Hello and welcome. Today October 12, 2016 was nearly perfect. Yesterday was better but today isn't over yet. I did very little but had no gripes or pains, no miseries, no weeping bladder fits. It was delighful to live a day without some issue in the urinary works. But lately all systems are running and in good order. I feel so well I want to jump out of my 70 year skin and start dancing or fucking or bowling, just about anything. Instead I'll have coffee and a blunt. So I'm swirling, spinning just like I flet when we hit White Horse on a Saturday night in August.. it was a 3 on a scale of 10 but they worked at it to make it a 5.. seriously it was an out dated, antiquaited old Howard Johnson smack dab across from City Hall. oo being so tired, dined in the restaurant on the premises. We'd considered Tim Horton's but alas it was a few blocks from the motor inn. Not much in White Horse or the Yukon from what we saw... trees, water, someshere wild life, rivers, skies of glory. It was my first visit to the Yukon Territory... a wild and wooley name for a place that likely is that way though I never saw any of it.
So cancer or whatever has afflicted me is gone... you can't imagine the rigors and discomforts of bladder cancer treatments. My life was literally swallowed up.. treatment, ill, ill, ill.. maye better. ok, treatment and so on. Six weeks in a row. Think what that does to your drive, your getting about, walking, reading, having sex... damn cancer, damn treatment. Ain't nobody else tried new ways of treating bladder cancer? I want to know about it. Think I'll Google it up.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Turning 70
Yes, it happened I turned 70... you either do or you don't in this world.... and I'd been sick, rather off for a while. I didn't feel well.. had no energy ot appetite all scary symptoms. But today, today is the birthday of all my furture birthdays whether spent idyllicly here on Cecil or with my kds and grandkids. It feels great to fell good... really great I'm bursting at the seams happy. Think I'll retire for a short nap.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
I used to be indecisive but now I'm not so sure
Hello from the Emerald Isle. The Irish know that a day has 24 hours because a case of beer has 24
beers. or is it the other way round? Can's say enough about our tour guide, a sit down comedian whose diction and dialect are wearing off on me, We've seen some of the most amazing castles, monasteries and cathedrals, and we've learned so much. The ancient conquerers often enough abandoned any plans of conquest because there wasn't a tree tall enough to hang a man, a river deep enough to drown a man or any dirt deep enough to bury a man. But still the Celts came and then the Vikings hordes leaving a lasting impression on the Irish psyche.
After a horrible flight experience we were driven around Dublin until our ankles up and our bellies growled. Finally at eventide we were deposited at Dunboyne Castle for a terrific dinner and a luxurious suite.. even bath robes were included. There was a spa but we were so tired any thought beyond going to sleep was impossible. Our tour of Dublin had included a visit to Phoenix Park, Grafton Street and St.Patrick's Cathedral. The day tired us no end but all the suffering was worth it.
Things got better and better on our third day at Clonmacnoise an early Christian site founded by St.Ciaran in the 6th century on the banks of the Shannon River. It was humbling to walk among the graves of people dead for millenia.. Later that day one of anita's bucket list dreams came true when we visited an active sheep farm, Rathbaum Farm, drank tea and visited a thatched cottage. things got better and better as the farm hand sheared a sheep and I fed a lamb. So the thatched cottage item is off the bucket list. Again we were spirited off to see the wondrous Irish scenery only to end up in Galway at the Raddison Blue, which after the Dunboyne Castle was a bit of a step down. The food has been good but at twelve-thirty last night the fire alarm went off, sending me off to a night of frequent bathroom visits. Anita also woke but in true Anita form went back to sleep.
If today is Thursday, which I'm not certain it is,I'll stop for sleep.It stays light until after 11 so we draw the blinds and collapse. Over and out.
beers. or is it the other way round? Can's say enough about our tour guide, a sit down comedian whose diction and dialect are wearing off on me, We've seen some of the most amazing castles, monasteries and cathedrals, and we've learned so much. The ancient conquerers often enough abandoned any plans of conquest because there wasn't a tree tall enough to hang a man, a river deep enough to drown a man or any dirt deep enough to bury a man. But still the Celts came and then the Vikings hordes leaving a lasting impression on the Irish psyche.
After a horrible flight experience we were driven around Dublin until our ankles up and our bellies growled. Finally at eventide we were deposited at Dunboyne Castle for a terrific dinner and a luxurious suite.. even bath robes were included. There was a spa but we were so tired any thought beyond going to sleep was impossible. Our tour of Dublin had included a visit to Phoenix Park, Grafton Street and St.Patrick's Cathedral. The day tired us no end but all the suffering was worth it.
Things got better and better on our third day at Clonmacnoise an early Christian site founded by St.Ciaran in the 6th century on the banks of the Shannon River. It was humbling to walk among the graves of people dead for millenia.. Later that day one of anita's bucket list dreams came true when we visited an active sheep farm, Rathbaum Farm, drank tea and visited a thatched cottage. things got better and better as the farm hand sheared a sheep and I fed a lamb. So the thatched cottage item is off the bucket list. Again we were spirited off to see the wondrous Irish scenery only to end up in Galway at the Raddison Blue, which after the Dunboyne Castle was a bit of a step down. The food has been good but at twelve-thirty last night the fire alarm went off, sending me off to a night of frequent bathroom visits. Anita also woke but in true Anita form went back to sleep.
If today is Thursday, which I'm not certain it is,I'll stop for sleep.It stays light until after 11 so we draw the blinds and collapse. Over and out.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
March 8, 2015
Reader. Stay out of hospitals. I had the recent misfortune of spending two night and three days in a hospital. The hospital stay itself was a torture to be endurd, I am become a breathing cadaver. Probed, poked, hooked to IV, strapped to a rhina nose tag.. that is tube inserted down the throat into the stomach, I was left to wait for a hospital room. Yikes here is an observation. From the moment the doctor told the nurse those initials I knew what I was going to experiecne. The doctor said RN and I knew it was going to be a nose tag, I was strapped to a table, how could I escape, there were two cops in the space next to me. I knew that I wouild be cornered and have a tube run down my throat and into my stomach. The sweet young woman who was going to inflict this on me said, "You're not going to like me as much when I do what I have to do to you," . I said it was ok and I understood. So she explained it to me ,measured off the amout of tubing, and began fishing it down my nostril, Not a way to describe it.. not horrific pain, endurable but unpleasant and uncomfortable.
So there I sat, or tried to because my body kept me hopping back and forth to the bathroom. Another endurance test, diarrhea with catheters, diarrhea with a nose tag, an IV bag and another tube to help the stomach pump. I felt like Frankenstein when he was captured.
I couldn't move one way or the next. The ancients captured wild beasts for later spectacle use in this manner. Most peoples have devised this manner of capturing in a net as a safe, efficient way to hunt for a small village. The same holds true for fishing.
But of the stay and its ups and downs...See me getting up to go and then trying to lie down with covers. Or, witness me walking the halls, medical equipment hung on a pole with wheels. Imagine me roaming the hall, thirsty, hungry, dirty in a word: miserable. The surgical gown was too large and I didn't have it tied in back, The pajama bottoms were too long, extra large, in fact. So look at me, beard a mess, hair a greasy mess, clothes rolled up to keep the pajama bottoms from falling down to the floor. Ah yes, the very glass of fashion!
A second long night ticks on, and on, and on never stopping. The thought, the hope, the desire for something to eat or drink. Jello, sherbert, tea, cinammon toast with butter. Anything, a glass of water. But no. MY stomach has to be completely empty before I can put food into it and then light foods for days. I go to the bathroom, find a tube of tooth paste, put the paste on my finger and rubbed my teeth and gums, I rinse my mouth but do not drink. Anything I eat or drink will delay my recovery and discharge, Go Spartan, Lem, be tough.
