Merry Christmas!

Christmas morning, 6am
I woke up this morning thinking about toys. When I was a kid, my favorite toys were my stick and my rock. You could use these 2 items to simulate all kinds of war, and they were great for use in target practice, becoming spears and bullets and bombs. I grew up on Narragansett Bay, about 1/8 mile from the bay, and there was a park at the end of my street that was loaded with sticks and rocks, Salter Park. I would play down there at the water’s edge for days, throwing skimmers and drillers or kerplunkers as we called them.

My neighborhood was suburban middle class and under construction, and this gave my friends and me our Normandies and Dresdens, our Iraqs and Somalias. Houses in New England have basements, and those are built first. For some reason, lack of funding or permit stupidity or maybe to cure, there were some basements that were left for years with no additional work. Billy, Jeff, and other kids would come over and we’d play all sorts of war, armed with our sticks and our rocks, and have small wars with other street’s kids.

When I was about 8 or 9, I was down at Salter Park, and there were these rock outcroppings that were 25’ tall and that had tunnels and crevices in them. These rocks made for great forts. A band of girls was up in the fort rocks, and they started bombing me with marble-sized rocks from 30 or 40 yards. I grabbed some ammo, and promptly pegged one of my assailants in the forehead. Her forehead started to bleed pretty good, and I high-tailed it out of there.

When I got home, word of my accuracy had already reached my Mom. She had come to an agreement with the girl’s mom that I would apologize. The girl and her mom would be there in a moment. I was furious and mortified that I had to apologize for being a better shot, and I don’t remember how I worded the apology but I gave it. It’s funny that I can clearly see in my memory me throwing the rock and drilling her in the head, but I cannot remember the apology except that it happened and I was red with embarrassment and rage.

Now, at 50 years old, I am coming back to sticks and rocks. I was trying to come up with a gift idea for my doctor’s office that would be therapeutic for the patients. I’ve always liked the look of bonsai, so I worked out this idea of a care chart and sign-up sheet for a bonsai for the doc’s office. I went to the Muranaka Bosai nursery in Nipomo, and Muranaka-san straightened me out. Bonsai are outside mostly, even the ones that are advertised as inside like Ficus do better outside. Mr. Muranaka told me all about bonsai for a good hour. His dad had started the nursery, and they had awesome stuff. He had one 400 year old fores grouping of cypress, only $7000. I picked a Chinese Elm, Ulmus parviflora, that we thought would work if patients took it home for a month at a time. $65.

I took the elm home and stared at it and thought about the plan, and realized it wasn’t much of a gift for the doctor’s office. I went and bought 6 bottles of wine and will give that to the doc and nurses, and I exchanged the bonsai for the makings for a forest grouping, 5 Trident maples, Acer berguerianum, and a special bonsai forest grouping ceramic dish, and some bonsai potting mix. Muranaka-san told me this size dish could hold 11+ trees, always in an odd number of plants until you go past 20.

I have to wait until the trees start to bud in Feb/March to prune the roots and transplant these into the dish, but they will harden to the climate in this yard in the meantime. I will probably stick a small jade boulder in the forest glen. The idea of a forest grouping is that it looks as it does in nature, with different size trees that have created a canopy.

So it occurs to me, I have come full circle. I am back to my sticks and my rocks. It is very primal. Handling sticks and rocks is somehow therapeutic. Not like petting a cat or dog, but at a more cellular level. I have gone back to my roots, crawled back under my rock.

Christmas morning, 10 am
I had to take a break to open all the Christmas presents. No sticks, no rocks, but I am sitting in a nice new leather desk chair. Comfy. Here's hoping you all get the sticks and rocks you were wishing for, however metaphoric that may be. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Rock On!

Mike's on the left
So far the final phase is all I could hope for. I just finished the first week of the second month, and the steroids keep me awake and jumpy and I have to keep up the water and Metamucil intake, but that is only 1 week a month, no steroids again until Jan 10 or so. My stomach is kinda wrecked, very gassy (burpy), but nothing Tums can’t handle. If that’s all there is, great. Doc told me it’s time for another bone marrow biopsy, just to be sure, and I say drill away. Probably next month. I am still at 157, but haven’t been working out much.

I’ve been selling all the stuff laying around here and never used or done being used - 2 guitars, a brand-new Dooney & Bourke purse, $200 surf goggles. Sold $1000 worth of stuff in the last 2 weeks on eBay. Only paid about $1200 for it originally, so that’s pretty good. Gotta clear out room for this Christmas’s wretched excess. I think the less stuff I have the better I feel, until there’s something I want and then I get it, and then I fell better but worse.

Johnny wouldn’t get the flu shot, and spent 5 days in bed last week with the flu. I had to nursemaid the poor kid. It’s great when teens are trying to separate from their parents and use techniques like giving them the bird for some perceived offense. And then, their damn sense of self-righteousness can’t allow them to see the error and apologize for it, for over a week. So, Dana and John are not speaking and I had to nursemaid flu-boy. Seems like my flu shot took hold after all.

Mikey is switching over to bass guitar so he can start a band. Here are some photos from his last Lead guitar lab, he’s learned a lot and can rip AC/DC Back In Black, which he is doing here. One of our neighbors pays him exorbitantly to wash and walk their dog, so he bought a Peavey Forum bass off eBay, which we are waiting for. My garage will become the jamming center, I imagine. We need something to offset this kind of crap - http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/story?id=1231684&page=1; http://www.prussianblue.net/ Since Lennon and Zappa died, nobody has filled the void in my brain.

Anyways, oh-bla-di, Happy Birthdays to my sister Joanna and my brother Frank. Everyone have a great Christmas or Happy Hannukah or whatever holiday you like. I like Boxer day where you can bite someone’s ear, Canada is too cool!

Oh yes Master!

From Jade Cove to Las Vegas, that’s a crazy transition. We got into LV on Monday morning, got to the Venetian at noon and into our room, a nice suite with a good view. We got settled in and went down to the casino. I can’t play blackjack or craps in any of the strip casinos any more, as they have changed the limits and rules enough to make it a losing proposition. You need to go to the older casinos downtown to find the one- and two-deck games with rules that make it profitable to try and count cards. Dana likes to play the low-limit slots, so we hung in the Venetian for a while.

Everything is going electronic, so you don’t have to pump in nickels or quarters. Put in a bill, and when you cash out, take a voucher. Put the voucher in the next machine you want to play. Much more sanitary, which I appreciate as I become Howard Hughes. Penny slots are really more like quarter slots, because you play 20 lines at a penny per line. Nickel slots are dollar slots for the same reason.

We didn’t expect to win; the average machine has about a 92% payout rate, meaning play $100, lose $8. All machines are not created equal, and I figure the casino has some machines they use as draws into the casino, near the lobby and entries. Machines near restaurants and elevators are bigger losers, as that’s where people wait for someone and play while waiting. So we went looking for loud machines near the lobby. The other part of low-limit slots theory is that they pay off more often to keep the spouse happy; the other spouse is losing hundreds at a table game, don’t let the nickel player get bored and tear him away. So, if you hit 5 losing spins in a row, up the bet. Keep upping it until you win. Risky.

We killed it for low-limit slots, up about $350 overall. The Wheel of Fortune loves me, Mr. Cashman loves me, and I Dream of Jeannie loves me. ‘Did that please you master? I can do so much more for you master. Yes, yes, yes!’ Jeannie is the only sexual machine I know, and that is surprising.

