back in the saddle?

Since it would seem I'm going to stick around for a while longer, I'll be more diligent with this blog.
And the reading of of other blogs....so here is Friday Cat Blogging on Wednesday night.

Time To Exhale

Back on Friday the 6th of November, I had a CT/PET scan, the first since all modes of treatment (chemo and radiation) stopped. It was early enough in the day that I hoped I might get results by day's end, but did have to wait out the weekend.

Yesterday the nurse-practioneer from the radiation oncologist's office called. The scans came back clean and clear with no spots that "lit up." I am officially in remission.

Now to figure what to do next....

Well, That Was Stupid

Ever since my diagnosis with lung cancer back in February of this year, I have steadfastly made a point of not researching statistics, percentages and life expectancy charts. I told each physician that I didn't want numbers to be a part of my treatment process...that I was in this to beat this motherfucker. No stats. No percentages. No morbidity rates. So far it's been very effective and helpful. That, and I got a really good prognosis from my doctors.

Recently I came across a statistic on another blog about five year survival rates. I read it. I shuddered. I have tried to put it out of my head entirely. This evening I violated my cardinal rule and went looking up stats, percentages, and survival rates. I have scared myself halfway to hell and back. It is nearly midnight. My wife is asleep after a rough day. The cats are all zonked out and here I sit at a computer terminal with sweaty palms and a mind that's running in 18 directions at once. Actually I'm able in moments of pure willpower to bring it back to a center of calmness and determination: we will beat this thing. None of my physicians have said otherwise. No one has told me to get my papers in order by year's end. This is beatable. I must remain cool, calm and collected. I must rid myself of toxic feelings and thoughts. Healthy living begins in the head and heart and I must return to these things as they are what will save my life. My mother beat the most deadly form of this disease, there is no reason I can't.

I should add that I've never had the intuitive feeling this illness was going to kill me, even from the first mention of the word cancer. I've been scared, frightened, bewildered, confused, terrified, unsettled, anxiety ridden, a nervous wreck, but I've never been convinced or certain that my demise would be as a result of this disease. So it is best that I continue to cultivate this feeling and march forward.

This Guy Was An Asshole

Maybe it's because I'm older...maybe it's because of my illness...or maybe I'd like a little recognition for my work, but I no longer have any patience for this shit.

"What You Do For A Living"

I've been thinking about that phrase and how important it is in American Kulture, our view of ourselves and our social interactions. Perhaps it has been my experience with illness that has further alienated me from that phrase (I've never cared for it as long as I can remember). In our society, what you do for a living is something outside yourself that ultimately generates symbolic paper which then permits access to the necessary factors to stay alive, sheltered, clothed, etc. When in fact, what you really do for a living is inhale air for the oxygen content, consume food to be converted to energy and a score of other processes which we barely understand . So when someone inquires what you "do for a living" and you reply, "I'm a stockbroker or whatever" you're really not telling the truth. You're identifying yourself as a human doing and not a human being.

Think about it if you have the time.

The Smartest Dumb Thing I've Done In Some Time Anniversary Day

Last year, October 3rd fell on a Thursday. So did I. Biking home from work on that Indian Summer late afternoon, I decided to "see what my new bicycle was made of..." So I started attempting to do wheelies and other nonesuch to get the me and the bike airborne. Somewhere around the third or fourth wheelie attempt I pulled the handlebars perpendicular to the frame of the bike...uh-oh, I realized, I'm going to have an accident, as time slowed down. My next thought was this is probably going to be a very painful accident. I was correct on both counts. After laying motionless for about two minutes I decided to very gingerly and carefully see what was damaged and what wasn't. My left palm was skinned...my abdomen felt like it had been filleted. Both knees hurt-one was slightly skinned. But it was my pesky right arm that refused all commands and exhortations to move...at all. Oh, the fingers responded to enough commands to assist in the rolling of a cigarette while I sat there and contemplated the distinct possibility that my arm was broken and possibly quite badly. And I was still about a mile and a half from home...did it ever occur to me to call for help or assistance. Nope. Once I determined the bicycle was in much better condition than I, I merely switched shoulders for my shoulder bag and rode home with my right arm dangling uselessly at my side. I did make it home and eventually to the emergency room where it was determined I had broken the head of my humerus in many places. However, as some of you may know, this started a chain of events that led to the early detection of lung cancer in my right lung. Since that fateful day in Oct. I have had surgery to remove a lobe of my lung. I endured some 12 weeks of chemotherapy and then 33 sessions of radiation therapy. Most recently I did battle with pneumonia, not part of the standard treatment plan for this type of cancer. AND I"M STILL HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So today is a cause for celebration...had I not been "young and reckless" that afternoon, I would have billions of renegade cells multiplying undetected at this very moment and I would be in some very deep shit. So here's to smart accidents!!!!!!!!!!

