Nazis & Cancer, It Must Be Christmas!

Season's Greetings, Fellow Travelers!

Last week, my PS referred to my post--surgical haircut as the "Lesbian Seagull Look" whereas I found the crude head shaving on one side to be far more reminiscent of a certain 70's mini-series, whose extras came directly off the boxcars and were marched directly to the "showers".  very quickly.

Those extras didn't have names or backstories because they didn't have lines, they were killed and disposed of that fast!

That's how I saw my haircut.  As some 70's TV mini-series producer's idea of what a WWII-era death camp victim would look like.

And not the stars either.  No Meryl Streep or Tovah Feldshuh!  No, sirree!  An extra. A lowly extra whose only purpose was to serve as a background of misery for the "principals".  No speaking parts.  Just guards yelling, "Macht schnell!" a lot.  No names.  No discerning characteristics.  Just doomed.   With really bad haircuts!  Really, really bad!  We're talking butchered bad.

It always gets back to those pesky Nazis!  A wise woman recently reminded me that hair, particularly mine, does in fact, grow.  Does it?  When it's chopped so short. and so uneven maybe it just sort of gives up!

70's Made-for-television Mini-series .
                                        My shorn head might have been an extra in another series,  AMC's, "The Walking Dead" - I could have been a zombie extra.  Even better!

Now?  A week has gone since my hair was assaulted and it no longer resembles either a seagull or a 70's TV producer's idea of what an Auschwitz victim looked like:  I just look like someone who had a really bad haircut.  So that must mean it's growing!  Right?  It's a "good news" sort of thing.   I mean who hasn't had a bad haircut?  Am I right? 70's mini-series TV drama death camp bad?  That's just a click or two up from "Bride of Frankenstein" (Elsa Lanchester (old school) or Nikki Minaj (new school) you choose), anyway, it's universally recognized as the worst haircut ever given!  (Who can forget those bolts?)

The great thing about having perspective?  It doesn't matter!  I'm alive! Who cares about hair?  Or Nazis, for that matter?  Life is the only thing that counts!  And the people in yours!  And the pets!  Can't forget our four-legged comrades!

I feel great!  Every day is sugarplums and cookies!  Life is a Julie Andrews musical.  "The Sound of Music"?  Maybe, it  does scream "winter", but there are those Nazis again...

Cookies and the Donner Party? It's a Festivus Miracle!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Yup, it's that time of year!   Cookie Time!  (Of course, any time is a perfect time for round snacks  but I've been waiting all year for these to become available and by some magic (some of my in-laws,  Thank You, M & M!), I received a magical two pounds!  It will  probably add more than that to my daily weigh ins but you know what I always say, "Is it cancer?  No?  Then who cares?"
                                       
So I was freezing (OK, Slightly Chilled, but it feels frozen) and jealously guarding my tin of ginger happiness and I came across some travelers who were really hungry and cold.  The Donner Party.  On The Weather Channel!  Who knew?

Living in Northern California, (and being a history fan), I knew a good deal about the Donner Party.  It wasn't "a party", and they were "old school" travelers, in a covered wagon who were outmatched by the weather, they never had a chance! Everything that could go wrong, went really wrong.  In pretty short order they were eating their shoes and living (and dying) in frigid conditions.

Usually documentaries about the horrendous journey focus on the more salacious aspects of that ill-fated group (the cannibalism, the fate of Tamsen Donner).  What appealed to this survivor about their tale of misery, was that many of them made it through the snow and brought back help.

Several "Party"  survivors went on to lead happy, prosperous, lives.

I've been to the Donner Memorial (Statue, Gift Shop), and once I finished reading "Ordeal by Hunger", I had a newfound respect for the Donners and what they went through.

Like The Donner Party, I too will persevere!  I'll keep training and working until I make it through to neuroplasticity.

The Donners didn't let little things like starvation and blizzards stop them.  No siree.   Comparatively, I have it relatively easy!  I really have nothing to complain about.

But I won't  let that stop me!

When I feel peckish, I'll refrain from "nibbling on a neighbor", I'll eat a cookie!

Thanksgiving Turkeys Are Fighting Mad! But Tasty! They're Better Off Dead! Yum! Let Us Give Thanks!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Happy Thanksgiving!  Especially to those of you who literally "traveled" yesterday.  I traveled "a fur piece" but observed our Thanksgiving Tradition of watching the Macy's TG Day Parade (in HD) with our morning coffee!  I was flipping through the channels when I stopped on something as educational as it was timely on the Discovery Channel.  "When Turkeys Attack" is as scary and hilarious as it sounds!  And, as an added bonus, we learned about nature!

As it turns out, our traditional Thanksgiving protein is scrappy (at best) alive, more typically the live entrée  is bad-tempered, aggressive and looking to settle a score!  They're spoiling for a fight!   Between heart-stopping videos of befuddled victims, humans, assaulted by talons and beaks, or just being "menaced" (you haven't been stalked, until you've met the business end of an angry gobbler!) turkey "experts" commented on the wiliness, the permanent bad mood turkeys are always in!

Turkeys are descendants of pterodactyls, and they haven't mentally changed much in the passing millennium.  They would definitely eat us if they were big enough, and the fact that they cannot, combined with their inability to fly keeps them mean.  Turkeys are the original "angry birds".

That and they just look better headless and featherless.   They look even better roasting in an oven.  Or in a deep fryer.  Or on the front of a whiskey bottle.. So don't ever lose any sleep (not that you do, I certainly do not) over the millions of turkeys that are the delicious, if fleeting, "guests of honor" on our holiday dinner tables!  Just don't over cook them!  And pass the cranberries!

Ben Franklin had many brilliant ideas but proposing that the turkey be our national bird was not one of them.  I mean have you seen their heads?  And those wattle things, what is going on with those?

The turkey is sneaky, belligerent, bullying and vicious. Nothing very "noble" about a turkey.   In other words, made for American politics!

Hmmm, maybe Franklin was onto something after all...

Drumstick, anyone?

Only Wonderful Things Come From Paris!

Hello Fellow Travelers,

I am going to write something about the recent terror attacks in  Paris.  I'll not recount the perseverance and fortitude of the French people, blah, blah, yes, they undoubtedly will prevail - it has been thoroughly covered and continues to be reported upon.  I mean have you ever spoke with a French person?  They are seriously stoic!  Beyond blase!

Almost nothing surprises them!  Parisians are notoriously fatalistic, "If it was meant to be, it was meant to be.  Que Sera!"  Jean Paul Sartre or Doris Day, I always mix them up!

My point is France and Paris in particular will not only survive Isis, they will continue to inspire the world!  The best wine?  French.  The best food?  Same.  Fashion?  Forget about it!  Art?  Ideas?  Yes and yes!  All France!

You want to know why Parisians always look so bored?  They actually have been there and done "that"!  And they come from the place that transcended whatever "that" is to an art form!  Parisians aren't jaded, they're just exhausted from a lifetime of being in the center of arguably the most beautiful city on Earth.

 Take the cookie, for instance;  The French invented the perfect macaroon: delicately flavored and scented, exquisite in both taste and appearance.   Iridescent perfection! What do we have?  The Double "Stuft" Oreo.  And we're damn happy to have it!

And so what does a senseless massacre a half world away have in common with a brain tumor survivor?  As it turns out, quite a bit!  Cancer is a terrorist, unpredictable and devastating.  I was stalked by cancer!  I was terrorized by it!  However, I lived I've had to adapt a little (OK, a lot, but it's been pretty beneficial) but I'm better than I've ever been.  Like the attacks last week, there are, in fact, survivors.  An entire country of survivors.  The entire world wants to protect Paris!  Chanel is reason enough to track down whomever planned and/or carried out those horrific crimes.

I want to see Paris with my PS.  The French are as inspirational in a gunfire scenario.  I will walk again!  I will stand around a lot!  I like only the best, I survived more than one life-threatening experience, I have felt profoundly attacked since 2011. I complain a lot.  Maybe I am French!  Nah!  I'm way too chipper to be French!

My "Papal" Bobblehead - 3" Tall and Plastic and he STILL has Adventures! Rock On, Your Plastic Holiness!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

A few weeks back I wrote about my very special friend who sent me a very special gift - a Pope Francis bobblehead!  This thing cracked me up!  So I took him to meet the in-laws in Burlingame, he killed at the Italian restaurant and continued to inspire hilarity at a birthday party for my venerable mo-in-law that followed.  The Pope Bobblehead had just the right amount of silly joy to make anyone laugh or at least smile when they saw it.  After careful consideration, I decided to share the joy and pass him onto my oncologist Dr. P., at Mercy General Hospital (he has an office there).  The PS asked why I was sharing a Pope Francis bobblehead with Dr. P., it reminds me a lot of the Pez dispenser that Jerry Seinfeld put on Elaine's leg during a piano recital (it made her laugh).  That's how funny a Pope Francis bobblehead is!

A couple of weeks ago I had to have some "minor" (No such thing) surgery done by my favorite neurosurgeon (Thank you, HA!) at the very same hospital (Dignity?  Hot Diggety!) where this journey began for me, Mercy GH.  I thought I would have plenty of opportunity to drop the "plastic Pontiff" at Dr. P.'s office.