I entered a Texas Hold em tournament on Tuesday, $90 to enter, and had the gorilla of the table on my left. Bad bad. Nice guy and very aggressive player. I didn’t see an ace in the hole for the first hour, and I needed to bluff my way into a couple pots to stay alive, but the run of bad cards continued and I didn’t play well enough (aggressive) and got knocked out about 30th of 60, out of the money. Good education from the guy next to me, though, and I didn’t expect to win.

While I played poker, Dana shopped for clothes for me so I look more hip. I was wearing my Dad's old Irish hat, his alpaca sweater, and with my reading glasses I have become my Dad, and this is disturbing. So I have some new clothes, but I won't wear the stupid beret, at least not until I can grow a chinga te.

Monday night we went to see Penn and Teller, a comical satirical magic act. It was not as good as expected, but we did get to meet Penn and Teller after the show. Teller actually spoke – I didn’t think he ever did. Lance Burton does more impressive magic at half the price, but without the comedy and social commentary of Penn.

Tuesday night we went to a Cirque de Soleil show, Zumanity, which is the burlesque version of their show. We had seats right next to the stage, so it was up close and personal. Do not go to this show with your mom or your kids. The acts in this show were not nearly as spectacular as those in O or Mystere, not as gymnastic and not as risky. It was worth the money if you like the bizarre and bawdy, though, so we thoroughly enjoyed it.

Before the show we had our anniversary dinner (20 years) at the new Wynn casino, a restaurant called Bartolotto’s, Italian seafood. We had made a reservation and asked for a romantic table, and they apparently ignored that, as we were seated outside the kitchen entry. It wasn’t bad, nice views into the gardens, very elegant restaurant. After our appetizer was underway we noticed these great tables in the garden, each under it’s own canopy, and wished that was where we were.

I knew it would be $200+ without wine, and it was, but they still surprised us how they did it. The fish was sold for $12/100 grams, and they bake the fish whole and serve it to both of you. All the seafood is imported from Italy, but in my mind a sea bream is a sea bream. Our waiter recommended the sea bream, and in retrospect we think he did that because it was the biggest fish. $120. The food was great, best vegetable sides you ever had, and the fish was OK, because of the sauce, but it was bream in the end. Dana had an $18 glass of wine (she is so cheap) to wash down the fish, and we left about $50 of fish on the plate for the cats.

Seems like every time we’re in Vegas, as we approach a roulette wheel the number 23 comes up. We always say we need to play it, and this time we did. $20 on 23, $700 if it hits. 4 came up. Fer cryin’ out loud.

After Zumanity we got to bed about 1:30 Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning, 5:30 am, the hotel decided to greet our anniversary by having engineering try to open our door, banging into the security latch while saying ‘Engineering, we’re here to fix the bulb.’ At that moment the phone rings, and it is the front desk telling me engineering is on the way to fix the bulb in the lamp by the sofa. I said ‘It’s 5:30 and you have the wrong room you idiots.’ Well, now we’re awake, and so I dress and go get a coffee and sit outside to cool off before I start ripping into the front desk.

I go to the desk telling myself ‘I am not mad at this person.’ I went up to the desk, they say good morning, and I reply ‘I wish it were. I am not mad at you, but I am mad. Doesn’t your board show what room calls?’ It does. ‘Wouldn’t you make extra sure you had the right room at 5:30 in the morning?’ They were all apologetic, but insisting that we called, which pisses me right off. My guess is it was 24-120 in the Venizia Tower, and we were 24-120 in the Venetian Tower. They comped us a room service breakfast, and let us keep the room until 5pm, but they’re getting a nastygram from me anyway. If we didn’t keep killing their penny slots I’d be more pissed.

Vegas was dead on Monday but filling up as we were leaving. Never book the last flight into SLO, as the damn fog almost got us again. I think the only reason we landed was because the flight was SLO-based and wanted to be home. Pretty foggy landing. As we waited in San Fran for this flight, I used a courtesy phone to page Dana Sagoombah to gate 87. ‘Dana’s a goombah, Dana’s a goombah, go to gate 87.’ My thanks to Tom and Brian for showing me how to do this many years ago. They would page Art Vandelay, then George Costanza, eventually the whole Seinfeld cast until everyone in the airport except the guy making the pages knew something was up.

All in all a good trip. I was religious about washing my hands, and I carried around alcohol swipes you get from the change cage. We had a great Thanksgiving dinner at Stacy’s. Dana woke up Friday at 5:30 and spent the next 6 hours vomiting violently. We hoped it wasn’t the crab dip we made, which the boys and I didn’t eat. I called Stacy later, and Barry said everyone was fine, so Dana caught something on the Vegas trip. It continues to amaze me how hard those little WBCs I got from all of you are working. Dana’s had 4 colds and this flu, and I get nothing but a perpetually runny nose.

Jade Cove again

Hey, it's site 33 at Plaskett Creek Campground. All the conditions were ideal - minus tide in late afternoon, small surf, recent churn of big surf, so we surfed Wed am and went camping Wed. aft. Found a bunch of mediocre jade. It's the journey, not the result, in this case.

I feel pretty damn good, only taking mercaptopurine daily, nothing else until Dec. 15 or so. My weight is pretty steady at 158, so I need to get some muscle back. I think I am retiring from golf until I get a new hip, this one is too painful. I don't think they'll let me get a new hip until chemo is done in 2007, so ... I need a new thing, maybe go Zen, become an ascetic. I have the hair for it.

Eric V. sent me this website, this could be the answer. I'll have to talk to the doc about getting my 'green' card, I guess. http://www.affymetrix.com/community/wayahead/thc_leukemia.affx

Dana and I are leaving for Las Vegas in the am, celebrating 20 years of marriage! The woman must be a saint or dense. Staying at the Venetian, going to see Zumanity, expensive dinner somewhere, a poker tournament, some dice and blackjack but man am I rusty. I will go downtown and hang with the lowlifes, play really low stakes like $1 craps. It's more passionate when the guy next to you is playing for his rent.

No wonder I was ambushed, Eddie was with me. If I know him, he probably set me up. When the fire captain's hat showed up in our house, who was it? Eddie. Beer missing? Eddie. Bad directions for the poor tourists? Eddie. Pat taught him everything he knows, and then he learned more.

Corbie or knight?

I was laying so low I was below myself, and couldn’t reach the keyboard! Now I am just beside myself, a figment of my imagination, a will o’ the wisp, ephemera, a shimmering. I reconstitute myself in the morning light, and condense in the evening whispers, a shadow without repose. Tomorrow is garbage pickup, so I have to scoop the dog poop from the yard. That's a day job; too hard to do as a shadow.

I think I will start the last phase tomorrow; I am just waiting to hear from the doc. We delayed a couple of weeks because my blood counts were so low, and except for an overnighter to Jade Cove I haven’t done much of anything. I did dishes, laundry, watched the sad and depleted Patriots lose to the evil Indianapolis team led by the warlock Manning. Johnny finished up his play Dracula, and was overly mortified when he almost dropped one victim.

Any and all of you that ever wanted to kick my butt at anything, now is the time. I am ripe for the picking. Elbow fights Donald? Bball Randy? Golf everyone? Snowballs for the old neighborhood (man I was a killer in a snowball fight)? But I ain’t coming to you, and you have to bring your own snow.

