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May 2001 (Pre-BMT) May 2nd. Email Message. No Subject. Slouching at the computer again, bought two used cd's today. I'm stocking up for my hospital stay. Needs tunes to listen to whilst I pedal, soaring motionlessly over the linolium. Gallium scan tomorrow, more computed tomographies of my chest and abdomen rotating on screen with lit up blotches that hopefully aren't there or lit up at all. Feeling good, ready to go, spinal tap me, chemical cook me turn me over I'm done and ready to get on with my life. Work? pull my own damn weight for a change? Get out of this house on 561 East 600 South and see the world. Travel without a mask. Why do airplanes recycle air anyway? Why can't they just suck in fresh air from outside? My torn and beaten Honda has a switch that goes from fresh to recycle, why can't an airplane have one, make the switch freshen up. Not like I really want to leave Chemoville. It's such a fun place. Where every time you sit down your legs thank you for getting off them cuz they're damn tired of standing so get off sit down I'm tired. Thank you. Ahhhhhh.
May 6th. Group Email. Subject:Survivor that's me. I survived Friday An eight hour ordeal at LDS Hospital involving a CT Scan, blood tests, physical, lumbar puncture, neupogen shot, a gallium scan and other unmentionables. Everything went as smoothly as possible. The spinal tap wasn't so bad, though I wouldn't recommend one for the fun of it. Hopefully my spinal fluid will test out to be free of cancer, otherwise, I'll get 5 more spinal taps in which chemo will be directly infused beyond the blood brain barrier. After finally escaping the hospital, chris and I had a little picnic in the park where I've never felt so glad to be outside and away from needles. Then we went home where while propping open one of our old wood frame windows the pane slipped and slammed down on my middle finger. After cursing and doing the "owie" dance for a while, I promptly realized that slamming the window on myself was probably the most painful procedure of the day, as well as the proverbial icing on the cake. The spinal tap fun continued on Saturday morning when I found myself with a raging headache that fluctuated from outrageous to incredible and then back again. Instead of calling an on-call doc like I'm supposed to, I went stalking down help until I found it at LDS hospital. After some pain meds, a blood transfusion, and a really wacky nurse I was feeling back to a relative normal. If my blood recovers from the last chemo on time, I'll be starting my new high dose chemo journey on Wednesday. I'll be bringing my laptop and and logging on from time to time. I'll be sending out hospital details as soon as I know. For those who have ever wondered what a lumbar puncture looks like I have included a couple explicative picts of myself. Enjoy!
May 13th. Group Email. Subject: Hospital Bound Well, I'm going in to the hospital on Tuesday morning. Here's a quick list to get everyone up to speed on what's happening in chemoville: Remember that list of all the things I was going to do? Well, I didn't do anything as this last week has been spent recovering from the spinal tap (horrible headaches that wouldn't go away) and a bad cold. Running around would have been nice, but I settled for laying around and watching a ton of movies. I saw the Dali Lama and listened to his teachings last Friday night. I feel lucky to have experienced his positivism and compassion, and I will take his inspiring living example into the hospital with me. My spinal tap came back clean so I shouldn't have to go through that again for a long while. Phew. Results of my last gallium scan came back good too. My tumor has shrunk about as much as everyone hoped. The Hospital stay is still essential to reduce my odds of recurrence. To reach me after Tuesday, call me at LDS hospital at 408-1415. I'm going to be on the eighth floor, oncology ward (8th Ave and C street). Of course you can keep the emails coming. Include stories, jokes and/or poetry when possible. Thanks ahead of time. Visiting time is anytime, any day (Within reason of course). Call first if you want to see what kind of shape I'm in. If I completely forget that you ever visited me it's because of the Ativan (no, really) and I apologize ahead of time. They'll ask you to wash your hands and to not visit if you're sick. A sick visitor would really make me nervous and would have to suffer the wrath of my mom and nurses. If you're in the area, I hope you'll visit me. I'm wagering that guests will be my salvation from boredom and frustration. If not, there's always staring out the window, the exercise bike, books on tape, drawing, or putting into practice those teaching of the Dali Lama. Thanks a bunch and hopefully I'll be talking at you from my Avenues office soon.
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