It Feels Kind Of Like....

My grand watermelon adventure of 2011 did not succeed. I had blooms and fruit, but the fruit did not yield solid watermelon flesh throughout. There was a spoonful of edible melon flesh in the fruits that were produced, but not the way I hoped they would turn out. Seems I may have planted them too late and in the heat of the summer, their growth was stunted. But, what I needed to know is what I know now. Next year, I know when I need to plant them and how to care for them so that they yield what I hope for.

Tomorrow morning, a friend that I made in the previous year will be admitted to the Bone Marrow Unit at MCV  here in Richmond. Wondering how her evening is going tonight, brought back some of my anxiety of my "Bone Marrow Eve," but I also remember the specifics of that evening included a great dinner with some friends, a drop off of a patented "bag of fun" to take to the hospital with me and shopping to get one more shirt to wear while in the hospital.

The next day was a big day. Probably the most significant day of the whole adventure. One of the thoughts in my mind was, "Here goes. This will either work or it won't." The only other day that was similar was the first day of chemo. Coincidentally, the same person gave me a ride to both events.

As the weather turns to be more like the days before my diagnosis and as the college football team I follow turned in a performance on Saturday very similar to a performance I witnessed from them a few weeks prior to being diagnosed in 2008, sometimes the head remembers how those days felt. However, since I now have a healthy appetite and it isn't painful to digest food at this point, it's all good.

The other week, I was talking to another person who is being treated for lung cancer. He's about my age and his diagnosis has a time frame associated with it. As we talked, I told him, "None of us do know when we will die. However, all of us can live every day until then."

I told him that my feeling is that a cancer patient has to deal with two cancers. The physical cancer is the one that is being attended to by doctors and nurses and the patient makes decisions based on the information being presented to them. That cancer may or may not be cured.

The other cancer is the one that goes on in the mind.

"That one," I told him, "is curable. You are, and will be, surrounded by a host of angels in this world that can and will help you with that."

It's not necessary that you  know the names of the people I write about in this blog post, but it would be cool if you could think about them and send a few "Godspeeds" their way.

Maybe then, someday when they look back on the seeds that were planted for them, they will be able to share the fruits of their harvest.

Irene And The Mercy Rule

Last Saturday, August 27, I was sitting in the kayak pictured above on the Cheat River, just south of Rowlesburg WV. I was checking off an item on my "bucket list." I wanted to float the river between Seven Islands (look it up on Google Maps, it's there) and Rowlesburg. When I contacted my cousins about it, they suggested we put our kayaks in the water at Seven Islands and go to the bridge where Route 50 crosses over the Cheat. That is what we did. Less than 10 minutes after putting our kayaks in the water, all 6 of us on the trip were saying to each other, "This is cool! What took us so long to finally do this?" Our trip was further enhanced by the appearance of a bald eagle and a blue heron flying ahead and over us.

At the same time that we were in the water, Hurricane Irene was pummeling North Carolina and Virginia. Frankly, I wouldn't have left town had I known what was really going to happen in Richmond, but when I got back, everything was fine except for being without electricity and some tree branches that I need to clean out of my yard. Neighbors in the back of me had trees fall on their house. 

But, the serenity of kayaking on the Cheat River was where I was placed that day. 

When I returned to Richmond on Monday, some traffic lights were out and as a result, the intersections became 4 way stops. That's the rule. Except for the ignorant. I mean that in the way that describes lack of knowledge and a little bit that describes those who are self-centered. Ultimately, it falls to the knowledgeable driver to be the one responsible for not causing an accident, when in that situation, someone proceeds through the intersection out of turn. That's the way it has to work, no matter how fierce a glare I shoot in the direction of the person not following the rules.

Tuesday evening, I cleaned up some of the debris in my yard and emptied my refrigerator. I then decided to purchase some batteries to use in the battery operated lamps at my house. As I left the neighborhood, I noticed that the heroes of the hurricane had arrived in our neighborhood to restore our electricity. In spite of that, I still decided to continue on the battery purchasing mission. On the way back, I stopped at a local convenience store and purchased a well earned treat - a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich - paying the same for it that I paid for an amazing steak and cheese sub at Mike's Pizza in Arbutus MD during my first semester of college. In spite of the chronological price shock, I proceeded to the counter to wait my place in line; the coveted #2 position. Until.....a gentleman walked in and created a new #2 position. I unsealed "the glare" and failed to catch his eye. He kept his head turned away from mine. I turned and looked at the person behind to see if they saw what I saw. They too were looking in another direction. I concluded that the person in the new #2 position most certainly failed to follow the rule of the 4 way stop on his way to the store. I created other scenarios. In my mind, I placed him in an income bracket. I chose his automobile. I chose his college (they wear neckties to their football games). 