It was not to be!  Not only was I being released, I was being released now!  I entrusted the diminutive Pontiff (in an "official" box) to a wonderful physical therapist who promised to drop him off at the doctor's office.  As I was being led away for yet another test (like the condemned walking "The Green Mile") she and my nurse (Alvin, like the chipmunk) were receiving my final directives.

I should mention that this "minor" procedure took a lot out of me!  I was a hurting unit before I elected to have the round IPhone-shaped satellite taken out of my skull!  Many headaches and hair donts' later, I'm still trying to get over it!

Here is where "Le Pope Plastique's" activities get a little murky.  He was MIA for a few days.  it  Was he inspiring healthcare professionals?  Was he bringing laughter to PT's at Mercy GH?  We'll never know.  I know one thing - it probably wasn't boring, whatever it was.  My recipient used his Sherlock Holmes-like powers of deduction to find "Le Papa du Bobble" and located him (he had been bobbleing for a few days in the PT break room) and took him home to his five-year-old daughter who promptly broke it's bobbing head off.  He's since been fixed.  (Maybe all I need is a little Crazy Glue!  Can't hurt, might help, Just sayin'...)

Why does this toy inspire me to write and walk?  I think it's fairly obvious.  If a little toy, a bobblehead no less, can travel so much and have so many adventures I certainly should be capable of recovery!  That and it's just darned funny!

Staples in My Head? Let's Give It A Whirl!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Jack Skellington from Tim Burton's "Night Before Christmas

It is late autumn.  For most people it means it's Homecoming and football games and field trips to an apple farm or a pumpkin patch.  Romance is in the air  What does the "Post Cancer Surgery Patient" do in the fall season?  Good question!  Glad you asked!

After consulting several doctors I decided to have my cranial shunt removed last week by the same neurosurgeon who removed the tumor (thank you, HA!)

I expected nothing really momentous to happen, I just saw no point in having an artificial object roughly the size and dimension of an IPhone stuck in my skull!    Like, forever!

I was also under the misimpression that this removal was "no big deal" and since I had already dispatched Brain Cancer, I thought shunt removal, while no walk in the park would be relatively easy.  Once again, I thought wrong!

It's been several days since I had the brain implant removed and I'm just now coming around!  They say "Cats Have 9 Lives"?  Or at least that's what their cans say!  Well, I think I just used up 2 or 3 last week!  I'm hungry and hurt!  The brain thingy is gone but was replaced by metal staples and crunchy hair!  Oh, the humanity!

And the nausea!  I didn't eat and drank a lot of water in the hospital and I still projectiled like a baby!

If surgeons think that Betadine crap "sanitizes the surgical field", (in other words, the place on your body the surgeon intends to cut), why is the "solution" so sticky and gross?

I was supposed to go home; with dozens of staples in my scalp and sticky hair, and remain crunchy and staply until today, until my  "follow up" appointment today.  Then his office released me with three words, "Gentle hairwash?  OK." (Thank You again, Dr. HA!)

He didn't need to tell me twice. I was washing what's left of my hair as soon as I heard OK.  The staples are still there until he takes them out next week but now I feel a little less like Jack Skellington and a lot more like a cancer survivor.  My point is, I was de-stickied or unstickied and it changed everything!  I'm going to lather, rinse, repeat, forever!

  Even though the shunt removal was more exhausting, more painful and just, well, grosser than I expected, I'm one step closer to recovering, I'm glad the satellite or whatever is out of my head!  

I know I'll recover and ski again and ride a bike through oak trees in autumn.  That knowledge is part of my strength.

There is no amount of pain or vertigo that can stop me.

PS-In The Bullwinkle J. Moose "I Don't Know My Own Strength" Goofball News,  Remember last year when  I wrote to you about the best ginger cookies I've had?  Nyacker's?  My PS went into a World Market to get a tin for me as a gift and was told he wouldn't be getting any because the demand had increased unexpectedly and there was a rumor of some blog being involved....  What this means to me is I'm not getting any cookies!

Happy Birthday, Rose!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

No, it doesn't matter what spiritual leaning you ascribe to, a Pope Francis bobblehead just makes you smile!   A very special friend sent this to me because she knew it would crack me up (thank you, Marjorie!).

My revered Mo-In-Law reached a milestone (39!), and we celebrated at an Italian/Swiss Alpine restaurant in Burlingame last night (Stella Alpina Osteria) and it was awesome!  When a good Italian restaurant proclaims their gnocchi appetizer to be"heavenly pillows", I'm all in!  Gnocchi all day long!  Few places can accurately describe their gnocchi as "pillow-like" in any way, shape or form but Stella Alpina's were really light!  And, as one of my in-laws commented, "You just wanted to bathe in that sauce!"

After a sumptuous meal it was gift time (and a lengthy "cake hour", naturally) where I took a particular interest in our selection of the present for the "birthday girl".  She always receives a ton of great "swag" on her birthdays and this one was no exception!  We gave my Patient Spouse's mother a laptop computer.  The PS will hook it up for her this week..  She has friends and family all over the world and social media is all her grandchildren use to communicate anymore, but those are not the perfectly valid reasons behind my suggestion we go shopping online to BestBuy.com.

My only means of communication these days is via the computer.  Only by using a keyboard am I able to correspond on any level.  Fortunately, we live in an age, (and a state) where communicating exclusively using a computer is not only "normal" it's actually preferred.

Since Removal of the brain tumor (and no, I'll never get tired of saying that!  Ever!  Ha-ha!) in 2011 I can't walk or speak.  But I can complain.  A lot!  Like, "Shaddup Your Yap Already!", complaining!  Like they say, "Go big or go home!"  At least I think they say that, don't they?  Well, they should.  And just who exactly are "they", anyway?

My point is (and yes, there is, in fact, a point here someplace!) that I've been happily carping about something pretty much my entire life!  Now I complain globally using a laptop computer!  And offer unsolicited commentary to unsuspecting travelers

The door that seemed nailed shut has given way to a new open window on the world.  And everyone can travel everywhere, through this gem-colored, window, together.  This is a gift I have been given,  this POV, and I'm very grateful for it.  Is this "gift" as cool as  "Pope" bobblehead?  No!  It is a great way to communicate with loved ones in real time, though,


I don't "Tweet" or "Facebook" or even "Text" . ( Another "casualty of cancer"?  Penmanship!  I can recite "The Gettysburg Address" but I can't write my own signature!  Yet!)  And, online, it rarely matters anyway!  Only people matter.  Rose knows this.

My Visit with the Neurologist or "You Should Have Your Head Examined"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I waited to post until just now because  I saw my neurologist today, and since these are the chronicles of my prolonged (I mean really!?!  Will this ever end?) journey through "brain cancer square", I felt like reporting "live" in "real time".

I now have a plan for neuroplasticity that involves neurosurgery (Thank You, HA!), a hospital and tons and I mean tons of physical therapy!

As you may have surmised, I am single-minded in reaching my goal objective, which is simply to walk again.  I found out today that I'm "pre-diabetic" (whatever that means) or to put it in English,  "You need to lay off the Mocha Freezes from Costco!"

Too bad, too!  I really like those things!

OK, I'll stop inhaling the bakery goods, duly noted.

Another "post surgical" revelation?  I'm definitely suffering  from vertigo!  Duh!  Not exactly news!

I tip over all the time!  I'm like a table without one leg!  Totally unstable!

Yesterday, I fell and hit the side of my head on an opposing wall (is that what "opposing" means?  Like - Opposing Counsel?)

My left incisor (fang tooth) bit through my cheek and left a big welt..

I look as though I was in a street fight and lost badly!  Or to be really precise, I resemble someone who just had their ass handed to them!

So, I did what any female in a similar situation would do:  I overapplied expensive concealer and followed that with Brightening Powder (Laura Mercier).

As I was evaluating my "cover" job  (it blew!), I began to notice other changes.

In spite of many cuts and bruises, my overall "carcass" has visibly improved!

"Working out" has worked out!

Not only have I lost weight, I've developed "new" muscles!

My "front" is all torn up, but my "foundation" is stronger than ever!

My arms, legs, core all show new growth and definition!

As Tom Cruise said in "Interview With The Vampire", "There's life in the old girl, yet!"  (Of course, he was dancing with a corpse when he said this, but you get the idea....)

There are still many adventures in front of me!  Many places for the PS and I to see!

Cooking, Driving and Jury Duty - Things I'll Probably Never Do Again! Oh Well... I'm Alive!

Hello Fellow Travelers !

I heard my Patient Spouse was driving north to Mt. Shasta, so I requested a picture to see if Shasta looks as dry as everything else.  Shasta looks pretty dry.

 How the drought is impacting Shasta County seems entirely secondary because there is a huge light pole in the center of the picture!

You don't even notice the dry mountains, do you?  The stupid pole blocks most of the peak!

Don't get me wrong, I'm appreciative!  I asked for a picture of Mt. Shasta and I got one!  A picture with a big, metal, object in the center of it that pretty much completely obstructs the mountain, but there is, in fact, a picture from 10/3, of Mt. Shasta.

