For better or worse, going through testicular cancer once makes you a little gun shy. Losing one testicle isn't too bad, but you quickly run out of testicles to lose after that. I have sometimes wondered if having to carry a personal cell phone AND a work cell phone may have put out too much radiation and caused my cancer. So to be safe, I wear cargo pants all the time and carry the phones lower. My friends make fun of me, because I am still being exposed to twice the radiation of one phone it's just on my leg now, but I remind them that I still have TWO legs.
Anyway, at my last urology appointment, I mentioned I found a lump. Having the health issues I have, I regularly see five different doctors, four of whom have a great sense of humor and I can joke around with. However, my urologist, who is a great doctor and ultimately responsible for saving my life since he caught the cancer when a nurse practitioner dismissed it as nothing, he is all business all the time. No joking, nothing but the facts. I mentioned the lump to him, and kneeling down for my yearly check he was able to locate it as well. He stated he was fairly certain that it was nothing, but if I wanted to get an ultrasound done to rest easier, I could. I stated, I was probably just scared from finding the lump the first time (that ended up being cancer) and was paranoid about finding lumps now. Still kneeling down and checking out the lump, he looks at me with a serious look on his face and says "When you feel something, I want to feel something." Now, I know what he meant by that. He meant, no one knows your body better than yourself, so if you notice a change you need to report that to your doctor. It just seemed a little funny to me hearing that with someone kneeling down and holding my testicle in his hand. And knowing that this very good doctor would not see the humor in what he just said, made the whole moment funnier. I felt like a kid sitting in class in grade school trying not to giggle at "Guess what? Chicken butt!" I came pretty close to biting a hole in my tongue to suppress the laughter.
Fast forward six months later, and I kept feeling that lump with my regular checks, and it kept making me more and more nervous that it was "something". I finally called the office when I could take no more to schedule an ultrasound. The day they found my first lump, my ultrasound was scheduled for as soon as I could drive to the other office. Last week's scheduling took days. When the scheduler finally did return my call, she said, "When did you want to come in?" I just told her, "Tomorrow!"
I went to the office and was relieved to see the same old lady that had performed my ultrasound last time. Now there is probably more than a few males that would read this that are thinking to themselves, "Old lady? No! I was some hot young thing fresh out of college!" And those males haven't thought this through all the way. While the testicle may feel like this finely crafted orb, it is kept in the most hideous, unattractive container. I am not much on trying to figure out what the fairer sex finds attractive, but I would imagine that is pretty low on the list of alluring male body parts. And you are going to force someone to be up close and personal with it for some period of time since, to do it right, they have to scan the area from two different angles. You want someone that you aren't trying to impress, that knows what they are doing. You want to walk out of that office with some peace of mind.
And speaking of peace of mind, I explained to the lady where I felt the lump and she felt the area too. This is where years of experience come in, because not only did she find the lump, but she described the area better than I could, which made me comfortable that we were both focused on the same spot and that she would get good images of the area I was concerned about.
First, she went ahead and checked "lefty" and put me at ease by saying, no matter what they found, he was going to stick around because the lump was not affecting him at all. That was my main concern, I admire the "flatbaggers" because their journey is much more difficult with testosterone replacement therapy and other issues. I didn't want to go down that road. I did mention to her that last time, I could tell it was cancer, even though we had to wait for someone else to read the images, just by the look on her face. That was a mistake. She put on her best poker face this time, making sure I had no clue as to what she saw on that screen. Do NOT play cards with that woman!
Feeling confident that at least I would get to the bottom of things so to speak, I went home to wait for the news. Unfortunately that was Friday, so I had to wait through the weekend. Each night, scanxiety was a little worse, and I slept a little less. Finally, last night (night four), I think I slept for all of about an hour. My wife had enough. She told me to call the doctor. I told her I was going to wait, because they were supposed to call me. In my mind, if you call too much and irritate the doctor, they make the incisions twice as long, make you wait longer in the waiting room, or leave the blinds open during your screening. She said "OK", then went to work and called the doctor anyway! The good news is, apparently it's no big deal. She didn't find out what it was, because she just wanted to hear it wasn't cancer so that I would quit tossing and turning all night long.
So, what is the moral of the story? I don't freaking know anymore. How about, when in doubt check it out! Yeah, that works. But seriously, there are two reasons for checking out anything you find suspicious. First it could save your life (like it did the first time I noticed an odd lump) and second, you will be able to relax because you aren't worrying about it anymore. And remember the words my doctor said to me, that if you feel something, he wants to feel something.
Showing posts with label reproductive health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reproductive health. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Testicular Cancer Top 10....or I Am Not A Doctor, But You Are Still Going To Tell Me About Your Nuts...
In the breast cancer community, there are a lot of sources for finding information on how to do self exams, what treatment options are, and how to cope afterwards. And while there are certainly many sources of information and non profits for so called "men's cancers", we aren't as open about discussing them. It is ironic that the same ones that like to boast about being so well endowed that they make donkeys jealous are the same ones afraid to ask anyone how to do an exam. I am not real sure what the reason for the disparity between the sexes is. Maybe it's because breasts are right up front where you can see them and testicles are hidden, except in European bathing suits. Or maybe how the great masters would always view breasts as these perfectly formed pieces of art that they would spend days sculpting into marble, while at the same time, the artists would make a guys junk look like a wadded up piece of paper with some concrete slapped on it. At any rate, the public perception about the two are not the same.
After I went through my fight, and if you have read any of my posts you know that I have no shame in discussing what one experiences with testicular cancer, I cannot tell you how many times friends, colleagues, and random strangers have pulled me aside and asked, "How did you know?" I certainly don't mind answering that question. I can explain how I found mine and then I usually refer to a website like http://www.testicularcancersociety.org/testicular-self-exam.html to get a more clinical and better explained way to do exams. Then the feeling of dread comes over me, because I have been through this enough to know what is coming next. The person will then describe, in great wrinkly and hairy detail, why they are asking me that question. So far, they have always stopped short of actually showing me, and I would like to keep it that way. Let's face it, they are not a very attractive piece of anatomy. One of the few good things about having a nutectomy (orchiectomy, if you want to get technical), is there is one less of those ugly things that you have to look at in the shower, and bump into random stuff with...oh, and you can do your self exams in half the time.
So in the spirit of changing the stigma of testicular cancer and breaking the silence, I will post before and after pictures of my...OK, not really, but I will answer some of the questions here, that I normally get asked in a hushed voice in the corner of a crowded room, or outside around the corner out of ear shot of the smokers, or in late night phone calls with heavy breathing...OK, that person never actually says what they want, but always hangs up after I tell them to do a self exam.
1. How to do a self exam? There are several sources for how to do a self exam including the one from the Testicular Cancer Society I mentioned above. Some places even offer shower cards just like some breast cancer foundations do. There are two things to remember. First do exams consistently. You will notice something changing down there long before anyone else will. I don't care how often you go to the doctor or what odd pastimes you may have, you will still notice first if you do regular exams. And the earlier you catch it, the less it spreads to other parts of your body. Second, we all know about shrinkage, so the boys have to be warm to get a good exam. That is why it is generally suggested during a bath or shower, rather than right after taking the Polar Bear Plunge. After all, you want things loose to feel details, cancer starts small and grows, you don't want things cold and shriveled like trying to feel two acorns stuffed in a leather wallet.
2. What if I find something? It's probably nothing, but do you want to take that chance with your life? Go to a doctor to be sure. You would be amazed of the things that hang out with two nuts such as hydroceles, spermatoceles, cysts, drummers (sorry, musician joke), most of which don't hurt anything. In my case, harmless hydroceles were found, but the issue is they can mask cancer, so I was taught to do an illumination test, where basically shining a flashlight behind the boys GENERALLY causes the harmless stuff to glow and the bad things to be dark. However, let your doctor determine that for you. That is not always the case and if done wrong, you can have cancer growing for months without realizing it.
3. If it is cancer, will they take my ball(s)? Most likely yes. That is why you want to catch it early so you only lose one. But ultimately, what is the big deal? I assure you that in the almost four years since "rightie" was removed, no one has noticed. I get just as many compliments down there as I always have.
4. Will my testosterone levels drop with only one nut? Maybe, but probably only slightly. My doctor put it to me this way, if you lose one lung or donate a kidney it doesn't mean you are running on half power. Usually both don't work at full power anyway, so the remaining one just works a little harder than before. My testosterone numbers are well into the normal range.
5. Will my sperm count drop? See above. The fun part is with testosterone testing you give a blood sample, but with sperm count testing there is no needle but there are dirty magazines. Even if you drop in half, you will still more than likely have enough to get the job done or get you in trouble, however you view that situation. Just a word of caution, I don't think the girl downtown offering to check your sperm levels for $5 dollars has had any medical training whatsoever.
6. Will I be able to have kids? God I hope so, because I had one, so if you can't then someone has some explaining to do! Yes, either the natural way or with frozen guys.
7. What is the first thing I should do after being diagnosed? Ask all of your hot female friends if they want to say "goodbye". OK, obviously that is a joke and probably wouldn't even work. But I would call an organization like livestrong.org especially if you are interested in having kids. They can tell you about certain grants that will pay for collection and storage of frozen guys, but the catch on some of them is you have to apply BEFORE you go to get the collection done.
8. Can the cancer come back? Yes it could, but that is why you talk to an oncologist to see what your options are. I opted for chemo for the peace of mind of not having to worry as much about it returning. A few weeks of feeling sick was more attractive to me than a lifetime of worry.
9. Do they just slice open the bag and take out the groceries? No! They go in from around your waist so they can take all of the plumbing too, just in case it has started spreading. So you can show people your scar without being obscene...unless you want to.
10. Do you miss it or have any phantom pain like an amputee would? No, and the good thing is, say hypothetically, you have a two and a half year old that runs at you full speed with a plastic Mike the Knight sword, the chances that he will hit your tender spot have now been cut in half (although he still manages to get me on the tender side EVERY SINGLE TIME! I am throwing that damn sword in the trash!).
So there you have it. The top ten (legitimate) questions I get asked in whispers and darkened corners. If you have anymore (legitimate) questions I will answer them like I did here, based on my own experiences or direct you to a trusted source. I am in no way a doctor, and I in no way want to see pictures, diagrams, or even very accurate descriptions.
After I went through my fight, and if you have read any of my posts you know that I have no shame in discussing what one experiences with testicular cancer, I cannot tell you how many times friends, colleagues, and random strangers have pulled me aside and asked, "How did you know?" I certainly don't mind answering that question. I can explain how I found mine and then I usually refer to a website like http://www.testicularcancersociety.org/testicular-self-exam.html to get a more clinical and better explained way to do exams. Then the feeling of dread comes over me, because I have been through this enough to know what is coming next. The person will then describe, in great wrinkly and hairy detail, why they are asking me that question. So far, they have always stopped short of actually showing me, and I would like to keep it that way. Let's face it, they are not a very attractive piece of anatomy. One of the few good things about having a nutectomy (orchiectomy, if you want to get technical), is there is one less of those ugly things that you have to look at in the shower, and bump into random stuff with...oh, and you can do your self exams in half the time.
So in the spirit of changing the stigma of testicular cancer and breaking the silence, I will post before and after pictures of my...OK, not really, but I will answer some of the questions here, that I normally get asked in a hushed voice in the corner of a crowded room, or outside around the corner out of ear shot of the smokers, or in late night phone calls with heavy breathing...OK, that person never actually says what they want, but always hangs up after I tell them to do a self exam.
1. How to do a self exam? There are several sources for how to do a self exam including the one from the Testicular Cancer Society I mentioned above. Some places even offer shower cards just like some breast cancer foundations do. There are two things to remember. First do exams consistently. You will notice something changing down there long before anyone else will. I don't care how often you go to the doctor or what odd pastimes you may have, you will still notice first if you do regular exams. And the earlier you catch it, the less it spreads to other parts of your body. Second, we all know about shrinkage, so the boys have to be warm to get a good exam. That is why it is generally suggested during a bath or shower, rather than right after taking the Polar Bear Plunge. After all, you want things loose to feel details, cancer starts small and grows, you don't want things cold and shriveled like trying to feel two acorns stuffed in a leather wallet.
2. What if I find something? It's probably nothing, but do you want to take that chance with your life? Go to a doctor to be sure. You would be amazed of the things that hang out with two nuts such as hydroceles, spermatoceles, cysts, drummers (sorry, musician joke), most of which don't hurt anything. In my case, harmless hydroceles were found, but the issue is they can mask cancer, so I was taught to do an illumination test, where basically shining a flashlight behind the boys GENERALLY causes the harmless stuff to glow and the bad things to be dark. However, let your doctor determine that for you. That is not always the case and if done wrong, you can have cancer growing for months without realizing it.
3. If it is cancer, will they take my ball(s)? Most likely yes. That is why you want to catch it early so you only lose one. But ultimately, what is the big deal? I assure you that in the almost four years since "rightie" was removed, no one has noticed. I get just as many compliments down there as I always have.
4. Will my testosterone levels drop with only one nut? Maybe, but probably only slightly. My doctor put it to me this way, if you lose one lung or donate a kidney it doesn't mean you are running on half power. Usually both don't work at full power anyway, so the remaining one just works a little harder than before. My testosterone numbers are well into the normal range.
5. Will my sperm count drop? See above. The fun part is with testosterone testing you give a blood sample, but with sperm count testing there is no needle but there are dirty magazines. Even if you drop in half, you will still more than likely have enough to get the job done or get you in trouble, however you view that situation. Just a word of caution, I don't think the girl downtown offering to check your sperm levels for $5 dollars has had any medical training whatsoever.
6. Will I be able to have kids? God I hope so, because I had one, so if you can't then someone has some explaining to do! Yes, either the natural way or with frozen guys.
7. What is the first thing I should do after being diagnosed? Ask all of your hot female friends if they want to say "goodbye". OK, obviously that is a joke and probably wouldn't even work. But I would call an organization like livestrong.org especially if you are interested in having kids. They can tell you about certain grants that will pay for collection and storage of frozen guys, but the catch on some of them is you have to apply BEFORE you go to get the collection done.
8. Can the cancer come back? Yes it could, but that is why you talk to an oncologist to see what your options are. I opted for chemo for the peace of mind of not having to worry as much about it returning. A few weeks of feeling sick was more attractive to me than a lifetime of worry.
9. Do they just slice open the bag and take out the groceries? No! They go in from around your waist so they can take all of the plumbing too, just in case it has started spreading. So you can show people your scar without being obscene...unless you want to.
10. Do you miss it or have any phantom pain like an amputee would? No, and the good thing is, say hypothetically, you have a two and a half year old that runs at you full speed with a plastic Mike the Knight sword, the chances that he will hit your tender spot have now been cut in half (although he still manages to get me on the tender side EVERY SINGLE TIME! I am throwing that damn sword in the trash!).
So there you have it. The top ten (legitimate) questions I get asked in whispers and darkened corners. If you have anymore (legitimate) questions I will answer them like I did here, based on my own experiences or direct you to a trusted source. I am in no way a doctor, and I in no way want to see pictures, diagrams, or even very accurate descriptions.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Back To Normal Levels After Testicular Cancer
One of the things many people worry about as they undergo treatment for testicular cancer is how will this affect them afterwards? Well, I finally received my answer.
One thing I was worried about was testosterone levels. One of my nurse friends said it would be good to have lower testosterone levels because it would decrease my future cancer risks. However, commercials are constantly pointing out how my becoming a fat, lazy slob as I get older has nothing to do with me being a fat lazy slob, but low testosterone (that they would be able to fix). Feeling like I was in a "damned if I do..." position I asked my urologist about it. I was told that high testosterone doesn't increase the chance of prostate cancer, but it makes it grow faster if you do get it. And low testosterone may make you more inclined to be a fat, lazy slob, but it doesn't really cause any health problems on its own (being a fat, lazy slob does though). Worried that my levels would be half, he told me how most duplicated organs aren't working 100% all the time anyway. That is why people with one lung or kidney can still function, because the remaining one turns it up a little. After going through a bunch more explanation in doctor talk which I kinda blanked out on, we decided to test my testosterone and the results came back that I was at normal levels. So, I have to blame being a fat, lazy slob on something else...like the lack of global warming in my area making it too cold to go outside.
