Chris Writes Stuff

Over three (😳 3!) years ago I created this blog for two reasons.  First, I was exhausted from chemo and on the rare occasion I had energy to spend time with someone, I didn’t want to waste it on synopsis.    Second, I needed to complain but didn’t want to whine.  Almost all of these posts started out as a variation of “This sucks.  Boo hoo”.  I’d read what I wrote and hate it.  So, then I’d add humor like I was adding tequila to a margarita.  The process was therapeutic. Like a margarita. L-R: Lydia, Luna, Anna & Gabriella When I wasn’t freaking out and/or feeling like shit, I didn’t write.  For a long time, I had a lot to say because things sucked pretty consistently.  Now, it’s been over a year since recurrence, surgery and recovery and I haven’t written anything in a long time.  I always said that no news is good news.  However, 2020 has been really shitty and so I’ve decided to share some good news. A few weeks...

Things are happening very quickly.  I’m eager to get rid of this thing and the whole team is ready too.  Everyone at my job is going above and beyond in facilitating time off and schedule shuffling.  Once again, our community has reached out and helped us with babysitting and advice and support and love.  Thanks everyone! I met with my surgeon on Monday.  He said of the tumor: “Couldn’t be in a better place”.  I had my blood drawn and an EKG (How do you spell ‘cardio’?) and I’m scheduled for my second liver resection this Friday morning. I’ll get a new abdominal scar on the right side, just below the ribs.  My liver will get a new hole.  I’ll spend the weekend in the hospital and then come home on Monday. I’ll meet with my oncologist next week.  I’m not looking forward to chemo but I’ll do whatever it takes.  The first time was simpler because there is an algorithm.  Just follow the map and get to the goal.  The...

Liver: I know it's a little late but I got you something for your birthday. Me: Oh liver, you shouldn't have. 😀 Liver: It's a two centimeter mass in the right lobe. Me:  Oh liver, you really shouldn't have. 😠 I suppose it's payback.  I've been abusing that poor organ for decades. 🍺 December 2018 On March 14, I had another routine, follow-up CT scan.  I was nervous, but I'd been nervous before and it was always a waste of time and energy.  This time, I showed up, drank my nasty juice and got scanned.  Then I came home and began my long weekend. It was a very unpleasant surprise a few hours later when my wife came up to me and told me I had a recurrent liver tumor. So it's back.  But we're gonna do some things different this time. Things that won't happen: 1 - Poop bag.  This was the littlest princess's primary concern.  There will not be a poop bag. 💩 2 - Crying and weeping when you see me.  It's a liver tumor, no...

One year ago, I got cut in half and then put back together.  The new plumbing may not work as well, but at least it isn't trying to kill me. It's been one year since the surgery, 9 months since chemo and 8 months since I went back to work.  I've been snowboarding in the mountains and boogie boarding in the ocean.  I've installed two sinks and a sliding glass door.  I've seen concerts and fireworks.  I've played pickleball and basketball.  Life is pretty great. Oh yeah, I had another CT scan this morning.  It came back clean. When I was diagnosed, it was bad.  Then I got a series of scans (CT, MRI, PET) and each of them showed things worse than they were before.  At the end it was about as bad as it could be. Once that happened, things got less stressful.  Rock bottom is a very freeing place.  Expectations were ridiculously low.  If I put my dirty socks in the hamper, I was a hero.  There was a months-long, ...

It's been too damn long since I put something up here.  My bad.  There are a bunch of reasons why, but mostly I've been busy. Happily, exhaustedly busy. First off, I'm back at work.  I took a day in December to get all the administrative stuff sorted out and to remember what the inside of an OR looks like.   It had been a while since I'd seen one (except as a patient) and I wanted to make sure I remembered how everything works.  Thankfully, I'm still a safe, competent practitioner and the little things are all coming back.  I've been working full time since January and even taking call. I really missed it. Working full time after a year of sitting on my  ass  sofa is exhausting, but the work, the company, the patients (and the paycheck) are very welcome.  Being productive and having a routine is just what I needed.  If I don't push myself I won't get stronger.  To help with the getting stronger, I joined the team of...

