Chemo Sesh #5: The Cuter Valentine’s Day Post

My how a difference a week and some blood levels make. I had my final in-patient IV chemo session last night (2/15/15), right before a super romantic Valentine’s Day celebration, and I feel totally fine today. The chemo was the normal stuff I’ve been getting for the last few weeks, but with some thoughtful little Valentine’s Day decorations to cuten up the death chemical applicators. RN Kaitin really made my night with those. She’s the best. 

Red Chemo Drug for Valentine's Day Decorated with little hearts by my treasured RN Kaitlin.
Red Chemo Drug for Valentine’s Day Decorated with little hearts by my treasured RN Kaitlin.

The drugs were the same, though my physical reaction was much less severe this week. I did not wake up in the throes of an existential panicmelt this morning, nor am I experiencing much of anything other than slight fatigue. All there is to report on is a whole bunch of bed sitting and Sunday relaxing…which I feel like I pretty god damned well deserve!

 Despite the uneventful chemo session, there is a story in the circumstances because it was Valentine’s Day! Chemotherapy doesn’t exactly scream sexytime-romance to anybody… Well, actually, Official Rule of the Internet #36 states: “If somebody has thought of it, there is a fetish for it. No exceptions.” So there is at least one sexual deviant out there who is reading this while having a Daunorubicin Hydrochloride-lubed party in his bathing suit area….
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Cosmic Cancer Dustballs on Valentine’s Day

I’m in love. I’m a man in his prime, (eh, sort of?) and I’m in love. Today, being the most holy of consumerist holidays that celebrates/exploits the concept of Love, seems like a good day to talk about it. The following is an entirely over worded and intellectualized piece that attempts to put a Valentine’s Day spin on the Cancer Perception ideas that I’ve been trying to develop with Cancer Trolling. Expect more thinky thinky than lovey lovey, but also know that I am currently getting my hospital room ready for a “make due with what we have” Valentine’s Night with Liana and it’s going to be the sweetest thing the circumstances can possibly provide. Maybe you’ll hear about it tomorrow, but maybe you won’t. 🙂 

CANCER VALENTINE BLOOD
CANCER VALENTINE BLOOD

We say “I love you” a lot. The words carry weight, anxiety, joy, pain, comfort and existential security… but what are we really saying? What do we really mean when we tell somebody that we love them in a modern romantic way? Do those three words imply more than a literal vow of relationship commitment, (“I won’t put my hands on her boobies because I put my hands on your boobies”) or is there a greater perspective that we are glossing over? 

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Appropriate for Third Graders (Really!)

I received more cards from another third grade class, this time from a teacher friend in New York State. Unlike my previous reaction to a similar situation, I decided to write an actual response to the class. Hopefully they are able to get something out of it!

Dear Mrs. Mellon’s Third Grade Class,

“Your Heart should be filled with Happiness, Not Sadness” – That is a quote from one of your cards…and you have no idea how right you are.

Please allow me to express my sincerest gratitude to your entire class for the wonderful care package of cards, letters, stories, words of wisdom and art projects that I received in the mail. If you do not remember, my name is Jason and I am a very good friend of Mrs. Mellon’s.

I live in Denver, Colorado (somebody get up and point to that on the map right now, I’M SERIOUS. Now point to Rochester, New York. DO IT.) Now somebody raise their hand and tell Mrs. Mellon one fact about Denver or Colorado. Good job. Any others?

USA Continue reading Appropriate for Third Graders (Really!)

Letter Home from the Dorms: Midterm Progress Report

Hey Guys! Just checking in again from The Colorado Blood Cancer Institute.  We had another meeting today at the residence hall where our RAs suggested we write you another status update letter. I understand that you guys are investing a lot into my progress and experience here so I’m happy to keep you posted on my shit! Pop yourself open a cold one and read on if you wanna know what’s going on with me!

 A few things have changed since I last wrote. I’ve made some upgrades to my dorm room to make it feel more homey.The mass produced furniture still exists in the room, but I was able to add some of my flair to spice things up!

 

Keepin' it chill
Keepin’ it chill

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The Glory of Freedom

Look at this. Look at those little dangling blue things with the orange nubs. Those nubs are where I have been connected to my IV pole since 1/22/2015. At this very moment, and until about noon tomorrow, they are completely DETACHED from any and all wires and tubes. I am disconnected, COMPLETELY FREE, for the first time in weeks.

