Rrrrrr, ruff, ruff, rrrrr, ruff, bark, bark, rrrr, bark, ruff… Today I spent most of the day in bed sleeping with my dad. We also watched 4 episodes of Northern Exposure: Season 3 and ate some yummy chicken. He wasn’t sick at all today, just very tired.
It was ruff seeing him vomiting so much this week. And he smelled funny from the chemo. But he is getting bark to normal, and I was so excited when he took me for walks last night and tonight.
Can’t say I feel much like blogging today, other than a brief note to let everyone know that I am doing better. The doc finally took me off all antibiotics, given that every time I took one I puked. So, for now, the puke-O-meter remains stable at 6 and I’ve been sleeping off 2 days of vomiting and dehydration.
The antibiotics themselves are standard for chemo patients. The chemo will cause my blood count to temporarily drop in the next few days, making me vulnerable to infection, hence the pile of pills. Should there be an anthrax attack this week in Philly, I should be one of the few left standing (thank you two miserable days of Cipro!). We’ll see the doctor again on Thursday when he’ll probably put me back on some antibiotics (watch that puke-O-meter rise).
Top prize this week goes to the person who can come closest to guessing Thursday’s scheduled white blood count (doctors with access to test results in Penn’s computers are not eligible for this contest). Normal range is generally between 4,300 and 10,800 cells per cubic millimeter, or, let’s just say between 4.0-10.0. My count will be anywhere between 0 and normal. Good luck! Winner gets BBQ at chez-Yudell-Rick once I am feeling better. Results will be posted late Thursday. Post your entries on the blog.
So stay tuned. Once this week is past, things will get better.
Hi everyone, this is Jacqui blogging for a change. Finally I took advantage of Michael’s weakened state to learn the secret codes to his famous blog. Ah, what power I hold. I guess I should warn you all that I am not nearly as funny as my husband but you probably already figured that out.
Anyway, wanted to let you know that it is a good thing that Cape Cod remains 8 hours away since we have already made 3 drug store runs and a 2 am trip to the ER. No worries, Michael just needed some IV fluids and we were on our way. In other news I think I am going to cancel my gym membership since the regular trips up and down the stairs in our house are giving me all of the exercise I need. We’ll see what happens in my eighth month…
Anyway, I know Michael already said this in previous posts but I want to reiterate that all of your support has been invaluable this week. Thank you especially to those who visited in the hospital and who called daily. Looking forward to a good day tomorrow.
Have you heard the one about the schmuck with the pregnant wife who just finished his first round of chemo and thought he was going to drive eight hours to Cape Cod the next day?
Need I say more.
Got home from the hospital feeling great. Tolerated the chemo remarkably well. Roads were wet last night, so we figured that we’d be better off waiting until morning to start our trip. Jacq was exhausted too. 3 nights on a hospital pull-out does that to you, I hear (the husband in chemo and a kicking fetus don’t help matters either).
This morning I woke up feeling it. I’ve never been so exhausted. It was an overwhelming feeling, nothing like I’ve felt before. I didn’t feel sick (at first, at least). Just such exhaustion that is was uncomfortable to find a comfortable position and sleep felt beyond reach. I didn’t even remember falling back asleep, but I woke up, not feeling naseaus at all, but only with a tremendous urge to vomit, which I finally did (for those of you counting, that was my first puke, not bad for a guy in chemo). What a relief! I was finally able to eat, and get some normal sleep (which I’ve been doing on and off all day), and slowly I am regaining some strength and feeling ok.
So, no Cape Cod for today. We’ve decided that Cape May (just a 90 minute drive) will have to do this year. Cape Cod is our favorite place in the world to just relax, and if Jacq wasn’t 6 1/2 months pregnant, I would have probably forced her to drive me. But with both of us a bit hobbled, driving that far was a stupid idea. Oh, well. Too bad Otis can’t drive.
As my stay here wraps up in a few hours, I would be remiss not to mention the nursing staff here at HUP. My nurses–Kim, Valerie, Cisely, and Lisa–were all incredible, taking great care of me and Jacqui. And the nursing support staff, environmental staff, etc. were also wonderful. I cannot begin to thank them for keeping a close eye on me this week, and making sure that I was safe, comfortable, and well-hydrated.
Here’s a hat tip to the Godmother of nurses, Florence Nightingale. Check out her museum:
http://www.florence-nightingale.co.uk/
Thanks to all the friends, family, delivery persons, and debt collectors who stopped by this week to check on me and bring all sorts of hospital contraband. Pictured above are friends Vandana and Rick, two doctors here at Penn, who smuggled in the beer for a late night kegger here at 6014 Rhoads. It was a blast. Nothing goes better together than cytoxan (last night’s chemo), Pabst Blue Ribbon, and me dancing around in my hospital gown.
I’ll be discharged mid-afternoon on Saturday, so for those of you who were planning on visiting, make sure you come early, or just save it for the next round in a few weeks. I’ve had a ton of visitors this week, and am so appreciative for all of your love and support via the blog, email, phone calls, and a stop by.
I am doing fine. The chemo so far has had no ill effect, and all I am looking forward to at this point is getting home and giving Otis a big kiss.
Once I am out of here today, there will be minimal blogging from Cape Cod. Time for some private time with Jacq and Otis, some long walks in the dunes of the Cape, and maybe a nice big lobster (as long as my nurse doesn’t pop out from under the table and tell me I can’t eat it).
Last nights dinner arrived from our local Japanese/Sushi joint. My father, who’s job this week has been “Team Captain: Food”, came rolling in with a giant platter of raw fish. The nurses, apparently horrified that someone on chemo would eat raw rish (potentially dangerous bacteria) told my mother that I could not eat the sushi. After talking with the nurse for a few minutes and checking my now normal blood count (and calming my mother down), it was determined that I could eat the sushi… for now. But then I found out all the stuff that I can’t eat when my blood count drops, which will happen 7-10 days from now, lasting for just a few days here and there. No raw veggies, no fruits, unless you can peel them, no soft-serve ice cream or yogurt, no non-frozen bagels, and, worst of all, no leftovers. And the list goes on. Yikes, when my blood count drops, I guess my weight will too. Fun!
Not much to report so far today. Just finished my fourth round of chemo treatment. Two more to go. Should be out of here late Saturday. If I am not too tired, we’ll start our drive to the Cape that evening.
The chemo leaves me a little tired towards the end of the infusion, but no real side effects. Let’s hope it stays that way. If you ever want to avoid naseau, I strongly suggest Zofran. That stuff is amazing.
Just a quick word about Jacqui. She’s been a trooper. She and her six-and-a-half-month pregnant belly staying with me every night at the hospital (they bring in a chair that opens into a bed for her). I just can’t imagine what my life would be like without her by my side. She’s been through a lot in her life. She lost her mom at 9, and her Aunt (her mom’s surviving sister) died just two months ago from lung cancer. And now this. But there’s been no “woe is me” out of her. Not a complaint. Her only wish would be that the chemo permanently gets rid of my back hair (an unlikely scenario we’ve been told).
My situation is obviously different from her past. We’ll get through this in one piece. And we are taking good care of each other. When I was diagnosed almost a year-and-a-half ago I said to myself that this whole lymphoma thing would, in its own twisted way, correct history: Jacqui would get to see her loved one get well, rather than sick, live rather than die. It is part of what has kept me so positive throughout all of this. Frankly, I have no choice.
Freaky! Super freaky! 
Bald Mike's Blog 