And there was a little snow!  Bonus!

The "repurposing" of mountain climbing gear,  is another skillset I have recycled for my post-cancer world..  I used to rappel off of mountains.  Recently, I bought a rappelling harness from REI so I could safely practice standing!  That's right, not even walking, just standing around!  And even that makes the PS visibly nervous!  I don't know what to do with the caribiners either.

Sacramento.  It's pretty flat! And flat is good when you've "lost your place in space".  I like flat surfaces right now!  Any sort of incline is a challenge.  A little walk is a surreal death march, with a walker!

Any house or restaurant becomes a gauntlet of unseen, unconsidered obstacles I have to instantly plan for.  An unexpected curb seems insurmountable.

You want to know what else is impossible these days?  Jury duty!  I can't walk, talk or see but I was summoned  to serve as a juror!

Oddly enough I think under normal circumstances I'd make an excellent juror  I pay attention, I'm empathetic, non judgmental, and I always have to see how the story turns out.

I wish I could serve as a juror!  Alas, I cannot!  And I have a doctor's note indicating as much!  I would love to be vetted as a juror!  It's like voting, it's my job as a citizen!  But not right now.  Soon though..  I'll be ready for Jury Duty and then I'll go really wild and go to the DMV!

Mt.Shasta

"The People's Pope"? i Just Thought he was "Padre Jorge",I'll Admit It! I've Got Pope Fever!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was primed to tackle some weighty brain topic (This Week:  Brain Tumors and Junk Food Eating Bears - They Both Need to be Removed) and then this happened: You know what happened this week, unless you were living under a rock (even if you were living under some stone social media delivered the news) the Pope came to the US!  It doesn't matter what your religious affiliation is, the Holy Father has "star-quality" in spades!  Plus, he's just adorable. He has a great vibe and he rides around in a snappy, little Fiat!  I mean, did you see him?  Is he cute as a bug's ear or what?

He had a real message too; one for everyone in America.  I listened to all his speeches delivered in Spanish in the same soft voice (with a translator), and he repeated the same message: take care of each other and take care of our planet!

What struck me the most about the Pope?

He seems really happy!  He looks full of joy, like he has seen something wonderful and  will happily share it with the world!

Seeing anyone so joyous is very appealing, and everyone adores the Pope!

He could sell anything!  A Pope Diet?  The Pontiff's Secret to Healthy Living?

Last night he killed them in Madison Square Garden!

Today he's owning Philly!  CNN reporters are speechless!

I feel happy all the time!  I don't smile very often, but I laugh a lot and I'm always in a great frame of mind (Thank You, HA!).

I'll take humor and inspiration wherever I can find them!  And Pope Francis inspires me to drive harder and work longer towards neuroplasticity.

The Pope's "takeaway message?"  People are all that count.  Love is all that matters.  Nothing else comes close.

It's a universal message.  Christians and non-Christians alike respond to that message. How, who, or even if you worship ceases to matter. They instantly become non-issues.

Bill Maher was predictably dissing The Pope on HBO, but he just doesn't get it!  Francis is everything you want in a Pontiff and more (which sounds less like a Holy Father and more like a mid-size SUV!  My bad! But you get my drift).

He's an "old-school" Pontiff with an inclusive "new" message for everyone in the world!

Pope Francis is a beam of sunshine streaming through stained glass!

"Simplify, simplify..." Henry David Thoreau or "You don't see no hearses with no luggage racks!" Don Henley

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Pictures of Northern California fires burning out of control, remind me of just how little protection of any kind is actually there when something "big" happens.  There is nothing that can protect you from your fate, it's how you deal with your circumstances that define who you are, what you're made of.

Lately, bold haircuts (hair is dead, after all), minimal furnishings and even more minimal eating (meaning less actual food) have a great deal of appeal for me.

I want everything to be short, simple and plain.  Hair, food and floors.  Unadorned, natural.  The only colors I want are found in the sea and the sky (and possibly in the forest) or in a piece of glass when the sun is shining through it.

If you could get all necessary nutrition from a pellet, I would stock up on pellets!  I'll be very happy in a pellet driven universe!  Amazon can deliver the pellets to the door!

Nothing but glass and sand to live in, though.

And water everywhere!  Water to look at, water to drink, endless water!

Antiques (or more to the point; antique shops) make me claustrophobic!  I used to be able to describe what the stores were marking down and who was going out of business!

It's been four years since I've been in an antiques shop!

 I'm like Yosemite, I've been stripped down to my "granite" and this is what I have to work with.

Maybe I'm like Northern California since I had cancer (And Nor Cal had the;drought.)  I'm profoundly different and fundamentally changed.  I feel sharper, faster, happier, far more focused, far less complicated.


After cancer ripped through my brain (and I survived, Thanks, HA!) I have had only one goal, one objective, it makes almost everything else pale in comparison - and that goal is to walk by 10/2015.

That doesn't leave much time so I'll have to be extra prepared, extra ready for whatever dangers lie ahead!

PS - I was watching "Game of Thrones" (Season 5/HBO) and it gave me this great idea!  Instead of being a feeble "mute", I have taken a highly noble "vow of silence" for an indeterminate period of time!  Pretty cool, no?  I must be protesting something pretty important, right?  Wrong!  I just can't talk!  Ha-ha!   I just think taking a "VOS" has a little more mystique to it!

My Journey from Brain Cancer Has Put Me Here For A Reason! I Have No Clue What That Reason Might Be Either!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was going to complain about-marvel at the very dry status  (drought-stricken, more like drought-besieged!) of Yosemite but the PS is away and I couldn't figure out how to coordinate our devices ("A picture is worth 1000 words" usually isn't accurate but a picture of a dry Yosemite says it all!)

That will be next time.

This week, however, I'm all alone for what seems a really long time but is, in reality only a few days.  Like the Cheeto-Cheetah-Slingshot Master says, "This is where all your skill and training will be put to the test!"  (And then some kid launches a cheesy snack at some unsuspecting adult.)

Likewise, I am seeing this time alone as an opportunity to put everything I've learned (so far) into practice.  I won't be chucking any Frito/Lay products at anyone's tush  though.

I could ask for help, but I want to see what I can do!  So what fun would that be?  (Asking for help, that is)  No fun at all!  Fun doesn't really factor into my life these days (I'll be sure to have  some  when I have time to nap.  Like, when I'm dead! ) but measuring my athletic progress does weigh in, heavily.  The less I weigh, and the less assistance I need, the better for the Patient Spouse and his back.
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For those of you keeping score at home, I recently added an elliptical machine to my daily routine, so I can use that time at the gym to focus on something else.  My short term goal is just to be able to stand unassisted.  I know it's kind of ,lame (OK, I'll just say it, "It's really lame!"  There!  I said it!   Happy Pappy?) but it' all about keeping the bar set low, very low.

I'm more imbalanced than ever!  The great part?  I feel tremendous!  Physical pain?  Bring It!  Extreme Rehab?  Bring that too!  I'm ready!

"It's Cal Worthington and his Dog, Spot" No, It's Just Me

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I am going to address a theory I've long held:  Neuro cancer ( or any type, for that matter) is a harbinger of death! Usually.  I beat the bejeezus out of brain cancer.  It's gone (thank you H.A.!)  I refuse to accept the idea that I will be affected permanently by anything negative.  I finished a schedule detailing my hourly,  plan of attack for full recovery.  Spoiler Alert:  My plan involves a lot of physical therapy.

The PS recently gave me a very useful home elliptical machine that has enhanced my strength and hopefully speeds up this process of recovery.  What's also so great about this, is that I can go as long as I want, and spend my time at the gym working on walking, on my core.

I tell some of my doctors that I'm the "Patient of the Future" and they laugh, but it's true!  And getting truer!  I'm younger, more physical and will live longer than my predecessors-in-cancer.  If I have a hope in hell of recovering it will all have to come from me! So I'll work even harder, starve more, write faster, whatever I need to do!

Remember that dude who sold used cars in Southern California?  Cal Worthington?  He'd stand on his head to make a deal.  Well, I'd stand on my head to walk again if I could, which I can't.  Maybe someone could staple me to  wall or something.

I saw an advertisement recently for The American Cancer Society whose mission seems to be: cracking the code of cancer.  And I have no doubt they will, sooner than later.

Until they do, however, I will be one of a huge wave of new survivors - I'm lucky to be alive and  despite possessing several not-so-fun disabilities, I've never felt so great!  I did some research and there are millions of cancer survivors throughout the world!  What's really "new" is that for me and thousands of others is that surviving is no longer the "end game"; it's just the beginning or possibly the middle.


