Hospitals are evil things. Doctors are forces of blackness and evil: The higher their learning, the more profound their dark intent. For, the higher their learning, the farther from humanity they fly: the patient becomes mere man-meat, with no humanity attached it him or her at all.
Take a toe. A little toe. The tiniest toe: the "wee-wee-wee all the way home" toe. Give it the tiniest of infections and place it on an inpatient ward of a hospital: Everyone will ignore it. Everyone will assume its benign nature. And, in a week or two, it will be rotting into its own hell; making life intolerable for its owner, and buckling under the immunosuppressant chemotherapy it is subjected to until it looks like frostbite.
I remember frostbite: I had seen it in Alaska in the dead of winter: Folks subjected to long hours of winter's cold; their extremities with flesh turning black from lack of fluid nutrients.
That's the color flesh I saw in Steve's small toe ("wee-wee-wee") on Monday morning, before I went to my chiropractor's appointment. It was the color we saw after me appointment with a new client at 2 p.m. It was the color the ER physicians saw when we drove to Long Beach to have his foot checked because, having seen frostbite before, I knew that if we didn't get him to a physician, he might lose his foot.
I hate hospitals. They cure but they make their patients insane. I hate leaving the husband I love at the mercy of those hellish healers. My last words to him upon leaving: Be an asshole. Complain about everything. Ring them 10 times an hour. Be such a pain in the ass that they will want nothing more than to cure you and get you the hell out of their sight.
On an outpatient basis, they are my heroes. On an inpatient basis, they are the medicinal incubi and succubi of The Test and Numbers and Values: as for their inpatients' souls, the data say the word is spelled incorrectly, and they are located on the bottom of the foot. It's a pity they paid so little attention to these extremities the last time they had him in their clutches.
Thank God for the spiritual healers we have on our side for this fight, or all would be lost: Joy, meet Robin; Robin, meet Joy.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Drain-Train Back-Crack Tooth-Uncouth Web-Celeb
Steve’s been home and out of the hospital for 10 days now, so things are starting to revert to the new normal, which is a Godsend for us both.
The biggest beat to the new routine is pleural draining. This sounds really creepy and quasi-surgical, but it’s really quick, painless and tidy, if done correctly: Just removing the old dressing, hooking up the chest catheter (a small plastic tube with a one-way valve and a clamp) to the drainage bag, initiating the syphon (with a small bulb on the bag’s tube) and drawing off about a liter of fluid: Clamp the line, sterilize the catheter end, slap on a new dressing and you’re done. We repeat this every three to five days, and the pressure has been lessening each time, so we’re getting a handle on the condition and Steve’s lung capacity is stabilizing.
The only other real health problem is the small toe on his left foot: Since he has the catheter, he’s taking sponge baths at the sink rather than showering, so his feet haven’t been getting washed regularly, and a nasty fungal infection has taken over between the last two toes on his left foot. It’s also drying out and cracking the callouses, and the whole foot is getting involved. On advice from his primary physician’s nurse practitioner, we’ve started twice-daily foot baths with gauze between the toes to dry them out.
This last Thursday we went down to the VA on Long Beach and Steve had appointments with his psychologist, primary care physician, oncologist and pulmonary care technician. We got gauze, saline and pain relievers from the primary care physician for the foot, and about a dozen of the draining kits from the pulmonology department. By the time we left the pharmacy department on our way to the car, Steve had a BIG box on his lap full of all this stuff. I told the pharmacist, “We’re opening our own hospital.” She thought that was pretty funny.
We’re also getting back to routine activities other than just watching the television. I’m trying to get Steve out and walking around at least twice a week, and walking up and down the stairs at home at least a half dozen times a day. Even with the cancer, his health is really good, so keeping his stamina up is important. Every time he wears out and he flops down, I say, “Time yourself and see how long it takes to get back your breath.” That way, he can see his stamina is improving.
As for me, I’m going in several directions, healthwise.
One of my fellow chamber of commerce members, Dennis Buckley, is a chiropractor who has written a couple of books, and I’ve done two book covers for him so far. After doing the last one, I asked him if he would be willing to trade out some treatments, and he agreed. It was the best decision I could have made.
Sitting at the computer for hours a day, my back and neck were a mess. After my first treatment with him, I was able to turn my neck around and really look behind me when changing lanes on the freeway. I’ve also noticed that my shoulders don’t droop like they used to, and my posture is getting better without even thinking about it. His associate, Harrison Darling, has given me a couple simple neck exercises that have helped keep my back loose and supple.
On the health downside, I had a damaged front tooth that broke off last week. There’s no pain, and it was in need of attention, but I had run out of money and was waiting for my dental insurance to renew before proceeding. When Steve’s health issues emerged, the dentist was put on the back burner, but no longer: with the tooth missing, my smile doesn’t exactly charm.
I’ve got an appointment with my dentist on Tuesday, and I’m going to propose taking the plunge: remove the six remaining maxillary teeth and fit me with an upper denture. (I would prefer this to a series of root canals and caps, partial dentures and their concurrent costs.) Also, it is a procedure I can afford with my present insurance coverage.
On the upside for both of us, we stopped smoking in early March (the 4th for Steve, the 6th for me). I have been nicotine-free for two weeks now (no patches or gum). I don’t have the urge to smoke, but I do have the urge to do “something” in those periods when what I would do was smoke: after a meal, getting into the car, taking a break from work, with the first cup of coffee in the morning. I’m not sure whether it’s worth my time to come up with substitute things, or whether I should just let those behaviors drop away over the next couple of weeks.
On the design studio front, I finally got my remaining 1500 brochures labeled, stamped and into the mail. The mailing list I purchased was a good one, because it’s been almost a week and I haven’t gotten and returns in the mail. I’m finally down to a couple hundred of the brochures, which means I’ll need to design something new soon for the next mail campaign.
As a result of the mailing, I have three appointments next week with potential clients (an antiques dealer wanting a website, a Realtor wanting a website redesign and a golden retriever rescue organization gearing up for an upscale fundraiser in September and needing graphic coordination). This of course is on top of a few ongoing clients I presently have, plus several clients planning projects in the next few months.
