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[Nov. 15th, 2009|08:11 am] |
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Ok, all the cancer crap is being moved - family and friends are innundating me with crap and there are some things in this LJ they don't need to see and I don't want to link them here. All future cancer crap posts will be located here: http://ahnolds-babies.livejournal.com/profile. Feel free to friend me over there; everything will be public. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|03:54 pm] |
The MRI with contrast showed 10 lesions scattered throughout my brain. The CT scan with contrast showed multiple pulmonary (lung) masses new from 4/2008. It also showed a 16cm ovarian cyst which may or may not be related to metastasis, but it doesn't bother me at all and, frankly, the head shit is more important than the lung shit is more important than the ovarian shit. My brother Michael is coming over around noon to shave my head down to stubble * - and, really, there is nothing less attractive than a bald pasty white chick. :p
The steroid they're giving me to shrink the edema around the brain lesions raises blood sugar as a side effect so they're keeping me at least overnight to monitor that, perhaps through to Monday morning, at which point I'll probably hang out at gramma's for a couple of days until I can manage 3 flights of stairs. I'm not dizzy or nauseous anymore but I am awfully weak so am cruising around with a walker - not for support, just to make sure I don't fall over.
Let's see....oh, yes, drugs. Ambien to knock me out and sleep; ativan is now my go-to "I don't give a shit" drug and my first does is. BRILLIANT. :D Oh, and an anti-ulcer drug (something like prilosec or pepcid or something). They're talking about an eventual oral chemo for the lung stuff, too, but not sure on that yet - they keep asking me if I'm short of breath but I smoke so it's hard to answer that question.
Oh, and. Ever been so drunk that the only way to deal with it was to lie on your cold tile floor in the bathroom to stop the room from spinning? Yeah, that's what Thursday morning was like but....times 1000. Do you have any idea how hard that is to explain to medical professionals when their response to "Ever been drunk" is NO? Christ. Like talking to children, I tell you.
That's about it, I think; more later if I think of something.
*and some fresh air (aka cigarettes) :D |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|07:40 pm] |
I can tell you *what* happened; but I'm the day on a million tests to find out the why. It's not a pretty story.
Sometime between 3a and 5a on Thursday morning I woke up drenched in sweat and needed to vomit likerightnow. So I got out of bed and headed for the toilet only I couldn't stand properly - at all, really. I made it halfway before I fell into a bookcase and crawled the rest of the way to the bathroom, tried and failed to vomit, then decided I needed to shit. Hauled myself up onto the throne which is when my body decided it needed to vomit, after all. Passed out/fell asleep. Back off the pot, flushed, vomited again while draped over the toilet. Passed out again. Got sore in that position so I tried to sit up against the bathroom wall. Vomited again. Passed out again. Couldn't stand up, couldn't crawl. I started to hear people in the hall leaving for work. The front door was 3 feet away - way, way too far for me to move. Had I been able I'd have stuck my head out the door and asked someone to call for an ambulance. Worked my way to my phone a foot at a time - I'd push myself along the floor about a foot; vomit; brace myself against the wall; pass out. Finally made it to the phone and called 911, who sent fire and paramedics over. At this point I was half-naked - remember, had been sleeping, and only had on a tshirt, and there I am lying sprawled across the floor of the kitchen. Fucking embarrassing, but fire and rescue couldn't' have been more kind despite the fact there are some things no one needs to see. When they showed up I asked them what time it was, thinking it was 8 or 9 am. No. It was fucking NOON. It took me 6-7 hours to get from the toilet to my phone, 10 feet away.
By this time at least the vomiting stopped but as I sit here typing this my stomach feels like it's done too many situps. My apartment is on the 3rd floor and there's no lift, of course (this is going to be an issue when it comes to discharging me; I can barely walk down the fucking hallway just now), so they brought me down the stairs on a chair thing for my very first amublance ride. It wasn't nearly as exciting as it should have been; probably because I was afraid I'd puke again if I opened my eyes.
