As a precaution against my own stupidity I did not leave the house today, save to pick up dinner, and I did not let Otis off leash anywhere near a body of water, frozen or otherwise.
I am happy to report that we are all doing well.
Chemo starts again tomorrow should this flu have finally cleared my system. Keep your fingers crossed. I want to get this over with, damn it!
Let me preface this story by saying that yes, there is no question in my mind, nor should there be in yours, that I am a complete schmuck.
I am OK. Otis is OK. But we never should have gone for a walk this afternoon along an icy creek, especially given how cold it was, that I am in the middle of chemo, and that Otis, despite his Border Collie and German Shepherd smarts is still a dog and if given the chance will run out onto the ice on an icy creek.
And it had been a really nice walk. Despite the cold, it felt great to be outside on a quiet trail in Fairmount Park with Otis who loves the cold and loves this particular trail that winds along the now frozen creek. We were maybe a quarter mile from the car when Otis bolted ahead. I heard him running through the woods, down towards the river, then a second or two of silence (as he slid across the ice), than crack and splash. I could see him in the distance holding on to the thin ice. It was a horrible sight. He was terrified. I was terrified. After yelling at him for a minute to come, which he didn’t–he was stuck–I started looking for long branches, downed trees, anything that I could use to get him out of the icy water. When that failed I called 911. They were useless, and besides, had I waited for them Otis would have drowned. A good Samaritan with her dog tried calling Otis to the other side of the river where the ice looked thicker. That didn’t work. There was only one thing to do and it was going to be a cold, but quick run back to the car after I got wet. There was no way in hell my dog was dying today in front me. There was no way I was going to home to Jacqui (who was aware of the situation via cell phone) without Otis.
I knew that at most the water was no more than 4 feet deep, enough to freeze my butt off, but not deep enough to kill me. Plus, the water had to be warmer than the 20 degree air. I slid myself across the ice. It cracked about a foot from Otis. And lo and behold, it was no more than 2 feet deep. I stood up and laughed and grabbed Otis by the collar, walked myself through the ice until it was too thick, picked him out of the water (he took off running, a good sign) and pulled myself out.
We ran together to the car, which thankfully contained the suitcase full of clothes and a towel and a blanket that I was supposed to use in the hospital this week. I got Otis in the car, stripped off my frozen clothes, dried myself off and warmed up. Otis and I made a quick stop at the doggie emergency room where they put him under a drier to warm him for a few minutes. Neither of us are worse for the wear, but the lesson is learned for me: while in chemo MORON don’t put oneself in a potentially hazardous situation.
Please don’t call and yell at me for being such an ass. I feel guilty enough for putting us both at risk.
We are all resting comfortably at home tonight. Happy to all be OK and to be together.
Now that my platelets have recovered to chemo-safe territory, my white count is depressed from the flu I had through the Saturday. I am officially a pain in my own ass and prohibited from chemo-ing until at least Thursday.
I JUST WANT TO GET THIS OVER WITH!!!
So I am back at home tonight (that part is great) sitting by the fireplace with my beautiful wife and daughter.
On a sad note, I ran into the daughter of Sam, the very deaf ninety-five-year-old hip fracture patient who I shared my room with during chemo back in November (http://www.baldmike.com/2006/11/ninenty-five.asp). Sam was a sweet old man, and I was deeply impressed by the love and affection he and his wife, together for probably seventy years, had for one another, despite the fact that neither of them could talk or hear particularly well. Sam never recovered from his surgery and died a few weeks after we were roommates. He is terribly missed by his family.
It is an incredible thing that Sam and his wife were together for so long. We should all be so blessed.
Chemo starts again Monday, and in an attempt to stave off chemo brain, I’ve been at home all day watching Baby Einstein videos–you know, the videos that play that horribly annoying music and show various shapes and other images on the screen in an attempt to dull the brains of millions of children around the world. The videos are designed to make you as smart as Einstein himself. And so far it seems to be paying off for me. After watching a collection of videos called “Baby Einstein On the Go” my IQ is up 20 points and I now feel compelled to watch 16 hours of television a day. Thanks, Baby Einstein, Mission Accomplished!
Our President, no surprise here, is also a great fan of Baby Einstein.
In case you missed it, last week, during his State of the Union address, between the lies, nonsense, double-talk, and standard deception, President Bush carried on a twenty-five-year-old tradition and pointed to the visitors gallery to acknowledge several great Americans (can you believe that this guy is even allowed to give the SOTU? When will our alien overseers finally end his illegal and immoral rule?). This year’s honorees included an Iraqi War hero and a brave man from New York City who jumped onto a NYC subway track in front of an approaching train to save a complete stranger. Bush also honored Julie Aigner-Clark, the founder of the Baby Einstein Company.
Huh? What? The founder of Baby Einstein was honored by the President as embodying “the great enterprising spirit of America” despite the fact that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends absolutely NO television before the age of two, not to mention a Federal Trade Commission investigation against the company for the deceptive and false advertising of its products.
Did someone forget to tell this to the President or was the President and his staff too busy watching the Baby Einstein Language Nursery DVD in preparation for his State of the Union to know that something might be amiss in Baby Einstein-land?