Also, Paul Little, the CEO of the Pasadena Chamber of Commerce, let me know that they want me to head up not only the design but also the production of their directory next year, so that is another major project slated for the second half of the year. Now, if I can just get Martha over at ASC to hire me to design those two biographies they’re planning on publishing, things will be golden. And I really love working with her.
As a business person, I have to say that it looks like the recession is finally moving into the past, and people are more confident about planning for the future without feeling the need of an economic safety net in case the whole thing collapses again.
The biggest beat to the new routine is pleural draining. This sounds really creepy and quasi-surgical, but it’s really quick, painless and tidy, if done correctly: Just removing the old dressing, hooking up the chest catheter (a small plastic tube with a one-way valve and a clamp) to the drainage bag, initiating the syphon (with a small bulb on the bag’s tube) and drawing off about a liter of fluid: Clamp the line, sterilize the catheter end, slap on a new dressing and you’re done. We repeat this every three to five days, and the pressure has been lessening each time, so we’re getting a handle on the condition and Steve’s lung capacity is stabilizing.
The only other real health problem is the small toe on his left foot: Since he has the catheter, he’s taking sponge baths at the sink rather than showering, so his feet haven’t been getting washed regularly, and a nasty fungal infection has taken over between the last two toes on his left foot. It’s also drying out and cracking the callouses, and the whole foot is getting involved. On advice from his primary physician’s nurse practitioner, we’ve started twice-daily foot baths with gauze between the toes to dry them out.
This last Thursday we went down to the VA on Long Beach and Steve had appointments with his psychologist, primary care physician, oncologist and pulmonary care technician. We got gauze, saline and pain relievers from the primary care physician for the foot, and about a dozen of the draining kits from the pulmonology department. By the time we left the pharmacy department on our way to the car, Steve had a BIG box on his lap full of all this stuff. I told the pharmacist, “We’re opening our own hospital.” She thought that was pretty funny.
We’re also getting back to routine activities other than just watching the television. I’m trying to get Steve out and walking around at least twice a week, and walking up and down the stairs at home at least a half dozen times a day. Even with the cancer, his health is really good, so keeping his stamina up is important. Every time he wears out and he flops down, I say, “Time yourself and see how long it takes to get back your breath.” That way, he can see his stamina is improving.
As for me, I’m going in several directions, healthwise.
One of my fellow chamber of commerce members, Dennis Buckley, is a chiropractor who has written a couple of books, and I’ve done two book covers for him so far. After doing the last one, I asked him if he would be willing to trade out some treatments, and he agreed. It was the best decision I could have made.
Sitting at the computer for hours a day, my back and neck were a mess. After my first treatment with him, I was able to turn my neck around and really look behind me when changing lanes on the freeway. I’ve also noticed that my shoulders don’t droop like they used to, and my posture is getting better without even thinking about it. His associate, Harrison Darling, has given me a couple simple neck exercises that have helped keep my back loose and supple.
On the health downside, I had a damaged front tooth that broke off last week. There’s no pain, and it was in need of attention, but I had run out of money and was waiting for my dental insurance to renew before proceeding. When Steve’s health issues emerged, the dentist was put on the back burner, but no longer: with the tooth missing, my smile doesn’t exactly charm.
I’ve got an appointment with my dentist on Tuesday, and I’m going to propose taking the plunge: remove the six remaining maxillary teeth and fit me with an upper denture. (I would prefer this to a series of root canals and caps, partial dentures and their concurrent costs.) Also, it is a procedure I can afford with my present insurance coverage.
On the upside for both of us, we stopped smoking in early March (the 4th for Steve, the 6th for me). I have been nicotine-free for two weeks now (no patches or gum). I don’t have the urge to smoke, but I do have the urge to do “something” in those periods when what I would do was smoke: after a meal, getting into the car, taking a break from work, with the first cup of coffee in the morning. I’m not sure whether it’s worth my time to come up with substitute things, or whether I should just let those behaviors drop away over the next couple of weeks.
On the design studio front, I finally got my remaining 1500 brochures labeled, stamped and into the mail. The mailing list I purchased was a good one, because it’s been almost a week and I haven’t gotten and returns in the mail. I’m finally down to a couple hundred of the brochures, which means I’ll need to design something new soon for the next mail campaign.
As a result of the mailing, I have three appointments next week with potential clients (an antiques dealer wanting a website, a Realtor wanting a website redesign and a golden retriever rescue organization gearing up for an upscale fundraiser in September and needing graphic coordination). This of course is on top of a few ongoing clients I presently have, plus several clients planning projects in the next few months.
Also, Paul Little, the CEO of the Pasadena Chamber of Commerce, let me know that they want me to head up not only the design but also the production of their directory next year, so that is another major project slated for the second half of the year. Now, if I can just get Martha over at ASC to hire me to design those two biographies they’re planning on publishing, things will be golden. And I really love working with her.
As a business person, I have to say that it looks like the recession is finally moving into the past, and people are more confident about planning for the future without feeling the need of an economic safety net in case the whole thing collapses again.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
These Two Dancers Walk Into a Barre…
Steve had his first chemotherapy infusion session today. It took about 2-1/2 hours, and he doesn't seem to have suffered any immediate side effects from the procedure. It is finally the beginning of his outpatient treatment, which we have both been wanting to start for weeks now.
At the oncology consultation with Dr. Klein (which occurred right after the last blog entry), Steve was having trouble getting breath, so she ordered a chest X-ray and a blood panel: We could stop at Radiology and then at the Phlebotomy Lab for those tests, then go to the Emergency Room, where they would take care of the breathing problem.
The "solution" at ER was Steve readmitted to the hospital (something neither of us wanted). It took the pulmonologists, cardiothoracic surgeons and attending physicians a full week of tests and prodding and poking to all agree that it was wise and safe to place a chest tube into Steve to draw off the excess pleural fluid to help improve his breathing.
