The past couple of days, I have had every intention of hurting myself. No not in one of those cries for help sort of ways, but just in pushing my self more and more to get back to normal. I still haven't tackled the dangling a push mower down the ditch yet. I am really afraid that may undo all the healing I have been doing, so when I do finally get around to attempting it, I will do it as gingerly as one can dangle a push mower down a ditch without simultaneously chopping off body parts. Just the fact that the engine starts to cut out because the mower is at such an extreme angle that it can't get gas, shows that maybe this isn't a recommended use of this particular mower.
However, that wasn't a problem yesterday. I had intended to do it, but secretly hoped something would come up to keep me from having to do it, and luckily plenty of things did. I spent some of the early part of the day helping my good friend with the project we are tackling. After that I waited for a HVAC company that claims "1 hour service" to call me back....that's been about 36 hours ago, and I am still waiting for a call back on the message I left. The reason, our thermostat decided that when the air conditioner kicks on, the house will cool down like it is supposed to, but the temperature reading will go UP! And that keeps the air conditioner on. You notice this when you look at the thermostat and it reads 87, while the other thermometer in the house reads 72 (and that is the real disparity in numbers we had when we first noticed the problem). A little research on the company turned up information that all electronic thermostats from this particular company do this. I won't mention their name because I don't want to embarrass Honeywell. I finally called in to our HVAC company through a different line (not a repair line) and asked them if they could fix this. They said yes they would replace it...in five days. I asked if they carried any other brands than the one they installed and they didn't. Frustrated I decided to runaway from the problem and went out to mow some of the muddy areas of the yard with the riding mower.
Now our mower is an commercial grade mower that we had to buy because someone keeps running into stuff bending the deck on regular mowers. I won't say who that someone is, but it's not me and it's probably my wife. Because of this, the mower weighs 1400 lbs. (about 650Kg) and because of its massive weight it gets stuck if there is any amount of moisture on the ground. While attempting to mow the parts of the yard that were too wet before, I hit a puddle or moss or gnat pee, whatever it was, the mower became hopelessly stuck. Now for reasons that I won't go into right now, I am the only one currently able to run this mower, so there was no one to drive the mower while I attempted to pull it out. So I did one any red blooded American male would do that has a Jeep and at least one ball (which I barely qualify for), I hooked up the Jeep and dropped it in four wheel drive low and jerked the crap out of it. You may have seen in the news where the day was .25 seconds shorter yesterday, that's because the massive torque of my Jeep pulling out this mower actually stopped the Earth's rotation for a brief moment. After these shenanigans were done, it was pretty much too late to attempt the ditch mowing/incision ripping yesterday.
So today I got up and went to a hardware store to find a thermostat that didn't have "Honeywell" stamped on it. I found one and then had to pick up a bag of concrete for another project we are doing. I found the correct type of concrete (for the record, there are approximately 75 different types of concrete and no matter what your project, there will be exactly 1 (one) bag that kinda fits what you are needing to do, and it will be on a very high shelf). I look straight at the bag...literally, because someone at Home Depot decided that this particular type of concrete needed to be about five feet in the air, and it dawned on me as I read "80 lbs." on the side of the bag that: A) I haven't lifted 80 lbs. since my surgery, I am officially supposed to be closer to 30lbs., and B) I can't bring the Jeep in to help me with this one. I briefly thought about asking for help, but two things occurred to me: 1) Guys are not supposed to ask for any sort of help whatsoever in a hardware store unless it is a veiled attempt to prove they know more than the person they are talking to, and 2) I have about as much chance of finding and employee at Home Depot to help me as I do of finding the Loch Ness Monster, Elvis, Jimmy Hoffa, and a regular cast member from Alf. Now Andrea Elson did walk by while I was contemplating the next move, but without Elvis, Jimmy, and Nessie she wouldn't have been much help. So I did what any self respecting guy would do, I picked up the bag anyway, rather than get help, and waited for the "pop" down below. I firmly grabbed the bag and just as gracefully has a Olympic weight lifter clean and jerks 1000 lbs., I put the concrete in the cart...OK, it was less like an Olympic weight lifter and more like a out of shape fat guy struggling to lift more weight than he lifted in eight months (outside of Golden Corral) all the while trying not drag the bag (which they for some reason make out of paper just slightly thicker than tissue paper) over anything that might snag it, causing it to burst open cartoonishly burying my feet in 80 lbs. of concrete, while at the same time trying to keep me from bursting open cartoonishly burying my feet in a large pile of my intestines. Unfortunately for the person watching me on the security camera I was able to load the concrete without any comic mishaps (yes, they actually have a sign in the concrete section pointing to the security camera, maybe that is a sign you are way understaffed if someone can grab an 80 lbs. bag of concrete and no one notices nor is able to catch someone fleeing with 80 lbs. of concrete).
Eventually, I made it home and the first thing I had to do, with the air conditioner running like an out of control Trane, was replace the thermostat. The thermostat contains slightly more wires than the Space Shuttle, except with fewer directions. After approximately 47 hours of cursing, reading, taking a Spanish course, reading the other manual, taking a Hindi course, calling tech support, and some Eeny Meeny Miney Mo, I was able to hook up the thermostat with a minimum amount of smoke and sparks. As I was wrapping up, a large storm hit, effectively ending my mowing/stomach shredding/toe slicing plans for the day.
I don't know if the events keeping me from mowing the ditch are a bit of Divine Intervention or just me being lazy and slow, but I will welcome the postponements no matter what the reasons. I just don't know what I am going to break to get out of it tomorrow...
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
There's More To Recovery Than Just Recovery...
Today I spent the morning with a good friend who is recovering from her own serious health condition. We got into a conversation about how hard it is to recover from a serious illness, not necessarily physically but mentally as well. There are so many aspects to recovery that get overlooked because caregivers are focused on, well recovery, but just physical. The medical profession seems to think if they fixed your ailment, you're done.
One thing I noticed since my cancer diagnosis, is before I found out I had cancer, I did routine checks for testicular cancer. I had a doctor in 1998 tell me it would be a good idea to check and I did the checks often, sometimes twice or more a day depending on how many other people were in the pool at the time, but every since I found the cancer, I hardly check. The ironic thing is, I have about half as much to check after the cancer, so you would think it would be easier to check now. However, I could probably count the times I have checked since then on one hand...not that hand the other one, the non-checking hand. I don't know why, but I have developed an aversion to checking myself since I had actually found something. Luckily, since I still manage to see one professional or another approximately every forty three minutes, I am getting checked enough right now by other people, so I don't need to worry about it, my family doctor, my urologist, my oncologist, my friend's overly curious dog, that TSA guy behind me in line at Arby's the other day, well at least I think it was a TSA uniform, or it could have been a bus driver's uniform, who ever it was he was very gentle and paid for my Arby-Q. I brought this issue up at my cancer support group to see if any other of the self examiners had the same mental block after diagnosis, but unfortunately the breast cancer survivors weren't there that day. There were a few prostate cancer survivors, but they didn't look flexible enough to perform self exams.
