I think I shall procrastinate some more.

I have exciting news! The doctors have determined which bacterium has invaded my bloodstream. The gram negative rod causing all the worry is none other than E. coli. Aah, E. coli, what a strange relationship I have had with you over the past ten months. Coincidentally, it was one of the main organisms, along with staph, that I studied in my infectious diseases class. And now here I am, with both a staph and an e. coli infection. How's that for a strange twist? My friend suggested, and I agree, that I should get extra credit in my science class. But everything seems to be well under control. The antibiotics are doing their thing, and I feel pretty good. Hopefully I will be out of here by the end of the week. Hopefully.

Speaking of strange twists, here's a good one: Let's say a person, any old person, is attending a fairly large, generic university. Now let's say this person finds out he or she has a fast-growing, deadly illness. There is hope for this person, but only if he or she receives treatment for the disease immediately. So this person, through no fault of his or her own, is forced to take a leave of absence from said university. Unfortunately, this person found out about the illness at the most inopportune of times: one week before finals. Our valiant hero requests incompletes from three teachers whose classes had yet to be completed. The teachers graciously grant the request for incompletes, giving the person One Year to turn in the assignments.

Our hero leaves the university with a heavy heart and an uncertain future. Will the treatment be successful? Will our hero be able to return to school next year? Will our hero ever be able to return to school?

Flash-forward six months. Our hero has been told he or she will be able to return to the university in the fall. Sometimes this fact is the only thing that helps our hero through the trials (and pain) he or she has been enduring. But then, a snag! Our hero's insurance provider unexpectedly changes. Suddenly, the Hospital where our hero is being treated is no longer "in network." Concerns are raised about expenses, affordability, and whether or not our hero will actually be able to return to the beloved university. Our hero's strong parents work hard, make many phone calls with many hours spent on hold, and eventually figure out a solution to the insurance problem.

But then, another snag! A few short weeks later, our dear hero is informed that he or she has not received any financial aid from the university for the upcoming school year. "But why?" our hero queries. "Because you have three outstanding incompletes from last year and no grades from second semester," replies the questioned. "But they were wholly unavoidable." "Then appeal the decision." And so the decision is appealed. A formidable letter is sent, both from our hero and from our hero's Doctor, clearly stating the medical necessity of leaving the university. Assurances are sent back that the case is being reviewed and the outcome looks optimistic. And thank goodness, for once again fiscal questions had arisen regarding returning to the university.

And then our hero receives a phone call: "It looks like they won't fully review your case and grant you aid until your grades have been resolved. So, finish up your two final papers and your final exam, and we'll be all set!" Our hero is shocked. "But I'm still in the middle of treatment; I won't be able to finish my assignments until I get back to school." "Well then, you probably won't get any aid for a while. But make sure you pay your tuition by the deadline, August 16." Now what? Our hero is left with no choice but to try and write two papers and establish a timeline for the one exam as soon as possible, even though our hero had been under the impression he or she had until December 2007 to finalize the grades. Now, ordinarily, our hero would have no trouble completing these tasks. He or she is, however, also dealing with certain variables. Variables such as still undergoing treatment for a deadly illness. Variables such as unavoidable, debilitating infections. Variables such as not being able to reach a post office and teachers going on vacation. And with the tuition deadline fast approaching, our hero still doesn't understand why the nice people who grant aid don't understand that this is an extraordinary situation, and the incompletes really were unavoidable.

Frustration. Money. Business. Drugs. Insurance. Money. Fear. E. coli. Will our hero prevail against the odds? Will the papers miraculously be completed? Or will the nice people who grant aid experience a burst of understanding and review our hero's appeal and grant aid now? Stay tuned for the continuation and resolution of our hero's saga. Also, if you'd like to share your thoughts, comments, or write your own ending, e-mail me, the objective narrator, anytime at cbridges86@gmail.com.

Seriously. If commenting here isn't your thing, I'd love to hear from you. cbridges86@gmail.com.

My B. read the bottom post first.

