It has been a great football season. The two teams I support, the Fightin' Tigers of Louisiana State University and the New Orleans Saints(Who Dat!!!), are a combined 9-0 this season. But that perfect record will likely sport a blemish by Sunday morning. Sure, my Tigers COULD beat Florida. They're at home, they looked better last weeked and Tim Tebow may not play. But even without their leading passer and jort-sporter, the Gators have to be favored to win. You can learn more about Florida fans and jorts at http://www.tigerdroppings.com/. It's a great forum for college football fans. I recommend the "SEC Rant".
Anyway, despite Vegas giving the Gators 7-and-a-half, I'm picking my Tigers to win: 27-17.
I've always loved football. The Saints started breaking my heart when I was about five years old. And though I never really was a big LSU fan till I went to school there, I alwasy watched college games. In fact, football is probably my favorite sport to watch, which is a little strange since it is one of the few sports I never played. I played baseball, basketball, golf, tennis, etc. But I've never so much as put on a pair of shoulder pads, much less played in a game.
I prefer college games. I think it's because I like upsets, and you just see more of those David topples Goliath games in college ball. Good college teams are more likely to play down to their competition. And home field advantage seems to be more of an advantage than it is in the NFL.
My experience at LSU reinforced my preference for college football. Saturday nights in Death Valley can be electric(when the Tigers are playing well) I worked in student media during my time at LSU and got the chance to be on the field for many games. Just imagine sitting at the bottom of a hot, humid, sticky concrete bowl, surrounded by 90,000+ crazy, sauced cajuns, when the Tigers intercept what would have been the winning touchdown pass on fourth down, on the final play of the game. That was my first experience covering college football. Troy Twillie picked off the pass right in front of the student section, and LSU held on to upset Auburn in 1995. I'm lucky I don't have permanent hearing damage.
That ranks as one of my favorite football games I ever attended. LSU's win over top-ranked Florida in 1997 also ranks near the top. And THAT win gives me some hope my perfect football season will last past this weekend.
Please, share with me some of your favorite college football memories. I'd love to hear them.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
SWEET ANTICIPATION
One of the least painful, but most annoying aspects of radiation treatment, in my case, is loss of taste.
They radiated where my right tonsil used to be, and also the areas immediately around that. It messes with your salivary glands and taste buds. The dry-mouth is getting better, but a nurse told me it may take up to a month for my taste buds to start coming back. Then I read online it may take longer than that. Every case seems to be a bit different.
Anyway, I can taste a little salt in foods. I get even less of bitter and tart foods. And I taste no sweet at all. And love sweets!
So, I am making a list of sweet things I plan to devour once I can taste them again:
- M&Ms (peanut, not plain)
- Pancakes with real maple syrup
- The largest banana nut muffin I can find
- Smarties (Man, I hope I can taste sweets before Halloween)
- One bite from every kind of pie at Village Inn
- Caramel popcorn
- Coffee ice cream
And that's as far as I've gotten.
PLEASE, share any ideas you have. What are your favorite sweet treats??? And why should I add them to my list??? Convince me.
They radiated where my right tonsil used to be, and also the areas immediately around that. It messes with your salivary glands and taste buds. The dry-mouth is getting better, but a nurse told me it may take up to a month for my taste buds to start coming back. Then I read online it may take longer than that. Every case seems to be a bit different.
Anyway, I can taste a little salt in foods. I get even less of bitter and tart foods. And I taste no sweet at all. And love sweets!
So, I am making a list of sweet things I plan to devour once I can taste them again:
- M&Ms (peanut, not plain)
- Pancakes with real maple syrup
- The largest banana nut muffin I can find
- Smarties (Man, I hope I can taste sweets before Halloween)
- One bite from every kind of pie at Village Inn
- Caramel popcorn
- Coffee ice cream
And that's as far as I've gotten.
PLEASE, share any ideas you have. What are your favorite sweet treats??? And why should I add them to my list??? Convince me.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
NEXT TUESDAY
I will be waiting tables next Tuesday, September 22nd at Texas Roadhouse in Davenport, from 5:30 to 8:00 p.m.
All tips go to the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society.
FOX 18 cheif metoerologist, Pat Walker, will join me.
If you want to help Team Sheer Beard reach its fund raising goal for the upcoming Light the Night Walk, come by and ask for me or Pat to be your waiter.
I promise we will not mess up your order. And you can help a great cause.
I battled lymphoma this summer. And one of our co-workers is currently being treated for Leukemia. So it's something close to the hearts of the FOX 18 gang.
Hope to see you there.
All tips go to the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society.
FOX 18 cheif metoerologist, Pat Walker, will join me.
If you want to help Team Sheer Beard reach its fund raising goal for the upcoming Light the Night Walk, come by and ask for me or Pat to be your waiter.
I promise we will not mess up your order. And you can help a great cause.
I battled lymphoma this summer. And one of our co-workers is currently being treated for Leukemia. So it's something close to the hearts of the FOX 18 gang.
Hope to see you there.
Monday, September 14, 2009
T-SHIRTS!!!
Lined up T-shirts for team Sheer Beard to wear at the upcoming Light the Night walk at Modern Woodman Park.
First National Bank agreed to sponsor our team and pay for the shirts.
I don't know if the bank folks did it out of the goodness of their hearts or because I'm such a good customer. Either way, I don't care.
My wife is our team captain and is in charge of shirt color and design. But I suggested she pick the loudest color possible, so our team will stand out.
We were supposed to get an email today, with a pic of what the shirts will look like.
The Light the Night walk raises money for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society. It will be at Modern Woodman park on September 26th. I battled lymphoma this year. And I have a co-worker being treated for leukemia. So, this certainly means a great deal to me. If you or someone you know has/had leukemia or lymphoma, make plans to come out for the walk. You can walk in honor of a survivor, patient or victim. The event is supposed to last about an hour.
First National Bank agreed to sponsor our team and pay for the shirts.
I don't know if the bank folks did it out of the goodness of their hearts or because I'm such a good customer. Either way, I don't care.
My wife is our team captain and is in charge of shirt color and design. But I suggested she pick the loudest color possible, so our team will stand out.
We were supposed to get an email today, with a pic of what the shirts will look like.
The Light the Night walk raises money for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society. It will be at Modern Woodman park on September 26th. I battled lymphoma this year. And I have a co-worker being treated for leukemia. So, this certainly means a great deal to me. If you or someone you know has/had leukemia or lymphoma, make plans to come out for the walk. You can walk in honor of a survivor, patient or victim. The event is supposed to last about an hour.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
MY NEMESIS
My Nemesis. That's what I call the mask they put over my face for radiation treatments.
It's plastic, with small holes and comes down to about the top of my biceps.
