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seventh new york-iversary

Wednesday, March 20th, 2013

this past sunday marked seven years since i arrived in brooklyn. a love supreme was playing as my dad and i drove over the george washington bridge. the empire state building was lit green for st. patrick’s day. i was already missing minnesota and the comforts of home, and i was broken-hearted after an amicable and expected but nonetheless sad breakup. i wept and listened to sufjan stevens’ chicago:

i drove to new york
in the van, with my friend
we slept in parking lots
i don’t mind, i don’t mind

i was in love with the place
in my mind, in my mind
i made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind

march, contrary to poetic postulations, is truly the cruelest month, with biting wind rustling budding trees and wintry santorum spitting on pale sad-eyed bundles that once were happy people; even in march, when i miss california tremendously, the most, when the blooming tropical trees and the eucalyptus and bay leaves call to me: i’m still glad to be here.

a year into my time here, i was living the dream. i moved to new york hoping to work at the intersection of music, health care and african development – emphasis on hoping, because let’s face it, that’s an awfully narrow field. and somehow within weeks i went for what i thought would be an informational interview at the red hot organization and was offered a part-time position on the spot, working for a music label that produces compilations (amazing ones at that, e.g.) to raise funds for AIDS support organizations worldwide. um, what? obviously i was meant to be here, at that particular moment to do that particular work. and on the side, i put in my time between the sticks.

i was a wealthy drunk. bartending at magnetic field, a small rock n roll bar, was lucrative. a staff of one = no payouts. the pitcher full of dollar bills was my lifeblood. that, and scotch. but the true value of my time at magnetic field was the powerful and long-lasting connections to a deeply dedicated and supportive community. new york can be a tough town, and though i moved here knowing a handful of friends, i can’t imagine, i literally cannot imagine the course of my life without magnetic field and its denizens. along with seriously close friends and a seriously damaged liver, the bar brought kathryn into my life, which is (other than the gift of life, word to my moms & pops) is the greatest gift i’ve ever received.

a year in, and i was settled into my routine, working a couple days a week in my uber-fancy soho office, dining and drinking and sleeping my way around the city.

so it’s march 17th, 2007. a few days previous, i’d written on my old and sadly neglected blog:

do we take care of the people in our lives? do we care of ourselves? do you feel like you’ve done all you can to create positive forces in your life and in the lives of others? well, i’ve tended not to over the past couple years and it’s time for that to change.

let’s imagine, hypothetically, that we met that day, let’s say we went out to brunch, and you looked into my tea leaves and cast your i-ching sticks and threw a mean tarot and you predicted my future.

if you’d sat me down six years ago and said, in a few short years you’ll stop bartending and give up drinking, i would have laughed. i would have laughed heartily and ordered another bloody mary.

if you’d sat me down six years ago and said, in a few short years you’ll be married to the woman of your dreams, i would have been skeptical and amused.

if you’d sat me down six years ago, stared at the tarot cards in horror, saw the black dog in my tea, looked up from casting your sticks with a heavy sigh and said:

prepare yourself, because soon
you’ll be asked to endure years of agonizing surgeries
round after round after round of toxic treatment
side effects may include but are by no means limited to
loss of hairappetitesexdrivestabilityemploymentbodypartshappiness
also loss of life

you will lose count of the doctors and nurses and specialists for your braineyesshoulderhandsliverstomachkneefeet
not to mention the infectious diseases doc, you’ll need one of those
you will know nurses by name in the emergency room
and in the outpatient unit
and in the post-aenesthetic care unit
and on the oncology floor
you will have doctors, plural, on speed dial
you will lose count of the hours spent on hold
with insurance companies, hospitals, billing reps and collection agencies
there will be mountains of paperwork and towering spires of bills

you will make friends, friends who know your path
friends who share your pain and fear
and you will watch them die
withering away like a whittled stick, cut down to nothing

you will lose count of the thousands of needles that pierce your skin
colonoscopies will be old hat
same for highly radioactive scans
same for swallowing pills
same for swallowing pills that are cameras

listen, soon you will find yourself at 28 years old
you will be 28 and you will have cancer
and it’s serious, it’s bad
it’s in your lymph nodes (and you will learn what a lymph node is)
some people last weeks, months if they’re lucky
that the five-year survival rate for your diagnosis is eight percent

if you’d sat me down six years ago and said all this:

i would have been terrified. quite reasonably, i think.

but -

if you’d sat me down six years ago and said:

the path you will walk won’t be easy
no, it will in fact be incredibly hard
the most difficult thing you’ve ever done

but down that path, though it is quite far, and treacherous,
there is a new you
a better friendhusbandloverbrotherson
with more compassion and empathy
with a deeper sense of purpose
with a greater respect for life
you will love more strongly
you will listen more carefully

you will take care of the people in your life
you will take care of yourself
you will do all you can to create positive forces in your life and the lives of others.

if you’d sat me down six years ago and said, in order to become the person you were meant to be, you’ll have to go through hell. there will be blood, and pain, and sacrifice, and loss, but you will be alive, and you will be in love, and you will be loved:

would i have chosen to walk the path?
would i hesitate?
if i knew in no uncertain terms that the cancer would kill me, and soon, would i force the issue? would i ask modern medicine to prolong my life, and possibly prolong my suffering, and the attendant suffering of those i love and those who love me?

i would – though i understand and respect those who make the choice to live treatment-free for as long as they’re able.

if you’d sat me down six years ago and said, in 2013 you will be a budding abstract painter, i would answered your survey by filling bubble number five, for strongly disagree.

but here i am, and here we are, and, to finish off this obnoxiously long and winding post, here is this:

you might remember that i entered a cancer art contest last year – though my submission (“hand in hand” – click to jog your memory) didn’t win (a travesty!), it was still a valuable exercise, and i’ve had two requests so far to recreate it. today i delivered “hand in hand III,” a gift to my excellent pain management doctor. i’d never worked on such a large scale before – the canvas is 48″ x 60″, 4 feet by 5 feet. i made sure to take some pictures before i brought it to the office (in a hired van, as it wouldn’t come close to fitting through the subway turnstiles). see below and click to embiggen. i have another eight (!!) outstanding commissions.

i’m glad i chose new york.

hand in hand III

Posted in art, chemotherapy, clinical trials, complaining, gifts, gratitude, hospital visits, images, links, loss, love, melanoma, music, pain, painting, philosophizing, poetry, radiation, religion, rock and/or roll, sadness, skin cancer, tarot, weather | 7 Comments »

another year.

