He didn't feel good.
He didn't have nuthin' good going on at all.
But he went to work. Don't know how he does these things. My hero...
Monday, February 28, 2011
Bill Went to Work--Just Barely!
He didn't look good.
He didn't feel good.
He didn't have nuthin' good going on at all.
But he went to work. Don't know how he does these things. My hero...
He didn't feel good.
He didn't have nuthin' good going on at all.
But he went to work. Don't know how he does these things. My hero...
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Saturday Evening: Still No Pain But Feeling Down
Bill still hasn't gotten that bone pain--hallelujah!--but he is feeling sort of down today, and is discouraged because he looks yellow. He is very tired--he says, "exhausted"--and, well, he just feels very discouraged tonight.
Saturday Morning: No Pain!
Okay, WHO has been praying out there? ;)
The pain never struck! Not one tiny bit. Bill is FINE!
We are in shock and awe, here.
Unprecedented.
I try to control the maximum daily quota of times I say or write "Wow" during any given day, but.....wow.
The pain never struck! Not one tiny bit. Bill is FINE!
We are in shock and awe, here.
Unprecedented.
I try to control the maximum daily quota of times I say or write "Wow" during any given day, but.....wow.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Friday Night: Got the Bone Buster Shot Today
This afternoon, Bill got the shot (Neulasta) that makes the bones feel like they are molotov cocktails on fire.
That pain should strike about midnight tonight and, if it goes like last time, could, in a worst case scenario, provide him with excruciating pain through most of tomorrow. GOD FORBID.
This time, however, there are two differences from last time: one good, one bad.
The good difference is that he has special pain meds already on hand, just for this particularly severe pain, as this bone marrow pain is the most unendurable of all the pain he has to experience.
The bad difference is that this shot's effects will (warned the nurse)last much longer than the shots he got last time, so it may be a bad entire weekend. But we hope and pray that he gets through it with minimal trouble.
I was going to go to a conference tomorrow, 40 minutes out of town, but if things go in a bad direction for my cowboy, I will certainly cancel and stay with him. The conference happens three times a year, so I'll get other chances to go.
I'll be sure to write tomorrow, so that, if you're interested, you can see what happens from the shot.
Thank you for cheering him on from the sidelines. We both feel your love and prayers. Seems weird, but I mean it. Like, scientifically.
That pain should strike about midnight tonight and, if it goes like last time, could, in a worst case scenario, provide him with excruciating pain through most of tomorrow. GOD FORBID.
This time, however, there are two differences from last time: one good, one bad.
The good difference is that he has special pain meds already on hand, just for this particularly severe pain, as this bone marrow pain is the most unendurable of all the pain he has to experience.
The bad difference is that this shot's effects will (warned the nurse)last much longer than the shots he got last time, so it may be a bad entire weekend. But we hope and pray that he gets through it with minimal trouble.
I was going to go to a conference tomorrow, 40 minutes out of town, but if things go in a bad direction for my cowboy, I will certainly cancel and stay with him. The conference happens three times a year, so I'll get other chances to go.
I'll be sure to write tomorrow, so that, if you're interested, you can see what happens from the shot.
Thank you for cheering him on from the sidelines. We both feel your love and prayers. Seems weird, but I mean it. Like, scientifically.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thursday Chemo and Some Conundrumatics
I couldn't post about today until I saw if he would be allowed to get chemo or not.
He got it! Passed his blood test.
I was worried, because last night, he started with the fever again. Oh no!
And this morning, he felt bad and was even kind of crabby!
But he went, harumphing all the way, and they took his blood, and turns out the only thing wrong with it was too little magnesium, so he's on magnesium now.
So they gave him his M and V chemicals.
Tomorrow, though, he gets a Neulasta shot, which is the same basic product that gave him that hellacious bone pain last time. We're so hoping that doesn't happen again.
