I finally dug the car out of the ice block it was encased in yesterday. Freckles needed food. He's on a special prescription diet. His 20-pound bag of food costs more than 50 dollars. You'd think he'd be a little more friendly.
He seems to recognize and probably smell the big, new bag of food sitting in the back sun room, and that seems to make him happy and excited. But he still promptly greeted me first thing this morning by vomiting all over the floor.
Thanks Freckles. Good morning to you too.
I woke up again at 1:30 a.m. last night. But last night, miraculously, for the first time this week, I fell back to sleep. I slept until five a.m. so I was quite thrilled.
Barb woke up an hour later and is sipping coffee and watching Lucy on TV. She loves Lucy. I'm sorry, but I just don't get Ricky Ricardo. Does anyone really think this guy can sing? He makes me cringe.
I'm working myself into breakfast time since my morning steroid has to be taken with food. Barb's homemade English Muffins just keep getting better and better. I'll toast two of those puppies up, then fill them with ham and cheese and heat them up in the microwave for 30-seconds and breakfast is brewing.
I consider myself a pretty good cook. But Barb is a much better baker.
Baking requires precise measuring and consistency and that's how Barb cooks. She follows directions.
Me? Well, for me recipes are generally only guides. I guess I always had problems with directions. I color outside the lines.
When I cook I kind of wing it and feel my way through dishes. Actually I cook a lot by smell, as odd as that may sound.
But we make a good team. I take care of the entrees and sides. She takes care of the breads and desserts. And we're the best place to eat in town.
I am very excited about a new pizza shop in town. I don't get very excited about pizza shops unless it's a shop that makes their own dough every day, and this shop reportedly does, pizza dough, rolls, everything. I always like to be near a good cheese steak.
We've had two other pizza shops in town since we've lived here but they were both miserable. So I have high hopes for this new one that just opened, that we've yet to try.
When opening a business, location means a lot. And doing business inside Marietta Borough limits is tough because we do not get much traffic. That makes it a nice place to live. But virtually every business that has tried to open here in town has failed, except professional services like realtors and graphic artists who do not depend on traffic as much.
Marietta is only about two-miles long and about a quarter-mile wide. There is no room for expansion or new building so it's a challenge to the municipality to find new revenue sources.
The new pizza shop is in a brand new little strip mall that they built onto a very large townhouse development that was constructed this summer just outside of town. There's plenty of traffic there. So they should find success. If their cheese steaks are quality, I'll probably keep them in business alone.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Sleep
Last night, just like every night this week, I woke up around two a.m. and was wide awake.
I try my best to sneak downstairs without waking Barb up but boy are our steps squeaky. They seem to squeak even more when you're trying to walk with Freckles meandering around your feet.
I managed to be fairly quiet this morning, stirring Barbie a bit, but letting her fall back into her dreamland.
After about two-hours I successfully went back to bed. Something that hasn't happened most days this week.
It's the steroid. I need it to control the brain swelling from the radiation. I like the energy it gives me, the appetite, the weight I've been able to gain. But I'm not real thrilled about what it does to my sleeping patterns.
It's a difficult sensation to describe. But the steroid kind of leaves you artificially wired all the time, while in reality your body and mind are exhausted.
Once I finally pull off the steroid completely, hopefully in the next two-weeks, I'll probably just collapse with exhaustion for a day or two.
But I have to keep juiced through next week. Barb's birthday is next week and something always seems to happen at this time of year that impedes our ability to celebrate her birthday appropriately or as planned.
Barb's starting to walk around here all cocky and full of herself because she's going to be the same age as me for a couple of months. LOL
She already was more mature.
We're planning on going to the Catacomb's at Bube's Brewery in Mt. Joy. I've already decided that I'm getting the Chicken Costello.
Her birthday is on Thursday, the regular night that Alyssa and Charlie come over for dinner and a visit each week, so we're going to take them along. Alyssa's eyes will be the size of basketballs when she reads the menu and she'll order way too much...lol...she always does. And that's just fine. That's why we're going out and treating ourselves.
I'm very thankful that Alyssa and Charlie take the time out every Thursday to come over and visit us. It means a lot.
Even though Charlie doesn't like any vegetable but corn - those two are great kids...umm...young adults.
I try my best to sneak downstairs without waking Barb up but boy are our steps squeaky. They seem to squeak even more when you're trying to walk with Freckles meandering around your feet.
I managed to be fairly quiet this morning, stirring Barbie a bit, but letting her fall back into her dreamland.
After about two-hours I successfully went back to bed. Something that hasn't happened most days this week.
It's the steroid. I need it to control the brain swelling from the radiation. I like the energy it gives me, the appetite, the weight I've been able to gain. But I'm not real thrilled about what it does to my sleeping patterns.
It's a difficult sensation to describe. But the steroid kind of leaves you artificially wired all the time, while in reality your body and mind are exhausted.
Once I finally pull off the steroid completely, hopefully in the next two-weeks, I'll probably just collapse with exhaustion for a day or two.
But I have to keep juiced through next week. Barb's birthday is next week and something always seems to happen at this time of year that impedes our ability to celebrate her birthday appropriately or as planned.
Barb's starting to walk around here all cocky and full of herself because she's going to be the same age as me for a couple of months. LOL
She already was more mature.
We're planning on going to the Catacomb's at Bube's Brewery in Mt. Joy. I've already decided that I'm getting the Chicken Costello.
Her birthday is on Thursday, the regular night that Alyssa and Charlie come over for dinner and a visit each week, so we're going to take them along. Alyssa's eyes will be the size of basketballs when she reads the menu and she'll order way too much...lol...she always does. And that's just fine. That's why we're going out and treating ourselves.
I'm very thankful that Alyssa and Charlie take the time out every Thursday to come over and visit us. It means a lot.
Even though Charlie doesn't like any vegetable but corn - those two are great kids...umm...young adults.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Salesmanship
I once worked for a fellow who sincerely wanted to give me a piece of coveted advice, a secret to success in life. He wanted to help me out.
So he pulled me aside and said, "Jim, the secret to life, to everything in life, is learning how to sell."
And he meant it, and not just in business. He played every angle, every time, with everybody, with the sole goal of getting what he wanted. And with employees, customers, wive(s), family, friends, waiters, whatever, he usually did.
I didn't like that advice.
I hate selling anything. I'm a terrible actor.
The odd thing is, that years before I was sitting in the office of the President of Lebanon Valley College, interviewing him for the newspaper on how he had turned around the campus. And he really had done quite a job, making vast building improvements while finding ways to pay for them, and growing enrollment.
I asked him what his secret to success was. He smiled at me and just said, "The secret to life is acting Jim."
That's all he would say about it.
I didn't care for that advice much either.
Is that the secret to life? Is it all fake? Acting?
INTRODUCING THE NEW SCHICK RAZOR WITH 16 BLADES FOR THAT ULTRA-CLOSE SHAVE!
I mean how far away can it be? My razor has four blades. Do I need four blades? I don't know. I didn't buy it. I think it was a gift/hint from my Mom.
Yesterday I saw a TV commercial for the "Slap It," a fruit and vegetable chopper that I would place on top of something and slap like crazy to pulverize my food. Some guy was yelling at me about how this would change my life. I'm still trying to figure out why he was wearing a headset microphone.
Salesmanship is certainly a big part of America.
And from what I'm to understand bartering in general is a big part of many countries.
It's a delicate balancing act. I'm honest to a fault and prefer genuineness to salesmanship. But sooner or later you have to fit into the game and play along Ii suppose.
Ronald Reagan once told a reporter that acting prepared him for politics.
I like direct and straight forward, no hidden agendas. I always firmly believe that two people can work anything out if they're just honest with themselves and one another.
My Dad always taught me to shut up and listen. My Mom always taught me to speak my mind.
Acting was just not part of the curriculum.
So he pulled me aside and said, "Jim, the secret to life, to everything in life, is learning how to sell."
And he meant it, and not just in business. He played every angle, every time, with everybody, with the sole goal of getting what he wanted. And with employees, customers, wive(s), family, friends, waiters, whatever, he usually did.
I didn't like that advice.
I hate selling anything. I'm a terrible actor.
The odd thing is, that years before I was sitting in the office of the President of Lebanon Valley College, interviewing him for the newspaper on how he had turned around the campus. And he really had done quite a job, making vast building improvements while finding ways to pay for them, and growing enrollment.
I asked him what his secret to success was. He smiled at me and just said, "The secret to life is acting Jim."
That's all he would say about it.
I didn't care for that advice much either.
Is that the secret to life? Is it all fake? Acting?
INTRODUCING THE NEW SCHICK RAZOR WITH 16 BLADES FOR THAT ULTRA-CLOSE SHAVE!
I mean how far away can it be? My razor has four blades. Do I need four blades? I don't know. I didn't buy it. I think it was a gift/hint from my Mom.
Yesterday I saw a TV commercial for the "Slap It," a fruit and vegetable chopper that I would place on top of something and slap like crazy to pulverize my food. Some guy was yelling at me about how this would change my life. I'm still trying to figure out why he was wearing a headset microphone.
Salesmanship is certainly a big part of America.
And from what I'm to understand bartering in general is a big part of many countries.
It's a delicate balancing act. I'm honest to a fault and prefer genuineness to salesmanship. But sooner or later you have to fit into the game and play along Ii suppose.
Ronald Reagan once told a reporter that acting prepared him for politics.
I like direct and straight forward, no hidden agendas. I always firmly believe that two people can work anything out if they're just honest with themselves and one another.
My Dad always taught me to shut up and listen. My Mom always taught me to speak my mind.
Acting was just not part of the curriculum.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Wonder Woman
Wow! My wife is incredible.
I mean super hero status here. Wonder Woman status. Watch out for the "truth lasso."
It's a miserable, cold, snowy, icy mess in Marietta this morning. And she's out there with a shovel and an industrial broom and a bag of salt attacking the front walk to ensure her husband doesn't try to get out there first.
Man, she's amazing.
I'm speechless.
I mean super hero status here. Wonder Woman status. Watch out for the "truth lasso."
It's a miserable, cold, snowy, icy mess in Marietta this morning. And she's out there with a shovel and an industrial broom and a bag of salt attacking the front walk to ensure her husband doesn't try to get out there first.
Man, she's amazing.
I'm speechless.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Too Many Comic Books
For someone who has already gone through Gamma Knife radiation treatment of a tumor in the brain, you'd think I'd be smarter. Or at least you'd think I would rely on my past experiences to guide my current experiences a little more.
The Gamma Knife is such a wild, science fiction type thing, that it seems right out of the pages of a comic book. So I seem to forget certain realities.
The Gamma Knife is a huge machine, in the middle of a large empty room, hidden behind huge radioactive proof doors and walls. It's shining silver metal with highlights of gold and copper. With one metal frame screwed to my skull another globe like metal crown is attached to my head as I lay on my back and am slowly drawn into the massive machine.
Everyone leaves the room and the radiation is turned on, many tiny strong beams of radiation all intersect at the tumor. And it all occurs in complete silence.
By the time all that is over I'm walking out of there thinking, "Well that's that." It just seems like such a wild, out of this world experience, I just walk away thinking well the tumor is gone. Zap! They got it! That's it.
