My wife wants to drug me, and I may let her. She has been complaining about my cancer insomnia since all of this began. At first I didn't think it was a big deal. Sure I would only get four hours of sleep, but I was operating just fine on four hours. But back then, how much sleep did I need when I was unemployed, wasn't allowed to lift over ten pounds, and pretty much ordered to sit around all day by the doctor. Now as far as my surgery goes, I am supposed to slowly be trying to regain my strength. And I need plenty of rest to recover from chemo as well. One of my cancer supporters told me that I probably wouldn't have any trouble sleeping once the chemo kicked it. In one way she was right. If I am anywhere but in bed, I can fall asleep at the drop of the hat, which can be a problem in the bathroom. Yesterday for instance, I was constantly falling asleep on the couch. However, around 9PM, the sleepiness left, and stayed gone! At around 4am, I finally forced myself to go to bed, even though I wasn't tired, and laid there for at least another half an hour wide awake. At 9:30am, I woke up wide awake again and even though I laid in bed, I couldn't fall back asleep. There was a basenji that was glad of that fact, because if I am awake in bed, then I can rub her ears. Finally, after an hour of laying in bed wide awake, and carpal tunnel from all the basenji petting, I get up. And I stayed wide awake for two hours, then fell asleep on the couch again.
My wife keeps bringing up the idea of sleeping pills when we are around the oncologist, the nurse, pharmacist, vet, sandwich artist, or anyone else that will listen. I have been against them, because I keep having visions of Elvis. No, I don't think that I am going to overdose on prescription pills and die on the toilet, I am afraid I will get fat, wear hideous jumpsuits, make cheesy movies, and turn into a glorified Vegas lounge singer. The oncologist's nurse jumped on my wife's side (of course she would, it's women conspiring against me) and suggested a few things up to and including over the counter sleep aids, before I hit the prescription stuff. I don't know what to do. I just know I am feeling really tired and I wish I could get one really good night's sleep.
I have big plans for my birthday. I plan to run/jog a five kilometer fun run, even though the only running I have done since my surgery was into the hospital a week ago, and if it weren't for the adrenaline, I wouldn't have been able to do that. I would like to do a thirty mile bike ride, even though the thought of hopping on a bicycle seat after my surgery makes my sole remaining testicle want to hide. And the most physically demanding thing, I plan on going to Walt Disney World on my birthday. And I am NOT going to be one of those jerks who gets a doctor's note to rent a wheelchair once they get there just to cut in line on all of the rides. It's pretty obvious what is going on when you see them leap out of that wheelchair everytime the ice cream cart rolls by. My contention is that if you really need a wheelchair, you will bring the one you always use. But anyway, the point is, I plan on walking around Disney on my own power.
So between needing to up my physical activity and not being able to look at the inside of this house anymore, my wife and I did a little Christmas shopping today. After about fifteen minutes, I was exhausted. Part of that was because after fifteen minutes, I had looked at all of the stuff I wanted to see, then I just had to follow my wife around for the rest of the time pouting. Anyone that has been shopping with my wife knows exactly what I am talking about. I wouldn't have minded so much if she was shopping for an American made Paul Reed Smith with twenty four frets and double cutaways, but I found a used one at the first place we went and pointed out that it was a bargain at $1600. She acted like she didn't care at all! To me, we were done shopping with that find, but we left the store (without the guitar) and bought stuff for other people! I made my best but-I-am-a-cancer-patient face, but it had no effect on her. Probably because that look is permanently on my face ever since the chemo kicked in. I think she has grown an immunity to it.
We went to Cracker Barrel after that and then to the grocery store, and I will admit, I am dead tired. But for some reason, I am not sleepy tired. I wish I could explain it better because if I could, maybe I could find something that would help me. So, if I can't sleep tonight, I may break down and get one of the over the counter sleep aids. Until then, I will just search the internet until I find an article saying that playing American PRS guitars helps you sleep well, and practice making an even more pitiful cancer patient face.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Talking About Cancer Can Be Fun?
Chemo is still messing with me. Yesterday I felt great. I actually got out in the real world (briefly) without supervision and wasn't too tired. Today I have been tired all day and yet when I lay down it's hard to sleep.
Yesterday was group meeting. If you don't remember my group post, I will give you the real quick down and dirty. Basically there are two groups, one for cancer patients/survivors and one for loved ones/caretakers. There is no set agenda or leader. There is a therapist in the meeting that starts it, but he stresses he is not there as a therapist (even though they only let therapists do that part of the meeting). I feel especially lucky because our therapist is also a cancer survivor, so everyone in the room is going through or has been through the same thing.
I was kind of torn when they said that cancer fighters and their loved ones don't attend the same meeting. After all, this has been a long tough journey that we have both been on, neither of us by choice. Throughout this its seems we have been side by side, it just doesn't seem right talking about the journey, without the person that has been riding shotgun the whole time. They explain it is so the cancer patient can freely talk about any abuse (such as not receiving an American made Paul Reed Smith guitar with twenty four frets and double cutaways) and the caretakers can freely talk about what a joy it has been to be around me and to cater to my every need (almost, there is still the issue of the PRS guitar). My wife seems to enjoy it. I think she likes making the other caretakers jealous about what a wonderful patient she has.
