So Far Not Awful

Just finished the first round of monthly chemo last night, and now have a leisurely three weeks till the next one.

People have been asking me how it's going, and I initially responded "so far so good."

That's not a precise statement.  So I'm changing it to "so far not awful."  Been eating, doing some exercise, food still tastes the way it should (still working on coffee and wine).  Margaritas still taste delicious.  I am hopeful it stays not awful through at least the first couple of months.  You'll certainly read about it when that changes.

I think I promised a blog post on my "12 days of healthcare."  Over the holidays, I went to a lot of doctors, partly to catch up on things I needed to do but had put off over the year.  I came up with the outline of a disturbing version of the 12 Days of Christmas, but couldn't quite bring it over the finish line.  So, I'll share the snippets that would have been part of what likely would have been an epic post and amazing new holiday song.

So, it would go like this:

On the 12th day of healthcare, my doctor gave to me:

12 Tappers Tapping - related to my search for a therapist to help me deal with, well, this whole sucky thing.  Still looking, but have ruled out ones who focus on EMDR (thus the tapping).

Nine Tesla's Tesling - had three MRI's over the past few months, each at 3 Tesla's.

Six (point 2) A1c - had my blood sugar checked and it's actually not bad, even though my strategy for gaining back weight included a lot of sugary things.

Three distance lenses - lost my progressive glasses over the holidays.  I worried I'd have to switch to "conservatives", but they allowed me to replace them with new glasses that still make me outraged by Cheeto Voldemort.

Two crowns a-chewing - got one new crown and had another one put back in after it popped off.  I lost it taking a bite of untoasted sourdough bread, the most pitiful way to pop a crown ever.

And one col-on-os-co-py!!!!  Actually just an appointment to talk to a dude about setting it up, but one is supposed to get one at age 50, and I have been putting this off.  Mainly because I don't want to do it.  But it would totally suck to beat brain cancer and then get taken out by colon cancer, or butt cancer, or whatever they are checking for.

I understand this may have veered a bit too far into TMI, but I also think that ship sailed a long time ago.  And it's missing about half of the days of healthcare, but those would have been hilarious.

Someone can feel free to take this, run with it, record it, and please send me royalties.

Oh, and I just started a new phase.  I'm calling this the "Indigo Girls" phase.  Where I am starting to seek my source for some definitive.  Been to the doctor, looked to the children, drank from the fountain, etc.  Not found anything yet, but I have realized that "Closer to Fine" is not a bad song to get stuck in your head.

And one final observation.  One I will chalk up to the new phase and possibly the chemo.  I did have an extended sleep conversation with Beth this week, my old friend/girlfriend from almost 30 years ago who passed away several years ago.  Only one data point, but if others visit, I might need to be concerned.

Squirrel!

From the combined opinions of Dr. Vaillant and a second opinion from Dr. de Groot at MD Anderson (I am de Groot.  My brother suggested his name might be Ignatius Maximillian de Groot - or I.M. de Groot*), I re-start Chemo this Saturday.  I will regale you all with my medical travels soon, from my holiday "12 days of healthcare" to my journey into the bowels of the Cancer Industrial Complex.  But since ugly things may be re-starting soon, I feel the need to post some random pictures from the last few weeks, to distract from the pending poison resumption.

I'll start with a couple from Dallas, where I am now for a board meeting.  I went out to dinner with my friend Chris last night, and the restaurant was next door to this.  Not sure if tattoos will help with the cats, or how, but it's definitely worth a shot.

This is the inside of the front door to our administration office in Dallas.  Now, I did some research into signage that prohibits weapons after our legislators basically gave the green light for every idiot with a gun to take said gun wherever they want, whenever they want.  Businesses can opt out by placing signs with some very specific verbiage, with a very specific font size, and the regulations stipulate there must be at least two colors.  This sign meets that requirement.  And though it lacks the required language, is the wrong size, and in general does not meet any other of the very strict regulatory requirements intended to limit the limiting of guns everywhere, I believe that the biggest problem with this sign is its placement - on the back of the front door.  Ensuring, at least, that employees who brought a weapon to work do not carry it into the hallway.

During the week leading up to the "resume Chemo" decision, things got a little dark for me.  There is an SPCA very near my office, and one afternoon, on the way home, I stopped in for some puppy therapy.  This is Duke, who looks strikingly like my dog Shoebox from my childhood.  Shoebox was a good dog.  I sent this picture to Jill, and she texted me "Where are you?"  I told her.

I then sent her a picture of three Australian shepherd puppies, all already adopted, but tremendously cute little fluff balls.

Jill responded with "Get. Out. Of. There.  NOW!!!"

I always listen to my wife, and she always knows what's best.  So, If you want to meet Shoebox 2 and the Fluff triplets, text me.

And finally, there is Baby Sparkles.  Jessica sent me a "Grow Your Own Unicorn" that I had not hatched.  Knowing things are re-starting, it felt like it was time to bring Baby Sparkles into the Sparkles family.  Seven days of soaking leave him a little slimy, but Dr. Rainbow Sparkles has accepted him into the Sparkles clan nonetheless.

* I tried this joke on Jill, who repeated "I don't know Star Wars."  But still rolled her eyes.