It’s been an interesting couple of weeks and, of course, in that time, one occasionally has cause to think about what is happening around them. I continue to continue in terms of my recovery. I’d put my taste capability at between 30% and 60% depending on the day and the meal. I mow the lawn, walk, and even jog a couple of miles every week or so just to prove to myself I can do so. I suppose, if pressed, I would say that I am 70% to 90% “back,” again, depending on the day.
This got me to thinking. What was going on in my life back in June of 2010 when in the throes of the worst of my journey. Well, Dr. Diane presented me with a notebook and said, “Take a look at this and you should feel pretty darn good about things.” And there it was, my daily medication schedule. It’s not 100% accurate, but it went something like this:
6:30 am--change morphine patch (every 48 hours)
zofran
diflucan
prevacid
reglan
7:30 a.m.--vicidin
ativan (lorazepan)
Noon--vicidin
mirapex
phenergan
5:00 p.m.--vicidin
7:30 p.m.--mirapex
zofran
prevacid
9:30 p.m.--vicidin
atavin (lorazepan)
phengran
Wow, I’ve come a long way, and I need to remind myself of that which I have just done.
While life does not always work out as we plan, I remind myself that others have it worse than me. Last week I was off to the Dixon Correctional Center to see my friend who is temporarily residing there. It is a long story and a sad one and I hope things work out for him in the near future. I rendezvoused with three other college buddies, and we spent four hours with our friend. We told stories, lied to one another, laughed at memories of days gone bad and even had what I loosely refer to as a “vending machine lunch” which at best, is pretty forgettable. At 1 p.m. we said our goodbyes and the three of us departed after hugs and shared best wishes. As the three of us were escorted through the prison doors, we could not help but look back and see our friend going in a different direction to spend the next several hours in his cell. It was all so surreal, and I thought about how fortunate I was to be driving home “free” on I-88. Every time I visit my buddy it gives me pause to reflect on how lucky I am. I pray for him nightly and hope the legal system will ultimately make him a free man again.
zofran
prevacid
9:30 p.m.--vicidin
atavin (lorazepan)
phengran
Wow, I’ve come a long way, and I need to remind myself of that which I have just done.
While life does not always work out as we plan, I remind myself that others have it worse than me. Last week I was off to the Dixon Correctional Center to see my friend who is temporarily residing there. It is a long story and a sad one and I hope things work out for him in the near future. I rendezvoused with three other college buddies, and we spent four hours with our friend. We told stories, lied to one another, laughed at memories of days gone bad and even had what I loosely refer to as a “vending machine lunch” which at best, is pretty forgettable. At 1 p.m. we said our goodbyes and the three of us departed after hugs and shared best wishes. As the three of us were escorted through the prison doors, we could not help but look back and see our friend going in a different direction to spend the next several hours in his cell. It was all so surreal, and I thought about how fortunate I was to be driving home “free” on I-88. Every time I visit my buddy it gives me pause to reflect on how lucky I am. I pray for him nightly and hope the legal system will ultimately make him a free man again.
On a brighter note, Diane and I spent a few days in Chicago visiting friends and son Ryan. We went to a couple of Cub games, enjoyed the air show, walked everywhere, and just had a ball. Heck, Diane even showed me how to use the “L” (mass transit) instead of expensive cab rides. We stayed at a condo in Lincoln Park offered to us by the same folks who said we could stay there if we had decided to get treatment at Northwestern Memorial Hospital instead of Burlington, Iowa. It was very comfortable and the location was the best--thanks Rob and Dee.
One night I went to a Cubs game with a couple of high school classmates, one of whom is also recovering from a malady similar to mine. We were quite the pair, wearing shorts that probably fit us BT (before treatment) but now are a bit loose, drinking our water while everyone else at Wrigley was drowning in beer through another Cub loss, and commenting on the various changes cancer has brought on our lives and those of our families. We actually ate hot dogs in the 2nd inning. Now this is a visual for you. Carl or “Rocky” as we call him says “Shall we get a couple of dogs?” and I respond that I’m game. Our classmate and friend Michael Mason disappears and returns with two hotdogs and away we go. I look over at Rocky and yes, he is eating the hotdog but 90% of the bun is under his seat so I kid him about it, and he looks over at me and says, “That looks like a bun under your seat as well my friend.” We all laughed at Rocky Pedersen and Gordy Taylor, clearly not candidates to win a hot dog eating contest. Mike asked us in the 5th inning if we wanted another dog to which I responded, “Mike, it’s the 5th inning. We’d only have 4 innings to finish it--not enough time for Rocky and me.”
