Monday, August 13, 2012
"...brown gobbets up I throw."
Dear blog,
Another chemo session over, and I feel quite ill. My blood count is low again, so I will have to go get more Neulasta tomorrow. It's time for me to get a PET scan. The lymph nodes in my neck are fairly staunchly present, contrary to expected progress of the treatment. However, the other surface-accessible nodes under my arms could not be found by the doctor. Thus, there is hope that the nodes in my neck are necrotic and things are progressing normally or that treatment is simply progressing in an uneven fashion. I am fairly anxious about all this.
Given that everything is pretty routine and some other factors there may be fewer or less frequent updates in the future. One contributing factor to this is the lack of commenting of late. At least two people have indicated that they do read but this is always of short reassurance and comments would drive up post rate.
Respectfully submitted, your obedient, in the fullness of time,
-I.
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20 comments:
Hoping for necrotic neck nodes? Ah, alliteration.
I check your blog with near-neurotic frequency. (I was going for more alliteration, but I couldn't think of a decent word for "frequency" that starts with N.) Increasing the post rate would make me feel slightly more justified in doing so.
Routine is a matter of degree. You may have a routine cancer, but cancer itself is not routine, so even the routine aspects are novel and fascinating. Folks have a hunger for details, even mundane ones.
Like, what all goes on in the chemo room? What does the nurse look like? Does she have an annoying vocal tic? Is there a wall clock that's always about three minutes fast? What's your port look like? Do you find yourself poking it? Do your turds look different? What do you do while getting poisoned - just read a book, or count the tiles, or what? How do you respond to the folks who threaten to pray for you?
Don't just report the cold hard facts. Give us some flavor. (Okay, when the headline is referring to vomit, perhaps "flavor" is a poor choice of word.) People want to know these things. Low comment rate is probably because people are too bashful to ask.
Here's to your necrotic neck nodes.
LOL, I concur with Serena's comments and questions. I have been trying to comment because I know it's important to you. Though all of them are quite lame in comparison to Serena's most recent one.
Aww man, I made the mistake of asking Fluffy what "necrotic" means and he had me do a Google image search for "necrotizing fasciitis". Lets just say I'm going to have nightmares about it. Wishing you necrotic neck nodes regardless. :)
I also am reading your posts. I love you writing style, even if your topic is unpleasant. It is always good to hear how you are holding up. You are in my prayers!
From Japan,
Michelle
I have also been checking your blog daily with my email. I just have nothing to say that would equal your or Serena's wittiness, except you are in my thoughts and prayers whether you like it or not. Please continue to update, I do care how you are doing even the nitty gritty details and I have a stomach of steal.
Thanks for writing, Ian. Your mention of comments made me realize I could comment. Took some looking, but here I am.
I won't tell you I pray for you, nor will I ask what you say to those who say they are keeping you in their prayers. It's probably best to recognize their good intentions and ignore their folly.
Please keep writing. I want to keep reading your blog.
Aunt Heidi
I read it regularly and remind a bunch or folks to read it as well. Who ever thought I'd be hoping for necrotic lumps?
I'm sure you are tired and being articulate and thorough can be demanding--so no pressure, but be assured, you are followed and cared for.
Ian, I have commented twice, and it keeps redirecting to a Google+ page that I don't want to do.
I read, I comment, and I pray for you. This is valuable because God's requirement for healing in the bible is someone's faith. I have faith that He listens so I trust you will improve.
What happens when your nodes are necrotic? Do healthy ones generate? Hoping it's all going as well as possible.
Cheers!
~Tia Maria
Maybe they could just take out the nodes in your neck. Isn't that what they do in a tonsilectomy?
By the way, I read religiously and forward your mom's email giving the link to all my kids, and I think they all read.
I really liked Serena's comment - I greatly appreciate the details of how you feel and what you are going through. It helps me understand what people go through with chemo. Previously I just heard people say, "It was bad." or "It was REALLY bad." Yours makes me feel like I've lived it, even though I haven't suffered.
Why would you mind if folk prayed for you? It can't hurt, can it? Who knows but what good energy might be generated. I thought Aunt Heidi's comment about "folly" was a little strong.
God bless you, Ian. I am so proud of you. I hope you suffer less and make it through. You are someone I am proud to have in my bloodline...an outstanding human being.
Love, Tia Margarita
Channel Crossing. Rupert Brook. Bard of cookie tossings.
Oh, some of my family of origin call me and comment to me when you blog. I tell them that you have a good attitude and are fighting this like a champ. I hope this is true.
Ian, master wordsmith, would that you would continue smithing, this man would continue reading. That's a lot of would.
Be well, strongman
- Oliver
Cancer won't keep you from family reunions, right? Beat the cancer until it submits to you.
Ian, master wordsmith, would that you would continue smithing, this man would continue reading. That's a lot of would.
Be well, strongman
- Oliver
Cancer won't keep you from family reunions, right? Beat the cancer until it submits to you.
Sorry not to have commented before. Lost track of my Google login info. Because I'm lame, that's why.
Good to see you yesterday, and I'll keep in touch. Hugs if you want 'em, prayers regardless, and all good thoughts. Here's hoping for a good PET scan.
--Evan
Ian-
I'm here. I'm reading.
You're there. You're conquering.
The cancer is trying. The cancer will fail.
The Castells family is much too superior to succumb to a disease like this.
Love,
Kathryn
I read your blog but sporadically in my highly distracted nonlinear way. You are in my thoughts at least briefly multiple times per week (my thoughts are a highly crowded place so sometimes I only notice you there in passing. I suspect it is on one of your many bathroom trips. I sympathize. Lots of that here too for reasons of life instead of battling deadly disease. Fetuses have this hobby of using bladders as trampolines.)
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