I’m large

Well gang it looks as though I’m back at least weight-wise. I have blossomed to a robust 245. That’s 20 pounds since last year. Yikes!

I am choosing to not call it fat, but rather prepositioned medical weight loss protective material.  I am also choosing to delude myself into thinking that most of this preposition weight loss material is actually muscle from this summer weightlifting regimen.

Anyway, things are still plugging along. I am off today and Kate and I will probably go food shopping, I plan to hit the recumbent bike for an hour, and I’ll have to hit a nap somewhere in there.

Well that’s it I’ll see you guys.

Tri Care

I am concerned that eviscerating Tri-Care for retirees will have a profoundly devastating impact on our military quality. I understand that this is a time where everyone must shoulder the burden of bidet woes. And the pentagon is no exception. However, since less than 1 % of our population has any active duty experience and far less are retired after 20+ years of active service it seems unconscionable that senate, congressional and white house budget talks are considering any down grade to Tri-Care.

Moreover the argument that TRI-Rates have not been adjusted in some time doesn’t hold water. Especially when I consider that I was promised free health care for life for my wife and me. Even thought the Supreme Court said (in the late 80’s or early 90’s) the service secretaries didn’t have the authority to make that deal, the court – in the same decision -- also admonished the congress and senate to do the right thing and fulfill the obligation they made to veterans.

Please do the “right thing” and protect Tri-Care, decouple it from Medicare, and make it easier to use for doctors and patients. 

I understand medical costs are rising. But I don’t see a whole lot of discussions about why, just a lot of discussion about how do we curtail benefits.

While I do have an interest in this topic, it is a readiness issue too. Making career service less attractive puts us at risk because good people won’t join and stay.

Other solutions than eviscerating Tri-Care could include:

Don’t buy big items we don’t need

Put people programs before equipment programs

Don’t start wars without revenue sources in place to fund them

Closing the military academies – ROTC and OCS can do the same job for much less. Given the philandering going on from West Point grads we might even get a better product

Be thoughtful in the application of military power and remember war has hidden costs such as wounded care

Reduce the size of the force and realign some missions

More tomorrow

jerks on facebook

It has come to my attention that there are a handful of assholes on facebook who –in some perverted sense of humor – have established Cancer is Funny Because People Die group pages. I am all for irreverence and such, but these morons seemed to have decided hurting people is funny.

Well I just want to say that there is a special place in hell for those kinds of people. I’m astonished.

On to recovery stuff. The thing that seems to be recovering most is my waistline. Yikes. I gonna have to cut a few pounds this year. Check this out.  And this isn’t a joke. I don’t want to drop too much in case there is ever a relapse of this stuff I want to have a little weight to give

I didn’t do much yesterday for a workout. I was bushed.

Kae and I were talking yesterday and for the most part the cancer and all the treatments seem like a dream now. As I get further and further away things become hazier and the trials a bit less terrifying. It was terrible as I went through it, but I’m starting to forget little things like the nightly self-injections at the kitchen table and flushing the lumens from my PICC or Hickman.

Maybe it’s better that way. 

Anniversary

Well today is my 29th wedding anniversary. We don’t have a lot planned; some dinner, a movie, and some smooching.
It’s great to be alive.
I used to love work, but now that I’ve survived this cancer thing it all seems kind of blah -- like there should be something more to life than this hmmm.
I am within a couple of weeks from finishing the book from the other blog.  You’d think it would be easier, but it isn’t with the formatting and captioning and such. But I am on the tail end. It’s a good read.

I guess that’s it for today.

Bill

Hey Gang

Well:
To be honest I’m feeling pretty well today. I was doing really well until autumn when I threw my back out aka muscle spasms, and then I tore a muscle in my abdomen that I thought was a hernia and PCM did too, but my surgeon told me to go away and that I needed to exercise in an age appropriate manner. So what if I was benching 250 and I’m 44? Okay I’m 55, but that shouldn’t matter.

