Just about to start max bonus round six of chemo. Had an MRI last Friday, and apparently things are not worse. Which is the bar I aspire to. Jill reminded me later that on the last MRI in March, there was some, um, something, they wanted to keep an eye on. Apparently, the something is both not worse and even looks a little smaller. With smaller being good. Honestly, I only vaguely remember that there was a something we (meaning Dr. V mainly) was keeping an eye on. So, this was all good. Whether by conscious choice, aging, or tumor, I forgot to be worried about the something until the doctor told me the something looked better. And more good news - even though I confirmed that bonus chemo will go a full 12 months, I get credit for time served with the ill-fated September round. So, the bonus chemo ends in November. Possibly right around my 55th birthday. Yay. And the underlying part of this is that even though bonus chemo is getting harder, I am still recovering from it. A bit slower and more difficult each round, but still.
And... I have almost finished my new book. Putting the finishing touches on "Cheeto Voldemort's CoVid 19 Bartending Guide". It's being described as* the "definitive Mr. Boston's guide, if Mr. Boston was 'he-who-shall-not-be-re-elected'." It features my famous Lysol Rita and Comet-Tini, as well as lesser known cocktails like the Windex Mojito and the Clorox Mary. Each recipe ends with a shot of syrup de ipecac, and a suggestion to call poison control.
* described by me.
While you wait for the book, I suggest you look at my back catalog. One of these is real.
"The Chemo Diet and Consciousness Raising: One Man's Journey Through his Chevy Astro Cytoma Brain Tumor" by Dr. Rainbow Sparkles**
** my nom de tumor
"Assholery and Douchebaggery: the Comprehensive Guide to the Trump Administration"
"Informed Winging It." This one is my management book. I still need a much better name, but I actually teach this (kinda) to my students and interns. The concept is prepare as much as you can, enough that you can handle any complex or unknown situation that might occur. One reviewer* said "an intriguing, but ultimately convoluted and completely full-of-shit management philosophy."
* Again, me.
And finally, "Corner Pieces: A Life Amused and Vaguely Annoyed." This is the one that is real.***
*** kinda real. It's a collection of my blog posts for a couple of decades. I made it into a pdf with page numbers starting on the cover, and posted it for sale on Amazon for the Kindle, and on Blurb (link below). I also printed exactly one copy, which cost $150. [It's much cheaper on Kindle or Blurb.] Thanks to the three people (that is neither an exaggeration nor a lament, just a fact), who actually bought it. Making me not quite a best-selling author, but an actual "selling author."
https://www.blurb.com/b/9791182-corner-pieces?fbclid=IwAR3ScunWesfDf5T4gkoWpWueXliYz1SoYaOn2jCNQuUPgNvwdhn_c2KjgFg
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
Sunday, May 17, 2020
CoVidiot
There is no way I came up with the term CoVidiot, but happy to claim it if no one else does.
Certainly, there are a plethora of examples of this these days.
"Give me a haircut or give me death!" Or, more accurately, possibly both.
"My administration had done the most amazing, beautiful job in the history of presidential administrations. Just ask anybody who wants to keep their job or needs federal assistance. They will say great things about me."
But the personal example for the Smith family is the CoVidiot who has now come to our door TWICE, rang the bell, knocked, and then waited. Finally, I go up to the door, peer through the peephole and ascertain that yes, CoVidiot is still there.
Me: "What?" At exactly the tone you think.
CoVidiot: "Yes, I am in the neighborhood and have just signed up 14 of your neighbors for our pest control services. I was wondering..."
Me: "No. Just no. Go away."
Three days later. Knock, ring, and hover.
Me: "What?" Now with 83% more dripping sarcasm and not thinly veiled hostility.
CoVidiot: "Yes, sir. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to let you know about our pest control special."
Me: "Can you eliminate pests who knock on our door during a pandemic multiple times and try to sell us random services? It's fine if you are one of those catch-and-release kinda services, but I'm not opposed to DDT."
Co Vidiot: "We are providing services to 14 of your neighbors."
Me: "Name them."
CoVidiot: "Sir?"
Me: "Name all 14 neighbors you have been able to sign up."
CoVidiot: "Um, is there someone else there I could talk to?"
Me: "No. Go away before I spray you with the small amount of Lysol we still have."
My Abby came across the CoVidiot while out running with her sister. Yes, that is how bored the Smith twins are. They are jogging together.
Abby saw the guy and posed this question to him:
"What are you doing?" I can only assume it had as much incredulous, are-you-a-f-ing-moron" tone as one would hope.
CoVidiot: "I'm selling pest control services."
Watching the news and seeing the idiot politicians and fake protests for "liberty", I keep thinking of the movie Idiocracy that my aunt Randy worked on several years ago. It was about a future society who had grown so stupid they were watering their plants with Gatorade. If the people who are carrying AK-47's to state capitals to open up the tattoo parlors are the ones who somehow survive the pandemic, we are all screwed.
Idiocracy was one of the few movie sets I got to visit when my Aunt Randy and Uncle John were working on movies, especially ones filmed in Austin. It was being filmed at the shuttered Seaholm Power Plant. It was way cool to see the magic of movie making. At least for the ten minutes we were there. We actually got bounced because of Grandpa Sid.