Since I don’t have much to say, I will include a poem I am reminded of by Mac. Every time I golf with Mac, we end up using Irish or English or Scottish accents, we don’t what they are. There we were at La Cala in Spain, Irishing all over the place with no clue what we were saying. Stuff like ‘Och, you really laid the heather to that one, Johnny boy’, or ‘It’s half tree and we’re needin’ the blather.’ One of my all-time favorite war poems, by the legendary and prolific Anonymous, who must have been a vampire as he wrote in almost every century:

The Twa Corbies, Scottish version, 17th century

As I was walking all alane
I heard twa corbies making a mane:
The tane unto the tither did say,
'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?'

'—In behint yon auld fail dyke
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady 's ta'en anither mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.

'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en:
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

'Mony a one for him maks mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane:
O'er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'

Johnny the Wad Nicklaus

It was kind of a strange week. I could tell my blood counts were getting lower as the week wore on – felt weak, slight ear noise when I stood up, and I could not get warm. I expected low blood counts 7-10 days after the last cytarabine shot, and sure enough the doc called yesterday. Of course, I was at Morro Rock looking at the surf, and Johnny got the call, and immediately went back to whatever he was doing. Luckily I didn’t surf because I felt so tired and it was cold in Morro Bay. Johnny told me later the doc had called and said all my counts were low, I should lay low. I called the doc and he asked ‘Are you bleeding? Any fevers? How do you feel?’ No, no, OK.

I am now laying low. Dana and Johnny are off to tour Berkeley and Sonoma State, so Mike and I will have a TV/PC gaming fest this weekend, wow.

Pat, you should have started your own blog long ago, I am getting extra work here and I am so busy. Email me some pics from your trip and I will post them, then for crying out loud fill in some of the gory details, how many bodies were floating around, something about fear and loathing, we love fear stuff. Maybe naked people, that’s always big, especially if they are playing blackjack on a cruise ship. I always bring those disinfecting wipes to the naked blackjack tourneys, and you should too.

Mac, it’s back to the basics for my golf game. Watched Golf My Way by Nicklaus, and now I’m reading Dave Pelz’s Short Game Bible. This book is a must, I think. If only you could get your body to do what you watch and read. I’d be a porn star that golfs well!

Seemed like a good idea

Finishing up phase 4, no more cytarabine and what a finish I had with that poison. I got the last 4 shots this week, and the anti-nausea made it impossible to golf with the effects on vision. I tried anyway, and shot God knows what, I quit keeping score, but it was bad. So Friday I didn’t take the anti-nausea (Kytril) thinking I might like to try golfing, and I ended up puking for 3 hours instead. Smart. Didn’t that Doc way back there say the irradiation would make me stupider but I wouldn’t notice? I noticed yesterday. The dang cytarabine gave me a rash on my hips too, started last Sunday, itchy. Yesterday it turned into a red flush of my face, it looked like I was wearing rouge. I stayed in all day.

I am still at a mere 155 lbs, and puking didn’t help. I am actually sucking down weight gain supplements. Gotta call Balco, get the good stuff. And now I need to find some new gang to golf with; the low handicappers are tired of me hanging with them, searching for my ball(s). Subtle messages, like ‘You should golf with so-and-so’. Ah well, we should all have these problems.

Dana and I have found a contractor to do the kitchen redo, and we will start next spring when the rains stop, yeehaw. She lies abed with a new cold, making me ponder a flu shot.

The last phase is coming up, but lasts until 2 years after diagnosis so until Feb. ’07. Vincristine IV ofnumbing juice day 1 of each month, 5 days of steroid pills, methotrexate pills once a week, and mercaptopurine pills every day. Not too bad.

Where to go for the 20th anniversary? We were thinking Mexico, but Wilma is changing that idea. I think Dana will push for Paris, and I am wanting tropical, but tropical is getting relentlessly smacked with weather, so Paris is nice. And the dollar is sure strong against the euro. Uh, thanks George, gotta keep those SUV sales into Europe strong. Not and Not. The guys a real thinker. Forget Paris on second thought, 45% more expensive than in ’01 and it wasn’t cheap then.

Maurice and Pat, where are you? Hope you brought wetsuits and boards, gonna be good waves in FLA. Oh yeah, for any of you goombahs going to Las Vegas, look at a map. I can be there in 7 hours, and I have the time and the inclination. You can win money from me golfing. Yes, Bill, I am talking to you. Sheesh. this boring life is freaking boring, and pushing me closer to radical thought and action. I am going to have start my Big Book of Intelligent Designs. Are there unintelligent designs? If it was designed, there must have been intelligence applied, no? Great article in Esquire this month, Idiot America, check it out.

Limekiln Creek

Weighed in at 155 this morning, sheesh, where’s it going? That’s too light, I am thinking ice cream. Starting Phase 5 tomorrow, IV of cyclophosphamide ass-kicker, shot of cytarabine ass-kicker, pills of 6-thioguanine. Yeehaw. Feeling OK, my beard stopped growing almost completely, but the hair on my head keeps trying to come back. Go figure.

Johnny is home sick with a sore throat, Mikey has the fever/pukey/poopy flu, started Sunday, hope that’s a one-day grippe.

The Beauch and I went up to Limekiln Creek campground last Thursday, and it was Jade Festival weekend at Pacific Valley, our usual campground 5 minutes south. The campsite we had was awesome, right on the river, beautiful spot. The campground is also right on the beach, with some campsites 100 feet from the water. One of the best campgrounds I have seen, big sites, nice bathrooms, showers. Beauch got it for free as a state parks worker, which only happens occasionally. In this picture is our campsite; the bridge leads up the trail to the waterfalls and to the old lime kilns. Oh yeah, I forgot to bring my sleeping bag (doh!), but luckily Mike had some blankets, I wore everything I had, and used all the towels for more blankets. Brrrrrr. I am just now starting to reheat.

The downside of hanging with Mike is the guy hikes and repairs trails for a living, so humping straight up a 14% incline for a couple of miles is fun to him. The guy kills me. We humped all over the joint Friday, then Saturday he had to check this new acquisition of state land and make a recommendation on whether to keep the existing trail. Only a 45 minute hike, he said. Two hours! Beautiful territory, but give me oxygen. Look at how far up from the ocean we hiked!

The Jade Festival was a great hit, polka bands, mega jade, rock and roll; the hokiest little festival in CA. Check out the slab of jade in the pic. These guys all say they’re divers, but we all know they’re digging in the cliff. They aren’t getting this stuff diving in Jade Cove, because the law is you can take from below mean high tide what one person can carry. That puts the limit at 250 pounds for most of us; it’s 150 feet straight up the cliff you have to carry this rock, then ¼ mile to your car.

I was only going one way officer

Had the 3rd dose of phase IV yesterday, more doxorubicin and vincristine, and I am finishing up the dexamethasone steroid, grrrrrr, tapering off, a little cranky. The steroid indigestion/gas bomb/hiccupping madness should stop in a week, that’ll be nice. No more meds for a couple weeks, then whack whack whack.

I wobbled out of the doc’s yesterday – they always ask if I have a driver, and I always wondered why. They give me a big bag of diflucan anti-nausea before the meds each time, and I never felt it until yesterday. I am walking back to my car when I realize I can’t walk straight. Like 2 beers. The steroids have really messed with my sleep, and I have a yeast infection (thrush, babies get it from milk) in my throat, so I am typing this at 5:30 in the morning, the latest I’ve awakened in a week. I am baking bread and brewing beer, right in my own throat! Self-sufficient!

