Been Too Long

Hi all. The last time you heard from me was back in September when I was admitted to the hospital. I was going to start blogging again, but I didn't. I don't usually like excuses, but I do have a good one. Besides the cancer. Only a few weeks after being released from the hospital, I was readmitted for the same infection I had before. It just wouldn't go away. They told me it was a bad one. Clostridium Difficile. C-diff for short. Sounds like a rapper.
A bad-ass rapper as infections go. They quarantined me inside a single-person room so I wouldn't spread it. I told people I got my own room because I was a VIP, but this was no deluxe suite. The room had dual doors: a regular one and one outside of it with a big glass window and a sign alerting people to my condition. Before entering, doctors, nurses, and visitors had to put on a mask and and these ill-fitting yellow gowns.

Chemo is intended to kill the cancer, but it also kills cells that usually protect the body from thugs like C-diff. My low immune system was introducing me to all sorts of infections, but this was by far the worst. Eventually the intravenous antibiotics did the trick, and I was C-diff and infection-free. They did send me home with a weeks supply of liquid antibiotics. A few hours, twice a day, just like in the hospital, I had to hang the antibiotics from a pole and connect a tube to my arm so it could flow into my bloodstream. C-diff and his gangster bacteria were now dealing on my turf, and I was their number one customer. There was a time when I would find this all bizarre. Now it's just what I do.

Before I went back to the hospital, I continued with my chemotherapy. I blamed my poor condition on the chemo and didn't realize what C-diff was up to. It sucked, but I didn't want the cancer to get a chance to spread anymore. Remember, he's the real villain. Fortunately, my resident cancer expert, also known as my wife, could take one look at me and tell it was time to go back to the hospital. 

After getting out of the hospital, I didn't write any posts for the blog (obviously), but this time I had a really good excuse. I just didn't feel like it. I'd just taken a severe beating. I barely had the strength to even talk about it.

So, I rested. And healed some. The chemotherapy didn't seem so bad compared to going through it with painful, malicious infections. I was still hooking myself up to the pump and doing 12 hours of TPN (intravenous feeding) a day; but I was no longer using the second feeding pump that attached to the tube in my belly which connected to my large intestine. It had caused me problems all along, and even had been removed once before. Unlike the intravenous hook-ups, this tube went right through my skin and into my digestive system. It was an open wound, sort of, unable to heal because this rubber tube was there. It hung down from my belly and would frequently get tugged on, so I always had it taped to my side (in addition to the bandage that was taped over the wound and had to be changed daily). More than any other apparatus connected to me, this one bothered me the most. It hurt a lot of the time, and it made it hard for me to do anything that involved touching my front-side.

In addition to rendering me physically challenged, it also made it difficult to play with my son or hold my wife. When it came to playing with my son, I had to watch for him pulling or grabbing or kicking my tube. He is a curious two-year-old.  As I said, it was taped to my body for safety, but it was limiting. I couldn't even hug without causing serious pain. I have this picture in my head of me grabbing my side, my shirt and hands covered in blood, and my son smiling proudly, holding up the tube he just yanked out of me, unaware he did anything wrong. I love him so much. A part of me feels proud picturing him holding up his newly-acquired toy, although I'm glad it never happened.

A couple of weeks ago, we decided -- No more j-tube. I made an appointment with the doctor, and asked him to remove it. The upside had become virtually non-existent and the downside was all there was. He was hesitant, wanting me to give it one more try, but we were adamant. He said pulling out the tube would really, really, really hurt, but I still insisted. I've had tubes pulled from me like this before. So when he said it would hurt, I knew exactly what he was talking about. This tube, he said, would hurt a little more because there was a mushroom-shaped tip at the end of it that was much bigger than the hole in my belly. Great. I nodded, and he pulled the tube out. Miraculously, it didn't hurt. The mushroom tip had broken off and would eventually come out in my poop.

Almost instantly, I felt better. I still had a stomach that didn't work and weekly chemo treatments, but I felt better than I had in years. Without that tube, I felt more like myself again. I felt more human.

Playing with my son became all I wanted to do. I can lift him up and hug him, pull him close and tight to my chest. Our favorite game is tackle, where I hand him the football then tackle him and rub my beard in his face. I, of course, ham it up and make it seem more dramatic than it is. He just laughs and laughs. I can't remember being this happy in a long time. He's amazing.

I recently started to try eating a little. I was having an easier time "drinking" liquids, and my appetite was returning, so I figured what the heck. I can only eat a little bit, and I have to do so very slowly. Once, I unintentionally went crazy on a piece of pizza and ate half of it before I knew what had happened. Seconds later, I was grabbing my stomach in pain before throwing up sauce and cheese. I didn't care. It was worth it. And some of it did stay down. I'm now trying to eat small "meals" with mixed results. I'll keep you informed on how it's working out. 

The best thing I did was take my wife out to dinner on a date. It had been years literally since we did something like this. Not counting the times we went out to dinner with a group of friends or family and I'd just sit there awkwardly not eating. Our night out was something special. It was a long time coming, and felt a bit like our first date.

Family really is everything.