Recently, my wife went to her "female doctor" and somehow came home with an appointment for me! I get enough doctors' appointments scheduled on my own without having to do someone else's homework too. Anyway, I was told to go back to the Jerkatorium (official doctor lingo for a sperm bank) and see what my levels were, just in case we ever want to have another kid, which I am told we aren't having, but do this just in case we change our minds one day, which isn't up to me anyway, and it is always a woman's prerogative to change her mind so I should just keep my mouth shut...or something like that. I will spare you the details of the inner workings of the Jerkatorium, because I have previously written about that. But what I did find disturbing this time was the addition to the "library" of DVD "aids". While carefully pushing them around trying my best not to actually touch anything in there, (because after all I know what people do in that room because I was about to do it) I noticed most of the DVD cases were empty. I wish I could immediately decontaminate everything I am wearing as soon as I leave that room, so it certainly would never cross my mind that I should grab a integral part of the functioning of this room and bring it home with me. Ewww! Anyway, we will just fast forward to the results. That came back saying I was normal too! Not normal for a testicular cancer survivor, but normal for a normal person...assuming normal people go into a room, look at dirty magazines, leave their business on the counter, and occasionally steal DVDs.
So the moral of the story is, don't steal from the Jerkatorium because you DO know where that stuff has been....NOOO, that's not the moral of the story! The moral is, not only is testicular cancer a very survivable cancer, but you can regain your normal life back. You won't be half a man. You can still have normal levels of testosterone and swimmers, and even if your tests results don't come back normal, you can easily fix the testosterone levels, and if you froze your swimmers like I did before surgery, you can still have children or use it for disgusting pranks to put on YouTube and none of your friends will ever eat or drink anything at your house again.
And there are even some positives of being part of the One Nut Club! I will close with this Top 10 List:
Top 10 Benefits of Only Having One Testicle
10 You only have to manscape half as much (if you are a manscaper).
9 When you test your levels, you health insurance company is actually paying for you to look at porn!
8 You have more room in your underwear.
7 Not as much to get sweaty down there.
6 People are afraid to use the phrase "Don't go off half cocked" around you.
5 When it is really cold out you can say "I am freezing my ball off!"
4 When your toddler is flailing around like a twerking jellyfish, your chances of getting hit in the nuts just dropped by 50% (anecdotal evidence).
3 Your self exams are done in half the time. Don't forget to do them!
2 You can make the comment "I would give my right (or left) nut for ______" then you could offer to go get it from the surgeon.
1 When you wear Speedos you only have to worry about stuff slipping out on one side.
One thing I was worried about was testosterone levels. One of my nurse friends said it would be good to have lower testosterone levels because it would decrease my future cancer risks. However, commercials are constantly pointing out how my becoming a fat, lazy slob as I get older has nothing to do with me being a fat lazy slob, but low testosterone (that they would be able to fix). Feeling like I was in a "damned if I do..." position I asked my urologist about it. I was told that high testosterone doesn't increase the chance of prostate cancer, but it makes it grow faster if you do get it. And low testosterone may make you more inclined to be a fat, lazy slob, but it doesn't really cause any health problems on its own (being a fat, lazy slob does though). Worried that my levels would be half, he told me how most duplicated organs aren't working 100% all the time anyway. That is why people with one lung or kidney can still function, because the remaining one turns it up a little. After going through a bunch more explanation in doctor talk which I kinda blanked out on, we decided to test my testosterone and the results came back that I was at normal levels. So, I have to blame being a fat, lazy slob on something else...like the lack of global warming in my area making it too cold to go outside.
Recently, my wife went to her "female doctor" and somehow came home with an appointment for me! I get enough doctors' appointments scheduled on my own without having to do someone else's homework too. Anyway, I was told to go back to the Jerkatorium (official doctor lingo for a sperm bank) and see what my levels were, just in case we ever want to have another kid, which I am told we aren't having, but do this just in case we change our minds one day, which isn't up to me anyway, and it is always a woman's prerogative to change her mind so I should just keep my mouth shut...or something like that. I will spare you the details of the inner workings of the Jerkatorium, because I have previously written about that. But what I did find disturbing this time was the addition to the "library" of DVD "aids". While carefully pushing them around trying my best not to actually touch anything in there, (because after all I know what people do in that room because I was about to do it) I noticed most of the DVD cases were empty. I wish I could immediately decontaminate everything I am wearing as soon as I leave that room, so it certainly would never cross my mind that I should grab a integral part of the functioning of this room and bring it home with me. Ewww! Anyway, we will just fast forward to the results. That came back saying I was normal too! Not normal for a testicular cancer survivor, but normal for a normal person...assuming normal people go into a room, look at dirty magazines, leave their business on the counter, and occasionally steal DVDs.
So the moral of the story is, don't steal from the Jerkatorium because you DO know where that stuff has been....NOOO, that's not the moral of the story! The moral is, not only is testicular cancer a very survivable cancer, but you can regain your normal life back. You won't be half a man. You can still have normal levels of testosterone and swimmers, and even if your tests results don't come back normal, you can easily fix the testosterone levels, and if you froze your swimmers like I did before surgery, you can still have children or use it for disgusting pranks to put on YouTube and none of your friends will ever eat or drink anything at your house again.
And there are even some positives of being part of the One Nut Club! I will close with this Top 10 List:
Top 10 Benefits of Only Having One Testicle
10 You only have to manscape half as much (if you are a manscaper).
9 When you test your levels, you health insurance company is actually paying for you to look at porn!
8 You have more room in your underwear.
7 Not as much to get sweaty down there.
6 People are afraid to use the phrase "Don't go off half cocked" around you.
5 When it is really cold out you can say "I am freezing my ball off!"
4 When your toddler is flailing around like a twerking jellyfish, your chances of getting hit in the nuts just dropped by 50% (anecdotal evidence).
3 Your self exams are done in half the time. Don't forget to do them!
2 You can make the comment "I would give my right (or left) nut for ______" then you could offer to go get it from the surgeon.
1 When you wear Speedos you only have to worry about stuff slipping out on one side.
Friday, June 22, 2012
The Best Gift I Have Received Throws Up On Me...
When you are about to have your first child there are tons of tidbits of wisdom that people will tell you. I gladly listened to everything people told me making mental notes along the way. Having just made it six months with my new best friend, I feel I am becoming quite accustomed to this new life. Some of the things people told us were about the negative aspects of having a child. I think the big factor in this for us, is how badly we had wanted a child, how long we had been trying, and finally after the cancer/miscarriage/fertility treatments how much we went through before we were successful.
One thing we heard over and over again was how exhausted we would be. Now, I will admit we aren't as well rested as we were six months ago. I can't remember the last time we were able to just sleep in as long as we liked. But I certainly wouldn't call it "exhausted". One thing we have going for us, is our child has been an overnight sleeper since we brought him home from the hospital. I think the shortest he ever slept overnight was maybe four hours when he was first brought home. The other reason I don't think I am tired is I enjoy the time I get to spend with him. Think of something you really enjoyed, like for me going to Walt Disney World, for you it might be reading my blog...if it is something you really had fun doing, you get whatever sleep you can and do it again first chance you get.
The other very cliched comment is that you will never know how much love you will have for the baby. Waiting until forty-one to have my first child, trust me a lot of anticipation and love had built up. I love my little guy a lot, and that love started the day my wife walked out of the bathroom with a pee-soaked stick. What has surprised me is just how much I like being around him. Even from the beginning when all he was doing was laying there and messing diapers, I cherished every second with him. Now I will say this. He seems like a very happy baby and everyone tells us he is a happy baby. That certainly helps. Even when changing a diaper he looks up and smiles and either grabs my arm or if I am careless enough he will grab the clean diaper and play keep away with me, which is apparently very funny when you are six months old.
But then again everything seems to be funny to our six month old. A hand full of someone else's hair is freakin' hilarious! Rubbing bare feet on daddy's head or whiskers is also a great source of amusement. The phrase "peas and apples" is the greatest joke ever told, ranking right up there with "The Aristocrats". I have no idea why "peas and apples" induces uncontrollable laughter, but I think it's pretty obvious that he has his daddy's sophisticated sense of humor.
The other side is, I am probably one of those obsessive and over-protective parents. When you have gone through your own health scare you realize just how precious and fragile life is. Someone told us the other day that kids aren't that fragile at all, all three of theirs rolled off the bed at one point as babies. That led to a conversation after we left that person about how after the first roll off (or at the very least the second roll off) wouldn't you take precautions to prevent future roll offs? This person claimed there was no harm done...but there's one we think the jury is still out on.
I may have given my son his first real electric guitar this week as well (which means I did give him his first electric guitar). Now I know what you are thinking, "He's six months old, he can't play an electric guitar" and you are exactly right, that is why his is half the size of a normal one. And since it is difficult for him to strum and hold down the strings, I even brought out a thing that automatically moves the strings for him, so he can just focus on the fretboard for now. See, doesn't sound near as crazy now, does it?
What I am getting at, is this is the greatest gift I have ever been given. We waited a long time for him and went through a lot to get him. Even when during a diaper change he accidentally peed in his face, which literally scared the crap out of him, all I could do was clean him up and laugh. Being spit up on twice a day, doesn't bother me, I just add the clothes to the huge pile of other garments he finds creative ways to soil. In other words, even the bad times are some of the best times of my life, so you can imagine how great the good times are. And hopefully by next week we will be playing our guitars together...
One thing we heard over and over again was how exhausted we would be. Now, I will admit we aren't as well rested as we were six months ago. I can't remember the last time we were able to just sleep in as long as we liked. But I certainly wouldn't call it "exhausted". One thing we have going for us, is our child has been an overnight sleeper since we brought him home from the hospital. I think the shortest he ever slept overnight was maybe four hours when he was first brought home. The other reason I don't think I am tired is I enjoy the time I get to spend with him. Think of something you really enjoyed, like for me going to Walt Disney World, for you it might be reading my blog...if it is something you really had fun doing, you get whatever sleep you can and do it again first chance you get.
The other very cliched comment is that you will never know how much love you will have for the baby. Waiting until forty-one to have my first child, trust me a lot of anticipation and love had built up. I love my little guy a lot, and that love started the day my wife walked out of the bathroom with a pee-soaked stick. What has surprised me is just how much I like being around him. Even from the beginning when all he was doing was laying there and messing diapers, I cherished every second with him. Now I will say this. He seems like a very happy baby and everyone tells us he is a happy baby. That certainly helps. Even when changing a diaper he looks up and smiles and either grabs my arm or if I am careless enough he will grab the clean diaper and play keep away with me, which is apparently very funny when you are six months old.
But then again everything seems to be funny to our six month old. A hand full of someone else's hair is freakin' hilarious! Rubbing bare feet on daddy's head or whiskers is also a great source of amusement. The phrase "peas and apples" is the greatest joke ever told, ranking right up there with "The Aristocrats". I have no idea why "peas and apples" induces uncontrollable laughter, but I think it's pretty obvious that he has his daddy's sophisticated sense of humor.
The other side is, I am probably one of those obsessive and over-protective parents. When you have gone through your own health scare you realize just how precious and fragile life is. Someone told us the other day that kids aren't that fragile at all, all three of theirs rolled off the bed at one point as babies. That led to a conversation after we left that person about how after the first roll off (or at the very least the second roll off) wouldn't you take precautions to prevent future roll offs? This person claimed there was no harm done...but there's one we think the jury is still out on.
I may have given my son his first real electric guitar this week as well (which means I did give him his first electric guitar). Now I know what you are thinking, "He's six months old, he can't play an electric guitar" and you are exactly right, that is why his is half the size of a normal one. And since it is difficult for him to strum and hold down the strings, I even brought out a thing that automatically moves the strings for him, so he can just focus on the fretboard for now. See, doesn't sound near as crazy now, does it?
What I am getting at, is this is the greatest gift I have ever been given. We waited a long time for him and went through a lot to get him. Even when during a diaper change he accidentally peed in his face, which literally scared the crap out of him, all I could do was clean him up and laugh. Being spit up on twice a day, doesn't bother me, I just add the clothes to the huge pile of other garments he finds creative ways to soil. In other words, even the bad times are some of the best times of my life, so you can imagine how great the good times are. And hopefully by next week we will be playing our guitars together...
Monday, June 18, 2012
My First Father's Day
Well if you weren't able to guess already, we were able to get pregnant. The swimmers we had frozen before I had chemo apparently thawed out just fine. However, my "friends" (and I use that term rather loosely) were quick to point out that they could have given me any sample and I wouldn't know the difference until the baby comes out. After all, you go the the "bank" they give you just a regular insulated coffee mug with a little test tube inside with your name on it. It seems like for as much as we paid for me to look at their dirty magazines and practice a little self abuse, they would come up with something a little nicer than some cheap looking insulated coffee mug like you get at trade shows for free from vendors you never heard of.
We were actually visiting at my parents' house when we found out the swimmers reached their target. My parents were overjoyed, which is surprising because people normally have totally different reactions if somebody shoves a urine soaked stick in their face. It was at this point that it dawned on me that I don't know nothing about birthing no babies. The coming months were filled with me cramming my head with everything from how to change diapers to how every single thing your child touches, eats, sees, smells, and hears will do irreparable damage to it and make you a bad parent. So, I will admit, I am one of those parents who is double checking every little thing that comes near my child to make sure it has passed a thirty-four step inspection.
The other thing I didn't know about babies, was apparently you need approximately 43,560 square feet to hold all the items that your new baby will absolutely not be able to live without, use once, then outgrow, and need to be stored for any future babies. And while we are discussing things I didn't know, when you are buying stuff for a new baby, everything made previous to the point that you arrived at the cash register at the baby store, is very dangerous and should be burned and the ashes locked in a safe and the safe thrown in the ocean (safes are located in Aisle 4 and you don't want to get a used safe). Personally, I think the baby industry (and there is definitely a baby industry) and the Consumer Product Safety Commission get together twice a week to declare everything that babies had before now, is harmful and must not be used under any conditions. Which makes perfect sense, otherwise all those cribs, highchairs, and bottles we all grew up on, and apparently survived, would still be in use today, meaning we would not need to buy new ones. When you tell people you are going out to purchase said new products many older people (i.e. people that bought baby products last year) will say "you can just borrow mine" and you respond "they (whoever that is made up of) say that is unsafe now" and the response is "well it never hurt (insert name here)".
We went through all of the doctors' appointments where you listen to sounds that mimic a cow trotting through mud and pictures that look more like a black and white radar scan of an approaching cold front than any sort of mammal, but yet you still get choked up and excited. And then there is the time that you stare at the screen, trying to see if the jet stream is going to cause a Nor'Easter when the nurse looks at you and smiles and says that "jet stream" is actually a penis. Oh the feeling that goes through a future dad when he first sees his son's jet stream. Already I was thinking of all of the tools I would be buying him and all of the time we would spend working on cars together (although, that probably would have been the case if we were having a girl too).
I will admit, as the big day approached I got more scanxiety even if a scan wasn't imminent. I had waited so long for a child that I was so paranoid something bad would happen before I would be able to meet him. And let's face it, less than a year before, I had lost my job, got cancer, and we had a miscarriage in a matter of a couple of months, so I am not unfamiliar with bad luck. But after a lot of anxiousness and praying we finally were told to check into the hospital.
For anyone unfamiliar with labor, I will try to explain what happens. You rush to the hospital where your wife seems to be in a lot of pain and there is a lot going on, but on the outside nothing really seems to be happening. While all this is going on, every single person that is on your hospital floor will walk into your room, shove his or her hand underneath your wife's gown and loudly shout out a random measurement ("6 cm!", "80%!!", "10/6!", "less than 12 parsecs!!"). I think even the kid that delivered our food shouted out "THX1138!" before she left. All I know about these random numbers and measurements was the baby was still bigger than that. So, after close to a day of "labor" that only seemed to produce an exhausted wife and goop that I wasn't sure was pre-baby goop or left over lube from the constant measuring, the doctor gets down and looks like she is trying loosen an oil filter on a Honda and says,"Well, he's not going to fit, but you can still push for another hour if you want." Although I liked our doctors there, that has to be one of the dumbest statements I have ever heard in my life! As you can imagine, my wife was over the whole push-measure-push-lube-push-measure-measure-measure-push routine. So it was off to surgery.
