9.29.06 Pre-Results of NCPB

First result, I am alive. I survived the, granted, minor, procedure this morning, by which they were slipping a hose equipped with ultrasound and a fine aspirate (called this?) needle down my throat, found the celiac plexus, then loaded that sucker up with pure alcohol. In five to ten (5-10) days the nerves of the celiac plexus are supposed to wither up and suffer a neurolytic death right before my eyes. The hoped-for benefit being that the majority of my pain will drastically diminish or disappear. We wait and see on this.

Seventy-four percent of patients who undergo this procedure experience decreased pain, so the odds are good and so far I've demonstrated I'm one to beat the odds. At least, I should clarify, one to finagle my way into the small odds group. The unlikelies. So within ten days I should know that; and the other key number is fourteen (14) which is the outside number for feeling any relief. That is, if I feel no relief by the end of two weeks, we assume it didn't work and I can choose to try and do it again — I assume that one would be "free." Kind of a two-fer one deal.

Anyway, today I sleep a lot. Ate Indian food for lunch, during which Ted dropped by and inspected my well-being generally. It's been a while actually. Now I just kind of fritter around and re-examine all the physical feelings I'm having: more or less pain? is that new pain I'm feeling from the alcohol injection? is that feeling of tenderness from the hose shoved down my throat? Lots of such questions. It's become just part of life for me. The crazy set of thoughts I have, especially when compared to my thoughts "before cancer," is so wild.

"Before cancer," that's almost a good book title, or title for this period I'm no living through — though it's not very accurate, so we have a problem there. I am still taking suggestions, btw, for any one interested, and I have the heretofore suggestions in a file stowed away, waiting to be dropped into the bottle before the ship is sucked into the whirlpool. For now, though, thoughts of dinner, and is that a new pain or from an old corner of my mattress?