Yesterday though, we had a real small group. I have enjoyed the groups before, but yesterday was different. It seems in the big group, you always steer the conversation back to cancer. Sometimes it can be a little depressing. But yesterday, with a group of five to seven of us (some came late, some left early) it was more like a normal conversation, with cancer as the common thread we all had. Yes, a lot of what we talked about was cancer, but we talked about everything else in the world. And we laughed. We laughed at our pain. We laughed at our joys. We just seemed to all enjoy a conversation where everyone in the room had the common experiences. One thing about cancer is you may all have the "C" word, but there is the surgery group, the radiation group, the chemotherapy group, the "just watch it" group, and those of us that have had the combinations of treatments. Yesterday, we had all been through chemo (I was the newbie) and we just had a grand ole time complaining about treatment. And everyone got a kick out of me, the chemo one-shot-wonder, going to receive treatment with books. It is hard to concentrate in the chemo room, especially as a first timer, so no one really read books and I was the only one in the room without some sort of electronic device sitting in front of me. As soon as I mentioned I didn't bring an MP3 player or a computer/DVD player, everyone in the room laughed at me. Being the only one at chemo not tethered to some form of electronic entertainment I felt like the only kid on the playground that while everyone else had brand names, I had clothes my mom made. At least I assume that is what that felt like, being a Navy brat on the playground in the 70s and 80s, pretty much anything went at the schools that catered to military kids.
I think yesterday was the first day I didn't look at the clock to see when it was over. OK, that is a slight lie. I am still drinking of ton of fluids from the chemo, so I did look to see if I could hold it until group was over or if I had to get rid of the fluids before then. But our conversations went everywhere. I am not allowed to talk about the conversations. I would make the joke "What happens in group..." but that joke is so overdone at the point, I will just say that it is proper etiquette that we are free to speak in there knowing that the person we are talking about will never hear that we said we are being abused because I still don't have the PRS guitar. Plus if all the non-cancers knew all the cancer secrets, everyone would want cancer. Did you know if you show your tumor at Sizzler, your meal is half off? You are also asked to leave immediately (especially if you are like me and have testicular cancer) so it is best to do it towards the end of the meal. Unfortunately we don't have any Sizzler's here so I can't use that benefit. There are many more cancer secrets, but I have already said too much.
But the one thing that our conversation really reminded me about yesterday, is that we all hate cancer treatment. There are certain tests we all take that we all dread. There are parts of our treatment that we all dread. And every single one of us hates the waits. I had a conversation one day with a gastro-intestinal pre-med student who said that they take turns doing procedures on each other (endoscopes, barium X-rays, etc.) so that they not only know how to do the procedure, but that they know what the patients are experiencing as well. I think that spoiled me. More than likely, your oncologist is not going to know exactly what it is like to be in your shoes. They can tell you what they have heard or read about chemo, or radiation, or even the surgeries, but they probably don't know. And that is where getting together with others and talking about your experiences, and knowing you aren't the only one, really helps.
So now I am left with a myriad of emotions. Part of me kind of wishes the groups are always that small, because I really enjoyed yesterday. On the other hand, although some of my favorite people from group were there, there was at least one missing. I used to think I may not go anymore after I am given the all clear. One of my favorites (that was missing yesterday) has been coming for years after he was given the all clear. And after yesterday, I think I understand why. So, I will wait for next Thursday, where I can commiserate with other cancer patients that don't have American made PRS guitars, and find out where else we can get dining discounts.
Yesterday was group meeting. If you don't remember my group post, I will give you the real quick down and dirty. Basically there are two groups, one for cancer patients/survivors and one for loved ones/caretakers. There is no set agenda or leader. There is a therapist in the meeting that starts it, but he stresses he is not there as a therapist (even though they only let therapists do that part of the meeting). I feel especially lucky because our therapist is also a cancer survivor, so everyone in the room is going through or has been through the same thing.
I was kind of torn when they said that cancer fighters and their loved ones don't attend the same meeting. After all, this has been a long tough journey that we have both been on, neither of us by choice. Throughout this its seems we have been side by side, it just doesn't seem right talking about the journey, without the person that has been riding shotgun the whole time. They explain it is so the cancer patient can freely talk about any abuse (such as not receiving an American made Paul Reed Smith guitar with twenty four frets and double cutaways) and the caretakers can freely talk about what a joy it has been to be around me and to cater to my every need (almost, there is still the issue of the PRS guitar). My wife seems to enjoy it. I think she likes making the other caretakers jealous about what a wonderful patient she has.
Yesterday though, we had a real small group. I have enjoyed the groups before, but yesterday was different. It seems in the big group, you always steer the conversation back to cancer. Sometimes it can be a little depressing. But yesterday, with a group of five to seven of us (some came late, some left early) it was more like a normal conversation, with cancer as the common thread we all had. Yes, a lot of what we talked about was cancer, but we talked about everything else in the world. And we laughed. We laughed at our pain. We laughed at our joys. We just seemed to all enjoy a conversation where everyone in the room had the common experiences. One thing about cancer is you may all have the "C" word, but there is the surgery group, the radiation group, the chemotherapy group, the "just watch it" group, and those of us that have had the combinations of treatments. Yesterday, we had all been through chemo (I was the newbie) and we just had a grand ole time complaining about treatment. And everyone got a kick out of me, the chemo one-shot-wonder, going to receive treatment with books. It is hard to concentrate in the chemo room, especially as a first timer, so no one really read books and I was the only one in the room without some sort of electronic device sitting in front of me. As soon as I mentioned I didn't bring an MP3 player or a computer/DVD player, everyone in the room laughed at me. Being the only one at chemo not tethered to some form of electronic entertainment I felt like the only kid on the playground that while everyone else had brand names, I had clothes my mom made. At least I assume that is what that felt like, being a Navy brat on the playground in the 70s and 80s, pretty much anything went at the schools that catered to military kids.
