Monday, December 30, 2013
And it’s bronchitis
Well boys and girls it appears I have a good dose of bronchitis. Probably the worst case f it in the history of man. On antibiotics, codeine, and an inhaler. Cranky, but not dying.
Still sick
You’d think by now I couldn’t be rattled, but this flu/cold/URI has thrown me for a loop. Yikes. I am so hoarse, my voice sounds like it’s being run through scrambling software to keep me in the witness protection program. Fudgesicles! I ani’t happy.
Now this is truly stupid -- I hate missing a Monday of Friday at work, It just looks bad. Can’t stand it. Today will make it a Monday and I missed Friday. Fu, u, u dgesicles.
Got a doctor’s appointment at 0900 to be told I’m okay, just a hypochondriac. I bet I’m fine. My blood on the 23rd was good, ANC a bit high, WBC okay, Red a smidge low. Other than that good. so we’ll see what the doc says.
I guess that’s it!
Bill
Now this is truly stupid -- I hate missing a Monday of Friday at work, It just looks bad. Can’t stand it. Today will make it a Monday and I missed Friday. Fu, u, u dgesicles.
Got a doctor’s appointment at 0900 to be told I’m okay, just a hypochondriac. I bet I’m fine. My blood on the 23rd was good, ANC a bit high, WBC okay, Red a smidge low. Other than that good. so we’ll see what the doc says.
I guess that’s it!
Bill
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Sick this week
Okay, going thru my first real sickness since remission began and it is scaring the shit out of me. You always hear stories -- at least I do -- of people being in reemission for a couple of years, catching kid crud and dying. Even though that is unlikely, it’s still hanging in the back of my mind. Shit ....
My sniffles have gradually become worse since December 23. I’ve been in bed since Christmas Eve. Last night my fever was about 101 and was kind of freaked, but my wife of 30 years (anniversary last night) took care of me and my fever broke -- I hope.
I guess that’s it. See you,
My sniffles have gradually become worse since December 23. I’ve been in bed since Christmas Eve. Last night my fever was about 101 and was kind of freaked, but my wife of 30 years (anniversary last night) took care of me and my fever broke -- I hope.
I guess that’s it. See you,
Monday, December 23, 2013
results
Okay. It’s a good day. I still have the sniffles, but that’s it. My blood looks good. Platelets still a little low and everything else is normal or close. So good news. I have to go back in six months. I was hoping for a year, but six months is cool!
appt. today
Whenever I have these oncology/hematology appointments I get
a bit freaked out. I review every possible complication and play it over in my
mind and eventually think myself into a near panic. In the end it comes out
okay,
If all goes well today I will be in the “come back and see
me next year” category. Fingers crossed!
I woke up with a sore throat this morning. Yech! And the
sniffles. If I didn’t have a stupid board meeting at 0800 and then my
appointment at 0940 I’d go bak to bed and stay there all day. I’d just hunker
down with me and Louis L’amour, rustle some cattle, and take naps all day.
Yikes!
I still haven’t forsaken my goal of chucking it all and
playing. I am still trying to maneuver myself into that, but it has been hard
to pull it all together. The money I mean. I wanted some seed money to make it
easier, but lately I’ve been thinking about letting the bank repossess
everything and just walking away. Who knows? Fu#@K.
Friday, December 20, 2013
update I guess
Hey guys:
Haven’t been posting lately. No real reason why. A couple of
bits of news.
1. I have a big appointment Monday. Six Month check up, if
everything goes well the next one will be in a year. A bit of Petechiae on my
arms; a bit freaked out, but I’m probably okay.
2. Joined a playwriting group and am working on a cancer
comedy. Halfway through.
3. No news on job front. They still haven’t made a decision.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Poop, damn, damn, sh@t
I got the blues. I’m pretty sure I didn’t get the job I went
after in Eugene, Oregon. It’s been more than a week and as they wanted to move
fast, I’m pretty sure they would have called. Poop!
I hate losing. I really do. It just frosts my cake (not in a
good way). I guess I’ll just cool my heels for a while and see what happens. It
could be a lot worse I guess. My job is okay, although I want to be in charge.
It’s just that I prepared my tail off for this thing. I’m
talking hours of research, hours of rehearsals, and hours of flying in cramped
airlines. Not to mention burning four days vacation.
I didn’t get much sleep last night; the thumb in my mouth
was very distracting.
More later,
Poop!
Bu
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
feeling smug
I was recently thinking/ I don’t probably do that near
enough. Regardless. I’m feeling pretty smug today. No word on the job yet – I don’t
expect to get a call; I except a politely worded “thanks, but no thanks”
letter.
I’m smug because I took a chance at a big step that could
take me out of my comfort zone and throw my world into a tizzy/ That’s kind of
the definition of living I think -- taking chances.
Two years ago. Cancer survivor. Blah, blah, just thought I’d throw in the Reader’s Digest version; this
part is pretty self-aggrandizing and pretty predictable/
It took a lot for me to get off my backside and step into
the fray and I am quite smug about tit all. I guess that’s it.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Mums the word
Recovery is a funny thing. You work at it. You run hundreds
of miles, drink hundreds of gallons less than you used to, obsess about every
ache pain and symptom real or imagined all in the quest to make it back to
“normal.”
And then after two years you think you’re ready to take the
plunge to try a new thing on for size that takes you from the nest you built
when you were sick, but still you drive forward.
At 1200 hours today Kate dropped me off at the Philadelphia
airport for a journey that is taking me to Eugene Oregon for a job interview
that could bring me more money and prestige than I currently have at my
position with the Delaware Department of Labor. But there is something that
makes me uncomfortable about it all. I’m not sure if it is leaving my doctor
behind, my support group, the
geezers I play golf with, even my
new exalted position as the Chairman of the LLS patient Services Committee, or
even the playwriting groups I recently joined.
Hmmm. My goal has always been to find my way back west and
toss it all in favor of a life of smelling the roses, but somehow I’ve gotten a
bit sidetracked. And maybe that’s the thing that is bugging me is that I am
chasing this new job instead of sticking to my plan of chasing a rainbow or
two. I tell myself that the increase in ay would be enough to get us going
quickly once we sell the house. Maybe it’s true, but somehow I feel as though
I’m betraying myself by going after a new job.
Kate asked me why I was doing this and in a moment of
honesty I told her I wanted to be in charge. I don’t know. Maybe I’ve looked
for validation from my professional life for so long that I am trying to dodge
relaxing. It doesn’t feel that way, but maybe it is true.
So here I am at 0032 hours on a small puddle jumper Delta
connector plane bouncing from Salt Lake to Eugene for a big job interview I’m
not sure I really want anyway. Who knows though? Maybe I do want it. You see
that’s the catch. Maybe I do.
Some of the best advice I ever got was from this guy who
said, “The time to turn down a job isn’t before they offer it to you.” There is a lot to that.
