So towards the end of our Florida journey, we head over to EPCOT for my 40th birthday. Yes you read that correctly, I know I don't look a day over 25. We had to transport two basenjis and a shiba inu to Disney's kennels for the day and we decided the best plan is to open up the third row seating on the Highlander where the girls can sit and we'll lay day the second row for a play/rest area for the three pups. The plan worked really well. The best part of the plan was that with the guys in the very front (someone has to drive) and the girls in the very back, we could turn up the radio and pretend we couldn't hear them. I think they caught on to us pretty quickly though and just decided to go to sleep.
Once we arrived at EPCOT, I get out my hiking stick and put everything in my pockets so I didn't have to have anything checked by security, which wasn't such a great plan when everyone else I was with had a bag. Then my wife realized she forgot something in the car, and since I was the only one without a bag, they decided to send the cripple to hike back while they went through bag screening. I hobbled back to meet them just in time and we enter the park.
For those who have never been to Disney, or haven't been in a while, they have a new "What are you celebrating?" campaign, where you can say you are celebrating anything and they will write it on buttons and give them to you for free. While everyone else used the restrooms, I went to get us buttons. I told them I was celebrating my first cancer free birthday. The "Cast Member's" eyes lit up (remember, Disney doesn't have employees, they have "Cast Members") and he said he had something special for me. After several minutes of searching through his little kiosk, turns out the "special" thing was writing "cancer free" on a button. Now I am dying to know what I missed out on. Of course I didn't know I was missing out on anything until he started searching forever for it. While he was writing on buttons for our group, the gentleman behind me, who apparently randomly lines up anytime he sees a queue, asks why we were waiting in line (a question normally asked before you wait long enough to be the next person up). I tell him, and he immediately tells one of his children to lie and say it's their birthday. You could tell them you are celebrating the first Friday in December and they would write it down. You just paid $80 to get in the place, what is a ten cent button to them? The Cast Member looks at my stick, and can tell I am already limping. He asks if I would like anything, and as much as I would love to tool around in a scooter the rest of the day or have people push me around in a wheelchair, I stick by my vow to walk the whole day. To illustrate my point from yesterday about how ridiculous people get there with lying about needing a wheelchair just to cut in line, I saw someone on their rented scooters in those "shape-ups" shoes that give you a workout while you walk. Either she wasted money on buying workout shoes that would never see pavement, or she is the worst liar ever (aside from everyone in the Senate, the House, and every other nationally elected official, and state elected official, and local elected official, and school board member, and treasurer for my junior class, and the people that sell the Shake Weight).
We started riding the rides at EPCOT, which are for the most part pretty tame. However, that didn't keep one member of our group from being scared to death on every one. It's not like a Disney ride ever killed anyone...well, at least not a ride at EPCOT....well, at least none of the rides we were riding at EPCOT. And then I got to do something so geeky and lame, but I had been wanting to do it forever. I took the Behind the Seeds tour! Yes, for an hour I wobbled through a giant version of my Aerogardens while I listened to a Cast Member/Botanist talk about plants growing. I admit I am a nerd, and that is why I didn't force anyone to go with me. I found it really interesting, but I am sure no one else will, so I will keep my mouth shut (or my fingers still in this case). Also on the tour was a couple who were both neurologists from Massachusetts. They saw my pin and before the tour we had a great time talking about my recovery and the medical system in general. They were definitely doctors, because as we walked along the tour, I tended to lag behind so I could wobble with my stick at my own pace, looking like some pre-polio vaccine Disney character. They were constantly watching me and looking out for me, and at one point asked if I was OK. When I said I was, they said they are used to patients like me and they could tell I was in pain even though I said I wasn't, and to just say something if I wanted their help. I laughed out loud, because they were right!
