The Sins of Myself

When I was first diagnosed two years ago, I was pretty sure they were going to say "even though your only 27, the fact that you've drank like a pirate and smoked a pack a day for 7 years is why your fat ass is here". But that turned out not to be the case! My life of debauchery didn't give me cancer, awesome, so what did?

"It's a mutatation in your genes that happened to manifest now. It could have happened when you were younger, it could have happened when you got older, it just happened now".

Ohhhhh, a genetic mutation. I've seen movies about genetic mutations before. THe characters didn't get cancer, one of them shot fire from his eyes. One of the guys had claws and was indestructible for petes sake! How come my mutation didn't make me an X-Man? Better still since the X-Men don't exist, it would have turned me into an "F-Man" which is a thousand times cooler.

Side note. This was the first day me and my oncologist ever met

I can see thoughts running through her head, "is this idiot serious?" "I must have drawn the short straw to get this assclown for a patient", "did he really just refer to himself as an 'F-Man'"?

But being a true pro she laughed as she quickly realized I was bullshitting her and we've had a spectacular relationship ever since. She's one of the few people outside my "circle" (that sounds gay) that gets me and my humor. There are quite a few others, mainly people I went to school with who thought the guy who used to use the Wal-Mart paging system to ask "will Phil Atio please meet his party in the car, agan customer page for a Mr. Phil Atio, please meet your party at the car." If you don't get the joke, you should have paid attention in fucking class.

So again, cannot stress enough how awesome it is to have a doctor in a situation like that who gets you. It is also a huge bonus that her native language is English. I got no problems with the doctors I've met that work here who are from foreign countries, I just don't think they would have gotten my way of looking at things.

But I have digressed far too much, probably to the point of you wondering 'what the hell does this have to do with the title?" A litte so far but not a lot. I said earler that it wasn't my seedy drinking, smoking, steak eating, man whoring ways that gave me the cancer, it was genetic mutation. I didn't think about that much after my initial diagnosis, I spent two months in the hospital receiving daily spinal taps and other chemo treatments. After not responding to the original chemo, we flipped the script and went for the Stem cell/ Bone Marrow transplant. Although the process was hell the result was good. Things were looking up and it had only been less than a year! Hell I only hit one birthday (28) before the transplant.

Fast forward 10 months and it's mid July, I've been out each day at practice working with the players and honing my skills as the "ball coach" (your forgiven if you don't know what that is). Then strangely I started to feel like pure hell every day. Woke up one night and coughed a lung up into my trash can. When I woke up the next morning I was relieved to find out I did not actually cough a lung up, but instead had coughed up a bucket of blood. So back to the hospital for a CT scan. My doc came down after the scan and "yada yada yada, tumor's back, pushing on your heart and were admitting you".

After 3 weeks in and some awesome radiation treatments (NOT) the tumor was shrunk and we decided that infusions of donor cells would jump start the transplant and I could go back to kicking ass and making it rain touchdowns on our foes. Well we know how that turned out, we made very little rain and the infusions were lazier than my neighbors Puerto Rican gardner.

So as I sit here late night at the hospital again, it occurs to me, just why in the hell did my genes decide to mutate now. Hence the title of the post. They said my awesome and badass lifestyle didn't cause it. Was it God? As we can recall from the archives of this very site, I don't believe in God. So to me that can't be it. I've been in one long term relationship in my life, and I know I hurt her when I broke it off, was karma punishing me? I doubt it, she wasn't that nice to begin with, not to mention completely incompatable over the long haul. Did betting that a couple who's wedding I was at would last less than a year karma-fuck me? (FYI: I freaking nailed it, they divorced in 6 months) I doubt it, they're the ones who made a mockery of the institution of marriage (That was hard to type with a straight face).