When down physically for so long, it takes a while to get back in the swing of things. The doctors pretty much force you to be a couch potato through weight restrictions and other warnings of dyer consequences if you overexert. After weeks, or even months, of continuously watching daytime TV, it's hard to get back into a routine of getting up, moving around, and even concentrating on anything that doesn't involve paternity testing, especially during Oprah's last season! And even when you do start to move about and get braver and braver, there can be certain obstacles in your daily life that look insurmountable. As part of my mowing routine, I have to dangle a push mower down a very steep embankment about five feet, pull it back up, and try to keep my toes out of the way the whole time I am struggling with it. This is something that leaves me physically drained and crippled on a good day, I will admit, I am scared to death to do it when I still haven't been released to do that sort of thing from the doctor that performed my surgery.
Then there is just the mental recovery. Believe it or not, you feel like your brain gets flabby from not being used while you were recovering. I tried to keep my brain sharp by first reading Yahoo articles on-line, then working my way up to on-line versions of magazines, then newspapers, and even tried to read a few books on-line. It was months into my recovery before I realized I had just been looking at porn the whole time, which I would stop, but I am not quite done with this article. The point being, when you brain isn't working as hard as it had in the past, it takes a while to be able to stare at a computer screen for hours on end again (especially if there is no porn on that computer screen).
One last part of mental recovery I will mention, kinda relates to one of the first things I mentioned, and that is the fear that you are not quite well yet, or that it will come back. There is a reason that until recently, oncologists would never use the word "cured" they would just say "remission". I don't know that I will ever get over the fear that the cancer isn't quite gone, or that it's hiding somewhere else, or that it's just not big enough to show up on tests yet, or that it's lying dormant, or, or, or, or....with so much of cancer being an unknown, how do we as patients feel secure in our "cured" diagnoses? And am I sure our families/caregivers/support networks have the same fears, whether they will verbalize them or not.
I guess in many ways, recovering from a serious illness is like a "recovering alcoholic". Sure, Bill W. never plans on having another drink, but he knows that threat is always lurking in the background. In much the same way, I don't ever plan on having cancer again, but I know there is a possibility, however slight, that it could be hiding somewhere. Maybe I should do some more internet "reading" and a self-exam just to make sure there's no cancer left.
One thing I noticed since my cancer diagnosis, is before I found out I had cancer, I did routine checks for testicular cancer. I had a doctor in 1998 tell me it would be a good idea to check and I did the checks often, sometimes twice or more a day depending on how many other people were in the pool at the time, but every since I found the cancer, I hardly check. The ironic thing is, I have about half as much to check after the cancer, so you would think it would be easier to check now. However, I could probably count the times I have checked since then on one hand...not that hand the other one, the non-checking hand. I don't know why, but I have developed an aversion to checking myself since I had actually found something. Luckily, since I still manage to see one professional or another approximately every forty three minutes, I am getting checked enough right now by other people, so I don't need to worry about it, my family doctor, my urologist, my oncologist, my friend's overly curious dog, that TSA guy behind me in line at Arby's the other day, well at least I think it was a TSA uniform, or it could have been a bus driver's uniform, who ever it was he was very gentle and paid for my Arby-Q. I brought this issue up at my cancer support group to see if any other of the self examiners had the same mental block after diagnosis, but unfortunately the breast cancer survivors weren't there that day. There were a few prostate cancer survivors, but they didn't look flexible enough to perform self exams.
When down physically for so long, it takes a while to get back in the swing of things. The doctors pretty much force you to be a couch potato through weight restrictions and other warnings of dyer consequences if you overexert. After weeks, or even months, of continuously watching daytime TV, it's hard to get back into a routine of getting up, moving around, and even concentrating on anything that doesn't involve paternity testing, especially during Oprah's last season! And even when you do start to move about and get braver and braver, there can be certain obstacles in your daily life that look insurmountable. As part of my mowing routine, I have to dangle a push mower down a very steep embankment about five feet, pull it back up, and try to keep my toes out of the way the whole time I am struggling with it. This is something that leaves me physically drained and crippled on a good day, I will admit, I am scared to death to do it when I still haven't been released to do that sort of thing from the doctor that performed my surgery.
Then there is just the mental recovery. Believe it or not, you feel like your brain gets flabby from not being used while you were recovering. I tried to keep my brain sharp by first reading Yahoo articles on-line, then working my way up to on-line versions of magazines, then newspapers, and even tried to read a few books on-line. It was months into my recovery before I realized I had just been looking at porn the whole time, which I would stop, but I am not quite done with this article. The point being, when you brain isn't working as hard as it had in the past, it takes a while to be able to stare at a computer screen for hours on end again (especially if there is no porn on that computer screen).
One last part of mental recovery I will mention, kinda relates to one of the first things I mentioned, and that is the fear that you are not quite well yet, or that it will come back. There is a reason that until recently, oncologists would never use the word "cured" they would just say "remission". I don't know that I will ever get over the fear that the cancer isn't quite gone, or that it's hiding somewhere else, or that it's just not big enough to show up on tests yet, or that it's lying dormant, or, or, or, or....with so much of cancer being an unknown, how do we as patients feel secure in our "cured" diagnoses? And am I sure our families/caregivers/support networks have the same fears, whether they will verbalize them or not.
I guess in many ways, recovering from a serious illness is like a "recovering alcoholic". Sure, Bill W. never plans on having another drink, but he knows that threat is always lurking in the background. In much the same way, I don't ever plan on having cancer again, but I know there is a possibility, however slight, that it could be hiding somewhere. Maybe I should do some more internet "reading" and a self-exam just to make sure there's no cancer left.
Monday, May 9, 2011
"If I Leave You It Doesn't Mean I Love You Any Less"
For the second day in a row I am starting off with a Warren Zevon quote. While Warren was dying of mesothelioma he wrote a song to his wife with the line "if I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less". It was a touching line when I first heard it and a much more powerful line after my cancer diagnosis. I think the first reaction when you are diagnosed, is to wonder if you are going to survive. The second reaction is if you don't survive, what will that do to your family? What a brilliantly simple way of expressing how we feel. If cancer takes us, it doesn't mean that we want to go.
