Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
so here it comes . . .
Monday, the procedure failed miserably.
Tuesday, the 9TS went to the gym with his fellow gym rats and then on to lunch.
Wednesday, the 9TS had some trouble catching his breath going up and down the stairs.
Thursday, we had scans done at Moffitt . . . and were told that his lungs were full of cancer. So full, his blood stats were 77. Normal is 98. That's a big deal. We were also told the cancer had spread to his brain. Bottom line: two weeks. Maybe a month.
Boom, just like that. Tuesday he went to the gym and walked on a treadmill for an hour. Today he is downstairs in a hospital bed struggling to catch his breath. He has a nurse. He has hospice. He is on oxygen.
How can that be?
Tuesday, the 9TS went to the gym with his fellow gym rats and then on to lunch.
Wednesday, the 9TS had some trouble catching his breath going up and down the stairs.
Thursday, we had scans done at Moffitt . . . and were told that his lungs were full of cancer. So full, his blood stats were 77. Normal is 98. That's a big deal. We were also told the cancer had spread to his brain. Bottom line: two weeks. Maybe a month.
Boom, just like that. Tuesday he went to the gym and walked on a treadmill for an hour. Today he is downstairs in a hospital bed struggling to catch his breath. He has a nurse. He has hospice. He is on oxygen.
How can that be?
Monday, February 20, 2012
guess where we are . . .
did you guess Moffitt? You're right!
They have stolen my sloth again to do the trial for the intercostal nerve block. If this gives him a couple of hours of relief, they'll schedule him to come back and they'll do it again with pure alcohol instead of one of the ____caines. It seems pure alcohol will kill the nerves evermore. Who'd a thunk it. But we aren't talking Wild Turkey or Stoli. We're talking 200% proof. Hic!
On the way over, the hungry he, was dreaming of a Five Guys hot dog and fries. I hope he is still interested when they return him to me, because I am drooling on my keyboard thinking about a baby bacon cheese burger with lettuce, mustard, ketchup and pickles. Burp!!!
I'll let you know how it goes when we get home this afternoon. Fingers crossed for the sloth please!!!
They have stolen my sloth again to do the trial for the intercostal nerve block. If this gives him a couple of hours of relief, they'll schedule him to come back and they'll do it again with pure alcohol instead of one of the ____caines. It seems pure alcohol will kill the nerves evermore. Who'd a thunk it. But we aren't talking Wild Turkey or Stoli. We're talking 200% proof. Hic!
On the way over, the hungry he, was dreaming of a Five Guys hot dog and fries. I hope he is still interested when they return him to me, because I am drooling on my keyboard thinking about a baby bacon cheese burger with lettuce, mustard, ketchup and pickles. Burp!!!
I'll let you know how it goes when we get home this afternoon. Fingers crossed for the sloth please!!!
Sunday, February 19, 2012
ha ha ha . . .
just to prove me wrong, today is a very good day. he's at the gym and going to lunch with the gym rats. YAY for good days!!!!!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
sigh . . .
there are lots of conversations that need to be had. conversations no one wants to broach. places we don't want to go. we have help trying to open those doors but the hinges are jammed with hesitation. this is a path no one expected to travel and it is getting painful. to watch. to be in. this is my man. my heart. the pendulum has swung. we have more bad days than good. another round of scans and results. results no one wants to hear.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
ah . . .
Saturday, February 11, 2012
definitions and other news . . .
the 9TS was in a lot of pain when we saw his pain management doctor yesterday. one emergency epidural coming up. we like the good doctor. but as the Gods would have it, he wrenched his back when they flipped him.
note to gods: chill. go party elsewhere. find someone else to pick on. amscray.
burrito baby: a small black kitten who likes to be rolled in a bath mat.
bath buddy: the same black kitten four years later who perches on said mat during said bath. every time.
overvene: a combination of over-rule and intervene. coined by the 9TS much to our amusement.
note to gods: chill. go party elsewhere. find someone else to pick on. amscray.
burrito baby: a small black kitten who likes to be rolled in a bath mat.
bath buddy: the same black kitten four years later who perches on said mat during said bath. every time.
overvene: a combination of over-rule and intervene. coined by the 9TS much to our amusement.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
and so . . .
someone had a very no good terrible night so I am letting him sleep. I decided to quietly play and remember better times:
ah . . . that's much better . . .
Credits: Template, journal box: Fei Fei, Paper, Brads: Ida, Flowers: Katie Pertiet.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
a really pathetic story . . .
