tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273227369383508212024-03-05T21:19:14.734-08:00John's "WTF? I've got cancer?" BlogThis is my blog about my cancer ("my cancer," like it's a pet or a hobby). I'm starting it because I'm fairly lazy and repeating the same stories over and over as friends and family ask about the latest development seems really inefficient. This also gives everyone access to the same source material, thus minimizing the "telephone" problem. We'll see if it works and how long I bother to keep it up...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.comBlogger893125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-39753734286556350912016-09-30T12:33:00.000-07:002016-09-30T12:33:06.333-07:00My Final Post<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/8NLv2IJ5unI/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8NLv2IJ5unI?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-75773759957889454852016-09-30T12:04:00.001-07:002016-09-30T12:04:48.900-07:00Last Words<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I want to leave you with something</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>But I almost forgot<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Was it a closing statement<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Or a parting shot?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i> ~
Vigilantes of Love<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’m writing this late in 2015, long before it’s necessary but while my
brain still functions well enough to actually put the words to paper. I’ve
watched too many people in the final stages of cancer go from functional to
comatose almost overnight to risk waiting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Where to begin? Let’s start here…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Don’t be sad. I’m not. I got 49 years on this planet, and that was
actually more than I should’ve had. I was diagnosed with Type I diabetes at
eighteen, so by rights I probably should’ve been dead by twenty-five. So I got
almost twenty-five extra years. Who can be sad about that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And I’ve had a good life. I’ve had some good friends, done some great
things, and had a pretty good career. Of course, given that I was born in the
late 1960s, raised in Southern California, and grew up to be a straight, white,
tall, male with a decent brain, it probably would’ve been more work to have a
bad life than it took to have a good one. I cannot deny that I was dealt a
winning hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I learned a lesson early on that I’m not sure everyone recognizes:
there’s a difference between a good life and a happy life. And I cannot claim
to have had the latter. I’ve certainly had some happy periods, but by and large
they were relatively brief and separated by much longer periods of something
else. I’ve written here previously that my default affect has been desperate
loneliness, and that has pretty much been true for nearly all of my life. Three
or four decades of loneliness is more than enough. It’s time for me to be
done.*<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
But before I’m done there are some people I’d like to acknowledge. And
since I don’t want this to turn into an Oscar speech, please (please, please)
don’t feel bad if you don’t find your name listed. I’d never finish if I tried
to name everyone who was ever kind to me or important to me. You all know who
you are. But in any case…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thanks to Mum and Dad for being Mum and Dad, and doing the best they
could in raising me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I owe an unpayable debt to my siblings – Kris Bandarra, Tim Streck, and
Catherine Stafford – who were my fellow passengers in our little dysfunctional
family lifeboat, and always there for me when I needed them. I still remember
the Thanksgiving when Mum was going crazy getting ready, and Tim was solicited
to take Cath and me to the movies to get us out of the way. We saw <i>The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thanks to my extended family – Aunt Sue, Uncle Stan, Cheri, Steve, Lori
and Beth – for more Thanksgivings, and Easters and Christmases than I can
remember. And my sincerest apologies for the inordinate number of times I
caused Mum to be absent due to my stress-induced sickness, and for that one
time I actually managed to vomit all over the dinner table. All I can say in my
defense is that I did warn you that my throat was stuffy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Next up, all the spouses, significant others, children and others who
voluntarily joined our little clan. The sibs and I didn’t have much choice, but
you guys volunteered (ok, the kids not so much). Thanks for that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’ve had innumerable friends throughout my life, and I can’t even begin
to name you all here. But, to quote the Golden Girls, thanks for being my
friends. I owe a particular debt of gratitude to everyone who stepped up when I
was diagnosed with cancer. From comments on the blog to bringing over meals or
sitting with me during chemo, you all made my situation so much better than it
otherwise would’ve been. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As documented throughout this blog, the journey through cancer has
brought me into contact with more healthcare workers than I can even remember,
much less name. I’ve talked about a few of them in past posts, but at risk of
repeating myself, I’m going to mention a few more here. I want to again thank
my amazing surgeon at Group Health, Dr. Amy Harper, who was the best doctor
I’ve ever had care for me. She insisted on treating me as a human, and made a
relatively terrifying situation tolerable. The world needs more doctors like
her. More generally, all the care I received during that first week of
diagnosis was spectacular – and very much appreciated. I also want to thank
Claire Stockhausen, my PA at the SCCA. I don’t know how many patients Claire
must be caring for, but I’d guess it’s in the hundreds. Despite that fact, she
always made me feel like I was the only person she was thinking about. I can
only imagine how difficult her job is, but I can state for a fact that Claire
is phenomenal at performing it. Finally, let’s talk about nurses. The nurses on
the tenth floor at Virginia Mason Hospital. The nurses in the infusion center
at Group Health, and on the infusion floor at the SCCA. I can’t even begin to
name them all, but every single one of them made my experience better. They
were kind, funny, attentive, overworked, concerned, honest, informative, creative
and caring – and they made my experience so much better than it otherwise
could’ve been. Thanks to all of you for all you did to extend my time on this
planet as long as possible, and to make that time the best it could possibly
be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
(Is that the music starting up? Time to wrap up…)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As I said above, I had a good life and a pretty good career. That
career basically spanned two jobs. After finally giving up on grad school, I
spent the first nine years working for the Office of Sponsored Programs at the
University of Washington, and the remainder working for the Seattle Children’s
Research Institute. At both places, the people I worked with were the best:
dedicated individuals doing difficult and frequently underappreciated jobs. I
would not have had the career I had were it not for those people. Moreover,
while it might sound like brown-nosing, it’s a little late for that and I do
need to mention my two primary bosses in those jobs. Carol Zuiches saw
something in me at OSP, and gave me countless opportunities to prove what I
could do and use my skills to their best advantage. I’m grateful. And they say
that no one lying on the death bed says, “I wish I’d spent more time at work.”
The fact that I am leaving this world with so few regrets – I rode motorcycles
across Vietnam, I saw penguins on Antarctica, I took my nieces and nephews to
far away places, I stepped on all seven continents – is due to the compassion
and tolerance of my boss at Children’s, Jim Hendricks. Some debts can never be
repaid. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I would like to note for the record that the happiest day of my life
was August 23, 2008 – my wedding day. The marriage didn’t work out, and fault
for that is largely mine, but loneliness can lead to poor choices. I loved my
wife, Adelia Yee, on the day we got married, and I’ve loved her to this day. I
just couldn’t do it in the way she needed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last, but not least, I’m going air a few pieces of laundry. From about
1995 to about 2005, I was part of a family unit with Elaine Ackerman and her
daughter, Cassie. Sadly, things got very difficult – as they sometimes do – and
our little family exploded. But a year after my diagnosis, they found my blog
and Cass reached out to me. It was perhaps the greatest act of generosity I’ve
ever received, as she had plenty of reason to just close her browser and go
back to her life. Instead she became the daughter I never knew I wanted, and
the friend I desperately needed. I’ve accomplished a few things in my life that
were pretty cool, but, again, for the record, the thing I’m most proud of is
Cass. She’s carried a lot of pain – too much of it caused by me – and come
through the other side as the kind of person I wish I could’ve figured out how
to be. The fact that she gives me some of the credit for the good parts of her
is the primary reason I’m leaving this planet not feeling like I completely
wasted my time here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And with that, I guess I’m done. Weird to think that these 1,500 words
are probably the last substantive, coherent thing I’ll communicate. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My apologies for any hurt I’ve caused to anyone, whether intentional or
inadvertent (which is worse, I wonder). And if anyone out there is worried
about any hurt you think you may have caused me, please, forgive yourself and
forget it. It doesn’t matter in the least.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Live long and prosper…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
May the force be
with you…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
So
long, and thanks for all the fish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
* For the younger readers out there, here’s one simple lesson I learned
the hard way which might help you get more out of life than I did: when you’re
eighteen years old and a twenty-three-year-old model wants to have sex with
