Hello one and all...
To some whom I have talked with quite a bit, I may seem to have disappeared for a bit. True. I had just been doing 5 days straight of a new chemo (for me), which I just finished yesterday.
For those of you taking notes and doing research - it's Mitoxantrone. And it was nice to find out AFTER I just finished it, that this was by far the most intense in the series of chemos I had done. So... I had been feeling not quite ill, but more in a flustered state of mind where I didn't really want to have any conversations that required putting too many sentences together. And as most of you know, me not being able to communicate is truly frustrating.
But that's all done with, and I thought I'd put up a blog to fill you in with the - always adventurous - new news. For one... amongst the side-effects, I only had a bit of a headache and very subtle nauseated feeling. I found that ginger works pretty good and dealing with that.
Then... I had a very neat party trick. About an hour after each chemo shot... I would pee a green-blue. That was fun.
The first time was the freakiest. I had already been warned, but forgot. So... I got out of the hospital and went straight to the Whole Foods Market to shop. While there, I had to pee (in the bathroom, not the store). I casually glance down and "WHAT?!" It was an odd mixed color of green and blue. Certainly not the yellow that we all take for granted. My mind began thinking frantically about if I had eaten some really bad vegetables earlier in the day.
But upon remembering the effects notes, I quickly resumed my normal day. HA!! Yeah, try it. It's fun.
OK... so yesterday was Friday, Dec. 2.
Right before going to the hospital, I remembered that Trans-Siberian Orchestra was playing in town. I had to go. Their show is amazing, and it was seated, so I wouldn't have to worry about overly exerting. So, promptly after receiving my final dose of major chemo, off I went straight to the concert. Amazing how loud music removes all nausea and fatigue. hehehe... Good stuff.
I ran into friends I hadn't seen in at least 10 - 15 years, met with the band, and home I went. And now, I feel "ugh!" Not too bad, but I could choose to feel a bit more... "peppy". Of course, at 3 am, I might just be tired. Hmm... there's a thought.
I had mentioned to the nurse at the hospital that I can see how others might feel bad and that I'm lucky to not feel that way. But she gave me more of an assurance that it really is myself to thank for my relative well-being, as I am always "up" all the time. Always busy, always pretty cheery, and just plain don't have time to mope about silly crap like... well, cancer.
A nurses’ assistant laughed the previous day and had said, that she couldn't see me dying... ever! Ah well, I guess I'll keep my attitude. it seems to work, and inspires others to stop whining. Thank God! hehehe...
And with that, I bid you adieu, as I head to bed. Ciao 2 all, Phillippe :)
PS... for those new friends out there who don't know what's fully going on... I reccomend reading my earlier blogs, going back to the beginning of August. Fun stuff. Yes, I'm still planning on writing a book about it all. PSS... Oh yeah, and for anyone who is sick and getting treated, I might mention that after 5 days of getting chemo IVs, OUCH!! My arm has it's spots of dull, throbbing pains from where they stuck me. Trust me, they missed more than a couple of times and had to "re-do" a few times. Grrr... but, grin and bear it. Gotta do what you gotta do.
Saturday, December 3, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
It's official... I'm in remission, Leukemia-free
Alrighty kiddies... the news many of you have been waiting to hear. I had written to a few of you to fill you in on the bone marrow biopsy test results, but now can share the news with everyone.
According to the Stanford labs, they could not even find any sign of my ever even having had cancer at all, and no signs of having taken chemo. Now I'm considered "not human", as they expected me to feel horrible and be laying around.
No way. I've been out and about since a couple of days out of the hospital. (And for those of you who are new to what I'm talking about... read my earlier blogs. I had gotten one of the rarest, deadliest forms of Leukemia in July, and beat it in about 60 days.)
So, I finally saw my oncologists on the 19th and was given the clear bill of health. I am now officially in remission. And that was from just one chemo treatment (of four separate shots) while I was locked in the hospital room for the month of August.
Apparently that is not the norm (although some people do do as well), and now I can actually say that I have the 90% chance of being completely cured with no relapses. Now it's just down to two more chemo shots in the next few weeks (starting this Monday), and then those fun ATRA (All-Trains Retinoic Acid, a Retin-A derivative) pills for one year.
I should be fully back in action by around December. Good deal. I'm going to be locked down for the next 2 - 4 weeks (for the most part), so I'll be online and answering my phone more often for whomever wanted to chat or get a hold of me. I will be a captive audience, and not pull my disappearing acts. Anyway... just wanted to let everyone know. Miracle Boy beats Leukemia.
Woo hoo! Thanks again, as always, for everyone's support.
According to the Stanford labs, they could not even find any sign of my ever even having had cancer at all, and no signs of having taken chemo. Now I'm considered "not human", as they expected me to feel horrible and be laying around.
No way. I've been out and about since a couple of days out of the hospital. (And for those of you who are new to what I'm talking about... read my earlier blogs. I had gotten one of the rarest, deadliest forms of Leukemia in July, and beat it in about 60 days.)
So, I finally saw my oncologists on the 19th and was given the clear bill of health. I am now officially in remission. And that was from just one chemo treatment (of four separate shots) while I was locked in the hospital room for the month of August.
Apparently that is not the norm (although some people do do as well), and now I can actually say that I have the 90% chance of being completely cured with no relapses. Now it's just down to two more chemo shots in the next few weeks (starting this Monday), and then those fun ATRA (All-Trains Retinoic Acid, a Retin-A derivative) pills for one year.
I should be fully back in action by around December. Good deal. I'm going to be locked down for the next 2 - 4 weeks (for the most part), so I'll be online and answering my phone more often for whomever wanted to chat or get a hold of me. I will be a captive audience, and not pull my disappearing acts. Anyway... just wanted to let everyone know. Miracle Boy beats Leukemia.
Woo hoo! Thanks again, as always, for everyone's support.
Tuesday, October 4, 2005
Bone Marrow Biopsies and Beating Imminent Doom
For those of you who have been following the story so far, keep reading...
For those of you who are new to this, read the (several) previous blogs about how I went from being on vacation in San Diego in July, to suddenly finding out I have two days left to live, to finding that I have one of the rarest forms of Leukemia, to now apparently having beat it in less than 60 days. hehehe...
Oh yeah, I just didn't feel like dying this year.
So... the story continues -
On Wed. Sept. 21, I went in for my second bone marrow biopsy - the next best thing to getting a spinal tap. My first was the day after I got into the hospital at the end of July. The difference here... I had this one done by a Dr. Diamante, the head of the department.
For those who don't know what's involved...
I have a couple of needles stuck into my back hip area to search and numb the area.
They find a good section of hip bone, near enough to the spine, and proceed to skewer a "core sampler" type of needle/rod into the flesh, and down into the bone. This involves cutting into the bone, removing the small knife, and then grinding a smaller needle into the bone using a T-handle.
Apparently with me, it took a bit of arm power and perspiration.
"You've got good bones.", the doctor told me a couple of times, a bit sarcastically.
Although I felt the pressure, it was relatively painless (or I'm just really used to pain by now). Actually it was numbed up enough.
OK... that aside, I was supposed to get my test results back in a couple of days. It took about 10.
On this past Fri. Sept. 30, I got a call from a Stanford lab doctor. He was basically talking to me as any old cancer patient, so I got the clue that he didn't really know much about me.
I asked, for my next chemo treatment (I have two shots left in Oct. and Nov.) if I would be admitted as an in-patient.
He said, "I'll be blunt. Most people don't handle this chemo very well. Some don't get through it. You will feel pretty bad during that time. So yes, you will be admitted."
As we talked, I definitely got the impression that he needed to read my records. He mentioned that he couldn't make out the oncologist's notes very well, but he started to read my charts, and other doctor notes as we spoke.
At this point the lab doc starts saying, "Wow! Wow! Unbelievable! This is not possible." I then told him that I already had the major chemo and not only gone through it without any issues, but enjoyed the whole experience. Also, I told him that I had gone to work just a few days out of my 30-day stay in the isolated hospital room. This doc just kept with the "No way! Wow!" commentary.
I had made mention that I wanted to know about being an in-patient, as I had a possible film production job later in Oct. He then told me what was going on.
The doc said flatly, "There is not one sign of any more cancer in your marrow or body, not in your marrow or blood tests. I was told what to look for in the tests. It took so long because we went over it with a fine tooth comb to sub-atomic levels. If I didn't know what was going on, I would say that you showed no signs of ever having had cancer, or ever going to have it."