I hate it.
I'm kind of an antsy guy. I tap my feet. I click my heels together when I should be standing still. And I sometimes rub my hands together like I'm trying to start a fire. I'm not insane(or not COMPLETELY insane, at least) I just have too much nervous energy sometimes.
On top of that, I'm a bit claustrophobic. I think that started when I got trapped in an elevator when I was four years old. I didn't really overcome my fear of elevators until I was in college. My first semester at LSU, I lived on the 11th floor of my dorm(Kirby Smith, for any LSU people out there) Anyway, I took the stairs everyday in late-summer Louisiana heat and humidity for about three weeks. It took that kind of discomfort for me to start using elevators.
I'm not trying to make excuses for my girlishness. I'm flat out scared of that plastic mask, whether there is a reason or not. It's irrational. I realize that during rational moments, which is pretty much anytime I'm not on the table with that mask squeezing my face.
Yeah, it's tight. They made the mold a few weeks after I finished chemotherapy. I have gained 10-12 lbs. since then, largely because I started eating and working out like I had before chemotherapy. The chemo had knocked my weight down into the low 160s. My face is now a little fuller than it was when I went in for my mask fitting. Now my nemesis leaves its mark on me. I can see the pattern of tiny holes on my face when the treatments are over.
Now, this is the part that makes me seem really weak:
Each treatment lasts roughly seven minutes. Just seven minutes!!! I'm guessing, really. But the pont is it's not a long time. And I STILL can barely take it. I have terrible thoughts while I lie there. For instance, someone could come in and put their hand over my nose and mouth, and I would be defenseless. Or everyone in the radiation unit could go to lunch at the same time and forget about me, leaving me stuck there like "The Man in the Plastic Mask".
All the techs who oversee my treatment are really kind. They seem understanding and tell me other people have problems with the masks, too. And they try to make me as comfortable as possible. They give me time to breath deeply and put my mind in the right place before we start. And one even brought in her IPod speaker so I could plug in and listen to some music during treatment.
But it still feels a little like torture. And at least once every treatment, so far, I have had an urge to holler and tell them to stop; that I cannot do it today and may not be back.
The good news is I reached the official halfway mark today. Nine treatments down. Nine to go.
If you pray, pray that I can make it through the second half. It shouldn't be that hard. But I am struggling to conquer my nemesis.
It's plastic, with small holes and comes down to about the top of my biceps.
I hate it.
I'm kind of an antsy guy. I tap my feet. I click my heels together when I should be standing still. And I sometimes rub my hands together like I'm trying to start a fire. I'm not insane(or not COMPLETELY insane, at least) I just have too much nervous energy sometimes.
On top of that, I'm a bit claustrophobic. I think that started when I got trapped in an elevator when I was four years old. I didn't really overcome my fear of elevators until I was in college. My first semester at LSU, I lived on the 11th floor of my dorm(Kirby Smith, for any LSU people out there) Anyway, I took the stairs everyday in late-summer Louisiana heat and humidity for about three weeks. It took that kind of discomfort for me to start using elevators.
I'm not trying to make excuses for my girlishness. I'm flat out scared of that plastic mask, whether there is a reason or not. It's irrational. I realize that during rational moments, which is pretty much anytime I'm not on the table with that mask squeezing my face.
Yeah, it's tight. They made the mold a few weeks after I finished chemotherapy. I have gained 10-12 lbs. since then, largely because I started eating and working out like I had before chemotherapy. The chemo had knocked my weight down into the low 160s. My face is now a little fuller than it was when I went in for my mask fitting. Now my nemesis leaves its mark on me. I can see the pattern of tiny holes on my face when the treatments are over.
Now, this is the part that makes me seem really weak:
Each treatment lasts roughly seven minutes. Just seven minutes!!! I'm guessing, really. But the pont is it's not a long time. And I STILL can barely take it. I have terrible thoughts while I lie there. For instance, someone could come in and put their hand over my nose and mouth, and I would be defenseless. Or everyone in the radiation unit could go to lunch at the same time and forget about me, leaving me stuck there like "The Man in the Plastic Mask".
All the techs who oversee my treatment are really kind. They seem understanding and tell me other people have problems with the masks, too. And they try to make me as comfortable as possible. They give me time to breath deeply and put my mind in the right place before we start. And one even brought in her IPod speaker so I could plug in and listen to some music during treatment.
But it still feels a little like torture. And at least once every treatment, so far, I have had an urge to holler and tell them to stop; that I cannot do it today and may not be back.
The good news is I reached the official halfway mark today. Nine treatments down. Nine to go.
If you pray, pray that I can make it through the second half. It shouldn't be that hard. But I am struggling to conquer my nemesis.
Monday, August 24, 2009
RANDOM OBSERVATIONS FROM THE ROAD
I recently drove home to visit family along the Gulf Coast. DROVE home, mind you. Roughly 15 hours each way.
And though there is not much to see on the way down and back, here are a few things I discovered:
- The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act is stimulating something, even if it's only my ire. I think every county in every state in the union is doing road work, funded by the stimulus plan. I’m all for better roads. Sure I would prefer more money be invested in high-speed rail, but smoother roads are nice. However, one lane traffic and slower speed limits every 25 miles is enough to drive me crazy when I’m trying to make good time.
- Missouri has money to burn. Why else would the state invest in half-mile markers, in addition to mile markers. Between the little green mile marker signs that read, for instance, 18 and 19, in Missouri you will find an 18.5. I guess it’s for the stupid people who get lost on a straight stretch of interstate between markers 18 and 19. Or maybe for the people too impatient to wait nearly a mile to see how close they are to their exit. In any event, the "Show Me State" showed me something new.
- Why did I read "Children of the Corn" the night before I drove through rural Illinois? Seriously, if I had blown a tire or had to stop and ask directions from a red-haired kid named Malichi, I would have been a little freaked out.
- I love fresh seafood. I don’t miss the heat down south, or the bad roads or smell of the local paper mill. But I miss being able to eat fresh seafood whenever I want. I had a shrimp poboy, crab claws, crawfish bisque, grouper, etc. It was great. I have a co-worker, who we will call "Mr. B", who doesn’t understand why I deprive myself of seafood while in the Midwest; doesn’t understand why I don’t just go to Red Lobster or something. Mr. B has an irrational hatred of my seafood snobbery. Irrational, I say!!! But the simple truth is I distinguish a difference between fresh and frozen. And I’m a snob about so few things, I feel my prejudice should be forgiven.
- The Midwest has great summers. I do not miss sweating like a pig for five/six months out of the year. The heat and humidity is the main qualm I would have about returning home.
- I don’t really miss having pets. Two weeks later, and I still have cat hair on my clothes.
