The Story Begins

My cancer story basically starts at the end of May, when the combination of a work conference in Chicago and taking possession of a new convertible (2014 Mini Roadster*) led Sib2 and I to decide that driving Route 66 in the Roadster would be a really good idea. I drove to Chicago, Sib2 flew out to meet me, and we drove Route 66 to Santa Monica, and then headed home to Seattle.

Problems started in Malta, Montana with a sausage & cheese omelette that seemed to make its presence known for the remainder of the trip.  I figured it was just road food -- chili cheese dog, anyone? -- but by the end of the trip I was sucking down Pepto, Gas-X, Tums and any other stomach remedy I could find like they were going out of style. 

Sib2 and I returned home to Seattle on May 31, and life returned to normal(ish) until June 9. While I have not actually had the experience of trying to sleep through the night while someone stabs me in the guts every ten or fifteen minutes, that's sort of what it felt like on the ninth. At 2:00 I thought, "Do I go to urgent care? Nah, it's just indigestion," then had the same internal conversation at 4:00. At 6:00 I decided I'd get up and go to work and see if I could make in through the day. I made it to the shower. When the pain first hit in the shower, it came with a new added feature: nausea. 

I don't do barfing. Work was out, urgent care was in.


 * A quick note about the Roadster: So when the soon-to-be-ex-spouse (S2BXS) filed for divorce and I moved from the big giant house on Ravenna to a condo on Capitol Hill, the thirteen-year-old pick-up became something of a problem. I no longer had need to drag lumber or bark from place to place, and it was impossible to drive/park on the hill's crowded, narrow streets. So I needed something smaller. And if I'm going to be forced into a midlife crisis I didn't want or ask for, I figured I do it right and get a convertible. Unfortunately, standing 6'5", my options were limited. But I only needed one. And despite being the smallest on the outside, the Mini Roadster had legroom and headroom to spare. There are a lot of things I regret in life, but buying the Roadster isn't one of them. Fabulous, fabulous car. And if it works out that the cancer kills me, at least my remaining time on Earth will be spent in the Roadster.