Gave me an IV and something to stop the nausea, thank science. And a CT scan. Slept for 4 hours in the ER while they took care of people in worse shape than me, slept another couple of hours - dozed, really - which means I was up all night and am sort of running on fumes right now, but I've convinced them to give me something to sleep hard tonight.
CT scan shows three weird things. I've just been fitted for this plastic mesh death mask thing that'll hold my head still for radiation treatments. Later today I'll have an MRI to mo' bettah show off my head and another CT to see where it's spread besides my arms and brain. Oh, and we didn't know about the brain until I fell over yesterday morning, that's why.
Will probably update more later; a lot has happened the last 24 hours but it almost seems like a lot more is going to happen. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|10:40 pm] |
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I'm in the fucking hospital again. Shit. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 22nd, 2008|07:57 pm] |
Imagine a conversation between Barack Obama and Jed Bartlett. It would probably include a sentence like this:
"Because the idea of American exceptionalism doesn’t extend to Americans being exceptional. If you excelled academically and are able to casually use 690 SAT words then you might as well have the press shoot video of you giving the finger to the Statue of Liberty while the Dixie Chicks sing the University of the Taliban fight song. The people who want English to be the official language of the United States are uncomfortable with their leaders being fluent in it."
Go on, you know you want to read the rest of it: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/opinion/21dowd-sorkin.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 14th, 2008|05:50 pm] |
And, suddenly, a potential Obama-Edwards ticket materializes.
The H word never fails to disappoint me. |
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| Help me, fellow LJ nerds. |
[May. 14th, 2008|05:41 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
The stupid "snap preview" thingie pisses me right the fuck off and I can't figure out how to disable it. Help? |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 10th, 2008|11:45 pm] |
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I want a pronto pup. |
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| They're going to jam a needle into my neck! |
[Apr. 15th, 2008|05:12 pm] |
Thursday morning, for a biopsy, to see why the glowing bit has gotten larger since October. The oncologist is confused because there are lymph nodes that should have lit up between my arm and my jaw.
I just can't get over the idea that they're going to jam a needle in my neck. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 14th, 2008|04:54 pm] |
I'm sitting here watching the NBC Nightly News and they just aired a thing about crawfish farming.
What? Crawfish farms? They use seahorses to round up the little mudbugs? Lasso them with cattail leaves and feed them pond scum?
Crawfish farms? The hell? People buy a swamp for the sole purpose of catching things we used to play with in our creek? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 7th, 2008|12:55 am] |
In other news, today really sucked. The last two weeks have sucked, really - just incredibly insanely busy at work and I simply haven't the energy to deal with things as I used to.
Today a black man the size of your front door walked in, stood at my desk, and cried. He had a job and child and a house until he tore up his knee playing fucking basketball. Lost the job - not eligible for workman's comp, of course - lost the house, kept the daughter. Relocated to take advantage of job retraining possibilities (big, physical-labor types often don't type or file). In an iffy, very complicated living situation and the mention of the word "shelter" brought on fresh tears...umtil his girlfriend and daughter walked in and he had to man up. The first disability claim is always, ALWAYS denied, but he had a telephone interview lined up for Tuesday for the appeal. Which would have been fine except their telephone was cut off yesterday.
Last straw, so he had to ask for help and cry.
Fuck. |
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| Interesting/hopeful/encouraging. |
[Mar. 6th, 2008|08:08 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  intrigued | ] |
Anyone who has read this for any length of time knows that I'm financially fucked, but I think I just got a fairy godmother. Who is trying to play it off as me doing HER a favor, but I know better.
K is essentially my sister's "stepsister" without the whole blended family crap - a really really good friend +. K has done daycare for a long time but is looking to do it outside her own home and this morning looked at a 4BR house.
Tonight she asked me if I'd essentially be a live-in caretaker without any actual care-taking responsibilities. HER version is that she doesn't want to worry about the house being empty on evenings, weekends, or holidays. MY version is that she and Rebecca have been evilly plotting.
I agreed, of course, because I'm not completely stupid.
