Again, sorry to not have posted for a few days. I'm kinda like, sick ya know?
I am so lucky to have so many caring friends. I love you all and feel so grateful knowing you are all out there willing to help. So how do I say this delicately?...um...
I don't want to talk to you.
I'm not sleeping well at night here and need to catch up on sleep at other times. I'll try and keep the blog updated (Alain could help with that again) and I'll try and remember to turn my phone off when I don't want calls.
Ok, so here's the update. I'm a sick little puppy. I have a tube coming out of my stomach to drain the ongoing bowel obstruction. I will not likely have any real food for a couple weeks. I may go home in a couple of days. I will be getting nutrition through the IV. The kidney infection (or wherever it came from) is getting better. I will also be getting IV antibiotics at home. I'm still having a fair amount of pain and need medicine for it regularly. Dr. Angel thought I should count on a 6 week recovery and be pleasantly surprised if I am back sooner than that. I'm usually a quick heal.
According to Dr. Angel I look a whole lot better than when I came in. I can only imagine what that looked like before.
Gonna go bag some zzzz's now.
Beth
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Root beer to float the day away...
Sorry, it's been a while since my last post. Time loses meaning here. I'm still at Highland. I am doing much better. After reviewing the latest CT scan my doctors have decided the best way to address my problems is to change my chemo regimen and let my bowels rest. So no surgery for me. Yesterday I got something called a gastrostomy tube into my stomach so I do not need to ever again have a tube put down my nose. I will go home with this and can relieve any pressure from my gut if it chooses not to work again. I'm getting fed intravenously and will have that during the night at home.
All this is temporary. I won't be eating solids for a while but I can drink clear liquids. Last night I had a juice festival. Tonight Alain visited with my boys and brought, at my request, root beer and vanilla ice cream. We made floats. Ok, vanilla ice cream doesn't count as clear liquid so I just had a little. He left me the bottle of root beer though and I'm about to float away on a brown river of bubbles. My mouth is really dry so I just sip, sip, sip and try not to overdue it. My stomach drains into the gastrostostomy tube and into a bag so what goes in just flows out. Kind of a bulimic's dream really. Maybe that's in poor taste. Ok, it is in poor taste. I must be feeling better.
I am doing much better than when I showed up here due to the nutrition I've gotten and the hydration. I've had a kidney infection while I'm here and had a fever but now that it is treated we are starting to make plans to break me out of this joint. I'd ask someone to send a file in a bottle of grape soda but the soda would probably dissolve it.
See you soon on the outside.
Dr. Bif
All this is temporary. I won't be eating solids for a while but I can drink clear liquids. Last night I had a juice festival. Tonight Alain visited with my boys and brought, at my request, root beer and vanilla ice cream. We made floats. Ok, vanilla ice cream doesn't count as clear liquid so I just had a little. He left me the bottle of root beer though and I'm about to float away on a brown river of bubbles. My mouth is really dry so I just sip, sip, sip and try not to overdue it. My stomach drains into the gastrostostomy tube and into a bag so what goes in just flows out. Kind of a bulimic's dream really. Maybe that's in poor taste. Ok, it is in poor taste. I must be feeling better.
I am doing much better than when I showed up here due to the nutrition I've gotten and the hydration. I've had a kidney infection while I'm here and had a fever but now that it is treated we are starting to make plans to break me out of this joint. I'd ask someone to send a file in a bottle of grape soda but the soda would probably dissolve it.
See you soon on the outside.
Dr. Bif
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Highland Pole Dance
No, I'm not talking about Scottish strippers. Any other guesses?
The Highland Pole Dance is what you have to do after you've wandered around with your IV pole and then have to walk around it several times to untangle the lines. Ooh ay, it's dead sexy!
I went in to the emergency room on Saturday. I had been on clear liquids for the two days prior and wasn't getting any better. It was pretty clear I needed some hydration and pain control. I didn't realize how bad things had gotten until I got some pain control. So I've parked my butt here in the hospital and we're trying to decide what to do with me. It is very likely they will take me down to the operating room to try and relieve the intestinal blockage. No one is very excited about this because I've had radiation and if they try to sew bowel that has been irradiated there is a good chance it won't heal. There is also a chance that the blockage is being caused by cancer that has wrapped itself around the intestine. This prospect frightens me more than just a little.
Unfortunately I've gotten worse since I've been here so something needs to happen.