So, after being admitted on March 27, the procedure was done on April 2. He was released on the 3rd, and on the 4th we got to drive back down to Long Beach for a pulmonary consult so the doctor could show us how to drain the fluid and rebandage the site afterwards. All very straightforward and far preferable to having Steve trot down to Long Beach for a weekly procedure.
Hospitals are great places of curing, but not for healing. Home is where you heal. By the time Steve got home on the 3rd, his health, both physical and mental, was adversely affected by the hospital stay. It took a week at home to get back to normal and regain some of his physical stamina. He's now back to going up and down stairs, going out and picking up the mail, helping with the dishes, and I keep pushing him to keep expanding on that stamina: Spending four of the last six weeks in hospital beds can do horrible things to a person's body and spirit.
On the business front, I have taken some of this time to finish folding up the remaining 2,000 brochures from the printing I did last year when I started the business. They've been sitting in boxes under the dining room chairs, so I decided I should do something positive with them and do a little promotion: I bit the bullet and purchased a business-to-business mailing list online, then used it to set up a 1,500-name mailer list.
Last year, I sent out the brochure (a square) with a 6"x9" Post-It pad with the company logo. I had to put them in an envelope, since you cannot send out a square piece as a bulk mail item, only as first class.
I sat down and did the math, and realized that sending the square brochures as first-class mail was actually cheaper than going the envelope route with bulk mail charges. And, besides, the shape of the brochure emphasizes the shape of my logo, so it makes sense to send them that way. And how many square pieces of mail do you get?
So, we now have nearly 500 mailers ready to go into the post this week, and 1,000 more ready for stamps and mailing labels. I figure if I send them out in three batches of 500, it won't be too overwhelming. Hopefully, that will kick start the business, which is not stagnant now, but I don't have any really big projects ongoing at the moment, so income dribbles in here and there.
Whatever business does come down the pike will have to be worked into Steve's treatment program and retirement plans; that's a given. He's filed online for his Social Security and SDI and handicapped parking placard, so we'll be up and running in a couple weeks. And he already belongs to AARP, so we're all set.
On the personal front, I stopped smoking on March 7 (Steve stopped on the 5th) and I stopped the patches on April 5. I tried the gum for a day or two, but it really doesn't do anything for me, so I quit using it on Sunday. This means that I have been nicotine-free for nearly four days straight (the first time in 44 years).
There was one point, while Steve was in the hospital, that I went off the patches and smoked a pack over a two-day period. The upshot of the experience was actually positive, since I got no real pleasure out of the act of smoking; it was just another nicotine delivery system, so I was back on the patches the next day.
I'm getting "the urge" three or four times a day, but it doesn't translate into a desire to obtain cigarettes and smoke them; it's an abstract urge to "do something" (which is how 1,500 brochures got folded!). And if the cravings get bad enough, I can revert to the gum. I don't think that will happen, though: I just want the nicotine out of my system and out of my life.
On the health front, my blood pressure, both systolic and diastolic counts, have dropped 10-20 points, (now about 124/68 and my resting pulse is down from 86 to 64. I have gained back five or six of the 27 pounds I lost last year, but I can keep an eye on that: With everything else that's going on right now, I'm not going to throw dietary constraints on myself while trying to cook properly for Steve.
So here's hoping that the chemo will be effective as hell and that Steve will tolerate the regimen well and we can get really aggressive in managing this disease. As they say: So far, so good.
Because, to be honest, I want to get to some of that fun retirement stuff.
At the oncology consultation with Dr. Klein (which occurred right after the last blog entry), Steve was having trouble getting breath, so she ordered a chest X-ray and a blood panel: We could stop at Radiology and then at the Phlebotomy Lab for those tests, then go to the Emergency Room, where they would take care of the breathing problem.
The "solution" at ER was Steve readmitted to the hospital (something neither of us wanted). It took the pulmonologists, cardiothoracic surgeons and attending physicians a full week of tests and prodding and poking to all agree that it was wise and safe to place a chest tube into Steve to draw off the excess pleural fluid to help improve his breathing.
So, after being admitted on March 27, the procedure was done on April 2. He was released on the 3rd, and on the 4th we got to drive back down to Long Beach for a pulmonary consult so the doctor could show us how to drain the fluid and rebandage the site afterwards. All very straightforward and far preferable to having Steve trot down to Long Beach for a weekly procedure.
Hospitals are great places of curing, but not for healing. Home is where you heal. By the time Steve got home on the 3rd, his health, both physical and mental, was adversely affected by the hospital stay. It took a week at home to get back to normal and regain some of his physical stamina. He's now back to going up and down stairs, going out and picking up the mail, helping with the dishes, and I keep pushing him to keep expanding on that stamina: Spending four of the last six weeks in hospital beds can do horrible things to a person's body and spirit.
On the business front, I have taken some of this time to finish folding up the remaining 2,000 brochures from the printing I did last year when I started the business. They've been sitting in boxes under the dining room chairs, so I decided I should do something positive with them and do a little promotion: I bit the bullet and purchased a business-to-business mailing list online, then used it to set up a 1,500-name mailer list.
Last year, I sent out the brochure (a square) with a 6"x9" Post-It pad with the company logo. I had to put them in an envelope, since you cannot send out a square piece as a bulk mail item, only as first class.
I sat down and did the math, and realized that sending the square brochures as first-class mail was actually cheaper than going the envelope route with bulk mail charges. And, besides, the shape of the brochure emphasizes the shape of my logo, so it makes sense to send them that way. And how many square pieces of mail do you get?
So, we now have nearly 500 mailers ready to go into the post this week, and 1,000 more ready for stamps and mailing labels. I figure if I send them out in three batches of 500, it won't be too overwhelming. Hopefully, that will kick start the business, which is not stagnant now, but I don't have any really big projects ongoing at the moment, so income dribbles in here and there.
Whatever business does come down the pike will have to be worked into Steve's treatment program and retirement plans; that's a given. He's filed online for his Social Security and SDI and handicapped parking placard, so we'll be up and running in a couple weeks. And he already belongs to AARP, so we're all set.
