Death to acid rain.

There was a huge downpour here a few hours ago. Rain was pummeling my window, attacking stranded people, and making large puddles everywhere. Sadly, I could only watch the rain from behind glass, instead of standing in its midst, arms spread and face upturned like a child. Now that the rain has passed, however, I see that watching it from inside was probably the better option. I just looked at my window, and the entire thing is covered in what looks like spots of dust or grime. Upon closer inspection, it turns out to be just that: grime left over from where the rain drops dried on my window. Now, I could give the rain the benefit of the doubt and say that perhaps my window was dusty, but I am six floors up and doubt my window was that dirty. No, the grime is a result of the smothering grossness in our atmosphere. I can barely see downtown Chicago for all the haze, which is a rather muddy brown color. The rain pulled down the pollution and deposited it on my window. And, I can only assume, deposited it everywhere else as well. So thank you, Industrial Age, for making my world a little browner.

Stepping away from this week's Environmental Rant, life is pretty much the same in the hospital. My white blood cells are still acting sluggish, although everything else is doing well, which is good. My weight continues to fall as my appetite continues to not exist. Since I started chemo way back in December, I think I've lost about 25 pounds. That's a lot of pounds, and honestly, I'm not sure where I lost it from. I guess my hair counted for some... But my actual stomach organ (not my gut) has definitely shrunk. To illustrate, Progresso soups have these blue microwaveable soups that are delicious. The vegetable soup is two cups total, about 160 calories. I had one for dinner last night, and I felt sick about 3/4 of the way through. I made myself finish it because I knew I needed the nutrients, but it was difficult. It's kind of depressing that I couldn't even finish 160 calories worth of soup. So that's what it's like to not be able to eat. And I hate it because I usually love food. Oh well, soon enough I'll be able to eat pork chops and potatoes and broccoli and milk again, all in the same meal. Until then, it's Corn Pops for dinner for me! Happy splatterday. Peace.

Quick update.

Progress has been made! My white blood cell counts have soared from 0.1 to... 0.2! Spectacular. But sarcasm aside, this is actually a good sign. It means things are starting to get moving in my marrow. And I have even better proof of this: last night, I started getting The Bone Pain. I told my nurse I feel like an old man: "Ooh, my bones. I can feel it in my bones." But once again, this is a good thing. Actually, this is a very good thing. It means my marrow has kicked into overdrive. Hopefully within the next few days I will be out of here. And in the meantime, what's a little pain? Nothing. Also, Tylenol helps much. So thanks to all who have thought happy white blood cell thoughts in my direction.

Otherwise, more waiting. I think I might be getting scurvy due to lack of vitamin C. Not really, but I am becoming desperate for an orange. Soon enough. And until then, enjoy the halfway point of June. Peace out.

I suppose you could say that today has been eventful.

Well, as eventful as a day can get in my happy little hospital room. Firstly, my nurses and I determined yesterday that I was probably becoming dehydrated. I was getting dizzy when I stood up, and my resting heart rate has been averaging between 110 and 120. Normally it's around 50 or 60. So they hooked me up to the fluids. And then my nurse came in this morning and told me that my red blood cells were actually not hanging out as I had thought. They were in fact, running low. So blood was ordered. And blood was transfused. Incidentally, I feel much better than I felt yesterday -- no dizziness and such. I guess I was in dire need of the various fluids. My brother also stopped by, bringing his own brand of amusement to my otherwise bland life.

And here's the most exciting part of the day: Remember December 30, 2006? I do -- with a little help from the b-log archives. That day I was freaking out because I had begun to lose my hair. It was a new and scary experience for me. I didn't really know what to do with it, my hair. Ultimately, I chickened out on shaving my head. I decided just to let my hair fall out and see what happened. What happened is that it didn't all quite fall out; there was still hair left, but it was quite thin. And then my hair started growing back. It was actually at a reasonable length and fullness, i.e. I could go without a hat, when I started on this most recent bout of chemo. And then, wouldn't you know it, my hair started falling out again. Just about right on schedule too. This time, however, I made up my mind. This time, I shaved my head. Well, okay, my nurse shaved it. But gone is all the hair. There is a very short fuzz, but it's not consistent, and it is still falling out. I kind of want to take a lint roller to my head to get off the little fuzzies. I also can't stop touching my scalp. It feels... I can't even describe it. It's funny. So, now I'm bald, and I'm excited. And that's my day. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep tonight, and even more hopefully my counts will show some growth. Otherwise, have a happy tomorrow and all that jazz. Peace.

Some songs always remind me of the roller rink.

I'm not sure why, but there are a few distinct tunes that always take me back to ten years old and skating underneath flashing lights, on scuffed wood floors, always in a circle -- except, of course, when you occasionally "Change Direction!" I just heard one of those songs during a commercial. And I thought I'd share.

So, I haven't written the past few days, possibly because I wrote a lot last week, mostly because nothing noteworthy happened. My white blood cells haven't show any growth, although my red ones are holding steady, which is good. Today, however, held a few surprises. Firstly, the friendly, attractive foreigner returned to my door with the offer of paints. I was lying down reading when he knocked and asked, "Would you like paint today?" I answered, "No, I don't think so...." But he cut me off and said, "It will give you something to do! I'll be back in ten minutes." I'm not sure if he didn't hear me or chose to ignore my feeble protests, but return he did, with paints. And actually, it made me feel better. Also, I named my painting "Bexplosion." It's exciting. The next somewhat amusing part of the day came a few minutes later. My doctor came in and saw that I was painting. To which he noted, "Wow, you're like a machine." He meant that I do a lot of different things to keep myself occupied here, but I was amused nonetheless. Ah, if only he knew the truth. Which is that I really only do about one significant thing a day. Haha. Today, I painted. Tomorrow, perhaps I'll start my novel. (Chuckle). Anyway, so hopefully they'll let me out of here sometime soon. These silly cells. They are so not on top of their game. Maybe they are waiting for the White Sox to start winning consistently... Either way, thinking happy thoughts. Peace.