My parents are arriving this afternoon. Alain has been managing everything like a trooper. He's getting tired though. If any of you have an idea how to give him a break I'm all ears. My folks can help in this respect as well. we're good for food at the house. I will let you all know what the plan is when I get more information.
Dr. Bif
The Highland Pole Dance is what you have to do after you've wandered around with your IV pole and then have to walk around it several times to untangle the lines. Ooh ay, it's dead sexy!
I went in to the emergency room on Saturday. I had been on clear liquids for the two days prior and wasn't getting any better. It was pretty clear I needed some hydration and pain control. I didn't realize how bad things had gotten until I got some pain control. So I've parked my butt here in the hospital and we're trying to decide what to do with me. It is very likely they will take me down to the operating room to try and relieve the intestinal blockage. No one is very excited about this because I've had radiation and if they try to sew bowel that has been irradiated there is a good chance it won't heal. There is also a chance that the blockage is being caused by cancer that has wrapped itself around the intestine. This prospect frightens me more than just a little.
Unfortunately I've gotten worse since I've been here so something needs to happen.
My parents are arriving this afternoon. Alain has been managing everything like a trooper. He's getting tired though. If any of you have an idea how to give him a break I'm all ears. My folks can help in this respect as well. we're good for food at the house. I will let you all know what the plan is when I get more information.
Dr. Bif
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Hannukah Harry vs. Santa
I hope you all had a nice time with your families over the holidays and had fun stimulating our nation's economy. We go both ways at the Leblanc household. I have chosen to practice and raise my kids as Jews but I can't let go of Christmas. Growing up the Friedman household did it up big, the tree and the presents that is; let's face it, Christmas at the Friedman household had all the religious fervor of Halloween. So it is easy for me to continue to embrace Christmas because it's about Santa, not some other guy's birthday.
This year a happy Christmas was a close shave. One week prior I fought with belly pain all night and after spewing my guts like Linda Blair a couple times I had to admit I needed to go in for another bowel obstruction. I was admitted and after a day of things not going well the NG tube fairy made another visit. This time in the form of a gyn resident who was as nice as anyone can be who is shoving something into your nose and down into your stomach. After about a day the stupid thing caught on the gurney coming back from radiology and slithered out.
The second NG tube fairy came in the form of a surgery resident who meant business. She picked a bigger tube. That baby went down there to stay. I cried like a toddler getting her shots. The resident seemed a little indifferent to my discomfort as if some inconsequential place like the nose couldn't possibly hurt that much.
And there I sat. I was chained to the wall by that NG tube hooked up to suction in an effort to decompress my swollen, twisted bowel, the NG tube made even more special by a sinusitis I picked up from Adam before I came in. I was sent for studies to see if the source of the blockage could be determined. I had a CT scan and was told the next morning that there may be a new mass in my pelvis causing the blockage. Thunderstruck is a good adjective to describe my reaction. A CT scan less than a month ago showed very little cancer. In fact some of it had improved. The doctor who was covering for mine and I determined that they weren't comparing the new scan to the most recent. She trotted off to check this out after telling me about the possibility of a feeding tube.
After she left I threw the food magazine I had been reading across the room.
I wasn't ready for this. This was the beginning of the end. Time to call in a favor. I called my friend Barb and explained the situation. I needed a real radiologist. Barbara is not a radiologist but an internist. However, her husband is. Barb calmly took my information and got right on it. I never saw Barb during an emergency like an ice storm but I bet she loves them. She had that Hall of Justice, steely determination in her voice as she told me she'd call Steven and he'd get right back to me.
Steven did get back to me in a couple hours while I calmly watched NCIS (no joke). He not only read the CT but had several other guys in his department read the thing as well. No change from previous films. "ohhhh!" was all I could say at first as the reality of the thing just hit me when he called. Later I sent him a text message: Thank you Hannukah Harry!
So it's the surgeries and radiation that have caused this in case you're wondering. It was now a matter of getting over the current mess and getting home. Things were progressing slowly and it didn't look like I was going to be home for Christmas.
Now here comes Santa. My parents were spending the holiday with my sister in Boston. On the night of the 23rd they decided to come to Rochester. On Christmas Eve they loaded up the SUV and Granny Franny's Land Yacht with all the gifts and food they had planned for their Christmas and road tripped to Rochester. They arrived in the afternoon and the grownups came over to the hospital to visit me and bring a webcam so I could watch the kids open presents in the morning.