Why am I soooo lighthearted?  I once read somewhere that to lose weight, models are always hungry, and they stay that way.  In my neverending quest for enlightenment; (get it?  I said enlightenment because I'm getting lighter! OK, it's pretty lame.)  I currently rely on my PS to help me get around so weighing as little as possible makes his life a little easier (although it doesn't stop him from making far too many annoying Orca jokes!)  I continue to lose weight and I'm always hungry!  I'm too uncoordinated to eat  desserts but that doesn't stop me from thinking about them,

What's Scarier Than Spiders From Outer Space? Two Words: Mom Jeans!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

On our short journey across country I was forced to buy a pair of expensive designer jeans for myself at an upscale store..  They were overpriced (on sale) but they fit, so I wore them out thinking I had solved another small problem!  But I was sorely mistaken, my PS glanced over at me and declared loudly that I was, in fact, rocking some new"Mom" dungarees!  Oh heavens no!  I have too many challenges as it is!  I absolutely can't be bothered by poor emergency jean selections (PEJS)!  WTH?Oh,  Man!

:"Mom Jeans"?  No way!  I work way too hard to wear the lumpy, asexual, ill-fitting slacks, modeled by Amy Poehler and Tina Fey on SNL.

The reason I had to get them on the fly in the first place was that I had downsized again!  So I tried on several different pairs of jeans before I settled on a pair without "bling" and that provided adequate fabric.

Since 2011 I have not purchased a single item of clothing.  As long as I'm "wearing a wheelchair" what's the point?

I was very careful in deciding which jeans to actually buy!

I like quality over quantity - always have.  You know why? Laziness!  I'm lazy and when you get a better pair of shoes or a bag, you're done shopping for awhile.  Never followed fashion trends.  Buy  a decent coat, it will last awhile.  Buy a great coat, it will last even longer.  Laziness has inspired most of my style decisions!

So it should have upset me more than it did to have the PS declare that I was wearing "Mom Jeans", fortunately for us I have an entirely different POV now.  I'm lucky to be here and I know it!  Jeans are the least of my concerns.  I'm alive!  And, all things considered, I feel pretty good!

You know what?  They weren't "Mom Jeans".,  My PS is just dead wrong!  Glad we figured that out!
Although I'll probably never wear those jeans again...

Giant Spiders from Outer Space and Brain Cancer: What Do They Have In Common? A Lot!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I don't miss much and you know I have a sharp eye out (always!) for arachnids of any kind so when a rather large example of a sun spider rolled out of a very clean down comforter yesterday (and let me tell you, there was nothing comforting about that particular discovery!  No sirree, Bob!) and there was nothing I could do but freak out, so I freaked!

(Cue "Rocky" theme here.)

When my Patient Spouse came home he unfolded the blanket it did not yield the huge "space spider", I had previously been confronted by!  So my already shrinking world became even smaller.  I need to be ready to  battle with giant spiders from outer space!

Or to walk, which is even more challenging.

To avoid any more nasty surprises I mentally avoided anyplace I might meet a giant spider from outer space (Remember the Southern Belle spider in "Madagascar"?  "Well, Howdy!")  And since Gigantor had vanished I could potentially run into this mutant anyplace!

(Cue "Mission Impossible" theme here.)

Dragons?  OK.  Light Sabers?  Bring it!  Incredibly Giant Spiders from Outer Space?  Not so ready!  Come on!  Really?

This morning I was informed that the 8 Legged Death had been squished by my PS last night!

Thank goodness!  I beat the big "C" to be threatened by oversized arachnids from someplace in the universe?  Naahh!  I don't think so!

Now if they were giant, cancerous spiders from outer space...

Dining After Brain Surgery - Dodgy At Best!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

There are many issues that confront the vertigo-stricken patient daily.  One of the most difficult and repeated is the frustrating task of consuming nutrients.  Until an alternative is discovered (and here is an instance where a pellet or a pill would be welcome) I am faced with the daunting task of consuming enough  proteins and water to thrive.

Strictly speaking, eating seems  like way too much trouble to even attempt, but there are restaurants and dinner parties, (and staying alive) to consider, so even the pickiest palate (me) has to "wrangle the metal" from time to time.  I tried just not eating but my PS said it was too "weird" and my not eating, was in fact, a distraction for anybody else!

I only want sugary round foods these days anyway.  So skipping the exercise in futility (any meal) seems like the best option to an especially picky gourmand, but if I am absolutely forced to work through a salad, I have the skillset necessary to struggle through the plate.

I had thought I could avoid most eating scenarios, I tried to avoid eating anyway (I've always been a big snacker and rarely committed to anything as defined as a "meal"; why limit my options to breakfast, lunch and dinner?  I might see something else I'd rather have while I'm waiting.  Like a cookie!)

But eating is necessary and neverending!  And the only food that holds any interest for me contains lots and lots of brown sugar and vanilla bean.  These "confections" are not great for your teeth.  I found this out the hard way.  I was forced to go the dentist.  Forty+ years of perfect dental health obliterated by one year of candy consumption!

Food is therefore required even though I may not want it.  I guess the trick will be finding something I really like.  Anyone have a nutrition pellet?  Yum!

Airplanes- A Pleasant Way to Catch Up On Reading Or A Terror-Filled Appointment With Death?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I flew for the first time since brain surgery in 2011 and like almost everything else in my life, it was completely different from my prior flights.  In addition to all the usual security concerns (baggage, shoe removal, etc.) I contended with many additional situations that only the "handicapped" get. I was the first on and off the plane, I was escorted by airline personnel.  Speaking was not a requirement for me.   In other words, the optimum conditions existed for a physically impaired person such as myself.

What has changed flying travel for me from a fairly pleasant experience to a white-knuckled journey in terror?

What has transpired in air travel to make me regard passenger planes as nothing but 200+ human beings strapped to tanks of highly explosive jet fuel?

It wasn't Malaysian 371 (Although it's complete disappearance didn't help matters) that soured it for me.

What now compels me to mentally count all the bodies as they file past my seat?  As the passengers keep going by my fear increases  exponentially!

Next to the MRI (Brrrrr!) only an airplane comes close to my irrational, overwhelming fear of being buried alive!

As we left the tarmac I glanced at some of the other :"handicapped" passengers seated across from me.  One couple in particular held my attention, They had obviously filled out all the same forms we did because they availed themselves of all the services available.  It turns out they weren't "disabled" at all, they just didn't feel like walking!  I know because I asked.  I had to!

And they weren't the only ones!  Apparently, this flight abounded with able-bodied passengers that had claimed handicapped status.in order to avoid self-movement at the airport. We saw them hanging out by the gate for hours!  I devote most of my energy towards moving forward.  Allowing myself to be pushed in any circumstance is counter-intuitive for me.  Actually requesting "handicapped" status for me indicates I'm suffering from a profound disability  The people across the aisle?  They were embarrassed, sheepish, even.   And able to walk.

The only thing I hate more than my wheelchair?  A random "loaner" wheelchair,  You've seen them, at hotels, hospitals.  Where were these "walkers" (As in, people that can actually walk) seated?  All, except for me were lined up at the gate in airline loaner chairs waiting to get pushed!  I judge nothing and nobody.  In my view, everyone is doing the best they can.  However,if someone is going to all of the trouble to get a handicapped placard for their car (or check off the disabled box with a straight face) it seems to me you'd need to be fairly handicapped, or, at least, somewhat impaired

I don't really understand why flying now terrifies me and I'm not sure it matters. It does and I'll deal with it.  What I understand is that as soon as I don't need any assistance I won't accept any.  "Fear of Flying" makes me even more determined to stroll through airports, to saunter into terminals,  I'll be planning a big airport hike where I skip through several airports in succession..

Jury Duty? Really? Brain Trauma Now This?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was going to post my recent summons to Jury Duty and my letter from my oncologist stating how handicapped and entirely incapable I am of being impaneled on a jury of my peers, but my PS has me thinking I might be shirking a responsibility by being disabled. I find it ridiculous that I'm so unbelievably impaired yet called upon for random civil service selections.  The odd thing is, under normal circumstances I'd be a heck of a juror, I pay attention to detail I don't judge people and above all I like a good story, no matter how convoluted.

I can't walk, speak or sign my name, so right now, extrapolating relevant evidence in a court proceeding sounds way beyond me.

My PS says that Jury Duty is a civic responsibility, like voting, which I do in every election because you can't complain if you don't vote and you know how I love to complain!

I don't think anyone gets cancer so they can avoid a jury summons.  I'd  be thrilled to serve as a juror the rest of my life if that meant I wouldn't have a brain tumor!  I would have been happy to hear an actual  case anyway!

My  PS says I am too biased and would be summarily discharged by either side.  Maybe.  I don't believe I'm biased, it's just when I can see how a story is going to turn out (and let's face it; most real-life stories are fairly predictable) I move on.


I've been working hard every day to be physically prepared for any new calamity;  tanks?  Check.  Nuclear War?  Got it!  Jury Duty?  WTH?!

Jury Duty?  Really?  Come On!

I've been working feverishly for life in a post-apocalyptic society, so to receive a summons to be waiting around a courthouse is beyond funny to me, or would be!

I can't even do that!

I mean what's next?  (Insert snarky comparison here) Because I'd be happy to do it! Whatever "it" is!  Thrilled, even.    If I could, which I can't.

But what I can do is go to the gym.  What I will do is strengthen my spine.

I'll take inspiration anywhere I can find it.  A jury summons is as good a source as any!