The reason I'm trying to figure it out is because it's a puzzle to me. I clearly am no saint, and no one would ever claim I was. But I have done good things, and I plan on doing more good things. My first two friends who got married and had children failed me by producing girls, I can't turn a girl into the greatest quarterback the world has ever seen! But my best friend and his wife (also one of my best friends) have gotten themselves knocked up and I think were gonna geet lucky with this child and I will have a protege to teach the many intricacies of the forward pass too. I also turn 30 this year. I think that's supposed to be a big deal, but I plan on spending it playing craps and smoking a Cuban Cigar. (Shhhh, don't tell the authorities)

My doctor came in to see me today and we talked about if this treatment puts the cancer in "remission" than they have several donors lined up and ready to go. There is also a couple of clinical studies they can try to get in. The problem is that the studies are for ALL which is Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, while I have Acute Lymphoblastic Lymphoma, and evidently I'm the only motherfucker in the world who has it! Or so it seems. I'm sure there's some other folks with it too. The best part about seeing the Doc this morning was that it was just her and I so I could ask her questions that i don't ask when Mom is around because she doesn't need to hear them. Primarily, "what are my chances?" The answer to that question is immaterial though, as she explained if she said "your gonna live to be 80, I might not hit 30 this summer, and vice versa, if she says not good, I'll probably end up being a radio play by play announcer for a Canadian minor league baseball team in Manitoba when I'm 75. Living on scotch and Pall Malls (if they even make those anymore).

I guess this post was more of a way for me to ramble and wonder and hopefully make everyone who reads it laugh at LEAST three times during the stories. If your stuck on two then read below as I will tell you the greatest joke I know, warning it is rated R. All the way R. but not till the end.

Fred

The Joke

A young woman named Hariett is about to be married to her sweetheart Robert. The only problem is that Hariett is concerned about the size of her 'opening". She goes to her mother to discuss the roblem, "mother I am a virgin as is Robert but there is no way he will believe me when we go to consumate on our wedding night!"
Her mother says "Hariett, don't worry this is a condition that all the women in our family have, you can do the same thing I did when I married your father. Go to the store and buy some raw liver and position it in there and he will never know the difference"
Skeptical but willing to do anything Hariett follows her mothers advice. She and Robert are married in a beautiful ceremony and enjoy a lavish reception that nearly the whole town attends.
They then return to their new home and engage in EIGHT HOURS of lovemaking. When Hariett awakes in the morning she finds herself alone but with a note on the pillow next to her, and it reads,

My Darling Hariett,
Last night was the most incredible night of my life. To think that we almost ruined such a spectacular thing, it makes my heart sing that we waited until our marriage to consumate our love. I would be there with you even now, but I am already hard at work so I can earn enough money to build us that white picket fence which will be able to corrall our animals and give us a wonderful yard for the many many children I hope that we have. I miss you already and when the work day is over I will be home faster than the wind blows so that we can be together again.

Your devoted and loving husband,

Robert


P.S. Your CUNT is in the sink!

The Results of the dipshit test are in!

Well after one "day" of the new chemo regiment. 9-12 last night and 9-12 this morning, I have a day off until tomoroow night (Thursday). So far I have passed both dipshit tests with flying colors. Both are the same type of test, they give you a piece of paper and you have to write "I am a patient at Barnes Hospital" and then do it again before the next chemo to make sure your handwriting is staying close to the same. Those of you who have seen my handwriting know that this test is about as useful as a cock flavored lollipop. I write in hieroglyphics for gods sake. But whatever, I rock the business. The other part of the dipshit test is closing your eyes and holding your arms at your side and then touching your nose one finger at a time with your eyes closed. The best part of this test is how every single person here describes it, "it's kind of like the DUI test the cops give". To which I get to reply every time, "I've never had to take a DUI test you ingrates, I don't know what's involved!" Needless to say I crushed that part of the test, really taught it a lesson.

Even though I can only move half my face, I'm still doing pretty good with dropping the jokes down here. I think I'm nearing "preferred patient" status. I already had it on the 5th floor, and gained it on the 7th last month, and now if I add the 6th floor that locks up my trifecta of cancer floors. I wonder if they'll give me coupons. I don't know what the coupons would be for.... but I think it would be a classy gesture on their part. A classy gesture for a classy guy, that's only fair. I mean come on, we do live in America right?

That's it for today, as a wise man once said "if you shake it more than twice, you're playing with it".