I "graduated" from the Wellness Community this week. I won't say I am 100% over all of this stuff, heck for one thing I haven't officially been released from the urologist yet, but cancer is no longer the prevailing thought in my mind anymore. Granted there are other things going on in my life right now that are taking my focus off that crap, which is a good thing. I don't know if I would feel this far removed from cancer otherwise, but the point is I do and that's all that matters. It's hard to believe my cancerversary is coming up in just a few months!
The Wellness Community and more importantly the people in my support group have been very...well supportive. I was hoping there would be a big crowd there so I could say "bye", but there was only the facilitator and one other guy, who happened to be my favorite guy and the one that helped me the most. This particular guy (without giving any identifying information, which is a no-no for a support group) has lived with cancer for literally decades. Not a survivor, LIVED WITH CANCER as in still has cancer! There is another in my group that has lived with cancer for about a decade as well. Do you know how comforting that is to someone who just got diagnosed? Even if you aren't cured, here is living proof that you can live with cancer and look like a normal non-cancer-having person! And the thing I was most impressed with these two individuals was they were the most upbeat of the group. They weren't cursing their maker or bitter at the world. They were positive. With just my favorite guy in my final meeting, I was able to spend a lot of time telling him just how important he has been to my emotional recovery. I wish there were a couple of others there that I wanted to thank, but that's what e-mail is for.
Now to complain about my group for just one second. One thing I did get off my chest was there was an incredibly negative individual that almost caused me to quit the group. This person was CURED but didn't want to believe it and spent the whole meeting going on about how if you had cancer once it stays in you forever and it can pop up anytime, even if the doctor says you are in remission or even cured. That is not something I wanted to be around just out of my surgery and facing chemotherapy. Luckily, the lady from the No Boobs About It blog warned me that there is one of those people in every group, to just try to ignore them. I am glad she told me that. The only other complaint I have with my group (and people in general) sometimes when life looks the darkest, people give up on you. Most cancer patients have ups and downs in their care, and some people in the group would start referring to people in the past tense that were struggling in their fight. The whole time Monty Python and the Holy Grail was running through my head "I'm not dead yet..." All of the people referred to in the past tense have gotten better! Thank God (literally) that they had better outlooks on their own lives than some of their supporters.
But all in all, I loved the Wellness Community and the support everyone gave me. I didn't really want to leave, but I didn't feel it was right for me to be there anymore, since I feel less and less like a cancer patient and more like a cancer survivor. I wanted to thank everyone for what they did with a gift, however I couldn't just give gifts because I am still unemployed and don't have a lot of money flowing in right now. I would have liked to cook something and bring it in (and let's just pretend for a moment that my cooking is tolerable) but when you are on chemo, you can be super sensitive to tastes and smells (I still won't touch pasta and shun salt, two things I enjoyed before chemo) so food is not even allowed inside the room we meet in. So that left me with my favorite thing, music.
Not only have I worked extensively in music running record stores, as a club DJ, and even with a record company being required to hang out with rock stars for three years, but I have always used music to alter my mood and relate to others. Back in the day, years before I even met my wife (if she is reading this) I would make mix tapes and CD's to open doors to hot girls that would inevitably ask for more CDs and less of me. More recently, I boil my music collection to moods. I have several CDs I put together just to keep me awake on roadtrips. I have CDs I made to listen to just when I want to sing loud in the car with no one around. I have a CD I made to listen to when you are in a pissed off mood (which I largely gathered from my wife's music collection, I don't know what that means, I'm just saying...). And I have made CDs just to put me in a good mood. So that is what I did, I made CDs for my group, happy CDs. You know, songs that are just impossible to be sad while listening to, stuff like LFO's Summer Girls, Spice Girls' Wannabe, and Hanson's MmmBop...OK, I am lying, I like most people over the age of two and with most of their faculties hate those songs. That was just a list of my sister's CD collection. (The funny thing here, is I have to approve all comments before they are posted, so there is no way for her to refute this on my page. But I am sure there will be retribution on hers.) But I did put together a list of twenty songs from 1952 to the mid 1990s that just make you feel good. I don't know if they will appreciate them or not, but even if they don't, at least I gave them a new shiny coaster.
So Thursday, Warren's lyrics held a different meaning to me. I didn't want to leave the friendships, but it was time for me to leave the group. And although I can't specifically identify people or illnesses, I will vaguely take a moment to say some "thank yous". Thank you Bill for showing me how one person can face cancer and act like...well someone that doesn't have cancer. Thank you Susan for having that magic folder where much like a Magic 8 Ball, you ask a question, you reach your hand in, and pull out a print out with the answer. Thank you Ann for showing just how hard one human can fight, and still retain grace and dignity the whole time. Thank you Cary for taking a bad situation and turning it around for something good. And most of all thank you Ned, no doubt your family sacrificed a great deal for the benefit of so many others, and I will never be able to express my gratitude sufficiently. And there are many others at the group that helped me, and I don't mean to play favorites here...but I am (did). And it's not like anyone actually reads these anyway, so there is not really anyone to offend with an omission. Even though I didn't place that Warren Zevon song (Keep Me In Your Heart For A While) on the CD I made, because although very poignant and beautiful it's also incredibly depressing, I graduate from and depart the Wellness Community with those words in my heart and mind, "If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less".
I "graduated" from the Wellness Community this week. I won't say I am 100% over all of this stuff, heck for one thing I haven't officially been released from the urologist yet, but cancer is no longer the prevailing thought in my mind anymore. Granted there are other things going on in my life right now that are taking my focus off that crap, which is a good thing. I don't know if I would feel this far removed from cancer otherwise, but the point is I do and that's all that matters. It's hard to believe my cancerversary is coming up in just a few months!
The Wellness Community and more importantly the people in my support group have been very...well supportive. I was hoping there would be a big crowd there so I could say "bye", but there was only the facilitator and one other guy, who happened to be my favorite guy and the one that helped me the most. This particular guy (without giving any identifying information, which is a no-no for a support group) has lived with cancer for literally decades. Not a survivor, LIVED WITH CANCER as in still has cancer! There is another in my group that has lived with cancer for about a decade as well. Do you know how comforting that is to someone who just got diagnosed? Even if you aren't cured, here is living proof that you can live with cancer and look like a normal non-cancer-having person! And the thing I was most impressed with these two individuals was they were the most upbeat of the group. They weren't cursing their maker or bitter at the world. They were positive. With just my favorite guy in my final meeting, I was able to spend a lot of time telling him just how important he has been to my emotional recovery. I wish there were a couple of others there that I wanted to thank, but that's what e-mail is for.