The tour ended and I met back with the others. The whole day, I was awash with emotions. On one hand I was extremely happy, because I was at the happiest place on Earth. Well, I guess they mean the Magic Kingdom is the happiest place on Earth, but I was still pretty happy being next door to the happiest place on Earth, which is still pretty happy, unless the place next door happens to be SeaWorld, and then you are trying to figure out why you paid $300 a person for a smelly old whale. Anyway, I was happy, and was also on the verge of tears because when all of this started on August 31st, I didn't know what this day would end up being for me. I was depressed too. I didn't want cancer to still have as much a grip on me as it did. I mean, I was cancer free, but I was still trying to shake the pain and the effects of the treatment. And most of all, I was in excruciating pain. So, my loving wife, after 10 years of being around each other, sees the look on my face. She sees the whirlwind of emotions, the happiness, the depression, the joy of being alive, and intense pain all written on my face and asks, "Why are you pissed off?" The one emotion I don't have and that is the one she reads on my face! We ended the day, and I managed to keep the pain of my incision steady all day, which was surprising. Of course my arm felt like rubber from supporting my weight with my stick all day, but it did the trick.
The next day we ran a few last errands, buying oranges and coconut elephant windchimes, and on that last day, the two of us finally went to the beach. This trip was nothing like I had planned. The car broke down, my triumphant return from cancer ended in re-injury, only made it to the beach twice, and we had to change Disney parks. But still, just like the old fisherman's phrase goes, a bad day in Florida is still better than a good winter day in Ohio. I did enjoy myself. I knew when I first got diagnosed this whole cancer ordeal was going to leave some emotional scars. I just didn't realize how deep they were and how little things can trigger a flood of feelings. I also didn't realize how much this constant pushing to be done with all of this cancer crap was just making it last longer. I hope I am finally starting to be done with all of this, but I think I will throw my stick in the back of my Jeep just in case...
Showing posts with label Shake Weight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shake Weight. Show all posts
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Juggled And Poked At The Urologist's Office
Today was another big day in my recovery. I had the last post surgery follow-up appointment with my surgeon/urologist. I had some good news, and some not so good news that I am taking as good news.
The urologist was very nice and took a lot of time to answer our questions today. Of course he had to check his handy work. To be honest, my goodies have been fondled so much over the past few months I just kind of block it out at this point. I don't remember what he did or what he said. I guess I just go to my happy place in my mind. Some people go to their happy place by remembering their favorite Christmas as a child, or by thinking about being on a warm sunny beach, I just imagine that my goodies are being cupped by a man in a white coat...I guess don't have a very good imagination for my happy place. He asks how I am doing (after I pull my pants back up) and I answer honestly that I feel like a disgusting, lazy, slob. I say I am still trying to fight this chemo fatigue, and if I lift anything over a certain weight or twist a certain way I still feel that "tickle" in my incision. He says something surprising, that I probably will feel that tickle for another month and not to push it. He basically said to stay away from weights for a while. I didn't ask about the Shake Weight, because to ask about it would be admitting that I have one, but it seems to be my only option for the time being. He did clear me to do whatever cardio I want. That is the good news. The bad news is that now I am expected to do cardio.
The doctor answered all of our assorted questions, including the ones we had for other doctors but asked him anyway. He then told me to check my swimmers in a month to see if chemo killed them or not. They gave me the option of going to the place I went to make my "deposit" or another place (both hospitals, not just in some alley). I wanted to opt for the other place, because I have already seen all of the getting-in-the-mood literature at the first place and was hoping to see something new. My wife didn't like my idea and wouldn't let me do that. Lastly they needed to draw blood from me. This is usually quite an adventure because my veins like to squirm and roll around when the needle comes at them. I have been spoiled by the phlebotomists at the oncologist's office because all they do is draw blood all day and they are very good at it. At the urologist it was people that are normal nurses that happen to be asked to stick people now and then. First of all, I swear they must use different needle suppliers, because at the oncologist the needle slips in so smooth you think you are still being wiped off with the alcohol pad. At the urologist, each and every needle feels like it is rusty, bent, and broken off and I watched them take it out of a new package three different times! The first nurse jabbed the needle in and moved it around like she was churning butter or trying to shift a Mack truck. When she started drawing blood from places other than through the needle she gave up and passed me off to another nurse. This nurse was much nicer and talked very calmly, politely, and apologetically as she jabbed the needle into me again and again and churned butter and shifted a Mack truck (they must have gone to the same school). I was just about to ask if we could do this another time, seeing as how my veins have about as much holes in them now as a clarinet, when she finally got some blood to get into the vial. I am assuming it was my blood, but as vigorously as she was sticking and moving she may have actually gone through me and poked herself.