I think yesterday was the first day I didn't look at the clock to see when it was over. OK, that is a slight lie. I am still drinking of ton of fluids from the chemo, so I did look to see if I could hold it until group was over or if I had to get rid of the fluids before then. But our conversations went everywhere. I am not allowed to talk about the conversations. I would make the joke "What happens in group..." but that joke is so overdone at the point, I will just say that it is proper etiquette that we are free to speak in there knowing that the person we are talking about will never hear that we said we are being abused because I still don't have the PRS guitar. Plus if all the non-cancers knew all the cancer secrets, everyone would want cancer. Did you know if you show your tumor at Sizzler, your meal is half off? You are also asked to leave immediately (especially if you are like me and have testicular cancer) so it is best to do it towards the end of the meal. Unfortunately we don't have any Sizzler's here so I can't use that benefit. There are many more cancer secrets, but I have already said too much.
But the one thing that our conversation really reminded me about yesterday, is that we all hate cancer treatment. There are certain tests we all take that we all dread. There are parts of our treatment that we all dread. And every single one of us hates the waits. I had a conversation one day with a gastro-intestinal pre-med student who said that they take turns doing procedures on each other (endoscopes, barium X-rays, etc.) so that they not only know how to do the procedure, but that they know what the patients are experiencing as well. I think that spoiled me. More than likely, your oncologist is not going to know exactly what it is like to be in your shoes. They can tell you what they have heard or read about chemo, or radiation, or even the surgeries, but they probably don't know. And that is where getting together with others and talking about your experiences, and knowing you aren't the only one, really helps.
So now I am left with a myriad of emotions. Part of me kind of wishes the groups are always that small, because I really enjoyed yesterday. On the other hand, although some of my favorite people from group were there, there was at least one missing. I used to think I may not go anymore after I am given the all clear. One of my favorites (that was missing yesterday) has been coming for years after he was given the all clear. And after yesterday, I think I understand why. So, I will wait for next Thursday, where I can commiserate with other cancer patients that don't have American made PRS guitars, and find out where else we can get dining discounts.
Friday, October 29, 2010
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/
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/
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Me and My Boat Hate Cancer
Today was like the past few. I woke up having to pee, having to drink, and just as tired as when I went to bed. I am doing a little better today though. I only had to take one nap. Although the cabin fever is driving me crazy, I can't seem to find the energy to do much anyway. The best solution I can come up with is that someone tie me up like a marionette and move my arms and legs for me. If that happens, there are all kinds of places to go and things I would like to do.
But there was one thing I had to do. Supposedly the temperature is going to flirt with the freezing mark tomorrow. I have been putting off winterizing one of the boats and still didn't want to do it today, but I have put to much work into it to have it ruined now. This boat isn't huge by most standards, but on its trailer, it comes up to my chest. This is a little bit of a problem for a guy that is still recovering from having his abdomen sliced open. On one hand it seems like my surgery was a lifetime ago (and I guess in a sense it was), but I still feel the tug on that side when I make certain movements, and I actually won't get the all clear for my surgery for another two weeks. I gather my tools and antifreeze and very carefully manage to climb into my boat, trying to only put the strain on the unsliced portion of my body, while keeping my sliced up part straight and slowly angling it up and over the side of the boat. I finally manage to get in, with just a slight pull on my incision, I slide the boat cover off to give me plenty of room to work, and I get ready to settle down next to the engine when I see...all of my tools still sitting on the table. I now have to get back out of the boat, which is actually more difficult, and I use the fat-kid-getting-out-of-the-swimming-pool approach. I get on my stomach, spin to swing my legs over, I have to stop and think which leg has to go first, because at one point all of my weight will be put on one leg, and if I put it on the wrong leg, I will end up putting all of my weight on my butt on the concrete. I shimmy down in a move that would have made James Brown proud (and I think at one point during the maneuver I actually did end up jumping back and kissing myself...at least I hope that was myself). I gather everything and place it on the back of the boat and start to board again looking like a drunk gymnast on the uneven bars. The good news is, the actual winterizing went surprisingly easy. I closed the boat back up, put my tools away, and start to get a little down.
See, this boat has been a three year project. I was one mechanical piece away from having it on the water. Life being what it is, all summer I struggled to find time to finish the last little bit. When I was laid off, my immediate thought was to finish it up while on severance and waiting for a job and this project would be finally be done. Then I got cancer. It is times like these that make you really hate the disease. I have said before I feel like cancer took two months of my summer, and it took this too. The part that really bothers me is work inside the boat has to be done at certain temperatures. If it is too cold, you can crack the fiberglass just by getting into it while it's on the trailer. As I am shutting my shop back up, I got mad, I got depressed, I got sweaty, and I got tired again. Now I am even more mad. I can't even get mad without getting winded!
After a two or three hour nap, my parents call. During the conversation, they mention they are looking for another vehicle. I get mad at cancer again. I had planned on getting one of my spare vehicles rebuilt for them after the boat. The reality of the situation is, that if I had finished the boat, I probably would have spent too much time on it the rest of the summer to finish that vehicle for them, but that isn't the point. The point is because of cancer I will never know. For the past two months, cancer has controlled what I can do, where I can go, what I can eat and drink, when I sleep, when I stay awake, just about every aspect of my life and I am getting really (curse word) tired of it!!! Even when I get furious about it and want to do something, all I can summon the energy to do is nap.