Shasta County - I'm In Love!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Last week I traveled to Burney Falls in Shasta County.  All of Shasta County is ridiculously beautiful, the cows seem happier, the water tastes better, the folks are really friendly, (I mean, how could they not be?  Right? I just want to "be with" Shasta County!)  I left a device up there and they couldn't have been nicer about getting it back to me!  Another lost, outdated, device?  (Mine, no doubt!)  Who cares?  Shasta County, that's who!

You know what else is in Burney?  Lots of things!  All manner of things built to observe the natural wonders of Shasta County. We spent an afternoon at The Hat Creek Radio Observatory where there are 42 satellite dishes that rotate in unison (think Jodie Foster in "Contact").  These amazing dishes listen for radio signals coming from specific points in space!  SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) Institute directs the  Allen Telescope Array (ATA) to search the stars for radio transmissions!

And they had T-shirts!  And hats!

Paul Allen donated millions of dollars (Allen co-founded Microsoft) and I bought a $10 mug for my dad.

One sight I didn't see (or miss) was the "Subway Cave".  I make it a policy to never go anywhere where "Cave" is in the title.  I avoided the "tube-like" cave but I heard all about it and it sounded like everything else in Shasta County.  The cave was spacious, remarkably clean and bug and bat-free!

But it's still a cave.

The only reason I don't beg to start a temple of some kind there is in the photograph- giant, multiton, volcanic, boulders that threaten to spill across the highway (299).   Look closely at the photo - California's solution to ancient, crush-anything-in-it's-path-red-rock?  Chainlink fencing!  For miles!  It's really disconcerting!  You know it's just a matter of time before the snow and rock move down.and whatever or whoever is unfortunate to be on that road when that avalanche happens will be snapped like twigs!  The fencing looks like it's holding on for dear life!  It's OK for a couple of miles and after a little while it's all you think about - being crushed by giant boulders.  Very stressful!  Too stressful!

It's like the mountains are wearing knock off Spanx, or some other form of retention that's doomed to fail!

What being in  heavenly Shasta County reminded me was that there are still plenty of places I want to see or experience both nationally and globally.  Tony Soprano once advised an underling to buy real estate "Cause God wasn't making more." (I actually think he lifted that line from yet another underling!)  He had a point though!

Seeing a ton of trees and happy ranchers on their little "Shangrila's" (PS's term for really large homes in this area) makes me see why our forefathers moved here across the country in stifling wagons, came across the sea in leaky, little boats hundreds of years ago:  they had to see what happened next.


Happy Independence Day!

I'm Taking this Recovery Up a Level!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

The results came back from the dreaded MRI and they were boring in their predictability: I'm still cancer-free (Thank You HA!) I knew it, you knew it, it's a Geico ad;  Everybody knows that!  I have one more to get through and my doctors will then feel reasonably secure in declaring that I'm cancer-free (Thank You, Dr, P.!), because there have been no changes in my brain in five years.  I already know this!  It's been gone for a long time.

Yet, I feel completely changed!  Irrevocably and fundamentally altered.  In 2011 I was diagosed and underwent brain surgery (I still love saying that!  You can practically hear the "dum, da dum!" following the word"surgery")

I awoke to to a new reality:  I can't walk (or speak or sign my name and the list just goes on!) but I feel spectacular!  I sleep, read and write endlessly!  I used to be melancholy and had trouble sleeping.  Since removing the tumor?   I sleep like a baby and I'm always in a great mood!  Always!
My PS "supervises" my every move (Safety First!), and he's pretty observant anyway, and he's noticing the changes, too.

So, in an effort to be more streamlined and faster (and take this recovery thing up a notch)and  to respond to oncoming danger (because you just never know what might happen next!  It might be a dragon, it might be a poorly placed chair - it's a crapshoot!) I've come to a painful, yet inevitable decision: As much s it hurts, I'm going to ignore all cookies/caramels and desserts!

Indeed, I shall say, "Nay!" to confections of any nature!

I really thought that tons of physical exercise combined with a 100% reduction in alcohol (as in: nada) would get me the results I needed after four years.  Nope!

I'm all muscle but I still can't walk!  And you know how I feel about wheelchairs!

I realize my menu choices are a low priority (read: tiny) in the grand scheme of things (OK, non-existent!). but my tall and lessening frame is working every day with tiny but measurable results.  And it is something I have control over, one of the few things I can change.

I know what some of you are thinking,:"Another overfed American, complaining about too many food choices, poor you!"  It's not just "poor me", it's poor Patient Spouse who drags my carcass to the gym.  A lighter me is easier to move around!

 Some of you might have  also thought to yourselves, "Seriously,I just spent ten minutes of my life reading this?  And ordinarily you'd be correct.  However, this particular American is very patient and very motivated to recover!  (And very good at complaining!)

I currently can't walk, talk or see.  But I  think all  the time.  I think and pedal hours upon hours to noplace and bench press increasing amounts of weights to strengthen my core while I think every second I'm at the gym.   It's mentally tedious and physically difficult. I was made for this!  It's like Jury Duty, which I'm too disabled to participate in but I always thought I'd be good at!   Just swallowing now takes five steps!  Swallowing!  And I still choke, a lot!  Cutting anything non-essential from my diet is just another inevitable step on my journey.

Does it work?  No?

Is it cancer? No?(Still the only question that counts)

Then who cares?



PS - To Joyce in Chatanooga!  If you can find "Anna's" (Safeway/CVS) Ginger Thins they taste exactly like Nyacker's.  Barring that miraculous find, I guess we'll just have to wait until we locate another source.  I'll keep looking...  My dad sends me Murray's Old Fashioned Ginger Snaps (Amazon) But they are truly a ginger "snap".  Murray's are small, crunchy, and very snappy!  I love 'em!  "Anna's" is what you're looking for!  Good luck!

MRI's Aren't Scary! UNLESS You Have Claustrophobia! And I Do!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

There is one aspect of this journey that cannot be avoided and I haven't developed any effective coping mechanism for and that's the Magnetic Resonance Imager or MRI.  It's essentially a very precise camera that takes a series of images of my brain. After 2011 I've had several MRIs following the tumor removal.  I have mastered my extreme fears of spiders and things that go "bump" in the night.  Irrational fears of being buried alive are how claustrophobia is defined by Wikipedia.

If you haven't yet had the  thrill of experiencing a Magnetic Resonance Imager let me describe it:  It's like you're placed in the hole of a giant Lifesaver candy and you have to remain as motionless as possible.  Remaining motionless in the MRI is no problem, I'm terrified anyway.  It's the closest experience I've ever had to my worst fear - that fear being of being buried alive.  And you're in the world's noisiest tomb!  There's drilling and pounding and banging!  And it's not white noise either.  It's all really jarring,  like you're at a concert with the worst percussionists on the planet and you are forced to pay attention to them.

The MRI is an inescapable fact of post-cancer life.  It seems to me a positive result (more cancer) would just confirm what the doctors already suspect:  you had cancer, it went away for awhile and now it's back!  And you're probably gonna die, sooner than later!  The MRI just serves to confirm what I already know:  I don't have brain cancer, my neurosurgeon did excellent work (thank you HA!) all pictures and video that are periodically required (twice a year for five years) only serve to reconfirm what we pretty much know already and being in that machine scares the living daylights out of me!

I know that tumor is gone.  I know it will never come back,  I have more important things to do than seeing how long I can stand being buried alive (Another unfun aspect of the MRI?  If you freak out and falter you have to restart at the beginning. I've never faltered!  I refuse to start over! )

Chemistry to the rescue?  You know what they try to give the claustrophobically challenged?  Ativan!  For me that makes the seconds crawl by even slower.  Giving me even more ways to be even more anxious.  So put me down for a "no", strictly speaking.  By my calculation I have exactly one more MRI left, whoopie!

I'll hate it but get through it and will show no cancerous tumor growing in my brain

Phoenix, AZ in July IS Less Expensive! But Mostly It's Hot!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I now count myself in the vast throng that is the San Francisco Giants fan base. I'm learning about "the game within the game" and the mellifluous voices of Kruk and Kuyp lulled me through some of my darkest days in Brain Cancerland (sounds a little like Candyland, doesn't it?  Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part).  Those guys became my friends, my summer rehab partners.  Being a fairly recent fan of  Baseball, I'm grateful to Ken Burns,  Ben Affleck and Kevin Costner for their baseball contributions,  I wear Giants gear on game days and I'll, watch any retrospective that features any Giant,  From any era.  The Giants 2014 ascension was nothing short of spectacular and completely predicted by me, I have no "feeling" about Giants' Baseball in 2015; I knew the Giants were going to win that trophy in 2014 like I know how many calories are in a Ghirardelli's Hot Chocolate (many, but they don't count and who cares anyway?).  Like so many events in 2014, I just knew!

PS has been instrumental in my growing understanding of America's game!  He has taken me to see games at the Stick and then in the Giant's "new" ballpark that's so perfect, it makes me smile when it's on TV!  PacBell Park  has everything!  Fabulous snack foods, microbrews, excellent wines, shopping!  And all of it, the Park, the restaurants, the kiosks selling hoodies and bobbleheads,all are dedicated to the Giants! Forget Disneyland.  PacBell Park might be the happiest place on earth!

