Friday, August 04, 2006

8.04.06, Small New Development

So, I do actually have a Post of Substance to put up later on, about the pseudonym I've been using on the blog, the name not a single person has ever asked about. Curious silence, that. For now I'm going to string you along....

The development today is mildly related to the Franky Scale, which I'll post as a 6, but I'll say that right after getting up this morning it dropped drastically and suddenly, it rolled around in my gut for a while, then turned into projectile vomiting. It was a joy, I truly enjoy throwing up. Think of this clinically if this seems like too much information. I've been having nausea in some form (from mild to severe, intermittent to constant for days, etc.) on a regular basis since my second or third chemo cycle. With time it's become more severe, although impossible to predict accurately. For this I can take lorazepam, compazine, metoclopromide, or zofran (which costs something like $59/pill, fortunately mostly paid by insurance), and then things like ginger, tea, mints, popsicle, and the like. But apart from the very first cycle of chemo when I also had a fully impacted intestine and related pain, I have never thrown up, not once. That first time I think was from pain more than nausea.

This morning when I got up it was like somebody had simply pressed the big red button on a remote control pointed my way, the signal was in my stomach, I thought for about two seconds "This feels sudden...worse that usual?" About two seconds later I had a very immediate goal and target. Fortunately I made it. Anyway, that is the newest development, odd one it seems, after all this time. Good news is that today is the last day of this chemo cycle and no more xeloda will be going through my gullet for a week or so.

*ALSO, for commenters: I've been sorry to hear that some of your comments somehow "get lost" when you try to post them, so I guess just keep trying. I haven't been "moderating" them as in deleting them, they just don't always come through. You might write the comment in Word or some other program and then cut and paste so you have a back up copy.


tossing salads said...

brother, fuck it all!!! how is your weight of late??? i know its a chore to eat but.... as with the vomit. i just remember with the kidlets. there were times when i wasnt sure i was ever gonna stop and truly thought that my stomach was truly coming out of my throat. it so pains me to hear this. it is not fun and i so wish i could so something. and you being alone with this makes my heart break. looking forward to seeing you soon.

Mr. Jones said...

t.s.: thanks for the sympathy, but really it's only been one time in four months. I can't start complaining yet, unless I really get it on a regular basis. Today just meant drink more gatorade. :-) Mr. J.

giasony76 said...

Hey Mr. Jones,
I'm a friend of T.S from Canada. I've been reading your blog, but was too shy to say anything. However, I had to comment on "In Progress". It was a truly beautiful piece of writing, and I just wanted to thank you for sharing such indescribable thoughts with us. Thank you.

I wrote a poem for you in response to "In Progress", please note, that I certainly don't have your skill as a writer or a poet, but you touched my heart and I needed to respond. I hope this is okay.

Only Halfway

Are you there yet?
How much longer?
Is this the right map?
Can you even see the signs?
The road is paved with dust.
Gas too costly
Gone too far to go back now
Long… achingly long stretch of highway
Doesn’t feel so very high
Surrounded by so many, inconsolable lows
One lone glance in the rearview mirror
Blinding reflecting fiery beams
Of love
Of unanswered pain
Of breathless whispers lingering
Of cascading dominoes
Of the majestic essence of you
That forever shines in so many headlights
The engine is cut
Gravel crunches beneath your soul
A crumpled ticket
Is all you carry
Is a story that’s been told
March on is all you can do
Leaving serenity’s tracks
Forever and for always marking
Earth’s timeless crust
With your courageous footprints
Filled with love’s divine
You walk alone
Like when you crawled
Some decades ago
A universal toll charge
To paid by all
Shuffle to the bus stop
With no schedule
Wind speaks all around
Secrets of the pine bench
Your ride
Comes too soon
You’ve gone
Only Halfway

Slarry said...

Sat. August 5th 2006

Dear Mr. Spot:

All I did was meet with our Realtor for 5 hours, looked for a little foodage and then collapsed into bed. All the while, you were writing and posting at least 2 new posts that I was not aware of. Given my obsession with looking at and digesting every word you write and your blog, this is considered unusual for me to miss.

You are a Masterful writer-- a true poet in every sense and definition of the word.
What a delight to wake up to. More words, more writings -- more of everything and anything, from my brother.

I know you sent that pen, The anonymous Mr. Jones. : )

More later.
For now, a little something from Carlos Fuentes:

Writing is a struggle against silence.  ~Carlos Fuentes

Oh how very true... One more:

The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shockproof shit detector.  This is the writer's radar and all great writers have had it.  ~Ernest Hemingway, Paris Review, Spring 1958

You are one of those select few, a shit detecting, writer’s writer.
Your words touch, teach and impact so many.
Thank you for this gift.
I love you my brother and am sickened by the fact that you were nauseous enough to have to vomit. I wish you felt better.
Relax, drink Gatorade and keep fighting.
So many, now, even nameless and faceless people have joined
in our solidarity, compassion and support of you.



Mr. Jones said...

dear slarry: do think it's possible to add more praise to your comments? ;-) i'm not sure that i'm quite getting my due. thanks. -Mr. J