On the personal front, I stopped smoking on March 7 (Steve stopped on the 5th) and I stopped the patches on April 5. I tried the gum for a day or two, but it really doesn't do anything for me, so I quit using it on Sunday. This means that I have been nicotine-free for nearly four days straight (the first time in 44 years).
There was one point, while Steve was in the hospital, that I went off the patches and smoked a pack over a two-day period. The upshot of the experience was actually positive, since I got no real pleasure out of the act of smoking; it was just another nicotine delivery system, so I was back on the patches the next day.
I'm getting "the urge" three or four times a day, but it doesn't translate into a desire to obtain cigarettes and smoke them; it's an abstract urge to "do something" (which is how 1,500 brochures got folded!). And if the cravings get bad enough, I can revert to the gum. I don't think that will happen, though: I just want the nicotine out of my system and out of my life.
On the health front, my blood pressure, both systolic and diastolic counts, have dropped 10-20 points, (now about 124/68 and my resting pulse is down from 86 to 64. I have gained back five or six of the 27 pounds I lost last year, but I can keep an eye on that: With everything else that's going on right now, I'm not going to throw dietary constraints on myself while trying to cook properly for Steve.
So here's hoping that the chemo will be effective as hell and that Steve will tolerate the regimen well and we can get really aggressive in managing this disease. As they say: So far, so good.
Because, to be honest, I want to get to some of that fun retirement stuff.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Life Changes Like That
The last post was about the trip to Eureka. It was about looking hopefully at the future, seeing a place of green and peaceful retirement. I didn’t mention it in the blog entry, but Steve was dealing with dripping sinuses and a winter cough. This is not unusual; he’s had “holiday colds” many times in the years we’ve been together.
When the cough persisted into January, I urged him to go to his doctor at the VA clinic in downtown L.A. He did, and the doctor gave him some antibiotics and sent him home. But the cough persisted after the regimen of pills was completed, and Steve was feeling short of breath, so he returned to the clinic, put himself on a waiting list and, luckily, was seen by another doctor. They took an X-ray of his chest and found fluid in his right lung, so he was shipped off to the Long Beach VA Medical Center via ambulance, since the emergency room at the West L.A. VA facility was having sewer problems and was temporarily closed.
They kept him overnight in Long Beach; walking pneumonia was the diagnosis. He was given an IV drip of antibiotics, then sent home the next day with another course of pills. I picked him up in Long Beach and drove him to his car, which was still parked at the downtown clinic. The doctors at Long Beach had told him to return to the emergency room there if things didn’t improve.
Oddly enough, I had been broaching the subject of quitting smoking with Steve since January. It wasn’t a New Year’s-resolution kind of thing: I had just counted up the amount of money we had spent on cigarettes over the course of the year and come up with a rough estimate of $3600. We had been looking for simple ways to economize, and that seemed like a good place to start. After all, nicotine patches are now about 30% cheaper than cigarettes, and the gum even more so.
After a week of antibiotics at home, Steve hadn’t improved and was still short of breath. On Tuesday, as he was getting ready for work, he barely had enough wind to take a shower and get dressed. After 90 minutes at work, he returned home and asked me to drive him down to the emergency room in Long Beach.
After a second X-ray there, it was determined that the level of fluid in the lung had increased, and he was admitted into the hospital for treatment. The next morning, they drew off almost two liters of fluid from the lung. A biopsy of the fluid revealed adenocarcinoma cells, and the initial diagnosis was lung cancer.
Steve remained in Long Beach on Wednesday, undergoing a battery of X-rays and CT scans, while I stayed at home working on several business projects. A bronchoscopy and several biopsies were scheduled for Thursday morning, so I went down to visit him that afternoon. The doctors said they were holding him over until the lab results returned on Friday. I asked them to wait until I arrived on Friday to give their final consultation on the case, so I could be there for the prognosis and recommendations of treatment.
I got there a little after noon on Friday, and around 2 o’clock two of the attending physicians arrived with more specific information: There was a mass in the right lung, a small mass on one vertebra and also on the bottom of the sternum; lesions were apparent on the liver and pancreas. I asked if this was a case where complete remission was likely and they were doubtful. The doctors suggested that we wait until the consultation with the oncologist to get more specific information, since she would have reviewed the test results from the week and have a better understanding of the case. So Steve was discharged that evening and came home for the weekend.
Of course, the weekend was spent simply wrapping our heads around the bad news, telling ourselves that our generation had a bleak view to the word “cancer,” and that treatment plans were far more sophisticated nowadays; survival rates, even without complete remission, are counted in years now, not weeks or months. The biggest anxiety, however, was in simply not knowing what was next on the agenda; the biggest epiphany, realizing that life had changed in the course of a few short days.
Monday was the appointment with the radiologist, and he was very helpful in describing the general approach to treatment: chemotherapy was the way to go to start with, then radiation might very well be prescribed in between courses to deal with specific problem areas. His tone was far from dire, and his attitude seemed to be serious but not remorseful or maudlin.
Since December, Steve has pulled just about every muscle in his back, sides and stomach during his coughing fits, and coming back from Long Beach, he pulled another. He spent the day on the heating pad and slept that night in the recliner in our bedroom. Yesterday he spent the same way. I kept busy with errands and chores, stocking up on food and household supplies for the next two weeks, emptying trash, cleaning the cat box, doing the dishes.
Steve has his oncology consultation today (Thursday), and we should learn what the plans and schedule are for his course of therapy. We’ll also have a chance to talk with the other members of his treatment team, including a social worker who can give us all the information we need about disability benefits, support groups, on-site living arrangements and the like. I really feel blessed that we landed in Long Beach, because I don’t think better or more attentive care could be had anywhere in Southern California.
Long Beach is a wonderful, sprawling facility and the staff is attentive and responsive. They even have free valet parking. Visiting hours are “always,” and when I identify myself as Steve’s husband, I am afforded all the respect and privileges a spouse should receive. While filling out a form that listed next of kin, Steve said, “What should I put down under ‘relationship’?” I replied “Husband; it’s the truth.” Several nurses have even congratulated us on being married. At least at the VA, “don't ask, don't tell” is something it seems everyone was ready to put in the past. It’s uncanny that the Supreme Court is hearing these two cases on same-sex marriage at this time when our marriage is so vitally important to us.