Last week I started a new routine.  I got to the landing on the stairwell of third floor of my office building do ten pushups (they’re tough to do right now), walk through the myriad of hallways  to the back stairs, walk to the landing on the first floor, do some kind twist and bounce exercise, disrupt that floors working by wandering through their hallways, go the front stairwell, and back up to the third floor and do another set of pushups. I do that ten times.

That is a real butt kicker too.

Went up to the cancer ward last week it was kind of weird, but I’m glad I did it, One has to face anxiety some time. I love those folks. I’m going to sneak up early one morning -- before 0500 and share some bad pastries and coffee with them.  I’m going before 0500 because the shift change is at 0700 and it can get hectic for them. Anyway, I ma told they love to see the results of their work up and walking about as opposed to ...

Starting Again

For a lot of reasons I’ve been slow about getting back to this blog. Firstly I wasn’t sure I had a whole lot to say anymore, but I think I do. I also think I was afraid to become too cancer focused. I’m not sure what exactly that means, but it was a worry.
I have made a lot of progress and I think it might be valuable to la it out there in case people are curious. I recently had somebody comment on my old blog about something I had written and how it helped then.
So I think I’ll start this up again.

Sniper Moose From Bennington Vt. 

Peace.

REsults from yesterday

Well it’s 0545 and I’m getting ready to go to Philly for another big meeting with the feds. It’s been a busy few weeks at work – busier than I remember it ever being, but that may just be because I have an attitude of wanting to be on vacation all the time (by the way this isn’t a dangling modifier or a sentence with parallel construction; I did it on purpose). Regardless, everything turned out okay at the docs yesterday. My blood is still improving – with my platelets up to 86 from 80.  Red blood cells a little low, but that’s okay.

I’m a bit overweight, but so is the rest of America so I’m not alone. I’m attributing much of that to an increase in muscle mass (actually it is a lie, but that’s what I am telling myself). My strength is up, my energy is up, and I am able to do everything. So that’s good too. My goal now is to drop ten pounds before January 20^th – my next big oncology appointment.

More to follow.

Love to all,

Bill

1 year chemo end appointment

Hey Guys:

Well today is a big day. I have a big oncology (or is it hematology) appointment today at 1000. They always freak me out. In fact as I’m writing this I feel like crying. I can’t explain why, I just do. Probably some kind of post-stress thing, I guess.

Anyway I’ll go in at about 0930, get my blood drawn and at about 1030 I’ll go to the examining room and cool my heels for a while until the nurse practitioner comes in, feels me up, leaves. Then the doctor will come in he’ll give me the same exact examination and we’ll chat.

This is where it gets dicey. I have walked into the office feeling fine and ended up in the hospital. Other days I’ve walked in feeling poorly and was sent home. So who knows?

I’m sure I’ll be okay. I feel pretty good although my skin seems awfully delicate and I suspect that’s from low platelets. I suspect my platelets will be fewer than 70,000 (normal is about 150,000 or better). As long as they stay above 50,000 I’m okay and can still do the thing I love.

Anyway, I’ve been working hard since January to recover. I benched press 205 last week (up from zero last October), I do Pilates, I ran 3 miles without stopping the other day, and I walk for 45 minutes most lunch times. So that’s all good right?

So why do these follow up appointments freak me out so much. I get so crazy on these days I take the whole day off just to unwind from it. Geez. I guess that’s a small price to pay.

That’s it I guess. 

Pilates II

Good morning sunshines:

Well things are going pretty well.  I did another Pilate’s session yesterday and I’m only kind of miserable today.

There were about six of us yesterday lying on the floor in one of the department’s classrooms -- this one unused at lunch. The lights were off and not sure if it’s to avoid seeing me in all my middle-aged glory or if it was to set an ironic relaxing tone. There were orange and purple mats arrange in a semi-circle around the grand inquisitor (actually she is a very nice lady who takes time out to teach us this stuff; I just like being a victim).