I walk into the operating room after they had prepped my wife and I see her laid out on a table, tubes here and there, a curtain, and a line drawn across her stomach. The doctor said, "You can stand here on this side of the curtain as we cut or..." I don't remember anything after the "or" because I really didn't care what was on the other side of the curtain as long as I was on that side of it. I was even more glad I had chose that side after the procedure started. I don't know what they were doing on their side of the curtain, but on my side of the curtain my wife was being pushed and shoved around on the table like she was the little girl from the Exorcist (minus the head spinning around). Finally the shaking stopped and they walked around the side of the curtain with...a purple baby. The comments my "friends" made about switched samples are running through my head and I search my memory for any purple family members (although there was that one distant aunt...), but after a quick wipe down he became the most beautiful, non-purple baby I have ever seen. Any doubts of grabbing the wrong coffee mug at the sperm bank, were gone for good when one pediatrician at the hospital told us that our new baby was tongue-tied and this would lead to a lifetime of speech impediments, difficulty eating, crossed eyes, sloppy trumpet playing, inability to make friends, receding hairline...basically he was going to turn out like Quasimodo without the musical ability. This caused a huge smile on my wife's face and mine. Not because we wanted my son subjected to a lifetime of being a social pariah, but because I am tongue-tied and although sometimes I may have the problems the doctor foretold, it is not from being tongue-tied. It was like a little sign from God saying "See, now you know for sure he is your son."
In fact, I think every single part of that experience was a blessing. I used to think Father's Day was just another holiday where you give people stuff (or realize you forgot to buy stuff to give to people until the last minute). But today I have had to hide my emotions as I played with my son, thinking about how much happened to get him here and how hard I am going to fight to be around as he grows up. And one last thing on being a father after having testicular cancer/chemo, the procedures and processes involved in making this happen are very expensive. I had contacted Livestrong during our efforts and received a long list of organizations willing to help make our miracle happen, many of them offering their services for free. The earlier you contact these organizations the better, as many want to help from the very start. Luckily for us, we were able to have our miracle without needing to use these organizations. But, we are keeping all of the doctors' bills to show him anytime he asks for anything expensive.
We were actually visiting at my parents' house when we found out the swimmers reached their target. My parents were overjoyed, which is surprising because people normally have totally different reactions if somebody shoves a urine soaked stick in their face. It was at this point that it dawned on me that I don't know nothing about birthing no babies. The coming months were filled with me cramming my head with everything from how to change diapers to how every single thing your child touches, eats, sees, smells, and hears will do irreparable damage to it and make you a bad parent. So, I will admit, I am one of those parents who is double checking every little thing that comes near my child to make sure it has passed a thirty-four step inspection.
The other thing I didn't know about babies, was apparently you need approximately 43,560 square feet to hold all the items that your new baby will absolutely not be able to live without, use once, then outgrow, and need to be stored for any future babies. And while we are discussing things I didn't know, when you are buying stuff for a new baby, everything made previous to the point that you arrived at the cash register at the baby store, is very dangerous and should be burned and the ashes locked in a safe and the safe thrown in the ocean (safes are located in Aisle 4 and you don't want to get a used safe). Personally, I think the baby industry (and there is definitely a baby industry) and the Consumer Product Safety Commission get together twice a week to declare everything that babies had before now, is harmful and must not be used under any conditions. Which makes perfect sense, otherwise all those cribs, highchairs, and bottles we all grew up on, and apparently survived, would still be in use today, meaning we would not need to buy new ones. When you tell people you are going out to purchase said new products many older people (i.e. people that bought baby products last year) will say "you can just borrow mine" and you respond "they (whoever that is made up of) say that is unsafe now" and the response is "well it never hurt (insert name here)".
We went through all of the doctors' appointments where you listen to sounds that mimic a cow trotting through mud and pictures that look more like a black and white radar scan of an approaching cold front than any sort of mammal, but yet you still get choked up and excited. And then there is the time that you stare at the screen, trying to see if the jet stream is going to cause a Nor'Easter when the nurse looks at you and smiles and says that "jet stream" is actually a penis. Oh the feeling that goes through a future dad when he first sees his son's jet stream. Already I was thinking of all of the tools I would be buying him and all of the time we would spend working on cars together (although, that probably would have been the case if we were having a girl too).
I will admit, as the big day approached I got more scanxiety even if a scan wasn't imminent. I had waited so long for a child that I was so paranoid something bad would happen before I would be able to meet him. And let's face it, less than a year before, I had lost my job, got cancer, and we had a miscarriage in a matter of a couple of months, so I am not unfamiliar with bad luck. But after a lot of anxiousness and praying we finally were told to check into the hospital.
For anyone unfamiliar with labor, I will try to explain what happens. You rush to the hospital where your wife seems to be in a lot of pain and there is a lot going on, but on the outside nothing really seems to be happening. While all this is going on, every single person that is on your hospital floor will walk into your room, shove his or her hand underneath your wife's gown and loudly shout out a random measurement ("6 cm!", "80%!!", "10/6!", "less than 12 parsecs!!"). I think even the kid that delivered our food shouted out "THX1138!" before she left. All I know about these random numbers and measurements was the baby was still bigger than that. So, after close to a day of "labor" that only seemed to produce an exhausted wife and goop that I wasn't sure was pre-baby goop or left over lube from the constant measuring, the doctor gets down and looks like she is trying loosen an oil filter on a Honda and says,"Well, he's not going to fit, but you can still push for another hour if you want." Although I liked our doctors there, that has to be one of the dumbest statements I have ever heard in my life! As you can imagine, my wife was over the whole push-measure-push-lube-push-measure-measure-measure-push routine. So it was off to surgery.
I walk into the operating room after they had prepped my wife and I see her laid out on a table, tubes here and there, a curtain, and a line drawn across her stomach. The doctor said, "You can stand here on this side of the curtain as we cut or..." I don't remember anything after the "or" because I really didn't care what was on the other side of the curtain as long as I was on that side of it. I was even more glad I had chose that side after the procedure started. I don't know what they were doing on their side of the curtain, but on my side of the curtain my wife was being pushed and shoved around on the table like she was the little girl from the Exorcist (minus the head spinning around). Finally the shaking stopped and they walked around the side of the curtain with...a purple baby. The comments my "friends" made about switched samples are running through my head and I search my memory for any purple family members (although there was that one distant aunt...), but after a quick wipe down he became the most beautiful, non-purple baby I have ever seen. Any doubts of grabbing the wrong coffee mug at the sperm bank, were gone for good when one pediatrician at the hospital told us that our new baby was tongue-tied and this would lead to a lifetime of speech impediments, difficulty eating, crossed eyes, sloppy trumpet playing, inability to make friends, receding hairline...basically he was going to turn out like Quasimodo without the musical ability. This caused a huge smile on my wife's face and mine. Not because we wanted my son subjected to a lifetime of being a social pariah, but because I am tongue-tied and although sometimes I may have the problems the doctor foretold, it is not from being tongue-tied. It was like a little sign from God saying "See, now you know for sure he is your son."
In fact, I think every single part of that experience was a blessing. I used to think Father's Day was just another holiday where you give people stuff (or realize you forgot to buy stuff to give to people until the last minute). But today I have had to hide my emotions as I played with my son, thinking about how much happened to get him here and how hard I am going to fight to be around as he grows up. And one last thing on being a father after having testicular cancer/chemo, the procedures and processes involved in making this happen are very expensive. I had contacted Livestrong during our efforts and received a long list of organizations willing to help make our miracle happen, many of them offering their services for free. The earlier you contact these organizations the better, as many want to help from the very start. Luckily for us, we were able to have our miracle without needing to use these organizations. But, we are keeping all of the doctors' bills to show him anytime he asks for anything expensive.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
(Creating) Life after Testicular Cancer.
I know I was supposed to write this last week, but by then end of today's post you will understand why I am not always able to post when I want. As I have mentioned in the past, I was laid off from work exactly two weeks when I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Two life changing events that came back to back. What only my very closest friends know what there was actually a third event that happened right after that.
We had been wanting to start a family for a while, and were actively trying for around a year. A few days before I started chemo we found out that we were pregnant. It seemed like the typical feel good story, boy loses job, boy loses ball, but before he lost that nut boy and girl get pregnant. There was a whirlwind of emotions, it was something we desperately wanted, but the timing couldn't be worse. Chemo works by being a very nasty drug that is easily absorbed by anything that grows quickly in the human body, like cancer cells, hair, taste buds, and unfortunately babies. Because of this the first week I had to take tons of precautions around my wife making sure that she did not come into any contact with anything that may have the chemo in it. Even using the bathroom involved closing the lid, covering the lid with a heavy towel, and flushing the toilet twice. I never realized how long it takes a toilet to flush until I had to stand, weakened from chemo, waiting for it to finish flushing twice so I could remove the towel and go back to my normal routine.
After we went through all of this trouble, we lost the baby. It was very early in the pregnancy, and to say we were stressed during this time would be an understatement. What we found out after this was the staggering percentage of first time pregnancies that end in miscarriage, however that didn't make us feel any better. It was a third blow to us in less than two months. It was the ray of hope we had been focused on through chemo. Of course many things ran through my mind, like was it my fault for missing a chemo precaution and maybe I should have postponed my treatment.
The next few weeks were a mass of confusing information. Some people say to try again right away, others say wait. Some doctors say don't try so soon after chemo, others say it is fine the swimmers either die from the chemo or are not affected. My urologist said to just give up for at least six months, but my oncologist urged us to see a fertility specialist because we "needed something good in our lives". And he was right.
The first thing a fertility specialist tries to determine is which partner is causing the trouble. This makes tons of sense, I mean treat the person with the problem(s), right? So, my poor wife goes through a series of tests that look like the set of a alien abduction movie. I still have nightmares about some other the stainless steel contraptions I saw. I also had to go through a series of grueling tests that involved me going into a room, and being provided with dirty magazines, dirty movies, and a cup. It was horrible for me, mainly because I had already read all of the magazines when we "banked" some samples before my surgery.
So after my wife goes through her series of probings and shots, and I watch a few movies, we find out that...surprise surprise the problem looks like it is with the guy with the testicular cancer and chemo. Who would've guessed? The doc was very supportive and said with very little intervention, we could use my frozen stuff and probably be successful. No nasty chemicals, no danger of having "Plus 8" after our names or being chased by reality TV producers, for the most part things are pretty normal...except one.
This technique required me to give my wife a shot in her gluteus maximus the night before the procedure. Our doctor was very supportive and involved so they even drew and "X" on the targeted butt cheek to show the exact spot that the injection needs to be placed. Well, the first round didn't work, so when went for the second try the next month, I asked the nurse if instead of an "X" if she could draw a happy face so I could "jab it between the eyes with the needle". See, these are the kinds of suggestions that would normally get you thrown out of your wife's doctor's appointments, but in our case the nurse drew the happy face. This seems all very funny at the doctor's office, but it results in uncontrolled giggling when you are sitting there with a giant needle getting reading to lance a happy face on your wife's posterior. For some reason, my bent over wife did not see the humor in the situation which only resulted in even more uncontrolled giggling from me. Luckily, we did not have to try it a third time because my wife said she was working on a few ideas of what she was going to have the nurse write on her butt to greet me the next round.
So, I will leave on this cliffhanger, did we get pregnant, did we have a baby, is the baby keeping me from blogging as regularly as I would like? I think you know the answer, but I will talk about it more tomorrow.
We had been wanting to start a family for a while, and were actively trying for around a year. A few days before I started chemo we found out that we were pregnant. It seemed like the typical feel good story, boy loses job, boy loses ball, but before he lost that nut boy and girl get pregnant. There was a whirlwind of emotions, it was something we desperately wanted, but the timing couldn't be worse. Chemo works by being a very nasty drug that is easily absorbed by anything that grows quickly in the human body, like cancer cells, hair, taste buds, and unfortunately babies. Because of this the first week I had to take tons of precautions around my wife making sure that she did not come into any contact with anything that may have the chemo in it. Even using the bathroom involved closing the lid, covering the lid with a heavy towel, and flushing the toilet twice. I never realized how long it takes a toilet to flush until I had to stand, weakened from chemo, waiting for it to finish flushing twice so I could remove the towel and go back to my normal routine.
After we went through all of this trouble, we lost the baby. It was very early in the pregnancy, and to say we were stressed during this time would be an understatement. What we found out after this was the staggering percentage of first time pregnancies that end in miscarriage, however that didn't make us feel any better. It was a third blow to us in less than two months. It was the ray of hope we had been focused on through chemo. Of course many things ran through my mind, like was it my fault for missing a chemo precaution and maybe I should have postponed my treatment.
The next few weeks were a mass of confusing information. Some people say to try again right away, others say wait. Some doctors say don't try so soon after chemo, others say it is fine the swimmers either die from the chemo or are not affected. My urologist said to just give up for at least six months, but my oncologist urged us to see a fertility specialist because we "needed something good in our lives". And he was right.
The first thing a fertility specialist tries to determine is which partner is causing the trouble. This makes tons of sense, I mean treat the person with the problem(s), right? So, my poor wife goes through a series of tests that look like the set of a alien abduction movie. I still have nightmares about some other the stainless steel contraptions I saw. I also had to go through a series of grueling tests that involved me going into a room, and being provided with dirty magazines, dirty movies, and a cup. It was horrible for me, mainly because I had already read all of the magazines when we "banked" some samples before my surgery.
So after my wife goes through her series of probings and shots, and I watch a few movies, we find out that...surprise surprise the problem looks like it is with the guy with the testicular cancer and chemo. Who would've guessed? The doc was very supportive and said with very little intervention, we could use my frozen stuff and probably be successful. No nasty chemicals, no danger of having "Plus 8" after our names or being chased by reality TV producers, for the most part things are pretty normal...except one.
This technique required me to give my wife a shot in her gluteus maximus the night before the procedure. Our doctor was very supportive and involved so they even drew and "X" on the targeted butt cheek to show the exact spot that the injection needs to be placed. Well, the first round didn't work, so when went for the second try the next month, I asked the nurse if instead of an "X" if she could draw a happy face so I could "jab it between the eyes with the needle". See, these are the kinds of suggestions that would normally get you thrown out of your wife's doctor's appointments, but in our case the nurse drew the happy face. This seems all very funny at the doctor's office, but it results in uncontrolled giggling when you are sitting there with a giant needle getting reading to lance a happy face on your wife's posterior. For some reason, my bent over wife did not see the humor in the situation which only resulted in even more uncontrolled giggling from me. Luckily, we did not have to try it a third time because my wife said she was working on a few ideas of what she was going to have the nurse write on her butt to greet me the next round.
So, I will leave on this cliffhanger, did we get pregnant, did we have a baby, is the baby keeping me from blogging as regularly as I would like? I think you know the answer, but I will talk about it more tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Hmmmm....Livestrong Does More Than Make Bracelets
As we wait for my "junk" to wake up after chemo (or what's left of it after surgery), our doctor has mentioned all the possibilities we have for getting pregnant. Many of those possibilities cost a lot of money.
Before my cancer support group the other day, another woman and myself were both sporting our Livestrong bracelets, and talking about upcoming Livestrong events before the meeting started. This lead into a conversation about Lance Armstrong and the Tour de France. After the meeting started, when it was my turn to discuss things with the group, I asked if anyone knew of any foundations that would help pay for fertility treatments for testicular cancer patients. Then someone asked me something so obvious, I felt absolutely stupid for not thinking of it myself. She said, "Have you called Livestrong?" I hadn't. I hadn't thought to call the foundation started by a guy who had testicular cancer and had fertility problems and successfully fathered children since his treatment. Why would I think to call that guy?!?! Did I mention I felt stupid?