The most reassuring thing is that hospitalization and treatment are completely covered, with no insurance company approving anything. We can focus our concern on Steve and his recovery, and not some catastrophic financial impact of this life-changing event: Steve was planning on retiring in June, in any case.
Friends and family have been wonderfully supportive since he posted the news on Facebook (what a 21st-century way to make the announcement). Tales have poured in from cancer survivors and folks who had loved ones who lived with the disease for 10 and 15 years beyond diagnosis and treatment. But, as one survivor said, “Each case is so unique, so different.”
As for me, I’m glad that I don’t have a 9-to-5 job that demands my attention, and that my work can go with me anywhere I can set up my laptop and access the Internet (I’ve already asked about wifi spots near the hospital in Long Beach). My schedule is totally flexible and, as long as my clients can reach me by phone and I can retrieve my e-mails and graphics files, I can continue getting my work done.
So life has changed, turned on a dime. This first week seems a horrific and terror-filled one, but I know that we will settle into the adventure ahead (dubious though it might be) and ride it out to its conclusion.
Death always has been at the end of life. When one hits 60, it’s hard to avoid the realization that there is far less left of living than has already passed. Steve has knowledge now of what probably will end his life, but when that will occur is still as uncertain as it always was. And with that knowledge, hope arises that it will be a good long while, and that the days between now and then can be filled with meaningful things.
I told Steve, first priority is treating his disease and getting control of it. Next to that, the most important thing is deciding what will bring him joy, and that’s what we'll do. Because, after all, enjoying yourself and having a good time is what retirement’s all about.
When the cough persisted into January, I urged him to go to his doctor at the VA clinic in downtown L.A. He did, and the doctor gave him some antibiotics and sent him home. But the cough persisted after the regimen of pills was completed, and Steve was feeling short of breath, so he returned to the clinic, put himself on a waiting list and, luckily, was seen by another doctor. They took an X-ray of his chest and found fluid in his right lung, so he was shipped off to the Long Beach VA Medical Center via ambulance, since the emergency room at the West L.A. VA facility was having sewer problems and was temporarily closed.
They kept him overnight in Long Beach; walking pneumonia was the diagnosis. He was given an IV drip of antibiotics, then sent home the next day with another course of pills. I picked him up in Long Beach and drove him to his car, which was still parked at the downtown clinic. The doctors at Long Beach had told him to return to the emergency room there if things didn’t improve.
Oddly enough, I had been broaching the subject of quitting smoking with Steve since January. It wasn’t a New Year’s-resolution kind of thing: I had just counted up the amount of money we had spent on cigarettes over the course of the year and come up with a rough estimate of $3600. We had been looking for simple ways to economize, and that seemed like a good place to start. After all, nicotine patches are now about 30% cheaper than cigarettes, and the gum even more so.
After a week of antibiotics at home, Steve hadn’t improved and was still short of breath. On Tuesday, as he was getting ready for work, he barely had enough wind to take a shower and get dressed. After 90 minutes at work, he returned home and asked me to drive him down to the emergency room in Long Beach.
After a second X-ray there, it was determined that the level of fluid in the lung had increased, and he was admitted into the hospital for treatment. The next morning, they drew off almost two liters of fluid from the lung. A biopsy of the fluid revealed adenocarcinoma cells, and the initial diagnosis was lung cancer.
Steve remained in Long Beach on Wednesday, undergoing a battery of X-rays and CT scans, while I stayed at home working on several business projects. A bronchoscopy and several biopsies were scheduled for Thursday morning, so I went down to visit him that afternoon. The doctors said they were holding him over until the lab results returned on Friday. I asked them to wait until I arrived on Friday to give their final consultation on the case, so I could be there for the prognosis and recommendations of treatment.
I got there a little after noon on Friday, and around 2 o’clock two of the attending physicians arrived with more specific information: There was a mass in the right lung, a small mass on one vertebra and also on the bottom of the sternum; lesions were apparent on the liver and pancreas. I asked if this was a case where complete remission was likely and they were doubtful. The doctors suggested that we wait until the consultation with the oncologist to get more specific information, since she would have reviewed the test results from the week and have a better understanding of the case. So Steve was discharged that evening and came home for the weekend.
Of course, the weekend was spent simply wrapping our heads around the bad news, telling ourselves that our generation had a bleak view to the word “cancer,” and that treatment plans were far more sophisticated nowadays; survival rates, even without complete remission, are counted in years now, not weeks or months. The biggest anxiety, however, was in simply not knowing what was next on the agenda; the biggest epiphany, realizing that life had changed in the course of a few short days.
Monday was the appointment with the radiologist, and he was very helpful in describing the general approach to treatment: chemotherapy was the way to go to start with, then radiation might very well be prescribed in between courses to deal with specific problem areas. His tone was far from dire, and his attitude seemed to be serious but not remorseful or maudlin.
Since December, Steve has pulled just about every muscle in his back, sides and stomach during his coughing fits, and coming back from Long Beach, he pulled another. He spent the day on the heating pad and slept that night in the recliner in our bedroom. Yesterday he spent the same way. I kept busy with errands and chores, stocking up on food and household supplies for the next two weeks, emptying trash, cleaning the cat box, doing the dishes.
Steve has his oncology consultation today (Thursday), and we should learn what the plans and schedule are for his course of therapy. We’ll also have a chance to talk with the other members of his treatment team, including a social worker who can give us all the information we need about disability benefits, support groups, on-site living arrangements and the like. I really feel blessed that we landed in Long Beach, because I don’t think better or more attentive care could be had anywhere in Southern California.
Long Beach is a wonderful, sprawling facility and the staff is attentive and responsive. They even have free valet parking. Visiting hours are “always,” and when I identify myself as Steve’s husband, I am afforded all the respect and privileges a spouse should receive. While filling out a form that listed next of kin, Steve said, “What should I put down under ‘relationship’?” I replied “Husband; it’s the truth.” Several nurses have even congratulated us on being married. At least at the VA, “don't ask, don't tell” is something it seems everyone was ready to put in the past. It’s uncanny that the Supreme Court is hearing these two cases on same-sex marriage at this time when our marriage is so vitally important to us.
