Day +110 Starting Slow

I haven't updated in a while since not much new has happened to me. I was starting to lift weights, but I've found that holding weights in my hands is a new experience in discomfort. why you ask? Well, it seems that Graft vs Host loves to go after the palms of the hands. So I've got a rash on my palms right now, and the sensation alternates between itchy and sore. The steroid cream seems to help a bit, but I'm going to stick to the elliptical machine for a while to build up my stamina, rather than leaving little bits of hand all over my weights downstairs. Oh, did I forget to mention that the little bumps on my hand tear off easily? It's probably much worse than it sounds, but it's still a bit annoying.

I think another reason I'm going to lay off the weights is that I'm not ready to lift the way I want to yet. I don't have the energy most days to complete a workout. Caity tells me that I should start slow and build up to my former self, but it's really frustrating when you can't get through a set without feeling like you're going to faint. So here's the new plan. I'm going to build up my body on the elliptical, while lightly training all my weak points that I found during powerlifting training with Bruce. I found that my shoulders, lower back, triceps, and grip were all weak points when I was powerlifting. Weak points cause injury, which I found out several times, so I've decided to take this recovery time and make strong points out of my weak points. That way, when I come back to training to become best in Canada, I will have a solid foundation in which to really build a powerful body.

Now, I was blessed with a body that responds (or used to respond) well to weightlifting. I think I've been able to retain that ability since I'm up to level 10 on the elliptical after only a couple of weeks using it. I remember a time when I could go for an hour at level 20 with the calories burned per hour display flashing "999". I'm not trying to brag, I just want people to realize just how much cancer takes away from the average individual. I also want to make it very clear how difficult it is to adjust to the "new you". A 45 pound weight plate used to feel as light as a cloud (my biggest squat used 12 of them). Now, the effort in loading one plate on each side of a bar to bench press 135 is a lot of work. I keep having dreams about going back to the gym and re-joining the gang, but I'm not even in their league right now. I would do nothing but slow down the process, so I've got to build myself back up a bit. Oh, and I want to say Good Luck to those of you competing in Okotoks on March 26-27th. If anyone in the Southern Alberta area wants to check out my passion, give me an email, and we'll go down to Okotoks together to watch the lifting.

That's about it for today. Sorry about the lack of gory medical details. I get another dose of immuno-globulin next week, and they've got to pre-medicate me beforehand so I'm pretty stoned during the process. I'll bring the laptop then and write an entry while I'm high, that should make for an interesting read.

Day +106

clI've got nothing new to add, I just figured that I would let everyone who reads this know that I'm not dead. Life is going on as usual, and there's nothing new to report medically. I'll sit down and write on the weekend.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Day +102 Back to the Basement

So this one's going to be short. I've been puttering down in the basement for the last two days seeing what I can do with my weights now that the central line is out and I think that I can accurately state that I lost 2/3 of my strength because of the transplant. Every excersize that I've tried has been about the same. 2/3 of what I used to be able to do. Now to be fair, Caity wants me to tell you that I'm now as strong as a normal person. I'm not sure how that's supposed to make me feel better, but she told me to write it. so that's it for today. Downstairs for 1/2 an hour on the eliptical, and then we'll attempt some light squats in the afternoon with a bit of arms and shoulders thrown in if I feel up to it.

Day +100 A Major Milestone

So this is it. 100 days post transplant. We celebrated by waking up at noon, walking the dogs, and sitting at home watching TV and cuddling the girls. Basically the same routine we always have. We kind of celebrated the 100 day post transplant at my birthday party, but I am amazed at the lack of fanfare in my own head about the event. I made it 100 days with a new organ in my body. The fact that I'm still alive is a bit amazing. But that's just it. I'm not jumping up and down in celebration. I didn't even realize that it was day 100 until about three or four hours ago, so that just goes to show you how meaningful the day was.