Let's just call me.... |
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| $4,000 |
[Feb. 9th, 2008|06:28 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  I think I'm about done now. | ] |
That's how much it'll cost, minimum, to make my teeth stop hurting. That includes five extractions, two root canals, and two crowns. The dentist at first made some noises regarding doing some stuff to save my teeth but when I said I had stage III melanoma and was more worried about making the pain stop than I was about saving my teeth he got really quiet, thought for a minute, and gave me a referral to an oral surgeon for the yanking (because of possible interferon complications and due to the number of extractions needed). The root canals and crowns will give support to a future partial bridge. I also got a referral to a periodontist to see why I'm losing so much bone in my jaw.
Oh, and it cost me $80 for them to tell me this.
Shit. |
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| I never-ever-ever do this |
[Jan. 16th, 2008|02:18 am] |
But I'm feeling particularly vulnerable right now so what follows is a draft of my February column and I really, really need some constructive criticism. Don't be shy but, also, don't be cruel. My limit is ~750 words and this is at 784 so surgical editing is appropriate.
( Jane, you ignorant slut. ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 12th, 2008|05:21 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  relieved | ] |
My father kicked off yesterday.
Fiction tells me that there was supposed to have been some sort of sobbing reconciliation but, to be honest, the first thing that went through my head was, "Thank god. Now no one's going to harass me about reconciling with that dickhead anymore."
Well, ok, that's not true. The *first* thought that went through my head when the hospice nurse called me at work was, "Oh, come on, there are two people in front of me and a crazyman former tenant on the telephone; can you hold on for a minute, please?"
The SECOND thought was, "Hm, I need to tell my boss I'll likely need some time off for a funeral to which I really don't want to go in the first place..."
So, I guess my first thought was really my third count, but math is hard and my memory is shot. |
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| Sooo....an update, yes? |
[Dec. 7th, 2007|08:37 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  tired | ] |
Interferon. She sucka da assa.
The actual treatments are a piece of cake. I show up at the Coborns Cancer Clinic around 3:30, check in, have a seat, flip on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, get my PICC hooked up to an IV, get some anti-nausea stuff, flip to Judge Judy, get the interferon, get yet another layer of Tagoderm (brilliant stuff, by the way) on top of the PICC, go home.
That's when the sucking starts.
Sometime between 8pm and 10pm I'll get a temperature around 101F; some nights are better than others and there's really no rhyme or reason to it. Last week it gave me TREMENDOUS headaches around my eyes - every time I moved my eyeballs my head would hurt. This week I don't have headaches but I'm tremendously tired. TIRED. Like, walking 20 feet to the toilet at work ensures I just sit there for a while.
Oh, right, the toilet - new best friend. Freakin' diarrhea.
Also, I'm really tired. And I don't give a shit. About anything, really. I'm just tired. Today my knees just decided they'd rather wobble than walk; they're tired, too.
Luckily I only get this shit on weekdays so I have the weekend to recover; if I got this shit daily I'm pretty sure I'd just go to bed and stay there. Because I'm tired, have I mentioned that? |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 4th, 2007|06:36 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | annoyed | ] |
Sis just forwarded me a very long email, the general gist of which is, "Cut out coffee, chocolate, cigarettes, dairy products, sugar, and red meat and you'll never get cancer."
At this point I would like to reiterate my favorite piece of advice this far, to wit:
When offered the advice "Do this, or your're gonna die," I think you owe it to yourself to really consider both options. |
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| My god I love showers. |
[Nov. 23rd, 2007|11:24 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  happy | ] |
I mean, LOVE. Reallyreallyreally love. I didn't realize how much I loved showers. I think I love showers more than I love orgasms.
Srsly.
I couldn't take one while I had the hand grenade stuck in me and now that's out (after the infection and before the "will probably have to aspirate the 'lemon' that'll form under your arm with a needle" warning) I took my first one tonight after a month of fucking washcloths + basin.
Love. Lovelovelove.
Also, certain members of this loverly place deserve much love and thanks. Well, most of you. All of you? Something like that. I'm just spreading the love. Because showers are brilliant. LOVE. More than the percocet. |
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