do.  He starts talking and I go into a trance.  I hear him say every three months this year, every six months next year, and then just once a year.  Not what I wanted to hear, but at least it's significantly less CAT scans than if I didn't do the chemo.  Still in my daze, reliving in my head all the nastiness that happened last CAT scan, when my wife says something that snaps me back to reality.  "So, he will only have to do the X-rays?"  He says yes.  I was so dreading hearing about CAT scans, I didn't even pay attention to what he said at first.  I was focusing on the schedule and thinking about all the constipation and chalk and garlic I would be tasting.  I am so flabbergasted I have to ask him myself.  He affirms that chest X-rays will be able to show him what he needs to see.  Now I am in a good mood!  And it's about to get better.

Still trying to have a baby, my wife and I are trying to get the all clear from all of our respective doctors to resume our procreating.  I ask the doctor the most delicate way I can, without making it sound like I am prepositioning him.  The literature about chemo is kind of vague, some say you are safe to babymake after three days, and others say you have to wait months.  The oncologist said, "Start tonight."  That is good news!  I look at my wife and say, "You heard the doctor!"  Then she reminds me that we are still waiting for a couple more "all clears" from some other doctors before we can resume.  I press the issue later on since this is the one time I am not so interested in a second opinion and she exclaims, "Well you aren't trying to make a baby with me yet."  Which leads me to think she is saying it is OK to try with other people.  She said that is not what she meant and refused to drop me off anywhere to find willing participants.  The oncologist also suggested that I may be a good idea for me to look at enrolling in a sleep study.  You know, where you go to sleep and some doctors watch you on camera to see what you do at night.  At first I think that must be pretty boring for some doctor to sit there an watch me blog and pee, but I guess that is still more exciting that watching someone sleep.  I may be the most exciting thing to hit the sleep study in years.

I was almost feeling like a normal person...until I got home that night.  I am sitting there, I rub my head and a hair gets caught between my fingers.  Curious I do it again.  And again.  And again.  I finally go up to the bathroom and rub my scalp and lots of hair falls out.  It finally did slow down, and you can't really tell that I lost much, unless you happen to look in the sink.  Who knows if I am done molting or not.  I really don't care either way, I am just hoping that if I do molt some more it will be while I am at home and not out somewhere...like I go out anywhere.

So here I sit with a little less hair, a little more blood pumping through my veins, and a lot less CAT scans.  I still have to wait to see if the urologist will order any, but more than likely if he does it will just be one more.  I can be chalky, garlicy, and constipated one more time to be sure I stay cancer free.  Now I can focus on cultivating my pathetic mustache and trying to be normal again.  Wish me luck on that, I will need it!

I Was Too Tired From Acting Normal To Blog

If you haven't guessed by the delay in posting, being a real person kicked my butt!  The whole day was a lot more work than I had planned, but I enjoyed most of it.

First, I forgot how much time it takes to actually get going in the morning.  I had my time all planned out, including stopping for a not so nutritious breakfast at the arches, time to eat it, and getting to my volunteer meeting early to chat.  My schedule went just as planned until I walked out the door...and back in...and back out...back in...back out, I was like Lindsay Lohan and jail.  It had been so long since I had actually planned on being out and about all day, I kept remembering all the things I would need to make it through the day.  I finally got on the road a little later than I hoped, so I figured I would just eat in the car.  I also forgot about school buses.  By the time I had stopped for them stopping at EVERY SINGLE KID'S HOUSE, time for breakfast was gone too.  And if we are so paranoid that kids can't walk to a bus stop anymore, if two kids' houses are side by side, can't they at least stand in the corners of both of their yards so the bus can stop and pick them both up at the same time?  Anyway, I finally make it to my meeting, with minutes to spare.  So much for my plans so far today.

First I explain my silly, pathetic excuse for a mustache.  After that, the meeting went fine, except I was expecting to take a few notes, and instead I was given two three ring binders.  I am not really complaining, because that meant I didn't need to take near as good of notes.  My next plan was to grab a bite to eat, when I was asked if I could do some volunteer work for a few hours.  Since the volunteer work is also training for the job I hope to get, I jumped at the chance.  I mean, I have eaten breakfast every other day this week, one day won't hurt.  The volunteer work was fun.  Part of what I went over was "new" Americans with Disabilities Act information, information that was out of date about ten years ago, but we had to print out these sixty two pages of "new" stuff.  I think if people with these "disabilities" saw what was written about their needs, the would sue the Americans with Disabilities Act for prejudice and defamation under the Americans with Disabilities Act.  I worked on a few other projects and soon it was time to meet my friend for lunch.

