tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-198852282024-03-28T23:29:13.495-04:00Bear ThoughtsMy Thoughts, My Life. Capisce?Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-69845494407884441822007-12-15T12:17:00.000-05:002008-12-10T20:21:00.283-05:00Last PostPhil can't be with us to post this last entry. As you know he has been courageously fighting for his life, but the battle ended early Thursday morning. He was a bad ass until the very end and we know that he was thinking to himself "fuck you cancer." He also was likely thinking, "what the hell? why does this shit always happen to me?"<br /><br />During his first cancer he called himself "cancer boy"--apparently the first sign that he was a full fledged member of the cancer boy club was his lack of eyebrows, making it very hard to tell whether he was joking or serious (but Phil was hardly ever serious). When Phil's cancer came back, we didn't have any clever nicknames--we were mostly just pissed off. Cancer, in case you didn't know, is a bitch. Hopefully someday it's a bitch that we can beat so people never have to go through the same shit Phil did.<br /><br />Visiting the Lombardi Cancer Center was always a little bit nerve-wracking for Phil--sometimes there was good news (high neutrophil count) and sometimes the news sucked (no chemo allowed because the prior chemo had made him too sick). But Phil always handled these appointments with laughter--he liked to play with medical instruments in the exam room, often belting out some lounge singer tunes. And the nurses always knew when he was around because they could hear us laughing (mine was always the more nervous laugh, but Phil's was genuine amusement). We always said that we just came to the hospital for the cable TV and the fine cuisine.<br /><br />Phil will be missed by those who hiked, drank, joked, fought, smoked, caroused, helped, laughed, cried, and loved. He is the love of my life and I will be forever grateful that I had the chance to know him and love him.<br /><br />Love,<br />Mrs. Bearmagnet (Dani)<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKYrsaTjdZQp_Hjn0EAvQrxDsjnX5fWfZxILrgGgOqCDoEXetZpqVPmBLAgMV25PeQOLhT0NlesOS6zAwqBmO4hgSFyQCzWE8a_Pq_TiKpQdrGznJK2W2GRw8CX7eA6f8UPbJ/s1600-h/Adirondacks+110.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKYrsaTjdZQp_Hjn0EAvQrxDsjnX5fWfZxILrgGgOqCDoEXetZpqVPmBLAgMV25PeQOLhT0NlesOS6zAwqBmO4hgSFyQCzWE8a_Pq_TiKpQdrGznJK2W2GRw8CX7eA6f8UPbJ/s320/Adirondacks+110.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144259563872380194" border="0" /></a>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com133tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-50566086103901306592007-11-21T16:22:00.000-05:002007-11-21T16:51:52.339-05:00Cycle 5, Day 1<span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday, 11/12<br /></span><br />I'm alone today. It's Dani's first day at her new job. My onco comes in, I tell her about some "low grade" fevers (under 101) I had over the weekend, she examines me, SOSO. But not quite. She hears something in my respiration. Gives me another 'script for Augmentin (2x/day). That should take care of the lungs and any low grade fevers.<br /><br />She esplains my clot is 1cm x 2cm now. Wow. It was 1cm x 3cm. Down a whole cm. Glad I went through all that for.........? I'm thinking Doctor 50:50 didn't give me enough tPA. Fuckhead<br /><br />Anyway, she also gives me a 'script for Coumadin (Warfarin) - anti-coagulant and prophylactic for embolism/thrombosis. I start that after I'm done with the antibiotic and then I can wean off the 2x/day Lovenox injections. Injections that need to be at least 12hrs apart. Frikken pain in the ass.<br /><br />Note - if I haven't esplained. I have a 30 days of lovenox injections into the side abdominal wall 2x/day. So I "rotate" left and right. Don't do it perfect and you get bruising. I'm bruised. Neupogen can be injected into the thighs, stomach, lower back, back of upper arms. I can only hit thighs and stomach. Don't want to ask Dani to inject me if I can avoid it. It's neither easy or pleasant to inject someone you care about.<br /><br />So on chemo Days 3-6, and 10-15, I get to deliver 3 injections into my body. Right now I'm alternating thighs only for the Neupogen. If the sites don't hold up then Dani will need to stick me. Ugh.<br /><br />Off to chemo I go. Its pretty uneventful and kind of lonely without The Dan. I feel sorry for people that do it alone on a regular basis. Dani does show up just as I'm finishing up. How sweet is that?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-10970828252976300332007-11-21T14:49:00.000-05:002007-11-21T15:28:43.338-05:00CT Scan and Another Scare: Par For The Fucking Course<span style="font-weight: bold;">Friday 11/9<br /></span><br />Simple chest CT. How exciting is that? It's like a vacation! I go in and find out I don't even need to get nekkid and change into a gown! Sweet! I jump up on the table and the dude misses my vein, of course. He gets someone slse to do it. I think that makes 9 sticks this week. Oh well. They take two scans and I'm down. tech comes in:<br /><br />Tech: all done.<br />Me: Great<br />Tech: You seeing your doctor today?<br />Me: nope. Will see her on Monday<br />Tech: OK. Hold on a minute.<br />Me: OK.<br /><br />Goddamit! Not again! Why can't I just get a fucking scan that says Okee Dokee? And the techs did their best to keep me unaware, but they were stuck when they thought I was going straight home. He comes back<br /><br />Tech: we're gonna need you to wait her until a doctor takes a look at the scan just to make sure<br />Me: OK. I'm gonna go get my wife from the waiting room. I'll be right back.<br /><br />Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Now I need to pull Dani out of the waiting room without causing her to panic right away.<br /><br />Me: All done<br />Dani: That was quick<br />Me: I know. Lets go out this way<br />Her: OK.<br /><br />As soon as I get her down the hallway, towards CT, I tell her the story. Her reaction is the same as mine. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Why can't it just be a simple scan? Why can't we ever relax?"<br /><br />Why indeed.<br /><br />And so we wait. And wait. We try and relax. Soon a tech comes out and gives the all clear. They wanted to make sure the clot was smaller, not a new one, whatever. Thanks.<br /><br />Fucking assholes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-59844080511009601512007-11-21T14:12:00.000-05:002007-11-21T14:42:27.548-05:00Another Appt. When will it end?