The Wonka cure

I’ve read that people facing mortality awareness often make decisions with a focus on quality of life. I don’t know if I have changed in that respect. Maybe.

This afternoon I have decided to sit here wrapped in a blanket, watching Willy Wonka and eating M&Ms. Now that’s what I call quality.

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Impressed again

The technicians at the radiation clinic really pay attention I think. Or they keep good notes. I had commented to one on Tuesday that I had a little skin tenderness. She asked me about it today. She also said I’ve been pretty lucky so far and from what she has seen, I might go through the whole 5 weeks like this. Everybody handles it differently.

Well so far so good. I’m going to continue handling it heavily medicated.

Have a great weekend everyone. Happy Halloween

Illusory cure?

Well, I think I can safely say week 2 was a breeze. I go for my Friday radiation dose at 3:00 but I don’t take any more of the chemo drugs until Sunday night, so essentially, this week is done. It passed with far less nausea than last week (ain’t drugs wonderful) and the least pain in months.

I feel sure this treatment is working but am nagged by the fear it is an illusion. I would sure like to get another CT or PET scan done and compare with the old ones. I’m seeing my medical oncologist again on the 4th of November. I will ask her.

Its especially good that I’m feeling well today because it is my other mother’s birthday and we are going to trek into the City for dinner. I might have a glass of wine! Happy Birthday Mary Trusty!

Feeling Cockey

I feel good. No pain, not even an itch. Maybe just a little drowsy but that’s likely the drugs. I’ve found a balance of morphine, chemo meds and anti-nausea pills that’s like a sort of sweet spot I think. If I could maintain this, I could stay on radiation treatment indefinitely.

It’s how I felt last Tuesday too. Let’s not recall how I was feeling last Friday. I think I’ll have a nap.

This cancer treatment shit is a breeze! Hahaa!

I am assigned my cubby

I think the last time I was assigned a cubby was in grade 1. I keep a pair of hospital gowns in a plastic bag in Cubby 14 just for me to use. I hope the nurses like me and the other kids don’t steal all my crayons.

The medical radiation treatment unit in the basement of the hospital is a very organized place with very professional and knowledgeable staff. I continue to be impressed.

Chemo teach

We’re off to the Cancer Clinic to watch a movie about chemotherapy. They showed me one about radiation a couple weeks ago but Wendy didn’t get to see it. Maybe we can talk them into a double feature this morning.

I complained last time they didn’t supply popcorn and the nurse told me chemo patients can’t be around the stuff. I got the idea it triggers nausea. Maybe we’ll just take a big bag of M&Ms.

Tomorrow is the big day. I’ve been worrying about everything I can think of to worry about. So that’s done. I have this strange feeling that the tumor has moved 6 inches to the left so the radiation will miss it completely ànd zap my bladder instead. Sneaky little bastard is trying to kill me, I think.

If tomorrow marks day one of 35 days of treatment, I should be fully cooked by November 24. Let’s all cross our fingers for limited side effects. After all, I know how you all envy my long luxurious head of hair.

Well I should probably get out of bed and have a shower before we go. I still need to wash off the rest of the smelly orange disinfectant they painted me with on Friday. Oh! That reminds me. The Power Port surgery has healed, most of the itching seems to be done. It feels strange to have this lump, like a third nipple, on my chest. But I’m getting used to it.

Have a great day everyone!

P.S. did I mention we have a comfy Queen size bed in our guest room?

Improving my golf score

I awoke from my nap this afternoon with pretty fair certainty that some invader had snuck into the house and smashed me across the shoulder and lower neck with a Louisville Slugger. OK I exaggerate, a little, but the Dr. said there might “be a little bruising and discomfort” when the freezing wore off. I’m just compensating for his understatement.

He was sneaky as well as misleading.

He cut my throat; Actually took a knife and sliced into my jugular vein. A little lower on my upper chest, he sliced open a pocket about the size of the little pocket inside your front jeans pocket. You know, the one nobody is quite sure what it is for?

Well, the one on my chest is to hold a tiny little septic tank complete with a hose running out of it that connects to the rest of the field (circulatory system). He burrowed under the skin from the tank pocket to the arterial wound and stitched the exit end of the hose into my jugular. A few stitches here a little glue there and hide it all under a layer of gauze so I can’t see exactly what he has done. But he can’t fool me. I know when something hurts.

They tell me (and it looks like Gord Henkel backs them up on this one) it will make future chemo and CT and PET procedures a LOT easier and more comfortable. I must remember to follow up on whether the savings are worth the investment. Somebody ask me if I forget.

From now on, they will inject any dyes, radioactive sugars or other shit (to stretch the metaphor) they need in me into the little tank and my heart will do the rest of the work. So after all, they will still be poking holes in me. Damn!

On the positive side, the Dr. says the precise placement of this “Power Port” should cause me to stop swinging over the top thus correcting my slice and taking five strokes off my golf game.