I guess I shouldn't have blogged so early because I already have an update that can't wait until tomorrow. According to the doc, two new cultures have grown a different bacteria. I already knew about the gram-negative rod, but now they seem to have found gram-positive cocci! Hoorah! And the cocci (so-called because they are round) showed up in two different culture bottles, so they know it's for real. They think it is one of the many variants of staph. Now, I've gone on and on about how catheter sites are perfect breeding grounds for bacteria, specifically staph infections. I was all uptight about keeping mine clean and dry and whatever. But now it's gone and gotten itself infected. The site doesn't look or feel infected, but I guess if the doctor says there's staph there, then, well, there must be staph there. So what this means for me: They are removing my line! That's right. Today (possibly tomorrow). The doctor is going to come in and literally pull it out of my chest. I am experiencing a variety of emotions right now. I thought I would be overjoyed when this day came. I sort of thought its removal would symbolize my completion of chemotherapy, but clearly that isn't happening. Also, I've had this thing hanging from me for seven months now. I've grown accustomed to seeing the bulge above my right collarbone, to occasionally poking it when I got bored, to cursing it when I wanted to wear a low-cut shirt. But hey, now I'll be able to shower!! I'll let everyone know how the extraction goes, don't worry. Also, there may be more updates as the day progresses. It's just that type of day. Peace out.

I had a..... weird? dream last night.

Yes, friends, I am still alive. And kicking. But first my dream: so, there were many parts, but the main one I remember is running into a guy I knew/know, and I was crying. He held me and said something like, "Here, feel my platelets going into you." It sounds creepy, but it wasn't. Anyway, we started kissing, and I was feeling better until the guy I had been kissing earlier ran by and saw us. So I got up and ran after him. There was a lot of running in this dream. But at least I got platelets? Anyway, I woke up sort of sad because it was just a dream, and I hadn't actually kissed two (possibly three) guys last night. Haha.

Anyway, so I am in the hospital. On Friday, when my infection first showed itself and I was admitted to the hospital, my white blood cell count was 0.1. My platelet count was 2, and it should be over 150. My hemoglobin was 7.0, when it should normally be over 11.5. I don't remember exactly what the hemoglobin measures, but it's the main determinant for receiving blood. Anyway, my blood was quickly running out. I received an antibiotic while I was in clinic, waiting for a bed. Once I was admitted, I received two units of red blood cells, and that evening, I received two units of platelets. I also went for a chest x-ray and a CT scan, to check for "spontaneous bleeding" on my brain. Luckily, that test came back negative.

When you come in to the hospital because of an infection, the first thing the doctors do is order blood cultures drawn. Basically, the lab techs come and draw blood into specially cultured liquids in which bacteria can grow. And bacteria certainly grew! I found out yesterday that one of my cultures had grown. My doctor confirmed for me that I did have bacteria floating around in my blood stream, which is bad, and that those bacteria are specifically gram-negative rods, which is really bad. Now, I'm not going to lie, I was kind of excited when he told me that because I was like, "I know what those are!" Once again the biology class, whose exam I'm supposed to be studying for, came in handy. Basically, gram-negative rod bacteria are rod-shaped, they stain either purple or pink (I don't remember which) in the Gram stain, and they are more virulent than gram-positive ones. They won't know exactly what the bacteria is until they let it grow some more and do more staining.

The good news is that I am responding well to the antibiotic. I haven't had a fever in over 24 hours, and I feel much better. I also received two more units of blood yesterday, so I am back to --relative-- normalcy! At least I'm not getting dizzy anymore. But now comes the dreaded waiting. Once again, I probably won't be out of here for a while. Not only are my white blood cells too low, but now I have an actual infection, and my doctors will want to be certain that it's gone. I don't know how long that could take. Hopefully not too, but we'll see what happens. Either way, I'm doing better now, and that's the important part. Stay tuned tomorrow for an update on the ongoing saga of the ridiculousness of bureaucracy! Pax.

Briefly; this isn't my computer.

I am in the hospital. Last night I started getting a fever, and this morning the whole thing just snowballed. So my mom drove me to the University of Chicago Hospitals, and here I am. At one point this afternoon, my temperature reached 40.2 degrees Celcius, or about 104.4 Farhenheit. Hooray, hot! But I think my fever has broken now; at least I don't have the chills anymore. Also, my red blood cell count is super low, so I'm experiencing all kinds of dizziness. But I'll say more tomorrow when I have my computer. Hopefully then I will know what's wrong with me. Until then, peace.

Currently listening to: Hambone's Blues Party

My jazz station features this guy, Hambone, and his blues party at least once a week. I really enjoy both the music and the deejay. A few weeks ago he was talking about how he took his daughter to Boston to look at some schools. And then he started talking about how they decided to go to a ska concert. At the Middle East. I was like, "awesome." He was going on about how he started "skanking" (really intense ska-music dancing. I think people usually end up hurt) with a bunch of college kids, and I could just see it. Crazy fifty-year old Chicago male, transplanted to a Boston ska concert at the Middle East. I was a wee bit jealous, even if I've never been to a ska concert. Although, I don't know, does Cake count?