So anyway the dispenser of pain or pleasure in chief, tells us to to stand up.  We each have a small nine inch schoolyard ball that is available at any grocery store for about $2. Mine’s pink because of my overt masculinity and the testosterone oozing from every pore; actually the were sold out of Dora the Explorer balls and I had to settle.

I am wandering.

This wonderful lady (I better say nice things in case she reads this) puts us through different exercise, but the long and the short of is you are supposed squeeze the ball, breath a certain way, and control your abdominal muscles as you go through each movement. If done with gusto,  this stuff ain’t easy. And me if I am nothing else I am full of gusto.

When I squeeze that ball my goal is to pop it. My arms quiver, my belly aches, and I can am winded from the inhaling and exhaling.

I guess that’s it.

See ya!

Bill

workout news (language warning)

Hey guys:

Well a little old lady with gray hair worn in a bun kicked my ass. I must outweigh her by  80 lbs, and more than a foot taller, and I bet I can bench press three of her. All she needed to equalize things was a little red nine inch ball you can buy at the grocery store.
Did she tie me up and pummel me like I was in a middle-school dodge ball hell? No it was even more sinister.
She clothed the whole torture in an exercise program -- Pilates (or some kind of sadistic derivative). I think it is on the CIA list of banned interrogation techniques -- somewhere between water boarding and cigarette burns. It was hideous I tell you.

I had no idea a little red ball could result in so much pain. I’ve been summoned to her hideout on Wednesday. I’m thinking about giving up my ATM pin for mercy.

That’s it for now

Peace.

Posts and courage

I was going to post something about work, then thought better of it. Suffice it to say returning to work after cancer is a very strange deal. I will keep the piece for a future post.

People get fired all the time for work posts and I don’t want to join them yet.

This a picture of a tranquil future state.

Paranorman

 I went to see Paranoman at the local Bijou last night -- that’s right we went out at night -- and it was hilarious, intellectually deep, and really some of the finest writing I’ve experienced in a great while.

I give it four out five chemo bags. 

veterans golf thing epilogue

I’ll post some pictures Monday, but my day at the golf outing for the Wounded Warrior project was a lot of fun. My friends and I came in second in the tournament. It was quite excellent. We shot -3 for the day and ended up with some groovy hats and free gold balls.  My back held out pretty well and no signs of neuropathy so that’s all cool.
Actually It was good.
I am playing again today.

I’ve begun stepping up my workout since my back has recovered somewhat.  This damn scar and the muscles un underneath it at my belly from last year’s operation have been hurting laetely. I did 60 crunches the other day; maybe that’s it.

I sometimes forget my body is till torn up and still healing.

Veterans Golf thing

It’s early. For me it’s actually the same time I usually write, but for the rest of the world it’s early.  Going to Porky’s today to play in a veterans golf tournament. I have to re-look at the flyer, because I think there is a lunch in the fee.

It’ll be about $125, but it is for a good cause. Money’s tight, but sometimes you gotta do things.

Well I am getting further and further from the cancer thing and feeling as though everything will be fine. I guess that’s what recovery is about. I still get fatigued by 1500, maybe always will.

Changing my exercise routine a bit and experimenting with the exercise ball.

recumbent Bike

Went about 30 minutes on the recumbent bike this morning and then did some stretches in the living room. I was going to go longer, but I chickened out.
My back was still a bit tender, but nothing like it was. I am a bit tentative about pushing too hard as I’m beginning to think healing this thing is going to take a bit longer than it used to. Regardless I’m going to do some stretching and back workout at lunchtime.

That being said, I could sure use a burger at lunch.

I JUST CAN'T WIN

 Just getting ready to go ride the recumbent bike and see what I can do. 

The sun rose slowly and warmly across the backyard Sunday morning. The multi shade of green garden of pumpkins, tomatoes, and corn was buzzing with bees pollinating all the plants. Bill walked out of his back door at 6:30, stopped momentarily, basking in the morning sun reflecting off the dew, as if he were some colossus standing guard over the land.

Ah … Yertle the Turtle.