So the plan is this. I’m going to do the best I can to win
the job and then make my decision. Tomorrow at about 1030 I will get picked up
at my hotel, taken to the Lane County Public Services Building and give the
staff a presentation, then off to an hour long interview with a slction
committee, then a writing exercise, and then I’m done until Thursday when I
have to meet the board and give them a presentation.
Yikes!
Love to all,
Bill
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Top 75 cancer tips
Top 75 Cancer Tips for Burkitt’s Lymphoma,
But You Can Use Them for Almost Any Cancer Journey. Really You Can
Tip #1 – Take a tape
recorder to your first oncology appointment, The information comes so fast it
is impossible to take it all in the first time around. The doctor won’t care –
he’ll probably appreciate it.
Tip #2 – Only wear t-shirts
with pocket and wear them inside-out so you stuff your catheter lumens in the
pocket so they’re not jangling and tugging on stuff.
Tip #3 – For PICC lines
Instead of gauze get some old athletic tube socks and cut off the toe and slide
that up your arm to secure all the tubing.
Tip #4 – For those of us
that deal with health insurance. Most insurers have a case management office
that handles dangerous illnesses like cancer, heart disease, and etc. Call your
insurer and ask about being case managed. Because Burkitt’s requires aggressive
chemo, there are unscheduled hospital trips that will require more agility than
a hulking bureaucracy can usually handle, Asking for a case manager seems to
alleviate a lot of this.
Tip #5 -- Build a Binder --
Get a three ring binder (maybe two) and a three-hole punch. Keep everything
somebody gives you about insurance, treatment, or disability. I filed my
chronologically. On the inside cover over of your binder tape whatever referral
system your primary care doctor uses.
Tip #6 – Keep two bags
packed at all times. One will be your “Gosh Darn It I didn’t Plan To Go To
Hospital Today” bag and the other is your “Outpatient Chemo” day trip bag. In
you “Gosh Darn It I didn’t Plan To Go To Hospital Today” bag have everything
ready for a week long unplanned hospital stay. You know, undies, pj’s, books,
secret blankies nobody knows about – that kind of stuff. Once your “Gosh Darn
It” bag is packed, take it with you while you are getting chemo to every
doctor’s visit.
In your Outpatient Chemo day
trip bag, take snacks you can stomach, your Ipod, books or magazines, some cash
for the lady with the snack cart, and other toys. Take a cell phone for the
stay that goes extra long and you need a new ride.
Tip #7 – GOYA (Get Off Your
Ass). As miserable as you may be or are gonna be., Get moving. Drag you and
your IV stand down the hall of the hospital and make a spectacle of yourself. It’ll
help you in your recovery later. If you don’t do something to get a little
exercise you’ll start obsessing, become lethargic, and this damn cancer will
start to thing it’s wining. Is it hard? You bet!! It’s better than lying in bed though.
Tip #8 – Study. Learn the
language. Having cancer – especially Burkitt’s – requires rapid immersion in a
whole new world. There is almost no time to ponder, to consider, or to digest.
It’s like being an immigrant to a country and not knowing the language, but you
have more to figure out than how to order a menu item at Mickey Dee’s in a new
language. The easiest way to start is to Google everything and go from there.
Think about it – Hickman, catheter, neutropenia, Absolute Neutrophil Count
(ANC), and that is just the medical lingo. There insurance, employers, state
and federal law; and blah, blah, blah. I’d recommend going to www.liverstrong.org and sign up. I know.
I know. Lance Armstrong is a bad man. I don’t care if the guy sold crack in the
churchyard, those Livestrong guys do a helluva job educating people. Being
lymphoma folks don’t we want our advice from a bloke who knows how to
manipulate blood?
Tip #9 For the girls. Make
sure you lift up your shirt and free your bra from being restrained from your
IV when you get admitted. This will allow you to change your clothes freely
without having them come in and plug the line for a few minutes. Make them add
a coiled line to your IV tubing so you can move around your room, go to your
bathroom, without dragging your pole with you.
Tip #10 – Start a
blog. Either Caring Bridge, whatever the hospital might have, or go to
blogspot. It’ll save you a lot of time telling the same story over and over
again. Type it up once a day and everyone is informed. While you’re at it
establish “office hours’ so people won’t be bugging you when you nap. Post hat
on your blog. Email the address and/or login info to everybody that needs to
know your business.
Tip #11. Learn
everyone’s name and background. Engage the nurses who give you chemo. Find out
why, when, how long ago they became nurses. Talk to the food service folks find
out their names too; let them know they matter. Don’t forget the people who
clean the rooms; they have a thankless job and an important story. It’s all
about the lion and the mouse. Everyone matters.
Tip
#12 Bring a foam
mattress cover to 1) make the beds much more comfortable 2) keep you from
sweating on the plastic beds. The hospital staff don't really like it, but if you
give them some puppy dog eyes or a real dirty look they’ll give in.
Tip #13.
Have your mom
there so she can drop the F bomb when the chair keeps flying back into the wall
every time she goes to sit on it. It adds a lot of humor, especially when nurses
are in there trying to get meds ready and she goes flying for the fifth time
that day.
Tip #14 – Know the laws governing
healthcare and privacy. As a general rule I don’t care who knows what about me,
but some people care so make sure you know what’s what. For example I talked to
some HR folks and they told me that you can say anything you want about
yourself – you can start a blog, a caring bridge site, put up billboards, or
have a fundraiser. That self-promotion is NOT implicit approval that you have
somehow given up your privacy right. In order for employers to use your illness
information requires explicit approval by you. Simply, you can talk about you
all day long – they can’t, unless you allow it.
Tip #15 – Get some
counseling. This cancer thing is not like having the flu. It’s a big deal with
lasting psychic changes – at least for me. Up ‘till my diagnosis I never had
much time or use for physcologist or mental health stuff. I’m a “tape it up,
you’ll be fine” kind of guy. But a holy smoke was I wrong. This whole life and
death struggle, the dangerous predicaments (from neutropenia, to neuropathy),
the implanting of medical devices, the self-injections, and the 50/50 survival
rate for chubby middle-aged guys took my breath away. Patients and caregivers
have to surrender control to a group of medical professionals they just met and
hope they’re not knuckle heads. It’s helplessness defined. I can only speak for
me, but I found counseling (and my teddy bear) invaluable to help me through it
all. I still go to group every other week and I went to therapist a couple of
times, but I had to fire him (sack for our British friends) because he had no
respect for time. The point is cancer treatment and cancer survival are not
do-it-yourself operations. None of us know enough and we’re all wandering
blind.
Tip #16 – Okay first things
first. Starting Monday its guest tip week. A lot of you guys have sent me tips.
And I’ll post them next week. This is kind of fun. Thanks for bearing with me.