Now to complain about my group for just one second. One thing I did get off my chest was there was an incredibly negative individual that almost caused me to quit the group. This person was CURED but didn't want to believe it and spent the whole meeting going on about how if you had cancer once it stays in you forever and it can pop up anytime, even if the doctor says you are in remission or even cured. That is not something I wanted to be around just out of my surgery and facing chemotherapy. Luckily, the lady from the No Boobs About It blog warned me that there is one of those people in every group, to just try to ignore them. I am glad she told me that. The only other complaint I have with my group (and people in general) sometimes when life looks the darkest, people give up on you. Most cancer patients have ups and downs in their care, and some people in the group would start referring to people in the past tense that were struggling in their fight. The whole time Monty Python and the Holy Grail was running through my head "I'm not dead yet..." All of the people referred to in the past tense have gotten better! Thank God (literally) that they had better outlooks on their own lives than some of their supporters.
But all in all, I loved the Wellness Community and the support everyone gave me. I didn't really want to leave, but I didn't feel it was right for me to be there anymore, since I feel less and less like a cancer patient and more like a cancer survivor. I wanted to thank everyone for what they did with a gift, however I couldn't just give gifts because I am still unemployed and don't have a lot of money flowing in right now. I would have liked to cook something and bring it in (and let's just pretend for a moment that my cooking is tolerable) but when you are on chemo, you can be super sensitive to tastes and smells (I still won't touch pasta and shun salt, two things I enjoyed before chemo) so food is not even allowed inside the room we meet in. So that left me with my favorite thing, music.
Not only have I worked extensively in music running record stores, as a club DJ, and even with a record company being required to hang out with rock stars for three years, but I have always used music to alter my mood and relate to others. Back in the day, years before I even met my wife (if she is reading this) I would make mix tapes and CD's to open doors to hot girls that would inevitably ask for more CDs and less of me. More recently, I boil my music collection to moods. I have several CDs I put together just to keep me awake on roadtrips. I have CDs I made to listen to just when I want to sing loud in the car with no one around. I have a CD I made to listen to when you are in a pissed off mood (which I largely gathered from my wife's music collection, I don't know what that means, I'm just saying...). And I have made CDs just to put me in a good mood. So that is what I did, I made CDs for my group, happy CDs. You know, songs that are just impossible to be sad while listening to, stuff like LFO's Summer Girls, Spice Girls' Wannabe, and Hanson's MmmBop...OK, I am lying, I like most people over the age of two and with most of their faculties hate those songs. That was just a list of my sister's CD collection. (The funny thing here, is I have to approve all comments before they are posted, so there is no way for her to refute this on my page. But I am sure there will be retribution on hers.) But I did put together a list of twenty songs from 1952 to the mid 1990s that just make you feel good. I don't know if they will appreciate them or not, but even if they don't, at least I gave them a new shiny coaster.
So Thursday, Warren's lyrics held a different meaning to me. I didn't want to leave the friendships, but it was time for me to leave the group. And although I can't specifically identify people or illnesses, I will vaguely take a moment to say some "thank yous". Thank you Bill for showing me how one person can face cancer and act like...well someone that doesn't have cancer. Thank you Susan for having that magic folder where much like a Magic 8 Ball, you ask a question, you reach your hand in, and pull out a print out with the answer. Thank you Ann for showing just how hard one human can fight, and still retain grace and dignity the whole time. Thank you Cary for taking a bad situation and turning it around for something good. And most of all thank you Ned, no doubt your family sacrificed a great deal for the benefit of so many others, and I will never be able to express my gratitude sufficiently. And there are many others at the group that helped me, and I don't mean to play favorites here...but I am (did). And it's not like anyone actually reads these anyway, so there is not really anyone to offend with an omission. Even though I didn't place that Warren Zevon song (Keep Me In Your Heart For A While) on the CD I made, because although very poignant and beautiful it's also incredibly depressing, I graduate from and depart the Wellness Community with those words in my heart and mind, "If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less".
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Enjoy Every Sandwich
I haven't spent much time on the computer lately because I was spending too much time on the computer. No, I wasn't actually doing anything on the computer, I was just watching it sit and lock up and restart. I can't complain too much, the computer I was using was from 2003. However, this week while helping a friend with a project, and sitting at the computer for literally an hour while it processed the request I was asking of it, I said enough was enough. After begging and pleading with my wife, I now have a brand new computer that actually turns on when you turn it on, and does what you ask it to do. I bought it yesterday and upon cleaning out the old computer and setting up my new one, I decided to check the speed of the thing by watching some video content that I have missed over the years. Not porn, because I make sure not to miss that, just everything from a Simpson's episode I missed last month to Warren Zevon's last appearance on David Letterman a few years back.
At my support group meeting two weeks ago, we discussed how all of us in the group, after having the inarguably life changing cancer diagnosis, all have adopted a more living-in-the-moment attitude. We were not talking about living your life like an anarchist, we were talking about living without regrets. When people say they live their life without regrets, they tend to mean that they stand by the decisions they made in their life, be them good or bad, because even bad decisions can be learning experiences. However, the living without regrets that we were referring to, is all of the times in our lives we have passed on an opportunity or not followed a dream for trivial reasons. They can be life decisions or just fun times we passed up with friends. Whether it be regretting not going to that concert with your buddy, or not having the opportunity to say "bye" to someone before it was too late, or not marrying Christie Turlington, there are several decisions in all of our lives we wish we could change or get that opportunity back.
Still unemployed, I have recently reevaluated my life and my career path. My latest career path started when I was volunteering while helping out my hometown during the floods along the Mississippi River. I loved working side by side with people to sandbag in an effort to save their house, business, church, or just the town in general. I later managed to get into the disaster business and found that in the disaster business, you don't really get to help those individuals anymore. I got more and more immersed in my job, working longer and weirder hours, seeing the people I wanted to help less and less. I got to teach disaster preparedness to people, which I loved, but my job was asking me to take a more supervisory role on that as well and have volunteers do that. When you work a job you love and you work long hours, the years go by, the job changes, and before you know it, the job you once loved, is no longer the same job, and you just love it out of habit. It dawned on me recently, that is what happened to me.
After the things that have happened in my life lately, I have analyzed what I enjoy. When you are faced with life altering events, you realize a job can be something you love doing and are willing to sacrifice for, something you hate doing, but it pays so much it gives you the opportunity to spend that money on your family enriching your life that way, for a lucky few like musicians and porn stars it could be a job that you both love and pays a lot, or it can be a job you hate, doesn't pay that well, and isn't rewarding. After talking with my wife, we both agreed that in this stage of our lives, I should look for either a job I really, really enjoy, a job that I maybe don't enjoy and doesn't pay much but allows me a lot of time with my family, or a job that pays ridiculous money that when I do get sometime off I can afford to jet off to Walt Disney World or buy expensive guitars (she says spend the money on the family, but that's not how I processed it in my mind). Just like we talked in my group, live in the moment, make sure your job is worth it to you, either monetarily or sense of accomplishment.