One of My Many Problems, Part 731

As I have mentioned in previous posts concerning my illness, it has prompted, if not outright demanded, a re-valuation and serious examination of my life, who I am, where I'm going, what do I want to be doing, etc. You know, all the questions that surface when faced with a deadly disease like lung cancer. So with my wife providing a great ear to listen to me ramble on until I get well enough to seek some professional assistance, I've been looking at a lot of shit that makes me just plain freakin' uncomfortable. Or things I don't like about myself. Or how I relate to the world. Etc.

Indulge me with this example of how I waste my time and energy. There is a new educational model about to be inflicted on the country, but its initial birthing point (I believe..but don't quote me on this) will be in the California Higher Education System. It's called Universal Design for Learning and is supposed to be The Next Big Thing in Education. I only know about it because our Alternative Media Specialist will be embedding instructors' notes in PDFs of textbooks and other work related to digital texts. That and it gets talked up at staff meetings about how excited everyone is about it.

So what the hell has this got to do with me? In a word, nothing. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my legs. And yet, when this topic comes up, I feel this overwhelming desire to yell at the idiots who think it has so much promise, the Believers! I want to berate them their optimism. I want to humiliate their zeal and good intentions.

Why should I even care one way or the other? I don't have children so how schools teach is of no importance to me! I could care less if my neighbors' kids can read or write...they're not my children. This new educational model has absolutely nothing to do with my job at the campus other than I have to hear about it every once in a while. It in no way interacts with anything pertinent to my life and yet I waste valuable time and energy being pissed over something that has no bearing on my life.
I really must stop doing this. It is not good for my health. It is not productive. It is a waste of time and energy and so on.

And I've got a whole full of shit like this.....

Pneumonia

Goddamn, son-of-a-bitch, motherfucking pneumonia....that's what I've had these past three weeks. Finally got a chest x-ray and it is "widespread" in my lungs. Was given horse pills that are supposed to clear up the problem in 10 or so days. Meanwhile, I'm contagious and not in a very good mood.


So there.

New Tactic?

Read philosophy until head explodes.

Almost Finished

Not in a bad way...feeling like the Phoenix...incinerate the nest and begin anew out of the ashes. Treatments are finished. Side effects are hopefully finished. Time for a massive purge and restructuring of the self after the trial of the past seven months. Time for action coupled with disciplined thought. Time for free thought guided by spontaneity. Time for color to be pressed carefully from metal tubes and set upon the world. Time for inanimate scrap to take on new life. Time for inert paper to shoulder the burden of so much creative impulse.

Time to sweep away and begin anew.

What Next? Hobbit Feet?

So I cease radiation treatments almost two weeks ago, but really don't feel very well all last week. Aches and pains, fever, violent coughing episodes and extreme fatigue. The dizziness and wanting to faint kinda complicated matters a bit, too. Went to work all week. Came home. Collapsed. Repeat.
Finally after a violent coughing attack yesterday morning upon awakening, the wife calls the on-call oncologist. After listening to all my symptoms, he says, "Your husband has post radiation pseudo pneumonia." What the hell? So that's what I've been fighting the past 10 or so days...I'm exhausted.
Walking from room to room leaves me winded...and now I'm taking more drugs.

Wish I had something more positive to say, but there you have it....

The More One Thinks About It....

it really was a fucking evil mess right from the start....

Wow...just wow!

"Most Red Ink Ever: $9 Trillion over next decade."


The above image comes from this marvelous piece... "What does one TRILLION dollars look like?"

Ouch!

All you proggel and liberal types sure got burned with this one...talked a smooth game and got himself into the office. Three and half more years of broken promises....enjoy yourselves.

For My Uncle, Father-In-Law and Mother-In-Law

I really enjoy your definition of a dialogue or discourse. Let's see...with my uncle and my father-in-law I get sent all these bulk e-mails about supporting our troops, Islamofascism sprouting up everywhere, how Democrats and Liberals are destroying the country. Particularly Hilary Clinton. From my mother-in-law, I get, "Oh I'm curious what you think about is going on, but don't say anything bad about Obama because we think he is the only hope this country has...."