Yesterday I was getting impatient with my lack of success at being able to wean off of the steroid Decadron. I started taking it only every other day and I started to feel poor effects from that - some cloudiness, lack of coordination, both signs of brain swelling.
So I figured I'd call the radiation oncologists to see how they would take this news, guage their reaction.
I wasn't told to back off the Decadron. I did that on my own. They told me to get back on it right away. They told me I'm being impatient and forgetting how all this works.
That was good to hear.
The radiation agitates and poisons the tumor so it slowly dies away. It's not a comic book. It's not an instant-working, science fiction, laser beam that just zaps it away. Most of the time, I was reminded by a nurse, the Gamma Knife will first make things feel worse before things start getting better.
It made me feel better to be reminded of all that. It has only been a couple of weeks. And the neurologist doesn't even want to see a follow-up MRI for six weeks. So...
I'm going to try to be a patient guy and ride this out as it should be, follow the doctor's orders, stay with the steroid and see how things turn out.
Why would I want to get off the steroid if it takes care of brain swelling, helps me feel better, gives me a huge appetite that results in weight gain? Because you can forget about sleep while taking this steroid. Last night I spent half the night with Freckles in front of the TV. I think I'm even starting to keep him up now.
The Gamma Knife is such a wild, science fiction type thing, that it seems right out of the pages of a comic book. So I seem to forget certain realities.
The Gamma Knife is a huge machine, in the middle of a large empty room, hidden behind huge radioactive proof doors and walls. It's shining silver metal with highlights of gold and copper. With one metal frame screwed to my skull another globe like metal crown is attached to my head as I lay on my back and am slowly drawn into the massive machine.
Everyone leaves the room and the radiation is turned on, many tiny strong beams of radiation all intersect at the tumor. And it all occurs in complete silence.
By the time all that is over I'm walking out of there thinking, "Well that's that." It just seems like such a wild, out of this world experience, I just walk away thinking well the tumor is gone. Zap! They got it! That's it.
Yesterday I was getting impatient with my lack of success at being able to wean off of the steroid Decadron. I started taking it only every other day and I started to feel poor effects from that - some cloudiness, lack of coordination, both signs of brain swelling.
So I figured I'd call the radiation oncologists to see how they would take this news, guage their reaction.
I wasn't told to back off the Decadron. I did that on my own. They told me to get back on it right away. They told me I'm being impatient and forgetting how all this works.
That was good to hear.
The radiation agitates and poisons the tumor so it slowly dies away. It's not a comic book. It's not an instant-working, science fiction, laser beam that just zaps it away. Most of the time, I was reminded by a nurse, the Gamma Knife will first make things feel worse before things start getting better.
It made me feel better to be reminded of all that. It has only been a couple of weeks. And the neurologist doesn't even want to see a follow-up MRI for six weeks. So...
I'm going to try to be a patient guy and ride this out as it should be, follow the doctor's orders, stay with the steroid and see how things turn out.
Why would I want to get off the steroid if it takes care of brain swelling, helps me feel better, gives me a huge appetite that results in weight gain? Because you can forget about sleep while taking this steroid. Last night I spent half the night with Freckles in front of the TV. I think I'm even starting to keep him up now.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The View is Fine
Last night Barb asked me how much I weighed when I was born.
"Oh, I don't know," I answered. "Just shy of nine-pounds I think.
She made an excruciatingly painful face.
Well I was all head, I told her. I was born with one big, gigantic, fat, pumpkin head.
Most kids had to grow into their baby fat. I had to grow into my big giant head.
Barb started laughing hysterically.
"Sorry," she said, "I was just imagining you learning to crawl or walk and you keep tipping over because of your giant head."
I like being tall. I always have liked being tall. It has its advantages. And, of course it has its pitfalls.
When I played basketball in high school, for away games our team would be set-up in the women's locker room. Well in the women's locker room the shower heads only come up to about my chest.
I do have to buy at least extra-large size shirts so that the shirt will have enough length, even though width wise that usually means I'm swimming in it a little.
People have come up to me already in crowd situations and have asked me if I can find their friends in the crowd.
Once I was out at a crowded club, and I overheard one girl give her friend directions to the bathroom using me as a landmark. I was quite flattered to be a human landmark.
One gentleman I used to work with taught his eldest son to call me "Uncle Tree."
I guess I cast a long shadow.
Being tall does not mean you're tough or strong. It just means you have longer to fall. But there is an intimidation factor that does come with being tall.
I'll never forget being at a party my friends were throwing once. One invited guest had too much to drink and was beginning to become aggressive and destructive. They decided to all grab him and lead him out the door.
Three of my friends jumped on him and somehow steered him outside. There was no sense of confidence in me that this was going to turn out real well. So against my better judgement I said, "I better go see how this is going."
I walked outside to see the drunk bent over like an angry bear with my three friends all hanging off of his back. The drunken angry bear looked up at me, stopped shaking my friends about, and said, "Oh, OK, send the big guy out."
I looked around. What big guy? Oh! Me!
He agreed to sleep it off in his car. Whew, I thought to myself, that guy could have snapped me in two.
Until I bought the FJ Cruiser I never had head room in a car. My head always pressed right against the roof lining.
And planes? Yeah right. I can't afford first class seating and let me tell you those coach seats are not built for people my size. I press into the seat once before take-off and squeeze out after landing, checking how bruised my knees got along the way from the person in front of me smashing their seat into me.
But I like it. The view is great from up here.
Over Christmas we hang our cards along some crown molding between two living areas. Alyssa was looking at the cards when she turned around and asked, "How did you get those up there?"
I walked over and reached up, "Which one do you want to see?"
"Oh, I don't know," I answered. "Just shy of nine-pounds I think.
She made an excruciatingly painful face.
Well I was all head, I told her. I was born with one big, gigantic, fat, pumpkin head.
Most kids had to grow into their baby fat. I had to grow into my big giant head.
Barb started laughing hysterically.
"Sorry," she said, "I was just imagining you learning to crawl or walk and you keep tipping over because of your giant head."
I like being tall. I always have liked being tall. It has its advantages. And, of course it has its pitfalls.
When I played basketball in high school, for away games our team would be set-up in the women's locker room. Well in the women's locker room the shower heads only come up to about my chest.
I do have to buy at least extra-large size shirts so that the shirt will have enough length, even though width wise that usually means I'm swimming in it a little.
People have come up to me already in crowd situations and have asked me if I can find their friends in the crowd.
Once I was out at a crowded club, and I overheard one girl give her friend directions to the bathroom using me as a landmark. I was quite flattered to be a human landmark.
One gentleman I used to work with taught his eldest son to call me "Uncle Tree."
I guess I cast a long shadow.
Being tall does not mean you're tough or strong. It just means you have longer to fall. But there is an intimidation factor that does come with being tall.
I'll never forget being at a party my friends were throwing once. One invited guest had too much to drink and was beginning to become aggressive and destructive. They decided to all grab him and lead him out the door.
Three of my friends jumped on him and somehow steered him outside. There was no sense of confidence in me that this was going to turn out real well. So against my better judgement I said, "I better go see how this is going."
I walked outside to see the drunk bent over like an angry bear with my three friends all hanging off of his back. The drunken angry bear looked up at me, stopped shaking my friends about, and said, "Oh, OK, send the big guy out."
I looked around. What big guy? Oh! Me!
He agreed to sleep it off in his car. Whew, I thought to myself, that guy could have snapped me in two.
Until I bought the FJ Cruiser I never had head room in a car. My head always pressed right against the roof lining.
And planes? Yeah right. I can't afford first class seating and let me tell you those coach seats are not built for people my size. I press into the seat once before take-off and squeeze out after landing, checking how bruised my knees got along the way from the person in front of me smashing their seat into me.
But I like it. The view is great from up here.
Over Christmas we hang our cards along some crown molding between two living areas. Alyssa was looking at the cards when she turned around and asked, "How did you get those up there?"
I walked over and reached up, "Which one do you want to see?"
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Back to the Chemo
The new chemotherapy Sutent calls for four weeks of one pill a day followed by two weeks off. Today ends my two weeks off, to end my first "cycle." Tomorrow evening I'll start taking the chemo again for the next four weeks, followed by another two weeks off.
During the first six weeks Sutent has already made a difference. Typically it would be tough to measure this without a CT scan. But since I ended December with two topical lumps on the back of my head and an enlarged lymph node in my neck, I've had visible stuff to keep an eye on. And since starting Sutent it's all shrunk. Actually it's all shrunk to nothing or virtually nothing.
The side effects of the chemo, so far, have been pretty easy going. But I've learned from past treatments that the side effects build up over time.
So far my beard has changed once again from brunette to blonde. Sutent is famous for something called hand/foot syndrome, which is extreme sensitivity in the hands and feet. I've gotten a little of that so far, but so far it's no big deal.
Beyond that there are daily battle zones that emerge in certain parts of the body, but that's all part of living with chemo. All in all, so far, Sutent hasn't been too bad.
But helping all of that along has been Decadron, a strong steroid prescribed to control swelling in the brain. Decadron gives me a big round Barry Bonds face. It also gives me quite an appetite. I've gained 20-pounds. I'm a little upset about that. Not about gaining weight, but gaining so much, so fast. I can't imagine that kind of weight gain is in my best overall health interest.
But "Barb's Diner" has been kicking out a lot of good stuff around here lately. It's tough to resist.
I am in the process of weaning off of Decadron. The body becomes so attached to this steroid that the drug cannot just be stopped. The body has to be eased off the drug. It's not easy. I've been here before.
Friday was the first day I completely skipped Decadron. Saturday morning I felt terrible and took one. This morning I feel great and am planning on skipping again. Tomorrow morning I'll probably feel terrible again.
There's nothing like the feeling of a little brain swelling.
The brain swelling is from the one tumor in the brain, and the treatment of that tumor via Gamma Knife radiation during the first week of January. The radiation continues to poison the tumor for weeks and weeks until it's gone.
I'm betting on that swelling starting to subside by lowering my dose of Decadron. There's only one way to find out.
The hip bone is still sore too. But it seems to get a little bit better each and every day. The radiation is working on the cancer in the hip bone there too. Those radiation treatments ended in the second week of January and will be working to poison the cancer for the weeks ahead.
Everything really did go a bit nutty in December. The cancer ran a bit wild.
But we set a gameplan in place to get everything back under control, and so far everything is going according to the gameplan.
Somedays I feel great and somedays, well, not so great. But, with Barb's help, I'm pushing myself when I feel up to it, and relaxing when I should take it a little easy.
The painting of the upstairs hallway, down around the stairway, with the two landings is virtually done. I just have a few edges to tidy up. Considering it involved a 16-foot extension pole, a ladder and a stairway, I'm quite proud...and I found a couple muscles that haven't been used in awhile.
During the first six weeks Sutent has already made a difference. Typically it would be tough to measure this without a CT scan. But since I ended December with two topical lumps on the back of my head and an enlarged lymph node in my neck, I've had visible stuff to keep an eye on. And since starting Sutent it's all shrunk. Actually it's all shrunk to nothing or virtually nothing.
