Well, anchors aweigh isn't all that easy. I did the crazy thing and bought the Winnebago Chieftain, the 22' with granite counters and wood flooring. It is much roomier inside, full oven and 4-burner stove, lots more storage, generator, bigger bath, and I figured it would be better to go in style. John and I may be more at peace with some space. The Chief has bunkbeds in the back, a couch that makes a full-size bed, and a twin bed in the loft over the front seats. Plenty of room for hitchhiking hotties. Do they still do that?
Plus, I need to use up my carbon allotment. I am hoping for 7-8 mpg from the 7.8L 454 Chevy monster engine, maybe more since I am not towing anything. However, there are a few big issues. The Chief is in the RV garage right now, getting the fuel tank fixed. It is leaking at the fill tube, which I didn't realize until we put some gas in it. When I bought it the tank was near empty. I suppose the seller knew that leak was there, but maybe that's why it was only $4K. With only one 32 gallon fuel tank, the range is only about 250 miles, where the Econoline had 2 tanks and a range of 400 plus miles.
I think with the upgrades and miles, 67,500, I have a few grand to fix what is wrong and still be ahead. I have spent the last week fixing lots of smaller things. The guy I bought it from kept losing keys, so I am struggling with doors and some side compartments. It's time to see a locksmith. The spare tire cover was locked with no keys, so I drilled the locks out and have it working but not locking. A few miniblinds, light covers, non-working overhead lights, a big cleaning, but the major components like propane, toilets and sinks, wastewater tanks, are all working and not leaking. The engine is strong, new front shocks, tranny seems sound, and I hope the mechanic doesn't find much else.
That other RV I bought, the Ford Econoline, was displaying signs of a troubled youth, so I will take the time to fix some leaky spots over the next few months, and try to recover the costs in the spring when people are thinking of travelling again. Dana of course was right, don't rush into it she said, but I don't feel like time is on my side. I am trying to get back east to see my Mom by her birthday, Sep. 19, so realistically we have to leave by the 5th if we want to see some sights along the way.
We had planned to leave this past weekend, then reality struck me in the head. I had an appointment Friday to bring the RV in and get the fuel tank fixed. I had a chemo dose of methotrexate on Thursday, and then 8:30 Friday another chemo appointment for some Asparaginase. I had this drug back in '05 at Stanford and had a local reaction to it at the site of injection (crook of my elbow), and then I had it a couple of weeks ago as an IV. I had no reaction then except a tougher nadir, but it's a more powerful drug than Cytarabine.
So Friday they start dripping the asparaginase into me, and about 3 minutes in I feel the world is getting a little shakier, and my head is heating up. I ring the holy moly bell, and the nurse comes over and sees that I am crashing, going into anaphylactic shock. She and some other nurses call the doc over, and they are hitting me with epinephrine and other stuff, and they call 911. I vaguely hear them calling out the blood pressure, and it is dropping like a stone. When it hits 60/40 I think "This is it, baby, I am going down," but I have a great doc and skilled nurses, and by the time the ambulance arrives I am stabilized.
Off we go to the hospital, to the ER, and the doctor there decides he has to rule out a stroke or heart attack. I had an allergic reaction, I am not pregnant either, don't make me pee on a stick. It is now after 10:00 am, ER is a zoo complete with loonies, and I see my day slipping away. My boat won't be setting sail this weekend. The doctor comes in with CT results and tells me my brain looks abnormal, there may be leukemia in there. I tell him we just ruled that out a week ago with a spinal tap, but he is undaunted. I am doing all I can not to get sarcastic with this guy, since he holds my day in his clipboard head. He wants to be House, and I want to be Road Warrior.
Now he wants an MRI of my head to see what is going on, and he schedules it for 3:30. I suggest that whatever is crawling around in my cranium won't kill me over the weekend; let's schedule this for Monday. No, this looks weird, let's get it done, and oh, no food until then. I ask why no food for an MRI of my skull, and he says they don't want me puking in the MR tube. I tell him I just had a dose of Anzmet, a very good anti-nausea, and I am not a puker anyway, but no, no food until 4:30. I didn't plan to fast but what can you do? I had no book, no magazine, only my dying cell phone. Thankfully there was a succession of loomies trying to get some pharmaceuticals for their pains, and they were entertaining.
We get the MRI done, and the doctor who reads the scan comes in and says I have brain damage; the sheath that should be wrapped around each neuron is stripped away. That expains the weight loss, I tell him, and the urge to pole dance. For crying out loud, what did he expect after 5 1/2 years of chemo, cranial and full body irradiation, and too many drugs? But, let's press on. He says this could indicate leukemia or MS, they have similar symptoms. Numbness in the hands, vision problems, loss of strength. Dana has shown up just in time to hear all this from the doctor, including some bit about possible seizures. That makes her real comfy with the idea of an 8,000 mile road trip in a big old RV. Hah, brain damage, what do they know?
I ask him about the prognosis with MS, and he tells me it would take years to kill me. I tell him it's a good thing since I am already dying of leukemia and only have 1-2 years left. I know how this will play out, though. Some genius researcher in Germany or Japan will come up with a stem cell cure for ALL, and then can I can turn into a MS patient. If that happens I will buy a 30 year old airplane and learn to fly. The bucket gets bigger. Heavier too.
So now we are probably leaving this weekend, along with all the other Labor Day vacationers. First to Zion, then to the Badlands. I told John I get the white hat and he gets the black, and we ride horses at each other down this canyon, firing away with laser tag. That would be cool. Then we have a shootout in Deadwood. Hah, brain damage. Niagara, Toronto, maybe Montreal, hang in there Mom, I am riding a white horse with a white hat.
Glad to hear that Pat came up with Winnebacome, Winnebago. Kind of long though. We are thinking of other names for the RV; Dana suggested 'John's Folly,' but I like the idea of a woman's name for machines and boats. Winnie is too obvious. What Indians had women as chiefs? Sacagawea was not a chief, but she did great things and was a wanderlust. That name may be too long and get shortened to 'The Sac,' not very appealing. Same problem with Pocahontas. So, I am open to suggestions. John says 'Chief Bull Goose Loony,' forget women's names, but why not Chief Bromden then? Chief Broom suits my anal retentive nature. Plus, he got away. Winnalottery? WinnaWinnaChickenDinna?
Nice to hear from you Janna and MG, hope all is well. And Mac, if I coulda bought that Appalachian hillbilly moonshine RV, I woulda, but a liberal like me would get found out and Deliveranced, and I don't want that. I try not to joust with the tea partiers, but it is so hard. Now that Obama is a muslim from Kenya responsible for the deficit and wars, what can I say? Thankfully I can always count on some serene imagery from Mo to grease my anchor chain. Say, if I name the RV Minnie, we could all get in and be the Pep boys, Minnie, Mo and Mac!
So if all goes well, we are out of here and on an epic journey. I will keep a travelogue posted when we find internet cafes. Anchors aweigh!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
The art of insanity
Things have been tough around here. My gut has been in serious pain, on and off, feeling like I got stabbed in the right side, same spot every time. Then I started getting headaches and ear rushes, and dizziness sometimes when I stand up. So last week when I went in for chemo, my doctor checked me out and said skip the chemo, let's get you a CT scan of the abdomen and a spinal tap to see if the leukemia is resurgent. He was concerned (me too) that the area of my pancreas and liver, and my brain, had a buildup of leukemia, and chemo was not working.
I had the CT scan on Thursday and the spinal tap on Friday, too much fun really for just one person. In order to get me in all the right positions, they installed this new joystick device on my head, and they use that to get you to open wide, roll to the side, and other stuff. Here it is:
That is saliva on my tongue, not a piercing.
I just got the call from my doctor with the results, and it turns out my stomach pain is from a kinky intestine, and the headaches are because I bought an RV and I have been fixing all the things wrong with it. My mom is turning 87 on Sept. 19, and I wanted to have a road trip to see her. She is in the hospital right now with some infections, but she is improving.
My son John has agreed to come with me, and the trip was contingent on those results. Now I am going to get chemo on Wednesday, and rush to fix this RV, or abandon ship on this one and buy a better unit. There is one available that is the bomb, slightly bigger but in much better shape and cheaper at $4000, but with a monster engine (7.8 liter V8) and 6-7 mpg v. 10-11 for the one I have.