I get to Cracker Barrel (our usual spot), explain my pathetic and nearly invisible excuse for a mustache, and as usual we both order breakfast for lunch, which comes in handy because I am using this lunch as breakfast...and lunch.  I should be getting used to this, but I am still a little taken aback as my seventy nine year old friend is telling me about the latest cool apps for our Androids.  We spend lunch trading apps and solving the worlds problems.  The big difference between us being that he actually was an elected official at one time that could solve some of the world's problems, and I just sit around and complain about them.  Don't get me wrong, I don't just sit around all day complaining about the world's problems, I sit around all day and complain about a lot of other things too.  You know like, why isn't my favorite show on, how come my ice cream is so hard, how come the people that are employed by the unemployment office never seem to work, why does my butt have to hurt from sitting around all day, stuff like that.  Our check comes and we do the typical wrestling over who gets to pay.  One of these days I am just going to pay the waitress in advance and really get the jump on him.  It's getting close to my next appointment so my friend and I part ways vowing to finish saving the world next week.

I drive towards my cancer support group and I get stuck behind another school bus!  This one has literally about thirty cars backed up behind it, which I thought was against the law when I took driver's ed, and won't pull over for two minutes to let them all pass while he stops at every   single   house!!!  Luckily I have been stuck behind this bus before so I allowed myself a little extra time to get behind him and cuss.  I get to group with a few minutes to spare, and I am a little bummed.  First of all I am bummed walking around with this pathetic excuse for a mustache that I am tired of making excuses for and two of my favorites from group are missing this week.  However, there are still enough of us cancer patients to have as good a time as a room full of cancer patients can have.  And then the one my heart really goes out for walks in.  He always looks tired, and I imagine from his treatment he is exhausted.  My heart breaks for him because he has two young children and a very poor prognosis...that is until this week!  Let me clarify, he still has the two young children, but now he has a different prognosis.  His doctors finally found something that is not only working but working extremely well...especially for something that they didn't know if they would be able to treat at all to begin with.  I must not be the only one that really feels for him, because there were instant smiles and cheers around the room, and that is not an easy thing to do with a room full of cancer patients.  We eventually get to the subject that we have gotten on several times and that is how much we all hate CAT scans.  We talk about it a lot.  And we relive every single thing we hate about them.  We also talk about how someone was told that the ones in the city aren't even very good so we are all pretty much going through CAT scan hell for nothing.  All this talk is very interesting considering the next day I have an appointment to hear when my next CAT scan will be.  We also complain about something you wouldn't think the cancer patients would complain about.  We have complained several meetings about "Breast Cancer Awareness Month" and for several reasons I won't get into the conversations, mainly because they are supposed to be confidential, but one person in the group said the most profound thing about it that really summed up the conversation and how everyone in the room (including the breast cancer patients) felt.  They said, "Breast Cancer Awareness Month has turned into Christmas.  Everyone is wearing pink and buying pink, but it has been so commercialized that people don't know the reason the are doing all the pink things anymore."  Wow!  They so succinctly put into words what so many in that room frustrations were with the month.

I leave the meeting and left to do a little shopping that I had been meaning to do, but hadn't been able to.  One of the places I had to stop was a former employer.  I was hoping I didn't see any of my former coworkers, because I didn't want to explain that I had been laid off from the job I left them for, and that I had gotten cancer, and that I knew I had a stupid, pathetic excuse for a mustache but it was for a good cause.  Luckily the only person I knew there was too busy talking to notice there was a customer, so I was able to get in and out without any problems.  I finished up my shopping by stopping at one of my pre-chemo favorite restaurants for some take-out.  It doesn't really sound good to me, but I am really hungry, and out of habit, this is the place I love to go when I am really hungry.  I walk in and the smell hits my chemo nostrils and overwhelms me.  I am not sure why I came in here, I am really not wanting this at all.  Still, I order my usual and head home.  By this point, I am not only hungry, but completely wiped out from my day pretending to be normal, and dying of thirst.  Obviously, I have not recovered from chemo as much as I thought I had.  I get home, still not looking forward to my former favorite meal, but yet I still devour it and it doesn't taste bad...doesn't taste as good as it does when I am not on chemo, but it doesn't taste bad either.