I'm Baaaaaaaack

If you couldn't have guessed from the title of the post, i am back in the warm and loving embrace of Barnes Jewish Hospital. Only this time I've moved down a floor, from the 7900 genral cancer wing, to the 6900 Lymphoma/Leukemia wing.(hey, thats what I have!) Monday we met with my doctor and found out the results from my PET scan last Thursday. (the one I did not get a boner during)* The results weren't good, but they weren't necessarily bad. What it showed was that the week of Chemo they gave me, followed by 3 weeks of observation did not put the lymphoma into remission, which is what needs to happen before they try to perform another transplant. People sometimes get the wrong idea what "remission" means. In this case it doesn't mean cured it just means "stopped growing" or in a perfect world it has shrunk the various tumors some. So since that failed in spectacular fashion, and I use that term because of how long I was in the hospital and all the various bullshits I had to put up with. Not limited to, but including never hearing from the wonderful and beautiful night nurse. (I blame that on me leaving a day early and having to leave a note instead of being able to actually talk to her like the completely bald 6'1" lurch looking mother fucker that I am) Now I get to start a new treatment attempt.

THIS IS LUMBAR PUNCTURE!

Rob Reiner was dead on in his 1984 classic, Spinal Tap is a MUCH cooler turn of phrase than lumbar puncture. Hell, lumbar puncture sounds downright pussified. (If you've never seen "This is Spinal Tap, first finish reading this column, and then second, punch yourself, and third go find a copy and watch it) Anyway, I was admitted late yesterday because they had to wait for a bed to open up. This morning the treatment began. I had to have a "lumbar puncture" where they remove a couple vials of spine juice to make sure I have nothing neurological going on or any type of cancer in my nervous system. They had to do this because of the problems I had develop over the weekend. (We call this burying the lead) I started getting real bad headaches and then sometime during the night Saturday something hit me and on when I woke up Sunday the left side of my face was paralyzed. It still is, so when I smile only the the right side smiles and I can't wink with my left eye (and winking with my left eye is one of my main moves). Talking to the doctor on monday she thinks it is because of a mass of lymph nodes that showed up on the PET Scan originally in my brain area, and this latest PET scan showed it had grown a centimeter. So yes, I look like an idiot when trying to smile and I have trouble swallowing pills, but I'll get through it. Especially if the lumbar puncture comes back negative and the new chemo sets "remission" off the pressure should come off my brains and my face will be back to it's beautiful self.

The treatment they want to try is 6 courses of cytero-something or other, over 5 days. I'll start at 9 tonight then 9 a.m. then I get a day off. Then after the day off do the cycle again, another day off cycle for the final time and then a day or two of obseervation. The only issues with this chemo is that it can effect different parts of my brain as well so after each dose I'll have to do a bunch of "dipshit" tests. Like writing my name and putting my finger out and touching my nose, and other tests to prove I'm not a "dipshit". I can't wait to be declared "not a dipshit" or maybe it'll be cooler if get the dipshit label. Anyhow I think that's enough for now, I'll update the progress on the dipshit test tomorrow.

Fred

Returning to the PET Scan

One of the first articles I wrote was one about getting a PET Scan, and an unfortunantly timed (ahem) boner. Well tomorrow I get to go at 2 O'Clock and have another one to see what that mega-chemo did or did not do.

Read up on my previous misadventure here:

Allright, now we are up to speed. I get the standard robo-call today from the hospital reminding me that I had the appointment, nothing to eat or drink except water 8 hours beforehand. Then the robot said the most dangerous thing it could have, also "please wear loose fitting comfortable clothes". It's like the damn place is daring me to pop wood while being run through their machine. I'll be filled with the glucose injection along with the sugary drink. If I don't pee before I go into the machine I'll have a decently full bladder, the glucose in my veins, comfortable shorts and boxers, all of which are a great recipe to get, you guessed it, a boner.

I'm excited that I'm not banned from the PET Scan area for life. My only worry is, if the same lady I had the encounter with previously is there, do I pretend nothing happened before? Or should I inquire as to why she never came to help me "ease the tension" so to speak?

I put it to you fair readers, feel free to leave your comments below. I believe I have made leaving a comment as easy as humanly possible. You should just be able to put in a name and then comment. No signing in with google, or your email address. No more of those stupid ass words you have to decipher in order to prove your human. I get an email ever time there is a comment so if I see one that is spam I will just go and delete it.

All right peeps and tweeps it's your time to shine. You make the cll!

Fred