I held out but didn't sleep; by daylight I was exhausted. The snow which troubled me so the night before was over and clean up well on its way to opening roads, parking lots and such. It is daylight and the great storm was done with a mangeable 6 inches. The storm has looked ferocious, I was sick in the hospital, strapped to several machines and Anita was home alone with a broken smoke detector.
I was worried almost fearful for her safety because I thought this was going to be a monster storm with nearly 2 feet of snow. I was worried I might be in the hospital for days and fearful for Anita. There wasn't much else on my mind. In this distressed state and tired of being strapped to machines, I had the idea of unhooking myself and walking home. I didn't know my clothes were in a closet I could access or I may have done it. But as it was my defective thought process, were checked by the enormity of the deed and the likelihood I might die or be killed. I was going to try to walk home in a snow storm wearing a surgical gown, extra large pj bottoms and no shoes,
How far would I have gotten? Break of crazy thought. Wait.. it's a matter of 12 hours and things will begin to get better and you may even get fed and ot discharged! Yeah...Who told you the Inquisition was over? Spend a night in a hospital undergoing tests to see if surgery is necessary. Walking ten or twelve miles is way beyond me now, Even at my best I never approached that level. Perhaps I'd walk 3-4 miles a day, At times it was a form of meditation, meditation through deep breathing exercises attached to steps or strides, Wonderful to be out there walking, totally locked into walking, breathing but reaching extreme lmits of holding my breath, Long ago.
Sunday morning in the hospital, dirty, stinky, ready to go, yearning for coffee. Anita arrives mid to late morning. I make an ass of myself by calling my barber for an appointment this next day. She's shocked and I am aware I breached a rule not to call this barber ever but I may be getting out of here today and I need a hair cut tomorrow and I'm sorry to bother you on Sunday but if I wait until Monday morning she will have a full schedule. But I got the appointment and the hair cut. In short I got out of there as soon as possible, But not before food began arriving. Beef broth of sort at noon, potato soup at two, tomato soup at four and at six pork, gravy, mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. Now sauerkraut ain't never really good but I eat it on Thanksgiving and that's about it. Years ago when my stomach was younger I put sauerkraut and onions on a hot dog, truly did. Once I could eat corned beef, I sent the supper back untouched and was out of there within an hour. Anybody got insomnia? Spend a night or two in a hospital. When you get back home you'll sleep. Trust me on that.
Tonight is already here. Thanks for reading if you did.
Steve
So there I sat, or tried to because my body kept me hopping back and forth to the bathroom. Another endurance test, diarrhea with catheters, diarrhea with a nose tag, an IV bag and another tube to help the stomach pump. I felt like Frankenstein when he was captured.
I couldn't move one way or the next. The ancients captured wild beasts for later spectacle use in this manner. Most peoples have devised this manner of capturing in a net as a safe, efficient way to hunt for a small village. The same holds true for fishing.
But of the stay and its ups and downs...See me getting up to go and then trying to lie down with covers. Or, witness me walking the halls, medical equipment hung on a pole with wheels. Imagine me roaming the hall, thirsty, hungry, dirty in a word: miserable. The surgical gown was too large and I didn't have it tied in back, The pajama bottoms were too long, extra large, in fact. So look at me, beard a mess, hair a greasy mess, clothes rolled up to keep the pajama bottoms from falling down to the floor. Ah yes, the very glass of fashion!
A second long night ticks on, and on, and on never stopping. The thought, the hope, the desire for something to eat or drink. Jello, sherbert, tea, cinammon toast with butter. Anything, a glass of water. But no. MY stomach has to be completely empty before I can put food into it and then light foods for days. I go to the bathroom, find a tube of tooth paste, put the paste on my finger and rubbed my teeth and gums, I rinse my mouth but do not drink. Anything I eat or drink will delay my recovery and discharge, Go Spartan, Lem, be tough.
I held out but didn't sleep; by daylight I was exhausted. The snow which troubled me so the night before was over and clean up well on its way to opening roads, parking lots and such. It is daylight and the great storm was done with a mangeable 6 inches. The storm has looked ferocious, I was sick in the hospital, strapped to several machines and Anita was home alone with a broken smoke detector.
I was worried almost fearful for her safety because I thought this was going to be a monster storm with nearly 2 feet of snow. I was worried I might be in the hospital for days and fearful for Anita. There wasn't much else on my mind. In this distressed state and tired of being strapped to machines, I had the idea of unhooking myself and walking home. I didn't know my clothes were in a closet I could access or I may have done it. But as it was my defective thought process, were checked by the enormity of the deed and the likelihood I might die or be killed. I was going to try to walk home in a snow storm wearing a surgical gown, extra large pj bottoms and no shoes,
How far would I have gotten? Break of crazy thought. Wait.. it's a matter of 12 hours and things will begin to get better and you may even get fed and ot discharged! Yeah...Who told you the Inquisition was over? Spend a night in a hospital undergoing tests to see if surgery is necessary. Walking ten or twelve miles is way beyond me now, Even at my best I never approached that level. Perhaps I'd walk 3-4 miles a day, At times it was a form of meditation, meditation through deep breathing exercises attached to steps or strides, Wonderful to be out there walking, totally locked into walking, breathing but reaching extreme lmits of holding my breath, Long ago.
Sunday morning in the hospital, dirty, stinky, ready to go, yearning for coffee. Anita arrives mid to late morning. I make an ass of myself by calling my barber for an appointment this next day. She's shocked and I am aware I breached a rule not to call this barber ever but I may be getting out of here today and I need a hair cut tomorrow and I'm sorry to bother you on Sunday but if I wait until Monday morning she will have a full schedule. But I got the appointment and the hair cut. In short I got out of there as soon as possible, But not before food began arriving. Beef broth of sort at noon, potato soup at two, tomato soup at four and at six pork, gravy, mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. Now sauerkraut ain't never really good but I eat it on Thanksgiving and that's about it. Years ago when my stomach was younger I put sauerkraut and onions on a hot dog, truly did. Once I could eat corned beef, I sent the supper back untouched and was out of there within an hour. Anybody got insomnia? Spend a night or two in a hospital. When you get back home you'll sleep. Trust me on that.
Tonight is already here. Thanks for reading if you did.
Steve
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Christmas 2014
Though most of 2014 was a bust and much of it very painful, excruciating and many things had to be cancelled or postponed I still treasure it for its gifts and joy. The cold that we had all November and December is behind us, I hope, I hope! and we're prepping for Christmas. I might say we are enjoying delight as we sing from the cantata. Funny I want to do that again. I sat down here with the idea of opening up, say 10 pages off the top, some of it relevant, some of it silly. I had a massage today... nice, very very nice, Which reminds me of Cat's Cradle.. another of those bizarre items I picked off the shelf. It was in the school but not its curriculum. Navigating that was no trouble, the kids lied the book, got the point and enjoyed the humor Vonnegut gave it. It was a kind of treat, a novel I'd throw in just before Christmas because it takes place at Christmas and has a sorta Christmacy essence to it. I guess that relationship would be in a wonder world, scene splitting, time gauging. Still, you can't go wrong with hh. Salinger can take kids into a reality they don't know and like. It's also over a vacation, again Christma, and must be presented carefully lest students think Holden's self-destruct in deftly avoided but the Caufield are a sorry family, money, prestige, maids, chauferrs, private school and still the kids turn out rotten, some do, some down. He's my brudda the onr wiaf says about another when asked about their relationship the fact they are cutting school. Plus give kudos to Salinger who frames the modern neolithic with the two bruddas. Ah Pittsburgh, though should be flourishing. There's talent in them there hills, real talents, sports, science, comedy, writers. For towns slung onto rocky mountains, the folks do as best as they can to cling on... hey clingon. You get the idea, them western hills around Pittsburgh produce some remarkable people, your speaker among them. ha ha,
So it comes to this. One doctor on a surgical mania thinks i should have a robotic neural surgry to trim back parts of the 3nd and 2nd facial nerves of the trigeminal. It's th nerve of function conecting the necessary eye teeth to the brain, allowing the brain to gauge snd chew. So the assurances are that I have an 80% of never having this neuraligia headaches, the cautions that there is a 20% chance of some pralysis twenty or more years away. What a classic approach-avoidance dilemma! More information is needed and I need to consult both my family doctor, dentst and dental clinic. Lots of calls and visits to doubt. I am willing to look into it, see what others say, consider how I want to go forward. The dental neuralgia can't be ignored.