"What is that? What did they say? Why are they doing that?" As you can perhaps imagine, the director was less than thrilled about the loud nonagenarian as he is trying to film.
But grandpa was well into his 90's, it was a little confusing, and it actually wasn't the only place he got us booted from. My favorite has to be when he almost got us ejected from Yom Kippur services at Temple Beth Israel.
"Boy we are sure getting the full dose of atonement tonight."
Me: "Grandpa, Shh."
"I said, we sure are getting the full dose of atonement tonight." Much louder.
Miss you, Grandpa.
Certainly, there are a plethora of examples of this these days.
"Give me a haircut or give me death!" Or, more accurately, possibly both.
"My administration had done the most amazing, beautiful job in the history of presidential administrations. Just ask anybody who wants to keep their job or needs federal assistance. They will say great things about me."
But the personal example for the Smith family is the CoVidiot who has now come to our door TWICE, rang the bell, knocked, and then waited. Finally, I go up to the door, peer through the peephole and ascertain that yes, CoVidiot is still there.
Me: "What?" At exactly the tone you think.
CoVidiot: "Yes, I am in the neighborhood and have just signed up 14 of your neighbors for our pest control services. I was wondering..."
Me: "No. Just no. Go away."
Three days later. Knock, ring, and hover.
Me: "What?" Now with 83% more dripping sarcasm and not thinly veiled hostility.
CoVidiot: "Yes, sir. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to let you know about our pest control special."
Me: "Can you eliminate pests who knock on our door during a pandemic multiple times and try to sell us random services? It's fine if you are one of those catch-and-release kinda services, but I'm not opposed to DDT."
Co Vidiot: "We are providing services to 14 of your neighbors."
Me: "Name them."
CoVidiot: "Sir?"
Me: "Name all 14 neighbors you have been able to sign up."
CoVidiot: "Um, is there someone else there I could talk to?"
Me: "No. Go away before I spray you with the small amount of Lysol we still have."
My Abby came across the CoVidiot while out running with her sister. Yes, that is how bored the Smith twins are. They are jogging together.
Abby saw the guy and posed this question to him:
"What are you doing?" I can only assume it had as much incredulous, are-you-a-f-ing-moron" tone as one would hope.
CoVidiot: "I'm selling pest control services."
Watching the news and seeing the idiot politicians and fake protests for "liberty", I keep thinking of the movie Idiocracy that my aunt Randy worked on several years ago. It was about a future society who had grown so stupid they were watering their plants with Gatorade. If the people who are carrying AK-47's to state capitals to open up the tattoo parlors are the ones who somehow survive the pandemic, we are all screwed.
Idiocracy was one of the few movie sets I got to visit when my Aunt Randy and Uncle John were working on movies, especially ones filmed in Austin. It was being filmed at the shuttered Seaholm Power Plant. It was way cool to see the magic of movie making. At least for the ten minutes we were there. We actually got bounced because of Grandpa Sid.
"What is that? What did they say? Why are they doing that?" As you can perhaps imagine, the director was less than thrilled about the loud nonagenarian as he is trying to film.
But grandpa was well into his 90's, it was a little confusing, and it actually wasn't the only place he got us booted from. My favorite has to be when he almost got us ejected from Yom Kippur services at Temple Beth Israel.
"Boy we are sure getting the full dose of atonement tonight."
Me: "Grandpa, Shh."
"I said, we sure are getting the full dose of atonement tonight." Much louder.
Miss you, Grandpa.
Thursday, May 14, 2020
Tumor-versary
I had my one year tumor-versary on May 2nd. Thanks to everyone who participated in the drive-by tumor-versary celebration. The best thing about having a tumor-versary? Having a tumor-versary. It would be much less celebratory if I didn't have one.
And now that I have introduced you to a new word, let me give you a second - CoViDiva. I still occasionally and very briefly go into my office. If I'm being honest, it's a mixture of needing to be out of the house and my irrational need to print things. I have a color copier at work, and printing things in color helps me find my happy place. I know. But keep it to your own damn self.
The corona virus affected/infected my office light. Or it was just its time. It's been flickering for some time, and when I visited last, had gone to its final reward. I pulled up the maintenance request form for the building, and let them know I needed someone to replace the bulb. The form has a very clearly marked question asking the priority level. As I don't go in often, and the entire office is empty and therefore I can set up at a dozen different places, I marked it as "low". Not even remotely approaching medium. This is clearly the lowest of low priorities. I submitted the form, and it e-mailed me a copy. On my copy, the form lied that I listed my request as a "high priority." NO!!! Now the nice, friendly building dudes are thinking, "Sure, Mr. CEO. We will leave our families, expose ourselves to the pandemic, so you can have a fucking light." Though the building is owned by a church, so they likely don't use the f word. And the building maintenance dudes are very lovely people. So yes, I am now a CoViDiva.
As you can see, I still have things to work on. Fortunately, during the pandemic, Magellan has decided to partially pay for tele-therapy. It's only $115, but I still have to choose from a very limited list.