It’s not like I know anything, but still … you guys are very indulging. On with
tip #16. As your taste buds change, deaden, or whatever you want to call it,
you will discover there are certain foods you once loved, but now are
ambivalent toward (for me it was chocolate). You may find there are only a
handful of things that are palatable so experiment and find out what you like.
For me it was, Honeycomb cereal, hotdogs, Powerade, Pizza (the local pizza
joint is still on my speed dial), and of all things – egg salad sandwiches.
Just about everything else was blech, yucky, stinky. Anyway you may find you
like new things. As a general rule I’m not a big fish eater, but when I was
sick fish with lemon was pretty good – not as good as grilled cheeseburger, but
still good.
Tip
#17. For long term in patients,
there needs to be care for the caregivers. I don't know how to word it
correctly, but I think the caregivers are the forgotten cancer victims.
I agree . Shoot, I’d rather
be the patient than the caregiver any day. First of all I’m too lazy. Being a
caregiver is a stinky thankless job. And watching the one you love have cancer
is just the worst, just the worst. It’s so hard. Some places like Gilda Houses
or Cancer Support Communities, or Wellness Centers have support groups for
caregivers. That’s probably a good place to start. This website from America’s
National Cancer Institute is pretty cool too http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/coping/caring-for-the-caregiver/page1.
Tip #18 – Here's
one that might just be rather exclusive to my experience, but it might help
somebody: "Don't wait weeks to look in a mirror." I thought I had
survived a secondary disease that caused aging of ten years over two months...I
got over it, but it was a bit of a shock.
Tip#19
– While in the hospital, get
dressed in regular clothes. I know that in the whole scheme of life that seems
unimportant, but it gives a sense of normalcy about your life.
Tip #21. Don’t chase blood
numbers’ it’ll drive you nuts. They are important and all, but obsessing about
them and putting them on spreadsheet and making graphs tracking them (I know
from whence I speak) will just confound you. It is like when you’re on a diet
and you hop on every scale you can find to see which one weighs you the
lightest (and therefore most accurate). Sure you need to know, but don’t
obsess, they’ll generally take care of themselves. For you rookies, it can all
be very scary, but fear not after a couple of transfusions …
Tip #22. I've got a tip for
those out of treatment. I have a hard time walking or running because of the
neuropathy in my feet, but I found that investing in a bike has been great. It
allows me to get a little more exercise and is much easier to bike 7-10 miles
than to walk 1, and I don't have to risk tripping and falling when my feet
don't cooperate.
Tip #23 – Find a way to
spit in cancer’s eye. A little, “Hey you, cancer, kiss my ass.” My little bit
of protestation was to walk in and out of every hospital visit and every
oncology appointment. It was hard sometimes, especially when I had some motor
control issues. I’m not suggesting everyone do that, but find something that is
just between you and cancer; something empowering to you and demeaning to
cancer.
Tip #24 – Develop a system
to remember what drugs you took. Those little trays with Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday, etc. Work okay, but I discovered I was too lazy and would drop stuff
anyway because my hands shook. In lieu of that, when I took my pills in the
morning, I turned my bottles upside down in the evening, right side up. That
way I knew what I took.
Tip #25 – Shave you own
head before your hair falls out. I don’t mean you actually shave it, but have
your lover do it. With the right music on in the background and the proper
amount of crying while it’s happenings it can be one of the most romantic
things ever – kind of an upside-down redo of the scene from “Phenomenon” when
Kyra Sedgewick shaves John Travolta (okay that’s creepy). Regardless, shaving
my own head seemed to symbolize gaining control over an uncontrollable
situation.
Tip #26 – Get a recliner.
From Decadron to anxiety there are gonna be plenty of sleepless nights and a
recliner can really help with the quick cat nap or make it easier on your
caregiver as you slink out of bed at 3 a.m. I love(d) mine I still use it most
days after work.
Tip #27 – Get the secret menu. Okay I’ve mentioned
this before, but there is a secret menu at most hospitals; you have to ask for.
You don’t have to eat all the mass produced stuff everyone else gets. You can
have your own personalized institutional food just for the asking. For example
if you like hotdogs (who doesn’t?) you can eat them to the point of nitrate
toxicity, just by asking.
Tip #28 – Mix ice cream with
the Ensure and freeze them both It’ll taste like a fudge pop and cut the
chalkiness. – Sooner or later a
bottle of Ensure somehow made it to my food tray. No matter how much I lost my
taste buds, that nastiness was unpalatable. Ensure – nasty, nasty, nasty. Freeze it or toss it.
Tip #29 – Bring lots of
change – Okay this actually two tips in one. First wear pants or shorts that have pockets. There may be
things worth stealing as you GOYA and wander down the hospital hall.
Kleptomania aside, this brings us to out second point, bring lots of change for
the vending machine and carry it in your packets. You’re gonna be busy with
your IV pole so you can’t carry a bunch quarters in your hands as you sneak off
for a Swedish Fish resupply.
Tip #30 – Develop a list of
essential elements of information. Now listen – as you wander about the
hospital getting your daily exercise you’re not just wandering with no agenda
like some zombie for the Walking Dead. IN the words of Dr. Evil, “Need the
info.” There is stuff you need to know. Where’s the microwave, what kind of
coffee do the nurses drink (K-Cups?), where do the drug sales people hang out,
where is the water cooler that has the hot water spigot, what visitors are
being mean to our nurses, what families bring donuts?
Grasshoppers, each will be
explained in time although the donut one is pretty easy -- you have to put on
you your very best “poor me I have cancer face” and shamelessly stare at the
donut box like a Dickensian waif in an orphanage wanting more gruel. Imagine a
little British Boy with a cockney accent, “Excuse sir, (cough, cough), are
donuts the same as when I came to the ‘ospital so long ago? No, no I don’t want
one. I was just enjoying the aroma, sir. No one ever brings me donuts. (cough,
cough) Okay if you insist.” And then you have to slowly and painfully shuffle
away. Don’t skip because you bilked someone out of a free donut. It’ll ruin it
for the s rest of us.
Tip #31. Get snacks for the
nurses. Your life depends on nurses. Keep them happy. Regardless of what they
say, they love junk food. I’ve heard the lies, “Fruit, and healthy snacks! Why
we never eat sugar.” You bring some cookies in and they’ll be all over them
like piranha on a fat man. J Seriously ... I’m not kidding. Get your nurses
snacks. Alright fruit if you have to.
Tip #32 – Let’s talks sex. I
can only talk for middle-aged fat guys from Delaware with a smoking hot wife
and three nosy dogs. Give it time. Just give it time. From all the pounding our
blood took there is going to be a period of “what the hell just happened” and
sex is way off the radar screen. Not only that, with every Cialis add reminding
us, “It may be a matter of blood flow,” the leap – real or imagined – from
blood flow, to blood cancer, and performance anxiety can create a real mental
mess. Here’s the thing – all things in time. Middle-aged fat guys from Delaware
will bounce back in about six months or so if you can manage to keep the dogs
away from the door of whatever room you are using. Especially the GD Yorkshire
Terrier.