The side effects of the chemo, so far, have been pretty easy going. But I've learned from past treatments that the side effects build up over time.
So far my beard has changed once again from brunette to blonde. Sutent is famous for something called hand/foot syndrome, which is extreme sensitivity in the hands and feet. I've gotten a little of that so far, but so far it's no big deal.
Beyond that there are daily battle zones that emerge in certain parts of the body, but that's all part of living with chemo. All in all, so far, Sutent hasn't been too bad.
But helping all of that along has been Decadron, a strong steroid prescribed to control swelling in the brain. Decadron gives me a big round Barry Bonds face. It also gives me quite an appetite. I've gained 20-pounds. I'm a little upset about that. Not about gaining weight, but gaining so much, so fast. I can't imagine that kind of weight gain is in my best overall health interest.
But "Barb's Diner" has been kicking out a lot of good stuff around here lately. It's tough to resist.
I am in the process of weaning off of Decadron. The body becomes so attached to this steroid that the drug cannot just be stopped. The body has to be eased off the drug. It's not easy. I've been here before.
Friday was the first day I completely skipped Decadron. Saturday morning I felt terrible and took one. This morning I feel great and am planning on skipping again. Tomorrow morning I'll probably feel terrible again.
There's nothing like the feeling of a little brain swelling.
The brain swelling is from the one tumor in the brain, and the treatment of that tumor via Gamma Knife radiation during the first week of January. The radiation continues to poison the tumor for weeks and weeks until it's gone.
I'm betting on that swelling starting to subside by lowering my dose of Decadron. There's only one way to find out.
The hip bone is still sore too. But it seems to get a little bit better each and every day. The radiation is working on the cancer in the hip bone there too. Those radiation treatments ended in the second week of January and will be working to poison the cancer for the weeks ahead.
Everything really did go a bit nutty in December. The cancer ran a bit wild.
But we set a gameplan in place to get everything back under control, and so far everything is going according to the gameplan.
Somedays I feel great and somedays, well, not so great. But, with Barb's help, I'm pushing myself when I feel up to it, and relaxing when I should take it a little easy.
The painting of the upstairs hallway, down around the stairway, with the two landings is virtually done. I just have a few edges to tidy up. Considering it involved a 16-foot extension pole, a ladder and a stairway, I'm quite proud...and I found a couple muscles that haven't been used in awhile.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
What a Mixed Up Country We Are
While CitiBank buys Merill Lynch out from debt, the CEO of Merill Lynch first asks for a 10 million dollar bonus, then plans a 1.2 million dollar redecorating of his office.
What planet is this guy on?
He has now stepped down from his position. But would it be realistic to think that his replacement will be that different?
We really do have a group of elite in this country that are so far removed from reality it's dangerous. And thanks to the theories of trickle down economics, this group just continues to grow bigger, stronger, and more detached.
I think it's criminal.
Yesterday the local police finally caught the two local 18-year olds who have been smashing windows out of cars to collect change from inside. I'm glad they were caught, of course. One car they had already broken into was mine.
I'm sure they'll be punished. But all in all, the harm they've caused is no comparison to the harm caused by the likes of the former CEO of Merill Lynch. And I have a funny feeling that he'll land on his feet somewhere just fine.
Somehow the middle class has to take control of this country again. The country has become an elite few ruling the masses as their serfdom. But how do we hold our elite royalty accountable?
We've become detached. We're distracted by celebrities and sports, mp3 players and big screen tvs. The news is more about weight or hair loss than it is about current issues.
Seriously, I want to know what issues my representatives are considering and voting on each and every day. How do I do that?
When I worked for a large printer in York they considered building a plant in North Jersey to tap more of the New York City marketplace. It turned out though that building in North Jersey was too expensive so they decided to expand locally. The owner of the company went to the state and told them that unless he received grant money to help him expand locally he was going to go build in North Jersey. He lied. He was given the grant, our tax dollars free for him.
Then in the true style of trickle down economics he built a full-court basketball court inside his house.
Genuinely, I am almost afraid to get involved. These people could smash me like a bug, and they wouldn't hesitate to I'm sure.
Dealing with my health insurance company Aetna has taught me that it's in my best interest to just leave them alone as much as possible. If I highlight unfairness or mistakes to them, they just pile more trouble on top of me.
A few weeks ago Aetna completely messed up a claim and after I brought it to their attention suddenly another bill appeared for medicine I had prescribed over a year ago. Both issues were resolved, at least until the next issue surfaces.
Amazingly, and I kid you not, Aetna messed up every co-pay on MRIs and CTs throughout all of 2008 with the exception of one.
I can't change insurers. I'm stuck. In the wisdom of our country a person with a pre-existing condition (like cancer) cannot be denied from group insurance plans but can be denied by individual insurance plans. That's sure supporting the American ideal of individualism!
I'm on my soap box. But I'm not as fired up as I may sound. Quite frankly I've been beaten down over years trying to right these abuses that I see as wrong, all the way back to my newspaper reporter days.
Now, listening to the next round of layoffs on the news every morning, I just hope that the masses can stand up and hold our elite group of rulers to some form of accountability.
Democracy, lol, I can only hope.
What planet is this guy on?
He has now stepped down from his position. But would it be realistic to think that his replacement will be that different?
We really do have a group of elite in this country that are so far removed from reality it's dangerous. And thanks to the theories of trickle down economics, this group just continues to grow bigger, stronger, and more detached.
I think it's criminal.
Yesterday the local police finally caught the two local 18-year olds who have been smashing windows out of cars to collect change from inside. I'm glad they were caught, of course. One car they had already broken into was mine.
I'm sure they'll be punished. But all in all, the harm they've caused is no comparison to the harm caused by the likes of the former CEO of Merill Lynch. And I have a funny feeling that he'll land on his feet somewhere just fine.
Somehow the middle class has to take control of this country again. The country has become an elite few ruling the masses as their serfdom. But how do we hold our elite royalty accountable?
We've become detached. We're distracted by celebrities and sports, mp3 players and big screen tvs. The news is more about weight or hair loss than it is about current issues.
Seriously, I want to know what issues my representatives are considering and voting on each and every day. How do I do that?
When I worked for a large printer in York they considered building a plant in North Jersey to tap more of the New York City marketplace. It turned out though that building in North Jersey was too expensive so they decided to expand locally. The owner of the company went to the state and told them that unless he received grant money to help him expand locally he was going to go build in North Jersey. He lied. He was given the grant, our tax dollars free for him.
Then in the true style of trickle down economics he built a full-court basketball court inside his house.
Genuinely, I am almost afraid to get involved. These people could smash me like a bug, and they wouldn't hesitate to I'm sure.
Dealing with my health insurance company Aetna has taught me that it's in my best interest to just leave them alone as much as possible. If I highlight unfairness or mistakes to them, they just pile more trouble on top of me.
A few weeks ago Aetna completely messed up a claim and after I brought it to their attention suddenly another bill appeared for medicine I had prescribed over a year ago. Both issues were resolved, at least until the next issue surfaces.
Amazingly, and I kid you not, Aetna messed up every co-pay on MRIs and CTs throughout all of 2008 with the exception of one.
I can't change insurers. I'm stuck. In the wisdom of our country a person with a pre-existing condition (like cancer) cannot be denied from group insurance plans but can be denied by individual insurance plans. That's sure supporting the American ideal of individualism!
I'm on my soap box. But I'm not as fired up as I may sound. Quite frankly I've been beaten down over years trying to right these abuses that I see as wrong, all the way back to my newspaper reporter days.
Now, listening to the next round of layoffs on the news every morning, I just hope that the masses can stand up and hold our elite group of rulers to some form of accountability.
Democracy, lol, I can only hope.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Cars
Just think back to when you first learned to drive. How many other cars were on the road then?
My cousin and I used to purposely try to get lost in the fields and woods and small mountains that surrounded Myerstown. We'd drive until we'd come to the same unanimous conclusion - that we must have just entered Kanasas, or at least somewhere we'd never been before. We'd drive without another car in sight for miles and miles and miles.
I likely inherited this behavior from my Dad. He used to pack us into the car every Sunday afteroon and he'd take off with a picnic lunch trying to see how lost he could get us. My Dad had a compass mounted on his dashboard. He seriously tried to use it. But with Pennsylvania country roads snaking around historic property lines it's almost impossible to drive anthying close to a straight line or due point.
But nothing really mattered. Nice days, open roads, Pennsylvania countryside as far as the eye can see.
Where did it go?
At the risk of sounding like an old, grumpy man, there's way too many cars out there now. Driving isn't fun anymore. It's grown increasingly difficult to try to locate "Kansas." So much for a picnic lunch, jumping in the car, and just getting lost somewhere for awhile.
I'd love to know how many more cars are on the roads in Central Pennsylvania now compared to 30- or 40-years ago. It's got to be a lot.
Now how about 30- or 40-years from today?
If we continue to multiply the number of cars on the road at our current rates by the year 2050 will driving even be possible anymore?
Maybe we'll all only be able to drive on even or odd days?
It's going to be different.
Maybe walking will come back in style?
My cousin and I used to purposely try to get lost in the fields and woods and small mountains that surrounded Myerstown. We'd drive until we'd come to the same unanimous conclusion - that we must have just entered Kanasas, or at least somewhere we'd never been before. We'd drive without another car in sight for miles and miles and miles.
I likely inherited this behavior from my Dad. He used to pack us into the car every Sunday afteroon and he'd take off with a picnic lunch trying to see how lost he could get us. My Dad had a compass mounted on his dashboard. He seriously tried to use it. But with Pennsylvania country roads snaking around historic property lines it's almost impossible to drive anthying close to a straight line or due point.
But nothing really mattered. Nice days, open roads, Pennsylvania countryside as far as the eye can see.
Where did it go?
At the risk of sounding like an old, grumpy man, there's way too many cars out there now. Driving isn't fun anymore. It's grown increasingly difficult to try to locate "Kansas." So much for a picnic lunch, jumping in the car, and just getting lost somewhere for awhile.
I'd love to know how many more cars are on the roads in Central Pennsylvania now compared to 30- or 40-years ago. It's got to be a lot.
Now how about 30- or 40-years from today?
If we continue to multiply the number of cars on the road at our current rates by the year 2050 will driving even be possible anymore?
Maybe we'll all only be able to drive on even or odd days?
It's going to be different.
Maybe walking will come back in style?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Nice and Quiet
There's not much going on, starting this Thursday morning. But that's quite alright with me.
Excitement is not what I need. A hammock, a couple of palm trees, my ipod and a good book maybe.
Just give me a quick moment here . . . ooooook, (sigh) I'm back.
We saw that poor Florida was down in the 30-degree range this morning. Actually I hope they don't suffer from a frost, oranges are expensive enough up here. But my friends and family probably enjoy breaking out that one long sleeve shirt from the bottom of the drawer for a change.
It's been a cold, cold January in Pennsylvania this year, which on the good side has resulted in little snow.
We're hibernating, recovering, rejuvenating, trying to get ourselves in decent shape to blossom by Spring.
