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.

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.

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.