Fun taste

When I think about an upcoming chemo treatment, my mouth immediately tastes like it does when I receive the drugs--it is not a pleasant taste. 

A mix of what I imagine sewage, shit, and toxic chemicals would taste like.

Fuck.

Perspective and a man named Jim

The idea that perspective is harder to come by or grasp while fighting your own battle is bullshit. 

Sure, it's easy for me to get caught up in my own little world--to forget temporarily that other people in this world, even people I know, would love to switch places with me. Easy to focus on negatives, to get lost in my "problems."

Thankfully, it's also easy to be slapped in the face with a dose of reality. 

I have it so god damn good. 

There's a man named Jim in Texas. He's a good friend of one of my brothers. I don't know him or his wife that well personally, but I know enough about them both to respect them greatly. 

I know enough about Jim to call him a seriously bad mofo. One of the toughest people I know. Miles tougher than I am. 

This is Jim

I know enough about him to call him a hero, and someone I look up to. 

He's been battling Leukemia for years, and is in Texas taking part in a clinical trial that will bring him back to health--but that's the least interesting thing about him. 

He's a Spartan. A great friend. Has two beautiful kids and a lovely wife. I've been the recipient of their generosity. My family has too, as I'm positive they attended one of the many events held for my Mother. They are positive, enthusiastic, tough in the face of challenges--and toughest in the face of the hill they're going to climb now.

I don't know him all that well, but I know all I need to. 

The man is strong, and he can't lose. 

I'm not trying to preach or be virtuous--which I'm certainly not. I'm talking to myself here too.

It isn't that you don't have problems, or that your problems aren't significant. You do, and they are. It just doesn't hurt, occasionally, to be reminded that someone out there doesn't have it as good as you do at the moment. 

And they are the one still smiling.

Go get em, man.

It's been a while...and the best holiday of the year is tomorrow.

Again, I've been a bit absent from the blog recently--but I'm back. 

I'm getting in to the "dog days" of treating this it seems--so days where I'm feeling expressive and creative happen a bit less often. Still, I'm doing well. 

As expected, the chemo weeks are rough, and the off weeks are tolerable. The chemo weeks are getting a bit rougher as they accumulate, and I'm starting to wonder if it isn't more mental than physical. I do my best not to let myself "dread" the way I expect to feel after a treatment, but I'm finding that task more difficult as we go on. 

That being said, I really do believe the symptoms and side effects are only at their worst if I dread them--so my best is just going to have to get better. 

Having cancer sucks. Letting worries about having it consume you is worse. On that front, I'm still winning.

Also... 

THANKSGIVING IS TOMORROW.

yup. 

This is important, because it is the best holiday there is. Period. 

It's Christmas without the stress or expense. It's family, food, football and sleep. It's perfection. 

My family is a bit spread out this year, which is allowing me to do something I've always wanted to do, but never have...go to the Lions Thanksgiving Day game! 

My brother, sister in-law, and nephew will be there to watch the Motor City Kitties beat the piss out of the Bears. 

It will be glorious. 

Lions gameday...and butt-chin Brady

I've been a little absent from the blog this week. 

Won't sugarcoat it---it's been a pretty terrible week. Can't tell if I caught some kind of bug, or if the effects of treatment really are getting much worse. Either way, it's been awful. Still is, but I'm slowly improving (I hope). Complaining about it changes nothing, though, so....

THE LIONS PLAY TOM BRADY TODAY. 

Tom Brady. 

This guy.

This guy.

This guy.

THIS GUY. AHHHHHHHHH. 

The only thing that rivals my love of the Lions is my hatred for Tom Brady and the Patriots. 

Huge game today...let's go. 

And fuck cancer. 

Griswold

Dragged my ass out of bed to go get in a better bed--one that I can share with my pup for a while.

Nothin' makes me feel better than him.

I'm lucky.

Today was no fun. 

Still, I know how lucky I am. 

I've got it good. I really do.

I'm here. I'm being treated. I'll get better.

I even have a little bit of a beard, however pathetic, remaining on my face.

Who's got it better than me? 

Lastly, Jim Lough. You're my hero. 

