I
went to the hospital for six days. That’s nearly a week I spent in the hospital
this week. For chemo. Four kinds of chemo. Four. Four kinds of chemo in six
days, which is a lot of chemo, it seems like, to me.
There’s
one of the chemos that goes in my back. A spinal tap! I lie on my side and then
a doctor comes and sticks needles in my spine. There’s another chemo that takes
the whole day to empty out of the bag and looks like orange Kool-Aid.
I
went to the hospital for six days for four kinds of chemo and when I got out,
my brother drove me to see The Girl in the Red Pants at her office. She still
was not wearing the pants. I mean, she was wearing pants, but the pants were not
red.
It
might be time for a new nickname.
I
wheeled myself into her office. I was forty pounds lighter, bald and beardless,
in a wheelchair and of much weaker voice than in past times I’d seen her and I
had not told her I was sick, and it occurred to me, in passing, as my
wheelchair passed the threshold of her office door, that The Girl in the Red
Pants might not recognize me in this state.
“Do
you know who I am?!”
I shouted, or tried to shout, or said as loudly and as clearly as my cancer-and
chemo-racked throat could manage it.
“Harry!” said The Girl in the
Red Pants. Without missing a beat, with a smile, no less. Then she leapt from her orthopedic office
chair, ran to my side, leaned down, and gave me long, warm hug.
This
whole lymphoma thing is coming along perfectly according to plan.
Let us hope so
ReplyDeleteBy the end of the summer, I'm going to be living better, writing better, walking better... I've got this.
DeleteYou sly dog, you.
ReplyDeleteIt's all been a very carefully laid plan to get a hug.
DeleteToday is a pretty good day though, so if I had two good eyes right now, I'd be sorely tempted to say it's been worth it.
She recognized you straightaway, eh? Perhaps you have a feature or two she considers worth setting her clock by. Perhaps she wears those Red Pants for YOUR benefit; however, you're safer complimenting her on her, beautiful, Aztecan, Rhinofeatures. Hang In There, Harry. This all may be a lucky and serendipitous occurrence!
ReplyDeleteps I wish you had 300+ images of the Girl In The Red Pants.
bj in CO
Ha! I wonder what I'd be writing about right now if I'd been writing in character for a blog when all of this crap happened to me.
DeleteI don't know. But apparently, I'm not as isolated and alone and reclusive as I'd always thought I was. There are some people who seem to give a shit.
Yay! Harry posted again! And about a girl, no less. It is a weird and uplifting feeling when you're feeling far from your best and a girl loves you anyway, especially when you can't get up out of your wheelchair yet (thinking of you, Briana and Brenda).
ReplyDeleteI went to a BBQ at Brenda's yesterday, and nobody even brought up the time when she was visiting me at the rehab place and I peed myself because I was still incontinent...
Hang in there, Harry, we're all pulling for you.
-Doug in Oakland
Hi, Doug. Even after all my days of chemo last week, I feel like I'm making progress. Walking more. Sneaking real food (I'm supposed to be limited to pureed food or else stuff poured into a stomach tube). It's all good.
DeleteNot back to my normal and might never be. But better.
And we are all sending virtual long warm hugs your way....maybe she'll wear the red pants next time.
ReplyDeleteThanks and it's good to see you around. Today is a good day. Getting around better, becoming a little more self-sufficient. It's amazing.
DeletePants = trousers ? Or is there a bit of underwear peeking out?
ReplyDeletePants = trousers. The first time I referred to her as The Girl in the Red Pants (a couple years ago now), it was brought home to me how many non-Americans I have reading my page. But the name stuck. Maybe I'll call her The Girl in the Red Slacks after this.
DeleteOr, I could be respectful, acknowledge the fact she's an adult, 26-year old with a career and refer to her as a woman instead of a girl.
Inspiring and encouraging, Harry. I go for my 4th check-up this summer. So far so good, but I'm still not near my former energy and endurance level. Your strength inspires me. Let's press on, shall we?