The freaking vincristine is starting to numb my hands and feet again, and I better get used to it because I get vincristine for another year at least. I am using it to explain all my bad golf swings, no legs, can’t feel my feet. Unfortunately I think it’s true, I have no leg action, hitting my driver about 200 yards, pathetic. Putting well though. Shot a 90 Wed. from the whites at Dairy Creek with no wind, sure was nice playing that course the short way for a change, and the weather has been awesome. Now if we could get some surf.

Go Red Sox!

Everything is swell

Oops, I skipped a week, guess nothing happened. I started phase 4 of chemo on Thursday, peed brick red (doxorubicin) for a day and I am waiting for the numbness to start in my hands and feet (vincristine). Two more Thursday treatments and then no more shots until mid-Oct. No nausea. I started the steroid dexamethasone on Thursday, and take it for two weeks. I woke up Friday and had no backache, no elbow pain, no neck pain, and had a steroid buzz all day. I have to watch the timing on those bad boys or I’ll be up all night. The peach fuzz on my skull is going to fall out again, and my eyebrows are short-lived. So what.

Same old same old otherwise, trying to stay in shape, working out 4 times a week, some yoga, surfing, golf practice (not accomplishing anything), and walking the dog. We have this nice south swell this weekend, which was hyped as the swell of a generation but is nothing we don’t see almost every year at least once. Every surfer within 50 miles of the coast is out and it is untenable, 25 guys on a peak that holds 6 guys, 5 guys taking off on every wave, what a zoo. I’ll wait for it to fade a little. Beauch and I went down to Rincon (the most classic right wave in CA, near Santa Barbara) on Monday aft. hoping the S swell would hit there on Tues am, but it was knee high at best. The only good thing about that is nobody was there, for a reason.

Mike has recovered from his cold, Dana is sick with a cold, and John is rocking. He has new veneers on his teeth, so they gave him the title role in the school play, Dracula. He will also be in the Tempest, role unknown as yet. What a stud.

I may take an overnighter into Big Sur tomorrow night, see if the jade got churned up by the big swell, maybe surf Sand Dollar beach. I am burping and hiccupping like crazy, maybe from the steroids, so I should drink some beer and force the issue to a bubble. Could be explosive. If it wasn’t for the fact I have leukemia, this lifestyle would be alright, like retirement. There is this nagging issue, in the background, that I probably survive this ordeal and then what?

Class dismissed

My eyebrows are back with a vengeance, and if I don’t control them I will look like an old English actor. I never did understand the guys that don’t think they should trim their ears and eyebrows and nose; it is so distracting. I bet they wonder why people don’t look them in the eye – they’re looking to see what will crawl out of the bush!

Pretty boring times. School is back in, Dana is working full time this week to help out her co-teacher who needed some personal time, and the boys are trying to set the homework expectation to low. Hah. I am spending time on working out, yoga, my golf game, and goofing off. I should set up classes in goofing off, because to do it well takes skill and planning. For instance, you don’t just work out, you work out when something interesting is on TV. All right, sort of interesting, like golf or COPS or the History Channel, otherwise you’d never work out.

Now with the price of gas I have to reconsider driving out to Morro Bay to the golf course. I wonder if anyone would complain if I started hitting wedges in the park, may have to test that.

The headaches remain, and my blood counts are fine, slightly anemic. Doc says I probably have some brain damage (we knew that) that may or may not go away over time. Nothing to worry about, much. I am in a chemo free state until the 15th, then I get whacked with daunorubicin and vincristine and a bunch of pills. Looks like Yellowstone is out, brother Frank.

I am trying to take on the cooking chore, but I don’t care that much about food. Tell me what you want and give me the recipe, and we’ll see what happens. Dana does not like me to do the shopping, because she shops for ‘meals’, and I shop for what we don’t have. When I get to the recipe, I still don’t have everything, and I have to go back to the store. It seems like the grocery store is the epicenter for the obese. I see more obese people in an hour in the store, and I mean 300+, than I did in a year in Spain. I suppose it makes sense, because you’d have to eat a lot to get that obese, so you’d be in the store more.

I’d love to see the government try to organize all those people in shelters in N.O. to start cleaning up the mess. We are going to see the worst in human nature, already have, but the scams that will come out of that mess will be disastrous. I am researching building materials companies and mobile home companies; someone will make a killing. Don’t forget, love your country, fear your government, invest in the best scammers.

John and Mike recommend this website, one of their all-time favorites:

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/idioth.php

The crazy frog

My mom and sister have gone home, and we’re back to the boring summer routine. Work out, watch COPS, do the laundry, eat, practice golf. I went surfing Thursday afternoon with Beauch, and that was pretty good. I didn’t have the cojones to go after a few waves I should’ve, but all things in time. Felt good to be in the water again. I shot a 98 from the tips at Dairy on Wed., which was about 10 better than the week before. Next Wed., 94.

One of the saving graces of chemo and irradiation has faded also, as my so-called hair is growing back. What a pain. Ear hair, wild eyebrows, and what do I with this wispy crap on the sides and back of my head? Back to shaving it? That’s a lot of irregular surface area to screw up. I am letting it grow for now, but if Dana won’t have sex with me I am going to have to do something.














Yesterday morning when we got up, we found this frog in Woody’s water bowl, staring up at us. There was a glob of dog fur and hair (my damn hair) floating in the water, which made me think the frog got in, went hopping around, got covered in all the fur and hair and had to find some water to get the stuff off. Kinda weird. I looked on the internet for crazy frogs, and came up with this ringtone thing which was big in Europe, and drives people crazy.

http://www.extremefunnypictures.com/funnypic909.htm
http://www.somethingwrong.co.uk/crazy_frog_baseball/
http://www.youngcoders.com/crazyfrog.php

You reckless stooge!

My mom and sister Leslie have been visiting this week, and are leaving tomorrow. We have been having a fairly low-key week, but went to see the elephant seals (not many left in the area, gone north), young John’s play (he is Wayne in State Fair), and some scenic tours of the area. Today we cruised Morro Bay on the Tiger’s Folly, complete with Sunday brunch, pretty dang good fare. Mikey has gone camping up in Big Sur, the kid is having more fun than anyone else. That’s the way it should be.

I am feeling about the same, okay, not great, kinda low energy but I am working out and walking the dog more. Looks like my new weight is 162, been stuck there a while. Last night was my last dose of 6-mercaptopurine, so we’ll see if the headaches start to lessen. I don’t have a headache all the time, but if I bend over or sneeze or strain, I get this stab right in the forehead. I can actually hold my forehead and keep the pain from coming. I wonder if there is too much blood in my head.

I start a new chemo phase soon, maybe this week, with some doses of vincristine and daunorubicin, and some cytarabine and cyclophosphamide in 4 weeks. One more big slam with the big guns, yeehah. Steroids too, so we’ll see what I weigh in October.
Don’t miss the Database of North Korean Propaganda at http://www.nk-news.net/index.php. Especially check out the random insult generator, great stuff. You wicked reactionary!

Allergic to sneezing

Every time I step out of the shower, I sneeze four times, and I am never well equipped at the moment - the towel I am drying with, and the kleenex box too far away. Love getting clean and then sneezing all over myself.

Another uneventful week. No more dizziness, just a lot of headaches, which I am beginning to think must be allergies. I am going to take allegra tonight, see if that stops the sneezing and headaches, and start up the chemo routine again, just pills. The doc thinks I should get one more spinal/chemo shot this week, and that seems like a good idea, so we’ll probably do that Friday. He reminded me that all my tests are good although the headaches trouble him, and that this is a long haul, and I should forget about feeling really good for another year or so. The headaches and dizziness could be the result of the chemo, and for crying out loud, both allegra and methotrexate, which I will take in an hour, both caution that dizziness is a side effect. He says he has patients that are ten+ years done with this treatment and fine.