Finally we scheduled my next appointment for sometime in January. I say sometime, because as I was trying to focus on my calendar to pick a day, the nurse kept spitting out possibilities and my wife kept talking about my other appointments as well. Between trying to focus on three different stimuli (my calendar, the nurse, and my wife) all I could do was just say yes on the first day I heard that wasn't already highlighted in my calendar. The nurse asked if I wanted it written down, which I most certainly did, because I have no idea what anyone said. My wife decided to keep talking about how I should have made it the same day as one of my other doctor's appointments, which is what I was trying to look up when everyone was asking me so many questions that I couldn't look it up. For all I know it may be the same day or even time as another appointment, I still am not sure what the heck went on at the counter, I just went to my "happy place" again (that doctor has such soft hands).
All in all it was a good day. I didn't really want to be told I was still on limited duty, but on the other hand I know I am not just being a fat, lazy, slob. I am being a fat, lazy, slob that is not supposed to lift too much. Tomorrow I will start to work on some cardio and maybe step up my Shake Weighting. I should probably get some rest now, that twelve minutes of exercise tomorrow will really take a toll on me.
The urologist was very nice and took a lot of time to answer our questions today. Of course he had to check his handy work. To be honest, my goodies have been fondled so much over the past few months I just kind of block it out at this point. I don't remember what he did or what he said. I guess I just go to my happy place in my mind. Some people go to their happy place by remembering their favorite Christmas as a child, or by thinking about being on a warm sunny beach, I just imagine that my goodies are being cupped by a man in a white coat...I guess don't have a very good imagination for my happy place. He asks how I am doing (after I pull my pants back up) and I answer honestly that I feel like a disgusting, lazy, slob. I say I am still trying to fight this chemo fatigue, and if I lift anything over a certain weight or twist a certain way I still feel that "tickle" in my incision. He says something surprising, that I probably will feel that tickle for another month and not to push it. He basically said to stay away from weights for a while. I didn't ask about the Shake Weight, because to ask about it would be admitting that I have one, but it seems to be my only option for the time being. He did clear me to do whatever cardio I want. That is the good news. The bad news is that now I am expected to do cardio.
The doctor answered all of our assorted questions, including the ones we had for other doctors but asked him anyway. He then told me to check my swimmers in a month to see if chemo killed them or not. They gave me the option of going to the place I went to make my "deposit" or another place (both hospitals, not just in some alley). I wanted to opt for the other place, because I have already seen all of the getting-in-the-mood literature at the first place and was hoping to see something new. My wife didn't like my idea and wouldn't let me do that. Lastly they needed to draw blood from me. This is usually quite an adventure because my veins like to squirm and roll around when the needle comes at them. I have been spoiled by the phlebotomists at the oncologist's office because all they do is draw blood all day and they are very good at it. At the urologist it was people that are normal nurses that happen to be asked to stick people now and then. First of all, I swear they must use different needle suppliers, because at the oncologist the needle slips in so smooth you think you are still being wiped off with the alcohol pad. At the urologist, each and every needle feels like it is rusty, bent, and broken off and I watched them take it out of a new package three different times! The first nurse jabbed the needle in and moved it around like she was churning butter or trying to shift a Mack truck. When she started drawing blood from places other than through the needle she gave up and passed me off to another nurse. This nurse was much nicer and talked very calmly, politely, and apologetically as she jabbed the needle into me again and again and churned butter and shifted a Mack truck (they must have gone to the same school). I was just about to ask if we could do this another time, seeing as how my veins have about as much holes in them now as a clarinet, when she finally got some blood to get into the vial. I am assuming it was my blood, but as vigorously as she was sticking and moving she may have actually gone through me and poked herself.