He passed the garden opening the side door to the white garage. There they were – his weights; his constant friends for more than four decades. They would never let him down. It was a mismatched collection of Weider, York, Billard and, a bunch of weights without names; some made in china, others the U.S.

From one of the rafters hung a giant hook which held four exercise bands of surgical tubing Bill used for tricep extensions. He’d switch from two to four bands depending on his mood, strength, and caffeine level. The old weightlifting bench was in near the back of the garage and on it was two bars; one an e-z curl bar resting in the padding loaded with about 60 pounds and a strait bar resting on the steel bar supports for bench pressing it was loaded with 85 lbs. There two 45 lb. dumbbells and another straight bar on the floor with 60 lbs.

Bill figured he’d get an early morning arm blast before he and his wife went to the realtor at 11 to finalize the listing for their home.

He picked up the straight bar and began slow curl repetitions, fully extending his army and then bring the bar back to shoulder level. With each movement his body began to glisten as the early humidity collected on his skin.

He moved to the e-z curl bar and did the same thing. More sweat. There is a certain visceral enjoyment in lifting weights, he thought as he moved to the other straight bar.

He reached down, drops of sweat falling off his nose. Instead of doing curls with the lighter straight bar, he decided to do some military presses and then put the bar down to do another set of curls. He knocked out the presses, put the bar on the ground, changed his grip, and felt a ripping, binding, searing pain tear through the small of his back.

He couldn’t breathe – only grown. He was having muscle spasms.

He dropped his weightlifting belt and struggled to make it back inside the house with his weightlifting gloves still on. He waddled like a fat man to a birthday as he made it to his recliner in the family room. As he sat, a woeful groan escaped his lips.

“Billy, are you okay,” his wife called.

“No, I threw my back out,” he said. “HELP ME!”

His wife ran from the room pulling her night gown on as she went. “What can I do,” she souted on the run.

“Get me some Naproxen and come over here please.”

Kate fished through the cabinets, tied her house dress around her, found the medicine, and ran to the living room.

“Take my gloves off my hands,” Bill said.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she peeled the Velcro from his wrists and pulled the gloves off.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t move anything. I’m in terrible pain.”

“We have to get some ice on that.”

“I know,” he said. “But don’t move me. Let’s just wait a minute.”

This exchange, or some like it, lasted for about a half an hour until the two eventually were able to get ice on the area and the pain subsided enough to get Bill in the car for the realtor appointment.

When they entered the office, the realtor, Jessica, greeted them, “How are you?”

“Oh I’m fine,” Kate said. “But Bill is a bit stoved up.”

“Really,” Jessica said. “What’s wrong?”

“I hurt my back working out this morning.”

“Really,” She said in disbelief. “You workout?”

Bill Potter

I have a big appointment Wednesday with my oncology doc – I guess he’s a hematology doc really. I’m a bit leery, but we’ll see what happens. I still have the underarm ache and hopefully it’s tendonitis from lifting weights like a 20-year old with a 54-year old body. Speaking of which, I have made huge jumps in my strength, but need to turn to my core training. I’ve been kind of tentative because I still get some pain from the bowel resection scar, but what the hell …

My back was pretty messed up all weekend, but it is slowly coming back – another reason for strengthening my core.

That’s it.

Love ya all

Bill

back to the drawing board

Back to the drawing board

I’ve decided to start writing on this blog again. Maybe people will see it maybe they won’t. At some level it really doesn’t matter. I hit a snag n my recovery when I hurt my back lifting weights last Sunday.  I cried like a baby. Anyway there is a perspective here I missed. I can’t track the challenges I am going through and can’t leave a trail behind like Arne Saknussemm.
It’s back to the drawing board with back exercises and core tightening before I can start hoisting the weights I was banging out.

short going work post

Good morning all:

The Appalachian Trail

Well it’s back to work after the best week off I’ve had in a long, long time. No chemo. No chemo, no appointments, no doctors feeling me up. I hiked, played golf, and went fishing. It was marvelous!

