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| Go fuck yourself, you fucking piece of shit year motherfucker. I didn't need a wake up call. I already felt myself lucky. I love my family. I have amazing friends. I fulfilled a dream of going to art school and living in NYC. I enjoy my job. I finally got a real apartment by myself. I actually have enough to make rent and even travel a bit. I finally felt like I was hitting my stride until you sucker punched me. So, fuck you.
I dunno what this was all for, but I've had a long time to think about it. And there really is no sense in thinking about it anymore. I have a million things I wanna do when I get my strength back. I just want to be healthy. I wanna leave all the bad vibes and anguish in the toilet of 2007 and flush it. I'm really sick of carrying this baggage and I fear that it's something you can't just drop.
Nurse Diane told me what the end of this whole ordeal will be like. She said that it's like the end of Lord of the Rings when all the hobbits are seeing Bilbo off on the ship. The hobbits are all happy that they are home and that they are all together and that they survived a harrowing adventure, but then Frodo tells them that he is leaving as well. After everything he'd been through, he couldn't go back to how things were. The life that was led before is gone. A part of me is on a ship that is leaving.
But, unlike 'ol Frodo, a part of me is still gonna stick around and kick it with you foolish hobbits. And, for those who scoff at this analogy, screw you. It's brilliant and it's LOTR.
CHRISTMAS CANCELLED
I had surgery almost 30 days ago. Seems like 30 years ago. I am going a bit stir crazy.
Recovery has been going good. The Sarlacc continues to shrink. The wound is about 1/4 the size it was at first and there is less pain when I replace the gauze. The bleeding is way down as well.
The 2 weeks after surgery were miserable. The only thing worse than the wound was my innards trying to get going again. After 6 months of the inactivity, my colon was like an old car trying to kick into 1st gear. I will condense a lengthy description of those weeks into one sentence: Passing switchblades covered in battery acid 10-15 times a day.
My sleep clock is fucked. I go to sleep anywhere from 4am to 7am. I wake up around 1ish- 2ish. I try to leave the apartment once a day and it's weird stepping out for the first time when it's dark. I go to sleep when its dark and venture out when it's dark. It's like a neverending night. I really need to be more ambitious and leave my place during the day.
The other night, I tried to get to sleep at a decent hour so I drank a glass of wine to make me sleepy. Of course, I stayed up until 5:30am. Again. Maybe I'll try a Vicoden and a glass of wine.
I didn't make it home for the holidays. I had planned to go down the weekend before, but didn't know if I was well enough to travel. I decided the not to and a wise choice it was. The weekend before Xmas ended up being miserable and I can't even imagine how I would have survived on a train or on the NJ turnpike. So I stayed in NY.
On Christmas Eve, I made the decision to try and see a movie in the theaters. I was very nervous about it since I hadn't been away from my apartment for more than an hour at a time since surgery. I'm almost embarrassed by feeling so afraid to go see The Golden Compass for fear of losing "control", but that was the situation. I decided to up the ante by buying popcorn and a soda, not knowing how fast it was gonna go through me. Yeah thats right. I live on the edge, bitches. I ended up having to go the bathroom twice and as luck would have it was the most important parts; the exposition scene and the ending. So I really can't say if the movie was any good or not. Eye candy fo sho, but I was lost regarding the story.
Not that big into Christmas anyway. It's really quite a fraudulent holiday that has been recycled from previous religions. But, if its the one time that good cheer is generously distributed, who am I to bah humbug?
BACK IN THE SADDLE
I went back to work yesterday. I was nervous about it, but the day went ok. I ended up staying until 9pm and didn't mind at all. Feels good to be productive again. Had to go to the bathroom a lot which was annoying, but onward and upward.
I went to Mish and John's for NYE. We had dinner and watched TV with Margie and Teddy, who stopped by later. I went home at 12:30am and passed out. Woke up around 3am and was on the throne for an excruciating couple of hours. I think I ate way too much.
