There is a curse to the drug that I am currently taking--sgn. And that is, one day it will end. Now, naturally, you've read enough of these insipid, whiny posts to think that I am referring the medical end, that the Monster comes back and he'll be driving some Monster truck. But that is incorrect.
My friend Jerome once went on a rant about the 1985 Bears that was quite enjoyable, as Jerome's rants always are. Basically he wanted them to go away. They are always around. They will not get beyond that point in time when they won the Super Bowl. And, unfortunately, everyone is reminded of that every time you see a car commercial. By my math, that Super Bowl is almost three decades ago. Good god. Hasn't anything happened to any of them since? And then Jerome would talk about Chuck Noll. He was the coach of the Steel Curtain Pittsburg Steelers when they dominated the seventies goimg on to win a multiple of Super Bowls, not only one as is the Bears' case. For all everyone knows, the guy is still alive. But maybe not. He's not one of those tired ex-jocks on ESPN saying the same crap. He doesn't do car commerxials. He's nowhere to be found but he must be somewhere. I clearly get Jerome's point. It's classier to not live so much back there.
I always thought it class that made Chuck Noll not care to be faous or relevant. But now I completely understand. He's happy. Or at least that's what I see and that's about all that matters in this case.
The killer thing for sgn isn't the medical ending but the humdrum life ending.
Even at its most boring, I love every single day. I hug every single day. I feel bad when the day goes away. I have had a lot of dreams and ambitions in my life. But I never thought the dream of having peace would be the best one of all. I have "serenity now!!!"
Because of the diligent work of our company CFO, Michael Volkman, I am on long term disability. I get paid just a little less than my actual salary at tdh. So I don't worry about money as much. In high school we always heard about that statistic of like how often a boy thinks about sex and the actual statistic is like every five seconds. Well, yeah, that was correct for me. But then in my thirties, sex turned into thinking about money with the same frequency but without all the animal, midget, wig-wearing, rubber suit bondage nonsense that accompanied my sexual imagination.
So that leaves worrying about very little. And somewhere on all of our worry list, there will be a point where you can more than handle it. The bills. Te wife. The kids. All those things that made you look old are gone. And that's when I became Chuck Noll. Or, for the non sports types, Richie Cunnomgham. Oh sure, my ambition may still bethere but now they're only about having fun.
I wake uo whenever I damn well please on the weekdays. On the weekends, I have to look like I want to be up early so as not to appear as the lazy douchebag I have become. But anyways, it's about ten o'clock. For breakfast, I eat whatever I damn well please. Naturally, that means I hit the sugar and faux sugar products with glee. I slumber for a while waiting for the drugs to kick in. Then I do whatever I damn well please. Today, I stared at my crappy stocks and tried to remember when they actually made me money.
Eventually, my new dreamboat comes home. That would be Maddie. Now, granted, she has more ah, lets just say endearing traits of her momma. She lives in an orderly world. But I forgive that because she loves to laugh. No, really. We love to joke about anythimg. She loves to dance as well. The house doesn't need lights when Maddie is home. She is electricity. But not break-dancing Electric Bugaloo. That would be bad and one of her mother's not so endearinf traits.
Eventually, Maddie goes down for a nap and I go back to doing what I damn well please.
Then starts the procession of Herlehy's, coming home from school. Now, I really can do whatever I want.
The wierd thing about it all, though, is what I want to do is nothing. I find my wife and kids to be enough in my world. Oh, and my dog. This is all good for me. At one time in my life, I would want so much more. And there are so many things I wanted to so. But not now. The other day I thought about going to Ireland and thought that I could stop travelling to be awed and inspired.
I have pain, yes. And it is really bad pain. And it very rarely leaves me. But I have been an asshole so many times to so many people from college to texas grad school to new york to everywhere. I'll bet every single person who reads this has a Michael Herlehy Is An Asshole story. So the pain well, it's a little payback that sometime, somewhere I pissed off the Gods and people and the natural order of things. I fucked up. Whatever it was. I'd give you examples but it's late and I should try to sleep. Then again, maybe I won't. Who knows.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Really boring military metaphors await you. Just not today.
I'm going to start writing again. I needed to get away. And just as important, I needed to figure out how the hell to type on this damn ipad. It's very different. You'll unfortunately see a lot more typos.