The RV I have is a 1988 Ford F250, 19' with a 354 v8 with 69K miles, and the other is a 1986 Winnebago Chieftain 22' but really trimmed out and everything working. We are talking granite countertops and wood floors, bamboo ceilings, two working generators, oven, and those are just the things that the Ford doesn't have. The difference in mpg means about $.20 more per mile, and for the luxury and headache relief I may buy it, bite the bullet and set the other one aside for now and repair it to better shape slowly, then sell it. The bad news is the market is flooded with RVs, so it may let it sit until spring.
I have mastered the art of insanity, or am I just stupid? Both.
I was swayed by the Semper Fi status of the RV, but now I think I blew it, because there are too many things wrong with this RV, and I haven't even started looking for roof leaks.
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow-- the wine.
I had the CT scan on Thursday and the spinal tap on Friday, too much fun really for just one person. In order to get me in all the right positions, they installed this new joystick device on my head, and they use that to get you to open wide, roll to the side, and other stuff. Here it is:
That is saliva on my tongue, not a piercing.
I just got the call from my doctor with the results, and it turns out my stomach pain is from a kinky intestine, and the headaches are because I bought an RV and I have been fixing all the things wrong with it. My mom is turning 87 on Sept. 19, and I wanted to have a road trip to see her. She is in the hospital right now with some infections, but she is improving.
My son John has agreed to come with me, and the trip was contingent on those results. Now I am going to get chemo on Wednesday, and rush to fix this RV, or abandon ship on this one and buy a better unit. There is one available that is the bomb, slightly bigger but in much better shape and cheaper at $4000, but with a monster engine (7.8 liter V8) and 6-7 mpg v. 10-11 for the one I have.
The RV I have is a 1988 Ford F250, 19' with a 354 v8 with 69K miles, and the other is a 1986 Winnebago Chieftain 22' but really trimmed out and everything working. We are talking granite countertops and wood floors, bamboo ceilings, two working generators, oven, and those are just the things that the Ford doesn't have. The difference in mpg means about $.20 more per mile, and for the luxury and headache relief I may buy it, bite the bullet and set the other one aside for now and repair it to better shape slowly, then sell it. The bad news is the market is flooded with RVs, so it may let it sit until spring.
I have mastered the art of insanity, or am I just stupid? Both.
I was swayed by the Semper Fi status of the RV, but now I think I blew it, because there are too many things wrong with this RV, and I haven't even started looking for roof leaks.
Either travelling in a leaker or in style, we may leave as early as this weekend for the road trip back to RI, starting with somewhere in Nevada, then on up to South Dakota and the Crazy Horse memorial. Badlands National Park is right there, and Mt. Rushmore too. From there I am not sure, somewhere in Minnesota or Michigan, and on to Niagara Falls, probably from the Toronto area. If time permits, on to Montreal, and then through NY to RI. Looks like 2 weeks on the road, a week in RI, then return via NC and hang with Lisa and Manuel for a while, and then go see Frank in N.Mex., and then home.
That could be too long a trip, and chemo along the way may prove problematic, but that is the plan for now. After that I plan to outfit the RV with floats and a rudder, and away to Australia!
A Poem, Litany, by Billy Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow-- the wine.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Pics and Vids from the Tetons and Yellowstone
In the Grand Tetons 7/26
Jenny Lake, Grand Tetons National Forest, campsite First come first serve, and this was the last site at 7:30 am. A nice site with a lot of space. 7/26
Life from death, Jenny Lake
View of Jenny Lake, view to shuttle landing on oppposite side. Landing leads to the Hidden Falls. $10 round trip. I walked.
The valley view from Signal Mountain. As I left the Grand Teton NP, I spotted Signal Mountain and though, maybe I can get a signal on my phone, get some messages and make some calls. Sure enough, there is a cell tower at the top and my phone goes nuts, but also awesome views of the valley and of the Tetons. 7/27
7/27 Signal Mountain Info
Valley view from Signal Mountain
Panorama of the Grand Tetons from Signal Mountain. Left to right
Panorama 2
Panorama 3
Panorama 4
Panorama 5
Panorama 6
Panorama 7
Panorama 8
Snake River Falls 7/28/10
A corkscrew tree 7/28
I really was there 7/28
Bison. Like seeing a cow in Wisconsin 7/28.
Tourists stop in the middle of the road, and run to get a pic of a bison 200 yards away.
Elk 7/28
Elk herd
These shots are in the Old Faithful area
Bizarre Fire Lake Drive landscape 8/1
Bison herd on the move
Fire Lake Drive
Fire Lake Drive geyser
Old Faithful
Friday, July 30, 2010
Traveling
Saturday
I drove to Las Vegas, to Fitzgerald’s downtown. The room was only $55, and worth less. I got there about 4pm, and it was boiling hot. It was over 110 going through Mojave. I was hoping to find $2craps and $3 blackjack, like the old cheap days, but everything was $5 limit or higher.
I lost $100 at craps while rolling the dice for ten minutes straight and should have made some money, but I hit nothing for me and everything for all the other players. They all said ‘Wait to roll!’ but I crapped out in the end with nada. I went to the $1/$2 no limit poker tables, played one hand stupid, lost $40 on that, should’ve seen the set, and lost a total of $55. Finally I busted through for $25 at blackjack, woohoo, and was in bed at 11 watching TV.
Sunday
Got up at 4:30, went to find coffee, and it was already 90+. Back to the Fitz and I waited around for the comp breakfast, and boogied at 7:30. Bruce Mundt did me a big favor and marked up all these maps of areas I was going through, and one Postit said check out the town of Mesquite, so I did on the way up. I should have stayed there, rooms (probably cleaner and nicer) for $26 with breakfast, and $2 craps and blackjack. 100 miles closer to my end point.
I was originally shooting for something around Salt Lake City, but didn’t see anything that floated my boat, so I had a note from Bruce about Afton, Wyoming being some great rockhounding, and a campground right there on the river. It’s starting to get dark, and when I find the campground it is closed for a waterworks project. The local cop says I could probably just pull over up the dirt road past the campground, but I have been watching car after car going up that dirt road, so I forego that.
I stop in at one motel that has 20 rooms and 2 cars, and offer them $40 for a room, but no, rooms are $70. Why are small businesses failing? No consideration of variable costs. I call ahead to Jackson Hole, and the Motel 6 is $150, and full. Ditto Motel 8. I drive through Jackson Hole with no plan. About 15 miles outside I spot the Wolf Meadow campground, pull in, and there is nobody there. $15. I set up camp under a 2/3 moon, very bright, and I am asleep by 12. I wake at 5:30, pretty dang cold, maybe 50, make the coffee and skedaddle.
Monday
I get to Jenny Lake Campground in the Grand Tetons at 7:30, and I get the very last campsite. All the camps in Grand Teton are first-come first-serve, but the books stated you had until about 10 at Jenny Lake. I had a real nice site, but it was all the way to the other end of the campground to get to the only bathroom, serving 46 sites.
I set up camp and went on a hike around Jenny Lake, a 7 mile loop on the map, except they didn’t mention the uncrossable stream and extra 1.5 mi. to the bridge around it and back. There is a shuttle that runs across the lake, so that people can make it to the Hidden Falls, so I took the extra mile hike to the falls and then took the shuttle across, rather than the extra 2.5 mile hike. Some times I make a smart decision.
Tuesday
I packed up and left Jenny Lake about 8 in the morning, knowing I had reservations at Bridge Bay in Yellowstone for 2 nights. They pick the site for you, so I could mosey. When I saw the turnoff to Signal Mountain, I had to go to see if I could get a call phone signal. Sure enough there was a cell tower up there, and awesome views of the Tetons and of the valley. I called Dana, took some pics, and hit the road. I should have had about a 1.5 hour drive, with traffic and traffic delays. Unfortunately, all systems failed. There were no signs to Bridger Bay until I was 2 miles away. I was using a fairly vague map. Mrs. Garmin was mystified by the whole deal, and never did find Bridger Bay, and took me the whole loop almost to the West entrance.
In addition, there is a lot of road construction going on, and long delays. I suppose they have a very limited time to get it all done. I found Bridger Bay 3.5 hours later. They had selected a site for me in full sun, and I had to pull out all stops to get a move to partial shade. That site was OK, on the edge of the woods, but the wind was howling like mad. 20 lb. rocks could not hold down the tablecloth. I managed to set up a tent, and then headed out exploring the area.