<span style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday, 11/7<br /><br /></span>My Onco wants to see me the day after. She wants blood drawn to make sure I have enough coagulation factors. Or, I think the test is to make sure I don't have too much anti-coagulant (tPA) in me. The IR doc wanted me to schedule a CT for next week but my Onco overrides that and says I should go Friday so they can have results before chemo. At least it will just be a chest CT. No Barium drink or enema, just an IV. So, recap:<br /><br />Mon - full body CT<br />Tue - tPA Infusion<br />Wed - bloods, doc visit<br />Fri - Chest CT scan<br /><br />Fucking A, eh?<br /><br />I go down to CT and they are booked for Friday but can fit me in 3 weeks. I really don't know why we need to do this dance? I call the Research Nurse and she gets me in for Friday, 8AM.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-46937268356924448992007-11-18T12:18:00.000-05:002007-11-20T15:59:48.101-05:00Cluster Fuck<span style="font-weight: bold;">Tuesday, 11/6<br /><br /></span>We wake at the crack-o-dawn and head over to Georgetown, getting there around 0830 AM. They don't seem to have a room for me so they send us to the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit, 2 Bles. We "sign in" and go to the waiting room. G'town is packed and only certain units can do heart telemetry. I need a room b/c the drug to break up my clot (tPA) is quite potent and they'll need to monitor me overnight and make sure I don't have any internal bleeding issues. They often use it for stroke victims. So we wait. And wait. After an hour or so a Hematology/Oncology Fellow shows up and apologizes. They can't get secure a room. He sends us to ER.<br /><br />Isn't that nice? Going to ER for a major, not-yet-medical-emergency procedure. Nothing more comfortable and disease free than an ER. Well, except perhaps a Gulag. Thank You. This is the first place on my list for where I want a procedure done. Off to ER we go......................<br /><br />.............and ER seems confused. No one told them we were coming. They're also worried that since its not an emergency and I will be needing a room, then my insurance might pay for one or the other but not both. They send us to where I got my port, Intervention Radiology (IR). We "sign in" and hang out in the waiting room. It will be an IR Doc who will perform the procedure. Seems logical, no?<br /><br />No. At least not "hospital logic"<br /><br />Two Nurses come out and explain that they can't do it there and try and send us back to ER. We refuse. On Insurance grounds and Nasty grounds. It's nearing Noon. I'm near the point of telling them "obviously my condition isn't important to you. I think I'll go home and wait for your call when you have a room for me." I mean, for anyone who knows me, I'm on the edge of being so "done". We were told to get to the hospital early in the morning so they could secure a bed. With telemetry. A fancy machine that monitors hearts. Seems like a hospital might have an extra hanging around for these unscheduled events. Even though, God knows, unscheduled events, like additional patients, never do the "pop in" at hospitals. Yes?<br /><br />They go back inside. They come out and put me in a room. A consultation room. My IR doc and one of his underling docs comes in and apologizes. He's very nice, actually. States the hospital is no longer big enough for the demand. I appreciate his honesty. A nurse comes in and tries to call the person in charge of securing beds. A few ER people pop in saying they're ready to do the procedure. My Oncologist and her fellow show up. basicall, my Onco is their to say "What The Fuck?" and "Don't mess with me or my patients". She's super protective of her patients and I love that. And currently acting Director of Lombardi Cancer Center. She's a force to be reckoned with.<br /><br />Can you picture this? There's not enough room for all these professionals in the room, half are in the hallway.<br /><br />So, in the end, IR agrees to do my procedure in there patient prep area. It's much like the in-patient infusion unit. A bed and a curtain to go around it. And, oh yeah, apparently a fucking telemetry machine!!! Where'd that come from????? I knew there must be one lying around the Hospital somewhere. IR is an interesting sub-field(?). If anyone's interested:<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interventional_radiology">IR</a><br /><br />Now, I must get prepped before infusion. They roll me into an OR. and onto the table. Above me is an x-ray machine. The doc will pump a fluorescent through the mediport and see how the clot interferes with it. As they expose my chest an excitement builds. Most have never seen a dual port before. And never a port set up one on top of the other. Usually it's side by side. I soon have 6 people surrounding me and touching my chest. Thanks freaks. I ask for extra alcohol as they swab me down. An Infusion Nurse will access my ports since they are experienced. First she hits the top one, then the bottom port. She can't get blood back but maybe its b/c of the clot. She leaves stating a 99% confidence that the ports are accessed. A technician turns on the x-ray and it is clear the infusion nurse accessed the top port twice. Nice going. They have to go find another "expert". She removes the "lower" needle and hits the bottom port. Three sticks. I also have two sticks from them trying to access a vein for a drip. You'd think I'd stop feeling it. You'd be wrong. And know they can get blood back.<br /><br />I can see the x-ray perfectly. And it's pretty cool. I see the needles in my two ports. I see the ports. The catheter runs up to my neck then makes a U turn and ends at the entrance of the Superior Vena Cava, right above the heart. I can't see my heart and I think I'm thankful for that. The doc starts flushing the fluorescent compound through. And sees........not much. he keeps flushing. I see it go through the vena cava. He can't seem to find the clot. He expresses this. stating nothing is interfering with the flow. "Oh Goody" I think. Maybe it detached and is in my Lung where it "shouldn't" cause Pulmonary embolism. Or he's an idiot. My confidence level is low. I give 50:50 odds on either.<br /><br />Why not pull up the CT scan from yesterday?<br /><br />He leaves the room and consults my Doctor. I think he paged him. My doctor, BTW, took me as a patient on his day off. Guess that was the only option. Guess this is a serious condition. Anyway, Doctor 50:50 comes back and says they won't need to give as much tPA as they had anticipated and it should take about two hours, instead of four, to infuse. I'm only confident now b/c my Doc showed up for the consultation. Back to the waiting area I go for infusion.