The sweet little guitar girl was there again today, but some of the song requests she got today were NOT of the hymn-like variety, and simply did NOT interface well with her gentle and childlike persona and voice: she looks delicate, speaks delicately, sings delicately, plays guitar delicately, and someone in there today had her singing the WRONGEST songs for her sweetly whispery self.
Imagine, let's say, you're looking at a whispery-voiced golden-haloed satin-eyed cherub holding a guitar. With wings on it. Yeah, on the guitar. And throw some wings on the cherub too. That's the persona, that's the effect, we're talking about.
Now imagine THAT singing THIS:
"Well, I'm runnin down the road tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind,
Four that wanna own me, two that wanna stone me,
One says she's a friend of mine."
Bill and I, hearing this across the room, looked up from our books and slowly turned our eyes toward each other until our eye contact said, "Did that just happen?"
"Well, I'm a standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona
and such a fine sight to see!
It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford slowin' down to take a look at me.
Come on, baby, don't say maybe! I gotta know if your sweet love is
gonna save me!"
Um.
Yyyyyyeah.
Well, you gotta expect, if you're going to take requests...gonna be all kinds makin' a world!
Glad there are, though.
And we definitely had fun listening. Despite--and maybe even because of--the conundrumatic paradoxical juxtaposition of it all.
"Lighten up while you still can,
don't even try to understand.
Just find a place to make your stand
and take it easy."
Hey. We can do that!
He got it! Passed his blood test.
I was worried, because last night, he started with the fever again. Oh no!
And this morning, he felt bad and was even kind of crabby!
But he went, harumphing all the way, and they took his blood, and turns out the only thing wrong with it was too little magnesium, so he's on magnesium now.
So they gave him his M and V chemicals.
Tomorrow, though, he gets a Neulasta shot, which is the same basic product that gave him that hellacious bone pain last time. We're so hoping that doesn't happen again.
The sweet little guitar girl was there again today, but some of the song requests she got today were NOT of the hymn-like variety, and simply did NOT interface well with her gentle and childlike persona and voice: she looks delicate, speaks delicately, sings delicately, plays guitar delicately, and someone in there today had her singing the WRONGEST songs for her sweetly whispery self.
Imagine, let's say, you're looking at a whispery-voiced golden-haloed satin-eyed cherub holding a guitar. With wings on it. Yeah, on the guitar. And throw some wings on the cherub too. That's the persona, that's the effect, we're talking about.
Now imagine THAT singing THIS:
"Well, I'm runnin down the road tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind,
Four that wanna own me, two that wanna stone me,
One says she's a friend of mine."
Bill and I, hearing this across the room, looked up from our books and slowly turned our eyes toward each other until our eye contact said, "Did that just happen?"
"Well, I'm a standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona
and such a fine sight to see!
It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford slowin' down to take a look at me.
Come on, baby, don't say maybe! I gotta know if your sweet love is
gonna save me!"
Um.
Yyyyyyeah.
Well, you gotta expect, if you're going to take requests...gonna be all kinds makin' a world!
Glad there are, though.
And we definitely had fun listening. Despite--and maybe even because of--the conundrumatic paradoxical juxtaposition of it all.
"Lighten up while you still can,
don't even try to understand.
Just find a place to make your stand
and take it easy."
Hey. We can do that!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Luminous, Brave Cowboy
If there were a book about my cowboy Billybob, this would be the book. (Unfortunately, this particular edition costs ten thousand dollars right now, so we don't have one, and we suggest that you check your basement in case YOU do. But I digress.)
That brave boy went off to teach college just now! He's in pain, nauseated, fatigued, and rather ash-colored, but couldn't be talked out of his plan.
Off he went, lugging 67 essay exams that he'd graded and heavily annotated over the last few days, despite feeling like something you'd scrape off your shoe!
(I meant MUD. Not something taboo, you silly.)
He's just a luminous man (he likes that word, luminous), and the more you know him, the more you think so. (And the more you start saying things like "luminous.")