Correction

The meme on my last post was incredibly whiney. So much so that as editor, I'm demanding a retraction/correction. Yes it'll be embarrassing for our newsroom, but they'll deal with it. 

Yesterday's meme made me look like this guy: 

Instead of this guy:

Apologies.

Wow

Sorry, couldn't muster the energy or creativity to write much today. Feeling about as bad I have yet. 

Not being dramatic.

Just a fact. 

Again, I find some very strange comfort in hitting a new "bottom." 

It's very uncomfortable. I hate it. 

I really do.

But I can handle it. 

I can fucking handle it. 

Still,

It's handled. It's already beaten. 

Chemo Day #4, Cycle #2

Warning: I'm grumpy today.

Let's make it 4 for 4. Four treatments, four different locations. 

Thankfully, they saved the best for last. 

By best I mean clearly, no questions asked, hilariously the worst. The best part, though, is that they tricked me into thinking it was going to be great. 

"The Garden Unit."

In my head: "Oh that sounds lovely. Flowers, nice smells, natural light!"

Nope.

Garden unit as in garden level, as in the basement, as in the Chemo dungeon. It's cramped, smells weird, is cold, and is extremely secluded. I'm the only patient in here and I've been here for a couple hours.

It sucks, but at the end of the day I'll receive the same shitty drugs I would anywhere else, so I'll stop complaining about it.

The strangest part is being the only sick person in the room. There are 6 nurses/techs working in here--and then me. Pro: I'm the center of attention and am being extremely well cared for. Con: The strange/borderline sick comfort of being in a room with other sick folks isn't there.

It isn't so much that I don't like "being alone in sickness," it's more that I can't see the people I usually see--the old or visibly very ill--the people who remind me how good I have it, how lucky I am.

In this place I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself and bitch and moan (see the beginning of this post). In this place, the bustle of a busy medical facility--the noises, the movement--is all gone. No more distractions. Just me and my thoughts, sweaty palms, an acidic lump in my throat and a churning stomach.

The drugs I receive are very effective at two things: Killing cancer, and making me feel like shit.

This environment almost exacerbates the latter.

In the quiet/stillness of this room, I'm noticing reactions my body is having I haven't before. Noises. Pains. I won't list an inventory, but they aren't good.

The difference between the "garden" and the other locations just dawned on me. Where the other locales consciously provide distractions (comforts like TVs, iPads, Vibrating Chairs), the garden doesn't hide what it is.

Others:

"You're sick but who cares! Watch TV, get a massage, take in the sights and sounds...times up! Good job, you can go home now!"

Garden:

"You're sick. Sit down. Take this. Suck it up."

All of them are places sick people come to be treated.

The Garden is just more honest about it.

I think, in this case, I like being lied to better.

The next couple days should be great.

______________________________________________________


Feel like shit.

The kool-aid is taking it's toll.

Trying some new drugs out the next couple days, hopefully with good results.

Still not routine. 

So I'm still winning. 

Go State. Beat Duke. 

So easy to hate. 

Driving

On the road. When I break down what is essentially happening right now, I have to laugh.

Why yes, I would love to drive an hour in each direction to be punched in the stomach repeatedly over the next few days.

Who wouldn't?! 

Side note:

The body is a pretty incredible thing (so profound, I know). More and more each time I make this trip, I begin feeling like shit well before the treatment even starts. It isn't debilitating and I'm not being dramatic, it's just fascinating that my body and mind have already learned to expect and prepare for the next few days. 

Been dreading this one for a week, given how last time went, but it's time to cut that shit out because:

Chemo 4/12, you're up. 

Cancer Fashion

I receive a good amount of e-mail and a few messages about the best places to shop for "cancer fashion." 

I understand why these places exist. People want hats, clothing, prosthetics and the like to keep them warm/comfortable, and the majority of the sites donate a portion to different cancer organizations. In general, it's a very worthy cause.

Still, cancer fashion? There's gotta be a better name. 

Maybe just "clothes" can still work? 

"Clothes store," now there's a name you haven't seen before. Succinct, specific, attention-grabbing. You're welcome, cancer fashion stores. 

As for me, shopping for cancer fashion implies that I had some sense of fashion before I had cancer--which I did not, and still don't. 

Just kidding, of course I do:

Takes a real man to wear his waistband just below his nipples. 