Tip #33. Bring a supply of birthday cards. One
can never tell.
Tip #34. Puzzles books and
crosswords. You’re gonna be there for a while and some of that time is spent
alone, so puzzle books and crosswords can be a big help
Tip #35: Prescription
Control: Because you will be on 36+ different prescriptions: Preparing a spreadsheet drug schedule
which will come in handy when dosing yourself up with all those drugs! I prepared one for prescription drugs
& OTC with: what it was, dosage amount, what it was for, when to take it
and left blank parts to fill in by hand such as date, time, and dosage
amount. This helped keep me on
schedule and ensure I took what I needed when I needed it no matter where I was
and I didn't OD on the plethora of pills.
I also carried this to the Oncol's office. I still use an updated version of what, who much, when, how
many, and why to my PCP or other specialist know what I'm on, how much,
when. I am not on as much but my mind
is not what it used to be so when they ask: what are you taking; I pull out the
list and give them a copy.
Tip # 36 There was something
about Burkitt’s I really liked besides the weight loss. Okay it’s disgusting,
but it’s true. Ready. You know how you have to use a urinal for all the
measuring they do while you’re in the hospital? And you know how you sometimes
get a private room if you have neutropenia? Well during football season I never
missed a play when I was in the hospital because I … you can guess. My wife
said I couldn’t do it at home – especially now. Damn!! The good old days.
Tip #41. Big boy stuff. Make
lot’s of copies of your living will and bring them to the hospital with you
ever time. I’m not saying anything is going to happen I’m just saying … At one
point they didn’t know if I was gonna be walking out or rolling out feet first
and I was in no mood to take care of legal stuff. Luckily I had this binder
(I’m a nerd in a lot of ways) full of “get your affairs in order” stuff and
they had all those documents on hand.
Cancer Tip #42 – Don’t
tolerate shoddy home health care. I had real problems with the yahoos they sent
me from the local visiting nurses place. Send letters and emails to their
bosses and don’t let them bully you. The only nurses your life depends on are
at the hospital or chemo suite.
Cancer Tip #43– I hope this
isn’t too controversial, but I’m gonna talk about religion and/or spirituality.
Be specific in your pastoral care requests when they check you in at the
hospital. I know that every BS story starts with, “I swear this is true.” This
isn’t like that although “I swear this is true.” When the nurse wheels that
computer cart in your room and begins asking you those update kind of questions
and you get to “would you like some pastoral care?” Be specific. On one of my
trips I’m not sure which block it was, or what was going on, but when they
asked me, I was so miserable I just said yeah, yeah, yeah and waved them by
with a dismissive gesture. I imagine in the basement of the hospital there is a
room full of holy men/women in sprinter starting positions, waiting for
somebody to answer yes to pastoral and the all dash to the door to see who can
be the first one to the room. Oh yeah – that’s how I see it. Because when I
gave a non-specific yes, I got a parade of holy people from just about very
denomination you can imagine. The only no show was an Imam. I had priests,
reverends, rabbis, and some guy who, to this day, I don’t know what he
professed. They were all wonderful people, but there were a lot of ‘em. I won’t
even go into the offer I had from a wonderful Native American to smudge my room
to purify it. Anyway the parade ended with this priest from the local Korean
Catholic Church explaining Groupon to me. Be warned.
Tip #44 – Be prepared for
angels. I believe in angels. Here’s what I think happens. The Supreme Being,
Ultimate Reality, God, or whatever you want to call it/him/her (I hesitate to
use personal pronouns, but language is insufficient) visits us through people. Anyway
when you are in a moment somebody will say something profound to you and if you
are prepared to receive the message, you will interact with an angel. Here’s
what I mean. I was walking out of Wawa (a local convenience store, for those
outside of Pennsylvania, Maryland or Delaware). I was feeling down, but I
opened the door for this fellow and gave him some standard greeting of the day
and he replied, “You should be thankful, some people don’t make it as far you
have. There may be things you can teach others.”
I was stunned; stopped for a
minute and then went to find him – he was gone. It happened as fast as you just
read it. Nobody moves that fast. I believe it was an angel. Here’s the thing –
I think we are angels too and might never know until we look back and think,
“Why did I say that, or do that?”
Tip #45 – Send your
caregiver home. Caregivers don’t be guilty. Cancer patients are a pushy bunch
and can get all wrapped up in being sick. Caregivers don’t know this, but we
patients receive special instruction on being pains in the ass (what do you
think is in all those self-help books we read). So the point is caregivers can
only take so much without some personal preventive maintenance, so it’s up to
the patients to make sure the caregiver doesn’t get sick. On a slow night send
‘em home or to a hotel. When you caregivers get a night off, do something
relaxing or fun and don’t feel guilty. We need you in the fight (even soldiers
get passes).
Tip #46 – Okay serious big
boy stuff. I read somewhere that the number one reason people quit chemo
treatment is neuropathy. It’s not puking, it’s not hair loss, it’s not feeling
lousy; it’s the discomfort people feel from neuropathy. So the tip I guess is
to know what the symptoms of neuropathy are and realize that a bunch of it will
dissipate after chemo is over. Admittedly it can take years (I still have an
episode every now and then), but it’s important to know when you make decisions
about your cancer journey. It would sure be sad to make a life threatening permanent
decision to a somewhat temporary problem.
Tip #47 – Crocs is good
shoes -- for the cancer ward. If you’re a wanderer like me, you’re gonna need
some easy-on, easy-off footwear for your jaunts through the hospital. I always
wanted to get a white lab coat that said “patient” on it and see how far I
could get – the goal always being the coffee kiosk in the lobby. Anyway the
Crocs are good because they prevent falling on your buttocks on the slippery
floors, they have a pebbly bottom that kind of massages your feet (it’s
neuropathy thing), and they are pretty durable (I wonder where mine are? Oh
that’s right, I threw them out in an “I don’t have to go the hospital anymore
ceremony.” Not only that they’re pretty inexpensive and quite fashionable.
Tip #48 – Instant Coffee is
good. I loved my nurses and they were so kind to me and brought me coffee at
strange hours, but they have better things to do than play room service for
some 54-year-old crybaby. There are real sick people in these cancer wards. So
I wandered about and discovered that the Bone Marrow Transfer Unit had one of
those water coolers with the hot/cold spigots. That brings us to Starbucks
Instant Coffee. It is excellent. For our non-U.S. friends I don’t know if you
have Starbucks, but I am sure there is instant coffee in South Africa (probably
delivered by lions), and aboard local carriages in Australia (trains I think).