I can still feel the radiation treatments working on me, which is normal. I still have some soreness in the right hip bone, and I still feel a little punched around in the head.
Everyday I take it slow but steady and try to get myself into better and better shape. Some days go the wrong direction, but most days go the right direction. Life is rarely, if ever, a straight line.
I've cut my steroid dosage in half aiming to be off of them completely by next week. I'll still take a very occasional pain pill for the hip, but I've cut those back drastically. One thing cancer has definitely taught me is to take as little medicine as possible.
Painting is looking like a good way to keep my mind and body busy though. No, not painting landscapes or portraits or even abstracts - just walls. And painting trim and doors and ceilings. I've been slowly working on getting every inch of this old house painted for a period of years now. I'd say I'm almost 75-percent done, including the entire exterior of the house.
Growing up we had a large deck on the back of the house, and a small barn/shed for tools. Both were all wood, and both were my responsibility to scrape and paint every summer. It kept me out of trouble.
This is not exciting work. But I always enjoyed it. I'd set the radio up, take the shirt off, and genuinely enjoy being able to step back at the end of a day of brushes and rollers and say, "Hey, it does look better."
As I was painting the top stairway landing yesterday a lot of those memories came flooding back for me.
In a way that is my hammock and two palm trees.
Excitement is not what I need. A hammock, a couple of palm trees, my ipod and a good book maybe.
Just give me a quick moment here . . . ooooook, (sigh) I'm back.
We saw that poor Florida was down in the 30-degree range this morning. Actually I hope they don't suffer from a frost, oranges are expensive enough up here. But my friends and family probably enjoy breaking out that one long sleeve shirt from the bottom of the drawer for a change.
It's been a cold, cold January in Pennsylvania this year, which on the good side has resulted in little snow.
We're hibernating, recovering, rejuvenating, trying to get ourselves in decent shape to blossom by Spring.
I can still feel the radiation treatments working on me, which is normal. I still have some soreness in the right hip bone, and I still feel a little punched around in the head.
Everyday I take it slow but steady and try to get myself into better and better shape. Some days go the wrong direction, but most days go the right direction. Life is rarely, if ever, a straight line.
I've cut my steroid dosage in half aiming to be off of them completely by next week. I'll still take a very occasional pain pill for the hip, but I've cut those back drastically. One thing cancer has definitely taught me is to take as little medicine as possible.
Painting is looking like a good way to keep my mind and body busy though. No, not painting landscapes or portraits or even abstracts - just walls. And painting trim and doors and ceilings. I've been slowly working on getting every inch of this old house painted for a period of years now. I'd say I'm almost 75-percent done, including the entire exterior of the house.
Growing up we had a large deck on the back of the house, and a small barn/shed for tools. Both were all wood, and both were my responsibility to scrape and paint every summer. It kept me out of trouble.
This is not exciting work. But I always enjoyed it. I'd set the radio up, take the shirt off, and genuinely enjoy being able to step back at the end of a day of brushes and rollers and say, "Hey, it does look better."
As I was painting the top stairway landing yesterday a lot of those memories came flooding back for me.
In a way that is my hammock and two palm trees.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Albert Bros. Bakery
It was English muffin making day at Albert Bros. Bakery yesterday. Alyssa came over for a visit, and Barb had her magic muffin mojo working in the kitchen.
Barb, Alyssa and I shared ideas on restarting my Grandfather's business Albert Bros. Bakery. It was fun playing with ideas on what we would do. We'd bake everything from daily loaves of bread to wedding cakes. Then we're going to open a "cafe'" as Alyssa called it, and serve breakfast and lunch all around the theme of fresh bread.
Then we thought of how we'd have to work 12-hours a day six days a week.
Then we thought of how we'd have to move from Marietta since there isn't enough traffic here to make that work.
Well, it's fun to think about. And who knows . . .
If I could do it all over again, I tell people I would manufacture toilet paper. I'd make something everyone needs.
Everyone with a computer is a graphic artist. I earned that journalism degree, studied the techniques of publishing and communications, sharpened my skills working for a few newspapers and magazines, and find myself competing with housewives and students for work.
The life of a designer - no one tells an engineer how to build a bridge, or a surgeon where to make the first incision, but everyone is a designer.
It's no biggie. Perserverance works it out. If someone is still working as a designer (any kind of designer) at age 35 you know they've been good enough at what they do to stick around. And most don't make it.
I always asked young designers why they want to design.
"Because it seems like a lot of fun," is what I'm most often told.
"It should be fun," I always reply. "But when it seems like hard work too you'll know you're getting good."
Just hand someone a blank page sometime and say "Make something," and watch the bewildered faces that extend from there.
I've always said that I will never be bored. I can always make something. I don't care if all I have is a bottle of spray paint and a cardboard box. I don't care if it turns out neat or really bad.
Whether or not people think so of themselves or not, everyone does have a creative impulse inside them. It is a joy to pull that out. We should all just sit down and get the crayons out and color sometimes. Just don't feel like you have to stay inside the lines.
Barb, Alyssa and I shared ideas on restarting my Grandfather's business Albert Bros. Bakery. It was fun playing with ideas on what we would do. We'd bake everything from daily loaves of bread to wedding cakes. Then we're going to open a "cafe'" as Alyssa called it, and serve breakfast and lunch all around the theme of fresh bread.
Then we thought of how we'd have to work 12-hours a day six days a week.
Then we thought of how we'd have to move from Marietta since there isn't enough traffic here to make that work.
Well, it's fun to think about. And who knows . . .
If I could do it all over again, I tell people I would manufacture toilet paper. I'd make something everyone needs.
Everyone with a computer is a graphic artist. I earned that journalism degree, studied the techniques of publishing and communications, sharpened my skills working for a few newspapers and magazines, and find myself competing with housewives and students for work.
The life of a designer - no one tells an engineer how to build a bridge, or a surgeon where to make the first incision, but everyone is a designer.
It's no biggie. Perserverance works it out. If someone is still working as a designer (any kind of designer) at age 35 you know they've been good enough at what they do to stick around. And most don't make it.
I always asked young designers why they want to design.
"Because it seems like a lot of fun," is what I'm most often told.
"It should be fun," I always reply. "But when it seems like hard work too you'll know you're getting good."
Just hand someone a blank page sometime and say "Make something," and watch the bewildered faces that extend from there.
I've always said that I will never be bored. I can always make something. I don't care if all I have is a bottle of spray paint and a cardboard box. I don't care if it turns out neat or really bad.
Whether or not people think so of themselves or not, everyone does have a creative impulse inside them. It is a joy to pull that out. We should all just sit down and get the crayons out and color sometimes. Just don't feel like you have to stay inside the lines.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Obama
No matter where you turn today you're going to hear something about the Presidential inauguration. I know that many of my family and friends will be cringing through the day, convinced that Obama is going to run our country into ruin.
But I'm happy.
I still believe in our country, very much so. But our country has a lot of room for improvement.
The President really is little more than a symbol. I think that it's way past time that our country's true diversity is represented in this symbolic office.
Most of us in this country are mutts of some kind or another. This country lives and breathes on its expansive middle-class, which carries the weight of everything in this country on its back.
But the voice of the middle-class seems to be lost, even confused.
Obama will bring hope to millions of America. But only millions of Americans can make hope a reality.
Do we still care?
Almost everyday I meet fantastic people. I'm constantly impressed by how great so many people are, strong in faith, strong in work ethic, kind to a fault, just amazing in every way.
But they're mostly unheard and under the radar.
People are more worried about their GPS system than they are worried about the exhorbitant amount of corruption that has taken over Washington. People talk more about yesterday's Oprah show than they do our economic stability.
If you walked into a diner and walked past two gentlemen discussing the big picture of economic principles in modern society you'd probably think to yourself, "What weirdos!"
I try to watch the news and all I see is tidbits on how to lose 20-pounds or resolve my hair loss.
One reality I've come to accept is the simple fact that it is now one world. It's not the United States and those far-away places. It's us, all of us, one big country.
Remember now, the Chinese didn't come here and take our manufacturing. Americans took our manufacturing there. Anything for a buck. Everything is for sale in America.
If we are to turn things around, in my humble opinion, the strength of this country has to take charge of the country again. The middle class has to become informed and involved, all the way down to the community levels.
Greed and manipulation has been allowed to run wild disguised as Democracy and freedom.
Gone is the village with the baker, the butcher, the candlestick maker.
Now we face one global village, and there really is no pulling back, although I still believe in the village concept at the smallest level also.
Look at it this way...if Chinese workers enjoyed the pay and lifestyles we did would any manufacturing work still be sent there? If the playing field was truly even? Well then let's work towards making it even.
If your home country had what our country has would you still be interested in immigrating here? And leave your family, your friends, and everything you grew up with and know? Well then let's work towards making it even.
For some reason we have a problem with immigration from Mexico, but not from Canada. I've never heard anyone complaining about all those crazy Canadians sneaking across the border.
I'm rambling.
And I'll stop.
But I hope we can take some symbolism from today's historic inauguration and get ourselves, the middle class, back involved. Churches, schools, baseball leagues, sub sales, getting to know our neighbors and coming together to get things done.
I know all the right folks are out there. Don't wait for Obama, or anyone else. Let's do it ourselves, together.
But I'm happy.
I still believe in our country, very much so. But our country has a lot of room for improvement.
The President really is little more than a symbol. I think that it's way past time that our country's true diversity is represented in this symbolic office.
Most of us in this country are mutts of some kind or another. This country lives and breathes on its expansive middle-class, which carries the weight of everything in this country on its back.
But the voice of the middle-class seems to be lost, even confused.
Obama will bring hope to millions of America. But only millions of Americans can make hope a reality.
Do we still care?
Almost everyday I meet fantastic people. I'm constantly impressed by how great so many people are, strong in faith, strong in work ethic, kind to a fault, just amazing in every way.
But they're mostly unheard and under the radar.
People are more worried about their GPS system than they are worried about the exhorbitant amount of corruption that has taken over Washington. People talk more about yesterday's Oprah show than they do our economic stability.
If you walked into a diner and walked past two gentlemen discussing the big picture of economic principles in modern society you'd probably think to yourself, "What weirdos!"
I try to watch the news and all I see is tidbits on how to lose 20-pounds or resolve my hair loss.
One reality I've come to accept is the simple fact that it is now one world. It's not the United States and those far-away places. It's us, all of us, one big country.
Remember now, the Chinese didn't come here and take our manufacturing. Americans took our manufacturing there. Anything for a buck. Everything is for sale in America.
If we are to turn things around, in my humble opinion, the strength of this country has to take charge of the country again. The middle class has to become informed and involved, all the way down to the community levels.
Greed and manipulation has been allowed to run wild disguised as Democracy and freedom.
Gone is the village with the baker, the butcher, the candlestick maker.
Now we face one global village, and there really is no pulling back, although I still believe in the village concept at the smallest level also.
Look at it this way...if Chinese workers enjoyed the pay and lifestyles we did would any manufacturing work still be sent there? If the playing field was truly even? Well then let's work towards making it even.
If your home country had what our country has would you still be interested in immigrating here? And leave your family, your friends, and everything you grew up with and know? Well then let's work towards making it even.