So, first thing the next day I called Livestrong and talked to a really nice young lady who sounded like she was about twelve years old. I am hoping she was twelve years old, because she gave me names of several places that offer help for people in my situation, and all those names were wrong, and if she were twelve I could say "she got the names wrong, but she's only twelve, what do you expect?" HOWEVER, they were just barely wrong, so I was able to type them into Livestrong's website and get the correct names for the foundations I was looking for. Now back to the twelve year old, I am pretty sure she wasn't twelve (unless Texas doesn't have child labor laws), but nevertheless, do you realize how awkward it is talking about testicular cancer and fertility issues to someone on the phone that sounds like a twelve year old girl? I expected Chris Hansen to get on the phone about halfway through the conversation and ask me what I was doing.
So, after figuring out the correct foundations, I started researching them. Some of them had requirements that I qualified for and others I didn't qualify for. One in particular I think was all talk. They would pay for everything provided you filled out your application after getting diagnosed and prior to any treatment and you had to wait until you heard back from them before you proceeded, but then they would pay for everything! Of course they will pay for everything, because they know there is absolutely no chance anyone will do that. Your mind is going a million miles an hour once you have been diagnosed, the last thing you are thinking of is looking up foundations and filling out applications. Here is a timeline, I got preliminarily diagnosed on a Tuesday, confirmed that Friday, was told to immediately go make a "deposit" at the "bank" followed by another on that Monday, and have my surgery Thursday. That left literally a two hour window between my official diagnosis (which you need for the application) and the deposit to fill out the application, send it off, and wait for a reply. Yeah, I am sure they give out tons of cash. (That is sarcasm by the way.) But I am also sure that company is telling everyone about this great program they have.
One of the more promising leads is a hospital. that I am all too familiar with, will do in vitro for free (if it comes to that) for testicular cancer patients in my situation (poor). They have very little requirements, like you have to make less that $75,000, which I just barely squeaked under that requirement by about $70,000. I love this hospital and would be happy to work with them, although admittedly, most of the time I am there I am on my back and unconscious. But from what I remember about my visits there, they are good.
A question that frequently comes up when I mention in vitro is "Does that mean you guys will be like the Octomom?" In our doctor's conversations about in vitro, not once has she mentioned the word "litter". I don't think I need a bunch of kids at once, because not being a sports person I am not trying to make a "team". Although being a fan of music, a power trio might be nice. We are still hopeful though that the other tricks our doctor is having us do will work, including my junk working right again at some point.
So as we approach another set of fertility appointments, I am getting anxious to hear what the next step will be. Do you remember the old flea circuses on cartoons and stuff? I feel like my swimmers are having to do a sperm circus, because they are constantly washing them and counting them and freezing them and thawing them and who knows what else. All I know, is the toughest thing I have had to do so far is look at dirty magazines. Wait until we have a kid and I tell them all the hardships I went through to create them. I am sure they will want to hear it.
Before my cancer support group the other day, another woman and myself were both sporting our Livestrong bracelets, and talking about upcoming Livestrong events before the meeting started. This lead into a conversation about Lance Armstrong and the Tour de France. After the meeting started, when it was my turn to discuss things with the group, I asked if anyone knew of any foundations that would help pay for fertility treatments for testicular cancer patients. Then someone asked me something so obvious, I felt absolutely stupid for not thinking of it myself. She said, "Have you called Livestrong?" I hadn't. I hadn't thought to call the foundation started by a guy who had testicular cancer and had fertility problems and successfully fathered children since his treatment. Why would I think to call that guy?!?! Did I mention I felt stupid?
So, first thing the next day I called Livestrong and talked to a really nice young lady who sounded like she was about twelve years old. I am hoping she was twelve years old, because she gave me names of several places that offer help for people in my situation, and all those names were wrong, and if she were twelve I could say "she got the names wrong, but she's only twelve, what do you expect?" HOWEVER, they were just barely wrong, so I was able to type them into Livestrong's website and get the correct names for the foundations I was looking for. Now back to the twelve year old, I am pretty sure she wasn't twelve (unless Texas doesn't have child labor laws), but nevertheless, do you realize how awkward it is talking about testicular cancer and fertility issues to someone on the phone that sounds like a twelve year old girl? I expected Chris Hansen to get on the phone about halfway through the conversation and ask me what I was doing.
So, after figuring out the correct foundations, I started researching them. Some of them had requirements that I qualified for and others I didn't qualify for. One in particular I think was all talk. They would pay for everything provided you filled out your application after getting diagnosed and prior to any treatment and you had to wait until you heard back from them before you proceeded, but then they would pay for everything! Of course they will pay for everything, because they know there is absolutely no chance anyone will do that. Your mind is going a million miles an hour once you have been diagnosed, the last thing you are thinking of is looking up foundations and filling out applications. Here is a timeline, I got preliminarily diagnosed on a Tuesday, confirmed that Friday, was told to immediately go make a "deposit" at the "bank" followed by another on that Monday, and have my surgery Thursday. That left literally a two hour window between my official diagnosis (which you need for the application) and the deposit to fill out the application, send it off, and wait for a reply. Yeah, I am sure they give out tons of cash. (That is sarcasm by the way.) But I am also sure that company is telling everyone about this great program they have.
One of the more promising leads is a hospital. that I am all too familiar with, will do in vitro for free (if it comes to that) for testicular cancer patients in my situation (poor). They have very little requirements, like you have to make less that $75,000, which I just barely squeaked under that requirement by about $70,000. I love this hospital and would be happy to work with them, although admittedly, most of the time I am there I am on my back and unconscious. But from what I remember about my visits there, they are good.
A question that frequently comes up when I mention in vitro is "Does that mean you guys will be like the Octomom?" In our doctor's conversations about in vitro, not once has she mentioned the word "litter". I don't think I need a bunch of kids at once, because not being a sports person I am not trying to make a "team". Although being a fan of music, a power trio might be nice. We are still hopeful though that the other tricks our doctor is having us do will work, including my junk working right again at some point.
So as we approach another set of fertility appointments, I am getting anxious to hear what the next step will be. Do you remember the old flea circuses on cartoons and stuff? I feel like my swimmers are having to do a sperm circus, because they are constantly washing them and counting them and freezing them and thawing them and who knows what else. All I know, is the toughest thing I have had to do so far is look at dirty magazines. Wait until we have a kid and I tell them all the hardships I went through to create them. I am sure they will want to hear it.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Is There A Jaco Or A Gretsch In My Future?
As a survivor of testicular cancer, there is a reality I must consider. My junk isn't shooting out the same quality and quantity that it has in the past. Before you leave this page, I will start off by saying this entry does not focus on my junk or its production value. But it is for this reason that my oncologist suggested we see a fertility specialist. He made that comment for two reasons. One, I already mentioned and two, he said that we "need some good news in our lives".
So, we have spent the past two weeks at many doctors' appointments, all of them resulting in the good doctor getting to know my wife in very intimate ways. Each violation is followed by me comparing each examination or test to one of my gastro-intestinal procedures and proclaiming that my tests are much worse (something I will continue to maintain as long as I am male...or at least half male). The ironic part of all of this, is my wife experiences all these doctors' appointments just to be told, that I am probably the issue here. That was kind of a no brainer that the guy with one nut and fresh off chemo wasn't shooting the best quality. But, we have a great doctor and she is confident that we will get pregnant no matter what the cost. We on the other hand are confident that we will get pregnant for under five figures, after that...well, we don't know. I have already asked the billing person at the doctor's office to give us the bills so we can show our little bundle of joy why they are not getting a new car when they turn sixteen and why they will be going to a state university...provided that state university is not a Big Ten university in this state.
The latest foray into the world of fertility involved various medications and injections all experienced by someone that is not me. Something again that I find ironic since I am the problem. It even involved me giving my wife a shot, which for some sadistic reason that I cannot explain, I enjoyed way too much. I will give my wife credit though. If this latest bag of medical tricks worked, that would put our due date right around...Jaco Pastorius' birthday. When my wife pointed that out to me, I reminded her that whatever day our child was born would be Jaco's birthday, because that will be our first born's name. For our kid's sake, I hope it won't be a girl, because Jaco will be an awkward name for a girl.
The doctor explained that the stuff we are doing right now should work, but should the chemo not release its hold on my remaining junk, we would have to switch to a much more expensive option. That led to a conversation in the car. The last resort option the doctor mentioned is a very expensive option, very very expensive. My wife asked what we planned to do if it came down to that as our last option. I said I planned to buy a Brian Setzer Gretsch and order a custom made Paul Reed Smith.
Once, when asked why we didn't have kids yet, my wife made the comment that we were too busy buying ourselves toys to buy toys for a kid. And she was basically correct. I have already accepted that fact that whenever we do get pregnant, my toy buying days for myself will be over for at least twenty years or so. If it comes down to shelling out a possible five figures for the down payment on a kid...then the twenty years worth of raising them...I may just stick to buying myself toys. I now understand why when going to carshows with my buddy, who has three grown children, he points to cars and says "that was my first born" and "that was my second born". I guess he didn't go the same route we did, but what I don't understand is why he points out much more than three cars...good Lord do they really cost that much?
The first time I saw a Setzer Gretsch it was like I was looking through one of those fuzzy filter thingys the movies use. When I saw the price tag, things got even fuzzier. So it has always been a dream instrument of mine. And I received my dream Paul Reed Smith from my family for Christmas this year. A guitar I am absolutely in love with (it's hard to imagine loving anything that much, even a kid). Guitars can have different tones with different shapes, different thicknesses, different electronics, etc. The PRS I was given is a model that is unique to the rest of the PRS line. Eventually I would like to own another nice PRS, but the features I love about my PRS, are not available on any other model, which means I would have to have one special made if I do decide to get another one. And since Paul Reed Smith guitars are ridiculously expensive to begin with, I can only imagine the cost of a custom made one, but yet somehow I think it is still less than the cost of our last ditch procedure should we come to that decision.
However, I don't think it will come down to that decision. Hopefully what we have done already will work, and even if we didn't, we still try that for a year or so, and by then hopefully I will be over the toxic shock from the chemotherapy. I place it all in God's hands. If He wants me to have a kid, I guess He will give us a child. If He wants me to have two guitars, well...I guess the issue I haven't addressed is that if we don't have the big money for the last ditch procedure, then we probably don't have money for expensive guitars either. Maybe I could just win the lottery, then I could afford both...but still not a private school for the kid.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Oncologists Do Care About Swimmers Sometimes
As I have mentioned earlier, the thing that has been bothering me lately is my questionable swimmers. At one point I was told they were normal at another point I was told they were abnormal. Giving someone hope then recalling that hope is worse than not giving the hope in the first place. At least that is how I feel about it.
Last week I had a heart to heart with my oncologist and told him how much it was bothering me and that I didn't feel like waiting around until May to check the swimmers again as my urologist/surgeon had suggested. My oncologist was in a hurry and didn't really seem to be very interested in the conversation, but he said he agreed with me, made some suggestions and sent me on my way. I assumed that was the end of it.
Then this week my oncologist called while I was gone. The first reason I like my oncologist is that he didn't wait until I was home and leave some cryptic message, he talked to my wife and gave her information he knew I wanted to know. I am sure he broke fifteen or twenty "rules" about divulging medical information, but as the patient, I appreciate it. My wife has been to just about every oncologist appointment with me, and oncologists' calls are usually pretty important. One doesn't generally want to wait until the "next business day" to start playing phone tag.
The information he gave was my lab results saying that my "tumor markers" came back good. I have no idea what the heck "tumor markers" are, but if he is happy about them I am too. Whoopee tumor markers! What really impressed me though is that the subject I thought he was blowing off, he actually cared about and thought about after the appointment. He said he consulted some colleagues and they agreed that May seemed like a long time to wait to see if my swimmers could go in the deep end when they should be back to the pre-chemo ways much sooner than that.
What is really cool, is that my oncologist came up with a way to not offend my urologist, by simply not telling him I was doing any of this. He suggested we go to a "fertility specialist" that will have me tested right away. I mention this to my cancer support group, where there has been another individual in a similar position. Somehow during the conversation I mention that wives are not allowed in the room during the "testing" to which they replied that they got to "test" as a couple. I feel cheated! I mean the first few times were fine being alone. After all I had a lot of reading material to look through, but now that I have seen all of those sticky pages, I wouldn't mind going through the test without having to touch something that cracked when you turned the pages.
All of this has put me in a much better mood than I have been during the scanxiety. I have a plan again, and hopefully will gain some good news or at least have a good game plan mapped out. If nothing else, I get to watch some "documentaries" again.
Last week I had a heart to heart with my oncologist and told him how much it was bothering me and that I didn't feel like waiting around until May to check the swimmers again as my urologist/surgeon had suggested. My oncologist was in a hurry and didn't really seem to be very interested in the conversation, but he said he agreed with me, made some suggestions and sent me on my way. I assumed that was the end of it.
Then this week my oncologist called while I was gone. The first reason I like my oncologist is that he didn't wait until I was home and leave some cryptic message, he talked to my wife and gave her information he knew I wanted to know. I am sure he broke fifteen or twenty "rules" about divulging medical information, but as the patient, I appreciate it. My wife has been to just about every oncologist appointment with me, and oncologists' calls are usually pretty important. One doesn't generally want to wait until the "next business day" to start playing phone tag.
The information he gave was my lab results saying that my "tumor markers" came back good. I have no idea what the heck "tumor markers" are, but if he is happy about them I am too. Whoopee tumor markers! What really impressed me though is that the subject I thought he was blowing off, he actually cared about and thought about after the appointment. He said he consulted some colleagues and they agreed that May seemed like a long time to wait to see if my swimmers could go in the deep end when they should be back to the pre-chemo ways much sooner than that.
What is really cool, is that my oncologist came up with a way to not offend my urologist, by simply not telling him I was doing any of this. He suggested we go to a "fertility specialist" that will have me tested right away. I mention this to my cancer support group, where there has been another individual in a similar position. Somehow during the conversation I mention that wives are not allowed in the room during the "testing" to which they replied that they got to "test" as a couple. I feel cheated! I mean the first few times were fine being alone. After all I had a lot of reading material to look through, but now that I have seen all of those sticky pages, I wouldn't mind going through the test without having to touch something that cracked when you turned the pages.
All of this has put me in a much better mood than I have been during the scanxiety. I have a plan again, and hopefully will gain some good news or at least have a good game plan mapped out. If nothing else, I get to watch some "documentaries" again.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The First Three Month Cancer Results Are In!
I took an unwanted break from writing mainly because I couldn't focus long enough to write. Between the doctors' appointments last week and the appointment yesterday, I was thinking about results, questions, possibilities, outcomes, etc.
The good news is that my results from my first three month cancer check-up were clear! I didn't really expect any result other than that, but no matter how much I try to tell myself everything is going to be fine, it is kind of hard to convince myself completely. After all, I didn't expect to find cancer in the first place. But that is behind me, and I have three months before I start worrying again.
I was more anxious to talk to the oncologist about my swimmers though. Although I trust my urologist, I feel like he was a little rash when he told me to basically forget about any baby making for another six months. I have been anxious to get back to baby making, and not just because of the fun involved in mixing the ingredients. There are several reasons, but I think there is a part of me that feels like I will be moving past all of this cancer crap once the baby stuff gets back on track.
My tests revealed that my swimmers weren't the strong swimmers we initially thought. I suspect part of that is my fault for getting tested as soon as they said I could. In my haste to move on with my life, I ran to the spankatorium to find out if we could start again. I wonder if I would have waited a few more days if the problem swimmers would have completely left the pool. That is where I differ with my urologist. His idea is to just do another test in May. Well, my first problem with that is that I don't know that we have to wait the full time frame to see if I rushed things the first time. My second problem is that his math was way off! The amount of days he said we should wait would have landed me somewhere in March, but then he said May.
There is a part of me that is a little embarrassed about all of this too. I don't want to become a regular at the jerknasium. I walk in and they tell me they have my favorite magazines laid out for me already and the video is cued up to where I stopped it last time. But I want to know when the games can start again. I don't care if I have to go in there a thousand times, I want to know exactly when it is safe to start again (although admittedly after a thousand times I may be a little chafed).