I also had the best biscuits and gravy I’d had in years. Superb I tell you!

My big appointment is next Wednesday. I have a little anxiety, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.

I’ll be spending the next few days busting tail on the big state plan that has to be in some type of finished format in the next 11 days so it can be reviewed and commented upon before the final submission in August.

vacation over it was great

Well my friends it’s Sunday – work tomorrow.

This was a very good week. Almost no neuropathy and I really pushed myself. Maybe we got this thing on the ropes for the final push.

Feeling a little queasy. I think that was from so much sun this week; I’m gonna lay low today and putter about the house.

Need to clean my room; it is a mess. I have discovered that if I throw clothes on the floor, no one puts them away and it becomes a carpet. That wouldn’t be so bad the, but the dogs hide bones under it all and I keep rolling my ankle.

No petechiae to report so that’s good.

Well that’s it for now.  See ya

bragging

6JUN2012

Okay now I’m just bragging. You can pretty much hear me tell tales of how wonderful I am most any day, but this is kind of special. Well as you know everything I write is somehow special; it is as if the fount of some grant sage is open and the words hop from fingertips to the page. Ah the wonder of my sagacity and me.

Okay enough of that; I’d probably stopped reading by now if I were you.

Okay this week I took my first non-medical time off in almost two years. It was heavenly.

Kate and I hiked on the Appalachian Trail, took a tour of the caverns in Luray and painted two rooms when we got home. Okay that may sound kind of mundane. But I only returned to work six months ago and fulltime about six weeks ago.

Lest than a year – much less in fact – I couldn’t walk from my bed to the master bathroom and I maxed out at about 1/10^th of mile for walking. Now I can do all that, but it has taken a lot of hard work.

Although I’ve taken the past two weeks off from working out, I usually get up at about six and workout with weights or biking.

Anyway just a quick update. I’m going fishing tomorrow and Friday I plan to attempt 18 holes.   

feeling a little optimistic

Good morning:
My attitude is significantly better. I don't know if it's because I'm off for a week starting tomorrow, or whether it's I'm feeling a bit better, or I don't give a poop at this point. Regardless, I'm gonna play this next week and have fun.
My wife Kate has been hitting home runs with her cooking lately. Healthy stuff too. It's wild. Last night she made this boneless ribs marinated in her secret concoction with a side of homemade fruit salad. It was great!!!
Well running out to the garage to improve my explosive muscularity.
See you tomorrow

Bill

Scared but going on vacation

I’m scared.

There really is no other way to put it; I know it lacks flourish, panache, etc. But there you have it.

George Costanza once said, “My little voice is an idiot.” I’m hoping mine is too. 

Lately though mine has been saying, “It’s baaaack.”

God I hope I’m wrong.

I won’t bore you with the litany of symptoms that could be something else, suffice it to say I’m feeling things that give my pause. Yesterday, though I told my bride about my feelings and we cried for a bit and went out and bought shoes. To be precise we went out and I bought shoes; Topsiders actually (maybe I’ve gotten too close to my feminine side).

The point is, I could go to the oncologist and get things checked out, but I have an appointment the 20^th and I’ve been planning a mini-vacation starting this Friday thru next week and I’ll be Goddamned if I’m gonna miss that. I spent all last summer in one form of medical care or another and I’m not doing that shit again until I have to.

If the lymphoma comes back it’s not like it is going to kill me (well it could) but most Burkitt’s fighters get a relapse then they are cured. I was kind of hoping to skip the relapse – maybe I will.

Like I said this could all be a nexus of other things piling up a the same time mimicking some things I went through before – squidgy stomach, might be the nexium for acid reflux (don’t ask); a pain in my arm pit may just be a tendon pull from a weekend of gardening; abdominal pain may just be that I’ve gotten fat and the extra weight is pulling on my scar.

At least I have new shoes.

Suppose they held a function for cancer survivors and only one showed up? Well that’s kind of what happened last night at Timothy’s Restaurant on Wilmington’s Riverfront.