For some reason we have a problem with immigration from Mexico, but not from Canada. I've never heard anyone complaining about all those crazy Canadians sneaking across the border.
I'm rambling.
And I'll stop.
But I hope we can take some symbolism from today's historic inauguration and get ourselves, the middle class, back involved. Churches, schools, baseball leagues, sub sales, getting to know our neighbors and coming together to get things done.
I know all the right folks are out there. Don't wait for Obama, or anyone else. Let's do it ourselves, together.
Monday, January 19, 2009
No Way Around It
All morning I've been trying to think of excuses why I shouldn't go outside in the cold today and run through the automated teller at the bank, gas station for a fill-up, butcher shop for meat, and grocery store for everything else.
I can't go out. The squirrels in the backyard scare me.
I'm allergic to cold.
I'm too tall for the grocery store.
I've got nothing.
It's Monday, and it's time to face winter.
I had a very nice weekend hiding from the cold. But now it's time.
I made a batch of my infamous firehouse chili this weekend and it certainly fit the bill and helped Barb and I stay warm inside. Barb doesn't let me make the chili quite as hot as I like. But, as I say, it can be made "mild" or "wild."
I always remember a few years ago I made a batch of my chili for a good friend. I looked over at him while he was eating. Tears were coming out of his eyes. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat.
"This is the best chili I've ever had in my life," he said.
He made me write down a recipe for his wife.
Well the FJ needs to be run in this cold weather, and I guess I need to be run around in it a little too.
Dear Florida...
Please send warm air masses.
Thanks,
Jim
I can't go out. The squirrels in the backyard scare me.
I'm allergic to cold.
I'm too tall for the grocery store.
I've got nothing.
It's Monday, and it's time to face winter.
I had a very nice weekend hiding from the cold. But now it's time.
I made a batch of my infamous firehouse chili this weekend and it certainly fit the bill and helped Barb and I stay warm inside. Barb doesn't let me make the chili quite as hot as I like. But, as I say, it can be made "mild" or "wild."
I always remember a few years ago I made a batch of my chili for a good friend. I looked over at him while he was eating. Tears were coming out of his eyes. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat.
"This is the best chili I've ever had in my life," he said.
He made me write down a recipe for his wife.
Well the FJ needs to be run in this cold weather, and I guess I need to be run around in it a little too.
Dear Florida...
Please send warm air masses.
Thanks,
Jim
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Capturing Cancer
Self portrait.
I'm just about done reading a book on photographer Annie Liebovitz that Alyssa kindly gave me for Christmas. All in all, I'd say Ms. Liebovitz is a much better photographer than she is a writer. But I've found the book interesting because of the journey her life has taken.
Liebovitz was one of the early, brass kids who happened to be studying art in San Francisco when publisher Jann Wenner first introduced Rolling Stone magazine. Virtually everyone who fell into that early circle went on to become cultural icons. It was a time and place when publishing that type of magazine was significant.
Liebovitz worked with some of my favorite writers, Tom Wolfe, Hunter S. Thompson, and others. She is known as one of the most famous celebrity profilists of all time, and she's earned it.
Reading the book made me think about how I would portray my own cancer in a photograph. Well my self-portrait attached to this blog is the result.
I know it may seem a little odd. But to me it was the image that portrays my cancer journey best. It is black and white because it is solemn and a little sad and bleak. It is an exhausting journey that leaves you worn out and draped over an over-stuffed leather chair. And it is a journey that leaves you torn, like most of my Levi's. But at the same time there is a peace to it, a contentment and resolve that takes over and leads the way.
Photographs, to me, should always be a little more than smile and look at the camera.
The Amish hate photographs because they believe they capture their souls.
For me, one of the most challenging aspects of living with cancer has been the unpredictability. I'm pretty famous for never changing. I was the same when I was five-years-old as I was when I was 15, 28, or 39. My hair never changed. My physique never changed. My attitude never changed. I could always depend upon steadiness in myself, my mind and my body.
Cancer did change all of that, and specifically chemotherapy changes all of that, not to mention all the other complimentary drugs.
So far I've gone through three different chemo drugs and each one changes my body in its own distinct and unique ways. Some let me gain weight. Some make me lose weight. I have three piles of jeans: sizes 34; 36; and 38, depending on what pills I'm on.
One chemo drug made my hair grow, and it made it grow thick and dark and black. Another chemo drug made me lose some hair and turned whatever was left into light blonde locks.
The chemo drugs are all slightly different in their chemical make-ups and how they seek out and attack cancer cells. But they all do seek out fast dividing cells throughout the body and try to cut-off blood supplies to those cells. Of course not all fast dividing cells are cancer cells, so there are some innocent parts of the body that get attacked along the way. Even knowing what part of the body the chemo is attacking from day-to-day is an unpredictable mystery to wake up to each morning.
So that's why I took a self-portrait like I did, the contentment with unpredictability, the acceptance of unknown, living with cancer.
How'd I do?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Where Am I?
It's three-degrees outside.
Three.
Now come on that's just not fair! Where am I? Did I wake up in Alaska?
The bear paw slippers are out and I'm dressing in multiple layers. The chances that you'll see me poke myself out of the house today are zero to none. The weather dudes and dudettes are calling for a high of 17-degrees today.
The sun did rise early and bright this morning. We've had a lot of gray skies this winter so far. But this morning the sky is perfectly blue. From the back of the house we watched as a jet tore a perfect white streak through the blue. The air is so cold it looked as if the jet was lighting the sky on fire as it passed.
My body is just not made for this stuff. My hands are all dried and cracked. My sinuses dry out from the furnace too. If I didn't put Chap-Stik on my lips every two-hours I'm convinced both my lips would just crack into pieces and fall on the floor.
Everybody is from somewhere, and I'm obviously not originally from here. I've always found it amazing how we're all built to be somewhere. Not that we may much attention to that. But Eskimos are born with certain natural instincts and defenses, just as natives are on a Polynesian island. Switch those two around geographically and there might be some trouble. Everybody is meant to be somewhere.
I'm Irish and German so I think this body belongs in a calm maritime environment that doesn't get too hot or too cold. At least that's my story, and I'm sticking with it.
I'll never forget when I was in Ireland as a youngster. One day the temperature hit a scorching 75-degrees and all the Irish took the day off and sat out in their backyards complaining about how warm it was.
It's all a matter of perspective.
One thing that I've always found incredible is how insects, reptiles, fish and animals get larger the closer you get to the equator, meanwhile people get smaller the closer you get to the equator. In Columbia they have pygmy tribes the height of my waist, and centipedes the size of my forearm.
This blue marble we call home is fascinating. I'm not sure how much we pay attention to it. Sometimes I think we think it's here for us, when it might be the other way around.
Environmentalists, I must admit, do crack me up. I laugh simply because I think it's funny that an individual would feel empowered enough to save a planet. Trust me on this one, if the Earth gets sick of us, it will kick us off. Don't worry about saving the planet, concentrating on saving yourself. The planet will take care of itself.
Three.
Now come on that's just not fair! Where am I? Did I wake up in Alaska?
The bear paw slippers are out and I'm dressing in multiple layers. The chances that you'll see me poke myself out of the house today are zero to none. The weather dudes and dudettes are calling for a high of 17-degrees today.
The sun did rise early and bright this morning. We've had a lot of gray skies this winter so far. But this morning the sky is perfectly blue. From the back of the house we watched as a jet tore a perfect white streak through the blue. The air is so cold it looked as if the jet was lighting the sky on fire as it passed.
My body is just not made for this stuff. My hands are all dried and cracked. My sinuses dry out from the furnace too. If I didn't put Chap-Stik on my lips every two-hours I'm convinced both my lips would just crack into pieces and fall on the floor.
Everybody is from somewhere, and I'm obviously not originally from here. I've always found it amazing how we're all built to be somewhere. Not that we may much attention to that. But Eskimos are born with certain natural instincts and defenses, just as natives are on a Polynesian island. Switch those two around geographically and there might be some trouble. Everybody is meant to be somewhere.
I'm Irish and German so I think this body belongs in a calm maritime environment that doesn't get too hot or too cold. At least that's my story, and I'm sticking with it.
I'll never forget when I was in Ireland as a youngster. One day the temperature hit a scorching 75-degrees and all the Irish took the day off and sat out in their backyards complaining about how warm it was.
It's all a matter of perspective.
One thing that I've always found incredible is how insects, reptiles, fish and animals get larger the closer you get to the equator, meanwhile people get smaller the closer you get to the equator. In Columbia they have pygmy tribes the height of my waist, and centipedes the size of my forearm.
This blue marble we call home is fascinating. I'm not sure how much we pay attention to it. Sometimes I think we think it's here for us, when it might be the other way around.
Environmentalists, I must admit, do crack me up. I laugh simply because I think it's funny that an individual would feel empowered enough to save a planet. Trust me on this one, if the Earth gets sick of us, it will kick us off. Don't worry about saving the planet, concentrating on saving yourself. The planet will take care of itself.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Brrrrrrr
Today is the first day for a couple of weeks that I don't have to get up and go to the health campus. And what a good day it is to stay at home. Our thermometer out back says that it's 13-degrees this morning in Marietta.
I'm sitting here in my bear paw slippers, munching on a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich served on one of Barb's homemade English muffins. I'm really going to get spoiled like this. I mean Barb's muffins make Thomas' muffins taste like cardboard.
We usually eat pretty healthy around here - usually. People probably think we're a little nuts the way we plan out a two-week menu and try to cook with as many fresh ingredients as we can.
But yesterday was not a banner eating day for me. I celebrated the end of radiation by eating two-dozen hot wings. Then for some reason Alyssa and Charlie wanted a pizza last night so I ended up with four slices of the greasiest, most disgusting pizza, I've ever had. And to top it all off I mixed up my own bowl of vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, and miniature Hershey's bars.
I've vowed to do much, much, much better today. Starting out with two slices of apple struesel breakfast bread and two ham and cheese breakfast sandwiches is already a much better start.
I also started the day with a steroid and a pain pill. The doctor recommended taking the steroid for one more week yet before weaning off completely. The pain pill is taking care of the painful hip, that began to hurt more and more in the last days of radiation.
This house would drive a lot of people nuts. Over 200-years of evolution the house is certainly a tapestry of time. It's not exactly a home that grew all at once with the exact same building materials.
I finished painting the upstairs hallway yesterday and looked back over my missed spot here and my missed spot there. I noticed that I had six doors in the hallway. Three were painted white. Three were wood stained. No more than two were alike. And one looked like it might be so old that it was made when they first attempted to build doors.
It would drive a lot of people nuts. But I like it. It's the character of the house. And it's the character of me - I have lots of imperfections too.
Today I'm going to turn the corner and start rolling the wall down the stairs. I'm going to take it easy and take it slow. I'll be taking my time and not rushing or worrying about a thing.
It's especially important for me to stay active, no matter how simple the task may be, the body depends on it.
I heard a complaint on the news that it's even cold in Florida. You poor guys suffering at 65-degrees. (Wish I was there!)