you, YOU SAY YES!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-67552441835414197492016-09-30T12:02:00.001-07:002016-09-30T12:02:31.742-07:00Many thanks...Many thanks to all those who made John's last days so beautiful.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8L3pxN7a2v3LCWAzNWQAHqPmaGpmGOQB0nGnsLc1HVBWta9QOfOa1pCM636vNAViI33QrPBwQ8-rZYdGyYcqYvzZwylsGPusv_6YHjjK8HJk2gtApF3WTY6DFtSpaDsgTl1di2n9wMWn/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8L3pxN7a2v3LCWAzNWQAHqPmaGpmGOQB0nGnsLc1HVBWta9QOfOa1pCM636vNAViI33QrPBwQ8-rZYdGyYcqYvzZwylsGPusv_6YHjjK8HJk2gtApF3WTY6DFtSpaDsgTl1di2n9wMWn/s320/IMG_0009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVspZjUedN1JPdEmqIHnMZuretcQrhjHubtwvT9qwPWuFrscOxbSokOC1-MK9LAr-0Xu2B_aM3Gyzr75SwRV3zZrt0iCyMb9-KMK7TuNooP11osqWYNwiEeZ1fc0Xpx6jdYjZr3HYGbPBA/s1600/IMG_0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVspZjUedN1JPdEmqIHnMZuretcQrhjHubtwvT9qwPWuFrscOxbSokOC1-MK9LAr-0Xu2B_aM3Gyzr75SwRV3zZrt0iCyMb9-KMK7TuNooP11osqWYNwiEeZ1fc0Xpx6jdYjZr3HYGbPBA/s320/IMG_0040.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPoWBXhO-RjrtGrTbqZZ5WHGcwWp0Xl_SSdlpjn4Bw6gNyqujAS2WiaWjnMUdli0gVH32ip1TZH-d_8BXcCv_VBQ8MrDmyCKGQSFUxgcmKIkvYBbfVxtwj9dlwjRMdWbuaYS4IDhPqQdZ/s1600/IMG_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNPoWBXhO-RjrtGrTbqZZ5WHGcwWp0Xl_SSdlpjn4Bw6gNyqujAS2WiaWjnMUdli0gVH32ip1TZH-d_8BXcCv_VBQ8MrDmyCKGQSFUxgcmKIkvYBbfVxtwj9dlwjRMdWbuaYS4IDhPqQdZ/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDH8ApttV_VBwfjHtDSlvhySLxI14ut_I-Q3aQb16kgm_QiW-ahWbzGKc93Y67SNmEsQfGVg-JYDcyABZf2sH61CY92ZVsMl1PTMqxGa_WVhUzJgLoPnP8vhByGqS7zkkOS77kJRLOXbZ_/s1600/image1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDH8ApttV_VBwfjHtDSlvhySLxI14ut_I-Q3aQb16kgm_QiW-ahWbzGKc93Y67SNmEsQfGVg-JYDcyABZf2sH61CY92ZVsMl1PTMqxGa_WVhUzJgLoPnP8vhByGqS7zkkOS77kJRLOXbZ_/s320/image1.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5tbQpkI2QcXJX3jGA7ALTXAD-P3B_1zxlyhtsuvxHU3Df7EiC2puTKcrcjW-HkvmsS96wAKLERBCiahmO6xFe51NxGBSyJWF60NOXp4R62T3rjLI7p_reXSizYlfyV-VMFsscYfzwTz6/s1600/IMG_1501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5tbQpkI2QcXJX3jGA7ALTXAD-P3B_1zxlyhtsuvxHU3Df7EiC2puTKcrcjW-HkvmsS96wAKLERBCiahmO6xFe51NxGBSyJWF60NOXp4R62T3rjLI7p_reXSizYlfyV-VMFsscYfzwTz6/s320/IMG_1501.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-Ib73HxZiGYlLATq0hPYb5t_nxcD3klyD9Sbgx3UEOBjFkyo9IHExNMt9viUPZ_6PGIYHNUAWglmZ3qB0F3SnQZvslI_PQ8mSqH-FULYXB3LBq2RPataOqquM0HmmnVoVut1Ls_LuR4-/s1600/IMG_1502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-Ib73HxZiGYlLATq0hPYb5t_nxcD3klyD9Sbgx3UEOBjFkyo9IHExNMt9viUPZ_6PGIYHNUAWglmZ3qB0F3SnQZvslI_PQ8mSqH-FULYXB3LBq2RPataOqquM0HmmnVoVut1Ls_LuR4-/s320/IMG_1502.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzdMV6M4ndzYJxWgIC41JDK-20UXpIhPTYJ7tzQeqcKroW1T-IAaAYOYg8vomEgedpxq2aFHGDDiG_ygeeh9m505CzbB4NVAXb-LTRPepysKSmyM4k7bzLFKgL0NRqPcghlPcRsSfewR5/s1600/IMG_1498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfzdMV6M4ndzYJxWgIC41JDK-20UXpIhPTYJ7tzQeqcKroW1T-IAaAYOYg8vomEgedpxq2aFHGDDiG_ygeeh9m505CzbB4NVAXb-LTRPepysKSmyM4k7bzLFKgL0NRqPcghlPcRsSfewR5/s320/IMG_1498.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-54141818137557593292016-09-30T09:49:00.000-07:002016-09-30T09:49:29.174-07:00A Lifetime at the Movies<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
In retrospect, it may not have been the wisest of choices, but I spent
my life at the movies. I loved the movies. Science fiction, horror, drama,
rom-com, kid flick – I didn’t really matter what it was, but put me in a dark
room with a glowing screen and I was happy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
If I was looking to blame anyone for this, there would be two people at
the front of the line. The first would be my dad. My parents divorced when I
was twelve or thirteen and, like a lot of dad’s in his position, my dad wasn’t
really sure what to do with my sister and me on his designated weekend. At the
time he was living in a crappy little apartment next to the Santa Monica pier.
If you know the area, you know that if you start at the pier and drive down
Santa Monica Blvd for a couple of miles, and then turn left on Westwood Blvd
you wind up in Westwood Village, which, in the 1980s, was one historic movie
theater after another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
So my sister and I, we spent a lot of our Dad weekends at the movies.
But then he moved to New Hampshire and the Dad weekends ceased. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Filling the movie gap was my friend’s mom. One of my best friend’s in
junior high and high school had really interesting parents. From an outsider’s
perspective, they were about as opposite as two people could be. His dad was
tall and thin and never really said much. If you saw him around the house, he
was typically watching sports. But his mom was short and kinda round, would
chat up a storm, and she loved the movies. She seemed to want to see anything
and everything that came out. But my friend’s dad wasn’t a movie fan at all. He
liked sports. So if she wanted to see a movie, she’d go alone. And she did.
She’d see the first matinee of whatever movie came out that Friday, and, on her
way in, buy tickets to the first show after school for her son and his friends.
So she’d see the movie, whatever it was, then pick us all up after school and
drive us back to the theater so we could see it. I saw a lot of movies on the
day they were released largely thanks to Scott’s mom. It’s a habit that stayed
with me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then there were my college roommates. Best Thanksgiving I recall
was the one where we all elected not to go home, and instead rented stacks of
movies and spent the weekend watching them all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like I said, I spent my life at the movies. So in trying to provide a
summary of my life, it occurred to me I could do it with some help from the
movies I saw. I can’t say I saw all these in the year they were released, or
even that these were necessarily my favorites, but at some point and in some
way they were important to me. And oddly enough, strung together like this,
it’s not an entirely inaccurate perspective on my life – or even of my
generation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Making this made me both happy and sad. I hope watching it produces
only the former… </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/vstz6c5QNYY/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vstz6c5QNYY?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-35291693369021749702016-09-27T17:16:00.002-07:002016-09-27T17:25:39.064-07:00Saying goodbye to Sib 3<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.5467px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
It is with excruciating sadness that we, John’s siblings, make this post on his behalf. As many of you already know, John Matthew Streck left this world <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_403051909" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(204, 204, 204); position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">on Sunday</span></span> morning, September 25<sup>th</sup> at 4:03am. John fought to the end and was surrounded by many who loved him in his final days.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.5467px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
We are profoundly sad without our brother and his passing will leave a huge void in our lives. We can’t thank you all enough for your love and support for John. He was simply an amazing human being! He was our super hero.<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.5467px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
There will be a few more posts on John’s behalf. John knew this time was coming and he had prepared his final words on his PC. These are being posted without edits or changes in honor of John and his final wishes. Again, many, many thanks for all of his friends who made our brother’s life fuller! He has taught us by example to live fully, love deeply and seek great adventures. We will miss him every day and live by his example, in his honor.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0uFblpIOtGbf6nhhPK64Ddk5hw31b9FXq_M2_74BlkylWCWYnhzzmm-yV4Zyjmfj51ukbSnMIa_BiZQ8AqrN5yMrlijoYgTJHQtMftc1LcyUQGgWZMZ1rjo4E0FZJnzwn2L1lPuk8bWhS/s1600/IMG_1462+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0uFblpIOtGbf6nhhPK64Ddk5hw31b9FXq_M2_74BlkylWCWYnhzzmm-yV4Zyjmfj51ukbSnMIa_BiZQ8AqrN5yMrlijoYgTJHQtMftc1LcyUQGgWZMZ1rjo4E0FZJnzwn2L1lPuk8bWhS/s320/IMG_1462+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.5467px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-16043122082556121292016-09-21T16:00:00.002-07:002016-09-21T16:00:25.298-07:00Trading Cancer Treatment for Hospice Care<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WiQkaXwZm3mYtAB7iqN8h36zyHLP-DkmJuHw0ESXq1vlfZZ0ZsUYOrRr5DTPxv9-uOceGq0H0RvEb_i5y8bgTP9PuGMCSV9mDYL2hxPjhKKZaHKQaKyMFFePcSJqjxKS5f9G3VsYW975/s1600/Hospice3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WiQkaXwZm3mYtAB7iqN8h36zyHLP-DkmJuHw0ESXq1vlfZZ0ZsUYOrRr5DTPxv9-uOceGq0H0RvEb_i5y8bgTP9PuGMCSV9mDYL2hxPjhKKZaHKQaKyMFFePcSJqjxKS5f9G3VsYW975/s200/Hospice3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wednesday (last) morning I received a visit from the hospice care folks. It was an educational visit, and I felt like I learned a lot. There are a number of different providers doing hospice care in Seattle, with the big two being Providence and Evergreen. Because they had immediate availability in their calendar I got connected to Evergreen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With Evergreen, the bulk of your care is provided at your home by your designated nurse. To start with the nurse will stop by once a week and then, as your health situation shifts, that may increase to a couple of days a week. Additionally, Evergreen has a sixteen room facility where they can move people who need 24/7 care and observation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But the most interesting thing about hospice is that it's really about who pays. As a terminal patient, you basically have the choice of your oncologist (or whatever) managing your care of having the hospice folks do that. You can always change your mind about who you wish to choose, but you can only choose one at a time. But while your care is being managed through hospice, hospice calls the shorts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Another interesting thing is that, at least in my case, my oncologist remains a crucial part of the team. As the hospice care nurses are trying to sort out next steps they are likely to reach out to my oncologist to get his opinion on the proper action.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So it really feels like they're bringing all the right people to the table, which I like.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then there's all the other support personnel that get assigned to your case. I get a social worker</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">who will stop by every other week or so, and then they have representatives of the various flavors of the chaplaincy. And I'm sure I'm missing a few others.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But the people who stopped by were all very nice, as were the folks I've met subsequently. Now if they can just get their targets achieved, I'll be a very happy boy.