I have been taking my last bullet, the sgn drug, for a couple months now. I am almost in complete remission. Still I don't feel like celebrating. My feet and hands sting for most of the day. It's like I slammed my hand open face on concrete. And then did the same for each limb. The sting is pretty sharp and constant. It's less in the morning, though and in the evening after I take this drug.
I have written some stuff to the kids. It's on my other computer. I started it when I was first diagnosed. But the writing became too emotionally difficult. I've burned bridges because things are too emotionally difficult. I'm going to write more later. Thanks for hanging in there.
I have been taking my last bullet, the sgn drug, for a couple months now. I am almost in complete remission. Still I don't feel like celebrating. My feet and hands sting for most of the day. It's like I slammed my hand open face on concrete. And then did the same for each limb. The sting is pretty sharp and constant. It's less in the morning, though and in the evening after I take this drug.
I have written some stuff to the kids. It's on my other computer. I started it when I was first diagnosed. But the writing became too emotionally difficult. I've burned bridges because things are too emotionally difficult. I'm going to write more later. Thanks for hanging in there.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I need you to shove it back
It was my anniversary today. She is such an unbelievable person. If you want loyalty, don't get a dog, marry a farmer's daughter from Northern Michigan. Make sure she's not a drunk, though.
I'm in a lot of pain right now. It's not jack bower pain. It's an ache. It's pretty much all over. My hands feel like really bad arthritis. My head would feel better if if exploded. My midsection still pings with every breath. I have less energy than that Carol Burnett Show character, Speed. Tim Conway reference. My throat hurts.
The throat is the biggest psychological burden. When you were young, you used to get the flu and your throat would getmswollen. Well, mine are swollen beyond that point and it is all the time. My nodes hurt. I'm getting to the bottom of the tank. I used to wake up and tell myself I gotta rally and that would get me going. Now, there is nothing to rally. I was hoping this drug would bring me back and give me some strength to fight the next year. It is instead sucking everything out of me. And I just want to take my little girl to the park. Cancer is robbing me. It's robbing her. It's robbing her kids and her family of some or many purely happy moments. She'll have the crutch of not having her dad. She'll think that in quiet moments. Robbery. It will take a piece of her forever. She's going to be too young to even remember us going to the park.
It would be nice if, one day, hopefully twenty or thirty years later, one of you would be sitting around and thinking about something stupid we did together. And you decide to find one of my kids and maybe even after a long search, you call them and tell them. Twenty years later. Cancer gets robbed then. That bastard disease gets a little shoved back from one of my friends or family. That makes me feel better right now.
I'm in a lot of pain right now. It's not jack bower pain. It's an ache. It's pretty much all over. My hands feel like really bad arthritis. My head would feel better if if exploded. My midsection still pings with every breath. I have less energy than that Carol Burnett Show character, Speed. Tim Conway reference. My throat hurts.
The throat is the biggest psychological burden. When you were young, you used to get the flu and your throat would getmswollen. Well, mine are swollen beyond that point and it is all the time. My nodes hurt. I'm getting to the bottom of the tank. I used to wake up and tell myself I gotta rally and that would get me going. Now, there is nothing to rally. I was hoping this drug would bring me back and give me some strength to fight the next year. It is instead sucking everything out of me. And I just want to take my little girl to the park. Cancer is robbing me. It's robbing her. It's robbing her kids and her family of some or many purely happy moments. She'll have the crutch of not having her dad. She'll think that in quiet moments. Robbery. It will take a piece of her forever. She's going to be too young to even remember us going to the park.
It would be nice if, one day, hopefully twenty or thirty years later, one of you would be sitting around and thinking about something stupid we did together. And you decide to find one of my kids and maybe even after a long search, you call them and tell them. Twenty years later. Cancer gets robbed then. That bastard disease gets a little shoved back from one of my friends or family. That makes me feel better right now.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Did you see that?
Can't type long because I'm having trouble seeing up close. At first I thought it was a symptom of getting old but now I know that it has progressed quickly and that means sgn is the cause. It's very hard to see close up so sorry if there are a lot of typos. Will inform you if it gets better. Have to tell my wife. That's going to be a difficult conversation.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Something stupid about god
The quality and quantity of my blogs have gone way, way down. It's become a boring, self-centered hack-fest. Ys, it's become a lot more like me. Good thing your replies are much more interesting. It reminds me of this one time when working at Tom, Dick and Harry.