- Satellite radio is the best thing ever when you’re on the road.
- The Ford Focus must be the new official car of the mob. You could fit two, maybe three bodies in the back of the one I rented!
And though there is not much to see on the way down and back, here are a few things I discovered:
- The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act is stimulating something, even if it's only my ire. I think every county in every state in the union is doing road work, funded by the stimulus plan. I’m all for better roads. Sure I would prefer more money be invested in high-speed rail, but smoother roads are nice. However, one lane traffic and slower speed limits every 25 miles is enough to drive me crazy when I’m trying to make good time.
- Missouri has money to burn. Why else would the state invest in half-mile markers, in addition to mile markers. Between the little green mile marker signs that read, for instance, 18 and 19, in Missouri you will find an 18.5. I guess it’s for the stupid people who get lost on a straight stretch of interstate between markers 18 and 19. Or maybe for the people too impatient to wait nearly a mile to see how close they are to their exit. In any event, the "Show Me State" showed me something new.
- Why did I read "Children of the Corn" the night before I drove through rural Illinois? Seriously, if I had blown a tire or had to stop and ask directions from a red-haired kid named Malichi, I would have been a little freaked out.
- I love fresh seafood. I don’t miss the heat down south, or the bad roads or smell of the local paper mill. But I miss being able to eat fresh seafood whenever I want. I had a shrimp poboy, crab claws, crawfish bisque, grouper, etc. It was great. I have a co-worker, who we will call "Mr. B", who doesn’t understand why I deprive myself of seafood while in the Midwest; doesn’t understand why I don’t just go to Red Lobster or something. Mr. B has an irrational hatred of my seafood snobbery. Irrational, I say!!! But the simple truth is I distinguish a difference between fresh and frozen. And I’m a snob about so few things, I feel my prejudice should be forgiven.
- The Midwest has great summers. I do not miss sweating like a pig for five/six months out of the year. The heat and humidity is the main qualm I would have about returning home.
- I don’t really miss having pets. Two weeks later, and I still have cat hair on my clothes.
- Satellite radio is the best thing ever when you’re on the road.
- The Ford Focus must be the new official car of the mob. You could fit two, maybe three bodies in the back of the one I rented!
Friday, August 14, 2009
SILLY MOMENTS
Amy was trying to distract the baby on Wednesday. It was still quite some time till his next bottle. But he was getting fussy, sitting in his bouncey chair.
Amy turned on some music. It was "Break Out", by Swing Out Sister, a band that described its music as "sophistipop", because... well, we're still trying to figure that out.
Anyway, she's doing some remarkably 80's dance moves that fit the song. Alex starts twirling like a ballerina in her Easter dress (which she will almost certainly want to wear past Labor Day). And I bust in with Da Butt, made popular by one-hit-wonder band, E.U. I mean, we had to have looked like the reject line for The Gong Show.
But it worked. A.J. stopped crying and just stared at us, probably dazzled by our dancing talents. And we all had a great time.
Nearly 24 hours before, I learned I am lymphoma free. My doctor told me the scan showed no signs of cancer. And I think a silly moment with my family was the perfect way to celebrate. It's moments like these I want to be a part of for a long time.
Amy turned on some music. It was "Break Out", by Swing Out Sister, a band that described its music as "sophistipop", because... well, we're still trying to figure that out.
Anyway, she's doing some remarkably 80's dance moves that fit the song. Alex starts twirling like a ballerina in her Easter dress (which she will almost certainly want to wear past Labor Day). And I bust in with Da Butt, made popular by one-hit-wonder band, E.U. I mean, we had to have looked like the reject line for The Gong Show.
But it worked. A.J. stopped crying and just stared at us, probably dazzled by our dancing talents. And we all had a great time.
Nearly 24 hours before, I learned I am lymphoma free. My doctor told me the scan showed no signs of cancer. And I think a silly moment with my family was the perfect way to celebrate. It's moments like these I want to be a part of for a long time.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
DIET
I've been on the chemo diet a little over two months.
Came in at 164 lbs. at my doctor's office today.
This all started when they took out my tonsils on April 1st. I weighed close to 190 lbs. then. So I've dropped about 25 lbs. And the drawers are a droopin'. None of my pants fit.
I didn't want to lose 25. Sure, maybe 5 or 10. But I'm scared to think what my Mom will say when I see her next month. She thought I looked thin at 190.
And I'm tired of being hungry. I've been mildly to moderately hungry most every day since April 1st. This must be what it feels like to be Keira Knightley.
Here's pretty much how it goes:
- I eat like a horse my first two days in the hospital.
- The final two days I'm slightly nauseated and everything smells bad. I force down what I can.
- The first three/four days I'm out of the hospital everything tastes like a big pile of salt. I eat a little, but hate the fact nothing tastes like it should. Except potatoes. Potatoes taste like they should.
- Then my tatste buds recover, but I can have other problems. For instance, the drugs made me constipated after my first round of chemo. I think it was the first time I had ever been stopped up in my life. It was rough. I couldn't eat much of anything for days.
- After my third round, I had sores in the back of my mouth. This is a very common side effect. The back of my mouth was so swollen I could barely open my mouth wide enought to eat.
- After my fourth round (currently), I have sores on the side of my tongue. So everythime I swallow or talk, the sores rub against my teeth. It's worse than you would think.
- Then I feel good for a few days, before they send me back into the hospital to start the cycle all over again.
Only I'm done. No more chemo scheduled. Which means, while I'm sitting here starving while I write this, looking forward to my liquid lunch.. I will be eating like a horse in a few days. And I won't have to worry about any impending nausea, salt-mouth, constipation or sores.
I just need to heal quickly. I'm driving home next week. And if I can't enjoy a giant shrimp po-boy while I'm on the coast, I'm gonna be extremely cranky.
Came in at 164 lbs. at my doctor's office today.
This all started when they took out my tonsils on April 1st. I weighed close to 190 lbs. then. So I've dropped about 25 lbs. And the drawers are a droopin'. None of my pants fit.
I didn't want to lose 25. Sure, maybe 5 or 10. But I'm scared to think what my Mom will say when I see her next month. She thought I looked thin at 190.
And I'm tired of being hungry. I've been mildly to moderately hungry most every day since April 1st. This must be what it feels like to be Keira Knightley.
Here's pretty much how it goes:
- I eat like a horse my first two days in the hospital.
- The final two days I'm slightly nauseated and everything smells bad. I force down what I can.
- The first three/four days I'm out of the hospital everything tastes like a big pile of salt. I eat a little, but hate the fact nothing tastes like it should. Except potatoes. Potatoes taste like they should.
- Then my tatste buds recover, but I can have other problems. For instance, the drugs made me constipated after my first round of chemo. I think it was the first time I had ever been stopped up in my life. It was rough. I couldn't eat much of anything for days.