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-9882982222809898152016-09-20T21:17:00.002-07:002016-09-20T21:17:53.476-07:00The Tuesday Surprise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjIm5yQPDTAaRiFVKsi2TFnjy-iossNatqHDI5UG3xGEq6jI_-IxYZc4weMXZlEbnLOwOOEGfp9QGuYmCwBXnDTE694nEx8ktoXYfPLxBtNGwvVBYmM6yurgRL1-cOrTIzq6KcBP84Fn_/s1600/Hospice2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjIm5yQPDTAaRiFVKsi2TFnjy-iossNatqHDI5UG3xGEq6jI_-IxYZc4weMXZlEbnLOwOOEGfp9QGuYmCwBXnDTE694nEx8ktoXYfPLxBtNGwvVBYmM6yurgRL1-cOrTIzq6KcBP84Fn_/s200/Hospice2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tuesday morning was my appointment with the Diabetes Care Center. There's not much to say about that, except that I did point out that I was dying of cancer and so didn't want to spend a lot of time fine tuning my diabetes care. Happily, they were ok with that, so I was able to move on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But the interesting thing was that while I was sitting in the waiting room I got a call from the scheduler at the SCCA asking if I could come in at 1:00 for a conversation with my oncologist. So I did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Long story short, after the week or so I'd had, my oncologist decided it was time to stop the cancer treatment and move me onto hospice care. He didn't have enough hope that the clinical trial would do much, and it was clear that the pain I was experiencing was becoming the central core of my problems, and so he wanted to move me into hospice care where ameliorating the pain and increasing my general comfort would be the focus of the provider team's attention.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It sounded good to me, and so I was told that the hospice folks would be stopping by my condo the next morning to explain how things would work. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-82366469402057151542016-09-20T20:52:00.000-07:002016-09-20T20:52:07.866-07:00The ER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbX4xUlhTFJhvr0_dPIGXCmY4stgV1yz7uyLlGhY-9BRy8i0rtu2D0hHNWzQBk_s5uRBwv0vnOSJXgdjVpe7Pa2wmhaLbWxHmXJixngxOPvHDak84WiJbW7iXVlrN3wnYil0w5gyrB9IU/s1600/ER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbX4xUlhTFJhvr0_dPIGXCmY4stgV1yz7uyLlGhY-9BRy8i0rtu2D0hHNWzQBk_s5uRBwv0vnOSJXgdjVpe7Pa2wmhaLbWxHmXJixngxOPvHDak84WiJbW7iXVlrN3wnYil0w5gyrB9IU/s200/ER.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So Monday (last) was the trip to the ER. My friend Leslie gave me a ride, and then Sib4 showed up a bit later, which was all good since they could keep each other company while I basically tried to avoid falling into a comatose state. </span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All things considered, it was a pretty dreadful visit. As is always the case in a visit to the UW ER, your provider is basically a trainee. In my case, said trainee had a lot to learn. For example, when dealing with a patient with terrible abdominal pain who, at the moment, is propped up in the bed, one should not just unhook the head support of the bed and drop it flat. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yeah, that hurt.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And truthfully, the rest of the visit was kind of pointless. The only effective part was that I was given dilaudid, which is a very nice painkiller, but after that I was given a host of laxatives which, for the most part, I'd already taken and which are generally ineffective. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And we won't discuss the suppository, since that was just incredibly unpleasant in so many ways.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But once I'd been given all the ineffective drugs, I was sent on my <strike>merry</strike> way. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All things considered, I can't really say I'm impressed with my designated ER. I miss the Group Health Urgent Care Clinic. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-42583196503720614372016-09-17T10:34:00.001-07:002016-09-17T10:34:20.630-07:00Sunday and Monday Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QWBopIW6rGkGPn4ai85Aw4rEQGXGzP1q_fi3LpDQEd40PffPDmSposHMQRryhkhczdHbHBZ3o3G-ZdoPYn2Afqwu1AO6CFQsFz8KXW9c3IceETll0fXlzInLkVpGJjEvl02cEXQcQVdP/s1600/pain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QWBopIW6rGkGPn4ai85Aw4rEQGXGzP1q_fi3LpDQEd40PffPDmSposHMQRryhkhczdHbHBZ3o3G-ZdoPYn2Afqwu1AO6CFQsFz8KXW9c3IceETll0fXlzInLkVpGJjEvl02cEXQcQVdP/s200/pain.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don't really remember much about Sunday except, well, pain. I've written previously, and probably to excess, about my feelings on pain, so I won't repeat myself except to say, Props to anyone who's been put into a position where they have to live with chronic pain. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like on an extended basis.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, Sunday was pain day. Lots -- and lots and lots -- of Oxycodone and hyperventilation, but not much else that I can remember now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I made it through the day, and subsequent night, and was able to call in to the palliative care center first thing Monday morning. After an hour without a response, I called my oncologist's coordinating nurse and was able to have a chat with her. She promised to get back to me, and hung up to go have some conversations with the palliative care folks, my oncologist, and anyone else she thought needed to provide input.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">About forty-five minutes later she called back with some new instructions: go to the ER. And so for the second time in just a few weeks I was headed back to the ER for abdominal pain.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-28215913811004171882016-09-17T02:48:00.001-07:002016-09-17T02:48:20.932-07:00Learn from My Mistake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5Q_OYsccsjYnmhK4lC6BMIvbCzqc7l5iPKraRsj6TJ7BBxU8w02o6odIJ3XuMysazuLfopr5F5fevhyphenhyphenrmF8y_Z-Zt2_MhcEoQVGK1ygnt23cvzPFz89D3ugw27dvqbcwLUnIJUf_iml_/s1600/insomnia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5Q_OYsccsjYnmhK4lC6BMIvbCzqc7l5iPKraRsj6TJ7BBxU8w02o6odIJ3XuMysazuLfopr5F5fevhyphenhyphenrmF8y_Z-Zt2_MhcEoQVGK1ygnt23cvzPFz89D3ugw27dvqbcwLUnIJUf_iml_/s200/insomnia.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>We interrupt this tale of the past week to bring you the following emergency life lesson...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If your doctor prescribes you a steroid, be sure to ask why. Lots and lots of times. Many, many times. Repeat yourself liberally. Interrogate him or her freely until you are absolutely convinced that you both understand, and agree, as to why the steroid is a good idea. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because there will be a price to pay. Specifically, if you're like me, you won't sleep. At all. Possibly ever again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My doc wanted me to start taking Prednisone, and so today I did. Oops. And the even bigger oops is that I can't for the life of me remember what it was I was trading away my sleep for exactly. I'm sure it was important, but I'm also pretty sure I wasn't really absorbing the fact that this drug was going to have this particular side effect. (They did tell me not to take it late in the day, but the last time I checked 9:30am was not late in the day.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I hate this side effect. The only side effect I hate worse these days is constipation. So I'm telling myself that the Prednisone was supposed to help with the latter, which is about the only thing that makes it tolerable. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, yeah. If you wind up in a similar situation, don't take the steroids lightly. Nasty, nasty little drugs...</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-85253189475226305102016-09-17T00:41:00.000-07:002016-09-17T00:41:08.037-07:00Here's to Fentanyl and a Few Small Meals a Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDg2mB6QujUujZABhcKtWZbEynMvVYZaRtCM0OlTy8VjQ8h5qkzd6Bh412mY0tjigHa93MLiBRC3W4tFRNuxU3DwgZw5H5zUXxyv0o5PF1PZMqoRFgCbcNfqVu26jEVW4lfvNkE5ofj3x/s1600/caprese+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDg2mB6QujUujZABhcKtWZbEynMvVYZaRtCM0OlTy8VjQ8h5qkzd6Bh412mY0tjigHa93MLiBRC3W4tFRNuxU3DwgZw5H5zUXxyv0o5PF1PZMqoRFgCbcNfqVu26jEVW4lfvNkE5ofj3x/s200/caprese+salad.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Saturday was a joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first thing I did when I woke up was to swap out my Fentanyl patches. In so doing, and per my palliative nurse's instructions, I doubled the number of patches I stuck to my stomach.* And within a few hours, I actually felt pretty good. Good enough, in fact, to eat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I had a tiny bowl of caprese salad. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then a few hours later I had a small fruit and protein smoothie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And a few hours after that I had another round of caprese. (First lesson in cooking for one: learn to enjoy seeing the same things appear at multiple meals, which, admittedly, isn't hard with caprese.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then still more hours later I had some yogurt.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I went to bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I woke up on Sunday and learned that the multiple small meals throughout the day idea as a solution to abdominal pain was complete and total bullshit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">* Metaphorically speaking. They actually gave me bigger patches, so I got double the medication with the same number of stickers. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-26296470984418874412016-09-17T00:24:00.001-07:002016-09-17T00:24:22.342-07:00The Beginning of the End<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AQ8jsA-cEQztXFu6zSyVqlF-pp6ekQ12IuqN8KVgKJGzK6Vix93MCcq72qoaM4qq3R2xs173NPF0l8aiHmZGX54sWrd_vBT9tZgdoQTy5J0vLxictYP8ts0yq2U7ITRDQUsnEfJYA4nd/s1600/mean+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AQ8jsA-cEQztXFu6zSyVqlF-pp6ekQ12IuqN8KVgKJGzK6Vix93MCcq72qoaM4qq3R2xs173NPF0l8aiHmZGX54sWrd_vBT9tZgdoQTy5J0vLxictYP8ts0yq2U7ITRDQUsnEfJYA4nd/s200/mean+girls.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Friday (last) was a cornucopia of appointments at the SCCA: labs, PA consult, Palliative Care consult, nutritionist consult, infusion, and even a surprise visit from my oncologist. All in the wake of an extended period of chronic pain.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A lab draw's a lab draw, so let's start with the PA consult. My usual PA was on vacation, so my appointment was with one of the others on the team. She arrived with an entourage: the research coordinator for the study I'm on, a nurse from the palliative care group, and a third person whose role I can't recall. And I have to admit, when they came into the room -- four attractive women all seemingly under the age of thirty -- I couldn't help but think of the mean girls.