When finding out how active I am normally, and especially right after the hospital, he just "wowed".
"We have a curve of what to expect from Leukemia patients and how they react to it, and the chemo. You have just thrown the curve out the window. What you have done is not humanly possible. You should still be in bed feeling horrible. Your body has been ripped apart by a very strong chemo and you show almost no signs of even having that. That's just not possible. This is something to check into. I feel very secure in saying that you will have a very long career ahead of you in anything that you do. I cannot see any cancer coming back. I don't know what you have done, but keep doing it."
So there you have it... the answer that everyone's been waiting to hear (so far), from the marrow tests. He said on a "molecular" and "physiological" level I could say I'm in remission, but he wanted to wait until at least after my next two (and final) in-house chemo treatments to "entertain the idea of saying that you are cured."
Woo hoo! Many people get cancer - and Leukemia is certainly one that shows no discrimination of who gets it - and less people make it through to be able to say that they are cured. But it would be a cool feat for me to look back and say that I beat Leukemia in 30 - 60 days.
A reminder, by the way, that this form that I have - from start to finish - reportedly kills within 2 to 4 weeks. Usually there is no real symptom. And then, your veins fill up with overproduction of immature white blood cells and burst. Not a pretty picture. I caught it two days before it happened, and here I am.
So... my next appointment is to see the oncologist in a week or so and get ready to chemo up again. Only this time I won't be quite so weakened, and I'll be able to hang out at home.
Then I have to wait 10 - 20 days for my body to heal up again, then one more treatment the following month... and then pills for a year. Yay!
In the meantime... I just got a new mountain bike. When I am on my "up" days (when I am allowed to leave the house without worry of infection of a chemo-weakened immune system), let me know if anyone wants to go riding. It's been quite a while for me, and I really miss going on trails and such.
Alrighty... that's the news for now. Sorry for the novel, but you know how I like to write and am a stickler for detail (as many of you have asked for).
Wishing everyone well!
PS... Now I'm a bit bored of the smooth, bald look. After the chemo, I'm thinking about growing it out and going punk spiky for a while. Will the long hair come back? Maybe. Maybe not. I like having more fashion options now and not looking like a hesher stoner. Is that a bash on long-hairs? hehehe... I never wore my hair as a fashion statement or esteem builder, so do the math. HA!!
For those of you who are new to this, read the (several) previous blogs about how I went from being on vacation in San Diego in July, to suddenly finding out I have two days left to live, to finding that I have one of the rarest forms of Leukemia, to now apparently having beat it in less than 60 days. hehehe...
Oh yeah, I just didn't feel like dying this year.
So... the story continues -
On Wed. Sept. 21, I went in for my second bone marrow biopsy - the next best thing to getting a spinal tap. My first was the day after I got into the hospital at the end of July. The difference here... I had this one done by a Dr. Diamante, the head of the department.
For those who don't know what's involved...
I have a couple of needles stuck into my back hip area to search and numb the area.
They find a good section of hip bone, near enough to the spine, and proceed to skewer a "core sampler" type of needle/rod into the flesh, and down into the bone. This involves cutting into the bone, removing the small knife, and then grinding a smaller needle into the bone using a T-handle.
Apparently with me, it took a bit of arm power and perspiration.
"You've got good bones.", the doctor told me a couple of times, a bit sarcastically.
Although I felt the pressure, it was relatively painless (or I'm just really used to pain by now). Actually it was numbed up enough.
OK... that aside, I was supposed to get my test results back in a couple of days. It took about 10.
On this past Fri. Sept. 30, I got a call from a Stanford lab doctor. He was basically talking to me as any old cancer patient, so I got the clue that he didn't really know much about me.
I asked, for my next chemo treatment (I have two shots left in Oct. and Nov.) if I would be admitted as an in-patient.
He said, "I'll be blunt. Most people don't handle this chemo very well. Some don't get through it. You will feel pretty bad during that time. So yes, you will be admitted."
As we talked, I definitely got the impression that he needed to read my records. He mentioned that he couldn't make out the oncologist's notes very well, but he started to read my charts, and other doctor notes as we spoke.
At this point the lab doc starts saying, "Wow! Wow! Unbelievable! This is not possible." I then told him that I already had the major chemo and not only gone through it without any issues, but enjoyed the whole experience. Also, I told him that I had gone to work just a few days out of my 30-day stay in the isolated hospital room. This doc just kept with the "No way! Wow!" commentary.
I had made mention that I wanted to know about being an in-patient, as I had a possible film production job later in Oct. He then told me what was going on.
The doc said flatly, "There is not one sign of any more cancer in your marrow or body, not in your marrow or blood tests. I was told what to look for in the tests. It took so long because we went over it with a fine tooth comb to sub-atomic levels. If I didn't know what was going on, I would say that you showed no signs of ever having had cancer, or ever going to have it."
When finding out how active I am normally, and especially right after the hospital, he just "wowed".
"We have a curve of what to expect from Leukemia patients and how they react to it, and the chemo. You have just thrown the curve out the window. What you have done is not humanly possible. You should still be in bed feeling horrible. Your body has been ripped apart by a very strong chemo and you show almost no signs of even having that. That's just not possible. This is something to check into. I feel very secure in saying that you will have a very long career ahead of you in anything that you do. I cannot see any cancer coming back. I don't know what you have done, but keep doing it."
So there you have it... the answer that everyone's been waiting to hear (so far), from the marrow tests. He said on a "molecular" and "physiological" level I could say I'm in remission, but he wanted to wait until at least after my next two (and final) in-house chemo treatments to "entertain the idea of saying that you are cured."
Woo hoo! Many people get cancer - and Leukemia is certainly one that shows no discrimination of who gets it - and less people make it through to be able to say that they are cured. But it would be a cool feat for me to look back and say that I beat Leukemia in 30 - 60 days.
A reminder, by the way, that this form that I have - from start to finish - reportedly kills within 2 to 4 weeks. Usually there is no real symptom. And then, your veins fill up with overproduction of immature white blood cells and burst. Not a pretty picture. I caught it two days before it happened, and here I am.
So... my next appointment is to see the oncologist in a week or so and get ready to chemo up again. Only this time I won't be quite so weakened, and I'll be able to hang out at home.
Then I have to wait 10 - 20 days for my body to heal up again, then one more treatment the following month... and then pills for a year. Yay!
In the meantime... I just got a new mountain bike. When I am on my "up" days (when I am allowed to leave the house without worry of infection of a chemo-weakened immune system), let me know if anyone wants to go riding. It's been quite a while for me, and I really miss going on trails and such.
Alrighty... that's the news for now. Sorry for the novel, but you know how I like to write and am a stickler for detail (as many of you have asked for).
Wishing everyone well!
PS... Now I'm a bit bored of the smooth, bald look. After the chemo, I'm thinking about growing it out and going punk spiky for a while. Will the long hair come back? Maybe. Maybe not. I like having more fashion options now and not looking like a hesher stoner. Is that a bash on long-hairs? hehehe... I never wore my hair as a fashion statement or esteem builder, so do the math. HA!!
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Green Day - my first real night out with Leukemia
Sept. 24 - SBC Park in San Francisco, CA
Green Day was playing their homecoming at SBC Park in San Francisco.
Physically, to look at me, you wouldn’t have suspected much. I’m still taller than most, and had maintained more than a healthy weight. I was tan and well-fed. But I was also still weakened by the chemos I was taking regularly (daily and weekly).
But I also knew that if I didn’t go out to do what I normally do, then both my physical and mental state wouldn’t be up to par.
So... it was off to see Green Day without fail.
This was a band who had become a great influence on me, and I loved their music.
The upbeat rhythms, the fast pace, and the lyrics, all said enough that I knew it would make me feel better to be outside.
It was their music that kept me inspired to keep playing guitar and writing music while in the hospital. And a lot of songs came from that.
I grabbed my side-kick Keith, and off we went up to San Francisco to see the show.
