A rant on life by Dennis Leary

Ran across this first thing this morning and I thought I would share:

“Most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife leaves you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, you get remarried, you owe ten million dollars in medical bills but you work hard for thirty-five years and you pay it back and then -- one day -- you have a massive stroke, your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the power to walk and the power to talk and then -- one day -- you step off a curb at Sixty-seventh Street, and BANG you get hit by a city bus and then you die. Maybe.”

--Dennis Leary

The Doc Visit And Pesticides

So my Doc visit two days ago was a non-event.

Quick physical check, a few questions about side-effects, and I was given two thumbs up and a 'right on schedule'.

That's good news. No, that's great news!

Doc was also ecstatic that the placement of the seeds were "spot on", and he estimated target coverage at 98%. That's also great news.

But it still astounds me that something that looms so large in my life is, in reality, just a blip in the machinery of modern medicine. Day procedures and follow-up visits. Honestly, when I had my gall bladder out back in the early '90s, (and yes, this was RIGHT before the laparoscopic procedure was developed), it was a much larger event than this prostate cancer.

It's not that I want to be in the hospital, or undergo a series of procedures or radiation - I am very, very fortunate on that front, but I don't know how to explain it - it all seems sort of anti-climactic.

Now we follow with blood tests every 3 months and watch the PSA levels.

The radiation will peak in another month and a half, then start a slow decline as the radiation from the seeds begin to diminish. So a few more weeks of intense side-effects and then a gradual decline.

That will be nice.

Of course I also understand that I'm not out of the woods just yet. That story will be told over the next 18 to 24 months as we watch the PSA. I'm not really concerned - I'm just going to assume that the radiation did the trick.

That's kind of the way I approach most things anymore: I can either dream and fantasize failure or victory. Cure or curse. Whatever I spend my time contemplating isn't going to change the outcome one iota, so why not think positively? Otherwise I'm thinking of all the horrible things that could happen, and doing that - and you'll have to trust me on this - robs you of today. That's no way to live.

So, now you are all caught up.

As I've said before there are a slew of reports that come out everyday concerning prostate cancer. My inbox is stuffed every morning with articles and new drug therapies and all the latest advances. Some are encouraging, some are not.

One that caught my attention is this one:

Pesticide - Prostate Cancer Link

Well pugnuts. Yes, I said pugnuts.

I grew up in a small town in eastern Washington until I was 9 years old. My family then moved to 'the coast'. Which, for anyone living in eastern WA meant everything west of the Cascades. Like most of the people I knew, our house was surrounded by apple orchards. And I mean surrounded. Huge orchards that stretched forever. The apple trees bordered my backyard - and continued across the dirt road in front of my house for another good stretch. Other huge tracts of fruit trees lined the two-lane highway that bisected our small town. I could almost chuck an apple from my front yard across the blacktop into the other orchard.

I guess looking back it was one huge orchard with a few houses clustered here and there.

I also remember the tractors pulling the big tanks with the huge fans on the back that drove between the trees flooding the orchard with pesticides. Sometimes it was my Dad driving. He would come home for lunch - his clothes literally dripping with the stuff - and the house would fill with the peppery/chemical/acrid odor of the spray.

But my family followed safety precautions. I wasn't allowed to go outside to play until the fog had settled, and I had to stay at least two orchard-rows away from where they were spraying. Then I had to be careful not to walk under the trees while they were wet and dripping but we were kids and didn't listen as we should.

I won't even get into how they kept the frost off the trees back then. Let me say that it involved hundreds of 'smudge-pots' lining the rows, filled with oil - coal oil I think - and set afire to keep the frost away. I always knew when the mornings were cold because the thick smokey fog permeated everything, seeping into the house like an unwelcome guest.

Now I realize just how horrible all of this sounds. But it really was a different time. My family had been working in and around orchards for years. It was just part of the job and not a big deal.

Now you tell me times haven't changed.