The most reassuring thing is that hospitalization and treatment are completely covered, with no insurance company approving anything. We can focus our concern on Steve and his recovery, and not some catastrophic financial impact of this life-changing event: Steve was planning on retiring in June, in any case.
Friends and family have been wonderfully supportive since he posted the news on Facebook (what a 21st-century way to make the announcement). Tales have poured in from cancer survivors and folks who had loved ones who lived with the disease for 10 and 15 years beyond diagnosis and treatment. But, as one survivor said, “Each case is so unique, so different.”
As for me, I’m glad that I don’t have a 9-to-5 job that demands my attention, and that my work can go with me anywhere I can set up my laptop and access the Internet (I’ve already asked about wifi spots near the hospital in Long Beach). My schedule is totally flexible and, as long as my clients can reach me by phone and I can retrieve my e-mails and graphics files, I can continue getting my work done.
So life has changed, turned on a dime. This first week seems a horrific and terror-filled one, but I know that we will settle into the adventure ahead (dubious though it might be) and ride it out to its conclusion.
Death always has been at the end of life. When one hits 60, it’s hard to avoid the realization that there is far less left of living than has already passed. Steve has knowledge now of what probably will end his life, but when that will occur is still as uncertain as it always was. And with that knowledge, hope arises that it will be a good long while, and that the days between now and then can be filled with meaningful things.
I told Steve, first priority is treating his disease and getting control of it. Next to that, the most important thing is deciding what will bring him joy, and that’s what we'll do. Because, after all, enjoying yourself and having a good time is what retirement’s all about.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Eureka and Back Again
It’s been over six weeks since I last posted, but that gives you an idea of how busy I’ve been with the business since the middle of December. Well, that and we did take a week to visit Eureka. And it was quite a trip.
We leave the house at about 10:30 Christmas morning, heading to the Bob Hope Airport in Burbank. (The trip is, after all, our Christmas present to one another, so why not fly on the holiday? Also, much cheaper.) Steve has arranged parking at the Marriott across the street from the airport, and after some missed turns and dubious signage, the car is parked and we take the shuttle to the airport.
When we get to the airport, there was almost no one there. Security scans my laptop twice and stops Steve because he has a multifunction tool thingie clipped to his carry-on bag and a money clip with a tiny little knife in it. Rather than have them confiscated, he goes back out, jumps onto the shuttle and heads back to the car to leave them there. I get a Diet Dr. Pepper at Peet’s (the only food concessions there) and find a seat.
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| Steve at Burbank Airport: Outbound |
So we land in San Francisco around 4 o'clock. Rain. Waiting to collect checked carry-ons. Big loads of rain. It only takes a minute or two to retrieve the bags, just long enough to get soaked.
Now waiting in San Francisco for the plane from Monterey to arrive (which we will then board for Eureka). They’re announcing its status: It’s running late. It took off from Monterey. It’s approaching the airport. It just landed. Oh, no, sorry, it didn’t land yet. Seems to have turned back to Monterey. Oops, it’s not coming back; the flight’s canceled.
So Steve runs to the customer service desk (they won’t help us at the desk at the gate) and gets us on standby for the 6:15 flight. That one we get on (it’s running late, too, and they change the gate it’s to arrive at twice).
At this point you need to know we have Christmas 7:30 dinner reservations at the only good restaurant in Eureka that’s open Christmas Night. I call and they say they’ll move the reservation to 8 p.m.
The 6:15 flight leaves around 7 p.m. By the time we get our rental car, drive into Eureka and register at the motel, it’s 8:45. We have just enough time to pop over to Katrina’s (the coffee shop next door) to have a bite before they close at 9 p.m.
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| The Barback at the Waterfront Cafe |
I’m getting tired of driving, so we head back to the motel and watch TV and the rain, which comes down lightly or in sheets, for the rest of the afternoon.
Thursday, we get up at 10:30 (therapeutic sleeping-in will become a theme of this trip). It’s raining lightly, so we head off for more sightseeing. I’m determined to have a solid and viable map of Eureka in my head by the time we return home.
We go south on Redwood Highway (aka US 101) and find the Bayshore Mall with its familiar occupants: Kohl’s; Sears; Walmart; Bed, Bath and Beyond; Petco; etc. The mall’s a little long in the tooth, and it’s shocking to see how many of the smaller storefronts are closed and empty: a good 60 percent are vacant. We stop at a fast-food Japanese place in the food court and have teriyaki chicken for lunch.
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| Steve at Sequioa City Park in Cutten |
We drive out to Humboldt Hill (about 10 minutes south of Eureka on 101), then back to Cutten and Myrtletown (unincorporated areas on the northeast side of Eureka). Most of the houses in this area were built in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. It’s a nice part of town—indistinguishable from Eureka proper, with neighborhood stores, the Eureka Zoo and Sequoia Park (a chunk of old-growth redwood forest sitting in the middle of the neighborhood.)
Next, we drive back into what I refer to as “the avenues,” since it’s a grid of A-B-C streets and 1-2-3 avenues. Most of the Victorians are in this area, along with many bungalow houses built in the ’20s and ’30s. I notice that, in this county of tall forests, there are no mature trees in the avenues more than 25 feet high: why no old growth in an old neighborhood? I postulate that the greenery has fallen victim to Pacific storms sweeping through this unprotected area of town.
Back we go to the motel. Trying out local restaurants is also a goal of this trip, and Steve wants Mexican for dinner. We check Google Maps, call down to the desk for suggestions, then I go on Yelp! and find a place in Henderson Center (a pocket of neighbhorhood shops in the avenues) called Oaxaca Grill. The reviews say it has the best mole sauce, so we gave it a try.