I was the creative director for Moosehead beer. One day this intern named Drew asked me if he could do an ad. I sort of laughed and talked on and on about how advertising is harder than it looks and it takes creatives years to be any good. He smiled and asked again so I gave him an assignment. I did a little work on the side on the same assignment because I didn't think he'd come up with anything. But a couple of days later he comes into my office with these great headlines. Much, much better than anything I did for that assignment or, it seemed, for the whole account.
I sort of didn't now what to say to him. So I don't think I said anything but good job. He knew he had me and walked out of the office very confidently. Since then and here the rest of his stay he gave me that look like, "You think you're so cool, but you're really an idiot. Of course, that could just be the same look he gave everyone because I see that same look on everyone of this generation. They seem to hate us more than we hated our elders
Any who, ever since that episode, I've come to accept my writing limitations. When people ask what I do, I say I'm in training for the Olympics. I never m mention what event. An intern could do better work in half the time and without really even caring when it comes to writing. I'm better off trying to luge.
Still, like most In one generation older than me, I need to blame someone else. So it is the iPad. If you've seen people at cool with one, don't worry. They're not that cool. There's no key pad so typing is difficult. There are also no arrow keys, no mouse and no screen arrow so it's even more difficulct checking over work. So I don't do it as much anymore. Sorry. Whtat's worse than having cancer? Having to read about it from guy who haw a stye more apt for power tool instruction manuals. Speaking of writing about cancer...
The constant pain I had in my chest way, way back when I wrote more interesting and grammatically correct blogs is back. Breathe in and I get a dose of sharp pain. Breathe out and I get a dose of sharp pain. It shoots up and down my arm and lef side. The average day now is back to being a struggle of ot thinking it sucks.
What sucks worse is the worrying begins. Pain is either really good or really bad. There isn't any in between in this life. It all depends on which cells are dying. I won't know which until the end of this week. Until then I will worry and breathe and breathe out.
A couple of long time hodgers have passed away in the last couple of months. Last week a doctor in Los Angeles told a mom that she should take her six year old kid home because he is going to die in one week and the doctor can't do aything else for him. Now I see two problems with this situation. First, the doctor. I was told by three doctors that I woud die in a couple of months and I think I am still alive. I could be dead but I think I'm not because I have this stupid fucking computer.
My econd issue concerns the mom. Sometimes medical people say one thing and the patients hear something else. So I can't blame the doctor completely. What went down might not have went down exactly as told. But I also have some pent up, unfair animosity toward the mom for accepting this answer from the doctor. I just don't understand it. Why accept the worst possible solution? If I was one of those criminals on death row, man, you wouldn't see me calmly walking down the aisle. I'd be kicking, screaming, struggling everything and anything to try to get away and if you want to shoot me, go ahead.
So my point is, it"s mentally tough some days thinking about that poor six year old boy and the whole situation of the adults around him. The kicker, and this is where I lose the few of you I have left, is many many people talk about how god will take care of it. No He (or She) won't. God won't do shit. God doesn't help athletes win games. God doesn't make people rich. God doesn't help six year old sick boys. Six year olds shouldn't be sick in this first place. A God who lets that happen is an asshole. If I was God (and by my writing, clearly I am not), I wouldn't let that happen. My friend Todd or my other friend Jerome both hate people and they wouldn't even let that happen. So with every sharp pain breath as I check the web for the latest news on the hodgers, I think god is an asshole. I'm sticking to that until I talk to him or her personally. But I doubt I will be doing that.
I was the creative director for Moosehead beer. One day this intern named Drew asked me if he could do an ad. I sort of laughed and talked on and on about how advertising is harder than it looks and it takes creatives years to be any good. He smiled and asked again so I gave him an assignment. I did a little work on the side on the same assignment because I didn't think he'd come up with anything. But a couple of days later he comes into my office with these great headlines. Much, much better than anything I did for that assignment or, it seemed, for the whole account.