But we weren't just talking about jobs in my group. We were talking about everything in life, meeting that friend for lunch, dropping an e-mail to a sick friend, taking that trip, learning that skill you have always wanted, whatever. I wish I could live a week in Cinderella's Castle at Walt Disney World, get right out of bed walk straight to the Jungle Cruise and shoot an elephant in my PJs (how he got in my pajamas I'll never know...ya gotta love Groucho!). That is a trip that would probably bankrupt me and put a huge financial strain on my family for many years to come. That is not the type of thing we were talking about. However, for years my wife and I have dreamed of taking a trip out west, just driving and seeing the sights this country has to offer. That trip, I have no doubt we will take in the coming years when we are physically and financially able to go. For years, I have begged my parents to come to Florida with us. We went as a family one time and had a great experience. That was sixteen years ago. My wife and I are able to visit Florida frequently on a fairly cheap budget. I have invited my parents many times and offered many ways to help facilitate their travel down there. Time after time we are turned down and have basically heard from them that they will never travel that far again. It is something that really saddens me, especially since my cancer diagnosis. We don't know when God may call any of us back home. We don't know how much time we have with each other. Instead of just showing my parents photos and telling them what a great time we have in Florida, we would like to take them, show them, experience it with them (until they get tired and grumpy like old people tend to do, then we will lock them in a bathroom or something). I think what saddens me is not so much the repeated declines of our previous offers, but how they say they don't ever think they will make a trip like that again. I was taken to Disney Parks the first time by my family and I was kind of hoping that one day they would be there to experience it with their grandchild. Who knows, maybe they will be more adventurous by the time that opportunity rolls around, or at least senile enough that we can tell them we are taking them to Big Lots or something and Big Lots has a new one thousand mile long parking lot.
When Warren Zevon made his final appearance on David Letterman, he was well aware that he was dying from Mesothelioma. He knew it was the last time he would be on there. He knew that the breath that he drew to sing songs many people loved was being stolen more and more by the cancer filling his lungs. Warren had a great attitude and repeated many times through his dying days "Enjoy every sandwich." It may sound stupid and simple, but for anyone that has looked at a doctor waiting to hear a success rate or a chance of survivability we know exactly what he means. Do what you enjoy. Don't waste your time on things you don't enjoy. If you do have to do things you don't enjoy, make sure it's worth it in the end. Learn to love the gifts you are given in your life, the big ones and the little ones. Enjoy every sandwich. With that said, I am sore from typing and hungry for a sandwich, so it's time to get off of here.
At my support group meeting two weeks ago, we discussed how all of us in the group, after having the inarguably life changing cancer diagnosis, all have adopted a more living-in-the-moment attitude. We were not talking about living your life like an anarchist, we were talking about living without regrets. When people say they live their life without regrets, they tend to mean that they stand by the decisions they made in their life, be them good or bad, because even bad decisions can be learning experiences. However, the living without regrets that we were referring to, is all of the times in our lives we have passed on an opportunity or not followed a dream for trivial reasons. They can be life decisions or just fun times we passed up with friends. Whether it be regretting not going to that concert with your buddy, or not having the opportunity to say "bye" to someone before it was too late, or not marrying Christie Turlington, there are several decisions in all of our lives we wish we could change or get that opportunity back.
Still unemployed, I have recently reevaluated my life and my career path. My latest career path started when I was volunteering while helping out my hometown during the floods along the Mississippi River. I loved working side by side with people to sandbag in an effort to save their house, business, church, or just the town in general. I later managed to get into the disaster business and found that in the disaster business, you don't really get to help those individuals anymore. I got more and more immersed in my job, working longer and weirder hours, seeing the people I wanted to help less and less. I got to teach disaster preparedness to people, which I loved, but my job was asking me to take a more supervisory role on that as well and have volunteers do that. When you work a job you love and you work long hours, the years go by, the job changes, and before you know it, the job you once loved, is no longer the same job, and you just love it out of habit. It dawned on me recently, that is what happened to me.
After the things that have happened in my life lately, I have analyzed what I enjoy. When you are faced with life altering events, you realize a job can be something you love doing and are willing to sacrifice for, something you hate doing, but it pays so much it gives you the opportunity to spend that money on your family enriching your life that way, for a lucky few like musicians and porn stars it could be a job that you both love and pays a lot, or it can be a job you hate, doesn't pay that well, and isn't rewarding. After talking with my wife, we both agreed that in this stage of our lives, I should look for either a job I really, really enjoy, a job that I maybe don't enjoy and doesn't pay much but allows me a lot of time with my family, or a job that pays ridiculous money that when I do get sometime off I can afford to jet off to Walt Disney World or buy expensive guitars (she says spend the money on the family, but that's not how I processed it in my mind). Just like we talked in my group, live in the moment, make sure your job is worth it to you, either monetarily or sense of accomplishment.
But we weren't just talking about jobs in my group. We were talking about everything in life, meeting that friend for lunch, dropping an e-mail to a sick friend, taking that trip, learning that skill you have always wanted, whatever. I wish I could live a week in Cinderella's Castle at Walt Disney World, get right out of bed walk straight to the Jungle Cruise and shoot an elephant in my PJs (how he got in my pajamas I'll never know...ya gotta love Groucho!). That is a trip that would probably bankrupt me and put a huge financial strain on my family for many years to come. That is not the type of thing we were talking about. However, for years my wife and I have dreamed of taking a trip out west, just driving and seeing the sights this country has to offer. That trip, I have no doubt we will take in the coming years when we are physically and financially able to go. For years, I have begged my parents to come to Florida with us. We went as a family one time and had a great experience. That was sixteen years ago. My wife and I are able to visit Florida frequently on a fairly cheap budget. I have invited my parents many times and offered many ways to help facilitate their travel down there. Time after time we are turned down and have basically heard from them that they will never travel that far again. It is something that really saddens me, especially since my cancer diagnosis. We don't know when God may call any of us back home. We don't know how much time we have with each other. Instead of just showing my parents photos and telling them what a great time we have in Florida, we would like to take them, show them, experience it with them (until they get tired and grumpy like old people tend to do, then we will lock them in a bathroom or something). I think what saddens me is not so much the repeated declines of our previous offers, but how they say they don't ever think they will make a trip like that again. I was taken to Disney Parks the first time by my family and I was kind of hoping that one day they would be there to experience it with their grandchild. Who knows, maybe they will be more adventurous by the time that opportunity rolls around, or at least senile enough that we can tell them we are taking them to Big Lots or something and Big Lots has a new one thousand mile long parking lot.