- After my third round, I had sores in the back of my mouth. This is a very common side effect. The back of my mouth was so swollen I could barely open my mouth wide enought to eat.
- After my fourth round (currently), I have sores on the side of my tongue. So everythime I swallow or talk, the sores rub against my teeth. It's worse than you would think.
- Then I feel good for a few days, before they send me back into the hospital to start the cycle all over again.
Only I'm done. No more chemo scheduled. Which means, while I'm sitting here starving while I write this, looking forward to my liquid lunch.. I will be eating like a horse in a few days. And I won't have to worry about any impending nausea, salt-mouth, constipation or sores.
I just need to heal quickly. I'm driving home next week. And if I can't enjoy a giant shrimp po-boy while I'm on the coast, I'm gonna be extremely cranky.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Fear
My oncologist gave me a one-year devotional.
There's a Bible verse for each day, and a brief interpretation of the verse.
Today's stood out to me. Matthew 8:26 reads, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?"
I've had some recent fears. Not just the fear of dying. But fear of leaving my wife without a husband and my children without a father. Also, fear that I've wasted most of my life. I mean, tell yourself you could die before Christmas and then think about what you've left behind.
But this verse reinforced what I've been telling myself. I often prayed, even before my diagnosis, for God to give me comfort and strength in the knowledge that whatever happens, my life is in his hands. I have nothing to fear. If it's my time, it's my time. I could be cured of lymphoma and fall off my roof while cleaning my gutters. The 74 bridge could collapse while I'm driving across. I could be killed by the flames of my fire-breathing dragon lady co-anchor(actually, Libby is very nice. I just like to pick on her)
Betrayal is another feeling I'm dealing with. I feel like my body has betrayed me, to a degree. I eat fairly well; try to enjoy plenty of fruits and veggies. I exercise. And I'm only 35 years old. I'm told the average lymphoma patient is over 60. So, I'm having more trouble putting the betrayal feeling to bed.
I'm reading one verse a day. Maybe I'll find one to help with betrayal in the days to come.
There's a Bible verse for each day, and a brief interpretation of the verse.
Today's stood out to me. Matthew 8:26 reads, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?"
I've had some recent fears. Not just the fear of dying. But fear of leaving my wife without a husband and my children without a father. Also, fear that I've wasted most of my life. I mean, tell yourself you could die before Christmas and then think about what you've left behind.
But this verse reinforced what I've been telling myself. I often prayed, even before my diagnosis, for God to give me comfort and strength in the knowledge that whatever happens, my life is in his hands. I have nothing to fear. If it's my time, it's my time. I could be cured of lymphoma and fall off my roof while cleaning my gutters. The 74 bridge could collapse while I'm driving across. I could be killed by the flames of my fire-breathing dragon lady co-anchor(actually, Libby is very nice. I just like to pick on her)
Betrayal is another feeling I'm dealing with. I feel like my body has betrayed me, to a degree. I eat fairly well; try to enjoy plenty of fruits and veggies. I exercise. And I'm only 35 years old. I'm told the average lymphoma patient is over 60. So, I'm having more trouble putting the betrayal feeling to bed.
I'm reading one verse a day. Maybe I'll find one to help with betrayal in the days to come.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
My Lovely, Loving Wife
My wife turned (CENSORED) last week. So I thought it the perfect time to tell everyone how wonderful she is. Kind of a late, extra birthday gift.
Let me start by saying Amy is a wonderful wife and even better mother.
Does she drive me crazy sometimes? Absolutely!!! But that's in the vows, right?
Chemo has been tough on me. More importantly, it's been tough on my family.
I've not been able to play with our four-year-old girl as much as I would like, or bond with our newborn son as much as I would like. I have also not been able to take care of them as much as I would normally be able. Basically, I've been pretty worthless at times, which has put an increased parenting burden on Amy's little shoulders.
But she's been a champ. She has handled caring for Aaron almost entirely by herself, plus a large
chunk of caring for Alex, too. She's stronger than I ever thought she would be, and probably she ever thought she could be.
And she hasn't held my worthlessness against me.(at least not outwardly)
She loved me when I was at my best, and is loving me when I am far from my best. That's what love is all about, I think.
So, happy late (CENSORED) birthday, baby.
See you when I get home.
Let me start by saying Amy is a wonderful wife and even better mother.
Does she drive me crazy sometimes? Absolutely!!! But that's in the vows, right?
Chemo has been tough on me. More importantly, it's been tough on my family.
I've not been able to play with our four-year-old girl as much as I would like, or bond with our newborn son as much as I would like. I have also not been able to take care of them as much as I would normally be able. Basically, I've been pretty worthless at times, which has put an increased parenting burden on Amy's little shoulders.
But she's been a champ. She has handled caring for Aaron almost entirely by herself, plus a large
chunk of caring for Alex, too. She's stronger than I ever thought she would be, and probably she ever thought she could be.
And she hasn't held my worthlessness against me.(at least not outwardly)
She loved me when I was at my best, and is loving me when I am far from my best. That's what love is all about, I think.
So, happy late (CENSORED) birthday, baby.
See you when I get home.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
#@*! McDonald's
I have the ass today.
My white blood cell count has been low for days. And the resulting mouth and throat sores have kept me on a liquid diet for the better part of four days. I had a small mound of mashed potatoes for lunch and felt victorious.
Anyway, I thought I would improve my mood with a cup of McDonald's ice cream/frozen yogurt on the way to work. I drove up to the speaker and said - painfully, because of the mouth sores - "Could I have a small cup of ice cream." The voice in the box replied, "We don't have an ice cream machine today."
Let's examine this brilliant statement: "We don't have an ice cream machine today." Did someone steal it? Did the Hamburglar lose his taste for meat after the mad cow scare and start lifting ice cream machines? Or could it be that maybe it just wasn't working today? That's more likely and that's what should have been parlayed to me. For example, "I'm sorry, sir, but the ice cream machine is not working at the moment. Can we get you anything else?" I would have thought, "Hell no, you dumb bat. The only thing on your menu I can eat is unavailable. Thanks for ruing my day!" And then I would have driven away, which is what I did.
Pardon me for being a word snob. But I happen to work in a business where words and their meanings still matter. Say what you mean, people.
And why is it the ice cream machine is always broken in the summer? (Probably because I never try to order ice cream in February)
I have no previous beef against McDonalds. In fact, I took my first job at McDonalds at age 16. It was hot, greasy work and I went home smelling like a McNugget every night, but I have fond memories of working with my friends. It also helped me put some money in my pocket and bank account. And it confirmed that I wanted to go to college and find a better career. (some would argue journalism and nugget chef may be on par)
All I'm saying is I needed that ice cream today. So I boycotted McDonalds.. for about three hours. I drove to a different one around the corner from the office and got my cup. All's well that ends well, delayed gratification, etc. I guess I just wanted to bitch.