I had a heart to heart with my oncologist about this yesterday and he kind of agrees with me that the sooner the better. I asked him how to keep from offending my urologist and he said to not even go through him. He suggested working through my wife's doctor to order the test since she is the one I am trying to impregnate (my wife, not the doctor). He called this plan the "backdoor way" of getting my tests done. I go out to the car, excited about my oncologist's idea, and as soon as I said the words "backdoor way" in relation to getting pregnant, I was immediately vetoed. However, once she heard what the "backdoor way" was and that it had nothing to do with the plan that was conjured up in her mind by those words, she was more receptive to it (figuratively and literally).
So, that is where I am currently at as far as getting cancer behind me. I am clean. I don't plan on getting recancered anytime soon. I just want to be that One Nut Wonder. Now off to the Backdoor Cave and make a call with the Back Phone, to put the Back Plan in action.
The good news is that my results from my first three month cancer check-up were clear! I didn't really expect any result other than that, but no matter how much I try to tell myself everything is going to be fine, it is kind of hard to convince myself completely. After all, I didn't expect to find cancer in the first place. But that is behind me, and I have three months before I start worrying again.
I was more anxious to talk to the oncologist about my swimmers though. Although I trust my urologist, I feel like he was a little rash when he told me to basically forget about any baby making for another six months. I have been anxious to get back to baby making, and not just because of the fun involved in mixing the ingredients. There are several reasons, but I think there is a part of me that feels like I will be moving past all of this cancer crap once the baby stuff gets back on track.
My tests revealed that my swimmers weren't the strong swimmers we initially thought. I suspect part of that is my fault for getting tested as soon as they said I could. In my haste to move on with my life, I ran to the spankatorium to find out if we could start again. I wonder if I would have waited a few more days if the problem swimmers would have completely left the pool. That is where I differ with my urologist. His idea is to just do another test in May. Well, my first problem with that is that I don't know that we have to wait the full time frame to see if I rushed things the first time. My second problem is that his math was way off! The amount of days he said we should wait would have landed me somewhere in March, but then he said May.
There is a part of me that is a little embarrassed about all of this too. I don't want to become a regular at the jerknasium. I walk in and they tell me they have my favorite magazines laid out for me already and the video is cued up to where I stopped it last time. But I want to know when the games can start again. I don't care if I have to go in there a thousand times, I want to know exactly when it is safe to start again (although admittedly after a thousand times I may be a little chafed).
I had a heart to heart with my oncologist about this yesterday and he kind of agrees with me that the sooner the better. I asked him how to keep from offending my urologist and he said to not even go through him. He suggested working through my wife's doctor to order the test since she is the one I am trying to impregnate (my wife, not the doctor). He called this plan the "backdoor way" of getting my tests done. I go out to the car, excited about my oncologist's idea, and as soon as I said the words "backdoor way" in relation to getting pregnant, I was immediately vetoed. However, once she heard what the "backdoor way" was and that it had nothing to do with the plan that was conjured up in her mind by those words, she was more receptive to it (figuratively and literally).
So, that is where I am currently at as far as getting cancer behind me. I am clean. I don't plan on getting recancered anytime soon. I just want to be that One Nut Wonder. Now off to the Backdoor Cave and make a call with the Back Phone, to put the Back Plan in action.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Fears Subsided But Validated
I met a friend for lunch today. She is a fairly good friend and she asked how my appointments went yesterday. I told her about how the nurse mistakenly told me my swimmers were OK and how my wife and I thought it was OK to start trying for baby again and her face went pale. Luckily (?) we are not preggers right now, so I don't have to worry about any damage done from my chemo cooked swimmers. But her reaction today showed me that maybe I wasn't over reacting yesterday. It is one thing if God gives you a special needs child, it is another thing to do something that caused your child to be a special needs child. That is why most of us don't smoke, drink, do drugs, bungi jump, work in nuclear power plants, or watch Jersey Shore while pregnant. I can't imagine the amount of guilt I would have had if we had a child that was born facing challenges their whole life because of something I had done, i.e. chemo side effects (knowingly or unknowingly). So, I am feeling a little better about that issue today.
Other bad news I almost got was that our dear rescue basenji darted out the front door when a delivery driver came to drop off a package. My wife and I were both gone at the time so it had the potential to be a very bad situation. Luckily it was very cold and snowy yesterday so she ran all the way from the front door to the back door to be let back in. She made it back there before my mother-in-law could even put on her coat to go chase after her. I guess it is a good thing that African dogs don't have much fur, otherwise she may have tried to stay out longer.
Daisy the abused and neglected basenji paid me back this morning for her little excursion by eating part of a stuff toy causing the stuff toy to re-emerge while I was trying to sleep...three different times. The mistake I made was telling my wife and mother-in-law about it. To understand why that was a mistake I will run through my first waking moments today. I wake up to the unmistakable noise of a dog puking, and knowing I am too late to do anything about it. I lay my head down in disgust, not wanting to deal with it, then I hear that same sound again, but this time I am awake so I am able to throw a dog blanket under her to keep it off the carpet, and success! I lay back on the bed to revel in my success, when I hear a third mess being created and instantly deposited on the carpet. I drag myself out of bed, walk the dogs in the bitter cold, then come in to clean up the messes. I come out from my cleaning just to get asked to explain everything in detail to my mother-in-law. I finally think I am done talking about dog regurgitation, when my wife calls. I mention Daisy ate another stuff toy, with the usual outcome, and I again get asked about time, coordinates, etc. And now for some reason I am writing about it...
I did briefly try out my "abdominal brace" today while I walked the dogs, and it actually works very well and allows me to walk normally. I don't know if I will use it out in public or not. It would have a rather slimming effect the way it compresses the gut to hold everything in place, except that the adjustable scaffolding in the back, the contraption that allows it to brace, is a huge bulge that sticks out so much it won't even fit under clothes. I guess I will have to find a long jacket. I plan to use the brace tomorrow as I take advantage of the bitter cold and clean out the snake haunts in my shop and hopefully leave them with nowhere to hang out anymore.
So that is my life about now. It's just a rootin' tootin', doggy pukin', snakepit bootin', workshop lootin', Daisy losin' 'n' return to roostin', tummy boostin', no swimmer shootin' kinda week.
Other bad news I almost got was that our dear rescue basenji darted out the front door when a delivery driver came to drop off a package. My wife and I were both gone at the time so it had the potential to be a very bad situation. Luckily it was very cold and snowy yesterday so she ran all the way from the front door to the back door to be let back in. She made it back there before my mother-in-law could even put on her coat to go chase after her. I guess it is a good thing that African dogs don't have much fur, otherwise she may have tried to stay out longer.
Daisy the abused and neglected basenji paid me back this morning for her little excursion by eating part of a stuff toy causing the stuff toy to re-emerge while I was trying to sleep...three different times. The mistake I made was telling my wife and mother-in-law about it. To understand why that was a mistake I will run through my first waking moments today. I wake up to the unmistakable noise of a dog puking, and knowing I am too late to do anything about it. I lay my head down in disgust, not wanting to deal with it, then I hear that same sound again, but this time I am awake so I am able to throw a dog blanket under her to keep it off the carpet, and success! I lay back on the bed to revel in my success, when I hear a third mess being created and instantly deposited on the carpet. I drag myself out of bed, walk the dogs in the bitter cold, then come in to clean up the messes. I come out from my cleaning just to get asked to explain everything in detail to my mother-in-law. I finally think I am done talking about dog regurgitation, when my wife calls. I mention Daisy ate another stuff toy, with the usual outcome, and I again get asked about time, coordinates, etc. And now for some reason I am writing about it...
I did briefly try out my "abdominal brace" today while I walked the dogs, and it actually works very well and allows me to walk normally. I don't know if I will use it out in public or not. It would have a rather slimming effect the way it compresses the gut to hold everything in place, except that the adjustable scaffolding in the back, the contraption that allows it to brace, is a huge bulge that sticks out so much it won't even fit under clothes. I guess I will have to find a long jacket. I plan to use the brace tomorrow as I take advantage of the bitter cold and clean out the snake haunts in my shop and hopefully leave them with nowhere to hang out anymore.
So that is my life about now. It's just a rootin' tootin', doggy pukin', snakepit bootin', workshop lootin', Daisy losin' 'n' return to roostin', tummy boostin', no swimmer shootin' kinda week.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Apparently, My Swimmers Should Stay In The Shallow End...
Today was my scan and my urologist appointment. Two things I wouldn't necessarily say I was looking forward to, but I was anxious to get them out of the way.
With the foretold doom and gloom from the purveyors of precipitation prediction, I left the house a half an hour early and with all the inclement weather...I ended up at my doctor's office an hour early. I am not sure where I drove through a time shifting wormhole, I think I should have taken a left turn at Albuquerque, but whatever the reason, I suddenly had an hour to kill. Luckily my scan orders weren't for any specific time and the hospital was less than a mile from the urologist office. I thought an hour would be more than enough time to get irradiated. I forgot, however, about hospital bureaucracy. After all the red tape and going to this desk, then that one, then the other one, I flew into my urologist's office with less than five minutes to spare. I don't get the scan results until I talk to my oncologist next Friday, but the lady didn't have the "Oh, crap!" look on her face when she looked at them that the nurse that did my ultrasound had on her face when they found the cancer. I am taking that as a good sign.
While signing in at the urologist's office, the receptionist was asking the usual litany of questions, among them was if I had a procedure done. I wasn't sure what she meant or why she was asking (maybe it looked like I had lost weight in the groinal area) so I said I had the one procedure in September. She responded by asking if that was the only procedure. I stated that I only had one left, so there wasn't too many more procedures he could do.
I go back to the exam room and tell the doctor of the problems I have been having. First he discussed the results of my testosterone level test. He said I am at the bottom end of normal, which isn't bad considering I have only half of the production facilities. Next, he looked at the area that my general practitioner had suspected that a stitch trying to push its way out. He grabbed a package containing some fierce looking tweezers, and digging around down there, pulled out a stitch! It was like a magic trick...that hurts and bleeds a little. Next we addressed the thorn in my side ever since the operation (figuratively and literally). He came up with two scenarios. Option one is that I could have scar tissue that is constantly building up, and for some reason the walking is breaking it apart causing the pain. I am still not sure I understand that explanation, which is probably why he gave it to me to shut me up and get me to quit whining. The other thing that could be happening is that my stitches are dissolving. Apparently they dissolve at different speeds in different bodies, and the fact that he pulled one out of me today is evidence that they haven't dissolved completely yet. He says as these stitches are starting to dissolve they get weaker and break, which could be that "popping" feeling I have been experiencing. The only solution he had for me was an "abdominal brace" to use just when I plan on doing a lot of walking, since every time it has let loose, I have been doing a lot of walking.
So I went to Wal-Mart, which in itself is a lot of walking, and found their assortment of braces and supports. Most focus on the back, but I did find an abdominal one under a pile of dust. It basically looks like a back brace that has been slid around to the front and had $10 added on to the price tag. I haven't really walked with it yet, since I was already hurting pretty bad from walking around trying to find it, but I did try it on. Basically, you strap on this elastic and velcro thing fairly snugly. Then, there is a ring that you pull and through a complex series of cables, pulleys, and winches in the back, it supplies the added support. I must say, just from walking around a little bit to test it tonight, it feels really good. I am just fortunate that this is happening in the winter, where I have heavy jackets to cover up this contraption! My wife says is looks like some S & M mechanism. I will admit I am not that up on S & M paraphernalia, so I guess I have some research to do the next time I can't sleep.
There is one final bit that I have left out about today. The urologist discussed the last test I took and I will admit, it has me more than a little bummed, even on the verge of depressed. When I went to read my dirty magazines, the nurse called and said I didn't have many swimmers, but I had swimmers. I specifically remember asking her, if they were good swimmers and she said they were. Today, I found out that was not the case. I don't have many swimmers, and a good portion of the ones I do have are not very good ones. I don't remember the exact term he used, I just know as he was describing them, I am thinking of little sperm swimming in neverending circles, a few ramming repeatedly into random objects, and other sperm just wiggling around aimlessly screaming "I want a juice box!". The good news is that I am producing the little guys so the chemo didn't shut down the factory. However, it appears that the factory hasn't yet been retooled after the chemo (pun intended), and that I haven't completely gotten rid of the affected guys yet. It can take as long as seventy two days for the little guys to regenerate, so he wants me to wait another three months, and test again. And I am definitely NOT supposed to try to have kids in the mean time.
First of all, I know this wasn't a big setback. We have frozen guys, and it isn't out of the ordinary at all for the little guys to be affected like this. When the factory starts pumping out quality product again, the baby making attempts can resume. What I will admit was absolutely devastating to me today was that two weeks ago the nurse told me I was good to go. When you hear so much bad news, the good news really lifts you up, and to get told today that what the nurse told me was incorrect seemed like it knocked me down lower than I was before. I know it shouldn't bother me. It is a minor set back. But it is bothering me. A lot. Four months from now, I should be able to move on with our plans for baby making. It is just that I thought I had a bulk of this cancer crap behind me, and today I get told I have this Klingon that won't get off my butt.
Trying to always find the bright side in everything, I admit it was kind of tough today. I was just blindsided by that news. The one thing that kept me from really getting down in the dumps was I had told my good buddy Willie before today that I would stop by his house that is within a mile of my doctor's office. As usual, Willie cheered me up with random fire department stories and tales of the latest thing he hid from his wife and got busted on. It worked out well that I saw him within five minutes of the news today. I guess one of the few bright spots is by May, there should be some new magazines in the jerkatorium for my next test.
With the foretold doom and gloom from the purveyors of precipitation prediction, I left the house a half an hour early and with all the inclement weather...I ended up at my doctor's office an hour early. I am not sure where I drove through a time shifting wormhole, I think I should have taken a left turn at Albuquerque, but whatever the reason, I suddenly had an hour to kill. Luckily my scan orders weren't for any specific time and the hospital was less than a mile from the urologist office. I thought an hour would be more than enough time to get irradiated. I forgot, however, about hospital bureaucracy. After all the red tape and going to this desk, then that one, then the other one, I flew into my urologist's office with less than five minutes to spare. I don't get the scan results until I talk to my oncologist next Friday, but the lady didn't have the "Oh, crap!" look on her face when she looked at them that the nurse that did my ultrasound had on her face when they found the cancer. I am taking that as a good sign.
While signing in at the urologist's office, the receptionist was asking the usual litany of questions, among them was if I had a procedure done. I wasn't sure what she meant or why she was asking (maybe it looked like I had lost weight in the groinal area) so I said I had the one procedure in September. She responded by asking if that was the only procedure. I stated that I only had one left, so there wasn't too many more procedures he could do.
I go back to the exam room and tell the doctor of the problems I have been having. First he discussed the results of my testosterone level test. He said I am at the bottom end of normal, which isn't bad considering I have only half of the production facilities. Next, he looked at the area that my general practitioner had suspected that a stitch trying to push its way out. He grabbed a package containing some fierce looking tweezers, and digging around down there, pulled out a stitch! It was like a magic trick...that hurts and bleeds a little. Next we addressed the thorn in my side ever since the operation (figuratively and literally). He came up with two scenarios. Option one is that I could have scar tissue that is constantly building up, and for some reason the walking is breaking it apart causing the pain. I am still not sure I understand that explanation, which is probably why he gave it to me to shut me up and get me to quit whining. The other thing that could be happening is that my stitches are dissolving. Apparently they dissolve at different speeds in different bodies, and the fact that he pulled one out of me today is evidence that they haven't dissolved completely yet. He says as these stitches are starting to dissolve they get weaker and break, which could be that "popping" feeling I have been experiencing. The only solution he had for me was an "abdominal brace" to use just when I plan on doing a lot of walking, since every time it has let loose, I have been doing a lot of walking.