I'm sitting here in my bear paw slippers, munching on a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich served on one of Barb's homemade English muffins. I'm really going to get spoiled like this. I mean Barb's muffins make Thomas' muffins taste like cardboard.
We usually eat pretty healthy around here - usually. People probably think we're a little nuts the way we plan out a two-week menu and try to cook with as many fresh ingredients as we can.
But yesterday was not a banner eating day for me. I celebrated the end of radiation by eating two-dozen hot wings. Then for some reason Alyssa and Charlie wanted a pizza last night so I ended up with four slices of the greasiest, most disgusting pizza, I've ever had. And to top it all off I mixed up my own bowl of vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, and miniature Hershey's bars.
I've vowed to do much, much, much better today. Starting out with two slices of apple struesel breakfast bread and two ham and cheese breakfast sandwiches is already a much better start.
I also started the day with a steroid and a pain pill. The doctor recommended taking the steroid for one more week yet before weaning off completely. The pain pill is taking care of the painful hip, that began to hurt more and more in the last days of radiation.
This house would drive a lot of people nuts. Over 200-years of evolution the house is certainly a tapestry of time. It's not exactly a home that grew all at once with the exact same building materials.
I finished painting the upstairs hallway yesterday and looked back over my missed spot here and my missed spot there. I noticed that I had six doors in the hallway. Three were painted white. Three were wood stained. No more than two were alike. And one looked like it might be so old that it was made when they first attempted to build doors.
It would drive a lot of people nuts. But I like it. It's the character of the house. And it's the character of me - I have lots of imperfections too.
Today I'm going to turn the corner and start rolling the wall down the stairs. I'm going to take it easy and take it slow. I'll be taking my time and not rushing or worrying about a thing.
It's especially important for me to stay active, no matter how simple the task may be, the body depends on it.
I heard a complaint on the news that it's even cold in Florida. You poor guys suffering at 65-degrees. (Wish I was there!)
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Final Day of Radiation
Today will be my last radiation treatment to the bone in my hip. The radiation treatments are not a big deal. It's just having to drive to the hospital each and every day that gets a little old. If this went on any longer they'd have to give me a time card.
The radiation treatment itself never lasts more than 10-minutes. So it's a 30-minute drive, for 10-minutes of radiation, and then 30-minutes back to Marietta. It seemed like too much driving for too little to do. So I guess that's kind of how the whole Mosby's lunch stops kind of started. If we're going to be running out like that, I figured, we might as well get something to eat.
To celebrate this last day of radiation I've officially decided to order two dozen hot wings to go today. I can taste them already. But, I promise, after today I'm staying away from the wings for awhile. Typically I eat much healthier (not counting the Ben and Jerry's ice cream).
Barb, for some unknown reason, let all the radiation nurses know that I've been stopping for hot wings after every day's treatment. Now that's all I hear.
"Did you stop for wings yesterday?"
"Yes," I say a little embarassed. "I stopped again."
They laugh.
When radiation first started my hip was quite sore and I was taking some occasional pain pills to help out. But everything started feeling magically better, until yesterday when the soreness started coming back.
The nurses assured me that this is normal, and some pain likely will continue until the radiation has fully confused the cancerous cells. I've also been painting the upstairs hallway, so I'm wondering if maybe I might have aggravated things a bit too.
But I'll tell you, if you ever have any problems getting motivated to get up and do something, just try watching television for 30-minutes. Egad. If it wasn't for news and sports I'd just have them unplug this thing.
The radiation treatment itself never lasts more than 10-minutes. So it's a 30-minute drive, for 10-minutes of radiation, and then 30-minutes back to Marietta. It seemed like too much driving for too little to do. So I guess that's kind of how the whole Mosby's lunch stops kind of started. If we're going to be running out like that, I figured, we might as well get something to eat.
To celebrate this last day of radiation I've officially decided to order two dozen hot wings to go today. I can taste them already. But, I promise, after today I'm staying away from the wings for awhile. Typically I eat much healthier (not counting the Ben and Jerry's ice cream).
Barb, for some unknown reason, let all the radiation nurses know that I've been stopping for hot wings after every day's treatment. Now that's all I hear.
"Did you stop for wings yesterday?"
"Yes," I say a little embarassed. "I stopped again."
They laugh.
When radiation first started my hip was quite sore and I was taking some occasional pain pills to help out. But everything started feeling magically better, until yesterday when the soreness started coming back.
The nurses assured me that this is normal, and some pain likely will continue until the radiation has fully confused the cancerous cells. I've also been painting the upstairs hallway, so I'm wondering if maybe I might have aggravated things a bit too.
But I'll tell you, if you ever have any problems getting motivated to get up and do something, just try watching television for 30-minutes. Egad. If it wasn't for news and sports I'd just have them unplug this thing.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
It Amazes Me
Yesterday Barb and I stopped and voted on an important local referendum before heading to the hospital for my daily radiation treatments.
By state law our local school district could not pass plans for a $112 million loan based on plans for large tax expansions without putting it to a public vote.
The school district seriously needs expansion. There are several trailers behind the high school serving as classrooms, and the elementary schools are reportedly crowded. No one disagrees with this fact.
It was just the new astroturf athletic field and dozens of other luxuries that turned the public off. Of course, the idea of huge tax increases every year for the next six-years in already shaky economic times did not go over well either. This especially after the district raised taxes 19-percent last year. I mean 19-percent? What goes up 19-percent?
The school district's plans failed miserably we learned from the morning news. The vote wasn't even close. It's back to the drawing board.
As Barb and I pulled up in the yellow FJ yesterday to vote, I saw the pollsters surrounding the voting locale. There were about a dozen or so people who wanted to persuade you, hand you a flyer, get your support.
I have a special face for these types of situations. I just wanted to quietly vote. I didn't want to get into any discussions about this or that. I broke out the scarey face. It works every time. The pollsters parted and quietly let me walk through, Barb quickly behind in my shadow.
I presented my voter's registeration card to an elderly, gray-haired lady.
She looked at my card closely and then read my name out loud, "Jim Albert."
She looked at me and said, "This is the fellow I pray for every night."
I swallowed my tongue for a moment. I looked at her closely. Nope, I had no idea who this lady was.
"How 'ya doing?" she asked.
I stumbled through some lines, "Still fighting it. Not too bad. Hanging in there." I get asked that a lot.
It wasn't until I had voted, made some more small talk, and left until Barb filled me in on who I was talking to. The lady is involved with the local restoration group, which Barb and I were once involved in too. She knew me and my situation through Barb.
It amazes me. To have someone I don't really even know, praying for me, pulling for me. And it's hardly the first time it's happened.
It really touches a special place in my heart.
By state law our local school district could not pass plans for a $112 million loan based on plans for large tax expansions without putting it to a public vote.
The school district seriously needs expansion. There are several trailers behind the high school serving as classrooms, and the elementary schools are reportedly crowded. No one disagrees with this fact.
It was just the new astroturf athletic field and dozens of other luxuries that turned the public off. Of course, the idea of huge tax increases every year for the next six-years in already shaky economic times did not go over well either. This especially after the district raised taxes 19-percent last year. I mean 19-percent? What goes up 19-percent?
The school district's plans failed miserably we learned from the morning news. The vote wasn't even close. It's back to the drawing board.
As Barb and I pulled up in the yellow FJ yesterday to vote, I saw the pollsters surrounding the voting locale. There were about a dozen or so people who wanted to persuade you, hand you a flyer, get your support.
I have a special face for these types of situations. I just wanted to quietly vote. I didn't want to get into any discussions about this or that. I broke out the scarey face. It works every time. The pollsters parted and quietly let me walk through, Barb quickly behind in my shadow.
I presented my voter's registeration card to an elderly, gray-haired lady.
She looked at my card closely and then read my name out loud, "Jim Albert."
She looked at me and said, "This is the fellow I pray for every night."
I swallowed my tongue for a moment. I looked at her closely. Nope, I had no idea who this lady was.
"How 'ya doing?" she asked.
I stumbled through some lines, "Still fighting it. Not too bad. Hanging in there." I get asked that a lot.
It wasn't until I had voted, made some more small talk, and left until Barb filled me in on who I was talking to. The lady is involved with the local restoration group, which Barb and I were once involved in too. She knew me and my situation through Barb.
It amazes me. To have someone I don't really even know, praying for me, pulling for me. And it's hardly the first time it's happened.
It really touches a special place in my heart.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Salesmanship
When it comes to talent, salemanship is not one of mine. Would you buy something from me?
I can't remember ever really getting along with a salesperson. There's something about the task that just seems not right to me.
I'm told that you're expected to barter in many countries. I'd probably go broke and starve.
But I take after my Dad to that regard. My Dad is definitely not a salesman.
I always remember my Dad asking me, "What makes you think people want to hear your opinion? Just be quiet and listen to what everyone else says." That is something that stuck with me for my entire life. Listening - that was the much smarter thing to do. Let's see everyone elses cards, and we don't even have to show ours.
My father could not sell beer at a baseball game.
But during two events in life, miracuously, out of nowhere, my Dad becomes the best, most successful salesperson on the planet Earth - when there are dinner leftovers and ice cream.
My Dad would not throw food away. As soon as everyone had made big dents in their plates he was scouring the stove top and oven to see how much was still left behind. Grabbing a pot he would begin hawking, "C'mon there's just a little more corn here. I'll tell you what I'll make you a deal. You take half of these and I'll take have of these. C'mon let's finish this off."
You couldn't turn him down. He made sure that nothing went to waste. It's kind of amazing we were all pretty skinny.
Then there was the ice cream. My Dad is an official ice cream aficiando, a regular ice cream nut. As everyone groans from a big meal my Dad appears with the gallon container. "Who wants ice cream?" he asks.
"No. No. No room left," is the common reply.
"No room?" my Dad questions. "It's ice cream. It fills in the cracks."
I can't remember ever really getting along with a salesperson. There's something about the task that just seems not right to me.
I'm told that you're expected to barter in many countries. I'd probably go broke and starve.
But I take after my Dad to that regard. My Dad is definitely not a salesman.
I always remember my Dad asking me, "What makes you think people want to hear your opinion? Just be quiet and listen to what everyone else says." That is something that stuck with me for my entire life. Listening - that was the much smarter thing to do. Let's see everyone elses cards, and we don't even have to show ours.
My father could not sell beer at a baseball game.
But during two events in life, miracuously, out of nowhere, my Dad becomes the best, most successful salesperson on the planet Earth - when there are dinner leftovers and ice cream.
My Dad would not throw food away. As soon as everyone had made big dents in their plates he was scouring the stove top and oven to see how much was still left behind. Grabbing a pot he would begin hawking, "C'mon there's just a little more corn here. I'll tell you what I'll make you a deal. You take half of these and I'll take have of these. C'mon let's finish this off."
You couldn't turn him down. He made sure that nothing went to waste. It's kind of amazing we were all pretty skinny.
Then there was the ice cream. My Dad is an official ice cream aficiando, a regular ice cream nut. As everyone groans from a big meal my Dad appears with the gallon container. "Who wants ice cream?" he asks.
"No. No. No room left," is the common reply.
"No room?" my Dad questions. "It's ice cream. It fills in the cracks."