My white blood cell count has been low for days. And the resulting mouth and throat sores have kept me on a liquid diet for the better part of four days. I had a small mound of mashed potatoes for lunch and felt victorious.
Anyway, I thought I would improve my mood with a cup of McDonald's ice cream/frozen yogurt on the way to work. I drove up to the speaker and said - painfully, because of the mouth sores - "Could I have a small cup of ice cream." The voice in the box replied, "We don't have an ice cream machine today."
Let's examine this brilliant statement: "We don't have an ice cream machine today." Did someone steal it? Did the Hamburglar lose his taste for meat after the mad cow scare and start lifting ice cream machines? Or could it be that maybe it just wasn't working today? That's more likely and that's what should have been parlayed to me. For example, "I'm sorry, sir, but the ice cream machine is not working at the moment. Can we get you anything else?" I would have thought, "Hell no, you dumb bat. The only thing on your menu I can eat is unavailable. Thanks for ruing my day!" And then I would have driven away, which is what I did.
Pardon me for being a word snob. But I happen to work in a business where words and their meanings still matter. Say what you mean, people.
And why is it the ice cream machine is always broken in the summer? (Probably because I never try to order ice cream in February)
I have no previous beef against McDonalds. In fact, I took my first job at McDonalds at age 16. It was hot, greasy work and I went home smelling like a McNugget every night, but I have fond memories of working with my friends. It also helped me put some money in my pocket and bank account. And it confirmed that I wanted to go to college and find a better career. (some would argue journalism and nugget chef may be on par)
All I'm saying is I needed that ice cream today. So I boycotted McDonalds.. for about three hours. I drove to a different one around the corner from the office and got my cup. All's well that ends well, delayed gratification, etc. I guess I just wanted to bitch.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Top 10 Workplace Pet Peeves
In no particular order.
1) LOUD NOISES - My distaste for loud noises is chronicled in a previous post. (see "I Hate the Air Show") At work it can be co-workers eating loudly or talking loudly. Eating is for the break room and I"M RIGHT HERE! There's no need to yell. I'll say it again. I need an office.
2) NOT MY BUSINESS - Speaking of talking loudly, how about the person in the office who talks about personal matters on the phone, at a volume everyone can pick up. All you can do is walk out of the room. Or break out the ear buds. (similar to headphones for older folks like me)
3) BEING PAGED - Everything else on this list is just an annoyance. This one really gets under my skin. I don't like being paged to the set, though it is sometimes necessary. I don't like it when people page and ask me to call them. I anchor four half-hour shows a day and produce a 20-minute show. That means I'm sitting at my desk about 85-percent of my workday. So chances are I will be there if you call my extension. No need to page! Of course, all my co-workers will read this and start paging me all the time. Jerks!
4) MANAGEMENT - Nuff said.
5) DIRTY BATHROOMS/BREAK ROOMS - Just act like you're at home. And if you say you would do the same at home, I'll pray for you.. or your wife.. or your mother, 'cause you may never find a wife if you're living like that.
6) KICKERS ABOUT WORLD RECORDS - Kickers are the light stories we run at the end of newscasts. One of my co-workers can't stand it when we run a story about world record efforts. Girl Scouts setting up the world's longest lemonade stand, Belgian chef making the world's biggest waffle, Rock Island going for world's longest recount, etc. He despises them all. I had another former co-worker who hated stories about panda cubs. Weird people in this business.
7) DOING A STORY FOR SALES - "Hey these guys want us to go out and do a story on blah, blah, blah. They are big advertisers with us. Do you think you could do it?" I always want to say, "Yeah sure, but there's this guy starting a business in town. He's helped us with a few story tips in the past. Do you think you could give him some free ad time?" But that's not my job. If only management would step in and... yeah.
8) TANKING READS - Burns my BLEEP when I see this. Some anchors will, at times, either because of their mood or apathy, will read their stories like they would rather be taking a nap. I'll admit it can be hard to find energy in the last half-hour of your workday. But it is the most important half hour of the day for news anchors. I'm sorry. Just go home early if you don't want to be there. I want to point out this in no way applies to my current co-anchors.
9) THE CONSTANT COMPLAINER (A.K.A. the Mayor of Whinetown) - Some people aren't happy unless they are a little unhappy. I understand this. I just don't want to hear it sometimes. There are times to be complain. But if you are the boy/girl who bitched wolf, no one can tell when to take your complaints seriously.
10) NO WATER COOLER - I've been working at least part-time for nearly 20 years, and only one of my employer's had a water cooler. It was great! The water was clean and ice cold. Plus, it gave me opportunities to get up and stretch my legs. Tap water just doesn't motivate me in the same way.
And a little lagniappe:
THE GUY WITH WEIRD NERVOUS HABITS - This may seem hard to believe, but I once worked with this guy who rubbed his hands together vigorously when he was excited or angry; like he was trying to start a fire or something. He also rubbed the back of his head like a maniac when he was upset, to the point he should have been bald in the back.. hummed songs to himself nearly constantly.. and clicked his heels together when he was standing, like he just couldn't stand still. The strangest part is no one but me seemed to mind.
1) LOUD NOISES - My distaste for loud noises is chronicled in a previous post. (see "I Hate the Air Show") At work it can be co-workers eating loudly or talking loudly. Eating is for the break room and I"M RIGHT HERE! There's no need to yell. I'll say it again. I need an office.
2) NOT MY BUSINESS - Speaking of talking loudly, how about the person in the office who talks about personal matters on the phone, at a volume everyone can pick up. All you can do is walk out of the room. Or break out the ear buds. (similar to headphones for older folks like me)
3) BEING PAGED - Everything else on this list is just an annoyance. This one really gets under my skin. I don't like being paged to the set, though it is sometimes necessary. I don't like it when people page and ask me to call them. I anchor four half-hour shows a day and produce a 20-minute show. That means I'm sitting at my desk about 85-percent of my workday. So chances are I will be there if you call my extension. No need to page! Of course, all my co-workers will read this and start paging me all the time. Jerks!
4) MANAGEMENT - Nuff said.
5) DIRTY BATHROOMS/BREAK ROOMS - Just act like you're at home. And if you say you would do the same at home, I'll pray for you.. or your wife.. or your mother, 'cause you may never find a wife if you're living like that.
6) KICKERS ABOUT WORLD RECORDS - Kickers are the light stories we run at the end of newscasts. One of my co-workers can't stand it when we run a story about world record efforts. Girl Scouts setting up the world's longest lemonade stand, Belgian chef making the world's biggest waffle, Rock Island going for world's longest recount, etc. He despises them all. I had another former co-worker who hated stories about panda cubs. Weird people in this business.