At the store I bought a $1.30 ice cream, but the bank denied my debit card, probably because I hadn’t used it in a long time, maybe only once. The store took Amex. I went to the Lake Hotel nearby, hoping for an ATM and wifi. No wifi, but they have an ATM. Nice hotel, and I sat in the lobby using their power on this old junky laptop, and then went to use the ATM. Without glasses on I mistook a slot for the card entry, and watched in horror as it dropped into the guts of the machine. It was after 6, and the accounting staff with the keys had left. I came back in the morning, and now I have some cash.
I made dinner and had a small fire. I bought a nice loaf of Rosemary/Basil bread at Costco before I left, and it was in a Ziploc freezer bag, which fell in the ice melt water, just as in Ashland. This time instead of tossing it, 1/3rd was salvageable right away, and the rest I tried to dry out. I tried the dashboard of my car with the sun baking in, and then the fire, and ate it last night toasted with some sausage. I didn’t get sick.
Wednesday
I headed north to terrain that Donald and I had covered last year. I was targeting the Petrified Tree (only one, not a forest), thinking I would make a picnic and hike off trail and maybe find some other cobbles or petrified wood. I headed out on this trail to Lost Lake, only 1.1 miles. It should have been called Horsefly lake. They were on to me, ate DEET for a snack, and were relentless.
I finished my lunch quickly and kept going to see the end of this small lake. I came to a sign that said ‘Lodge, .6 miles.’ This started out descending pretty quickly, but my brain was not working, and I kept going down. About ½ way down I realized I was never going to make it back up. I was a week past the last chemo, i.e. nadir, and not feeling great. So I kept going, thinking I will rest at the lodge, have a coffee, and see if there is a shuttle. As I descend I am thinking this is far more than .6 miles, and at the end the sign says ‘Lost Lake .8 miles.’ So it is getting worse, and the sign guy can’t count, so who knows?
There is no shuttle, and the guy at the desk says my option is to hike back. I get a Starbucks in a bottle, and go to sit on one of the rockers on the patio, thinking somehow I will bum a ride. There are no rockers available, but just then 2 couples come out of the lodge, and I ask them ‘You wouldn’t be going to the Petrified Tree, would you?’ Miraculously, they are, and after I relate my tale of woe, they agree to give me a ride. The wives stay behind and shop some more, and Jim and Steve from Indianapolis save my sorry butt. We go look at the tree and they agree the wives wouldn’t be very interested anyhow. Thank you Jim and Steve.
I mosey down to Mount Washburn, where you may see grizzlies and other wildlife in the valley to the side. What I don’t learn until I get there at 4pm, is that there is a 1400’ ascent, and you need 4-5 hours to do it. I surrender after 500’, and realize any respectable grizzly won’t come out until 6 or so anyway. As I get back in the car, I hear thunder and see lightning, and then the rain starts as I drive away. This ends within twenty minutes. I take my time heading back, knowing the road construction ends at 5.
The thing in Yellowstone is that people will stop in the road and make traffic jams to look at bison, elk, or a brown spot on a hill ½ mile away. You have to go with it, and expect people to walk in front of you, and pull out right in front of you, and do stupid things. I am trying to quit swearing because I realized it was raising my anger levels, so this is a good challenge. I smile and look at the brown speck in the distance, and take my time. What is my hurry?
It turns out that when I get back to my camp and start pulling out all the makings for grilled cheese/turkey and salad, that storm has moved south and is charging at me. Everything goes back in the car, and it starts raining. So here I am back in the Lake Lodge, where I just finished a salad with pistachios and strawberries, and sliders of antelope, bison and elk, all farm raised.
These probably lost a lot of flavor as burgers and would have been better as small steaks. The antelope and bison were indistinguishable, and the elk was good, maybe cooked better, not well done. It may still be raining out, so I am typing this travelogue hoping it is done and the tent remained waterproof.
Thursday
The rain was not done, but the tent remained dry. Today became maintenance day. I made my coffee at 6am, had some cereal, toweled off the tent, and then packed up the tent and Astroturf wet. I skedaddled to Grant Campground, hoping for a good site for my 5-day stay. I had stopped there 3 days ago on my way to Bridge Bay, and pleaded for a nice site. The way Xanterra reserves site is by how early you reserve if you request a certain site. They then look at how many nights, how big a site, and how many people. Sp while Bridge Bay kind of sucked, the F loop was awesome with nice sites and views of the lake.
They did me right here at Grant, and I have a great site on the edge of the woods, a big site where I can put the tent away from the generators of the people next door. They were still in their RV at 11am with the generator going. I set up lines to dry the tent, and tore the car apart and reorganized it. I also scrounged up all the wet wood left behind, and have a big pile drying in the sun. I am now at the Laundromat, where I threw in a load and then took a much-needed shower. I am typing this while the clothes dry.
I never want to do laundry while on a vacation, but things happen. I went to Mike’s Shoes before I left, hoping to find something sturdier than my trainers, and lighter than my Ecco boots. Eccos are always nice, but $200. I found this nice pair of Ecco hikers on the clearance shelf, ½ off $125, then another 25% off. $45! Now the shoes of choice. The only problem is I only have 4 pairs of socks that work with them, and they were running around the car and tent in the night. So, I am doing laundry. Maintenance day. I need to get back to my site, make a salad for lunch, put up the tent, and then head out to see if I can spot some bears.
I see in the newspaper that a man was killed in a campground just NE of Yellowstone, and 2 others were attacked. Scary. No food storage issues involved either.
Friday
It was 40 degrees when I woke at 6, so I just made coffee and headed for the Grant restaurant. I ordered the buffet, sat at a window table with the sun beating on my back, and had a huge breakfast. Used all the facilities, and then headed to the Old Faithful area. The hiking around there is pretty simple, and I saw Old Faithful pretty quickly, and then waited for Grand Geyser for 2 hours, but it was worth it. Saw Riverside Geyser, and then at the end of the hike Old Faithful went again. Almost unfortunate, as this put me in a big stream of people heading out. It took me a half hour to get ice for my cooler, and then get here to Old Faithful Snow Lodge, the only wifi access in the park. I am going to post this now, and go see some further geysers.
I am feeling quite weak, in nadir from last week's chemo, and n o steroids today. I trudged along and it is now almost 7pm, and I got here at 9am. Oh well, I am not in a hurry. Pics will have to follow later as I have no cables.
I drove to Las Vegas, to Fitzgerald’s downtown. The room was only $55, and worth less. I got there about 4pm, and it was boiling hot. It was over 110 going through Mojave. I was hoping to find $2craps and $3 blackjack, like the old cheap days, but everything was $5 limit or higher.
I lost $100 at craps while rolling the dice for ten minutes straight and should have made some money, but I hit nothing for me and everything for all the other players. They all said ‘Wait to roll!’ but I crapped out in the end with nada. I went to the $1/$2 no limit poker tables, played one hand stupid, lost $40 on that, should’ve seen the set, and lost a total of $55. Finally I busted through for $25 at blackjack, woohoo, and was in bed at 11 watching TV.
Sunday
Got up at 4:30, went to find coffee, and it was already 90+. Back to the Fitz and I waited around for the comp breakfast, and boogied at 7:30. Bruce Mundt did me a big favor and marked up all these maps of areas I was going through, and one Postit said check out the town of Mesquite, so I did on the way up. I should have stayed there, rooms (probably cleaner and nicer) for $26 with breakfast, and $2 craps and blackjack. 100 miles closer to my end point.
I was originally shooting for something around Salt Lake City, but didn’t see anything that floated my boat, so I had a note from Bruce about Afton, Wyoming being some great rockhounding, and a campground right there on the river. It’s starting to get dark, and when I find the campground it is closed for a waterworks project. The local cop says I could probably just pull over up the dirt road past the campground, but I have been watching car after car going up that dirt road, so I forego that.
I stop in at one motel that has 20 rooms and 2 cars, and offer them $40 for a room, but no, rooms are $70. Why are small businesses failing? No consideration of variable costs. I call ahead to Jackson Hole, and the Motel 6 is $150, and full. Ditto Motel 8. I drive through Jackson Hole with no plan. About 15 miles outside I spot the Wolf Meadow campground, pull in, and there is nobody there. $15. I set up camp under a 2/3 moon, very bright, and I am asleep by 12. I wake at 5:30, pretty dang cold, maybe 50, make the coffee and skedaddle.
Monday
I get to Jenny Lake Campground in the Grand Tetons at 7:30, and I get the very last campsite. All the camps in Grand Teton are first-come first-serve, but the books stated you had until about 10 at Jenny Lake. I had a real nice site, but it was all the way to the other end of the campground to get to the only bathroom, serving 46 sites.
