Where the hell am I?

2014 is off to a rough start.  On January 1st I lost one of my nephews, Stephen, to an as-yet undetermined cause.  His death was not only a shock to the entire family, but it sort of dropped a big fat boulder over everyone's hearts and minds.

Steve was taking a shower when he started coughing blood;  he collapsed and pass away en route to the hospital.

He was 28 years old.
Recently married.
Just got a big promotion at work.

He quite literally was just starting his life as an adult.  Fucking tragic.

I can't say that I have ever been that close with my family, or anyone for that matter. I have usually been the loner (shocking, right?), and opening up has been hard for me.  Usually, I just put that on my Dad, but recently I have been taking more control over my life and reaching out to people.  As a result, I got to see Steve on Christmas day - something I haven't done probably since his mother died earlier this year.  Oh yeah, did I mention you may want a Kleenex for this one?  Yeah.

We never spent much time together and that makes me angry.  Angry that I missed so much of his life, but probably more angry that I will miss even more of what it could have been.

Steve's funeral and services are this weekend, and I'm having a real hard time dealing with these past 3 weeks.  Between my looming operation and Stephen dying, I feel like I'm losing my mind.  Legitimately losing my weak grip on reality.   Having never been a real solid sleeper, my stress level has kept me from trying to improve my rest, and I keep having dreams about my cancer and Steve, among other things too weird and bizarre even for this blog.  Not just normal ones, those creepy lucid, half-sleep/half-awake, sweaty dreams that take you a good hour to shake.

I'm supposed to be working, supposed to be being strong for my family and my brothers, but today ... today is a tough sonnabitch.  Friday is the first of the services and I don't know what to expect.  This kid impacted all of our lives so deeply, and it's rare to find someone like that.  Who's absence leaves that hard-to-fill chasm of regret and true, stinging loss.

Driving back from his fathers house today, I was finding it impossible to untangle my feelings.  Was this anxiety and fear based around my surgery, or Steve's funeral?  Am I emotional because I'm getting my will together in case my worst fear is realized and I die on the table, or is it because my OTHER worst fear has already been realized by my nephew - dying from some unknown genetic flaw?  I can feel them both inside, tentacles of the Fear Beast wrapped up together, sucking the energy out of me.  All I want to do is be with my family right now.  All of them.

Especially Steve.

Steve and I, with my Brother Pete, Sister-in-Law Keelie, Taren, and
Steves wife Maggie on Christmas.  Literally the best Christmas ever.
Even if it was only for 10 min. 

I've heard this song at least 100 times, but today it made me think of Steve. 

18 Days And Counting

It's hard to believe, but it's been about 3 weeks since this whole crazy ride started.  With no signs of slowing, I get pulled into 2014 by my glands and to what should be an eventual fresh start.

A few days ago I had my final pre-op meeting with both doctors.  This was an important meeting for two reasons: it was the last chance for me to ask any questions about life post-removal, and it was the last chance for them to scare the tits off of me.  Not on purpose, mind you, but my oncologist had to tell me the "potential complications" of removing my lymph nodes.  Of which there are many.  I could wake up with my left ear numb for life (earrings!), or without the ability to shrug my shoulders.  Of course, I could also have a damaged voice box if he happens to touch the nerves running toward my vocal chords - with the potential to have permanent vocal damage if they have to cut into the right side of my neck.   Then there is the damage to the nerves that help to control my diaphragm and keep it moving in unison with my breathing.  If that nerve gets damaged, I could grow to have breathing problems, as my diaphragm would be unable to let me take in full breaths.  Of course, I could always just slip away on the table and die.  When I brought up that I was worried about that, he replied, "Let me be the one to worry about that."  Easy for him to say.  He'll still be alive.

But at least I won't have cancer.

January 24th is my surgery date, and I'm sure all will be fine.  Confidence check: 40% (up from 25% last week).  Having anxiety is not the easiest way to deal with an impending surgery - one in which I will wake up with pus drains in my neck and missing materials in my neck. Materials that have evolved over the thousands of millions of years to perform a vital function, reduced to a "simple" 7-hour procedure and a tiny tablet to take after. Whatever.