So I went to Wal-Mart, which in itself is a lot of walking, and found their assortment of braces and supports. Most focus on the back, but I did find an abdominal one under a pile of dust. It basically looks like a back brace that has been slid around to the front and had $10 added on to the price tag. I haven't really walked with it yet, since I was already hurting pretty bad from walking around trying to find it, but I did try it on. Basically, you strap on this elastic and velcro thing fairly snugly. Then, there is a ring that you pull and through a complex series of cables, pulleys, and winches in the back, it supplies the added support. I must say, just from walking around a little bit to test it tonight, it feels really good. I am just fortunate that this is happening in the winter, where I have heavy jackets to cover up this contraption! My wife says is looks like some S & M mechanism. I will admit I am not that up on S & M paraphernalia, so I guess I have some research to do the next time I can't sleep.
There is one final bit that I have left out about today. The urologist discussed the last test I took and I will admit, it has me more than a little bummed, even on the verge of depressed. When I went to read my dirty magazines, the nurse called and said I didn't have many swimmers, but I had swimmers. I specifically remember asking her, if they were good swimmers and she said they were. Today, I found out that was not the case. I don't have many swimmers, and a good portion of the ones I do have are not very good ones. I don't remember the exact term he used, I just know as he was describing them, I am thinking of little sperm swimming in neverending circles, a few ramming repeatedly into random objects, and other sperm just wiggling around aimlessly screaming "I want a juice box!". The good news is that I am producing the little guys so the chemo didn't shut down the factory. However, it appears that the factory hasn't yet been retooled after the chemo (pun intended), and that I haven't completely gotten rid of the affected guys yet. It can take as long as seventy two days for the little guys to regenerate, so he wants me to wait another three months, and test again. And I am definitely NOT supposed to try to have kids in the mean time.
First of all, I know this wasn't a big setback. We have frozen guys, and it isn't out of the ordinary at all for the little guys to be affected like this. When the factory starts pumping out quality product again, the baby making attempts can resume. What I will admit was absolutely devastating to me today was that two weeks ago the nurse told me I was good to go. When you hear so much bad news, the good news really lifts you up, and to get told today that what the nurse told me was incorrect seemed like it knocked me down lower than I was before. I know it shouldn't bother me. It is a minor set back. But it is bothering me. A lot. Four months from now, I should be able to move on with our plans for baby making. It is just that I thought I had a bulk of this cancer crap behind me, and today I get told I have this Klingon that won't get off my butt.
Trying to always find the bright side in everything, I admit it was kind of tough today. I was just blindsided by that news. The one thing that kept me from really getting down in the dumps was I had told my good buddy Willie before today that I would stop by his house that is within a mile of my doctor's office. As usual, Willie cheered me up with random fire department stories and tales of the latest thing he hid from his wife and got busted on. It worked out well that I saw him within five minutes of the news today. I guess one of the few bright spots is by May, there should be some new magazines in the jerkatorium for my next test.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
2011: The Year Of The Doctors' Appointments
After the surgery and chemotherapy, I am now to the "observation" phase of my treatment and I will be at that phase for a few years to come. So far I have had four doctor's appointments this month, and I have three left.
First, I have swimmers! Before you start chemo, they tell you that the chemo will probably make you sterile, which is obviously the part that the lawyers of the people who manufacture the chemotherapy make them say. The oncologist followed that up by saying he didn't know anyone who had that particular type of chemo that actually became sterile (for example, Lance Armstrong and I had the same chemo, and he has had two successful swimmers in the past two years). What was funny, is the nurse from the urologist's office acted like she had devastating news for me, saying that my count of swimmers was low. For me, having just cleared the time period when I should be able to start making swimmers again, and after being told I may never make swimmers again, I was ecstatic. All I need is one swimmer! Maybe two, my wife and I are still arguing that point. Personally I am hoping when my swimmers do make it to the finish line we get triplets.
My second doctor's appointment was with my G.I. doctor. The best news there was I am not due for another buttsporation for another four years! The colonoscopy itself isn't too bad, it's just the prep that has you wishing you hadn't ate all of that food over the past three years so you could get off of the toilet and move on with your life. I have an upper scope in July, but all you have to do for that one is not eat after midnight then go to sleep when they inject you with the good stuff. The only bad news I received from the G.I. doctor, wasn't from him at all. He had been wanting to do a CT scan on me for a while, but we couldn't really justify it. So, since we already had one done, I had sent the scans over to him. He got to see what he wanted to look at and said everything seemed good. In fact the only thing they marked on my scan was the two cyst type things in my kidneys. The only problem with hearing that, was I hadn't heard that before then. So now I have something new to worry about. I asked him if going through chemo would help my Barrett's Esophagus at all, and I was told it wouldn't because esophageal cancer doesn't respond to chemo. Not what I was really hoping to hear, but then he reiterated that is why it is so important to do the scopes when he says to. I guess I will see you in July, doc! Other than that, some of my G.I. issues are doing so well that I have been able to back off some of my meds!
Appointment three was a blood and pee test. The only bad thing about these tests, is you do them at the same time (well a few minutes apart), and they want you to not eat anything that morning, yet still be able to pee. So I was left chugging water on the whole way to the doctor's. The vampire was nice (she always is) and let me in on a little secret. I have veins that like to roll around when stuck, and most nurses are fine when I say that they usually need a "butterfly" to stick me, but every once in a while I get a cranky don't-tell-me-how-to-do-my-job one, who manages to stick me several times before grabbing the butterfly. This nurse said the main reason nurses are like that is that the butterfly needles cost considerably more than the regular ones. And some employers will actually ration the number of butterfly needles a nurse gets in a week. Yeah, that makes sense, stick a person nine times before you break out the more expensive needle (and I speak from experience).
Saturday, I had my regular doctor appointment. I had a year's worth of questions to ask him, which just about every answer was to quit worrying about it. I asked him about my kidney cyst looking thingys. He said just about everyone has those and he is sure that my oncologist is watching those if he is worried about them. He also said it looks like a stitch may be trying to push to the surface from my incision and to have the urologist look at it. I don't know what the heck I will do if I see a string poking out my belly? The kid in me will want to pull it, which has me running all sorts of scenarios in my mind, most of them involving me unraveling. The good news is since a CT scan is much better than getting poked in the butt, I was able to avoid having to get the dreaded prostate exam (or the finger wag as my dad calls it). I don't think either one of us has been looking forward to that. Since this is my no nonsense doctor, he spent most of the appointment telling me I was doing great after my cancer treatment, and now it was time to lose weight! Sometimes I don't feel like I am doing as well as I would like after my treatment, but I definitely agree with him on the losing weight part. I want to lose the weight as fast as possible, then think of a reason to go to him just to prove I could take off the weight. What am I talking about? I am sure I will probably manage to hurt myself sometime before next year's check up. I'll probably end up hurting myself while trying to lose weight.
So, four appointments down and three left this month. I don't know exactly what to expect from the urologist and oncologist. At least the X-ray will be another one of those laydown and don't do anything tests. I am good at those tests. Oh well, nothing I can do but show up to them and then blog about what happened...
First, I have swimmers! Before you start chemo, they tell you that the chemo will probably make you sterile, which is obviously the part that the lawyers of the people who manufacture the chemotherapy make them say. The oncologist followed that up by saying he didn't know anyone who had that particular type of chemo that actually became sterile (for example, Lance Armstrong and I had the same chemo, and he has had two successful swimmers in the past two years). What was funny, is the nurse from the urologist's office acted like she had devastating news for me, saying that my count of swimmers was low. For me, having just cleared the time period when I should be able to start making swimmers again, and after being told I may never make swimmers again, I was ecstatic. All I need is one swimmer! Maybe two, my wife and I are still arguing that point. Personally I am hoping when my swimmers do make it to the finish line we get triplets.
My second doctor's appointment was with my G.I. doctor. The best news there was I am not due for another buttsporation for another four years! The colonoscopy itself isn't too bad, it's just the prep that has you wishing you hadn't ate all of that food over the past three years so you could get off of the toilet and move on with your life. I have an upper scope in July, but all you have to do for that one is not eat after midnight then go to sleep when they inject you with the good stuff. The only bad news I received from the G.I. doctor, wasn't from him at all. He had been wanting to do a CT scan on me for a while, but we couldn't really justify it. So, since we already had one done, I had sent the scans over to him. He got to see what he wanted to look at and said everything seemed good. In fact the only thing they marked on my scan was the two cyst type things in my kidneys. The only problem with hearing that, was I hadn't heard that before then. So now I have something new to worry about. I asked him if going through chemo would help my Barrett's Esophagus at all, and I was told it wouldn't because esophageal cancer doesn't respond to chemo. Not what I was really hoping to hear, but then he reiterated that is why it is so important to do the scopes when he says to. I guess I will see you in July, doc! Other than that, some of my G.I. issues are doing so well that I have been able to back off some of my meds!
Appointment three was a blood and pee test. The only bad thing about these tests, is you do them at the same time (well a few minutes apart), and they want you to not eat anything that morning, yet still be able to pee. So I was left chugging water on the whole way to the doctor's. The vampire was nice (she always is) and let me in on a little secret. I have veins that like to roll around when stuck, and most nurses are fine when I say that they usually need a "butterfly" to stick me, but every once in a while I get a cranky don't-tell-me-how-to-do-my-job one, who manages to stick me several times before grabbing the butterfly. This nurse said the main reason nurses are like that is that the butterfly needles cost considerably more than the regular ones. And some employers will actually ration the number of butterfly needles a nurse gets in a week. Yeah, that makes sense, stick a person nine times before you break out the more expensive needle (and I speak from experience).
Saturday, I had my regular doctor appointment. I had a year's worth of questions to ask him, which just about every answer was to quit worrying about it. I asked him about my kidney cyst looking thingys. He said just about everyone has those and he is sure that my oncologist is watching those if he is worried about them. He also said it looks like a stitch may be trying to push to the surface from my incision and to have the urologist look at it. I don't know what the heck I will do if I see a string poking out my belly? The kid in me will want to pull it, which has me running all sorts of scenarios in my mind, most of them involving me unraveling. The good news is since a CT scan is much better than getting poked in the butt, I was able to avoid having to get the dreaded prostate exam (or the finger wag as my dad calls it). I don't think either one of us has been looking forward to that. Since this is my no nonsense doctor, he spent most of the appointment telling me I was doing great after my cancer treatment, and now it was time to lose weight! Sometimes I don't feel like I am doing as well as I would like after my treatment, but I definitely agree with him on the losing weight part. I want to lose the weight as fast as possible, then think of a reason to go to him just to prove I could take off the weight. What am I talking about? I am sure I will probably manage to hurt myself sometime before next year's check up. I'll probably end up hurting myself while trying to lose weight.
So, four appointments down and three left this month. I don't know exactly what to expect from the urologist and oncologist. At least the X-ray will be another one of those laydown and don't do anything tests. I am good at those tests. Oh well, nothing I can do but show up to them and then blog about what happened...
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Cancer Done, Let The Testing Begin!
After having the tumor removed and making through chemotherapy, it is all over but the testing, lots and lots of testing. Today was hopefully the last of one of the weirder set of tests I had to endure. Today I had to see if, well, um, I still have swimmers.
They make a big deal out of telling you that you may be sterile after chemo. But then they tell you dozens of stories of people who have fathered children after having this particular chemo (people like Lance Armstrong). And I have heard lots of anecdotal evidence from people as well that have fathered children after chemo. Today's test will tell me if I can be one of those people. I am more than a little anxious about the results. It is not a big deal either way, we have some frozen guys, I am just a little concerned (without any scientific basis) about freezer burn smelling babies. Normally, I would be doing tons of internet research on the subject, like if you are sterile at first does it sometimes come back later on, and stuff like that. This time, I just want to hear my results, which are two days away...a long two days away. If I find out they are not swimming, then I will do research to see if they end up swimming later on. But right now, I am just hoping to hear good news.
While checking in, some insurance info had changed since I made my "deposit" at the "bank" before surgery. The nurse was asking me about my treatment and everything else, and I got a lot of "I'm sorry"s and "Oh, that's too bad"s and every time I explained why I didn't necessarily see them as a bad thing. I think things happen for a reason, and as cancer goes, or even life, I am doing better than a lot of other people. I can't complain. The nurse said, "You sure have a way of putting a positive spin on everything." Really? What am I supposed to do? I have said this before and I truly believe it, cancer is the one disease where attitude seems to really affect the prognosis. My prognosis never was that I was going to die or anything, but my treatment could have gone smoother too. But what good does it do to fret about it? For someone in the medical field to be surprised that I am happy to be a unemployed cancer patient/survivor just shows that she doesn't comprehend how much better that is than being a victim of cancer. I don't know why, but for some reason the whole exchange with her kind of bothered me. About the only thing that was going to get my mind off of it was to look at a bunch of porn. As luck would have it, she took me to a room to do just that!
This being my third visit, I felt like an old pro. The bad thing is, it is the same "educational magazines" and "documentaries" as the other two times. And someone really needs to learn some etiquette on magazine care and maintenance. I don't remember the centerfolds being wadded up and shoved in the magazines last time I was in there, so I am assuming it was one guy who was in a real hurry with all of the centerfolds. And who rips pages out of a magazine at the sperm bank?!?! I mean, we all know what people are doing with those magazines. They pretty much have that same purpose in the real world, but in this environment, that activity is their sole purpose. I don't even like touching them to turn the pages (well, the pages you can turn) much less rip out a page and take it home with me? And how do you get it home? Are you going to walk through a hospital annex proudly waving your latest art acquisition? Are you going to fold it up to hide it? Won't the creases ruin it much like they ruined all the centerfolds? And while I am on the subject of this type of material, I have never really been a connoisseur of the films. Don't get me wrong, I have stumbled across the occasional one on Showtime or HBO late at night, but they are not near as in depth as these documentaries were. And while the documentaries were running it dawned on me that the "hardcore" documentaries are really just horrible. I am sure some people must appreciate them, but the one that was on the TV when I got in there today, didn't look like much fun for any of the parties involved, and there were an awful lot of parties involved.
At any rate, I was able to complete the test and after scrubbing all of the dirtiness off of me, walked out of the lab. As you leave the hospital grounds, you have the weird sense of guilt that you are certain that everyone knows what you just finished doing and they are looking down on you. I guess as far as tests go, it could have been worse. I will take this over a colonoscopy or CATscan any day (although I think I did see those in one of the videos there). I think other tests would be more tolerable if they provided dirty magazines. I think I will take a few to my chest X-ray in a couple of weeks. Maybe I should start slow and just bring a Paul Reed Smith Guitars catalog with me instead.
They make a big deal out of telling you that you may be sterile after chemo. But then they tell you dozens of stories of people who have fathered children after having this particular chemo (people like Lance Armstrong). And I have heard lots of anecdotal evidence from people as well that have fathered children after chemo. Today's test will tell me if I can be one of those people. I am more than a little anxious about the results. It is not a big deal either way, we have some frozen guys, I am just a little concerned (without any scientific basis) about freezer burn smelling babies. Normally, I would be doing tons of internet research on the subject, like if you are sterile at first does it sometimes come back later on, and stuff like that. This time, I just want to hear my results, which are two days away...a long two days away. If I find out they are not swimming, then I will do research to see if they end up swimming later on. But right now, I am just hoping to hear good news.
While checking in, some insurance info had changed since I made my "deposit" at the "bank" before surgery. The nurse was asking me about my treatment and everything else, and I got a lot of "I'm sorry"s and "Oh, that's too bad"s and every time I explained why I didn't necessarily see them as a bad thing. I think things happen for a reason, and as cancer goes, or even life, I am doing better than a lot of other people. I can't complain. The nurse said, "You sure have a way of putting a positive spin on everything." Really? What am I supposed to do? I have said this before and I truly believe it, cancer is the one disease where attitude seems to really affect the prognosis. My prognosis never was that I was going to die or anything, but my treatment could have gone smoother too. But what good does it do to fret about it? For someone in the medical field to be surprised that I am happy to be a unemployed cancer patient/survivor just shows that she doesn't comprehend how much better that is than being a victim of cancer. I don't know why, but for some reason the whole exchange with her kind of bothered me. About the only thing that was going to get my mind off of it was to look at a bunch of porn. As luck would have it, she took me to a room to do just that!