Monday, January 12, 2009
Staying Warm and Busy
When high temperatures for the day just barely reach freezing I try to stay inside and warm as much as possible. This isn't related to my cancer, or treatments, I've just always despised the cold.
My winter is spent running from one warm place to another. There is no lingering, no stopping to enjoy the scenery, just running from one warm place to another.
This has always made winter time, for me, the most gloomy of the seasons. On top of that, this winter so far has been very gray and overcast.
So I've decided to work on making the inside of the house a little brighter and more cheery. After all there's not much I can do about that Pennsylvania January weather outside.
There is paint in the house and I am into it. We're brightening up some walls, creating more sense of light.
We're also cooking like two grandmas left loose in a farmer's market. There's all kinds of things coming out of our kitchen - including plenty of freshly baked bread.
It's all part of the plan to get through winter.
My winter is spent running from one warm place to another. There is no lingering, no stopping to enjoy the scenery, just running from one warm place to another.
This has always made winter time, for me, the most gloomy of the seasons. On top of that, this winter so far has been very gray and overcast.
So I've decided to work on making the inside of the house a little brighter and more cheery. After all there's not much I can do about that Pennsylvania January weather outside.
There is paint in the house and I am into it. We're brightening up some walls, creating more sense of light.
We're also cooking like two grandmas left loose in a farmer's market. There's all kinds of things coming out of our kitchen - including plenty of freshly baked bread.
It's all part of the plan to get through winter.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Spackle Saturday
Now any day that I get to spackle is a good day.
Maybe it's the creativeness of it. It flows. It's in motion, at least for the moment. There is a rhythm to it.
I've made wall sculptures from joint compound. Really.
I've been generally full of busy energy lately. I reorganized the refrigerator and freezers the other day just so I had a better idea of what was in there for me to eat.
My motto has always been "I'm never bored." I might be doing things that seem pretty boring - say spackling - but I'm never bored. There's always something to do.
The design business (and economy in general) is at a halt right now. But I'm still creating. I'm working on getting six photos of textures throughout our house that I can hang together in a montage that reflects the mood and feeling of our home. I still need two more photos.
Yesterday I decided to drop by Lowe's for some paint so I can finally attack the upstairs hallway. That's where the spackling came in.
There were two pretty nasty areas of ceiling and plenty of cracks to fill. Let's face it, this house has been settling for 200-years.
I do a pretty good job. But I'm no expert. A little sanding will help. And the great thing about an old house is bumps and bruises are perfectly acceptable, and earned.
I have come to learn that the most dangerous part about my ongoing radiation treatments is the fact that Mosby's Pub is on the way home. Last week I stopped for wings three times, and once the week before. I've had cravings. I've ordered take out. Barb thinks I'm pregnant.
I have gained a couple of pounds, thanks to the steroid. It's a good thing that I kept my size 34, 36, and 38-sized jeans. I'm ready for anything.
I hope everyone out there gets to do something they really enjoy today. You know you want to. You know the sense of accomplishment it will give you. Go ahead and spackle that crack in the hallway.
Maybe it's the creativeness of it. It flows. It's in motion, at least for the moment. There is a rhythm to it.
I've made wall sculptures from joint compound. Really.
I've been generally full of busy energy lately. I reorganized the refrigerator and freezers the other day just so I had a better idea of what was in there for me to eat.
My motto has always been "I'm never bored." I might be doing things that seem pretty boring - say spackling - but I'm never bored. There's always something to do.
The design business (and economy in general) is at a halt right now. But I'm still creating. I'm working on getting six photos of textures throughout our house that I can hang together in a montage that reflects the mood and feeling of our home. I still need two more photos.
Yesterday I decided to drop by Lowe's for some paint so I can finally attack the upstairs hallway. That's where the spackling came in.
There were two pretty nasty areas of ceiling and plenty of cracks to fill. Let's face it, this house has been settling for 200-years.
I do a pretty good job. But I'm no expert. A little sanding will help. And the great thing about an old house is bumps and bruises are perfectly acceptable, and earned.
I have come to learn that the most dangerous part about my ongoing radiation treatments is the fact that Mosby's Pub is on the way home. Last week I stopped for wings three times, and once the week before. I've had cravings. I've ordered take out. Barb thinks I'm pregnant.
I have gained a couple of pounds, thanks to the steroid. It's a good thing that I kept my size 34, 36, and 38-sized jeans. I'm ready for anything.
I hope everyone out there gets to do something they really enjoy today. You know you want to. You know the sense of accomplishment it will give you. Go ahead and spackle that crack in the hallway.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Moving Along
Somehow Christmas cookies continue to fill our kitchen counter.
I don't know where they keep coming from. I've gained a couple pounds.
For me that is of course a good thing. I have been hanging out around 170-pounds for quite awhile now, for many, many months. Ten or 15 pounds-could suit me quite well.
Hang on...I better grab a Christmas cookie...
OK.
Things really have been going pretty well overall. I'm not sleeping quite as much as I probably should. But, then on the other hand I am getting more done in general. Actually I can't stop doing stuff.
I started driving again yesterday too. That was no big deal. And at the same time it was a big deal because I did't like to be a burden to others to drive me around (but thanks so much from the bottom of my heart for doing it).
I knew I had to start driving yesterday because I was starting to feel like Paris Hilton.
I'm feeling very healthy as of late, and want to get back into the exercises. I am trying to be cautious of the right hip though as the radiation treatment to that continues.
Coming home from that radiation treatment today we might pop in somewhere to buy a little paint. I figure I can tackle the simple upstairs hallway and it will eat-up some of my steroid and Christmas cookie energy.
We do have about 682 channels on our TV. But if you need one thing to get motivated to get up and do something, just watch that TV for about 10-minutes.
I don't know where they keep coming from. I've gained a couple pounds.
For me that is of course a good thing. I have been hanging out around 170-pounds for quite awhile now, for many, many months. Ten or 15 pounds-could suit me quite well.
Hang on...I better grab a Christmas cookie...
OK.
Things really have been going pretty well overall. I'm not sleeping quite as much as I probably should. But, then on the other hand I am getting more done in general. Actually I can't stop doing stuff.
I started driving again yesterday too. That was no big deal. And at the same time it was a big deal because I did't like to be a burden to others to drive me around (but thanks so much from the bottom of my heart for doing it).
I knew I had to start driving yesterday because I was starting to feel like Paris Hilton.
I'm feeling very healthy as of late, and want to get back into the exercises. I am trying to be cautious of the right hip though as the radiation treatment to that continues.
Coming home from that radiation treatment today we might pop in somewhere to buy a little paint. I figure I can tackle the simple upstairs hallway and it will eat-up some of my steroid and Christmas cookie energy.
We do have about 682 channels on our TV. But if you need one thing to get motivated to get up and do something, just watch that TV for about 10-minutes.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Now That Is Done
Well the Gamma Knife procedure is now over and I can get on to meeting the surgeon today to see what might come from that.
The Gamma Knife is a wild, space-age machine that treats tumors in the brain. It makes no noise, and meanwhile transmits many microscopic radiation beams in a carefully measured and configured fashion to treat a tumor without affecting adjoining brain cells. It's wild.
The worst part of the Gamma Knife is having a metal frame screwed into your skull in four places. I'm not exaggerating. It does get screwed right into the bone. The frame is necessary to keep your head locked in an still during measurements, calculations and eventual treatment.
It's not terribly bad. They gave me enough pain medicine that I didn't even know my head was still on my shoulders.
They did what they had to do.
With all the numbness well worn off now this morning I'm feeling the after effects of having four holes drilled in my head. Everything is a bit sore today. Feels like I've got into a fight again.
But all in all I must say that I'm feeling quite well. I am going to start driving again today. I wanted to get through the Gamma Knife feeling well, and I do. My eating has been great because of the steroid, and I have officially gained two-pounds. Plus I'm feeling active and wanting to get up and get stuff done. I've just begun a little art project - but that's all I'll say about that one for now.
Stay warm everyone!
The Gamma Knife is a wild, space-age machine that treats tumors in the brain. It makes no noise, and meanwhile transmits many microscopic radiation beams in a carefully measured and configured fashion to treat a tumor without affecting adjoining brain cells. It's wild.
The worst part of the Gamma Knife is having a metal frame screwed into your skull in four places. I'm not exaggerating. It does get screwed right into the bone. The frame is necessary to keep your head locked in an still during measurements, calculations and eventual treatment.
It's not terribly bad. They gave me enough pain medicine that I didn't even know my head was still on my shoulders.
They did what they had to do.
With all the numbness well worn off now this morning I'm feeling the after effects of having four holes drilled in my head. Everything is a bit sore today. Feels like I've got into a fight again.
But all in all I must say that I'm feeling quite well. I am going to start driving again today. I wanted to get through the Gamma Knife feeling well, and I do. My eating has been great because of the steroid, and I have officially gained two-pounds. Plus I'm feeling active and wanting to get up and get stuff done. I've just begun a little art project - but that's all I'll say about that one for now.
Stay warm everyone!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Gamma Knife Treatment
This morning came early, Jim was up at 3:30 and I was up an hour later. My father was here this morning about 6:45, but we were on a mission. They took Jim through the entire procedure of fitting his head with the frame, getting an MRI and the gamma knife treatment itself. Once Jim goes through the treatment he is a bit groggy and out of it. I am certain that it is a result of the pain medication they give him and would probably knock anyone out.
I wanted to let everyone know that things seemed to have gone very well, Jim is napping right now, which I am glad. I can't thank everyone enough for there involvement in Jim's getting better, between the rides and the prayers and the positivity, that just shows how much he is loved and cared for.
I wanted to let everyone know that things seemed to have gone very well, Jim is napping right now, which I am glad. I can't thank everyone enough for there involvement in Jim's getting better, between the rides and the prayers and the positivity, that just shows how much he is loved and cared for.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Is It Just Me?
Once I was in the middle of a CT scan of the chest, abdomen and pelvis. The IV was all hooked up to pump me full of dye. The CT machine slowly guided me into the scanning tube and then the machine broke down.
They tried to shut it completely down and restart it a couple of times. The same thing we all do when our computer goes a little nuts.
Nothing.
They eventually pulled me out and took me to another facility to get the scan done.
I seem to walk into these things.
Yesterday Alyssa and Charlie drove Barb and I to the Health Campus. Typically the radiation total visit lasts about 10-minutes. It's very quick.
But things weren't moving yesterday. Everything was at a stand still. One of their two radiation machines had broken down. Parts were being flown in from Las Vegas I was told. Things had backed up considerably. We were told to expect over an hour wait.
Now the first thing I thought was, "Radiation machines break?"
That didn't make me feel very good.
Plus I've done the waiting game before. Oh I've paid my dues there. I've waited almost four hours once to see the wrong doctor, and another time I waited three hours to see another doctor.
The scene at the cancer center wasn't looking pretty. The radiation oncology lobbies were all full of patients, and none of them looked very happy.
We left. A missed treatment is OK. It will be tacked on to the end of my schedule without ill effect to my treatment.
I just hope the parts are in from Las Vegas, hooked up and ready to go, and there will be two radiation machines working today.