Thursday, July 26th, 2012

after you turn 21, each birthday seems to be a reminder that you’re getting old. that you’re slightly less cool. that your best years are behind you. i’m not saying i’d like to be 21 again – god forbid – but it’s the last age that you qualify for some privilege until you turn 65. and i don’t know anyone who gets excited about automatically qualifying for medicare.

cancer has changed my perspective on birthdays. every year is cause for a significant celebration, simply because it is another year that i’ve stolen from death. that chess game in the seventh seal? i’ve been playing that game for four years. and death is playing with 16 queens. the past four years have put me at the brink so many times i’ve lost count. was it the cellulitis that brought on a fever of 106? was it the dual viral and bacterial infections alongside pneumonia? many months after that trauma, one of the oncology nurses who cared for me during that awful time admitted that she didn’t think i would make it through. understandable: i couldn’t speak for three days. or was it when we discovered tumors in my intestines? we were prepared for that to be the beginning of the end, to watch as the disease rumbled its way through my internal organs and into my brain. or was it when tingling sensations repeatedly rippled through my body, alongside numbness, dizzy spells and muscle weakness? i thought i had a brain tumor and was ready to head into brain surgery. i was ready to say goodbye.

like i said: i’ve lost count. but each time i’ve somehow found a way to pin death in the corner and announce a triumphant checkmate.

and now, today i turn 33. an auspicious, palindromatic year. my world feels like its opening up like a lotus flower, with petals representing nearly infinite paths of being – all of them exciting, engaging, and filled with wonder and creative energy. two doctors have ordered paintings (one a recreation of hand in hand) and i met with a new buyer last night. that makes four commissions in as many months since i began my art career. to answer your question: yes, many of my artist friends hate me. no, hate is too strong a word. but i know there are many of you out there who’ve created art for years, decades even, without making a dollar. i know how lucky i am, and i feel incredibly blessed to have this new avenue of expression garner such a positive reaction. how many people, as they turn 33, are starting a brand new hobby that has the potential to be an entirely new career choice and life path?

as much as i despise my cancer – and that is an awful lot – i’m grateful for the ways that the experience has made each day precious, each week a celebration of life, and each year a tremendous accomplishment. few people pat themselves on the back for simply surviving another year. i do so every single day.

thank you all for your kind birthday wishes. i wish you could all come and party with me on saturday! we’re hosting the 2nd annual east coast all-participatory talent show/BBQ/birthday celebration (or 2AECAPTSBBQBC). the lovely, incomparable annie bacon started the tradition out in san francisco many years ago, and i’ve founded an east coast version. we’re accepting submissions via email or video links, so if you’d like to participate, please send in your submission by saturday morning.

and speaking of talents, i’ve finally finished editing/cropping/color fixing/naming all of my pictures from the trip to montana. they’re available on facebook (gallery one and gallery two) and also on picasa for those of you who avoid FB. i’m very pleased with the way they came out, and i managed to cut them down from over 1200 pics to just 400.

one last item before i go out for a birthday lunch with my good friend karl – if you’d like to hear more about first descents, CNN published a story about the organization the day after i returned home. that same day, i received a link to a pilot episode of the show change agent – they filmed the episode during my first FD camp, and i was one of two campers featured in the show. i can’t recommend the episode heartily enough, and not only because i come across as kind of a badass. it reveals the nature of first descents better than any of my pictures, and the stories they share are powerful and moving. there’s a feature-length documentary about FD that’s garnering significant attention as it plays through the festival circuit, so the producers are waiting until it’s in wide release to broadcast the TV show. it’s embedded below and runs just under 30 minutes. i hope you’ll take the time to watch it!

Posted in amazing, art, gratitude, hospital visits, loss, philosophizing, travel, videos | 1 Comment »

this is what it feels like.

Sunday, June 24th, 2012

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Posted in amazing, chemotherapy, gratitude, hospital visits, love, videos | 2 Comments »

get results fast!

Tuesday, May 29th, 2012

actually, not so fast. but i am getting results today. i’ll find out if the surgical margins were clean (i.e. if any melanoma was in the tissue surrounding the surgical site), and i should also get a sense of whether the central incision on my bellybutton is infected or just leaky like the rest of me. after i meet with my surgeon, my oncologist will give me a sense of next steps. i’ve had some preliminary conversations on the matter, but i’ll have a much better idea once i’m home this afternoon. it’s always nice to have company for important meetings like these – i’m lucky to be accompanied by not just kathryn (who’s always there) but my dad just landed at laguardia a few minutes ago and will join us as well. he’ll be here for the week to lend a hand in my continued recovery.

speaking of which, i’m actually doing quite well. i took my first long-ish walk out of the house yesterday, and though i was definitely sore afterwards, it felt so great to be out and about (even in the independence day-like memorial day heat). it’s such a gift to live in a majestic brownstone (thanks ben!) given that i’ve spent so much of the last few years confined to various levels of non-activity. kathryn spent much of her four day weekend on a beautifying campaign – i can’t exactly wield a vacuum at the moment – and now our lovely home just gleams. i’ll return the favor… in july.

i hope y’all enjoyed the memorial day weekend. i’ll make sure to post once i get more information this afternoon. i hope my lack of posting didn’t lead you to think there was a lack of pooping – my bowels are equalizing, but i don’t plan on giving you a day-by-day play-by-play of my bowel activity. unless that’s what you want…

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sunday evening update

Sunday, May 20th, 2012

hi friends – it’s NOT kathryn writing this time. it’s groinstrong himself! aka me.

i don’t have a whole of energy left tonight, but i wanted fill you all in, if the criminally-unstable internet here will allow it.

i’ve made major progress today – they removed my catheter late last night, and i had until eight am to pee or else the catheter would have to go back in… i shudder at the thought. at 7:45 this morning, just under the gun, i managed to urinate. what worked this time was the same as the last – which, it turns out, i remembered falsely. none of the watery songs did the job – instead kathryn came up with a super-effective guided meditation: you’re heading home from williamsburg after a night of drinking with friends. you thought you’d be safe, but peeing before you left only managed to break the seal, and now you want nothing more than sweet release. it’s three AM, and as you stumble down to the platform for the G train, you arrive just in time to watch the train depart. oh crap. what do you do? no one is around! you can just use this plastic bottle…

thusly were the floodgates opened.

on top of taking a pee, i also managed to start passing gas – progress it its own right – but i wasn’t done! i managed to have a small – but extraordinarily significant – bowel movement. i’m ahead of schedule by two or three days, and my advancement could very well mean an early release. there’s already talk about seeing how it feels to have i small amounts of soft food. awesome!

though i’m pretty uncomfortable painwise, it’s made a huge difference to have a private room – the unitarian universalist association keeps an emergency fund for ministers and their families, and they’ve been generous enough to spring for the upgrade, along with a room for my mom that’s near the hospital. with all the pain, fatigue and extreme dietary restrictions of this visit, it’s been such a gift to at least have my space in which to suffer in private.

all in all, though, i’m feeling good about where i am. i’m still in a LOT of pain, but i have tons of entertainment handy and i have a gorgeous view, looking out west to the top of the chrysler building, north to the UN complex and east to the east river, the queensboro bridge and the not-quite-world-famous pepsi-cola sign. i’ve had some lovely visits from friends – i hope the online scheduling system works well for all of you! i’ll be sure to update the calendar with any new information.