Welcome to my penultimate poisoning!  I'm sitting in the windowless infusion room getting my next-to-last dose of chemotherapy.  They're playing Christmas music.  It seems like they should be able to poison me OR play Christmas music before Thanksgiving, but not both.  First 🦃, then 🎄 This chemo is the same stuff I took back in March and April and it still sucks. 🤢   Today is the hookup day for dose four out of five.  I will be disconnected from my last dose in 16 days! 😮  But who's counting? 🙄   The hardest part of post-op chemo is that it's probably not doing anything.  I'll explain in bit. First, the pathology report from the big surgery in August was good and bad.  I had "clean margins" which means that the entire rectal tumor was removed.  Also, there was only one tumor in the removed liver lobe.  According to the scans and surgeon, my cancer is gone. 👍 The bad news is that despite chemother...

This post is gross.  Seriously.  Totally disgusting.  Does poop make you gag?  Stop reading. The Worst Birthday Present Ever My brother and I holding a poop bag filled with chocolate pudding given to him (by me) for his birthday. He should NOT read this kind of post. I write this kind of post. What the hell is an ileostomy ?  It's when the surgeon diverts your small intestine into a plastic bag glued to your abdomen.  It's done to give the rest of the colon a break from poop while the sutures heal.  If there were a teeny, tiny leak at the suture site and an itsy, bitsy amount of poop got into my abdomen, that would be bad.  How bad?  Think catastrophic complications including sepsis, death, permanent  colostomy  and other shitty 😜 things. Speaking of shitty things, lets talk about the logistics.  Nobody takes the time to appreciate poop.  They sit on the toilet, open their phone and wait for things to b...

I haven't posted anything in a while.  Sorry.  Several times I wrote part of a post... then put it aside.  I kept opening it, and then closing it.  I haven't been in a mental place where I could finish and publish it.  Surgery took a lot out of me (get it?) and I'm still recovering. Before & After - Rainbow Version May 2014 & August 2017 It's been over two months since the first surgery.  I was delusional regarding the impact and the time it would take to heal.  I had no idea recovery would be so slow, painful and gross.  I also hadn't planned on having a bag of poop glued to my abdomen for a month.  Surprise! Looking back, the days leading up to surgery are a total blur.  The eye of the storm was a fantastic time but it was also incredibly hectic.  I wanted to accomplish Everything before surgery.  The reality is I was terrified and freaking out but trying to be cool and be a good dad and be a good husband an...

Hurricanes have a dot in the center where there are no clouds, no wind, and no rain.  When a hurricane travels directly over you, there is a brief, sunny pause in the mayhem and destruction.  Then the calm passes and the storm resumes.  That dot is known as the eye of the storm. If cancer and treatment is a hurricane, then right now is the eye of the storm.  In the past: chemotherapy and radiation.  In the future: chemotherapy and surgery.  But right now I'm in the middle of an unpoisoned, uncut, unstabbed, sunny stretch of freedom.  The symptoms from the tumor are gone.  Chemo and radiation have shrunk it down and now the pipes don't get clogged. 💩  The symptoms from chemo and radiation have also faded. ☢️  I no longer feel like I've spent the last week eating vindaloo and jalapeños. 🌶 Chemotherapy is like banging your head against a brick wall... it feels really good when you stop.  Right now I feel great! Shenanigans! ...

I've had a half-written post in front of me for weeks.  It took that long for me to figure out why I couldn't seem to write something decent.  A month after trying to write this post, I've figured out what the problems were.  I'm determined to post this just to break through the block, but I don't think it's going to be any good. First, chemotherapy is making me dumber.  Everybody has that moment where they can't remember a word.  Luckily, it wasn't a common occurrence for me.  My problem wasn't finding the words to express myself... it was what I chose to express and when and where and to whom. 👞→👄 I even used big words like colloquialism and schadenfreude.  These days, I can't go more than a few hours without reaching for a word and coming up empty.  It's terrifying and I devoutly hope it's temporary.  Note: 'devoutly' isn't quite the right word.  Neither is 'sincerely'.  The correct choice eludes me.  At least ...