ReplyDeleteEndurance is my thing, too. I feel a lot better and I'm wanting to go back to work, but I know I'd be out of energy too quickly.
DeleteI'm trying, though. I have an assortment of fronts to work on my health issues, and I believe I'm feeling a bit better every day.
Hope you keep heading up, too!
Oh dear . . . I'm so sorry you are going through this. Sending you a virtual hug.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the hug, virtual or otherwise. I've been pushing through these health issues since March (!) and every day is better than the one before it, even if not as well as any day before then was.
DeleteI'm going to find a new normal.
Cheeky thoughts are a form of appreciating life, that bodes well :-) That is a lot of chemo, I am impressed. Sending wishes of good health xx
ReplyDeleteThanks. I'm going to find a new way to live, I guess. Today, I think it's going to involve writing a novel.
DeleteGoodness, Harry, I had no earthly idea! Many blessings to you, my friend, as you travel this path. I know, as you do, that you will prevail. Hugs from Mrs C, me, and the pups, none of us with red pants but three of us with reddish fur. :)
ReplyDeleteReddish fur is not all bad.
DeleteThanks for the hugs. Things are weird but not bad here right now. I'm walking again - which I thought I'd never do - and slowly (it's been since March) but surely, I'm figuring out how to live again.
Hang in there, buddy!
ReplyDeleteThank you! It's getting better. Slowly.
DeleteGood story (bad circumstances for you) that you told so well. Enjoy those hugs. I hope to read more about her.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Bill. The writing thing has come along slowly. I have double vision, which means that one of my eyes has to be basically taped up, words come slowly at timnes (probably because of the tumor that was in my head), and I am unable to pace the way I did (my writing is pace-operated, as it turns out). But still, I've managed to get some stuff written, and it is my hope that it speeds up in the near future.
DeleteWho can resist those sharp cheekbones and sleek skull? I thought I was the only one cashing in the rewards.
ReplyDeleteHere is to the end of spine poking, eternal hospital visits (and the rest). And to red pants making an appearance, too.
I've put on a lot of weight in very little time. Twenty-five pounds and counting, although I'm still not up to fighting weight. I still feel like I look a little scary, but my brother says he honestly doesn't see children running in fear when he takes me out.
DeleteIt's all going to be okay. It's an adventure!
I went from 139lbs to over 180lbs in weeks. It was mostly swelling. My feet were so huge that I couldn't wear shoes, my legs wouldn't fit in my baggiest pants. When I walk, my feet and ankles and knees felt like they were going to explode... I couldn't close my hands my fingers were so thick. My lips look like I was going through a Botox phase. Everything hurt. Most of the worse is over now--those damn infusions! My body is still in the adventure, but... almost a year later (in 10 days), things look and feel so much better. Even my hair is coming back... mostly, lol! And I've lost more than 40lbs.
DeleteWe'll both find our fighting shape, when our adventurous flesh and bones are ready for it. Yes, it's all going to be okay. We'll make sure of it, won't we?
Congrats on nearing the year mark. I was diagnosed exactly three months ago and I'm still not really thinking in terms of a year. I'm impatient for things to go back to how they were, which actually might never happen. I need to step back and appreciate how far I've come.
DeleteI had an incredible amount of swelling before I went into the hospital. Probably because the lymphoma was attacking my kidneys. That swelling led to my ongoing issues with my hands and feet.
Wow, the lengths you'll go to get a hug. ;) Seriously though, I'm thinking of you.
DeleteThank you, LL Cool Joe. I still have good days and bad days. The progress has slowed, so that's a little frustrating right now, but I'm hoping things keep moving forward. Could be worse.
DeleteThat you can make light of your situation is a positive. I mean what else can one do. Another is your ability to write about is back. I'm the one behind the 3rd base dugout rooting the loudest for you to steal home. None of that Mighty Casey bullshit! People need a hero. That's you Harry. You got this!
ReplyDeleteI'm trying. I am less than completely confident I'll ever be back to how I was but I am curious as to how close I can get. I'm walking, and that's a start.
Delete