What did I learn?  I learned that I am still recovering.  I also learned that I can kind of pass for a normal person.  I learned that it is possible to get too tired to blog.  And finally I learned that I am tired of making excuses for my pathetic mustache and wish it would come in quicker, but as hair falls out every time I touch my head, I don't have high hopes on that one...but more about that in tomorrow's entry.

Scared To Be Normal

Tomorrow I will have to act like a real person.  I say act, because I don't see the oncologist until Friday and the urologist a week from Monday, so they will have to be the ones to officially call me a person again.  But tomorrow, I go through a lot of the motions a person goes through.  For the first time since I was initially diagnosed with cancer (8/31/10, you never forget the date you were diagnosed) I will be out on my own, all day.  I have thus far only been out for short periods of time or with a chaperon.  You know someone to drive when I feel tired (which has been most of the past three weeks), someone to tell me that is too heavy and I shouldn't try to lift it, someone to say they told me so when I am holding myself in pain after lifting it, and someone generally to provide physical and moral support.  That also means I won't have my wife around tomorrow to persuade that McDonald's sausage biscuits and hashbrowns are full of protein and that the oncologist suggest that we get some on the way to the blood test.  She also won't be there later in the morning when I claim that the oncologist said I was in dire need of Dunkin' Donuts to keep my strength up.

On one hand I am actually excited about tomorrow.  I get to meet with a volunteer group I strongly believe in.  I will hopefully hear something on one of the jobs I applied for.  I get to meet a friend for lunch.  And I get to go to my cancer group.  The problem is, each of those things are spaced just far enough apart in time and distance, that it won't make any sense for me to come home in between.  So, I will leave the house at 8:30am and won't get home until about 7pm.  That's almost like having a job...except that I won't be getting paid, I will actually be enjoying what I am doing, and if anyone starts yelling at me or treating me like crap, I can get up and walk away with no repercussions.

The downside is, I should probably try to stay awake for the whole day.  That is a giant step in my life right now.  It probably wouldn't look good napping during lunch or while talking about volunteer leadership.  However, the good thing about cancer group, is if I take a nap there, every other person in the room will understand.  I know this because it frequently happens during group...coincidently it's usually when I am talking.  But that truly is my biggest fear tomorrow, and I am honestly afraid, that I just won't have the stamina to make it through the whole day.  As much as my cabin fear has been bothering me, I don't know that I am ready to be out of the nest out on my own.  After all, I got winded eating a piece of cake today.

But that is not my only apprehension about tomorrow.  My Mo' looks absolutely pathetic.  It didn't take much for me to remember why I never got the urge to grow one before.  Again, at group I am not too worried about it, because everyone will know why I am growing it and some may be doing it themselves.  It is everyone else I may encounter throughout the day.  I wish I had a t-shirt that says "Yes, I know I have a ridiculous, pathetic mustache.  It is for a good cause.  Ask me about Movember".  But I don't.  So, as I go to the restaurant tomorrow to meet my friend, it is very likely that the fifteen year old cleaning the tables will have a thicker, better looking mustache than me, and I am afraid that she will make fun of me for it when she picks my head up off of the plate to take it away.  I guess on one hand, I could blame the fact that I have half the testosterone that I did pre-surgery.  However, if I do that, I may have to explain why, which will be good for the Movember movement to talk about testicular cancer, but I don't know that I should walk around tomorrow telling everyone I see about my balls...er, ball.

So that's where I am at.  I have to get up at a normal hour.  I have to stay awake all day.  I have to walk around with less hair on my lip than an old lady.  And I have to keep it together, because after all, this means I am almost back to normal, and that is kind of an emotional thing to deal with as well.  There is part of me that is dying to get back to normal, and a certain part that is scared and not sure if I am ready yet.  Oh and if Murphy's Law exists, I did some research and people on my chemo, tend to lose their hair between the third and fourth week, which pretty much starts tomorrow.  So, if I am going to lose it, I am sure it will fall out during my volunteer meeting or lunch, either of which are going to make a very awkward scene.  Hopefully I will have enough strength at the end of the day tomorrow to tell how things went.

Do Mo's Help You Boss People Around?