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Which is not to say any of them were "mean." Just the opposite. Like everyone at the SCCA, these four were definitely working hard in pursuit of my best interests as their patient. Unfortunately, I sort of got things off on the wrong foot -- multiple weeks of chronic pain can do that to you -- by insisting there were things they weren't telling me. Specifically, my pain had progressed to the point that it was exactly -- and I mean exactly -- like the pain I'd experienced in the days leading up to my initial visit to the urgent care clinic and subsequent cancer diagnosis. This is to say, I was pretty convinced that whatever tumors had emerged in my colon were back to blocking. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This had two effects: first, we spent the first ten or so minutes of the appointment with the PA explaining all the reasons why I couldn't have a blockage and printing out copies of the scan reports that substantiated that conclusion; and second, I'd done a pretty good job convincing the group of them that I was bonkers. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Happily, I had the perfect counterargument to the belief that I was bonkers: I was in excruciating pain. So when we reached the physical examination portion of the appointment and the PA began her palpitation of my abdomen, I shrieked and just about levitated off the table. Suddenly, I seemed a lot less bonkers. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I still walked out of the appointment with instructions to keep on doing the same things I'd been doing, only more so. Ah well.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Next up was the infusion. An infusion's normally just an infusion, but this one featured guest stars. First up was the nutritionist. Given the pain causing properties of all the solid food I'd eaten over the previous weeks, I was really hoping the nutritionist might be able to give me some recommendations on ways I could eat without my guts exploding a few minutes, hours or days later. It was a nice conversation, and she left me with a list of foods with high calorie to mass ratios that would be my best choices under the circumstances. She also recommended eating many more much smaller meals throughout the day rather than two or three large meals. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the midst of my conversation with the nutritionist my oncologist stopped by. He'd clearly talked with the PA, heard that I was unhappy, and so wanted to check in. Given all that was going on it wasn't the most focused of meetings, but we did talk a bit more about the potential benefits of the trial I'm on and the current treatment focus, and I appreciated that he was engaged with trying to address my current problem set.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The last person who stopped by was the palliative nurse I'd seen the last few times. We talked a bit about the outcome of my appointment with the PA, and she made some tweaks to the instructions. Specifically, she dropped a couple of the laxatives from my regimen, and increased the Fentanyl. In her opinion, it wasn't worth continuing to try a laxative that hadn't worked, and my current dosage of the Fentanyl was low enough that making the smallest possible increases just didn't make sense. If the pain wasn't close to gone, as it wasn't, better to just crank it up.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so with all of that in play, we (Sib4 and I) stopped by the pharmacy to pick up the new drugs, and headed home. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-56361128810085313742016-09-16T02:10:00.003-07:002016-09-16T02:10:49.569-07:00The Last Trigger Warning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAf5vb0JbbZSvMhzyXHfOmUB_QO0Uj1q3_I9leYi1iNUupaunPG5m4FH9FaEg_G4yLerQDKXWfNAxaYAhnnF8ZH2WQL_dxCkstoE5OMDYlsPBXR3inbCdtcrlaQTWawLJDW-IoGRFsuEOH/s1600/gunfire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAf5vb0JbbZSvMhzyXHfOmUB_QO0Uj1q3_I9leYi1iNUupaunPG5m4FH9FaEg_G4yLerQDKXWfNAxaYAhnnF8ZH2WQL_dxCkstoE5OMDYlsPBXR3inbCdtcrlaQTWawLJDW-IoGRFsuEOH/s200/gunfire.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Previously, I've tried to post warnings when a blog post might cause -- uh, shall we call it unhappiness? -- unhappiness. Well, I think we've reached the point where pretty much any and all of them might fall on the sadder side of the scale. So here's your warning: Things may be sadder than usual from time to time and from here on out.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Additionally, a heads up that you might start hearing from some other people in the near future. I figure the last week is far from as a bad as it's going to get, but blogging was just a bit more than I could manage. So before things get too much further I'm going to give at least one or two additional folks access so that they can at least post updates when I'm too tired, or too drugged, to do it. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Finally, like all things involved with dying, I had some plans for how to ride (write?) out this blog that just aren't going to happen. The thing I'm rapidly learning about dying, even when you know exactly how it's coming, is that you don't know anything about how it's coming. Things you thought would never happen do, while the things you thought were guaranteed to happen don't. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even in a case like mine, we're making it up as we go, and responding to new constraints as they arise. Which is not what I expected but then, as I'm learning, what the hell do I know about anything?</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-43618896575560112352016-09-15T23:55:00.001-07:002016-09-15T23:55:45.704-07:00Ever Had One of Those Situations Where You Thought You Were Doing Something for Somebody Else but Really You Were Helping Yourself?<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Note: There's no way for me to write this post without sounding like an egotistical, self-aggrandizing nob. Sometimes, when the shoe fits, all you can do is wear it...</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Before I stopped working, my boss asked me if I'd thought about how best to give the people I'd worked with over the years the chance to say goodbye. I had to admit I hadn't, but, happily, some others had thought that there might be benefit to having an event where I could hang out, we could have some snacks and drinks, and a folks could stop by for a chat. </span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last Thursday we had that event. Before it started my boss warned me that I'd be surprised by the number of people that would show up. Indeed. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was surprised by the number of people that showed up. Aside from my friend Anne who flew back from Boston, it felt like I talked with a couple of hundred people. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And here's the funny thing. Before I arrived, I had thought I was attending for the benefit of the folks who'd be carrying on after I left. I didn't particularly want to be haunting the halls like Jacob Marley, and it seemed the least I could do was give the folks who would find it helpful the chance to say goodbye. But it didn't take long before I realized that all of the benefits from the event were mine.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Like, I suspect, most of the working population, I work in a job that one would generally describe as thankless. My colleagues and I perform our tasks, and we assume (though who really knows?) it has value somewhere down the chain, but for the most part we're guessing more than knowing. And if you don't find the work itself motivation enough, you generally move on to something else. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But imagine if you could spend three hours at the end of your job listening to people tell you that the work you did had positively impacted them, making the work they did easier to do or better. How gratifying and overwhelming would that be?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That was the gift my my colleagues gave me: three hours of being told that the work I'd spent nine years doing had mattered. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've said it before, but there are some gifts that just can't ever be repaid. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkwec4qKhrvm-hydtr3nWweRkgN20IU8L8Isdlsw5lLqy9UFcEqRdfYFqO1kEnFok81Ygz-0Vwhywv8T2-2B0gzfcVKvh-fDw9HD1BORziKqMesQBhdCXnomsDyxjgpAiZZKpSywb0PO1/s1600/IMG_3014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkwec4qKhrvm-hydtr3nWweRkgN20IU8L8Isdlsw5lLqy9UFcEqRdfYFqO1kEnFok81Ygz-0Vwhywv8T2-2B0gzfcVKvh-fDw9HD1BORziKqMesQBhdCXnomsDyxjgpAiZZKpSywb0PO1/s400/IMG_3014.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">The key to attracting a crowd: have good snacks...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOxiaYt-HgeLaUjn2wlmW58PAo5z46v_UdzzddQMkcfxN1eorrRCuZPg9_ejJURfumaUGUqu7OO8f4sbnnqdtg4-Pdb_GUr0zFq1f7S-_y8TbOjk_R6-PV4YBdrTeMdnlIz5wAUt3EoPr/s1600/IMG_3049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOxiaYt-HgeLaUjn2wlmW58PAo5z46v_UdzzddQMkcfxN1eorrRCuZPg9_ejJURfumaUGUqu7OO8f4sbnnqdtg4-Pdb_GUr0zFq1f7S-_y8TbOjk_R6-PV4YBdrTeMdnlIz5wAUt3EoPr/s400/IMG_3049.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A few of my minions*</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">* To explain: As part of my job I managed three separate teams. Since I occasionally needed to reach out to them as a group or schedule group meetings and whatnot, I created an Outlook group with the alias, "Minions." Eventually they figured it out, so one of them had T-shirts made that read, "John's Minions" (including the world's worst picture of me), and they all wore them to the event. Have I mentioned how easy it is to look like you know what you're doing when the people you work with are awesome? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-87802480323651435912016-09-15T06:01:00.000-07:002016-09-15T06:01:17.884-07:00Some Potentially Helpful Reminders<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I learned this past week that the blog's recent inability to comprehend and present the fact that Ireland is a separate, and uniquely valuable nation, independent of, and emphatically not part of, the United Kingdom caused a few hard feelings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I certainly apologize for my geopolitical ignorance (which certainly doesn't stop there), and in an effort to make amends have come up with this list of <b><i>Five Things that Might Help One to Remember that Ireland Is Its Own Independent Nation and Not a Part of the UK</i></b>...</span><br />
<br />
<table class="tableizer-table"><tbody>
<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62WLh2UowBkdqD4H_VVh10NT_uphokx2f_9iDNOwCxZf9GVPHWoftyXKO_-RpClnp8TKouxwqsp-6x2fjRnxzI19yDBKXDsURi5czIFCAiTJj9MZYAoqKZft4ozoYVb5FybU7eO7KuEPf/s1600/wolfhound.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62WLh2UowBkdqD4H_VVh10NT_uphokx2f_9iDNOwCxZf9GVPHWoftyXKO_-RpClnp8TKouxwqsp-6x2fjRnxzI19yDBKXDsURi5czIFCAiTJj9MZYAoqKZft4ozoYVb5FybU7eO7KuEPf/s200/wolfhound.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br /></td><td></td><td style="vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>#5, The Irish Wolfhound</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's not many dogs that can stand up and look at me eye to eye, so props to the country that produced one that can. And the fact that they also a) look like a little black rain clouds (relative to other clouds, not other dogs), and b) are very sweet and mellow, is further credit to the people that groomed the breed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></td></tr>