Especially since I've been "disabled", I finally appreciate the subtle nuances in the game and the season itself, it literally goes all summer and into fall!

As we've all gifted other family members over the years, Giants' tickets are an old standby.  They're always appreciated and anyone can buy them!

So when PS saw that there were Giants tickets available at Bank One Ballpark in Phoenix, and they were playing the Diamondbacks he gifted freely, with my support!  What we didn't know until much later, or what I didn't know is that the Giants/DBacks game was in July.  In Phoenix!  

Phoenix is frigging hot in July!  It's like a Geico ad:  "Everybody knows that".  What is not commonly known is the quality and the quantity of the heat.  The heat doesn't relent for months!  You step off a plane at Sky Harbor and it's like walking into a convection oven.  You're blown away by it!  And it doesn't let up at night either!  Nine months out of twelve are perfect, ideal, but three months out of the year, every summer, Phoenix is a heat-blasted wasteland no amount of air conditioning can remedy.

Southwest heat in summer is as restrictive as Midwestern cold in winter!

"Respect the heat!"  And I do but I'm not sure PS does.  He seems to be convinced that lots of air-conditioned environments will trick our senses into tolerating 90+ days (and nights) of triple digit temperatures that the greater Phoenix area enjoys every summer

I know better.  But as a member of "Giants' Nation" (albeit an uncomfortable member!) I am committed to going inside "the Belly of the Beast" no matter how miserable it is!  Because that's what baseball fans do!  We go to games.

Bicycles - Recreation or Transportation? Both!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

My father-in-law is a man of few words in my experience, but last week he shared a rare story of his boyhood in Ireland and the subject of bicycles came up.  John had a wonderful (dry!) tale about how he acquired his first bike!  I found the story to be very compelling, very inspiring and very "American" (ordinary guy makes good), so I hope I can properly retell it here.

When John was a youth in Ireland he spent a pound to purchase  his first alternative transportation (a "rebuilt" bicycle, the original mode of transport, of course, being his legs).  According to both of my in-laws, back then it took a huge amount of picked potatoes to generate a pound.  But generate he did, and he purchased his first bike from a fellow named Peter Briody

When the "news" that John had bought a bike, for a pound (yes, this was news!) reached County Longford in general, and his cousin Peter Reilly in particular, Peter commented, "You bought a bike from  Peter Briody?  And you paid what?

John would not be dissuaded or deterred.

John rode that bike all the way to Dublin!  Where he bought a new bike

He moved to America and onto other means of transportation, but bicycles will always be an integral part of my life.  I ride 30 miles to nowhere every day!  I'll never drive again but I have every expectation to ride a bicycle again.  It/s in my DNA, I've always ridden a bike of some kind.\.  And I won't be deterred either.

I Have A Victory And Thy Name Is "Ground Meat"!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

After another week of lifting weights and oceans of pain and curls, I think I can finally claim a small victory in the never-ending drama that seems to be my body.  I have some good news to report on the "Is it my right hand?  Or is it ground meat of some kind? Because I can't tell..." front.

After seeing yet, another physician this week and getting the non-fixable answer, "I don't know, let's run some tests" the bicep was even more painful.  So I did the only thing I knew how.  I worked it, relentlessly.  Over and over until the muscles would work no more, then I'd work them anyway!

And guess what?  The pain is still there but it's lessening.  The numbness is receding.  The "room-temp-ground-turkey" (Cause Turkey is healthier!) sensation in my right arm is no longer advancing, in fact, I think it's shrinking!

And, as you can see, I can still type.

Dare I say it?  We have a small win here!   Oh, what the heck, I'll  say it!  "We have a small, but important victory!"

It's a little victory in the grander scheme, but an important one to me.

With enough hard work and a positive mental outlook, anything is possible.  I'll keep searching for an answer to  the "hamburger hand" question, but the short answer is, it's going away.

The bigger question is still the only one I care about, say it with me, "Is it cancer?  No?  Then who cares?"

Brain Trauma and Disaster Readiness

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I often comment on the brain cancer survivor's need to always be ready for whatever life throws at you next, because you just never know and this is a perfect example of one of these instances!  I noticed last week that my right arm is weakening.  Being a "southpaw" that ordinarily wouldn't matter, but since 2011 my right hand/arm has done everything for both hands.  So, to lose the ability to use devices of any kind is unacceptable and I'll have to get it checked out.

My overused right arm feels suspiciously like room temperature ground meat to my left hand.  Has this ever happened to you?  If it sounds familiar at all let me know!  That's ground meat, any kind, through the plastic!  Yucky!  The arm looks fine.  Just like the other one.  New muscles and definition.  But except for a sickening, bone-deep pain in my bicep, I can't feel anything!

And, before anyone asks my one question, the only one that matters, I'll answer it.  No, it's not cancer, but I still care!

See what I mean though?  One must be vigilant, because you never know what sci-fi disaster is headed your way!

I mean what's next?  Flying spiders from outer space? Giant?  Because everything in outer space is?  Giant "Space Spiders"?   Eeeewwww!

It could happen!

So, what's a little zombie arm? In the words of Hank Hill, " I'll tell you what!"  My right hand performs all the fine motor skills that were performed by the right and left hands including typing!  Without my right arm, I'm virtually incommunicado!  So a "dead" right arm would be very bad, indeed.   I made an appointment to see yet another neurologist who will probably poke my arm and hopefully not say, "I dunno." Or, "beats me"  Or even worse, "You mind if I ask someone?"

I'll say one thing about this journey, it's not dull!

What do Madonna and Brain Cancer Have In Common?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

A few months back I compared my post-tumorous self to an aging chicken or possibly a stringy-Madonna minus the desperation, I snarked.  I was referring to my post-surgery, vertigo self.  The self that never gives up or gets discouraged.   Who am I trying to kid?  I'm all kinds of desperate!  I've got hot and cold running desperation up in here!  The Grim Reaper stops by for cappucino every week,  of course I'm a little desperate!  Who wouldn't be?  Well, I exaggerate (a little) but he does look through the windows and I wave him on.


This is my life I am fighting for.  I don't give a tinker's damn how this struggle appears to anyone!  Desperation should be my middle name!  I bend pain and hunger to my will (or just ignore those feelings entirely) to stave off Death!  It's really pretty basic!

I don't mean to snark at anyone's motives for physical training, just that my own motives are so basic:  I'm just trying to stay alive.  I'm not trying to impress anyone, I just don't want to die!  It's all about keeping the bar low...Really low.

So, as I change, I'm becoming more "poultry like", so what?  (Bawwk!)  It's not the 'Big C', so who cares?  I'm alive

All the work I've done, the countless miles I've pedaled to noplace, the endless benchpressing; I do to promote neuroplasticity,, so hopefully I'll stand around again!  I won't "be relevant" then either but it's not cancer so who cares?

OK, that bar is getting even lower...

Ebola? I'm Lucky to have had Something as Minor as an Astrocytoma!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was truly inspired this week by the New York Times story on Dr. Ian Crozier.  Dr. Crozier bravely treated Ebola patients in Sierra Leone where he contracted the deadly virus.  After coming back to the US, he was treated and eventually released and declared "Ebola Free".  When one of his previously blue eyes changed to green, opthamologists decided to take a closer look.  The virus had permeated his eyeball and was hanging out (or "lurking") in his eye.  You want to know how they discovered it?  Ask me!  Ask me!

Ooh! I thought you'd never ask!  They re-discovered the virus by sticking a big needle into his eyeball! Eeuuww!  Yowsa!  And sure enough, there it was!  (The left eye changing color would be all the heads up I would need!)  The Ebola virus, was "lurking" in his eye!

Dr. Crozier  is much braver than I.  He's braver than most people I can think of.  To willingly expose your hale and hearty self to deadly diseases because you "want to help" is selfless beyond measure!  So for this guy, who only wanted to help people, to get reinfected on his eyeball, seems grossly unjust, to say the least.  Dr. Crozier took his healing to the war.  Not the other way around. He got on a plane, and traveled to one of the most dangerous places in the world!  To help people!   At great bodily risk to himself.  Then he had to concern himself with a virus so toxic it can grow in eye tissue!

Oh come on!  Talk about "No good deed going unpunished",  the man just wanted to save some lives, and he's not even asking to get paid!  So how is he rewarded?  He becomes reexposed, recleared, then reinfected and finally released.  And he had to relearn  how to do basic movements, like walking,  like I do.  You know how difficult it is to relearn to tie your shoes?  Let alone walk?  Really  difficult!

This is where I can relate.  When you can't walk or speak things like eye color and material possessions don't mean very much.  If one or both of my eyes changed color, I would find it vaguely interesting as in "Gee, look at that, imagine!", and then I'd move on.  Dr. Crozier's eye changed color but he was too busy relearning to walk to pay much attention.

On his eyeball!  That's so "Alien"!

Like I've said before, I'll take inspiration anywhere I can find it!  Sierra Leone, kitten videos, whatever, I'm not choosy!