Tomorrow, I go to my cancer group. It can be a depressing setting sometimes, but I still walk out of there feeling better. It really is what it advertises to be, just a place where you and your cancer colleagues can talk about how you are feeling and how to deal with it. My only apprehension about going tomorrow, is I have some errands I would like to run as well. I am afraid to do my errands, because at the rate I have been going I will be exhausted by group. Again, cancer is acting like a helicopter parent. You aren't going to the music store and the bike shop before group are you? You may get tired. And you better take a jacket, it is supposed to be a little chilly tomorrow and you know how you get when you are fighting cancer...
The only bright spot of today is that I am still tired, because I did limit myself to one nap. I have been fretting over getting the boat winterized, so at least that is one thing I don't have to worry about now. So maybe, with a little less on my mind and still being tired, I will go to sleep before 3am. And tomorrow I will get to talk to the people at the cancer clubhouse. If I can run two or three errands on the way, it will be a good day.
But there was one thing I had to do. Supposedly the temperature is going to flirt with the freezing mark tomorrow. I have been putting off winterizing one of the boats and still didn't want to do it today, but I have put to much work into it to have it ruined now. This boat isn't huge by most standards, but on its trailer, it comes up to my chest. This is a little bit of a problem for a guy that is still recovering from having his abdomen sliced open. On one hand it seems like my surgery was a lifetime ago (and I guess in a sense it was), but I still feel the tug on that side when I make certain movements, and I actually won't get the all clear for my surgery for another two weeks. I gather my tools and antifreeze and very carefully manage to climb into my boat, trying to only put the strain on the unsliced portion of my body, while keeping my sliced up part straight and slowly angling it up and over the side of the boat. I finally manage to get in, with just a slight pull on my incision, I slide the boat cover off to give me plenty of room to work, and I get ready to settle down next to the engine when I see...all of my tools still sitting on the table. I now have to get back out of the boat, which is actually more difficult, and I use the fat-kid-getting-out-of-the-swimming-pool approach. I get on my stomach, spin to swing my legs over, I have to stop and think which leg has to go first, because at one point all of my weight will be put on one leg, and if I put it on the wrong leg, I will end up putting all of my weight on my butt on the concrete. I shimmy down in a move that would have made James Brown proud (and I think at one point during the maneuver I actually did end up jumping back and kissing myself...at least I hope that was myself). I gather everything and place it on the back of the boat and start to board again looking like a drunk gymnast on the uneven bars. The good news is, the actual winterizing went surprisingly easy. I closed the boat back up, put my tools away, and start to get a little down.
See, this boat has been a three year project. I was one mechanical piece away from having it on the water. Life being what it is, all summer I struggled to find time to finish the last little bit. When I was laid off, my immediate thought was to finish it up while on severance and waiting for a job and this project would be finally be done. Then I got cancer. It is times like these that make you really hate the disease. I have said before I feel like cancer took two months of my summer, and it took this too. The part that really bothers me is work inside the boat has to be done at certain temperatures. If it is too cold, you can crack the fiberglass just by getting into it while it's on the trailer. As I am shutting my shop back up, I got mad, I got depressed, I got sweaty, and I got tired again. Now I am even more mad. I can't even get mad without getting winded!
After a two or three hour nap, my parents call. During the conversation, they mention they are looking for another vehicle. I get mad at cancer again. I had planned on getting one of my spare vehicles rebuilt for them after the boat. The reality of the situation is, that if I had finished the boat, I probably would have spent too much time on it the rest of the summer to finish that vehicle for them, but that isn't the point. The point is because of cancer I will never know. For the past two months, cancer has controlled what I can do, where I can go, what I can eat and drink, when I sleep, when I stay awake, just about every aspect of my life and I am getting really (curse word) tired of it!!! Even when I get furious about it and want to do something, all I can summon the energy to do is nap.
Tomorrow, I go to my cancer group. It can be a depressing setting sometimes, but I still walk out of there feeling better. It really is what it advertises to be, just a place where you and your cancer colleagues can talk about how you are feeling and how to deal with it. My only apprehension about going tomorrow, is I have some errands I would like to run as well. I am afraid to do my errands, because at the rate I have been going I will be exhausted by group. Again, cancer is acting like a helicopter parent. You aren't going to the music store and the bike shop before group are you? You may get tired. And you better take a jacket, it is supposed to be a little chilly tomorrow and you know how you get when you are fighting cancer...
The only bright spot of today is that I am still tired, because I did limit myself to one nap. I have been fretting over getting the boat winterized, so at least that is one thing I don't have to worry about now. So maybe, with a little less on my mind and still being tired, I will go to sleep before 3am. And tomorrow I will get to talk to the people at the cancer clubhouse. If I can run two or three errands on the way, it will be a good day.
Chemo: My Everest
I feel like I just climbed Mt. Everest! No, I don't have any life changing sense of accomplishment. As I look up the stairs getting ready to climb them to go to the bathroom, much like the people on Everest, I think to myself that I don't know if I can make it or not. And much like the people on Everest, I consider just going in my pants. Just like those climbers, when I reach my goal, I am out of breath and fatigued. And finally, just like an Everest climber, I spent upwards of $30,000 to get where I am today.