As I stood on the ground level grass, I could feel a bit of the expected wooziness. Of course. I’m only doped up to high heaven. I found I had to shift my feet back and forth a little more often than usual, to make sure to maintain balance. True, someone else might have taken that as a fair warning to find a seat to sit down. Not I. I was tempered like a seasoned professional since childhood. I had attended concerts while sporting a 102 temperature during a flu. That never fazed me. In fact, sweating out all the “bad stuff” seemed to make me feel better by the next day after those shows. But for this one, I did have to at least keep it in the back of my mind that - being something completely different and new - I had to be prepared for any type of health problem to hit.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Green Day hit the stage and all was well. Singing along to all the words, bopping the head, and essentially dancing around during the 2 1/2 hours seemed to do the trick as I had hoped. I felt great to be out. I felt great to be alive. Half of that was the band’s music, while the other half was the realization that I was in the processes of beating cancer and lucky to be alive at all. Knowing that, I was going to share it with the band - even if they weren’t aware of it.
I had always wanted to do an interview with the band, and talk about how they were an inspiration to many musically, and in life - through the struggles that they had to deal with as well, and now how they really had gotten me moving. I just felt it fair to let those who inspire know that they’ve done some good, and made a difference.
I really enjoyed Billy Joe’s heart-felt comment about “coming home” and how much the SF Bay Area meant to him for helping the band succeed to the levels which they did. And he should know that he meant as much to all those who attended.
When the show was finished, I was still ready for more. Granted, being on my feet for that long was a bit fatiguing considering my condition, but it was worth it. It’s like that drain after a long, hard workout, but you feel better afterwards, knowing that you had accomplished something. For me, my mind and heart were clear, my body solid, and I was just in the best mood possible.
Off we headed for home, wondering when they would be touring again. Before too long, we hoped.
Green Day was playing their homecoming at SBC Park in San Francisco.
Physically, to look at me, you wouldn’t have suspected much. I’m still taller than most, and had maintained more than a healthy weight. I was tan and well-fed. But I was also still weakened by the chemos I was taking regularly (daily and weekly).
But I also knew that if I didn’t go out to do what I normally do, then both my physical and mental state wouldn’t be up to par.
So... it was off to see Green Day without fail.
This was a band who had become a great influence on me, and I loved their music.
The upbeat rhythms, the fast pace, and the lyrics, all said enough that I knew it would make me feel better to be outside.
It was their music that kept me inspired to keep playing guitar and writing music while in the hospital. And a lot of songs came from that.
I grabbed my side-kick Keith, and off we went up to San Francisco to see the show.
As I stood on the ground level grass, I could feel a bit of the expected wooziness. Of course. I’m only doped up to high heaven. I found I had to shift my feet back and forth a little more often than usual, to make sure to maintain balance. True, someone else might have taken that as a fair warning to find a seat to sit down. Not I. I was tempered like a seasoned professional since childhood. I had attended concerts while sporting a 102 temperature during a flu. That never fazed me. In fact, sweating out all the “bad stuff” seemed to make me feel better by the next day after those shows. But for this one, I did have to at least keep it in the back of my mind that - being something completely different and new - I had to be prepared for any type of health problem to hit.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Green Day hit the stage and all was well. Singing along to all the words, bopping the head, and essentially dancing around during the 2 1/2 hours seemed to do the trick as I had hoped. I felt great to be out. I felt great to be alive. Half of that was the band’s music, while the other half was the realization that I was in the processes of beating cancer and lucky to be alive at all. Knowing that, I was going to share it with the band - even if they weren’t aware of it.
I had always wanted to do an interview with the band, and talk about how they were an inspiration to many musically, and in life - through the struggles that they had to deal with as well, and now how they really had gotten me moving. I just felt it fair to let those who inspire know that they’ve done some good, and made a difference.
I really enjoyed Billy Joe’s heart-felt comment about “coming home” and how much the SF Bay Area meant to him for helping the band succeed to the levels which they did. And he should know that he meant as much to all those who attended.
When the show was finished, I was still ready for more. Granted, being on my feet for that long was a bit fatiguing considering my condition, but it was worth it. It’s like that drain after a long, hard workout, but you feel better afterwards, knowing that you had accomplished something. For me, my mind and heart were clear, my body solid, and I was just in the best mood possible.
Off we headed for home, wondering when they would be touring again. Before too long, we hoped.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Things are good (so far)...
Howdy kids!
Sorry for the long wait between blogs, but I have been a bit busy getting my life back in order since getting out of the hospital.
So, where am I now...
Well, I moved out of the roommate's house.
We settled our financial differences (with her coming out with the better deal, but I don't want to deal with it anymore), and I did get some of what was coming to me. So that's fine and done. I'm settled in elsewhere and all is well now.
I have basically been feeling great. But, during the recent oncologist appt., I was told to still not tell anyone that I am in remission. I have a bone marrow biopsy (again!) coming up this Weds (Sept. 21). which will tell me more for sure if the treatments all worked.
For the moment, there are no Leukemia cells at all in my body. Hopefully it will remain that way. Most of my blood cells are all back up and working order (especially the white cells), except for the reds that are still below normal, but above dangerous.
Anemia is bugging me a bit. It is a bit frustrating for someone like me who, as many of you know, is so damned gung-ho and ready to move. But I'm OK, so long as I don't hit my limits.
Other than that, I have been given the clean bill of health... am more healthy than I ever have been before, and I can go out, eat anything (and anyone... hehe), and travel (in between the next two one-day treatments in Oct. and Nov.).
Alrighty... all that being said, I recently attended the Mexican Independent Comic Book Day lecture / autograph session featuring my friend Rafael Navarro. Rafael is best known for his comic book "Sonambulo" (www.sonambulo.com), but also is infamous for his works on Nickelodeon and elsewhere.
A couple of other friends came along - my sidekick Keith, and friend Christin. So.... after the shindig, we all hung out at Pizza My Dear - the company that supplied the life-saving (and taste-bud saving) pizza while I was in the hospital. That was the Maui, by the way (you know it as a Hawaiian, for those who are interested).
Soooo.... it was about time to take photos of the New "Do" (or lack of it). So many of you had asked for photos of my new look, I finally put them online. Enjoy!
All your well-wishing's and thoughts and prayers have been working tremendously... and I appreciate them all, so keep them coming. I'm not out of the woods yet, but am getting pretty close.
Sorry for the long wait between blogs, but I have been a bit busy getting my life back in order since getting out of the hospital.
So, where am I now...
Well, I moved out of the roommate's house.
We settled our financial differences (with her coming out with the better deal, but I don't want to deal with it anymore), and I did get some of what was coming to me. So that's fine and done. I'm settled in elsewhere and all is well now.
I have basically been feeling great. But, during the recent oncologist appt., I was told to still not tell anyone that I am in remission. I have a bone marrow biopsy (again!) coming up this Weds (Sept. 21). which will tell me more for sure if the treatments all worked.
For the moment, there are no Leukemia cells at all in my body. Hopefully it will remain that way. Most of my blood cells are all back up and working order (especially the white cells), except for the reds that are still below normal, but above dangerous.
Anemia is bugging me a bit. It is a bit frustrating for someone like me who, as many of you know, is so damned gung-ho and ready to move. But I'm OK, so long as I don't hit my limits.
Other than that, I have been given the clean bill of health... am more healthy than I ever have been before, and I can go out, eat anything (and anyone... hehe), and travel (in between the next two one-day treatments in Oct. and Nov.).
Alrighty... all that being said, I recently attended the Mexican Independent Comic Book Day lecture / autograph session featuring my friend Rafael Navarro. Rafael is best known for his comic book "Sonambulo" (www.sonambulo.com), but also is infamous for his works on Nickelodeon and elsewhere.
A couple of other friends came along - my sidekick Keith, and friend Christin. So.... after the shindig, we all hung out at Pizza My Dear - the company that supplied the life-saving (and taste-bud saving) pizza while I was in the hospital. That was the Maui, by the way (you know it as a Hawaiian, for those who are interested).
Soooo.... it was about time to take photos of the New "Do" (or lack of it). So many of you had asked for photos of my new look, I finally put them online. Enjoy!
All your well-wishing's and thoughts and prayers have been working tremendously... and I appreciate them all, so keep them coming. I'm not out of the woods yet, but am getting pretty close.
Wednesday, September 7, 2005
My wonderful ex-roommate and her (in)"humanity" to me...
Alrighty, this'll let you know what jerk-offs are out there.
I've brought up my soon-to-be-ex-roommate Patty Ferraro before, with her wonderful attitude towards me and her hurriedness to get me out.
Well, the time had come to get down to business...
So, Patty wants to settle up and figure out what's going on, now that her daughter (in her 20s or 30s) is out of my room (that she was occupying while on vacation here for 8 days).
I go over to the house and she gets really bossy immediately. I already knew that she "had an angle" on things and was prepared for it.