The point is, as you are wandering about the cancer ward begging for donuts you
might as well grab some hot coffee on your own, especially if the nurses are
too busy saving lives to wait on you.
Tip #49. Be a patient
patient – I’m too funny. You saw what I did right I used the same word as an
adjective and a noun. I think it’s an adjective, could be a gerund. Damn I’m
screwing up the pun. Regardless, This Burkitt’s thing is pretty miserable while
you’re in the middle of it. The thing to remember is this; “today is going to
suck, but this isn’t about today. It is about tomorrow.” There are lots of
winding and detours to get to tomorrow, but if all goes well, tomorrow will be
way better than today.
Tip #50 – Talk about
something else for a while. Okay I know that fighting cancer is the most
significant emotional event that will or has happened in our lives and that of
our family’s, but man we need to give it a rest sometimes, especially for our
caregivers. There are times when cramming one more bit of information about
neutrophils, C-Diff, or that damn insurance company, is going to make their
heads explode. I bet sometimes it’s like being locked in room with a life
insurance salesman – good information, just too much of it. If you’re looking
for something to chat about that is not cancer related you could try talking
about how wonderful I am, the Boston Red Sox, the Dallas Cowboys, sunsets, or
Monte Cristo Sandwiches (aren’t they the perfect meal, I mean French Toast
wrapped around ham and cheese). I feel like George Costanza talking about
manure.
Tip #51 – Okay guys I went
to three sessions last week and came away with some really good info about
Chemo Induced Peripheral Neuropathy (CIPN); Caregiver Maintenance; Americans
with Disabilities Act; and some cool stuff about breakthroughs being worked at
the University of Pennsylvania.
I took a ton of notes, so
let’s go. I think I’ll start with caregivers. Let me get my prejudice out of
the way before we go any further. Having a caregiver doesn’t mean the patient
gets to sit on his duff and direct actions like a wounded potentate. In the
world according to Bill, adult patients are responsible – not caregivers – for
keeping track of some stuff (e.g. updating drug lists, keeping appointment
calendars, and communicating with crazy relatives). Kid patients are altogether
different – I’m sure. Caregiving is a super hard job and patients are pains in
buttocks and having some middle-aged fat boy whining about his pillow being
fluffed – well, that dog don’t hunt.
Where was I? I better ask my
caregiver.
For caregivers there is no
training, the world drops this on you from nowhere, and nobody takes anything
off your plate. In most cases caregivers learn from their patients what is
needed. The thing to remember is every other commitment before the diagnosis
still exists. There are still jobs, kids, and house stuff to handle.
Tip #52 – Caregiver
Communications concerns. Okay we’ve talked a lot about some of this stuff in
different posts. You know, tape recorders at appointments, use of blogs and
caring bridge to keep people informed, and etc. One note I picked up is that
caregivers have to understand how patients best communicate. All of us have
different modes of communications we favor. For example I hate talking on the
phone. People who have never been caregivers, don’t get it. They don’t understand. I prefer to
think that they CAN’T (language matters) get it. For that reason, caregivers
need to be exact when non-caregivers ask to help (let them). The communication
audience for caregivers has increased so has the language requirements. They
now may have the chance to talk to doctors, the entire medical team, family,
friends, the always-pleasant insurance calls, and the employer. Each new
constituency has its own language the caregiver may need to learn and a whole new
slate of contact. Don’t forget to keep the patient involved he/she should only
be playing the cancer card when it comes to cleaning the house. One other thing
– try to find some poor unsuspecting schlep to be the stand-in caregiver when
you’re not around (you can’t be everywhere
Tip 53 – Contact info.
Pestering people is what we do, but in order effectively drive them as crazy as
we can, we need to know how to contact them. Somebody should make a list of all the needed potential
contacts. I say make the patient do it – his dance card probably isn’t all that
full and would welcome the task. Those numbers need to include everyone on the
medical team, employers, insurers, pizza delivery boy (no kidding mine is on
speed dial), and anyone else who can help in a pinch. That list should be
posted somewhere at home. I had one of those cork bulletin boards I put I the
kitchen (the pizza joint’s flyer was also there). .
Tip # 54. Know what an
emergency is. An emergency can mean different things depending on where you are
on the journey – so know what one is and know who to call when you have one.
Tip #55. Know how your phone
works. Some doctor’s use a service after hours and may ask you turn off the
call waiting on your phone before the doc calls back. Not knowing how to do
that can make emergencies hard to hndle.
Tip #56. Adult patients have
a lot of info they need to share --- so Caregivers need to sweat ‘em. Like
who’s the little old lady that handles disability at the office? Why do you
have Selma Hayek’s home phone number? For someone who can’t taste anything, you
sure have a bunch of restaurants on you contact info, why is that? Who’s the nurse navigator coordinator
at the doctor’s office? Pay special attention to the after hours stuff. Oh I
almost forgot, when the hospital calls to update your before your scheduled
stay make sure you get a call back number in case you have to answer the door
for the pizza guy.
Tip #57 – It’s important for
caregivers to list questions and them bring ‘em with you and write the answers
down in your decorative cancer notebook. We all know that, but ask the rest of
the family if they have any questions for the docs, nurses, nutritionist, and
etc. This may uncover questions you hadn’t thought of, but may also help
younger family members feel part of the team and not be bystanders in the
biggest battle that can hit a family. I guess that’s it. .
Tip #58 – As you all have
probably guessed my now I can be an opinionated meany especially as far as
adult Burkitt’s patients are concerned. I need to be clear; I can only talk
from my experience. Someone could easily infer, that patients should take
chemo, lie in bed, and surrender to the world at large, while caregivers
shoulder the load of every logistic issue small and large, ranging from nose
wiping, to coordinating with health insurers. It makes my blood boil. Balderdash
I say! Balderdash!
Again I can only speak for
me and remember I almost died from infection and blah, blah, blah. He/she isn’t helpless. On the wall of
the cancer support community where I go ever Tuesday night there is a picture
of the founder and a quote that says patients have a much better chance of
survival if they advocate for themselves (or something like that). Anyway, the
point is, caregivers are not pack mules, or litter bearers. Patients have work
to do to make the caregivers life easier. I guess that’s it – I don’t know
where that came from, but that’s how I feel.
Tip #59 – As you know the
Army problem solving method is “identify a problem, build a binder.” While I
advocate stuffing everything in a binder, the patient should prepare and update
weekly a special caregiver binder with the following stuff:
An updated list of
medicines, dosages and times taken -- this includes the stuff you take at home,
the crazy herbal stuff your aunt is making you take, and all the chemo drugs as
well; a complete list of contact info; a living will or what every you want in
case you can’t communicate; a power of attorney; insurance policy numbers (life
and health); all those release slips the doc send home with you.