7) DOING A STORY FOR SALES - "Hey these guys want us to go out and do a story on blah, blah, blah. They are big advertisers with us. Do you think you could do it?" I always want to say, "Yeah sure, but there's this guy starting a business in town. He's helped us with a few story tips in the past. Do you think you could give him some free ad time?" But that's not my job. If only management would step in and... yeah.
8) TANKING READS - Burns my BLEEP when I see this. Some anchors will, at times, either because of their mood or apathy, will read their stories like they would rather be taking a nap. I'll admit it can be hard to find energy in the last half-hour of your workday. But it is the most important half hour of the day for news anchors. I'm sorry. Just go home early if you don't want to be there. I want to point out this in no way applies to my current co-anchors.
9) THE CONSTANT COMPLAINER (A.K.A. the Mayor of Whinetown) - Some people aren't happy unless they are a little unhappy. I understand this. I just don't want to hear it sometimes. There are times to be complain. But if you are the boy/girl who bitched wolf, no one can tell when to take your complaints seriously.
10) NO WATER COOLER - I've been working at least part-time for nearly 20 years, and only one of my employer's had a water cooler. It was great! The water was clean and ice cold. Plus, it gave me opportunities to get up and stretch my legs. Tap water just doesn't motivate me in the same way.
And a little lagniappe:
THE GUY WITH WEIRD NERVOUS HABITS - This may seem hard to believe, but I once worked with this guy who rubbed his hands together vigorously when he was excited or angry; like he was trying to start a fire or something. He also rubbed the back of his head like a maniac when he was upset, to the point he should have been bald in the back.. hummed songs to himself nearly constantly.. and clicked his heels together when he was standing, like he just couldn't stand still. The strangest part is no one but me seemed to mind.
Father's Day
Sunday was my first Father's Day without my Dad.
He died in May, four days before I started chemotherapy. He had surgery to replace a valve less than a week after seeing a doctor about shortness of breath. There were complications during the procedure and he never woke up. Or at least that's what they tell me. I wasn't there.
I wasn't even supposed to know about the surgery. My brother went behind the old man's back and told me the day before. He said Dad didn't want me to worry, in light of my own medical problems. And those medical problems kept me from being there to see him, and help my brother and uncle get through a tough time. (the only time I ever thought my brother may have needed my help) That's a bit tough to swallow.
Most men, at some point as they get a little older, realize they are, in some way, becoming their father. You say or do something one day and then thinkl, "Oh no, that was my Dad." It has been a hard realization for me to come to, since I've always told myself I would be a better husband, a better father than my Dad. Because he had his flaws. And the cycle of disappointment continues with my four-week-old son, who doesn't always think much of me. It could be because he is nursing and I can't help him with that. As a result, I am a regular source of disappointment for him.
Sometime after my treatments end, I will go home to Mississippi, help my brother pick a spot and spread the ashes. And I'll be glad to do it. Because even though my Dad and I were not especially close after I reached adulthood, we were friendly. He always remembered my birthday, was always ready for a good laugh and always enjoyed getting the pics I sent of our little girl, his granddaughter.
So, he was a flawed man, but not a bad man in my mind. And though we only spoke every month or two, I never dreaded picking up the phone and dialing his number. I wish I would have called him before his surgery, even though I wasn't supposed to know about it. I wish he could have held on for a few more weeks to welcome his first grandson. And Sunday, I wished I could have told him Happy Father's Day. It just didn't seem the same without saying those words.
He died in May, four days before I started chemotherapy. He had surgery to replace a valve less than a week after seeing a doctor about shortness of breath. There were complications during the procedure and he never woke up. Or at least that's what they tell me. I wasn't there.
I wasn't even supposed to know about the surgery. My brother went behind the old man's back and told me the day before. He said Dad didn't want me to worry, in light of my own medical problems. And those medical problems kept me from being there to see him, and help my brother and uncle get through a tough time. (the only time I ever thought my brother may have needed my help) That's a bit tough to swallow.
Most men, at some point as they get a little older, realize they are, in some way, becoming their father. You say or do something one day and then thinkl, "Oh no, that was my Dad." It has been a hard realization for me to come to, since I've always told myself I would be a better husband, a better father than my Dad. Because he had his flaws. And the cycle of disappointment continues with my four-week-old son, who doesn't always think much of me. It could be because he is nursing and I can't help him with that. As a result, I am a regular source of disappointment for him.
Sometime after my treatments end, I will go home to Mississippi, help my brother pick a spot and spread the ashes. And I'll be glad to do it. Because even though my Dad and I were not especially close after I reached adulthood, we were friendly. He always remembered my birthday, was always ready for a good laugh and always enjoyed getting the pics I sent of our little girl, his granddaughter.
So, he was a flawed man, but not a bad man in my mind. And though we only spoke every month or two, I never dreaded picking up the phone and dialing his number. I wish I would have called him before his surgery, even though I wasn't supposed to know about it. I wish he could have held on for a few more weeks to welcome his first grandson. And Sunday, I wished I could have told him Happy Father's Day. It just didn't seem the same without saying those words.
I Hate the Air Show
To be honest, I've never been to the air show. I hate what precedes the air show.
Every year, the pilots announce they are in town by buzzing the city for an hour or two. And every year, they interrupt a perfectly nice Spring day with their own special style of noise pollution. It would not bother me to the extent it does, if their flight path were not right over our office.
I'll admit a prejudice against loud noises. I tend to dislike concerts, clubs and auto races, among other things. Even people who talk or eat too loudly can get under my skin. I can be a touchy SOB! What can I say, I need an office!
But that doesn't make those amped up, peace-interrupting, jet fuel-wasting fly boys any less annoying. (I have this image of them playing shirtless volleyball, exchanging ridiculous high and low fives while planning how to ruin my day.)
By the way, my views in no way reflect the views of others at the station. They love the air show. Libby is riding in one of the planes tomorrow. I hope the pilots don't read this and make her puke extra to get back at me.
Every year, the pilots announce they are in town by buzzing the city for an hour or two. And every year, they interrupt a perfectly nice Spring day with their own special style of noise pollution. It would not bother me to the extent it does, if their flight path were not right over our office.
I'll admit a prejudice against loud noises. I tend to dislike concerts, clubs and auto races, among other things. Even people who talk or eat too loudly can get under my skin. I can be a touchy SOB! What can I say, I need an office!
But that doesn't make those amped up, peace-interrupting, jet fuel-wasting fly boys any less annoying. (I have this image of them playing shirtless volleyball, exchanging ridiculous high and low fives while planning how to ruin my day.)