Why am I comparing myself to an Everest climber? In some ways our bodies are going through the same thing right now. Altitude sickness is caused when there is less oxygen to breathe. The body reacts by eventually producing more red blood cells. During chemotherapy, your red blood cells are decreased, thereby your body is not able to absorb as much oxygen. The body reacts the same way, you have to wait for more red blood cells to be produced. I just hope that the body produces red blood cells while I sleep, because that is about all I have been able to do without getting winded (and to be honest, even that got me winded at one point today).
The thing that sucks most about this, is the cancer insomnia is still messing with me. I seem to be sleeping anytime except when people normally sleep. Yesterday, I was able to fight the urge to sleep most of the day, just taking a brief nap late morning and then again in the afternoon (hey, I am really tired, it was hard to resist sleep even that much). But last night, as I lay down, for the one and only time during the whole day, I felt wide awake. And I felt that way until 3am. I finally fell asleep, woke up early in the morning as usual to drink and pee, the back asleep until almost 11am. At this point, I am still dead tired, but I have a meeting to go to, so I start getting ready. The shower and breakfast seemed to jolt my system awake and I felt good as I start to go out to my car. Before I get out the door I hear the tornado sirens. I walk up the stairs, and start feeling tired again. I really want to go to this meeting. The news channels are all doing their best to scare the hell out of everyone, which on one hand I don't care about, but on the other hand, if I do run into this tempest that they are alluding to, I don't know that I have the energy to do anything about it. Reluctantly, I just decide to pull my Jeep into my workshop, because now they are saying they have "heard reports" of hail the size of housecats. I like how they can't say that there is hail the size of domestic felines, because everyone would know that they are just making up crap. BUT, if they say that they "heard reports" they can say any darn thing they want to, when they are still probably just making crap up. Luckily, I come back down to the house and see an e-mail stating that the meeting was being cancelled due to the impending tornado and small-mammal sized hail.
I was able to stay awake for the storm, which turned out to be a whole lot of nothing. One of our apple trees broke, but it was so full of woodpecker holes, I don't know if it was broken because of the wind from the storm or just a squirrel with a thyroid problem. As soon as the storm passed (but the all the Chicken Little reporters were still keeping up their Stormbuster 7000 Radars on TV), I fell asleep on the couch. I wake up four hours and one basenji later (I swear there wasn't a basenji laying on me when I fell asleep) and I am still dead tired! Shortly after that, I decide to do something and I played guitar until I was completely fatigued (about thirty minutes), and then I had to resign myself to collapsing on the couch again. At one point, I did muster up enough energy to get a vigorous two minute Shake Weight routine in, so I guess I will only look a third like one of those guys on the TV commercials after today's workout.
The whole rest of the night, I have felt like I am walking around with wrist weights and ankle weights on. You know those weights that people sometimes buy to get exercise, but they are so heavy the result is that they put them on and do less than they did before? The point is, I am walking around with my arms hanging down like a gorilla with a bad back. What really sucks is as tired and worn out as I am right now, I am not sleepy tired if that makes any sense. So, that is why I am writing blogs at midnight. I guess I should at least get off here and go lay in bed and stake my claim before the basenjis do.
Why am I comparing myself to an Everest climber? In some ways our bodies are going through the same thing right now. Altitude sickness is caused when there is less oxygen to breathe. The body reacts by eventually producing more red blood cells. During chemotherapy, your red blood cells are decreased, thereby your body is not able to absorb as much oxygen. The body reacts the same way, you have to wait for more red blood cells to be produced. I just hope that the body produces red blood cells while I sleep, because that is about all I have been able to do without getting winded (and to be honest, even that got me winded at one point today).
The thing that sucks most about this, is the cancer insomnia is still messing with me. I seem to be sleeping anytime except when people normally sleep. Yesterday, I was able to fight the urge to sleep most of the day, just taking a brief nap late morning and then again in the afternoon (hey, I am really tired, it was hard to resist sleep even that much). But last night, as I lay down, for the one and only time during the whole day, I felt wide awake. And I felt that way until 3am. I finally fell asleep, woke up early in the morning as usual to drink and pee, the back asleep until almost 11am. At this point, I am still dead tired, but I have a meeting to go to, so I start getting ready. The shower and breakfast seemed to jolt my system awake and I felt good as I start to go out to my car. Before I get out the door I hear the tornado sirens. I walk up the stairs, and start feeling tired again. I really want to go to this meeting. The news channels are all doing their best to scare the hell out of everyone, which on one hand I don't care about, but on the other hand, if I do run into this tempest that they are alluding to, I don't know that I have the energy to do anything about it. Reluctantly, I just decide to pull my Jeep into my workshop, because now they are saying they have "heard reports" of hail the size of housecats. I like how they can't say that there is hail the size of domestic felines, because everyone would know that they are just making up crap. BUT, if they say that they "heard reports" they can say any darn thing they want to, when they are still probably just making crap up. Luckily, I come back down to the house and see an e-mail stating that the meeting was being cancelled due to the impending tornado and small-mammal sized hail.
I was able to stay awake for the storm, which turned out to be a whole lot of nothing. One of our apple trees broke, but it was so full of woodpecker holes, I don't know if it was broken because of the wind from the storm or just a squirrel with a thyroid problem. As soon as the storm passed (but the all the Chicken Little reporters were still keeping up their Stormbuster 7000 Radars on TV), I fell asleep on the couch. I wake up four hours and one basenji later (I swear there wasn't a basenji laying on me when I fell asleep) and I am still dead tired! Shortly after that, I decide to do something and I played guitar until I was completely fatigued (about thirty minutes), and then I had to resign myself to collapsing on the couch again. At one point, I did muster up enough energy to get a vigorous two minute Shake Weight routine in, so I guess I will only look a third like one of those guys on the TV commercials after today's workout.