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| Best. Mole. Ever. (Even Better Than in LaLaLand) |
Friday morning Realtor Jeff picks us up and takes us around to see houses. He shows us one in Humboldt Hill, an uphill drive and near the forest. It’s very 1960s and reminds me of the house I lived in when I was 7 and 8. The panoramic view of Eureka Bay from the living room os absolutely breathtaking, but the area’s just too far from town.
The second house is in Cutten, also near the woods. There is a redwood tree next to the driveway that’s 5 or 6 feet in diameter and at least 200 feet tall. There’s a deck and a hot tub. It’s a nice layout and has parquet floors (in excellent shape but definitely screaming 1980s).
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| Shrimp and Mac Salad, Rice With Pineapple Gravy |
Jeff drops us off at the motel, and we go back to Murphy’s Market in Cutten to get a couple of deli sandwiches for a late. That evening, neither of us are particularly hungry, so we stay in the room, watch TV and eat cookies we've bought.
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| We Saw "The Hobbit" Saturday Afternoon |
In the afternoon we go to the movies and see “The Hobbit.” It’s an OK film, but I’m too spoiled by Arclight Cinemas and have a hard time with all the ads before the film. We get out in the early evening, go back to the motel and order our pizza. It’s really good: a real New York-style pizza place in Eureka.
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| Square in Old Town Eureka Decked Out in Holiday Cheer |
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| Demon Cats Greet Returning Travelers |
New Year's Day we watch the Rose Parade, thanks to our DVR, and rejoice in the fact that we’re home again. It takes the cats a while to get used to us being here. Patty’s first reaction when we walk through the door is to hide under the bed like she did the day we first brought her home: I'm sure she thinks we we’re burglars. After a while, though, she’s sooooo happy to see us back. Marcel, the old, bad-mannered, aloof black cat, has been unbelievably social since our return. We’ve figured out he’s deaf, since he doesn’t react to sounds of any kind. These days, he spends most of his time sleeping, but he has taken to lying between Steve and myself when we’re sitting on the couch.
Since our return, I’ve been working on the wrap-up of the American Society of Cinematographers’ handbook (ending up at 950 pages) and a website for an Intuitive Healer and Animal Communicator who is really very fun to work with. Her website is extensive, and I’m not only launching it but also moving it from her current host service to a new one (same company that hosts my site: iPage). It’s so nice to have someone really appreciate the work I put in, and she's wonderful to collaborate with.
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| Steve Flanked by His Feline Fans |
But best of all, this month marks the first full year of my being in business, and things are going well. Even though I’m wrapping up several big jobs that made up the lion’s share of my income last year, I’m looking forward to where the next batch of work will come from, feeling much more optimistic than I did when I sent out my brochure mailing a year ago.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
The Holiday Post
I have been really busy at the end of this year: Designing the Business Directory for the Pasadena Chamber of Commerce, working on the final version of the 10th Edition of the American Society of Cinematographers' handbooks, working at lining up new work in the New Year. It's been exciting, but left me little time for blogging.
My favorite Christmas video on YouTube (animation of the Drifters' version of "White Christmas") has some sort of protection on it now, and I can't embed it here, so if you want to see it, please Click here to enjoy it.
In its stead, I give you my second-most favorite Christmas video, a 1913 stop-action animation from pre-revolutionary Russia.
In its stead, I give you my second-most favorite Christmas video, a 1913 stop-action animation from pre-revolutionary Russia.
Sister Kittie and brother-in-law David came down for the Thanksgiving weekend. We had the now-traditional dry-brined turkey and the appropriate side dishes for the holiday feast. On Friday we took the Gold Line down to Chinatown and went window shopping. On Saturday we went over to Cousin Robin's in the Hollywood Hills. Evan (her husband, for those who don't know) made his galactically famous pizza and we had a wonderful time.
Finishing up the Chamber Directory was daunting, as the listings (over 1,300 of them) kept doing minor shifts when flowed from Excel into InDesign. The result was that names and cities were shifting from one entry to another. So we had to go through the thing, line by line, making corrections on perhaps a quarter of the listings. It meant a number of all-nighters for me, but we got the book delivered on the date set.
I'm up to chapter 52 in the ASC handbooks, finalizing things for publication. There is light at the end of the tunnel and Martha, the publisher, calls to let me know that there are three pages (or perhaps more) to be added to the aerial cinematography chapter (17!). This is going to mean lots of renumbering of pages (at least pages 220 through, what, 876). And the shift will be consistent, so the numbering in the Index can be altered without too much trouble. Between this and the weirdly shifting chamber listings, I'm beginning to think long-form documents aren't really the place to specialize!
We haven't done any decorating for the holidays because Steve and I are going to spend the week between Christmas and New Years up in Eureka, and the idea of leaving the cats alone for a week with the Christmas tree, its fragile baubles calling to them, did not seem like a good idea.
It was my sister Kittie who suggested we spend a week during the winter in Eureka, as well as the week in the late spring we spent there on our last trip. As we are looking to retire up there, she said it would give us an idea of what it's like when the weather's bad. But since the weather really doesn't vacillate that much, it's more of a getaway than a test of our resistance to lousy weather.
When we were up there in the late spring, it was in the mid- to low 60s; this time the forecast is for mid- to low 50s. Same chance for rain (20% to 60%), same coastal clouds clearing to sunny afternoons, so I don't think we're in for any surprises. Also, I pointed out that sitting in a hotel room during lousy weather is not the same as sitting in your own home during lousy weather.
So that's about it. I just wanted to have a chance to send my holiday wishes to everyone (Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, if that's not too politically incorrect), and let them know things are going well. I know family and friends in the northern part of the country most likely will have a White Christmas this year. But whatever your holidays shape up to be, I hope they are warm and happy, and that you spend them with people you love.
When we were up there in the late spring, it was in the mid- to low 60s; this time the forecast is for mid- to low 50s. Same chance for rain (20% to 60%), same coastal clouds clearing to sunny afternoons, so I don't think we're in for any surprises. Also, I pointed out that sitting in a hotel room during lousy weather is not the same as sitting in your own home during lousy weather.
