Here is a link to a really nice story the Fort Worth Star-Telegram did on Jerry:
http://www.star-telegram.com/obituaries/story/136547.html
And, here is a link to the slide show I had planned on running randomly and continuously at the wake, at the house after Jerry's memorial service. I was not able to show it because the electricity was out from before the first guest arrived until just as the last guest was leaving. They are in no particular order, as I was planning on running them in shuffle mode:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=c2fq0ej.3y04x7e3&x=0&y=-f7yebr
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Dad
Wayne drove Nolie to Houston today to pick up Jerry. Or, Jerry's ashes, I should say. I did not drive with them, as I had already expressed my displeasure with the idea of leaving Houston in the first place, on Tuesday, knowing we would only have to return on Thursday to retrieve the cremains. The word "cremains" reminds me of "craisins," the snack mix with cranberries and raisins.
I went looking through old family photo albums today, and found many pictures of Jerry, and his father, Grandaddy. (Other people called him Earnest, but I called him Grandaddy.) It occurred to me, and I did the math, that Grandaddy died when Daddy was just 44. I am only 40 today, and it must have been just as difficult for Dad then, as it is for me now. I remember Grandaddy was living at the Old Folk's Home in Mansfield, Texas, where we would visit him occasionally, and one night, the phone rang and the person calling said that Mr. Foose was being transferred to the Arlington Community Hospital. Mom and Dad left and came back several hours later, and Grandaddy was dead. In the mean time, Alien debuted on VEU, (pronounced "view") and scared the hell out of me while my parents were both gone and I was home alone. (VEU was a subscription service similar to HBO, except it was broadcast over the airwaves on a UHF channel after 7pm and you had to pay to have a special decoder box to decode the signal.) VEU was a precursor to cable. So, anyway, Nolie and Jerry left the house in a panic, were gone long enough for me to watch Alien in it's entirety, then came home and told me Grandaddy was dead. Alien always reminds me of my Grandfather.
I went looking through old family photo albums today, and found many pictures of Jerry, and his father, Grandaddy. (Other people called him Earnest, but I called him Grandaddy.) It occurred to me, and I did the math, that Grandaddy died when Daddy was just 44. I am only 40 today, and it must have been just as difficult for Dad then, as it is for me now. I remember Grandaddy was living at the Old Folk's Home in Mansfield, Texas, where we would visit him occasionally, and one night, the phone rang and the person calling said that Mr. Foose was being transferred to the Arlington Community Hospital. Mom and Dad left and came back several hours later, and Grandaddy was dead. In the mean time, Alien debuted on VEU, (pronounced "view") and scared the hell out of me while my parents were both gone and I was home alone. (VEU was a subscription service similar to HBO, except it was broadcast over the airwaves on a UHF channel after 7pm and you had to pay to have a special decoder box to decode the signal.) VEU was a precursor to cable. So, anyway, Nolie and Jerry left the house in a panic, were gone long enough for me to watch Alien in it's entirety, then came home and told me Grandaddy was dead. Alien always reminds me of my Grandfather.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
The Jerry Foose Memorial Scholarship
The Jerry Foose Memorial Scholarship has been established. Jerry's memory may be honored with a gift to:
The Jerry Foose Memorial Scholarship at White Deer ISD
P O Box 517
White Deer TX 79079
The Jerry Foose Memorial Scholarship at White Deer ISD
P O Box 517
White Deer TX 79079
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Memorial Service
A memorial service honoring Jerry's life will be held Friday June 15, 2007 at 4:00 p.m. at Shepherd of Life Lutheran Church, 715 East Lamar Boulevard, Arlington, Texas 76011.
Arrangements are being made to establish the Jerry Foose Memorial Scholarship Fund at White Deer High School in White Deer, Texas. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to this fund once it is established, or to The University of Texas M. D. Anderson Cancer Center, or to the charity of one's choice.
Arrangements are being made to establish the Jerry Foose Memorial Scholarship Fund at White Deer High School in White Deer, Texas. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to this fund once it is established, or to The University of Texas M. D. Anderson Cancer Center, or to the charity of one's choice.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Aria
Nolie was right. Daddy died today after she told him goodbye and left the room. I think he didn't want her to see him go. It happened very quickly after she left the hospital to go to the hotel to take a shower.
I noticed that his breathing was much less labored than it had been for the last two days, so I went over and held his hand. Eventually the breathing stopped. I contemplated calling the nurse, but instead, just waited until she came in with the next dose of Methadone. When she arrived I mentioned that he didn't seem to be moving much air, so she went to get her stethoscope. After listening with her stethoscope, she said she was going to get the Doctor because she couldn't hear anything. Okay, I've seen enough ER episodes to know what that means. Dr. Reddy made it official at about 1:04 p.m. CDT. I called Nolie and she came back right away.
Nolie pointed out that he held on long enough to get his June paycheck, and then she realized that June 2, 1958 was the day Jerry saw her going into the Administration Building on the UT Austin Campus to pay the Bursar for her classes. Nolie and Jerry had dated in the past, but hadn't seen each other for four years. Jerry waited outside for her and called her name when she came back out. Nolie recognized him immediately because Jerry always wore prescription sunglasses, and they've been together ever since. I choose to believe that he remembered today was the day, because it just makes a better story.
I will post more information here regarding services, etc. as it becomes available.
I noticed that his breathing was much less labored than it had been for the last two days, so I went over and held his hand. Eventually the breathing stopped. I contemplated calling the nurse, but instead, just waited until she came in with the next dose of Methadone. When she arrived I mentioned that he didn't seem to be moving much air, so she went to get her stethoscope. After listening with her stethoscope, she said she was going to get the Doctor because she couldn't hear anything. Okay, I've seen enough ER episodes to know what that means. Dr. Reddy made it official at about 1:04 p.m. CDT. I called Nolie and she came back right away.
Nolie pointed out that he held on long enough to get his June paycheck, and then she realized that June 2, 1958 was the day Jerry saw her going into the Administration Building on the UT Austin Campus to pay the Bursar for her classes. Nolie and Jerry had dated in the past, but hadn't seen each other for four years. Jerry waited outside for her and called her name when she came back out. Nolie recognized him immediately because Jerry always wore prescription sunglasses, and they've been together ever since. I choose to believe that he remembered today was the day, because it just makes a better story.
I will post more information here regarding services, etc. as it becomes available.
The Fat Lady Has Requested That the Lighting Designer Add Some Gels To Enhance Her Appearance
This Fat Lady moves pretty slowly.
Not much change today. Dad seems less restless to me, and seems to be keeping his arm in the bed instead of hanging it over the side like he was last night. The Weekend Doctor came in this morning and asked us again if we would like to stop the antibiotics. We said yes. They're not really doing anything anymore, and even if Dad's prognosis was different, they would have run their course by now.
Nolie keeps asking the doctors and nurses how long this will go on. Of course, it's a difficult question to answer, and they most often they respond with "any time now." Nolie suggested today that maybe it's like when I was born. Nothing was happening several hours after Mom went into labor, so Dad left the hospital and took Dumpling and Osito to Dr. Ferrell's office in Grand Prairie for their annual vaccinations. That's when I finally decided to make my entrance. I asked Nolie if she wanted to go to the vet's office, and she said no, that she might go buy some new panties since all her clean ones are already packed in the car. I can't believe I'm in a hospital room in Houston, Texas with my dying father, talking to my mother about her panties.
Not much change today. Dad seems less restless to me, and seems to be keeping his arm in the bed instead of hanging it over the side like he was last night. The Weekend Doctor came in this morning and asked us again if we would like to stop the antibiotics. We said yes. They're not really doing anything anymore, and even if Dad's prognosis was different, they would have run their course by now.
Nolie keeps asking the doctors and nurses how long this will go on. Of course, it's a difficult question to answer, and they most often they respond with "any time now." Nolie suggested today that maybe it's like when I was born. Nothing was happening several hours after Mom went into labor, so Dad left the hospital and took Dumpling and Osito to Dr. Ferrell's office in Grand Prairie for their annual vaccinations. That's when I finally decided to make my entrance. I asked Nolie if she wanted to go to the vet's office, and she said no, that she might go buy some new panties since all her clean ones are already packed in the car. I can't believe I'm in a hospital room in Houston, Texas with my dying father, talking to my mother about her panties.
Friday, June 1, 2007
You Don't Have To Speak English To Teach Math
It is 8:05 p.m. and the night nurse just came in to introduce himself. His name is Jian, pronounced "Jan" and reminds me of a TA I had in college for Business Math. Her name was "Jane." I never got to know "Jane" very well, as I'm about to explain.
On the first day of this class, the TA introduced herself to the class and wrote her name on the chalk board. We still had chalk boards when I was in college. The name that "Jane" wrote on the board was her actual name; the one her parents gave her when she was born, in China. It began with an X and was about 29 characters long. "Jane" was difficult at best to understand, and math has never really been something that comes easily for me, but I was determined to understand, as she explained, how she got "Jane" from "X????????????????????????????." For the next several minutes, "Jane" took various letters from her X word and eventually came up with the word "Xihn." She then said, "see, Jane." I immediately picked up my book bag and went directly to West Hall to stand in the add/drop line. We had to stand in line to drop a class when I was in college.
Jerry likes to hang his left hand off the edge of the bed lately. It makes it swell, so we keep moving it back to the bed on top of a pillow, but when I tried to do that again just a few minutes ago, his face grimaced with obvious pain, so I think I'll just let the arm dangle if that's how he wants it.
Nolie is staying at the hospital tonight, but I'm not sure I'm up for a night with Jian. I definitely know that I'm not up for a night with Jian and Nolie. I think I'll hang out here for another round of vital signs, and if nothing changes, go back to the hotel.
On the first day of this class, the TA introduced herself to the class and wrote her name on the chalk board. We still had chalk boards when I was in college. The name that "Jane" wrote on the board was her actual name; the one her parents gave her when she was born, in China. It began with an X and was about 29 characters long. "Jane" was difficult at best to understand, and math has never really been something that comes easily for me, but I was determined to understand, as she explained, how she got "Jane" from "X????????????????????????????." For the next several minutes, "Jane" took various letters from her X word and eventually came up with the word "Xihn." She then said, "see, Jane." I immediately picked up my book bag and went directly to West Hall to stand in the add/drop line. We had to stand in line to drop a class when I was in college.
Jerry likes to hang his left hand off the edge of the bed lately. It makes it swell, so we keep moving it back to the bed on top of a pillow, but when I tried to do that again just a few minutes ago, his face grimaced with obvious pain, so I think I'll just let the arm dangle if that's how he wants it.
Nolie is staying at the hospital tonight, but I'm not sure I'm up for a night with Jian. I definitely know that I'm not up for a night with Jian and Nolie. I think I'll hang out here for another round of vital signs, and if nothing changes, go back to the hotel.
The Fat Lady Is In the Footlights
Jerry's condition has not changed much over night. He still has cancer, and as his organs begin to shut down, his body is less able to move fluid, and so he has a big fluid bump on his head. He graduates today from Morphine to Methadone, and he doesn't even have to stand in line at a soup kitchen. There is also talk today of stopping antibiotics, but Nolie and I haven't decided yet what we think about that. His pulse ox is slowly creeping back up and is now 74%. Not great, but better than 40%.
Sabrina is our nurse today, and she graduated from Texas Tech. She tells me that Horn/Knapp Hall is air conditioned now, and even has thermostats in every room! Back in my day, if we were even lucky enough to have air conditioning, we certainly didn't have thermostats. If you wanted to adjust the temperature in your room you had to stack or unstack textbooks on top of the air vents. Kids today. . .
Sabrina is our nurse today, and she graduated from Texas Tech. She tells me that Horn/Knapp Hall is air conditioned now, and even has thermostats in every room! Back in my day, if we were even lucky enough to have air conditioning, we certainly didn't have thermostats. If you wanted to adjust the temperature in your room you had to stack or unstack textbooks on top of the air vents. Kids today. . .
Thursday, May 31, 2007
The Fat Lady Is Gargling With Warm Salt Water
The Cancer Van was full today during the short jaunt to the MDA campus. I sat in the very, very, very, back row of the Cancer Van, which is difficult to navigate to, especially with coffee and a briefcase, but I'm happy to ride back there because I can get there. Some people can't. I sat next to a lady from New Orleans so we talked about storm damage, etc. after The Big One of '05.
I arrived at Jerry's room, and Nolie and I had our daily Stand-Up meeting. There wasn't much to pass on. Jerry was the same as I left him last night; restless, coughing, and periodically raising both arms up to the ceiling as though someone was going to pick him up. Gayle said she's seen this before in hospice care.
After Nolie left to go the the hotel to take a shower, Karen, the Advanced Practice Nurse, came in and we talked about Jerry's cough. We decided to order a breathing treatment to see if we could loosen up some of the mucus in Jerry's lungs so he could breath more easily. For the last couple of days Jerry has been coughing very well, but not getting the mucus up far enough to suction out. Joe, the breathing guy, came up and administered the treatment, then pulled out a skinnier suction device than the one we'd been trying to use, and stuck it up Jerry's nose.
The skinnier device looks kind of like a slender, flexible, red garden snake. It can snake farther down Jerry's trachea to remove the mucus than the more rigid tool we were using before. Wow! Remove mucus, it did! Between the Slender Red Snake, and some sterile water to irrigate, we got out a whole bunch of nasty, black, tarry looking snot! Joe went through about six of the Slender Red Snakes because they kept getting clogged, and when he pulled the last one out, it had a big, nasty chunk stuck to the end of it that reminded me of a piece of shrimp on the end of a fishing hook. I actually said, "Ooh. Let's go fishing."
After the traumatic snot sucking, (and it was traumatic) they gave Jerry a little extra Morphine, and some Ativan. His pulse ox dropped to 41% and so they put him on 100% oxygen. His pulse ox started to rise and got as high as 85%, before dropping back down to the 40s. Karen believes he has another mucus plug in his left lung, because he's not moving much air through it. You can tell by watching him breathe, that the left side of his chest is not rising nearly as much as the right. The last time we checked his pulse ox, it was 61%. Pulse ox should be close to 100%. It would be great if Jerry could cough up that snot in his left lung. He would be able to breathe a little easier, and rest some. Anyway, in the mean time, he's on 100% Oxygen and breathing heavily.
Nolie is at MDA tonight, and I am at RIBM.
I arrived at Jerry's room, and Nolie and I had our daily Stand-Up meeting. There wasn't much to pass on. Jerry was the same as I left him last night; restless, coughing, and periodically raising both arms up to the ceiling as though someone was going to pick him up. Gayle said she's seen this before in hospice care.