So it comes to this. One doctor on a surgical mania thinks i should have a robotic neural surgry to trim back parts of the 3nd and 2nd facial nerves of the trigeminal. It's th nerve of function conecting the necessary eye teeth to the brain, allowing the brain to gauge snd chew. So the assurances are that I have an 80% of never having this neuraligia headaches, the cautions that there is a 20% chance of some pralysis twenty or more years away. What a classic approach-avoidance dilemma! More information is needed and I need to consult both my family doctor, dentst and dental clinic. Lots of calls and visits to doubt. I am willing to look into it, see what others say, consider how I want to go forward. The dental neuralgia can't be ignored.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
TURP Good news and Better new
So the ordeal of TURP surgery is nearly over. Transurethal Resectioning of the Prostate is the medical term. Roto Rooter surgery is the street term and the one that most describes it. But first the good news and the better news. First I have no cancer cells in my bladder and second I don't have prostate cancer. This doesn't mean the bladder cancer is gone for good but that as of now, it has been eliminated. Of course periodic cystoscopic checks will be needed. As to the TURP well that was done about 3 weeks ago and today I thought all the post surgical pain was gone. It was until about half hour ago but it's not so bad that I need to call the dr. for a refill of oxycontin.. had enough of that stuff for a lifetime though it does make one feel warm and fuzzy. For now it's pyridium a nasty urethal anelgesic that turns the urine orange.. bright orange to red.
What this damn TURP surgery accomplished was it forced us to cancel our long-awaited trip to London and Wales, The doctor or his nurse was fairly emphatic that should the worst happen I'd end up in a foreign country will a prostate that was bleeding and that no on would have my medical records or know how to proceed. So far that hasn't happened but not to say it wouldn't have. Then there was the problem that being in recovery from surgery I might not enjoy the trip as much. There was always the option of allowing Anita to go alone but she wouldn't hear of it. Yesterday I was glad we hadn't gone.. I slept all all day and the ache was there through it all. Until a short time ago I was terrific and ok but now I am getting some pain vibes. The codeine is all gone.. so I'll see how the night goes.
The worst part of this was missing the trip to London. Well the second worst part. The worst part was two bouts of AUR, Acute Urinary Retention.. when the uretha is unable to allow water to pass from the bladder and out because the prostate is swollen and choking off the uretha. First there is the fear, followed by drops of blood, then the bladder goes into spasm as it fill and expects to be emptied. The pain i gruesome.. Spanish Inquisition style pain, kidney stone pain. Finally the bladder is drained after a tube is inserted. Once the bladder was emptied I fellt better than I've ever felt. The relief was ecstasy. Opps.. my bladder is giving me twinges.. I have to see it I can void. That's the other scary part. Even afetr a few weeks, I'm not sure that when I try to void I'll be able to void. It almost makes me avoid voiding. Pun.
None of this has been fun. I guess the best part is that readers, if there are any left, will no longer have to put up with my whining Cancer Journal by the day. It wasn't fun and neither was what followed. But I am back.. I feel ok and soon I'll be doing the things I usually do which is usually nothing. On the good side I have been reading and missing the trip to London did allow us to watch the Preakness.. bfd. I'll take London and Wales, Oh yeah and I also missed my 50th high school class reunion. What more is there to live for? My grandsons.
Gotta go Supper is ready.
What this damn TURP surgery accomplished was it forced us to cancel our long-awaited trip to London and Wales, The doctor or his nurse was fairly emphatic that should the worst happen I'd end up in a foreign country will a prostate that was bleeding and that no on would have my medical records or know how to proceed. So far that hasn't happened but not to say it wouldn't have. Then there was the problem that being in recovery from surgery I might not enjoy the trip as much. There was always the option of allowing Anita to go alone but she wouldn't hear of it. Yesterday I was glad we hadn't gone.. I slept all all day and the ache was there through it all. Until a short time ago I was terrific and ok but now I am getting some pain vibes. The codeine is all gone.. so I'll see how the night goes.
The worst part of this was missing the trip to London. Well the second worst part. The worst part was two bouts of AUR, Acute Urinary Retention.. when the uretha is unable to allow water to pass from the bladder and out because the prostate is swollen and choking off the uretha. First there is the fear, followed by drops of blood, then the bladder goes into spasm as it fill and expects to be emptied. The pain i gruesome.. Spanish Inquisition style pain, kidney stone pain. Finally the bladder is drained after a tube is inserted. Once the bladder was emptied I fellt better than I've ever felt. The relief was ecstasy. Opps.. my bladder is giving me twinges.. I have to see it I can void. That's the other scary part. Even afetr a few weeks, I'm not sure that when I try to void I'll be able to void. It almost makes me avoid voiding. Pun.
None of this has been fun. I guess the best part is that readers, if there are any left, will no longer have to put up with my whining Cancer Journal by the day. It wasn't fun and neither was what followed. But I am back.. I feel ok and soon I'll be doing the things I usually do which is usually nothing. On the good side I have been reading and missing the trip to London did allow us to watch the Preakness.. bfd. I'll take London and Wales, Oh yeah and I also missed my 50th high school class reunion. What more is there to live for? My grandsons.
Gotta go Supper is ready.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Living with cancer part 4 a day later
It was a good day, or so I thought. We'd been wakened by a ring and run at 2 am. I ignored it because I had a catheter in my penis, not too quick with that dangling. Earlier in the day, a new low. I awoke in a pool of pee. My bag had leaked. My own fault. But the day really hadn't been bad until we discovered vandalism. Someone had tried to pry the Benz door ajar. We notice that opening and closing a door was a bit more difficult. Then we noticed a dent near the lock. Seriously someone had tried to enter my car. Pisses me off. Door locks are tricky business to replace. It takes a knowledgeable hand to handle the job and it may never be right! I reported the crime. What else is there to do? Today I peed! It's a really big deal to me because I'm on my own. Now I can recover from a dreadful week. The biopsy messed me up. Close for today.
Living with cancer parts 5 and 6
I have skipped a few days since my last entry and things have gone from bad to worse. Mostly things have gotten worse because I am such an idiot. Yesterday I worked fairly hard and then had to lunatic feeling that I wanted to have a kick or thrill.. end that there.
This cancer is horrible. Today I woke to a retention problem again and had to have my bladder drained and a catheter re-inserted. Oh goodie. After the bladder was drained I came home and went to sleep for two hours of delicious and satistying rest. In the morning I was in agony, horrible terrible pain with spurts of blood shooting out and ruining my underwear. Everything is a mess.. I have no life lately. All I do is suffer and worry. I worry about the suffering. When I was at the doctor's I made a pest of myself and finally got an MA* to take care of me. It seemed as if I were being passed off to the unlucky one. But Barb did a nice job. I wasn't the most tractable patient. Barb kept trying to get a sonar of my bladder and as she pushed down on my bladder she kept teeling me to relax but the pain was so exquisite I couldn't relax. We did get the sounding and she inserted a tube and drained me then added the catheter and sent me home. It's a very humbling thing to lose control of one's body. I never imagined that this cancer would knock me over and rob me of my life. Well there's only so much one can say about pain and suffering until people stop listening or reading. So dear reader I apologiza.
You can't know where I am coming from and I hope you never do! l cancelled our Easter diinner with friends and our daughter is bringing her three pets for us to keep for a 10 days while she is on a cruise. I'm not going to be any good to my wife with those pets. Talk about bad timing. Things certainly have gotten out of hand..