I have slowly been getting better over the past two days.  I have slept a little better.  I still don't feel like I am getting "well rested" though.  Lately my attempts to catch little cat naps on the couch are interrupted by flying dogs as a basenji will soar onto the couch about the same time that I close my eyes.  I am getting cabin fever worse than ever now, and it's not just because of my health this time.

We have finally decided to get our fireplace fixed.  It requires me to stay here the whole time to tell them what to do.  Part of me feels bad, because they are doing some heavy lifting things, that they could certainly use a hand on, but I am still not able to lift that kind of weight.  Just getting the stuff out of the way for them about killed me!  Instead, I just stand around, watch them work hard, and tell them what to do.  This must be what my wife feels like.  No wonder she does it so much, it's kind of fun.  However, it's also kind of depressing.  I certainly don't want to just sit here doing nothing, I would like to pitch in when they need it.  After all, the sooner they finish, the sooner I can get back on the couch and waiting for the flying basenji show to happen next to me.  Also, the sooner I could leave and spend money I don't have.  And it's not that I am wanting to go out and spend stuff, I am just wanting to go out period.  I just wish I didn't feel exhausted by the time we got to the end of the driveway.

The only good thing about being stuck around here is Daisy, the abused and neglected rescue basenji, has been becoming more and more accepting of me with my recent house arrest.  Today she actually sought me out, which doesn't happen very often.  But what also doesn't happen very often is someone using a hammer drill on the fireplace causing the whole house to oscillate and beat to the point that it sounds like there is rave going on in the next room.  Maybe the noise scared her, or the vibrations, or maybe she just doesn't like raves, but she came down stairs and flew onto the couch, doubling its basenji population.

The workers say that the inside stuff will be done tomorrow, which means I will at least be able to do some things I have been putting off.  One of the things is e-mailing people back.  We have been through a lot the past couple of weeks, and all the well wishes and cards have been nice, certainly appreciated and in fact needed, but on the other hand, I have been putting off responding to them.  I guess that is my little way of avoiding the situation.  Don't get me wrong, I can certainly see the bright side of everything that has happened the past two weeks, but I don't know that I want to directly talk about it.  There are many people that did send their kind words, thoughts, and prayers to us and I kind of feel obligated to open up about things more to them.  In a way, I don't want to.  At least in this blog I can control the amount of information, and what information, I send out.  When someone is talking to you directly, you feel like you have to address the things they have said.  In my mind, it has been long enough since we have been through the worst of all of this, I can pretend nothing happened and just get back to talking to friends.  Does that seem right?  I don't know if it does or not, but that is what I am doing.  And the other thing I am doing...

Today is the first of MOvember.  I didn't shave my Mo today and I already feel like a Tom Selleck wannabe. I really don't know if I will be able to stand this for the whole month.  I am almost wishing I lose my hair so I will have an excuse.  You don't necessarily lose all hair from chemo.  Sometimes you just lose head hair, or head and facial, or head, facial and body, so if I lose my head hair, I may have to lie and shave off the Mo too. We will see.  My intent is to keep this Mo, as pathetic as my Mo may be, for the whole month of Movember.  I have decided on the Groucho Marx.  If that doesn't start conversations, I don't know what will.

So, that is my life now.  I am bossing around workers.  Laying on the couch rubbing basenji bellies.  Growing a mangy looking Mo.  And hopefully, getting around to returning tons of e-mails.  I guess there are a lot of people out there that would give their right nut to be in my position, but I did do that, and I am kind of growing tired of it now.  Oh well, the workers should only be here for two more days.  I should get released soon by the oncologist.  Then released from the urologist two weeks from today.  And I am alive and able to grow a Mo, so I guess I can't complain too much.

Go Grow a "Mo" Fo' To(m)

Yes it's almost MOVEMBER!!!  If you aren't familiar with Movember, then you are not alone.  Movember started a few years ago in Australia when a few guys decided to grow mustaches to raise awareness of "men's cancers".  Over the years it has grown from country to country.  The idea is simple, men (or hairy women) start November 1st clean-shaven.  Then, throughout the month of November, you let your mustache, or MO, grow in all of its glory.  No beards.  No goatees.  Only the MO.  The more hideous the Mo the better.  The idea is for people to ask what that horrible looking thing on your face is which gives you an opportunity to tell them it is to raise awareness of prostate and testicular cancers.  So, the worse it looks the more likely it is that someone will ask you about it.