After Nolie left to go the the hotel to take a shower, Karen, the Advanced Practice Nurse, came in and we talked about Jerry's cough. We decided to order a breathing treatment to see if we could loosen up some of the mucus in Jerry's lungs so he could breath more easily. For the last couple of days Jerry has been coughing very well, but not getting the mucus up far enough to suction out. Joe, the breathing guy, came up and administered the treatment, then pulled out a skinnier suction device than the one we'd been trying to use, and stuck it up Jerry's nose.
The skinnier device looks kind of like a slender, flexible, red garden snake. It can snake farther down Jerry's trachea to remove the mucus than the more rigid tool we were using before. Wow! Remove mucus, it did! Between the Slender Red Snake, and some sterile water to irrigate, we got out a whole bunch of nasty, black, tarry looking snot! Joe went through about six of the Slender Red Snakes because they kept getting clogged, and when he pulled the last one out, it had a big, nasty chunk stuck to the end of it that reminded me of a piece of shrimp on the end of a fishing hook. I actually said, "Ooh. Let's go fishing."
After the traumatic snot sucking, (and it was traumatic) they gave Jerry a little extra Morphine, and some Ativan. His pulse ox dropped to 41% and so they put him on 100% oxygen. His pulse ox started to rise and got as high as 85%, before dropping back down to the 40s. Karen believes he has another mucus plug in his left lung, because he's not moving much air through it. You can tell by watching him breathe, that the left side of his chest is not rising nearly as much as the right. The last time we checked his pulse ox, it was 61%. Pulse ox should be close to 100%. It would be great if Jerry could cough up that snot in his left lung. He would be able to breathe a little easier, and rest some. Anyway, in the mean time, he's on 100% Oxygen and breathing heavily.
Nolie is at MDA tonight, and I am at RIBM.
Burn, Baby, Burn!
Just as an addendum, the Nursing Assistant just came in to empty Jerry's urine. They haven't changed the names on the board since shift change, and I couldn't see her name badge, but her afro is about 6 inches deep, so I'm just calling her Disco Inferno.
The Fat Lady Is In the Wings
I spent the last two nights at the hospital with Dad, and each night he has been less OK than the night before. Last night he never woke up to look at me at all, and so I didn't even have an opportunity to have him suck water off of the Sponge Tool. I was hoping I could feed him some Carnation VHC Drink, which seemed to give him some energy the last time he had some. Three days ago when he had a can of the VHC Drink, he opened his eyes, laughed, and talked a little. Last night, all he did was cough. Alot. All night.
The VHC in Carnation VHC Drink stands for Very High Calorie. It has 560 calories per 8 oz. serving, and is what they give people who can't or don't eat. I like that the name of the product is also the description of the product, because it just makes things easier. One of my pet peeves is going to a Mexican restaurant, and having to read the fine print to find out what the difference is between the Vera Cruz, the Acapulco, the Tampico, and the Guadalajara. The one with one beef enchilada and one cheese enchilada should be called "Enchilada Dinner" and the one with puffed tacos should be called "Puffed Taco Dinner." The fine print below the menu category and above the actual items is OK. This is where it usually says, "All combination platters are served with Spanish rice and refried beans. Burracho or black beans are available upon request."
As I was leaving the hospital tonight, Dad's nurse, Gayle, said that she wouldn't be surprised if we weren't able to transport Dad to Arlington for hospice care. Meaning, that he probably is not going to get better enough to transport, and this may all go down right here in Houston. I think she's right, and it makes me sad because I really would like for Jerry to see Sterling and Silver again. It would be good for Jerry, and it would be good for Sterling and Silver. I would hate for the dogs to think that Daddy just up and left. I have told them in recent weeks that Daddy has cancer, and also that he wouldn't have it if they were better dogs. (Note to my cousin Beth: Don't worry, they aren't that fluent in English. All they heard was, "blah, blah, blah, Daddy, blah, blah.) Gayle's opinion was solicited by the way, she wasn't just yaking. I respect her opinion because she really does seem to care, and because she has worked for M. D. Anderson since 1975. I mentioned that her picure on her ID card looked "youthful" but it didn't come out as I intended. I really need to clip my toenails if I'm going to be sticking my foot into my mouth like that. At least I stopped talking before I mentioned that in 1975 I was in second grade.
It is 1:07 a.m. as I type this post in the Gatehouse of the RIBM, and I haven't heard from Nolie tonight, which is a good sign, for now. I know she'll call if she needs me, and I finally assigned her her own ringtone so I'll know it's her.
The VHC in Carnation VHC Drink stands for Very High Calorie. It has 560 calories per 8 oz. serving, and is what they give people who can't or don't eat. I like that the name of the product is also the description of the product, because it just makes things easier. One of my pet peeves is going to a Mexican restaurant, and having to read the fine print to find out what the difference is between the Vera Cruz, the Acapulco, the Tampico, and the Guadalajara. The one with one beef enchilada and one cheese enchilada should be called "Enchilada Dinner" and the one with puffed tacos should be called "Puffed Taco Dinner." The fine print below the menu category and above the actual items is OK. This is where it usually says, "All combination platters are served with Spanish rice and refried beans. Burracho or black beans are available upon request."
As I was leaving the hospital tonight, Dad's nurse, Gayle, said that she wouldn't be surprised if we weren't able to transport Dad to Arlington for hospice care. Meaning, that he probably is not going to get better enough to transport, and this may all go down right here in Houston. I think she's right, and it makes me sad because I really would like for Jerry to see Sterling and Silver again. It would be good for Jerry, and it would be good for Sterling and Silver. I would hate for the dogs to think that Daddy just up and left. I have told them in recent weeks that Daddy has cancer, and also that he wouldn't have it if they were better dogs. (Note to my cousin Beth: Don't worry, they aren't that fluent in English. All they heard was, "blah, blah, blah, Daddy, blah, blah.) Gayle's opinion was solicited by the way, she wasn't just yaking. I respect her opinion because she really does seem to care, and because she has worked for M. D. Anderson since 1975. I mentioned that her picure on her ID card looked "youthful" but it didn't come out as I intended. I really need to clip my toenails if I'm going to be sticking my foot into my mouth like that. At least I stopped talking before I mentioned that in 1975 I was in second grade.
It is 1:07 a.m. as I type this post in the Gatehouse of the RIBM, and I haven't heard from Nolie tonight, which is a good sign, for now. I know she'll call if she needs me, and I finally assigned her her own ringtone so I'll know it's her.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Why Map Skills Are Important
The public restroom closest to Jerry's room is out of service due to renovation. Fortunately, the Capital Project & Management Department has posted a map outside the restroom with directions to the designated alternate. Here is a picture of the map, along with a picture of both the out of service restroom, and the alternate.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
"The Thickening Gel You Can't Taste!"
Jerry seems better to me today than he did yesterday. He has opened his eyes more, and has spoken just a couple of words. Earlier today when Nolie said, "Jerry" he replied, "what?" And, when I asked him today if he wanted some more water, he replied, "yeah." When I first got here this morning, Nolie went downstairs to get something to eat, and that's when I noticed Jerry kind of sticking out his tongue. I dipped one of the Sponge On the End Of a Stick tools into some water, and he sucked it dry. After doing this more than a few times, I busted out the bendy straws and let him suck down a total of about two cups. Apparently, I broke a rule. Jerry is NPO, and therefore not allowed to have anything orally, because there is a concern he will choke; however, his epiglottis seemed to be working just fine to me. Later in the day he had about another two cups of water, but this time, only via the 1cm x 1cm x 2cm Sponge On the End Of a Stick tool. The doctor now has said that he can have clear liquids, but only by the spoonful, and preferably with a "thickening agent" added. The thickening agent is called Simply Thick, and has the tagline on the package "The Thickening Gel You Can't Taste." It almost sounds as appetizing as "Potted Meat Food Product."
Saturday, May 26, 2007
The Fat Lady Is Making Her Way To the Stage
Dad has pneumonia, and has been moved to the palliative care floor. Mom has been talking to a social worker about transporting him to hospice care back home in Arlington. Dr. Siefker told Nolie that she regrets having started him on another course of chemo, because his body just can't take it and he may have had a few months longer otherwise.
Jerry was asleep when I got to his hospital room this morning, and stayed asleep most of the day. He's awake now, but hasn't spoken all day. I know he can see me, and he will squeeze Nolie's hand if she asks him to. He ate yesterday, and has had a few spoonfulls (spoonsfull?) of applesauce today. He is being given two different IV antibiotics; one for the known infection, and another as a prophylactic in case there's an infection we don't know about.
Nolie is downstairs eating right now, and Jerry keeps raising his left hand up to his head, kind of like he's trying to adjust a hat, only he is not wearing a hat. I thought that maybe he wanted his glasses off, so I removed them, but he's still reaching for his head. Occasionally, he coughs also, like a cat coughing up a hairball.
Nolie says that he seems much better today than he did yesterday. He is much worse than the last time I saw him.
It is very irritating to watch t.v. here because there is no TiVo. I really miss the Go Back Eight Seconds button. It must be John Wayne's birthday today or something, because it seems like there's been a John Wayne movie on all day long. I also watched some movie with Geena Davis and some talking mice in Spanish today.
Jerry was asleep when I got to his hospital room this morning, and stayed asleep most of the day. He's awake now, but hasn't spoken all day. I know he can see me, and he will squeeze Nolie's hand if she asks him to. He ate yesterday, and has had a few spoonfulls (spoonsfull?) of applesauce today. He is being given two different IV antibiotics; one for the known infection, and another as a prophylactic in case there's an infection we don't know about.
Nolie is downstairs eating right now, and Jerry keeps raising his left hand up to his head, kind of like he's trying to adjust a hat, only he is not wearing a hat. I thought that maybe he wanted his glasses off, so I removed them, but he's still reaching for his head. Occasionally, he coughs also, like a cat coughing up a hairball.
Nolie says that he seems much better today than he did yesterday. He is much worse than the last time I saw him.
It is very irritating to watch t.v. here because there is no TiVo. I really miss the Go Back Eight Seconds button. It must be John Wayne's birthday today or something, because it seems like there's been a John Wayne movie on all day long. I also watched some movie with Geena Davis and some talking mice in Spanish today.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Soylent Foul
As you may or may not know, the RIBM has a complimentary happy hour four days a week, Monday through Thursday. This happy hour includes some kind of snack, that is usually enough to be considered a meal. Tonight's meal was "Crispy Breaded Chicken Sandwich." I knew exactly what this meant: The "chicken" was pre-cooked, pre-breaded, processed, and ready to "heat 'n' serve." I am not a huge food snob; however, I would never seek this particular meal out. But, when accessibility, hunger, and freeness, all converge--it is the obvious meal of choice. I question, though, whether each individual chicken patty even is even derived from the same chicken, and even hesitate to call it chicken. I call it Soylent Foul.
Jerry's Chemo Brain was in full swing tonight, and when we went to eat the Soylent Foul, the manifestation was intense. Nolie went through the serving line to prepare Jerry's sandwich, and brought it to the table. Upon presentation, Nolie asked Jerry if he would like mayonnaise on his sandwich. Jerry countered with, "what is best?" Nolie and Jerry went around and around about mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, etc, until Jerry finally became very agitated, and said that he wanted the sandwich, "as it was designed to be served." I totally got what he meant, and Nolie totally did not. Many times I have told wait-people that I want a menu item "however it comes." Jerry and I are not picky, and "however it comes" eliminates the need to make a decision, which I know for me, is a treat, since I spend all day long every day making decisions, because other people don't seem to be able to do so. At this point I explained to Jerry that the traditional White Trash Chicken Sandwich is served with mayonnaise and a slice of American cheese on a bun. I squirted the mayonnaise onto the cheese and spread it around by mashing the top bun onto the mayo and smearing it. Jerry seemed to accept this, and ate most of his sandwich. I am both proud and scared that I was able to understand how Jerry wanted his sandwich, because Jerry is brilliant and organized to the point of absurdity, and because some day I will probably be every bit as absurd and cantankerous. It also illustrates other characteristics I have in common with my Dad, for example, procrastination.
Looking back, it is no wonder to me that I seem to have a gift for procrastination. I can even remember Jerry telling me that I was a procrastinator when we were living in the Old House. My childhood memories are divided between Old House and New House. We moved out of the Old House when I was three. He would tell me I was a procrastinator when it would take me an hour or so to get around to taking my bedtime bath. Well, just let me tell you this story about procrastination.
When I was very young, (New House, but still young) I remember going with my parents one weekend to some antique store in Arlington, where some man showed my father a very nice, very expensive, newly restored, antique roll-top desk. Jerry paid the man for the desk, and then called a different man with a truck to pick the desk up, take it to his shop, strip it, dismantle it into each individual component, and then deliver it to the New House. The plan was for Jerry to "re-build the desk" and be able to say, "I built this desk myself." It was a very nice desk.
The desk sat in the garage of the New House--unassembled--for nine years; after which Nolie called a different man, with a different truck, to pick the desk pieces up from the New House, take them to his shop, re-assemble them, and return them to the New House. It really is a pretty desk, and I suppose some day it will be mine. I suppose it's more about the story behind the desk, than the actual desk itself.
I really had a good couple of days in Houston with Nolie & Jerry. Later in the week I'll try to find time to tell the story of the Chair Feud Nolie is having with the neighbors at the RIBM.
Jerry's Chemo Brain was in full swing tonight, and when we went to eat the Soylent Foul, the manifestation was intense. Nolie went through the serving line to prepare Jerry's sandwich, and brought it to the table. Upon presentation, Nolie asked Jerry if he would like mayonnaise on his sandwich. Jerry countered with, "what is best?" Nolie and Jerry went around and around about mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, etc, until Jerry finally became very agitated, and said that he wanted the sandwich, "as it was designed to be served." I totally got what he meant, and Nolie totally did not. Many times I have told wait-people that I want a menu item "however it comes." Jerry and I are not picky, and "however it comes" eliminates the need to make a decision, which I know for me, is a treat, since I spend all day long every day making decisions, because other people don't seem to be able to do so. At this point I explained to Jerry that the traditional White Trash Chicken Sandwich is served with mayonnaise and a slice of American cheese on a bun. I squirted the mayonnaise onto the cheese and spread it around by mashing the top bun onto the mayo and smearing it. Jerry seemed to accept this, and ate most of his sandwich. I am both proud and scared that I was able to understand how Jerry wanted his sandwich, because Jerry is brilliant and organized to the point of absurdity, and because some day I will probably be every bit as absurd and cantankerous. It also illustrates other characteristics I have in common with my Dad, for example, procrastination.
Looking back, it is no wonder to me that I seem to have a gift for procrastination. I can even remember Jerry telling me that I was a procrastinator when we were living in the Old House. My childhood memories are divided between Old House and New House. We moved out of the Old House when I was three. He would tell me I was a procrastinator when it would take me an hour or so to get around to taking my bedtime bath. Well, just let me tell you this story about procrastination.