I've vowed to fight this cancer and now is the time to pull myself up and do that. For now best wishes to all from a sick and tired man.
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired! How am I going to take the dog for a walk. with a catheter in my penis? I can't do it. And the operation.. scares me. I've stood all I can stands and I can't stand no more. Back to my book. At least I had an 800 page plus novel to entertain me.
* Medical assistant
This cancer is horrible. Today I woke to a retention problem again and had to have my bladder drained and a catheter re-inserted. Oh goodie. After the bladder was drained I came home and went to sleep for two hours of delicious and satistying rest. In the morning I was in agony, horrible terrible pain with spurts of blood shooting out and ruining my underwear. Everything is a mess.. I have no life lately. All I do is suffer and worry. I worry about the suffering. When I was at the doctor's I made a pest of myself and finally got an MA* to take care of me. It seemed as if I were being passed off to the unlucky one. But Barb did a nice job. I wasn't the most tractable patient. Barb kept trying to get a sonar of my bladder and as she pushed down on my bladder she kept teeling me to relax but the pain was so exquisite I couldn't relax. We did get the sounding and she inserted a tube and drained me then added the catheter and sent me home. It's a very humbling thing to lose control of one's body. I never imagined that this cancer would knock me over and rob me of my life. Well there's only so much one can say about pain and suffering until people stop listening or reading. So dear reader I apologiza.
You can't know where I am coming from and I hope you never do! l cancelled our Easter diinner with friends and our daughter is bringing her three pets for us to keep for a 10 days while she is on a cruise. I'm not going to be any good to my wife with those pets. Talk about bad timing. Things certainly have gotten out of hand..
I've vowed to fight this cancer and now is the time to pull myself up and do that. For now best wishes to all from a sick and tired man.
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired! How am I going to take the dog for a walk. with a catheter in my penis? I can't do it. And the operation.. scares me. I've stood all I can stands and I can't stand no more. Back to my book. At least I had an 800 page plus novel to entertain me.
* Medical assistant
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Living with cancer and catheters part 3
I'd begun thise entry earlier on my IPad but lost it when I accidentally touched the screen. The first attempt began with a rather gross description of a reecnt experiences with catheters. Five days ago I had a biopsy and re-sectioning of my bladder. I awoke with a catheter in my uretha. The catheter was in until two days later when my wife pulled it out. Well she didn't pull it, she gently released it. No problems or so I thought. Later than night I awoke with an urge to void. Nothing new for a man my age. But, I couldn't pee.. It just wouldn't flow. I was in agony, a full bladder and I was unable to relieve the urge. I tried a bath, a shower, running water.. all of which usually cause the bladder to give release its contents. Nothing worked and as the night went on, the pain and the urges got worse. Every five minutes or so I'd have a spasm and then attempt to pass the water. Drops might fly out but no stream. It was agony and I was sure I'd be in the Emergency Room by dawn. But I fought through the pain; it must have been the vicoden that helped me. Finally I called the urological centers for the on-call doctor, who just happened to by the doctor who had performed my procedure. He told me to meet him at the office. Of course I couldn't get there soon enough.
Once at the doctor's office a nurse took me to an observation room and put a catheter in an drained me. Drained its the right word here because the bladder was top full. It yielded almost a half gallon of urine. The relief was tremendous and immediate. My coloring had gone white as a sheet and even as I was being drained the color came back. As the nurse inserted the catheter I recited the poem Invictus.. which I have memorized for those occasions when pain will be overwhelming. It works. The new catheter was inserted and I was sent home and told to keep the cateter in until Monday, four days away. So here I am with my second catheter in a week and feeling almost normal. Normal to a person wearing a catheter has little meaning. Things are improving.. thanks not only to the catheter but also vicoden.
Add to this miseryfest a pulled back and you, dear reader, may only imagine the state I am in presently.
As much as I am looking forward to getting the catheter out I am also worried that history will repeat itself. What if, what it, what if. But I will survive this. My urologist has also given me a medication which will shrink my prostate. The prostate is swollen or enlarged and that is choking off the flow from bladder to uretha. The doctor also mentioned a follow-up surgery called the roto-rooter. I've heard about that and what I've heard isn't pretty. Even the name of the surgery is disgusting. If the medication shrinks the prostate I'll be happy but then again, what if? So I go on and on with worry and dread. There is literally a cloud hanging over my head.
If you've never had a catheter in then try to avoid it. I never thought I would welcome the relief that a catheter can offer. Now I am afraid I will not be able to go on without one. But I do intend to try. Once a person experiences not being able to pee, one learns that catheters are a blessing. Until then, the catheter is a loathsome device. The inability to pee took me to my knees and made me welcome the catheter.. cancer teaches a person many things most of which I would prefer not to know: How to shower with a catheter in. How to have a BM with a catheter in. How to sit down slowly so as to prevent jerking the catheter and causing pain of a new sort. As I said, if you have never had a catheter in try to keep it that way and should you need one, be grateful that such a device is available, loathsome as it may sound. Until my next post, be well my friends.
Once at the doctor's office a nurse took me to an observation room and put a catheter in an drained me. Drained its the right word here because the bladder was top full. It yielded almost a half gallon of urine. The relief was tremendous and immediate. My coloring had gone white as a sheet and even as I was being drained the color came back. As the nurse inserted the catheter I recited the poem Invictus.. which I have memorized for those occasions when pain will be overwhelming. It works. The new catheter was inserted and I was sent home and told to keep the cateter in until Monday, four days away. So here I am with my second catheter in a week and feeling almost normal. Normal to a person wearing a catheter has little meaning. Things are improving.. thanks not only to the catheter but also vicoden.
Add to this miseryfest a pulled back and you, dear reader, may only imagine the state I am in presently.
As much as I am looking forward to getting the catheter out I am also worried that history will repeat itself. What if, what it, what if. But I will survive this. My urologist has also given me a medication which will shrink my prostate. The prostate is swollen or enlarged and that is choking off the flow from bladder to uretha. The doctor also mentioned a follow-up surgery called the roto-rooter. I've heard about that and what I've heard isn't pretty. Even the name of the surgery is disgusting. If the medication shrinks the prostate I'll be happy but then again, what if? So I go on and on with worry and dread. There is literally a cloud hanging over my head.
If you've never had a catheter in then try to avoid it. I never thought I would welcome the relief that a catheter can offer. Now I am afraid I will not be able to go on without one. But I do intend to try. Once a person experiences not being able to pee, one learns that catheters are a blessing. Until then, the catheter is a loathsome device. The inability to pee took me to my knees and made me welcome the catheter.. cancer teaches a person many things most of which I would prefer not to know: How to shower with a catheter in. How to have a BM with a catheter in. How to sit down slowly so as to prevent jerking the catheter and causing pain of a new sort. As I said, if you have never had a catheter in try to keep it that way and should you need one, be grateful that such a device is available, loathsome as it may sound. Until my next post, be well my friends.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Living with cancer Part 2
Every day brings new and even more despicable side effects and suffering to a cancer patient, even one who is going to survive the disease. For the squeamish reader I suggestion a gut check because the next few paragraphs are about to get graphic and real. Last night or rather early this morning I had to urinate. I woke from sleep with the painful urge to urinate and tried and tried. As I strained to urinate only a drop or two would actually be voided. The pain was crippling, brutal and scary. Not being able to void was an experience I would never wish on anyone. No matter what I did the flow would not begin. The urges came at frequent intervals about every five minutes and drove me to take a bath, a shower anything to help the pee start to flow. After hours of urges the pain grew even more intense. The dripping continued, a few drops here and few there. From 3 a.m. untol 6:30 a.m. I suffered horrible pains as I tried to pee without any relief or success. Not being able to pee is something no one should ever experience and taught me not to be such a wise ass about cancer.