Here's the problem as far as I'm concerned. 100 days seems like a lot, but it's not that big of a deal when you're told that it will be a long, long time before I'm declared cured. In my attempt to downplay to bad aspects of my cancer, I think I end up downplaying the good. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy I'm alive, but celebrating 100 days might just be like the Japanese celebrating after Pearl Harbor. If they had known that the U.S. had a nuke, I bet the partying in Nagasaki and Hiroshima would be much more subdued.

Comparing cancer to a nuclear explosion made sense when I first starting writing that last bit. Cancer in most cases hits with a force that no one really expects. It devastates the soul much like a shock wave rips through buildings and flesh. Those who survive the first blast walk the earth pulling out clumps of hair while trying to figure out where their house went. Some of the survivors never make it more than a couple months before giving up, while some fight with every fiber of their being and live. And sometimes the fighters die to.

Now imagine watching that first Nuclear bomb fall from the plane knowing that in a minute, someone you love will be dead. You've now entered the world of the cancer patient's family and friends. It is for that reason that I think I downplay what the cancer effects to people in everyday conversation. No one wants to hear about the bomb. It's too hard for them to hear, so they think "Oh, he was mis-diagnosed" or "It's just like a six month flu". sorry people, it's CANCER. I caught family members and friends on several occasions downplaying the diagnosis when I first told them. My personal favorite is still "It's a good kind of cancer" That one still cracks me up.

Getting back to the role of the Cancer patient's spouse or family, I think they have a harder time with this than the patient. I admit openly to not remembering much about November. I also will admit to not remembering much about December or some of January. I went through some really horrible times, and I only faintly recall a few of them. I don't even dream about them. The rest comes back to me in flashes while reading what other people are currently going through. Caity doesn't like it when I read other people's journals out loud, and I often wonder why until I realize that she remembers every day that I was in the hospital as clear as a bell. While I was enjoying some wonderful hallucinations in my hospital bed, Caity was watching her husband die. Now, we all know that I didn't die back then, but who could have reassured Caity that her husband would indeed make it to 30. All a person in Caity's position can do is hope for something good to come from all the bad.

People ask me all the time when I'll be out of the woods. I laugh to myself every time I hear that. I will never be out of the woods. I have seen my own mortality and I can never go back to the normal world. With cancer deaths rising, rampant obesity, deadly viruses and numerous other diseases floating around, I have to ask you something...

Are YOU out of the woods?

Seriously, do you read this at work, and then think "Wow, poor bastard. Good think I'm not him". I don't smoke. I don't drink. I don't do drugs. I used to work out everyday and I could squat 600 pounds. I got cancer. Caity got a cancer patient for a husband. She lives even healthier than I do and she now has the joy of wondering when she's going to become a single parent for the rest of her life. She didn't even get cancer and she's suffered more than I have.

I guess in my own rambling way I'm trying to make the point that while being a cancer patient sucked a huge amount of ass, I would go through it all again if it meant never having to see someone else go through it. 250 people get diagnosed with my form of Leukemia every year in Canada and I always used to say that I'm glad the cancer picked me, rather than some single mother of two with no health benefits from work. I'd like to change that to include all my family and friends. I would take another three years of treatment if it meant that I never had to see any of my family or friends sick.. I'm not going to get my wish however. Someone close to me, on some future date will get sick and I'll have to watch them from the bedside while wishing there was something I could do.

After you read this, don't send me an email in hopes of disrupting any suicide attempts I may be considering. I'm of sound mind and body, and I'm not going anywhere despite what the tone of this journal entry implies. I want you to stop what you're doing, lean back in your computer chair, and think about how lucky you are. Find anything that you feel lucky for and hold that thought for a few seconds. If you happen to be religious, say Hi to your deity of choice. It's up to you. As for me? I'm going to think about how lucky I am to have a full tank of hot water waiting to fuel my extra-long shower tonight.