I set up camp and went on a hike around Jenny Lake, a 7 mile loop on the map, except they didn’t mention the uncrossable stream and extra 1.5 mi. to the bridge around it and back. There is a shuttle that runs across the lake, so that people can make it to the Hidden Falls, so I took the extra mile hike to the falls and then took the shuttle across, rather than the extra 2.5 mile hike. Some times I make a smart decision.
Tuesday
I packed up and left Jenny Lake about 8 in the morning, knowing I had reservations at Bridge Bay in Yellowstone for 2 nights. They pick the site for you, so I could mosey. When I saw the turnoff to Signal Mountain, I had to go to see if I could get a call phone signal. Sure enough there was a cell tower up there, and awesome views of the Tetons and of the valley. I called Dana, took some pics, and hit the road. I should have had about a 1.5 hour drive, with traffic and traffic delays. Unfortunately, all systems failed. There were no signs to Bridger Bay until I was 2 miles away. I was using a fairly vague map. Mrs. Garmin was mystified by the whole deal, and never did find Bridger Bay, and took me the whole loop almost to the West entrance.
In addition, there is a lot of road construction going on, and long delays. I suppose they have a very limited time to get it all done. I found Bridger Bay 3.5 hours later. They had selected a site for me in full sun, and I had to pull out all stops to get a move to partial shade. That site was OK, on the edge of the woods, but the wind was howling like mad. 20 lb. rocks could not hold down the tablecloth. I managed to set up a tent, and then headed out exploring the area.
At the store I bought a $1.30 ice cream, but the bank denied my debit card, probably because I hadn’t used it in a long time, maybe only once. The store took Amex. I went to the Lake Hotel nearby, hoping for an ATM and wifi. No wifi, but they have an ATM. Nice hotel, and I sat in the lobby using their power on this old junky laptop, and then went to use the ATM. Without glasses on I mistook a slot for the card entry, and watched in horror as it dropped into the guts of the machine. It was after 6, and the accounting staff with the keys had left. I came back in the morning, and now I have some cash.
I made dinner and had a small fire. I bought a nice loaf of Rosemary/Basil bread at Costco before I left, and it was in a Ziploc freezer bag, which fell in the ice melt water, just as in Ashland. This time instead of tossing it, 1/3rd was salvageable right away, and the rest I tried to dry out. I tried the dashboard of my car with the sun baking in, and then the fire, and ate it last night toasted with some sausage. I didn’t get sick.
Wednesday
I headed north to terrain that Donald and I had covered last year. I was targeting the Petrified Tree (only one, not a forest), thinking I would make a picnic and hike off trail and maybe find some other cobbles or petrified wood. I headed out on this trail to Lost Lake, only 1.1 miles. It should have been called Horsefly lake. They were on to me, ate DEET for a snack, and were relentless.
I finished my lunch quickly and kept going to see the end of this small lake. I came to a sign that said ‘Lodge, .6 miles.’ This started out descending pretty quickly, but my brain was not working, and I kept going down. About ½ way down I realized I was never going to make it back up. I was a week past the last chemo, i.e. nadir, and not feeling great. So I kept going, thinking I will rest at the lodge, have a coffee, and see if there is a shuttle. As I descend I am thinking this is far more than .6 miles, and at the end the sign says ‘Lost Lake .8 miles.’ So it is getting worse, and the sign guy can’t count, so who knows?
There is no shuttle, and the guy at the desk says my option is to hike back. I get a Starbucks in a bottle, and go to sit on one of the rockers on the patio, thinking somehow I will bum a ride. There are no rockers available, but just then 2 couples come out of the lodge, and I ask them ‘You wouldn’t be going to the Petrified Tree, would you?’ Miraculously, they are, and after I relate my tale of woe, they agree to give me a ride. The wives stay behind and shop some more, and Jim and Steve from Indianapolis save my sorry butt. We go look at the tree and they agree the wives wouldn’t be very interested anyhow. Thank you Jim and Steve.
I mosey down to Mount Washburn, where you may see grizzlies and other wildlife in the valley to the side. What I don’t learn until I get there at 4pm, is that there is a 1400’ ascent, and you need 4-5 hours to do it. I surrender after 500’, and realize any respectable grizzly won’t come out until 6 or so anyway. As I get back in the car, I hear thunder and see lightning, and then the rain starts as I drive away. This ends within twenty minutes. I take my time heading back, knowing the road construction ends at 5.
The thing in Yellowstone is that people will stop in the road and make traffic jams to look at bison, elk, or a brown spot on a hill ½ mile away. You have to go with it, and expect people to walk in front of you, and pull out right in front of you, and do stupid things. I am trying to quit swearing because I realized it was raising my anger levels, so this is a good challenge. I smile and look at the brown speck in the distance, and take my time. What is my hurry?
It turns out that when I get back to my camp and start pulling out all the makings for grilled cheese/turkey and salad, that storm has moved south and is charging at me. Everything goes back in the car, and it starts raining. So here I am back in the Lake Lodge, where I just finished a salad with pistachios and strawberries, and sliders of antelope, bison and elk, all farm raised.
These probably lost a lot of flavor as burgers and would have been better as small steaks. The antelope and bison were indistinguishable, and the elk was good, maybe cooked better, not well done. It may still be raining out, so I am typing this travelogue hoping it is done and the tent remained waterproof.
Thursday
The rain was not done, but the tent remained dry. Today became maintenance day. I made my coffee at 6am, had some cereal, toweled off the tent, and then packed up the tent and Astroturf wet. I skedaddled to Grant Campground, hoping for a good site for my 5-day stay. I had stopped there 3 days ago on my way to Bridge Bay, and pleaded for a nice site. The way Xanterra reserves site is by how early you reserve if you request a certain site. They then look at how many nights, how big a site, and how many people. Sp while Bridge Bay kind of sucked, the F loop was awesome with nice sites and views of the lake.
They did me right here at Grant, and I have a great site on the edge of the woods, a big site where I can put the tent away from the generators of the people next door. They were still in their RV at 11am with the generator going. I set up lines to dry the tent, and tore the car apart and reorganized it. I also scrounged up all the wet wood left behind, and have a big pile drying in the sun. I am now at the Laundromat, where I threw in a load and then took a much-needed shower. I am typing this while the clothes dry.
I never want to do laundry while on a vacation, but things happen. I went to Mike’s Shoes before I left, hoping to find something sturdier than my trainers, and lighter than my Ecco boots. Eccos are always nice, but $200. I found this nice pair of Ecco hikers on the clearance shelf, ½ off $125, then another 25% off. $45! Now the shoes of choice. The only problem is I only have 4 pairs of socks that work with them, and they were running around the car and tent in the night. So, I am doing laundry. Maintenance day. I need to get back to my site, make a salad for lunch, put up the tent, and then head out to see if I can spot some bears.
I see in the newspaper that a man was killed in a campground just NE of Yellowstone, and 2 others were attacked. Scary. No food storage issues involved either.
Friday
It was 40 degrees when I woke at 6, so I just made coffee and headed for the Grant restaurant. I ordered the buffet, sat at a window table with the sun beating on my back, and had a huge breakfast. Used all the facilities, and then headed to the Old Faithful area. The hiking around there is pretty simple, and I saw Old Faithful pretty quickly, and then waited for Grand Geyser for 2 hours, but it was worth it. Saw Riverside Geyser, and then at the end of the hike Old Faithful went again. Almost unfortunate, as this put me in a big stream of people heading out. It took me a half hour to get ice for my cooler, and then get here to Old Faithful Snow Lodge, the only wifi access in the park. I am going to post this now, and go see some further geysers.
I am feeling quite weak, in nadir from last week's chemo, and n o steroids today. I trudged along and it is now almost 7pm, and I got here at 9am. Oh well, I am not in a hurry. Pics will have to follow later as I have no cables.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Bardin' Us
Just a quick campground update - Mike and I are leaving Ashland in an hour or so, I think headed for Coos Bay. We saw Twelfth Night last night in the open air theater, great time, and we saw American Night yesterday afternoon. It was hilarious, about a man that will take his American citizenship test in the morning and dreams all night. We saw Pride and Prejudice Friday night, and what I saw of it was very good, half of act 1 and all of act 2. I had terrible gerd, acid reflux, all day Friday, I think from drinking ginger ale Thurs. night. By the time I got to the theater I was wiped out, and P&P is heavy dialogue. The espresso chocolate bar I ate at intermission snapped me to life, but the first act I was doing the dip and nod.