<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8691CyxQGEb_7iYxpuuODMrmkxQ-30dci-QEVEzV6lBPKXoNYX0s0D6sZqXpbbSXk5oxTMDWXnvzHNqqGZrrNs3qIM2gzlTWttMbdAzZQyO_FzCzg68hz_at9R5DYjnPmrcmEo6NNE9H2/s1600/fighting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8691CyxQGEb_7iYxpuuODMrmkxQ-30dci-QEVEzV6lBPKXoNYX0s0D6sZqXpbbSXk5oxTMDWXnvzHNqqGZrrNs3qIM2gzlTWttMbdAzZQyO_FzCzg68hz_at9R5DYjnPmrcmEo6NNE9H2/s200/fighting.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br /></td><td></td><td style="vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>#4, American Football</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For purposes here, avoid European football. Way too many "international" competitions with teams coming from places that aren't actually nations, so that sport's actually more confusing than helpful. Look, instead, to American football, which loves the "fighting Irish" (of whatever variations or flavors). Not too many "battling English" or "marauding Swedes" out there, but lots of Irish. So thinking of football may serve as a useful reminder of Ireland's independence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></td></tr>
<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRPMyfq-_pJAfoOITHHJMHxYQxnvj3y2Qgen4Y0obwjUHBwjl-B7DAZNZqAVzWnbpYhrNbKCS9pHn925-yTaE3P7UJDXYs1uJrPkMC2asPnj8pywh3x7ONSfPStIcT96i8ynb_ro-xIBV/s1600/Happy-St-Patricks-Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRPMyfq-_pJAfoOITHHJMHxYQxnvj3y2Qgen4Y0obwjUHBwjl-B7DAZNZqAVzWnbpYhrNbKCS9pHn925-yTaE3P7UJDXYs1uJrPkMC2asPnj8pywh3x7ONSfPStIcT96i8ynb_ro-xIBV/s200/Happy-St-Patricks-Day.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b><br />
</b></td><td></td><td style="vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>#3, St. Patrick's Day</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We don't have a St. George's day, a St. Albion's day, a St. Sebastian's Day or, to the best of my recollection, a St. Anyone's day other than St. Patrick. And since St. Patrick -- patron saint of green beer or something -- is so distinctly Irish, remembering that there's a St. Patrick's Day should help serve as a reminder of Ireland's independent status.</span><br />
<br /></td></tr>
<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRtkZh8JKEGZInJ8fTVifhtcqPqnoWoDRbXMlAxgBs4s4hhMv_Svg23Ob-UeIaLxgA0viANxzoIdk_6amTZrqv7QVTB596gWD1rf5ZNZC2QLiW0y2KmrksFiGK81dSI5HmSL0hkVIzvnf/s1600/U2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRtkZh8JKEGZInJ8fTVifhtcqPqnoWoDRbXMlAxgBs4s4hhMv_Svg23Ob-UeIaLxgA0viANxzoIdk_6amTZrqv7QVTB596gWD1rf5ZNZC2QLiW0y2KmrksFiGK81dSI5HmSL0hkVIzvnf/s200/U2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></b></td><td></td><td style="vertical-align: top;"><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">#2, The All-Important Musical Questions</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></b> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Can you think of any contemporary (to me) rock bands that self-identify primarily as, say, Welsh or Scottish? Go ahead. You can Google it. I'll wait. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Next question: Can you think of any bands that self-identify as Irish?</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
Need I say more?</span></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisG-nj7fEi7OGe2-CXSNZ0xThXmyzbPc8crGPsqzmsJ6g6_oCa3aDxyryomv1yASC-qPTPXHvjMdZBFJUMjddh8KCGNpHx4kUvWVkgTvBXWUgKK_UgLVEj6FUMcp6DLZ69CWQDgX6vRzqe/s1600/IMG_4371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisG-nj7fEi7OGe2-CXSNZ0xThXmyzbPc8crGPsqzmsJ6g6_oCa3aDxyryomv1yASC-qPTPXHvjMdZBFJUMjddh8KCGNpHx4kUvWVkgTvBXWUgKK_UgLVEj6FUMcp6DLZ69CWQDgX6vRzqe/s200/IMG_4371.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></td><td><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></td><td style="vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>#1, My Friend Anne</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Last Thursday, my employer had a <strike>wake</strike> <strike>party</strike> going away event, to give the folks that had worked with me the chance to officially say goodbye, rather than have me ghost out the back door and disappear. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">More on that event in a bit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Imagine how gobsmacked I was when my friend, and former co-worker, Anne walked through the door. Anne and I worked together on various committees and projects from the time I started until 2013(? 2012?), when and left to take a job on the East Coast. But she elected to spend her hard-earned cash, and well-earned vacation time, to fly back for my event. As someone who has been the target of occasional criticism and lamentation over my weirdo introvert's inability to make friends, all I can say is, how many social butterfly extroverts can claim friends that flew across the country to attend their goodbye events? </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Score one for the introverted weirdos. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But that's hardly fair. Anne's flight out probably says a lot more about how kind and considerate she is, than it does belie the fact that I'm an introverted weirdo. Which leads to my actual point of mentioning all this in that Anne is from Ireland, and takes great pride in her homeland, and so now I feel a little bad that my blog slighted Ireland's political status as an independent, and uniquely valuable nation, only to have one of its best representatives show up at my event. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I, for one, will now think of Anne, and absolutely remember that Ireland is not part of the UK. It seems the least -- almost literally -- that I can do. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-9441710581010526842016-09-10T22:27:00.001-07:002016-09-10T22:27:51.924-07:00I'm Ok, Just Tired<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltt2NQux225pBEsNIoDhAgxJVaJ2dtwV2Py3yeoUt8JRxGvlKT8xaJNcgSQMvUOgctIBifuhLNijcDRH_qGEu4AFmQtfzfWtKqasqJpdXhxmuaklKHoAH4DCKFX3n9exrdawiolB7Aq-O/s1600/Question-Mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltt2NQux225pBEsNIoDhAgxJVaJ2dtwV2Py3yeoUt8JRxGvlKT8xaJNcgSQMvUOgctIBifuhLNijcDRH_qGEu4AFmQtfzfWtKqasqJpdXhxmuaklKHoAH4DCKFX3n9exrdawiolB7Aq-O/s200/Question-Mark.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Haven't had enough energy to post updates for the last few, generally eventful, days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Soon I hope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I'm still breathing.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-13469483442244251222016-09-07T18:51:00.001-07:002016-09-07T18:51:21.378-07:00One of Those Brief Flashes of Enlightenment (by Way of Sib4 and Instagram or Something)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4hxl-Qfn_BdIbiOpUm4MFjHJF5oaHIxzqAlKzBZ_nZcbfexBj3TzS7GXu3ZkLK_TEM_nAXUbYgvFOYNYRkwm8hjC2VcAqtUcLzUAjUD5SIZq6dxhJQ-cDExeAoDTXCfoqIWkKfZC6bP-/s1600/V__27C4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4hxl-Qfn_BdIbiOpUm4MFjHJF5oaHIxzqAlKzBZ_nZcbfexBj3TzS7GXu3ZkLK_TEM_nAXUbYgvFOYNYRkwm8hjC2VcAqtUcLzUAjUD5SIZq6dxhJQ-cDExeAoDTXCfoqIWkKfZC6bP-/s1600/V__27C4.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-70156786534801248082016-09-07T16:57:00.001-07:002016-09-07T16:57:26.928-07:00My Balloon Popped<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1gy_LJ2YVGG3L5c6KqtjR3esZPNrOeYAYvYWQRy0B7QITexMtyftlJB8F6qUT2t5RIzxjcFGmgivlhYMzeU21yITt3VEW25AKFuCmzIl4h7WzLt_-8r7NDdYT3fsluqdHy0KGxNSUXkk/s1600/popping_balloon2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1gy_LJ2YVGG3L5c6KqtjR3esZPNrOeYAYvYWQRy0B7QITexMtyftlJB8F6qUT2t5RIzxjcFGmgivlhYMzeU21yITt3VEW25AKFuCmzIl4h7WzLt_-8r7NDdYT3fsluqdHy0KGxNSUXkk/s200/popping_balloon2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Or maybe it was the fact that it's now raining. Either way, today's balloon ride across the skies above Woodinville has been cancelled. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So we have rescheduled for next Friday. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am very much hoping we do not have to reschedule again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Calendaring becomes more and more interesting with each passing day. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-3097376077171731592016-09-07T03:39:00.000-07:002016-09-07T03:39:13.800-07:00House Rules<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD1vninMUJ888jgURcdHwC3w1QJOiPcrQd454UyV-tRVcrttQCoC-M9ry8aJDnWGrsZ_uYnRvwUletJCcfvifmquMVIt_0iKqKCSTvzFxeS9cPdzKeKom1_AJp2-ynjYUuBsWU9wcY1C7/s1600/house-rules-signage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD1vninMUJ888jgURcdHwC3w1QJOiPcrQd454UyV-tRVcrttQCoC-M9ry8aJDnWGrsZ_uYnRvwUletJCcfvifmquMVIt_0iKqKCSTvzFxeS9cPdzKeKom1_AJp2-ynjYUuBsWU9wcY1C7/s200/house-rules-signage.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>(Fair warning: Some of those reading this are going to find it less than cheery, but if you have plans to stop by my condo at any point you may want to slog through it. It'll save some unnecessary surprises.)</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Over the course of the past week I've come to realize that I've reached the point where it's time for some house rules. As a result, I'm posting the notice below on my front door. I'm posting a copy here, not because it's relevant to anyone not planning to stop by, but because most of the people who do stop by are also reading the blog and this will give them something of a heads up, thus helping to prevent any unexpected emotional breakdowns on my front porch.</span><br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Please read <u>before</u></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">ringing the doorbell</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hi!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />The occupant of this upstairs unit (that’s me) has terminal cancer. It’s no biggie -- that’s life (& death) -- and I’m not looking for sympathy. I am, however, looking to minimize the number of times I have to walk up and down the stairs behind this door. So please…<br /><br /><b>If you’re delivering a pizza </b>–- Ring the bell. No doubt I’ve got visitors and someone will be right down.<br /><br /><b>If you’re here to make a pitch for a candidate, advocate for an upcoming ballot position or otherwise talk politics </b>–- Can we just not? I know how I’m voting, will be doing so just as soon as I get my ballot, and a three minute conversation with a stranger isn’t going to change anything. But it’ll send me to bed for a two hour recovery nap. The only thing ringing my doorbell will result in is a letter to your organization with a few strong words and a copy of this notice. <br /><br /><b>If you’re here to sell me something, ask for a charitable donation or otherwise separate me from my money</b> –- Again, let’s just not. Given my situation, I’m not going to subscribe to anything, upgrade my broadband, upgrade my cellphone, make a donation, or anything similar. You’ll just be wasting my time and yours.<br /><br /><b>If I know you and you’re expected</b> -– Just come in (the door is sticky; it helps to push at the bottom corner with your foot), give a shout and come on up. <br /><br /><b>If I know you and you’re unexpected</b> –- Same as above, but you might wait for me to shout back before you head up.<br /><br /><b>In all other cases</b> -– Ring the bell, but be patient. It may take a minute or so for me to make my way down. <br /><br />One last thing:<br /><br /><b>Please, please, please don’t let the cat out. </b>I really don’t have the energy to track her down and fetch her back. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;">