By the way, my views in no way reflect the views of others at the station. They love the air show. Libby is riding in one of the planes tomorrow. I hope the pilots don't read this and make her puke extra to get back at me.
Kickin' Tail, Takin' Hugs
I like to hug.
I'm secure enough to say that.
I've been hugging and enjoying it for years. Whether it's a teammate, a friend or family, get on in here and get some! Sure, sometimes it's the handshake, then slip into the hug. It's more acceptable for the menfolk this way. But no matter how you get there, you end up in the same place.
When I learned I had lymphoma, I spoke with my good friend and former co-worker, Mark Prater. He had a scare and underwent chemotherapy a few years back, and I wanted to talk with him about his experience. We went over how bad news about your health can help you prioritize your life. I told him I had been hugging my little girl a little tighter in the mornings. Mark has four kids; he understood.
My poor family. I mean, I was huggy before. Now I'm asking for hugs all the time. Heck, I demand them from my four-year-old. "You want a popsicle??? I want a big hug!" And if she wants to act shy, then I take a hug(and add a tickle, if I'm in the mood)
I guess I'm asking you to not wait for bad news. Take a hug today, whether it's from your child, your brother or just a friend. Start with the handshake, if it makes it easier. Tickle is optional.
I'm secure enough to say that.
I've been hugging and enjoying it for years. Whether it's a teammate, a friend or family, get on in here and get some! Sure, sometimes it's the handshake, then slip into the hug. It's more acceptable for the menfolk this way. But no matter how you get there, you end up in the same place.
When I learned I had lymphoma, I spoke with my good friend and former co-worker, Mark Prater. He had a scare and underwent chemotherapy a few years back, and I wanted to talk with him about his experience. We went over how bad news about your health can help you prioritize your life. I told him I had been hugging my little girl a little tighter in the mornings. Mark has four kids; he understood.
My poor family. I mean, I was huggy before. Now I'm asking for hugs all the time. Heck, I demand them from my four-year-old. "You want a popsicle??? I want a big hug!" And if she wants to act shy, then I take a hug(and add a tickle, if I'm in the mood)
I guess I'm asking you to not wait for bad news. Take a hug today, whether it's from your child, your brother or just a friend. Start with the handshake, if it makes it easier. Tickle is optional.
Censorship
I've been meaning to address this for days.
In a post last week, which you can read below, I wrote smartass. It was automatically changed to SmartBLEEP. I'm sure it has been changed again, which makes this more confusing than it needs to be.
This post is my official protest.. against The Man.
In a post last week, which you can read below, I wrote smartass. It was automatically changed to SmartBLEEP. I'm sure it has been changed again, which makes this more confusing than it needs to be.
This post is my official protest.. against The Man.
HOME
They let me go home late Saturday. YEAH!!!
Four-and-a-half days in the hospital will make you miss a demanding four-year-old, a two-week-old who never sleeps more than a few hours at a time and a grumpy wife (who I love very much, and is not really that grumpy)
I didn't feel well and had to get up to pee about every hour because of all the fluids they pumped into me before I left, but home was fantastic. I mean, who cares if you're up all night. The baby was already awake. Every time he cried, I peed.
It's not that they are not nice to me at the hospital. The nurses and staff are great; very kind. And the food is not as bad as the stereotype.
It's the waiting. Ninety-six hours is a long transfusion. And when you add the pre and post-hydration, it's over 100 hours. I take books, crosswords, movies, etc. But that is a long time to kill. Work, of all things, is saving me! A co-worker loaned me a laptop, so I can help produce/write some news while I'm there. It makes the time move faster. And it makes me feel closer to normal.
Plus, the hospital constantly reminds me I am sick. They come in and ask every three hours if I am in pain, then check my vitals. And I spend the entire time tethered to the pump pushing poison/medicine into my body. And the medicines designed to heal me slowly make me feel worse during my stay.
Enough complaining. The good news is I'm probably the healthiest patient on the floor when I'm there.
I met a guy named Bill this time. His wife has lung cancer that has spread to her kidneys and back. She's in bad shape. There was nothing I could tell Bill to make him feel better, but we walked and talked for a while. And I hope he enjoyed the company, because I did, even if it was another reminder of mortality.
Anyway, if you guys could say a prayer for Bill and his wife tonight. If God cannot bring them a miracle, maybe he can give them strength and a little peace.
Four-and-a-half days in the hospital will make you miss a demanding four-year-old, a two-week-old who never sleeps more than a few hours at a time and a grumpy wife (who I love very much, and is not really that grumpy)
I didn't feel well and had to get up to pee about every hour because of all the fluids they pumped into me before I left, but home was fantastic. I mean, who cares if you're up all night. The baby was already awake. Every time he cried, I peed.
It's not that they are not nice to me at the hospital. The nurses and staff are great; very kind. And the food is not as bad as the stereotype.
It's the waiting. Ninety-six hours is a long transfusion. And when you add the pre and post-hydration, it's over 100 hours. I take books, crosswords, movies, etc. But that is a long time to kill. Work, of all things, is saving me! A co-worker loaned me a laptop, so I can help produce/write some news while I'm there. It makes the time move faster. And it makes me feel closer to normal.
Plus, the hospital constantly reminds me I am sick. They come in and ask every three hours if I am in pain, then check my vitals. And I spend the entire time tethered to the pump pushing poison/medicine into my body. And the medicines designed to heal me slowly make me feel worse during my stay.
Enough complaining. The good news is I'm probably the healthiest patient on the floor when I'm there.
I met a guy named Bill this time. His wife has lung cancer that has spread to her kidneys and back. She's in bad shape. There was nothing I could tell Bill to make him feel better, but we walked and talked for a while. And I hope he enjoyed the company, because I did, even if it was another reminder of mortality.
Anyway, if you guys could say a prayer for Bill and his wife tonight. If God cannot bring them a miracle, maybe he can give them strength and a little peace.
Bald is Beautiful
When I first tell people I have lymphoma and need chemptherapy, one of the first questions is, "Are you gonna lose your hair?"
Well, yes, I'm going to lose my hair; all of it, quite likely. arm hair, leg hair, nose hair, couple of back hairs, ear hair and.. let's just stop right there. The hair on my head started falling out in clumps last week, so I shaved it off and made my "bald debut" on the news Monday night. (The early reviews are good)
My wife read online many male cancer patients struggle more than they thought they would with hair loss; that they felt like plucked chickens. I'm choosing, instead, to focus on the positive. In fact, if there were a "best" thing about chemotherapy, for me it would have to be hair loss.