Billed as a fundraiser for the Lance Armstrong Foundation, DanceStrong kicked off at about 6 p.m. with a $15 (donation) cover charge, raffle tickets and men and women in costumes set for Dancing With the Stars.

The only thing that seemed to missing was a cancer survivor or two.

There seemed to be about 100 people there from Starliters Dance Studio and Core Fitness both from Wilmington Delaware.  Oh, and Kate and I.

We sat near the exit, expecting an evening of dancing and soon discovered we’d be watching other people dance – actually putting on a demonstration of different dances.

As the event filled, some people would stop by our table and say, “So are here with Bryan (owner of Starliters)?”

“No I’d reply,” I am a cancer survivor.

“Oh, okay,” they’d reply with a befuddled tilt of the head as if the evening had nothing to do with survivorship -- just dance. Which of course is okay, just kind of strange. It was as if having a cancer survivor hanging out at DanceStrong was kind of unexpected.

The dancing was okay and kind of fun to watch and I am thankful these folks raised money for livestrong,org, God knows it’s an important cause

It’s just that the reaction of the people to having a survivor in the room was just kind of funny – It was kind of like they were having a party for people they hoped didn’t actually show up.

Maybe they were just intimidated by my dancing prowess.

visited by an angel

            I wasn’t feeling good. I wasn’t feeling bad. My feet hurt a little, but hat was about it. I was just kind of in the same morning funk that most of the people at Wawa were Thursday morning a bit before 0700. I grabbed my black coffee from the ubiquitous brown thermal containers lining the long counter in the back of the store and waddled to cashier, paid for my java and headed to my red pickup truck.

            I hit the doorway the same time this chubby African-American fella with his own cup of coffee, a three or four day speckled grey beard, and a light blue tee shirt with Ethiopia embossed across the front – oh, and perhaps the biggest smile I had seen that morning. He looked to be about the same age as I am and he said, “Age before beauty” and gestured so I could walk out the door as he held it open.

            I must admit, I laughed pretty hard at that.

            As I walked out the door in front of him – he was always just out of peripheral vision – he said,  “We need to be thankful; not everybody makes it as long as you did.”

            It stopped me dead in my tracks. It really did.

            He passed me on my left between the building and me and was quickly gone. I don’t know where he went or how he left. He was just gone.

            Then it occurred to me that I had just had an encounter with an angel. No kidding.

            His comment to me was too precise and too timely for it to be coincidence. It was really spooky, yet affirming.

            I’m not suggesting he was a supernatural being, but rather I think he was a guy that God put into my life at a precise time, to deliver a precise message and then leave. He may not have even known he was an angel delivering a message on behalf of a supreme being, but I believe he was.

            As I drove to work it all kind of haunted me – not in a bad way, but in a what the hell just happened sort of way and then I had a blinding flash of the obvious (I call them BFOs). Maybe we are all called to be angels to someone else and might never know it.

            Maybe it is the word of kindness, opening the door, or helping someone we’ve only met once that makes us angels. Now if that’s true – I kind of think that it is – what the hell does it really mean?

            I think it means we always have to be ready to meet other people out of the blue and be open to delivering a message. If we are agents of the Supreme Being, then doesn’t that mean we have an obligation to deliver whatever message for which we’re the conduits?

            It’s a tricky idea and I’m not exactly sure how it all works, but I thought I’d share it with you.

Thoughts?

Bill

work part 2

Work Part Deux

Hey Guys:

Going back to work while recovering from cancer is a shock partly because people take work so seriously, like their lives depend on it – not their livelihoods. Where the hell is everybody going in such hurry?

I’m not suggesting that showing up late for meetings is okay, or doing slipshod work is okay, or not taking your job seriously is okay either. What I’m suggesting is the recovery person is more like a lamb jumping into a tornado and – if may I mix my allusions – a house might land on you.

