 ©1999-1999 ICFTP What're you, kidding? |
Just got back, put up the entry I wrote while in B'ham. Like to hear it? Here's how it goes:
(oh, the hard drive showed up! After they told me it was backordered and wouldn't be here until tomorrow, of course. Monitor should be here tomorrow.)
19 May 1999:
Heya kids. How're ya'll? I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. Right now I'm sitting in the shade just outside the Original Pancake House (KILLER sour cream and triple sec crepes) in Five Points, south of the mountain in Birmingham. It's a cool place, the meeting of five roads just downhill from Vulcan, the statue atop the mountain, holding his torch high. The torch is lit green if there have been no traffic fatalities that day, red if someone has died. Vulcan's in a bit of disrepair at the moment, and it's something of a controversy whether or not the city of Birmingham should spend money to fix him up. I think they should.
Five Points is lovely right now, people walking by me, a dude in a powered wheelchair just cruised by. Street kids are hanging out by the fountain with the skateboarders, and all sorts of other people are wandering in and out of the restaurants and record shops. There's a big, lovely church to the left and behind me whose bells ring out every fifteen minutes. It's a lovely day and I""m sitting on a bench in the shade, my back to the street, watching the pretty girls go by.
I've been here in town since Monday morning, getting tests done, being poked, prodded, scanned, poked some more. I spent a good amount of time on the BMT unit, where I'll be living soon, and ya know, it ain't that bad. It's small but surprisingly peaceful, and I'm actually sort of looking forward to my time there. I want this shit done, over with. The people on the unit seem very cool and very professional. I like that. I like the feeling of being surrounded by intelligent people who know what they're doing - namely, taking care of me .
They've done some nasty stuff to me these last coupla days. Wanna hear about it? Hehehehe, gonna tell you anyway. Besides the standard drawing of blood every fifteen minutes or so (ok, not really, but when they have to hunt all over your arms for somewhere new to put a piece of metal in, you know you've had enough) I had a bone marrow aspiration done and had my two Hickman catheters placed.
The bone marrow aspiration sucked. I got the joy of laying there with my ass in the air while a big guy DUG into my hip bone with what I think was an antique whale spear. Sure, they numbed me up, and they even gave me intravenous Atavan and Demerol (twice the normal amount of Demerol, too) but it still made me writhe and bite my arm. When it was done I cried. I'm not sure why. It wasn't the pain, 'cause honestly the pain wasn't THAT bad. It wasn't a sharp agony, just excrutiatingly uncomfortable, and I had to lie there and TAKE it, ya know? But I felt so low, so sad.
Sad.
That's what I feel the most when I think about it. Just sad that this has to happen, that I have to put up with these indignities, that I have to endure this seemingly never-ending discomfort. The people at the hospital are very good, very compassionate, smart and capable. Sometimes that gets to me. It's harder than you would think to have such compassion directed at you. It's nice, and I certainly prefer it to NOT having it, but there is a REASON why they are being so compassionate. It's because I need it. I don't want to need it.
Anyway, so the bone marrow aspiration sucked, but what the hell, it had to be done. I talked to the doctor who did it a little while later, and he said he had been through it twice for research purposes! God DAMN! He did the shit voluntarily! TWICE, no less.
The Demerol they gave me knocked my ass out. My mother called while I was all fucked up (of course) and I don't remember a damn thing I said.
This morning Tanya and I got up and walked over to the hospital for my catheter placement. The Hickman catheters are two lines that tunnel under the skin of my chest and into the big vein above my heart. This is how they're going to administer the chemotherapy, antibiotics, fluids and bone marrow transplant. Basically, it's a couple of beer taps to my heart. Right now it is sore as HELL. I feel like a damn Borg or something, with four lines hanging out of my chest. Creepy.
Side note: sometimes I wonder if I got into tattooing so that I wouldn't be afraid of needles, and piercing so that I would get used to having things hanging out of me, so I'd be better prepared for this shit. Hmmm. Anyway-
Getting the catheters placed was a WEIRD experience. There I was, lying on my back in a room full of cool xray equipment, my insides on the four video monitors before me. I had been under the impression that they were gonna knock me out for the procedure, but I was awake and aware through the whole thing. They drugged me up, and a good thing too, but it was still weird. I felt everything. It didn't really hurt, but it was uncomfortable. It was VERY odd to feel things sliding under my skin. They had me wrapped up like a blue mummy, only my eyes and the area of my chest and neck they were working on showing. They went in through my damn jugular veins. Ick. That's what's so damn sore right now. I feel like Frankenstein's monster, big huge bandages on my neck, head shaved bald, bandages on arms, walking all stiff 'cause it hurts to turn my head.
I talked to a dude about my age who's in the outpatient phase of his transplant. The whites of his eyes were yellow, which means that his liver is backing up. Yay. His name is Kevin, seems like a pretty cool guy. He had acute myelogenous leukemia, which is considerably worse than my chronic myelogenous leukemia. Seems to be doing alright. Hope so, at least.
We're almost there, I guess. Almost time to start this thing. I'm headed back to Mobile tomorrow morning for a couple of days. I will be admitted to the BMT Unit on Sunday morning, and the fun begins Monday, with my first dose of chemo at 4am. Hairlessness, here I come. I think Tanya's gonna shave my head bald again tonight. Christy did it last weekend, and I loved it. Felt great.
So you kids stick around. I'm going to be updating as often as I can. Right now, the thought of having two months to just play with my computer is pretty appealing, and also pretty much what I'm focusing on to make all this ok.
'Cause it WILL be ok. :)
On a separate note:
A big shout out to all of you who have written me in the last couple of days!
It has been an absolute blast to get all of your mail while I was up here doing this shit. I found out that Yahoo listed my site as a Pick of the Week, which I didn't even know existed (shows ya how much surfing I really do) and suddenly I have gotten a flood of really wonderful email. You kids rock! I've been a giggling fool in the mornings at the hotel these last two days, logging on with my Newton (which is what I'm writing on now, an MP2000 and I LOVE THIS THING) and getting my mail in the mornings, reading it out loud to Tanya and giggling madly. When I got out of surgery, I propped myself up in the bed and read it all again, and it made me feel so much better. SO! Slap yaself's on the back, or whatever surface is convenient (and if it feels good, please, repeat as desired) and know that if I could I'd grab each and every one of you in a big bear hug, pass around your favorite beverage, spark a dozen or so fatties and we could all sit here in the sunshine and giggle at the world.
Peace and much love to you all. Thanks.