When Warren Zevon made his final appearance on David Letterman, he was well aware that he was dying from Mesothelioma. He knew it was the last time he would be on there. He knew that the breath that he drew to sing songs many people loved was being stolen more and more by the cancer filling his lungs. Warren had a great attitude and repeated many times through his dying days "Enjoy every sandwich." It may sound stupid and simple, but for anyone that has looked at a doctor waiting to hear a success rate or a chance of survivability we know exactly what he means. Do what you enjoy. Don't waste your time on things you don't enjoy. If you do have to do things you don't enjoy, make sure it's worth it in the end. Learn to love the gifts you are given in your life, the big ones and the little ones. Enjoy every sandwich. With that said, I am sore from typing and hungry for a sandwich, so it's time to get off of here.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
If Coughing Were A Sport, I Would Be An Olympian!
So a couple weeks back I wrote about having a cold. Well, the sniffling stopped, the sneezing stopped, and the coughing...well it never went away. In my typical, stubborn, I-don't-want-to-go-to-the-doctor sort of way, I decided the best thing to do was to ignore it and keep coughing. That changed the night my wife asked why I was breathing so fast. I said I wasn't breathing fast, especially since I was just sitting there, not exerting myself with heavy exercise like bending over to tie my shoes, reaching for more cookies, or grabbing the remote to change the channel. When she pointed out that I indeed was breathing fast, I started getting worried. One possible cause could be pneumonia or any other number of pfunny gnamed illknesses.
So, first thing the next day I called the doctor and scheduled an appointment for later that day. The two things I can always count on with my obsessive-compulsive doctor is that no matter what I am there for I have to be humiliated with the scale, and that he will be at the very latest on time. And that is exactly what happened, after finding out I was fat (again) I was taken back to see the doctor...early! While the nurse was pointing out that I was fat and taking my blood pressure, she scared me by telling me how rampant pneumonia has been this year. My doctor came in and had me take several deep breaths, much more than usual, which seemed like a pretty sadistic thing to do to someone that was having trouble breathing. Finally, he told me to take a deep breath, and breathe it out as fast as I could, which resulted in my coughing very hard, getting light headed, and almost falling off the exam table. That caused him to giggle a little and tell me that people usually get lightheaded if they come in in my state and do that, which made me wonder why, if most people get lightheaded and almost fall off the table, why didn't he put himself in some sort of position to catch me? Anyway, he narrowed it down to walking pneumonia or viral bronchitis, and told me to go to the hospital right away to get an X-ray.
Because of my medical past, I have been pummeled by radiation so much to the point that my oncologist wants to limit the amount of exposure I have from now on. For those that don't know, radiation builds in your body over time. It starts from the day you were born and keeps adding up until the day you die. I told my doctor that my oncologist (and his good friend) had ordered a chest X-ray as part of my six month post-chemo check-up for the next week and asked if there was anyway I could just get one set of X-rays that would take care of what both my doctor and my oncologist wanted to see (plus then I would only have to pay one co-pay). He thought that was a great idea and wrote the prescription. My doctor sent me on my way, but not without first giving me two free inhalers. He is one of those doctors that feels if drug companies are constantly going to keep coming around and bugging him, he is going to take all the samples he can, and try his best to keep from actually ever writing a prescription for anything, just give away free samples. I don't think that is what the drug reps had in mind, but I certainly appreciate it.
I rush to the hospital just in time to spend the next half an hour filling out paperwork and answering questions between coughs. I finally got in to have my X-rays done and my doctor called the next morning to say I just had bronchitis (which isn't that much easier to spell) and that it looks like I am still cancer free. I still have another week before I hear that officially from my oncologist, but the surprise X-ray and results have definitely cut down on my scanxiety this time around.
So, going on week four since all this started, I am still coughing and according to my doctor, can expect to still be coughing for another two weeks. I am thrilled. In the meantime, I will steer clear of salty foods, keep making people around me scared that I am contagious, and keep my wife and basenjis awake by hacking all through the night. Let's just call it payback for all the kicking that they supposedly do "in their sleep".
I will close by telling the story about the Evil Casket. The Evil Casket started chasing this poor girl one day. No matter where she went the Evil Casket came bouncing after her. The faster she ran, the faster the Evil Casket bounced. She ran into her house and locked the door, the Evil Casket knocked the door down. She ran upstairs, and the Evil Casket bounded right up the stairs behind her. She ran into the bathroom and locked the door, and the Evil Casket broke that door down too. Cornered and desperate, the poor girl reached for something, anything to use as a weapon against the Casket. She opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the Dimetapp, threw at her pursuer, and....the coffin stopped!
So, first thing the next day I called the doctor and scheduled an appointment for later that day. The two things I can always count on with my obsessive-compulsive doctor is that no matter what I am there for I have to be humiliated with the scale, and that he will be at the very latest on time. And that is exactly what happened, after finding out I was fat (again) I was taken back to see the doctor...early! While the nurse was pointing out that I was fat and taking my blood pressure, she scared me by telling me how rampant pneumonia has been this year. My doctor came in and had me take several deep breaths, much more than usual, which seemed like a pretty sadistic thing to do to someone that was having trouble breathing. Finally, he told me to take a deep breath, and breathe it out as fast as I could, which resulted in my coughing very hard, getting light headed, and almost falling off the exam table. That caused him to giggle a little and tell me that people usually get lightheaded if they come in in my state and do that, which made me wonder why, if most people get lightheaded and almost fall off the table, why didn't he put himself in some sort of position to catch me? Anyway, he narrowed it down to walking pneumonia or viral bronchitis, and told me to go to the hospital right away to get an X-ray.
Because of my medical past, I have been pummeled by radiation so much to the point that my oncologist wants to limit the amount of exposure I have from now on. For those that don't know, radiation builds in your body over time. It starts from the day you were born and keeps adding up until the day you die. I told my doctor that my oncologist (and his good friend) had ordered a chest X-ray as part of my six month post-chemo check-up for the next week and asked if there was anyway I could just get one set of X-rays that would take care of what both my doctor and my oncologist wanted to see (plus then I would only have to pay one co-pay). He thought that was a great idea and wrote the prescription. My doctor sent me on my way, but not without first giving me two free inhalers. He is one of those doctors that feels if drug companies are constantly going to keep coming around and bugging him, he is going to take all the samples he can, and try his best to keep from actually ever writing a prescription for anything, just give away free samples. I don't think that is what the drug reps had in mind, but I certainly appreciate it.