Chemo brain is a real thing. For me it’s names. I can’t remember anyone’s name. Shit I can barely remember my own. It’s really embarrassing because everyone has been so nice to me and they deserve me to remember their names. It freaks me out. Thanks God people nowadays where ID badges. Although I can’t go around saying, “Hello employee 57,” for too long or they’ll catch on.

If that’s not challenge enough where I work there are lots of laws, rules and regulations to know – a lot of fine points I need at my finger tips. Shoot, like I said earlier chemo brain is alive and well -- I can barely find my way to the office. What the Workforce Investment Act says about any particular topic is a mystery to me; I have to look that stuff up now. I used to know it pretty well.

I am in the middle of preparing the big state plan. It’s quite an undertaking, with multiple parts, different sections, and lots of technical gobbledygook. It has taken about two weeks for me to hit an immersion point where the ideas are starting to flow.  If you go into my office the walls are covered in chart paper and green marker scrawls that highlight what I think I’m supposed to be working on. Thank God other people are going to check this thing; for all I know I might be typing my recipe for cabbage rolls over and over again.

Fatigue is still an issue and likely will be for another few months. At about 3 p.m. I get bone weary. If I could sneak a Lazy Boy in my office and a shade over the window in my door I’d be on a “do not disturb conference call” every day at 3 pm ‘till 4 p.m. But I gotta keep driving on. The fatigue is one of two issues that pop up at work – other is pain/neuropathy.

Sometimes pain shoots down my calf and around the top of my foot that is so intense I want to cry like a baby. My sill feet getting numb and/or tingly to the point of having to actually plod through my day. I look like the Mel Brooks Frankenstein Monster lumbering through the office – I’m waiting for someone to dump soup in my lap.

I have discovered that recovery and work are compatible if I take the time to do what I can, as best I can within my limitations and to let someone know if I am overwhelmed. I have discovered I need to take more notes and make better use of a planning calendar so I can at least get to the right building on the right day. I also need to be on guard about making sure I am always keeping my eye on the short-term urgent things in my life while making plans for the long term important things in my life.

Although it sounds like a lot of complaining I am thankful to be at the Delaware DOL and DWIB and tomorrow or Saturday I’ll tell you why.

Work part 1

Work, man oh man, now there is a place where my perspective has change dramatically. It’s funny too, because this time last year all I wanted was life to reset so I could go back to work.

A couple of weeks ago I went to a psychologist appointment to try and make heads or tails over how my perspective had changed and he read me his notes from our first visit.  They said – and I’m paraphrasing here – that I was handling the cancer diagnosis very well, but might have trouble with recovery because all I wanted was to go back to work and life to reset to normal.

That’s nuts! There isn’t anything in there about smelling roses, giggling, stroking my wife’s cheek, or taking a bike ride. Wow.

I remember a time in July when I was freaked out about being separated from my position so I could go on long-term disability. I can’t believe the amount of psychic energy I wasted on that.  If there is any huge change in me I can define this way – I no longer live to work, rather I now work to live.

Part of the reason I came back to work at all was a sense of loyalty to all the people who supported me during the cancer fight. And all that counts for something in my book. I am a deeply loyal guy.

“Do you think people supported you so you’d get back to work, or did they support you because they love you?” the psychologist asked.

“It’s because they care about me,” I said.

“If that’s true, would they still love you if you decided to do something else?” he asked.

“Sure. I guess so. I hope so.”

Then you probably have more options then you’ve considered, he said.

There are a lot of reasons people work. For many it is about money, for some it is about camaraderie, and for others it is something else. Don’t get me wrong I think I should make gazillion dollars more a year – I really do, but money is not a big motivator to me – at this point I’m not quite sure what is. I’ll have to think on that one. Hmmm

It’s funny, sometimes when I write stuff, I get to a sentence or two that I thought I knew what I was going to write and then I have to stop, delete, and rethink my personal feelings – hmmm?

Well that’s it for today. I have to ride my bike, shower and go to work. I’ll pick this up at the same place tomorrow. It’s very hard to put all my contradicting feelings in writing.