I never thought I'd ever have such a deflating expierence. It was humiliating, frightening and most educational. At 6:30 I called the urologist's and my doctor was on-call. I explained my symptoms and tried to focus on the doctor's responses. I couldn't. When he said that I should come into the office I gladly agreed. I'd spent hours defying my own acknowledgement that something dreadful was happening and that I should call 911for an ambulance to take me to the hospital. The doctor's suggestion was hope, finally something was going to be done to put me out of my misery.
My wife and I got in the car at 7:30 or so and had only gone a quarter mile when I said that we should go home. Again the false urgings of a full bladder had nearly taken me to my knees. I went in the house in a crawl and again attempted to get the flow going. Nothing doing. After gaining my composure and putting a cup down my pants we headed to the doctor's office again. On the way I had several urges but no results. The long plastic cup in my sweat pants merely collected the dribble that would following each painful urge to pee.
Once at the doctor's I scooted upstairs and was nearly bent over when I got into the office. As soon as I checked with the receptionist, I asked to be allowed to use the rest room. No relief just unsucessful urges to pee. As I exited the bathroom a nurse got my attention and took into an observation room. She was going to scan my bladder to see if it were full. It was! Before she could scan me I had the urges and dribbled on the table and floor. I was in too much pain to be embarassed. Finally the blaader was scoped out and surprise it was full.
Next the nurse had to insert a catheter to allow me to urinate. This was very painful but at lasr the catheter was in and fluid began to stream out. I must have passed almost a half gallon of water. As the water flowed out a wave of relief spread over me. Then that tube was changed and a traveling tube inserted. Ah the relief. One minute I thought I was dying, the next hope, ease, relief. The nurse commented that I was pale as a ghost when I entered the room and that after the draining and a cather, the color had come back.
I discussed the problem with the urologist who said I might need to have a surgery that would open the bladder and uretha meeting point.
I also learned my prostate was swollen and that was the cause of my discomfort and inability to pee, He gave me a sample of a medication meant to shrink my prostate. So far so good. The pain is gone, the catheter is doing what I can't and I am tired. Exhausting and frightenng to be in such a fix. If the reader has not experiecned this, then the reader will not know the franic feelings it caused. Would I ever pee.. would I ever come back home? What the heck had done this to me. Dear reader thank you for your indulgence. No more graphics until I can finally rid my body of other waste because besde being bound up in front I am also tight as a drum on the back side.
As yesterday's post intimated, trying to have a bowel movement with a catheter attached is no picnic. Now to address that with a smile and hope things will work out.
Yes, this was a vary scary and painful experience. Not one I'd wish on anybody.. Certainly not one I'd ever want to have again. But you never know. Yesterday I was a bit too cocky about how powerful and scary cancer can become. I'll not be that way again. I am humbled and frightened that this might happen again. Wish me well.
I never thought I'd ever have such a deflating expierence. It was humiliating, frightening and most educational. At 6:30 I called the urologist's and my doctor was on-call. I explained my symptoms and tried to focus on the doctor's responses. I couldn't. When he said that I should come into the office I gladly agreed. I'd spent hours defying my own acknowledgement that something dreadful was happening and that I should call 911for an ambulance to take me to the hospital. The doctor's suggestion was hope, finally something was going to be done to put me out of my misery.
My wife and I got in the car at 7:30 or so and had only gone a quarter mile when I said that we should go home. Again the false urgings of a full bladder had nearly taken me to my knees. I went in the house in a crawl and again attempted to get the flow going. Nothing doing. After gaining my composure and putting a cup down my pants we headed to the doctor's office again. On the way I had several urges but no results. The long plastic cup in my sweat pants merely collected the dribble that would following each painful urge to pee.
Once at the doctor's I scooted upstairs and was nearly bent over when I got into the office. As soon as I checked with the receptionist, I asked to be allowed to use the rest room. No relief just unsucessful urges to pee. As I exited the bathroom a nurse got my attention and took into an observation room. She was going to scan my bladder to see if it were full. It was! Before she could scan me I had the urges and dribbled on the table and floor. I was in too much pain to be embarassed. Finally the blaader was scoped out and surprise it was full.
Next the nurse had to insert a catheter to allow me to urinate. This was very painful but at lasr the catheter was in and fluid began to stream out. I must have passed almost a half gallon of water. As the water flowed out a wave of relief spread over me. Then that tube was changed and a traveling tube inserted. Ah the relief. One minute I thought I was dying, the next hope, ease, relief. The nurse commented that I was pale as a ghost when I entered the room and that after the draining and a cather, the color had come back.
I discussed the problem with the urologist who said I might need to have a surgery that would open the bladder and uretha meeting point.
I also learned my prostate was swollen and that was the cause of my discomfort and inability to pee, He gave me a sample of a medication meant to shrink my prostate. So far so good. The pain is gone, the catheter is doing what I can't and I am tired. Exhausting and frightenng to be in such a fix. If the reader has not experiecned this, then the reader will not know the franic feelings it caused. Would I ever pee.. would I ever come back home? What the heck had done this to me. Dear reader thank you for your indulgence. No more graphics until I can finally rid my body of other waste because besde being bound up in front I am also tight as a drum on the back side.
As yesterday's post intimated, trying to have a bowel movement with a catheter attached is no picnic. Now to address that with a smile and hope things will work out.
Yes, this was a vary scary and painful experience. Not one I'd wish on anybody.. Certainly not one I'd ever want to have again. But you never know. Yesterday I was a bit too cocky about how powerful and scary cancer can become. I'll not be that way again. I am humbled and frightened that this might happen again. Wish me well.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Living with cancer
Living with cancer is far better than dying from cancer but cancer is a monster regardless. I've been involved with cancer for two years now and cancer is a bitch. It's the continuing round of treatments and discomfort that cancer visits on its hosts that make it so terrible. To date I have had 15 BCG treatments, 3 cystoscopies and 3 surgeries. I am sitting in my rocker and the phone is ringing but I can't answer it because I have a catheter in my body. Before all this I never thought I could face a tube in the uretha but I have. Cancer has made me stronger and capable of facing so many painful and disgusting things I never knew I could. Yet this weekend I pulled my back out. So I am as mobile as a potted plant. I need a shower.. Can't do it! I haven't been able to sit on the commode.
Odd the catheter is more like a ball and chain than a medical device. As to the procedures, those seem to be something out of the Spanish Inquisition.
We live life day to day no matter how we may believe we look to the future. It's a second at a time and when it's a procedure, the moments seem so much longer. At first I thought I'd be cured and on my way back to a normal life. Now normal has no meaning. At my initial diagnosis I was told that bladder cancer was the one to have, if one was going to have cancer so I didn't take the news as seriously as I should have. People who have bladder cancer can live 20, 30 or more years with bladder cancer and that bladder cancer wouldn't kill them. It may be true but from my perspective, bladder cancer may not kill me but it has stolen the quality of life, for sure. It's a bitch to be the constant companion of a disease that has turned me into a pin cushion. It's a bitch and nasty, nasty business. There is no one I've ever known that I'd wish this on, no one. Maybe that's my humanity coming to the fore. maybe that is the positive thing I've gotten from cancer. . Be well everyone and may God spare you this. God bless all cancer patients. This is a devil..
Odd the catheter is more like a ball and chain than a medical device. As to the procedures, those seem to be something out of the Spanish Inquisition.
We live life day to day no matter how we may believe we look to the future. It's a second at a time and when it's a procedure, the moments seem so much longer. At first I thought I'd be cured and on my way back to a normal life. Now normal has no meaning. At my initial diagnosis I was told that bladder cancer was the one to have, if one was going to have cancer so I didn't take the news as seriously as I should have. People who have bladder cancer can live 20, 30 or more years with bladder cancer and that bladder cancer wouldn't kill them. It may be true but from my perspective, bladder cancer may not kill me but it has stolen the quality of life, for sure. It's a bitch to be the constant companion of a disease that has turned me into a pin cushion. It's a bitch and nasty, nasty business. There is no one I've ever known that I'd wish this on, no one. Maybe that's my humanity coming to the fore. maybe that is the positive thing I've gotten from cancer. . Be well everyone and may God spare you this. God bless all cancer patients. This is a devil..