Tip #60 – Caregivers – Be on
guard and don’t ignore your own needs. The sicker your patient gets the more
your needs increase. Remember, it is more likely than not that your patient
will get miserable for a period of time and having a half-dead caregiver
doesn’t help anyone. The most common signs for caregiver burnout and fatigue
are: Fatigue, Guilt, Anxiety, Stress, Frustration, Isolation, Depression,
Anger, Resentment, and Illness. (As I look at these, it seems like a pretty
standard day in Caregiver-land),
Tip #61 – Let’s start from
the beginning chemo sucks when you’re going through it, but you might get a
lifetime gift from it too. Chemo Induced Peripheral Neuropathy! Yeah baby. The
symptoms are miserable and they include: a burning feeling in you limbs (and
everywhere else for that matter); numbness, stabbing pain (when not numb),
pricking (what ever that is), tingling, sharpness, shooting, and electric shock
type feeling in extremities. But wait there’s more! Apparently this little gift
can come with a healthy dose of constipation too – aren’t cancer patients lucky
(and apparently full of sh#@T). Mine is usually worse if the lawn needs to be
mowed, my lovely wife wants to go purse shopping, or there is a good football
game on TV.
Tip #62 – Recovery stuff.
Since I lost my neuropathy notes and the Internet is full of stuff here ‘s a
link to the mayo clinic -- http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/chemotherapy-neuropathy/MY01327.
Okay maybe I should’ve held the mayo (heh, heh). Oh god I love “Airplane”
humor. One question -- why does the spell-check make you capitalize Internet?
How did that become a proper noun? I digress.
Tip #63 – Recovery from
Burkitts is an intensely personal thing. Just because I can or can’t do
something doesn’t mean that you can or can’t. It’s just one of those weird
things about this. For example I am 50 er, ah, um something years old and had a
very active lifestyle before I got sick. My start point was stage two with a
bowel resection. I could only withstand six of the eight rounds of hyper CVAD
and blah, blah, blah. The point is my starting point, damage, and approaches
are mine. A 50 – something year
old will have different effects and long-term side effects than a 60 –
something, or a 40 – something. Even so there are still some things we can
share. More Monday.
Tip #64 – I thought we’d do
well to define “Recovery” before giving tips about it. Think Recovery is a continuous
individual process that attempts to return a Burkitt’s Lymphoma patient to a
quality of life that allows him/her to pursue happiness within the confines of
their new physical and psychological condition. Recovery begins at diagnosis
and lasts for the remainder of the patient’s life.
Tip #65 – Now that we’ve
defined recovery and have common language here’s the tip -- Be violent in your
execution. Whether you goal is to walk to the stop sign a block away, or as
time goes on run ten miles – dedicate yourself to doing it. Nothing can stop
you; you must have a ludicrous drive to get there. It doesn’t matter what it
is. Be insane about taking the trash out, or washing the kitchen floor (men’s
work by the way), whatever it is. Nothing can stop you. Remember the goal you
set for yourself comes from within and each one is just as Herculean as any
other. One of my was mowing our tiny front lawn – it was a big deal to me (my
wife keeps asking me to do it again, but I already was successful at it – no
need.)
Tip #66 – Do an inventory of
you. How beat up are you from your cancer treatment? What are your limitations?
What still works pretty well? What doesn’t works so well? Is there anything you
can fix? Do you want to? For caregivers – same thing.
Tip #67 – Don’t rush back to
work. If you can afford it, return to work with the same enthusiasm of a dog
going to the vet or a cat taking a bath. If I had to do over, I would have
stiff-armed my return by a couple of months. I wasn’t ready. Even though my job
has been very supportive and I felt a moral obligation to get back as fast as
possible as symbol of returning to normal – I did it too soon.
Tip #68 (Recovery) Stash
some money away to cover federal income tax. This is one of those “Do as I say.
Not as I do.” Tips. If your employer has a disability policy and you go out on
short or long term disability, be advised some insurers DO NOT withhold income
tax. I dropped the ball here and it cost me a bit of cash just as I was coming
out of my cancer haze and returning to work. Even though most disability
insurance is woefully inadequate to cover lost wages, the tax bill can be
shockingly high.
Tip #69 – Get in shape if
you can. Referring to tip 66, Set up a plan to get yourself back in good enough
shape to do the things you want to do. This can be ridiculously hard, but it’s
gotta be done. Want to go fishing
and need to walk two miles to get you your fishing hole? Slowly work up to it.
Important note – make sure platelets are sustained at 50,000 before you do
anything too crazy. Although normal platelets are 150,000, I think we all threw
normal out the window a while ago. Safe – for exercise – is 50,000. That’s what
Lance Armstrong says – he’d never lie.
Tip #70 – Forgive yourself
for the emotional outbursts you’re gonna have at work. This goes for caregivers
too. When you go through this and return to work, you’re gonna realize that a
lot of what you’re doing is way less important than ti once was.
Tip #71 – Comedy is easy,
sex is hard. Don’t let a bad sex episode get in your head. All things in
time. I guess I can only speak for
balding quintogenarians (I just made that word up), who likes pizza too much.
Sex, while important, is pretty low on the laundry list of things to worry
about as you battle through the haze of residual side effects. As you all know
side effects can hang on for a while, so be patient. I have a lot of stupid
jokes, but this is too important to be glib about. Okay never mind, remember
like anything else, practice makes perfect.
Tip #72 (recovery) – Prepare
for a bit of sticker shock. Unless you’re a member of congress, or live in a
country with a single payer health system, sooner or later you’re gonna: a.
find out how much your hospital charged your insurer, and b. you still owe some
money.
Hopefully your out-of-pocket
costs won’t be too devastating, but between that and lost wages you can go
through money faster than a drunken sailor on shore leave and not have a tattoo
or social disease show for it. Stashing money aside is virtually impossible too
due to copays, bills that don’t go away, lost income and blah, blah, blah. Just
relax and do the best you can.
Tip #73 – Beware Maslow.
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is real. In the midst of the cancer fight you have
a certain clarity about what’s important and what isn’t. As you move further
away from the chemo and things become fuzzy you may start to drift back (or
forward, I’m not sure) to different priorities forgetting some of the “stop and
smell the roses” lessons you once embraced as a newly minted survivor. I’m not
sure if it is good or bad, but it can happen.
Tip #75 – Expect pain. Okay
here’s the thing. Depending on what operations you had to save your life and
how fast you went into chemo afterwards things might not heal as optimally as
you a person who didn’t have chemo injected into the recovery process. For that
reason there may be residual pain for a while. I understand it is also very
common for hernias to develop at or near incision sites due to chemo
immediately after surgery. I suspect it has to do with platelets, but I’m not
sure. It mostly goes away after a while.