Water, water, water. Ashland is hot, 95 in the day, but the campground is cooler down by the creek. We are having a grand time. Mike sings almost non-stop, not loud, and I talk to myself out loud, so we make good travelling partners.
Bumpass Hell area of Lassen Volcano Park
Mike finds home in Ashland at the OSF
Campsite outside Ashland
Mt. Shasta in the distance as we head north
Mike getting blown away by the Oregon Coast - Gold Beach
The campground we stayed in Sunday night, HumBub, was too close to the highway. We got tired of making and breaking camp, and agreed to head for home next day. We got here in SLO last night at about 9pm after a 12 hour drive. Generally a great trip not wrecked by pushing for more camping.
Water, water, water. Ashland is hot, 95 in the day, but the campground is cooler down by the creek. We are having a grand time. Mike sings almost non-stop, not loud, and I talk to myself out loud, so we make good travelling partners.
Bumpass Hell area of Lassen Volcano Park
Mike finds home in Ashland at the OSF
Campsite outside Ashland
Mt. Shasta in the distance as we head north
Mike getting blown away by the Oregon Coast - Gold Beach
The campground we stayed in Sunday night, HumBub, was too close to the highway. We got tired of making and breaking camp, and agreed to head for home next day. We got here in SLO last night at about 9pm after a 12 hour drive. Generally a great trip not wrecked by pushing for more camping.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Thanks Terri
Cheryl starts the fruit and veg fest
Big Bear Lake was a good trip. I got up to the cabin in Fawnskin, which is the north and far less populous side of the lake. The cabin Terri G. let me use was the original post office, right on Main St. and built around 1870 (the front room). Her family owned this place when she was a kid, and she was renting it for a few months for old-time sakes. It seems the whole of Main Street is for sale, business is dying as the economy worsens.
When I arrived Wed. night, the Garmin led me all over Fawnskin, and I had to call Terri to guide me in, and it was right there in front of me. Listening skills. I opened up the cabin and was greeted by the smell of 70,000 Vegas smoking rooms. Ho-dang. It was a challenge to open 140 year-old windows in the front, but I got it done. Turned on the ceiling fans, lit a candle, and it started to clear up. The place was clean, but the old carpet and furniture had really soaked up the smell.
The front room was set up as a parlor/bedroom, with a queen bed, so I slept there the first night since it was already midnight, and then moved to the added on BR in the back and gave Frank and Cheryl the double. The front room had aired out pretty good when they arrived on Thursday, and I had a fold out air bed for my room, so it was all comfy. Good bathroom, kitchen, everything we needed, and we settled in. Met all the locals, got fishing permits and dropped a line down the street, traded laughs with the fish, went touring the local scenery, and ate.
The deal was supposed to be that I would bring all the groceries, and I did. But, when F&C arrived, they had stopped at some grocery that had great deals on vegetables, and Cheryl had these giant grocery bags packed with stuff. The refrigerator and freezer were stuffed to the gills. This picture shows how it was on Saturday night, after 3 days of salads, roasted veggies, desserts of strawberries, canteloupe, yogurt and granola. Man, we tested that plumbing!
We had a great time, eating and yakking and pooping, and Frank and I rented a canoe and had deeper fish tell us jokes, ha ha. I should have taken some pics, and Frank will undoubtedly send me some of his, which I will add. I am searching for the local Indian tribe in Big Bear, the Serranos, and some investors, to buy, rebuild and open the Fawn Lodge as the Serrano Casino. A few tens of millions will get it done. Who is in?
I had to get back here for an appointment with the Social Security people on Monday afternoon, but they called me and postponed it until the 23rd. So today son Mike and I are leaving for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, stopping tonight to camp at Lassen Volcano National Park (hopefully), about 7 hours, then 3-4 hours to Glenyan Campground in Ashland, 4 miles outside of town, on the river in the shade. It is going to be hot. High end campground with lots of facilities. We have the last 2 tickets to Pride & Prejudice on Friday night, up close but to the side, and center balcony seats Saturday night for Twelfth Night. This is a renowned festival, big doings for a city of 20K people, and lots going on.
On Sunday we will break camp and mosey down the Oregon and CA coast, serendipitous to some extent, and get back Wednesday. Chemo on Thursday, Social Security on Friday.
Healthwise, my platelets are 1/3rd what they should be, so anything I bang into leaves a purple mark for 2 weeks, and I am a spaz with no balance. I look like Chinese cabbage, and my ankles are spilling over my socks, like my grandma's used to. Slightly anemic, and cutting back on prednisone to 2.5 every other day. I have a little nadir going right now, very mild, no nausea, just bedraggled, perfect for a 3:30 am wakeup and 7 hour drive. We won't leave until Mike wakes up at 8 or later, and I have stuff to do anyway.
Everybody stay cool out there.
the finger
by Charles Bukowski
the drivers of automobiles
have very little recourse or
originality.
when upset with
another
driver
they often give him the
FINGER.
I have seen two adult
men
florid of face
driving along
giving each other the
FINGER.
well, we all know what
this means, it's no
secret.
still, this gesture is
so overused it has
lost most of its
impact.
some of the men who give
the FINGER are captains of
industry, city councilmen,
insurance adjusters,
accountants and/or the just plain
unemployed.
no matter.
it is their favorite
response.
people will never admit
that they drive
badly.
the FINGER is their
reply.
I see grown men
FINGERING each other
throughout the day.
it gives me pause.
when I consider
the state of our cities,
the state of our states,
the state of our country,
I begin to
understand.
the FINGER is a mind-
set.
we are the FINGERERS.
we give it
to each other.
we give it coming and
going.
we don't know how
else to respond.
what a hell of a way
to not
live.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A regular guy
Things are flowing along just fine these days. I started walking regularly, a little over a mile a day, and I have been active around the house. I even went to the driving range on Monday, first time in six months. I didn't swing hard, since I have no left hip, but just tried to stay balanced, and it went well. So, no hip turn, shorter distance, but who cares? I see a twilight round in my future.
I am getting chemo as described before, every ten days. We have dropped the vincristine because of the stomach problems it causes, and the neuropathy has spread in my hands and feet. I couldn't type before, and now, sheesh. Otherwise, not much negative effect, mild nadir around days 4-6 after the chemo, like today and yesterday, for a few days, just feeling a little low energy and stomach ache. My legs are feeling the effects of adding walking, and with Metamucil every night, I am as regular as the sunrise.
Dana and Stacy are at the world's happiest place, Disneyland. They went down yesterday, coming back today. I am spending my days just puttering around, driving Dana nuts, moving stuff around. I have spent a little time working on the blog-to-book project, but not nearly enough. It seems too daunting. I am hoping to go spend 4-5 days with my brother at Big Bear lake, in a cabin a friend of mine has offered us to use there. That would be right after chemo in the 7th, coming back the 11th. I have to be back for an appointment with Social Security, very important.
So that's the nut of it. I am actually considering putting on the wet suit and flailing in the ocean, we'll see. Maybe just with a boogie board, because I don't think I could motor my surfboard for more than 15 minutes. I might drown trying.
I forgot to add this poem:
Gathering
I am gathering things,
living things,
bribing them to come closer
with seeds and nuts,
asking them with food and water to open to me,
begging them to show their beauty,
to display their force of life
so that I can breathe it, see it, feel it,
gather it into my arms and my mind.
I walk the dog and smell the roses,
the orange-reds and pinks are best,
and the honeysuckle melts me,
and I hold those scents of Eden in my mind.
The flowers are a glorious palette,
every color I ever wanted to be,
rainbows scattered in my garden.
All this life force can’t sustain me, I know,
but it charms me so that I
feel less pain, and I step outside myself.
I sleep with the window open
and the fan on, and hear the sound
of water rushing down the street as the
neighbor’s irrigation leaks,
and I am by a river in the Sierras,
wind rushing in my tent,
nestling in my bag,
sleeping the sleep of the healthy wanderer.
When the steroids wake me too soon,
I rise back to reality, ready or not
to greet the day, thank the world
for another day, to gather beauty and breath.
I am getting chemo as described before, every ten days. We have dropped the vincristine because of the stomach problems it causes, and the neuropathy has spread in my hands and feet. I couldn't type before, and now, sheesh. Otherwise, not much negative effect, mild nadir around days 4-6 after the chemo, like today and yesterday, for a few days, just feeling a little low energy and stomach ache. My legs are feeling the effects of adding walking, and with Metamucil every night, I am as regular as the sunrise.
