Last Night ROCKED

Well, I suppose last night rocked. I don’t know since I was ASLEEP! That’s right – I had a puke-free night with the Zofran. For future reference, I took one Zofran a little over an hour before I took the chemo piklls and that did the trick. I’ll tell you though, taking those chemo pills last night was the hardest thing I’ve made myself do through this whole cancer experience. There’s definitely something in me that doesn’t like making myself sick. I guess I’ll never have that girlish Lindsay Lohan figure.

In house news, we signed our contract last night and went over all the particulars. Our real estate guys, Evan and Scott, are great and exceedingly thorough. The deadline for getting real estate ads into the newspaper was yesterday at 1, so they went ahead and got the ad placed just on our word that we’d sign that night. They’ve also set up… an open house! This weekend will be the first big showing of the place with Barb and I hiding in the close…. I mean… out shopping or something. Far away from the house. Yeeeeaaah.

Made It Through the Night

Well, I made it through night one of this MOPP! crap. Thanks to Steve over on the Hodgkin’s forum, I remembered that I still have some Zofran I was given at the start of all this chemo stuff. I’ll give that a try tonight, but I figured I’d call the doc to see what they suggested. Their answer? The zofran. Good to know I’m smarter at medicine than I am at locating it. Or something.

So now that the puking’s over (oh, the count wound up in the teens and took around four hours before I could stop throwing up and go to sleep), it’s time to talk hockey!

The Devils have been awesome as usual. It almost feels like their ’95 Cup run again, ’cause none of the announcers seem to understand how the Devils work. They continue to be amazed that they function as a team and when one person goes down, another’s there to take their place. Duh – that’s Devil’s hockey. Everyone knows the role they’re supposed to play and they play it to the best of their ability. Is Cam Janssen out there trying to score beautiful goals? No – he’s out there hitting people. Is Brian Gionta picking fights with the other team’s enforcers? No, he’s going to the net and scoring goals. This is what a team is, and the Devils have always personified that. That’s why Ken Daneyko’s number was retired this season. He’s not going to wind up in the hall of fame like everyone else whose number has been retired by their team, but he was the ultimate team player. There’s a reason they call him Mr. Devil, and it’s not the horns.

Jaromir Jagr. I should start off by saying I’ve never really cared for Jaromir. In my mind, while a hockey forward should obviously be good at offense, they have to pay attention to defense as well. Probably one more reason I’m a Devils fan. All of the times I’ve watched Jagr play, he’s never coming back to help out. He’ll often stay back either by the blue line or occasionally as far back as the opponent’s blue line, waiting for the puck to bounce to him. He also doesn’t go out on the penalty kills. For someone who skates and puckhandles as well as he does, he should be out there in any situation they can get him in. But no, he doesn’t like defense. Either that or his coaches have realized he’ll probably do something stupid like his attempted sucker punch on Gomez that dislocated his shoulder.

Take Peter Forsberg. Take Joe Thornton. These are big guys like Jagr. They can skate, they can shoot, they can puckhandle and they can make awesome plays. They can also play defense! And as for Forsberg, he can just get mean when he’s out there. I like that. Too bad he’s a Flyer.

So Jagr comes back for Game three, and makes an immediate impact on the team by scoring no goals and getting no assists. Way to go, Jags. Even better that the Devils’ first goal is scored 68 seconds into the game, as Jagr’s jersey number is 68. Welcome back to the series. Maybe you should focus on growing out that frilly mullet of yours again.

Sadly, I missed the first two Devils goals and the entire first period. Why? We interviewed some realtors who are going to be taking over the house selling duties for us. Between my new chemo and the pain that can go into selling a house properly, we’ve decided to hand over the house-selling to someone else.

These guys were great, despite making me miss part of the Devils. There are some great fringe benefits to working with them and their company, and it should help us get this house sold quickly and get us another one rather quickly as well. They’re coming back over to have us sign the contract tonight, and they’ve already submitted our house to the newspapers for an open house this Sunday. Sweet! I’ll just need to make them aware that there may be a Devils game at 6, of course.

The even cooler thing is, they know the area around here very well and actually thought we had underpriced the house. They said it was one of the best and nicest old houses in the area they had seen. Hot damn! If we can get it to sell for their price, then we can pay the commission and still be pretty close to our asking price. How cool is that?

A Post for Dad

…and anyone else who may be interested in watching the Devils stomp the Rangers. Here’s the schedule for the first round of the playoffs. Dad, you’ll be able to see a couple of them for sure (Saturdays on NBC). I think you get OLN, which means you’ll get to see them all. Be sure and print this out and tape it to the TV! (Sorry Mom, but it’s the Devils!)