I tried golfing Wed., really weak, even when I hit it well it didn’t go far. I am down to 161 pounds and really concentrating on eating, and I don’t do much, so where the hell is it going? Gotta hit the gym and the driving range. I’ve been really boring and bored, watching TV and sleeping. If you watch Cops enough you really get a sad idea of the state of the drug war in this country. Giant court, police and prison bureaucracies will keep that war going for a long time, and we will all suffer from the madness. Put everyone on prozak and Zoloft!
Thanks for all the positive inputs and thoughts, the long battle continues, it could be worse, I could be hooked on meth. Yikes. Check these photos.
http://www.kfvs12.com/Global/Link.asp?L=160850

zzzzzzzzzz

It seems the worst of the mystery illness is over. I don’t have any more fevers, my weight has stabilized at 165 (was down to 161 from 175), and I am only sleeping 12 hours/day, and I’m pretty weak. Still a little unbalanced, and I may need to do some therapy to fix that.

The doc is still mystified. So I went to see the ear/nose/throat doc Wed., and she said I definitely did not have a sinus infection, she doesn’t see anything on the MRI like that. So that wasn’t it, someone was fishing. My regular doc says to me that he is concerned that the leukemia is hiding up in my head and that is what is causing this. My blood work is good, my spinal fluid is clear, but he says in some rare cases some leukemia cells hide out, and that could cause these symptoms. Let’s hope he is wrong. We agreed to see if I continue to improve for one more week, and if I don’t it’s spinal tap/chemo time again.

Young John got a job finally, at Cugini’s, and Mike is taking tennis and playing some hoops. Mike is going to Camp Tulequoia 1st week of Aug, then my Mom and sister Leslie are coming to visit, and then Mike is going camping with friends. I may try to take an overnighter this weekend, up to Big Sur, we’ll see. Dana is sick of looking at me lying around, so I better go lay around somewhere else. I’ll have to try swinging a golf club soon, though the balance thing is messing me up.

A little tipsy

What a crappy week. I woke up last Wednesday, stood up, and nearly fell over. I walked downstairs and was very dizzy, and I started vomiting. Here it is now almost a week later and I am still running a fever, with a big headache and an aching back, and I’ve lost ten pounds this week. It is getting better though; the double vision is gone, I can use a computer, and I was vertical most of yesterday.

When it started I thought, this is great, this is some inner ear thing. I’d been surfing Sunday and Monday, so maybe I picked up something in the water. I called my doc, said Hey, either I have an ear infection or a brain tumor, and went in to see him, but he saw no evidence of an ear infection. He wanted me to get an MRI, because he was worried the swelling in my brain had messed up the spinal fluid flow. He also wanted me to get an extra spinal tap and chemo injection, just in case that swelling had blocked the last spinal chemo injection.

Sheesh, I started typing this at 9 this morning, but couldn’t get it done. I’ll try again.

So I went in and had an MRI, and what a bizarre bunch of noises that thing makes, like a collection of factory noises with Tourette Syndrome. Not painful, unless you are claustrophobic, which I am not. The MRI showed I have a sinus infection. That’s it. So I go on antibiotics, and Friday I go back to Spinal Tap city. That went fine too, but I was not feeling any better, dizzy, nauseous, couldn’t eat, sweats, chills. I don’t know if the antibiotics are helping or the infection is just wearing out, because yesterday the doc says he thinks it’s viral.

I’m thinking Lyme disease, West Nile virus, or ???? Just going to have to wait it out. If I’d gotten whatever the hell I got pre-leukemia, I’d think I had the flu. Now, though, I get an MRI and a spinal tap.

And to top it all off, Dana says to me the other day, ‘When did you lose your eyebrows?” It was always a joke before, with the Eyebrow Lowbrow, but now it’s finally happening. I just hope I don’t lose my eyelashes too.

BBQ

Saturday am
Work, work, work, that’s what Dana would say about now. I have a crazy idea, and Dana gets to work, work, work. Well, the shopping’s done, the salad’s made, the brownies are made, we’re all ready to go get the tri-tips and set up the BBQ. I need to go load the car with firewood. We were very fortunate to receive a load of Mac’s Ho-Spice via special shipment, complete with a Rick and Bubba Hat (unstained and thus virginal until later today), so we are now guaranteed success with the meats, and maybe the ladies too, if what Mac says is true – ‘Ho-spice on your meat, the ladies can’t retreat.’ ‘Ho-spice on your steak, you won’t get to take a break.’ ‘Ho-spice on your dinner, they all say you’re a real winner.’ ‘Ho-spice on your possum, you’ll get to see her bottom.’ ‘Ho-spice on her tummy, this is going to be so yummy. ’ ‘Ho-spice on your armadillo, what you doing with that pillow?’

Saturday pm
I knew I should've gotten the dang firewood days ago, but no, Saturday was better. Except the guy din't show up at the wood pile until 10:30, 30 min. late, and then the oak was on another ranch, and then we couldn't find any split cured oak in the 30 or so cords that were lying around. So he said, well, take some rounds, and we started to do that when he suggested we just split some stuff up. Since I was faced with going to Home Depot and paying a fortune, and taking more time than splitting wood, we started splitting wood. Made it to the park by 12:15.

The BBQ was a lot of fun. After we got set up and struggled with igniting oak that was not cured enough, people started showing up, and they were wearing eyebrow lowbrows, like these clowns!

Bushy eyebrows, get it?

















I made the potentially disastrous suggestion that Beauch make sure everyone got a nametag, thus mine read 'Cranky Ass John', Dana was 'Spudhead Dana, Lia was 'Biff' and young John was 'Fat Sonny', as 'Slim Shady' was taken. Beauch was 'Mr. Normal'.

I wrote my own song:
'They took me off the steroids,
and now I've got the hemorrhoids,
that is why they call me Cranky Ass John.
(chorus)
Cranky Ass John, Cranky Ass John,
His groaning and complaining
go on and on.'

We played a game Dana came up with that I named Encantado, where everyone got a sheet of paper with questions about different people at the BBQ. They had to talk to most of the people at the BBQ to answer the questions. Or do like Beauch and just make up answers, just like he did all through school. Did you know I went to school with the Pope? These were our questions.

Encantado
1. Who went to SLO High with Dana?

2. Who was married to a stuntman, and has a son who is a stuntman?

3. Who is Manitoubou, the BLOG commenter?

4. Who taught Mikey the proper use of obscenities, the f*^&R#R%ing imbecile, when Mikey was 5? A note here, we said the answer was Nick, but really it was Wayne. Nick would always yell 'Pull your head out'; he preferred implied obscenities.

5. Who are the Fiores’ neighbors?

6. Who was born in Chile?

7. Who is building a house?

8. Who was a bone marrow donor?

9. Who does yoga?

10. Who is going to Spain this summer?

11. Who plays rock guitar?

12. Who shot a 78 from the blue tees at Dairy Creek last week?

13. Who speaks the most languages?

14. Who did the electricity for Fiore’s hot tub?

15. Who has Fiore known since junior high?

16. Who hiked Machu Picchu?

Of course some of the people on the questions couldn't make the BBQ, and that was too bad but we certainly understand that things happen.