As they walked into my room I was clawing at my face like Sigourney Weaver in Alien. I had been blowing my nose when I was suddenly seized by fit of sneezing ten times followed by a sensation of several razor blades in my nose. Barb also chose this time to visit. "Should we get your nurse?" I could hardly talk and tears were shooting out my eyes. Barb being practical said, "well, that tube just has to come out. You want me to help?" "No, don't piss off the nurses!" I said for inexplicable reasons.
My nurse came in and wanted to put the tube back to suction. It had been shut off because the obstruction had been improving. My mother, also a practical woman said, "what the hell is that going to do?" She was right of course but I'm not sure I'd have phrased it that way. When the suction was turned on it was like a Hoover in my head. It took me a minute to realize that the end of the tube was not in my stomach but in my nose. I'd sneezed the damned thing out. So out it came. My wildest dream come true.
Would I make it over night without having to have the tube replaced? I'd rather have pulled out my own thumbnail. I slept overnight comfortably. I even got to eat some jello after a few hours. The bowel obstruction was over. I made it home Christmas Day just after lunch. The kids had waited patiently all morning, pacified with Christmas candy, and I opened presents with everyone that afternoon.
God bless us, every one! Oy!
This year a happy Christmas was a close shave. One week prior I fought with belly pain all night and after spewing my guts like Linda Blair a couple times I had to admit I needed to go in for another bowel obstruction. I was admitted and after a day of things not going well the NG tube fairy made another visit. This time in the form of a gyn resident who was as nice as anyone can be who is shoving something into your nose and down into your stomach. After about a day the stupid thing caught on the gurney coming back from radiology and slithered out.
The second NG tube fairy came in the form of a surgery resident who meant business. She picked a bigger tube. That baby went down there to stay. I cried like a toddler getting her shots. The resident seemed a little indifferent to my discomfort as if some inconsequential place like the nose couldn't possibly hurt that much.
And there I sat. I was chained to the wall by that NG tube hooked up to suction in an effort to decompress my swollen, twisted bowel, the NG tube made even more special by a sinusitis I picked up from Adam before I came in. I was sent for studies to see if the source of the blockage could be determined. I had a CT scan and was told the next morning that there may be a new mass in my pelvis causing the blockage. Thunderstruck is a good adjective to describe my reaction. A CT scan less than a month ago showed very little cancer. In fact some of it had improved. The doctor who was covering for mine and I determined that they weren't comparing the new scan to the most recent. She trotted off to check this out after telling me about the possibility of a feeding tube.
After she left I threw the food magazine I had been reading across the room.
I wasn't ready for this. This was the beginning of the end. Time to call in a favor. I called my friend Barb and explained the situation. I needed a real radiologist. Barbara is not a radiologist but an internist. However, her husband is. Barb calmly took my information and got right on it. I never saw Barb during an emergency like an ice storm but I bet she loves them. She had that Hall of Justice, steely determination in her voice as she told me she'd call Steven and he'd get right back to me.
Steven did get back to me in a couple hours while I calmly watched NCIS (no joke). He not only read the CT but had several other guys in his department read the thing as well. No change from previous films. "ohhhh!" was all I could say at first as the reality of the thing just hit me when he called. Later I sent him a text message: Thank you Hannukah Harry!
So it's the surgeries and radiation that have caused this in case you're wondering. It was now a matter of getting over the current mess and getting home. Things were progressing slowly and it didn't look like I was going to be home for Christmas.
Now here comes Santa. My parents were spending the holiday with my sister in Boston. On the night of the 23rd they decided to come to Rochester. On Christmas Eve they loaded up the SUV and Granny Franny's Land Yacht with all the gifts and food they had planned for their Christmas and road tripped to Rochester. They arrived in the afternoon and the grownups came over to the hospital to visit me and bring a webcam so I could watch the kids open presents in the morning.
As they walked into my room I was clawing at my face like Sigourney Weaver in Alien. I had been blowing my nose when I was suddenly seized by fit of sneezing ten times followed by a sensation of several razor blades in my nose. Barb also chose this time to visit. "Should we get your nurse?" I could hardly talk and tears were shooting out my eyes. Barb being practical said, "well, that tube just has to come out. You want me to help?" "No, don't piss off the nurses!" I said for inexplicable reasons.