Finally we scheduled my next appointment for sometime in January. I say sometime, because as I was trying to focus on my calendar to pick a day, the nurse kept spitting out possibilities and my wife kept talking about my other appointments as well. Between trying to focus on three different stimuli (my calendar, the nurse, and my wife) all I could do was just say yes on the first day I heard that wasn't already highlighted in my calendar. The nurse asked if I wanted it written down, which I most certainly did, because I have no idea what anyone said. My wife decided to keep talking about how I should have made it the same day as one of my other doctor's appointments, which is what I was trying to look up when everyone was asking me so many questions that I couldn't look it up. For all I know it may be the same day or even time as another appointment, I still am not sure what the heck went on at the counter, I just went to my "happy place" again (that doctor has such soft hands).
All in all it was a good day. I didn't really want to be told I was still on limited duty, but on the other hand I know I am not just being a fat, lazy, slob. I am being a fat, lazy, slob that is not supposed to lift too much. Tomorrow I will start to work on some cardio and maybe step up my Shake Weighting. I should probably get some rest now, that twelve minutes of exercise tomorrow will really take a toll on me.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
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.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
If A Wasps Stings Me While I'm On Chemo, Does It Get Sick Or Healthier?
I thought I had today all planned out. Since my workshop is not heated, not the cleanest thing in the world and my immune system is nearing its lowest point, I had picked up an N95 mask and was going to expend some energy doing some light organizing up there this afternoon. We all know plans don't always turn out like we want.
Being so sensitive to smells right now, last night I was thinking ahead and as I walked past the dust mask in its packaging, I decided to pop it open and get a whiff. It's a good thing I did. It smelled like a cross between rubbing alcohol, Windex, and a tire fire. Not something I wanted to breathe through for a prolonged period of time. So as I went to bed, I cracked open the package and left the mask to sit and air out overnight, so I could be all ready for my action filled day at home.
I wake up with a "7" as the first number on the clock! I guess I am wearing down. Of course the two immediate things my chemo ridden body is begging me to do is pee and start chugging water. I drink about a pint there on the spot and lay back down. Two hours later, I wake back up. Same routine, pee and drink (just for clarification those are two separate things, I am not doing any gross stuff here). Now I know my body is slowing down. I haven't woken up to a "9" for a few days now. I decided to be healthy and fix a breakfast of one part raisin bran, one part sugar poured over the raisin bran and sit to watch my Saturday car shows on television. Not wanting to feel to lazy, I Shake Weight several times during my two hour Power Block on TV. That may have been a mistake. The Shake Weight packaging says you only need to workout six minutes a day to look like the guys on TV. I have done a month's worth of exercise today, so I may be on the cover of Muscle and Fitness for December. No, I don't really believe that, but I am trying out for the cover of Chemo and Sickness magazine.
Feeling pretty good about the way I have dominated the Shake Weight, I hopped on my nemesis from earlier this week, the elliptical machine. I had hit the 300 calorie button the other day and only made it to 100 before my incision start pulling. Actually, I really only made it to about 25 calories before I felt an uncomfortable tickle around my incision, but I slowed down and made it to 100. So today, with renewed confidence, I hopped on, and punched that 300 hundred button again...then I did one revolution and punched the 150 button. After a vigorous fifteen minutes of whimpering and moaning, I finished! And then I sat on the couched exhausted for the next hour or so. I couldn't even muster the energy to Shake Weight.