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
April's fools
Hello and welcome back to Lem's Gems for another exciting round of world travel, commentary and photos. And all of it for free! Now isn't that a bargain? Why sure it is. So it is April and what are we to expect during these early days of Spring? I hope warnth and sunshine. After a hard winter the body needs fresh vitamin D from our old friend the Sun. The birds are back.. at first a few, a bird or two but now they fill the yard with song, all day long. They wake me in the morning and then put to sleep at night as I hear them (the birds) nesting in the tree outside out bedroom. We've done a children's book on identifying backyard birds. This is for out grandson Henry and of course his brother Ben. The boys are getting into bird watching.. not a bad thing for little kids. Anita has bought two plush bird toys that make the birds' natural songs.. the chicakadee and the golden finch (yellow if you like). It's a treat to listen to birds in the yard and be able to identify the birds, plus it is also a treat to identify the flight patterns of certain birds.. the swooping of the finches, the circling of a hawk. Our backyard hawk has been noticeably absent of late. I think I saw him once before a big storm. Usually he flies in, sits in a tree and watches the other birds at the feeders. Since the hawk is such an able hunter, he never descends to the feeders. He just shows up to make his presence known. Good for him!
Today is cloudy and cool.. but not cold. Every now and then a shower will start but nothing to speak of in the way of rain. For today and all the days of our lives, let us pray for guidance and hope for the best. Now that the world is entirely new and almost boundless, every day is a new day. Be well my friends.
Today is cloudy and cool.. but not cold. Every now and then a shower will start but nothing to speak of in the way of rain. For today and all the days of our lives, let us pray for guidance and hope for the best. Now that the world is entirely new and almost boundless, every day is a new day. Be well my friends.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Gratitude 2
My original intent of expressing gratitude in blogs presents a problem and that problem is that the format constricts sentence variety. It becomes a simplistic subject, linking verb and predicate adjective or preposition. Stylistic constraint at its worst which should be something for which I am grateful. On the other hand, I might revert to enumeration and list those things for which I am grateful with numerbers. Not much room for creativity, humor or serious reflection.
Precision. One other difficulty is verb selection. One may be grateful for silence, health, a spouse, a life style. Tiresome. Happy.. Now I might employ that. I am happy to be retired but happy is too weak a verb to express my gratitude. Ecstatic comes much closer to my state of being. Alas I must conclude that a gratitude blog gives small room for the intent of my original blog. Quite honestly several of my original blogs were quite good, almost brilliant, funny and journalistic. It would be a shame to deviate from my original program. I am left with the conclusion that I must abandoned this blog of gratitude and return to my former intent. Never fear dear reader (and there is only one) I shall return.
Precision. One other difficulty is verb selection. One may be grateful for silence, health, a spouse, a life style. Tiresome. Happy.. Now I might employ that. I am happy to be retired but happy is too weak a verb to express my gratitude. Ecstatic comes much closer to my state of being. Alas I must conclude that a gratitude blog gives small room for the intent of my original blog. Quite honestly several of my original blogs were quite good, almost brilliant, funny and journalistic. It would be a shame to deviate from my original program. I am left with the conclusion that I must abandoned this blog of gratitude and return to my former intent. Never fear dear reader (and there is only one) I shall return.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Gratitude blog January 11, 2014
Today I am grateful for so many things. I am grateful for those great Americans who established our constitution and the great Americans who have served to protect our way of life. I am grateful for life and the factors that brought my wife into my life. On another level I am grateful for remote control and the mute button. Modern medicine is a gift for which we should all be grateful. My warm home and the social benefits won for me are things for which there are not enough words to express my gratitude.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
KCA
Kicking Cancer's Ass... I did it..rather we did it.. urologist, his staff and my wife. I want to write lots more but that feeling is so great I can't explain it. Now I want to sleep off my soreness from walking too much. I do tend to over do things. Who'd a guessed? I leave you with this thought.. when the power of love replaces the love of power, we will all be living in Heaven. It may never happen on Earth but it may happen elsewhere. I hope I hope! So love more and seek less power over others and their thoughts and lives. Night All! Just remember that Serutan... spelled back wards is Nature.. this is for those under 63 or so.. as does Robert Hall, Howard Johnsons and Stuckeys.
Night
Night
Sunday, July 7, 2013
What's fecal matter got to do with it?
Yep.. that's the title of today's blog. It's a long story and I'll do my best to condense it and make it as interesting as possible. Lately I've become a fan of CSpan 2.. a book review channel. Today one of my favorite authors was- Mary Roach. For those who know or have read a book by Mary Roach.. you'll know she is quite a special person and writer. The first book I read by her was Stiff.. which is all about the business of cadavers and research using cadavers at such places as the University of Tennessee cadaver farm. At the U of T cadavers are used to study the effects of decaying, the bugs that invade a corpse at various times during the decay. Other topics had to do with head transplants.. yes, for instance, taking the body of a healthy person who has died of brain inhury and transplanting to the the head of a paralyzed or physically limited person. One experiment Ms. Roach discusses in Stiff is the Russian experiments in the 50-60's to put two heads on the body of one dog.. and they did it! Mary's books are scientific and at times almost too gross to discuss. My wife and mother could not read Stiff.. it ain't easy if you are queasy.
Well I'd heard Mary Roach was going to be interviewed today starting at noon. I waited all week anxiously hoping to see what she looked like. She is a very pleasant looking lady with shoulder length straight hair and a sense of humor and forthright manner that makes her something very special. Her latest book is called Gulp subtitled Adventures in the Alimentary Canal. Today she began the interview with a story about Elvis Presley's death. Seems that Elvis died while straining to poop.. Much has been said about Elvis's use and misuse of pain killers. I made up my mind to call in and make a comment about the rumor that Elvis had as much as 50 pounds of fecal matter in his bowels and intestines when he died. I think I read that somewhere. Mary talked about Elvis' doctor Nick Nicolaides.. obviously a Greek. There is probably litigation going on regarding the good doctor and the King's death so she was careful in her discussion of the doctor and Elvis.
I dialed the number and dialed and dialed. After a half hour I did get through and was asked if I wanted to speak on the air.. and what the nature of my question would be. I said I wanted to know if there was any truth to the rumor about the sheer volume of feces on the King's alimentary canal, at the time of this death. It seemed a natural question to ask since she opened with a discussion of the King and his doctor. So I asked if there was any truth to the rumor that the king had fifty pounds of poop backed up in him when he died. Mary said she didn't know if that were true but she did add that the fecal matter in the king was as hard as brick.. I lost track of her first few words in our conversation but it had to do with the doctor saying that the poop in Elvis was as hard as the bricks in the doctor's fireplace. Oh by the way, in her introductory remarks Mary said that Elvis had had a house built for Doctor Nick.. a mansion I think she called it. The interviewer then asked me about my rationale for asking that question and I said that I had been prescribed many pain killer over the last two years and that I suffered from occasional regularity, which evoked a laugh from both Mary and the interviewer. In short, what's fecal matter got to do with it? Mary did reply that her husband had been in a terrible bike accident and that he commented that he'd rather have the pain than the constipation. So my question wasn't answered directly she didn't know. I also asked if she knew what weight or amount of feces does the average person have in them at any one time or at the time of death. She didn't have an answer for that.. but no matter. I got to talk to Mary Roach today! I've spoken with Michael Crichton, Judy Collins,, John Sebastin, and a few other famous people but nothing so pleased me as my brief conversation with Mary Roach. I think I may have a secret crush on her.. which is now not a secret. I have a crush on her mind, her sensibilities, her frank open manner, her writing and her strange subject matter.
