Chris Writes Stuff

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.

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. ...