I rush to the hospital just in time to spend the next half an hour filling out paperwork and answering questions between coughs. I finally got in to have my X-rays done and my doctor called the next morning to say I just had bronchitis (which isn't that much easier to spell) and that it looks like I am still cancer free. I still have another week before I hear that officially from my oncologist, but the surprise X-ray and results have definitely cut down on my scanxiety this time around.
So, going on week four since all this started, I am still coughing and according to my doctor, can expect to still be coughing for another two weeks. I am thrilled. In the meantime, I will steer clear of salty foods, keep making people around me scared that I am contagious, and keep my wife and basenjis awake by hacking all through the night. Let's just call it payback for all the kicking that they supposedly do "in their sleep".
I will close by telling the story about the Evil Casket. The Evil Casket started chasing this poor girl one day. No matter where she went the Evil Casket came bouncing after her. The faster she ran, the faster the Evil Casket bounced. She ran into her house and locked the door, the Evil Casket knocked the door down. She ran upstairs, and the Evil Casket bounded right up the stairs behind her. She ran into the bathroom and locked the door, and the Evil Casket broke that door down too. Cornered and desperate, the poor girl reached for something, anything to use as a weapon against the Casket. She opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed the Dimetapp, threw at her pursuer, and....the coffin stopped!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Taking A Houseplant, Worms, And My Wife On A Roadtrip
One of the things I have done for my wife in the past is take her on surprise trips. In fact, my proposal to her was a surprise trip to Niagara Falls, where for the balance of the trip, rather than enjoy the beauty of the natural wonder, she stared at her recently acquired ring, studying to see if I remembered all the specifics she told me to make sure it had. Since then I have surprised her with other trips like a trip to Holiday World (which has FREE Pepsi products!!!) and the Mothman Festival in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. OK, so the quality of the surprise trips has definitely been declining. Anyway, a very good friend had offered me her lakeside cabin for the weekend. I call it a cabin, but it is more the size of an Army barracks, except the cabin can sleep more people.
Two months ago I started planning this trip as a cool, cheap thing an unemployed cancer patient can do for his wife's birthday. It required me to make all sorts of plans, cover stories, basenji babysitters, and secret acquisitions of everything from the keys to the place and groceries to worms (for fishing). This kept me a lot busier than I had thought it would. Everyday last week it seemed I was running around gathering stuff between the hours that my wife left for work and before she came home. I had to run around, buy food and supplies, and get back into my regular lounging-around-the-house clothes by the time she got home so she wouldn't realize I was running around all day buying worms.
My plan went fairly well and she even bought my cover story, that we were going to see my grandma in the nursing home. That story was actually too believable. While I was mowing the lawn the night before our departure, my wife baked a fancy cake and bought a houseplant all for my dear grandma that we weren't actually going to see. So, being the resourceful person that I am, since this trip was a surprise birthday trip, I grabbed some candles and decided she just baked her own birthday cake. Now in the past, I have tricked family members into wrapping their own presents, this is the first time I had someone bake their own cake.
The good news is, my wife was happily surprised and not mad that she baked a fancy cake...for herself, and a cute houseplant got to go on a road trip. The place we stayed was huge! At first it was overwhelming and even deciding what bedroom to sleep in resulted in an hour long dilemma. The irony was, that with this gigantic lake house at our disposal, we basically only really hung out in two rooms. Even though the fishing was non-productive this weekend, I was able to sneak her favorite camera into the car, so what she didn't catch in fish, she made up for in pictures.
As for me, the topography surrounding a house built on a slope next to a lake and some in progress repairs on the front porch, compounded by the amount of stuff we had to haul in and out, really stressed my incision. In my usual stubbornness, I didn't bother to take any precautions as I was rappelling down to the cabin from the car with loads of luggage and groceries...and worms. After climbing up and down the hill, loading and unloading the car, and fishing, and just walking to the lake, luckily, I feel great. So, even though this was a trip for my wife, it ended up being a boost for my own morale as well. One more sign that this cancer stuff is getting further and further behind me.
So, I don't have to sneak around buying worms anymore, and I don't have to worry about all the people that were in on my wife's surprise trip slipping up and spilling the beans. I did a bunch of stuff I shouldn't have physically this weekend, and I am none the worse for it. Although with the storms, it wasn't the best trip, but it was still pretty good!
Two months ago I started planning this trip as a cool, cheap thing an unemployed cancer patient can do for his wife's birthday. It required me to make all sorts of plans, cover stories, basenji babysitters, and secret acquisitions of everything from the keys to the place and groceries to worms (for fishing). This kept me a lot busier than I had thought it would. Everyday last week it seemed I was running around gathering stuff between the hours that my wife left for work and before she came home. I had to run around, buy food and supplies, and get back into my regular lounging-around-the-house clothes by the time she got home so she wouldn't realize I was running around all day buying worms.
My plan went fairly well and she even bought my cover story, that we were going to see my grandma in the nursing home. That story was actually too believable. While I was mowing the lawn the night before our departure, my wife baked a fancy cake and bought a houseplant all for my dear grandma that we weren't actually going to see. So, being the resourceful person that I am, since this trip was a surprise birthday trip, I grabbed some candles and decided she just baked her own birthday cake. Now in the past, I have tricked family members into wrapping their own presents, this is the first time I had someone bake their own cake.
The good news is, my wife was happily surprised and not mad that she baked a fancy cake...for herself, and a cute houseplant got to go on a road trip. The place we stayed was huge! At first it was overwhelming and even deciding what bedroom to sleep in resulted in an hour long dilemma. The irony was, that with this gigantic lake house at our disposal, we basically only really hung out in two rooms. Even though the fishing was non-productive this weekend, I was able to sneak her favorite camera into the car, so what she didn't catch in fish, she made up for in pictures.
As for me, the topography surrounding a house built on a slope next to a lake and some in progress repairs on the front porch, compounded by the amount of stuff we had to haul in and out, really stressed my incision. In my usual stubbornness, I didn't bother to take any precautions as I was rappelling down to the cabin from the car with loads of luggage and groceries...and worms. After climbing up and down the hill, loading and unloading the car, and fishing, and just walking to the lake, luckily, I feel great. So, even though this was a trip for my wife, it ended up being a boost for my own morale as well. One more sign that this cancer stuff is getting further and further behind me.
So, I don't have to sneak around buying worms anymore, and I don't have to worry about all the people that were in on my wife's surprise trip slipping up and spilling the beans. I did a bunch of stuff I shouldn't have physically this weekend, and I am none the worse for it. Although with the storms, it wasn't the best trip, but it was still pretty good!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Ah, The Good Old Days When I Could Take Dimetapp...