And for the better.

But still, I think back and wonder how many of my health problems originated in those orchards.

Probably more than I would ever want to know.

My First Doc Visit

Today I get to go see my Doc.

This will be the first post-procedure visit.

I hardly know what to expect. Oh, I know I'll be poked and prodded - that's a given - but beyond that what will transpire will be a mystery.

There will be a lot of talking, of that I'm sure.

I'm doing better than I was last week. And certainly better than the week before, so there is progress. Just not fast enough for me. :)

And I probably won't mention all of the stupid stuff I did at my daughter's wedding last week. I'll just skirt that issue thank you.

But for some reason I'm a little nervous.

I'll let you know what happens.

I Loves Me A Good Joke

So, I've lost a little weight.

It's the nausea and fatigue.

I haven't lost a tremendous amount, but enough that people are noticing. And they tell me, repeatedly how good I'm looking.

To which I reply, "It's that new cancer diet. It's effective, but I wouldn't recommend it."


LOL. I crack me up.

A Little Over A Month In

Been a busy couple of weeks around the old homefront.

My oldest daughter was married to a wonderful man, and the wedding came off without a hitch. We couldn't be happier.

With the wedding came two-weeks of frantic preparation, family in town, new family in town, dinners and airports and a general level of chaos that's pretty rare around the empty nest these days.

I did pretty well, although the fatigue and nausea are my constant companions. Add the arthritis and it makes for some difficult times.

They keep telling me that only two more months and the side-effects should subside. Can't happen soon enough for me.

I had someone come up to me after the wedding and ask me if I was having a good day or putting on a 'stiff upper lip'.

Well, a little of both. I danced with my daughter sans cane, was on my feet more in one day than I usually am in a week, and never stopped moving for hours. But it was worth it.

Sometimes you just have to push on and pay for it later.

Back to the pool

Got back in the water for the first time in a month yesterday.

It felt good.

I took it very easy, completing abut 1/3 of my usual workout, and even that wore me out a bit.

Still, the physical exercise does wonders not only for the body, but the mind and soul as well.

And, it was REALLY nice to get back to some sort of a routine, even if that routine is an abbreviated version of my regular day. It makes me feel 'normal'. Well, normal for me.

Plus I've got a huge group of friends at the pool. It felt like going home again. If by home I mean a wet, humid, chlorine-filled environment.

Every day is a little better. I know I'll have my ups and downs, as everyone does, but it's nice to see some progress.

Damn Cancer. Always with the problems.

Well, the nausea and fatigue didn't really go away - it just changed patterns.

That should not be allowed by the rules.

I like my life like I likes me womenz: Strong, dark, and bitter.

No wait, that's not right. That's coffee. OH! I know! I like my life to be somewhat consistent.

Stop laughing.

Anyway, I'm still experiencing some secondary side-effects. They get worse, then they get a little better giving me some hope that I'm on the downhill side, and then they get worse again.

I can handle the discomfort. I can handle the pain. I can handle the nausea and fatigue.

What I can't handle is every time I go to the bathroom wondering if the next time I'll have to be cathed. Interesting, because I've become a tad phobic about being cathed. (You can't see me right now, but I gots me a case of the 'willy-shivers' going on.) And it's so stupid, because I've been cathed quite a few times and while uncomfortable, it really isn't that big of a deal.

So, this will be the pattern for the next few months to a year. Although, if I can make it a couple more weeks, the odds that I'll have to have 'the tube' drop significantly.

I think it's more the idea than the physical actuality.

But, that's a hell of a lot of life, isn't it? The reality is often much more benign than thoughts that precede. Stupid humans.

There have been a couple of times over the last few days when I wondered if I'd selected the right treatment. With surgery it would have been done. Over. On to recovery.

Now it's like pulling a splinter out of your finger ever so slowly.

Of course with surgery it would have been like amputating the finger to get the splinter.

Damn cancer. Always with the problems.