<br /><br />Infusion starts at 2:30. Woo Hoo. The Nurse who starts it won't be finishing it so she labels both lines, starts the two pumps, and leaves. Soon after another Nurse comes over. Apparently I need close monitoring. I make her aware of the fact that the Heart Telemetry Machine is not on. Yes, the machine they needed to make sure I could have this procedure, the machine needed in case the compound really does a number on me. She turns it on. And long, dull story short, I'm done. It's about 5-5:30. They're gonna release me. They say its b/c I didn't need a lot of tPA. I think it's b/c they don't have a bed for me. The Nurse stresses the importance of me not falling or bumping anything too hard for the next 24hrs. And to call 911 if anything doesn't feel right.<br /><br />I don't think I could sleep without my 1mg Lorazepam. I wish Dani would take some.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-64883918451463003432007-11-05T19:00:00.000-05:002007-11-05T19:05:35.131-05:00Who Love's Irony?<span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday, 11/5 (1030AM - 2PM)</span><br />I go get my scan, then my weekly blood draw and decide to meet my wife for coffee. We get a call from the nurse as I'm driving her back to her office. I have to pull over.<br /><br />I have a blood clot. At the end of the mediport catheter attached to a major artery in my chest. It should be noted that my platelet's skyrocket after chemo.....it's a recovery thang.<br /><br />I even once joked with an Infusion Nurse about having a heart attack during chemo.<br /><br />She sent us right to our pharmacy to pick up Lovenox (Enoxaparin). Twice daily abdominal injections for one month (that's on top of my 14-20 Neupogen Injections/month - luckily they can be in other areas).<br /><br />Of course any shortness of breath and I call 911.<br /><br />And the port must come out ASAP. The port that was put in a month(?) ago because the chemo was wreaking havoc on my veins.<br /><br />I've come to despise scans.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Breaking News.........<br /></span>Hi. This is Anchorman Phil. Coming to you live in an attempt to keep you updated on this fast breaking story:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5:30PM.......<br /><br /></span>Just got a Call from my Onco and then the Interventional Radiology (The Port People) Doc. I go in tomorrow for an injection of a strong thrombolytic drug. They want to try and break up the clot (3cm x 1cm) instead of taking out the port. I also have to wake up at 4am to take my fuckinging lovenox. I'll probably be admitted for overnight observation.<br /><br />Tomorrow is Dani's last day at work. There was gonna be a huge party at work and afterwards. Dani has a week off between jobs. We were gonna relax all week, drink, take in a few movies<br /><br />I really am awesome at timing shit. Sorry, my beloved.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-18808527975641179862007-11-05T17:01:00.000-05:002007-11-05T19:09:12.236-05:00Losing The War On Cancer.This draft was written before the next post (Who Loves Irony). I have made no Changes. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Sunday, November 4th.<br /><br /></span><span class="bigquote"></span>2 years ago today, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's IV. Tomorrow I have another full body CT to see how well I'm doing. Here's a great article on "The War". Dani got her book, "The Secret History of the War on Cancer", at a talk she gave recently. The author included a very sweet little personal note to me. Dani rocks. Enjoy. I've got to get back to the bottle. Cheers.<br /><br />In related news - This weekend was the 2year anniversary of my diagnosis. I have a CT scan today. My 2yr radiation exposure total is:<br /><br />1 MUGA (Multiple Gated Acquisition Scan) = 8mSv<br />4 PET scans = 28 mSv<br />10 full body CT scans = 120 mSv<br />Total = 156mSv<br /><br />That's the radiation equivalent of 7800 chest x-rays. This, of course, is on top of the cancer causing agents administered intravenously to me to fight my cancer. Lung, Non-Hodgkin's, & Leukemia are some of my future worries.<br /><br />And I'm assuming the scan will show what the scan 2 months ago showed. Yippee. Article<br /><br /><b>Off Target in the War on Cancer</b><br /><br />By Devra Davis<br />Sunday, November 4, 2007; B01<br /><br />We've been fighting the war on cancer for almost four decades now, since President Richard M. Nixon officially launched it in 1971. It's time to admit that our efforts have often targeted the wrong enemies and used the wrong weapons.<br /><br />Throughout the industrial world, the war on cancer remains focused on commercially fueled efforts to develop drugs and technologies that can find and treat the disease -- to the tune of more than $100 billion a year in the United States alone. Meanwhile, the struggle basically ignores most of the things known to cause cancer, such as tobacco, radiation, sunlight, benzene, asbestos, solvents, and some drugs and hormones. Even now, modern cancer-causing agents such as gasoline exhaust, pesticides and other air pollutants are simply deemed the inevitable price of progress.<br /><br />More:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/20...007110201648_pf.html">Washington Post</a><br /><a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/02/AR2007110201648_pf.html" target="_blank"></a>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-51028423860236602902007-11-05T16:58:00.000-05:002007-11-05T17:01:23.096-05:00Joy Division Fans?Go see Control. It's a limited release and it's amazing. They nailed it and the actors play their instruments and the actor playing ian curtis sings the songs himself. Its unbelievable as to how much he looks, dances, sounds like ian. And even though the ending is as surprising as the ending of the Titanic, it's still crushing.<br /><br />Two Thumbs Way Up!Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-44282514081579346042007-11-05T16:51:00.000-05:002007-11-05T16:58:23.729-05:00Catching Up - Lots of Fun!Sorry. So I go see my Onco on Monday, the 22nd of October. She feels my symptoms have subsided enough to stamp them "resolved". It's kind of late but my doc doesn't want my chemo delayed at all so we head up to treatment. I thank her excitedly and the onco fellow is "shocked" that I'm excited to get chemo. She's a dumbass. Why wouldn't I be excited? The sooner I get chemo the sooner I'm done. Duh. Aren't fellows the brightest of their class??????