Giants' Baseball and Brain Cancer Really DO Go Together!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Last week I saw a feed of Giants' fan, Bryan Stow, throwing out the first pitch at a minor league game in San Jose.  Bryan was the previously healthy guy who was brain damaged in an altercation in LA with two Dodger fans.  He was injured about the same time I was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2011.

While Mr. Stow's injuries are vastly different than my own, his long (seemingly, never-ending) journey from severe brain injury to throwing out that opening pitch looked all-too familiar!

Mr. Stow is still profoundly impacted.  But he has come remarkably far in a relatively short (4 yrs.) amount of time.  I find that very inspirational!  And I'll take inspiration wherever I can find it!

Despite our entirely different circumstances Bryan and I share a few similarities:  he was blindsided with a severe brain trauma.  Bryan underwent years of strenuous physical rehabilitation,  He has a strong family with him.  And baseball!  We both are Giants' fans!  Like me,  Bryan will never be the same.

It's what we decide to do after the trauma that defines us!  Whether we write, or build empires or throw out first pitches.  Living can be hard work!  Harder, even!  But well worth it!  I have a huge mountain to climb and maybe I'm at base camp.  Maybe.  I'm probably only up to some Himalayan village..  I have a long way to go but go I shall!

Bryan Stow is remarkably inspiring to me because he's overcame what others said couldn't be overcome. He's deaf to all naysayers.  I can relate,  I never hear those voices either.  I only hear voices that urge me to move forward, that demand more, to keep pushing all the limits!  I dismiss anything else as "noise".  I'm only interested in one outcome, one result.  I don't care how much work is required, I'm all in.

So I have yet another reason to love SF - not that I needed one!

You Have to Start Somewhere, with Cancer It's All About Setting the Bar Low, REALLY Low! Just Being Alive is Good!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

One of the strongest effects of this post-tumor time is that I am profoundly grateful each day when I wake up!  I'm pretty darned happy to wake up at all!  I'm embarassingly grateful  for my PS and my friends and family.  Polishing my nails and floors are off my list of "things I'll probably never get around to doing anyway," so now I don't worry about them. The new pastel nail colors make the model (or Kardashian) look like she stuck her hands into some cupcake frostings anyway.   I'm pretty happy just to be here! I'm pretty happy just to be anywhere!  Cancer teaches you to set your level of expectation low.  Really low!  When setting the expectation level, if merely "being not dead" indicates "success", your standard is right in the post-cancer ballpark!

It's probably another reason I feel so great all the time!  I'm not dying, or getting ready to take "the Big Dirt Nap" either. Last week I had a test done to determine if there was some kind of new "growth" of cells in my abdomen, based on strong, increasing pain.

That's when a medical doctor, an M.D. said to me,"Pain means you're alive!"  Really?  Because I thought it meant something entirely different.  Like you're being poked with a very hot stick.  You say "potato"...

I was going to ignore this pain, but the last time I did that, I had a brain tumor! One truism I had repeatedly confirmed on this journey is you can't ignore everything, some things don't go away, they get worse! So I quickly arranged for an imaging test and anxiously waited for my oncologist to render a verdict.  The best result I could hope for (and the one I eventually got, Thank You!, Hamid!) was that nothing was growing anywhere!  I'm still alive!

And getting a little more so every day!

Analysis of the test results revealed the answer to my only question:  You know it!  Say it with me!  "Is it cancer?  No?  "Then who cares?"  And that's the only answer that means anything anymore anyway!

PS - Happy Birthday, Liam!

"Naked and Afraid - Part Deux"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

 

Fairly recently (yesterday, if you must know) I was forced to watch a particularly painful looking episode of “N & A” on the “Discovery” Channel.  I say “particularly” because these “survivors’ put “being naked” in front of cameras (essentially, the world) at about #20 on their “Very  Short List of Things to be Concerned With” List, right around ketchup (As in:  Condiments that might allow me to keep these snake guts I’ve just eaten, down and not upchuck them again!) but way ahead of, say, napkin rings.  Before and after the contestants are “N & A’' they get their ‘'Personal Survivor Rating” calculated, (PSR) being survivor ready looks like really hard, cold, hungry work!  So watching that particularly grim hour of “Discover” (Discover exactly  what, anyway?  “Ancient Aliens”?  Dirt?  “Ancient Aliens in the Dirt”?)  So, “Naked and Afraid” taken at face value is really the same show repeated over and over.

 

What I consider a huge waste of natural resources others seek out as some kind of test – of their survivor skills.  These people train all year long to be “N & A”!  If you’re “N & A”, that tells me you’ve been everywhere and you’ve done everything, you’re “The World’s Most Interesting Man” (Or woman).  When you’ve done everything, bought or rented everything there is to rent or buy on the planet, are burning C-notes to light Cuban cigars then and only then do you answer whatever demon compels you to cross the globe to be freezing and starving for three weeks!  And have it filmed.  Or you’d drink a lot of “Dos Equis!”  And have that filmed!

 

Cancer revisits a lot of “What Would I Do?” terrain.  And a lot of what I wouldn’t do.  Top of the list?  I probably wouldn’t be too concerned with my PSR!  Nope.  Not too worked up about that.

 

Once you’ve “looked down the road of life”, finding out how well you would do in a catastrophe seems at best, irrelevant.   I met the Grim Reaper and he didn’t point out my death date or tell me to eat my vegetables or anything as easy a that.  Instead, it scared me beyond belief and empowered me to get moving again in the right direction.

 

Nudity is not really scary although nudists are unusual! (I mean have you seen a nudist camp? Sheesh!  Oh, the humanity!)

 

Death is scary!    And once you’re aware of it’s presence you’re always looking for it, and it comes too soon for everyone, But it always comes.

 

So the “N & A” franchise still gets my vote for “The Most Annoying and Most Copied Gimmick” on TV, but scary?  No.  Not even a little

 

I’ve seen the real deal and it stops your breath and turns your hair white.  Everything that’s supposed to frighten you, doesn’t have any ability to do so anymore.  You find your strength and your voice and “man (or woman) up”.

86ing Coffee was No Big Deal Let's Try Giving Up Round Foods!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

As you undoubtedly (and correctly) surmised, I've spent a lot of rehab time in a local gym.  It's clean and quiet and even has a nice view for me to look at while I walk or spin to noplace every day for hours but at the end of the day it's still a gym and therefore by definition is pretty gross!  At some point I want to walk along the shore,or in the woods.  As I rejuvenate my way into year #4 of this post-tumor adventure I feel the need to put some speed on my recovery, and the first thing I'm doing is getting off the "Not-So-Underground-Cookie-Railroad".

PS got off the train years ago.  But my mom and dad still send me a variety of sweets and round foods that for some reason are at the forefront of my thoughts since 2011.  In that time I've worked every day to stimulate muscle memory and neuroplasticity.  My fat and muscles are separating - which has the sum total effect of making me resemble a very old chicken or possibly Madonna, minus the desperation.

The problem is that since 2011 I've developed an unrelenting craving for high quality round foods.  I had to see the dentist on more than one occasion.  I waste valuable time waxing poetic about round foods I dream up that involve molasses and brown sugar.  Time I need for anything more relevant than food!  And everything is more relevant than food! This puts me at odds with my plan for neuroplasticity.  Since I want this brain cancer recovery to speed up and not slow down I've decided to get off the cookie train! ( And possibly contract with a personal trainer.) Small as it sounds, it may greatly impact my life!  So get ready for a lot of whining and complaining, I'm going cold turkey  Pun totally intended!  Unless I get something fantastic delivered.  From Beverly Hills, or Prescott, AZ!

I'm hungry all the time anyway, so what's a little more?  Is it cancer?  No?  Then, who cares?  

Happy Spring!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Just when I start to feel a little sorry for myself I see something like "The Passion of the Christ" and suddenly feel much better!  I have never suffered!  I just enjoy complaining!  It's all in the perspective!  The perspective from here is great( TY HA!)!  I feel great(TY CS!)  I can't walk but I can move mountains if I have to. ( Or at least I can complain bitterly about the mountain's lack of services)   Springtime is all about new growth and rebirth and has become my new favorite season.

And candy.  I'm all in on any holiday that uses candy in their tradition!  Whoa, Nellie!  Don't even get me started on the "Cookies of Spring".

And spring is more tangible than New Year's Eve.  You can see Spring changing the earth around us!  You can see the the ice melt and the weather warm and the new grass poking through.  Rebirth.  Now that I've had my first interaction with the Grim Reaper (and survived), I feel grateful for every day I wake up.  I'm just grateful to be alive.  I'm grateful for everything.  Every day is like Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter all rolled together!

I am rising like a Disney dragon (not too scary) because it's what I'm supposed to do.  It's been a long journey but I'll keep moving forward.  With every day I'm gaining a little more traction on this spinning marble.  Every time I go the gym I'm changing just a little. I can see it.  The PS sees it too!  I'm working for neuroplasticity (your brain's ability to remake connections that have been damaged or destroyed.) but I'm reaping some side benefits from years of hard work.