The whole rest of the night, I have felt like I am walking around with wrist weights and ankle weights on. You know those weights that people sometimes buy to get exercise, but they are so heavy the result is that they put them on and do less than they did before? The point is, I am walking around with my arms hanging down like a gorilla with a bad back. What really sucks is as tired and worn out as I am right now, I am not sleepy tired if that makes any sense. So, that is why I am writing blogs at midnight. I guess I should at least get off here and go lay in bed and stake my claim before the basenjis do.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Chemo Bottoming Out Day! or Why Am I So Tired?
Today we went to get my blood checked to see how bad off I am. The results were that I am not too bad. At least that's what it says on paper. All of my complete blood count numbers took a big dive. For instance, my white blood cell count is almost exactly half of what it was the day of chemo. I only had one number out of range and that was the percentage of red blood cells in the sample. I missed that one by .2% so the computer flagged it, but the nurse said it was nothing to be concerned about. Of course she would say that, she isn't the one walking around with a low percentage of red blood cells in her system. One thing I am curious about, is how that number is based. Do those numbers take into account the amount of blood that they suck out of you to do all of these tests? I will bet anything, my numbers are a lot lower after she filled up all of those vials.
I can't complain too much though. I need to know my blood type for another reason, and out of all the procedures, tests, and surgery I have had the past two months, not one time did they type my blood. Makes me wonder what would happen if I needed blood during my surgery. I would hope that if I sprung a leak, they would know what they needed ahead of time. Does the doctor just scoop some up off of the floor and tell a nurse "get me some more that looks like this"? I don't want a blood sample to be sent for the lab for testing while I am bleeding profusely from a botched crotch surgery. Since no one ever had the forethought to type my blood before, I had asked if my oncologist's office could do it. Now keep in mind, if it is an emergency, your call gets immediately answered by the appropriate people. If it is not an emergency, you phone call gets routed pretty much the same way you call gets routed if you call your computer manufacturer to ask for help. So I am not sure who I actually spoke to or what country they reside in, but I was told that my oncologist would not be able to type my blood. Which is a shame, since they are already pulling half of my blood supply, it would be nice to just fill one more vial, because they don't leave much blood left for the next person to find. My family doctor said he could type it, and if they were already drawing my blood just down the road at the oncologist, have them draw and extra one and bring it to him, that way I would only get stuck once. I call back to the bureau of motor vehicles or oncologist, one or the other, and they tell me that I am not allowed to take my own blood off of the premises! That is what perplexes me. I am allowed to take the blood that they don't suck out of me off the premises as long as it is still contained in my body. Why can't we compromise and you just spill some in a little vial and I take that with me, almost like it was still in my body? It was blood you were going to let me walk out the door with anyway! Well today, I mention this story to the nice nurse drawing my blood at the oncologist and she says "we can type your blood". She said as long as my nurse and oncologist agree that it's not a problem, they don't want to make me get stuck again, after all they already have the hose hooked up to me. Feeling like I am in a Twilight Zone episode, because this is pretty much the same argument I made over the phone when I called the oncologist's main line (or maybe it really was the bureau of motor vehicles and they were talking about their bloodletting policies). The oncologist approved it and I floated out of there with my blood count even lower, but with only one hole in my skin from it.
When my regular onco nurse came over to discuss my levels and ask if I had any concerns, I had to breach the yellow poo subject as gingerly as possible. She looked into my still white eyeballs and said that it's nothing to be concerned about, and later my electrolyte, kidney levels, and liver enzyme tests confirmed that. I guess I should just be content that I was making little stinky Easter eggs from my own entertainment. She also addressed my wasp/stinging bug question and said that usually there is only an increased reaction, but it would probably be best if I avoided getting stung or bit for a few days. I am in full agreement and hope to avoid being stung or bit for much longer than that.
She then discussed my fatigue, which is at its worst today. I thought I would start feeling better after today. She said no, that I had bottomed out, but would probably stay like this for three or four more days then start improving. I am not too upset, if this is as bad as it gets I can manage. I mean, all I have been doing today is laying around, sleeping, and eating. Occasionally I try to do something and end up breathing like a fat guy running after an ice cream truck and sweating like...well, also like a fat guy running after an ice cream truck. I finally felt like I had enough strength in my torso to pick up my bass guitar, which is much heavier than my foreign made Paul Reed Smith guitars (I had to play my foreign made ones, because as of yet I am still deprived of an American made PRS with double cutaway and twenty four frets) and just pulling the bass out of its case had me wheezing and sweating like...well that fat guy I mentioned earlier. Which I guess I kind of feel like a fat guy right now, but I am nowhere near being able to run after any ice cream truck yet, I get winded just walking to the freezer to get one out. Anyway, I sweat up a storm and almost hyperventilated as I played my bass for the first time in two months. But I loved every second of it...until I tried to grab something with my now blistered right fingertips, but I still enjoyed it. I didn't just enjoy playing (horribly I might add) but I enjoyed listening to music that just put me in a good mood. It is hard to be depressed listening to Average White Band's "Schoolboy Crush" or "Cut the Cake", and if you are not familiar with those songs or the Average White Band, do yourself a favor and Google them right now.