Finally I decide I should go up to the workshop and do a few things. I put on my mask, which now only has a faint smell of ammonia mixed with chlorine (don't try that at home). I am getting worn out just trying to breath through it. It is a quite day out here in the country, but when I open up the shop I hear a lawn mower. I step out of the shop I no longer hear it. I step back in, and hear it again. Then I look up in the rafters and see hundreds of wasps buzzing around. This happens every year around this time. I don't know why, but they tend to do this in here right before they die, and one day I walk in and there are a bunch of wasp carcasses on the ground. The problem is that usually in September and October I am spending a lot more time up here. This year I have been too busy putting ice on my crotch and trying not to be nauseous. So where I normally would have had all the doors open and some of them leave, this year they have been corralled in here and apparently they are having a wasp convention. The other big problem is that my immune system is less than 48 hours from bottoming out. I don't know what wasp sting does to people on chemo. I decide not to risk it and head back into the house, scaring the crap out of the abused rescued basenji (guess I should have taken my mask off before I came in the house), but then again, a Kleenex hitting the floor scares the crap out of our rescued basenji.
My wife, being the caring person she is, suggests that I go back up there anyway. I pop on-line to see if I can find anything about people that have been stung while on chemo. I find several stories, most just have more severe reactions, it hurts more, swells more, last longer, that sort of thing. I also found where one chemo patient went into anaphylactic shock. I want everyone reading this to call the police if I happen to die of anaphylactic shock from a wasp sting. Either my wife really does assume I will be OK, or she is tired of me sitting around the house doing nothing but Shake Weighting and this was all part of her evil plan. C'mon we've all seen Alicia Silverstone in "The Crush". OK, hardly anyone saw that movie. And now I just spoiled the part where she tries to kill someone with wasps or bees or angry termites or whatever they were, so if you haven't seen it there is no sense wasting your time on it now.
Back to the couch I go, and that is where I spent the remainder of the day, except to get up and write this, and pee, and drink some more (still two different activities). I don't know how I will feel tomorrow. I seem to be getting more and more fatigued as I get closer to Monday. And now, my scalp is also starting to tingle as well, so I may have to write tomorrow's blog with a hat on if I lose all my hair. I guess I should go to bed early tonight since I have a busy day tomorrow being tired, thirsty, and possibly bald.
Being so sensitive to smells right now, last night I was thinking ahead and as I walked past the dust mask in its packaging, I decided to pop it open and get a whiff. It's a good thing I did. It smelled like a cross between rubbing alcohol, Windex, and a tire fire. Not something I wanted to breathe through for a prolonged period of time. So as I went to bed, I cracked open the package and left the mask to sit and air out overnight, so I could be all ready for my action filled day at home.
I wake up with a "7" as the first number on the clock! I guess I am wearing down. Of course the two immediate things my chemo ridden body is begging me to do is pee and start chugging water. I drink about a pint there on the spot and lay back down. Two hours later, I wake back up. Same routine, pee and drink (just for clarification those are two separate things, I am not doing any gross stuff here). Now I know my body is slowing down. I haven't woken up to a "9" for a few days now. I decided to be healthy and fix a breakfast of one part raisin bran, one part sugar poured over the raisin bran and sit to watch my Saturday car shows on television. Not wanting to feel to lazy, I Shake Weight several times during my two hour Power Block on TV. That may have been a mistake. The Shake Weight packaging says you only need to workout six minutes a day to look like the guys on TV. I have done a month's worth of exercise today, so I may be on the cover of Muscle and Fitness for December. No, I don't really believe that, but I am trying out for the cover of Chemo and Sickness magazine.
Feeling pretty good about the way I have dominated the Shake Weight, I hopped on my nemesis from earlier this week, the elliptical machine. I had hit the 300 calorie button the other day and only made it to 100 before my incision start pulling. Actually, I really only made it to about 25 calories before I felt an uncomfortable tickle around my incision, but I slowed down and made it to 100. So today, with renewed confidence, I hopped on, and punched that 300 hundred button again...then I did one revolution and punched the 150 button. After a vigorous fifteen minutes of whimpering and moaning, I finished! And then I sat on the couched exhausted for the next hour or so. I couldn't even muster the energy to Shake Weight.