So thank you anyway, cancer fashionistas. Jeans, sweatpants, hats and hoodies will continue to work for me. 

"If any of you are looking for any last minute gift ideas for me, I Have one..."

Family, these shirts should probably happen. 

But I'm claiming this one for myself:

"Hey kids, I heard on the news that an airline pilot spotted Santas sleigh on the way from New York City."

If you don't know what these are from

then we can't be friends.

Shitters Full

"Do you 'do' weed?"

So I've gotten quite a few questions from people who read the blog and friends about whether or not I use medicinal marijuana to help with the side effects of chemotherapy. 

The answer is yes and no. 

Yes, I do have my medicinal card. So I'm legal.

No, I don't smoke weed.

This is for a couple reasons. The biggest reason being that my doctors specifically advised against it. One of the chemotherapy drugs that is part of my treatment is especially tough on the lungs. Not a good idea to kick them with smoke while they're already down.

Another reason is that the cancer is in my chest, and something about smoking something that makes me cough and have chest tightness weirds me out. 

Lastly, I'm a bit of an anxious person, meaning that getting "too high" is a very real and uncomfortable thing (as hilarious as it might be for those around me). 

This brings me to the real problem. I'm allowed to use marijuana edibles if I want to. In theory, this should be a great solution to the problem of not being able to smoke it. However, for a person who doesn't like to get too high, using edibles to get high is a bit like playing Russian roulette.

So in the end, while I fully support the use of medical marijuana to treat symptoms and to ease pain for patients, I haven't found it all that useful thus far.

Hopefully the prescription drugs I have can do the trick for the duration.

Oh yeah, I also have a dog who likes to eat just about anything and is a bit crazy as it is. I don't need him finding a bag of edibles and lookin' at me like this:

Uncomfortable answers

Unforeseen awkward situation:

I bump into an acquaintance/mild friend/bar regular who asks "whoa hey why did you shave your head?"  

It's a tougher question to answer than I would have thought. 

Option 1:

It's certainly easier to just say something like "Eh, just time for a change," which I have. I'm not condoning lying in general, but c'mon--sometimes it's just easier. I don't have to explain anything to this relative stranger and get into an in depth conversation about it. Then I don't have to sit through a very (forced) concerned look and then respond awkwardly after the well-wishes. It's certainly the "dickhead" option, but it's in and out. 

Option 2:

I can opt for the blunt/dramatic response. "I have cancer." This actually might be the dickhead option because of the uncomfortable spot it puts the other person in. Responses I've gotten to this option: 

"Fuck you.....wait....you're kidding right?" 

"That's not funny man, my dad had cancer."

"Nuh uh."

"HAHAHAHAH GOOD ONE but seriously why'd you shave it?"

This is also not a good option, because once the person realizes I'm not kidding, they feel terrible and the sympathy/well-wishes are even more dramatic and uncomfortable for me to respond to (I've learned I don't do well with sympathy in person, is what I'm getting at). They ask questions and want all the details to compensate for the feeling that they've just offended me (which they haven't). 

Option 3:

Ignore them and change the subject. Also a shitty option. 

So it becomes a matter of which is the less of 3 evils. I'll report back to you on which option I deem the most effective. 

Or I can just leave my hat on at all times. This may be the safest. 

Late edit:

I've been notified by my friend Marcy that there are other far less awkward options I could go with. I wasn't suggesting there weren't, only that I'm far too weird/awkward in person to think that quickly on my feet. It's easy to be witty on a blog. In person takes actual talent (which I've been faking on here from the start).

New word

Cansomnia noun. (Kan-som-nee-uh)

Inability to sleep soundly due to myriad factors relating to having and treating some form of Cancer.   

See also: Bubble Guts, Burp Mouth, Party Stomach, Toilet Scream, Fun Face. 

It's 4am and IM NOWHERE NEAR SLEEP C'MONNNN MANNNNN. 

It doesn't happen every night, but I enjoy my sleep. This may be my least favorite side effect thus far (kidding).

But seriously. 

Triage at work

The bar I run is a very clean place as far as bars go. We place a lot of importance on it, and it shows. Still, a certain amount of mess/nastiness just comes with the territory of running a college bar. It's unavoidable. Mostly in the form of cash, which it's my job to handle/count. 