Why don't I use today's 100 day anniversary? It's just a number. It's like the odometer in your car. Rolling past the first 100000 kms is cool, but in the end it really doesn't mean much if you get squashed by a Mack truck three days later. 200th day? Big deal. The five year "official" cured date? Oh well.

"When I have lived to the end of my days, only then will I know that I have beaten Cancer." Adam Price. Feb 17th 2005

Day +98 Prednisone Increase...HULK SMASH

Welcome to 4am again kids, which can only mean one thing. A Prednesone increase!!!! That's right. I had to go to the hospital yesterday to get a rash checked out. It's one of the ways the body lets you know that you might have Graft vs Host so they take it pretty seriously. Anyway the rash had gone from just my wrists and elbows to all over my arms and on my palms. It's not contagious, and it's not too itchy but the protocol at the Tom Baker I guess is to stomp on the Leukemia before it has time to do any damage. So here I sit, at 4am, buzzing from the 5 fold increase in my steroids, and a 50 mg increase in my Cyclosporin. I get to go back again in about 7 hours for my weekly checkup, so hopefully I can get this rash to go away within that 7 hours. I'm getting tired of feeling like the Incredible Hulk. Luckily there's no rage like last time, but I'm going to have to refrain from watching Everyone Loves Raymond. When you're on Prednesone, NOBODY LIKES RAYMOND. In fact, you're suddenly able to find fault or criticism with practically everything in life. It's amazing how much garbage there is on TV, and it's even more amazing that I somehow don't have the energy to get off the couch, DESPITE the presence of bad TV.

Oh, has anyone else noticed that TLC (The Learning Channel) has become the car restoration/tacky home reno channel, while Discovery has become the custom bike building/extreme engineering channel? I swear, every time I turn to one of those channels I'm guaranteed to find a car/motorcycle/home/build/renovation/contest/realtv/extravaganza. Don't get me wrong, I usually find those shows rather appealing, but lately I just want to get out of the house and live. I'm tired of sitting in the La-Z-Boy, waiting for the day to end so that I can go to sleep. I'm tired of watching immature men with fragile egos trying to make something practical into over-glorified junk within an insanely short time period. If this keeps up, I might have to go back to professional wrestling. Sorry Caity.

Speaking of which, she just sat down beside me to feed the kids. I rarely get to see the 4 am feed because Caity lets me sleep, but it's really neat to watch. She's got a whole system of blankets and breast-feeding supplies laid out in advance on the couch. All she does is sit down with the babies and everything is within arms reach to breastfeed. It reminds me of a hospital room right before an operation (kind of). Everything nice and neat.......and covered with black Labrador hair. Morley, it seems does not respect the surgical environment, and enjoys sleeping on all the supplies and blankets that Caity carefully lays out each night. All the soothers and such get re-washed.

I've now got Ara in my lap. Let's see if she wants to write anything.

fgfhghjdfdsp0-ikok''

Ok, so she doesn't have her father's natural ability, but it is a pretty good start for a 4 month old. Anyway, I've got to change the child's diaper now so I'm going to sign off.

Later

Day +94 Happy Birthday To Me

BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!!!!!!

Ok, I'm being serious here. Guess what I got for my birthday. Guess how much my wife and my family and friends kick ass. Here's what I got...

Money for MOTORCYCLE LESSONS and use of Jim Price's MOTORCYCLE for one season. That's right folks, I'll have my license as of May and I'll be able to boot around the city to my heart's content. Doesn't that just rock?

Honestly, I really have no words to describe how I feel about my birthday. I know that I make a lot of references to wanting a motorcycle, but it's simply amazing that my friends and family acted on it. Don't worry Mom, Jim's motorcycle doesn't do highway speed so I'm limited to 80 km/h and slower. But that's fine by me.

