Inside Dave's Brain

"With the thoughts I'd be thinkin'
I could be another Lincoln..."

Deep down, I knew there was brain in there somewhere as this actual x-ray of my actual brain conclusively proves.  I just didn't think it would look so... evil.

Dispatches From The Hospital Room 2

Here is another blog entry I wrote in December while in the hospital.   This is the edited version.  The original went on for a page or two.  Originally, I pretentiously set it into verse. I have re-written it to make it more stream of consciousness.    

 It seems more appropriate.

Things I Didn’t Say In December Because I Was Being Brave

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow, goddammit! Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow, Shit!
Ow, Hey, Watch That! Ow. Ow. Ouch. Ow. Ow! Is This Really Necessary?
Ow. Ow. You have to let me get some sleep. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ouch. Ow. Ow.
Ow. Ow. Ow. You really have to let me sleep. Ow. Ow. Ow. Oh you sonofa… Ow.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Christ! Ow. Ow. Ow. Stop. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow. If you don’t let me sleep I will become psychotic and I will kill you and eat you and I don’t want to do that because you are the only one on nightshift I like and you are the only one who can stick me and not make it feel like you are drilling for oil. Ow.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Holy Jeez! Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ouch. Ow.
Can you please use the paper tape because the Transpore rips off the top layer of flesh.
Ow, goddammit, OW! Ow. Ow. Stop. Stop. Please stop. Please make it stop. Ow.
Ow. I have no immune system. Please don’t sneeze on me again. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Hey! Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow. Is sadism a requirement in the Phlebotomy Dept? Ow. Ow! OW! Ow. Ow. Ow.
Ow. Yes, it fuckin’ hurts! Ow. Ow. Ow. Don’t ask me. Read the friggin’ chart.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Dispatches From The Hospital Room

I was collecting some of my writings for the blog from my time in the hospital. While reviewing some of them, it became clear that the Dilaudid was doing some of the writing for me. Here are some of the more lucid passages.

DOCTORS: You say much more with your diagnosis than the name of the disease.

You sit in the hospital with a vague idea of what is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with your blood and the term pancytopenia has been thrown around along with the less frequent, leukemia. After a bone marrow biopsy you wait for the verdict. You hope for the best, but the difference between the two diagnoses is a series of B12 shots or, well, cancer.

So Doc, when you say the words, “You have Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia” you are also saying:

“You will never see your kids grow up.”
“You will never see them graduate high school or college or fall in love or get married.”
“You will never see your grandkids.”
“You will be a photo on the wall that nobody talks about because everybody gets a little sad when they do.”
“Your family will be financially ruined.”
“Despite health insurance, there will come a time when that runs out and you will be grasping at straws for any experimental treatment that might save your life.”
“You will mortgage your house, you will drain the kids’ college fund, you will sell your very soul to anybody who will give you another day or two of hope.”
“You will break the promise you made to your wife and yourself that you would take care of her all of her life.”
“You will never hold hands with your wife in a hammock on the beach in Negril when you’re 70.”
“You will turn the love of your life, your lover, into your caretaker.”
“You will hate yourself for that.”
“You will never (insert your dream here) .”
“You will never (insert dream vacation here) .”
“You will deeply regret watching so much TV, not making more friends, being so rude to Tom, saying those things about Jen, and not taking that chance when you were 30, .............”

Doc, all these thoughts take place in the uncomfortable 30 seconds of silence that follow the word “leukemia” and before you explain that acute promyelocytic leukemia has a very high cure rate and I am in very good hands at Penn where they have the best blood cancer doctors in the world.

Try and remember that.

$ 435,499.00... and counting.

31 Days of Room & Board

834 Doses of Medication

118 Labs

14 Pathology Labs

26 Radiology Services

6 Surgical Procedures

112 Blood Analyses

4 Doses of Anesthesia

5 "Therapy" ?

3 Diagnostic Procedures

4 Recovery Room Charges

Total Charges

Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania:   $435,499.00

Leukemia In Remission: Priceless

Don't have Health Insurance?  Save your pennies.

The 'stache Is (Comin') Back!

So what if it looks like a 9th graders.  After a month we now have regular hair growth!  The mustache and goatee are coming back strong. The cheeks are still a bit bare, but there is now enough grass on the field that people will stop confusing me with David Lowe.

The dome is still woefully bare. The hair is growing faster now, but I still look more like Mr. Freeze than Rod Blagojevich. 

Maybe that's a good thing. 

But this head was born to wear hair. My hats off to those who go bare (either voluntarily or involuntarily) through the winter. Pun fully intended. I need my beautiful, long, luxurious locks back. 

I think the hair is why Bonnie married me. Well, one of the reasons...

Is There Anybody Out There?

In the words of the Floyd, "Is there anybody out there?"

I'm just curious, is anybody really reading this? I know I have 10 followers, but half of those are kin, so it's tough to know if I am preaching to an empty hall or not.

If you're reading this blog, do me a favor and leave a comment occasionally - so I know I am not talking to myself here. You don't have to become a Follower - I know I wouldn't. But just let me know you're there.

Thanks

One Down - Nine to Go

Friday I finished my first week of arsenic with no ill effects. Four more weeks until my two week break. I'm thinking Cabo or the DR - maybe Vegas. I hope Bonnie can come too.

HA!

Weekends are such a tease. You start feeling normal for a day or two, but then Monday it's back to the bad part-time job sitting in the chair at HUP. I guess this is what people with real jobs feel like. I wouldn't know. Never had a real job.

Maybe for the break I can get some hours on a part-time job. Don't know what I'm qualified for, but I have been rehearsing, "Do you want to Biggie-Size your fries?" I have thought about library work. After 20+ years as a soundman, nobody has more experience shushing people than me.