So, I have decided the worst part of having leukemia. I think, after seven months, that I have done enough "research" to speak with certainty. The worst part is the lack of blood, both red and white cells. To my knowledge, I have been running out of blood cells for at least a year now. I actually came across a journal entry from June 2006 in which I wrote that I was getting worried by the number and severity of bruises all over me. So, even one year ago, my platelets were dangerously low. Although I had no idea at the time that's what it was; I thought I was just anemic. My red blood cells were probably unhealthily low as well, but my body had adapted to having so few cells so I hardly noticed it. But now, I know what it's like to have a relatively normal blood count level. And right now, my red blood cells are getting too low again. I can't walk (jump...) up six stairs without my heart pounding like a maniac. And when I stand up, I get these super cool black-outs. Oh well. Hopefully I'll get a blood transfusion tomorrow, or Monday at the latest. But either way, I think having blood and not having to worry about it mysteriously disappearing is what I am looking forward to the most when this treatment is finished. I can't wait to be able to run again, to be able to jump out of my chair without needing to grab on to something solid for balance. Good things to look forward to. And now, I'm looking forward to some sleep. Pax.

I am procrastinating.

I just read a blog post from a friend of mine studying in Dublin over the summer. In it he admits to having drank a bottle of Captain Morgan in one night. Well, Jon, I just ate a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. While there are distinct differences between ice cream and rum consumption, the level of intoxication, for instance, there are also notable similarities, the amount of sugar ingested, perhaps. Also, his liver probably hates him right now, and my liver function is also somewhat spotty. But most importantly, in neither instance was moderation a factor. So Jon, I raise my empty, sticky ice cream carton in your honor. Please come back to BU alive.

In other news, the adventures of Me continue. And today's adventure is definitely one for the books. I got pooped on. Right smack in the middle of the crown of my scalp. I was just sitting outside, minding my own business when I felt something hit my head. I thought it was a bug or a leaf so I reached back to brush it off. But mostly I succeeded in transferring the little turd to my hand. Rest assured, I hurried back inside to wash my hands. But there is a redeeming factor in this usually unfortunate situation: Since I have no hair, washing my head was super easy. A quick pass of the head under the faucet's very hot water and I was back to clean and normal. There were also some soap suds involved, but again, nothing too difficult. There would have been much more swearing and consternation on my part if I did, indeed, have hair, but I was glad, just this once, that I don't.

Otherwise, I am trying to write a paper I was supposed to have written seven months ago. The going is slow, but the going is going. So hopefully I'll get an A... I mean, come on, I've got cancer! Haha, no, I wouldn't pull the Card for a grade. Financial Aid, yes, but they are having none of it. So, back to work I go. Woo. Alrighty, peace.

Hey-O!

I am so damn frustrated. "With what?" you ask? With this stupid white tubey hanging from my chest. As most of us are aware, summer is currently upon us. And with summer, especially in Chicago, comes heat. And, particularly in Chicago, with heat comes humidity. And where there is humidity, you had better believe that sweaty people are not far behind. Now, I may or may not be a naturally sweaty person. But when the heat index is above 100 degrees, as it was today, all natural tendencies can be ignored in the face of the reality that just about any physical activity outside will result in sweating.

Today I was given the task of delivering a letter to our post office. Our post office is maybe a little less than a mile from my house. I didn't have a vehicle today. The result: I walked to the post office, stopped briefly at Starbucks for an iced latte, and walked back to my house. The whole trip took me thirty-five minutes. And then I was back in my air-conditioned house. But I was ridiculously overheated. My head was especially hot. Whoever said cotton breathes is a liar. And here's the best part: the skin beneath the bandage covering my catheter site had perspired. Not a lot, but enough to loosen most of the bandage. The edges came up and probably helped compromise the sterility of my chest-hole. As a reminder, bacteria thrive in warm, moisture-rich environments. Bacteria are bad; bacteria are everywhere. My catheter site, which offers easy germ access to my insides, is a potential breeding ground for bacteria. I am trying to do everything I can to keep the site sterile and covered. Natural perspiration, and the accompanying ooze from within the hole itself, are not things I want to be dealing with right now. So I am frustrated.

Otherwise, I am finding out the hard way that you do not want to poke the hole in your thigh where you have just given yourself a shot. It is surprisingly painful. But I guess these things you learn through experience. Although it is quite possible that I am the only one stupid enough to do that... All very thought-provoking subjects. But I will end this on the happy note that the temperature is twenty degrees cooler since this afternoon, and my catheter seems to have ceased with its oozing, for now. Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow. Oh well. Peace.