Dog Park, Walking 1 Mile

I've been sticking to the plan: walking further everyday, focusing on my physical therapy and getting healthier. Today we went for a big walk to the dog park in the Common then walked home via Charles Street, roughly 1 mile. It felt good to walk and, though I think I overdid it, walking a full mile was reassuring!

My mom left and she passed the baton to my sisters which has really been a treat. We've been having fun making puzzles and hanging out. The picture posted above is from the dog park in the Common.

Thanks to everyone who sent me advice on hemorrhoids. However, in my last posting I was actually asking for suggestions on how to take pain medication. I think only Zac (aka zBlikes) got the joke, and yes.. you're supposed to bump them; that's what the addicts do.

Going for another walk!

Couch-bound and Sedated

Of late, I've been spending a lot of my time couch-bound. I lie on my back, my wonderful wife and mother attend to my every need, and I can feel my body getting weak. Tonight I made a pledge to get up everyday and go for a walk so that one day I will be strong enough to go on a trip, wheelchair and cane free. (Though waking up the puppy will break my heart!)

I'm also so over pain killers. My stomach kills, my belly gurgles, I can't poop and when I do it's loose. I can't believe people get hooked on this shit! If only they knew! Maybe I'm doing this wrong.. any suggestions? Today I sent my mom to buy Preparation H.

Port Pictures & Banana Milkshakes

On Monday we took off the steri-strips from my port incisions. That felt great! For a week now it had felt like someone was pushing their thumb into the right side of the neck. You can imagine this feeling getting old pretty fast.

The incision seems to have healed nicely and now I have a cool scar to show off during the summer. If you look carefully at the picture below you can see the catheter which extends from the port starting in the center of the scar, traversing vertically over my collar bone and into my neck. At this point the catheter enters my jugular vein and curves downward until it terminates in the superior vena cava, just upstream of the right atrium of my heart. Pretty cool!

The past couple days have been filled with waves of clarity countered by waves of nausea / dizziness. I liken the feeling to a manic pendulum. I wake up in the morning and feel like running three miles and then I stand up and lie back down. I sit at my desk and shuffle paperwork and then I get really lightheaded and have to retire. Even so, everyday is getting a little bit better and everyday I'm getting a little bit stronger.

My appetite has changed. I really like plain foods, nothing too complicated. My mom has been keeping me going on banana milkshakes. Tea and chicken broth makes my mouth salivate. I've lost 10 pounds already so I'm at half my goal... haha.

Independence Day

On the Forth of July, in addition to an afternoon surprise visit from David Spiegel, my parents, Autumn, Benson and I rolled down Revere Street to watch the Boston Pops Fireworks Spectacular (what a name!). We found a little piece of grass along the Charles River and listened to the concert on the radio while we watched the synchronized spectacular.

It was really beautiful and we found primo seats, despite not having to tailgate at 4 am. The show was amazing and my dad took some great pictures (see above). Afterwards my dad rolled me up Beacon Hill (it's about a 25° grade) with Autumn and my Mom helping by pushing his back. I wish I had a picture of that!

It was nice to go out on the Fourth of July. This year was the first year in several that I can remember actually going out to see fireworks. In past years I was either moving or at somebody's house party, but not on the lawn watching fireworks.

One year in San Diego, Autumn and I were unloading my car and bringing the various items that cars tend collect back to my apartment: bike, groceries, dry cleaning. We got into the elevator with very full hands to start the journey up 2 flights to my home. As the door closed, it bumped Autumn's hand, already turning red from carrying heavy dry cleaning hangars, and knocked my apartment keys out of her grip. In slow motion the keys fell to the ground, balanced in the gap between the elevator and the floor, then fell through into the elevator shaft.

Appropriately armed with wire hangars, along with a very inebriated army cadet (San Diego remember), we fished the keys off the elevator shaft floor and saved the day. The cadet was so excited he yelled, "Let's go Celebrate! Mother F*#ker," ran out the door and Autumn and I could hear fireworks chasing his path.

