Day +40 A Colony of Doctors

Well, I just got back from my latest hospital visit and all is well. My
levels are holding and other than some low potassium levels I'm ok. I
actually got a good sleep at the hospital while the potassium was dripping
into me.

I noticed a neat relationship between ants and doctors. Please understand
that I hold no disrespect for any doctor I've ever met, I just happen to
notice that you act collectively like a ant farm.

Let me explain.

At first I'm sitting in a room by myself. After a short time a younger
doctor (scout ant) comes in, asks some questions and leaves. You wait for a
little while longer, and all of a sudden, doctors are coming out of the walls.
There is a steady stream of doctors entering the room who are most likely
following the scent trail left by the first scout doctor. Like ants, they
attack in groups so that even if you take out a few of them, there are more
to take their place. There are younger "worker doctors" flanking the
"soldier doctors" swarming around my room. They're up my shirt, in my ear,
up my nose. I'm surprised that I haven't been carried away yet since
doctors, like ants possess super strength. I'm sure there must be a "queen
doctor" living in the dark basement of the Foothills Hospital pumping out
worker doctors and such, but I'm not strong enough right now to go exploring
in the Foothills basement, and I don't think I would go unless I had one of
those exo-skeletons like Ripley had when she kicked the holy crap out of the
Queen Alien in the movie "Aliens".

I'm not sure if I'm done being silly, but I'm not done writing so lets
continue.

For those of you concerned about my lower GI tract, I have good news. The
pipes are working in perfect order now. We've survived dairy products,
fruit, and my homemade chili. I actually went and had a Wendy's Spicy
Chicken sandwich today. I'll keep you posted to see how long that one stays
in me. As for everything else, the insomnia is still around, but we've
switched up my anti-nausea meds, and lowered my steroid levels so that might
help.

I think that I'm starting to get used to the decreased energy. I was told
to expect a "mourning" period regarding my activity levels. I fought it for
a while, but I think that was making my short fuse shorter. I've seemed to
come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to be 100% for at least six
months, and I seem to enjoy the quieter times in life more. I love cuddling
my babies, and I find myself contemplating life and daydreaming about the
summer, my 30th birthday in February, Christmas, etc. I've been changed by
this experience, and I'm not sure what the final person will be like, but
I'm starting to get to know him, and he's not too bad. He seems to take
more pleasure in the simple things in life, and it's a refreshing way to
live, rather than bitching and whining about what you don't have, or how
life continues to deny me my motorcycle that I so obviously deserve.

While I'm thinking about it, I have some advice to future residents of Unit
57 in the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. Get yourself a cool necklace. Your
central line will need to be supported by a tie around your neck so there
is no pulling on the insertion point, but the Tom Baker gives you the
equivalent of a white shoelace that you safety pin your central line ports
to. This white shoelace will stick out of every shirt you own, and it looks
like it's from a hospital. I just got in the mail an awesome necklace made
by one of my best friends, Jen McAllister(Jen Morrison). It's a shell
necklace that has orange tinted shells. Orange by the way is the colour
that represents blood and bone cancer so the necklace is even more
meaningful. But I'm serious, if you've got a central line, get every bit of
medical junk off of there that you can. You'll feel so much better. It's
bad enough to look in the mirror every day and see the bald head, the skinny
legs, the sunken eyes, but you don't need a whole bunch of medical junk
hanging off your neck.

Oh, I remember what made me laugh in the Tom Baker today. I was walking out
of the bone marrow transplant department, and I had to walk by the waiting
room for the main ground floor area. Now, this is a big room, and at any
one time, there are about 30 people waiting. Well, the place was packed
today, and the one TV in the corner of the room had been turned to the
Westminster Dog Show or whatever that dog show is. Now, cancer patients
don't look like a very happy bunch, but you could tell that whoever had
changed the channel to the dog show was done and gone, and everyone else was
staring at the damn dog show simply because we've all read everything in the
waiting room. I felt so bad for everyone there, but at the same time,
nobody had the guts to stand up and change the channel. I find that TV's in
the Tom Baker are usually tuned to strange things. The CT Scan room usually
has the shopping channel, and I've seen the weather channel on more than
once in X-ray. I'm guessing it's a motivational thing for the patients.
They get so tired of the shit TV that they make a quicker recovery. I also
heard a rumor that "CODE MAUVE" is actually hospital code to warn hospital
staff of upcoming quality television programming about to appear on a public
TV so that they can change the channel to something more mind numbing.

So, just take this entry with a grain of salt if you find anything
insulting. I love the doctors, I love the Tom Baker, I just found today
rather like a Seinfeld episode. Weird observations about life were
everywhere. The Tom Baker really is a fantastic place, and I owe them
everything, but today was damn funny.

Oh, and if you drive a black Lexus, you're balding, and you like to have
full volume arguments on your cell phone headset as you burrow your way
through traffic on 16th Ave at stupid speeds let me give you some advice
about today.

I make YOU look unhealthy right now. You really need to relax.