<br /><br />So now I have chemo on Mondays. I complete cycle 4 the next Monday, the 29th. The Port isn't so bad. I think the first time it hurt b/c it was so soon after surgery.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-76137615070496557462007-10-16T11:47:00.000-04:002007-10-16T11:51:07.523-04:00Grading Toxicity<dl><dt><a name="grade1" id="grade1" class="glossaryTerm">Grade 1</a></dt><dd><div class="glossaryDef">Referring to a mild adverse event (sign, abnormal lab finding, symptom, or disease) or toxicity resulting from a medical therapy. The event is commonly asymptomatic or causes minimal symptoms and typically requires no medical intervention. The exact criteria for grading toxicity and required interventions are dependent on the organ system involved. </div></dd><dt><a name="grade2" id="grade2" class="glossaryTerm">Grade 2</a></dt><dd><div class="glossaryDef">Referring to a moderate adverse event (sign, abnormal lab finding, symptom, or disease) or toxicity resulting from a medical therapy. The event may or may not be symptomatic and may or may not require some type of non-urgent medical intervention. The exact criteria for grading toxicity and required interventions are dependent on the organ system involved. </div></dd><dt style="font-weight: bold;"><a name="grade3" id="grade3" class="glossaryTerm">Grade 3</a></dt><dd><div class="glossaryDef"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Referring to a severe adverse event (sign, abnormal lab finding, symptom, or disease) or toxicity resulting from a medical therapy. The event may interfere with functioning and often requires medical intervention. The exact criteria for grading toxicity and required interventions are dependent on the organ system involved.</span> </div></dd><dt><a name="grade4" id="grade4" class="glossaryTerm">Grade 4</a></dt><dd><div class="glossaryDef">Referring to a life-threatening or disabling adverse event (sign, abnormal lab finding, symptom, or disease) or toxicity resulting from a medical therapy. The event requires some type of immediate medical intervention. The exact criteria for grading toxicity and required interventions are dependent on the organ system involved. </div></dd></dl>I don't feel like a Grade 3. Oh well. On another front - my hair is thinning. Mostly on my legs (calves), somewhat on my hands/knuckles, and on my face and head. I would really hate to lose my eyelashes and eyebrows again. Makes me look like a freak.<br /><br />My doctor said this treatment was less toxic than my first treatment. Wonder if she's changed her mind?Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-6199894459167132772007-10-15T16:57:00.000-04:002007-10-15T17:02:57.049-04:00So What?What could go wrong? It was my pre-treatment Onco visit today. Twelve days since my last chemo and two days to go for the next. No new scans, neupogen keeping my cell counts up. I thought it would be routine. I had a few symptoms to describe. So What?<br /><br />My hands were drying and calloused, red & hot, making a fist or lifting a grocery bag was painful. Opening jars and prescription bottles was impossible. So What?<br /><br />My feet and toes blistered after a 3mi walk in the city. So What?<br /><br />The rashes in my armpits were a crimson color and going deep. So What?<br /><br />My mouth sores were keeping me from eating most solid foods for the last 6 days and I've lost a bit of weight. So What?<br /><br />Everyone knows the chemo schedule is the most important. I really thought it wasn't a big deal.<br /><br />As usual, I was wrong. And nothing is routine.<br /><br />My symptoms are "Grade 3" (?) and chemo's on hold. Again. Back on more drugs.<br /><br />Yippee. If I can't drink with these drugs I may have to say Fuck It.<br /><br />I think all I want for xmas is to be done with this.<span class="bigquote">”<br /><br />In the meantime, here's something old school. You might not recognize they way Al looks, but you should recognize the voice. It's a long video but he first makes his appearance in the first 1-1.5min. So What?<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4_yTCODyUCE"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4_yTCODyUCE" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-33149905433471188352007-10-15T15:54:00.000-04:002007-10-15T16:57:03.245-04:00We Are Retard.<span style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday, 10/3/07</span><br /><br />Dani tried to warn me the night before. And I got a little worried but I thought she was talking crazy. I didn't see the point in her explanation. Then, sitting in the chair I asked the infusion nurse and she confirmed what Dani said. Fuck. What the Hell? I looked away and she plunged the needle into my chest. I lurched from the unexpected pain. The Nurse shouted "don't move! it makes it worst!".<br /><br />Thanks.<br /><br />So to correct my naive post from before, the upper incision is to thread the tube, the lower incision has the port. They take, according to what Dani saw, a large thumbtack like needle and stick it through my chest into the port. Instant access to my artery. It is on the surface but I wasn't expecting it. I've had countless needle sticks, from tiny to harpoon, and never lurched.<br /><br />Supposedly the port is "beneficial" in the long run. IMHO, that stick hurt like a motherfucker. But I guess it's impossible(?) to miss and they're not fucking up my veins anymore. Yay.<br /><br />I would've taken a photo of it but I forgot my camera. Maybe next time?Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-33467276542413049842007-10-02T11:35:00.000-04:002007-10-02T11:56:09.942-04:00We Are Borg<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img221.imageshack.us/img221/9605/vasipdctitaniummd0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 299px;" src="http://img221.imageshack.us/img221/9605/vasipdctitaniummd0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="bigquote"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thursday, 9/27/07</span><br /><br />Resistance was futile. Our veins are not doing well. We needed a port.<br /><br />I told the doc I have a high tolerance for Novocaine and most locals. I take 5-7 shots at the dentist. And yet, through the whole 45min procedure of implanting a dual lumen (news to me) port in me I remained lucid. The anesthesiologist continued to inject me throughout the procedure. Noting my wincing, hand raising, curling toes.....shocked that I wasn't out or at least in a "twilight state".<br /><br />In the end, I had to wait an hour before going home, SOP. The anesthesiologist showed me her injection record - about 15. And I could've fucken driven home.