Thanks for your understanding,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
john</div>
</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-51284986895691224352016-09-06T21:48:00.000-07:002016-09-06T21:48:14.341-07:00How 'Bout a Round of Mostly Real (if Occasionally Snarky) Answers to Some Mostly Real (but also Fake and/or Rhetorical) Questions?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRPIxFK_xW7lWjGPhJTsnBD2ya1VczYw7DWoBrw5qrmDW2cyeiwmpBJYsN-ucAAIzNYOY5FZMxgt4cZFEvqFzpRIOGwYSK_COU8wpbVL2znzkgc95X-Cf7JVzs00yWjXrJbqwH7KzybAl/s1600/press+conference.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRPIxFK_xW7lWjGPhJTsnBD2ya1VczYw7DWoBrw5qrmDW2cyeiwmpBJYsN-ucAAIzNYOY5FZMxgt4cZFEvqFzpRIOGwYSK_COU8wpbVL2znzkgc95X-Cf7JVzs00yWjXrJbqwH7KzybAl/s200/press+conference.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With the possible exception of a presidential candidate, everyone likes a good Q&A...</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
Can I have Kevin? </b></span><div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Unfortunately (for you), no. My colleague and cat sitter will be providing Kevin with her next home. Vickie actually volunteered to take in my generic, to-be-named cat, if the need arose, before I got Kevin. And given how hard it is to pry Kevin out of the house when she stays there, I suspect she'll be thinking she got an upgrade. So it's all good. Kevin's covered.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b>How long do you think before you'll have to give her up? </b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, if I was an ancient Egyptian, I'd have her mummified so that she could keep me company in the underworld. And while that seems a little extreme, I figure it might be nice to have some feline company during the, uh, erm, well <insert personal preference of weird uncomfortable words here>. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At the same time, Kevin's new favorite game may lead to her early eviction. The way the game works is that I sit down and then Kevin tries to drape her body across my lap such that she hits as many of the "oh god, don't touch me there" spots as possible. It seems the cat "wins" -- hey, I don't make up the game, I just get suckered into playing -- when i shriek, stand up and throw her on the floor. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In other words, the long-term duration of my cat ownership will depend almost entirely on whether or not my providers can get a grip on the abdominal pain.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b>Speaking of the pain, how's the Fentanyl working out?</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There's only one answer that actually counts as an answer, and that's "it works perfectly and all my pain is gone." That, however, would also be completely untrue. Despite the patches, the pain is still very much present. This, then, prompts the follow-up, But is it working at all? To which I can only reply, I have no idea. My pain is, say, a seven (on the <i>Big Hero 6</i> populated pain scale of 1 to 10) with the Fentanyl stuck to my chest. Would it be nine without the patch? Or even possibly a three? Again, no idea -- but there's no way I'm running the experiments necessary to find out on my own.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b>Any cool side effects?</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, at this point it could be the Fentanyl, the Oxycontin , the lack of food and/or myriad other potential causal factors, but I am getting some very weird -- and very vibrant -- hallucinations in transition between wakefulness and sleep. I could've sworn some Asian woman was handing me food as I was lying in bed this afternoon, and was honestly surprised not to find a spring roll in my hand when I woke up.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b>I was wondering, is there a reason why your abdomen sounds like a broken aquarium, or possibly a pod of cavorting humpback whales? </b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh, you noticed that did you? I'm sure there's probably a reason, but I can't say I'm optimistic I'll ever find out what it is. Unfortunately, I've definitely noticed that a decline in the quantity, content and clarity of communication between the provider team and I has definitely been part and parcel to this new phase of the cancer experience. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Since we're talking about embarrassing body stuff, any chance you've found the limit to the number of </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ways in which your ass can make your life a misery? </span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I can say this with complete and absolute certainty: There isn't one.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /><b>So should we talk about the hemorrhoids?</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh, hell no.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b>Since we're talking about pain again, if there was going to be a gunfight with the weird cancery abdominal pain at one end of the street and a massage therapist at the other end, who do you think would win? </b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You could arm the massage therapist a machine gun and a rocket launcher, and the weird cancery pain would still win.</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /><b><br />Whatever happened with that clinical trial you were trying to qualify for?</b><br /><br />I qualified. I don't -- and won't -- know whether I was randomized to receive drug or placebo, but whatever it is they'll start giving it to me on Friday. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Any concerns?</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Definitely. It's an infusion. Infusions suck. And who the hell knows what the (real) side effects might be? But in the grand scheme of things, I'm actually a lot more worried about the abdominal pain these days than the potential side effects of the trial.<br /><br /><b>Weird, context-free question: Would it be possible for the host of the American Top Forty radio show to be any more ignorant of how basic statistics, much less cancer diagnoses, actually work? </b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After what I heard on Sunday, clearly not.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br />If it were up to you, are there any words or phrases that you would say should never, ever, be spoken to a cancer patient as if they had meaning? </b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Personally, I'd have to go with, "there's always hope."<br /><br /><b>Last question: clown show or dynastic nepotism?</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oops, gotta run...</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-49267032066325061622016-09-06T00:32:00.000-07:002016-09-06T00:32:06.963-07:00Riding the Wayback Machine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXftm4iowgh-ybl-J_KuYAV5bTUFfLN1pWK0xFFpNDrfSmbINqOYjVaDvWi88mhigmz7xPwRAFFVu4LqLDzmbBkWQKAd-HDnC3J3uOtoOVf8gfFIvRNm4kMf1XCslGtjGLhULQx__MEn3/s1600/wayback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXftm4iowgh-ybl-J_KuYAV5bTUFfLN1pWK0xFFpNDrfSmbINqOYjVaDvWi88mhigmz7xPwRAFFVu4LqLDzmbBkWQKAd-HDnC3J3uOtoOVf8gfFIvRNm4kMf1XCslGtjGLhULQx__MEn3/s200/wayback.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you set your wayback machine to go back forty years and went looking for my family, you'd find us living in Southern California. And if you drove, say, forty-five minutes from our house (note: these are 1976 minutes, not 2016 minutes) you'd also find my grandparents' house and, somewhere in that general vicinity, where my Mum's sister and her family lived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In short, a fairly closely co-located extended family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So as you might image, holidays we're pretty much a set routine: we'd all troop to the grandparent's house, and the kids would roam around the hill behind their house or raid the game drawer, while the adults did whatever it is the adults did. And then eventually there would be food. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And if you were really lucky, the holiday you were visiting would not be one of those during which I barfed all over the dinner table. But let's not waste time thinking about those particular events.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Speaking of time, it is, of course, the nature of time to pass. And it is the nature of things, things like death and divorce, to happen. And it is the nature of kids to get older and to go out into the world to find their own colleges and partners and jobs and careers, and pretty soon an event that filled a house and spilled out into the yard doesn't even require putting the leaves in the dining room table anymore. And then, finally, you're the one leaving and the holiday rituals that defined your childhood become a part of your past.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">All normal. All healthy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But eventually enough time passes that you realize you sort of miss those rituals. And the more you think about it, the more you wish there was an opportunity to cycle back around and relive one of those (hopefully, barf-free holidays) again. And then cancer enters the picture, and the clock starts ticking, and you decide you'll take what you get, 'cause there's not a lot of time left to be choosy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometimes, though, you just have to be lucky. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Because with luck, and a little bit of effort from a variety of people, you can turn some some sketchy plans for a weekend BBQ, combined with a few email messages, some work schedule alterations, and a couple of last minute plane tickets into a full-blown family reunion...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqHGCg0HvEr6rcgO-qCh4YUU94cdT4zqqnj3UNcMsy7EJb5Zihy13t0WLXhrYmYRDiqCR9W56RR-kiRBBwHDpbamlR3dKfGlzSP7h1E5ZpGndSdVk2NZCaxlpMjzoyAuRYR5HvBUjSr2L/s1600/IMG_0306-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqHGCg0HvEr6rcgO-qCh4YUU94cdT4zqqnj3UNcMsy7EJb5Zihy13t0WLXhrYmYRDiqCR9W56RR-kiRBBwHDpbamlR3dKfGlzSP7h1E5ZpGndSdVk2NZCaxlpMjzoyAuRYR5HvBUjSr2L/s1600/IMG_0306-001.