Posted in gifts, gratitude, hospital visits, pain | 3 Comments »

calendar for hospital visits and meal assistance

Friday, May 18th, 2012

Well, here we go. I’m scheduled to arrive at 10 am tomorrow, with my surgery taking place at noon. I’ll have Kathryn post an update as soon as we’re through. Cell phone use is discouraged in the waiting room, so please be patient! Without any unexpected complications, I should be through the operation and moved to my room by the late afternoon.

In the meantime, I wanted to explain the process for scheduling hospital visits (and later, meal support and visits back at home). I’ve set up a custom schedule using carecalendar. All the login information is below – as this post gets pushed down the page, you can find all the information near the top of the right hand side of the page under “Visits and Meal Calendar” – if friends ask for visiting information, you can forward that link to them. It can be a little hectic trying to field calls and answer messages to set up visits, so I’m hoping this system helps smooth out the process for all of us! If you’re far away or unable to visit and would instead like to offer your financial support, you can do so by visiting my donation page.

Instructions for CareCalendar scheduling

First, visit my personalized calendar here:

http://www.carecalendar.org/logon/112717

For Calendar ID, enter 112717

For Security Code, enter 7864

Once you log in, you’ll see the calendar page. Empty slots are listed in red – expected in-hospital days are broken up into hour-long slots during visiting hours (10 AM to 8 PM). Click on the date that appeals to you – note: once you click through, you’ll see which hour you’ve selected; if that slot doesn’t work for you, simply use the back button of your browser to return to the calendar.

Please be sure to carefully read the details, as they include important information about the location of the hospital, room number, etc. After you select your preferred date and time, you’ll be asked to enter your name, phone number and email. Give as much information as makes you comfortable, though email is important. A confirmation of your selection will be sent both to you and to me.

Isn’t that so great? I hope the process works well for you. Thank you in advance for taking the time to stop by or to provide a meal! Your generosity and dedication have played such a crucial role in making this exhausting experience slightly more manageable. Kathryn and I both are filled with awe at the way that our community continues to support us in remarkable ways.

See you at the hospital!

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the luxury of knowledge.

Thursday, May 17th, 2012

in twenty four hours or so, i’ll wake up from my surgery. i can’t say i’m looking forward to it. still, it’s a great luxury to have the chance to properly prepare. so many of my recent hospitalizations have come out of nowhere – i spike a high fever and spend five days in the hospital fighting off an infection, or i arrive to the ER with (this actually happened) dual infections of both viral and bacterial nature AND pneumonia. yeah, that was not very fun – although my infectious nature granted me a private room. talk about luxury!

this time is different. i’ve known this surgery was a possibility for years. i have time to make sure all my bills are paid, that nothing will fall through the cracks while i’m out of commission. i’ve been hard at work setting up a custom care calendar, so those who’d like to visit or be involved in post-surgical support can use an online scheduler. i’ve got cookbooks for blended food and people are already sending recipes. people are sending me immersion blenders! (mystery solved: thanks, jess schoen!) also, i have an ipad. all is well.

i’m on way to one last afternoon of bridge before they cut me up, but i’ll get all the information about the support calendar posted tonight. thanks so much for all of your kind words and messages of encouragement. i’ve met a number of young adult cancer survivors who are not only far away from any family but also lack local extended networks of friends. i can’t imagine having to manage the pain and complications and insufferable side effects and financial toxicity without all of you. you are seriously awesome. you are a luxury.

Posted in gifts, gratitude, hospital visits | 6 Comments »

that’s entertainment!

Tuesday, May 15th, 2012

many of you have experienced that when i get excited about something, i get REALLY excited. like uncontrollably excited. i’ll interrupt anything you’re saying, regardless of topic, to share my enthusiasm. yeah, i’m working on that. but i wouldn’t want to temper my crazy love for anything and everything.

so today i would like to share my excitement and give a shout out to our friends michael and zach. i feel so blessed that kathryn started a friendship with them many years ago – we’ve had some wonderful adventures and shared some of our most meaningful times together. michael and zach are among the top contenders for the most generous people i’ve ever met. they may just take the prize altogether. they helped us manage getting to coachella two years ago (my first ever music festival). they’ve invited us multiple times to the bloomberg company’s annual summer party (the company rents out randall’s island for a massive fair with free food and drink, live music and carnival games and so many amazing things!! it’s SO fun!!). last year we all traveled to vermont so they could be legally married – kathryn was deputized for the day and performed the ceremony, while i became the artistic director/wedding band/photographer. it was a marvelous, magical trip, and we could never have joined them without their generous help. and when i tore my ACL 100 yards into my first run of the weekend (booo!), they paid my hospital bill (yay! i paid them back eventually).

we’ve been lucky enough to dog-sit numerous times for their lovable, spazzy boston terrier, pugsley, and we’ve used every opportunity - birthdays, holidays, anniversaries – to slowly adorn their apartment with endless images of pugsley and his ilk. i met kathryn outside their old apartment for our fourth date, having recently received a grim prognosis from my oncologist. we were terrified and weepy and loving and caring far beyond the norm for a new relationship. we were able to enjoy the comfort of a cuddly dog, cable TV, lots of guitar hero and views from their old place, a penthouse on houston looking up the length of second avenue. in fact, that moment was one of the few we chose to celebrate in the art project for the wedding that so many of you helped us create. our friend jordan captured the moment beautifully (see right).