It's Friday and I feel great. Relatively. If you had told me 3 months ago that I would feel like this and describe it as 'great' I'd have though you were crazy.  But context is a powerful thing.  Compared to 96 straight hours of nausea and a week of painful cold sensitivity... I feel great!   I'm tired and my sense of taste still hasn't fully recovered.  I'm weak and slow and my brain gets mushy.  But I haven't been poisoned in almost 2 whole weeks.  Context! Also, it helps that the CT scan and radiation oncology consult went very well.  The oral and intravenous contrast were appropriately awful.  (Next time I'm bringing a bottle of tequila and a lime to help with the oral contrast.)  But the results were good.  The tumors have responded to the chemotherapy and everything else behaved appropriately.  This is what all the doctors said would happen and they also said I'd be cured at the end of the therapy.  So it's...

Phase 1 treatments are done.  I have another week to recuperate from the 4th and final biweekly dose of FOLFOX and then we charge into Phase 2.  Like a horde of tiny, intravascular, toxic, radioactive stormtroopers.  " For Great Justice! " I'm not gonna lie, Phase 1 really kicked my ass.  For example, I'm sitting here at 0500 on Sunday morning because insomnia.  I guess I'm making up for the more than 18 hours per day I was getting while the chemo was kicking my butt last week. Friday I woke up without nausea.  Small victories.  Saturday we went on a family bike ride.  It was three blocks each way and I was exhausted.  If my energy levels don't improve, I can always go sailing... just like Bob. My energy levels after FOLFOX.  Objects in photo may be cuter. Let's recap the journey so far: Phase 1: FOLFOX dosed every other Monday with a 48 hour hookup and a Neulasta Stabber™ as the cherry on top.  Effectively plu...

The chemotastic rollercoaster ride continues.  Let's start with the good news: The girls are coming home from Disney World tonight.  I can't wait to hear the stories and feel the hugs.   An amazing couple of guys came and installed a sump pump in my basement last Sunday.  Yesterday (April 13th) was the first day since March 20th that my basement was dry. The Mama Bird who lives outside my front door laid 3 more eggs for a total of 4 and continues to sit at her nest when I'm not bugging her. My Flexible Sigmoidoscopy last week showed a significant tumor response to the chemotherapy.  It was done without sedation so I was able to see the actual tumor on screen.  It's ugly, but smaller than it was.  Side note: don't worry about not being able to have anything to drink before your unsedated procedure.  An awake FlexSig is a more effective stimulant than a cup of coffee.  Like chugging a quart of espresso. 😮 Now, the bad news: ...

First, a disclaimer.  I've been riposting hardship with humor for as long as I can remember.  It's my healthiest coping mechanism and I've managed to defuse some gnarly situations with it.  I've even managed to find the humor in cancer and chemotherapy.  I can usually step back and look at the human condition and point and laugh at the insanity of it all.  But I don't think this post is going to be funny at all.  More Melpomene; less Thalia. On the bank of the Delaware River (not pictured: Melpomene, Thalia) Today (Thursday, April 6) my kids fly to Disney World.  Many months ago, my mom and her good friends Helen & Erik decided it was time for a joint family trip to Disney.  All the grandkids on both sides would go, along with parents and of course grandparents (Mom, Helen & Erik).  It was going to be a three-generation, epic journey to the Mouse House.  The trip was planned out in excruciating detail (as Disney vacations ...

Last week was delightfully uneventful.  The effects of the chemo faded and I continued to fight off a lingering cough.  Nobody threw up on anything and there were no stabbings by either objects or people. Anna & Lydia being uneventful Now begins the second round of four in the first phase of chemo.  Six weeks from now this type of chemotherapy will be behind me and I will be getting ready to start the second phase which includes radiation (finally.... Superpowers!) Today I'm getting the FOLFOX  regimen.  Side effects include cold sensitivity, peripheral neuropathy and a metallic taste. Tastes "slightly metallic" Monday is the Big Deal.  I spend 5 hours at the Cancer Center while they give me boluses (concentrated doses) of both chemo and medications to counteract the side-effects of the chemo.  Once the boluses are done, they connect me to a pump and I get 48 hours .  Unfortunately, neither Eddie nor Nick have shown up ...

