It’s been one hell of a fortnight.
When we closed the last chapter on our continuing saga, I had just offered my body to science as part of an experimental drug trial to fight the rare neuro-endocrine tumor that’s taken up permanent residence in my skull.
I’ve been totally miserable since. You know how Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed must have felt after the first Rocky movie? That kind of miserable. Ten-pounds-of-shit-in-a-five-pound-bag miserable. Migraine after migraine, pain radiating down my face. The headaches have been especially formidable because they’ve been so resistant to treatments that usually work. So I’ve been exhausted, frustrated, shaky. These pages have largely been forgotten as I bounce through each day like a pinball
It’s been hard for me to maintain my balance. It’s not only the unrelenting pain.
The concern, as I mentioned, is that the tumor is growing significantly now that I’m cleansing my body of the old, rather ineffective drug I took to put the little bugger in his place. It certainly feels like it might be surging. The dull constant throbbing from forehead to cheek bone is worrisome. I can’t pretend otherwise.
But I’m mostly good at keeping my emotions in check. The pain just could be my body going through a form of withdrawal. Really, there’s no sense worrying until they give me something to worry about, and I’ll know soon enough.
Today, I felt like a candidate for the NASA space program as they hooked me to machines and poked and prodded me like I would poke and prod a Stephen Harper Voodoo Doll if only someone would give me the opportunity. Vials and vials of blood work. An ultrasound on my gallbladder. And ECG on my heart, which is running tickity-boo. True, my blood pressure is high-normal, but that’s to be expected after fighting with Apollo Creed, the Master of Disaster, for two straight weeks.
Further to a previous post, I nailed down some hard numbers, and learned that this drug has caused an irregular heartbeat in a small, but significant fraction of study participants, but I’m confident that I’ll be fine.
I felt like cheating on the visual field test because I know that I didn’t ace it. I could hear the machinery whirring when they were checking my right eye, but I couldn’t see the pinprick of light anywhere for four or five tests in a row. So maybe my vision’s been affected. Maybe not. Another piece to the puzzle.
Patience is a virtue, Grasshopper.
I’ll get these, and other test results, in the next few days. I should also learn if I have osteoporosis within the week. One thing that I have learned is that the hormone replacement therapy I’ve been receiving for five months doesn’t seem to be working. The bi-monthly injections are costing an arm and a leg, but I’m still down three pints. Right where I was when I started.
Nevertheless, hope remains while the fellowship is true. I’m not discouraged. I have been through much worse over the last decade, and I’ll get through this with Kristina’s help and your good wishes.
In fact, if I could just work on my next project, Tiger, with greater frequency, I think this could be a happy time. A seventh agent has asked to read the full Secrets of the Hotel Maisonneuve manuscript, so I hope for better days ahead, and more chances to write.
Thanks for reading. Tell me about how your week, or your writing, is going.
Oh wow. I had no idea you were going through this. I hope the treatments work out and that the pain lessens.
My writing is going along at a slow pace but better than nothing I suppose.
When I am not worshiping at the porcelain goddess over my new meds, I am feeling pretty OK. Managing my pain (and unlike you, I can take narcotics!!!).
Hope all you are going through shrinks that sucker, hon!
Jennifer… No worries. Hard couple of weeks, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be laughing. I was just caught flat-footed. :-)
Erica… still? I hoped you’d be feeling better. That’s my greatest fear with this treatment. I don’t want to become intimate with our porcelain. The rest I will handle.
Thanks to both of you for the good wishes. :-)
You mustn’t forget Super Grover’s eye has been specially hermetically sealed from his specially trained Super Tumor. (And, in a literary aside, MAN do I wish I could publish “Secrets” for you MYSELF so I could READ IT!)
June… you made me smile, as you always do.
And, from a literary point of view, you need only say the word. :-)
I will take Laurel’s word for it on the hawtness. I seem to be calibrated to a different set of measurements for that kind of thing.
Congrats on the request for the full. And, being only a recent online friend of yours, I don’t write to you much, but you are in my thoughts frequently. Good California vibrations (of the non-earthquake kind) sent your way. (Also for Erica of course.)
Hang in there! I’m not surprised that the migraine pain isn’t responding to traditional treatments since those are more geared toward brain “hiccups”. Did you know that classic migraines are on the epilepsy spectrum and some migraine sufferers who have never had seizures get relief from off-label usage of Depakote?
You have pain from pressure other than freakish capillary dilation. And you’re right…elevated BP is a normal response to pain. In fact, it’s one of the parameters they use to evaluate pain levels in non-responsive or psychotic patients who might be unable to communicate pain.
Bottom line…how much longer before you are through with the clearing stage and start treatment? Because I want to start hearing GOOD NEWS!
My heart goes out to you, Richard. I only know you through cyberspace, so I’ve been shy about commenting, but I have been following, and you are so articulate, funny and brave about everything you do that I am inspired. Thank you for sharing your thoughts – congratulations on your writing successes – and sincere good vibes for big improvements in your health.
Congratulations on the requests for the fulls and thanks for stopping by my blog, Richard. I’m sorry to hear that you are having such a hard time. I’m glad you have someone that is so supportive. (hug)
I’ve waited a bit for my reply. I’ve been waiting for this moment.
Right now I’m pretty good. I’m enjoying the moment.
I made the mistake of not writing last night. I laid awake for hours, thoughts swirling in my head, spinning off on tangents, each a post by itself. But I can be stubborn, too stubborn at times. It was after bedtime and I was determined to fight it and get some damn sleep!
Of course, that’s the perfect recipe for not sleeping. If I’d just gotten up and spun one out I’d have gotten at least six hours (instead of less than half).
Even though you asked, that’s way too much about me.
My good thoughts have to travel a long way. I hope they’re making it there in good shape. Be well my friend.
Laurel, Peter, John, Diane and Sharon — thanks for the kind words! You touch my little heart.
Laurel, I do take a drug for epileptics as a prophylactic measure. It’s helped quite a bit, and I’m grateful for it.
The next stage with my first injection is tentatively scheduled for next week. I’m ready!
I had no idea of what you’ve been going through! I’m so sorry for all this pain you are suffering. I will pray that the new routine and medicine will work for you and that everything will work out for you. All my best to you.
E