I want to give special thanks to Roger, Jen, Barry, Lia, and Gloria, for all their help getting prepped and getting us all fed. Roger and Barry helped us get all set up, then cooked up a storm, and Jen, Lia and Gloria were on the spot whenever something needed to get done, and spent a lot of time helping us get ready and helping us clean up. Without these people, we wouldn't have got this done.

Nick and Dyan and their two prodigies drove all the way down from San Jose, and then drove back! I forgot to get them their prize for longest one-day drive! Jake and Zack, watch the mail!

Sunday am

I was supposed to surf with Beauch this am, but woke up with major hamstring and calf cramps. This is still a recurring theme whenever I do something physical the day before, an annoyance of anemia. I have been working on getting this post done, and worked on it last night for a while, but it is going to take some time to get right. And, I just talked to Beauch, the crowds have left the water and the surf is still alright, so I am going to publish this the way it is for now, but it will be revised and more pics added later today. Stay tuned.

Sunday pm

We surfed, had a good time, beach was packed with escapees from Fresno, beating the heat in Morro Bay. We got there at noon so the waves weren't crowded, but the wind hadn't come up so the waves were OK. Lots of paddling, not many waves - my motor is undersized for the body it's trying to push. Got a couple of good ones, started cramping in the calves, got one more and called it a day. Tiring weekend.

Where is Osama bin Laden?

Sunday morning
Almost all the hair on my head has stopped growing, just quit, said Man, if you’re gonna keep taking that shit, we quit. I didn’t shave my head for five days, and it didn’t look like I needed to, and then I looked at the back of my head in the mirror and realized I had tufts. Tufts are out, according to People and Elle, so I shaved.

This blog is going to get boring recounting my health, because my health is so good it is boring. I am back to being a 50 year old with a bad back, bad elbow, sciatica, etc., a little more out of shape. Pills only, yippee, I can live with detufting, and gym time, and walking. I have to wonder what the heck happened to my golf game though. Awful week. I have to go way back to basics, start over, as though I had a new body. It kicks my butt too, because I have been practicing, and have the magic new putter.

It was really depressing on Wed, into the teeth of the wind at Dairy from the golds, the tips. I was just off the 1st green in reg, three-putted, and it was downhill from there. Stopped counting at the 6th hole. By Friday, when I got spanked by MG and John K, I had gotten over myself and was realizing I needed to get in shape or find a whole new swing. My old swing with my new physique was not working. And Jack told me my putting stroke was way too bent over, stand up. All this means one thing. Crunches. I have to work on the core. Dang.

Dana is in Santa Barbara; she went there yesterday with a friend to have a women’s weekend at another friend’s. She needs to rest up because she will be busy this week making sure we are all going to be well fed and entertained at the BBQ on Saturday. I need to go out there and see if we can scam electricity somehow, get Mikey to play the Hendrix Star Spangled Banner for us.

The stupid photo thing is really annoying. When I went to DSL I changed to a dynamic IP, meaning my IP address changes all the time. SBC/Yahoo is trying to tell me that is why the IP address of photos on their server changes. ??????? Huh? I am looking for a free solution, but Shutterfly works the same way, dynamic IP. Anyone? Charter storage worked great once I figured it out, I may have to see if they ever closed it.

Live Oak Music Fest

It was Live Oak weekend, meaning we all went to the Live Oak Music Festival for 3 days, along with a bunch of family and friends. All the old hippies from SLO go to Live Oak! I didn’t see one drunk or completely wasted person all weekend; that is how old these hippies are.

This festival is near Lake Cachuma, about an hour south of here, so easy to get to. It was a little weird this year because some guys on one of the work crews set up in our standard spot before we set up on Wednesday, and they messed with the feng shui and the karma, but what can you do? I suggested paying them off. We kind of horn in on Dana’s sister’s good friends, so what can we say? Anyways, 3 days and 2 nights of no showers, lots of dust, porta-potty challenges, and pretty good music. The music was not as good as last year, too mellow, but there were some standouts – Bettye Lavette, Eric Bibb, Joe Craven. The porta-potties were better than ever, with hand sanitizer even!

Young John disappeared as soon as we got there; he loves the freedom he gets at Live Oak. Young Mike had a couple of girls hanging around, but he ditched them ASAP. We only cooked breakfast on Sunday, and otherwise ate from the concessions, so not too much work. Mikey left his suitcase sitting on his bed, so he didn’t worry about changing into clean clothes. Saturday morning I went over to the Chumash Indian Casino and played in a Texas Hold’em poker tournament. I was doing alright; got spanked with AQ suited by pocket As, came right back and won large with pocket Ks, then got taken out with AK suited by another pocket AA! Grrrr. Gotta learn how to smell those pocket As. Lost $40. Stopped at a stupid nickel slot machine and won $40 in 3 minutes. Go figure.

I had my last spinal tap on Thursday, and that went pretty smooth, no click. My lower back is finally protesting all this abuse though. No more cranial radiation headaches either, so all in all I feel pretty damn good. I ran into a few people at Live Oak that didn’t know I was sick (with leukemia), and they were pretty surprised when I told them because I don’t look sick. Then again, I didn’t spend any time dancing with Fabio and the other beautiful people. I was going to try hula hooping this year, but never did.

The Rancho San Marcos golf course is right next to the camp, so I went over on Sunday to see if I could use their driving range. This is a great course, really tough – Fred Couples loves to play here. Not that expensive at $75, greens like lightning, pretty tight, I played it back in ’99 or so, got spanked. They wouldn’t let me practice though, as I forgot my collared shirt. $20 all-inclusive fee to practice, and that included driving area, chipping area, huge putting area. Really not pricey if you want to practice for a few hours, and have a collared shirt. I putted anyway, but decided it was going to ruin me for Morro Bay and Dairy Creek, way too fast, so me and my t-shirt left before anyone was offended.

School is finally out here. The boys are computer gaming heaven, but tomorrow they start guitar and basketball, and John might have some kind of job lined up. I know I have work in the yard for him, but I am waiting for the right moment. Tomorrow is Mike’s birthday, 14, and he is getting a new 30 watt amp, so it will be louder around here this summer.

I do have some photos to get up here that people have sent, but I have some kind of glitch. Let’s see what happens.

Jeanne and Pat













Lesbian Couple 1 plus Alan M.













Pat is astonished at Randy's new 'do



















Earl and Kris with Jeanne













Paul and Maurice













Mac with some Ho-spice

Belmont!

Congratulations to Jeanne for making it, Zowie, end of treatment, feeling good, looking good, Man I wish I coulda made that party! Send the pics! I think some of the dance moves from 8th grade were named after Red Sox, because I remember Foy! I think we had to tone it down after some of the gangs took offense at having dance moves named for them. There were some negotiations in there, I remember, involving me and the parking lot and some Belmont-types. Thank God for quick hands and feet.

Pretty smooth week, if we ignore young Mikey burning his feet so bad at Wednesday’s end of school picnic that he is still laid up. Poor kid’s feet looked like the sausage they made in Colminares for the annual festival, all swollen and red. This is not the first time, and I have to reevaluate the ability of pain to teach a good lesson; it usually worked for me, but now that I think about it and look at the scars on my head, I suppose I missed a few lessons too.

Cindy Steen came all the way from DC to visit, popped in on us for a few days, and Rita and her girls and friends came from Atwater, and young John was in heaven for a while. Surrounded! We BBQ’d, had a bonfire on the beach, had a great time. Happy Birthday Cindy! How gutsy do you have to be to go to Uganda for 3 weeks, then move to Nicaragua for 4 years, as a single female? Such courage. Uganda was Idi Amin, remember him?