© 2013
Compiled by Bill Potter with suggestions from survivors and caregivers at the
Burkitt’s Lymphoma Society Private Facebook group and the Burkitt’s Lymphoma
Support Group also on Facebook
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
survivor rant
Hey Burkittians:
Wassup? I have been thinking deep thoughts of late and wanted your opinions. First, let review the bidding – as they say. I am a two-year-old Burkitt’s survivor and like any other survivor/caregiver I have been through the wringer to get this far, but there is something at the back of my mind that is struggling to get out – actually quite a few things.
I guess the first thing is surviving and what that means. I have mentioned this in my Tuesday night group, but they it call it “survivor guilt.”
I am fully aware that not everyone I started my journey with has crossed a finish line and it makes me wonder. Why me? Do I have a responsibility now because I made it and others didn’t? But there is more to it, which at the moment, I am incapable of articulating. Regardless, “survivors guilt” is the wrong phrase.
I think it is more of a survivor’s mystification. Really, there is not a single shred of guilt about being alive. It’s better than the alternative. But I had every complication there is, really I did. And I am still going – not nearly as strong as before, but I can waddle up to ten miles and maybe further if a bear is chasing me. Yet still the question is why me? And if there is a greater power that bestowed this gift of life, what do I do with it? Do I plod away at the Delaware Department of Labor? Do I thank God, or Allah, or the Ultimate Reality and just drive on with life as normal? Do I embrace a higher calling? (Whatever that means.)
I realize there is no universality to these questions. I mean if I choose to hike the Appalachian Trail to celebrate survivorships, or work away to put food on my family’s table, or become a Lymphoma advocate, or just live through today to tomorrow – all of these choices are equally valid. Aren’t they?
I guess that’s the end of my rant for now. More later?
Wassup? I have been thinking deep thoughts of late and wanted your opinions. First, let review the bidding – as they say. I am a two-year-old Burkitt’s survivor and like any other survivor/caregiver I have been through the wringer to get this far, but there is something at the back of my mind that is struggling to get out – actually quite a few things.
I guess the first thing is surviving and what that means. I have mentioned this in my Tuesday night group, but they it call it “survivor guilt.”
I am fully aware that not everyone I started my journey with has crossed a finish line and it makes me wonder. Why me? Do I have a responsibility now because I made it and others didn’t? But there is more to it, which at the moment, I am incapable of articulating. Regardless, “survivors guilt” is the wrong phrase.
I think it is more of a survivor’s mystification. Really, there is not a single shred of guilt about being alive. It’s better than the alternative. But I had every complication there is, really I did. And I am still going – not nearly as strong as before, but I can waddle up to ten miles and maybe further if a bear is chasing me. Yet still the question is why me? And if there is a greater power that bestowed this gift of life, what do I do with it? Do I plod away at the Delaware Department of Labor? Do I thank God, or Allah, or the Ultimate Reality and just drive on with life as normal? Do I embrace a higher calling? (Whatever that means.)
I realize there is no universality to these questions. I mean if I choose to hike the Appalachian Trail to celebrate survivorships, or work away to put food on my family’s table, or become a Lymphoma advocate, or just live through today to tomorrow – all of these choices are equally valid. Aren’t they?
I guess that’s the end of my rant for now. More later?
Monday, November 25, 2013
tips coming
Hey guys:
I’ve been busier than a one-legged man in hieney kicking
contest. Over the next couple of days I’m gonna go over all the cancer tips,
kind of correct the grammar, put them in a pretty package, and send them to
you. It’ll be cool. That way everybody can have them to review and pass out to
their friends.
Another post is coming in a little while.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
no tips for a while
Hey all:
taking a tip break for a while. I need to recharge. I got to 75 or so. so that might be all there is. We’ll see
Friday, November 8, 2013
I’m Just saying
Good morning all. Long ago I promised I’d tell the truth in this and my first blog.
A couple of things -- This week has been a tough one. I’ve worked several big meetings, manned a table at a conference, and gave a big presentation. I’m Pooped. It’s that hardest I’ve worked since coming back and to top it ll off I had a neuropathy moment yesterday morning with terrible pain ripping across my foot.
I’m going to work and hoping for a nice quiet day. I’m gonna get some stuff caught up and see what happens.
I guess that’s it.
A couple of things -- This week has been a tough one. I’ve worked several big meetings, manned a table at a conference, and gave a big presentation. I’m Pooped. It’s that hardest I’ve worked since coming back and to top it ll off I had a neuropathy moment yesterday morning with terrible pain ripping across my foot.
I’m going to work and hoping for a nice quiet day. I’m gonna get some stuff caught up and see what happens.
I guess that’s it.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
damn you Maslow!!
Cancer Tip 73 – Beware Maslow. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs
is real. In the midst of the cancer fight you have a certain clarity about what’s
important and what isn’t. As you move further away from the chemo and things
become fuzzy you may start to drift back (or forward, I’m not sure) to different
priorities forgetting some of the “stop and smell the roses” lessons you once embraced
as a newly minted survivor. I’m not sure if it is good or bad, but it can
happen.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Cancer tip 72 (recovery)
Cancer tip 72 (recovery) – Prepare for a bit of sticker
shock. Unless you’re a member of congress, or live in a country with a single
payer health system, sooner or later you’re gonna: a. find out how much your hospital
charged your insurer, and b. you still owe some money.
Hopefully your out-of-pocket costs won’t be too devastating,
but between that and lost wages you can go through money faster than a drunken
sailor on shore leave and not have a tattoo or social disease show for it.
Stashing money aside is virtually impossible too due to copays, bills that don’t
go away, lost income and blah, blah, blah. Just relax and do the best you can.
stomach pain
Bill update -- The fact that I am stupid reared its ugly again. I ran way too far for a 56 year old fat boy, cancer man Friday and it wore me down and for some obvious reason I am too prideful to admit caused my abdomen scar to scream in pain all weekend. If I didn’t have so much shite to do at work for the next four days and a big report due, I’d stay home and firmly insert my thumb into my mouth. Off to a quick pre-work nap, then off to work
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
sex baby tip 71
Cancer tip 71 (Recovery – adult themed). Comedy is easy sex
is hard. Don’t let a bad sex episode get in your head. All things in time. I guess I can only speak for balding
quintogenarians (I just made that word up), who like pizza too much. Sex while
important, is pretty low on the laundry list of things to worry about as you
battle through the haze of residual side effects. As you all know side effects
can hang on for a while, so be patient. I have a lot of stupid jokes, but this
is too important to be glib about. Okay never mind, remember like anything else
practice makes perfect.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Tips 68, 69, 70 forgot to post them
Cancer tip 68 (Recovery) Stash some money away to cover
federal income tax. This is one of those “Do as I say. Not as I do.” Tips. If
your employer has a disability policy and you go out on short or long term
disability, be advised some insurers DO NOT withhold income tax. I dropped the
ball here and it cost me a bit of cash just as I was coming out of my cancer
haze and returning to work. Even though most disability insurance is woefully
inadequate to cover lost wages, the tax bill can be shockingly high.
