Stuff works out

Guess who got a prescription for cough medicine today? Guess who got a prescription for 48 doses instead of 24? And guess who can get that prescription refilled three times? Yep, that'd be me. I don't often "loose my cool," as my mother is fond of saying, but when I do ... well, let's just say it ain't pretty. ...
The lung specialist apologized today, even though he had nothing to do with my hassle over getting a cough medicine prescription refilled (see yesterday's blog entry). He said my oncologist's office was treating a piece of paper instead of the patient. He told me to not put up with that again. Next time I have a problem, he said, make them pull my entire chart and treat me, not just the last entry on my chart. Then he pulled out a pad and wrote me a prescription. ...
I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow. I'm taking a trip into the city for lunch with a friend, and hopefully I'll see some other friends and co-workers. The walking will be a big test of my stamina. Wish me well.

Yes, I'm PO'd

I'm pissed. Sorry to start things off like this, but I'm pissed. ...
About every two weeks since January I've placed a call to my oncologist to have a prescription called in to my pharmacist for cough medicine. It is a controlled substance, so they'll only give me a 12-day supply. Today, I was told by a nurse that I could no longer get the medicine, that I would have to visit my lung specialist before getting a new prescription. The implication was clear. I'm abusing the medicine. Never mind my 12-day prescription usually lasts for 14 days. Never mind I have lung cancer. Hello! Is it really unusual for someone with lung cancer to have a mild cough? I still have a mass in my lung! Several times I've mentioned the cough to my doctor. Her response is usually the same: Do you have enough cough medicine? So, I'll go to my lung specialist tomorrow. I hate to say this, but I've lost confidence in my oncologist's office. To hit me out of the blue with this is unforgivable. ...
There. I've had my say. And I'm still pissed.

Monday is test day ... again

Monday includes a trip to the doctor's office. I'll get stuck with a needle as a nurse draws blood. The blood test will reveal how my cell counts are doing. Chances are I'll need some sort of shot. I'm guessing the white blood cell count will be OK. The red probably will show I'm still anemic. ...
On a scale of 1 to 10, my weekend started out at about a 3 but ended up at about a 6. My taste buds are starting to work again. I'm thinking I'll be feeling up to an 8 or so by mid-week. I hope so because I'm planning on having lunch with some friends. Plus, my daughter's birthday is this week. She'll be 29. Amazing. ...
My hair and mustache are still growing. The chemo could zap my hair at any moment, but so far so good. If I make it until week's end, I'm guessing I'll be OK ~ at least until my next treatment. ...
Your prayers have helped keep my spirits up these past few months. Please keep sending them out. I have no doubt they are being received.

Down day, but it'll get better

I sort of hit the wall today with the chemo. Flu-like systems have taken over and I didn't get much sleep last night. My legs are aching and I have a sore throat. So, how was your day? ...
At least I enjoyed having a late lunch with my son today. ...
The chemo symptoms should go away by the first of the week. Hopefully the taste buds will return and I'll be a bit more active next week. ...
I have discovered there's a patron saint of cancer patients, St. Peregrine. Here's his story, according to EWTN.com:
St. Peregrine was born in 1260 at Forli, Italy, to an affluent family. He lived a comfortable life as a youth, and politically opposed the papacy. After he experienced the forgiveness of St. Philip Benizi, he changed his life and joined the Servite order. He was ordained a priest, and later returned to his home to establish a Servite community. There he was widely known for his preaching, penances and counsel in the confessional. He was cured of cancer, after he received a vision of Christ on the cross reaching out his hand to touch his impaired limb. He died in 1345 and was canonized in 1726.

Maybe I shouldn'ta ...