Speaking of pain, last Thursday’s spinal tap and injection was as smooth as butter. All I ever felt was the initial local shot; I won the sciatic nerve lottery! In and out of there faster than Brad Pitt with a costar! Last one coming up this Thursday, and Phase III goes into pills only mode. I may be sick and tired of this chemo bloat and dead hands and feet, but it keeps getting easier, and my blood counts are all good if slightly anemic. It’s time to hit the gym and recover some of the strength I need to get in the water, and maybe drive a golf ball more than 200 yards.

Golfed Wednesday, shot 93 at Morro Bay from the blues. Eeeeennhhh. The new Happy Father’s Day Here I am at the Golf Store and Oh Look that is the putter I want on sale - I guess the kids are getting this For Me Putter I got, the White Hot 2-Ball Odyssey, did not save me. Turns out I still have to use my skill with it, and that tones the magic down, something about the lack of fingers and hands holding the club or something. Don’t the great putters say they putt with dead hands? Doesn’t work.

Played 14 holes on Friday – county courses here are $8 after 5:30, and you can play now until 8:15 or later, so Mike B. went out and played the Bay from the whites, 43 on the front nine, not bad. Then Sunday I went and played with the dedicated golfers, guys with 8 handicaps and 540 cc drivers, at Dairy Creek from the tips, the gold tees. Course kicks my ass. 4-iron all day for second shots. Enough wind at the 183 yard par-3 I am hitting driver and coming up short. Shot a 97, 1 better than the last time I played Dairy from the blues. Flat out ran out of gas on the back nine again, but made enough adjustment (played like a 75-year old) to weather it.

It was hard not to feel depressed, because at one level I am feeling pretty good and expecting things to come back. However, I am one weak-ass dude; Randy’s kids could beat me up. Vinnie could make me beg for mercy (don’t do it). I think I am starting to look like Kurtz at the end of Apocalypse Now, white and bloaty. I am pretty sure when I stop taking the steroid for brain swelling the bloat will go away (today I stop I hope). That is a bad combo reaction from steroids, they make you gas up and have you eating like a pig. Saturday was Dana’s schools end-of-year BBQ, and I had some of everything, twice. She sure works with a fun bunch of teachers, and they are good cooks too.

Speaking of BBQs, I will get an email out today saying July 2 is a go, now that I know Vinnie can’t make that date to beat me up. Too bad we had to lose Pat and Mo in the bargain, but the image of Mikey trying to defend me by hitting Vinnie with sausage feet didn’t jibe, something about all the juices popping out of his toes …..

I have always wanted to put a practice putting green in the backyard, and Dana has always said No Way, it’s too small. However, I realized recently that the land on the other side of the community fence line is ours, with a creek easement. This area was all overgrown, but has a couple of small oaks, a sycamore, and some other shrubs. So I started clearing it out, and it looks like it could fit the bill, a kind of secret garden area. I don’t know about a putting green, we’ll see. Anybody out there have one, any tips?

CLICK

Saturday morning and Dana is laid out with a tweaked back, up since 4 am, watching John Wayne movies and munching Fioricet muscle relaxers. The steroids to keep the brain swelling down are really messing up my sleep, down at 9pm, up at 1am, down at 5am, up at 8am! I seem to have found some balance in last night’s pharmacopeia, hitting the right combo of steroids and sleeping pills to actually sleep for 8 hours without my brains swelling out onto the pillow! Monday will be the last cranial irradiation, and hopefully the end of these persistent headaches that have plagued me this week.

Thursday’s lumbar puncture/chemo injection went pretty smoothly. The doc got me on the table under the fluoroscope, numbed me up, warned me a couple of times for a push into the spine, then he said “1 out of 3 times this next push will hit the nerve for a second, and you’ll feel a big electrical click, then it’ll be fine, here we go.” CLICK. Like when you forgot to turn off the juice before changing that light switch, and then the breaker clicks. Less than a second, but HO CHI MAMA, the whole leg jumps, the sciatic nerve is vibrant, and the foot is doing the floppy. The rest of it went very smooth. He pumped in the joo joo juice like there were Krispy Kremes in the conference room. I went back to the recovery room for my one hour horizontal recovery, and met Mr. Stupid and Sad.

This guy is in the other bed, and instantly starts complaining about how he has to wait 2 hours to get his IV of antibiotics. I told him we got hung up an hour because of a car accident, but he railed on. Nurse came in and I asked for my standard lunch of pizza, doughnuts, and a masseuse, and he starts complaining that he can’t get lunch in this place. Somehow we get on the topic of costs, and I tell him my one-day stay in Feb. was $27K. This really sets him off; he’s going to have to file bankruptcy. Turns out this fisherman dude suffered a double hernia, drove to Mexico to get it fixed cheap ($2400), and they did a fine job but he ignored their recovery requirements. He gets in his motor home and drives for 2 days straight, only to be so sick that he has to get checked into Sierra Vista for ten days, then ten more days as an outpatient getting an IV drip for 3 hours. He really saved some money there.

The nurses bring me HIS lunch, spaghetti and meat sauce, key lime pie, coffee, not bad but hard to eat horizontally. I eat lunch, get dressed and go out to the nurse station, and shout “I’m cured!” I tell them I am ready to go, the needle came out an hour ago. They all start discussing that I am supposed to lie flat for 24 hours, I need a driver, I can’t go yet. I set them straight, tell them since I had joo joo juice put IN, it makes up for the juice they took OUT, no problem, I will be fine, it’s been OK for three weeks now. They make me sign the papers. The nurse explains that the sad sack in the other room actually HIT a nurse at another hospital, and that’s why he is here without his lunch, which they gave me.

This all confirms for me that, once you are in the system, govt., medical, school, whatever, you have to figure out the rules and the powers, and learn to navigate the whole deal. Knowing how to wait patiently in this world is a great talent, and doing it with some humor will really help.

Played 18 at Dairy Creek on Wednesday from the blues, and flat out ran out of gas at about the 12th hole. Putter killed me on the front, and all the other clubs joined in on the back. Played awful, couldn’t get off the tee, found a lot of ticks in the bushes, beautiful day, a lotta fun. Shot a 98 I think, ouch. Back to the gym and driving range. Blood counts are OK, slightly anemic but not enough to explain that back 9 holes.

It turns out I have a lot of room for photos, and I wonder if some of you BLOG commenters wouldn’t love to see your face up in lights? Anyone sends me their photo and I will post it, maybe make one separate post with all photos. Any takers? I at least want a picture of Pat’s backyard, and Mac’s first tee with his cats. Randy’s pond. Donald in a doctor suit. Mo in a TM state, Jeanne in a zen state. What say you all?

I Sing of Olaf

Memorial Day 2005. We honor our war dead. It is amazing to me that after all these years, the planet is still covered in what is essentially tribal conflict – Hutu v. Tutsi, Sunni v. Shiite, Muslim v. Christian, and on and on and on. Yet we honor it, by honoring the dead. What a waste.

e.e. cummings - i sing of Olaf glad and big... (XXX

i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or

his wellbeloved colonel (trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but-though an host of overjoyed
noncoms (first knocking on the head
him) do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments-
Olaf (being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds, without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"

straightaway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)

but-though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skillfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat-
Olaf (upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some shit I will not eat"

our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died

Christ (of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too

preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you

My brain feels kind of like Olaf, and then I take the steroid to counteract the brain swelling and can’t sleep. I keep waking up at 4:30 or 5 am. Sheesh.
I do have these nifty photos of the new improved White Hat, check ‘em out!