When I was very young, (New House, but still young) I remember going with my parents one weekend to some antique store in Arlington, where some man showed my father a very nice, very expensive, newly restored, antique roll-top desk. Jerry paid the man for the desk, and then called a different man with a truck to pick the desk up, take it to his shop, strip it, dismantle it into each individual component, and then deliver it to the New House. The plan was for Jerry to "re-build the desk" and be able to say, "I built this desk myself." It was a very nice desk.
The desk sat in the garage of the New House--unassembled--for nine years; after which Nolie called a different man, with a different truck, to pick the desk pieces up from the New House, take them to his shop, re-assemble them, and return them to the New House. It really is a pretty desk, and I suppose some day it will be mine. I suppose it's more about the story behind the desk, than the actual desk itself.
I really had a good couple of days in Houston with Nolie & Jerry. Later in the week I'll try to find time to tell the story of the Chair Feud Nolie is having with the neighbors at the RIBM.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Jerry Eats a Muffuletta
Well, Jerry decided he wanted to stay at the RIBM and sleep instead of venture out with Nolie and me. We brought Jerry back a muffuletta from Jason's Deli, but she and I actually ate at a tapas bar called Mi Luna. Nolie thought it was going to be Mexican, but it turned out to be Spanish. I knew when we looked at the menu that it wasn't what she expected and that she wouldn't like it, and after some debate about whether or not to leave, we decided to stay. Nolie had some kind of meat on a stick, and I had snails. The sauce with the snails was really good, but the snails themselves were kind of gritty. I like my snails clean. 
Jerry just woke up to take his medicine and eat his mufuletta. He had a slight fever earlier today, but it is gone now and he says he feels, "pretty good."
Nolie declined to be photographed for this post due to her Silver Yarmulke.
Happy Mother's Day
Jerry's hair is starting to come back, just in time for more chemo. His first round was Thursday, and only took four hours, and he got to go back "home" the same day. I am now able to recognize the "chemo brain" that Nolie talks about. It takes Dad just a little longer to retrieve words, but he eventually does if you just give him time.
There is talk of a Mother's Day Meal at Jason's Deli today. I like the idea because it doesn't require me to wear anything that is dry clean only, and Dad likes the muffulettas. Before we eat though, we're going to go sit in the lobby so the Room Attendant can clean the room. We told her we'd be out at dos en punto, and I think it's funny that Nolie is learning what I have known for a long time, and that is that if you are speaking English to a non-English speaking person, then follow up with "do you understand," the response is often "yes" even when the real answer is no. The same apparently applies to asking chemo patients if they have to go to the bathroom before boarding the Cancer Van. The real answer is usually yes.
There is talk of a Mother's Day Meal at Jason's Deli today. I like the idea because it doesn't require me to wear anything that is dry clean only, and Dad likes the muffulettas. Before we eat though, we're going to go sit in the lobby so the Room Attendant can clean the room. We told her we'd be out at dos en punto, and I think it's funny that Nolie is learning what I have known for a long time, and that is that if you are speaking English to a non-English speaking person, then follow up with "do you understand," the response is often "yes" even when the real answer is no. The same apparently applies to asking chemo patients if they have to go to the bathroom before boarding the Cancer Van. The real answer is usually yes.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Maybe Lung Spots Aren't Always Cancer
Whew! Has it really been since my Grandmother's 93rd birthday that I last updated the Blog? Here's what's new:
Jerry in in pain again, and taking the super-duper pain pills. He has two kinds of pain pills. The regular ones and the super-duper ones. The pain pills make him say funny things, but I really do think it's the pain pills and not Dad losing his mind. According to Nolie, he used the word "autograph" when he meant to say "audience" and "advertisement" instead of "hand towel." At least he came up with a word. Sometimes all I can get out is "doo-hickey" or "squiggly thing."
Jerry met with Dr. Siefker again today, and now, she's not so sure the suspicious spots on the lungs are cancer after all. They haven't grown, and some of them are gone. The original bladder tumor, however, is still there, and large again. Dad will start a different chemo drug tomorrow which will be administered every other week as an outpatient. This drug takes four hours to administer as opposed to the couple of days that the last one took. It is weaker than the last one, and if he tolerates it well, she may try a stronger one.
Nolie thought she had found a place to get her hair and nails done in Houston, so she made an appointment. However, when she showed up it didn't meet her cleanliness standards so she turned around and walked out. It's just like when we would stop at a Dairy Queen or something on a road trip when I was growing up. You can always count on Nolie's Restroom Cleanliness Report.
I think those are all the key points. I wasn't able to visit Jerry last week, but hope to visit soon and get better, first-hand information. I am somewhat relieved about the lung spots though.
Jerry in in pain again, and taking the super-duper pain pills. He has two kinds of pain pills. The regular ones and the super-duper ones. The pain pills make him say funny things, but I really do think it's the pain pills and not Dad losing his mind. According to Nolie, he used the word "autograph" when he meant to say "audience" and "advertisement" instead of "hand towel." At least he came up with a word. Sometimes all I can get out is "doo-hickey" or "squiggly thing."
Jerry met with Dr. Siefker again today, and now, she's not so sure the suspicious spots on the lungs are cancer after all. They haven't grown, and some of them are gone. The original bladder tumor, however, is still there, and large again. Dad will start a different chemo drug tomorrow which will be administered every other week as an outpatient. This drug takes four hours to administer as opposed to the couple of days that the last one took. It is weaker than the last one, and if he tolerates it well, she may try a stronger one.
Nolie thought she had found a place to get her hair and nails done in Houston, so she made an appointment. However, when she showed up it didn't meet her cleanliness standards so she turned around and walked out. It's just like when we would stop at a Dairy Queen or something on a road trip when I was growing up. You can always count on Nolie's Restroom Cleanliness Report.
I think those are all the key points. I wasn't able to visit Jerry last week, but hope to visit soon and get better, first-hand information. I am somewhat relieved about the lung spots though.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
I Guess That Makes Me the Grandson
I just got off the phone with Nolie, and I thought this was funny enough to run straight to my office to post.
Dad is leaving the OFH today, and on the way downstairs in the elevator, one of the nurses aides said to my Mother, "How's your father doing? I hear you get to take him home today."
I'm glad Nolie hasn't made good on her threat to go grey. It didn't work for JoBeth Williams in Poltergeist, and I don't think it would work for Nolie.
Dad is leaving the OFH today, and on the way downstairs in the elevator, one of the nurses aides said to my Mother, "How's your father doing? I hear you get to take him home today."
I'm glad Nolie hasn't made good on her threat to go grey. It didn't work for JoBeth Williams in Poltergeist, and I don't think it would work for Nolie.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
More Cancer and Frito Pie
I really wish I could find more time to update the Blog, because even when there's not really any news to report, I've thought of some funny Jerry stories that some might find amusing. Back in the Good 'Ol Days, I'd just stay up late to get stuff done, but I'm not one of those people who can get by on less than eight hours of sleep anymore. It seems lately that by the time I get off work, go home, change clothes, go to the park and run, then come home and lift weights, there's barely time to cook something to eat before it's time to go to bed. I have to go to the park and run like a real runner now, since my treadmill caught fire while I was on it a few months ago. I use the term "real runner" loosely. My college roommate, Dickie, is a real runner. He's running in the Boston Marathon--again--on Monday, and he usually makes pretty good time. I think last year his time was like 3:11:something. Not bad for a forty year old White guy.
So here's what's going on with Dad. Wednesday Jerry had a full day of appointments involving various tests, to prepare for his meeting with Dr. Siefker on Thursday. Blood work, CAT scans, etc. He had been doing so well in the OFH, and the physical therapist remarked on how much progress he was making each day. When Jerry woke up on Wednesday morning he was in tremendous pain and could barely make it out of bed. Nolie describes it as though he hadn't even been receiving therapy at all, and seemed to be right back at square one. As it turns out, the doctor at the OFH took Dad off his Celebrex. I did not know this had happened. Nolie did not know this had happened. Jerry did not know this had happened. There was no, "Mrs. Foose, we think we should take Jerry off the Celebrex because of blah, blah, blah. Nothing. This is where Nolie's forcefulness comes in handy. The next morning she told the staff to put him back on the Celebrex. Initially, she was met with a number of excuses as to why that would not be possible. The doctor that discontinued it was on vacation, because it had been discontinued the drug had been sent back to wherever it came from, etc. Nolie did not give them any choices. It was get him back on the Celebrex, and do it now. They did, but he had already been off the drug since Monday, and the dose that morning couldn't work quickly enough to enable Jerry to make a stellar impression when he met with Dr. Siefker at 2:30 p.m.
The CAT scan revealed that the tumor has started to grow back, but is not as large as it was when he began chemo before. Somewhere in between, I suppose. Also, there are some "spots" on Jerry's lungs that Dr. Siefker believes to be bladder cancer that has spread. This has not yet been confirmed, but she is the professional, and seems to know what she's talking about. Dr. Siefker also said that she is 95% certain that Dr. Dinney would say that he would not be able to remove the whole tumor, and that at this time, Jerry could not be considered a serious candidate for surgery; however, she also said that if Dr. Dinney believed that he could still remove the tumor, she would support that decision.
The plan now is for Jerry to wait four weeks and then try a different chemotherapy drug. I was certain that we were told that if the tumor started to grow back, that he would not be able to receive chemo again, but maybe it's just that he couldn't use the same drug again. Anyway, the plan is to wait four weeks. I'm not sure if the four week waiting period is to re-gain strength, or to complete the antibiotics for the supposed infection. That was unclear, and I plan to find out tomorrow when I go to Dad's appointment with him.
Nolie has used metaphors describing the food at the OFH that include the word Alpo more than once, so tonight I cooked supper. The current routine is for Nolie to check Jerry out of the OFH in the morning, then check him back in in the evening. That way, they can spend time together at the RIBM, and he can eat good food. Because we have been told that Jerry needs more protein and salt, I chose to prepare Frito Pie. For those of you who live above the Mason-Dixon Line, Frito Pie is made with Fritos brand corn chips (salt), covered with chili (protein), cheese, and raw onions. It's not real chili though, it's the French's brand seasoning packet mixed with ground beef, including a can of tomatoes and a can of red kidney beans. Yes, all you chili purists, I know that real chili doesn't have beans, and please spare me the FYI e-mails, but I like it that way and legumes equals more protein. For those of you who live below the Mason-Dixon Line, seriously--often times they don't know what Frito Pie is. I have to explain it often, and it never ceases to amaze me that they've never heard of this staple. If I had a dollar for every time I had to explain it. . .well, you get it. I also frequently find myself explaining biscuits and gravy, grits, and corny dogs.
After supper Nolie, Jerry, and myself went outside so Dad could practice walking up and down some stairs to get ready for getting into and out of the Cancer Van tomorrow. He actually did a really good job, and I noticed that Nolie is a little less protective of him than she always was of me when I was growing up. She let him walk up five steps and wasn't even anywhere near him in case he fell. My instinct was to be no more than two steps behind him in case he fell, but I'm probably more used to taking care of drunk people than old people. I think drunk people fall more. Jerry not only walked up the five steps by himself, twice, with no problems; but he also walked to the steps by himself without his walker. I got him to walk up the steps a second time the same way my grandfather got me to hike up the Pyramid of the Moon near Mexico City a second time when I was in the sixth grade. I climbed all the way to the top, after climbing all the way to the top of the neighboring Pyramid of the Sun, by the way, (which is taller, but not quite as steep), and came bounding down to find my grandfather, Papa, hanging out and talking to the locals, as usual. I asked if he'd seen me all the way up on top of the Pyramid of the Moon, and he said no, he didn't see it, go do it again. Of course, I did. I think it may have been a ploy to get me worn out so I would sleep that night.
If you didn't understand about pantses in the previous post, it's because you haven't spent much time in New Orleans, and because I thought I had mentioned it here, but looking back, I only covered "'for' for 'at'" and "making groceries." My apologies. That's how the locals say pants there. Don't ask, it's not worth it.
That's all for now. I hope to know more tomorrow. We pick Jerry up at the OFH around 11:00 a.m., then back to the RIBM to ride the Cancer Van to our appointments at the Cancer Center.
So here's what's going on with Dad. Wednesday Jerry had a full day of appointments involving various tests, to prepare for his meeting with Dr. Siefker on Thursday. Blood work, CAT scans, etc. He had been doing so well in the OFH, and the physical therapist remarked on how much progress he was making each day. When Jerry woke up on Wednesday morning he was in tremendous pain and could barely make it out of bed. Nolie describes it as though he hadn't even been receiving therapy at all, and seemed to be right back at square one. As it turns out, the doctor at the OFH took Dad off his Celebrex. I did not know this had happened. Nolie did not know this had happened. Jerry did not know this had happened. There was no, "Mrs. Foose, we think we should take Jerry off the Celebrex because of blah, blah, blah. Nothing. This is where Nolie's forcefulness comes in handy. The next morning she told the staff to put him back on the Celebrex. Initially, she was met with a number of excuses as to why that would not be possible. The doctor that discontinued it was on vacation, because it had been discontinued the drug had been sent back to wherever it came from, etc. Nolie did not give them any choices. It was get him back on the Celebrex, and do it now. They did, but he had already been off the drug since Monday, and the dose that morning couldn't work quickly enough to enable Jerry to make a stellar impression when he met with Dr. Siefker at 2:30 p.m.
The CAT scan revealed that the tumor has started to grow back, but is not as large as it was when he began chemo before. Somewhere in between, I suppose. Also, there are some "spots" on Jerry's lungs that Dr. Siefker believes to be bladder cancer that has spread. This has not yet been confirmed, but she is the professional, and seems to know what she's talking about. Dr. Siefker also said that she is 95% certain that Dr. Dinney would say that he would not be able to remove the whole tumor, and that at this time, Jerry could not be considered a serious candidate for surgery; however, she also said that if Dr. Dinney believed that he could still remove the tumor, she would support that decision.
The plan now is for Jerry to wait four weeks and then try a different chemotherapy drug. I was certain that we were told that if the tumor started to grow back, that he would not be able to receive chemo again, but maybe it's just that he couldn't use the same drug again. Anyway, the plan is to wait four weeks. I'm not sure if the four week waiting period is to re-gain strength, or to complete the antibiotics for the supposed infection. That was unclear, and I plan to find out tomorrow when I go to Dad's appointment with him.
