Oh, So That's Why.

One of the big questions is my life has always been "why?".

Why do I have to take the trash out every night? Why do I have to always be the responsible one? Why did I get cancer? Why twice? Why did I live?

I consider that "why" gene to be a blessing and a curse. The answers to tough questions has always been a chase for me, a pursuit for the truth and facts that explain or make things real and understandable. I have to know why. No, I demand to know why.

A big reason for my inactivity on this blog has been trying to figure out why I am still writing my innermost thoughts. What do I share? Is it still relevant? Does anyone care?

After the last few months, I think I have a clearer picture of why. I have had half-a-dozen friends, family members and just people I know battle with cancer. Some have lost the fight. Others in various stages. Amazing connections from my past have taken place. And perhaps the biggest news came when someone near to my heart was recently diagnosed with the same cancer I had.

Why was that big news? Because of my treatment in 2007––and the results of success––the Doctors had a better cure. Better information. Better results form clinical trial treatments. Better chance for cure. And my friend is better off than I was at this stage.

Why, that's the best news I've heard in a long time.

To learn more about HPV infection and HPV-related cancers, visit hpvandme.org

Sick & Tired Of Being Sick

Once you've had cancer–-at least for me––getting sick takes on another life.

You get paranoid. You get a little scared. You get impatient. And I get to show everyone the asshole that grows inside of me when I don't feel well and haven't slept. I'm now on Day 6 of being sick. And it's Memorial Day Weekend. I should be grillin' and chillin'. I'm sick and tired of being sick.

This started out as a slight rawness in the back of my throat. Since the head & neck cancer, any little thing that messes with my throat gives me flashbacks and feelings of "oh shit, what's this?". So I went to a GP Doctor on Friday––my regular Doc was busy and couldn't fit me in––and saw another Doc in the practice who has treated me before. Now I'm not saying she's not good or I don't like her. She's just not MY Doc, know what I mean? After waiting 25 minutes past the appointment time––another post for another time––I get in. After I tell the nurse everything, I have to go through it again with the Doctor. (So explain to me the reason why they have these little computers that call up all your information?)

Diagnosis? Sore throat. Headache. Aches and pain. Running eyes. No energy. No fever. I could have told them that. I did, in fact. "Must be a simple virus." There are no simple virus' as far as I'm concerned. The HPV virus is what gave me cancer. A simple virus? This only made me more cranky. And have to swallow a horse pill every 12 hours for the next 10 days.

Makes me even more sick and tired.

Cansurvivor

I've been in the most interesting state of mind I can remember in a long time.

Why? I have many thoughts, feelings, emotions and causes. And therein lies the issue, problem, situation and state of mind in itself. I'm a little over 2 years removed from my last chemo treatment and radiation. And since then I've had multiple gall bladder attacks that lead to removal and a myriad of physical crap that keeps me guessing. Is it the "side effects"? Is it stress? Is it my job? Is it all in my mind?

They don't tell you a lot of stuff when you are going through cancer treatment. And especially since my head & neck cancer is/was an unusual case––clinically the result of excessive alcohol & tobacco use and mostly found in people over 50––and has since been used as part of a study of the HPV virus and cancer in men. My cancer was in my tonsils, caused by HPV. Yeah, really.

So, is the scrambledness in my brain a result of chemo? Damn straight. How much? Who the hell knows. Is the fact that I wake-up every night, choking on my tongue because it's stuck to the back of my mouth/beginning of my throat part of the problem? Hell fucking yeah. Is my tolerance level of passive aggressive, know-it-all, sneaky-backstabbing people extremely low? Bet your life on it. But how do you explain all the crap that goes through your head, plays tricks with your body and generally has no road map for recovery or clinical explanation to those who are on the receiving end of you being an asshole? You can't. But I can explain one thing.

I am a survivor. A cansurvivor. Peace.

Gettin' Poked

No, I haven't switched to writing porn.

I'm talking about a date with a needle, one of many in the last two years with more to come. For the record, I hate needles. Which is not a good thing when you're going through chemo and radiation because of cancer. But here I was again, on Thursday of last week, getting a needle shoved into my arm for some blood work.

This all started Mother's Day, as I got real sick real fast after grillin' for the family. I had body aches, a very high fever and my throat was dry––drier than normal––and sore as hell. And that scared the crap out of me. When my throat gets jacked up, that's when I worry. So I went to the doctor's office of my GP. He was unavailable, so I had another Doc. Never seen her before. And she had never heard of my wild story of cancer––in my tonsils, caused by HPV, tube in my stomach for 10 months, gall blabber, etc.––so it was very uncomfortable for the both of us. Why? Ever notice when you're telling someone something that you THINK they should know about––in this case, some knowledge about cancer––and they look at you with that "whoa, this is new stuff to me!" kind of look? Yeah, that our conversation. And it didn't make me feel better at all.

She couldn't find anything wrong with me, testing me for strep throat and H1N1 flu. Nothin'. They didn't know what was wrong with me. That's when she suggested I see my oncologist. What the hell does that mean? I tried to listen to what else she had to say, but I was semi-shocked to hear her say that. You DO NOT want to hear, "I think you should see the cancer Doctors again again." So I asked her again, why do I have to see my oncologist? She said, "just like I said, it would be a good idea to see him." OK, I think it's a good idea that someone make me rich so I don't ever have to work again––but that doesn't mean jack shit. Just tell me, alright!

So I go get blood drained a week-and-a-half later. Blood work looks OK, but they want to do a closer look since I'm fatigued so much lately. What does that mean?

I will have to get poked again.