The cranial irradiation is going OK, no major sunburns, some minor headaches, as I said, nothing else. As I emptied the dishwasher this am,two glasses fell victim to the numbmeup in my fingers, quite spectacularly too, as I crushed one between my arm and ribs as I dropped the other! Lucky not to get hurt there!

I played 11 holes on Friday afternoon, badly. It’s a funny thing in golf and some other skill games that you play good after a long layoff, then all the old mistakes creep right back in, all those old bad habits sneak right in.

I am getting really sick of watching the devastation on my body too. I have traded 20 pounds of muscle for thirty pounds of fat, weaker than Lara Flynn Boyle and looking like Nicholson. Whenever it gets to me and I vow to do something, I get tired thinking about it, then I go lie down. It seems to me that I am going to hit a long stretch of higher energy after the irradiation is done, and I better get my act together to have Life After Leukemia.

I got a card from Robert DeNiro this week, pretty cool. It said "Best, Robert DeNiro". I also received an invitation to have dinner with President and Mrs. Bush. Unfortunately they misspelled my name Flore, and it cost $2500 per person for the dinner. Dang.

Finally got this post fixed, sheesh.

Cranial Irradiation cont.

What was I saying? Oh yeah. Uuhhhhh. Heh heh. Urrrrrr.

Friday am early
It’s been an interesting week. On Monday I went into the Oncology Radiation Center, which we’ll call the Fry Shack, to be fitted for a new White Hat! You wear this hat to keep aligned with the machine that sends the DEATH RAYS into your skull. It is made out of this weird stretchy plastic mesh material, which comes in a flat sheet and they warm in a pan. They have you lie on the table in the position for frying, and then place this warm wet stretchy plastic goop over your face and head, and it clips into the table. They mold it down into your eyes, which you better have closed, and around the curves and giant lumps and deep gashes of your head. In ten minutes it hardens into this plastic mesh hat. If they find this thing in 2,000 years they will be sure the owner really looked like King Tut.


Tuesday I went back to the Fry Shack and they took a couple pictures of me in my new hat, to get their lasers and DEATH RAYS all lined up for the Armageddon to come. I asked a few questions, like would I call the dinosaurs and what other side effects would I have. They said the treatment I was getting was totally wussy, the real men get like 3 times the level of radiation for 6 weeks straight and then die. They said I would not call the dinosaurs, not get really bad headaches, probably remember my name and my address but maybe not where I parked. The doctor did say that the combination of spinal tap injected methotrexate and cranial irradiation did cause some loss of brainpower, i.e. you get stupider, but he said, you won’t notice. Ha ha. After he got up, he also said you might get a sunburn too.

There were a lot of problems scheduling the doctor that was doing the spinal tap and methotrexate injection, since it had to be done for the next 5 weeks. We finally nailed down Thursday morning, so yesterday at 7am I went to Sierra Vista for the 8am treatment. The doctor showed up around 8:45, and got right to work. I curl up into the fetal position and she starts poking this long needle in until she has found the nerve bundle that goes down my left leg. Somehow, without moving, I jump four feet and say “I think you’re on the nerve bundle”, maybe not that calmly. It was pretty strange, because it was so instantaneously extremely painful, and then gone. I’ve always loved that about some types of pain, just light you up and then gone. It was strange too that the first time she did it the pain shot through my hip, and the second time it was the calf and foot. I imagine she is barely touching this nerve bundle, but man oh Marathon Man, “It’s Safe!” She is very apologetic, and after some more fishing around she decides she can’t get it. The doctor at Stanford had a hard time, and this doctor had a hard time the first time, and she says it will be better to do this with Xray guidance. That means I have to come back at 10:30. I call the Fry Shack, who is waiting for me to finish this, and tell them to keep my order warm.

The XRay guys are da bomb. It is clearly easier to do a spinal when you can see what you are doing. They can’t see the nerve bundle, but they can see where they want to go, and it is all pretty painless. They tell me I have to lie flat for 24 hours! The first doctor wanted me to lay flat for 1 hour, and at Stanford they wanted me to lay flat for 3 hours. I get wheeled on a gurney back to the day treatment area, and the nurse says the Xray doc is very cautious with the 24 hour recommendation. I have to lay there an hour, have some lunch while horizontal (spaghetti and salad, that’s tricky), and then go across to the Fry Shack.

They are ready for me. I get on the table, they plug me into my hat, tell me there will be whirring and sizzling and popping as the DEATH RAYS bombard my skull, then I’ll get rotated and they will bombard the other side, and it will all be over in 2 minutes. Now normally I can control the fear reaction and my breathing, but when they all left the room and that machine kicked on, and all that whirring and sizzling started up, I could literally feel my brains heating up. I didn’t want to swallow or move in any way, lest I fry some unfryable part, and that didn’t help my anxiety level. I could feel my skin heating up, but I kept thinking I shouldn’t be feeling anything, and wondering if they were giving me the he-man dosage. Then it was over.

Started at 7am, home at 2:15, 1 hour of procedures, 6 hours of forms and waiting. I get horizontal, but not for 24 hours. At 5:30 Mikey and I go to his school, where he is playing and I am dealing in the annual Blackjack Tournament. I feel fine, a little warm under the hat. Mikey makes the final table, takes fourth place and wins an MP3 player. Home at 9, eat dinner, in bed at 10:30. What a day.

Today I go in at 10 am for DEATH RAYS. A great thing happened that will help my recovery. I had appealed to the Superintendent of Golf Courses for the county to reinstate my volume discount card and cart sticker from last year, and he has agreed. In ’03 and ’04 I laid out $600+ for these cards, and each year was injured by April. The whole idea of the volume discount is that at a certain volume, you save money. Anyway, they are giving me a discount card and cart sticker for this year. That is awesome.

And hey, listen up Mac, I went out Monday at Morro Bay and shot 91, 3 months ago I didn’t think I’d ever golf again, but sweet mother that felt great. I even went Mac on a couple holes, and I mean big Mac, rippling Mac, barking howling feed the kitty Mac. Short game was pretty iffy, but it always was.

Blog comments are getting really funny. I am bringing up Tim’s thoughts about the ir part of irradiation with the Fry Shack people, but it scares me to say anything negative with these people. One little nudge of the dial, one little oops, and it’s Chernobyl time for Johnny. I should point out also, everything they give me for chemotherapy causes cancer! It’s downright crazy! It’s almost like some sort of planned obsolescence of humans. Sure, you’ll beat the leukemia, but we’ll be seeing that colon of yours in 5 years!

I think I may be moving to Korea, or one of the other advanced countries, where old embryos can be used to save humans, and are not revered as ‘living things’. My toenail clippings are technically ‘living things’ but nobody objects when I throw them out. Americans are going to start leaving the country to get quality health care, and it will only be the wealthy doing this. This so-called ‘Culture of Life’ government is so full of shit. And to think GWB had a sister die of leukemia. Don’t get me started.

Sunday morning
Oops, a day late, I forgot to post this dang thing. I can’t seem to get the picture of the white hat I took on Friday to email to me, camera phones! I will have to post it later, or take a pic with a real camera tomorrow. I was fried again on Friday, and my head is lightly sunburned and I have a killer headache, maybe a cold or allergies and not from the DEATH RAYS. Dana is off to San Fran for the weekend with her sisters, and I am doing laundry and chauffeur duties, which mean watching golf. By next weekend I may be feeling pretty fried. I better go golfing later today, it's boiling hot here!