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or at least a mostly-blown family reunion. There were a few folks who didn't have enough time to make the scramble, and some members of the next generation are already off pursuing partners and college and life, but still... Given the limited planning time available, the fact that as many people turned up as did was kind of amazing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I couldn't even begin to identify the last time it would've been possible to take a picture like this. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And, of course, the afternoon was perfect. Aside, perhaps, from the lack of bacon grease in the food and the contemporary preference for brewed beverages over the distilled, it was about as close as you could get to a family holiday circa 1977. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So here's to all the cousins and second-cousins, and nieces and nephews, and siblings, and friends who scrambled their schedules so they could make it. In particular, here's to my aunt and my cousin who flew out from Tennessee.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The sense I got is that most everyone found value in the afternoon, but I can't really speak for everyone. I can only speak for myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For myself, the afternoon meant the world to me.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-47462005422291891302016-09-04T23:20:00.001-07:002016-09-04T23:20:49.222-07:00Another Item Off the List -- Plus a Super-bonus, Universal Bucket List Item Check-Off<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I mentioned previously that I was given tickets to Friday night's Mariner game. Which was actually pretty good timing in that a) it's been a couple of decades since I've been to a game, and b) it takes me about ten or twenty years to get over the plutocracy that, despite multiple public votes to the contrary, wound up with the field being built with public funds -- an effective transfer of a few hundred million dollars from the public coffers to the team's owners -- </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and the fact that despite the public funding, a significant portion of the Seattle public can't afford tickets to the games.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But once you get past all that, I have to admit that it's actually a pretty nice field.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">See...</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTFR802qgFOz_1Rzw9EalIylUbJoFIxGtfSFC7AXcO7w5Qxo2zHsYnGeV6IK5cTnAW8H7BHqnvZs1EJoURiNlJjL_lmUlt5FP_ePU7rND-f20sA0wgvuWOEhh14UOnN3Kti_ToDWae7Lq/s1600/WP_20160902_003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTFR802qgFOz_1Rzw9EalIylUbJoFIxGtfSFC7AXcO7w5Qxo2zHsYnGeV6IK5cTnAW8H7BHqnvZs1EJoURiNlJjL_lmUlt5FP_ePU7rND-f20sA0wgvuWOEhh14UOnN3Kti_ToDWae7Lq/s400/WP_20160902_003.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And this was on a night when uncooperative weather kept the roof closed, which is not the best way to see a game. Safeco's definitely better with the roof open.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Unlike the weather, however, the team was very cooperative, scoring nine runs in the second inning. If you're going to put seeing a game on your pointless accomplishments list, you may as well choose a night when the home team wins.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheMl8_w8b6wmsmohyphenhyphenyAdHiYD6G2iYLAj06ZpRl4rIGapSASwvjCRnMonU6HQF7aI24aFEpv6m5dDHSQC4wmv8W4rpiSNpDl4IACbQrnabvPVrNu9EhtrPphx39zxoNqDAxUipPucN1Esc2/s1600/WP_20160902_005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheMl8_w8b6wmsmohyphenhyphenyAdHiYD6G2iYLAj06ZpRl4rIGapSASwvjCRnMonU6HQF7aI24aFEpv6m5dDHSQC4wmv8W4rpiSNpDl4IACbQrnabvPVrNu9EhtrPphx39zxoNqDAxUipPucN1Esc2/s400/WP_20160902_005.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Through truth be told, I actually don't know that they won. When it took sixty-five minutes to get through the first inning, I warned the rest of my part that we likely wouldn't be making it through all nine. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And we didn't. We left after five -- which was still two-and-a-half hours after the game started.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But none of that is the best part. The best part is that it wasn't even on my list, and I wasn't even trying, but I... </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...got to be on TV. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And who doesn't want to be on TV before they die?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You can tell from my picture that we had pretty good seats, but what you can't see is that on my left was the eight-year-old (EYO), on his left was his dad, and next to that were two empty seats and then the aisle. At some point, the EYO's dad bought him a gigantic package of cotton candy, and at roughly the same time the jumbotron started playing some song that involved cotton candy. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At about this point, a cameraman appeared and took the two seats next to the aisle. He explained to the brother-in-law that if the EYO could just naturally watch the game and eat his cotton candy, the cameraman would get him on TV. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so began the most humorous seven minutes of the evening</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">, as the cameraman starts trying to compose and manipulate the situation so that everything seems "natural," while, in order, the brother-in-law, the EYO, myself and Sib2 (sitting on my right) do everything we can to make it all seem weird and unnatural as possible. And then, of course, there was a commercial break, so the period requiring normalcy got extended while the cameraman waited for the broadcast to resume. Props to the cameraman for hanging in to get his shot. He definitely worked for it.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then he was gone, and we didn't really know if we'd made the grade or not. However, the brother-in-law cared enough to stay up and watch the rebroadcast and confirmed that the EYO, myself and Sib2 all made on TV, I think just after the commercial break between the third and fourth innings. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Which matters not at all except, well, hey, I've been on TV. And so by the modern laws of celebrity, and it's primacy over all other human concerns, it's now okay if I die. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even if there's only one person in the world who both knows me and saw the broadcast. </span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-11418391035860867862016-09-03T04:52:00.001-07:002016-09-03T04:52:15.321-07:00I Always Wanted to Be a Regular, but I'm Not Sure Walgreen's Is What I Was Thinking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7O8Or7Zpn7-OlROvPZHejvwv7VlZ0aWoZdJucDqQPdFKlRkNSDBnJqD0u9dJVbZWqwo-dpMZ90dqVMpWoFs0XwqgLmmRZppR52gVVqIJrzJjaV5iqduoy4PDu32UwkUPUzmDudevgURC/s1600/cheers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7O8Or7Zpn7-OlROvPZHejvwv7VlZ0aWoZdJucDqQPdFKlRkNSDBnJqD0u9dJVbZWqwo-dpMZ90dqVMpWoFs0XwqgLmmRZppR52gVVqIJrzJjaV5iqduoy4PDu32UwkUPUzmDudevgURC/s200/cheers.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've never been a huge fan of the show Cheers, but I always really liked the concept of Cheers. Not for a show, but as a way of being in the world. The idea that you could go to a place frequently enough that people would know your name, and know what you wanted to eat or drink before you actually ordered it, always struck me as really kinda cool.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of course, living in the suburbs until very late in life, and not really developing much of a taste for alcohol until very late in life, didn't leave me with a lot of opportunities to become a regular anywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I did sort of do it twice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My first quasi-regular status was at this "cafe" near my office a few years back. Cafe makes it sound nicer than it was, but it was the sort of place where you go in and grab a tray and then they had a grill where they make burgers and hot sandwiches, a sandwich bar where you could get cold sandwiches, and a pretty great salad bar. Eventually, I got to the point where I'd eat lunch there two or three times a week, and I'd always order the same thing. They guy who managed this place would sort of rotate from job to job -- taking orders, prepping food, cashing people out -- and he eventually got to the point where he'd have my order written before I got to the counter. I don't think he knew my name, but he knew what I wanted to eat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I remember one time I got a salad and took it up to pay and he was cashiering. When I explained I was trying to loose weight, he got really animated and spent a few moments explaining that the trick was swapping soda for water. Didn't matter if it was diet soda or sugared, but drinking soda he was convinced made you fat. He'd lost twenty pounds just drinking water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I went back to ordering burgers, he just laughed and said something like, "It's hard to resist a good burger."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I got cancer, which made it hard to eat their food, and then my office moved which made it further than I wanted to walk to get there, and so I lost my regular status.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I think I've picked it up again at Walgreen's of all places. I first noticed this about a year ago when the chemo treatments were sending me to Walgreen's for supplemental drugs on almost a weekly basis. I was standing in line and watching, and I realized this one clerk would ask the people in front of me their name and/or birth date, but I my case she'd just reach back in to the S basket and grab my bag of stuff. After this happened a couple of times, I actually asked her if she remembered by name or had some other trick. As she put it, she had a good memory for names and faces. Which she must've, 'cause that place is always busy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But what really struck me was what happened this past Thursday. I, of course, looked like the walking dead, dragging my body to the pharmacy, and between the scripts I had filled and the basket full of OTC drugs I had with me, you didn't have to be genius to see that I wasn't having the best day ever. And, of course, my drug record in the computer has to read like a horror novel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, the pharmacist was packing up my stuff and she stopped, and looked up at me, and asked, "How are you doing?" After two years of cancer, I can easily tell the difference between someone who really wants to know, and someone making small talk, This woman really wanted to know. So I explained that things were a little rough, but generally I was doing ok. So then she asked if I liked chocolate. And I said, "sure, usually." And she explained that they had some kind of chocolate cake behind the counter and she'd happily give me a piece if I wanted it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I laughed, and said thanks, but because I was diabetic that might not be the best choice. At which point she laughed as well, and said if I ever wanted to come in closer to when I was taking my insulin, they'd be happy to give me some of their cake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm still a little confused about what this cake could've been, but I have to admit that I went home feeling better than I did when I came in. She didn't have to me kind to me, but she was. And it made a big difference. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-57727121860849311042016-08-30T23:27:00.001-07:002016-08-30T23:27:41.007-07:00O Mi Gawd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm1A-ds6o9HdjCF_WJhAofnAdjDYwWX7LGAVUS1VJEkyjiywNtlaEz19o73KZ-Q6JZrhYwamHGi5z_UcD9QY22zWAenuXAO2uitOdeZZrzvNL4xlPMYHZlFHm7k2RwQzm6d9TDOUEcevp/s1600/pain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigm1A-ds6o9HdjCF_WJhAofnAdjDYwWX7LGAVUS1VJEkyjiywNtlaEz19o73KZ-Q6JZrhYwamHGi5z_UcD9QY22zWAenuXAO2uitOdeZZrzvNL4xlPMYHZlFHm7k2RwQzm6d9TDOUEcevp/s200/pain.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yesterday afternoon, a friend and I went for a drive. Afterwards, we went for Thai food. This is what I ate: eight snap peas, three small mushrooms, a bit of a tuna fresh roll, and two glasses of iced tea. And within ten minutes, I was in agony.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So we came back and I tried spending time in the bathroom, then lying on the couch, anything to get back to normal. Nothing worked. So my friend took and Uber home and I took an Oxycontin and a sleeping pill and went to bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I woke up this morning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even post surgery, I think the pain was less than what I felt this morning. So I tried Oxycontin, and methodical breathing, lying on the bed, lying on the couch -- anything I could do to mitigate the pain. None of it worked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Eventually I texted some friends to see if they could grab my prescription for magnesium citrate from the pharmacy. It's only three blocks away, but there was no way I could make it. Happily, one was able to step away from what she was doing and drop it off. Normally, it takes about four to six hours to take effect, you spend a couple of really painful hours in the bathroom, and then you're back to normal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hasn't quite worked out that way this time, but at least the pain has dialed down to something a bit more tolerable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And in the course of all this I made an appointment for tomorrow with the palliative nurse to try to develop some better pain mitigation strategies. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">'Cause I'll be honest: a couple of days like today in a row, and I won't need to wait for killer drugs. I'll just muster enough energy to go outside and step in front of a bus. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This kind of pain isn't survivable.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-427322736938350821.post-62930159055940715772016-08-30T22:36:00.002-07:002016-08-30T22:36:55.147-07:00Medical "Systems" Were Not Designed for the Benefit of Patients<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdUCeRgNvxJpSRrymAqD7shlvtgG5qYDJ5gU0N5HNKz2HGgI5J0VowP0oBX0B1KAZlOD5074l3ADhUKVwffF9mM8S9D3FPDjAu26P0ED5qmuTTBscCy337PFdg9HApXUI1P_1M12O8spZ/s1600/system.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdUCeRgNvxJpSRrymAqD7shlvtgG5qYDJ5gU0N5HNKz2HGgI5J0VowP0oBX0B1KAZlOD5074l3ADhUKVwffF9mM8S9D3FPDjAu26P0ED5qmuTTBscCy337PFdg9HApXUI1P_1M12O8spZ/s200/system.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Last Thursday I was running low on one of my insulins so I went to the pharmacy to get a refill. There I was told that there were no more refills on the prescription, but the pharmacy would contact my doctor to get it refilled. So of course on Friday I got a voice mail from the UW Diabetes Care Center (DCC), where I was forced to go for my diabetes care, letting me know that a) I needed to come in for an appointment, but b) they would refill my prescription so I’d have the insulin I needed in the meantime. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I tried calling back to schedule the appointment, but stupidly called during the lunch hour and so couldn’t reach anyone. Then I got busy at work and forgot about it.<br />
<br />
Recalling the assurance that the prescription had been renewed, on Sunday I went in to the pharmacy to pick up my presumably refilled prescription.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yeah, no. The pharmacist there told me that, actually, the DCC had refused the prescription. Joy.<br />
<br />
So on Monday I called the appointment line for the DCC and, naturally, got voice mail. I left my number so they could call me back, and about twenty minutes later they did. Here’s roughly how the conversation went:<br />
<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>Hi, I’m returning your call. How can I help?<br />
<b>Me:</b> I've run out of insulin, and my prescription has run out. I got a voice message that I needed to schedule an appointment before I could get a renewal, so I'm calling to make that happen.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>Yes. That’s how it works. You have to be under the care of a doctor to get any prescriptions. Who’s your doctor?<br />
<b>Me:</b> I have no idea.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>I don't understand. What do you mean you have no idea?<br />
<b>Me:</b> Let my explain. I’ve had Type 1 diabetes for thirty years. I also have stage IV colon cancer that’s killing me. Thus, I don’t really care about my diabetes anymore. I changed my insurance two years so I could be seen at the SCCA for my cancer. As a result of that change, all my other doctors changed as well. I don’t know who they are.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>So you’re seen at the SCCA?<br />
<b>Me: </b>Yes.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>Oh, then you’ve called the wrong place. You need to talk to the SCCA. Let me transfer you.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Wait! The SCCA does not care about my diabetes. They only care about my cancer. They referred me to a primary care physician at UW Medicine to get me diabetes care and insulin prescriptions. I saw that person once, and that person decided they didn’t have enough expertise in diabetes, so they told me I had to go to the Diabetes Care Center. I’ve been there once. This is why I’m calling you. I need to see a doctor at the DCC who can give me a prescription for insulin.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>So who did you see?<br />
<b>Me: </b>I have no idea. It was some med student or fellow or something. I saw them exactly once. I have no idea who it was.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>Well, I’m not sure how you can expect me to help you if you don’t know who you need to see.<br />
<b>Me: </b>A doctor at the Diabetes Care Center. Pick one. I don’t care. I don’t care about my diabetes. I’m dying of cancer. I just need my insulin so I can stay out of a diabetic coma while my cancer does its thing.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>Let me put you on hold.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Sure.<br />
[musak, musak, musak]<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>Ok, you saw Dr. Somebody.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Ok.<br />
<b>Scheduler:</b> I can get you scheduled to see them again, but the clinic will need to renew your prescription since you’ll have to wait a bit for the appointment.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Ok.<br />
<b>Scheduler: </b>The next available time I’ve got is 8:45 on September 13. After that, the next available is November.<br />
<i><b>Me, internal dialogue with myself: </b>Tell her you'll be dead by November. Tell her you'll be dead by November.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> September 13 is fine.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
So now that I’ve had time to reflect, I’ve got a few questions:<br />
<br />
1. What’s the point of a “medical system” if the people in the system can’t actually see what’s going on? Shouldn’t the scheduler be able to look in their little computer screen and see all my myriad doctors and pick the one that seems most relevant? Why was she so adamant that I provide the name (which she eventually located on her own)?<br />
<br />
2. What’s the point of a “medical system” if the people in the system aren’t actually going to think systemically? I mean, I can pretty much tell you exactly how my September 13 appointment at the Diabetes Care Center is going to go:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They’re going to do a bunch of lab tests.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then they’re going to sit down with me and start up some long-term strategizing conversations. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They're going to not-so-subtly suggest that I go on an insulin pump. They're going to chastise me for not regularly taking my pill to prevent kidney failure, or my aspirin, or the other drugs they've prescribed to prevent long-term problems. They'll probably want me to talk to a nutritionist so I can bone up on my carbohydrate counting. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's what isn’t going to happen – at least not until I push the issue (mwaaahaha):</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No one’s going to look at my medical record in the “system,” see that I’m dying of cancer, and so come in and make the following speech:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Diabetes is a chronic, long-term condition. You’re currently facing a much larger short-term problem. There’s no reason for us to waste your time trying to modify your behaviors to mitigate the possible effects of long-term, diabetes-related problems that you’re not likely going to be around to see. So aside from making sure you have access to the medications you need, is there anything we can do, right now, to make things easier for you? If not, we apologize for wasting your time.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That is what "systemic care" would look like. And frankly, until I get that kind of response, my opinion is that any talk of UW Medicine providing "systemic care" is complete and utter horseshit.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
The medical systems aren’t designed to maximize the quality of your care. They’re designed to maximize the quantity of the system’s revenues.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199860672019283933noreply@blogger.com0