I'm a TV news anchor. That means on any given weekday, I spend 30 minutes to an hour fixing or refixing my hair. Vanity is a necessary, if sometimes unfortunate, part of the business. I wanted to go to a crew cut years ago, because I don't want to worry about my hair. What real man does!!! But if I had gone to my bosses and said, "Ya know, I'm thinking about trying the Richard Gere look from 'Officer and a Gentleman'." They would have replied, "Get out of my office!" And I would have said, with appropriate emphasis, "I got no place else to go!!!" (If you got that joke, you're likely on the verge of being middle-aged. But I'm proud of you, if you did)
And even better, I don't have to shave! I have shaved most every weekday since graduating college. But I plan to give my face a break over the next two months. It's earned it! In fact, I may start calling my chemoterapy "Operation Facial Freedom". I like the way it sounds, and maybe I can get federal funding for it.
Besides my personal comfort, did you see the news Monday night. I have a pretty nice-looking melon. Nice and round. No points or lumps; no strange fat-head wrinkles. In fact, I think my wife, Amy, may want me to keep it. Of course, that's way too much maintenance once the hairs start growing agaian. I mean, it'll be horrible enough when "Operation Facial Freedom" comes to an end.
But maybe the best part of losing my hair is it gives me added chances to be a smart BLEEP. The following are smart-BLEEP answers I came up with for when people ask why I shaved my head:
- Just got back from the Kojak convention in Vegas
- Decided to take up competitive swimming at age 35
- My four-year-old dared me.
- My four-year-old Double Dog dared me
- It's my homage to the 80's cult classic(not really) film, "Powder"
- Shaved it for audition for "The King and I". Still didn't get the part.
- Misunderstood requirements of "Sheer Beard" photo shoot; thought it was "Shear Beard"
If you have better smart-BLEEP responses I can use, feel free to share them with me.
Well, yes, I'm going to lose my hair; all of it, quite likely. arm hair, leg hair, nose hair, couple of back hairs, ear hair and.. let's just stop right there. The hair on my head started falling out in clumps last week, so I shaved it off and made my "bald debut" on the news Monday night. (The early reviews are good)
My wife read online many male cancer patients struggle more than they thought they would with hair loss; that they felt like plucked chickens. I'm choosing, instead, to focus on the positive. In fact, if there were a "best" thing about chemotherapy, for me it would have to be hair loss.
I'm a TV news anchor. That means on any given weekday, I spend 30 minutes to an hour fixing or refixing my hair. Vanity is a necessary, if sometimes unfortunate, part of the business. I wanted to go to a crew cut years ago, because I don't want to worry about my hair. What real man does!!! But if I had gone to my bosses and said, "Ya know, I'm thinking about trying the Richard Gere look from 'Officer and a Gentleman'." They would have replied, "Get out of my office!" And I would have said, with appropriate emphasis, "I got no place else to go!!!" (If you got that joke, you're likely on the verge of being middle-aged. But I'm proud of you, if you did)
And even better, I don't have to shave! I have shaved most every weekday since graduating college. But I plan to give my face a break over the next two months. It's earned it! In fact, I may start calling my chemoterapy "Operation Facial Freedom". I like the way it sounds, and maybe I can get federal funding for it.
Besides my personal comfort, did you see the news Monday night. I have a pretty nice-looking melon. Nice and round. No points or lumps; no strange fat-head wrinkles. In fact, I think my wife, Amy, may want me to keep it. Of course, that's way too much maintenance once the hairs start growing agaian. I mean, it'll be horrible enough when "Operation Facial Freedom" comes to an end.
But maybe the best part of losing my hair is it gives me added chances to be a smart BLEEP. The following are smart-BLEEP answers I came up with for when people ask why I shaved my head:
- Just got back from the Kojak convention in Vegas
- Decided to take up competitive swimming at age 35
- My four-year-old dared me.
- My four-year-old Double Dog dared me
- It's my homage to the 80's cult classic(not really) film, "Powder"
- Shaved it for audition for "The King and I". Still didn't get the part.
- Misunderstood requirements of "Sheer Beard" photo shoot; thought it was "Shear Beard"
If you have better smart-BLEEP responses I can use, feel free to share them with me.
R-EPOCH-N-ME
Normal 0 That’s the name of the chemotherapy the doctors are giving me. R-EPOCH. Each of those letters stands for a drug.
I went to the hospital April 1st to have my tonsils removed. Dr. Johnson told me one abnormally swollen tonsil could mean lymphoma, but that it wasn’t likely. Six days later, April 7th, I learned it did mean lymphoma in my case.
Since then, I have seen three doctors. I’ve also had a PET/CT scan, a MUGA scan, given a bone marrow sample (you haven’t lived until you’ve done this), had a piece of plastic inserted under the skin at the top of my chest, and given more blood samples in about three weeks than I gave the entire first 35 years of my life. Those tests all revealed encouraging news: it appeared my lymphoma had not spread.
The PET/CT scan showed some activity where my big tonsil used to be. It could be lymphosites, or it could be the healing process from my tonsilectomy three weeks prior.
I have what is officially claissified as “Unclassifiable Diffuse Large B-cell Lymphoma with characteristics of Burketts”. Both Diffuse Large B-cell and Burketts are aggressive non-Hodgkins lymphomas. So, the doctors do not want to take chances, despite no signs the cancer has spread. That means three months of chemotherapy for me, followed by radiation treatments.
I plan to update this blog often; daily, if I am up to it. It will not always be about cancer and chemo. But since it is a big part of my life right now, those subjects will surely come up frequently. So, I thought I would start by explaining.
I went to the hospital April 1st to have my tonsils removed. Dr. Johnson told me one abnormally swollen tonsil could mean lymphoma, but that it wasn’t likely. Six days later, April 7th, I learned it did mean lymphoma in my case.
Since then, I have seen three doctors. I’ve also had a PET/CT scan, a MUGA scan, given a bone marrow sample (you haven’t lived until you’ve done this), had a piece of plastic inserted under the skin at the top of my chest, and given more blood samples in about three weeks than I gave the entire first 35 years of my life. Those tests all revealed encouraging news: it appeared my lymphoma had not spread.
The PET/CT scan showed some activity where my big tonsil used to be. It could be lymphosites, or it could be the healing process from my tonsilectomy three weeks prior.
I have what is officially claissified as “Unclassifiable Diffuse Large B-cell Lymphoma with characteristics of Burketts”. Both Diffuse Large B-cell and Burketts are aggressive non-Hodgkins lymphomas. So, the doctors do not want to take chances, despite no signs the cancer has spread. That means three months of chemotherapy for me, followed by radiation treatments.
I plan to update this blog often; daily, if I am up to it. It will not always be about cancer and chemo. But since it is a big part of my life right now, those subjects will surely come up frequently. So, I thought I would start by explaining.
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