My nurse came in and wanted to put the tube back to suction. It had been shut off because the obstruction had been improving. My mother, also a practical woman said, "what the hell is that going to do?" She was right of course but I'm not sure I'd have phrased it that way. When the suction was turned on it was like a Hoover in my head. It took me a minute to realize that the end of the tube was not in my stomach but in my nose. I'd sneezed the damned thing out. So out it came. My wildest dream come true.
Would I make it over night without having to have the tube replaced? I'd rather have pulled out my own thumbnail. I slept overnight comfortably. I even got to eat some jello after a few hours. The bowel obstruction was over. I made it home Christmas Day just after lunch. The kids had waited patiently all morning, pacified with Christmas candy, and I opened presents with everyone that afternoon.
God bless us, every one! Oy!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Finding one's "peeps"
The Yoders were next to arrive; Kate showing me up by bringing actual homemade goods. Doug also came bearing provisions. He made enough caramel corn to feed the next installment of troops to Afghanistan. Caramel corn is a specialty of his family. I remember the first year he made it at the Friedman house. For the next few days we all had bits of popcorn under our fingernails. My mother, on her eternal diet was miffed at the diet's sabotage. "Goddammit Doug!" she admonished as she plunged her hand in for another fistful.
Of course Doug also brought beer thus beginning the 2009 Beer Wars. Everyone denies this exists or has their own interpretation but they are all lying. We all know it's true. Here's how it works. The men want to start the afternoon's libations but know that they will get in trouble with their respective spouses if they start on the beer too early so instead of getting themselves a beer they offer each other one. This has to be done in the presence of the recipient's spouse because in addition to avoiding conflict with their own spouse it is a lot of fun to piss off each other's. Here's an example:
Doug: Hal, can I get you a beer?
Hal: (a slight pause, but then not wanting to be impolite) Ok, sure.
Fran: Jesus Hal, don't get sloshed by dinner!
Endless variations exist. I like the subtlety of getting one of those really big bottles from the microbreweries and offering to split it because it's "too much" for one. Very slick. (A note, everyone was very well behaved at dinner).
Thanksgiving dinner itself was its usual array of splendor. Granny Franny did it up to perfection despite the huge crowd this year including the neighbors. The chickens (Mom's not a fan of turkey) were moist, golden goodness. The mashed potato made excellent nuclear reactors. What, you don't do this? What can I say, we're into our 40's and my brother and I still make 3 Mile Island out of our mashed potatoes. It's easy. Make a big well, pour in a lot of reactor coolant (gravy). Cap off the top with more potato. Done. Ugh! Reactor core breach! Evacuate the plate! Delicious.
Everyone was having fun. Everyone could barely walk from eating. The kids were well behaved. Daniel, the newest addition's every move was followed closely by a gaggle of adoring cousins. On Saturday morning when we were scheduled to leave I decided completely ruin the festive air by taking a side trip to the emergency room and getting myself admitted for three days with another partial bowel obstruction. Tube down the nose, not quite enough pain medicine, heparin shots in the belly. All was well and is well. The obstruction relieved on its own. Alain took the kids home on Sunday and I flew home on Tuesday. Still doing fine.
This was my fourth run in with this particular problem. My mother cornered one of the gastroenterologists at the hospital who is a long time family friend and said, "Bob, what can we do about Beth?" (or something to that effect). Bob, aka Dr. Cimis launched into a detailed description of radiation enteritis. What the problem was (stasis and bacterial overgrowth) and how to fix it (low dose antibiotics). The reason I'm feeling better than before is because I've been on antibiotics all week. My doctor here doesn't know anything about this. In fact, I've done my own review and didn't find any mention of this kind of problem. If you recall I'm also a doctor; I know where to look. Three cheers to Dr. Cimis!
This post was meant to be a tribute to Bob but since it's getting long I'm going to sign off here and write my tribute on another post at which point you'll understand the title. Just in case you need to get back to your online holiday shopping.
Dr. Bif
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
We all need heroes.
Hello all,
No health news from me to report. I am very saddened this week by a colleague's sudden loss of her husband. It was unexpected and devastating. I am thinking of her. Now, go hug someone you love.
I've been asked several times recently if I plan to see the movie about Julia Child. I'm not sure about this. Before her cult status was resurrected recently she was my hero. Mine.
I grew up watching Julia. My mother learned to cook in part from her. Let's just say the culinary tradition from which my mother sprang was a barren dessert of dry roasts and scalloped tomatoes (the latter are actually good). My grandmother would boil a bunch of corn in the summer and call it dinner.