Nolie has used metaphors describing the food at the OFH that include the word Alpo more than once, so tonight I cooked supper. The current routine is for Nolie to check Jerry out of the OFH in the morning, then check him back in in the evening. That way, they can spend time together at the RIBM, and he can eat good food. Because we have been told that Jerry needs more protein and salt, I chose to prepare Frito Pie. For those of you who live above the Mason-Dixon Line, Frito Pie is made with Fritos brand corn chips (salt), covered with chili (protein), cheese, and raw onions. It's not real chili though, it's the French's brand seasoning packet mixed with ground beef, including a can of tomatoes and a can of red kidney beans. Yes, all you chili purists, I know that real chili doesn't have beans, and please spare me the FYI e-mails, but I like it that way and legumes equals more protein. For those of you who live below the Mason-Dixon Line, seriously--often times they don't know what Frito Pie is. I have to explain it often, and it never ceases to amaze me that they've never heard of this staple. If I had a dollar for every time I had to explain it. . .well, you get it. I also frequently find myself explaining biscuits and gravy, grits, and corny dogs.
After supper Nolie, Jerry, and myself went outside so Dad could practice walking up and down some stairs to get ready for getting into and out of the Cancer Van tomorrow. He actually did a really good job, and I noticed that Nolie is a little less protective of him than she always was of me when I was growing up. She let him walk up five steps and wasn't even anywhere near him in case he fell. My instinct was to be no more than two steps behind him in case he fell, but I'm probably more used to taking care of drunk people than old people. I think drunk people fall more. Jerry not only walked up the five steps by himself, twice, with no problems; but he also walked to the steps by himself without his walker. I got him to walk up the steps a second time the same way my grandfather got me to hike up the Pyramid of the Moon near Mexico City a second time when I was in the sixth grade. I climbed all the way to the top, after climbing all the way to the top of the neighboring Pyramid of the Sun, by the way, (which is taller, but not quite as steep), and came bounding down to find my grandfather, Papa, hanging out and talking to the locals, as usual. I asked if he'd seen me all the way up on top of the Pyramid of the Moon, and he said no, he didn't see it, go do it again. Of course, I did. I think it may have been a ploy to get me worn out so I would sleep that night.
If you didn't understand about pantses in the previous post, it's because you haven't spent much time in New Orleans, and because I thought I had mentioned it here, but looking back, I only covered "'for' for 'at'" and "making groceries." My apologies. That's how the locals say pants there. Don't ask, it's not worth it.
That's all for now. I hope to know more tomorrow. We pick Jerry up at the OFH around 11:00 a.m., then back to the RIBM to ride the Cancer Van to our appointments at the Cancer Center.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Missing Pantses
The cool white blood cell test did not reveal anything. My friend, Joe, who works in the Infectious Disease department at the V. A. Hospital in New Orleans, tells me that it's not necessarily a perfect test, and the fact that nothing was learned from it doesn't really mean anything. I guess it would have meant something if the little white blood cells did find an infection to fight.
Jerry did not make any real progress at all in the Physical Therapy department at M. D. Anderson, and therefore, could not stay. If you're not making progress, you can't stay. Because Nolie can't catch Jerry if he falls trying to walk, he is now in a Skilled Nursing Facility in Houston a few miles away from M. D. Anderson. Back in the day, we called it the Old Folks' Home. I guess today they call it Skilled Nursing Facility. Being Old School, I will continue to call it the Old Folks' Home, or OFH for short.
Since arriving at the OFH, Jerry has really made significant progress. He is in the next to the last room down the hall on his floor, and yesterday was able to not only get out of bed by himself, but was also able to walk all the way down the long, long hallway. By himself means with no help from people, only the help of a walker. He's kind of funny getting out of bed, because he "bounces" to get momentum to get to his feet. Whatever works. He is a Propulsion Engineer, after all. The original plan was for Jerry to stay in the OFH for twenty days, but since he's making such great progress, Nolie thinks she can take care of him at the RIBM as long as he can get out of bed by himself. He hasn't even had any official P. T. yet since he just checked in on Friday. Maybe it's something psychological about being in a hospital. After his stroke in 2005, he made dramatic improvement as soon as he checked out of the hospital, and into the rehab place. Jerry has his next appointment with Dr. Siefker on April 16th. Surgery is still scheduled for April 26th.
Nolie and I left the OFH last night at about 10:00 p.m. and Jerry was asleep wearing long sweat pants. When we arrived this morning at about 9:00 a.m., he was wearing his short pajama pants. Being the Drama Queen that Nolie is, she immediately launched an investigation and started questioning the staff. Apparently, at some point very early in the morning, Dad lost his pants. I've woken up before without pants, so I guess I just didn't think it was such a big deal. The Funny Lady (I can't remember her name, but she laughs more than the others at my jokes.) came to check on Dad this morning and he was not wearing clothes, so she helped him put on his shorts. When Nolie finally got around to asking Jerry about the missing pants, he said that he took them off because he didn't want to get them dirty. Makes sense to me.
The speech therapist just arrived, and this is usually funny, so I'm going to stop typing now and watch the show.
Jerry did not make any real progress at all in the Physical Therapy department at M. D. Anderson, and therefore, could not stay. If you're not making progress, you can't stay. Because Nolie can't catch Jerry if he falls trying to walk, he is now in a Skilled Nursing Facility in Houston a few miles away from M. D. Anderson. Back in the day, we called it the Old Folks' Home. I guess today they call it Skilled Nursing Facility. Being Old School, I will continue to call it the Old Folks' Home, or OFH for short.
Since arriving at the OFH, Jerry has really made significant progress. He is in the next to the last room down the hall on his floor, and yesterday was able to not only get out of bed by himself, but was also able to walk all the way down the long, long hallway. By himself means with no help from people, only the help of a walker. He's kind of funny getting out of bed, because he "bounces" to get momentum to get to his feet. Whatever works. He is a Propulsion Engineer, after all. The original plan was for Jerry to stay in the OFH for twenty days, but since he's making such great progress, Nolie thinks she can take care of him at the RIBM as long as he can get out of bed by himself. He hasn't even had any official P. T. yet since he just checked in on Friday. Maybe it's something psychological about being in a hospital. After his stroke in 2005, he made dramatic improvement as soon as he checked out of the hospital, and into the rehab place. Jerry has his next appointment with Dr. Siefker on April 16th. Surgery is still scheduled for April 26th.
Nolie and I left the OFH last night at about 10:00 p.m. and Jerry was asleep wearing long sweat pants. When we arrived this morning at about 9:00 a.m., he was wearing his short pajama pants. Being the Drama Queen that Nolie is, she immediately launched an investigation and started questioning the staff. Apparently, at some point very early in the morning, Dad lost his pants. I've woken up before without pants, so I guess I just didn't think it was such a big deal. The Funny Lady (I can't remember her name, but she laughs more than the others at my jokes.) came to check on Dad this morning and he was not wearing clothes, so she helped him put on his shorts. When Nolie finally got around to asking Jerry about the missing pants, he said that he took them off because he didn't want to get them dirty. Makes sense to me.
The speech therapist just arrived, and this is usually funny, so I'm going to stop typing now and watch the show.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Dr. Selar, Please Report To Sickbay
Jerry moved to the Physical Therapy department today and will begin PT for three hours a day starting tomorrow. Also, he is having a test done tomorrow that Dr. Matthews (Oncology) told me about on Monday.
Basically, Dad exhibits all the symptoms of an infection, but no cultures have grown so it cannot be proven. Tomorrow, they will take blood from my Dad, separate the white blood cells, label them, and then return the cells to Dad. If they are good little white blood cells, they will report for duty to the infection site to fight. Because they will now be labeled, the doctors can just look and see where they go. Dr. Matthews didn't explain to me exactly how they label the white blood cells, but I'm assuming it's more sophisticated than an extra-fine point Sharpie.
So, here are the questions I have about this very cool Starfleet Medical procedure: If the white blood cells go straight to the site of infection, does that mean that the specific infection type can be learned, and if so, does that mean that we can better target that specific infection and thus heal it faster? If the cells do not go to an infection site does that rule out infection, and if so, can we focus on the PT with the goal of getting ready for surgery sooner?
Nolie decided that after tonight, she is going to start sleeping at the RIBM instead of in the room with Dad. I think she's starting to realize that if she doesn't get enough sleep and doesn't take care of herself, that she's not doing Jerry any favors. I knew she would come to this realization eventually. She's pretty smart. She is spending the night with Dad tonight since he's in a new room.
If anyone remembers Dr. Selar, bonus points if you can name the only ST:TNG episode she appeared in. I figured McCoy, Crusher, and Pulaski were too easy, but I almost went with Boyce. Double bonus points for the episode with Dr. Boyce. (Hint: TOS)
Basically, Dad exhibits all the symptoms of an infection, but no cultures have grown so it cannot be proven. Tomorrow, they will take blood from my Dad, separate the white blood cells, label them, and then return the cells to Dad. If they are good little white blood cells, they will report for duty to the infection site to fight. Because they will now be labeled, the doctors can just look and see where they go. Dr. Matthews didn't explain to me exactly how they label the white blood cells, but I'm assuming it's more sophisticated than an extra-fine point Sharpie.
So, here are the questions I have about this very cool Starfleet Medical procedure: If the white blood cells go straight to the site of infection, does that mean that the specific infection type can be learned, and if so, does that mean that we can better target that specific infection and thus heal it faster? If the cells do not go to an infection site does that rule out infection, and if so, can we focus on the PT with the goal of getting ready for surgery sooner?
Nolie decided that after tonight, she is going to start sleeping at the RIBM instead of in the room with Dad. I think she's starting to realize that if she doesn't get enough sleep and doesn't take care of herself, that she's not doing Jerry any favors. I knew she would come to this realization eventually. She's pretty smart. She is spending the night with Dad tonight since he's in a new room.
If anyone remembers Dr. Selar, bonus points if you can name the only ST:TNG episode she appeared in. I figured McCoy, Crusher, and Pulaski were too easy, but I almost went with Boyce. Double bonus points for the episode with Dr. Boyce. (Hint: TOS)
Monday, March 19, 2007
A Lack of Urgency
Nolie and I arrived at our 1:30 p.m. How To Change the Dressing on Your PICC Line class at 1:33 p.m. and they wouldn't let us in because we were late. If they had let us in we probably would have been like those kids who sit in the back row, cut up, and make Cs. Heh heh. There's another class at 2:00 p.m. that Nolie can go to. I have a 4:35 p.m. flight.
He's Not Dead Yet
I got to Dad's room at 8:00 this morning, and Nolie and Jerry were both asleep. I sat quietly in the chair listening to music on my non-Apple brand MP3 player. While listening to "Kodachrome" by Paul Simon, I noticed that the lyrics don't quite make sense. The song goes "I got a Nikon camera/I love to take a photograph/So Mama, don't take my Kodachrome away." Kodachrome is a registered trademark of the Eastman Kodak company. So, is he singing about a Kodak camera, or a Nikon? Is he using Kodak Kodachrome film in a Nikon camera? I think it's very misleading. Also, how is it that I've been listening to this song for so long and have never noticed this before?
The Rheumatoid doc was the first to arrive this morning, and immediately commented that Jerry looks better than he did on Friday. He noted that the red spots that turned black are healing and that whatever was causing the pain and spots seems to have stopped. He reiterated that none of the blood cultures had produced anything yet, and that they may not ever, but his symptoms are consistent with some kind of infection, and that a prophylactic antibiotic course is the standard treatment.
Next, the Oncology doc came. Oncology actually overlapped with Rheumatoid, so they got to confer with each other, which I think is good. Oncology wanted to start Dad on Celebrex, but Rheumatoid felt like sticking with Prednisone was OK since it seems to be helping. Oncology asked me if I had any siblings and then wanted to know what it was like growing up an only child, since he has an only five-year old. I think I scared him when I told him about playing Monopoly with Prissy (poodle) and Missy (Schnauzer). Nolie claims that I turned out OK, even though at lunch today I arranged my Chick-Fil-A dipping sauces in the order that they appear in the color spectrum.
Oncology had initially felt like long term care was a good idea because it's so exhausting for the caregiver. Nolie and I presented the idea that since they plan to stay at the RIBM until this is all over, and therefore she doesn't need to cook, clean, or really do anything else, that she could handle getting Jerry to the clinic every day for his IV treatments. Also, Jerry is able to get out of bed and get to to the bathroom with little help, so, Oncology felt like some type of home health care combined with some type of physical therapy would be OK.
So, to summarize, Jerry's not quite in the grave yet. He scales his pain on a scale from one to ten as around a seven in the morning, and a two or three in the evening before he goes to sleep. Once he gets going in the morning, he does all right.
The Rheumatoid doc was the first to arrive this morning, and immediately commented that Jerry looks better than he did on Friday. He noted that the red spots that turned black are healing and that whatever was causing the pain and spots seems to have stopped. He reiterated that none of the blood cultures had produced anything yet, and that they may not ever, but his symptoms are consistent with some kind of infection, and that a prophylactic antibiotic course is the standard treatment.
Next, the Oncology doc came. Oncology actually overlapped with Rheumatoid, so they got to confer with each other, which I think is good. Oncology wanted to start Dad on Celebrex, but Rheumatoid felt like sticking with Prednisone was OK since it seems to be helping. Oncology asked me if I had any siblings and then wanted to know what it was like growing up an only child, since he has an only five-year old. I think I scared him when I told him about playing Monopoly with Prissy (poodle) and Missy (Schnauzer). Nolie claims that I turned out OK, even though at lunch today I arranged my Chick-Fil-A dipping sauces in the order that they appear in the color spectrum.
Oncology had initially felt like long term care was a good idea because it's so exhausting for the caregiver. Nolie and I presented the idea that since they plan to stay at the RIBM until this is all over, and therefore she doesn't need to cook, clean, or really do anything else, that she could handle getting Jerry to the clinic every day for his IV treatments. Also, Jerry is able to get out of bed and get to to the bathroom with little help, so, Oncology felt like some type of home health care combined with some type of physical therapy would be OK.
So, to summarize, Jerry's not quite in the grave yet. He scales his pain on a scale from one to ten as around a seven in the morning, and a two or three in the evening before he goes to sleep. Once he gets going in the morning, he does all right.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
A Bump in the Road
The red dots have turned black now, and it turns out that they didn't mean Jerry needed a platelet transfusion after all. He did need the platelets, it's just that these particular red dots weren't the indicators. What they were indicating is that Jerry has a blood infection, which is bad. Turns out the joint pain isn't arthritis either. Yep. Blood infection. So, Jerry will now be treated with IV medication for four to six weeks to try to knock out the infection. This means that the bladder surgery has been postponed again, and there is a possibility that the cancer could grow back while we're treating the blood infection. If the tumor does come back, Jerry will not be a candidate for chemotherapy a second time. This is when the medical team used the words "long term care facility" and "hospice" to Mother. I don't think she heard anything after that. When Nolie called me, we didn't so much have a conversation, as I listened to a monologue. There were no pauses where traditionally the listener (or decoder in the basic Speech Com 101 communication model) can insert the occasional "uh-huh" or "yes." It was just a really really long run-on sentence punctuated only with tears. Being a person whose glass is generally half full, I would like to point out the following positive aspects regarding this latest development:
Dad had a PICC line installed today, and Mom has to attend two classes to learn how to care for it. I may go with her if my schedule allows. We watched the "Care of Your Central Venous Catheter" video on the patient room on-demand system today. There are lots of on-demand videos available. A few of my favorite titles are "How Your Bowel Works," "Cancer and the Hispanic Woman: Her Experiences in Sexuality" (en Espanol), and "Scarves: A Fashionable Alternative."
