Me and the boys. You can see where my ears were cropped.
Round 1 goes to me, in spite of some hard rights landed on my head. It wasn’t easy getting to the arena. Sunday night we were driving up to Mountain View, and I was zipping along in the left lane, going with traffic, 30 miles to go, when my right rear tire blows out. I scramble over to the breakdown lane, and then move even farther away from the 4 lanes of traffic on the 101. I am not in a great spot, kind of soft dirt, my flashlight is missing, and the spare tire is covered by luggage. Dana pleads with me to get a tow truck, but I have enough annoyance without waiting on some tow and ending up at the apartment at 1:00 am and out a boatload of money and without a car.
Plus I would have to turn in los huevos to some motorcycle gang or Alaskan for not changing my own flat. So I change the tire, and the soft spot the jack was on was problematic. I have changed tires on that car many times so it wasn’t too bad, once I got a stabilized jack, but 5 minutes in the smell of dead animal wafts over us. Dana is thinking it’s a wraith or a necromancer, and I thought we were being stalked by death, so I worked faster. The tire only had 9,000 miles on it, so I think we picked up a nail. We got to Mountain View around 10:45.
Yesterday they started me on this 4 liter IV drip of saline, nourishment, antibiotics, and a touch of potassium. I will be on this all week, so I have a little handcart and a backpack full of solution, changed every day for another 4 liters. I cannot be far from a bathroom or a bush; I am considering Depends for the rest of the week. I had another chest xray, and will get those once/week. The radiation nurses checked that the blocks made from Friday’s measurements covered my lungs, which they did.
On Monday I also had a PET scan, which is a more detailed version of a CT, to see if I was truly in remission, and danged if I wasn’t. There are nests of leukemia cells near the liver and pancreas. I had asked the docs a few times what would happen in this scenario, and they said we proceed with slight modifications, an additional chemo. So when I got to the center this morning at 7:00, I was told that Blue Cross has to approve the new regimen and my radiation wouldn’t start until the 11:30 fraction. I was also told that my doc had written a strong letter to Blue Cross, and we had the consent sooner than it may have taken otherwise. I have a small room in the center, where I will pass time between treatments. It has a TV and bathroom.
Into the tanning salon I go at 11:30. The nurses in the radiation treatment facility are models of efficiency, so right on schedule we begin. I stand in the place they checked on Monday, put on the harness (catches you if you collapse), grab the handholds for support, and try not to move. The doctor assists with the first treatment, so they get the blocks in place, tape on some radiation monitors, and away we go. The radiation beam is about 30’ away, and the lights on the wall say ‘Beam On’ for the next 8 minutes. The nurse checks my status with the PA system to see how I feel, and I am ok. My hip hurts from standing still for 8 minutes, but I cannot feel any effects from radiation. I was in and out in 20 minutes.
One effect I do see is it looks like I have a mild sunburn. At 3:30 I have another treatment, backside this time, and my glow is a little better. One of the docs visits to tell me we are going to forego the additional chemo because they are concerned about the cumulative toxicity. I am fine with that, they are the pros, and a number of docs had met to discuss what course to follow. I think because I am healthy and my sister is healthy, they decided the new bone marrow and immune system would take out any transient leukemia cells. I continue landing lefts to the body.
Not to mention that the 10 radiation fractions of 120 rads (I think) each might kill any remaining leukemia cells. I had lunch and dinner at the Cancer Center, and I think the nurse was a little surprised I ate and wasn’t nauseous. We shall see after 3 more fractions tomorrow. I wore my superhero pants with a clashing shirt, and when I put on the Hepa mask I was a picture of style. It will be hard to top that. Those are solid combinations, jab jab right crossover, uppercut. So, I win round one.
Barry and Stacy, in Mike's home away from home. They are very caring and warm, and Mike will settle right in.
Plus I would have to turn in los huevos to some motorcycle gang or Alaskan for not changing my own flat. So I change the tire, and the soft spot the jack was on was problematic. I have changed tires on that car many times so it wasn’t too bad, once I got a stabilized jack, but 5 minutes in the smell of dead animal wafts over us. Dana is thinking it’s a wraith or a necromancer, and I thought we were being stalked by death, so I worked faster. The tire only had 9,000 miles on it, so I think we picked up a nail. We got to Mountain View around 10:45.
Yesterday they started me on this 4 liter IV drip of saline, nourishment, antibiotics, and a touch of potassium. I will be on this all week, so I have a little handcart and a backpack full of solution, changed every day for another 4 liters. I cannot be far from a bathroom or a bush; I am considering Depends for the rest of the week. I had another chest xray, and will get those once/week. The radiation nurses checked that the blocks made from Friday’s measurements covered my lungs, which they did.
On Monday I also had a PET scan, which is a more detailed version of a CT, to see if I was truly in remission, and danged if I wasn’t. There are nests of leukemia cells near the liver and pancreas. I had asked the docs a few times what would happen in this scenario, and they said we proceed with slight modifications, an additional chemo. So when I got to the center this morning at 7:00, I was told that Blue Cross has to approve the new regimen and my radiation wouldn’t start until the 11:30 fraction. I was also told that my doc had written a strong letter to Blue Cross, and we had the consent sooner than it may have taken otherwise. I have a small room in the center, where I will pass time between treatments. It has a TV and bathroom.