Then, when the opening presented itself, he took his place at the counter. When he shifted his position, his face turned towards mine I was able to make a revised assessment of his background. He had physical features that could suggest he may have some form of intellectual disability. Geez.

Somewhere in my blog is a story about making sure I know the story behind another person's actions before I make any assessments.

The serenity of a normally calm river winding through a wooded mountain ridge; the raging power of a hurricane unleashing furious winds, while dropping rain to quench a forest fire; and another human, placed in a location to catch the eye and soul of another human; are what keep this home we call earth (and someday, Heaven) in motion.

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it."

Four To Go

Told Annette yesterday, "You know, we only have four more of these bone marrow biopsies left over the next three years and that means we are well over halfway of the total number of them that you will have had to give me."

She seemed surprised that we were that far along, but I also now she was mostly relieved we at that point. Once again, she did a fantastic job of keeping the discomfort at a minimum. There were some "Ow's" that I recall from the past that I did not even experience yesterday.

I also told her, "I may do something really silly (not indecent, mind you) on the day of the final one in 2014." I have some ideas, but nothing concrete yet.

When it comes to that kind of thing, I don't think she has any fear.

Interesting medical fact......Every time she has performed a bone marrow biopsy on me, she comments about how strong my bones are and how tough it is for her to get through. Having a little of the "cancer paranoia," I asked what her take was on that. She explained that for older patients in their 60's-70's, as their bones are a little weaker, it is an easier process, but for patients in their 50's and younger, who are in relatively good health, the bone is a little harder to get through.

So I guess that's a good thing.

Ironically enough, I'm listening to the Mary Chapin Carpenter song, "I Feel Lucky," as I type this.

I would be even more excited to hear her singing "Passionate Kisses" to me in person.

Freshness Guaranteed

Now here's an idea you may never have thought of.....

If you ever have a friend who has surgery and will have a bandage covering the area where the surgery took place, and they want to be able to take a shower without getting the bandage wet.....

1) Buy them a handheld shower that will allow them to direct the water more precisely than a wall mounted shower head. You can get them at a starting cost of around $15.00 and up.

2) Here's the best thing you can do.....Buy them a roll or two of Glad Press and Seal. I'm breaking my own rule of inserting brand names, but it is the only product I've seen like it. In addition, the instructions that came from the hospital after I had my port removed, listed it by name. Tearing off a piece of it, larger than the bandaged area, and then applying it directly to your skin, allows you to take a shower without fear of soaking the dressing bandage. I've used it for the fourth time now since my "sabbatical" started and it works great! You shouldn't point the shower head directly at it, but it allows you to clean in the neighborhood.

Just throwing that out there.....

First MRSA And Now I'm A Biohazard

The port came out today, The Physician Assistant did a great job. No discomfort at all during the process. It probably took about 15-20 minutes. My question of, "Can I keep the port to show others what it looks like and how it works?," was answered with, "No, once it is removed it is considered medical waste and ultimately a bio hazard."

Somewhere in grade school I was probably accused of having "the cooties," but was never called a producer of bio hazard material. I consider it a promotion. Considering some of the stuff that traveled through the port, it is for the best that it now resides in a waste disposal facility at this moment.

Kudos, however, to how clean it looked after it was removed (they did let me look at it and say "goodbye."). I guess it speaks to the great shape of the neighborhood in which it resided since early November 2008. Seriously, I expected it to look like, well, like what the T-bone in a raw T-bone steak would look like after it had been eaten. Not so much. It looked as if it was brand new out of the package. The area where it was accessed (labeled as the "septum" in the picture below) was intact and I was unable to discern that any needles had ever penetrated it.

(actual size about the width of a quarter and about as thick as your thumbnail is wide)

One of the nurses asked me, "If you ever had a relapse, would you have another power port inserted?" "In a minute," I replied, "It sure beat getting stuck by an IV needle for every infusion, transfusion and collection."

However, for this port, it was time to let it go. The prime medical consideration for having it removed is that at any time, the body could reject it and create a "Graft vs. Host" situation.

So...........farewell my purple friend......thanks for helping me out........and for the members of your family that follow in the years to follow.....

