The
sky was on fire
When
I walked to the mill
To
take up the slack in the line
I
thought of my friends
And
the troubles they've had
To
keep me from thinking about mine
Warren Zevon
Warren Zevon
Regular readers may have noticed that I
really haven't written much about having cancer recently. How about
that. And really regular readers my have noticed I haven't written
much about my stomach pain either. So, what's up with that? As usual,
you guys ask good questions. Actually, you probably haven't missed
hearing about either, but, since the subtitle for my column refers to
“my journey through cancer,” I figure it's bad form not to at
least keep you up to date on what's been going on.
First, my stomach ailments. I'm not
sure where we were when we last addressed this ongoing melodrama, so
let me just say where we are now.
You know we'd tried all sorts of
things and were getting nowhere. The gastroin..gastrointes..stomach
guy, asked me to come in and we did. Whenever we get to see a doctor,
Sheri and I both have some hope around the visit. With my cancer, it
makes sense because we have had so many positive visits in a row.
With the stomach issue, it makes no sense. None. Not any. Look, if we
were playing Stump the Doctor, we would be the Ken Jennings of StD (I
know. Ignore it. Let's just keep going.), you know- the guy who set
all those records on Jeopardy. Well, as my Kilbirnie granny used to
say: “If a frrrog had wings, it widne hit it's backside on the
grrround everrry time it jumped.” True enough, granny.
Anyway, this time the gastro guy said
we probably should take out my gall bladder. He couldn't find
anything wrong with it, but he thought maybe it should come out. So,
he sent me to yet another surgeon. We thought it was just to set up a
date and time for the operation. Hahahahahahahahahahaha.
He said he wasn't going to take my gall
bladder out because he couldn't see anything wrong with it either,
and, therefore, he had no reason to remove it. My thought was, “Hey.
It doesn't really do anything anyway. Out with it!” His thought was
“No. If I started removing parts of people because those parts
weren't working, I'd be scheduling a lot of brain removals.” As you
might guess, he didn't really say that. I made the brain removal part
up. He did say no, though, that he wasn't going to remove a seemingly
healthy gall bladder.
I wanted to ask him where he stood on
second spleens, but for once I kept my mouth shut. The obvious
question then became, “Well. What do you suggest we do instead?”
“Fiber!” he proclaimed- seriously,
it was like a proclamation, the way he said it- “And lots of it.”
“And 'a lot' would be how much,
exactly?”
“Forty grams.”
He was a big believer in fiber and felt
that it kept people from having a lot of bad things happen to them.
He seemed to think getting that much fiber in my system would not be
difficult, so, as always, I said, “Alrighty, then,” and set about
researching fiber content in things, beginning with the supplements
we see advertised all the time.
I went to the pharmacy and checked out
the contents of said supplements, in terms of fiber. “0.5 grams per
tablet.” Cool. That meant I would only have to take... Wait a
minute... What? That can't be right. I would have to take 80 a day.
Ever the optimist, I looked at the details on other brands. They all
said the same thing, more or less.
As I considered options, I figured I'd
be okay as long as there were discarded Christmas trees by the side
of the road, I could gnaw on, but then what? Well, I did find some of
things that work and only one of them is kinda disgusting- psyllium
husk powder, which pretty much goes down the way it sounds like it
would. You dissolve it in water and it's a bit grainy, but I've had
to drink worse. And it's seven grams!!!! I do wonder, though, who
first saw psyllium husk, and thought, “Hey. Let's pulverize this
into a powder, add it to water, then drink it.” In fact, who ever
thought about psyllium husk for any reason?
So, I've got the fiber thing under
control, but, unfortunately, it isn't working either. My palliative
care doctor and I keep missing each other's calls, but that's the
next step. Back to him and see what else we can do. I'll probably
keep consuming the fiber because... Well, why not?
As far as my cancer goes... All seems
to be going well. My blood work has been excellent and wherever the
multiple myeloma is hiding, it seems to be behaving itself. So,
there's not a lot to say. I mean, good news seems to have a much
smaller vocabulary and takes less explaining.
I do have my monthly check-up in a
couple of days, and that always creates a bit of wariness. I have my
blood work done and get an IV dose of my bone densifier, which
sometimes creates some pain, but good pain in that it is helping to
heal my bones.
Other than that, we're just trying to
bring some normalcy to our lives. We don't talk much about my cancer,
not because of fear or denial, but because it is now right-sized. We
simply want to be Jim and Sheri, fabulous, must-invite couple, rather
than poor Jim and Sheri, having to deal with Jim's cancer all the
time. If you must feel bad for us, think, “Poor Jim, having to
drink psyllium husk powder every day.”
There are a variety of versions of
the story that gives this blog its name. The pony is the constant in
all of them. A man is on his way to a party when he comes across a
young boy shoveling ass over tea kettle at an enormous mountain of
manure. The man asks the child if he wouldn't rather go with him to
the party than shovel all that poop. The kid says, “No way man.
With all that poop... there must be a pony in there somewhere.”
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