We begin to chat (which doesn't last long) at which time she told me that I "may stay" until Sept. 19th, and then need to be out immediately. This of course over-rides her contract which (she signed) states that I can stay until Sept. 30th.
Patty then points out that "Aha!!! You and I agreed on contract that we gave each other a 30 day notice on August 3rd." I then remind her that at that time, I was quite dosed up with medications as the doctors were frantically trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with me and how to cure it. I was in no mental state to do anything... and, I was in the hospital and could not sign any contract. But SHE had signed it and given it to my mom (the same contract that says I am staying until Sept. 30th).
So she tries to say that if I leave on Sept. 19th, we are both in the clear. At this point I remind her that for 8 days, someone was using my room - without my permission... AND my things had been gone through.
I let her know that she will now owe me rent for those 8 days, making it a total of $224 that she owes me in addition to my rent already paid (from a deposit I had left). And that even includes the cleaning bill. Keeping in mind that I got out of the hospital with Leukemia, to which all Patty could say is, "You don't know what's going to happen. Doctors don't know anything." (Basically telling me I'm going to die.)
And, that on August 3rd, she had told me that it's a "good idea" that I move out "right now", furthering that thought with, "I don't want anyone with cancer, or a survivor, in my house. That's just how it is.".
Upon realizing that she owes me money after I leave, she started with "Fine. Take me to court." I agreed that was a good idea, should she decide to do the unethical thing.
I was then treated to a barrage of "Fuck you!!" and "You fucking asshole!!" commentaries and, the best line to say to someone who is sick, "I hope you fucking burn in hell. Get the hell out of my house. I hate you and always have, and never want to see you here again!!!"
And, we have lived together for about 3 years. Hmmm...
Ahhh... the pleasantness of some people, eh?
But you know... I have to say that I understand her position.
Here is a truly frightened woman in her late 50s, who has spent years dying of liver disease - which she gave to herself by working with acetone, which... by golly, also causes Leukemia.
The thought of me floating through life and getting through cancer in 30 days, when she has spent half her life dying and suffering... well, that's got to cause a selfish person to be bitter.
Am I mistaken here? I mean, I'd like to think that there is a reason for her bitterness, which really only started when she found out that I was not dying, but going to be cured. Interesting.
Before that, we would just have minor spats once in a while. And this person also holds Buddhist meetings and group chants, and "teaches" people how THEY should live their lives.
Oh yeah! So I had to share this story to get the gist of what's going on to truly appreciate her mouthy accord.
I've brought up my soon-to-be-ex-roommate Patty Ferraro before, with her wonderful attitude towards me and her hurriedness to get me out.
Well, the time had come to get down to business...
So, Patty wants to settle up and figure out what's going on, now that her daughter (in her 20s or 30s) is out of my room (that she was occupying while on vacation here for 8 days).
I go over to the house and she gets really bossy immediately. I already knew that she "had an angle" on things and was prepared for it.
We begin to chat (which doesn't last long) at which time she told me that I "may stay" until Sept. 19th, and then need to be out immediately. This of course over-rides her contract which (she signed) states that I can stay until Sept. 30th.
Patty then points out that "Aha!!! You and I agreed on contract that we gave each other a 30 day notice on August 3rd." I then remind her that at that time, I was quite dosed up with medications as the doctors were frantically trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with me and how to cure it. I was in no mental state to do anything... and, I was in the hospital and could not sign any contract. But SHE had signed it and given it to my mom (the same contract that says I am staying until Sept. 30th).
So she tries to say that if I leave on Sept. 19th, we are both in the clear. At this point I remind her that for 8 days, someone was using my room - without my permission... AND my things had been gone through.
I let her know that she will now owe me rent for those 8 days, making it a total of $224 that she owes me in addition to my rent already paid (from a deposit I had left). And that even includes the cleaning bill. Keeping in mind that I got out of the hospital with Leukemia, to which all Patty could say is, "You don't know what's going to happen. Doctors don't know anything." (Basically telling me I'm going to die.)
And, that on August 3rd, she had told me that it's a "good idea" that I move out "right now", furthering that thought with, "I don't want anyone with cancer, or a survivor, in my house. That's just how it is.".
Upon realizing that she owes me money after I leave, she started with "Fine. Take me to court." I agreed that was a good idea, should she decide to do the unethical thing.
I was then treated to a barrage of "Fuck you!!" and "You fucking asshole!!" commentaries and, the best line to say to someone who is sick, "I hope you fucking burn in hell. Get the hell out of my house. I hate you and always have, and never want to see you here again!!!"
And, we have lived together for about 3 years. Hmmm...
Ahhh... the pleasantness of some people, eh?
But you know... I have to say that I understand her position.
Here is a truly frightened woman in her late 50s, who has spent years dying of liver disease - which she gave to herself by working with acetone, which... by golly, also causes Leukemia.
The thought of me floating through life and getting through cancer in 30 days, when she has spent half her life dying and suffering... well, that's got to cause a selfish person to be bitter.
Am I mistaken here? I mean, I'd like to think that there is a reason for her bitterness, which really only started when she found out that I was not dying, but going to be cured. Interesting.
Before that, we would just have minor spats once in a while. And this person also holds Buddhist meetings and group chants, and "teaches" people how THEY should live their lives.
Oh yeah! So I had to share this story to get the gist of what's going on to truly appreciate her mouthy accord.
Tuesday, September 6, 2005
Sept. 9 - Out of the hospital, and no complaints
I have been paroled from the hospital. As I was Neutrapenic (meaning susceptible to any infections), I was kept in my own room and not allowed many people to visit me, for 30 days.
I just went to my first of many check-ups. As of now, it appears that the Leukemia is dead. My white blood cells had jumped up, as had some other cells but they are still in the low end. My primary doctor said that he is excited with how everything is turning out, and is "giddy with joy" that all will be well. Now of course, I cannot say that I am totally cured yet... not fully for at least 3 to 5 years. But I am going to be getting some maintenance treatments and they are going to check my bone marrow again very soon to make sure that there are no more reproductive cancer cells now. Then it will be safe to say that I am OK for at least a while. Personally... I think I am going to get through this just fine.
In expectation (and in actuality eventually) of my hair falling out (which finally started), I have shaved my head bald and grown a goatee. My friend Sue flew down from Reno to do the deed. She even bought the clippers. (Clippers? I thought she was going to shear sheep for a minute.)
Now I have some news to tell you.... I have been finding out some very interesting facts and side-effects that have been occurring to me. In the end, these are actually good things.
1) My hair apparently will be growing back thicker and fuller. Yippee!
2) The Tretinoin (Vitamin A derivative) treatment that I am taking to actually kill the cancer cells, is actually a form of Retin A. For those of you who don't know, that is used to clear up acne and scars. I had begun some strange peelings on my face, and a bit on my arms. And... I had discovered in the hospital bathroom one afternoon... other, more "private" areas of my body, began to peel and shed skin as well. This was quite unnerving at first. It became more distressing when the doctor had never heard of that happening. Well... the end result is this... as it is Retin A in my system, I have basically been having a "facial"... an exfoliating peel from the inside out. The result is this - My face is now flawless. I have no pores and no acne at all... anywhere (and including some very clean privates). This has brought me some nice comments about having a very nice face, and looking years younger. No complaints there.
3) With all the antibiotics, antivirals, having my bone marrow stripped, killed, and redone... and making new blood... I am about the healthiest person you could want to know. (Which I suppose would also make me the safest sex partner.)
4) Although it looked as though I was going to gain weight in the hospital, I have actually lost 30 lbs so far. Nice!!
All in all, how can anyone complain about the above information happening to them? Now, so long as I fully recover and get through the Leukemia, I am going to have one happy new life. Sweet!
A main thing that I want to emphasize about what I think in reflection about all that has recently happened to me...
I hate the term "cancer survivor". It sounds so "victimized." Sorry, but I am not a victim.
The fact is that I am not going to curse God, I'm not going to find someone or something to blame, and I am not going to pity myself.
Things happen to people. Thousands die from influenza (the flu) around the world.
Do the rest of us call ourselves "influenza survivors"? No! Leukemia is something that happened.
In my personal case, I was able to handle it fittingly. I made NO complaints for the literally dozens upon dozens of blood draws that I had taken. I did not complain about the IVs. I did not complain about the chemo.
Do what you must when someone is trying to help you or cure you. I may have been a bit onry once in a while, but I always kept my cool, and I always tried to be the most productive.