Cancer tip 69 (recovery). Get in shape if you can. Referring
to tip 66, Set up a plan to get yourself back in good enough shape to do the
things you want to do. This can be ridiculously hard, but it’s gotta be
done. Want to go fishing and need
to walk two miles to get you your fishing hole? Slowly work up to it. Important
note – make sure platelets are sustained at 50,000 before you do anything too
crazy. Although normal platelets are 150,000, I think we all threw normal out
the window a while ago. Safe – for exercise – is 50,000. That’s what Lance
Armstrong says – he’d never lie.
Cancer Tip 70 (recovery) Forgive yourself for the emotional
outbursts you’re gonna have at work. This goes for caregivers too. When you go
through this and return to work, you’re gonna realize that a lot of what you’re
doing is pretty stupid.
I was on a conference call when I first got back and it went on for
about 30 minutes too long as everyone tried to jockey for phone call supremacy.
The big muckety-mucks asked if there were any question. I said, “Since it’s
painfully obvious we’re done, can I hang up?” Another time a subordinate gave
me a ration of shit and I resigned, luckily the secretary of labor talked me
out of it. Another time I just broke down and cried.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Stiff arm work a bit longer
Recovery tip #67 – Don’t rush back to work. If you can
afford it, return to work with the same enthusiasm of a dog going to vet or a
cat taking a bath. If I had to do over, I would have stiff-armed my return by a
couple of months. I wasn’t ready. Even though my job has been very supportive
and I felt a moral obligation to get back as fast as possible as symbol of
returning to normal – I did it too soon.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
tip 66
I realize I am way behind I’ll catchup today.
Recovery Tip #66 – Do an inventory of you. How beat up are
you from your cancer treatment? What are your limitations? What still works
pretty well? What doesn’t works so well? Is there anything you can fix? Do you
want to? For caregivers – same thing.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
REcovery stuff we’ve already discussed
Tip #62 – Recovery stuff. Since I lost my neuropathy notes
and the Internet is full of stuff here ‘s a link to the mayo clinic -- http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/chemotherapy-neuropathy/MY01327.
Okay maybe I should’ve held the mayo (heh, heh). Oh god I love “Airplane”
humor. One question -- why does the spell-check make you capitalize Internet?
How did that become a proper noun? I digress. Recovery is its own little bag of
happy in a lot of ways. There are false starts with doctors; neuropathy pain;
return to work issues; the realization you are not the same as you were; and
the constant fear of getting sick again. But then again, that might just be me.
The thing I noticed was how much physical strength I had lost from getting sick
even to now.
So here’s the tip. Be patient. This walk is just as long and
winding as the treatment phase.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Sorry about yesterday
I was kind of maudlin yesterday. I don’t know why just was. You know it be that way sometimes. Feeling pretty good today. Lifted weights last night for the first time in 14 months. It’s about time to get into that again. I put it off to let my abdomen heal up a little more. That could become a tip. Hmmm. I am waxing reflective these days. I’ll be two years old Friday and anniversaries make me wonder ... Ho hum.
Had a great night of writing last night. Cranked out a good 90 minutes of misspelled hackery.
My dear friend Lyn hooked me up with a playwriting group that meets Saturday. With any luck it’ll kick start me into finishing my cancer comedy. I guess that’s it.
Had a great night of writing last night. Cranked out a good 90 minutes of misspelled hackery.
My dear friend Lyn hooked me up with a playwriting group that meets Saturday. With any luck it’ll kick start me into finishing my cancer comedy. I guess that’s it.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Vacay Over
Tip tomorrow I swear to God. I’m pouting today. My vacation is over and I have to go back to work. Woe is me. I mean work is okay, but as they say – the worst day of golf, fishing, traveling, reading, and being a general pain in the ass, is better than the best day at work.
Oh well. I have this habit. I only take vacation in the fall and spring. They’re my faves.
Back to the grind. I have a lot to do. A big meeting tomorrow and a bigger meeting next week. A gagillion emails I’m sure and some phone messages from people I forgot to do something for. Ho, hum.
I’ve been working on a novel – an action novel. It’s coming along pretty well. I’m about 12,000 words into it. I’ve been thinking about rewriting my cancer book and shopping it to a publisher. I put it out in the format I did – diary – to make it inexpensive and easy to get to. My marketing has been for poop, I need to work that.
Buzz is watching me type. In recent months he has become my shadow and resident bed hog. It’s kind of reassuring. WE have good conversations – noLance Pinkham he doesn’t answer back.
You ever hear that Neil Diamond song “I am I said?” I feel that way today – Lost between two shores. I don’t know why. I wonder if everyone 55+ feels that way or is it just cancer survivors. Sometimes I wish I were more reserved and quiet. I don’t know how quiet people do it. It’s just not me. I think I let too many people in. Oh well.
Can you believe the Red Sox pulled that off last night and won? When I turned it off it was 5-1 Detroit when I wake up it’s 6-5 Boston. I’m stunned.
I redid my garage gym and now I just need to use it I gained a few pounds on vacay from snacking, drinking booze, and eating wonderful food. I am going to knock off 20 pounds. When I get too heavy my scar hurts.
Well gotta go and serve the citizens of Delaware.
Peace,
Bill
Oh well. I have this habit. I only take vacation in the fall and spring. They’re my faves.
Back to the grind. I have a lot to do. A big meeting tomorrow and a bigger meeting next week. A gagillion emails I’m sure and some phone messages from people I forgot to do something for. Ho, hum.
I’ve been working on a novel – an action novel. It’s coming along pretty well. I’m about 12,000 words into it. I’ve been thinking about rewriting my cancer book and shopping it to a publisher. I put it out in the format I did – diary – to make it inexpensive and easy to get to. My marketing has been for poop, I need to work that.
Buzz is watching me type. In recent months he has become my shadow and resident bed hog. It’s kind of reassuring. WE have good conversations – noLance Pinkham he doesn’t answer back.
You ever hear that Neil Diamond song “I am I said?” I feel that way today – Lost between two shores. I don’t know why. I wonder if everyone 55+ feels that way or is it just cancer survivors. Sometimes I wish I were more reserved and quiet. I don’t know how quiet people do it. It’s just not me. I think I let too many people in. Oh well.
Can you believe the Red Sox pulled that off last night and won? When I turned it off it was 5-1 Detroit when I wake up it’s 6-5 Boston. I’m stunned.
I redid my garage gym and now I just need to use it I gained a few pounds on vacay from snacking, drinking booze, and eating wonderful food. I am going to knock off 20 pounds. When I get too heavy my scar hurts.
Well gotta go and serve the citizens of Delaware.
Peace,
Bill
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)