Dad just informed me that he is hungry, which I think is also a good thing, so we ordered milk shakes. Jerry is having vanilla and Nolie and I are having chocolate, which is weird, because Nolie is usually the vanilla one and Jerry is usually chocolate. Sometimes, Nolie is strawberry, but never chocolate. Anyway, Jerry's is free and Nolie's and mine are $3.00 each. How cool is that? They are real milkshakes too. Not those fake ones like at McDonalds, they're real, like at Earl's in Leaky, which is a restaurant we used to eat at when I was younger, and is also an Exxon station. The room service menu here is quite extensive. You can check it out here.
Hazel just arrived to begin another bag of medicine. Hazel is our R. N. today until 7:00 p.m. If I were Hazel, I would draw a little smile on my Cancer Mask. I am not Hazel though, and do not wear a Cancer Mask.
- The surgery is still scheduled, it is not cancelled.
- The blood infection is being treated with Vancomycin and Rifampin, and tomorrow will be the completion of week one, leaving only three to five weeks left of treatment.
- While the tumor may grow back, it may also not.
Dad had a PICC line installed today, and Mom has to attend two classes to learn how to care for it. I may go with her if my schedule allows. We watched the "Care of Your Central Venous Catheter" video on the patient room on-demand system today. There are lots of on-demand videos available. A few of my favorite titles are "How Your Bowel Works," "Cancer and the Hispanic Woman: Her Experiences in Sexuality" (en Espanol), and "Scarves: A Fashionable Alternative."
Dad just informed me that he is hungry, which I think is also a good thing, so we ordered milk shakes. Jerry is having vanilla and Nolie and I are having chocolate, which is weird, because Nolie is usually the vanilla one and Jerry is usually chocolate. Sometimes, Nolie is strawberry, but never chocolate. Anyway, Jerry's is free and Nolie's and mine are $3.00 each. How cool is that? They are real milkshakes too. Not those fake ones like at McDonalds, they're real, like at Earl's in Leaky, which is a restaurant we used to eat at when I was younger, and is also an Exxon station. The room service menu here is quite extensive. You can check it out here.
Hazel just arrived to begin another bag of medicine. Hazel is our R. N. today until 7:00 p.m. If I were Hazel, I would draw a little smile on my Cancer Mask. I am not Hazel though, and do not wear a Cancer Mask.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Getting Around Slowly, But Getting Around
I tried to post a new video interview with Jerry, but it's taking a long time to process through Youtube, so for now, I'll just recap the latest events. I may have to publish the interview in multiple installments.
Jerry had a couple of rough days right after coming home from his platelet transfusion at Arlington Memorial. His arthritis really flared up and he stayed in bed a couple of days. He started getting up and around yesterday with his new wheel chair, and today is getting around on his own with no wheelchair or walker. The last time he had a transfusion his arthritis also flared up, so there seems to be some kind of connection. The transfusion at Arlington Memorial took 43 hours and the transfusion he received at M. D. Anderson took 5, so Mom and Dad are headed back to Houston tomorrow just to be close, just in case. Also, Arlington Memorial doesn't have high speed wireless, which really irritated Nolie, and I think that's funny. Who would have ever thought that my mother would care about having high speed wireless.
I have learned a couple of things in the last couple of days. One, is that it is much more difficult
to put socks onto a person other than yourself than it looks. I have also learned that when helping someone put on a button down shirt, it is much easier to do both arms at once from behind, like when you try on suits, instead of one arm at a time from the front. I know the "help from behind" thing also applies to recent college graduates who check into a hotel for their first big job interview, then realize on the morning of the interview that they do not know how to tie a tie. Believe me, I see this more often than I should. How do you graduate from college and not know how to tie a tie? I digress.
There was a traffic jam this morning in the hall as I was on my way to the kitchen to get coffee. I think I'm going to get Jerry an orange triangle for his new chair, like the ones the Amish people have on their buggies.
Jerry had a couple of rough days right after coming home from his platelet transfusion at Arlington Memorial. His arthritis really flared up and he stayed in bed a couple of days. He started getting up and around yesterday with his new wheel chair, and today is getting around on his own with no wheelchair or walker. The last time he had a transfusion his arthritis also flared up, so there seems to be some kind of connection. The transfusion at Arlington Memorial took 43 hours and the transfusion he received at M. D. Anderson took 5, so Mom and Dad are headed back to Houston tomorrow just to be close, just in case. Also, Arlington Memorial doesn't have high speed wireless, which really irritated Nolie, and I think that's funny. Who would have ever thought that my mother would care about having high speed wireless.
I have learned a couple of things in the last couple of days. One, is that it is much more difficult
to put socks onto a person other than yourself than it looks. I have also learned that when helping someone put on a button down shirt, it is much easier to do both arms at once from behind, like when you try on suits, instead of one arm at a time from the front. I know the "help from behind" thing also applies to recent college graduates who check into a hotel for their first big job interview, then realize on the morning of the interview that they do not know how to tie a tie. Believe me, I see this more often than I should. How do you graduate from college and not know how to tie a tie? I digress.
There was a traffic jam this morning in the hall as I was on my way to the kitchen to get coffee. I think I'm going to get Jerry an orange triangle for his new chair, like the ones the Amish people have on their buggies.Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Bacteria, Viruses, Platelets, and Sodium
When we last left Jerry and Nolie, they were happy at home in Arlington with the Schnauzers, recovering nicely from chemotherapy, and getting mentally psyched for surgery. (spelled right this time). Nolie, however, had been coached by Dr. Siefker to be on the lookout for little red dots on the tips of Jerry's fingers, indicating a need for a platelet transfusion. I think it would 
have been better if the indicator for a platelet transfusion was little red rings, like the rings that that shape-shifting Salt Monster, from Planet M113, who made itself look like Nancy Crater, who was Dr. McCoy's old girlfriend from Earth, left on people's faces after it sucked all their salt out of their bodies, in the classic Star Trek: TOS episode "The Man Trap." That would have been better, but instead, it's little red dots.
Jerry got the little red dots, so Nolie, as coached, took Jerry to the nearest Emergency Department. In this case, that department is at Arlington Memorial Hospital. They arrived last night (Monday) around 10:30 p. m. because Jerry needed to see the end of 24, (Nolie: Jerry, do you want to go out for ice cream after your show is over? Jerry: Ok, or maybe we can go pick up some platelets.) They are still at Arlington Memorial as I am typing this at 7:58 p. m. Tuesday. I guess it's a good thing neither one of them has a job. At least a job that draws a salary anyway. Jerry got his platelets, and another bag of packed red blood cells. He feels fine and is just waiting now for someone to tell them they can go home.
Nolie was a little nervous about taking Jerry to the hospital, because of all those sick people they have there. Sick people just sitting around leaving bacteria and viruses all over the furniture. She left Dad in the car and went inside to brief the triage person, which was probably a good idea. Jerry wore his Cancer Mask and the triage person brought out a wheel chair and took Jerry straight back behind the secretive doors away from the People With Bacteria and Viruses.
Back at M. D. Anderson, Mom inquired about Dad beginning some kind of physical therapy program to kind of "get strong" before being "down for the count" after the surgery. Annette and Dr. Siefker didn't seem to think it was all that important, but Nolie insisted, and I think that's a good thing. It doesn't seem like it could really be detrimental at all to try to go into a compulsory sedentary situation as fit as you possibly can. Apparently, most cancer patients in their early seventies roll into their oncologist appointments, and most have an oxygen tank with them. Comparatively speaking, I think Dad appears much more fit than what they're used to seeing.
The surgery has been rescheduled now for March 27th. If this changes again, and it may be likely to, I'll be sure to post ASAP.
have been better if the indicator for a platelet transfusion was little red rings, like the rings that that shape-shifting Salt Monster, from Planet M113, who made itself look like Nancy Crater, who was Dr. McCoy's old girlfriend from Earth, left on people's faces after it sucked all their salt out of their bodies, in the classic Star Trek: TOS episode "The Man Trap." That would have been better, but instead, it's little red dots.Jerry got the little red dots, so Nolie, as coached, took Jerry to the nearest Emergency Department. In this case, that department is at Arlington Memorial Hospital. They arrived last night (Monday) around 10:30 p. m. because Jerry needed to see the end of 24, (Nolie: Jerry, do you want to go out for ice cream after your show is over? Jerry: Ok, or maybe we can go pick up some platelets.) They are still at Arlington Memorial as I am typing this at 7:58 p. m. Tuesday. I guess it's a good thing neither one of them has a job. At least a job that draws a salary anyway. Jerry got his platelets, and another bag of packed red blood cells. He feels fine and is just waiting now for someone to tell them they can go home.
Nolie was a little nervous about taking Jerry to the hospital, because of all those sick people they have there. Sick people just sitting around leaving bacteria and viruses all over the furniture. She left Dad in the car and went inside to brief the triage person, which was probably a good idea. Jerry wore his Cancer Mask and the triage person brought out a wheel chair and took Jerry straight back behind the secretive doors away from the People With Bacteria and Viruses.
Back at M. D. Anderson, Mom inquired about Dad beginning some kind of physical therapy program to kind of "get strong" before being "down for the count" after the surgery. Annette and Dr. Siefker didn't seem to think it was all that important, but Nolie insisted, and I think that's a good thing. It doesn't seem like it could really be detrimental at all to try to go into a compulsory sedentary situation as fit as you possibly can. Apparently, most cancer patients in their early seventies roll into their oncologist appointments, and most have an oxygen tank with them. Comparatively speaking, I think Dad appears much more fit than what they're used to seeing.
The surgery has been rescheduled now for March 27th. If this changes again, and it may be likely to, I'll be sure to post ASAP.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Surgery March 20th
Well, I finally have something to report. I talk to Nolie almost every day, but there hasn't really been any new news. The only interesting thing Nolie had to talk about was the Mysterious Neighbors at the RIBM. They always had their Do Not Disturb sign displayed, and would never let Housekeeping in to service the room--ever--for a couple of weeks. It turns out they were just paranoid about germs, which is totally understandable, as the husband just got a new kidney. My guess would have been Meth Lab. When Nolie first told me about them, I thought it could be hookers, but hookers don't hang out for weeks at a time. Meth Labs do. I think it is so rude to check into a hotel and build a Meth Lab. It takes so much longer to clean up a Meth Lab room than a Business Person room, and it can really mess up your productivity. No Room Attendant, ever, could clean 18 rooms in eight hours if one of them is a Meth Lab room. Nolie has since made friends with the Kidney Wife, who is in her fifties and has an identical twin who visits. The twins sometime dress the same.
Jerry had his last round of chemo last week, and is now home in Arlington recovering. He will return to M. D. Anderson on March 12th for pre-op work, and then have the cancer and bladder surgically removed on March 20th. From what I understand it is a very lengthy procedure, involving a lengthy recovery time. I believe Nolie said he will be in the hospital for ten to twelve days after the procedure.
The Schnauzers are very happy to see Jerry again.
Jerry had his last round of chemo last week, and is now home in Arlington recovering. He will return to M. D. Anderson on March 12th for pre-op work, and then have the cancer and bladder surgically removed on March 20th. From what I understand it is a very lengthy procedure, involving a lengthy recovery time. I believe Nolie said he will be in the hospital for ten to twelve days after the procedure.
The Schnauzers are very happy to see Jerry again.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Thanks, Stadium Pal!
Jerry had his CT scan yesterday to determine if the chemo is doing any good; but, before he could meet with Dr. Siefker to discuss the results, an appointment for another cystoscopy, and exam under anesthesia, with Dr. Dinney, the surgeon, popped up on his schedule, that conflicted with the appointment already scheduled with Dr. Siefker. That's how things happen at M. D. Anderson. You wake up and log into MyMDAnderson.org to find out what your schedule looks like for the day. It's similar to Band Camp, except that at Band Camp, your schedule is on a piece of paper. If you went to Band Camp before 1981, your schedule was printed in purple and called a "ditto." If you went to one of the Band Camps in a wealthier school district, it was black and called a "Xerox." The Xerox was easier to read, but the ditto was funner to smell.
At Band Camp, your schedule might go something like this:
These tests are the same ones that Nolie mentioned in her post titled "Jerry's Day 12/21/06." But why do these tests again? one might ask. Especially, since we already know that the tumor is adhered to the pelvic bone and Jerry is not a candidate for surgery. The answer, is because, according to the CT scan report, there has been "very significant improvement" and the tumor is "considerably smaller" than in the previous CT scan. Dr. Dinney today, after the cystoscope and exam under anesthesia, said that the tumor is now small enough, and not stuck to the bone enough, that he believes he can surgically remove it along with the bladder, and get a clean cut. Jerry is having his fourth round of chemo tonight, and will receive either one or two more rounds after that. He will then return home to Arlington to recover from the chemo for about six weeks, then, if all is still going well, return to M. D. Anderson for surgery to remove the tumor and the bladder! Yea! Thanks, Stadium Pal!
Nolie described the pictures of the tumor from the two CT scans as looking like animal balloons. The first one blown up, and the second, deflated. I'm not quite ready to call victory on this war on cancer, but I am saying that this battle is proceeding nicely.
Thank you to everyone for all the cards, cookies, letters, flowers, e-mails, comments, prayers, and offers of blood donation. Nolie calls me every night and seems very comforted that so many people are thinking of them. Thank you also for reading this thing. I hope it's informative and kind of funny.
At Band Camp, your schedule might go something like this:
- 8:30 a. m.---Section Rehearsal
- 10:30 a. m.--Rehearsal--Full Band
- 12:30 p. m.--Lunch
- 2:00 p.m.---Rehearsal--Full Band
- 4:30 p.m.---Ice Cream Social (bring $10.00)
At M. D. Anderson, your schedule might go something like this:
- 8:30 a. m.---Cystoscopy and Exam Under Anesthesia
- 10:30 a. m.--Arlene Siefker M. D.