But there are a lot of luminous people out there, and some are very sick right now, and whether they're our friends or your friends or somebody else's friends, you or we or all of us together love them and worry for them.
So whether you pray or think or hope or just let yer luvlight shine, however you do it, throw in an extra dose for everybody's friends everywhere, who need extra love today.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tuesday: Ooops, Forgot to Post!
Thanks to Bev, my friend from all the way back in kindergarten, (now THAT'S a long friendship!) I just realized that I had forgotten to post an update!
Oooops!
Bill did fine until Sunday afternoon, when he started crashing like the cars in the NASCAR race. (We have never watched NASCAR before, or even considered it, but for some reason, we did watch on Sunday, and it was surprisingly fun.)
Well, by Monday morning, he was messed all the way up and had to call in sick to work, which, as you know, is the very last option for him. He can't stand to miss a class!
He was profoundly exhausted. All he did was sleep for almost 24 hours, or even more. He could eat a little bit, but this morning (Tuesday), he was having trouble managing nausea for the first time.
He rested more, and as of this afternoon, he is walking around a little. He even finished grading all those essay exams. He is really amazing.
It's been an almost silent day in our house. When he feels so bad, it makes me feel down, too. I guess it was kinda up to the dogs to make anyone smile today!
But they did.
BabyJack, the little black poodle, made up a game involving lying down and rolling the ball to me with his nose, and I'd roll it back. I laughed really hard when I realized he had actually made up a game.
Not much else seemed too funny today. But at least my cowboy is a leeeeedle bit better, so that's enough to make me thankful.
Love to you all, and thank you for your thoughts and prayers, sooooo much...
Oooops!
Bill did fine until Sunday afternoon, when he started crashing like the cars in the NASCAR race. (We have never watched NASCAR before, or even considered it, but for some reason, we did watch on Sunday, and it was surprisingly fun.)
Well, by Monday morning, he was messed all the way up and had to call in sick to work, which, as you know, is the very last option for him. He can't stand to miss a class!
He was profoundly exhausted. All he did was sleep for almost 24 hours, or even more. He could eat a little bit, but this morning (Tuesday), he was having trouble managing nausea for the first time.
He rested more, and as of this afternoon, he is walking around a little. He even finished grading all those essay exams. He is really amazing.
It's been an almost silent day in our house. When he feels so bad, it makes me feel down, too. I guess it was kinda up to the dogs to make anyone smile today!
But they did.
BabyJack, the little black poodle, made up a game involving lying down and rolling the ball to me with his nose, and I'd roll it back. I laughed really hard when I realized he had actually made up a game.
Not much else seemed too funny today. But at least my cowboy is a leeeeedle bit better, so that's enough to make me thankful.
Love to you all, and thank you for your thoughts and prayers, sooooo much...
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Saturday After Cisplatin: Nothing Happening Yet
The Cisplatin drip went (yay!) uneventfully on Friday. Three hours (!) of pre-medications before they could even give him the chemical, then the chemical took two hours more.
As of today, Bill says he feels only weak and breathless, but otherwise fine (still on steroids, and anti-nausea, and anti-anxiety meds, and some Atomic Bomb Anti-Nausea pills that cost $90 EACH!)
Last time he had Cisplatin, there was no reaction until Monday. So we are hoping for an okay weekend.
A friend made him home-made sticky buns yesterday (like Cinnabons), and another friend mailed him home-made sugar cookies. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, he is so happy about those developments. He definitely lost weight lately, and can't finish even one serving of anything, but he can eat sweets.
I'll write again tomorrow, but we expect no drama until next week, and for that matter, we hope we just get to skip the drama entirely this time!
Love to all of you.
As of today, Bill says he feels only weak and breathless, but otherwise fine (still on steroids, and anti-nausea, and anti-anxiety meds, and some Atomic Bomb Anti-Nausea pills that cost $90 EACH!)