Finally I decide I should go up to the workshop and do a few things. I put on my mask, which now only has a faint smell of ammonia mixed with chlorine (don't try that at home). I am getting worn out just trying to breath through it. It is a quite day out here in the country, but when I open up the shop I hear a lawn mower. I step out of the shop I no longer hear it. I step back in, and hear it again. Then I look up in the rafters and see hundreds of wasps buzzing around. This happens every year around this time. I don't know why, but they tend to do this in here right before they die, and one day I walk in and there are a bunch of wasp carcasses on the ground. The problem is that usually in September and October I am spending a lot more time up here. This year I have been too busy putting ice on my crotch and trying not to be nauseous. So where I normally would have had all the doors open and some of them leave, this year they have been corralled in here and apparently they are having a wasp convention. The other big problem is that my immune system is less than 48 hours from bottoming out. I don't know what wasp sting does to people on chemo. I decide not to risk it and head back into the house, scaring the crap out of the abused rescued basenji (guess I should have taken my mask off before I came in the house), but then again, a Kleenex hitting the floor scares the crap out of our rescued basenji.
My wife, being the caring person she is, suggests that I go back up there anyway. I pop on-line to see if I can find anything about people that have been stung while on chemo. I find several stories, most just have more severe reactions, it hurts more, swells more, last longer, that sort of thing. I also found where one chemo patient went into anaphylactic shock. I want everyone reading this to call the police if I happen to die of anaphylactic shock from a wasp sting. Either my wife really does assume I will be OK, or she is tired of me sitting around the house doing nothing but Shake Weighting and this was all part of her evil plan. C'mon we've all seen Alicia Silverstone in "The Crush". OK, hardly anyone saw that movie. And now I just spoiled the part where she tries to kill someone with wasps or bees or angry termites or whatever they were, so if you haven't seen it there is no sense wasting your time on it now.
Back to the couch I go, and that is where I spent the remainder of the day, except to get up and write this, and pee, and drink some more (still two different activities). I don't know how I will feel tomorrow. I seem to be getting more and more fatigued as I get closer to Monday. And now, my scalp is also starting to tingle as well, so I may have to write tomorrow's blog with a hat on if I lose all my hair. I guess I should go to bed early tonight since I have a busy day tomorrow being tired, thirsty, and possibly bald.
Which Is More Tiring, Chemo or the Shake Weight?
CHEMO IS KICKING MY BUTT!!! I was doing great yesterday. In fact, long about our third hour at the hospital yesterday, even though the nurse wasn't there for me, she did mention that she used to work with chemo patients. Since we had plenty of time to just sit around waiting, I decided to pick her brain. I told her how great I had been feeling physically and asking if it was normal. The nurse said some people aren't affected by chemo much, some feel affects gradually, and some it comes on all of a sudden. She also said how important it was to stay away from sick people. She says this as we are in our third hour in a hospital. I don't know if you are aware, but there are four places sick people like to go, hospitals, elementary schools, anywhere with a buffet, and cruise ships (I imagine the sick people go to the cruise ships because of the buffets). The only saving grace was for about an hour and a half of our hospital stay, we were in a room by ourselves.
Fast forward twelve hours and I am waking up dying of thirst again, except this time things are a little different. It feels like I gargled with sand in my sleep. Now, ever since my diagnosis I have been having some strange dreams. The other night I had a dream that I had lost all my hair that was so vivid I woke up and touched my head and looked at the pillow because I was so sure that it really happened. However, I don't think that I have taken up sleep gargling, especially with sand. I guess there is a possibility since basenjis are African dogs and both of ours are originally from Florida, there is a chance that sleeping in various yoga positions between these two downward-facing dogs that some residual sand fell into my throat. I would hope that we are bathing them a little better than that. I have the increasing thirst (up to about a gallon and three quarts a day at this point), I have the scratchy throat, and then half way through the day, I feel like I just finished a marathon. Well at least I assume it feels like after you run a marathon, except without the feeling that I have accomplished something.