- 11:45 a. m.--Lunch
- 1:00 p.m.---Blood work--Diagnostic Lab
- 2:00 p.m.---Chemotherapy (bring $80,900)
These tests are the same ones that Nolie mentioned in her post titled "Jerry's Day 12/21/06." But why do these tests again? one might ask. Especially, since we already know that the tumor is adhered to the pelvic bone and Jerry is not a candidate for surgery. The answer, is because, according to the CT scan report, there has been "very significant improvement" and the tumor is "considerably smaller" than in the previous CT scan. Dr. Dinney today, after the cystoscope and exam under anesthesia, said that the tumor is now small enough, and not stuck to the bone enough, that he believes he can surgically remove it along with the bladder, and get a clean cut. Jerry is having his fourth round of chemo tonight, and will receive either one or two more rounds after that. He will then return home to Arlington to recover from the chemo for about six weeks, then, if all is still going well, return to M. D. Anderson for surgery to remove the tumor and the bladder! Yea! Thanks, Stadium Pal!
Nolie described the pictures of the tumor from the two CT scans as looking like animal balloons. The first one blown up, and the second, deflated. I'm not quite ready to call victory on this war on cancer, but I am saying that this battle is proceeding nicely.
Thank you to everyone for all the cards, cookies, letters, flowers, e-mails, comments, prayers, and offers of blood donation. Nolie calls me every night and seems very comforted that so many people are thinking of them. Thank you also for reading this thing. I hope it's informative and kind of funny.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
The right atrium’s where the process begins, where the CO2 Blood enters the heart. . .
. . .Through the tricuspid valve, to the right ventricle, the pulmonary artery, and lungs.
Jerry went in for his usual blood work on Thursday, and the results were as expected. Everything was low, as compared to a person who does not have cancer, and has not had three chemotherapy rounds. His hemoglobin count, however, was very much lower rather than just lower. I believe when Jerry first arrived at M. D. Anderson, his hemoglobin count was 11, which is kind of low. On Thursday, it was 8.3. According to Nolie, Annette suggested that Jerry may need a blood transfusion, but that she would leave it to him to decide, but, after observing him a little more during the appointment, Annette decided there was no "if you wanna do it" about it. He was struggling to breathe and was getting the transfusion. The struggling to breathe is what Nolie calls "exhaling forcefully." Blah, blah, lack of red blood cells to carry the oxygen to the organs and cells, just like the circulation song Potsie sang on Happy Days; which, I totally believe St. Joseph Baby Aspirin stole for their recent ad campaign because the "pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pump your blood" song was a little too similar to be coincidental.
The first step in getting a blood transfusion is to determine Jerry's blood type. The second step is for a different person to do the same test and verify that the results match. This, I think, is a good idea for the same reason that at least once a week where I work, two different people have to count the safe to verify that it balances. After the blood type is confirmed, you get the blood. Jerry received two bags of blood cells. I'm not sure how much blood is in a bag, but Nolie estimates it to be one pint. Nolie believes that it was not whole blood, but rather, packed red blood cells. I think there's a difference between whole blood, platelets, and packed red blood cells. We believe Jerry received packed red blood cells, which would make sense because it's the red blood cells that carry the oxygen.
Mother asked Jerry today if he thought that perhaps he received female blood, because he's been kind of bitchy today. (her words). Jerry's blood type, by the way, is A+, which I suppose is not surprising since he was the White Deer High School class of 1953 recipient of the Bausch and Lomb Science Award.
Still no pain, no pain medication, and no nausea, which I've pointed out before, but I think it's worth repeating. I've never heard of chemo people never getting nauseous.
Jerry went in for his usual blood work on Thursday, and the results were as expected. Everything was low, as compared to a person who does not have cancer, and has not had three chemotherapy rounds. His hemoglobin count, however, was very much lower rather than just lower. I believe when Jerry first arrived at M. D. Anderson, his hemoglobin count was 11, which is kind of low. On Thursday, it was 8.3. According to Nolie, Annette suggested that Jerry may need a blood transfusion, but that she would leave it to him to decide, but, after observing him a little more during the appointment, Annette decided there was no "if you wanna do it" about it. He was struggling to breathe and was getting the transfusion. The struggling to breathe is what Nolie calls "exhaling forcefully." Blah, blah, lack of red blood cells to carry the oxygen to the organs and cells, just like the circulation song Potsie sang on Happy Days; which, I totally believe St. Joseph Baby Aspirin stole for their recent ad campaign because the "pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pu-pump your blood" song was a little too similar to be coincidental.
The first step in getting a blood transfusion is to determine Jerry's blood type. The second step is for a different person to do the same test and verify that the results match. This, I think, is a good idea for the same reason that at least once a week where I work, two different people have to count the safe to verify that it balances. After the blood type is confirmed, you get the blood. Jerry received two bags of blood cells. I'm not sure how much blood is in a bag, but Nolie estimates it to be one pint. Nolie believes that it was not whole blood, but rather, packed red blood cells. I think there's a difference between whole blood, platelets, and packed red blood cells. We believe Jerry received packed red blood cells, which would make sense because it's the red blood cells that carry the oxygen.
Mother asked Jerry today if he thought that perhaps he received female blood, because he's been kind of bitchy today. (her words). Jerry's blood type, by the way, is A+, which I suppose is not surprising since he was the White Deer High School class of 1953 recipient of the Bausch and Lomb Science Award.
Still no pain, no pain medication, and no nausea, which I've pointed out before, but I think it's worth repeating. I've never heard of chemo people never getting nauseous.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Un Perro Grande Blanco Esta' Comiendo Frito Pie
Jerry took his last pain pill on January 9th, and hasn't needed any since. He finished his third round of chemo Friday, and has a CT scan on January 30 to see if the tumor is shrinking. The lack of pain is still being interpreted as a good sign.
Dad's hair and beard are thinning, but haven't fallen all the way out yet. He has little white beard hairs all over his navy blue jacket that he wears, but if I saw him out on the street, I don't think I would think he is a cancer patient. I would just think that he has a big, white dog at home.
The water is going down much more smoothly, and the blood work shows it. In addition to the "eat a salty thing to make you thirsty" trick, Dad is employing a little psychology. It makes him feel better to drink five smaller size bottles of water, rather than three larger ones. It takes fewer gulps to see progress and therefore, motivates him to drink more. Whatever works.
Dad wants me to be sure to mention in the blog how awesome Nolie has been. She keeps track of what medications need to be taken and when; She sets out the pills, then follows up to make sure they were taken, and administeres the eye drops too. Apparently during the last chemo round, the Built Into the Wall Couch That Folds Out Into a Bed was broken and didn't fold out right, so Nolie had to sleep kind of sitting up instead of flat. Jerry says the whole department is moving from the eighth floor to the ninth floor on February 1, with all new furniture including fancy new fold out flat chair/beds for guests of the Cancer People. It kind of sounds like the difference between Business Class on the 767 and First on the 777. I'll make sure Mom and Dad know how to use the Bose noise cancelling head set.
Nolie and I went to the gym today and I think it was good for Nolie. She said her 0.5 jeans were beginning to feel tight. Dad stayed at the RIBM and watched the Saints lose, and I bet he enjoyed some time alone. Nolie and I brought back hot dogs and Frito pie from James Coney Island.
Dad's hair and beard are thinning, but haven't fallen all the way out yet. He has little white beard hairs all over his navy blue jacket that he wears, but if I saw him out on the street, I don't think I would think he is a cancer patient. I would just think that he has a big, white dog at home.
The water is going down much more smoothly, and the blood work shows it. In addition to the "eat a salty thing to make you thirsty" trick, Dad is employing a little psychology. It makes him feel better to drink five smaller size bottles of water, rather than three larger ones. It takes fewer gulps to see progress and therefore, motivates him to drink more. Whatever works.
Dad wants me to be sure to mention in the blog how awesome Nolie has been. She keeps track of what medications need to be taken and when; She sets out the pills, then follows up to make sure they were taken, and administeres the eye drops too. Apparently during the last chemo round, the Built Into the Wall Couch That Folds Out Into a Bed was broken and didn't fold out right, so Nolie had to sleep kind of sitting up instead of flat. Jerry says the whole department is moving from the eighth floor to the ninth floor on February 1, with all new furniture including fancy new fold out flat chair/beds for guests of the Cancer People. It kind of sounds like the difference between Business Class on the 767 and First on the 777. I'll make sure Mom and Dad know how to use the Bose noise cancelling head set.
Nolie and I went to the gym today and I think it was good for Nolie. She said her 0.5 jeans were beginning to feel tight. Dad stayed at the RIBM and watched the Saints lose, and I bet he enjoyed some time alone. Nolie and I brought back hot dogs and Frito pie from James Coney Island.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The Password Is--Phenomenal
Jerry's in for his third round of chemo, and both Annette, and Dr. Siefker seem pleased with Jerry's response so far. Nolie said that they were "amazed," and that Annette said that when she told Dr. Siefker that Jerry is still not taking any pain medication--at all-- Dr. Siefker's face "lit up." I always try to clarify these adjectives that Nolie throws out, and both Nolie and Jerry remember Dr. Siefker and Annette using the words "phenomenal" and "amazing."
Nolie and Jerry had to find an ophthalmologist Wednesday because Dad's left eye was red and runny. It turns out that that's kind of normal, since Dad had his cataracts removed right before starting chemo. They refilled his eye drop prescription, and all is good with los ojos. (I got the Rosetta Stone Latin American Spanish software for Christmas).
On the day of scheduled chemo, Dad goes in to have blood work done, to be sure that he has recovered sufficiently from the last round to undergo another. While it is not expected that Dad's blood work levels will be "normal" for a healthy person, there is a "normal" for someone who has undergone a couple of rounds of chemo. Dad's BUN, which has been a problem in the past, was significantly lower again this week, and Annette remarked that Dad's results were more consistent with a much younger person than Jerry having undergone the same regimen. I'm calling this good. I know in the past many health care professionals involved with my Dad's care seem incredulous that he is not on oxygen. He's pretty tough.
Dad is so tough, that he's shot himself at least twice that I know of, and I overheard a conversation once that leads me to believe that he may have shot himself three times. Those crazy gun totin' Fooses. I think I remember hearing a story once about Grandma shooting a snake that was hanging out in the sandbox with Jerry. Nolie saw a snake in the backyard once while Jerry was in Tel Aviv on business. She did not bust out a pistol and kill it; She called animal control and sounded pathetic enough that some poor guy came to the house on his off time on his way home from work. Nolie and Jerry were having the attic re-insulated at the time and the Animal Guy unrolled a roll of insulation across the patio and told Nolie that snakes won't crawl over anything that is rough on their bellies. I think he made that up to make Nolie feel OK so he could go home. The best part is that Nolie originally thought the snake was dog poop, until it reared its head and started to squiggle across the patio. Don't even get me started about the raccoons coming down the chimney.
Here is a picture of my parents taken on Tuesday January 9, 2007 at their house during Wayne's 40th surprise birthday party. Aren't they cute? Nolie tells me that Jerry's beard is still hanging in there, and the hair on his head is not falling out. His hair is supposed to be all gone by now, but again, Jerry is tough.
Nolie and Jerry had to find an ophthalmologist Wednesday because Dad's left eye was red and runny. It turns out that that's kind of normal, since Dad had his cataracts removed right before starting chemo. They refilled his eye drop prescription, and all is good with los ojos. (I got the Rosetta Stone Latin American Spanish software for Christmas).
On the day of scheduled chemo, Dad goes in to have blood work done, to be sure that he has recovered sufficiently from the last round to undergo another. While it is not expected that Dad's blood work levels will be "normal" for a healthy person, there is a "normal" for someone who has undergone a couple of rounds of chemo. Dad's BUN, which has been a problem in the past, was significantly lower again this week, and Annette remarked that Dad's results were more consistent with a much younger person than Jerry having undergone the same regimen. I'm calling this good. I know in the past many health care professionals involved with my Dad's care seem incredulous that he is not on oxygen. He's pretty tough.
Dad is so tough, that he's shot himself at least twice that I know of, and I overheard a conversation once that leads me to believe that he may have shot himself three times. Those crazy gun totin' Fooses. I think I remember hearing a story once about Grandma shooting a snake that was hanging out in the sandbox with Jerry. Nolie saw a snake in the backyard once while Jerry was in Tel Aviv on business. She did not bust out a pistol and kill it; She called animal control and sounded pathetic enough that some poor guy came to the house on his off time on his way home from work. Nolie and Jerry were having the attic re-insulated at the time and the Animal Guy unrolled a roll of insulation across the patio and told Nolie that snakes won't crawl over anything that is rough on their bellies. I think he made that up to make Nolie feel OK so he could go home. The best part is that Nolie originally thought the snake was dog poop, until it reared its head and started to squiggle across the patio. Don't even get me started about the raccoons coming down the chimney.
Here is a picture of my parents taken on Tuesday January 9, 2007 at their house during Wayne's 40th surprise birthday party. Aren't they cute? Nolie tells me that Jerry's beard is still hanging in there, and the hair on his head is not falling out. His hair is supposed to be all gone by now, but again, Jerry is tough.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Still No Pain Pills
Jerry had more blood work done on Thursday, and then reviewed the results with Annette. This is the every other Thursday routine now, with the other every other Thursdays being chemo day. Notice I have dropped the period after "chemo" indicating that it is an abbreviation for the word "chemotherapy." The period is cumbersome, and I think everyone gets it. Isn't there a word for an abbreviation that becomes a word in its own right, that isn't an acronym?
The values for the blood work are all as expected, and the BUN has actually come down quite a bit since last time. Nolie credits this to Valerie's "eat a salty thing to make you thirsty" idea. You eat a salty chip, then drink some water. Whatever works. Thanks Sami!!
Jerry has not had a pain pill in about two weeks now. Nolie said that Annette was surprised at this. I asked if Annette actually used the word "surprised," and Nolie said no, that "surprised" is the word Nolie chose to describe Annette's reaction to this news. Annette did say that that is a very, very good sign. (two verys). Dad's hair has started to fall out, and Annette calls it his free haircut.
Nolie has learned, from networking with the other Cancer People, that you can actually schedule the Cancer Van to take you to the Galleria. She was so excited to go today, but then it was cancelled due to the icy roads. I flew from Dallas to New Orleans today and there were icicles on the house in Arlington when I left at 5:20 a.m. It's 72 degrees in my bedroom in New Orleans. Hmm. . .high murder rate with warm climate v. gets icy one day a year; but nationally, centrally located airport.
I got to practice my Spanish with a guy late for work in the elevator at DFW this morning. I said, "muy frio!" He laughed and agreed. I noticed him later at the Au Bon Pain in terminal A (formerly terminal 2E) near gate 39. I think it's actually Au Bon Pair, but the logo looks like Au Bon Pain, so that's what I call it.