it’s such a gift to have friends that love to share so deeply and expect nothing in return – though of course we do our best to wine and dine them when we can. last night we had them over for a delicious dinner (kat and i made szechuan/five-spice pork tenderloin, mashed parsnips and kale salad with toasted almonds… mmmm!). at some point during the meal, i asked michael if he would be willing to bring me some comics while i languished in the hospital. he apologized and said that he was only getting digital comics at this point, then paused and realized his old ipad still had hundreds of comics, and since he’d just gotten a new model, he didn’t need it any more – so he offered to loan it to me while i was convalescing. woohoo! but wait, it gets better. we talked about how awesome it would be for me to have the slim ipad instead of my usual messy stack of comics spread across what little space i call my own – i tend to explode my belongings all over my tiny curtained “room” – and a moment later, he asked, actually, do you want an ipad? my answer was OH MY GOD YES I WANT AN IPAD!!! i seem to remember raising my arms in triumph. because, man, i have wanted an ipad SO BAD and i love new toys and i love having distractions from so many days in the hospital! those long, boring days and the even-longer nights can drive me crazy, and it will be such a gift to have so much entertainment in such a small package. (i can’t resist: that’s what she said!)

so thanks, michael and zach, for everything you’ve done to support me and Kathryn, for all the wonderful adventures we’ve had together that would have been impossible without your help. thank you for being in our lives, and for sharing yours with us. i know kathryn cares deeply for both of you, and i’ve grown to feel the same way. you make it so easy!

love you guys!

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Posted in amazing, art, gifts, gratitude, hospital visits, images, love, travel | 2 Comments »

the other side of sunday.

Monday, May 14th, 2012

that being monday. it’s late into the night, or early in the morning, depending on how you’re feeling. me, i’m feeling a bit insomniac-y. not too surprising, i’d say, given what the week holds in store.

the surgery is scheduled for friday, though i won’t know exactly what time it will take place until late thursday afternoon. last week i spent four hours in pre-surgical testing – reviewing my medical history takes an awfully long time – and the nurse practitioner warned me that recovery from bowel resection can often involve lengthy hospital stays for extended monitoring; a full week would not be unusual. that’s an awfully long time in the less-than-pleasant atmosphere of the 16th floor oncology unit, no matter how wonderful the nurses and attendants may be. and they are wonderful, kind and caring, but they still have to put me in a shared room (always a crapshoot) and give me shots of heparin to the belly at 5 am (always awful).

to add to the unpleasantness of this particular recovery, it’s likely that i’ll wake up from surgery with both a feeding tube and a catheter. they shouldn’t remain in place for more than a day post-procedure, but that doesn’t make that initial return to consciousness any less painful or uncomfortable. i’ve never had a feeding tube before, though i have suffered through a catheter. i can’t remember at the moment whether i’ve shared this story, but it’s worth repeating – after one of my many procedures, i was having terrible trouble urinating, and the nurses gave me an hour to pee or else they were going to reinsert the catheter with only a small dose of local anesthesia. how’s that for pressure? i was terrified of the possibility but struggled in vain. my parents and kathryn gathered at my bedside and began to sing songs about water. the beatles’ rain. the melodians’ rivers of babylon. did they sing row row row your boat? perhaps. i seem to remember the song that finally helped me fill that small plastic urinal was jimi hendrix’s may this be love [aka waterfall - sorry, the best clip i could find was daniel lanois' cover - still worth a listen]. hopefully i won’t need another making-water medley.

my surgeon is mostly sure that he can perform the procedure laparoscopically, though there’s a chance that my attempted bowel surgery a couple years back left behind scar tissue that could interfere. if the robots can’t find a way in, they’ll have to make a midline incision (don’t worry, the link just goes to a graph – but you can always image search it yourself if you’re feeling gruesome). i’d like to avoid the larger incision, obviously – getting opened up that way would dramatically increase my healing time as well as the amount of pain i’d suffer. when i wake up, tubed through various orifices, i’ll find out immediately what access strategy my surgical team utilized.

in the meantime, i’m doing my best to enjoy myself and stay as healthy as possible. i’ve started seeing a chiropractor whose office also offers massage and physical therapy in a single visit – even though their office is in midtown, it’s worth the trip. the physical therapy in particular is making a big difference in reducing my pain and increasing my flexibility and range of motion – the many surgeries to my left leg have made it markedly shorter than my right, causing all kinds of imbalance and pain. we’re working together to try and straighten me out again. i’ve also found an acupuncturist – i emailed him with my sob story and billy, quite generously, offered to see me for free, for as long as it’s helpful. generosity like that is so rare, and i’m incredibly touched that he is so willing to help out. if you’re looking for a brooklyn-based acupuncturist, billy is great! i doubt i’ll be able to stomach (ha!) the effort necessary for any of those treatments post-surgery, so i’ve got a busy week trying to cram it all in before friday.

my acupuncturist is not the only person for whom i am grateful – i’ve received so many heartfelt messages of support, donations and books to read and offers of visits, blenders and baby food cookbooks. kathryn found a site that automates the process of scheduling meals and visits for those in need (aka me!), and i’ll let you all know when i have it set up. i know it’s a less personal method of managing the ways that you can help, but man, you all love me so much! it’s helpful to be able to space out your support and not burden me or kathryn with constant planning. i know you all understand.

one last thing, if you’re still reading this over-long post: mother’s day has come and gone, but i want to take a quick moment to acknowledge moms. and not only my wonderful, dedicated mom, because she is the best – she’s coming to help out and hopefully get me home from the hospital after the weekend. but now, being in my early 30s, so many of my friends and peers have become mothers, and it is such a marvelous joy to see these young mothers, to celebrate with them, to be a part of their lives whenever possible. i would love to spend the summer traveling from family to family across the country – seeing beloved friends and their children i have yet to meet, dash in the tower especially; seeing godsisters and godchildren and nieces named mabel; the twins in arcata; babies in oakland, omak, charleston, austin. kathryn and i have had to delay our family planning plans; i have to be a full year free of any treatment before we think about it, and even then it’s more than likely that i’ve been sterilized by the years of chemical onslaught – i’m so grateful that my oncologist suggested a visit to a sperm bank before i started any treatment. in the meantime, it gives me such pleasure to join with you in celebrating the miracle that so many of you have brought into the world. well done, mothers of the world.