Ok, let's get off the motorcycle talk and get to something else. I woke up this morning with no nausea. I can't remember the last time that happened so it was quite a shock to me. The only things I did different that I can think of are that I had grapes to take my 7am medications and Hailey totally killed me last night with her 3 1/2 year old energy. I must have done 30 flights of stairs as well as throwing around and running after her from about 5pm to 11pm. So, by adding a light meal in the morning and really tiring myself out before bed, I seem to get no nausea. I'm going to try it again tonight to test my hypothesis, so if you suffer from early morning nausea stay tuned for the results of my little experiment.

I've got nothing else right now. Talk to you later.

Day +93 My Lawnmower Impersonation

Warning: Most of this entry is me dealing with a moral issue and not the fact that I had my central line out today. This entry was written for the sole purpose of helping me work through some issues and is not directed at any individual or group. I'm very sad at the situation that has come up and I need to deal with it, or at the very least get it off my chest.

There are times that I hate the written word. I hated English class because I believed it to be an educational farce. I could read, I could write, but what I didn't appreciate was trying to pull the proper meaning from a story based on the teacher's point of view. I even wrote an essay that criticized the content and marking style of my English class in grade 12 ( I got an A by the way for that paper). Ironically, OAC English was the highest mark I ever received in my entire academic career. Interesting how I can be talented at something I despise.

I guess I went into my journal writing to provide a voice for my soul. I put it on the internet so that my story could help another cancer patient get through his or her day, knowing that someone else has traveled that same road and lived to tell about it. I needed to be true to myself, and capture the passion of the moment in all of it's glory or ugliness. That sometimes meant a swear word or two. Tonight I got a taste of how my words affect other people.

I know I offended someone with my words. They have written me and told me so. So what do I do? I've never met this person so I could simply ignore the complaint and go on my merry way. If I had the ability to do that there would be no need for this journal entry at all. But I can't, and that's the basis for the whole reason I'm up and bothered at 1:30 in the morning.

I once read a poster in my grade 4 French room (with Mr. Garside for those of you from Winona Public......une, duex, troix, SOTE!!!!!) that had a quote on it that has always been a part of my life. I'm going to have to paraphrase here because I don't recall the exact words.

"Swearing is the act of an ignorant mind trying to convey an intelligent thought"

It went something like that. In a nutshell, I suppose it would mean that if you take the time, and think before you speak, swear words are not necessary. I believe this with all of my heart, but there are several problems with this theory.

1. Life sucks sometimes. I've had some days in the past three months that could only be described by the F word repeated over and over and over again. I spent most of Tuesday wishing I was dead in between vomit sessions so if that doesn't call for a huge F@#$, I don't know what does. I've also been writing with a one draft concept. If it hits the screen, it stays in the journal. And for those bad days that I had I offer no apology to the content in this journal. I wanted to capture my true feelings, and some of those feelings were darker than I've ever felt. I could probably go through and edit out the swear words in this journal but it would lose something very important if I did. Cancer does horrible things to the body, and I can think of no better a disease to swear at then that.

2. The second problem is that there are a large vocabulary of words some consider quite offensive while I consider them to be rather benign, if used in the right context It's like certain hand gestures mean different things in different in different countries. All I can remember is that you never make the peace sign in England. I believe that the OK sign in certain cultures represents a particular orifice at the end of the large intestine. Anyway, I never realized until tonight that what I consider inoffensive may bother some people. I always thought I was a minimalist when it came to swearing. In fact, at one point I could stop a room silent if I swore because nobody expected that from me. I certainly don't try to use the BIG FOUR LETTER WORDS in everyday conversation but I never stopped to think about those words that fall into the gray area. You know the ones I'm talking about. We've all giggled at one point or another in our lives while looking up these words in the dictionary. Then to our shock and alarm, we realized that the "But it's in the dictionary!!!!" excuse didn't fly too far with the parents. Well, it looks like I'm guilty again, but this time it means something different, something more important.