Nolie is learning so much about her new laptop. She asked me tonight where she could plug in earphones so she can watch streaming video while Jerry has command of the television set. She has discovered that she can watch many of her favorite shows online. I'm so proud of her.
February 1 is the day we review new CT scans with Dr. Siefker to see if the tumor is shrinking. Also, Nolie wanted me to post that they didn't buy any cardboard furniture, but did get a t.v. tray to put a lamp on. And, for anyone worried about the Small Dog, he has arthritis; not some crazy dog cancer that caused his legs to quit, (And Kathleen says that Pisceans are dramatic) and is being treated with Schnauzer anti-inflammatories.
The values for the blood work are all as expected, and the BUN has actually come down quite a bit since last time. Nolie credits this to Valerie's "eat a salty thing to make you thirsty" idea. You eat a salty chip, then drink some water. Whatever works. Thanks Sami!!
Jerry has not had a pain pill in about two weeks now. Nolie said that Annette was surprised at this. I asked if Annette actually used the word "surprised," and Nolie said no, that "surprised" is the word Nolie chose to describe Annette's reaction to this news. Annette did say that that is a very, very good sign. (two verys). Dad's hair has started to fall out, and Annette calls it his free haircut.
Nolie has learned, from networking with the other Cancer People, that you can actually schedule the Cancer Van to take you to the Galleria. She was so excited to go today, but then it was cancelled due to the icy roads. I flew from Dallas to New Orleans today and there were icicles on the house in Arlington when I left at 5:20 a.m. It's 72 degrees in my bedroom in New Orleans. Hmm. . .high murder rate with warm climate v. gets icy one day a year; but nationally, centrally located airport.
I got to practice my Spanish with a guy late for work in the elevator at DFW this morning. I said, "muy frio!" He laughed and agreed. I noticed him later at the Au Bon Pain in terminal A (formerly terminal 2E) near gate 39. I think it's actually Au Bon Pair, but the logo looks like Au Bon Pain, so that's what I call it.
Nolie is learning so much about her new laptop. She asked me tonight where she could plug in earphones so she can watch streaming video while Jerry has command of the television set. She has discovered that she can watch many of her favorite shows online. I'm so proud of her.
February 1 is the day we review new CT scans with Dr. Siefker to see if the tumor is shrinking. Also, Nolie wanted me to post that they didn't buy any cardboard furniture, but did get a t.v. tray to put a lamp on. And, for anyone worried about the Small Dog, he has arthritis; not some crazy dog cancer that caused his legs to quit, (And Kathleen says that Pisceans are dramatic) and is being treated with Schnauzer anti-inflammatories.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Heading Back South For the Winter
Nolie and Jerry drove back to Houston today for the next round of tests at M. D. Anderson. They left around 9:00 a. m. today and when I called to check on their status, Mom answered the phone and said that the manager of the RIBM was showing them rooms. My mother is the kind of guest who is never happy with the first room she checks into at a hotel. I can see these guests coming a mile away, and conversely, I can see the Desk Agents rolling their eyes whenever Nolie appoaches. I remember checking into a hotel in New Braunfuls for my friends', Alex and Cheryl's, wedding. I checked in several hours after my parents did, and like I usually do, handed the agent my business card and asked if there were any upgrades available. Sometimes they'll extend a professional courtesey; sometimes they look at you like, "who the heck are you?" Personally, I usually go with the professonal courtesey option when the shoe's on the other foot because--karma. The agent looked at me apologetically, and explained that they had given their last suite to my mother when she checked in several hours prior. My mouth fell open, I apologized, and asked what she had done. His reply was priceless: "Oh nothing, we could just tell and didn't want to take a chance."
The day started out not so good for the ride back to Houston. Nolie called me in tears because Jerry's nose was bleeding; and Silver, the Small Dog, had apparently temporarily lost the use of his hind legs, and was splayed out on the floor shaking. This happened Wednesday morning as well. So, instead of the Schnauzers staying at home with the dog sitter looking in on them daily, they went back to Dr. Van Hoosier's Schnauzer Camp.
The nose bleeding is expected, and part of the reason for the Please Try Not To Bleed recommendation from Annette, the Nurse Practitioner, a couple of weeks back. Jerry says his hair has started to fall out, and Nolie told me that if you stroke his beard it comes out in your hand, but I don't think it's fallen out enough that the casual observer would notice. I saw Dad last on Wednesday afternoon before I came back to New Orleans and he looked the same to me.
This whole cancer thing kind of waylaid (I know. I would have thought l-a-y-e-d, but I looked it up) Christmas, so we finally celebrated on Monday. I gave my Dad a Creative Zen Vision M MP3/video player just like mine so he can watch his "Surface" and "24" episodes while he gets his chemo, and I gave Mother a Palm Pilot so she can schedule and track Dad's appointments. I am starting to second guess my gift giving decisions now, as I believe I may have inadvertently created a full time IT Specialist position for myself. Too bad it's not a paying gig.
Pictures of my most recent visit to Arlington to follow. Oh, by the way, Nolie and Jerry finally settled today on the same room they checked out of on Saturday, so they feel right at home, and are even going to Target tomorrow to get cardboard furniture. They're staying in Houston now through the end of these three rounds of chemo. Apparently, I neglected to tell my parents that if you stay in a hotel room for more than thirty days, you don't have to pay the 15% occupancy tax. I think I just assumed that everyone knows that, but I guess everyone does not.
The day started out not so good for the ride back to Houston. Nolie called me in tears because Jerry's nose was bleeding; and Silver, the Small Dog, had apparently temporarily lost the use of his hind legs, and was splayed out on the floor shaking. This happened Wednesday morning as well. So, instead of the Schnauzers staying at home with the dog sitter looking in on them daily, they went back to Dr. Van Hoosier's Schnauzer Camp.
The nose bleeding is expected, and part of the reason for the Please Try Not To Bleed recommendation from Annette, the Nurse Practitioner, a couple of weeks back. Jerry says his hair has started to fall out, and Nolie told me that if you stroke his beard it comes out in your hand, but I don't think it's fallen out enough that the casual observer would notice. I saw Dad last on Wednesday afternoon before I came back to New Orleans and he looked the same to me.
This whole cancer thing kind of waylaid (I know. I would have thought l-a-y-e-d, but I looked it up) Christmas, so we finally celebrated on Monday. I gave my Dad a Creative Zen Vision M MP3/video player just like mine so he can watch his "Surface" and "24" episodes while he gets his chemo, and I gave Mother a Palm Pilot so she can schedule and track Dad's appointments. I am starting to second guess my gift giving decisions now, as I believe I may have inadvertently created a full time IT Specialist position for myself. Too bad it's not a paying gig.
Pictures of my most recent visit to Arlington to follow. Oh, by the way, Nolie and Jerry finally settled today on the same room they checked out of on Saturday, so they feel right at home, and are even going to Target tomorrow to get cardboard furniture. They're staying in Houston now through the end of these three rounds of chemo. Apparently, I neglected to tell my parents that if you stay in a hotel room for more than thirty days, you don't have to pay the 15% occupancy tax. I think I just assumed that everyone knows that, but I guess everyone does not.
Monday, January 8, 2007
Noise Pollution
Mom and Dad are back home in Arlington, and today, the Schnauzers came home too. The Schnauzer hotel bill was almost as much as the bill at the RIBM, although, I bet Dr. Van Hoosier doesn't offer a complimentary happy hour four days a week. I captured some video of Jerry and the Schnauzers as they were reunited, and will try to post that very soon. The small Schnauzer, Silver, was most ecstatic. He was very Tasmanian Devil-ish--like the one on the cartoons, not the actual Tasmanian Devils in Tasmania. The medium Schnauzer, Sterling, was excited also, but it is more difficult to tell in the video because Medium
Dog is blind and has a more difficult time finding people. Here is a picture of Medium Dog. (Sterling)Medium Dog started losing his vision at the end of 2005 when Jerry was in the ICU recovering from his stroke. I'm pretty sure he's totally blind now, because he bumps into everything: Walls, people, tables, doors, toilets. I've started calling him Bumper Pool.
Jerry had blood taken today, at a lab here in Arlington. I don't think it was a lab at a doctor's office, but more like a Quest Diagnostics, which is where I send housekeeping applicants for pre-employment drug screenings. Who knew you could just drop by the local meth screening joint and get your cancer tests done? The challenge is that the results won't be ready for a couple of days, and in a couple of days, they'll be back at M. D. Anderson for the next regularly scheduled blood work anyway. The blood work was to check Jerry's Blood Urea Nitrogen (BUN) level, as well as his Creatinine, which are both measures of kidney function. These values were high when they left Houston, and had they not already removed the IVs they would have administered more fluid. All in all, I do see value in getting to come home, if even for just a few days, and especially if you get to see your dogs, but overall I think the whole blood work thing today seems like a poor utilization of time and resources.
The hardest thing for Nolie about being away from home for so long is having to share a television set, and having to watch television programs at the times they are broadcast. It seems like old times today at Case de Nolie y Jerry. Mom is in the back of the house with a couple of television sets on watching a couple of different shows at once, and Dad is in the den watching his show. The kitchen television is on and tuned to something that no one is watching, but someone was, and so it's still on. Dad has his hearing aids out, which means that his television is turned up pretty loud for him to make out all the dialogue; therefore, Mom's televisions are turned up so she can hear her shows over his. All this noise pollution is compounded by the fact that during the last major house renovation, all the carpeting was replaced with ceramic tile, or hard wood floors, neither of which absorb sound as well as pile, or for that matter, the shag that was here in the '70s that came with the house. If the phone rings, the noise pollution is off the scale, and I wouldn't be surprised if the EPA came knocking on the door. Jerry's hearing ability is so measurably low, that he qualifies for a very special phone that is very, very, loud, that the State of Texas actually paid for. When it rings it reminds me of those black and white "duck and cover" films on 8mm from elementary school.
Even with all the Schnauzer/television/air raid sounds, I know it's nice for them to be home, and it's nice to be here with them. I wish I had checked the weather forecast, though, so I could have brought a jacket to wear for Schnauzer Duty. You see, Bumper Pool isn't allowed in the back yard without adult supervision because he doesn't swim so well.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
On the Road Again
I just got a call from Wayne, and they're on the road from Houston back to Arlington at the first of what will probably be many, many bathroom breaks. Bathroom breaks are good. My cousin, Cathy, and I used to spend our summers with our grandparents, Lomamma and Papa. Much of the summer was spent in the back seat of a 1977 Lincoln Town Car travelling around Texas. We did not have bathroom breaks. We had a Maryland Club coffee can. God forbid anyone complain that it's 120 degrees Fahrenheit in August in Presidio, Texas, which probably makes it about 140 degrees inside the navy blue Lincoln. This immediately launches a lecture of what life was like before cars had air conditioning. I can't wait to lecture someone's grand kids some day about how when I was growing up the only channels we had were 4, 5, 8, 11, 13, and UHF. If we wanted to change the channel, we had to stand up and walk to the television set.
I think it's been a few years since Nolie has been to Houston, because she says she has never seen the giant Sam Houston statue before.
I think it's been a few years since Nolie has been to Houston, because she says she has never seen the giant Sam Houston statue before.
Friday, January 5, 2007
Delaware Punch Is Gross
So, the blood work came back OK yesterday, and Dad was able to receive his second round of chemo. He's doing the last phase right now, which is the ten hour kidney flushing thing. He should be done by 4:00 a. m., at which point, both Nolie and Jerry will get to go home to Arlington. Yea! If all stays on track, his next chemo. round will be Friday January 19th.
Nolie also tells me that Jerry has had some breathing treatments, because he has been "exhaling forcefully." I'm not really sure what that means, but I like saying "exhaling forcefully." I guess the breathing treatments are meant to prevent or alleviate forceful exhalation, and it sounds as though forceful exhalation is undesirable.
Wayne is flying to Houston today so he can drive Mom and Dad back to Arlington Saturday morning, because Nolie can't drive--especially on the highway--in the "Big City." Nolie can, however, drive in the Big City to get to the outlet mall if there are no left hand turns involved. Yes, she did venture out to the outlet mall that the Cancer Friends at breakfast talked about. She was very excited because there is a Chico's at the outlet mall, and Chico's has the jeans she likes that are a size .5. This is funny, because it makes me think about the fake SNL commercial about the Mom Jeans, and also because it's another example of how women's sizes are arbitrarily assigned numbers, and are in no way related to any standardized unit of measure. Also, Chico's reminds me of El Chico, where Nolie, Jerry, and I often ate when I was younger, at Six Flags Mall. It was right across the mall from Wyatt's, and eating at El Chico was always fun.
During her outlet mall excursion, Nolie found a James Coney Island, where she used to get two hot dogs and a Delaware Punch for $.25. Now, one hot dog is $2.25. Delaware Punch is gross. I used to drink it as a kid because I thought I was supposed to like it, because Nolie likes it, but I do not like it. Delaware Punch is gross. Grapette is awesome, but I think my all time favorite is Jolt. Ask Kathleen about the time she was stuck in a car in Ireland with me for 7 days with Jolt Cola, cherry turnovers, and blue cheese. Oh yes, and mustard in a tube, which is actually a really handy idea. I don't know why we don't have mustard in a tube here in the States.
I'm not sure if Jerry will have his blood work next week done in Arlington, or Houston, but I'll keep everyone posted.
Nolie also tells me that Jerry has had some breathing treatments, because he has been "exhaling forcefully." I'm not really sure what that means, but I like saying "exhaling forcefully." I guess the breathing treatments are meant to prevent or alleviate forceful exhalation, and it sounds as though forceful exhalation is undesirable.
Wayne is flying to Houston today so he can drive Mom and Dad back to Arlington Saturday morning, because Nolie can't drive--especially on the highway--in the "Big City." Nolie can, however, drive in the Big City to get to the outlet mall if there are no left hand turns involved. Yes, she did venture out to the outlet mall that the Cancer Friends at breakfast talked about. She was very excited because there is a Chico's at the outlet mall, and Chico's has the jeans she likes that are a size .5. This is funny, because it makes me think about the fake SNL commercial about the Mom Jeans, and also because it's another example of how women's sizes are arbitrarily assigned numbers, and are in no way related to any standardized unit of measure. Also, Chico's reminds me of El Chico, where Nolie, Jerry, and I often ate when I was younger, at Six Flags Mall. It was right across the mall from Wyatt's, and eating at El Chico was always fun.
During her outlet mall excursion, Nolie found a James Coney Island, where she used to get two hot dogs and a Delaware Punch for $.25. Now, one hot dog is $2.25. Delaware Punch is gross. I used to drink it as a kid because I thought I was supposed to like it, because Nolie likes it, but I do not like it. Delaware Punch is gross. Grapette is awesome, but I think my all time favorite is Jolt. Ask Kathleen about the time she was stuck in a car in Ireland with me for 7 days with Jolt Cola, cherry turnovers, and blue cheese. Oh yes, and mustard in a tube, which is actually a really handy idea. I don't know why we don't have mustard in a tube here in the States.