Friday, the 9TS wanted to go to the gym. Not thinking anything of it, I packed him up and bundled him in the car, dropped him off and came back home.
Kidlet, who is home for the weekend, immediately broke my heart by telling me a 'Pippin tale'. It seems that my little bad-to-the-bone squirrel cat suffers from separation anxiety.
She said the poor sad little beastie, plunked herself down on the rug in the laundry room, facing the door to the garage, from whence we were last seen, and plaintively cried and cried. Kidlet, being as fond of Pippin as she is, went down to investigate and tried to cuddle her into solitude. Pippin was having none of it and upon being released, returned immediately to her post, crying piteously.
When I came home, she was still there, still whimpering until she knew at least one of us was home and bounced around the house in her usual manner.
And it leaves me to worry because Pippin always greets us at the door into the garage when we come home. I much prefer to think she has been up to her old tricks . . . stomping around in the ashes of the fireplace and leaving paw prints on the furniture . . .
Truly, this is pathetic.
Kidlet, who is home for the weekend, immediately broke my heart by telling me a 'Pippin tale'. It seems that my little bad-to-the-bone squirrel cat suffers from separation anxiety.
She said the poor sad little beastie, plunked herself down on the rug in the laundry room, facing the door to the garage, from whence we were last seen, and plaintively cried and cried. Kidlet, being as fond of Pippin as she is, went down to investigate and tried to cuddle her into solitude. Pippin was having none of it and upon being released, returned immediately to her post, crying piteously.
When I came home, she was still there, still whimpering until she knew at least one of us was home and bounced around the house in her usual manner.
And it leaves me to worry because Pippin always greets us at the door into the garage when we come home. I much prefer to think she has been up to her old tricks . . . stomping around in the ashes of the fireplace and leaving paw prints on the furniture . . .
Truly, this is pathetic.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
PSF Week 5 . . .
Another new template to play with. YAY!!!
Credits: Template: Jessica Sprague, Flag, Button and Snapshot Quote: Carina Gardiner. Papers: Robin Marie Smith, Summer Driggs, Heart: Michelle Coleman, Stitches: Anna Aspnes, Ducks: Unknown, Button Stitch: M. Fenwick.
Of course we won't mention that the entire lesson was built around changing a photo to black and white. They just look too stinkin' cute in brown and yellow. Incidentally, these nine little fellows were discovered on our daily walk. They and their mom are very friendly and are eating us out of bread.
Of course we won't mention that the entire lesson was built around changing a photo to black and white. They just look too stinkin' cute in brown and yellow. Incidentally, these nine little fellows were discovered on our daily walk. They and their mom are very friendly and are eating us out of bread.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
radio frequency ablation . . .
sounds like fun, huh? I have visions of model racing cars darting around and through miniature extreme motocross tracks to the excited glee of a fourth grade boys science class. Look at them go.
No? OK, how about:
Radio frequency ablation (RFA) is a medical procedure where part of the electrical conduction system of the heart, tumor or other dysfunctional tissue is ablated using the heat generated from the high frequency alternating current to treat a medical disorder. An important advantage of RF current (over previously used low frequency AC or pulses of DC) is that it does not directly stimulate nerves or heart muscle and can therefore often be used without the need for general anesthetic. RFA has become increasingly accepted in the last 15 years with promising results.[1][2] RFA procedures are performed under image guidance (such as X-ray screening, CT scan or ultrasound) by an interventional pain specialist (such as an anesthesiologist), interventional radiologist or a cardiac electrophysiologist, a subspecialty of cardiologists.
See, I was right. Model car racing is so much more fun. But not for the 9TS.
We just got home from Tampa. His new pain interventionist suggested the above procedure after doing an intercostal nerve block T-4 through T-8. Say what? Heck, we'll try anything. They should call tomorrow with a date and time. The deal being . . . if they can block the pain, the amount of morphine consumed can be greatly reduced and the 9TS will feel better and clearer and might even be able to drive. Mention that word and his eyes go all Toad of Toad Hall again. The 9TS has not liked being grounded.
No? OK, how about:
Radio frequency ablation (RFA) is a medical procedure where part of the electrical conduction system of the heart, tumor or other dysfunctional tissue is ablated using the heat generated from the high frequency alternating current to treat a medical disorder. An important advantage of RF current (over previously used low frequency AC or pulses of DC) is that it does not directly stimulate nerves or heart muscle and can therefore often be used without the need for general anesthetic. RFA has become increasingly accepted in the last 15 years with promising results.[1][2] RFA procedures are performed under image guidance (such as X-ray screening, CT scan or ultrasound) by an interventional pain specialist (such as an anesthesiologist), interventional radiologist or a cardiac electrophysiologist, a subspecialty of cardiologists.