The Jeembo and gang are in town from Canada. Been great hanging out with them as I ease back into having a glass of wine or two. We went to eat on St. Marks tonight and watched National Treasure 2. Ridiculous movie, but entertaining.
TO INFINITY AND BEYOND
Occasionally, I look back at my past entries just to see how far I've come from diagnosis. I cringe at the overly upbeat tone of my early entries. Reading some of them reminds me how much in denial I was in those early days. How in shock I was. How much I was scared of what was gonna happen. I think that I am in shock even now. There will come a time when it will be easier not to remember 2007, but all I have to do is look at the scar along my stomach to be reminded of what 2007 was. I hope that scar will remind me not of all the pain and uncertainty of treatment, but the family that was there for me, the friends that stepped way up, and the doctors and nurses that found a way to save me.
I have a CT Scan in mid-January and a colonscopy in February. I imagine those will be my last 2 blog entries. With any luck, it will all be good news.
I don't know what the year would have been like without everyone's support, but I'm glad I didn't have to find out. My buddy, the gentleman Rob Dundas, once told me that a man is lucky if he can count his friends on one hand. I would have to take all my clothes off to count to 21 and I still wouldn't have enough appendages to count the friends that stepped up for me. There are few things more humbling than the strength of the people you love pushing you through the days you didn't think you'd make it.
Thank you everyone for all the positive vibes this year. Gimme a shout and let's catch up.
Big love, y'all. Like really a lot.
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| MONDAY
I decided to shave my head the day before surgery. Haven't had my hair this short in years. Guess I just wanted to wake up from surgery clean and ready for a fresh start.
So a little background on what was done in the first surgery and what the second surgery was all about... In June, they took out about 8 inches of my colon and connected the new end to what was left of my rectum. In order to give this new modification time to heal, they had to divert my fecal stream. This was achieved by pulling my small intestine through a hole they cut in my stomach and slicing and folding the intestine end to the hole in the stomach. The fecal stream would then empty into an external plastic pouch that I had to apply every couple of days. I won't get into the whole process of maintaining this device, but I will say that it is absolutely surreal. There were times when I thought I was both figuratively and literally, losing my shit. You almost don't feel human. I tried to get myself out the apartment every once in a while to see movie or a band, but I've laid pretty low since June. Forget dating. The only thing less sexy than telling someone you have cancer is that you poop in a bag attached to your stomach.
This surgery was to reconnect the plumbing so to speak.
TUESDAY
I was to get to the hospital by 5:30am the day of surgery. There's something serenely tranquil about a hospital that early. At least for that day. There wasn't a sea of people waiting and I got processed pretty quickly. The feeling of dread I felt before my first surgery was pleasantly missing, but the nervousness was still there. The anesthesiologist introduces himself and I get tubed up and the lights go out.
I wake up in the recovery room without the drama of last time. My dad is there when I wake up having arrived from DC by bus. The attending nurse asked if I was in pain to which I replied yes. Ten on a scale of 1-10. She gives me a shot of morphine and asks me again 15 minutes later. Ten on a scale of 1-10. Another shot of morphine. 15 minutes later she asks again. Ten. She tells me that I have a button I can push to inject myself, so I push it. 15 minutes later she asks again. Ten. This goes on several more times and by the time my pain starts to go down, she tells my that I've taken 15 shots of two kinds of painkillers. Woof.
I finally get a room a couple of hours later and I settle in with a roommate that snores. Great. My eyes start drying out from the morphine pretty quickly. Hard to sleep. Trying to read, but can't focus. Tried watching Shakespeare in Love on my laptop. What a shite movie. I can't believe it won best picture. Got a little over halfway through it and decided that I would rather hear my roommate snore. Every couple hours or so a nurse comes in to take my vitals. No rest for the wicked.
WEDNESDAY
The next morning one of the attending surgeons comes in with the resident surgeons. He replaces the dressing on my wounds while the others watch, murmur and nod. It fucking hurt. Peeps start dropping by to visit and the entire floor is enamored with my niece. My roommate gets discharged and I finally have the room to myself and actually get a good amount of sleep that night.
