Good news

Good news from my lung specialist today. My lung capacity has increased by 50 percent over the past month. We were shooting for a reading of 50-plus from my breath test and I came in at 64. That's up from about 43 last month. The doctor says I appear to be on schedule as far as my lung is concerned. Now we just need to knock out the cancer. ...
Heard a quote from Coretta Scott King today. She said she did not marry a man, she married a vision. I think we all have a vision, or a destiny, to reach. I'm often fond of saying, "God is not through with me yet." This is not a morbid thought. What I mean is I have yet to recognize my vision. I know there's something extraordinary I'm supposed to do with my life. I'm sure it is right in front of me; it's just a matter of recognizing it. ...
The lung specialist said the radiation is probably slowing me down. Whatever it is, I wish I could speed up. I can't put my finger on what's wrong. I just don't feel good. I don't have any pain. I'm just tired. ...
Today's quote: "Equality means dignity. And dignity demands a job and a paycheck that lasts through the week." (MLK Jr.)

Dreary day

My internist's office postponed today's appointment until Wednesday; guess I'll have to double up on appointments that day. Radiation was backed up today. Apparently a bunch of folks delayed getting out in the threat of bad weather today. ...
Have an appointment with the lung specialist tomorrow. Not sure what to expect. Probably not much. One thing I do know is I'm getting tired. Still no ill effects from chemo, but my strength has been zapped. Hope to be back at full strength soon.

Super Sunday

Today was an anniversary around our house. Twenty years ago, on Super Bowl Sunday 1986, I asked Lynn to marry me (I waited until halftime, not to miss any of the Chicago victory). She said yes, and we wed in September. Happy anniversary, Lynn. ...
The bloating from chemo has gone down. I gained 10 pounds over three days ~ water weight, which was all gone this morning. I was starting to look like Uncle Fester from "The Addams Family." I keep waiting for the side effects of chemo to smack me upside the head, but so far I'm truckin' right along. How long will this last? I'll keep my fingers crossed and you keep praying. It seems to be working (that, along with the anti-nausea meds). ...
I shaved what was left of my facial hair before going to church today. I sometimes look in the mirror and am not sure who's looking back at me. I'd say my dad, except for the earring. ...
I have four doctor appointments and five radiation treatments this week, so it will be a busy one. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. Thanks!

Zap

I've completed 30 hours of chemotherapy. At least 30 more to go. Has it been horrible? Not yet. A piece of cake? Not exactly. Chemo zaps my strength almost as quickly as it is zapping my hair. But, as one nurse and I agreed, it's better to go a few months without hair and be cured than to die with a full head of hair. ...
As I mentioned before, my mustache is completely gone (see photo below) and most of the goatee has dropped. Obviously I'm wearing a cap in the photo, but about half the hair on my head is gone. I wouldn't mind losing the mustache expect my upper lip is too thin. Oh, well, whatcha gonna do? ...
I'm gonna watch the Super Bowl for some reason tomorrow. I don't have a dog in the fight, so here's hoping the commercials are worth it. ...
Starting wearing the "LIVESTRONG" bracelet today. Thanks, Stan and Louise. Too bad Lance and Sheryl are now apparently a thing of the past. But don't blame me! ...
As always, thanks for your prayers.

Word for the day: Tired

Finished my second cycle of chemotherapy today. Fifteen hours in three days. The doctors switched my anti-nausea medicine around, so I hope it still works. I've been lucky so far. And, alas, I'm tired, so I'll close early tonight. Hope to play catch-up tomorrow. ...
Thanks for all your thoughts, comments and prayers.

Making progress

I completed my 20th radiation treatment today. That puts me half-way through this phase of treatment. My radiologist is pleased with my progress. From his standpoint, everything is moving along as it should. He is amazed I have gone this far into the program with no esophagitis and no burning of my skin ~ just a little pink. ...
At chemotherapy today, I overheard a conversation between an elderly lady and a nurse. The lady had used some drug samples to help increase her appetite and gain weight. It worked. She needed some more samples. The office was out of samples. The nurse suggested sending an application to the drug maker for a free prescription. Sometimes they'll pitch in for folks on a fixed income. No, the woman, said, she had applied and missed the guidelines by $420 a year. That's barely $8 a week. No one in this country should have to go without medicine over $8 a week. The woman went on to say that when she got sick she spent several days deciding whether to kill herself or go to the hospital. I'm glad she decided to seek treatment. I hope somehow she can afford the medicine she needs. ...
Leaving you on a lighter note: A very arrogant oncologist, Dr. Stoneheart, dies and goes straight to Hell. On arrival the Devil says, "I'm going to give you three choices, which is more than you ever gave your patients. Whichever door you choose will be how you'll spend eternity."
So the doctor opens the first door and sees a mob of people sitting on a floor covered with spikes. He goes to the next door and sees a humongous crowd of sinners lying down in maggots.
At the third door, there is a throng of people chatting happily and drinking coffee, although they are up to their knees in manure. "Thank God," he exalts, "It smells terrible, but least I could drink coffee and be able to talk to people." He enters and joins the group. He is about to sip his first coffee when a loudspeaker announces, "Coffee break is over. Back to standing on your heads!"
Stolen from: Are You Ready for Cancer Jokes