I believe in this journal. I believe that it is helping me, and I believe that this journal is helping others deal with the daily garbage of cancer and survivorship. I owed the cancer community a huge debt, and this is how I felt I could best repay that debt at the time. I've only ever seen positive emails about my site, and this is the first time someone said anything to the contrary. So now this is why I'm stuck. This is why I'm still not in bed at 2:16 in the morning. How do I vent my anger, my disappointment, my pain and be true to how I'm feeling without alienating some of my audience. Like I've said before, I've been through days that made me dream of dying. I may have received my highest marks in English class, but I know of no other way to describe the road I've been down (and still travel) than with the words I chose.

I wish that I could keep this journal a little cleaner. My daughters will read this one day, and I want them to be able to know what their dad went through without having to put this journal on the shelf until they're ready. However, I cannot in good conscious describe Tuesday's vomit session as simply "unpleasant". there were days when I went straight to the computer after cleaning the puke of myself in order to catch the mood. I have to continue to write what I feel to be true to my feelings, and if that means a swear word or two, well then I can't apologize. I am however going to make a strong effort to get rid of the casual swearing that I'm sometimes guilty of typing. I have never meant to do anything with this journal but help, and I hope that those of you out there who read this will understand when they see an inappropriate word or two.

I think I'm done with the venting. As for the central line, well he and I have parted ways. My central line now sits on my kitchen counter in a bio-hazard bag. I had to keep it because it was in my body so long it became a part of me. I've actually caught myself reaching for it even though it's not there. I guess I really liked playing with it but I'm not sad to see it go. The cats kept playing with it at night when I slept, and the babies kept ramming their heads into the plastic clips on my line. This is very helpful when you're trying to calm them down at night. Nothing says calm and peaceful like banging your head into a sharp plastic clamp. (Maybe that's why Caity has better luck calming them down).

The line removal went a bit slow since my muscles were too big (I swear to God, the doctor said that....ask Caity she was there!!!!). He kept pulling out the scissors and scalpel to cut me deeper and deeper in an effort to get past my huge neck muscles and get at the line. I wish I could describe the moment he pulled the tube out. They had me focus on my breathing and on the third breath the nurse hauled up on the head rest causing me to get to almost a sitting position. At the same time the doctor did a "Lawnmower pull" and out it came. Think of a foot long tube coming out of your body real, real fast and imagine what that feels like. Even with the freezing there was still a lot of sensation when the tube came out. They also had to make another incision in my upper chest to get at the mechanism that locks to your tissues. I've explained it before, but I'll rehash to save you from trying to find the date that I talked about it. My central line was tunneled, meaning the tube came over my collarbone, and went under the skin about four inches towards my right nipple to reduce the chances of the line being pulled out. They add a device that allowed my tissue to grow around it and lock it in place to make it even safer. I guess there was a lot of tissue on the piece since he cut and snipped for what seemed to be an eternity to remove the piece. After that bit was removed it was basically pull and your done. It was ten times better than the line going in for those who are wondering. For those of you with a tunneled central line, it is a hell of a lot better coming out, trust me. My shoulder is sore and stiff, but other than that the healing process so far has been much better than when the line went in.

I have one more apology to make before I go to bed. This goes out to Jennifer McAllister(Morrison) who made me the fantastic necklace that supported my central line for almost 2 months. I'm sorry, but I have to put it away with the central line pieces. That necklace replaced the white medical string that the hospital provides and helped me downplay the "medical look" of the central line. I may have looked like a guy with cancer, but I felt a little more normal while I wore it. Jen, I love you with all of my heart, I'm looking forward to seeing you soon if your trip is still on, and I'm sorry that all of your hard work has to get filed away in my scrapbook pile. As normal as it made me feel, it became a part of my central line, and as a result needs to be put away so that I can move on.

