And, I'm back.

It has been a long and stressful past few days, but I am finally back in my own house with my own noises and my own foods. Actually, the past few days weren't really that bad at all. The worst day was yesterday. Yesterday morning, around 4 A.M., I woke up and decided that I was going to be sick. So my feet carried me to the toilet, and up came whatever small dinner I had had earlier. Pleasant. My nurse came and brought me some anti-nausea medication called Ativan, which is one of the really heavy duty ones. Basically, it knocked me out for the rest of the day. I threw up two more times throughout the morning, but they put more medication in me, as well as more chemo, and I literally slept all day. So like I said, now I'm home. I don't feel great; I have certainly had better days, but I'm glad to be out of the hospital. I'm currently working through a little bit of nausea and a fair amount of tiredness, but I'm sure I'll be back to happy after a good dinner and a good night's sleep. It is seriously much pleasanter to be out of the hospital after only 3 days as opposed to 20. I approve of my doctor's decision to discharge me. Anyway, that's about it. I go back into clinic on Tuesday for an injection, but that's not too big of a deal. Oh, and this will be my first major holiday weekend I haven't been in the hospital! Woo! Memorial Day Weekend, here I come. And by here, I mean literally here, in my backyard. Save travels to everyone who is traveling. Enjoy your gas bill. Peace!

mmmm, drugs.

So, before I become too brain-dead from staring at the TV, I suppose I had better provide the details of my happy day. I started the day by meeting my current team of doctors. The head doctor on the team also happens to be in charge of the study that I'm on. So she has heard a lot about me recently, especially given my complications with the Campath. It was nice to finally meet her. She is also friends with the doctor at Dana Farber in Boston who will be taking care of me in the fall. I guess what I'm trying to say is that she's the head honcho of this whole shindig, and she's a pretty good person to have around. How's that for mixed metaphors. Anyway, so here's something amusing... While the team was in my room, food service brought my breakfast. One of the doctors nearest the door took it and placed it outside the room. When he brought it back, and they left, I noticed something missing. Something very essential to my not getting scurvy. My orange was missing. My bagel, cereal, and tea were still all hanging out, but the round, mildly knobby citrus fruit I love so dearly was gone. Eventually my nurse came in and was like, "Yeah, your doctor took your orange. I guess they put you on a neutropenic diet." (Neutropenic diet: no fresh fruits or veggies, fast food, sushi, or unwashed food.) Anywhoo, it was irrationally upsetting to me that the doctor just took my orange. I mean, come on now. But oh well, what can you do.

And the more important news: I received three chemo drugs today: Vincristine, danorubicin, and cyclophosphamide. The last one is the worst; I know I've mentioned it before. It's the one that burns while it infuses. Today wasn't too bad though; I was chewing on ice chips that helped cool me down. Other than those, I've been on my hydro drip all day, so I have had a lot of fun bathroom time. Although sadly, having to pee all the time is not as much fun as it sounds. Otherwise, I've just bummed around. I am currently eating pudding and watching So You Think You Can Dance. Eating pudding and wishing I could still dance... haha, I'm in a great state of mind. Nah, I've come to terms with my total inflexibility and penchant for pudding. I'm just biding my time until I'm back to feeling healthy, and then I'm planning on starting dancing again. Otherwise, that is all. Less chemo tomorrow, hopefully no side effects - there were none today. Let's see how it goes! Pax.

oh wow, I am a super nerd.

I have spent my evening eating Fun Size Milky Way bars and getting too excited over the season finale of Lost. It just ended - on quite the cliffhanger, I might add - so I figured I should get my write on. I feel my evening's actions are justified though. I have happily consumed the small candy bars knowing that after tomorrow, I probably won't want to eat chocolate for at least a month. That's right folks, tomorrow, I start up again with chemotherapy Session A. Happy, happy infusion drugs for three straight days. But here is the great news: I was told I will be discharged this Saturday, which is only three days away! No more three week stays.

So, comparatively, today has been pretty good. I had another bone-marrow biopsy this morning, which went surprisingly well. I don't know what the doctor did differently this time, but I barely felt anything. And then they admitted me, and I've spent the rest of the day reading, mostly. Once again, I am on the same floor that I'm used to. I'm actually in the room next to the first room I ever stayed in. Aah, memories. It was funny because immediately when I got on the floor, all the nurses were waving at me through my window and say hi and asking where my guitar was. I assured them it is on its way. I like the nurses; they're both friendly and good at their jobs, which is always a good combination. But it's been a long day, and now I think I need to start thinking about sleep, although it is only an hour or so until the night nurse comes around to take my vitals. Haha. I'm not going to say it's good to be back, because it absolutely isn't, but I am more comfortable being here now that I know what to expect. Also, it helps a lot that they told me I could be discharged on Saturday. Hopefully I'll survive these next few days with no side-effects so I can get me home. Otherwise, happy Thursday to all, and to all a good night.

I guess it's Bob Dylan's birthday?

Or so my radio station tells me. On further research, however, Dylan's actual birthday is May 24th. I guess this is more of an early celebration. Regardless. Sometimes I am convinced I was born in the wrong era. I feel I would have fit in better in a smoky coffee shop on Bleeker Street, listening to the latest Ginsberg or a young Bob Dylan - before he became huge and inaccessible. I am too restless for the now, too unsettled to be wholly comfortable in my generation. But then again, I don't think I would have done well in the 70s and 80s. Living now, although I don't get to experience the fifties and sixties, I can at least read and listen and imagine what it would have been like. And realistically, I am probably idealizing the beat and the hippie generations. Oh well.

In other news, it always shocks me when I realize my body can't handle the stresses I once put upon it. Case in point: this past weekend. I ventured, once again, to Culver, Indiana, this time for my dad's 45th reunion. I pretty much didn't eat real food while I was there, as I am partial to the various ice creams offered by the restaurants in town. And then Saturday night, I didn't sleep at all. I stayed up too late in the first place, my cot was terribly uncomfortable, and I was kept awake by the various night-sounds that occur when you share a motel room with two other people. Basically, by the time I got home Sunday afternoon, I felt pretty awful. I had a low-grade fever, and I was exhausted. I think I napped for about three or four hours on Sunday, and then I slept twelve hours Sunday night. I felt great today, which is the good news. It was mostly just another reality check reminding me that I can't afford to neglect my body, even for one day. It's lame, but my health is in a precarious state that could easily take a turn for the worse. And I don't want to take that risk. So sleep and healthy food are in order. That's about it. I go for another biopsy and hospital stay beginning Wednesday, so the countdown is on for that. Should be a good time. Have a happy Tuesday and all that whatnot. Peace.