<br /><br />That kind of sucked.<span class="bigquote"><br /><br />We hate local anesthesia.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img265.imageshack.us/img265/4249/1002209gr4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img265.imageshack.us/img265/4249/1002209gr4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It is just under the skin. The upper area is the access point. The lower is the main device. And we know you are curious about what is underneath...............<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img208.imageshack.us/img208/6194/1002231xc5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img208.imageshack.us/img208/6194/1002231xc5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />You can see the tube up top but not all the way. Lets take a picture without the flash...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img211.imageshack.us/img211/5930/1002237mi5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img211.imageshack.us/img211/5930/1002237mi5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It is an efficient method for receiving compounds. We have been assimilated.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-17002875528562684822007-09-28T09:05:00.000-04:002007-10-15T16:57:26.054-04:00Trying To Catch Up. Busy MonthWhat a fun and annoying month. I feel the need to recap:<br /><br />Wed 9/5 - Chemo<br />Fri 9/7 - Dentist<br />Tue 9/11 - Labs<br />Wed 9/12 - Chemo<br />Thur 9/13 - Labs<br />Fri 9/14 - Dentist<br />Mon 9/17 - CT Scan<br />Tue 9/18 - Onco Appt/Labs<br />Wed 9/19 - ENT Appt<br />Thur 9/20 - Dentist<br />Monday 9/24 - Onco Appt/Labs. Barium Swallo appt.<br />Tue 9/25 - Dentist<br />Wed 9/26 - Chemo<br />Thur 9/27 - Port SurgeryPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-15361016332310463052007-09-21T13:31:00.000-04:002007-09-21T13:33:36.687-04:00Free to commentJust made aware that my comment section was only open to "registered users". I have remedied that and its wide open now.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-44926628182281614912007-09-18T16:44:00.000-04:002007-10-15T16:56:43.778-04:00Total Radiation Exposure<span style="font-weight: bold;">For 11/05-9/17:</span><br /><br />1mSv = 100mrem<br /><br />PET = 7mSv<br />CT = 10-12mSv (whole Body scan)<br />MUGA = 8mSv<br /><br />Background radiation exposure in the US is ~3mSv/year.<br /><br />A chest X-ray = 0.02mSv<br /><br />1 CT = 500 x-rays<br />1 PET = 350 x-rays<br />1 MUGA = 400 x-rays<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Exposure Totals:</span><br />1 MUGA = 8mSv<br />4 PET scans = 28 mSv<br />9 CT scans = 90-108 mSv<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Total = 126-144 mSv</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Comparisons:</span><br />6300-7200 x-rays<br />42-48 years of background radiation<br /><br />And counting.....Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-61922035332783847302007-09-18T16:06:00.000-04:002007-09-18T16:34:52.013-04:00Lighting up Like a Christmas Tree/No Progression<span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday, 9/17<br /></span>The day of my post 2 cycle CT scan. This will tell us if the chemo's working. The "thing" in my throat is worse. I have difficulty swallowing and the urge to vomit the "thing" up after every swallow. Once at the hospital, I chug the first half of my Barium Shake. I excuse myself and walk with fist in front of mouth, concentrating, to the bathroom. I'm trying not to vomit. Never happened before. It's the "thing". In the bathroom I run the water and do that pre-vomit cough. Thankfully though, I don't vomit. back with Dani, I take a sipping approach to the rest of my "shake". It goes down slightly better. In the room I get the always fun Barium enema and a barium IV. For the first time ever, a CT tech misses my vein. Twice. She's done me many times before. Are my veins going to shit? She gets another tech in. Two is the "ethical" limit. New guy gets me first try. They do the scans, then my abdomen a second time. That should have set off an alarm but I missed it somehow.<br /><br />Once home we get a call from the research RN. "Informing" me that I have Diverticulitis. Somedays a situation calls for the mental cliche statement of "No Shit, Sherlock." doubly so since it's diverticulitis. I had been experiencing a flare up. It happens on occasion. But it must've made my abdomen glow like a christmas tree for the CT scan. Techs were thinking Cancer and saw my abdomen just exploding with activity. Must've freaked them out enough to call my doc ASAP. LOL! :D<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tuesday, 9/18<br /></span>In to see my doc and discuss the scan. I'm given a copy and we go over it together. To a laymen there is conflicting data on my report. Then I focus on the summary:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NO EVIDENCE OF DISEASE PROGRESSION.</span><br /><br />Just then my doctor summarizes it in human terms:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NO EVIDENCE OF DISEASE</span><br /><br />Dani and I do the "what? Huh? what do we....what does this mean? Huh?<br /><br />It means we continue treatment. CT sees no disease but PET might. But this is good news. Really good news. We both were thinking the worst. It was hard not to. The worst part about it was the thought of leaving Dani alone, a widow. I would do anything to not have that happen. She doesn't deserve that. And now I might have another reprieve. Another real lease on Life.<br /><br />And after i drop Dani off, I smiled. I don't remember the last time I smiled out of the blue. Probably not since before June. But I couldn't stop. And to be truly honest, I couldn't stop the tears. Not that I want to.<br /><br /><br />peace.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-49631331893485311192007-09-18T15:23:00.000-04:002007-09-18T16:48:52.452-04:00Home Invasion!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img250.imageshack.us/img250/170/1002153te3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img250.imageshack.us/img250/170/1002153te3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Scene: Our Second floor apartment, back bedroom. 8PMish, just after sunset. Dani & Phil decide to take a nap. Both a little inebriated. We turn off all the lights. She is on the bed, stage Left. I'm to the right. Both of us are on our backs. Iggy is on the open windowsill. Shade up, There's a nice breeze. The door security gate is open.<br /><br />We weren't asleep for long when all of a sudden Iggy jumps off the windowsill onto Dani, waking us both up before he hits the floor hard. We both think "how odd." I look at Dani thinking "I should close the gate."