Thursday, March 26, 2009

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Barbara Bush is my Neighbor

She's recovering at a heart hospital right up the road here in Hospital City, U.S.A. How cool is that? I always liked Barbara Bush. She seemed like a neat old broad who had a lot of cool stories to share over some coffee. Quite possible she took her coffee with a splash of bourbon.

I really want to stroll up tomorrow and see if her son hanging around. Maybe get a chance to thank him for the letter of encouragement he sent me last year after I was first diagnosed.

Or should I just send flowers? That might go over a whole lot better with Secret Service than my crazy cancery butt showing up for a visit with the former First Lady.

Monday, March 02, 2009

More Dispatches From the Western Front

Down in the lobby of the hotel this evening, an Irish rock band put on a little mini-concert for the guests here. It took my back to my freshman year in college and rocking out to Black47. This place is totally odd. Looks like a real hotel: front desk, room service, pool, restaurant. There are nice events like the concert and movie nights, but then you notice the large number of guests with walkers or in wheelchairs or dragging IV stands along. Sometimes I feel like I am living in a weird purgatory for sick people. Where do I get these ideas? Too much alone time maybe...

Anyway, the concert was nice.

Today was the last day I had to take The Orange Pill of Intestinal Destruction. At least for another two weeks. Frankly, I'm a little nervous about hearing the results of my blood work tomorrow (This was another one of those days where I had multiple blood draws over a ten hour period. In fact, my last one of the day is tonight at 11:30 AM.). Because over this nearly a year's worth of treatment I've gotten so used to hearing "It didn't work," I'm just expecting the worse tomorrow. To be told that, oh well your white counts are still climbing and it's back to the drawing board. But I have to just go where God is taking me on all this. Just riding the crazy cancer train and waiting for my stop.

Yesterday I felt pretty good so I hiked out to Rice Village to check out what I was told was some good shopping. It was about a 45 minute hike out past Rice University (Yes I am insane.). The shopping district reminded me a lot of Carytown in RVA. There were local shops and boutiques all scattered in vintage strip malls. Only smack in the middle of blocks of old storefronts was a fancy new mall with chain stores like the Gap and Sephora.

So I had taken my pill around 11 AM as scheduled and when I got to Rice Village, I settled into a chair at Starbucks with some Earl Grey. By this time it was about a half hour after I consumed the Orange Pill of Intestinal Destruction and I was hit with a wave of strong nausea. I was able to breathe through it because Lord knows, I did not want to barf all over the sidewalk in front of the Sunday shoppers. I chucked the rest of my tea, and still feeling a little unwell, headed over to a used bookstore across the street.

Books are my crack cocaine. Some women compulsively buy shoes. I buy books. Even though I had already brought four or five books out here with me, I couldn't resist the lure of cheap books. Besides, I needed to have something to read at lunch, the single diner's amusement.

I wasn't the in book store for ten minutes before the nausea came up on me. Hard. I knew this was not going to be a good scene. I managed to get outside with enough to wretch into a wad of tissues (Hadn't located the bathroom).

Yeah, buddy. Taste the flavor sensation.

I pulled myself together, coughed a few times, and went back in the store. I guess when you've got The Cancer you kind of don't give a crap who sees you wretch into a bunch of tissues. You've got bigger fish to fry. And besides, there were books to buy. After picking up two new tomes on the cheap, I perused a few more shops like a candy boutique, drank some water, and rested on a bench for a bit. All the stomach uglies were gone, and I was ready for my French onion soup lunch and reading time. I ended up tearing through 150 pages of Let the Right One In. I spent another hour or so exploring and shopping and then made the hike home. My butt (and my feet and legs) was whupped by the time I reached the hotel, but it felt good to have struck out on my own and overcome the stomach craziness to enjoy a rare afternoon alone.

While I was waiting to get my blood drawn and of course, about 45 minutes after taking TOPoID, I had another brief bout of nausea with a dash of retching. My protocol nurse was there and thankfully she had me ready when the first wave hit with a barf pan and everything. Adrian says now I'm finally like every other cancer patient on chemo, pukes and such. Great. That's a club I was dying to join.

Maybe with my pill reprieve in the coming weeks I can avoid the stomach nonsense.

Just in time for my conjugal visit.

Blog Archive