Game 1 Sat, 4/22 3:00 PM NY Rangers at New Jersey NBC
Game 2 Mon, 4/24 7:00 PM NY Rangers at New Jersey OLN
Game 3 Wed, 4/26 7:00 PM New Jersey at NY Rangers OLN
Game 4 Sat, 4/29 3:00 PM New Jersey at NY Rangers NBC
Game 5 Sun, 4/30 6:00 PM NY Rangers at New Jersey OLN
Game 6 Tue, 5/2 7:00 PM New Jersey at NY Rangers OLN
Game 7 Sun, 5/4 TBD NY Rangers at New Jersey OLN

Where Did Little Brian Go?

Today we went and saw the movie Thank You for Smoking. Excellent and funny movie, bordering on hilarity at times. Great acting done by everyone and in particular, there’s one scene where the actor playing the lead’s son does something that was so inherently kid-like that it just smacked me in the face with how old I am now.

In the scene, Nick (lead character played by Aaron Eckhart) has taken his son with him on a trip to Hollywood. They’re checking out their hotel room and the kid’s running around the room like a crazy person and stops by flopping on the bed. This wasn’t a grownup flop, though. Not one of our well thought out, carefully positioned descents to convey tiredness or relief while making sure no vital parts will get bent improperly upon landing. No, no no. He runs full tilt at the bedside and makes no move to jump or brace or.. well… think. He smacks into the bed knees first and the momentum of his lower legs being stopped levers the rest of him into flopping resoundly on the bed.

As soon as he did it, I had two immediate and almost concurrent thoughts:

“He didn’t even think about what that could have done to his knees!”

“That is such a kid kind of thing to do.”

My next thought was something about how old I was getting and I think the fourth thought involved spaceships or something.

Oh Yeah – I Made It

Almost forgot to mention that I made it through last night – the house didn’t kill me after all. I think it’s just biding its time. I woke up around 8:30 this morning ’cause I could feel a presence in the room. It was Barb. I guess her Spidey-sense must’ve been going off last night, so she came home early. Yay!

Imagination… is Funny

Okay, so my imagination works a little too well at times. Because of this, I’ve often been hosed when it comes to being alone in the dark. My ears hear a noise and my brain starts going crazy, thinking of all of the horrid mundane and supernatural things that could have caused it. This old house (our house, not the TV show) doesn’t help very much.

Barb is in Boston tonight. I’m here alone in Hartford. I’ve been up a little too long, so my mind and ears are having a blast. Ever see the Simpsons where Marge left Homer alone with the kids and when she got home, there was a huge hole in the front door and Homer and the kids were hiding behind the couch, scared out of their minds?

Welcome to my world.

Now, I was preparing for things to go a little crazy tonight, just because I learn from the past. There’s one thing I didn’t count on. You see, there’s one room in the house I’ve never liked. I’ve just gotten a bad vibe every time I’ve gone in there. I affectionately call it The Room of Evil. If I’m alone, I stay out of there and keep the door closed. If I have to go in the room, I go as fast as I possibly can.

Is it possible for a second floor room to be built over an indian burial ground?

So tonight, just a mere few minutes ago, I decide it’s time to turn in. Flashlight? Check. Hockey stick? Check. Backup hockey stick? Check. I’m settling under the warm covers, ready to be lulled to sleep by the hum from all of the lights on the second floor burning brightly, when all of a sudden…


Actually, much louder than that, but I’m too freaked out right now to mess with my CSS.

I grab a stick, find my glasses, put on my slippers and investigate. A picture just up and decided to fall off the wall. Makes perfect sense. And where was the picture? Outside The Room of Evil.

Bloody Hell.

Just know that if I happen to not make it through the night, it wasn’t the cancer that killed me. It was the house.

Speaking of Armies…

Since I had to break out my camera a little while ago (a long story involving bad power supplies, idiot scanners and a million fonts), I finally took a picture of the package I got in the mail a bit ago from The Regulars. If you wanna see the big picture, click the little one.

Regular Goodness

Inside was a strip with three Regulars-logoed stickers, a photo and the now-expected password hint paper. Unfortunately, my hint is for the number seven in the second slot, which has already been figured out. Now we all just have to sit around with bated breath until the next recipient posts their hint.

As for the photo, it’s markered with the phrase “Where are we going?” in the lower left corner. The photo itsels if of a map of London with the National Portrait Gallery circled. Upon receipt, I zipped over to the gallery’s online presence to try to find a clue, but it was no help.

Or was it?

It’s not Art.

I had one of those “stuck behind an idiot in the faster lane” revelations this morning on the way to work. Basically I have a new second mantra that deals with the non-cancerous portion of my life.

Let’s go back a bit. You see, I have ADD. One of the symptoms of this is getting very easily overwhelmed by things. At least for me, that’s a biggie. One of the ways I do this is by paying attention to all of the little miniscule details of things, especially anything creative. Then, if I have more than one creative thing to get done, I see all of these miniscule details, shut down and don’t do anything.

It’s not Art.