After a week (or weak) of coughing, snorting, hacking, sniffling, wheezing, whining, blowing, gasping, and honking I think I have almost beaten this cold. According to my wife I was just complaining and it wasn't that bad, until she caught it four days later. I maintain, that if she would have taken better care of me, she wouldn't have gotten it. However, since she just left me to flounder, I remained sick and infectious and she caught it from me.
I think the worst part of this cold or any cold, is when you start coughing without end. Although a few blogs ago I was saying I finally felt like I was over my incision pain, I was coughing so bad a few days ago, I was afraid I was going to rip it back open again. Luckily I didn't.
When the coughing started, I reached for my tried and tested Dimetapp Children's. Not being able to take anything with any alcohol, this is my usual goto remedy for coughing and itchy throats. However, I haven't taken any since I had chemo. Tired from wiping, coughing, and spitting all day, I took the maximum dose of Dimetapp and laid down to enjoy a sound night of slumber. Five hours later, I was still waiting for slumber, or at least for the monkeys in my head to quit typing. OK, there were not any actual monkeys typing, but my mind was racing so much, it felt like there were approximately one thousand and two monkeys typing on old fashioned manual typewriters with worn out ribbons. I don't know why it had to be worn out ribbons. Maybe they weren't monkeys, they were gibbons and that is where I got the "ribbons" from. Anyway, I couldn't concentrate on sleeping if that makes sense.
Ever since chemotherapy, anything with diphenhydramine (like Benadryl) instead of making me tired, makes me wide awake and has my mind racing. I guess it's a good thing I've never done meth. My mind would be racing and I would never get anything done from the diphenhydramine. Meth addicts get a lot done right? And diphenhydramine is one of the things they make meth with right? Yup, it is, I just looked it up. Now I am probably on some government list for looking it up.
Well, with the Dimetapp a failure, I was even sicker from not getting any sleep. So, I slept all day and completely screwed up my sleep pattern, which helps in healing too. Eventually, through the use of Lifesavers and Luden's I was able to make it through the sandpaper-against-the-back-of-the-throat days to now where I feel almost normal....for me.
The caveat is that now I have a coughing wife keeping me awake and a coughing basenji. I know you are probably wondering why my dog is coughing, and frankly we are too. My mother-in-law's theory is that she caught the cold from us. Now while I don't think she caught our cold, I do think this basenji is hacking because of it. Lately, she has had a smorgasbord of Kleenex's lying around. Now before you say "Ooh, boogie eating dog!" I am not talking about used Kleenex's. It's just that we have had boxes of Kleenex's within arm's reach of every flat/cushioned surface in the house, and that to Daisy the basenji is a lot like having a beer tap with mouth's reach of an alcoholic. Because a Kleenex box works much like a beer tap, more just keeps magically appearing.
So, I don't think Daisy is coughing from a cold, I think she is coughing from eating several cases of Kleenex the past few days. And although Kleenex may be a welcome relief on a runny nose, I can imagine it would tickle the back of your throat if you ate one, or a box. At any rate, our vet didn't seem too worried, and just in case she gave us medicine to fix every possible thing it could be. Which made me jealous. I think next time I have a cough I will just go to the vet. She's cheaper than our doctor too.
Anyway, with the weather warming up, I am hoping to be well enough to get out and enjoy it. Hopefully my wife will feel better soon too (because unlike toughing it out like I did, she whines a lot). Plus I am getting wore out from waiting on her hand and foot.
I think the worst part of this cold or any cold, is when you start coughing without end. Although a few blogs ago I was saying I finally felt like I was over my incision pain, I was coughing so bad a few days ago, I was afraid I was going to rip it back open again. Luckily I didn't.
When the coughing started, I reached for my tried and tested Dimetapp Children's. Not being able to take anything with any alcohol, this is my usual goto remedy for coughing and itchy throats. However, I haven't taken any since I had chemo. Tired from wiping, coughing, and spitting all day, I took the maximum dose of Dimetapp and laid down to enjoy a sound night of slumber. Five hours later, I was still waiting for slumber, or at least for the monkeys in my head to quit typing. OK, there were not any actual monkeys typing, but my mind was racing so much, it felt like there were approximately one thousand and two monkeys typing on old fashioned manual typewriters with worn out ribbons. I don't know why it had to be worn out ribbons. Maybe they weren't monkeys, they were gibbons and that is where I got the "ribbons" from. Anyway, I couldn't concentrate on sleeping if that makes sense.
Ever since chemotherapy, anything with diphenhydramine (like Benadryl) instead of making me tired, makes me wide awake and has my mind racing. I guess it's a good thing I've never done meth. My mind would be racing and I would never get anything done from the diphenhydramine. Meth addicts get a lot done right? And diphenhydramine is one of the things they make meth with right? Yup, it is, I just looked it up. Now I am probably on some government list for looking it up.
Well, with the Dimetapp a failure, I was even sicker from not getting any sleep. So, I slept all day and completely screwed up my sleep pattern, which helps in healing too. Eventually, through the use of Lifesavers and Luden's I was able to make it through the sandpaper-against-the-back-of-the-throat days to now where I feel almost normal....for me.
The caveat is that now I have a coughing wife keeping me awake and a coughing basenji. I know you are probably wondering why my dog is coughing, and frankly we are too. My mother-in-law's theory is that she caught the cold from us. Now while I don't think she caught our cold, I do think this basenji is hacking because of it. Lately, she has had a smorgasbord of Kleenex's lying around. Now before you say "Ooh, boogie eating dog!" I am not talking about used Kleenex's. It's just that we have had boxes of Kleenex's within arm's reach of every flat/cushioned surface in the house, and that to Daisy the basenji is a lot like having a beer tap with mouth's reach of an alcoholic. Because a Kleenex box works much like a beer tap, more just keeps magically appearing.
So, I don't think Daisy is coughing from a cold, I think she is coughing from eating several cases of Kleenex the past few days. And although Kleenex may be a welcome relief on a runny nose, I can imagine it would tickle the back of your throat if you ate one, or a box. At any rate, our vet didn't seem too worried, and just in case she gave us medicine to fix every possible thing it could be. Which made me jealous. I think next time I have a cough I will just go to the vet. She's cheaper than our doctor too.
Anyway, with the weather warming up, I am hoping to be well enough to get out and enjoy it. Hopefully my wife will feel better soon too (because unlike toughing it out like I did, she whines a lot). Plus I am getting wore out from waiting on her hand and foot.
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