Thanks for letting me ramble tonight. I had no intention of offending anyone tonight or ever with this little website . In fact most of this entry was centered around the fact that I did offend someone, and was feeling a lot of guilt for it. I learned a lot from the email I received tonight, and I thank the writer (you know who you are). You made me examine a lot of different aspects of my life, good and bad, and that's a great and appropriate 30th birthday present for me. I can't promise that I'll kill the swearing here, but I will try to remember that while this website is mine to do with as I wish, my outgoing emails need to have better attention to editing. I cannot simply blast off emails using the same language I use here without considering the recipient.

And about that "I'm so great at English" stuff I mentioned at the top of the entry. Yes, I am that DARN good and Yes I really think compulsory English in Highschool is a waste of time. I'm sorry to all the highschool English teachers I just offended. Wait a minute....no I'm not.

Night night

Day +92 Last night with the Central Line

It's 2:30 in the morning and it's about 12 hours until I get my central line out. I'm having trouble sleeping because as much as I hate this tube inside me, it's become like a part of my body, and I'm actually going to miss it. It's saved me from at least 100 arm pokes and IV lines, so I owe it some thanks at least. I'm also getting another round of immuno-globulin and most likely more fluids before the line removal. It almost seems like they're trying to get as much use out of the line while it's still there. I can't say I mind because that's one or two pokes I don't have to worry about. I'd be really pissed off if they took out my line an THEN wanted to give me an IV. Watch, now that I typed it out, that will actually happen.

I've got a great story on vomiting that's up next so for those of you uncomfortable with the subject, please avoid the paragraphs in red..

So, I woke up on Tuesday morning to Caity giving me my Anti-nausea pill. For me it seems to work better if I take it at 7 am so that when I wake up around 11 or 12, the pill has already taken on the nausea so that I can take my morning pills. If I take the pill at 12 when I wake up, I'm useless until about 7 pm. Well, on Tuesday I woke up and took my pill, but I felt very strange. About half an hour later I woke up to a level 9 on the nausea scale. To refresh everyone's memory, the nausea scale is a 1-9 with 1 being the least nauseous, and 9 being the "you've got ten seconds to get to a toilet" level of nausea. 0n Why no ten? well, I figure that a 10 on the scale means that you're most likely already puking so a rating scale at that time is rather irrelevant. A 10 on the nausea scale is like a nationwide nuclear war warning system that beeps to tell you that you're in the process of being vaporized.

Well I happened to do that same activity another 4 times throughout the day, and when I wasn't puking, I was wishing I could. I blew so many blood vessels in my eyes that I looked like I got punched in the face. The total food and liquids intake for the day was a glass of water, and a bowl of chicken soup which I ate at around 8 or 9pm. It looks like my body did a 180 degree turn today and decided that I was to feel better. I still woke up feeling like hell, but I assumed that it was severe dehydration that made me feel shitty this morning. As a result of all this feeling sick, I now have a ton of energy and it's 2 freaking 30 in the morning and I'm wide awake. Oh well, better for you since it gives you something to read about while you're avoiding work.

Well, no more talk about vomiting, let's talk about rashes. I seem to have finally got one. The bumps are the same color of my skin, and they reside on my wrists, and elbows. I have no idea why it chose those two spots, but I'm sure that Dr. Chaudry will be happy. He's wanted me to rash ever since I was in the hospital so this will be an early Valentine's Day gift from me to him. It's not too itchy, but every once and a while I need to rip into one of the bumps. Nothing, and I mean nothing is better than a good scratch don't you think? I would want that to be my dying wish if I ever go the way of the dinosaurs. One good back scratch before I die, that's all I ask. It's like the joy of ripping of an itchy scab. Even though you know that ripping the scab off will cause it to bleed more and increase the chance of scarring, I will rip off any itchy scabs I get. I've got a few scars left on my body from some of the bigger scabs I've pulled off in my life, but all in all it was worth it.