Today ends with me at home, not at the hospital. All my measurable blood levels are low, but not too low. I feel exhausted, but at least I don't feel sick. Songs like "Person to Person" are running through my head. And I don't know if it's from listening to AWB's "Cut the Cake", but for some reason cake sounds really, really good right now...and a truck full of ice cream.
I can't complain too much though. I need to know my blood type for another reason, and out of all the procedures, tests, and surgery I have had the past two months, not one time did they type my blood. Makes me wonder what would happen if I needed blood during my surgery. I would hope that if I sprung a leak, they would know what they needed ahead of time. Does the doctor just scoop some up off of the floor and tell a nurse "get me some more that looks like this"? I don't want a blood sample to be sent for the lab for testing while I am bleeding profusely from a botched crotch surgery. Since no one ever had the forethought to type my blood before, I had asked if my oncologist's office could do it. Now keep in mind, if it is an emergency, your call gets immediately answered by the appropriate people. If it is not an emergency, you phone call gets routed pretty much the same way you call gets routed if you call your computer manufacturer to ask for help. So I am not sure who I actually spoke to or what country they reside in, but I was told that my oncologist would not be able to type my blood. Which is a shame, since they are already pulling half of my blood supply, it would be nice to just fill one more vial, because they don't leave much blood left for the next person to find. My family doctor said he could type it, and if they were already drawing my blood just down the road at the oncologist, have them draw and extra one and bring it to him, that way I would only get stuck once. I call back to the bureau of motor vehicles or oncologist, one or the other, and they tell me that I am not allowed to take my own blood off of the premises! That is what perplexes me. I am allowed to take the blood that they don't suck out of me off the premises as long as it is still contained in my body. Why can't we compromise and you just spill some in a little vial and I take that with me, almost like it was still in my body? It was blood you were going to let me walk out the door with anyway! Well today, I mention this story to the nice nurse drawing my blood at the oncologist and she says "we can type your blood". She said as long as my nurse and oncologist agree that it's not a problem, they don't want to make me get stuck again, after all they already have the hose hooked up to me. Feeling like I am in a Twilight Zone episode, because this is pretty much the same argument I made over the phone when I called the oncologist's main line (or maybe it really was the bureau of motor vehicles and they were talking about their bloodletting policies). The oncologist approved it and I floated out of there with my blood count even lower, but with only one hole in my skin from it.
When my regular onco nurse came over to discuss my levels and ask if I had any concerns, I had to breach the yellow poo subject as gingerly as possible. She looked into my still white eyeballs and said that it's nothing to be concerned about, and later my electrolyte, kidney levels, and liver enzyme tests confirmed that. I guess I should just be content that I was making little stinky Easter eggs from my own entertainment. She also addressed my wasp/stinging bug question and said that usually there is only an increased reaction, but it would probably be best if I avoided getting stung or bit for a few days. I am in full agreement and hope to avoid being stung or bit for much longer than that.
She then discussed my fatigue, which is at its worst today. I thought I would start feeling better after today. She said no, that I had bottomed out, but would probably stay like this for three or four more days then start improving. I am not too upset, if this is as bad as it gets I can manage. I mean, all I have been doing today is laying around, sleeping, and eating. Occasionally I try to do something and end up breathing like a fat guy running after an ice cream truck and sweating like...well, also like a fat guy running after an ice cream truck. I finally felt like I had enough strength in my torso to pick up my bass guitar, which is much heavier than my foreign made Paul Reed Smith guitars (I had to play my foreign made ones, because as of yet I am still deprived of an American made PRS with double cutaway and twenty four frets) and just pulling the bass out of its case had me wheezing and sweating like...well that fat guy I mentioned earlier. Which I guess I kind of feel like a fat guy right now, but I am nowhere near being able to run after any ice cream truck yet, I get winded just walking to the freezer to get one out. Anyway, I sweat up a storm and almost hyperventilated as I played my bass for the first time in two months. But I loved every second of it...until I tried to grab something with my now blistered right fingertips, but I still enjoyed it. I didn't just enjoy playing (horribly I might add) but I enjoyed listening to music that just put me in a good mood. It is hard to be depressed listening to Average White Band's "Schoolboy Crush" or "Cut the Cake", and if you are not familiar with those songs or the Average White Band, do yourself a favor and Google them right now.
Today ends with me at home, not at the hospital. All my measurable blood levels are low, but not too low. I feel exhausted, but at least I don't feel sick. Songs like "Person to Person" are running through my head. And I don't know if it's from listening to AWB's "Cut the Cake", but for some reason cake sounds really, really good right now...and a truck full of ice cream.
Monday, October 25, 2010
A Bunch of Crap About Chemo...
Tomorrow is supposed to be my "bottoming out" day. Supposedly my red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets will be at their lowest. Best case scenario is my numbers are within range and they kick me out of there allowing me to resume my normal activities...which quite frankly, since the surgery and unemployment I haven't had any "normal activities" to speak of. Worst case scenario, my numbers are dangerously low and they check me into the hospital until they come back up. It's not that big of a deal, except the hospital TVs aren't high definition and they don't have any of the good channels I have become accustomed to in my weeks of lying on the couch moaning. They check other numbers in your blood too, including liver function, which leads me to a peculiar observation.