THURSDAY
The Grey's Anatomy crew is in again first thing in the morning and my wound dressing is changed again. Ouch. I get a new roommate. Damn. More peeps stop by and my niece owns the floor. Just my luck: the new roommate snores! Not much sleep that night.
FRIDAY
The Grey's Anatomy crew show up bright and early, but this time I suggest changing my own dressing since I have to do it when I get home anyway. WOOF. It's a big fucking hole. Boba Fett met his end in there. My eyes are killing me. And, to top it all off, my alcoholic roommate starts to go through bad withdrawal and starts going apeshit. He pulls tubes from his arm and threatens to walk out several times. The day is pretty much filled with him yelling at the nurses and then the psychiatric department trying to calm him down. By early evening, I've had it. I tell the nurseses that I need to get the hell outta there and they agree. I assure them that I am ready to get discharged and the miraculously let me go as my roommate continues to wage war on the staff. Woot.
WEEKEND
So good to be home. Finally get copious amounts of sleep. Start eating more. Just soups so far. My sister and niece left Friday and my dad stayed through Monday. Supremely reassuring having my family by my side.
Thank you everyone for the hospital visits, phone calls, emails, and text messages. They all went a long way to remind that I wasn't alone.
THE DAILY
So this surgery entailed reconnecting the small intestine again and sewing up the deep abdominal tissue. However, when it came to the outer tissue of the hole, they are going to leave it open to close up by itself. The reason being that since the tissue was in contact with the fecal stream, if they sewed it up, it would get infected. The hole is about 4-5 inches wide and about 1.5-2 inches deep. And, its fucking gnarly. Kinda like the Sarlacc in Return of the Jedi with less teeth/tentacles and more blood.
I have to change the dressing for it everyday by loading it with wet gauze and then covering that with dry gauze and tape. It's the opposite of a pleasant procedure and I dread it everyday. It fucking hurts. I try to imagine that I am the Terminator performing maintenance on his eye, but he didn't have any pain receptors so he had a bit of an advantage.
So thats where I'm at now. They told me that after 3 weeks, most of the hole will have closed up and will look like a bad scrape. It should take 2 more weeks after that to heal up. The new "plumbing" is working out the kinks and isn't pleasant either, but if I've learned nothing else, I've learned that patience is a motherfucking virtue.
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| Can't believe its December. The year definitely hasn't gone by fast, but I'm glad we're at the end. I have surgery tomorrow to reconnect the plumbing. This is a procedure that I'm actually looking forward to. I will be in the hospital for about 3 days and will be recovering for pretty much the whole month of December. I ate what will most likely be my last meal for a week a few hours ago. Tamarind fish from Isle Thai. Should have gotten John's Pizza. Liquid diet for the next few days.
Up until this week, I felt like the end of the road would be this surgery. And, while it is a huge step forward, it's certainly not the end. I have a CT scan in January and another colonoscopy in February. Beyond that, I will be having regular checkups for years afterwards, so its gonna take some getting used to.
I imagine cancer will always be in the back of mind and just over my shoulder. The optimistic part of me thinks that my oncologists got the motherfucker, but the pessimistic side of me will always be concerned that it could return. I asked my surgeon how long the tumor was growing inside me before I was diagnosed and he said that judging by the size of it, probably 2 years. 2 fucking years. I've wondered a million times this past year what could have been if it was caught as a polyp 2 years ago. Or even a year ago. Ask that question enough times and you start to get a lil crazy.
Thanks everyone for all your positive vibes and good vibrations. I haven't been updating the blog as much since chemo is over and I'm just trying to get back to normal. I definitely have more energy this past month and my appetite is making a comeback. The port incision still feels weird and I feel like the big incision that runs the length of my stomach is gonna be tight for a while.
Gonna get my poorly maintained mohawk chopped today. Its too fucking cold to have one anyhoo.
