Oligo Woe Is Me

Ten more treatments to go.  Twenty-three Quasi-Disney rides complete.    Some of you may be reading all these blog entries and wondering “Well geez…that all doesn’t sound so bad!”  In the grand scheme of life it hasn’t been too awful.  However, for the first time today, I’m going to tear down a little piece of the wall and share just a litte piece of my reality.

Disclaimer – If you get bummed out easy then this post is probably not for you.

My routine has changed quite a bit from where I stated some posts back.  My days are a wee different.

• I get up at 5am.  Usually feeling queasy.  I roll myself out of bed forcefully so that I can’t change my mind. 
• I keep the alarm clock out of arm’s reach to help facilitate the forceful rolling out of bed.  It works.
• I wander around a bit trying to get the 4 or 5 items together to go hit the treadmill.  I now am making a pile beofre I go to sleep to mitigate this wandering.  I seem to forget what I am doing at the moment I’m doing it.
• Try to eat half a banana or an apple.  I like apples.  Bananas are easier though.
• Come back from barely making a mile and a quarter on the treadmill.  This is half of what I was doing two weeks ago.  I have to be careful now as my knees will sometimes not obey, and slip our from under my thigh.
• Rest on the sofa, or work on my blog, and and have my morning prescription buffet. 
• At 8am I take my chemo, get cleaned up, and head over to the underground bunker where the Proton Treatment Center is buried. 
• I ride the aforementioned Quasi-Disney ride for about 20 minutes with my Proton Helmet on.  At least I look cool.
• Then on some days I have various appointements to attend.  These usually involve getting some blood drained and taking spacial apptitute tests to make sure body parts are coordinationg with directions they are getting.  I am now unable to walk a toe-to-heel straight line.  So I guess I’d fail a field sobriety test even though I don’t drive and I don’t drink.  I’d probably still get busted for some reason anyway.
• Then I try to take a city walk to get some fresh air.  Then I remember that I’m in downtown Boston and fresh air is not particulary abundant here.
• Then I get back to my abode, put on my jammies, and try to amuse myself until it starts all over again.

I’m sharing this with you becuase some folks thought I may be minimizing the situation by using humor to paint a happy picture.  I know that blogs like this one all somehow get linked and I would not want somebody using this one for reference when every post I’ve made has been about rainbows or puppies or how it’s impossible to write a sad song on a ukulele.  While all that is true, there is also a back end to all this that I haven’t shared.  It is not, from any perspective, rainbows and puppies.  I thought you’d want to know.  

Have a peaceful day.  Embrace what you hold dear.  Take a deep breath and smile when you think of that which truly has meaning to your life. 

Namaste,

Rob

So yesterday I was informed that my stay here in Valhalla was to be 33 sessions of radiation…not the 30 originally indicated. Somewhere there was a communication breakdown. So here’s what that means:

Since it includes another weekend (as well as another detail I won’t bother explaining), instead of getting home to Vermont on Saturday the 19th, now it’s gonna be Friday the 25th.

Another 6 days away from Cooper, Sadie, and Zenfish. Not even to mention my fancy massage lounger. (Kasey will spend some time down here with me so that’s good)

To unexpectedly extend my lease on where I am staying is another chunk of cash of no small significance. Yikes. It’s a good thing I planted that money tree last April. I wish I had gotten the $100 bill seeds instead of the $20 bill seeds but I didn’t want to be greedy.

6 more days to accomplish nothing.

6 more days of mediocre coffee.

6 more days before I can get on with the next chapter of life.

…sigh…

Well, no point in getting my undies in a bunch. Just gotta shine it on. Shine. It. On.

Shining it on from Boston…with enormous volumes of peace and love.

Namaste,

Rob

This one goes out to all my peeps at the Beehive, as well as the rest of you Veekers that added to the Box Of Joy.  For those of you that have absolutely no idea of what this post is about, just roll with it.

Beehive – Sung to the tune of Barry Manilow’s “Mandy” with backing music, of course, on ukulele.

Beehive, my only Beehive.

You made me happy when I was bummin.

You’ll never know how much the care package meant to me.

Someday, I’ll come fix your computers.

(big Pete Townshend windmill rock-show finish on the concert uke)

Really…everyone who participated can know that the box, and even more so the stuff inside, really lifted my spirits.  May the force be with you.

Rob