I sort of didn't now what to say to him. So I don't think I said anything but good job. He knew he had me and walked out of the office very confidently. Since then and here the rest of his stay he gave me that look like, "You think you're so cool, but you're really an idiot. Of course, that could just be the same look he gave everyone because I see that same look on everyone of this generation. They seem to hate us more than we hated our elders
Any who, ever since that episode, I've come to accept my writing limitations. When people ask what I do, I say I'm in training for the Olympics. I never m mention what event. An intern could do better work in half the time and without really even caring when it comes to writing. I'm better off trying to luge.
Still, like most In one generation older than me, I need to blame someone else. So it is the iPad. If you've seen people at cool with one, don't worry. They're not that cool. There's no key pad so typing is difficult. There are also no arrow keys, no mouse and no screen arrow so it's even more difficulct checking over work. So I don't do it as much anymore. Sorry. Whtat's worse than having cancer? Having to read about it from guy who haw a stye more apt for power tool instruction manuals. Speaking of writing about cancer...
The constant pain I had in my chest way, way back when I wrote more interesting and grammatically correct blogs is back. Breathe in and I get a dose of sharp pain. Breathe out and I get a dose of sharp pain. It shoots up and down my arm and lef side. The average day now is back to being a struggle of ot thinking it sucks.
What sucks worse is the worrying begins. Pain is either really good or really bad. There isn't any in between in this life. It all depends on which cells are dying. I won't know which until the end of this week. Until then I will worry and breathe and breathe out.
A couple of long time hodgers have passed away in the last couple of months. Last week a doctor in Los Angeles told a mom that she should take her six year old kid home because he is going to die in one week and the doctor can't do aything else for him. Now I see two problems with this situation. First, the doctor. I was told by three doctors that I woud die in a couple of months and I think I am still alive. I could be dead but I think I'm not because I have this stupid fucking computer.
My econd issue concerns the mom. Sometimes medical people say one thing and the patients hear something else. So I can't blame the doctor completely. What went down might not have went down exactly as told. But I also have some pent up, unfair animosity toward the mom for accepting this answer from the doctor. I just don't understand it. Why accept the worst possible solution? If I was one of those criminals on death row, man, you wouldn't see me calmly walking down the aisle. I'd be kicking, screaming, struggling everything and anything to try to get away and if you want to shoot me, go ahead.
So my point is, it"s mentally tough some days thinking about that poor six year old boy and the whole situation of the adults around him. The kicker, and this is where I lose the few of you I have left, is many many people talk about how god will take care of it. No He (or She) won't. God won't do shit. God doesn't help athletes win games. God doesn't make people rich. God doesn't help six year old sick boys. Six year olds shouldn't be sick in this first place. A God who lets that happen is an asshole. If I was God (and by my writing, clearly I am not), I wouldn't let that happen. My friend Todd or my other friend Jerome both hate people and they wouldn't even let that happen. So with every sharp pain breath as I check the web for the latest news on the hodgers, I think god is an asshole. I'm sticking to that until I talk to him or her personally. But I doubt I will be doing that.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
My last bullet
I spent the airplane ride writing down a list of the resons why I need to start sgn-35. I knew it was my fallback treatment, the Alamo of my cancer. But there's only so much, ya know.
I had a lot of reasons and I was going to just rattle them off to Dr. O'Connor in the hopes of getting him to understand that I had grown almost without notice, sick. My tumors were large and can be noticed even torough my clothes. I was getting cramps in all parts of my body. The constant bee stinging of my body had gotten worse and now even a good painkiller like any of the fine oxy products couldn't mask it. I was losing sleep. I had lost my appetite. I was sleeping a lot. I had so much constant pain I didn't know I had pain.
In O'Connor's office the next day, after the usual three hour wait (I've actually waited longer. It's good to bring digital fun to any cancer doctor's office.), he walked in and without even waitng for me to say anything, he said, "it's that time."
I said, "I'm beat." And that was that.
In about one montth, doctors will be able to order sgn-35 and patients can get it as easy as a getting Tylenol.. The FDA just announced that it will have an answer to it's approval in mid august. But I didn't know that then. I had to wait until the company that produced the drug opened a clinical trial. You'd thiink that during this waiting period, I'd feel desperate. But actually my spirits brightened a bit. I knew I was at least going to have a good summer.