Then you bring in 200+ customers and 10+ staff at the beginning of winter, and it's a breeding ground for illness. 

Based on my current white blood cell counts, it isn't an ideal place for me to be. 

I've let my staff know they need to tell me as soon as they feel sick, and a couple let me know they're under the weather today. 

So I'll run the show from the office as much as I can, and it's this phenomenal look for me today:

Glad this mug isn't the last thing I saw before I went under for surgery.

Wow. I look exponentially more sick with the mask on than without it. It's weird to look at. Yes, I feel shitty more often than I feel good. Still, do I feel like I have cancer? I guess the answer is yes, but since I haven't had cancer before--it's all a bit new. 

It's not like my cancer hurts. 

I was told that at times, treating cancer is tougher than having it. I thought that was an idiotic thing to say at the time, and I still kind of do. I guess I know what they were trying to get at, though. 

On the spectrum of things that are tough, this is all weighted heavily on the easy end. Still a hill to climb.

Ramble complete. 

Things are changing

I'm losing weight (not that I can't afford to drop a few). Hair loss has spread to the body hair as well. I'm feeling like shit progressively longer after a treatment. Sick to my stomach more. My energy level is dropping. Appetite changing. Weird, acidic taste in the back of my throat. My fingers and toes tingle/are numb pretty constantly. 

Still, it isn't stopping me (for the most part) from doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. Adjust and proceed. 

It's only at its worst if I dread it. 

3 down. 9 to go. 

Also, this:

The Lions

Absolutely saved the (sports) weekend. 

It's concerning that this team insists on winning close games in the late stages instead of putting teams away early when the chance presents itself--but that's a silly thing to complain about. We're winning. 

We're 7-2. 7-2?! It's wild. There's a lot of season left, and a lot can go wrong as the schedule toughens up considerably. Still--it's hard to see us not making the post season. 

I love this team.

As for the Spartans...not much to say. There were two games on the schedule this year that we had to win at least one of to make the first ever college football playoff, Oregon and Ohio State...and we got smoked in both. Tough pill to swallow. 

It's a difficult spot--there are many things I want to criticize Dantonio and his staff for. Some real bonehead decisions were made, and coming off a bye week, there is no excuse for the performance of this team.

However, the program is in phenomenal shape, and if we win out and finish 10-2...how in the world can you really complain about that? With success comes expectation...and makes the losses tougher to swallow. 

GO LIONS. 

LETS GO STATE

The best of the College Gameday Posters.

SUCH A HUGE GAME AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Who could feel sick on a day like today?

Inspiration?

It's hard to find the appropriate response to someone telling you they find you/something you've written/are doing inspiring. I've never heard it in my life up until now, and nothing about me feels different, other than that I have cancer. 

Me? The guy who sat in the same spot for 13 hours yesterday? What could you possibly find inspiring about ME?

For someone like myself, who struggles taking even the most modest of compliments, it's especially difficult. 'Thank you," is usually what I go with. For whatever reason though, the first response that comes to my mind is "I'm not an inspiration."

I know this is a bullshit response for a number of reasons. One, it's rude. Two, I'm the one making all of this public, so who am I to tell someone how to interpret anything I've written. Three, it's such a cop out. 

Here I am documenting this experience, and I try and tell myself that it's just for me--just a record of events to have when this is all over. It honestly started that way, but claiming that now is bull. I know a number of people are reading this. 

Many of you have taken the time to send e-mails and messages to let me know you were moved, that you are thinking of me, that you find me inspiring. I can't thank you enough. They mean a lot to me. More than a lot. 

"I'm not an inspiration" REEKS of bullshit false modesty and humility. I hate it. 

Still, I have to say it. I sure as hell don't feel like an inspiration--and I sure as hell don't write anything here with the hope of being one or becoming one. I'm just another regular guy who has cancer. And has a blog. 

It's so lame. I know. A person makes a personal struggle public, then is uncomfortable with people connect with it/are moved by it. It's pathetic. 

That isn't the case, though. I'm not uncomfortable at all with people connecting to it, or laughing at it, or being moved by it, or caring about it. That is the best possible outcome of this whole thing. 