As a child I grew up with Coq au Vin, Navarin of Lamb, chicken a l'orange and other delights. And these were on week nights! My mother used to, and probably still can make a sit down dinner for 30. She cooked everything from chicken pate to the pork tenderloins to the holy trinity of deserts: the walnut roll, the lady finger thing with strawberries, whipped cream, and grand marnier, and an almond meringue cake filled and glazed with a chocolate ganache.
We'd watch Julia Child on public television on the weekends. I loved her. She took such pleasure in what she was doing. I especially loved at the end when she'd set forth the whole meal as if guests were going to walk in at any moment. She usually had a glass of wine and it wasn't much of a stretch to think that the bottle had been open a while.
As I got older I liked how she conveyed her love of those classic dishes as if they were old friends. They weren't dishes you just ordered in a restaurant. If you really loved food you would want to cook it. That is how I feel too. I haven't read a book in bed in a while but I have read countless cooking magazines cover to cover. One cannot truly love food without knowing something about cooking. I'm sorry. I know everyone does not share my love of the stove. I've said it before; git yer own blog.
One Saturday Julia was shucking oysters. Not something young children should watch. Also needing a PG-13 rating is a middle aged woman sucking one of those slithery beasts out of it's shell and exclaiming "they have a wonderfully sea-bottomy flavor!" Ewww! Sorry Julia, ya lost me and the rest of the under 12 crowd with that one.
Later as a young adult I shared an apartment with both my brother and sister for a while. It actually worked pretty well. Sure we yelled at each other but that was the beauty of it. We could yell at each other. It was easy to go food shopping and just split the bill three ways plus we knew automatically where everything in the kitchen was supposed to go. When it was just Kate and me together we also watched Julia Child every now and then. There she was one Saturday doing oysters again. Kate and I, now worldly adults watched intently. "Oh, you open the back side not the flat side!"
Julia took up one of those shells of glistening goodness and sucked it back. "they have a wonderfully sea-bottomy flavor!" she exclaimed once again. She wasn't doing oyster again; it was the same show.
Not long after this Julia's huge tome "The Way to Cook" came out. Of course I had to have it. I already had two other signed books of hers. My brother went to a book signing and stood in a long line at the end of which he regaled Julia with some version of this tale. How much he actually conveyed to our heroine I don't know but I am the proud owner of a this book inscribed: "To Beth, Wonderfully sea-bottomy flavor! -Julia Child.
No health news from me to report. I am very saddened this week by a colleague's sudden loss of her husband. It was unexpected and devastating. I am thinking of her. Now, go hug someone you love.
I've been asked several times recently if I plan to see the movie about Julia Child. I'm not sure about this. Before her cult status was resurrected recently she was my hero. Mine.
I grew up watching Julia. My mother learned to cook in part from her. Let's just say the culinary tradition from which my mother sprang was a barren dessert of dry roasts and scalloped tomatoes (the latter are actually good). My grandmother would boil a bunch of corn in the summer and call it dinner.
As a child I grew up with Coq au Vin, Navarin of Lamb, chicken a l'orange and other delights. And these were on week nights! My mother used to, and probably still can make a sit down dinner for 30. She cooked everything from chicken pate to the pork tenderloins to the holy trinity of deserts: the walnut roll, the lady finger thing with strawberries, whipped cream, and grand marnier, and an almond meringue cake filled and glazed with a chocolate ganache.
We'd watch Julia Child on public television on the weekends. I loved her. She took such pleasure in what she was doing. I especially loved at the end when she'd set forth the whole meal as if guests were going to walk in at any moment. She usually had a glass of wine and it wasn't much of a stretch to think that the bottle had been open a while.
As I got older I liked how she conveyed her love of those classic dishes as if they were old friends. They weren't dishes you just ordered in a restaurant. If you really loved food you would want to cook it. That is how I feel too. I haven't read a book in bed in a while but I have read countless cooking magazines cover to cover. One cannot truly love food without knowing something about cooking. I'm sorry. I know everyone does not share my love of the stove. I've said it before; git yer own blog.
One Saturday Julia was shucking oysters. Not something young children should watch. Also needing a PG-13 rating is a middle aged woman sucking one of those slithery beasts out of it's shell and exclaiming "they have a wonderfully sea-bottomy flavor!" Ewww! Sorry Julia, ya lost me and the rest of the under 12 crowd with that one.