I went in expecting to die. I resigned myself to it, and then tried to figure out how much productive time I would have left. As it was, I got lucky.
To anyone who complains about the minor inconveniences of having to deal with things... get over it.
If it's helping you, accept it.
Anyway, I am out now and enjoying everything. I've been out since Aug. 28, and most of that time has been on my feet, running around doing errands, and making my best attempt to get back to work. I don't have time to lay around. I do rest to get myself healed up, but anyone who personally knows me knows that I am ancy and have to be on the move. So that's my story for now.
I just went to my first of many check-ups. As of now, it appears that the Leukemia is dead. My white blood cells had jumped up, as had some other cells but they are still in the low end. My primary doctor said that he is excited with how everything is turning out, and is "giddy with joy" that all will be well. Now of course, I cannot say that I am totally cured yet... not fully for at least 3 to 5 years. But I am going to be getting some maintenance treatments and they are going to check my bone marrow again very soon to make sure that there are no more reproductive cancer cells now. Then it will be safe to say that I am OK for at least a while. Personally... I think I am going to get through this just fine.
In expectation (and in actuality eventually) of my hair falling out (which finally started), I have shaved my head bald and grown a goatee. My friend Sue flew down from Reno to do the deed. She even bought the clippers. (Clippers? I thought she was going to shear sheep for a minute.)
Now I have some news to tell you.... I have been finding out some very interesting facts and side-effects that have been occurring to me. In the end, these are actually good things.
1) My hair apparently will be growing back thicker and fuller. Yippee!
2) The Tretinoin (Vitamin A derivative) treatment that I am taking to actually kill the cancer cells, is actually a form of Retin A. For those of you who don't know, that is used to clear up acne and scars. I had begun some strange peelings on my face, and a bit on my arms. And... I had discovered in the hospital bathroom one afternoon... other, more "private" areas of my body, began to peel and shed skin as well. This was quite unnerving at first. It became more distressing when the doctor had never heard of that happening. Well... the end result is this... as it is Retin A in my system, I have basically been having a "facial"... an exfoliating peel from the inside out. The result is this - My face is now flawless. I have no pores and no acne at all... anywhere (and including some very clean privates). This has brought me some nice comments about having a very nice face, and looking years younger. No complaints there.
3) With all the antibiotics, antivirals, having my bone marrow stripped, killed, and redone... and making new blood... I am about the healthiest person you could want to know. (Which I suppose would also make me the safest sex partner.)
4) Although it looked as though I was going to gain weight in the hospital, I have actually lost 30 lbs so far. Nice!!
All in all, how can anyone complain about the above information happening to them? Now, so long as I fully recover and get through the Leukemia, I am going to have one happy new life. Sweet!
A main thing that I want to emphasize about what I think in reflection about all that has recently happened to me...
I hate the term "cancer survivor". It sounds so "victimized." Sorry, but I am not a victim.
The fact is that I am not going to curse God, I'm not going to find someone or something to blame, and I am not going to pity myself.
Things happen to people. Thousands die from influenza (the flu) around the world.
Do the rest of us call ourselves "influenza survivors"? No! Leukemia is something that happened.
In my personal case, I was able to handle it fittingly. I made NO complaints for the literally dozens upon dozens of blood draws that I had taken. I did not complain about the IVs. I did not complain about the chemo.
Do what you must when someone is trying to help you or cure you. I may have been a bit onry once in a while, but I always kept my cool, and I always tried to be the most productive.
I went in expecting to die. I resigned myself to it, and then tried to figure out how much productive time I would have left. As it was, I got lucky.
To anyone who complains about the minor inconveniences of having to deal with things... get over it.
If it's helping you, accept it.
Anyway, I am out now and enjoying everything. I've been out since Aug. 28, and most of that time has been on my feet, running around doing errands, and making my best attempt to get back to work. I don't have time to lay around. I do rest to get myself healed up, but anyone who personally knows me knows that I am ancy and have to be on the move. So that's my story for now.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
On The Street & Shopping
It’s my second day out of the hospital. Let’s keep in mind that I had been locked in a room, solitary, for 30 days, to keep me away from infections. I still have a weak - but functioning - immune system.
So what do I do after 30 days of supposed bed rest? I got shopping.
Yesterday was my first day out. My mom took me to Valley Fair Mall, and to get groceries.
Of course there was the argument of my assumably being too weak, versus my thought that I need to get back on my feet as soon as possible. I won.
First on the list was to get new glasses. Thanks to the “no infections” clause, I was not allowed to wear my contact lenses while in lock down. But I had no glasses either. This became a problem sooner than later. Basically, 30 days of blur. Only when at close enough range was I able to detect who were the hot nurses, and who were perhaps a bit less than hot (or, married, if the rings were in focus). TV was an interesting ordeal in itself.
In any case, I needed to get glasses, and Lenscrafters seemed to be the place to get them.
While in the mall, apparently I stared a bit too hard at a poster advertisement of Veronica Mars, admiring actress Kristen Bell. In fact, I was trying to get my eyes focused. This was rewarded with the onslaught of questions, “Do you like her? Is she ‘the one’? Is that it? You like her?” Geez! Get off of it. Locked in a hospital room is just the same as being in prison (I imagine). 30 days later, I’ll about like anyone who’s female and remotely attractive. Weakened state or not, the libido was working just fine.
Groceries galore were to follow, but with limited items of consumption. I apparently still had to be very careful of what went into me. Nothing that could potentially carry any germs, nothing that wasn’t within the proper boundaries of vitamin and mineral offerings, etc. I didn’t care. FOOD! Just give me something good to eat!
All in all, after a 30 day lock up, I think I spent 9 hours in total on my feet, walking the stores and all... and I loved it!
I did have to cover up in the sun, as I was susceptible to bright sunlight (skin exposure was a problem with my current chemo). That aside, it was all fine. I was a bit groggy and shaky on the feet, but you couldn’t sit me down.
Today, was Day 2 of my shopping and outside excursion extravaganza. Trader Joe's, Pizza My Heart, and more. Aahh, this was much needed.
OK, I need to go and take it all in now. Check in with you all later.
So what do I do after 30 days of supposed bed rest? I got shopping.
Yesterday was my first day out. My mom took me to Valley Fair Mall, and to get groceries.
Of course there was the argument of my assumably being too weak, versus my thought that I need to get back on my feet as soon as possible. I won.
First on the list was to get new glasses. Thanks to the “no infections” clause, I was not allowed to wear my contact lenses while in lock down. But I had no glasses either. This became a problem sooner than later. Basically, 30 days of blur. Only when at close enough range was I able to detect who were the hot nurses, and who were perhaps a bit less than hot (or, married, if the rings were in focus). TV was an interesting ordeal in itself.
In any case, I needed to get glasses, and Lenscrafters seemed to be the place to get them.
While in the mall, apparently I stared a bit too hard at a poster advertisement of Veronica Mars, admiring actress Kristen Bell. In fact, I was trying to get my eyes focused. This was rewarded with the onslaught of questions, “Do you like her? Is she ‘the one’? Is that it? You like her?” Geez! Get off of it. Locked in a hospital room is just the same as being in prison (I imagine). 30 days later, I’ll about like anyone who’s female and remotely attractive. Weakened state or not, the libido was working just fine.
Groceries galore were to follow, but with limited items of consumption. I apparently still had to be very careful of what went into me. Nothing that could potentially carry any germs, nothing that wasn’t within the proper boundaries of vitamin and mineral offerings, etc. I didn’t care. FOOD! Just give me something good to eat!
All in all, after a 30 day lock up, I think I spent 9 hours in total on my feet, walking the stores and all... and I loved it!
I did have to cover up in the sun, as I was susceptible to bright sunlight (skin exposure was a problem with my current chemo). That aside, it was all fine. I was a bit groggy and shaky on the feet, but you couldn’t sit me down.
Today, was Day 2 of my shopping and outside excursion extravaganza. Trader Joe's, Pizza My Heart, and more. Aahh, this was much needed.
OK, I need to go and take it all in now. Check in with you all later.
Monday, August 29, 2005
I got paroled from the hospital finally
Howdy folks!
Just a quick note to let everyone know that I was paroled from the hospital.
The docs figured that I stood a better chance of catching everyone else's diseases from within the hospital, and that I would be safer at home. So... off I was to trot home.