I'm just uncomfortable with the idea that I might think what I'm doing "makes me special"--or that I think the things I share here carry some monumental importance. I'm not, and they don't.

 Most of these posts are worthless nonsense that crosses my mind. 

I'm one of an endless amount of people fighting cancer. My fight is likely easier than theirs.

And it's still kicking my ass. 

The thought of remission is inspiring. When I get there, maybe I'll learn how to take a compliment. 

Until then, I'm sorry.

And Go Green.

The Ohio State University

Is the biggest community college in the country. 

Who also birthed this mutant:

A nut. A nut is your mascot. A nut.

All that aside, tomorrow's game is gigantic. Likely the biggest game to be played in East Lansing in a very, very long time.

Hard not to like our chances, but as Spartans, we're always aware of this weird sense of impending doom.

Coach D and the program deserve more faith than that for what they have accomplished, but it's still there.

LET'S GO. 

Damnit

There's definitely something different this time around. 

Maybe not different--maybe it's just catching up to me, but I'm feelin' it in a major way these last few days. 

Just been walking around like a zombie--trying to shake off the cob webs today. 

Free advice:

Avoid chemo at all costs. 

Breakfast

 Yum.

Cumulative effects and "hitting bottom."

As the treatments have progressed, I can't say I've noticed any new/different side effects--only that the side effects I'm "familiar" with are more exaggerated. 

Again, I was told this was possible. Even likely. Still not a whole lot that can be done to prepare for it. 

Dramatic alert:

Today has been the worst day yet--and I'm okay with that. There's something strangely comforting about "hitting bottom." The feeling that this is as bad as it can get is reassuring. 

If this is as bad as it gets, I'll be fine. 

It sucks, it's unpleasant, and I wish it weren't the case. Still, it's here and it's happening, and there's no use bitching. It's part of the ride, part of the experience. 

  I'm sure there might be new "bottoms" ahead for me in this process, but I'll embrace this one for now. 

During this trip to the gutter, I still ran some errands and saw/cuddled with Griswold.

 I even went and got a massage. I had to take a break in the middle of it to puke--but I digress. 

That's a pretty good day for someone who isn't sick, so I'll take it. 

I'm not tough. I couldn't do this every day, but if this is as deep as the gutter gets for a handful of days every two weeks, I'll be just fine. 

If it gets worse, then I'll adjust and proceed.

Toughness applies when you have a choice. I don't, so bring it, Lymphoma and ABVD. 

Time to go give out some more free porcelain hugs. 

Shit. 

Midterm thoughts

A convincing nationwide victory for the GOP. Well done.

I'm sure this will help ease the gridlock in DC...

Still, couldn't help but feeling last night that this was also a big victory for Hillary. No, it isn't good that candidates she stumped for this time around lost. However, 2 years of an impotent GOP controlled congress will provide much ammo for a Hillary campaign. 

Furthermore, there's never a good time for the GOP to control both houses (in my opinion), but if it's gonna happen, let's have it happen with a Democrat in the White House. The crazy will be contained to the house and senate floors, and will be sure to give the Presidents veto pen some work.

Also, there's this from Yahoo:

"In other words, for every Senate seat that Republicans flipped in 2014, there’s one — or more — that’s likely to flip back to the Democrats in 2016. The chances that the GOP will still control the upper chamber of Congress after 2016 are slim.

How does this help Clinton? By giving her an added boost on an electoral playing field that already favors a Democratic presidential nominee. In the last six elections, 18 states (plus Washington, D.C.) have voted for the Democratic candidate every single time.

This means that Clinton, assuming she’s the nominee, will start out with 242 electoral votes in 2016; she’ll need only 28 of the remaining 183 tossups to win the election. To defeat her, the Republican candidate will basically have to run the table in the purple states — “not a game plan with a high probability of success,” according to Republican pollsters Glen Bolger and Neil Newhouse.Making matters worse is the fact that Republican senators will already be playing defense in several of these states, attracting additional Democratic attention and resources that will ultimately bolster the candidate at the top of the ticket as well.