Getting The Brain To Catch Up

Yesterday was the official 6 month follow up visit with my oncologist. She had reviewed the scans from last week and her first words to me as she entered the examination room were, "Your scans came back all clear." My blood work for the day is in the normal ranges - them darn platelets are still about where they were when I was first diagnosed - still in the normal range - but no where near where they were during treatments. Left on the schedule for the 6 month "routine" is a pulmonary function test and.....the bone marrow biopsy (over that anxiety a long time ago).

We also discussed that my power port will be scheduled to be removed. The official date for its removal is August 8 at 9AM. It is an outpatient procedure which I can drive myself to and from and go to work afterwards. I'm sure there will be some physical limitations for a few days afterwards. So be it. I guess it will be the week of taking things out of me as the following Friday (August 12) is t he bone marrow biopsy.

Interesting thoughts about the removal of the port. When I completed treatments, I immediately asked how quickly we could remove it. "Let's leave it in a little while," the doctor replied. I wondered why and developed scenarios, but ultimately it was a wise decision on her part as I needed the IVIG infusions between    November 2009 and July 2010. Leaving it in another year just to make sure blood levels were holding up now makes sense.

However, now that it's removal is inevitable, I have mixed thoughts about it. Wasn't sure why at first, but I think I figured it out.

When I went home after the first chemo treatment, when I left the hospital after the stem cell transplant, when my parents went home after staying with me two weeks straight when I was released from the hospital, when I went back to work full time, when I made my first out of town trip following my "sabbatical", and when I stepped back on stage as part of a theatrical cast, there was anxiety. It was because I had to let go of some sort of lifeline that I had been holding onto. My body was ready for the increased independence, but the brain wasn't in sync quite yet. With time, I accepted the independence and took a deep swallow of "normal."

So it goes with the power port. It is the last official physical thing that connects me to the care I received. I'm contemplating asking if I can have it after it is removed. Not so much to frame and hang on the wall, but rather to display to others and remove some of cancer's mystique. Initially, I didn't like why I had it in me, and  I didn't even look at it. Now, I look at it, but I won't intentionally touch the area of my skin where it resides underneath. Only by the cleansing ability of the water and soap that ran over that area of my skin is why there isn't a layer of grime on my skin in that area. Once the removal incision heals, I'll give that area a good scrub.

Funny story about the port....During the recent show I was in, my final scene on stage involved my getting shot at on stage and as a result, my character collapsed and died on stage. I would fall on my right side -where the port is. I never gave thought that I would fall on the port as I always fell on my shoulder and hip. Until the night before I knew my Nurse Practitioner would be in the audience the next day. I asked her after the show if the thought, "I hope he didn't fall on his port," went through her mind.

I got a look.

If they let me keep it, look for a picture of it here soon afterwards.

Was Yesterday

The second anniversary of my stem cell return.

How did I celebrate?

I went to a party. A party in honor of the person I spoke about in my December 31, 2010 post. She passed away in April. When I thought of her I remembered several comets that appeared in the sky during my teen years. I had never seen one before and a couple of them during that time were "no shows." Never saw them. I can't remember specifically which one I did see, but I did see it. The best time to observe it was sometime after midnight. As I usually went to bed in the 9:30-10:00 time frame, I didn't stay up to see it, but I did wake up sometime after midnight one night, looked at my clock and then went to the kitchen window of our house, which faced east, and I saw it in the sky. It wasn't the blazing ball of fire that I expected, but rather a slightly glowing streak that stretched from near the eastern horizon to somewhere almost directly overhead. "What a bust," I thought, "Maybe Halley's comet in a few years will beat it." I saw Halley's comet in 1986 and was not impressed.

As I remembered my friend yesterday, I remembered that I have two of her messages to me on my answering machine. I will not erase them. They were messages in which she called me her friend and a hero. Hero....hardly. I was fortunate enough to get to meet and know her in a short time frame (less than a year), but we shared conversations about our cancers (her cancer was different than mine) and how to deal with the mental challenges. During her cancer experience, she grasped life and lived it and it was never more demonstrated than in a picture of her that was at the party yesterday. It was a picture of her dancing on the beach in a sundress a few months after her diagnosis.

The comets in the sky were not so much. The bright light that shone in my friend and still shines in the hearts and memories of her family and friends......impressive.


 "It will not come by watching for it. It will not be said, 'Look here!' or 'Look there!'. Rather, the Father's kingdom is spread out upon the Earth, and people don't see it!"