November 1, 2000

November 1, 2000|

It sure has been awhile since I last wrote, or at least wrote under a coherent state. After finally coming to somewhat of a normal state of thinking and being, I have concluded that was by far the worst week I have had in my adventure.

Down with morphine…

I was originally I big fan of morphine and other painkillers. No more. J Coupling the effects of the morphine (for the back pain), with the anesthetic for the surgery with a massive dose of a new chemo (read the side effect pamphlet this afternoon for the first time – brain confusion for up to week is one of them – should have read a little earlier…)

My brain was so fried (and still is somewhat), that I couldn’t comprehend simple thoughts. It was almost like I would reach to connect thoughts together but there was nothing up there. Mind confusion is too simple a term to use. Even now I struggle to explain the experience, but let me reassure you that it was/is horrific. At least with pain you have your thoughts, which allow you to set a threshold, which helps in terms of preoccupation (ignoring the pain) and also lets you utilize effective visualization techniques (which I still am learning and have discovered are amazingly effective). Here, there was nothing. I was a zombie. I am only hope (and I think I am right) that the rest of the chemo isn’t that draining.

Breaking out of Jail

Getting out of hospital might be slightly easier, I feel. Finally I was released on Tuesday afternoon, afternoon spending another night on Monday under observation.

I know there has to be tons of studies on the effects of hospitals and the mind. It was doubly a cruel experiment for me to have been under not only a drug haze, but also hospital haze (a term I have devised to describe the feeling of being in hospital – even for a short time. You know, you get tired, your mind gets drained and drab, depression slowly kicks…). I was so incredibly thankful to get home. I ended up yakking the rest of the day (I think because of the emotional and mental stress), but I would take a whole day of yakking over being in a hospital any day.

Thanksgiving…Christmas…New Year’s… 12th floor bound

That’s what it looks like for me unfortunately. This is my favorite time of the year, and I guess there is no better place to spend it than in New York. Just not from the bed of my hospital.

The rundown so far:

Next week: outpatient stem cells taken out

Two weeks: chemo treatment 2 (in hospital for 3 days, 2 nights)

Four weeks: radiation on back (maybe…up in there air) outpatient

If so…Six/Seven weeks: Stem cell transplant (in hospital for 2-3 weeks)

If not… Five/Six weeks: Stem cell transplant

That’s it! Much quicker than we thought, I’ll be back on my feet by February. 😉

36, baby.

That’s the number. I want to write more about this, and I probably will later. But that is the statistic from Sloan Kettering, by their research. That is the percentage of patients who are going through what I went through so far and am going to go through actually end up in remission (no cancer). 36.

I have never been one observe the odds. Getting into the Connection, (a Web page will be up on them soon!), there was no way the odds were with me. Being on the air at a radio station at the age of 20, the odds were against me. Getting into Penn, there was no way the odds were with me. Getting a job at Goldman Sachs, there was NO way the odds were with me.

Naw, odds don’t faze me.

It’s amazing for me, instead, to see at what level I think I can get to and see how God picks me up and carries me beyond where I could ever believe. The odds are a good thing. It shows that my healing was not from my positive attitude, not from a great education, NOT from luck. Naw, it was from One who transcends odds, and can do, and will do immeasurably more than I can or will ever to understand. Yeah. 36, baby.

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