Okay, then...why do you bother? Is this some I'm getting older but I'm still the parent/older relative and thus what I say must be true power trip...don't you have precious grandchildren you inflict this shit on and not clutter up my mailbox. Or do you just enjoy needling me...oh, he holds extreme political viewpoints, this should piss him off. And you wonder why I don't attend family gatherings and have given up sending out Christmas cards...or return your fucking phone calls.

What pisses me off the most about this is the uni-directional flow of this communication...you're allowed to dictate to me the content of the communication and the terms of how I reply to it. You're expressing to me how you really feel about the political situation in this country, but if I reply with the same zeal and a few expletives, I run the risk of "hurting your feelings" and alienating (both of these according to my wife). So I have to sit here and be a receptacle for your self-absorbed, ill-informed and pathetic political opinions that come hurtling through the ether every few days. Thanks a fucking lot.

For My Uncle Who Refuses To Answer A Direct E-Mail

Okay, I have now sent you three e-mails requesting with the utmost concern and directness what you would like me to do with Grandpa Scott's rolltop desk. Yes, I know my father inherited it in 1970 when Grandpa Scott died and my father's widow kept with it her even after my father's death. I agreed to take it in case my kid sister might want something that belonged to her father. As my prior e-mails have indicated, we are slowly redoing our office and no longer have need of this item (rolltop desks make lousy computer workstations). I have asked three times if perhaps my aunt would like her father's desk back, but all I get in return are bulk e-mails making fun of Democrats, liberals, or Barack Obama. I do not view these as adequate or appropriate replies to the question at hand which happens to be, do you want this fucking rolltop desk back in your possession or shall I take a chainsaw to it and cut it up for firewood?

Your nephew

Isn't This Sad?

Friday In The American Office

But so true. Everyone hates Mondays. You slog through Tuesday. Wednesday is "hump" day. Thursday...is so tantalizing , because it's almost Friday...you can taste it. And then TGIF, Thank God It's Friday....so you can be alive again. You can be human. Isn't this a wonderful way we spend our years?

To The Woman At The Sun Valley Exit on I-680

No, I am not the least bit apologetic about not letting you cross a solid white line so you could get into the turn lane you wanted to be in. There was traffic moving behind me and coming to a sudden stop to accommodate your error in driving would have been unwise and unsafe. Therefore I did not yield.

But let me explain the real reason behind my decision. You vehicle was turned at angle so that I could see you were a white woman somewhere between 35-45 (my peer cohort), blonde, wearing a sundress on your way to the mall, in short you were probably a Mommie Machine. You and your kind represent everything I can't stand about this country. You're hopelessly middle-class. You have 2.3 children. Your husband is as non-descript as you working for some big corporation so you all can live in your cozy and enormous American Dream House. You are smug in your bourgeois value system. Your conformity makes you almost insect like in your identity. In short, I can't stand you. And thusly I refused to yield to you....


And damn, if it didn't make you hopping mad.

The United States Is

a) an oligarchy
b) a plutocracy
c) both

The State of The Nation

Why Bother To Stop It?

"Hundreds Hurt In 11 Hour California Prison Riot"

It's not like they were in danger of losing any Rhodes Scholars or MacArthur Grant Recipients.

Got to Stop Caring

This article from "The N.Y. Times" does nothing more than fuel my intense dislike of Americans. I really must stop even keeping a casual eye on the news and the doings of my fellow countrymen.

The Futility of It All

This article, "In Venezuela, Plantations of Cacao Stir Bitterness", seems to me to succinctly sum up the folly of the human condition on so many levels.

More Good Times

A very dear friend of mine teaches at one of the local high schools here in The Golden State. That should be enough of a punchline as it stands. However, while she was over for dinner while my mother-in-law was here, she told us one of the budget solutions at her high school is to close the library and if someone needs to check out books or use the library for other purposes, they need to make an appointment and the county "floating" librarian will get there when they can. My mother-in-law was shocked and outraged at such a proposal...well dig this: Budget Cuts Put New Textbook Purchases On Hold.

However, this lead paragraph is priceless:

"History textbooks in many California classrooms won't mention the election of President Barack Obama or the subprime mortgage meltdown until at least 2016. Stem cell research and climate change could be absent from science texts even longer. And students will be using aging books for years longer than planned because of California's education budget cuts."

How you liking that recovery thing?

From "The New York Times": "About Half of U.S. Mortgages Seen Underwater By 2011"

We are so fucked.