I'm going to try sleeping again, but before I do, I want to give a shout out to Adam, my 11 year old brother-in-arms who started his fight to beat Leukemia last Thursday. He's got a central line, and if he followed the same schedule I had, he'll be going through chemotherapy starting Friday. I want you to know that I'm thinking about you constantly in hopes that you get through this with flying colours. I know that I have only communicated with your parents, but I want you to know that I will be here for you anytime, any day. I'm only three months ahead of you in the journey to beat this disease, so I can still vividly remember everything you are about to go through. It's going to be worse than hell at times, but if you need me, even just to talk about your symptoms I'll be here for you.

FYI - Young Adam's parents have followed my example, and have started their own website. I will link it to my site if I get permission from the family to do so. Once I've got the website linked, I hope that all of you will open your arms and sent some cheer his way like you sent me. I admit that it was exhausting checking my email at times, but all the emails I got helped significantly in my recovery and morale while I was hospitalized.

Adam gets admitted tomorrow, most likely at the same time my line gets taken out of me. I'd go on about my nervousness with my central line removal, but there is a young man out there in Calgary somewhere that's got more important things to worry about. I remember how nervous I felt when chemotherapy first started and I feel embarrassed to whine and complain about a little procedure while I know what he prepares for a month from hell. At least it sounds like he's got a wicked entertainment system that can play video games and television at the same time. I highly suggest Mario Sunshine as a time waster. With my High school friend Pete Rainford giving you hints, you'll beat the game in no time.

You know what Adam? I think there are a lot of things you'll be BEATING in the near future. Kick some ass my young friend, kick a whole lot of ass.

Day +87 Bone Marrow Biopsy...Again

I've been a bit tardy with my latest entry so here it goes. I'm recovering from my bone marrow biopsy nicely. I find that walking helps so I've been taking the dogs to the dog park a lot in between vomiting sessions. Yes, I still have that alloying problem of morning sickness. The doctors told me to watch it and call them if it gets worse. Oh good, I get to enjoy a morning and afternoon of nausea for who knows how long. I puked today and it was "unpleasant" to say the least. I figured I was finally over the worst stuff this morning so I heated up a Jamaican patty with a side order of HP sauce and chowed down. Within seconds I was up to a 9 out of 10 on the nausea scale. A 9 by the way means that you've got 10 seconds to find a toilet or pail, but you really don't have a choice anymore as to whether or not you're going to puke. It's happening, so you might as well get comfortable, grab a pillow for your knees, and settle in front of the nearest toilet. For some reason, after I puked I was able to eat the other Jamaican patty, and a Rolo ice-cream cone with no problems whatsoever.

Here's the part that I don't get about vomiting. Once you're done, you can eat anything and get away with it. I could be so nauseous that I can't stand, but after I threw up, I could enter a chicken wing eating contest and most likely win. What is it about vomiting that turns off the nausea effect in the human body? I've puked enough in the past 3 months to write a paper on the subject, but I still have no way of telling why I feel so good after I puke. One of my friends suggested that my head cold may be causing my Estuation tubes to block up, thus throwing off my sense of balance, thus causing nausea, thus causing vomiting. However, this still does not explain the fact that I feel fine at night. If my tubes are blocked and causing me to be nauseous, why aren't they bothering me at night?

Anyway, enough of the puking talk, lets move on to the bone marrow biopsy. Once again it hurt like hell since the doctor needed three tries to penetrate the bone marrow. I guess my powerlifting bones are still intact. On the third try he broke into my hip bone and the pain I experienced was a shocker. For some reason, this biopsy hurt much worse than any I can remember. The marrow extraction happened with an equal amount of pain that I was slightly unprepared for. It actually made me jump!!! The entry wound is healing nicely, and I am only slightly limping as of tonight. I blew a lot of blood vessels in and around my eyes due to the puking but other than that I feel pretty good.