After the brief conversation I took a long walk.. I've been building up my endurance by walking every day. The first week I walked a mile a day, the second, two miles a day and this Sunday I pushed it up to 3 miles... After which I came home and took a shower, but only after ridding my alimentary canal of as much as I could. Don't strain.. it just might kill you. It killed the king and that's what fecal matter has to do with it!
Well I'd heard Mary Roach was going to be interviewed today starting at noon. I waited all week anxiously hoping to see what she looked like. She is a very pleasant looking lady with shoulder length straight hair and a sense of humor and forthright manner that makes her something very special. Her latest book is called Gulp subtitled Adventures in the Alimentary Canal. Today she began the interview with a story about Elvis Presley's death. Seems that Elvis died while straining to poop.. Much has been said about Elvis's use and misuse of pain killers. I made up my mind to call in and make a comment about the rumor that Elvis had as much as 50 pounds of fecal matter in his bowels and intestines when he died. I think I read that somewhere. Mary talked about Elvis' doctor Nick Nicolaides.. obviously a Greek. There is probably litigation going on regarding the good doctor and the King's death so she was careful in her discussion of the doctor and Elvis.
I dialed the number and dialed and dialed. After a half hour I did get through and was asked if I wanted to speak on the air.. and what the nature of my question would be. I said I wanted to know if there was any truth to the rumor about the sheer volume of feces on the King's alimentary canal, at the time of this death. It seemed a natural question to ask since she opened with a discussion of the King and his doctor. So I asked if there was any truth to the rumor that the king had fifty pounds of poop backed up in him when he died. Mary said she didn't know if that were true but she did add that the fecal matter in the king was as hard as brick.. I lost track of her first few words in our conversation but it had to do with the doctor saying that the poop in Elvis was as hard as the bricks in the doctor's fireplace. Oh by the way, in her introductory remarks Mary said that Elvis had had a house built for Doctor Nick.. a mansion I think she called it. The interviewer then asked me about my rationale for asking that question and I said that I had been prescribed many pain killer over the last two years and that I suffered from occasional regularity, which evoked a laugh from both Mary and the interviewer. In short, what's fecal matter got to do with it? Mary did reply that her husband had been in a terrible bike accident and that he commented that he'd rather have the pain than the constipation. So my question wasn't answered directly she didn't know. I also asked if she knew what weight or amount of feces does the average person have in them at any one time or at the time of death. She didn't have an answer for that.. but no matter. I got to talk to Mary Roach today! I've spoken with Michael Crichton, Judy Collins,, John Sebastin, and a few other famous people but nothing so pleased me as my brief conversation with Mary Roach. I think I may have a secret crush on her.. which is now not a secret. I have a crush on her mind, her sensibilities, her frank open manner, her writing and her strange subject matter.
After the brief conversation I took a long walk.. I've been building up my endurance by walking every day. The first week I walked a mile a day, the second, two miles a day and this Sunday I pushed it up to 3 miles... After which I came home and took a shower, but only after ridding my alimentary canal of as much as I could. Don't strain.. it just might kill you. It killed the king and that's what fecal matter has to do with it!
Sunday, June 30, 2013
So you think you can
I've had with all these shows that begin with the words 'So you think you can." So, I've developed a list of "So you think you can " postulates.
So you think you can get a job- really, where? doing what and for how long?
So you think you have freedom of speech? You're free to say what the system has programed you to say.
So you think you can stand on a street corner and rant and rave about the insanity of this world? Scream loud enough and you'll be put into a mental hospital.
So you think that you're not crazy? That's the first symptom. They've got you now.
So you think you have a chance? Do you really think you have a chance? Fat chance- Oops. politically incorrect. Slim chance- wait- how can those two have the same meaning? I'll have to think about it.
So you think you can't deal with this crazy world without a drug, a crutch , an escape?
So you think that if you start using drugs you'll be able to cope better?
So you think that you can get away with it?
So you think that you can't get arrested and sent to jail, but you do.
So you think that you are innocent until proven guilty?
Then why do you get arrested and go directly to jail before your trial?
So you think you can get a fair trial by a jury of your peers?
How many drug using jurors will there be to judge you?
So you think you can be rehabilitated, get out of jail and get a job? See the first entry.
So you think you can get an education, graduate and earn a degree.
So you think you can think.
Reading
This blog will be all about me... as if the others weren't and will concern reading. I don't remember not being able to read so I can't say when I learned or whether I taught myself. I don't think I did.. Currently I am reading 3 books: The Four Agreements, The Lost Wife and White Noise. No three books could be more different. The Four Agreements is about Toltec wisdom and spirituality. The Lost Wife about concentration camps and families sent to Terezin ( a show camp) and Aushwitz. It is a tragedy and a love story of epic proposrtions. At times I can only read a page or two, the events being so devastating, the inhumanity so immense. Finally White Noise.. a black comedy which I've read before (several times). Often I read a s many as half a dozen books simultaneouly. Not bad for a guy who read 1-2 books in high school My reading and self-edacation began the day of my collge graduation (which I wa unable to attend for financial reasons). On that day I began Moby Dick So what's the big deal.. many people read and read several books at the same time. Yes, true but I discovered over the years that I have 2 very unique abilities. The first one is that I can begin a book, read perhaps half of it, then put it down for an extended period of time and then pick it up and begin reading as though I had never stopped reading. The second skill is one I must have developed when I taught. In order to keep students attentive and enjoy what is called 'shared reading' I often, most often read books aloud to my students. I'd often practice, voices, accents, cadences and other elements to make my reading more fluid and hence more interesting to students. Some books I have read as many as two dozen or more times. Some books I can quote passages from memory or if asked about a particular episode, I can site chapter and page. Nothing amazing about that.. but here comes the freaky part. One day while reading Of Mice and Men of Huck Finn aloud, I realized that I was thinking about other things, making plans, planning. In short, while I was reading one book aloud, my brain could think of other things. Perhaps it's just that I had memorized the text and my mouth was working independently, perhaps. But it was freaky.. how can that be I asked myself. I shrugged my shoulders and used that unique skill to my advantage. I could make plans for my next class (say I was teaching Macbeth next) while reading of Mice and Men.
So it is that a guy who read less than a handful of books in high school and not too many more in college has now read thousands and that doesn't include the books I've read numerous times. Some may wonder how a teacher (like myself) could read the same books aloud year after year and not get bored? The secret is that every time I read a book I was a different person and came to the page a different person. Of course there was also the fact that between readings I had learned something new that made the book that made it even more impressive. For example in The Lord of the Flies.. the twins (Sam n Eric) have a inside joke about their teacher whom they refer to as old 'waxy'. I often wondered why old waxy which I learned later was because in previous times, people used wax on their faces to cover the pox marks.. hence the saying crack a smile.. So it came to me that old 'waxy' had waxed his face and was a very stern task-master. Little gems such as that were added to my discussions and information sharing. Another book that I really loved reading aloud and which was inaccessible to most of my junior classes is The Scarlet Letter. There are passages so profoundly beautiful that I reveled in reading them and such phrasing as the women of the town use to refer to Hester Prynne as "the naughty baggage" always got a chuckle.
Often when reading a great book ( and The Lost Wife) is in that category.. I will put it down , the book that is. I find that the experience is so overwhleming and wonderful that I don't want to finish the book. Day by day the books and plays I've read and studied gain more depth. Tom Stoppard's End Game befuddled me until I saw a piece on the History Channel that explained that end game is a method of playing chess by starting in the middle of a game rather than at the beginning. One year I taped myself reading Animal Farm so that I could play the tape and grade papers simultaneously. One day while the tape was playing, I saw a shadow outside the door to my room (it was an open school so there was no door but I saw a shadow shifting this way and that). When I went to see who was there, it was my supervisor..who dressed me down for my creativity. She said she thought I was actually reading the book instead of attending to other things. I responded that books on tape were a very popular thing.. this happened probably 15-20 years ago. From my viewpoint I was using my time wisely and had given of my free time to tape the novel. It was a damn good rendition.. I wish I had it so I could hear myself reading it. I added music between chapters to signal myself and students that it was time to move on to a discussion or a written assignment. This is how creative teachers are often treated.