Anna & I at the top of a run called "Widowmaker" I may have dozed off once or twice on the lift. I am still (3 days later) paying the price. My oncologist today said "I said you could do 'normal' things.  Snowboarding all day is not a normal thing when you're on chemotherapy." Totally worth it.

Not me!  Let's get that out of the way up front.  I didn't start puking.  The docs say I might not with these types of chemo.  I'm hopeful. That doesn't mean that there wasn't puke.  Oh there was puke.  Buckets of it. Day 3 was Wednesday.  The day I get disconnected from the chemo pump.  I'd been looking forward to that ever since they connected me.  I'd been fantasizing about a shower without being attached to any devices.  Dream big!  It is possible to shower while connected to the chemo pump and when I'm hooked up 24/7 for 6 weeks in a row you can all breathe easy knowing I'll make it work. Nurse's Advice for Showering with a Chemo Pump: "You know that Glad Press 'n' Seal?  Grab a big sheet of that and put it over the port where the chemo is going in.  Don't get it wet.  Also, keep the pump well away from the shower." 🙄 So I'll shower Wednesday after they disconnect me.  Got it. So Disconnect Day c...

Snow day is the time to take that giant beast of a forked log that wouldn't split and drop it on top of a pile of coals and skinny dry logs.   Screen closed because when those knots go off, there will be pyrotechnics. Also, chemo sucks. I think everyone knows already, but I can personally confirm it. Some ruminations if you've got time to waste: I can eat when I'm not hungry. Heck, I can eat when I'm already stuffed, bring the pie! Putting food in was never an issue. Starting around noon yesterday, the hunger left (which wasn't so bad. I can still eat). But around 1pm yesterday they pushed a syringe of chemo and I got a funny taste in my mouth. Not "haha" funny, more like licking the inside of an old muffler. "Oxidized Galvanization" is the best term I can think of to describe the taste. The port and the needle and the pump bothered me before I got them. Now they're a mild nuisance. I don't notice them most of the time. I slep...

As of today I've been on this planet for 47 years. For 46 years and 343 days, I figured I was indestructible... It's been thirteen days since I had The Colonos copy and my life got flipped, turned upside down. This post is to update everyone and try to convey the mix of fear, joy, gratitude and love that I'm feeling. I'll post the timeline after the mushy stuff. Feel feee to jump ahead, it might get maudlin. The rollercoaster I've been on since the diagnosis is indescribable. Obviously the health concerns are immense. But they were frequently dwarfed by financial and logistical concerns. Just when I thought everything was planned and arranged, there'd be a new scan with a new finding and the cycle would start all over. I wanted to let everyone know what was happening but I was having trouble keeping up myself. While there was a barrage of bad news, there was also an overwhelming torrent of support. When I speak, I frequently get the words wrong. I'...

[This is a copy of the update I wrote on FaceBook when I got the diagnosis and my friends set up a GoFundMe.  I decided to keep it as is rather than rewrite.  The later updates provide clarity] I wish I could talk to everyone in person but things are moving really quickly, so here it is: On February 28th I had a colonoscopy. I have Rectal Cancer. My family history is all over the place health-wise, but this is a new one.  Normally, screening colonoscopies start at age 50. I was about 3 years shy. Since the colonoscopy, I’ve had a CT scan and an MRI and met with a surgeon and an oncologist. Things are happening really quickly but my team has a plan.  The Plan March 6th, I will get a port for chemotherapy and meet with my radiation oncologist. March 8th, I will have a PET scan to make sure the Cancer hasn’t spread.  March 13th, I will begin 5 weeks of chemotherapy and radiation to shrink the tumor and reduce the incidence of postoperative recurrence. ...