I'm not sure if Jerry will have his blood work next week done in Arlington, or Houston, but I'll keep everyone posted.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Peppercorns, Mouth Sores, and Little Sausage Chunks
Dad had more blood work done this morning, and will get the results later today when he meets with Dr. Siefker. If the blood work indicates that he has sufficiently recovered from his last round of chemo., he will begin a new round today. If not, then I'm not sure.
Jerry's first mouth sore appeared yesterday. He thought it was a peppercorn, according to Nolie, but Jerry didn't have anything to eat with peppercorns. He thought there were peppercorns in the gravy that he had with his biscuits for breakfast, but those were little sausage chunks.
There is an oral rinse that Jerry is supposed to use five or six times a day to alleviate this very thing. I believe he has been using the rinse as prescribed, so I guess it could be much worse than one mouth sore that feels or looks like a peppercorn.
I think the next thing that is supposed to happen is the hair falling out. Nolie says that it hasn't fallen out yet, but that it looks fuzzy like goose down. The hair is supposed to fall out during week three, which is next week.
That's all I know for now. I wanted to get the latest posted now because I may not have a chance to update later tonight after the appointment with Dr. Siefker.
Jerry's first mouth sore appeared yesterday. He thought it was a peppercorn, according to Nolie, but Jerry didn't have anything to eat with peppercorns. He thought there were peppercorns in the gravy that he had with his biscuits for breakfast, but those were little sausage chunks.
There is an oral rinse that Jerry is supposed to use five or six times a day to alleviate this very thing. I believe he has been using the rinse as prescribed, so I guess it could be much worse than one mouth sore that feels or looks like a peppercorn.
I think the next thing that is supposed to happen is the hair falling out. Nolie says that it hasn't fallen out yet, but that it looks fuzzy like goose down. The hair is supposed to fall out during week three, which is next week.
That's all I know for now. I wanted to get the latest posted now because I may not have a chance to update later tonight after the appointment with Dr. Siefker.
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
If You're Gonna Spew, Spew Into This
Jerry has gone two nights in a row with no pain medication, and is attempting to go all day today. So far, so good, I think. I want it to mean that the tumor is smaller now than it was, and therefore, is not rubbing/pressing etc. or otherwise causing friction. I know that these days they say that effective pain management depends on taking your pain meds before you feel pain, because if you wait until you feel pain, it may be too late to ward it off, but Dad had a reason for skipping his nighttime dose two nights ago.
Dad threw up two nights ago just before bed, and I haven't really mentioned it because Mom and Dad are both pretty certain that the throwing up was not a result of chemotherapy, but rather, the result of drinking way too much water in a very short time period. Kind of like when you take a long road trip with the dog, and you don't stop at all so you can make good time. When you get there, the dog is so thirsty that he/she drinks way more water than there is room for in his/her stomach, and promptly throws up all over the floor. That's what happened to Dad. It's happened to Dumpling, Osito, Missy, Prissy, Worthington, Raider, Sterling, and Silver; and it happened to me once, except in my case it was a black cherry wine cooler at the Austin Marriott after John Doherty's wedding.
During Dad's appointment last Friday, when Annette sent Dad upstairs for IV therapy, she reiterated the need for Dad to drink at the very least, three litres of water a day. Although the printed material we were sent home with said "alcohol-free, caffeine-free," Annette said that nothing hydrates like water, and your three litres really should be water. Nolie and I walked next door to Kroger and bought Dad the new Ozarka stackable 3.0 litre Keg 'O Water. (no relation to Heinz's Keg O' Ketchup) When we showed it to Dad, and told him that was how much he needed to drink every day, he deadpanned, "you're kidding." I really don't think he had a visualization of what three litres looks like. Again, people--metric system--we're switching any day now. At the end of the day there was still quite a bit of water left in the Keg, so Nolie had him force down as much as he could. Poof. Throw-up in the sink. This is why he didn't take the pain pill: in case throwing up was going to be an all night thing. It was not. So, Dad woke up the next day--not in pain, but took his daytime pain pill just in case, but skipped the nighttime dose again. That was last night and he skipped his daytime dose today. It's 6:07 p.m. CST and Dad's still feeling pretty good.
Mom and Dad made friends today at breakfast. They are from Lake Charles, LA. He's there for some kind of transplant, and she, like Nolie, doesn't drive well in traffic. Lake Charles Lady gave Nolie some helpful hints for driving around Houston, and told her how to get to an outlet mall, since navigating to The Galleria requires left hand turns. The Lake Charles People do their bloodwork in Lake Charles so they only drive to Houston once every two weeks.
The Visa Card Panic is finally coming to an end, I think. Nolie and Jerry each have a brand new Visa card, each with their own name, but same account. Now, all Nolie has to do is notify all the vendors that auto-post to that account. Time-Warner Cable, and 24 Hour Fitness are the only ones I know about. The 24 Hour Fitness lady called Nolie and Jerry's from India the other day when I was there. I don't think the 24 Hour Fitness bill is nearly as crucial as Time-Warner. I couldn't imagine my parents' house without 87 bazillion channels. For one, I sleep there sometimes, and B. I load up their TiVos with movies that I transfer to the PC and burn to DVD so I can watch them later, because The Fooses have every movie channel known to man, including IFC and Sundance. Yes, the Fooses are T.V. people. I grew up an only child in a four bedroom house, with eight television sets if you count the one we inherited from Grandaddy when he went to live in Mansfield. I count it because although it wasn't plugged in, it wasn't broken. We didn't have a fancy stereo: just the intercom that was built-in, but we had eight television sets.
Dad threw up two nights ago just before bed, and I haven't really mentioned it because Mom and Dad are both pretty certain that the throwing up was not a result of chemotherapy, but rather, the result of drinking way too much water in a very short time period. Kind of like when you take a long road trip with the dog, and you don't stop at all so you can make good time. When you get there, the dog is so thirsty that he/she drinks way more water than there is room for in his/her stomach, and promptly throws up all over the floor. That's what happened to Dad. It's happened to Dumpling, Osito, Missy, Prissy, Worthington, Raider, Sterling, and Silver; and it happened to me once, except in my case it was a black cherry wine cooler at the Austin Marriott after John Doherty's wedding.
During Dad's appointment last Friday, when Annette sent Dad upstairs for IV therapy, she reiterated the need for Dad to drink at the very least, three litres of water a day. Although the printed material we were sent home with said "alcohol-free, caffeine-free," Annette said that nothing hydrates like water, and your three litres really should be water. Nolie and I walked next door to Kroger and bought Dad the new Ozarka stackable 3.0 litre Keg 'O Water. (no relation to Heinz's Keg O' Ketchup) When we showed it to Dad, and told him that was how much he needed to drink every day, he deadpanned, "you're kidding." I really don't think he had a visualization of what three litres looks like. Again, people--metric system--we're switching any day now. At the end of the day there was still quite a bit of water left in the Keg, so Nolie had him force down as much as he could. Poof. Throw-up in the sink. This is why he didn't take the pain pill: in case throwing up was going to be an all night thing. It was not. So, Dad woke up the next day--not in pain, but took his daytime pain pill just in case, but skipped the nighttime dose again. That was last night and he skipped his daytime dose today. It's 6:07 p.m. CST and Dad's still feeling pretty good.
Mom and Dad made friends today at breakfast. They are from Lake Charles, LA. He's there for some kind of transplant, and she, like Nolie, doesn't drive well in traffic. Lake Charles Lady gave Nolie some helpful hints for driving around Houston, and told her how to get to an outlet mall, since navigating to The Galleria requires left hand turns. The Lake Charles People do their bloodwork in Lake Charles so they only drive to Houston once every two weeks.
The Visa Card Panic is finally coming to an end, I think. Nolie and Jerry each have a brand new Visa card, each with their own name, but same account. Now, all Nolie has to do is notify all the vendors that auto-post to that account. Time-Warner Cable, and 24 Hour Fitness are the only ones I know about. The 24 Hour Fitness lady called Nolie and Jerry's from India the other day when I was there. I don't think the 24 Hour Fitness bill is nearly as crucial as Time-Warner. I couldn't imagine my parents' house without 87 bazillion channels. For one, I sleep there sometimes, and B. I load up their TiVos with movies that I transfer to the PC and burn to DVD so I can watch them later, because The Fooses have every movie channel known to man, including IFC and Sundance. Yes, the Fooses are T.V. people. I grew up an only child in a four bedroom house, with eight television sets if you count the one we inherited from Grandaddy when he went to live in Mansfield. I count it because although it wasn't plugged in, it wasn't broken. We didn't have a fancy stereo: just the intercom that was built-in, but we had eight television sets.
Monday, January 1, 2007
The Outsiders
Not much new to report on Jerry, but here are some general observations from my most recent visit to Houston:
There are three different types of guests at the Residence Inn by Marriott Houston Medical Center/Reliant Park. There are the Insiders, the Newcomers, and the Outsiders. The Insiders and the Newcomers are all there for the same reason. They're sick and they're there to get better. As the hotel name suggests, it is very handy to the Houston Medical Center, and the hotel operates its own shuttle, which I like to call the Cancer Van. I suppose you don't actually have to have cancer to ride in the Cancer Van, but the odds are that you, or someone you know, have something, if you're on it.
The Insiders are old pros and know all the ins and outs of getting around. For example, they know that the Mays Clinic, on the M. D. Anderson campus, has only been called the Mays Clinic for a few months. It was previously known as the ACB building, and is also sometimes referred to as Entry Number Seven. This information is important to know when you call the Cancer Van to come pick you up, because some of the Cancer Van Captains still call the Mays Clinic the ACB building.
It's alot like the pubs in Wexford, Ireland. Let's say that Flannigan owned a pub for many years and called it Flannigan's, then sold his pub to O'Leary. Well, of course, the first thing O'Leary does is change the name to O'Leary's, which includes putting up a brand new shiny sign. Twenty-five years later, the locals all still call it Flannigan's, which is fine, because I still call Foley's Sanger-Harris, even though it's Macy's now.
It is also similar to the Cat Room at Nolie and Jerry's house. Cats have not lived at Nolie and Jerry's house for quite some time, but there is still a room called the Cat Room. A more accurate name for the room would be the Junk Room, or the Gift Wrapping Room, or even sometimes Lomamma's Room (my grandmother), but it's still called the Cat Room because that's the room where Mama Cat had her kittens when I was in the ninth grade. Today, in the Cat Room, while looking for wrapping paper, I discovered yet another sphygmomanometer bringing the grand total of sphygmomanometers owned by Nolie and Jerry to four.
Newcomers quickly graduate to Insiders, as Nolie and Jerry have. You can tell that you've graduated when you learn that you need to call for the Cancer Van while you're still up on the eighth floor, not once you've come down to the valet parking stand; the hotel employees recognize you by name; and you no longer need to print directions to get from the Diagnostic Center to the Genitourology Center. Also, if you know all the other dog guests by name, that's a big clue.
There are not always Outsiders around. The Outsiders come and go in groups. The most recent group of Outsiders were the Kansas State fans. Gobs of purple sticking out at breakfast and happy hour amongst the mask wearing Cancer People. The Purple Outsiders shove up to the front of the line, cause bottlenecks at the waffle station, and pile up more food on their plates than they can possibly eat, leaving much to waste. Portion control people, don't they still practice that in the residence halls? They are loud, boisterous, and up all hours of the night with way more people in each room than local occupancy laws allow. Hey, I was a punk college kid once. I get it. I'm just not one anymore.
Jerry's next big day is Thursday, when he will have more bloodwork done to make sure he's OK for another round of chemo. to begin on Friday.
There are three different types of guests at the Residence Inn by Marriott Houston Medical Center/Reliant Park. There are the Insiders, the Newcomers, and the Outsiders. The Insiders and the Newcomers are all there for the same reason. They're sick and they're there to get better. As the hotel name suggests, it is very handy to the Houston Medical Center, and the hotel operates its own shuttle, which I like to call the Cancer Van. I suppose you don't actually have to have cancer to ride in the Cancer Van, but the odds are that you, or someone you know, have something, if you're on it.
The Insiders are old pros and know all the ins and outs of getting around. For example, they know that the Mays Clinic, on the M. D. Anderson campus, has only been called the Mays Clinic for a few months. It was previously known as the ACB building, and is also sometimes referred to as Entry Number Seven. This information is important to know when you call the Cancer Van to come pick you up, because some of the Cancer Van Captains still call the Mays Clinic the ACB building.
It's alot like the pubs in Wexford, Ireland. Let's say that Flannigan owned a pub for many years and called it Flannigan's, then sold his pub to O'Leary. Well, of course, the first thing O'Leary does is change the name to O'Leary's, which includes putting up a brand new shiny sign. Twenty-five years later, the locals all still call it Flannigan's, which is fine, because I still call Foley's Sanger-Harris, even though it's Macy's now.
It is also similar to the Cat Room at Nolie and Jerry's house. Cats have not lived at Nolie and Jerry's house for quite some time, but there is still a room called the Cat Room. A more accurate name for the room would be the Junk Room, or the Gift Wrapping Room, or even sometimes Lomamma's Room (my grandmother), but it's still called the Cat Room because that's the room where Mama Cat had her kittens when I was in the ninth grade. Today, in the Cat Room, while looking for wrapping paper, I discovered yet another sphygmomanometer bringing the grand total of sphygmomanometers owned by Nolie and Jerry to four.
Newcomers quickly graduate to Insiders, as Nolie and Jerry have. You can tell that you've graduated when you learn that you need to call for the Cancer Van while you're still up on the eighth floor, not once you've come down to the valet parking stand; the hotel employees recognize you by name; and you no longer need to print directions to get from the Diagnostic Center to the Genitourology Center. Also, if you know all the other dog guests by name, that's a big clue.
There are not always Outsiders around. The Outsiders come and go in groups. The most recent group of Outsiders were the Kansas State fans. Gobs of purple sticking out at breakfast and happy hour amongst the mask wearing Cancer People. The Purple Outsiders shove up to the front of the line, cause bottlenecks at the waffle station, and pile up more food on their plates than they can possibly eat, leaving much to waste. Portion control people, don't they still practice that in the residence halls? They are loud, boisterous, and up all hours of the night with way more people in each room than local occupancy laws allow. Hey, I was a punk college kid once. I get it. I'm just not one anymore.
Jerry's next big day is Thursday, when he will have more bloodwork done to make sure he's OK for another round of chemo. to begin on Friday.
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