I have to go back to the puking subject for one more issue I have with the whole process. I have so many blown blood vessels in and around my eyes that I look like my wife beat me up. It's a lot of hard work for me and I don't understand how babies do it so effortlessly. I got puked on twice yesterday and both times I felt that the baby in question was not bothered in the slightest before, during and after the puking. How is it that I blow more blood vessels in my eyes puking than I ever do powerlifting 600 pounds, and a baby can smile, puke, and then go back to smiling as if nothing ever happened? That's one ability I'm sad that I lost along the road of life.

Lets get away from puking permanently and talk about the website for a paragraph. I'm starting to get pictures of the babies on CD so I will load the site up with some of the cute ones in the next few days. We had a professional photographer come to our house with her lights and digital camera so any day now a CD shaped package should be in our mailbox. We've used her services before and she rocks. I can't promise a date for the professional pictures, but by Monday I should have some new stuff to help you make it through a Monday morning.

Here's an interesting note. I have a site meter installed on my site and it looks like I get three times as many hits on the site from 8-5 Monday to Friday. This means that most of you are checking this at work and causing your productivity to fall at your respective place of employment. All I have to say is...well, I really don't care when you read this, I'm just happy that this diary is still entertaining people. If I know there's an audience out there, I feel a little obligated to write in here. It helps me deal with life, and I'm creating one hell of a historical record that I can read later in life. Thanks everyone, you really are a big part of my healing process.

Well, that's about it. It's close to bedtime and the twins are fussy tonight. Caity is doing great by herself right now, but I'm going to give her a hand getting them to bed. I don't really feel up to doing much in the daytime, but I'm actually starting to enjoy the whole infant thing so I like to help at night when my energy levels are better and there is no chance of hurling vomit at my own babies. Although it would be poetic justice if I did, since they've puked on me enough times.

Goodnight

Day +84 - Is it OK to Hate Accounting?

Well, I haven't written in a while because I think I've got a sinus cold. It's been doing some pretty nasty things to me since the last time I wrote anything like making me feel like I was back in chemotherapy. I've been puking, and generally feeling like shit for the past 3 days, but luckily no fever or rashes, so the doctor's aren't worried. I'm feeling a bit better tonight and I took a Tylenol Cold and Sinus, so now I'm just waiting for the kids to go to sleep. The weird thing about this sinus cold is that the symptoms change every day. Sometimes it's nausea, sometimes it's a headache. I know I'm not supposed to think that it might be Graft vs Host, but it's hard not to think the worst when you're not feeling well. Lance Armstrong said once that everytime he got sick just after his chemotherapy, he would worry about the cancer coming back. I'm a bit worried as well, but I've got my bone marrow biopsy in two days so I'll know for sure in just a few days how good (or bad) the prognosis really is.

Other than that, I'm stuck in a time loop. You know what I'm talking about. It's every science fiction TV show's favorite plot line. It's where the same day happens over and over again. The babies are finally starting to get the routine of the house and I think the routine is what's causing me to go stir crazy. I need to start my course sometime soon, but I took a flip through the textbook and it's written like a third rate college textbook. Oh, and you'll be glad to know that the online multiple choice questions I have to answer are not time limited, and in the exact order of the textbook, so I can simply flip through the textbook at my leisure and guarantee myself 100% on the online portion of my class. I love classes like this because they really help me stretch my mind (whatever). To make matters worse, the subject is managerial accounting, which is about as exciting as it sounds. It's an interesting life I live. I enjoy my job, yet I clearly have a burning hatred for the subject I have to learn. The good news is that I'm more than halfway done my prerequisite courses for my CMA designation. I'm hoping I can put a dent in the last remaining courses before I go back to work. I figure that I can sit around and read a textbook just as easily as I can sit around and watch TV. Sure, I may still wake up at noon and feel like shit until about 7pm but I can read. I know I'm not in any condition to return to work (unless they allow me to work a 2 hour day) but hopefully I'll be able to come back to work a little more educated and more mentally ready to jump back into the rat race.

That's about it for tonight. It was a whole lot of nothing, but at least it was something.