Shit is tough.  It really is.  I was reading a Q & A from some Thyroid expert, and someone had asked if Papillary Carcinoma really was the best cancer to get.  He replied with probably the most perfect quote I had heard in awhile:

"The only people who say that are the ones who have never had it."

And that really hit home for me, because I have been really downplaying this whole thing because my doctors have all been saying it's "the best".  Really?  Ok well then I guess it's no big deal.  But it IS.  To me.  Oddly enough, realizing that and finally letting myself accept that this is a big deal allowed me to let it go a bit more, if that makes sense.  I no longer struggle with the seriousness of this type of cancer, and therefor I can stop internalizing it so much and just focus on the surgery and all that entails.  Which is ... relaxing, in a way.  I don't feel like I'm being dramatic.  This is a real thing and it's life-threatening (sort of).

So now I wait.  I will be making a will, just in case something happens to me, so if you want anything that I have, let me know now.  All my savings go to my cats, sorry.

Two Surgeons For Every Boy

Today would have been my final pre-surgery meeting with my surgeon, but as the fates would have it, I now have two surgeons, and one can't make it to the meeting today so I have to haul my mass (get it?) back to Walnut Creek a second time after this in order to meet with my newly appointed Lymph Node remover.  See, because as it turns out, cancer in the Thyroid just isn't enough  - no no no no no.  No Sir!  It has to go into my Lymph Nodes and create more problems.  The "good news", if you can call it that, is the type of cancer I have - Papillary Carcinoma - is slow-moving, which sort of makes it the retarded little brother of other cancers.  Normally when you have cancer in your Lymph Nodes, you are Stage 3 and it's really serious.  With Papillary Cancer, you are still at Stage 1.  Like I said, good news ... sort of.

So I have two people now that will be inside my neck during the same operation - one to pull the Thyroid and the other to pull the offending Lymph Nodes.  What this means is another time in hospital, more pain management, and higher bills.  Can't wait.

I can see why cancer patients can lose hope - this is really depressing stuff.  You feel as if your whole life has to be put on hold until you deal with your illness and the bills it creates.  Taren and I were couch shopping the other day.  We found one we both loved but had to pull back from the purchase because I have yet to receive a bill from the first round of tests, and there is so much we don't know about the surgery costs and hospital stays.  How do you justify spending more than $200 on something for your ass that at least doesn't go inside of it, when you know you have this looming gray cloud of future, unavoidable debt over your head?  It's not easy to want to get out and have fun.  Every expense becomes a question without an answer, you know?

When I first was watching Breaking Bad, for example, I thought about how large a stretch it was for this guy to go out and cook meth for cash.  I mean, come on, dude, you can make it work, can't you?  Sitting here and thinking about the setup of that show and the pain and the bills ... while I can't really relate because my situation is different, that show seems a bit more real to me now.  A bit.

So that's the latest.  I've pretty much just spent my time reading up on this stuff and trying to reassure myself that things will work out somehow.  Part of me wants to know how much this will cost me, and part of me doesn't.  Because what will that do - it will worry me needlessly before the surgery, and it's not like I can go flip through the phone book for a better deal.  I don't even know what a phone book is.

No Really, Merry Christmas

After a long two days of driving and visiting family for Christmas, you sort of realize what's important in your life, right?  I'm not saying my newly-found cancer is some form of mutation that granted me super powers or anything, but sometimes all you need is a little perspective to right your world.  I have never been close with my family - a gift from my Father to all of his children.  My brothers are almost 15 years older than I am, which has a lot to do with it maybe.   Overall, I just always felt left out of the party because I was (and still am) socially awkward with anyone and everyone.  Especially family.  Not in the normal, every day way.  Like, bizarrely and staggeringly uncomfortable.   My brothers and their kids are all great at sports and I'm awful, so when we all used to get together, I'm the goofy ass-face trying to fit in with the football team, essentially.  Of course this is all in my head, but you can't tell me that.  I love my brothers and nieces and nephews, and I constantly blame myself for not being more involved.