<br /><br />Dani turns to me and whispers "There's someone out there." I get a vibe that sends a chill down my spine and adrenalin starts pumping through me.<br /><br />In a single bound I'm over her and land in front of the door. And there, crouched down on all fours is a figure, looking like he was trying to jimmy the lock. I realize instantly that a hard kick to the door and he's in. I lunge at the door and start screaming obscenities while dialing 911 on my phone. The dude takes off down the stairs and over the 7ft fence where another was waiting.<br /><br />Cops arrive within a few minutes but I assume they got away.<br /><br />Needless to say, we're a little freaked out.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-25235919845953575132007-09-18T09:06:00.000-04:002007-09-18T09:58:28.441-04:00Fever Central<span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday, 9/9<br /></span>All Morning my temp hovers around 100. I still feel a little like ass. My head throbs with any change in elevation. A temperature is, again, indicative of a potential serious infection for cancer patients. Especially if one is potentially Neutropenic. Doesn't mean I'm not hesitant to go to the ER. Whys this shit always happen on the weekend? I wait until Dani gets home from Market to break the news. I take my temp two more times and call the oncall onco. My last hope of what I'm sure will be a trip to the ER. To my surprise, the oncall thinks since its low level then it's no bigee - 1000mg Tylenol every 4-6hrs. Whoo Hoo!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday, 9/10<br /></span>My Onco is pissed the oncall didn't rush me into the ER. Ooops. :D She wants me in for blood work.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">WBC=12.7<br />ANC=11,600 </span><br /><br />Healthy as the proverbial horse. Well, my immune system anyway. Well, all of the cell lines of my immune system except for the one motherfucker that's trying to kill me right now. I seem to have developed a thing in the back of my throat. Somethings there that won't go away. I'm at the clinic but can't get anyone to look at it. How infuriating is that? My doc isn't around and her nurse is a case manager? All those fucking Medical Students walking around are suddenly to busy???????? I leave more than a little pissed off.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday, 9/12<br /></span>Chemo Day. Yay! We have to share a room again. I'm there all day, why can't I get a private room? I see 2-3 people drudge through with 15-60 minute procedures. Kind of pisses me off. But we have always had control of the TV. That's what counts. Today the Research Nurse Pops in. I complain about "the thing". She says she'll call an ENT and make an appt for this week.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phil The Asshole - </span>The chemo, especially 2nd treatment, really does a number on me. Wednesday & Thursday are the worst. I get an overall feeling of ickiness, coupled with irritation, moodiness, no appetite, and nausea. And poor Dani has to deal with me. I'm a monster. Thank God she loves me. I have a hard time putting up with me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thursday, 9/13<br /></span>Go in for bloods.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>I have a dentist appt. on Friday and my Onco wants to be sure my counts are OK.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">WBC=6.2<br />ANC=4,800<br />Platelets=142,000<br /><br /></span>Isn't that interesting? A Twofold decrease (or halving) in my WBC and an almost 2.5 times decrease in my ANC. One day after chemo. Interesting in that chemo sucks ass in targeting specific cells, perhaps? The counts get progressively worst, bottoming out 7-10 days after chemo. Hence the Neupogen. But I'm good to go for dental work.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Friday, 9/14<br /></span>My dentist doesn't appear to be in. She's always so careful............and cute. Damn. I get the head douchbag. He doesn't like how long I take to go under so he pumps some stuff they use for surgery right into the canal. Hurts like a motherfucker. Fucking asshole. My Dentist pumps me full of novocaine until I numb out. Quite painless after 3-4 sticks. Then douchbag decides he can't see much so he takes the rest of the crown off. He was hoping to finish but the infection is still too big. So I wait another week, putting new cotton on my open canal 3-4 times/day. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-76469840289644612712007-09-13T14:47:00.000-04:002007-09-13T15:13:55.386-04:00Was It The Drugs?<span style="font-weight: bold;">Friday, 9/7<br /></span>Call the dentist at 8AM. I tell 'em whats going on and they tell me to come in ASAP. Didn't sleep more than 2-3 hrs. I call my Nurse and leave a message. The pain is excruciating. I get in ~9 and she takes me immediately - shoots me with 3 shots of Novocaine. What a beautiful drug. The take an x-ray. Frikken infection looks the same. She cleans it and leaves it open. It needs to drain and heal before they can cap it. She gives me a script for Percocet and Augmentin. After treatment the nurse calls. While I'm still in the chair.<br /><br />Me: Hello<br />Nurse: I talked with the doc, she told you no treatment until after chemo.<br /><br /><br />Oy Vey. I had to spell it out that this wasn't elective, but a fucking emergency. What part of no sleep and me slicing my own tooth out did they not understand. Finally, with the graphic explanation, they got it. Any more work and I would have to have blood drawn to make sure my counts were good. Fine. if it's not another emergency. Chemo seems to do a number on my teeth.<br /><br />I get home after picking up my scripts and waiting too long for the bus. In hindsight, I must have been delirious from all the Percocet, alcohol, then Novocaine. It's about 1230. I do my Augmentin, anti-viral, Inject neupogen, and then pop a Percocet just in case. I'm feeling really High strung and anxious. I have a whiskey. I have no food in my stomach.