Keith and my mom came by to help pick up my apartment's worth of crap that I had accumulated in my room. Since I was Neutropenic (susceptible to any infections, not having an immune system), I was not allowed to leave my room for one month. So, it was a strange sensation to finally leave.
Before I left, they had to unhook me from my Pic Line I.V. That was attractive. Keith sat across the room, cringing at the thought. The doctor who was there to release me unhooked the line from the I.V. machine. He asked if I was ready to have the line taken out of my arm. The option was slowly and deliberately, but that would just prolong any odd sensations, or yanking it out quickly (but not so fast that it would damage the veins). As I thought about it for a moment, and Keith happened to look over, the doc just gave a good tug and pulled out about 3 feet or so of white line from my arm, which now had dripping bright red blood all over it. I thought, “Wow! Cool.” as something from the Alien films. Keith, on the other hand, was not so thrilled by his vision. I asked if that was it, and made sure no remnants remained inside. It was over and done, a bandage put in place over the hole, and I was ready to go.
It was under cover of the night (10 pm on Sunday, Aug. 28), so it wasn't that bad, but still... knowing that I was back in the big world was weird. It took me a bit to get accustomed to being able to walk around a bigger area, but I'm all settled in now. Looking forward to sleeping in a bed more my size. (Hospitals are not equipped to sleep someone 6’6“.)
I have to really say a HUGE Thank You to everyone who supported me emotionally (although it appears that I apparently emotionally supported many others through my own good spirits)... and wrote emails, and posted comments, and everything. And even some of the phone calls that I got were great. You are all awesome! And know that I would do the same for you. Friends (real friends... even new ones) are not something that I take lightly, and I truly appreciate everyone one individually.
So for now, I am going to be seen in outpatient clinics and still have a few treatments to go in the next couple of months or so. They will finally be satisfied by next year. All in all, it looks very good that I will be cured. I'm healing a bit slowly for my liking, but it's apparently within normal range, so I won't complain. More info on my progress as it comes.
And to those of you who have cancer, or some other disease, or know someone who is sick... I really hope that I have given you something to think about and some inspiration. Attitude is everything. My being locked in a room for one month was NOTHING (even with four chemo treatments), compared to people who spend months and years doing chemo while suffering. You've got to look upon your situations in life and think them through, then do whatever you need to, but be productive. If it's going to save your life... don't complain. Blood draws, IVs, dealing with doctors, it's all part of the game... just like what we deal with in the outside world. Make your game plan, decide what you want out of it all, and just do it.
Again, as you have been there for me, I hope that I can be there for you too.
All the best to everyone for now... :)
Just a quick note to let everyone know that I was paroled from the hospital.
The docs figured that I stood a better chance of catching everyone else's diseases from within the hospital, and that I would be safer at home. So... off I was to trot home.
Keith and my mom came by to help pick up my apartment's worth of crap that I had accumulated in my room. Since I was Neutropenic (susceptible to any infections, not having an immune system), I was not allowed to leave my room for one month. So, it was a strange sensation to finally leave.
Before I left, they had to unhook me from my Pic Line I.V. That was attractive. Keith sat across the room, cringing at the thought. The doctor who was there to release me unhooked the line from the I.V. machine. He asked if I was ready to have the line taken out of my arm. The option was slowly and deliberately, but that would just prolong any odd sensations, or yanking it out quickly (but not so fast that it would damage the veins). As I thought about it for a moment, and Keith happened to look over, the doc just gave a good tug and pulled out about 3 feet or so of white line from my arm, which now had dripping bright red blood all over it. I thought, “Wow! Cool.” as something from the Alien films. Keith, on the other hand, was not so thrilled by his vision. I asked if that was it, and made sure no remnants remained inside. It was over and done, a bandage put in place over the hole, and I was ready to go.
It was under cover of the night (10 pm on Sunday, Aug. 28), so it wasn't that bad, but still... knowing that I was back in the big world was weird. It took me a bit to get accustomed to being able to walk around a bigger area, but I'm all settled in now. Looking forward to sleeping in a bed more my size. (Hospitals are not equipped to sleep someone 6’6“.)
I have to really say a HUGE Thank You to everyone who supported me emotionally (although it appears that I apparently emotionally supported many others through my own good spirits)... and wrote emails, and posted comments, and everything. And even some of the phone calls that I got were great. You are all awesome! And know that I would do the same for you. Friends (real friends... even new ones) are not something that I take lightly, and I truly appreciate everyone one individually.
So for now, I am going to be seen in outpatient clinics and still have a few treatments to go in the next couple of months or so. They will finally be satisfied by next year. All in all, it looks very good that I will be cured. I'm healing a bit slowly for my liking, but it's apparently within normal range, so I won't complain. More info on my progress as it comes.
And to those of you who have cancer, or some other disease, or know someone who is sick... I really hope that I have given you something to think about and some inspiration. Attitude is everything. My being locked in a room for one month was NOTHING (even with four chemo treatments), compared to people who spend months and years doing chemo while suffering. You've got to look upon your situations in life and think them through, then do whatever you need to, but be productive. If it's going to save your life... don't complain. Blood draws, IVs, dealing with doctors, it's all part of the game... just like what we deal with in the outside world. Make your game plan, decide what you want out of it all, and just do it.
Again, as you have been there for me, I hope that I can be there for you too.
All the best to everyone for now... :)
Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Having cancer sucks....
I had recently mentioned in my previous blog that I had gone to San Diego Comic Con, and gotten sick there. Well, I'm here to tell you finally what really happened...
I started with a sore throat when I got to San Diego. What I didn't know was that this was the beginning signs of something more drastic than simply strep throat or pharyngitis (which I had been diagnosed as having).
On Fri., July 29, I had gone to my doctor's for another visit, and a random blood test. I had been hoping to fly to Los Angeles the next day and then come back that night. Friday afternoon, I got a very distressed phone call from my doctor begging me to not get on the airplane in the morning or, I would "not come home, ever". How true that could have been. I was checked into the hospital immediately that Fri. evening and felt myself physically sinking lower. It turned out that I had almost NO white blood cells, NO platelets (that help your blood clot), and was getting anemic And my blood count was dropping by the hour. Literally, I was dying as I stood.
For three days, no one could figure out what was wrong with me. They kept me pumped with antibiotics and transfusions. On Saturday morning, I seriously did not think I would make it through the following Monday. They were worried about my getting a fever, infection, or starting to bleed out. Well, as it happened, I did get a slight fever, and my nose started bleeding for over two days. As I write this, it has slowed down. I was a bit scared, to put it honestly. But worse, I had a few very close friends who were even more traumatized by what they heard. No one could believe that someone like myself, Mr. Get-Up-And-Go, who lived active and overworked, could ever get so sick, and so suddenly.
They took a bone marrow biopsy (no fun stroll in the park, I tell you), and finally found out what happened to me by this Monday, Aug. 1. It turned out that I had Leukemia. But they were not sure what type yet. I was given a 75% chance of recovery - meaning that it could recur, or cause other cancers later. On Tues. Aug. 2, they had it figured out. I have a subset of AML Leukemia called Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia.
Now, here's where the clincher, and the fun part begins. Of course, I would now have a new chapter to my life's adventures. It turns out that I have a form of Leukemia that (as my doctor told me) "If you had to have any form of Leukemia, this would be the one you want to have." It is a very rare type, and happens to be the easiest to treat. AND... has a 90% cure rate (meaning, no coming back). Also, it is not inherited, so I can still have kids later with no fear of transmission... provided I make it through.
They are trying to control my bleeding currently, and I am already being treated. Another strange portion of the story... instead of bombarding me with two or more major forms of chemotherapy, it is treated with ONE chemo drug cocktail (a rather milder form) for eight days, and... a derivative of Vitamin A. Still a cocktail, but not nearly as bad. I may or may not still lose my hair, but whatever.
So here I sit in the hospital for the next four weeks hoping that it all works and my recovery is healthy. I have a pretty good mindset that it will all work out. I've got way too much to do out there to call it quits yet.
I just wanted to let everyone know what's been going on with me. And to those of you who got my rather cryptic emails about going to the hospital, I am not dead yet, but only had some scares along the way in the past few days. Now I am chipper, upbeat, and ready to have my ass kicked a bit so that I can kick ass back and get this beat, and get back out there with everyone.
Wish me luck and I appreciate all the well-wishing's, prayers, and thoughts.
See you soon!
PS... I will be checking my emails as well so that I don't just sit around bored.