Into the tanning salon I go at 11:30. The nurses in the radiation treatment facility are models of efficiency, so right on schedule we begin. I stand in the place they checked on Monday, put on the harness (catches you if you collapse), grab the handholds for support, and try not to move. The doctor assists with the first treatment, so they get the blocks in place, tape on some radiation monitors, and away we go. The radiation beam is about 30’ away, and the lights on the wall say ‘Beam On’ for the next 8 minutes. The nurse checks my status with the PA system to see how I feel, and I am ok. My hip hurts from standing still for 8 minutes, but I cannot feel any effects from radiation. I was in and out in 20 minutes.
One effect I do see is it looks like I have a mild sunburn. At 3:30 I have another treatment, backside this time, and my glow is a little better. One of the docs visits to tell me we are going to forego the additional chemo because they are concerned about the cumulative toxicity. I am fine with that, they are the pros, and a number of docs had met to discuss what course to follow. I think because I am healthy and my sister is healthy, they decided the new bone marrow and immune system would take out any transient leukemia cells. I continue landing lefts to the body.
Not to mention that the 10 radiation fractions of 120 rads (I think) each might kill any remaining leukemia cells. I had lunch and dinner at the Cancer Center, and I think the nurse was a little surprised I ate and wasn’t nauseous. We shall see after 3 more fractions tomorrow. I wore my superhero pants with a clashing shirt, and when I put on the Hepa mask I was a picture of style. It will be hard to top that. Those are solid combinations, jab jab right crossover, uppercut. So, I win round one.
Barry and Stacy, in Mike's home away from home. They are very caring and warm, and Mike will settle right in.
Boo Qwilla Thrilla
ReplyDeleteRound 1 Recap
No one was stunned, except the challenger, with the results of the first round of the Boo Qwilla Thrilla. A shocking blowout was delivered to the right rear panel of HolyCowCrazyPants just as he was entering the ring. The vultures began to circle as the smell of carrion permeated the scene. HolyCowCrazyPants was disoriented and looked like a man struggling to gain his footing in a gravel pit. Despite early calls from concerned family members to have him dragged away, HolyCowCrazyPants some how regained his focus and jacked himself up sufficiently enough to continue the fight.
Once inside the ropes, HolyCowMan, primed up and fresh off a back country expedition that would make Big Foot look like a spider monkey with the clap, took yet another plugging with an IV, followed by a flurry of radioactive blows that would have left the average imp on the matt in a crumpled mess.
Just when it appeared that CrazyPants might falter, he delivered a Blue Cross uppercut and a long doc letter that appeared to give him a shot of fortification. For the first time, spectators witnessed HolyCowMan stand in the ring with outstretched arms - welcoming the beams from the challenger.
Once the round was over, the challenger was perplexed that the only after affects on HolyCowCrazyPants was a little redness and an inability to fashionable coordinate colors.
Wow, who is calling this fight?
ReplyDeleteJohn, it sounds like you did a good job in round 1, keep it up
for the next round. I would have called a tow truck but I know your stubborn nature would not allow you to do give in. Glad the car didn't fall of the jack, that would have been a real mess.
Good luck,
Bill
what am I? the only wimp who still has AAA? a nice white truck comes within 45 minutes, faster if you've locked a sleeping baby in the car. and they make it all look easy.
ReplyDeletethey don't even make fun of you if you have to unload so many beach chairs, boogey boards and wetsuits to get to your spare that it WOULD look like you were having a spontaneous yard sale if not for the torrential rain. but how would I know that?
I'm pretty sure the motorcycle gangster or the Alaskan would have retreated immediately upon catching site of your superhero pants, muttering something like, "yo, dog, keep your huevos".
ReplyDeleteMust be you have a lovely equilibrium between your masculine and feminine sides---there you are manning up with the tire jack in traffic and yet you are also mindful of fashion and the value of a good tan.
Love the blog, thanks for enlightening all of us.
Hey, John, great job!!!
ReplyDeleteI just spent a few days with Sue & Mike B (and beautiful P) here in Maine and down in RI. We were (and are) all thinking of you and rooting for you!
Hang in there!!!
Dear John,
ReplyDeleteThis incredible outfit has won you the title of El Guapo!!
Hi John,
ReplyDeleteMike Patience and I are back from our trip to RI. We were there for the change in seasons--a little chilly. Good to be back. We're following your posts. Wow, as if you didn't have enough going on--throw in a flat tire in the dark on a highway!
curiosity killed the cat, but I am not a cat. so will somebody tell me what a guapo is.
ReplyDeleteand Mac if you're listening don't you dare say it's a cat.
Pat,
ReplyDeleteGuapo = HolyCowCrazyPants
Mac
guapo, -a
ReplyDeleteadjective
1. good-looking (atractivo) (especially peninsular Spanish); handsome (hombre); pretty (mujer)
2. smart (elegante) (especially peninsular Spanish)¡qué guapo, -a te has puesto! -> you look really nice!
3. cool, ace (informal) (muy bueno) (peninsular Spanish)
4. gutsy (valiente) (Am)ser guapo, -a -> to have guts
Yep, that fits!
aaahhhhhh, I get it...Spanish on a peninsula for
ReplyDeleteholycowcrazypants
thank you