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Posted in amazing, chemotherapy, events, gratitude, hospital visits, images, links, love, music, pain, physical therapy, rock and/or roll, videos | 3 Comments »

view with caution

Monday, May 7th, 2012

i haven’t had a chance to put together our pictures from the wedding this weekend, and this is definitely not the kind of image i was hoping to share today. it’s so graphic that it doesn’t seem fair to you viewers to force it upon your tender eyes. i have a large, ugly mass growing in my jejunum, where my small bowel meets the stomach. i like to call it my (je)june(um) bug – if you’re feeling brave, you can click here to see the graphic endoscopy results. the light pink is the healthy tissue – that gross pile of bloody mess is obviously not. it’s dangerous enough that it has to come out – it could cause bowel perforation or obstruction, both of which would not be very fun. and we need to move somewhat quickly, so my bowel resection surgery is scheduled for next friday the 18th of may. if all goes well, i’ll spend 3-5 days in the hospital, 2 weeks of eating soft food only and 4-6 weeks to more or less recover. it’s a pretty busy time for kathryn, so i’ll be calling yet again on those of you who have some time to come and visit and put my steak in a blender.

in the meantime, i’ll find some time tomorrow to tell you all about our lovely weekend in nashville and the wedding of scott, kathryn’s eldest brother, and his wonderful new wife laura. it was close to the hottest ever start to may down there – i’ve never sweat through my tie before – but the heat couldn’t keep us all from having a fantastic time.

weird, kathryn just pointed out that i had another major surgery two weeks after her other brother doug was married back in 2008.

good thing she’s all out of brothers.

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Posted in hospital visits, images, love, travel | 4 Comments »

status: it’s complicated.

Tuesday, May 1st, 2012

i am a little tired at the moment. you see, i’m missing a bit of blood.

that is 22 vials of my blood, drawn for comprehensive tests on my liver. so i think i’m entitled to a little nap.

but before i crash out and lose another afternoon to fatigue, i wanted to make sure to get us all on the same page.

first, i hope your may day has been lovely, whether you’re celebrating in the twin cities or working your way through holding cells after occupy protests. my present insurance is through kathryn’s union, and the policy has saved us thousands of dollars, if not tens of thousands, since we were married. so, i like unions, and i don’t mind if protests interrupt my day. though i’m grateful i was able to travel freely today.

as business wound down on friday, my doctors switched the upper endoscopy to a dual procedure. so my sunday, instead of badminton in the park, was rather less pleasant. although at this point the colonoscopy prep is old hat for me. still, it’s shitty. heyo!

the endoscopy found a “large” lesion of melanoma in my small bowel. i don’t know what “large” means in my GI doc’s report, but she’s recommended a bowel resection. i’m meeting with my oncologist next week and then my GI surgeon the week after, and at the moment i’m leaning toward avoiding surgery. as my GI surgeon pointed out the last time we found ourselves working with intestinal tumors, we could cut the lesion out, with all the risks and discomfort that come along with bowel resection, and a week later we could find another cancerous lesion an inch away from the previous resection. again, in my GI surgeon’s words, it’s a local solution to a systemic problem. of course, i’m not rushing in to anything, and i need a lot more information about size, location and potential complications if the lesion causes bowel obstruction or perforation.

on top of dealing with all of that, i spent the morning with my new hepatologist to talk about possible treatments for my hepatitis C. we’re trying to get as much information as we can before deciding on a course of action – as i’ve heard, the hep C treatments are still pretty nasty, even as their success rate have skyrocketed (from 20% to 80% cure rates). if we can get my liver to stabilize without dramatic intervention, it might allow us to move forward with the IPI, which could possibly get rid of the lesion, which would mean the surgery would be unnecessary.

you see what i mean when i say it’s complicated.

so to get more information, she took about a pint of my blood (i think she’s a vampire doctor) and ordered an MRI of my liver. i was able to fit in the MRI this afternoon, and now i’m finally home. i’ll have more information in a couple weeks. my hepatologist hopes that we can avoid treating the hep C as long as possible – it’s a year of treatment, and there are new drugs currently in clinical trials that are showing great promise without as much toxicity. i asked about my possible participation, but patients must be five years cancer-free. so that’s out for now, but if all goes well they’ll be available soon.

that was an awful lot for just two days. i’m sitting down with my oncologist next monday to talk through all of this. but for now, i’ve been poked and prodded inside and out, emptied of too many bodily fluids, injected, examined, put inside a jackhammer and sent home.

it’s time to rest for a bit.

Posted in clinical trials, hospital visits, images | 3 Comments »

the greatest gratitude.

Saturday, March 3rd, 2012

it was a week ago that i woke up, stressed out over the stack of bills, our suspended flex account, the collection notices, my inability to provide for myself and my lovely, caring wife. and i decided to ask you all for help.

it’s part and parcel of the life of a cancer survivor, especially when distant metastases are not so distant, that it’s impossible to know what lies in store, day to day, week to week.

even so, i wasn’t ready for this past week. in so many ways.

first, the bad, the bodily breakdowns that i always assume are coming while hoping they never do. two back-to-back trips to the emergency room is two too many. the second trip in particular was especially painful – an overcrowded ER and an inattentive resident made for a long (relatively), uncomfortable (again, relatively) stay, and i left with no answers as to why i felt so awful. though kathy’s care (see yesterday) was tender and kind, it didn’t take away the exhausting experience of going through all the same tests from the night before; the CT scan, the chest x-rays. my resident ordered an ultrasound on my leg, even after i explained that my scary-looking, taut appendage was simply a bad day for my chronic edema. but she didn’t seem to listen. at least in the ER, they bring all the machines to you, so i didn’t have to bounce around from floor to floor. but it’s incredibly frustrating to spend 12 out of 36 hours being poked and prodded, all to be told i likely have the flu. seriously?

next: the beautiful. over the course of my first visit to the hospital, i had the immense pleasure of listening to the first cries of a newborn that couldn’t wait for the trip up to the delivery room. the pained screams of the mother turned to laughter as the baby’s wails echoed through the low-ceilinged, not-at-all-soundproofed halls of the ER. it was like hearing the bell from the polar express; it was sacred. i seemed to myself an unwelcome guest, as if the presence of the rest of us seeking care might disrupt this tender moment. the nurses, pulling off their blood-stained uniforms as they left the bedside, remarked, OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE ALL THAT BLOOD? AND WHEN THE PLACENTA HIT THE FLOOR? I WAS LIKE, WHOA!

no sense of reverence. still, i’m sure the new mother appreciated their care.

and now for the good.

first, after enduring a brain MRI yesterday, i received an email just a few hours later from my oncologist saying that my brain looks good, with no signs of cancer at all. whew! even when melanoma is under some semblance of control, as mine is at present, it can erupt and spread across the body with unstoppable quickness. so when i have potentially neurologically-based symptoms – tingling in the extremities, one-sided weakness, muscle stiffness/rigidity, numbness (all of which i exhibited this week) – it’s crucial that we get an immediate idea of the state of my body, and in particular my brain. after a week of scary side effects, it’s a great relief to know that everything is looking good.

and finally, on to your generosity.

