. . .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.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
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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