Dana and Stacy are at the world's happiest place, Disneyland. They went down yesterday, coming back today. I am spending my days just puttering around, driving Dana nuts, moving stuff around. I have spent a little time working on the blog-to-book project, but not nearly enough. It seems too daunting. I am hoping to go spend 4-5 days with my brother at Big Bear lake, in a cabin a friend of mine has offered us to use there. That would be right after chemo in the 7th, coming back the 11th. I have to be back for an appointment with Social Security, very important.
So that's the nut of it. I am actually considering putting on the wet suit and flailing in the ocean, we'll see. Maybe just with a boogie board, because I don't think I could motor my surfboard for more than 15 minutes. I might drown trying.
I forgot to add this poem:
Gathering
I am gathering things,
living things,
bribing them to come closer
with seeds and nuts,
asking them with food and water to open to me,
begging them to show their beauty,
to display their force of life
so that I can breathe it, see it, feel it,
gather it into my arms and my mind.
I walk the dog and smell the roses,
the orange-reds and pinks are best,
and the honeysuckle melts me,
and I hold those scents of Eden in my mind.
The flowers are a glorious palette,
every color I ever wanted to be,
rainbows scattered in my garden.
All this life force can’t sustain me, I know,
but it charms me so that I
feel less pain, and I step outside myself.
I sleep with the window open
and the fan on, and hear the sound
of water rushing down the street as the
neighbor’s irrigation leaks,
and I am by a river in the Sierras,
wind rushing in my tent,
nestling in my bag,
sleeping the sleep of the healthy wanderer.
When the steroids wake me too soon,
I rise back to reality, ready or not
to greet the day, thank the world
for another day, to gather beauty and breath.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Obstructed
Writing this Saturday morning:
Here I am in the hospital again, French Hospital. I’ve been here since Monday night, and now it’s Saturday morning. I have a bowel obstruction that won’t resolve. This is amazing to me, but I brought it on myself, I think.
After receiving methotrexate on June 4, I was to follow with dexamethasone for a week. I realized on Monday the 14th, as I was getting ready for my next dose of methotrexate, that I had continued the dexamethasone all along. I had been constipated since Friday, and when I mentioned this to the doctor he said I had constipated myself with the decamethasone and the vincristine.
So he sent me home to treat first the top down, with Miralax. One dose should do but use up to 4. If that does nothing, then start working from the bottom up. The Miralax did nothing, so I went and bought Fleet enemas. My body absorbed the first one no problem, nothing ever came out. The second met with similar results, very little action.
Meanwhile, mind you, I had stopped eating anything around Sunday afternoon, and was getting pretty hungry and swollen. Dana wanted to know what trips I would like to go on over summer vacation, and all I could think of was Old Faithful or maybe a gas extrusion lab. I called doc and he suggested stool softener, Colace, and that said if it didn’t would in a couple of hours, I needed to get to the ER for Xrays.
So Monday night I went into ER, very quiet there, and they took some pictures and sure enough I am obstructed. They inserted this horrible tube thing down my nose to drain anything they could, and put me in the middle bed in a room. On my left was a dementia patient, and he was screaming in pain, at times coherently. He had a 24 hour caregiver, big guy. He would then calm down and ask crazy questions, and try to leave his bed. His caregiver spoke in a loud and firm voice, and their TV blared. On my right was a man sleeping and snoring like no other. He was a hurricane, a vortex, sucking all the air in the room and expelling it with huge force. He did this for 23 hours straight, only waking to incoherently answer some question.
I had reached insanity. In the middle of the night I called the nurse and asked to be discharged, and told her the pain I was having was better resolved at home. I demanded the head nurse, and when she came she was angry, telling me I could not drain this obstruction if I left. I decided to tough it out with the promise of better digs the next day.
So the sleeper left and I took his spot, where there was a TV and I could watch the fix known as NBA complete its debacle. Right across from this room is the nurse’s station, so they put all the trouble patients in this room for easy access. I’d like to think I was there only because it was the last room. The demented man was still there, being demented, so I asked for a quiet room at the end, and that’s where I am now.
It’ 6:00 in the morning, and I had a great night sleep. There is a man in the other bed, sleeping quietly. I will be going in for another x-ray soon, to see if this obstruction is moving. I get broth, jello, juice, more juice and tea and sherbet at meals. I drink it all, bloat for a while, then that all absorbs. The last food I had was Sunday night I think. I am hungry.
Sunday afternoon, I am home. The obstruction is gone, and I feel much better, but I weigh about 152. Very weak, so I have to get back to a walking regimen, and some small weights, just like Bill says. I really feel like it has been taken out of me this time, it was just so unexpected to have to stay in the hospital another week. Oh well, life goes on.
Here I am in the hospital again, French Hospital. I’ve been here since Monday night, and now it’s Saturday morning. I have a bowel obstruction that won’t resolve. This is amazing to me, but I brought it on myself, I think.
After receiving methotrexate on June 4, I was to follow with dexamethasone for a week. I realized on Monday the 14th, as I was getting ready for my next dose of methotrexate, that I had continued the dexamethasone all along. I had been constipated since Friday, and when I mentioned this to the doctor he said I had constipated myself with the decamethasone and the vincristine.
So he sent me home to treat first the top down, with Miralax. One dose should do but use up to 4. If that does nothing, then start working from the bottom up. The Miralax did nothing, so I went and bought Fleet enemas. My body absorbed the first one no problem, nothing ever came out. The second met with similar results, very little action.
Meanwhile, mind you, I had stopped eating anything around Sunday afternoon, and was getting pretty hungry and swollen. Dana wanted to know what trips I would like to go on over summer vacation, and all I could think of was Old Faithful or maybe a gas extrusion lab. I called doc and he suggested stool softener, Colace, and that said if it didn’t would in a couple of hours, I needed to get to the ER for Xrays.
So Monday night I went into ER, very quiet there, and they took some pictures and sure enough I am obstructed. They inserted this horrible tube thing down my nose to drain anything they could, and put me in the middle bed in a room. On my left was a dementia patient, and he was screaming in pain, at times coherently. He had a 24 hour caregiver, big guy. He would then calm down and ask crazy questions, and try to leave his bed. His caregiver spoke in a loud and firm voice, and their TV blared. On my right was a man sleeping and snoring like no other. He was a hurricane, a vortex, sucking all the air in the room and expelling it with huge force. He did this for 23 hours straight, only waking to incoherently answer some question.
I had reached insanity. In the middle of the night I called the nurse and asked to be discharged, and told her the pain I was having was better resolved at home. I demanded the head nurse, and when she came she was angry, telling me I could not drain this obstruction if I left. I decided to tough it out with the promise of better digs the next day.
So the sleeper left and I took his spot, where there was a TV and I could watch the fix known as NBA complete its debacle. Right across from this room is the nurse’s station, so they put all the trouble patients in this room for easy access. I’d like to think I was there only because it was the last room. The demented man was still there, being demented, so I asked for a quiet room at the end, and that’s where I am now.
It’ 6:00 in the morning, and I had a great night sleep. There is a man in the other bed, sleeping quietly. I will be going in for another x-ray soon, to see if this obstruction is moving. I get broth, jello, juice, more juice and tea and sherbet at meals. I drink it all, bloat for a while, then that all absorbs. The last food I had was Sunday night I think. I am hungry.
Sunday afternoon, I am home. The obstruction is gone, and I feel much better, but I weigh about 152. Very weak, so I have to get back to a walking regimen, and some small weights, just like Bill says. I really feel like it has been taken out of me this time, it was just so unexpected to have to stay in the hospital another week. Oh well, life goes on.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Just checking in
There hasn't been much to say. I have been going through that low-spot of nadir, but not nearly as bad as in the past. Instead of sore cheeks I have a sore tongue, and couldn't even eat a banana last week. It is much resolved now. Of course, with the renewed steroids, I haven't crapped in 3 days and getting a little antsy. Pounding the fiber and liquids, and the basketball in my gut will be used at the Celtics victory game on Tuesday.
The chowderheads (Mike B, Jack L) have been getting together for games and cooking great meals - last night was lasagna with ahi-ahi, garlic bread and super fresh salad from Sue's garden. Steaks and rice with salad the game before. As long as we eat well, the Celtics WIN!
Downside of course is with no pooping and lots of eating, I am really sore and can barely move. I am very unmotivated to do anything these days, sleeping very poorly, 4-5 hours thanks to steroids. Dana is improving a little, and looking forward to the end of school.