i’ve thanked you all before for reading, for all the different ways that this remarkable community of readers and well-wishers supports me, and kathryn, and my family as well. for the prayers and non-prayers and meditations and candles lit and bells rung and flags flown. for the bracelets that sit on wrists and altars and stickshifts and desktops. for all the cities around the globe that cradle you, my dear readers.

but this time, i needed something a little more concrete. and my god, the outpouring of generosity makes me weep. due to the kindness of nearly 100 different donors, i’ve received well over THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS in donations over the last seven days. that is life-changing money. my bills are paid, as are those yet to come, and for a good while. i’ve given some of the donations to kathryn so i forget about them for a while, and so that they’ll be there when i need them. ruth and lorelee’s donation (NOT for bills, the note read) will take us out for a date next week – a luxury that’s been well beyond our means for some time.

when i accidentally poisoned my neighbor’s wonderful dog yesterday (i left out some chocolate-covered raisins), i was able to pay the ASPCA poison control the over-the-phone advice fee without concern. and igby is doing just fine. you see, as i’m sure you already understand, the financial burden of being a resident of cancertown is so much more than co-pays and co-insurance. it’s the day to day living that has to play second fiddle to the constant stream of medical bills. nearly every penny of my disposable income goes to doctors, even when i’m feeling well. kathryn and i are INCREDIBLY lucky to not just have medical insurance, but to have UNION (NSFW) insurance that has NO annual or lifetime cap on benefits and comes with some of the lowest co-pay rates (PDF) in the country. if that wasn’t the case, it’s likely that i would have asked you all for help a long time ago.

you don’t think about lifetime insurance caps when you’re healthy – and then you get sick, and you think shit, well, at least i have insurance, and then suddenly you find yourself in the same situation as POOPSTRONG, aka arijit, a student in arizona whose cost of treatment for his bowel cancer quickly outstripped his lifetime cap. he’s trying to raise enough to cover his astronomical medical bills – he has awesome t-shirts for sale, and if you’re still in the mood for donating to cancer survivors, i heartily encourage helping him out!

really what i’m trying to say, as i’ve said so many times before but can never say enough, is thank you. though my health has collapsed this week, my mind and spirit have stayed strong, in large part due to the great burden that you have all communally lifted off of my shoulders, and kathryn’s shoulders too. looking back on this post, i don’t think it truly conveys how grateful i am, and how that same gratitude spreads to kathryn, and to my family. for, again, as i’ve written before, the burden of a cancer patient is so much more than the health of a single individual. terminal illness – in particular as opposed to sudden, tragic death – is an opportunity for us to cherish the sacredness of the short, so very short, time that we have together. people die every day, and the vast majority of them don’t have the chance to say goodbye. the gift, the benefit, the silver lining to this dark and terrible cloud, is the presence of mind to understand the fragility of life in ways i never could have imagined. i’ve gained, believe it or not, some much-needed humility. for nothing humbles like staring death in the face.

and i plan on winning this staring contest.

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Posted in amazing, bracelets, complaining, gifts, gratitude, hospital visits, links, love, pain, philosophizing, videos | 2 Comments »

the only good part of the emergency room is…

Friday, March 2nd, 2012

well, other than the ice chips, of course. i have a small handful of that liquid gold left in the freezer – in a small plastic bag that says DANGER! BIOHAZARD. awesome.

no, the best part about being in emergency room is getting to see my friend kathy. i’m not sure how many of you read the comments, but kathy posted this yesterday:

Once again, I heard a familiar voice behind me calling my name “Hi Kathy, I’m back again, twice in one week. ” I recall that visit several years ago when you were in bed #5 and you gave me the bracelet that I have not taken off for one minute since you gave it to me.
I think of you often, I hope you are feeling better, Lots of hugs, Kathy

honestly, that makes me tear up a bit. kathy was a huge help on wednesday when the ER was massively overcrowded, and i ended up in great discomfort in a chair. i wasn’t impressed with my resident’s bedside (or chairside) manner and was feeling forgotten. but once i managed to catch kathy’s attention, i was in a bed and covered with warm blankets within minutes. it’s gotten to the point where i’m actually a little sad when i end up in the ER and she’s not around. even among my closest friends, there are only a handful of people who can say they’ve never taken their bracelet off. thanks for being so wonderful, kathy.

i have lots more to share with you, as it’s been quite the week, but it only feels right to dedicate this post solely to kathy, and to the remarkable nursing staff at NYU. no matter my ailment, NYU nurses have taken such excellent care of me, especially the nurses of the oncology wing on the 16th floor. nurses are your doctor, your therapist and your mother all at once, and they could never receive enough praise (or wages) to properly acknowledge all that they do. i’ve seen more than one patient be absolutely abusive to the nursing staff, and i want to get out of bed and punch them in whatever area is ailing them. i’ve seen it get so bad that mediation teams come to try and stop the patient from making the nurses cry. for reals.

kathy is a very special nurse, but she is not alone.

so next time you’re in the hospital, be sure to treat your nurses well. they deserve it.

 

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home safe and slightly unsound

Tuesday, February 28th, 2012

that was not my favorite night ever. what ups and downs! just as i’m feeling strong and brave and confident and happy, my health tries to steal it all away. i can barely remember posting last night through the bleary haze of IV dilaudid, so i’m re-reading to see what i should cover today. i was about to say “this morning” – even though it’s 3 pm, it feels like morning after heading to bed at 7 am.

so here’s the latest. after the clean CT scan last night, dr. pavlick (just as a reminder, my oncologist) decided that an MRI wasn’t necessary. which is great, because i’ve got a migraine from lack of sleep today, and having endured MRIs with migraines before, it’s not an experience i would wish on my worst enemy. well, maybe i would wish it on my worst enemy. it’s awful.

the going theory for my dramatic, precipitous decline is a rare side effect of zyprexa, the atypical anti-psychotic drug i started as an attempt to curb my insomnia. it’s possible that i developed neuroleptic malignant syndrome, a very rare and very dangerous disorder caused by adverse reactions to that particular class of drugs. though i didn’t have the typical fevers, it would explain the severe muscle pain, stiffness, tingling and increased confusion and delirium.

and honestly, as scary as its name may be, the disorder is better than some of the alternatives that the side effects pointed to; namely, meningitis and brain metastases. given the good outlook on scans and positive outcomes with my blood tests, we’re out of the woods on those. so i got that goin’ for me. which is nice. given both my forever-compromised immune system and the breakneck speed of melanoma on the move, neither scenario would be out of the question. thus my calling the amberlance. ha! spellcheck doesn’t like my alternate spelling of ambulance. word added to dictionary!

i’ve got to head to the pharmacy to get a script filled. thank you for reading, for keeping me in your thoughts and prayers, and for all your support. the donations continue to pour in from across the country, and it was such a gift to head to the ER knowing that any charges i incurred would disappear given your generosity. if you’re able to help out with the costs of my continued care, please paypal or chase quickpay to jonah.ei@gmail.com, or email me for our mailing address. even a dollar or two here and there can communally make a huge difference for me, and my psyche, and for kathryn as well. so thank you in advance for whatever you can give.

