(Thank you for all the very nice notes during my unwilling week "off." It humbles me that so many of you are interested in my bumbles and stumbles. Except for the legs I am doing just fine, just really ready to get done with coming off Decadron and get some regular legs back. The physical therapy has been a huge help. I can now stand up straight out of a chair without pushing on an arm. Big victory. As for feeling a little down, it is tough on the psyche when you literally can't pick yourself up. But that problem is close to being history.)--DCF
Huzzah, huzzah, hip, hip and hooray, back on line and kicking cancer arse, What a week. First Sadie had her way with the power cord on the computer. And finding a Mac power cord is not as easy as ordering a hamburger at Mickey D's. So I am out of contact with the world for a week, which also upsets the daily routine. I do not like having my daily routine upset any more than a I like Sutent upsetting most everything. Went to Shaler on Wednesday and pretty much walk out with nothing new. Keep the feet up, stay on the diuretic. Over at the Physical Therapy joint, nobody cares about my poor little ballooning issues. It's just lift this leg, squeeze that one one, put those butt cheeks together until you feeeeeel it. So I limp hone and check the messages. One from the Doc's office. CT scan Friday afternoon. I am about to panic until I remember Sherry asking if we could get the scans out of the way now, help on the deductible. MRI next week, same reason. So from simple paranoia with the hurting and swollen feet and legs I zip into scan anxiety--pains here, pains there, could that mean tumors, tumors everywhere. Always my first reaction to the coming a new scan. But at least I wasn't thinking about my legs for a while.
That's what I like so much about cancer....it is so consistent.
But there is some great news, at least for me. My sisters (three) made a special trip to see the poor old warrior today, all from more than three hundred miles away. How sweet. And Alex came home to make the family complete. So everybody asked how I felt, said that I looked good, suggested two or three different creams for my dry skin and felt my rock hard legs and said, something like, "Goodness, those are hard." By dinner time, everyone was concerned about where I wanted to go eat. I didn't want to go eat. Oh, well that's not exactly true. I was hungry, but knew that just the smell of a restaurant would ruin me. While they were enjoying their fillet or whatever, I would be hurling. Not much of a deal. (Note: The dogs love for me to go out to eat because they know when I come home the doggie bag will come with me. They're getting down right snooty about food.) So I stayed home, drank a protein shake and spent an hour on the porch pointing out to Sadie--again and again and again--what she can not eat, from pipe cleaners to the new power cord box to some material I am sure I would have recognized immediately before she chewed it up.
So I am happily not having to stare at a plate of food while my sisters and Sherry--I am pretty sure--are comparing notes about how he (me) really looks or how he really feels or whatever. I hope the prognosis is good. As if it mattered.
And so the week comes to a close. My legs hurt, but they say that is much soreness from the workouts than anything else. They are also swollen. I got a lecture from a lady this week on swollen legs. As in "you are a man, you don't know swollen legs from nothing." The CT scan was something of a surprise, but hell, you gotta know what you gotta know, perhaps the most important part of kicking cancer's arse. Actually, I am more concerned about the MRI. I don't need any more surprises in the thinker region. Not so much because of the potential tumors, but the need to go back on Decadron. Enough is enough.
I still feel I am a man on the mend, but mending ain't been much fun lately. However, the computer is back, up and working. Hell, that's half the battle. I did not enjoy being out of touch for near seven days. And one time I said I would never have a computer. Now they would have to do surgery to seperate me from it. Sound familiar?
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