They tried to shut it completely down and restart it a couple of times. The same thing we all do when our computer goes a little nuts.
Nothing.
They eventually pulled me out and took me to another facility to get the scan done.
I seem to walk into these things.
Yesterday Alyssa and Charlie drove Barb and I to the Health Campus. Typically the radiation total visit lasts about 10-minutes. It's very quick.
But things weren't moving yesterday. Everything was at a stand still. One of their two radiation machines had broken down. Parts were being flown in from Las Vegas I was told. Things had backed up considerably. We were told to expect over an hour wait.
Now the first thing I thought was, "Radiation machines break?"
That didn't make me feel very good.
Plus I've done the waiting game before. Oh I've paid my dues there. I've waited almost four hours once to see the wrong doctor, and another time I waited three hours to see another doctor.
The scene at the cancer center wasn't looking pretty. The radiation oncology lobbies were all full of patients, and none of them looked very happy.
We left. A missed treatment is OK. It will be tacked on to the end of my schedule without ill effect to my treatment.
I just hope the parts are in from Las Vegas, hooked up and ready to go, and there will be two radiation machines working today.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Going Amish
When Barb and I moved into this old house we talked a lot about "going Amish."
I wanted to grow my own vegetables and herbs. Barb wanted to buy fabric and sew curtains for the house. I bought a table saw and started replacing cedar siding on the back of the house. Barb inherited a sewing machine and started sewing hems.
Well I ended up installing about 15-feet of siding upside down.
Barb ended up tangled in the sewing machine and swearing profusely.
So we're not exactly Amish. But we still like the thought.
This week Barb's Mom decided she had enough of paying %72 for a bottle of laundry detergent (soapy water). She decided that she was going to make her own laundry detergent.
I was very impressed.
The latest reports are that the first five-gallon batch of laundry detergent is working just fine. She's analyzing it for a possible tweak or two.
Not to be out done, Barb yesterday suddenly decided that she was making her own English Muffins. That's right. That's right - English Muffins.
Sewing may not have been her forte, but I'm telling you this Barbara girl can bake. I stood astounded yesterday as she worked her way right through a large batch of homemade English Muffins.
How great! I mean who in the world makes their own English Muffins?
I just finished a breakfast sandwich: ham, cheese and a fresh muffin. That muffin is perfect, out of this world. We may still have a chance to be Amish yet!
Fresh bread in this house is nothing new. I began to bake bread years ago, sort of as a homage to my grandfather's bakery - Albert Bros. Bakery, a one-time institution in Myerstown.
But now English Muffins is breaking into a whole new territory. That's just not something people make.
What could be next? Our quest to be more Amish continues . . .
I wanted to grow my own vegetables and herbs. Barb wanted to buy fabric and sew curtains for the house. I bought a table saw and started replacing cedar siding on the back of the house. Barb inherited a sewing machine and started sewing hems.
Well I ended up installing about 15-feet of siding upside down.
Barb ended up tangled in the sewing machine and swearing profusely.
So we're not exactly Amish. But we still like the thought.
This week Barb's Mom decided she had enough of paying %72 for a bottle of laundry detergent (soapy water). She decided that she was going to make her own laundry detergent.
I was very impressed.
The latest reports are that the first five-gallon batch of laundry detergent is working just fine. She's analyzing it for a possible tweak or two.
Not to be out done, Barb yesterday suddenly decided that she was making her own English Muffins. That's right. That's right - English Muffins.
Sewing may not have been her forte, but I'm telling you this Barbara girl can bake. I stood astounded yesterday as she worked her way right through a large batch of homemade English Muffins.
How great! I mean who in the world makes their own English Muffins?
I just finished a breakfast sandwich: ham, cheese and a fresh muffin. That muffin is perfect, out of this world. We may still have a chance to be Amish yet!
Fresh bread in this house is nothing new. I began to bake bread years ago, sort of as a homage to my grandfather's bakery - Albert Bros. Bakery, a one-time institution in Myerstown.
But now English Muffins is breaking into a whole new territory. That's just not something people make.
What could be next? Our quest to be more Amish continues . . .
Sunday, January 4, 2009
It's So Quiet
I sat on the bench in the master bathroom this morning with half a cup of coffee looking out through the leafless trees to the Susquehanna River.
The morning skies have been so gray lately. But this morning the sky was filled with nice blues and tangerines highlighting streaking puffy clouds.
It was so quiet. Not a bird, or a squirrel in the backyard. No traffic. No trains.
(sigh)
Every morning should start like this.
Barb's Diner is officially open for business this morning. I've placed an early order for a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich on an English muffin. She takes care of me so well. I'll have to be sure to leave bigger tips.
I try to be a little more inspired everyday. I've been debating getting back to exercising, at least the arms and torso. The doctor told me to lay off the legs for awhile, until the radiation on the hip has done its thing.
I may not be quite ready for spackling and painting. But I have been looking to pick the camera up more, and possibly even get back to some drawing.
The steroid I'm on right now leaves me with a constant appetite. I do feel like I could literally eat all day. Fortunately the Christmas cookies are virtually gone. Not that it has made much of a difference though. I am eating very well and have not gained a pound. The Ben and Jerry's ice cream with a brownie last night were delicious.
Well, here comes my breakfast sandwich now.
(I'm pretty sure the special tonight is Shrimp Alfredo with fresh made bread!)
The morning skies have been so gray lately. But this morning the sky was filled with nice blues and tangerines highlighting streaking puffy clouds.
It was so quiet. Not a bird, or a squirrel in the backyard. No traffic. No trains.
(sigh)
Every morning should start like this.
Barb's Diner is officially open for business this morning. I've placed an early order for a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich on an English muffin. She takes care of me so well. I'll have to be sure to leave bigger tips.
I try to be a little more inspired everyday. I've been debating getting back to exercising, at least the arms and torso. The doctor told me to lay off the legs for awhile, until the radiation on the hip has done its thing.
I may not be quite ready for spackling and painting. But I have been looking to pick the camera up more, and possibly even get back to some drawing.
The steroid I'm on right now leaves me with a constant appetite. I do feel like I could literally eat all day. Fortunately the Christmas cookies are virtually gone. Not that it has made much of a difference though. I am eating very well and have not gained a pound. The Ben and Jerry's ice cream with a brownie last night were delicious.
Well, here comes my breakfast sandwich now.
(I'm pretty sure the special tonight is Shrimp Alfredo with fresh made bread!)
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Patience
Barb keeps telling me to just relax, settle down, let the medicine and radiation work, and let my body try to heal.
I'm not always the best with patience. But I know she's right.
I want to get up and do things, be busy, be active and feel a sense of accomplishment. But my body is being worked on by the new chemo, a strong steroid, and now radiation treatments too. So I can realistically only allow my body to do so much.
I'm trying to set reasonable goals. The goal for this weekend? Clean-up the Christmas decorations. If I get that done I'll be a happy camper and leave it at that.
This Wednesday they'll treat the one tumor in my brain. I'm very anxious to just get that over and done. Of all the places in my body, the brain was the place I did not want to see cancer return to.
Thursday I have to meet the surgeon who may remove these freaky topical growths on my scalp. I'm very anxious to get that process over and done with as well. They cause me a lot of discomfort and numbness all along the back of my head.
I'm pretty much like the little kid who breaks his arm then still runs around in his cast like nothing happened at all.
I'm not always the best with patience. But I know she's right.
I want to get up and do things, be busy, be active and feel a sense of accomplishment. But my body is being worked on by the new chemo, a strong steroid, and now radiation treatments too. So I can realistically only allow my body to do so much.
I'm trying to set reasonable goals. The goal for this weekend? Clean-up the Christmas decorations. If I get that done I'll be a happy camper and leave it at that.
This Wednesday they'll treat the one tumor in my brain. I'm very anxious to just get that over and done. Of all the places in my body, the brain was the place I did not want to see cancer return to.
Thursday I have to meet the surgeon who may remove these freaky topical growths on my scalp. I'm very anxious to get that process over and done with as well. They cause me a lot of discomfort and numbness all along the back of my head.
I'm pretty much like the little kid who breaks his arm then still runs around in his cast like nothing happened at all.
Friday, January 2, 2009
New Year's Day
No one really had any plans for New Year's Day. It seemed kind of silly to me for Barb and I to stay home and cook, for my parents to stay home and cook, for Barb's parents to stay home and cook. What the heck, let's just get together and cook and eat in one place.
So we did.
I do not believe that there has ever been a New Year's Day in my entire life when I have not started the New Year without pork and sauerkraut and mashed potatoes. It's a Pennsylvania Dutch institution, a symbol of good luck, and something I can't imagine being without on that one day every year.
I love it.
The smell of sauerkraut started taking over the entire house around 10 a.m. yesterday. Now I know this is not everyone's cup of tea. But, for myself, I was in heaven.
The boys bellied up to the table. The two Dads and myself were not getting short-changed on some great eats and we went at it. Barb made a separate pork roast for the ladies, with a gravy accompaniment. The men dug into the sauerkraut.
Alyssa and Charlie joined us for the day and at one point Charlie leaned over to me and said, "Aren't you going to try any gravy?"
I can't hold it against him. He hasn't grown up with this like I have. "The sauerkraut IS the gravy," I explained.
Somehow I made it through the day. It was great to have everone over, and a big thank you to everyone for jumping in their cars and joining us.
The night before I only managed about two-hours of sleep and I was running on fumes all day yesterday, and feeling pretty weak and shaky. Last night I broke down and took a sleeping pill (which I rarely ever take) and fortunately it worked and knocked me down for the night last night.
There's little time to rub the sleepy from the eyes this morning and get going again. It will be off to the hospital again today for another radiation treatment to the hip bone. Then I'll have the weekend to try to rest a little and catch-up on things a lot.
So we did.
I do not believe that there has ever been a New Year's Day in my entire life when I have not started the New Year without pork and sauerkraut and mashed potatoes. It's a Pennsylvania Dutch institution, a symbol of good luck, and something I can't imagine being without on that one day every year.
I love it.
The smell of sauerkraut started taking over the entire house around 10 a.m. yesterday. Now I know this is not everyone's cup of tea. But, for myself, I was in heaven.
The boys bellied up to the table. The two Dads and myself were not getting short-changed on some great eats and we went at it. Barb made a separate pork roast for the ladies, with a gravy accompaniment. The men dug into the sauerkraut.
Alyssa and Charlie joined us for the day and at one point Charlie leaned over to me and said, "Aren't you going to try any gravy?"
I can't hold it against him. He hasn't grown up with this like I have. "The sauerkraut IS the gravy," I explained.
Somehow I made it through the day. It was great to have everone over, and a big thank you to everyone for jumping in their cars and joining us.
The night before I only managed about two-hours of sleep and I was running on fumes all day yesterday, and feeling pretty weak and shaky. Last night I broke down and took a sleeping pill (which I rarely ever take) and fortunately it worked and knocked me down for the night last night.
There's little time to rub the sleepy from the eyes this morning and get going again. It will be off to the hospital again today for another radiation treatment to the hip bone. Then I'll have the weekend to try to rest a little and catch-up on things a lot.
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