The on-going, first-hand tale of a journey through medical oncology... and what happens after.

Monday, September 19, 2011

New old news

So, here I sit again, staring out the window into grey cloudy skies that predict an early fall, attempting to drown out the whirrs, clicks, and alarms of the chemo infusion clinic with a healthy dose of Enya. My bloodwork was encouraging this morning, with my neutrophils 'recovered' to a nearly-normal 3000 per milliliter. The bone pain in my left femur was a predicted (and predictable) side effect of the Neulasta shot that I received two weeks ago, and I anticipate another one of those beastly injections on Wednesday to be sure we can finish Chemopalooza 2011 on time. All evidence points to finishing the fifth treatment this week, and then a final transfusion has been scheduled for October 3rd. Woo-hoo.

Karen and I went to the coast this last weekend with three other couples - dear friends that form a wonderful little book club / drinking association. I have been virtually a teetotaler for the past eight months, but let myself get a little wild by having a couple Bud Lite Limes. Lest anyone miss the irony of that, I have long been a fan of handcrafted and small lot beer batches. Local favorites include the Deschutes Obsidian Stout, the Ninkasi Tricerahops, and just about any Oregon-produced India Pale Ale. Drinking Bud Lime is like drinking a weak shandy. But I digress. We had a fun time laughing and playing games together, canoeing in the Siletz Bay, and traipsing around Robert's Book Shop in Lincoln City. It was a perfect relaxative prior to today, and we even got to watch the Packers win.

Namaste.

3 comments:

PN said...

Ed, I hope that you afternoon sky has brightened with sunshine and continues throughout the week. Sending positive thoughts and sunshine your way! PN

Mikey said...

Sounds like you had a terrific weekend with friends and family!

Deaf/Hard of Hearing Resource Room said...

Congrats, Ed, to making it to this monumental point. When you take this last ride in the chemo chair, know each whrr, bzzzt, clik is wiping out any lurking cells. Picture yourself doing what you hope to be doing in 6 months - Ragbrai? Seattle to PDX? Greece? Put yourself there. Each repetition of the pump brings you closer. And then, you're done. Let's celebrate!