<br /><br />The following description doesn't do my trip justice but I really don't know how to better describe it. Bad Trip, might be best:<br /><br />All of a sudden, I'm feeling like I've never felt before. I lay down and sleep. It's a restless sleep. I'm aware that I'm moaning, a lot. I feel like ass in these fleeting moments of semi-consciousness. Dani comes home at some point. I get up to pee. And go back to bed. It's a horrible, indescribable experience. At some point she wakes me and tries to get me to eat some homemade chicken noodle soup. I struggle with a few bites and then tell her to take it away before I vomit. I plop back down and continue my not-sleep sleep. I spike a few fevers, sweat, moan, mumble, toss and turn. I sense delirium. At one point I feel something blocking my head whenever I try to sit up. Feels like a warm steel block against my head. But there's nothing there. It's part of the headache from hell I've got. And Time has no meaning. Sometime at night I reluctantly take my anti-microbials. And some tylenol.<br /><br />And thats what I do. From about 2:30PM until 9AM the next day. And the next day I feel like never before. A headache worst than any I've ever encountered. Worn out like I fought all those hours. I veg on the sofa. I spike a few 101 fevers. I try not to panic. I should go to the ER with temps like that but the drop quickly. And I'm hoping it's all the drugs and dental work that is causing it. Not sure we're being rational about it but we really don't want to go to the ER. I decide if it continues on Sunday I'll call in and see. I just wish the headache would go away.<br /><br />For some reason I hate liquids now. Have an aversion to them all. Doesn't that suck?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-80850688994745938252007-09-07T04:10:00.000-04:002007-09-13T14:47:27.600-04:00Pain<span style="font-weight: bold;">THURSDAY EVENING</span><br />My root canal tooth is acting up again. Why? I call my Onco Nurse at 3PM. I need clearance to get my dental work completed. My doctors out of town until Friday. I pop some Tylenol. At 7PM I pop 2 Percocets and start drinking. I think maybe the pain is from using it - it's become increasingly difficult to not. But what if its infected?<br /><br />The percocet don't help much. Dani makes me an ice pack. We go to bed at 1030. I'm up at 1130. I pop 2 more percocet and drink some more. Back to bed at 1230. Up at 330. Pop my last percocet. I'll be done with my whiskey soon. It's 415. And yet I can't stop the pain. I fight the tears. I'm ready to slice into my gum again. I'd kill for relief.<br /><br />Fuck my Onco. I'm calling my dentist first thing in the morning.<br /><br />I don't fucking deserve this. Who does?Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-76101324453473216342007-09-06T14:02:00.000-04:002007-09-06T14:28:49.717-04:00Heaven & Hell<span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday, 9/3/07. 3 Days delay<br /><br /></span>I notice all my tongue sores, chemo & herpes, seem to be all better. Do I dare? I pop a cherry tomato in my mouth. Nuthin! No burning and I can use my tongue fully I squeal with delight. I still can't use my left side due to my temp root canal but I ask Dani to add a Brandywine to my plate. Sausage, steak fries, sliced brandywine with salt. I gleefully take a bite and do a little jig in my chair. Tomatoe. Salt. Gifts of the Gods. I'm so happy. I do my little jig each time I bite into my tomato. I'm almost me again. But not quite. Tomorrow's labs will determine that.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tuesday, 9/4/07. 4th day<br /><br /></span>I go into Lombardi around 2PM. I was stalling. Afraid of the outcome. For some reason the phlebotomist can no longer hit my veins. Takes him two sticks near my knuckles. Again, like I'm some frikken Junkie. I go home and wait. I call at 4. One to the Research RN then One to my Docs RN.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> WBC 4.9</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> ANC 3100<br /><br /></span>Back to normal. Can you believe that? ANC almost quadrupled in 4 days after struggling so long. I "get" chemo on Wednesday.<br /><br />back home and I'm ecstatic. I have a drink or two. Happier than I can remember. Dani comes home and is quite shocked at my disposition. For dinner I have a porter house, corn on the cob, and another brandywine. So beautiful to be able to eat again. I do my little jig for every bite of corn and tomato I take. Dani's a little saddened by this. She got an almost completely happy Phil yesterday and a 100% happy Phil today.<br /><br />Tomorrow, I will go away. Breaks Her heart. Makes me sad. So I say lets drink. Toast today. Tomorrow is not here. And drink we do.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday, 9/5/07. 5 days late<br /><br /></span>In for chemo at 0930. Out at 4PM. It goes off mostly without a hitch. And unpleasant Phil is back. Irritated Phil is back. Irritated while driving. Irritated at Whole Foods. Nauseated Phil is back. No appetite and I struggle to keep my food going the right way. Fucking meds don't do much but keep me from vomiting. yay. Irritated, sick, fatigued. Oh well. Such is life, eh?<br /><br />Give Dani a hug. She needs it more than I.<br /><br />Peace.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-10806504409965081132007-09-06T11:55:00.000-04:002007-09-06T12:11:54.146-04:00What The Fuck Do They Know?Saturday we go back to pick up my Magic Mouthwash and were unsuccessful. The pharmacist didn't understand one of the ingredients so they called my Doc. My Doc never returned the call so they didn't make my mouthwash. Thanks. Dani gave 'em hell and we go on our way. I call the hospital to page the on-call Onco. 3hrs pass and nothing. Guess everyone's too busy on labor day weekend, eh? I call again, explaining I've been waiting 3hrs and get a quick response.<br /><br />The on-call calls CVS then me back. Seems my Doc wanted Nystatin in my mix but didn't say how much. The on-call thought it wasn't necessay so told them to nix the Nystatin. It's an antifungal. Who the fuck is he? Some fucking resident that doesn't know shit about me. I tell him I'm on an antibiotic and an anti-viral for mouth issues. So either<br /><br />A. Maybe my doc saw something in my mouth?<br />2. Maybe my doc is worried about fungal infection since everything else is being wiped out?<br /><br />resident dumbfuck: :No. I don't think you need it.<br />Me: Thanks (asshole). click.<br /><br />I call the research RN and ask her to please get this clarified with Asatiani. She pages her and emails her. I never here back.<br /><br />Fuck it. Seems like there are too many cooks in the Kitchen, no?<br /><br />I pick up my mouthwash on Sunday. Have I told you it's not covered by insurance? $35 bucks. Works for the two weeks I need it. Couldn't eat without it. There's a new circle in hell for insurance company employees.