ChemoCuts and Costco

Today I was feeling a bit better so we went out on a little family outing. First we cruised by SuperCuts for my ChemoCut and then we went to Costco; what else would I do with my parents?

The haircut felt great, but, really more than the haircut, the shower after the haircut was amazing. I've been very fatigued lately and even the act of rinsing shampoo through my "once long" hair was an arduous task. I feel better prepared for this fight with my new cut.

At Costco I was given an electric cart to shop around; though I must admit the electric carts are vastly more entertaining when inappropriately obtained. Regardless it was much better than hobbling around with my cane or being pushed around in my wheelchair, the other modes of transportation.

Samples didn't taste the same and I soon ended up retiring back to car.

It was still nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air. Today was a better day than yesterday!

Aftermath of Round One

For the past couple days I've been avoiding my computer, ipad, blackberry, saving me the embarrassment of having to explain why there are specks of digested food stuck in the crevices of my various devices. More than anything (and I've been trying to pin this down for awhile now), I have felt nauseous during the days following chemotherapy.

I sit up in bed and get nauseous. I get up to go to the restroom and get nauseous. I go upstairs and get nauseous. I sit at the kitchen table and get nauseous. We walk outside and I get nauseous. Everything smells different and makes me nauseous: my breath, kisses from my wife, hugs from my family.

I spoke to my Aunt Rose who is on her 6th Round of chemotherapy. She told me, "You know what they say about getting old? This shit ain't easy." Aunt Rose is so strong! I wonder if chemotherapy is easier to go through when you're older. When you're older more people are dependent on you; whereas when you're younger, you're still dependent on others. Kill the queen bee and the entire hive dies; kill a worker bee and, well, life goes on.

For me I have my Autumn and hopes that my frozen sperm will one day grow into a beautiful family. I also have me my friends and family, who may not directly depend on me, do worry about me very much. These are my dependents that keep me going.

Round 1 - Penthouse Suites, Talking Ragtime

I'm pleased to report that the MGH Onocology facilities encompass the advertised spa-like atmosphere (though i did have a little inside help with my expectations). The image above is the view out my penthouse suite window overlooking the Charles River. Additionally, today I got a reflexology foot massage from some nice lady and throughout the day I received visits from social workers, case managers and other supporting divisions to make my stay and my family's stay more comfortable. Everyone one here at MGH has been top notch and super helpful.

Chemotherapy, although failing my expectations as a Clockwork Orange nightmare, is definitely not a walk in the park. The nurses basically force feed poision into your body for 3-6 hours while you sit on a hospital bed slowly getting sicker and sicker. The regiment I'm on is called AIM (which is a combination of Adriamycin, Ifosfamide and Mesna). Adriamycin, commonly referred to as the "red devil," is so caustic to the skin that the nurses must wear long gowns and thick gloves; yet for some reason it's okay to be forced through my port. Ifosfamide is another weird drug that has been the bane of my existence here at MGH. The first night my Ifosfamide was delivered too fast and my doctor quoted me "talking ragtime." I was disoriented / confused, and had hallucinations, along with apparently saying weird things. Finally, Mesna is not a chemotherapy drug. Instead, Mesna is our friend and protects my bladder from developing inflammations from the poisons.

Chemotherapy has been a roller coaster. For a moment I feel fine and energetic, and then the next moment I feel completely powerless and zapped of all energy. I can feel the chemotherapy medicine attacking all the areas of my tumors. My back aches, my legs ache. I lie in bed helpless waiting for the medicine to finish attacking the foreign material. When it's all passed, I feel fine again and ready for the next obstacle. I guess that means it's working :)

Due to my talking ragtime on Day 1 and my low-grade fever Day 2, they're going to hold me overnight and discharge me tomorrow, even though i just finished receiving my third and final chemotherapy treatment for this cycle.

Round 1 is complete!