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Through the Eyes of a Child

The eyes of a child, so innocent and pure
A child’s heart is full of song
Take their tiny hand, and lead them to the light
As adults we see pain in this world
And it sometimes don’t seem right

But through the eyes of a child
The world seems magical
There’s a sparkle in their eyes
They’re yet to realise, the darkness in their soul
The beauty of their smile
Adventurous and wild
Sure life is kinda gay but it doesn’t seem that way,
Through the eyes of a child

 

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There is an innocence lost every time you walk through the doors of a hospital (unless you’re there to poop out a kid or something, but that’s a VERY different blog). After I hugged Liana and squeezed Ruby (dog) for the last time I remember letting out a lengthy sigh as I pushed my through the entrance of what would be my indoor prison for the next several weeks. My mega-advanced thirty year old brain was able to rationalize the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing the light of day, breathing fresh air or experiencing the concept of “outside” for a while…but what if I had a child’s brain? How would I understand, let alone cope, with the heavy facts that I have to deal with on a daily basis? Would my underdeveloped little consciousness be anywhere near equipped to fathom the idea that I’d have to stay inside all day, let alone comprehend the heavy realities of disease and mortality?

DON’T WORRY: This post is NOT going to talk about kids with cancer. That topic outweighs me completely and I’m not going anywhere near it.
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Oil and Gas Parallels

I’m an oilman, ladies and gentlemen. I have numerous concerns spread across this state. I have many wells flowing at many thousand barrels per day. I like to think of myself as an oilman. As an oilman, I hope that you’ll forgive just good old-fashioned plain speaking.I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that if we do find oil here – and I think there’s a very good chance that we will – this community of yours will not only survive, it will flourish.- Daniel Plainview

                                                                Plainview

I can’t help but notice the parallels in my line of work (outside of blogging) with some of the procedures I’ve had to endure in the hospital. Like the DJ Basin to our north, the sedimentary layers of my body have been drilled, cored, fracked, poked, and threaded with all manner of equipment designed to inject or extract my raw materials. Piping has been run through the formations of my human earth for the purpose of exploration, production and exploitation of valuable hazardous materials. I’m a living oil and gas field with a reasonable amount of flaring (which is the releasing of toxic gases into the atmosphere for you layfolk). Continue reading Oil and Gas Parallels

Chemo Sesh #4: Reality Arrives

Chemo session number four. Saturday, 2/7/15.
Same drugs, same style, same shit. An RN manually pumps some of Vigo the Carpathian’s pink slime from Ghostbusters Two directly into my heart.

vigo the carpathian

My mouth adopts the taste of moldy bleach (I realize how little sense this makes) for an hour and my pee turns into peach cobbler. It’s the same every time, I know what to expect now, or so I thought…

Liana happened to be here to witness the chemo administration this time. I didn’t think she’d be terribly impressed by the process considering that she’s one of the most intellectually gifted people that I know. It’s nothing terribly stimulating to experience so she was forced to entertain herself by rolling her eyes at every bad joke I made to my RNs. Par for the course.

At least there is one pretty part of this picture collage.
At least there is one pretty part of this photo collage.

The process ends, everybody clears out and I go to bed at a decent hour in order to rest up for my mother’s arrival the next day. The end, right?

NOPE.

Shit is starting to get real with my treatment, unfortunately….

Continue reading Chemo Sesh #4: Reality Arrives

The Singing Telegram of Friendship

A few days ago I received a cryptic text message from a dear friend that lives in California:

“I have a friend dropping off a package for you in the next few days. What hours can we work with? It is important that you are there and awake.”

“Is it a stripper or anything weird? Don’t forget that I am in an oncology ward,” I reminded.

No comment,” He said. This is when my concerns began. They grew with his expressions of mirthful mischief as we worked out a time that coincided with me being super high on hospital drugs immediately following a medical procedure. Whatever this was going to be be had me horrified.

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The Little Old Lady Prayer Shawl

I keep my hospital room at, what I assume to be, an atypically frigid temperature for a cancer patient. My thermostat is set at 68 degrees despite the fact that I have the hair and immune system of a naked mole rat with prenatal AIDS.

NAKED MOLE RAT
NAKED MOLE RAT

I just run hot. Liana calls me “the rotisserie” and goes through efforts to deal with the oppressive heat output from my overactive body furnace…and she grew up in the tropics!

Since getting lit with the cancers I’ve had some issues with body heat regulation. My temperature usually hovers around 96 degrees these days. I’m like a cold blooded leukemia lizard, but I still keep my room chilly because warm air doesn’t feel fresh to me. Combine that unfresh feeling with the already germy nature of hospital air and you’ve got me riding co-pilot alongside Howard Hughes in a hypochondriac tailspin of the Spruce Goose.

I realized I was feeling a slight chill the other day and was about to go through the hassle of standing up from my desk, unplugging my IV from the wall, wheeling the damn thing around over my chords so I could reach something to put over my shoulders. This is a big production and is way more annoying that it sounds, trust me, my life is tethered swimming:

tethered Continue reading The Little Old Lady Prayer Shawl