And speaking of not accomplishing anything, that is exactly what is driving me crazy at this point. We are getting to the point in my chemo treatment where by blood count is bottoming out, so I am pretty much grounded at this point, and unlike being grounded in high school I didn't get to do anything fun and stupid to warrant it. Sitting around the house is definitely giving me cabin fever. I sort of hurt myself on the elliptical machine yesterday, and running from the car into the hospital yesterday to check on my wife shook some things that haven't been shaken for a while and I am feeling it today. OK, now when I say running, keep in mind I am a little more than a month out from my surgery, so what felt like a run to me, was probably like that horrible race-walking thing that was popular for about ten minutes in the nineties before everyone realized how ridiculous it looks to run like you are trying to get to the restroom after eating spoiled Mexican food leftovers. Since I can't seem to concentrate enough right now to read anything, I have been watching hours on end of daytime television and today I caved in...I bought something I saw that was sold on TV. I bought a Shake Weight.
We have a decent collection of exercise equipment here at the house. We have a weight machine, lots of free weights, an elliptical machine, exercise bikes, an ab machine, and a rower. The rower, ab machine, and weights all put too much stress on my still healing incision from my nutectomy. The elliptical machine ended up hurting that area as well, but not too seriously. And obviously, with the trauma that has befallen my crotchal area, I am more than just a little afraid to hop on anything with a bicycle seat right now. So, outside of the Wii, I haven't been getting any exercise at all. The Shake Weight looked so cheesy and lame, it didn't seem like there was any possible way it could actually hurt anything, and maybe I would feel like I did something. Let me just set two things straight, I bought the MEN'S Shake Weight and I don't for a second think that this thing is going to make me look anything like the guys in the commercial or on the box. But it will have me doing something except walking to the next room for new water bottles all day. So as we run an errand today, I did it. I walked over to where they were and I picked one up, and felt immediately embarrassed. I look like crap. Because of the surgery, I am still walking around in public in pants with elastic waistbands. What if people think that I actually believe the commercials?!?! Of course we were in a large mega-store and these things were in the back. I have to walk all the way to the front, which felt like an approximately seven mile walk, while trying to conceal the identity of what I am carrying. I would have felt more comfortable carrying tampons, condoms, a Playgirl magazine, and Preparation H. I had to resist the urge to tell the cashier I was buying it for a "friend" or as a gag gift. But it's home now and I have been using it. I don't know if it is doing any good or not, but at least I feel like it is doing something. Who knows, with the weight I am losing from chemo, and all the time I will be spending in front of the TV doing nothing but Shake Weighting, maybe I will end up looking like the guy in the commercials. No, not the Shake Weight commercial, the Subway commercials, except I hope I resemble the after photos more than the before.
So here I sit, feeling like crap, shaking overpriced crap, and watching crap on TV. I just am counting the days (3) until I bottom out on my blood count, because I know after that it is all about getting better and feeling better. It's good to know the end is in sight. And I am taking comfort that I am not the dumbest person in the world. The dumbest person in the world would be whoever the "Warning" sticker on the Shake Weight was printed for. "Keep Shake Weight at least 6 inches away from your face while exercising." They wouldn't have to put that on there unless at least one person hadn't already Shake Weighted their jaw. Personally I say leave the sticker off and let's get some natural selection happening here. At least that's what I say now, I may change my tune after I Shake Weight myself a black eye. Right now I think I will hop off of here, do a few more "reps", drink some more, and collapse into bed. Maybe I will take my Shake Weight with me...