News ... good and otherwise

The good news: My blood counts are good. The white cell count reached 6.0, up from 1.6, so I'm able to resume chemotherapy full throttle.
The not so good news (hey, kids, this was called "bad news" before the PC police took over): I shaved my mustache today. It was falling out anyway. It is the third time in 20 years my wife has seen me with a clean upper lip. The goatee probably will go next. In the next day or two, I imagine. My head is getting bald patches. Such are the joys of chemotherapy. ...
At least I've yet to experience the worst effects of chemo. Still no nausea. I have two five-hour sessions in the next two days. Hopefully I'll continue to hold up well. ...
Here's a true story I sent one of my bosses today (the boss who sent me a CARE package filled with his Mom's homemade gingerbread):
While at chemotherapy today, a rather large man in obvious discomfort was wheeled into the chemo lounge.
He was given Tylenol and another drug the name of which I was unfamiliar. He must eat, because of the meds, the nurses told him.
Would he like trail mix?
"Yuck," was his reply.
Cheez-Its? Almonds?
No and No.
An ornery man, he was.
Yet he readily accepted my offer of gingerbread.
I can't say he was real pleasant after that, but he wasn't quite as ornery.
Tomorrow, I'll take two pieces of gingerbread to therapy. One for an emergency, and one for me!

The lonest month

January 2006 seemed like the longest month of my adult life. Probably not as long as some Decembers when I was waiting for Santa Claus as a kid or May when I was anticipating summer vacation. But this January seemed as if it would never end.
Maybe its because I underwent 18 radiation treatments and 15 hours of chemotherapy. I also had one surgery, one PET scan, one chest X-ray and two CT scans. There also were the 11 doctor appointments I had outside of radiation and chemo. And of course, by my recollection, the nine times I was stuck by a needle.
This is not a pity party. Just facts. Yep, January was a long month.
February starts with radiation at 7:45 a.m., followed by five hours of chemo. I hope the shortest month doesn't turn out to be one of the longest.

Keep those cards & letters coming ...

Another overwhelming day from the postal box and the e-mail box. A package of gingerbread from my newspaper editor (helps settle the stomach during chemo, he says), tons of encouraging e-mails and the usual doctor and/or hospital bills and insurance statements. I know my wife, bless her, starts an e-mail campaign on my behalf just before chemo. I also know I hear from several well-wishers not on her e-mail list. It is amazing how kind words, thoughts and acts show up just when you need them. ...
Tomorrow is a day of radiation and then chemo runs Wednesday-Friday. Five-hour days of sitting in a recliner, reading and watching TV. Maybe I'll sleep some this time. But I don't want to miss the gossip. I sit across from the nurses station so as not to miss anything. ...
Again, I'm anxious about the chemo. I keep waiting for it to slap me upside the head. I appreciate your prayers during this time. ...
We have several friends named Susan, and one of them sent these words of wisdom from St. Francis de Sales: "Have no fear for what tomorrow may bring. The same loving God who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. God will either shield you from suffering or give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations."

Quarantined

The weekend is about over. I've been semiquarantined and hope the coming week shows my blood cell count is up and I can walk among the living in public again. I didn't like missing church today, but. ...
Chemo starts Wednesday. Hearing other people's horror stories lets me know how really fortunate I was to have made it through my first round of chemo without the horrible side effects so many experience. I don't know what the next round holds in store, so I could sure use your prayers again. I'll be going through three five-hour days of treatment. I have four books and your good thoughts to help get me through. ...
I have four e-mails to answer before going to bed tonight, so I'm going to bow out now. It will never stop amazing me the number of really wonderful people there are out there. It makes me pledge to become a better friend. You're reading this, so you're one of those wonderful people. Thanks. And don't give up on me. God's not finished with me yet.