Now there are some doubts around my house on whether I plan on going through with it or not.  I have only attempted facial hair once in my life.  Right after my GI surgery, after not shaving for the few days I was in the hospital, I decided to leave the goatee area.  I only had a few days worth of growth and met a friend for lunch.  As soon as she got in the car, she took one look at me and just said "No, get rid of it".  This wasn't a girlfriend or anything like that, just a close female friend, which are more likely to give an honest answer when you are making a total fool out of yourself (or in my case starting to follow a horrible 90's trend that just doesn't seem to die).  Part of the reason I have never attempted any facial hair is my whiskers come in really thick everywhere except the mustache area, and not wanting to look Amish, I never attempted to do anything (except the one time).  With patchy lip whiskers, my Mo will certainly be a conversation piece.

There are two caveats to my Mo.  The first, I am still on a job search.  If I get a job interview during the month of Movember, I will probably shave it off for that, and restart after the interview.  After all, I believe I read somewhere that it is best NOT to talk about testicles in your job interview, regardless of the intent behind said testicle conversation.  I guess unless it's a interview at a urologist's office, then by all means testicle away!  Or a Rocky Mountain oyster bar.  Or a vet's office.  Or a marriage counselor.  But anyway, reason number two, IF I lose my hair from chemo, it should happen in the next week or two.  So, my Mo might jettison itself off of my face and that I obviously have no control over (which makes way for the joke "Are you on chemo or are you just so ugly your Mo ran away?").  I haven't quite decided which Mo I am going for.  Please feel free to weigh in on which Mo, you think best fits me.  The only ones I have ruled out completely are the Hitler and the John Waters.  There is a Mo guide in the "Lodge" on the Movember site if you are not up on your Mo style.

Now what can you do to support Movember?  The cheapest and easiest is to grow your own Mo!  If you remember my journey, I am the one that noticed the lump first, not a doctor.  Just as with breast cancer, it is important to do self exams (for testicular cancer, leave the prostate exams to the professionals and ask for credentials first, don't get cheap and let any old person that offers give you a prostate exam).  Just talking about "men cancers" is getting awareness out there.  I am certainly not here begging for donations (unless you want to buy me an American made Paul Reed Smith with twenty four frets and double cutaway) but if you would like to support Movember, and thereby support the Livestrong Foundation and all that they support (including the Wellness Community), as well as support prostate cancer research, you can go to the Movember website and search me (I am currently the only Tom Peterson registered).  If there happens to be more than one of me, I am on team Juan Bahl (not my joke, but a funny one).  We are headed up by the founder of the Testicular Cancer Society.  Feel free to join our team if you are growing your own Mo, or if you are so inclined to donate, you can do so there as well (that is donations for cancer research, not to my PRS fund).  My MoSpace page is here if you want the shortcut.

There are also parties and events planned around the world throughout the month of Movember.  Unfortunately, it looks as if I will be out of town for our team's party, HOWEVER there is an event that I may be able to attend while I am out of town.  IF, and that is a big IF, I can find the will to train over the next month, there is a bicycle event out of town that I would like to attend.  What is it called?  The "Mustache Ride" of course!  I am not making any of this up.  I don't know how close I am to jumping on a bicycle seat again after being sliced and diced down there a few weeks ago.  But it is something I would really like to do, and we are going to have our bikes with us anyway.  Although I was planning on taking my old Giant brand mountain bike named after a place in Montana that I managed to erase the last letter on.  Yes, I am in possession of the one and only Giant Butt.  These are the things I do in my shop when I am bored and have access to paint thinner (no I wasn't sniffing it, I was using it to take the "E" off of "Butte").  However, if I am doing this ride, I will also take my road bike.  It is full of racing parts, not that I ever plan on racing it, but those parts give you the advantage that the slightest bit of effort can make you roll forever.  I farted on it once and coasted for three miles.

I will close this blog by listing the links to the things I have talked about in this blog.  If you want to grow your own Mo, you can link to Team Juan Bahl and join the team from my MoSpace page.  But feel free to grow a Mo without joining a team.  And there is no Mo obligation.  As I said the main point of Movember is to get people talking.  Thank you and send me those Mo suggestions (and yes I will be posting Mo photos).
C'mon grown one and show you've got a pair, for all of us that don't!!

My MoSpace:  http://us.movember.com/mospace/544608/
Movember Foundation:  http://us.movember.com/?home
Testicular Cancer Society:  http://www.testicularcancersociety.org/