When I go in to see the doctor today, I will ask him how much travelling I can take on. I am guessing small 3-4 day trips are feasible, as the week I get the chemo isn't bad, but then nadir the following week sucks a little. I will get chemo today and tomorrow. This morning young John and I will do some housecleaning, hah, if he wakes before noon. Really busy days.
It has become very hazy in my head, to see what I am fighting for any more. I never actually feel any better, just degrees of lousy. I bring the dog to the park and scan the hills for all the beauty I can find, and listen to the kids playing, and somehow it is enough for another day. It's as though I had this giant plastic cup when I started in life, and each time I drank from it the rim wore down a little, and so now it is only a small cup but only needs a little joy to sustain me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAT! Man, to be 39 again.
The chowderheads (Mike B, Jack L) have been getting together for games and cooking great meals - last night was lasagna with ahi-ahi, garlic bread and super fresh salad from Sue's garden. Steaks and rice with salad the game before. As long as we eat well, the Celtics WIN!
Downside of course is with no pooping and lots of eating, I am really sore and can barely move. I am very unmotivated to do anything these days, sleeping very poorly, 4-5 hours thanks to steroids. Dana is improving a little, and looking forward to the end of school.
When I go in to see the doctor today, I will ask him how much travelling I can take on. I am guessing small 3-4 day trips are feasible, as the week I get the chemo isn't bad, but then nadir the following week sucks a little. I will get chemo today and tomorrow. This morning young John and I will do some housecleaning, hah, if he wakes before noon. Really busy days.
It has become very hazy in my head, to see what I am fighting for any more. I never actually feel any better, just degrees of lousy. I bring the dog to the park and scan the hills for all the beauty I can find, and listen to the kids playing, and somehow it is enough for another day. It's as though I had this giant plastic cup when I started in life, and each time I drank from it the rim wore down a little, and so now it is only a small cup but only needs a little joy to sustain me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAT! Man, to be 39 again.
Friday, June 04, 2010
Love the polar drugs, and Eskimo Pie
I started my chemo routine yesterday, and here is what it looks like:
Started with some anti-nausea, not sure what, similar to Zofran.
Methotrexate, 190 mg. I will get this dose every 10 days. Not too daunting. I received 6000 mg 3 weeks ago in the hosp.
Cytarabine, 142.5 mg. I will get this dose every 10 days. Again, not bad. I received 24,000 mg 3 weeks ago in the hosp, over 4 doses.
Today I received Vincristine, 2 mg. I get that with Asparaginase in 2 weeks. I was supposed to get Asparaginase now, but they make very little of it and we can't find any. I had Vincristine to start every month in '05-'07, nicknamed 'numbmeup' for its neuropathic side effect. Made from Periwinkle. Good excuse for the dropsies.
Leukovorin 4x daily to wipe away the Methotrexate. Without this, the methotrexate will eat away the bone marrow.
Dexamethasone, a steroid, 10 mg/day, on top of the prednisone (5 mg/day). So my hip may feel better soon, and my Tourette's Syndrome will be &*%&*%&ing free to roam. Asshole.
Prosiconazole to fight the lung infection, 5 mg liquid 3x/day
Acyclovir to fight infection
Dapsone to fight lung infection (that didn't work)
Prograf to dampen immune system.
So there it is, nothing new under the IV, different doses is all. Not much in the way of side effects yet, a little hormone rage maybe because the simplest task is not simple. Low point will come in a week, so we'll see how low I go.
What is really annoying now is that Dana is having bad headaches, going on 2 weeks straight now. CT scans show nothing, blood tests show nothing, anti-allergens aren't helping, migraine meds aren't helping. This does coincide with when I came back from the hospital, and lingered as Johno moved back, so ...........
Now as far as loving all the polar bears, as avatars for humans, I congratulate Earl on this ability. Everyone loves him, so it makes sense. Unfortunately, I see polar bears in the gulf, shitting all over the place. I see them starting stupid wars, for whatever stupid reasons, and leaving stinking piles for the rest of us to clean up. They want all the other bears locked up, but don't want to pay for it.
They are running scam campaigns here, throwing corporate money at propositions designed to give corporations monopolistic power, and all the people can see is the sleight of hand. I cannot love and value everyone; I am compelled to call out an amoral scumbag when I see one, especially when they are trying to hide behind the flag and the church.
The polar bears are just being polar bears, I agree, and I do love them. It's too bad we can't stop destroying their environment. Some day, we will only see them behind Lexan walls. I love and value this earth, and Earl and Pat and many other humans, but God save us from ourselves and our greed.
Started with some anti-nausea, not sure what, similar to Zofran.
Methotrexate, 190 mg. I will get this dose every 10 days. Not too daunting. I received 6000 mg 3 weeks ago in the hosp.
Cytarabine, 142.5 mg. I will get this dose every 10 days. Again, not bad. I received 24,000 mg 3 weeks ago in the hosp, over 4 doses.
Today I received Vincristine, 2 mg. I get that with Asparaginase in 2 weeks. I was supposed to get Asparaginase now, but they make very little of it and we can't find any. I had Vincristine to start every month in '05-'07, nicknamed 'numbmeup' for its neuropathic side effect. Made from Periwinkle. Good excuse for the dropsies.
Leukovorin 4x daily to wipe away the Methotrexate. Without this, the methotrexate will eat away the bone marrow.
Dexamethasone, a steroid, 10 mg/day, on top of the prednisone (5 mg/day). So my hip may feel better soon, and my Tourette's Syndrome will be &*%&*%&ing free to roam. Asshole.
Prosiconazole to fight the lung infection, 5 mg liquid 3x/day
Acyclovir to fight infection
Dapsone to fight lung infection (that didn't work)
Prograf to dampen immune system.
So there it is, nothing new under the IV, different doses is all. Not much in the way of side effects yet, a little hormone rage maybe because the simplest task is not simple. Low point will come in a week, so we'll see how low I go.
What is really annoying now is that Dana is having bad headaches, going on 2 weeks straight now. CT scans show nothing, blood tests show nothing, anti-allergens aren't helping, migraine meds aren't helping. This does coincide with when I came back from the hospital, and lingered as Johno moved back, so ...........
Now as far as loving all the polar bears, as avatars for humans, I congratulate Earl on this ability. Everyone loves him, so it makes sense. Unfortunately, I see polar bears in the gulf, shitting all over the place. I see them starting stupid wars, for whatever stupid reasons, and leaving stinking piles for the rest of us to clean up. They want all the other bears locked up, but don't want to pay for it.
They are running scam campaigns here, throwing corporate money at propositions designed to give corporations monopolistic power, and all the people can see is the sleight of hand. I cannot love and value everyone; I am compelled to call out an amoral scumbag when I see one, especially when they are trying to hide behind the flag and the church.
The polar bears are just being polar bears, I agree, and I do love them. It's too bad we can't stop destroying their environment. Some day, we will only see them behind Lexan walls. I love and value this earth, and Earl and Pat and many other humans, but God save us from ourselves and our greed.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
The Neocon in me
I drove up to Berkeley on Saturday and packed up young John's stuff, as he is moving home for the summer. We then moved his girlfriend to an apartment in Oakland, just a step up from some cardboard boxes in an alley, but inexpensive. Her parents were there to move her, and they took her over to the Big 5 and got her loaded up with some weaponry, and then on to the hardware for deadbolts and padlocks. She'll be OK, what could happen in a bad section of Oakland in the summer? John and I headed back to SLO. For a couple of nights, the whole family was back together. I tried hard not to fall into old roles, and mostly succeeded. I do not need to be Alpha any more (right!).
Mikey moved out yesterday, down to Santa Maria where he goes to school, 25 miles south. This meant he loaded up his car with a few items and headed out to a meeting at school at 8am, and young John and I loaded the wagon with everything else, such as the bed, desk, dresser, clothes, etc. He left his room, now John's room, in a terrible state, his junk everywhere. It will all get shoveled into a box for his supposed return in August.Of course, when he was leaving in the morning, both his mom and I had tears in our eyes as our youngest left the nest. This was somewhat tempered by the fact that his older brother was sleeping in the family room at that moment.
I never did post what I had decided to do about choosing between a long shot at more years, or a sure shot at 1-2 years. I really cannot see taking a wild swing at 10 years, and ending up either dead after a short hospital stay, or a long hospital stay and then dead. Instead, I am opting for a maintenance chemo routine that should give me 1-2 years, and hopefully the research will continue to advance and I can keep advancing with it. All in all a tough decision, but the Magic 8 Ball is usually right, and best out of 3 coin flips sealed it.