Last time he had Cisplatin, there was no reaction until Monday. So we are hoping for an okay weekend.
A friend made him home-made sticky buns yesterday (like Cinnabons), and another friend mailed him home-made sugar cookies. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, he is so happy about those developments. He definitely lost weight lately, and can't finish even one serving of anything, but he can eat sweets.
I'll write again tomorrow, but we expect no drama until next week, and for that matter, we hope we just get to skip the drama entirely this time!
Love to all of you.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Friday: Bombs Away
It's Friday, and we're for sure scheduled for Cisplatin Extreme today. He'll feel great for three days, then crash. I'll write daily, though.
Yesterday was completely uneventful, as the Methotrexate and the VinBlastOff do nothing to cause him discomfort. They took only a short while to put in, and he graded essay exams the entire time.
One huge blessing from living in Scots-Irish territory as we do is the musical talent that floats in the genetics around here like blue in the ocean. It's everywhere.
And as Bill said, "Only in the Appalachians would this happen," we had the oddest and most wonderful surprise in the chemo room yesterday.
An Appalachian student, about 20 years old, has signed on to do "music therapy" for the patients there. This involves her walking around with a guitar, talking to each patient, and asking if they'd like a song, or if a group of them would like a song. She has a notebook with all the requested songs in it (words, chords), and she said every time she gets a request she doesn't already have have the music for, she makes sure to have it the next time.
So yesterday, as Bill graded papers, and I read Psalms to myself and then looked at pictures of birds in an Audubon book, in the background we heard this shockingly beautiful soft voice singing songs in different parts of the room, with chords strummed quietly in accompaniment.
Not only that, but, as I was saying about the genetic pool here and musicality: people getting chemo would add harmony parts spontaneously, and let me tell you: old, old hymns sung by a young, young girl, with all ages of voices chiming in together, in country-style four-part, now THERE'S a sound you remember for years to come.
"When We Meet on that Beautiful Shore" and "I'll Fly Away" and "Leanin' on the Everlasting Arms" (yes, CTK church friends, THAT hymn showed up yesterday!).
As that last song goes, "What a fellowship. What a joy divine."
I'd say. Chemo community singing songs of hope together?
Does it get much better than that?
Yesterday was completely uneventful, as the Methotrexate and the VinBlastOff do nothing to cause him discomfort. They took only a short while to put in, and he graded essay exams the entire time.
BUT A HAPPY SURPRISE IN THE CHEMO ROOM
One huge blessing from living in Scots-Irish territory as we do is the musical talent that floats in the genetics around here like blue in the ocean. It's everywhere.
And as Bill said, "Only in the Appalachians would this happen," we had the oddest and most wonderful surprise in the chemo room yesterday.
An Appalachian student, about 20 years old, has signed on to do "music therapy" for the patients there. This involves her walking around with a guitar, talking to each patient, and asking if they'd like a song, or if a group of them would like a song. She has a notebook with all the requested songs in it (words, chords), and she said every time she gets a request she doesn't already have have the music for, she makes sure to have it the next time.
So yesterday, as Bill graded papers, and I read Psalms to myself and then looked at pictures of birds in an Audubon book, in the background we heard this shockingly beautiful soft voice singing songs in different parts of the room, with chords strummed quietly in accompaniment.
Not only that, but, as I was saying about the genetic pool here and musicality: people getting chemo would add harmony parts spontaneously, and let me tell you: old, old hymns sung by a young, young girl, with all ages of voices chiming in together, in country-style four-part, now THERE'S a sound you remember for years to come.
"When We Meet on that Beautiful Shore" and "I'll Fly Away" and "Leanin' on the Everlasting Arms" (yes, CTK church friends, THAT hymn showed up yesterday!).
As that last song goes, "What a fellowship. What a joy divine."
I'd say. Chemo community singing songs of hope together?
Does it get much better than that?
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