Monday, 30 April 2012

Good morning my brothers

Well. It’s funny. Once I’ve decided to post more frequently I don’t have too much to say. Darn it. My diet still sucks, but I promised myself I’d work on it. My weight has stabilized at 240.

Kate and I went to a Blue Rocks Baseball game yesterday and in the middle of the fifth inning or so it occurred to me that it had been a year to the day that I had discharged from my first stay at the hospital and that I had heard the words lymphoma and cancer.

Yikes! It’s weird; I don’t want to be one of those guys who obsess over this kind of thing because it can become paralyzing, but it just kind of sticks with you – oh well.

It’s 0547 right now and I’m waiting ‘till about 0600 before I go to the garage and workout. I’m hoping moving my workout times around will help with the fatigue at work and give me more time to hang out with Kate in the evenings.

My hip is killing me from sitting all twisted up at the ball game yesterday. I suspect the ravages of older age.

I’m having a big internal debate about my hair. I look okay with longer hair, but it’s just not me. I’ve been wearing it longer because of my gigantic scar on my head, but  don’t think I give a shit about it anymore. Considerations! Considerations!

I guess that’s it’s about 0553 and the morning is that early grey that seems to wake the birds. I guess I’ll give my four monsters their early morning meds and some toast then hit the weights, shower and go to work.

Since recover is also about work I’ll chat about that tomorrow. I hesitate to discuss that subject because everyone has been so supportive, but I promised to be honest in case someone else can use theses stories later.

sunday 29 april quiet

Slow day today. Just taking it easy. Now that the weather is starting to be a tad warmer I’ve begun working out in the mornings before work. I’ll have to see how that goes. More later. Freakin ticks are everywhere -- don't want tot tangle with them -- Yikes

exercise fatigue and felicity

Hey posse:

Things are getting better, but fatigue is still an issue.  Went home early from work yesterday; I was exhausted. Bone weary seems like a good phrase. Bone marrow weary more like it (heh, heh, heh – cancer humor just kills me. There’s another one. Oh God!! Heh, heh, heh)

Everything I read says the only thing for fatigue is activity and naps no longer than an hour. I also need to get my most important work of the day done in the mornings, so if I do run out of gas I don’t have a big hill to climb in the afternoon. Easy to say, but can be hard to do.

We all know how important I am – I heard the Delaware Department of Labor actually shut down while I was out sick.

My remaining hair is way too long, but I have this thin landing strip of hair down the middle of my head, surrounded by two giant patches of baldness. So I look like one of those pathetic middle-aged guys trying to hang on to youth. I’ll be middle aged someday.  Anyway I kind of dig my remaining curly locks, and don’t want to cut them, but I miss my very short hair I wore for so many years. Decision! Decisions! I don’t want to end up like Keri Russell and only be famous for a bad haircut choice.

Love to all,

Bill

Thursday April 26, 2012 part deux

Thursday April 26, 2012.

I almost forgot. I guess I didn’t forget so much as ignore. I said I would be honest with you. I am having a lot of trouble getting motivated in the mornings. I just don’t enjoy working anywhere near like I used to. Once upon a time I identified who I am with my employment, but not now. It all seems way less important. I mean the work is still important – I guess. I mean somebody has to do it, but I am not so sure it should be me.

The woods are lovely dark and deep

But I have promises to keep.

Always a lot to think about.

Also I am still dog-tired in the evenings when I come home. My coping technique is a nap, a workout, and dinner. Then I veg out for two hours in front of the TV and by 9, I am ready for bed.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.

See ya, maybe I can be more honest tomorrow

Bill

Not a whole lot to report. Feeling pretty good. My workouts continue to make steady progress.

I have decided to keep my strength training to every third day instead of every other day. I think the extra day will help my body heal especially when one considers my age (54) and platelet situation 88,000. On the off days I plan to walk at lunch and ride my bike, or skip rope in the in the evenings -- More of an aerobic thing.

I guess that’s it.

Bill