Fast forward twelve hours and I am waking up dying of thirst again, except this time things are a little different. It feels like I gargled with sand in my sleep. Now, ever since my diagnosis I have been having some strange dreams. The other night I had a dream that I had lost all my hair that was so vivid I woke up and touched my head and looked at the pillow because I was so sure that it really happened. However, I don't think that I have taken up sleep gargling, especially with sand. I guess there is a possibility since basenjis are African dogs and both of ours are originally from Florida, there is a chance that sleeping in various yoga positions between these two downward-facing dogs that some residual sand fell into my throat. I would hope that we are bathing them a little better than that. I have the increasing thirst (up to about a gallon and three quarts a day at this point), I have the scratchy throat, and then half way through the day, I feel like I just finished a marathon. Well at least I assume it feels like after you run a marathon, except without the feeling that I have accomplished something.
And speaking of not accomplishing anything, that is exactly what is driving me crazy at this point. We are getting to the point in my chemo treatment where by blood count is bottoming out, so I am pretty much grounded at this point, and unlike being grounded in high school I didn't get to do anything fun and stupid to warrant it. Sitting around the house is definitely giving me cabin fever. I sort of hurt myself on the elliptical machine yesterday, and running from the car into the hospital yesterday to check on my wife shook some things that haven't been shaken for a while and I am feeling it today. OK, now when I say running, keep in mind I am a little more than a month out from my surgery, so what felt like a run to me, was probably like that horrible race-walking thing that was popular for about ten minutes in the nineties before everyone realized how ridiculous it looks to run like you are trying to get to the restroom after eating spoiled Mexican food leftovers. Since I can't seem to concentrate enough right now to read anything, I have been watching hours on end of daytime television and today I caved in...I bought something I saw that was sold on TV. I bought a Shake Weight.
We have a decent collection of exercise equipment here at the house. We have a weight machine, lots of free weights, an elliptical machine, exercise bikes, an ab machine, and a rower. The rower, ab machine, and weights all put too much stress on my still healing incision from my nutectomy. The elliptical machine ended up hurting that area as well, but not too seriously. And obviously, with the trauma that has befallen my crotchal area, I am more than just a little afraid to hop on anything with a bicycle seat right now. So, outside of the Wii, I haven't been getting any exercise at all. The Shake Weight looked so cheesy and lame, it didn't seem like there was any possible way it could actually hurt anything, and maybe I would feel like I did something. Let me just set two things straight, I bought the MEN'S Shake Weight and I don't for a second think that this thing is going to make me look anything like the guys in the commercial or on the box. But it will have me doing something except walking to the next room for new water bottles all day. So as we run an errand today, I did it. I walked over to where they were and I picked one up, and felt immediately embarrassed. I look like crap. Because of the surgery, I am still walking around in public in pants with elastic waistbands. What if people think that I actually believe the commercials?!?! Of course we were in a large mega-store and these things were in the back. I have to walk all the way to the front, which felt like an approximately seven mile walk, while trying to conceal the identity of what I am carrying. I would have felt more comfortable carrying tampons, condoms, a Playgirl magazine, and Preparation H. I had to resist the urge to tell the cashier I was buying it for a "friend" or as a gag gift. But it's home now and I have been using it. I don't know if it is doing any good or not, but at least I feel like it is doing something. Who knows, with the weight I am losing from chemo, and all the time I will be spending in front of the TV doing nothing but Shake Weighting, maybe I will end up looking like the guy in the commercials. No, not the Shake Weight commercial, the Subway commercials, except I hope I resemble the after photos more than the before.
So here I sit, feeling like crap, shaking overpriced crap, and watching crap on TV. I just am counting the days (3) until I bottom out on my blood count, because I know after that it is all about getting better and feeling better. It's good to know the end is in sight. And I am taking comfort that I am not the dumbest person in the world. The dumbest person in the world would be whoever the "Warning" sticker on the Shake Weight was printed for. "Keep Shake Weight at least 6 inches away from your face while exercising." They wouldn't have to put that on there unless at least one person hadn't already Shake Weighted their jaw. Personally I say leave the sticker off and let's get some natural selection happening here. At least that's what I say now, I may change my tune after I Shake Weight myself a black eye. Right now I think I will hop off of here, do a few more "reps", drink some more, and collapse into bed. Maybe I will take my Shake Weight with me...
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