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Posted in complaining, gifts, gratitude, hospital visits, language, love, melanoma, migraines, skin cancer, videos | 3 Comments »

some people wake up on monday mornings…

Monday, February 27th, 2012

some people wake up on monday mornings
barring maelstroms and red flare warnings
with no explosions and no surprises
perform a series of exercises

yes, it’s more andrew bird, this time from a song called simple x. and it’s so very appropriate. it being monday morning already, as my insomnia continues unabated.

the concert was amazing. meeting the band was the icing on the cake (see below for photographic evidence). his new album, break it yourself, is breathtaking, and may even surpass armchair apocrypha as his best ever. and i say that after a single listen live. he even has a song, “the near-death-experience experience” that’s sort of about me. kinda.

dance like you’re a cancer survivor
like you’re happy to just be alive 

the bell house has played host to so many incredible, indelible moments in our lives. derby parties, already-married marriage proposals, karaoke kraziness, rowdy disney sing-a-longs and unforgettable concerts. though i haven’t been pounding the mats (that means bartending) in a while, i sometimes forget what an remarkable privilege it is to be a part of something so special. *this* is why i moved to new york city.

i know many of you don’t check groinstrong regularly, and especially not on the weekends. and that’s just fine! i almost never post over the weekend. but since monday morning is upon us (and you sure look fine), i thought i would reiterate what i expressed on saturday.

lemme tell ya, time tough.

earlier this month, i received a year’s worth of bills from NYU in a single mailing. as far as i understand it, when you see a doctor that isn’t in private practice, they’re actually leasing space from the hospital. and as you might imagine, their rent is astronomical. so part of that expense is transferred to the patient as a “facility charge.” yeah, that’s totally separate from the visit co-pay. my insurance helps with the fees, but it doesn’t pay for all of it. i usually get the facility charges every few months, and i thought maybe being in a clinical trial had exempted me, since i hadn’t seen that particular kind of bill in a long time.

no such luck. on saturday morning, i sat down to the stack of bills and realized that i just couldn’t pull this one off on my own, or even with kathryn’s help. and by may, both our respective parents will have helped to finance two weddings. each. as in four weddings and (thankfully) no funerals. so it doesn’t feel right to ask them, at least for the moment. they have their own battles to fight, and win, and they must persevere, and be anklestrong.

so that is why, on saturday, i decided to ask for help. from all of you.

i wish that i wasn’t in a place where i have to ask, but over these past four years (!!!) since my diagnosis, i’ve learned the importance of swallowing my significant pride and asking for help when it is necessary. it makes it easier to ask knowing how much you all care. and within 12 hours of my rare saturday morning post, your donations exceeded $500. and the best part is, they’re just a few dollars here and there. a five spot. an andrew jackson or two. but my goodness do they add up quickly. they’ve continued to come in from across the country, and i figure by the end of this week, that, with your generous support, i’ll have all my medical bills paid off, and a bit to hold onto (i should probably just give it to kathryn) for when the next fat envelope arrives from the cancer center. any gift, small or large, makes a big difference to me. i exist right at the margins of bankruptcy, and if kathryn’s job wasn’t so stable, and if we didn’t have such a wonderful, remarkable community that supports and sustains us in so many ways, it’s entirely possible we’d be living in a basement on summit avenue. as in my parents’ basement.

so: thank you for keeping me and my wife out of my parents’ basement.

your support means the world to us both.

the easiest way to send your gift is either paypal or chase quickpay to jonah.ei@gmail.com. you can also send me snail mail (always appreciated, even without checks inside!) to 287 sackett street / brooklyn, ny / 11231.


thank you so much in advance for whatever support you’re able to provide. please accept our deepest gratitude for all the gifts you share.

also: this is my song, for the asking:

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eventful, to say the least.

Monday, February 13th, 2012

my goodness, what a weekend.

i arrived at the first destination of kathryn’s birthday pub crawl-some/karaoke-tacular only to find her breathless and hopped up on adrenaline. two young, bumbling, desperate criminals had opened the door to our favorite local gastropub strong place, reached into kathryn’s purse and bolted with her billfold. their rustling was just enough to catch the attention of my lovely lady, and, noticing her missing wallet (which i bought her, because it’s covered in hearts and monkeys), she gave chase.

since i arrived after the pursuit, i can only imagine it looked something like this:

seems about right.

in their haste to escape the wrath of the enraged gazelle quickly closing the gap, they dropped the wallet without removing anything. a passerby attempted to grab one of the absconders and managed to come away with her winter coat. it’s all a bit sad, really. they seemed like a young couple, inexperienced and desperate for cash. and now they’re without a nice puffy jacket as we suffer through a few days of real winter. though the jacket is available for pickup at the 76th precinct!

yeah, so basically my wife is a badass. good thing, too. it’s not like i have any money in my wallet! i’ve reached a point that cancer experts call “financial toxicity” – pretty self-explanatory, really. thank god for our new flex spending account and our forthcoming tax rebate! wow, that article is sobering: “your chances of declaring bankruptcy quadruple within 5 years of a cancer diagnosis.” daaaang. good thing i can depend on the kindness of strangers. and friends.

and speaking of friends, i brought my little buddy TJ (tiny jonah) along for the ride. he was a huge hit at karaoke, except with the handful of people who hate puppets. even when they make similar fashion choices.

there are some wonderful pictures from the night taken by our friend tom – black and white can even make karaoke look classy!

man, we even look classy just sitting around. that fine lady in the middle is my uber-talented friend kirsten, who filmed video throughout the evening and is currently editing as we speak. oh man it’s going to be awesome! though the night looks a little different in color.

the weekend also brought sad news (other than whitney houston’s tragic passing). my mom fell and broke her ankle! like real, real bad. foot all mangled and bent the wrong way, three bones broken – she ended up spending her FIRST night in the hospital ever. a testament to the eller constitution that she’s never been hospitalized. it seems so commonplace to me now. but that doesn’t make it any fun. when you’re separated from all that you hold dear, you realize how important it is to be surrounded by what you love – the books, the art, musical instruments, the smells, the comfortable sensations that we call home – in the hospital, they’re all stripped away and traded for an IV drip and 5 am shots of heparin. though at the moment, with a backhoe 50 feet from my window tearing into the old concrete across the street, a quiet hospital bed with a view of the east river sounds a little pleasant.

but not that pleasant. love you mom!