The folks at Baby Einstein, who “respect” the good doctors at the American Academy of Pediatrics, “do not believe that their recommendation of no television for children under the age of two reflects the reality of today’s parents, families and households – for example, a recent Kaiser Family Foundation study found that 68% of all babies under two years old watch screen media on any given day.” (Source: http://www.babyeinstein.com) Hmmm. The opinion of a medical organization advocating for children’s health and safety doesn’t matter because the majority of children under the age of two are already watching television. Are they kidding? There is something about this type of thinking that is strangely Bush-like. It’s no wonder that Ms. Aigner-Clark and her company are favorites of the President, who has used similar lines of logic in violating our Constitution and miring us in a war in Iraq.
Meanwhile, I wonder how old Albert must feel seeing his good name trampled on in such poor fashion? I don’t know much about Einstein the man, but it probably isn’t a stretch to believe that his response to the folks trying to sells smarts by ripping off his name AND to a President ruining his adopted home would have looked something like this…
Chemo now set for Monday.
In an alternate universe where it wouldn’t give my father terrible guilt knowing that I got the flu upon returning from visiting him in Florida, I would tell you all (on the condition that you DO NOT mention this to my father) that I got the flu on Monday night. Good thing my blood counts were low Monday, causing the initial chemo delay. It would have sucked coming down with the flu while getting filled up with methotrexate. I’ve had a fever all week that finally broke today.
I gotta tell you, chemo is nothing next to the flu. I’m serious. 102.8 without any purpose just stinks. At least the miseries of chemo are for my own good. The flu sucks no matter how you cut it.
Special thanks to Jacqui who insisted that I thank her for taking such good care of me this week. Somehow taking care of me while I have the flu is more difficult than when I am recovering from chemo. Go figure.
My counts are recovering more slowly this round. Apparently that’s what happens when they kick the crap out of you with R-HYPR-CVAD. Thanks for saving my life toxic chemicals, but can we please get this over with as quickly as possible. While I wish I was going in tonight to get this round done, I am so happy that I have a few more nights at home with Jacq, Sophia, and Otis feeling relatively strong and good.
I am slated to start chemo now on Thursday or Friday, which means I am probably having a chemo-tastic Super Bowl party in the hospital this Sunday night. Chemo + football = fun!
So bring the beer, chips, and nachos. I’ll supply hospital food.
On our flight back from Florida this morning, with my hair falling out by the minute at 41,000 feet, and with little Sophia’s face and clothes covered in it, I knew that it was time to shave the noggin. But before I shaved it completely off, I tried a few new looks…
“The Hole In The Head”
“The Angry Yarmulke”
“The Clubber Lang”
“The Sophia Head”
The Return of Bald Mike
With my counts finally out of the crapper, Jacqui, Sophia and I are making a quick trip to Florida to visit our families and spend some time with my dad who is still recovering from surgery last month. He continues to improve and Sophia has proven to be the best medicine for his recovery.
Chemo starts again on Monday or Tuesday. Welcome to the dreaded B cycle. Should be fun. I am stocking up on platelets and hemoglobin to get me through.
If anyone is A+ blood and you live in Philly, please think about donating. I recently purchased an antique “Do It Yourself” blood donation kit, rusty needles and all, and we can take care of the transaction in the comfort of your living room.
If you are not A+, please still think about donating. There is always a need for blood donors, especially for our soldiers in Iraq.
http://www.redcross.org/donate/give/
Last night, while looking at photos from Sophia’s birth, Jacqui finally admitted to me how freaky and frightening I looked at the end of the last B-cycle. With barely any red blood cells and hemoglobin, down a few pounds, and exhausted and beat up from chemo, I knew I looked like Jeff Goldblum mid-transformation in The Fly.
Witness exhibit A:
I looked like a freak. Bald. Skinny. Pale. My nose looking bigger than ever. But my wife, who obviously loves me even in my Frankenstein stage, kept insisting that I looked OK. And so did many of you. Wow, denial is one powerful coping tool.
I beg you all, if the chemo should again transform me into a circus freak, PLEASE DO NOT tell me I look good. If I look like crap, it is part of the process. Chemo is not a day at the spa, and looking like shit is the norm. May I suggest the following approach: “Mike, holy crap do you look bad! Clearly the chemo is working!”
And now for a bonus shot of me reading to little Sophia.
My counts are recovering nicely today, save my platelets which were at 8000, a number low enough to activate my “platelets are low warning system” which caused my arms to wildly flail up and down in the air like the Robot from Lost in Space. After a fresh bag of platelets this afternoon, I am feeling good, ready to lead the Drexel School of Public Health team at tomorrow’s rugby match against those rubes from Penn. Thanks anonymous platelet donor from Cleveland, because of your help I still get to knock some skulls at tomorrow’s match.
The rest of this week will be easy, except for the fact that my hair has begun to fall out. I’ll probably shave it in a few days, making the metamorphosis back to bald Mike complete, at least until I am in my 70s and have a comb-over. See you in early April hair!
Bald Mike's Blog 