(For more on what happens, check my other blog - Leuk I Am Your Cancer
I started with a sore throat when I got to San Diego. What I didn't know was that this was the beginning signs of something more drastic than simply strep throat or pharyngitis (which I had been diagnosed as having).
On Fri., July 29, I had gone to my doctor's for another visit, and a random blood test. I had been hoping to fly to Los Angeles the next day and then come back that night. Friday afternoon, I got a very distressed phone call from my doctor begging me to not get on the airplane in the morning or, I would "not come home, ever". How true that could have been. I was checked into the hospital immediately that Fri. evening and felt myself physically sinking lower. It turned out that I had almost NO white blood cells, NO platelets (that help your blood clot), and was getting anemic And my blood count was dropping by the hour. Literally, I was dying as I stood.
For three days, no one could figure out what was wrong with me. They kept me pumped with antibiotics and transfusions. On Saturday morning, I seriously did not think I would make it through the following Monday. They were worried about my getting a fever, infection, or starting to bleed out. Well, as it happened, I did get a slight fever, and my nose started bleeding for over two days. As I write this, it has slowed down. I was a bit scared, to put it honestly. But worse, I had a few very close friends who were even more traumatized by what they heard. No one could believe that someone like myself, Mr. Get-Up-And-Go, who lived active and overworked, could ever get so sick, and so suddenly.
They took a bone marrow biopsy (no fun stroll in the park, I tell you), and finally found out what happened to me by this Monday, Aug. 1. It turned out that I had Leukemia. But they were not sure what type yet. I was given a 75% chance of recovery - meaning that it could recur, or cause other cancers later. On Tues. Aug. 2, they had it figured out. I have a subset of AML Leukemia called Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia.
Now, here's where the clincher, and the fun part begins. Of course, I would now have a new chapter to my life's adventures. It turns out that I have a form of Leukemia that (as my doctor told me) "If you had to have any form of Leukemia, this would be the one you want to have." It is a very rare type, and happens to be the easiest to treat. AND... has a 90% cure rate (meaning, no coming back). Also, it is not inherited, so I can still have kids later with no fear of transmission... provided I make it through.
They are trying to control my bleeding currently, and I am already being treated. Another strange portion of the story... instead of bombarding me with two or more major forms of chemotherapy, it is treated with ONE chemo drug cocktail (a rather milder form) for eight days, and... a derivative of Vitamin A. Still a cocktail, but not nearly as bad. I may or may not still lose my hair, but whatever.
So here I sit in the hospital for the next four weeks hoping that it all works and my recovery is healthy. I have a pretty good mindset that it will all work out. I've got way too much to do out there to call it quits yet.
I just wanted to let everyone know what's been going on with me. And to those of you who got my rather cryptic emails about going to the hospital, I am not dead yet, but only had some scares along the way in the past few days. Now I am chipper, upbeat, and ready to have my ass kicked a bit so that I can kick ass back and get this beat, and get back out there with everyone.
Wish me luck and I appreciate all the well-wishing's, prayers, and thoughts.
See you soon!
PS... I will be checking my emails as well so that I don't just sit around bored.
(For more on what happens, check my other blog - Leuk I Am Your Cancer
Thursday, July 21, 2005
San Diego Comic Con adventures - 2005
Some of you might have wondered if I'd disappeared.
Indeed, to some (most) I may have, but for a short while only.
I had gone to the San Diego Comic Con International for about a week. And what did I get upon my return? Ill. Nice.
What was once a comic book geek-fest, is now the world's largest comic / film / literary / fine arts / pop-culture convention. I've been attending it for 15 years now, and just gets bigger and better. What makes this trip more worthwhile is the group of people I go with.
This year was a good batch of friends for sure. Some are even on MySpace. Of course, when you get any number of people crammed into a hotel room - to keep costs lower - you find out quickly about everyone's quirks, habits, and opinions. But, that's what keeps it all interesting.
What was I doing there? Different things, mostly networking. I went down with a couple of friends, and several models to help promote a T-shirt company named Dirty Little Tees. The girls dressed up in the hottie-wear and walked around the (almost 1/8 mile long) convention center filled with what seemed to be around 150,000 people, getting everyone to come to the booth and spend money.
Why girls? Simple. Never underestimate the financial power of a horny 14-year-old boy with allowance money in his pocket... especially when a pretty girl smiles at him.
The booth aside, we all networked with several companies, artists, and film-makers for future possible jobs. I apparently had earned a friendly reputation with the catch-phrase "Hey folks, it's that guy with all the girls! Give him a big hand and follow him around." Well, I could think of worse things said in passing.
The convention itself was fun, albeit a bit mellower than usual.
So... the Good News / Bad News portion of my trip...
Positives -
* Stayed at Embassy Suites - 2 room suites with all the amenities (kitchenette, fridge, microwave, 3 beds, and more). Free breakfasts cooked to order, and all the booze you can drink (FREE!) during a 2-hour happy hour.
* Staying in a suite with a couple of friends, and a variety of models. Yeah, don't that suck. HA HA!! OK, granted, most had serious boyfriends... but a guy can embellish on the settings, can't he?
* Meeting more celebs and fantastically creative, artistic, and ambitious people in one area than one could imagine.
* Getting paid to be there. (Always nice, even if it wasn't much.)
Negatives -
* Apparently I got sick with a sore throat from the second day I got there. I also don't usually sleep much, and even less during this trip... so the equivalence was almost 4 days with no sleep, on a potential illness brewing.
* Hearing flapping noises from the front tire on the way home (with a 500 mile drive coming up) - luckily only one mile away from home. Finding out that my front tire was about to blow. Took that bad boy off immediately.
* Adventure-Man Phil, puts on the donut spare tire and drives back almost 500 miles. But wait... this is the second time that I have driven that distance on the same donut tire (this happened 2 years ago also). AND I was doing about 70 - 80 mph (yeah, yeah, I'm a bit nuts).
* Upon getting home, and feeling like absolute crap, finding out that I have pharyngitis and possible strep throat (and somehow no one else got sick). So, I've been back for a few days, feeling like crap, wishing I would feel better so that I can go through my bags of new stuff, and contact information.
Alrighty... there was the extended version of my last couple of weeks. Stay tuned for more tales later.
Indeed, to some (most) I may have, but for a short while only.
I had gone to the San Diego Comic Con International for about a week. And what did I get upon my return? Ill. Nice.
What was once a comic book geek-fest, is now the world's largest comic / film / literary / fine arts / pop-culture convention. I've been attending it for 15 years now, and just gets bigger and better. What makes this trip more worthwhile is the group of people I go with.
This year was a good batch of friends for sure. Some are even on MySpace. Of course, when you get any number of people crammed into a hotel room - to keep costs lower - you find out quickly about everyone's quirks, habits, and opinions. But, that's what keeps it all interesting.
What was I doing there? Different things, mostly networking. I went down with a couple of friends, and several models to help promote a T-shirt company named Dirty Little Tees. The girls dressed up in the hottie-wear and walked around the (almost 1/8 mile long) convention center filled with what seemed to be around 150,000 people, getting everyone to come to the booth and spend money.
Why girls? Simple. Never underestimate the financial power of a horny 14-year-old boy with allowance money in his pocket... especially when a pretty girl smiles at him.
The booth aside, we all networked with several companies, artists, and film-makers for future possible jobs. I apparently had earned a friendly reputation with the catch-phrase "Hey folks, it's that guy with all the girls! Give him a big hand and follow him around." Well, I could think of worse things said in passing.
The convention itself was fun, albeit a bit mellower than usual.
So... the Good News / Bad News portion of my trip...
Positives -
* Stayed at Embassy Suites - 2 room suites with all the amenities (kitchenette, fridge, microwave, 3 beds, and more). Free breakfasts cooked to order, and all the booze you can drink (FREE!) during a 2-hour happy hour.
* Staying in a suite with a couple of friends, and a variety of models. Yeah, don't that suck. HA HA!! OK, granted, most had serious boyfriends... but a guy can embellish on the settings, can't he?
* Meeting more celebs and fantastically creative, artistic, and ambitious people in one area than one could imagine.
* Getting paid to be there. (Always nice, even if it wasn't much.)
Negatives -
* Apparently I got sick with a sore throat from the second day I got there. I also don't usually sleep much, and even less during this trip... so the equivalence was almost 4 days with no sleep, on a potential illness brewing.