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back down the rabbit hole

Friday, January 20th, 2012

this week is the first week of 2012 that i’ve felt able to function, not overwhelmed with appointments and trips into manhattan – and of course, now that i’m two weeks free of the zelboraf, the pain is almost entirely gone. if i’ve talked to you recently, or spent time with you recently, you’ll agree that i’m a different person. it’s hard to believe how crippling it is to live with chronic pain. and stepping out from underneath the crushing weight of pain is like coming back to life, like if my body was a throat, i’ve just cleared something stuck deep down. or if my body was teeth, then that tiny raspberry seed that i’ve tried to spring for a week has finally come loose. or if my body was an aching, tired foot, then this week is the cool soak with moisturizer and bath salts. or if… you get it.

of course, nothing that good tends to last too long in my world. i woke up this morning with a fever and the beginnings of the red flushed skin that points to cellulitis, the skin infection that has hospitalized me a number of times, and twice been life-threatening. it looks like i started anti-inflammatory drugs and heavy duty antibiotics early enough that i might have nipped it in the bud, but it’s four o’clock and i’m finally feeling able to leave my bed. not that i could make it all the way outside, but at least i’m in my cozy chair and not sweating out my temperature and spinning wildly in and out of surreal fever dreams. for now i’m just keeping my fingers crossed that i don’t end up in the ER yet again. kathryn made it very clear that this was a busy time for her and i am NOT allowed to get sick. which is, of course, when i tend to get sick.

obviously if i end up in the hospital i’ll keep  you all posted. but for now i’ve got my ice water and my horse pills and i’m hoping the redness and sensitivity will fade quickly.

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scantron 50/50

Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

i wonder how much all these radioactive scans will lead to long term issues. it’s not scary for me like it once was, but i’ll never forget that first scan when the technician opened the box with the universal radioactivity warning sign, pulled out the silver hand grenade inside and attached it to my arm. whoa dogs.

tomorrow i head back for another scan. usually the wait time for results is around 48 hours, but because of scheduling conflicts, i won’t get my results until a week from today. a long time to wait, especially when the results of the scan could potentially resolve many of the complicated issues we’re trying to manage around my pain medication and the continuation of the zelboraf.

the situation seems surreal, doesn’t it? i would say i can’t believe it myself, but after everything i’ve already experienced it’s just one more insane hurdle that i shouldn’t have to jump. i wish there was some higher-up that i could appeal to, but we’ve got a complex set of problems right now, and there’s not a lot that any of us can do. i still haven’t heard back from the pain clinic around mediating some sort of continued relationship with my doctor there, but i’d really prefer to avoid returning. i wish i had proof of some of the blatantly illegal violations of privacy rights i’ve witnessed. and although my psychiatrist scolded me for not properly thinking through the ramifications of exacerbating conflict with a medical professional who’s crucial to my care, i still very much feel like the victim in this situation – and online reviews of his care mention some of the same things i experienced. i wish i’d listened to these people, but i thought as an experienced patient and forceful self-advocate that i could manage:

Dr. Zou was extremely cold…He also intimated I was a drug seeker, which was extremely hurtful as my grandfather was an alcoholic and I’ve been extremely concerned about being an addict (and have brought that up to each doctor). I have no idea why Dr. Zou is employed at a pain management center or how he could benefit patients, but he was cold, brusque, and generally nasty towards me. I highly discourage any patient going to him…

His diagnosis was inaccurate. His treatment plan was unhelpful. I left his office with absolutely no help and even more frustration then when I went in….He made inappropriate comments that made this patient feel worse.

yeah, those all sound about right. i’m still angry with the way i was treated by him and by the office is general – though his internists were all excellent, intelligent and caring, and when our argument went down, the internist present apologized and said he wished there was something he could do.

anyways, i’m feeling much better – i’m a couple weeks free of the zelboraf now, and a lot of the side effects are fading. i feel like i can live my life again, in ways i wasn’t able to for a long while. of course i always hope that my scans come up clean, but there’s a lot riding on this one. like i said, it’ll be a week before i get the results, and probably even longer before i hear about the insurance company’s final decision on the camera pill, but i’m sure i can find some way to keep you all engaged until then.

for instance, i could tell you all to find some way to watch 50/50, a powerful movie about a young adult diagnosed with a rare, complicated cancer. it’s painful, and filthy, and hilarious; sort of like groinstrong. last night, i managed to get through most of the movie ok until the main character totally breaks down about how truly awful and unfair it all is – from that point on i was choking down sobs. because, yeah, it’s truly awful and unfair. in the movie his new-ish girlfriend promises to be at his side (sound familiar?) and it made me appreciate all the incredible amazing things that kathryn has done for me, and all the sacrifices she’s made to help me manage this protracted battle raging inside me.

though in the movie the girlfriend gets him a dog.

i’m still waiting! where’s my puppy?

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Posted in advertising, art, complaining, gratitude, hospital visits, links, love, pain, philosophizing, videos | 5 Comments »

wacky wednesday

Wednesday, December 14th, 2011

it’s another one of those post-anesthesia days. i’m tired and totally spaced out, and i think it might be movie time soon. or maybe nap time. or maybe a bad movie which would combine movie time and nap time. i’m undecided, which is common on these post-operative days.

but – all is good under the hood. the camera did show a few spots of irritation and samples have been sent off for biopsy, but they’re nothing to worry about according to my GI doc. i should get the full results next week.

that’s all i got in me today. it’s definitely nap time.

Posted in general updates, hospital visits | 1 Comment »

happy endoscopy day!

Tuesday, December 13th, 2011

it’s almost as exciting as christmas day! except that santa gives you propofol and sticks a camera down your throat and instead of milk and cookies you give him a small piece of your insides so he can run a biopsy. see, it’s really just a small difference.

yeah… not so much. though i almost had myself convinced. maybe it’s just my feeling a little weak with no food or drink and NO COFFEE.

really though, it’s not such a big deal. i’ve had plenty of endoscopies, and the upper is far, far, inestimably far more pleasant than the lower. for those of you who are around my age and have yet to experience the mind- and colon-blowing magic that is a colonoscopy, YOU ARE IN FOR A TREAT. except change “a treat” to “five hours pooping your brains out.”

on that note, i’ve got to head to the hospital.

where they have ice chips!

it IS like christmas!

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