The math is just as bad for Republicans — and just as good for Clinton. In 2012, Mitt Romney won 59 percent of white voters, a higher share than Ronald Reagan's in 1980 and George W. Bush's in 2004. But Romney still lost to Obama. Why? Because America’s minority electorate is growing every year. To hit 50.1 percent in 2016, the Republican nominee will have to win a whopping 64 percent of the white vote on Election Day— or significantly improve the party’s standing among nonwhite voters, especially Hispanics. Otherwise, he or she will lose just like Romney."

So, yeah, enjoy two years of semi-relevancy and continue to offer the late night shows plenty of material.

FREE HUGS

FREE HUGS FOR ANYONE AND EVERYONE WHO WANTS ONE oh it's you again. 

That hard boiled egg was a poor decision. 

Chemo, Day #3, Cycle #2

A couple weeks ago during my last round, I wrote about my fear of letting any of this insanity become routine--the feeling that once any of this felt "normal," the battle would already be lost. 

I still feel that way. It seems that maybe someone here at the Cancer Center agrees, because for the third time in three treatments, I'm in a different place. 

The difference this time: A bed. 

Who knew this place had bedrooms?

The room is still isolated from the rest of the infusion atrium. I'm in one of only 5 rooms, so it seems I've won the "chemo treatment lottery" today, and have been awarded one of the fancy rooms. 

Not gonna lie, it's pretty nice. I've been noticing fatigue more and more, especially today. It's just a pretty persistent feeling of weakness...feeling drained...and the chance to relax, or even nap, is welcome. 

The 3 hours of sitting around in the waiting room wasn't welcome, but when I felt the urge to find someone to bitch to, I remembered the people/drugs here are saving my life. 

So sit back down and shut up, you big whiny idiot--is what I told myself. 

I'm feeling a little rough today, so while the experience of seeing the sick around me in this place is still profound, I'm finding it a bit difficult to express it at the moment--running a bit low on expressive/creative juices, mostly due to being so tired. 

What I will say is that this is a great place for me to have a "bad" day. 

I feel like shit, but when I look around and see what other people are dealing with, the state of their health and their bodies, the look on their faces and the faces of their loved ones, I tell myself again:

Sit down and shut up, you big whiny idiot. 

I'll try and share more about today later on/in the coming days. 

I'm just too damn tired right now. I don't know if the drugs are catching up to me a bit, or if it's just general fatigue. Time will tell. 

In closing, being here: 

It still isn't routine. 

It still sucks. 

So I'm still winning. 

If I'm the Spartans, cancer is the Wolverines. 

They're the real big whiny idiots.

Nap time. 

The only person here better dressed than I am

This guy.

My feelings entirely, pal.

We meet again

"Hi. I'm here for my kool-aid drugs."

"Also, good game a couple Saturdays ago. Let's stick a stake in this cancer, too."

Never enough spartan gear in my closet to wear on these days. 

I wonder

If the nurses/doctors at the UofM Cancer Center will recognize me tomorrow:

No use for this one for a while:

Then again, I'm sure they'll know who I am. I'm the only guy wearing GREEN and WHITE every week. Huge game this week, with a common enemy. Maybe the comments about my wardrobe will be a little friendlier this time around. If not, I don't care. 

Your football team is terrible. 

3rd times a charm

Tomorrow will be the 3rd chemo treatment for me, and the start of the second cycle. 

Both times, I underestimated how poorly I would feel in the days to follow. That isn't to say it was unbearable--I knew it wasn't going to be fun, but still. 

We'll see if I can be a little more prepared the time around. 

Love you buddy

Not a happy anniversary. 

So were gonna go have some brunch, some drinks, play some BAGS, and have some laughs--just like nothing had changed, even if it has. 

"And I hope that when I'm gone, people look down at my tombstone and say, 'man, that guy sure owed me a lot of money.'"-Jack Handy

(He didn't).

Miss you man.

A new tradition

I've already gone in to some detail about the death of my best friend Marc on here. Tomorrow, early in the morning, will be 1 year since his passing. 

His brother Steve invited us to take place in a Jewish tradition--lighting the Yahrzeit candle. It's to be lit at sundown on the eve of the anniversary of the loved ones passing. 

The flame represents the spirit of the deceased. 

It all seems appropriate to me. 

I Miss you Marc.