* Hearing flapping noises from the front tire on the way home (with a 500 mile drive coming up) - luckily only one mile away from home. Finding out that my front tire was about to blow. Took that bad boy off immediately.
* Adventure-Man Phil, puts on the donut spare tire and drives back almost 500 miles. But wait... this is the second time that I have driven that distance on the same donut tire (this happened 2 years ago also). AND I was doing about 70 - 80 mph (yeah, yeah, I'm a bit nuts).
* Upon getting home, and feeling like absolute crap, finding out that I have pharyngitis and possible strep throat (and somehow no one else got sick). So, I've been back for a few days, feeling like crap, wishing I would feel better so that I can go through my bags of new stuff, and contact information.
Alrighty... there was the extended version of my last couple of weeks. Stay tuned for more tales later.
Wednesday, May 4, 2005
Art imitates life - My oral surgery... bloody hell!! I'm going to miss an "Angel" episode!
Another chapter in the Aventurous Life of Phil - April 2005:
The trip to the Dentist ending in a game of Slice & Dice -
On Monday, April 25th, I went to my dentist to finish the job of putting a crown in (actually two, apparently).
Simple enough, one might think (unless your squeamish).
But no, as she is poking and prodding around in my food-hole, she realizes that I have issues. No, not as in personal mental issues, but something more insidious (that means serious). I need some serious surgery, and, like, now! Before any infections can set in.
Presto! I am scheduled for Wednesday, April 27th - two days later.
No time like the present, they say.
Wednesday comes around, and I am watching an episode of "Angel" on TNT, the great drama re-run network.
"Angel" for those of you uninitiated, is about a vampire of the same name... who has a soul. Get it? Good.
This episode concerns a woman who wants to become like him. In a fit of outrage, Angel forces her to drink blood by pouring it down her throat. At this point, I have to leave to make my appointment time. (And if you know me, I'm almost never on time... except this time.)
I get to the dentist and it's wham-bam! Right down to it. I'm settled in, injected with foul-tasting anesthetic, and promptly started upon with the scalpel.
In no time, I am suddenly reliving the very scene I just left from "Angel".
I am now forced to drink an onslaught of blood... my own... right down my throat! Perhaps the "Angel" episode was a sick look into what was about to happen to me. Thrilling, to say the least.
But wait... there's more... Sensing my twitchy behavior within my chair, my dentist informs me, very non-chalantly, that, "There is nothing in your mouth that you cannot swallow. So go ahead."
At this point a thought came to mind, followed later by another...
1) What if I do not WANT to swallow the viscous red liquid flowing freely down into my gullet?
2) What about the surgical tools jammed into my yap? Are THEY OK to swallow? Technically, she did mention that anything within the confines of my jaws was "OK to swallow".
There is a further thought to this situation... The idea of someone suggesting that whatever is "in your mouth is OK to swallow", seems to be something that mostly guys are famous for saying to unsuspecting girls. Usually in high school, before common sense sets in.
Was this my doctor's way of getting back at me for being a male? Forcing me to swallow something, that was created by my own body, but that neither taste, nor texture, nor desire made me wish to do so. Interesting theorems. Yes, some of you do worry that I over-think too much. Perhaps I do. I like it. You should too. Someone has to ponder these odd problems out. Stay tuned for further adventures...
The trip to the Dentist ending in a game of Slice & Dice -
On Monday, April 25th, I went to my dentist to finish the job of putting a crown in (actually two, apparently).
Simple enough, one might think (unless your squeamish).
But no, as she is poking and prodding around in my food-hole, she realizes that I have issues. No, not as in personal mental issues, but something more insidious (that means serious). I need some serious surgery, and, like, now! Before any infections can set in.
Presto! I am scheduled for Wednesday, April 27th - two days later.
No time like the present, they say.
Wednesday comes around, and I am watching an episode of "Angel" on TNT, the great drama re-run network.
"Angel" for those of you uninitiated, is about a vampire of the same name... who has a soul. Get it? Good.
This episode concerns a woman who wants to become like him. In a fit of outrage, Angel forces her to drink blood by pouring it down her throat. At this point, I have to leave to make my appointment time. (And if you know me, I'm almost never on time... except this time.)
I get to the dentist and it's wham-bam! Right down to it. I'm settled in, injected with foul-tasting anesthetic, and promptly started upon with the scalpel.
In no time, I am suddenly reliving the very scene I just left from "Angel".
I am now forced to drink an onslaught of blood... my own... right down my throat! Perhaps the "Angel" episode was a sick look into what was about to happen to me. Thrilling, to say the least.
But wait... there's more... Sensing my twitchy behavior within my chair, my dentist informs me, very non-chalantly, that, "There is nothing in your mouth that you cannot swallow. So go ahead."
At this point a thought came to mind, followed later by another...
1) What if I do not WANT to swallow the viscous red liquid flowing freely down into my gullet?
2) What about the surgical tools jammed into my yap? Are THEY OK to swallow? Technically, she did mention that anything within the confines of my jaws was "OK to swallow".
There is a further thought to this situation... The idea of someone suggesting that whatever is "in your mouth is OK to swallow", seems to be something that mostly guys are famous for saying to unsuspecting girls. Usually in high school, before common sense sets in.
Was this my doctor's way of getting back at me for being a male? Forcing me to swallow something, that was created by my own body, but that neither taste, nor texture, nor desire made me wish to do so. Interesting theorems. Yes, some of you do worry that I over-think too much. Perhaps I do. I like it. You should too. Someone has to ponder these odd problems out. Stay tuned for further adventures...
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Swollen, hot, and red (my day wasn't as bad as the other guy's)
So after all my adventures traveling in inclement weather recently... what did I get to remember it all by (no, I mean after all the cool freebies and stuff that I collected)...
I ended up with a majorly swollen leg.
My right leg swelled up twice its size, was bright red, hot to the touch, and felt like it was going to burst out of its skin.
Did I mention the immense pain?
The hospital thought I might have a blood clot and took it very seriously. As it turned out, I had cellulitis (not the fat butt thing), which is an infection of soft tissue. It can be caught in any manner of ways, and is the most common infection.
I sat waiting in the hospital for 8 HOURS - from 2 am until finally being seen and released at 10 am.
The official diagnosis was Cellulitis of the Leg. Done.
As I'm about to leave, I overhear the nurses talk about the next guy who is coming into my room.
"He's been waiting over 12 hours.", one nurse said.
She continued, "Poor guy has Cellulitis of the Penis."
ARGGHHH!!!!
I thought to what my ordeal for the past whole week had been before being seen... and then waiting 8 hours when I couldn't take it anymore. This guy had been sitting there in agony - in a much more tender area - for 12 hours!
Suddenly, my problems just didn't seem so important anymore.
I thought I would just go home and know that I am being treated.
As an added note: I'm driving home and think out loud... That man's penis... swollen to twice its normal size... hot to the touch... feeling like it's going to burst out of its skin. Hmmmm... Don't men pay good money for pills to give the same effect? I'm sure I've seen it advertised on TV.
But the bright red part? I wouldn't want a dog's organ either. Nor the pain involved.
"Oh well." I thought.
I ended up with a majorly swollen leg.
My right leg swelled up twice its size, was bright red, hot to the touch, and felt like it was going to burst out of its skin.
Did I mention the immense pain?
The hospital thought I might have a blood clot and took it very seriously. As it turned out, I had cellulitis (not the fat butt thing), which is an infection of soft tissue. It can be caught in any manner of ways, and is the most common infection.
I sat waiting in the hospital for 8 HOURS - from 2 am until finally being seen and released at 10 am.
The official diagnosis was Cellulitis of the Leg. Done.
As I'm about to leave, I overhear the nurses talk about the next guy who is coming into my room.
"He's been waiting over 12 hours.", one nurse said.
She continued, "Poor guy has Cellulitis of the Penis."
ARGGHHH!!!!
I thought to what my ordeal for the past whole week had been before being seen... and then waiting 8 hours when I couldn't take it anymore. This guy had been sitting there in agony - in a much more tender area - for 12 hours!
Suddenly, my problems just didn't seem so important anymore.
I thought I would just go home and know that I am being treated.
As an added note: I'm driving home and think out loud... That man's penis... swollen to twice its normal size... hot to the touch... feeling like it's going to burst out of its skin. Hmmmm... Don't men pay good money for pills to give the same effect? I'm sure I've seen it advertised on TV.
But the bright red part? I wouldn't want a dog's organ either. Nor the pain involved.
"Oh well." I thought.
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