That’s what I’ve decided to start trying to tell myself. I realized this morning that I always take some Higher Approach to anything creative I do, like it’s going to wind up in MoMA or something. Photography, woodworking, sewing, programming, designing, writing… I never quite do these things for myself. There’s always this Other who will eventually see and judge everything I do. Why? Because it’s Art!


So now I’m going to try to leap over this huge mental obstacle of mine so I can actually get things done and possibly enjoy doing them.

That would be quite a change.

Free the Wattsmouth One!

Well, I’ve just gotten back from having my little enamel sandinista liberated from its gum gulag and I don’t know (yet) what all the fuss is about. I’m sure I’ll figure it out when the novocaine wears off. The procedure itself was surprisingly fast. The doctor (who Barb and I agree was quite a tool) numbed me up and said something about breaking the tooth which, badass or not, can really freak you the hell out. He tugged around on it for a bit and said “okay” and stopped. I figured he had broken it or whatever and was going to get ready for the rough stuff. Instead, the nurse says that she’ll go out and get Barb so we can talk about post-op care. Aside form the paperwork filling out and the numbing, the whole thing took about two minutes.

The doc (tool) said he was just going to leave the spot open, because apparently there’s less chance of infection that way. He told me that I should wait a minimum of one week before getting the next round of chemo, preferably two. I’ll be seeing him again next Wednesday for a followup. He also said that if I’m still having pain after this heals, I can NOT have my chemo. Apparently when your immune system and/or your blood is all screwed up from chemo or other things, there’s a possibility of infection attacking your teeth from the other direction – root up instead of crown down like a cavity.

Heh heh – crown down.

He said it’s kind of hard to see that sort of thing going on unless you’re specifically looking for it and if I still have pain, they’ll specifically look for it. He brought all of this up just because of the chemo and the fact that my pain wasn’t always directed at the one wisdom tooth. This past week it has, though (he never quite gave me enough time to explain that fact. Tool.) so I’ll probably be fine once I’m healed.

So, it looks like I’m going to be chemo free for the next couple of weeks. I guess I should go run a marathon or something, just so I don’t get used to not being tired. At least this gives us a little more time to overprepare for the hospital, right?

The Whole Tooth and Nothing But

Well, I’m back from the dentist. I talked over the tooth situation with Dr. D yesterday before my treatment and he said my counts looked good enough to go in and see about some drillin’ and fillin’. My dentist was named Dr. Paul, which is quite deceiving as Dr. Paul is neither a hairdresser nor a man. Picture Charlotte from Sex and the City (the one with the brown hair and big eyes). Same kind of look, same kind of attitude. Really apologetic any time she was about to hurt me. And hurt me she did! Well, no more than a usual dentist. She’s couldn’t tell definitively if there was an infection brewing at the site of my old root canal (where the pain seems to be coming from), but there was a cavity between that tooth and the one behind it. She went ahead and drilled and filled there and on the front of my two front teeth, which were looking a little bad. She also suggested that when my counts are really good, I come back for a cleaning and to extract a wisdom tooth that’s looking pretty bad. Both of those can hold for a bit, but she thinks it would be good to get them taken care of before I get hit with the hard chemo. I’ll be discussing with the cancer docs to get the recommendation.

Here’s something I really hate about the chemo – it’s really starting to affect my brain. Part of it is just typos. Everywhere. I’m sure you can look back a few days and spot many, ’cause I haven’t gone back to look. Some of these are due to stumble fingers, others I have no idea where they come from. I was writing an email to Barb the other day where I typed the phrase “it’s one of his buddies.” I looked up at the screen to see “it’s then of his buddies.” Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Other times, it’s hard to make the words come in out any proper order. I’ll start typing a sentence and I’ll get about halfway through and realize it makes no sense whatsoever. You people are probably used to this from my emails and my various posts, but it’s new to me.

For the most part, it was just typing that was bothering me. Now it’s leaching into the real world. I stopped by CVS to pick up my next batch of meds and decided to get some 8 hour Tylenol since I’ve been hitting it pretty hard as of late. I look at the shelf, going through the bewildering array of Tylenols until I get to the 8 hour section. I look back and forth through the different quantities until I found the one with the most (I mean seriously, 24 pills? What can I do with that?). I looked at it, saw it was 8 hour, picked it up off the shelf. I get home, open the box, open the bottle. “Hmmm. These look different.” I look at the bottle. Extra Strength Tylenol. Son of a… How could they screw up and put the wrong bottle in the right box? I check the box. Extra Strength Tylenol. Crapola.

So now I’m getting Barb to pick some up on her way home and I’m not going to shop by myself anymore. Here’s hoping the brain cloud takes care of itself before I have to go jump in a volcano.

And I didn’t keep exact track, but I would say I’ve retyped a minimum of 50 words in this post, some more than once. Chemo sucks.