See, I was right. Model car racing is so much more fun. But not for the 9TS.
We just got home from Tampa. His new pain interventionist suggested the above procedure after doing an intercostal nerve block T-4 through T-8. Say what? Heck, we'll try anything. They should call tomorrow with a date and time. The deal being . . . if they can block the pain, the amount of morphine consumed can be greatly reduced and the 9TS will feel better and clearer and might even be able to drive. Mention that word and his eyes go all Toad of Toad Hall again. The 9TS has not liked being grounded.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
does friendship get any better . . .
You know you have a friend when you waltz out of your house holding a paper bag with handles containing a wad of old newspaper . . . to go for your daily walk with said friend.
Said friend never blinks when you announce you want to make a side trip to a liquor store for wine.
Said friend immediately offers a bottle from her own stash.
Said friend ignores the fact that you look like a wino and giggles at the newspaper you deem necessary to cover the goods.
Said friend helps you stash said bag in the bushes after she tells you there is a wine store 200 yards from home you never knew about.
Said friend abstains from ragging on you during the entire five mile walk about the need for wine.
Said friend happily waltzes into said wine company with you to buy said bottle even though you are wearing running shorts, an old T and have damp hair.
Said friend remembers exactly under which bush you hid the bag.
Friend merely says goodbye and enjoy your wine when parting.
Does friendship get any better? Don't you wish you had your own Joanie?
Said friend never blinks when you announce you want to make a side trip to a liquor store for wine.
Said friend immediately offers a bottle from her own stash.
Said friend ignores the fact that you look like a wino and giggles at the newspaper you deem necessary to cover the goods.
Said friend helps you stash said bag in the bushes after she tells you there is a wine store 200 yards from home you never knew about.
Said friend abstains from ragging on you during the entire five mile walk about the need for wine.
Said friend happily waltzes into said wine company with you to buy said bottle even though you are wearing running shorts, an old T and have damp hair.
Said friend remembers exactly under which bush you hid the bag.
Friend merely says goodbye and enjoy your wine when parting.
Does friendship get any better? Don't you wish you had your own Joanie?
well . . .
looking for a new post? sorry, i have just been a little down in the dumps lately. no, not dumpster diving . . . which i've really always wanted to do . . . as long as the trash was clean . . . i mean really, really clean . . . as in sterilized . . .
the 9TS is pretty well exhausted most days. and there is a new lump on his neck. and, he is eating less . . . hopefully the Megase will help. it is an appetite stimulant. something i certainly don't need. nom. nom. nom. soon we head back to Moffitt to meet with a pain interventionist. he will see if there is a possibility of deadening the nerves to the right side of the 9TS's chest and relieve some of the constant pain. if it works, i may owe this doctor homemade cinnamon chip cookies for life. and beyond . . .
and sometimes, i don't understand the interaction of family dynamics. while i understand we all handle fear and uncertainty in different ways, i'm still wondering why i got thrown under the bus recently. and damn, it was no small jitney. it was a fully loaded, double decker Greyhound, trucking suma wrestlers and their barbells to their next gig. ouch.
even my favorite sammie has lost some flavor.
may i please have some cheese with my whine?
oh oh oh. maybe that's the reason. it is. i am sure of it. i'm out of wine. a quick trip to the local grapery and i will be back in business.
sorry to have bothered you all . . .
the 9TS is pretty well exhausted most days. and there is a new lump on his neck. and, he is eating less . . . hopefully the Megase will help. it is an appetite stimulant. something i certainly don't need. nom. nom. nom. soon we head back to Moffitt to meet with a pain interventionist. he will see if there is a possibility of deadening the nerves to the right side of the 9TS's chest and relieve some of the constant pain. if it works, i may owe this doctor homemade cinnamon chip cookies for life. and beyond . . .
and sometimes, i don't understand the interaction of family dynamics. while i understand we all handle fear and uncertainty in different ways, i'm still wondering why i got thrown under the bus recently. and damn, it was no small jitney. it was a fully loaded, double decker Greyhound, trucking suma wrestlers and their barbells to their next gig. ouch.
even my favorite sammie has lost some flavor.
may i please have some cheese with my whine?
oh oh oh. maybe that's the reason. it is. i am sure of it. i'm out of wine. a quick trip to the local grapery and i will be back in business.
sorry to have bothered you all . . .
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