The fungus in my lungus is not going away, in fact it is getting a little colonial, so today I switch meds from voriconazole (VFend) to prosaconazole (Noxafil). Anthem Blue Cross was dragging their feet on the new med until they realized each was $3K/month, so what diff. Noxafil is a slightly broader spectrum. I should also start this new chemo routine today, patience, patients, patience is a virtue. In general, I feel like any 56-year old with no left hip, a lung infection and a decaying muscular condition would feel. Happy to be here smelling the roses.
Mikey moved out yesterday, down to Santa Maria where he goes to school, 25 miles south. This meant he loaded up his car with a few items and headed out to a meeting at school at 8am, and young John and I loaded the wagon with everything else, such as the bed, desk, dresser, clothes, etc. He left his room, now John's room, in a terrible state, his junk everywhere. It will all get shoveled into a box for his supposed return in August.Of course, when he was leaving in the morning, both his mom and I had tears in our eyes as our youngest left the nest. This was somewhat tempered by the fact that his older brother was sleeping in the family room at that moment.
As part of the process of getting him off on the right foot, I went to Costco to stock him up with some things. I figured I could get stuff both households needed and split them. Every time I go to Costco, I am struck by the largeness of the average American. At Costco, they are massive, and they are buying massive amounts of stuff. So I get a mass of stuff and get in line. Usually lines at the Costco register are pretty quick, but I am not lucky in selecting lines.
I get behind this 30-something lady and then realize she has two fully loaded carts. OK, no hurry, John isn't ready to go to Santa Maria with all Mike's stuff. She gets all $400 worth of her stuff rung up, and says to the guy, 'Oh, there are seven in our family.' Right away my hackles go up. I think, just like Groucho said, 'I like my cigar too, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while.' The card she hands the cashier doesn't work, and she says, 'Well it's food stamps, and I know there is over $700 on it. Things are tough right now.' While saying this, she spills her Starbucks coffee all over the aisle.
What was shocking to me was, I caught myself thinking like Glen Beck or Rush Limbaugh, jumping to all these conclusions about this person that I didn't know anything about. It was so easy just to let my mind run with it. Finally, though, I caught up with myself. Who knows who she is caring for, and what she has been through? The whole moment reminded me that there is a prejudiced, bigoted jerk inside me, and that it needs to stay there.
I never did post what I had decided to do about choosing between a long shot at more years, or a sure shot at 1-2 years. I really cannot see taking a wild swing at 10 years, and ending up either dead after a short hospital stay, or a long hospital stay and then dead. Instead, I am opting for a maintenance chemo routine that should give me 1-2 years, and hopefully the research will continue to advance and I can keep advancing with it. All in all a tough decision, but the Magic 8 Ball is usually right, and best out of 3 coin flips sealed it.
The fungus in my lungus is not going away, in fact it is getting a little colonial, so today I switch meds from voriconazole (VFend) to prosaconazole (Noxafil). Anthem Blue Cross was dragging their feet on the new med until they realized each was $3K/month, so what diff. Noxafil is a slightly broader spectrum. I should also start this new chemo routine today, patience, patients, patience is a virtue. In general, I feel like any 56-year old with no left hip, a lung infection and a decaying muscular condition would feel. Happy to be here smelling the roses.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Patience, patience
It is so hard to be patient, we always want to get going, get to the next thing. I sit in movies and other performances just wishing they were over, even when I am enjoying the show, but for what reason? I am going nowhere, so I remind myself to be in the now.
Last week, I think Thursday, I got a call from the doc's office telling me to get to French Hospital Radiology and they can get this CT scan done, so I go right away, get there at 2:07. And I wait, and wait, and wait, and finally they come in at 3:45 with 1.5 liters of dye I have to drink first, and they put in an IV line for the other dye that gets injected. I have to wait an hour after I drink the Super Slurpee, which is not slurpy, so chug-a-lug, bug.
Not bad but not tasty. The first half liter goes quick, but then my guts are in protest. I haven't eaten lunch, since I raced over for the test. Anyways, I get out of there around 5:15, stop at Subway, and fill the dead hole in my gullet. I have lost 15 pounds in the last 6 weeks, back down to 160, and losing a lot of muscle. I am such a lump. Typing this is tiring me out.
So I am a patient, and I must be patient. At least I always have something to read, and my phone can entertain me, it is so smart! Sometimes I try to get my hands on the remote for the waiting room TV, sometimes I do get it. The world of being a patient is not like reality. You hold no cards, and complaining will slow it all down. Now I am waiting for the results of that CT scan, and what it will tell us about the next steps. I am staying in my seat, nibbling rubbery popcorn, while the credits roll. I try to pronounce the names of the best boys and their buddies.
The Writing Through Cancer prompt this week was to write about the worlds we move in and out of, so I wrote this:
Worlds
The worlds that I live in
all have a place in my galaxy,
in my universe.
In my yard is a world of flowers and birds,
roses and gardenias.
The pink roses are their own little worlds,
smelling like a sorority house on Friday night,
like sirens of the garden.
My wife is my most special world;
her atmosphere is all I need,
she is all pink roses and fresia and honeysuckle,
drawing me into orbit about her.
My house is a world of puttering,
of fixing things, of gluing and cleaning
and making everything right.
When I head out my driveway I enter
a world of near chaos, barely kept alive
by the rules of the road,
all these asteroids of karma and aura
colliding in space.
When I enter the hospital world I
gird my loins, gear for battle.
In this world I must be most careful,
to protect what is left of me, my essence,
and not get lost in the pain and the
knowledege of what is to come.
Billions of galaxies, countless planets,
God everywhere, all-knowing, all-powerful,
worlds of worlds.
If energy cannot be created or destroyed,
when I leave these close-by worlds,
my essence will experience the
worlds beyond, no longer constrained by
worlds of hunger, thirst, love and pain.
Last week, I think Thursday, I got a call from the doc's office telling me to get to French Hospital Radiology and they can get this CT scan done, so I go right away, get there at 2:07. And I wait, and wait, and wait, and finally they come in at 3:45 with 1.5 liters of dye I have to drink first, and they put in an IV line for the other dye that gets injected. I have to wait an hour after I drink the Super Slurpee, which is not slurpy, so chug-a-lug, bug.
Not bad but not tasty. The first half liter goes quick, but then my guts are in protest. I haven't eaten lunch, since I raced over for the test. Anyways, I get out of there around 5:15, stop at Subway, and fill the dead hole in my gullet. I have lost 15 pounds in the last 6 weeks, back down to 160, and losing a lot of muscle. I am such a lump. Typing this is tiring me out.
So I am a patient, and I must be patient. At least I always have something to read, and my phone can entertain me, it is so smart! Sometimes I try to get my hands on the remote for the waiting room TV, sometimes I do get it. The world of being a patient is not like reality. You hold no cards, and complaining will slow it all down. Now I am waiting for the results of that CT scan, and what it will tell us about the next steps. I am staying in my seat, nibbling rubbery popcorn, while the credits roll. I try to pronounce the names of the best boys and their buddies.
The Writing Through Cancer prompt this week was to write about the worlds we move in and out of, so I wrote this:
Worlds
The worlds that I live in
all have a place in my galaxy,
in my universe.
In my yard is a world of flowers and birds,
roses and gardenias.
The pink roses are their own little worlds,
smelling like a sorority house on Friday night,
like sirens of the garden.
My wife is my most special world;
her atmosphere is all I need,
she is all pink roses and fresia and honeysuckle,
drawing me into orbit about her.
My house is a world of puttering,
of fixing things, of gluing and cleaning
and making everything right.
When I head out my driveway I enter
a world of near chaos, barely kept alive
by the rules of the road,
all these asteroids of karma and aura
colliding in space.
When I enter the hospital world I
gird my loins, gear for battle.
In this world I must be most careful,
to protect what is left of me, my essence,
and not get lost in the pain and the
knowledege of what is to come.
Billions of galaxies, countless planets,
God everywhere, all-knowing, all-powerful,
worlds of worlds.
If energy cannot be created or destroyed,
when I leave these close-by worlds,
my essence will experience the
worlds beyond, no longer constrained by
worlds of hunger, thirst, love and pain.
So everyone be patient, be here now, enjoy this day in spite of the pain.
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