In the Fall of 1992 I took the giant leap and brought Jurassic Park into my tenth grade classes The assigned book for tneth graders is and was Great Expectations.. and when my daughter read Jurassic Park and asked why her class couldn't read interesting books like Jurassic Park.. I answered the challenge. First, where would I get the money to buy 30 copies of the paper back? The principal had no money, the supervisor had no money. So I solicited funds from local business people, the orthodontist and a pediatrician. This was a definite no-no. Why? It has come to me lately that what I was doing was demonstrating how unnecessary supervisors are in education and how defensive they become when a teacher comes up with an original and enticing idea! You see supervisors are supposed to know it all. Since that time our county curriculum expressly states that no book can be taught except those approved by the school board! Mea culpa. But those kids loved Jurassic Park.. and even began reading all of Michael Crichton's books, as I had been doing. It gets better... on the last day of school that year, my classes and I went to see Jurassic Park at a local theater, a day before it opened in the theaters. But that's not all.. on October 28, 1992 my classes interviewed Michael Crichton via teleconference. Quite a year for those kids. By the way it was his 50th birthday. He is gone now and I miss his writing! I wrote it all up and submitted the unit to the MIldred Dodge Curriculum Contest and received a reply that I had not won the prize but was mentioned as an honorable mention in that prestigious contest. I'd gotten my students involved in something and they loved it. I'd pissed off the big wigs. Which reminds me Watership Down was another of those novels I introduced into the country curriculum.. I taught what I loved and I loved what I taught. I would force myself to love a required piece.. I had never read or seen Hamlet but one weekend a snow storm was expected, so I got a copy of the play, a tape of the play and a case of beer and sat down and listened to it. I then watched several different versions of the play.
That's all folks.
So it is that a guy who read less than a handful of books in high school and not too many more in college has now read thousands and that doesn't include the books I've read numerous times. Some may wonder how a teacher (like myself) could read the same books aloud year after year and not get bored? The secret is that every time I read a book I was a different person and came to the page a different person. Of course there was also the fact that between readings I had learned something new that made the book that made it even more impressive. For example in The Lord of the Flies.. the twins (Sam n Eric) have a inside joke about their teacher whom they refer to as old 'waxy'. I often wondered why old waxy which I learned later was because in previous times, people used wax on their faces to cover the pox marks.. hence the saying crack a smile.. So it came to me that old 'waxy' had waxed his face and was a very stern task-master. Little gems such as that were added to my discussions and information sharing. Another book that I really loved reading aloud and which was inaccessible to most of my junior classes is The Scarlet Letter. There are passages so profoundly beautiful that I reveled in reading them and such phrasing as the women of the town use to refer to Hester Prynne as "the naughty baggage" always got a chuckle.
Often when reading a great book ( and The Lost Wife) is in that category.. I will put it down , the book that is. I find that the experience is so overwhleming and wonderful that I don't want to finish the book. Day by day the books and plays I've read and studied gain more depth. Tom Stoppard's End Game befuddled me until I saw a piece on the History Channel that explained that end game is a method of playing chess by starting in the middle of a game rather than at the beginning. One year I taped myself reading Animal Farm so that I could play the tape and grade papers simultaneously. One day while the tape was playing, I saw a shadow outside the door to my room (it was an open school so there was no door but I saw a shadow shifting this way and that). When I went to see who was there, it was my supervisor..who dressed me down for my creativity. She said she thought I was actually reading the book instead of attending to other things. I responded that books on tape were a very popular thing.. this happened probably 15-20 years ago. From my viewpoint I was using my time wisely and had given of my free time to tape the novel. It was a damn good rendition.. I wish I had it so I could hear myself reading it. I added music between chapters to signal myself and students that it was time to move on to a discussion or a written assignment. This is how creative teachers are often treated.
In the Fall of 1992 I took the giant leap and brought Jurassic Park into my tenth grade classes The assigned book for tneth graders is and was Great Expectations.. and when my daughter read Jurassic Park and asked why her class couldn't read interesting books like Jurassic Park.. I answered the challenge. First, where would I get the money to buy 30 copies of the paper back? The principal had no money, the supervisor had no money. So I solicited funds from local business people, the orthodontist and a pediatrician. This was a definite no-no. Why? It has come to me lately that what I was doing was demonstrating how unnecessary supervisors are in education and how defensive they become when a teacher comes up with an original and enticing idea! You see supervisors are supposed to know it all. Since that time our county curriculum expressly states that no book can be taught except those approved by the school board! Mea culpa. But those kids loved Jurassic Park.. and even began reading all of Michael Crichton's books, as I had been doing. It gets better... on the last day of school that year, my classes and I went to see Jurassic Park at a local theater, a day before it opened in the theaters. But that's not all.. on October 28, 1992 my classes interviewed Michael Crichton via teleconference. Quite a year for those kids. By the way it was his 50th birthday. He is gone now and I miss his writing! I wrote it all up and submitted the unit to the MIldred Dodge Curriculum Contest and received a reply that I had not won the prize but was mentioned as an honorable mention in that prestigious contest. I'd gotten my students involved in something and they loved it. I'd pissed off the big wigs. Which reminds me Watership Down was another of those novels I introduced into the country curriculum.. I taught what I loved and I loved what I taught. I would force myself to love a required piece.. I had never read or seen Hamlet but one weekend a snow storm was expected, so I got a copy of the play, a tape of the play and a case of beer and sat down and listened to it. I then watched several different versions of the play.
That's all folks.
Monday, June 24, 2013
I've got cancer
There's a title post meant to catch the reader's eye. Most of my readers ( the three or four) already know that I have cancer and have had it for over a year and have been receive treatmetns and procedures that will number 15 after tomorrow. Yes thomorrow is my 15 different visit for this cancer. It will be the third operation-procedure.. Add to that 12 bcg-interfuron and 3 cystoscopic procedures and the reader may deduce it's been a tough year. But that's not all. In my spare time I've had 24 dental appointments at the U of MD Dental School. Some of the appointments were not so bad - others rather awful I've had bone grafts, extractions, implants and finally the worst of them all a grinding of the bone graft and upper jaw bone into a smooth service. When the pain killers wore off that pain was comparable to most anything I've known.. from a gall bladder that nearly burst, to several kidney stones and for a time cluster migraines. So I know my way around pain and procedure. Lord have mercy! But for some reason this next procedure set for 1 p.m. tomorrow afternoon has wrought havoc on my nerves. I've not been this upset or frightened because I have been working on being more healthy, more active and less destructive to my own bladder. IN short I've tried to clean up my act and give up thins that weren't necessarily the cause but certainly weren't helping.. and it has been tough. First I've not been able to treat my pain with anything but tylenol which after 2 years of monthly prescriptions for serious pain medication.. vicoden, hydrocodone and so on with regular use of Ultram.. the last week has been a diffcult weaning. Ultram dear readers is an addictive drug.. take from me. That;s the bad news.. the good news in ibuprophen is as effective and not addictive, but alas I have not been allowed to take it either. I am anxious to distraction.. I have to having nothing after 7 a.m. and my procedure is set for 1.. that's a long time for a person with bladder problems to be without water. I always prefer the early morning procedures.. but I am resolute.. I will arise a 5, have coffee and scraml bled eggs and go back to bed until 11 or 12.
There's isn't much more to say but good night, Wish me well.
There's isn't much more to say but good night, Wish me well.
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