I set up an appointment with my new therapist Sanjeep, and we had a session Tuesday. I kinda think he may be in a career transition from AT&T customer service. It's a tough world out there.
"Yes, Mr. Smith. How can I help you today?"
"Well, I'm having a bit of anxiety about the pandemic, coupled with my pre-existing health conditions."
"That must be very frustrating. Let me see if I can help."
"Thanks Sanjeep. I would like that."
" Have you tried turning your router off and then on again?"
"Um, no, but if you think that might help, I can try. What kind of therapy is this? Re-boot therapy?"
"No, EMDR."
45 minutes later, and I did feel a little better. And our internet is a little faster. I may upgrade to a higher therapy bandwidth next time.
Here at the Smith compound, we are adapting to the new world. We are a combination shared workspace, dorm, distance learning site, and cat sanitarium. As always, ready to switch to cat adoption agency the moment we find an interested party.
We have had virtual happy hours and virtual game nights. I am putting the final touches on my two new creations. The Lysol Margarita is just about there, but the Clorox Mojito still needs some work.
I have finished max bonus round four of chemo. Each time, it is a little harder to bounce back than the time before. But I am still bouncing back. Margaritas, with or without cleaning products, are still part of my self-created treatment plan, as is bike riding.
Just after the end of max bonus round four, I went out and did a 27 mile ride. It was amazing, and exhausting. It was also a fairly hot day. When I came back in the house, my socks were wet with sweat, and I did a full slide that only ended when my head impacted the front door. A squeal and the dropping of both water bottles followed. To their credit, Jill and Alex came running.
"Are you OK?"
"No. I just whacked my head on the door."
"That must be very frustrating."
Five minutes later.
Jill: "You know, you spilled your cycling drink."
Me: "you mean when I whacked my head on the door?"
Jill: "Yes."
Me: "I guess I vaguely recall that."
Jill: "You know the puddle is still there?"
Tough house.
And now that I have introduced you to a new word, let me give you a second - CoViDiva. I still occasionally and very briefly go into my office. If I'm being honest, it's a mixture of needing to be out of the house and my irrational need to print things. I have a color copier at work, and printing things in color helps me find my happy place. I know. But keep it to your own damn self.
The corona virus affected/infected my office light. Or it was just its time. It's been flickering for some time, and when I visited last, had gone to its final reward. I pulled up the maintenance request form for the building, and let them know I needed someone to replace the bulb. The form has a very clearly marked question asking the priority level. As I don't go in often, and the entire office is empty and therefore I can set up at a dozen different places, I marked it as "low". Not even remotely approaching medium. This is clearly the lowest of low priorities. I submitted the form, and it e-mailed me a copy. On my copy, the form lied that I listed my request as a "high priority." NO!!! Now the nice, friendly building dudes are thinking, "Sure, Mr. CEO. We will leave our families, expose ourselves to the pandemic, so you can have a fucking light." Though the building is owned by a church, so they likely don't use the f word. And the building maintenance dudes are very lovely people. So yes, I am now a CoViDiva.
As you can see, I still have things to work on. Fortunately, during the pandemic, Magellan has decided to partially pay for tele-therapy. It's only $115, but I still have to choose from a very limited list.
I set up an appointment with my new therapist Sanjeep, and we had a session Tuesday. I kinda think he may be in a career transition from AT&T customer service. It's a tough world out there.
"Yes, Mr. Smith. How can I help you today?"
"Well, I'm having a bit of anxiety about the pandemic, coupled with my pre-existing health conditions."
"That must be very frustrating. Let me see if I can help."
"Thanks Sanjeep. I would like that."
" Have you tried turning your router off and then on again?"
"Um, no, but if you think that might help, I can try. What kind of therapy is this? Re-boot therapy?"
"No, EMDR."
45 minutes later, and I did feel a little better. And our internet is a little faster. I may upgrade to a higher therapy bandwidth next time.
Here at the Smith compound, we are adapting to the new world. We are a combination shared workspace, dorm, distance learning site, and cat sanitarium. As always, ready to switch to cat adoption agency the moment we find an interested party.
We have had virtual happy hours and virtual game nights. I am putting the final touches on my two new creations. The Lysol Margarita is just about there, but the Clorox Mojito still needs some work.
I have finished max bonus round four of chemo. Each time, it is a little harder to bounce back than the time before. But I am still bouncing back. Margaritas, with or without cleaning products, are still part of my self-created treatment plan, as is bike riding.
Just after the end of max bonus round four, I went out and did a 27 mile ride. It was amazing, and exhausting. It was also a fairly hot day. When I came back in the house, my socks were wet with sweat, and I did a full slide that only ended when my head impacted the front door. A squeal and the dropping of both water bottles followed. To their credit, Jill and Alex came running.
"Are you OK?"
"No. I just whacked my head on the door."
"That must be very frustrating."
Five minutes later.
Jill: "You know, you spilled your cycling drink."
Me: "you mean when I whacked my head on the door?"
Jill: "Yes."
Me: "I guess I vaguely recall that."
Jill: "You know the puddle is still there?"
Tough house.
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