Even with the slightest of drugs going through my body, I get a little buzz-buzz. This time I felt nothing although I hear the real side effects start after the second infusion. And boy are they side effects. Even though the drug saves the lives of many, many patients, a percentage of them wish they never had it. The debilitation can be that bad.
Probably like many of you, at first I found that attitude was strange. Here is a drug that saves your life but you wish you had not taken it. Upon reading further and talking to them, it just gets to be too much. I undertand that. But still, I hope to never have that attitude.
A friend from college once made me aware of how impractical Bible stories were. She used the example of the Virgin Mary. So there is this girl who says she's never had sex but now she's pregnant and she says that God is the Daddy. Umm, sure. And then there's the healing of the blind and curing of the sick. What if Jesus simply had some really good drugs with him? He never really said he had special powers. We said that. He"s always been humble about the thing. He just said his Daddy is God.
Well, if he did, he had some of this sgn stuff. It's damn good. I feel better and better every day. I'm ready for my second treatment and i already want to take the step of getting off all drugs. That's quite a statement if you've ever seen my pill-popping routines. McKenna and I once tried to figure it out and I stopped at around thirty pills on a bad day and twenty on a good day. Now, just maybe, I can actually get down to zero, although I'd have a tearful good-bye with my painkillers.
From January until April, I had grown used to a different life. It was dark. It hurt. Badness was too close. Now I am amazed at my new one. I mean, I can actually get up and not feel like crap? Get out. You say that people can make it up a flght of stairs without getting out of breath? No shit. I've harped on it before but it deserves a second, third and fourth mention-- you people got it easy. You got it great. Waking up is now so so cool. I love the day. I love the morning. I love every breath. Taking a big sigh is worth another sigh. I love just being.
Let's see how far we can ride this motha.
I had a lot of reasons and I was going to just rattle them off to Dr. O'Connor in the hopes of getting him to understand that I had grown almost without notice, sick. My tumors were large and can be noticed even torough my clothes. I was getting cramps in all parts of my body. The constant bee stinging of my body had gotten worse and now even a good painkiller like any of the fine oxy products couldn't mask it. I was losing sleep. I had lost my appetite. I was sleeping a lot. I had so much constant pain I didn't know I had pain.
In O'Connor's office the next day, after the usual three hour wait (I've actually waited longer. It's good to bring digital fun to any cancer doctor's office.), he walked in and without even waitng for me to say anything, he said, "it's that time."
I said, "I'm beat." And that was that.
In about one montth, doctors will be able to order sgn-35 and patients can get it as easy as a getting Tylenol.. The FDA just announced that it will have an answer to it's approval in mid august. But I didn't know that then. I had to wait until the company that produced the drug opened a clinical trial. You'd thiink that during this waiting period, I'd feel desperate. But actually my spirits brightened a bit. I knew I was at least going to have a good summer.
Even with the slightest of drugs going through my body, I get a little buzz-buzz. This time I felt nothing although I hear the real side effects start after the second infusion. And boy are they side effects. Even though the drug saves the lives of many, many patients, a percentage of them wish they never had it. The debilitation can be that bad.
Probably like many of you, at first I found that attitude was strange. Here is a drug that saves your life but you wish you had not taken it. Upon reading further and talking to them, it just gets to be too much. I undertand that. But still, I hope to never have that attitude.
A friend from college once made me aware of how impractical Bible stories were. She used the example of the Virgin Mary. So there is this girl who says she's never had sex but now she's pregnant and she says that God is the Daddy. Umm, sure. And then there's the healing of the blind and curing of the sick. What if Jesus simply had some really good drugs with him? He never really said he had special powers. We said that. He"s always been humble about the thing. He just said his Daddy is God.
Well, if he did, he had some of this sgn stuff. It's damn good. I feel better and better every day. I'm ready for my second treatment and i already want to take the step of getting off all drugs. That's quite a statement if you've ever seen my pill-popping routines. McKenna and I once tried to figure it out and I stopped at around thirty pills on a bad day and twenty on a good day. Now, just maybe, I can actually get down to zero, although I'd have a tearful good-bye with my painkillers.
