• Setback

    Around 4 a.m. this morning I woke up with nausea, a little dizziness, and a pounding headache. I took a quick check of my temperature, and it was 102 degrees (Fahrenheit… but you probably knew that… naturally ocurring boiling innards is pretty rare). My instructions from the oncologist were to call if I had a fever above 101, and luckily for me this qualified.

    It’s now 15 hours later and I have a lovely private room at the local hospital, complete with a wireless hotspot… which made this entry possible.

    Everyone entering my room comes in with a mask and gloves, which makes me a little nervous… like I’m some kind of bubble-boy.

    This has been a time when I’ve been grateful beyond words for my supportive family. It’s really been the silver lining of this whole episode (if you can put such a lining on unbearable nausea and a head that feels like it’s been used as the ball in a soccer match). Unbearable might be a stretch. It’s not unbearable now… after three doses of Zofran.

    You know what’s worst about all of this? It’s not the nausea (although it’s a close second), the fevers or the headaches; it’s that I have to spend the next several days tethered to an IV pole in a hospital. I don’t recall having spent the night in the hospital as a patient (I did it twice when my kids were born, that wasn’t quite the same). But every time I’ve visited someone in the hospital they’ve always looked so pathetic; like staying in the hospital was almost as bad as the illness. Staying in a hospital does something to one’s modesty – that disheveled look only adding to the effect… that look of miserableness.

    Now I’m that disheveled hospital patient: ass hanging out of the infamous gown, hair in that perpetual “slept on” state.

  • Being stiff

    Like many of my fellow vertebrates, I’m particularly protective of my head. It’s evolutionary my dear Watson.

    Like many of my fellow sentients*, my behavior is not always perfectly consistent with my fears or beliefs. It’s what we call rationalization.

    None of this has anything to do with what follows… I thought I’d tie it in somehow, but it didn’t pan out.

    So I have this habit of getting into a car like I’m some kind of Magnum P.I. wanna be. I swing open the door like I’m too cool to be driving a hard top, then glide into the seat in one swift, graceful thrust.

    Today was no exception. I was mounting my Civic Coupe like a Ferrari convertible, per usual; only today I was wearing my exceedingly fashionable fanny pack (emblazoned with the corporate logo for the manufacturer of the chemo pump held within). It turns out a fanny pack situated on one’s belly (such as mine was today) makes the torso slightly less flexible. This in turn makes the wearer slightly more erect, and can place the roof of a car right smack in the middle of one’s glide-path, when entering a car in a Magnum P.I. type fashion.

    Or, to put it more succinctly: I smacked myself silly in the parking lot of my oncologist this morning.

    Although there’s never a good time for a self inflicted concussion, if you had to pick a time and place… an MD’s parking lot is as good a place as any.

    * Making nouns out of adjectives is a hobby of mine. I hear all the really cool people are doing it.

  • It’s not easy being green

    No, this is not an homage to Jim Henson’s famous muppet, although little Kermie was my favorite.

    I don’t recall how it happened, but my wife got on Al Gore’s email list, and we’ve had the pleasure of some one-way correspondence ever since. I’m sure we didn’t do anything special to get on the list. The only qualification was probably an address… and we’ve got that covered in spades. But the one-way nature of our exchanges ends today friends. Today I sent a reply.

    You see, I am a flawed man. I come before you all today… addicted to ebooks. My Palm is my constant companion, my library in a pocket. Everything from reference materials, to policy documents from work, to favorite fiction, to multiple translations of the Bible (which don’t get nearly as much use as I envisioned they would)… it all travels with me, and is available at a moment’s notice. Have you any idea how handy it is to have the books you’re reading with you ALL the time? Quite simply… it’s damn near nirvana.

    Of course, if you’re not a big reader… this is completely lost on you.

    Anyway, back to Al. This morning I got his email reminding me that his book was released today. Right away I went to my two favorite ebook retailers (eReader and Fictionwise). Herein lies the problem with the electronic book format… not all publishers/authors have embraced the idea. In fact, some of them are down right hostile. (I think the main concern revolves around copy protection – doesn’t it always?) You guessed it. Al’s new book isn’t available as an ebook.

    So I sent a message to Al to let him know about my concerns. He’s a tech savvy guy, right? He’s got a seat on the board at Apple, he saw some of the advantages of the internet before most of our leaders did, and duh… no resources used/wasted printing a physical book… I figure the ebook thing is a no brainer.

    Alas, I suspect he doesn’t read all of his own mail. And yet I had to try. Sitting at home hooked up to the chemo drip gives one lots of time to compose harassing emails.

    Maybe if I’m going to go to the trouble of harassing someone, I ought to pick a public figure I don’t admire first?

    Maybe I shouldn’t do any typing at all on chemo and Compazine.

    Here’s something I didn’t know: Compazine used to be used as an anti-psychotic. On the Wikipedia they say it’s 10-20 times more potent than Thorazine.

    I can tell you from personal experience… that’s pretty awesome (albeit pretty damn tiring). It’s also a big reason why I’m sitting around goofing on the internet (half awake) rather than logging into the office to do work (I know too well how much trouble I could stir up there).

    Buenas noches, luna.