Later as a young adult I shared an apartment with both my brother and sister for a while. It actually worked pretty well. Sure we yelled at each other but that was the beauty of it. We could yell at each other. It was easy to go food shopping and just split the bill three ways plus we knew automatically where everything in the kitchen was supposed to go. When it was just Kate and me together we also watched Julia Child every now and then. There she was one Saturday doing oysters again. Kate and I, now worldly adults watched intently. "Oh, you open the back side not the flat side!"
Julia took up one of those shells of glistening goodness and sucked it back. "they have a wonderfully sea-bottomy flavor!" she exclaimed once again. She wasn't doing oyster again; it was the same show.
Not long after this Julia's huge tome "The Way to Cook" came out. Of course I had to have it. I already had two other signed books of hers. My brother went to a book signing and stood in a long line at the end of which he regaled Julia with some version of this tale. How much he actually conveyed to our heroine I don't know but I am the proud owner of a this book inscribed: "To Beth, Wonderfully sea-bottomy flavor! -Julia Child.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
A bright note...
Hard to believe but I have some good news. Oh my, that sounds terribly self absorbed. Well, I have been rather self absorbed lately. After a summer of delightful travel interspersed with trips to the hospital I've been feeling crappy and worried about my health.
My saddlebags that I wear on my saddlebags, that would be the bags of pee I clip to my underwear at my hips for those of you needing more explanation, haven't been cooperating. I went in recently to have the nephrostomies converted to internal stents so I can pee like a normal person instead of drenching the bed, or my leg periodically (yep, it happened at work). They are very nice in the Interventional Radiology suite, especially a nurse named Andrew. He's some kind of dope dealer. I got some sedation and pain medicine during the procedure but was still in pain after so he got me 2 vicodin. One of those usually has me slurring my words but I was still a little gorked from the procedure and didn't think about the dose. Vicodin being an oral medication doesn't work right away. Andrew's solution was some intravenous dilaudid as a chaser. That makes a grand total of fentanyl, versed, vicodin and dilaudid in about 90 minutes. Holy cow, it took me three days to detox.
I had a cocktail party the following night. If Happy Hal and Granny Franny hadn't been there to help we'd have had to turn people away at the door. After tanking on fluids all day I rallied about an hour after the party started. It was a fun little soiree.
Ok, so what's the good news? The internal stents aren't working. I still gotta saddle up with my bags. My tumor marker took a jump the last round of chemo. I'm not eating well and am losing weight. Worsening disease was on everyone's mind. The good news is a CT scan last week shows disease that is stable to slightly improved. There's actually not a whole lot of bad stuff in there. You can all stop coveting my road bike now. The chemo is working and we're going to stick with the current treatment plan.
I'm so relieved. It's taken almost a week to really feel it. It feels good, real good.
I'll sign off now. In the next installment I think I shall right about my hero.
Dr. Bif
My saddlebags that I wear on my saddlebags, that would be the bags of pee I clip to my underwear at my hips for those of you needing more explanation, haven't been cooperating. I went in recently to have the nephrostomies converted to internal stents so I can pee like a normal person instead of drenching the bed, or my leg periodically (yep, it happened at work). They are very nice in the Interventional Radiology suite, especially a nurse named Andrew. He's some kind of dope dealer. I got some sedation and pain medicine during the procedure but was still in pain after so he got me 2 vicodin. One of those usually has me slurring my words but I was still a little gorked from the procedure and didn't think about the dose. Vicodin being an oral medication doesn't work right away. Andrew's solution was some intravenous dilaudid as a chaser. That makes a grand total of fentanyl, versed, vicodin and dilaudid in about 90 minutes. Holy cow, it took me three days to detox.
I had a cocktail party the following night. If Happy Hal and Granny Franny hadn't been there to help we'd have had to turn people away at the door. After tanking on fluids all day I rallied about an hour after the party started. It was a fun little soiree.
Ok, so what's the good news? The internal stents aren't working. I still gotta saddle up with my bags. My tumor marker took a jump the last round of chemo. I'm not eating well and am losing weight. Worsening disease was on everyone's mind. The good news is a CT scan last week shows disease that is stable to slightly improved. There's actually not a whole lot of bad stuff in there. You can all stop coveting my road bike now. The chemo is working and we're going to stick with the current treatment plan.
I'm so relieved. It's taken almost a week to really feel it. It feels good, real good.
I'll sign off now. In the next installment I think I shall right about my hero.
Dr. Bif
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