I still fall but I can catch myself when I do, which comes in handy.  I'm perpetually hungry for cookies and caramels.  But I've passed my old size and I'm still shrinking!

The last "need" I thought I "couldn't live without"? Coffee!  Totally quit drinking it!  And I'm totally OK which is a surprise to me.  You, don't really "need" anything!  You get used to having stuff but when push comes to shove you really don't need any of it.

If it's a question of health vs. taste, health will always win out, or should!

Brain Tumors and CNN - Beware! One Leads to the Next! OR "Hoarders: Brain Edition"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

You have undoubtedly noticed that I have a peculiar talent for trivia retention.  If I saw it or heard it anyplace and if it's a completely useless factoid  I probably  know it, or know where to find  out whatever "it" purports to be.  How often am I correct?  In over 20 years I've never been wrong once, The PS doggedly checks my answers every time he asks me a question. ( Which begs the question:  why ask me the "who-was-in-that" anyway if you're just going to look it up?  Just to confirm my staggering knowledge of all things  small?  I mean really small, like "Tiny Elvis" small.  But that's another story!)

One of my literature professors said my brain was a steel trap.  Where pop culture trivia is present I think of my head more like a lint filter in the dryer - anything trivial sticks!  I remember great stories and paintings, but I also remember the name of the dude Deborah Foreman dumped for Nicholas Cage in "Valley Girl".  I know tons of crap like that.  Tons.  Well, maybe not tons but a lot, too much for a normal brain let alone an "Abbey Normal" one!

What is the #1 activity in Hospital rooms and bedrooms across the country?  TV watching, of course!  You might not share a language in physical therapy but everyone likes baseball!  And kittens!  And puppies playing baseball!  This is America!  We have all that.  And as Americans, we want to share it with the world.  Or anybody we might risk sharing an awkward silence with.

And what does hours of CNN do to a brain already dizzier than Dorothy's spinning house?  I'll tell you!  The lint still gets collected! Even Anderson Cooper, the Silver Fox, falls onto my radar (Have you heard him giggle?  He sounds like a little girl!  It's so cute!)  CNN just makes the lint in my brain collect faster and thicker.  More "facts"?  My brain was already a neverending episode of "Pop-Up Video!  More "facts" I don't need!  And yes, I've turned "off" the TV but it doesn't matter, the trivia seeps through the computer, the phone or the nearest device (Which Keach is Jane Seymour married to?  James.  Stacey and James Keach are brothers who played brothers who were outlaws with the Carradine brothers...)  I could go on for days.  But you get the picture, Arby's says, "We have the meats,"  Well, I have the trivia!  Just ask!  The problem is, what am I going to do with all this trivia? Wait, I have an idea!  "Hoarders:  Brain Hoarding - when your brain has too much useless information sticking in your head!  Next week on AC 360/CNN".

Why Van Halen Will Make Me Walk Again!!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Another week has come and gone and I'm becoming more impatient to get moving and get out of my own head.  I have always preferred standing to sitting, walking to riding, pedaling rather than driving.  So being unable to walk, is probably the nastiest condition to deal with, for me.  I have every confidence that I just have to try the right solution, and I'll be running all over the place!  In the meantime, sometimes I get "parked" places, which is both surreal and hilarious!

For instance, one thing my PS (Patient Spouse) does routinely is practice his guitar, which I generally adore.  He was on a Beatles tear until recently when he rediscovered his electric axe and the guitar solos of one Mr. Edward Van Halen.  The timeless classics of Lennon & McCartney can be replayed endlessly on an acoustic guitar. Electric guitar and  Van Halen? - not so much.  VH is loud, in your face and very 80's.

As a 3P (perpetually parked person) I'm used to withstanding all manner of audio/visual input.  I don't like VH the same way "Sam-I-Am" didn't care for the colored eggs and pork.  I don't care what decade it was or which lead singer they were on, I don't ever need to hear Van Halen again!  So imagine how much I was loving life when I heard the electric intro to "Eruption" over and over!

When you're unable to walk, you're stuck!  You're virtually a potted plant.  A complaining potted plant, but a plant nonetheless.  Once you're "parked", you're really parked.  Being eye level to everyone's rear is bad enough.  So is wearing a wheelchair!  I don't need to be subjected to noise ala "Clockwork Orange" - I have more than enough to deal with!

I beat brain cancer just so I could see David Lee Roth run all over a stage in Spandex?  I can't.

How Brain Cancer Made Me Cheap! Or a Hillbilly, I'm Not Entirely Sure Which!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I suffer greatly from the "Rip Van Winkel" syndrome,after having brain surgery in 2011.  What I mean by that is my knowledge of the world and it's trends stopped short when I checked into the hospital!  (Or was rushed to an OR, with sirens!)  Everything from the pricepoint of food and clothing or a gallon of milk  along with home prices and the cost of shoes is based (for me) on what I saw in 2011.  Those prices have not adjusted  upward at all.  Certainly, my memories of '11 pricing have not kept pace with inflation. So "Holy Sticker Shock, Batman!"  My PS finds my dated recollections of objects and how much they cost humorous and slightly quaint.  Like he's thinking  I'm thinking, "Back in the old days, before new-fangled things like smart-phones came along, a gallon of gas was $ .75!"  Like, "Awww!  Isn't that cute?"  and "Gee, her brain is really damaged!" And, "See, I told you!  That's why I handle everything financial!"

The world and all it's associated costs will forever be priced in 2011 for me!  And you know what?  I'm inclined to leave the prices in 2011!  I'm getting  really cheap!  I've never been cheap before and I'll always reward superior service, but I am regularly gobsmacked by how much regular, boring, junk costs now!    What effect this annoying-yet-inevitable upswing in the price of everything from plane tickets to graham crackers has on me is that I never cared much about it and this petty unilateral increase just reinforces my conviction that money is simply a tool.  And one I'm not very adept at using.  When I was a kid, I'd buy things in foreign countries and haggling over the price (which is expected) was so unbearable for me I couldn't do it!  I've more always been uncomfortable talking about money, now more than ever!  In fact, it's always been one thing I've been only too happy to relinquish all control of all financial decisions to the PS.

I look at things (gadgets and cookies mostly) online and the prices seem a little less egregious, on the computer.  It's a lot easier to just not think about it, ignore the items altogether as unnecessary and useless.  So, the increase in the cost of everything should really come as no surprise to me. After three years the price of everything will undoubtedly rise.  Instead of reacting with my usual "Whatever.", I refuse to accept the inevitable, dogmatic increases in sundry goods.  I'm turning into Larry David.  "What, $4.00 for a cup of coffee?  I don't think so!"  I refuse to pay!  I'd rather think about paintings or look at a star.  Or think about a tulip. Something stunningly beautiful. Anything other than ponder the rising of the "filthy lucre".

It Was The Best of Times - Really, it was!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

As I suffered through yet another advertisement for "comfortable and discreet catheters", ("Why Sesame Street is worthwhile viewing!  Or "Why I love the Cookie Monster") it occurred to me:  Nothing "small" or "ordinary" ever seems to happen to me.  I don't get "Crohn's Disease or "gout" or anything cured by Humira.  No, I get a brain tumor! And it was huge!  And it  hurt!  A lot!  Once it was skillfully removed from my brain, (Thank You, HA!), I didn't recover in a year.  I'm still not "recovered".  But I am "cancer free", whatever that means.    I am reborn!  I have never been as impaired (I'm blind/unable to walk or speak) but you know what?  I feel great!  Never better!

And I'm still changing, physically, every day. I'm a little lighter, a little stronger.  Any source of discord I can't tolerate.    I don't waste a second thinking about anything negative.  Every day I wake up planning how I can be better for my family. I only consume water.  Nothing darker than clear. My glass is completely full.  I work on the weights and machines with unflagging energy and purpose.  I have nothing but joy in my heart and a light in my mind's eye.  I'll keep working for neuroplasticity until I find it, and then I'll work even harder!  PS is plainly in awe of my "mutation", he goes running and barks at my form on the equipment at the gym, I focus on relearning all my basic skills and getting stronger and he focuses on everything else.

And that's OK.  My PS reminds me of Pai Mei, Uma Thurman's "old-school" karate master in the Tarantino movies.  Pai-Mei would smack Uma over the head every time she made a karate error with his stick.  And by the end of their Kung Fu montage, the smacking had stopped and Uma and Pai Mei were training together.  Eventually her wily master's lessons would save her over and over.

Likewise,  my PS is trying to make me stronger, longer.  And it's working!  We can see it!  I am no longer drowning in excess skin like a really weird chicken!  I've developed lots of new muscles.  I can do things I've never been able to do before.  I'm profoundly glad just to be alive!  And endlessly grateful to my PS even if I can't say it.   His knowledge of science and innate bossiness have proven invaluable in this process!  Like Beatrix Kiddo getting trained by Pai Mei, I don't ask any questions and just go with it!  This is a temporary situation, and the lemonade aspect I've created (or lemon snaps!) is the way I "embrace the suck" on this journey.

Getting through this is what I'm supposed to do!  It might be insignificant in the grand scheme but success post-cancer is all I hope for.  That, and quality baked goods.  I always hope for those...