So that's about it. I just wanted to have a chance to send my holiday wishes to everyone (Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, if that's not too politically incorrect), and let them know things are going well. I know family and friends in the northern part of the country most likely will have a White Christmas this year. But whatever your holidays shape up to be, I hope they are warm and happy, and that you spend them with people you love.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Holiday Heart
Another big gap in the blog entries, but I've been really busy this time around: The ASC Handbook redesign got interesting when the publisher Martha asked me to finalize the chapter files for her. One big change has happened: we went to full color, as all those black and white diagrams and illustrations have to be colorized at least a bit, since black and white looks really ugly sitting on a color page.
Problem is, whoever put together the diagrams (especially the camera-threading diagrams) made them up of hundreds of little line segments instead of creating closed shapes. This means now I get to go back and connect all those little lines in order to fill them with color, or find other ways to cheat. It's still taking hours, and there are about 60 diagrams to deal with: most are fairly simple, but others are a real nightmare. But, beyond the tables and charts, these are the last big hurtle I've got in the publication, and I'm hoping we'll get the thing done by the end of the year.
The Pasadena Chamber of Commerce Business Directory started in earnest this last month, and that has been taking a good chunk of my time and attention. The ad work on it is a lot more than I thought it would be. With a supposed deadline of November 26, they're still out selling ads, which makes the layout of the magazine change every time they sell anything of substance. Add to that the fact that no one has the ad files from last year, and a good two-thirds of the ads are reprints. I finally got ahold of the designer from last year's directory; he has the ad files and is going to send them over to me.
This is not the end of it, though: I also have to put together e-mail proofs of each ad that comes in and send it off to the advertisers for final approval. A lot of them aren't responding. And of the one or two ads that I'm building, the advertisers are just not talking to me. I know now why I didn't go into design for sales and marketing: it's too crazy.
So there are two very nutsy jobs to work on, one with a deadline that's getting way too close way too fast, and I am swearing to myself that I am not going to spend Thanksgiving weekend huddled over the computer trying to get these projects out, because sister Kittie and her husband David are coming down from Grover Beach to spend the weekend with us. We'll be splitting the cooking duties, on Thursday. On Friday, we're planning on taking the Gold Line to Chinatown and celebrating Black Friday that way. On Saturday afternoon, we're all going over to Robin and Evan's (our cousin and her husband, who live in the Hollywood Hills) for Evan's famous pizza and because it's an excuse to get together. In between will be frittatas, my famous French toast and, of course, the family tradition: Turkey a la King with the leftovers on Friday evening. And I'm not missing out on all that to make a deadline. Luckily, my contract has a clause that basically says, "If you screw around and don't get stuff to me on time, I can miss my deadlines without breaching the contract, because I'm not responsible for making up time that's lost due to your missing deadlines."
But I never miss deadlines. It may mean that I'm working 14 hours a day for the week after Thanksgiving, but we will get the deadline met. One nice thing: every single chamber member gets a copy of the directory, as well as everyone who writes the chamber from out of town. It's also handed out at Bob Hope Airport (Burbank) by the information desk there, and it's available at most of the larger hotels, so it will be a kind of personal calling card for the next year. And it's been fun putting it together.
Speaking of which, I'd better get back to work. It was time for a break from Illustrator, Photoshop and InDesign, so I relaxed with a session on Blogger. Here in the 21st Century, that actually makes sense.
Stay Happy.
Problem is, whoever put together the diagrams (especially the camera-threading diagrams) made them up of hundreds of little line segments instead of creating closed shapes. This means now I get to go back and connect all those little lines in order to fill them with color, or find other ways to cheat. It's still taking hours, and there are about 60 diagrams to deal with: most are fairly simple, but others are a real nightmare. But, beyond the tables and charts, these are the last big hurtle I've got in the publication, and I'm hoping we'll get the thing done by the end of the year.
The Pasadena Chamber of Commerce Business Directory started in earnest this last month, and that has been taking a good chunk of my time and attention. The ad work on it is a lot more than I thought it would be. With a supposed deadline of November 26, they're still out selling ads, which makes the layout of the magazine change every time they sell anything of substance. Add to that the fact that no one has the ad files from last year, and a good two-thirds of the ads are reprints. I finally got ahold of the designer from last year's directory; he has the ad files and is going to send them over to me.
This is not the end of it, though: I also have to put together e-mail proofs of each ad that comes in and send it off to the advertisers for final approval. A lot of them aren't responding. And of the one or two ads that I'm building, the advertisers are just not talking to me. I know now why I didn't go into design for sales and marketing: it's too crazy.
So there are two very nutsy jobs to work on, one with a deadline that's getting way too close way too fast, and I am swearing to myself that I am not going to spend Thanksgiving weekend huddled over the computer trying to get these projects out, because sister Kittie and her husband David are coming down from Grover Beach to spend the weekend with us. We'll be splitting the cooking duties, on Thursday. On Friday, we're planning on taking the Gold Line to Chinatown and celebrating Black Friday that way. On Saturday afternoon, we're all going over to Robin and Evan's (our cousin and her husband, who live in the Hollywood Hills) for Evan's famous pizza and because it's an excuse to get together. In between will be frittatas, my famous French toast and, of course, the family tradition: Turkey a la King with the leftovers on Friday evening. And I'm not missing out on all that to make a deadline. Luckily, my contract has a clause that basically says, "If you screw around and don't get stuff to me on time, I can miss my deadlines without breaching the contract, because I'm not responsible for making up time that's lost due to your missing deadlines."
But I never miss deadlines. It may mean that I'm working 14 hours a day for the week after Thanksgiving, but we will get the deadline met. One nice thing: every single chamber member gets a copy of the directory, as well as everyone who writes the chamber from out of town. It's also handed out at Bob Hope Airport (Burbank) by the information desk there, and it's available at most of the larger hotels, so it will be a kind of personal calling card for the next year. And it's been fun putting it together.
Speaking of which, I'd better get back to work. It was time for a break from Illustrator, Photoshop and InDesign, so I relaxed with a session on Blogger. Here in the 21st Century, that actually makes sense.
Stay Happy.
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