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-32377345180015260782007-09-03T23:36:00.000-04:002007-09-04T00:27:26.183-04:00Priceless II1 Half-smoke*: $5.50<br />2 Harp Draft Beers: $13.00<br />4 Primo National seats at RFK Stadium. Donated to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society: Priceless.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img251.imageshack.us/img251/6646/1002086lx8.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img251.imageshack.us/img251/6646/1002086lx8.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img165.imageshack.us/img165/3914/1002115ev1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img165.imageshack.us/img165/3914/1002115ev1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The St. Louis hat is for Mother-in-Law. :D<br /><br />Wednesday I received an email from the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) about some donated tickets to the Friday Nats game against the Giants - first come, first serve. I shot an email back immediately and scored. They were shipped overnight. Four tickets, section 222, row 8, seats 5-8. Right behind 3rd base. $50 dollar tickets. Each. I'm not big into baseball but what is more American than a baseball game in the Capital? It's a cliche like none other.<br /><br />I hadn't seen a game since Little League. Cleveland Stadium. Bored out of my mind. Likewise, Dani hadn't seen a game since childhood and felt the same way. But I really wanted to see a game. I wanted to see one in RFK before they move to the new stadium next year. I was worried it was a chemo day but I really wanted to go. After my chemo cancellation, My onco said enjoy. Wash your hands a lot and don't eat uncooked from from any source but home. So Why not? Our friend Erin is big on baseball so we invited him along with a date. I was shocked at our view even though I looked up the seats before we got there:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img212.imageshack.us/img212/3056/1002082wt5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img212.imageshack.us/img212/3056/1002082wt5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Of course, once we found our seats I had to go get food. Gotta have a dog at a baseball game and I wasn't gonna wait for a vendor. Not for my first. And since it was DC, I opted for a half-smoke*. I was in Cliche heaven when I got back to my seat. Erin and his date had shown up by then and there we sat. He brought some crap to share and we had beer. And, surprisingly, we really enjoyed ourselves. Being that close, we felt connected to the game. It was an awesome time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img204.imageshack.us/img204/3041/1002085mg5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img204.imageshack.us/img204/3041/1002085mg5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Of course, the beer helps. And from that point on we ordered from vendors. But it wasn't boring at all. And what would a Nats game be without the Presidential Race? I fergit who won:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img402.imageshack.us/img402/9780/1002100at9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img402.imageshack.us/img402/9780/1002100at9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />followed by the Presidential-Dance-on-the-Dugout, of course (???)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img74.imageshack.us/img74/5629/1002101kg9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img74.imageshack.us/img74/5629/1002101kg9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />And a lot of the fun was hoping for foul balls from lefties. They hit all around us, one very close, but no luck<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img508.imageshack.us/img508/7919/1002108tj7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img508.imageshack.us/img508/7919/1002108tj7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />And one action shot from the pitcher:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img505.imageshack.us/img505/4521/1002122vd3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img505.imageshack.us/img505/4521/1002122vd3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />We were bummed Berry Bonds didn't play that night. We were all hoping to boo him like everyone else. How fun would that be? Oh well. The Nats lost 3-2. It was a tight game and people were leaving before the final inning. If I had seats like that, I would never leave until it was over. And we didn't. And we waited until the stadium cleared out. Why Fight? As we walked to metro we noticed a huge line. And cops holding everyone back from the metro escalators. Crowd control into metro. I thought we were fucked. But Erin, being RFK savvy, suggested we walk to the North Entrance of the same Metro stop. Sure enough, no lines. Beautiful.<br /><br />All in all a beautiful night. Dani and I had an awesome time. And we were able to forget all our troubles. And that was truly priceless. Thank you, LLS.<br /><br />*<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Half-smoke">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Half-smoke</a>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19885228.post-62215900532346730112007-09-01T09:35:00.000-04:002007-09-01T10:07:07.833-04:00What The Fuck Do I Know?Friday. Chemo Day. Yay! Dani & I arrive at 7 West at 0815 for blood draw. It's a beautiful stick. Near perfect. The Nurse draws 3 tubes, tapes the port to my arm, and we head over to Lombardi to see my Doc.<br /><br />BP 138/98. Fuck-an-A.<br /><br />I tell my Doc about my tongue/mouth woes and she takes a look. "Herpes" she says. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And a big Fuckin' hindsight "DOH"! Two of my tongue sores seemed to be getting worse the last few days. They couldn't be due to chemo. DOH! DOH! DOH! She writes me a script for Famvir (Famciclovir: anti-viral specific for herpesviridae family) and more "magic mouthwash". We go back to the waiting room. Labs aren't in yet. And no, it 'taint HSV-2, smart asses. Had an outbreak of HSV-1 once, back in Highschool. Fucker was just waiting.<br /><br />We sit and wait. I'm not sure which way it's gonna go. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of hoping. I wanna just go with the flow. The Nurse comes out:<br /><br />WBC - 2.5<br />ANC - 900.<br /><br />Chemo delayed until Wednesday. Doc says to enjoy the weekend. Probably nothing more detrimental to chemo therapy than delaying treatment once its started. But they can't risk treatment. WTF? I go back to have my port removed and we leave. Dani's quite upset. I don't know if I care anymore.<br /><br />Fuck it.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03513090488959429654noreply@blogger.com0