I think this would be a great idea too, if we could "Scorcho" our avatarsThat's it folks: this is something worth getting behind, and I hereby submit to you all a new avatar suggestion (sorry SalsaShark, this is more deserving):
"The Scorcho"
I'll go first. Hang in there, Scorch!
Update:
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I think you should use this thread to update us. If it can help you hang on and help your body get back to normal.
GAF can amaze me as a source of sympathy sometimes. Always there when people really need help.
I had no idea you were sick Scorcho, and maybe its the Sigur Ros music but i'm having a hard time keeping my composure as I type this at the office.
It might be inaccurate to call you a friend, but I've never had anyone close to me hit by an illness at a young age. Hope you are the 1%![]()
I really should be writing this for my blog, or in an email to my girlfriend. I'll probably copy/paste and add some additional stuff later. I suppose I like posting on here because my identity is, for the most part, still private. I can bitch and wine and tell you about my thoughts on ODing without worrying those around me unnecessarily. I hope you don't mind.
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Fall has always been my favorite season. That transition from the ragged green to an orange rust; the cooler air that invites longer walks and ruminations; the chilly mornings that makes you, for a split second, want to linger even longer in the heated pocket you created for yourself in your bed. Sometimes, in that second, you even manage to forget the situation you're currently in.
The last two mornings have been pretty good for me. Because I only have a fraction of one working lung along with a compromised diaphragm, it's hard for me generate enough force to blow out the accumulated sputum/phlegm that builds up overnight or through allergies. Before oxygen therapy I'd be hunched over the sink for 30 minutes, red in the face, attempting to cough out a piece of phlegm that thickened overnight and disrupted my airflow. Every breath I took in would cause a loud wheeze. Yet if I coughed too hard I'd eventually break some capillaries in my throat and, frankly, it becomes a bloody mess. Then the doctors wouldn't know if I was bleeding out of my lungs or throat, which compromises treatment options, etc.
But no more! I'm using a netipot to clean out my nasal passages from lingering boogers - both hard and soft - and if i inhale the water through my nose and lift my head, the water that trickles down my wind pipe will subsequently kick up any deep phlegm that would've taken me hours to cough up otherwise. It's certainly improved my experience breathing through this cannula.
Additionaly, I think the accumulative side-effects (unrelenting pain) of the last two chemo cycles have left my body. Yesterday I finally felt 'normal' enough for the first time in a week to move around and not feel as if everything was breaking down. Great timing as I had to head to my CT scan that afternoon. This morning continues the trend. I keep imagining melting tumors, images of plums turning to prunes, testicles on a cold fall morning - anything to help me visualize the cancer melting away.
So today is the meeting with my doctor to review the scan and decide whether I start on these blasted pills. The pills he initially wrote the prescription for 2 months ago. The one that seems to work in limited clinical trials but, well, my cancer's a fucking bitch. It doesn't follow protocols or norms. It's as much a snowflake as I am.
I really should be writing this for my blog, or in an email to my girlfriend. I'll probably copy/paste and add some additional stuff later. I suppose I like posting on here because my identity is, for the most part, still private. I can bitch and wine and tell you about my thoughts on ODing without worrying those around me unnecessarily. I hope you don't mind.
-
Fall has always been my favorite season. That transition from the ragged green to an orange rust; the cooler air that invites longer walks and ruminations; the chilly mornings that makes you, for a split second, want to linger even longer in the heated pocket you created for yourself in your bed. Sometimes, in that second, you even manage to forget the situation you're currently in.
The last two mornings have been pretty good for me. Because I only have a fraction of one working lung along with a compromised diaphragm, it's hard for me generate enough force to blow out the accumulated sputum/phlegm that builds up overnight or through allergies. Before oxygen therapy I'd be hunched over the sink for 30 minutes, red in the face, attempting to cough out a piece of phlegm that thickened overnight and disrupted my airflow. Every breath I took in would cause a loud wheeze. Yet if I coughed too hard I'd eventually break some capillaries in my throat and, frankly, it becomes a bloody mess. Then the doctors wouldn't know if I was bleeding out of my lungs or throat, which compromises treatment options, etc.
But no more! I'm using a netipot to clean out my nasal passages from lingering boogers - both hard and soft - and if i inhale the water through my nose and lift my head, the water that trickles down my wind pipe will subsequently kick up any deep phlegm that would've taken me hours to cough up otherwise. It's certainly improved my experience breathing through this cannula.
Additionaly, I think the accumulative side-effects (unrelenting pain) of the last two chemo cycles have left my body. Yesterday I finally felt 'normal' enough for the first time in a week to move around and not feel as if everything was breaking down. Great timing as I had to head to my CT scan that afternoon. This morning continues the trend. I keep imagining melting tumors, images of plums turning to prunes, testicles on a cold fall morning - anything to help me visualize the cancer melting away.
So today is the meeting with my doctor to review the scan and decide whether I start on these blasted pills. The pills he initially wrote the prescription for 2 months ago. The one that seems to work in limited clinical trials but, well, my cancer's a fucking bitch. It doesn't follow protocols or norms. It's as much a snowflake as I am.
So, after all that, the chemotherapy failed. All masses grew by nearly 10% since the last scan in early August, rendering all that post-chemo pain of the last few weeks and the two month administrative hurdle in getting this experimental drug an expensive waste of time.
I start taking the new chemo pill tonight. I'll find out in four weeks where we're at, or sooner depending on whether my body gives up first. C'est la vie.
I really should be writing this for my blog, or in an email to my girlfriend. I'll probably copy/paste and add some additional stuff later. I suppose I like posting on here because my identity is, for the most part, still private. I can bitch and wine and tell you about my thoughts on ODing without worrying those around me unnecessarily. I hope you don't mind.
-
Fall has always been my favorite season. That transition from the ragged green to an orange rust; the cooler air that invites longer walks and ruminations; the chilly mornings that makes you, for a split second, want to linger even longer in the heated pocket you created for yourself in your bed. Sometimes, in that second, you even manage to forget the situation you're currently in. ...
So today is the meeting with my doctor to review the scan and decide whether I start on these blasted pills. The pills he initially wrote the prescription for 2 months ago. The one that seems to work in limited clinical trials but, well, my cancer's a fucking bitch. It doesn't follow protocols or norms. It's as much a snowflake as I am.
So, after all that, the chemotherapy failed. All masses grew by nearly 10% since the last scan in early August, rendering all that post-chemo pain of the last few weeks and the two month administrative hurdle in getting this experimental drug an expensive waste of time.
I start taking the new chemo pill tonight. I'll find out in four weeks where we're at, or sooner depending on whether my body gives up first. C'est la vie.
I start taking the new chemo pill tonight. I'll find out in four weeks where we're at, or sooner depending on whether my body gives up first. C'est la vie.
I and the rest of gaf, your friends and family are all in your corner rooting for you and your new medication. Good luck, man. I have a feeling these meds are going to work well.So, after all that, the chemotherapy failed. All masses grew by nearly 10% since the last scan in early August, rendering all that post-chemo pain of the last few weeks and the two month administrative hurdle in getting this experimental drug an expensive waste of time.
I start taking the new chemo pill tonight. I'll find out in four weeks where we're at, or sooner depending on whether my body gives up first. C'est la vie.