This being my third visit, I felt like an old pro. The bad thing is, it is the same "educational magazines" and "documentaries" as the other two times. And someone really needs to learn some etiquette on magazine care and maintenance. I don't remember the centerfolds being wadded up and shoved in the magazines last time I was in there, so I am assuming it was one guy who was in a real hurry with all of the centerfolds. And who rips pages out of a magazine at the sperm bank?!?! I mean, we all know what people are doing with those magazines. They pretty much have that same purpose in the real world, but in this environment, that activity is their sole purpose. I don't even like touching them to turn the pages (well, the pages you can turn) much less rip out a page and take it home with me? And how do you get it home? Are you going to walk through a hospital annex proudly waving your latest art acquisition? Are you going to fold it up to hide it? Won't the creases ruin it much like they ruined all the centerfolds? And while I am on the subject of this type of material, I have never really been a connoisseur of the films. Don't get me wrong, I have stumbled across the occasional one on Showtime or HBO late at night, but they are not near as in depth as these documentaries were. And while the documentaries were running it dawned on me that the "hardcore" documentaries are really just horrible. I am sure some people must appreciate them, but the one that was on the TV when I got in there today, didn't look like much fun for any of the parties involved, and there were an awful lot of parties involved.
At any rate, I was able to complete the test and after scrubbing all of the dirtiness off of me, walked out of the lab. As you leave the hospital grounds, you have the weird sense of guilt that you are certain that everyone knows what you just finished doing and they are looking down on you. I guess as far as tests go, it could have been worse. I will take this over a colonoscopy or CATscan any day (although I think I did see those in one of the videos there). I think other tests would be more tolerable if they provided dirty magazines. I think I will take a few to my chest X-ray in a couple of weeks. Maybe I should start slow and just bring a Paul Reed Smith Guitars catalog with me instead.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Being A One Nut Wonder Has Its Benefits
Ever since my nutectomy, my gastro-intestinal system has gone cattywampus (it's a medical term). That has become very evident over the weekend. Without going into too much detail, let's just say I have gotten a lot of reading done this weekend...and nothing else...nothing...just reading...a lot of reading...only reading. Usually just the opposite is the case. I mean, I get a lot of reading done, but I am usually multi-tasking at the same time. No multi-tasking at all this weekend. I tried one of the usual ways to get things going, drinking lots of liquids, which only resulted in waking up every fifteen minutes to either pee, or unproductively read. Anyway, my GI doctor and have been trying to get my medications adjusted, with little luck. We completely cut one medication out and have cut way back on the other. Even that seems to be too much. And then something dawned on me.
I asked myself what has changed since all of this happened. I have lost my job. I have gotten cancer. I have had surgery. I am going through chemotherapy. The first thing to rule out would be stress, of course not having a job to answer to does cut down on stress levels, but at the same time being out of a job and having cancer tends to stress one out pretty good. As for the chemo, these latest GI symptoms started showing up before I started chemo. That leaves one thing (literally and figuratively), the surgery. My testosterone levels were cut in half with the surgery. So, that is where I went to the internet to do a little research...very careful research, using only medical terms and making sure the pages didn't have pictures. It turns out that doctors are investigating a link between high testosterone levels and GI problems like mine. A-HA! The problem is that most men are not willing to have a nutectomy just to see on the off chance that this makes them feel better. Lucky for them, I happened to cut my testosterone levels and get the results for them. I "took one for the team", well technically I guess the doctors took one from me for the team. That makes me a testicular martyr, and I feel I should be heralded as such. Who knows, because of what I went through, men may be asked in the future "Would you rather poop too much or keep both of your balls?". You know, seeing it written down doesn't make my new research sound near as noble. But there are other ways to lower testosterone levels, without resorting to getting rid of one of the twins. You could join a theater company, or watch Oprah, or become a hairdresser, or rent Sex and the City, or drive a Mini, or a Miata, or a VW Bug convertible, or play softball...oops, that last one was a way to increase testosterone in women. But all joking and offensive stereotypes and prejudices aside (no matter how true they are), there are medications that can lower testosterone levels (and I am not just talking about Appletinis and Cosmos). On a serious note, there is a link to testosterone levels and "mens'" cancers so in some cases the testosterone levels are knocked down to prevent cancer from reoccurring.
Where does this leave me? Well, luckily I have a doctor that is very open to new research. One of the beautiful things about the internet (no, not porn) is that those of us that were previously scattered around the globe with various maladies, now have a way to get together and compare notes. My stomach surgery is generally so successful that people quit going to the GI doctor, so side effect research ends there. However, several of us Nissen procedure people got to talking on the internet and we were developing reactive hypoglycemia. I told my doctor about it, who was very interested, and developed a game plan for me to deal with it, now that we suspect what mechanism is causing it. I am anxious to talk to him about this latest thing that I have stumbled upon. Usually when I mention something I have read on the internet he is familiar with it (except for that Richard Gere/gerbil thing, I thought everyone had heard about that), and anxious to see some facts that back them up. Losing half of your testosterone production and feeling more like a regular pooping person are some pretty interesting results (don't worry, not interesting enough for me to document photographically). Don't get me wrong though, I still have other GI issues, this doesn't mean I am going to run out to Chipotle, stuff in some Indian food, and top it off with some wasabi and a ghost chili. But it does give me hope that as a side effect from this cancer stuff, I may be one step closer to being a normal person...with one testicle...and stomach surgery that left wire in my stomach...and an incredibly pathetic mustache. Well at least as close to normal as someone like me can get.
I asked myself what has changed since all of this happened. I have lost my job. I have gotten cancer. I have had surgery. I am going through chemotherapy. The first thing to rule out would be stress, of course not having a job to answer to does cut down on stress levels, but at the same time being out of a job and having cancer tends to stress one out pretty good. As for the chemo, these latest GI symptoms started showing up before I started chemo. That leaves one thing (literally and figuratively), the surgery. My testosterone levels were cut in half with the surgery. So, that is where I went to the internet to do a little research...very careful research, using only medical terms and making sure the pages didn't have pictures. It turns out that doctors are investigating a link between high testosterone levels and GI problems like mine. A-HA! The problem is that most men are not willing to have a nutectomy just to see on the off chance that this makes them feel better. Lucky for them, I happened to cut my testosterone levels and get the results for them. I "took one for the team", well technically I guess the doctors took one from me for the team. That makes me a testicular martyr, and I feel I should be heralded as such. Who knows, because of what I went through, men may be asked in the future "Would you rather poop too much or keep both of your balls?". You know, seeing it written down doesn't make my new research sound near as noble. But there are other ways to lower testosterone levels, without resorting to getting rid of one of the twins. You could join a theater company, or watch Oprah, or become a hairdresser, or rent Sex and the City, or drive a Mini, or a Miata, or a VW Bug convertible, or play softball...oops, that last one was a way to increase testosterone in women. But all joking and offensive stereotypes and prejudices aside (no matter how true they are), there are medications that can lower testosterone levels (and I am not just talking about Appletinis and Cosmos). On a serious note, there is a link to testosterone levels and "mens'" cancers so in some cases the testosterone levels are knocked down to prevent cancer from reoccurring.
Where does this leave me? Well, luckily I have a doctor that is very open to new research. One of the beautiful things about the internet (no, not porn) is that those of us that were previously scattered around the globe with various maladies, now have a way to get together and compare notes. My stomach surgery is generally so successful that people quit going to the GI doctor, so side effect research ends there. However, several of us Nissen procedure people got to talking on the internet and we were developing reactive hypoglycemia. I told my doctor about it, who was very interested, and developed a game plan for me to deal with it, now that we suspect what mechanism is causing it. I am anxious to talk to him about this latest thing that I have stumbled upon. Usually when I mention something I have read on the internet he is familiar with it (except for that Richard Gere/gerbil thing, I thought everyone had heard about that), and anxious to see some facts that back them up. Losing half of your testosterone production and feeling more like a regular pooping person are some pretty interesting results (don't worry, not interesting enough for me to document photographically). Don't get me wrong though, I still have other GI issues, this doesn't mean I am going to run out to Chipotle, stuff in some Indian food, and top it off with some wasabi and a ghost chili. But it does give me hope that as a side effect from this cancer stuff, I may be one step closer to being a normal person...with one testicle...and stomach surgery that left wire in my stomach...and an incredibly pathetic mustache. Well at least as close to normal as someone like me can get.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Can I Be Normal?
Yesterday was the oncologist visit. I had been half dreading this day and half looking forward to it. I didn't want to hear when my next CATscan was, but I am ready to get on with my life.
We get to the oncologist's office and I take the required blood test. I think my mind set is switching from dropping my pants every time I see someone in a white coat to rolling up my sleeve and telling them they are going to need a butterfly. We had a very nice chatty nurse. She was fairly painless as well, but today it bruised pretty bad. I don't know if she was that good or just I have been stuck in the same places so many times that I can't feel anything there anymore. I don't care about bruising, I will take the bruise over the pain any day. She gives me my CBC (complete blood count) numbers and tells me I'm perfect. Tell me something I didn't know...oh, apparently she was referring to my CBC. I don't necessarily agree with her. They are within tolerances, but my white and red blood cells are still down considerably from my pre-chemo numbers. However, my platelets are almost up to normal, so I can bleed as much as I want. Maybe that is why she bruised me, just to show how good the numbers were.
Next we are led back to the doctor's waiting room. The wait seemed forever and the walls were paper thin. We could hear him talking to a breast cancer survivor and saying things to lighten her mood, and it was working, we could hear her laughing. However, if he starts doing a comedy routine while playing with my balls...ball, I don't think I will be laughing. He finally comes in and seems to be in a good mood. As a cancer patient, you want to see your oncologist in a good mood, because that means he is telling you good things...unless he is a very bad and inappropriate oncologist "Well, the good news is you want live long enough to pay off this bill!" He looks at my CBC results and says they are the best he's seen all day. I tell him that could mean I am doing good or that he has seen a bunch of really sick people all day. Not missing a beat he said that both were the case. I mention some of my concerns with my numbers and some other things and he said I worry too much. Of course I do, I am the cancer patient!
We then come to the part I am absolutely dreading, the follow up schedule where I find out how many CAT scans I have to do. He starts talking and I go into a trance. I hear him say every three months this year, every six months next year, and then just once a year. Not what I wanted to hear, but at least it's significantly less CAT scans than if I didn't do the chemo. Still in my daze, reliving in my head all the nastiness that happened last CAT scan, when my wife says something that snaps me back to reality. "So, he will only have to do the X-rays?" He says yes. I was so dreading hearing about CAT scans, I didn't even pay attention to what he said at first. I was focusing on the schedule and thinking about all the constipation and chalk and garlic I would be tasting. I am so flabbergasted I have to ask him myself. He affirms that chest X-rays will be able to show him what he needs to see. Now I am in a good mood! And it's about to get better.
Still trying to have a baby, my wife and I are trying to get the all clear from all of our respective doctors to resume our procreating. I ask the doctor the most delicate way I can, without making it sound like I am prepositioning him. The literature about chemo is kind of vague, some say you are safe to babymake after three days, and others say you have to wait months. The oncologist said, "Start tonight." That is good news! I look at my wife and say, "You heard the doctor!" Then she reminds me that we are still waiting for a couple more "all clears" from some other doctors before we can resume. I press the issue later on since this is the one time I am not so interested in a second opinion and she exclaims, "Well you aren't trying to make a baby with me yet." Which leads me to think she is saying it is OK to try with other people. She said that is not what she meant and refused to drop me off anywhere to find willing participants. The oncologist also suggested that I may be a good idea for me to look at enrolling in a sleep study. You know, where you go to sleep and some doctors watch you on camera to see what you do at night. At first I think that must be pretty boring for some doctor to sit there an watch me blog and pee, but I guess that is still more exciting that watching someone sleep. I may be the most exciting thing to hit the sleep study in years.
I was almost feeling like a normal person...until I got home that night. I am sitting there, I rub my head and a hair gets caught between my fingers. Curious I do it again. And again. And again. I finally go up to the bathroom and rub my scalp and lots of hair falls out. It finally did slow down, and you can't really tell that I lost much, unless you happen to look in the sink. Who knows if I am done molting or not. I really don't care either way, I am just hoping that if I do molt some more it will be while I am at home and not out somewhere...like I go out anywhere.
So here I sit with a little less hair, a little more blood pumping through my veins, and a lot less CAT scans. I still have to wait to see if the urologist will order any, but more than likely if he does it will just be one more. I can be chalky, garlicy, and constipated one more time to be sure I stay cancer free. Now I can focus on cultivating my pathetic mustache and trying to be normal again. Wish me luck on that, I will need it!
We get to the oncologist's office and I take the required blood test. I think my mind set is switching from dropping my pants every time I see someone in a white coat to rolling up my sleeve and telling them they are going to need a butterfly. We had a very nice chatty nurse. She was fairly painless as well, but today it bruised pretty bad. I don't know if she was that good or just I have been stuck in the same places so many times that I can't feel anything there anymore. I don't care about bruising, I will take the bruise over the pain any day. She gives me my CBC (complete blood count) numbers and tells me I'm perfect. Tell me something I didn't know...oh, apparently she was referring to my CBC. I don't necessarily agree with her. They are within tolerances, but my white and red blood cells are still down considerably from my pre-chemo numbers. However, my platelets are almost up to normal, so I can bleed as much as I want. Maybe that is why she bruised me, just to show how good the numbers were.
Next we are led back to the doctor's waiting room. The wait seemed forever and the walls were paper thin. We could hear him talking to a breast cancer survivor and saying things to lighten her mood, and it was working, we could hear her laughing. However, if he starts doing a comedy routine while playing with my balls...ball, I don't think I will be laughing. He finally comes in and seems to be in a good mood. As a cancer patient, you want to see your oncologist in a good mood, because that means he is telling you good things...unless he is a very bad and inappropriate oncologist "Well, the good news is you want live long enough to pay off this bill!" He looks at my CBC results and says they are the best he's seen all day. I tell him that could mean I am doing good or that he has seen a bunch of really sick people all day. Not missing a beat he said that both were the case. I mention some of my concerns with my numbers and some other things and he said I worry too much. Of course I do, I am the cancer patient!
We then come to the part I am absolutely dreading, the follow up schedule where I find out how many CAT scans I have to do. He starts talking and I go into a trance. I hear him say every three months this year, every six months next year, and then just once a year. Not what I wanted to hear, but at least it's significantly less CAT scans than if I didn't do the chemo. Still in my daze, reliving in my head all the nastiness that happened last CAT scan, when my wife says something that snaps me back to reality. "So, he will only have to do the X-rays?" He says yes. I was so dreading hearing about CAT scans, I didn't even pay attention to what he said at first. I was focusing on the schedule and thinking about all the constipation and chalk and garlic I would be tasting. I am so flabbergasted I have to ask him myself. He affirms that chest X-rays will be able to show him what he needs to see. Now I am in a good mood! And it's about to get better.
Still trying to have a baby, my wife and I are trying to get the all clear from all of our respective doctors to resume our procreating. I ask the doctor the most delicate way I can, without making it sound like I am prepositioning him. The literature about chemo is kind of vague, some say you are safe to babymake after three days, and others say you have to wait months. The oncologist said, "Start tonight." That is good news! I look at my wife and say, "You heard the doctor!" Then she reminds me that we are still waiting for a couple more "all clears" from some other doctors before we can resume. I press the issue later on since this is the one time I am not so interested in a second opinion and she exclaims, "Well you aren't trying to make a baby with me yet." Which leads me to think she is saying it is OK to try with other people. She said that is not what she meant and refused to drop me off anywhere to find willing participants. The oncologist also suggested that I may be a good idea for me to look at enrolling in a sleep study. You know, where you go to sleep and some doctors watch you on camera to see what you do at night. At first I think that must be pretty boring for some doctor to sit there an watch me blog and pee, but I guess that is still more exciting that watching someone sleep. I may be the most exciting thing to hit the sleep study in years.