Unsolicited movie reviews:
Beowulf
DOPE: IMAX 3D is pretty crazy. Ridiculous virtual camera shots. If this is the future of cinema, sign me up. Skip the regular screenings. Find yo monkey ass an IMAX theater and a batch of "brownies". The detail achieved by the CGI crew was pretty stellar.
NOPE: CGI was also kinda bad. It doesn't seem like there has been a huge jump in overall finesse. There were times when you thought you were just watching someone play an XBOX game. Never read Beowulf, so I dunno what suffered in the adaptation, but the story didn't really grab me.
The Mist
DOPE: Solid flick. Not so much for the monsters, but really for the examination of the human condition when faced with crisis. Ending was DOH!
NOPE: Thomas Jane reminds me of Christopher "Highlander" Lambert.
Control
DOPE: Beautifully framed shots and great restraint in the edit giving a glimpse of post-punk pioneers, Joy Division.
NOPE: Ian Curtis was kind of a douche bag. Boo fucking hoo. You became a rockstar just like you wanted. Deal with it.
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| I got my port removed today. I've had it in since March and its gonna be weird not feeling the big bump on my right chest. I guess it was weirder to have that bump in my chest for so long. When I got it placed this past March, they knocked me out and I woke up modified.
Today, I was awake for the removal procedure. They gave me a local anesthesia which burrrrrned. They then proceeded to slice the port out. After almost a year, the port got pretty attached and they had to loosen and slice it away from my fibrous tissue. The sensation was really strange and I'm glad I had my head turned. The weirdom continued as they sewed me back up. The tugging of the stitching was felt, but didn't hurt. Just some really strange pressure that would have hurt like fuck if I didn't have the local.
The numb juice has all but worn off and its starting to hurt. But, not nearly as bad as the installation fiasco. I hope I don't turn weird in my sleep tonight and aggravate it.
Been givin the new Killers album a listen. Sounds more like their first album, which is a good thing. Been caning Shadowplay all day. Heavy shades of Joy Division.
Also discovered Younger Brother recently. Ribbon On A Branch is a superb Pink Floyd-esque dreamscape.
I know I'm like 4 years late, but I finally watched season 1 of Lost. Some good shit. It ain't no Battlestar Galactica, but it's pretty darn good. The 2 people I think need to be punched in the face the most is Michael and Charlie. Best two pieces of booty bread are Kate and Sun for a Sexy Ben Sammich.
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| I can't believe its November already. Back in March when Dr. Martz mapped out the treatment plan I was like, "How many rounds of chemo?" Never thought I'd get here, but its pretty nice that I don't have to dread going in for the drip or the pump. Hopefully forever.
Big hugs all around at the chemo suite on my last day. I can't imagine having a job where you take care of people knowing that some of them won't make it. Somehow they find a way to smile and provide comfort and care day in/day out. Truly a special group of gals.
Nurse Diane was my homegirl this whole year. We bonded over music and she was a rockstar every week I came in. I gave her a Jimmy Page action figure and she flipped. She rocks harder than he does.
I got surgery scheduled Dec. 4th. I was begging for it to be sooner, but the Martz wants me to fully recover from chemo before I go under the knife again. Speaking of the knife, I'm finally getting my medi-port removed in 2 weeks. When I got it placed back in March, I ended up in the emergency room and in the hospital for 2 days. Hopefully, it will be smoother sailing this time around.
Man, I'm so ready to get the fuck outta 2007. I can't wait to have a beer. I can't wait to go out dancing. I can't wait to get back in the gym. I can't wait to run around with my niece and nephew. I can't wait to not feel so goddamn weak. I can't wait to see everyone I've lost touch with. I can't wait to go on a bad date. I can't wait to sip some scotch. I can't wait to play some ball. I can't wait to see the world.
And finally, big ups to my boy Eric on his new adventures in LA. Thanks for being there for me, bro. You've been a fucking rock this whole year and I will forever be grateful.
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