The taste buds are about gone. That usually happens a couple of days after chemo. Doesn't mean I'm not hungry. I'm just on the prowl for spicier food.. ...
And I'm on the prowl in general. While watching the local news at noon I heard about an evacuation at a high school in my newspaper coverage area. My first thought was to call the office and tell my boss about the suspicious package police were investigating. I resisted the urge. I'm on medical leave. ...
Sitting around the past few weeks has given me plenty of time to reflect. I've reflected on a few of the changes I woulda made in my life. The wouldas, couldas and shouldas. Also on the shouldn'tas (OK, copy editors, am I just making up words?). I made a list of some things I shouldn'ta done as a kid and older teen. These aren't confessions. I'm not seeking forgiveness. They're just a few things that have stuck with me over the years. ...
Here we go ~ I shouldn'ta:
* Gone home from kindergarten with a friend without my mother's permission. I told my buddy's mother I had permission. It's the first lie I remember telling.
* I shouldn'ta whacked my older sister over the head with a toy golf club after she put my plastic golf ball in a tree where I couldn't reach it. Maybe I coulda been the first Tiger Woods. Instead, my dad broke my clubs over his knee. Oh, yeah, I drew blood from my sister's head.
* I shouldn'ta quit piano lessons when I was 8.
* I shouldn'ta been satisfied with my first "C" on a report card. It was fourth-grade math.
* I shouldn'ta puffed on grapevines in the woods behind my house with my best friend when I was 11.
* I shouldn'ta failed every one of my mid-term exams in seventh grade. It cost me the second half of basketball season. Why'd I fail? Too much shooting hoops instead of studying.
* I shouldn'ta started inhaling cigarettes when I was 15.
* I shouldn'ta drank my first beer at 15.
* I shouldn'ta turned 15.
* I shouldn'ta walked into the house with a smile on my face after having my first car wreck. I was 16. It wasn't my fault (I was rear-ended), but I had a stupid smirk on my face. My dad's '73 Oldsmobile Omega was totaled. So was I.
* I shouldn'ta got suspended for three days my senior year of high school. I missed an English test and got a zero. It bounced me off the honor roll.
* I shouldn'ta quit my high school basketball team half-way through my senior season.
* I shouldn'ta changed my mind about going to Nashville to seek my fame and fortune after high school graduation.
* I shouldn'ta wasted my parents' money for a year after high school graduation by going to Young Harris College.
* I shouldn'ta stopped writing songs and playing guitar for about 25 years.
Maybe one day I'll make a list of things I shoulda done. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I shouldn'ta made this list.

Time marches on

Not much going on today. Got a shot of Neulasta, so my white blood cell count should shoot through the roof soon. D-Day is less than six weeks away. Please keep me in your prayers. Thanks!

Six weeks and counting

In six weeks I should know if this monster in my right lung is dead. May 8, I have my last scheduled chemotherapy. Three weeks later I have a PET scan. That should tell the tale. And, yes, I am getting nervous. ...
Today's chemo session went off without a hitch. I had a Procrit shot to boost my red blood cell count. As usual, I'm a bit anemic. Tomorrow I'll get a shot of Neulasta to boost my white cell count. All of this was expected. It follows the script from three weeks ago when I had my last chemotherapy. ...
My oncologist was optimistic again today. While she can't guarantee anything, she is counting on the monster being dead. So am I. Please pray we're right.

Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow ...

For those of you who celebrate Easter, hope you had a wonderful holiday. I did. Saturday, I was able to go watch kids "hunt" for eggs at church. If you've been to an Easter egg hunt recently, you know the eggs aren't really hidden. And they're not real eggs ~ they're plastic with candy inside. But I'm not going to be an old fart and get into a "Back in My Day" story. We had a nice service Sunday. It was my first Easter as a Methodist. Until recently I had been an Episcopalian since 2000. But that's another story for another time (but, no, it had NOTHING to do with the gay bishop). ...
Lately I've enjoyed looking in the mirror. I know I ain't that good lookin', but the hair on my head and between my nose and upper lip is growing. For most people it would probably be like watching grass grow, but I'll take my victories where I can get them. And believe me, I do consider a little peach fuzz (mostly gray) for a mustache to be a victory. I just hope tomorrow's chemo session doesn't do it in. ...
Yes, Monday is chemo day again. After that, only one more scheduled session. I'll get plugged in between 2:30 and 3 p.m. and probably finish up between 4:30 and 5. ...
Hope you all had a wonderful weekend and didn't eat too many Peeps. I did.

Some things just shouldn't be

Good Friday. I doubt Mary, Jesus' mother, found much good in that Friday some 2,000 years ago. No mother, or father for that matter, should have to bury a child. Yet Mary watched Jesus suffer crucifixion, she saw him die and she held his body in her arms after he was taken down from the cross. She saw him sealed in a tomb. No, that was not a good Friday for Mary. ...
The first thing that crossed my mind when I was told I had lung cancer was, "How am I going to tell my mother?" My wife received the news the same time as I did, so I didn't have to tell her. But I was going to have to tell my mother that her son had the same disease that killed her father. I am my mother's youngest child, and I was her most difficult growing up. I guess I still am. I had to tell my mother, of course, that I have lung cancer, and I told her I was going to beat it. I'll be damned if my mother is going to lose her son to the same monster that killed her father. ...

TGIF

I had four cups of coffee today, so it may be awhile before I get to sleep. It's amazing how chemo plays tricks with your taste buds. I never cared for coffee until chemo. But I'm not going to try liver. I didn't like it before and have no intention of finding out if I like it now. ...
Good Friday. An odd name, some say, for the day Jesus died. Here are a couple of explanations:
"Some scholars argue that 'good' is a corruption of 'God' and that early Christians commemorating the sad event called it God's Friday." ("Sacred Origins of Profound Things" by Charles Panati.)
"Others claim that 'good' signifies the bounty of blessings ~ indeed, salvation ~ Christ won for humankind by his sacrifice." ("Sacred Origins of Profound Things"). ...
Have a wonderful Good Friday.