Thursday, June 4, 2009

Now I'm a nuclear guinea pig.

Assuming everything goes right, I'll be getting radiation treatment starting around July 17th and continuing through mid-August. That's what I learned yesterday in between taking tests. It means almost the whole summer will be spent down here in scenic Houston. Ya know, it's so disgustingly hot already, I don't see the point in having a radiation wing at all inside. They should just tell people to take a walk down to the Taco Bell. 

Unfortunately, this timing could cause me to miss the birth of my third child. I guess I should be more upset about it but I figure it would be better that I take measures to stay alive for the rest of her life than to make it to her first couple of days. Plus, by her teenage years, she's going to hate me and this gives her a reason right off the bat. 

Until this point, my wife has only vaguely considered the idea of a stand-in for the birth. Obviously now we're going to have to look at that more seriously. I'm going to take the opportunity here to guess on some criteria she'll be looking for. The person should not be squeamish, know when to make fun of my wife for comedic purposes and when to shut up, promise not to pull any lamaze crap and should not show up drunk or on drugs (although leaving drunk or on drugs is acceptable). 

Today I took one last scan and met with the stem cell doctor. The good news is my scans show that the cancer is barely kicking, even in it's death-throws. The bad news is it's still there. Although my neck is still killing me, nothing cancerous showed up on the scans and I do as the docs do--trust the scans.

Treatment officially starts tomorrow. I'll be getting three hours of a drug that keeps me from getting mouth sores. Apparently throat and mouth sores are one of the biggest problems with high dose chemo. It's not the nausea. My doc says nausea doesn't increase with higher doses of drugs. It stays the same. Once again, I said apparently. I told him that I get pretty nauseous and then curled up into a ball and hid in the corner, mumbling how precious I was. Ironically, this drug, the one that keeps you from getting too many mouth sores, makes you nauseous. I can't figure this thing out at all. 

On Sunday I'll be admitted into the hospital, hopefully beginning a three week stint as Bubble Boy. The blogs may be getting even more boring than this one as my brain will be scrambled. I'd like my wife, dad or sister to fill in but I'm not sure if they will be able to understand the high-tech world of blogging.

Enclosed is a picture of the drugs that I use regularly. The collection will be getting bigger once the stem cell transplant process starts. This is just what I have before. 


1 comment:

  1. So your counter looks like my grandmother's. Ain't no big thing. You're just going to be as medicated as I am right now. Quite frankly, I feel pretty good right now, so if we follow the laws of logic, you should be feeling about this good next week. If that is somehow not the case, blame the Democrats. Afterall, they are now in charge.

    More importantly, if you feel like sh## just keep fighting, you are the man, winners never quit and whatever other bullsh## you want or need to hear to keep going.

    You my friend cannot be beat.