From January until April, I had grown used to a different life. It was dark. It hurt. Badness was too close. Now I am amazed at my new one. I mean, I can actually get up and not feel like crap? Get out. You say that people can make it up a flght of stairs without getting out of breath? No shit. I've harped on it before but it deserves a second, third and fourth mention-- you people got it easy. You got it great. Waking up is now so so cool. I love the day. I love the morning. I love every breath. Taking a big sigh is worth another sigh. I love just being.
Let's see how far we can ride this motha.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Where I'm at right now.
This was written by someone else who fought the Hodge. It sums up what I feel. To everyone, I'm sorry I haven't emailed, called, faxed. If you read this you' might get it.
This was posted years ago by a warrior named Andy (Nickel1). The line about dealing with your disappointment in other people came to mind when reading recent posts. This piece addresses that issue well...
"How to beat cancer"
Be prepared for a marathon. It will be a long fight so pace yourself. Be prepared to go it alone if necessary, but get ready to go the distance.
Don't expect others to do as you do and do not hold others up to your standards. Not everyone can go the distance with you. People will come and go as best they can. Accept what help they can give you when they can.
Conduct yourself in your everyday life in a manner that will give you no reason or excuses for your behaviour when you look back on this time. Make the present so that you have no regrets. Don't drink or do drugs that are not needed. Be a leader so that others may follow.
Have heros. Be inspired by your heros, and be inspiration to others around you. You may be their hero.
Fight. Fight 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Fight when you wake up, fight until you go to bed, dream about fighting in your sleep. Want to win so bad that you can taste it in your food and in your drinks.
Willpower. Have plenty of it. Tell yourself you will get better every day and believe it so that you make yourself better through sheer willpower. Aspire to be great and expect nothing less than total victory. Refuse to lose or even entertain defeat. You will stu
mble but a champion always rises to keep going. Be that champion.
Stay focused. Do not fight battles that do not need fighting and take you away from this fight.
Hate it. Hate cancer like nothing you have ever hated before. Save all your hate for it and it alone. Love everyone and everything else. Life is good so don't let it go by.
Have no mercy, no pity, no compassion, until every last cell of it is dead. Rejoice in every victory no matter how small.
When in doubt, fight it out. You won't win if you stop fighting. It's OK to be afraid but don't stop fighting and do whatever it takes to win. Have faith and it's OK to cry.
Most of all, always walk proud. Even if you are in a wheelchair, a bed, or can't walk at all. Maintain that air of strength on the inside, because you know its better to die like a lion than live like a lamb.
This was posted years ago by a warrior named Andy (Nickel1). The line about dealing with your disappointment in other people came to mind when reading recent posts. This piece addresses that issue well...
"How to beat cancer"
Be prepared for a marathon. It will be a long fight so pace yourself. Be prepared to go it alone if necessary, but get ready to go the distance.
Don't expect others to do as you do and do not hold others up to your standards. Not everyone can go the distance with you. People will come and go as best they can. Accept what help they can give you when they can.
Conduct yourself in your everyday life in a manner that will give you no reason or excuses for your behaviour when you look back on this time. Make the present so that you have no regrets. Don't drink or do drugs that are not needed. Be a leader so that others may follow.
Have heros. Be inspired by your heros, and be inspiration to others around you. You may be their hero.
Fight. Fight 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Fight when you wake up, fight until you go to bed, dream about fighting in your sleep. Want to win so bad that you can taste it in your food and in your drinks.
Willpower. Have plenty of it. Tell yourself you will get better every day and believe it so that you make yourself better through sheer willpower. Aspire to be great and expect nothing less than total victory. Refuse to lose or even entertain defeat. You will stu
mble but a champion always rises to keep going. Be that champion.
Stay focused. Do not fight battles that do not need fighting and take you away from this fight.
Hate it. Hate cancer like nothing you have ever hated before. Save all your hate for it and it alone. Love everyone and everything else. Life is good so don't let it go by.
Have no mercy, no pity, no compassion, until every last cell of it is dead. Rejoice in every victory no matter how small.
When in doubt, fight it out. You won't win if you stop fighting. It's OK to be afraid but don't stop fighting and do whatever it takes to win. Have faith and it's OK to cry.
Most of all, always walk proud. Even if you are in a wheelchair, a bed, or can't walk at all. Maintain that air of strength on the inside, because you know its better to die like a lion than live like a lamb.
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