I was almost feeling like a normal person...until I got home that night. I am sitting there, I rub my head and a hair gets caught between my fingers. Curious I do it again. And again. And again. I finally go up to the bathroom and rub my scalp and lots of hair falls out. It finally did slow down, and you can't really tell that I lost much, unless you happen to look in the sink. Who knows if I am done molting or not. I really don't care either way, I am just hoping that if I do molt some more it will be while I am at home and not out somewhere...like I go out anywhere.
So here I sit with a little less hair, a little more blood pumping through my veins, and a lot less CAT scans. I still have to wait to see if the urologist will order any, but more than likely if he does it will just be one more. I can be chalky, garlicy, and constipated one more time to be sure I stay cancer free. Now I can focus on cultivating my pathetic mustache and trying to be normal again. Wish me luck on that, I will need it!
Monday, October 11, 2010
All Babies Returned in the Same Condition I Received Them
What a difference a day makes! I don't know if it was coincidence, people reading my blog, or both, but today happened to be a pretty good day.
As I have mentioned earlier, chemo starts Friday, and I am rushing to get myself prepared, do the things I need to do before chemo, and say hi to people before I sequester myself for the next month. First of all, I received many well wishes from people who have read my blog. Thank you very much! The people that contacted me today have been good supporters throughout this, and it was good to hear from them again today. Of course, I have been running around so much today, I have yet to e-mail them back. Great way to thank my supporters, they e-mail me good tidings, and I ignore them all day. No wonder I don't have more support.
Then out of the blue, my car show buddy called and asked if I could do lunch. Since my life right now only involves doctors' appointments and endless internet surfing, I decided I could move some things around and go to lunch. He showed up in the car he hid from his wife for a few days (what a great idea, why didn't I think about that?!?!) and we ran off to start complaining about prescription companies. After talking about how his mail order prescription company was shortchanging him, delaying his prescriptions, and giving him the runaround, I tell him about my similar experiences with my mail order prescriptions. Then it dawned on us that we were talking about the same company! At least they are consistent. Shortly after that, I message another friend and we arrange lunch for later on this week. For a guy with nothing to do and no friends, my social calendar is getting pretty busy!
Next I had received a text from a friend that she had given birth this morning. My wife and I made our way over to the hospital where my little frozen babies are, at which point my wife reminded me that even though I may have done that certain activity the last few times I was in this medical complex, I was under no circumstances allowed to do it this time. Good thing too, they didn't have any of the magazines or videos I had been accustomed to on my previous visits here. We get up to her room and see a brand spanking new baby. I hold her in my arms (the baby, not my friend), and I realize I have never held a baby this small before. I never realized how tiny those things are when they are first hatched. I also didn't know that you are supposed to make a "baby burrito" out of them either. I think I was holding a complete baby, I at least know I was holding a bunch of tightly bundled blankets with a tiny smiling head poking out. I assume all the other parts were in the blanket tortilla somewhere. I held her for a long time (for me) and after about two minutes I handed her off to my wife and to my surprise, I didn't break her, which is always my fear when holding babies. I hope when we have ours in has an owner's manual or at the very least a tag somewhere that explains the correct way to fold a baby burrito. Soon more people poured in and the room started getting a little crowed. I figured I had made it this far without breaking any babies, I should probably quit while I was ahead and leave. I have an almost spotless record of only breaking one baby. My sister. But I only broke her arm, and to be honest, she was kind of asking for it. OK, she wasn't asking for it, she was just laying there, but she should have been paying attention and moved out of the way when I executed an almost perfect flip, which has a pretty high difficulty score for a eight year old. I would like to keep my baby breaking record completely clean, except for the one blemish, but I don't think family should count, especially when it was her fault.
We ended up the day by stopping by and getting the last of my chemo food rations. We left with a cart full from Sam's Club, so I should be able to survive as a hermit for my four weeks of dealing with chemo. And if we have miscalculated and the chemo makes me not want any of the stuff we bought (which we are told is entirely possible), I have enough food to last through a nuclear winter or two.
So today ended pretty well. I heard from some good friends. Got to see a few more. I have my food pantry stocked with chemo food. All I have left to do is a couple of things on the "Honey Do" list and prep a for a few projects that I hope I will be able to work on while dealing with chemo. Outside of that, I may try to squeeze in a couple more meetings with friends before my four weeks in solitary confinement. This week is shaping up to be a pretty good one. All that AND no broken babies!
As I have mentioned earlier, chemo starts Friday, and I am rushing to get myself prepared, do the things I need to do before chemo, and say hi to people before I sequester myself for the next month. First of all, I received many well wishes from people who have read my blog. Thank you very much! The people that contacted me today have been good supporters throughout this, and it was good to hear from them again today. Of course, I have been running around so much today, I have yet to e-mail them back. Great way to thank my supporters, they e-mail me good tidings, and I ignore them all day. No wonder I don't have more support.
Then out of the blue, my car show buddy called and asked if I could do lunch. Since my life right now only involves doctors' appointments and endless internet surfing, I decided I could move some things around and go to lunch. He showed up in the car he hid from his wife for a few days (what a great idea, why didn't I think about that?!?!) and we ran off to start complaining about prescription companies. After talking about how his mail order prescription company was shortchanging him, delaying his prescriptions, and giving him the runaround, I tell him about my similar experiences with my mail order prescriptions. Then it dawned on us that we were talking about the same company! At least they are consistent. Shortly after that, I message another friend and we arrange lunch for later on this week. For a guy with nothing to do and no friends, my social calendar is getting pretty busy!
Next I had received a text from a friend that she had given birth this morning. My wife and I made our way over to the hospital where my little frozen babies are, at which point my wife reminded me that even though I may have done that certain activity the last few times I was in this medical complex, I was under no circumstances allowed to do it this time. Good thing too, they didn't have any of the magazines or videos I had been accustomed to on my previous visits here. We get up to her room and see a brand spanking new baby. I hold her in my arms (the baby, not my friend), and I realize I have never held a baby this small before. I never realized how tiny those things are when they are first hatched. I also didn't know that you are supposed to make a "baby burrito" out of them either. I think I was holding a complete baby, I at least know I was holding a bunch of tightly bundled blankets with a tiny smiling head poking out. I assume all the other parts were in the blanket tortilla somewhere. I held her for a long time (for me) and after about two minutes I handed her off to my wife and to my surprise, I didn't break her, which is always my fear when holding babies. I hope when we have ours in has an owner's manual or at the very least a tag somewhere that explains the correct way to fold a baby burrito. Soon more people poured in and the room started getting a little crowed. I figured I had made it this far without breaking any babies, I should probably quit while I was ahead and leave. I have an almost spotless record of only breaking one baby. My sister. But I only broke her arm, and to be honest, she was kind of asking for it. OK, she wasn't asking for it, she was just laying there, but she should have been paying attention and moved out of the way when I executed an almost perfect flip, which has a pretty high difficulty score for a eight year old. I would like to keep my baby breaking record completely clean, except for the one blemish, but I don't think family should count, especially when it was her fault.
We ended up the day by stopping by and getting the last of my chemo food rations. We left with a cart full from Sam's Club, so I should be able to survive as a hermit for my four weeks of dealing with chemo. And if we have miscalculated and the chemo makes me not want any of the stuff we bought (which we are told is entirely possible), I have enough food to last through a nuclear winter or two.
So today ended pretty well. I heard from some good friends. Got to see a few more. I have my food pantry stocked with chemo food. All I have left to do is a couple of things on the "Honey Do" list and prep a for a few projects that I hope I will be able to work on while dealing with chemo. Outside of that, I may try to squeeze in a couple more meetings with friends before my four weeks in solitary confinement. This week is shaping up to be a pretty good one. All that AND no broken babies!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Nutectomy Day
Leading up to my surgery I received a lot of advice. Most of it scared the crap out of me. One family friend who meant well started off his well wishing saying he had been through the same thing a few years ago. He said I shouldn't get too worried, because after they removed his testicle, they found out it wasn't cancer after all. I had already come to grips with the fact that I was going to lose a "boy", but I was certain it was for a good reason so I wasn't too worried. I know he meant to tell me not to worry, I may not even have cancer, but what I kept thinking is "they are going to take out one of my testicles, and they don't even know if they have to?" I would hope they did not just randomly chop off balls on the odd chance one may have cancer inside. Me and the boys have been through a lot. I will be tough saying goodbye to one, especially if he is moving out for no good reason. As if that wasn't enough "advice", I get warned that the bandage removal is worse than any of the surgery. Great, something else to look forward to.
The night before I wasn't tired at all. We had to get up around 4am to start getting ready, and even at 2am I am wide awake. I figure I should probably at least try to get some sleep, something that has been hard to do ever since the diagnosis. I lay in bed, thoughts swirling through my head. I still didn't sleep much. The morning came way too soon. We hop in the car and head to the hospital.
I start my prep, and lay like what seems an eternity in the hospital bed. Obviously, the nature of the surgery has me naked except for a flimsy gown, and in typical hospital fashion, the average temperature in my room is just slightly warmer than a Canadian winter. They talk about how hot a day it will be outside, while I ask every nurse that walks by for another blanket. Soon I look less like a patient and more like a pile of laundry. I don't want to be here, I don't want to do this. The advice I got keeps echoing through my head and I contemplate the consequences of just walking out.
The anesthesiologist comes in and gives me some "calming" meds in my IV. She is nice for a gas passer and soon we head to the operating room. The team starts gathering around me and the nice gas passer gives me the good stuff. I drift off knowing that the poison will soon be gone and I will be on the road to recovery.
I wake up dying of thirst. The funny thing about strong painkillers, your inhibitions go out the window. Where a normal person wouldn't scream over and over again that they are really really thirsty and would kill to get some more ice chips, I in my my opiate fog begged and bartered for some frozen gold. I don't think I was technically ready to get more ice yet, but soon every nurse in the place was walking by handing me a cup of ice just to get me to shut the hell up. The sore throat and thirst was a good diversion for the huge gash in my abdomen, which I suddenly became acutely aware of after eating my fifth cup of ice. The drugs wearing off, I start acting like a civilized person again, just as they wheel in some old lady from the operating room. She starts asking for ice and complaining about the pain, and I think to myself,"what a rude, whiny, little, bi...wait, that's what I sounded like 4 cups of ice ago". Now slightly more comfortable, I am still fighting the meds and the lack of sleep. I close my eyes and start to drift off. It feels so good to sleep. The pain starts to subside, my body is begging for some more rest when "BBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWEEEEEEEPPPPPP" an alarm screaming right behind my right ear followed by nurses gathering around me screaming "BREATHE DEEP, BREATHE DEEP!!!" Startled from waking up from such a sound relaxing sleep to the equivalent of a smoke alarm sitting on my forehead and a nurse bum rush, I of course start breathing deep. Hell I am hyperventilating, followed by happy nurses saying "good, good, you need to keep those oxygen levels up". This gets repeated several more times in this recovery room. I can't see the oxymeter to verify that any of this was actually happening. Personally, I think this is just sweet nurse revenge for all those ice chip runs I demanded earlier.
They finally decided to not be so sadistic and put me back in my own room. I start to shake off the heavy stuff and now I just want to be in my home bed. My butt hurts so bad from being in the same position in this hard bed for so long. I want my achy butt back in my own bed. In another page our of the Marquee de Sade's book, the nurses tell me as soon as I pee, I can go. Hmmmm. Apparently the recovery room nurses have been talking to these nurses. This turns out to be a very hard task. I try standing, sitting, in the toilet, in the milk-jug-on-its-side thingy they give you. Nothing. As I am sitting down thinking of better days when I could pee with no problems, a nurse works to slam shut my already shy bladder by ignoring all the "Knock Before Entering" signs and walks right in on me. After what seems like dozens of trips and trials of perfect water flow in the sink for inspiration and rubbing ice chips on the back of my neck (I don't know how/why that worked but it did) I finally get a few drips. Then a trickle. Then a slight stream. Not exactly relief, but enough for them to look for blood. The nurses send me on my way. As soon as I get dressed I can leave. Now I just sit there helpless as I wait for someone to dress me.
I'm dressed, I high, I am sitting in the sun, waiting for the car to pull up so I can be on my way. Now I it's time to do what I have been doing so much since this all began, hurry up and wait for test results. Tomorrow, I talk about the recovery and the waiting (just ask Tom Petty, that's the hardest part).
The night before I wasn't tired at all. We had to get up around 4am to start getting ready, and even at 2am I am wide awake. I figure I should probably at least try to get some sleep, something that has been hard to do ever since the diagnosis. I lay in bed, thoughts swirling through my head. I still didn't sleep much. The morning came way too soon. We hop in the car and head to the hospital.
I start my prep, and lay like what seems an eternity in the hospital bed. Obviously, the nature of the surgery has me naked except for a flimsy gown, and in typical hospital fashion, the average temperature in my room is just slightly warmer than a Canadian winter. They talk about how hot a day it will be outside, while I ask every nurse that walks by for another blanket. Soon I look less like a patient and more like a pile of laundry. I don't want to be here, I don't want to do this. The advice I got keeps echoing through my head and I contemplate the consequences of just walking out.
The anesthesiologist comes in and gives me some "calming" meds in my IV. She is nice for a gas passer and soon we head to the operating room. The team starts gathering around me and the nice gas passer gives me the good stuff. I drift off knowing that the poison will soon be gone and I will be on the road to recovery.
I wake up dying of thirst. The funny thing about strong painkillers, your inhibitions go out the window. Where a normal person wouldn't scream over and over again that they are really really thirsty and would kill to get some more ice chips, I in my my opiate fog begged and bartered for some frozen gold. I don't think I was technically ready to get more ice yet, but soon every nurse in the place was walking by handing me a cup of ice just to get me to shut the hell up. The sore throat and thirst was a good diversion for the huge gash in my abdomen, which I suddenly became acutely aware of after eating my fifth cup of ice. The drugs wearing off, I start acting like a civilized person again, just as they wheel in some old lady from the operating room. She starts asking for ice and complaining about the pain, and I think to myself,"what a rude, whiny, little, bi...wait, that's what I sounded like 4 cups of ice ago". Now slightly more comfortable, I am still fighting the meds and the lack of sleep. I close my eyes and start to drift off. It feels so good to sleep. The pain starts to subside, my body is begging for some more rest when "BBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWEEEEEEEPPPPPP" an alarm screaming right behind my right ear followed by nurses gathering around me screaming "BREATHE DEEP, BREATHE DEEP!!!" Startled from waking up from such a sound relaxing sleep to the equivalent of a smoke alarm sitting on my forehead and a nurse bum rush, I of course start breathing deep. Hell I am hyperventilating, followed by happy nurses saying "good, good, you need to keep those oxygen levels up". This gets repeated several more times in this recovery room. I can't see the oxymeter to verify that any of this was actually happening. Personally, I think this is just sweet nurse revenge for all those ice chip runs I demanded earlier.
They finally decided to not be so sadistic and put me back in my own room. I start to shake off the heavy stuff and now I just want to be in my home bed. My butt hurts so bad from being in the same position in this hard bed for so long. I want my achy butt back in my own bed. In another page our of the Marquee de Sade's book, the nurses tell me as soon as I pee, I can go. Hmmmm. Apparently the recovery room nurses have been talking to these nurses. This turns out to be a very hard task. I try standing, sitting, in the toilet, in the milk-jug-on-its-side thingy they give you. Nothing. As I am sitting down thinking of better days when I could pee with no problems, a nurse works to slam shut my already shy bladder by ignoring all the "Knock Before Entering" signs and walks right in on me. After what seems like dozens of trips and trials of perfect water flow in the sink for inspiration and rubbing ice chips on the back of my neck (I don't know how/why that worked but it did) I finally get a few drips. Then a trickle. Then a slight stream. Not exactly relief, but enough for them to look for blood. The nurses send me on my way. As soon as I get dressed I can leave. Now I just sit there helpless as I wait for someone to dress me.
I'm dressed, I high, I am sitting in the sun, waiting for the car to pull up so I can be on my way. Now I it's time to do what I have been doing so much since this all began, hurry up and wait for test results. Tomorrow, I talk about the recovery and the waiting (just ask Tom Petty, that's the hardest part).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)