One side effect that wasn't mentioned in our chemo class is a strange discoloration in the toilet. For a day or two, no matter what business I had in the bathroom, it was coming out yellow. Now for half of the bathroom business that is perfectly normal. For the other half, you are perplexed and wondering just how many bananas you ate. First time, I thought it was a fluke. Second time, I was a little more concerned. Third time, I opened the big folder we received at chemo class and poured over it, trying to figure out exactly where this particular side effect would be listed. Having my oncologist's twenty-four hour number and e-mail, I decided the best thing to do would be...look it up on the internet. I just sat there on Google's web search for a while trying to figure out the best way to search this, without coming up with a bunch of disgusting (well even more disgusting) results. Finally a found a combo of words that looked this up as a medical curiosity and not a fetish. Surprisingly there was a lot of information on the subject. My research seemed to narrow it down to one of two things. Either it was no big deal and it would go away with time, or it meant I was in liver failure and I would probably die before I finished reading the article. This is not the type of information you want to read right before bedtime.
I go to bed, eyes wide open, trying to see if I can feel my liver dying. I can't. I get back up and get back on the internet for more information. Most of the sites that say you are going to die immediately mention that you will also notice your eyes turning yellow as it gets more serious. I don't know if that means you are getting full of crap up to your eyeballs or what. But, that hasn't happened yet, so I guess I still have time to finish today's blog entry before I die. And in my tired state I wonder, if the whites of my eyes turn yellow, can I go get a kid's pair of sunglasses with the blue lenses and make my eyes look green, because that would be cool. Or red lenses and they'd be orange. Well, it didn't matter. After checking my eyes repeatedly every time I walk past a mirror, so far no yellow. But this is something I am going to ask the nurse about. Not if I am OK, I'm asking why she didn't warn us about that in the class. Getting up from doing work like that and seeing yellow is a little startling. It must be some chemo nurse practical joke that they do. "Hey Susan, you see that guy over there, I didn't tell him his poop turns yellow." I do think I heard two nurses laughing hysterically as I was leaving chemo.
However, this is one of the few times my gastro-intestinal problems have helped me in life. One of the big problems with many chemotherapy drugs is...well back-ups. So much so that many patients come out of chemo with major hemorrhoids. My main GI problem is that I go too often in that respect. When we met with my GI doctor, he said the easy thing for me, instead of having to take the drugs to counteract the chemo effects, I could just quit taking most of my regular drugs for my GI issues. And it worked! My GI issues and my chemo side effects have combined to make me feel like I normal crapper...well except for the yellowness. I will take discoloration over hemorrhoids any day!
As I prepare for tomorrow, I am trying to think of anything I need to take in case I do get checked in to the hospital, although I am not feeling too bad, just really tired. And I am trying to think of the best way to ask my chemo nurse about miscolored manure. Hopefully, I will be back on here tomorrow to let you know what happened!
One side effect that wasn't mentioned in our chemo class is a strange discoloration in the toilet. For a day or two, no matter what business I had in the bathroom, it was coming out yellow. Now for half of the bathroom business that is perfectly normal. For the other half, you are perplexed and wondering just how many bananas you ate. First time, I thought it was a fluke. Second time, I was a little more concerned. Third time, I opened the big folder we received at chemo class and poured over it, trying to figure out exactly where this particular side effect would be listed. Having my oncologist's twenty-four hour number and e-mail, I decided the best thing to do would be...look it up on the internet. I just sat there on Google's web search for a while trying to figure out the best way to search this, without coming up with a bunch of disgusting (well even more disgusting) results. Finally a found a combo of words that looked this up as a medical curiosity and not a fetish. Surprisingly there was a lot of information on the subject. My research seemed to narrow it down to one of two things. Either it was no big deal and it would go away with time, or it meant I was in liver failure and I would probably die before I finished reading the article. This is not the type of information you want to read right before bedtime.
I go to bed, eyes wide open, trying to see if I can feel my liver dying. I can't. I get back up and get back on the internet for more information. Most of the sites that say you are going to die immediately mention that you will also notice your eyes turning yellow as it gets more serious. I don't know if that means you are getting full of crap up to your eyeballs or what. But, that hasn't happened yet, so I guess I still have time to finish today's blog entry before I die. And in my tired state I wonder, if the whites of my eyes turn yellow, can I go get a kid's pair of sunglasses with the blue lenses and make my eyes look green, because that would be cool. Or red lenses and they'd be orange. Well, it didn't matter. After checking my eyes repeatedly every time I walk past a mirror, so far no yellow. But this is something I am going to ask the nurse about. Not if I am OK, I'm asking why she didn't warn us about that in the class. Getting up from doing work like that and seeing yellow is a little startling. It must be some chemo nurse practical joke that they do. "Hey Susan, you see that guy over there, I didn't tell him his poop turns yellow." I do think I heard two nurses laughing hysterically as I was leaving chemo.
However, this is one of the few times my gastro-intestinal problems have helped me in life. One of the big problems with many chemotherapy drugs is...well back-ups. So much so that many patients come out of chemo with major hemorrhoids. My main GI problem is that I go too often in that respect. When we met with my GI doctor, he said the easy thing for me, instead of having to take the drugs to counteract the chemo effects, I could just quit taking most of my regular drugs for my GI issues. And it worked! My GI issues and my chemo side effects have combined to make me feel like I normal crapper...well except for the yellowness. I will take discoloration over hemorrhoids any day!
As I prepare for tomorrow, I am trying to think of anything I need to take in case I do get checked in to the hospital, although I am not feeling too bad, just really tired. And I am trying to think of the best way to ask my chemo nurse about miscolored manure. Hopefully, I will be back on here tomorrow to let you know what happened!
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