But lately this year - and even more so since this whole diagnosis thing - I've let all that go and tried to connect to my family, and it's been great.  Today was a different Christmas in that it was so much more than gifts and driving and putting in time.  It was about these people around me, enjoying their lives, watching them be themselves, and just sort of taking that all in.  I'm not saying that now thanks to cancer, I have perspective on life; this is something that has been building for awhile, but the cancer certainly has advanced it.  I want to connect with my family, because you never know when all that could end.  And they are all nice people who actually like me back.  And laugh at my jokes, which never hurts.

The constant theme with this cancer has been trying to downplay it, because honestly it feels like I'm walking into the ER with a nail in the foot  - it's not a big deal but it IS a big deal at the same time. The wound won't kill you ... but it also has the potential, right?  Infection and all that. The type of cancer I have is called Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma and it's the most common and the most easily dealt with ever in the world ever.  Like, ever.  So on the one hand I think I sound like a winging baby, but on the other ... I have fucking cancer.

And that's really where I'm at right now with this whole thing; how do I put this into perspective?  Do I really need to?  Honestly, the only thing I'm scared of is dying on the operating table and missing out on my family.  The cancer doesn't bother me, it's just this mental block of finding the right way to look at my newly mutated cells.  Will it kill me?  No.  So don't call me a fighter or anything.  This is like me going to the elementary school and punching a kid dead in the face - it's not a fight at all.  I just have to sit and wait it out, and then get better.  Will it be tough?  Sure, but what isn't?  Besides punching kids in the face.   That's both easy and hilarious.

I dunno.  Sitting here with a glass of port and listening to the last night of Christmas music with Taren, the tree lights, and reflecting on the nice day we had got me all introspective about family and friends.  I've always been a loner with regards to relationships.  Just a few close friends, any more than that and I get uncomfortable within my own skin.  I'm fighting that more than I am this cancer.

This Christmas was a good one, and I really needed it.  I hope yours was good, as well.

Happy Christmas, friends.

One of my favorite Christmas songs ... 

Merry Christmas ...

What I've tried to do with this blog is to make it an extension of me, of my personality, and the things that matter to me.  I've tried to at least keep it humorous and somewhat informative, though I'm not sure I really did that in the way I wanted.   I like to make people laugh, so much so that I tend to say things at inappropriate times because the first thought I have usually is, "How can I squeeze a laugh out of this person?"  It's something I have always done - in school, with friends, on the air.    Growing up you get asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?", and thinking about it, maybe I actually am doing the only thing I have ever wanted to do in life.  Entertain people.  Hence my post on a very personal issue - I simply can't keep my trap shut.

A lot has happened to me over these last few weeks.  Most of it is very private, so not many people are aware.  Which is interesting, because I have had to squash this need to over share and actually keep stuff to myself, or at least in my inner circle.  Another anomaly: I have an inner circle.

Recently I was diagnosed with Hyperparathyroidism, which really means nothing, other than one of my parathyroid glands located within the Thyroid itself is over-active and is producing too much Calcium.  This leads to kidney stones and eventually a lower bone density as the hyper gland pulls Calcium from my body and into the blood.  Typically this requires surgery to remove the hyper gland, of which your Thyroid has 4, and all is well.  They gave me a Nuclear Medicine scan to isolate the over-active gland and bam - I suddenly had a surgeon.  

Going to an appointment with my surgeon is when things got, well ... real.  She did an ultrasound to locate the gland and to talk to me about what it meant to undergo surgery like that, taking still images of my Thyroid and the glands within it.  She takes a printout and tells me she wants to show this one segment to her partner for a second opinion.  5 min later she says she wants to do a FNA, or a Fine Needle Aspiration.  Meaning, she wants to stick the Thyroid with a bunch of real small needles to pull fluid samples because it might be cancerous.  But it's more than just a simple poke to the neck and off you go with a pat on the bottom. I got a local anesthetic, but it was more for the gland I think.  The surgeon inserts the needle and it keeps going and going - naturally its a long needle because it has to get from the side of your neck to the middle.  This intense pressure came on as she pressed the needle deeper into my neck.

Feeling a long, sharp, metal object pushed into a gland in your throat - even through the anesthetic - is a bizarre experience.  Because you aren't really feeling pain so much as pressure.  Take your index finger and place it about 2 inches to the side of your voice box.  Then push in slowly, as far as you can. Then start poking yourself, moving your finger into and out of your flesh.  This is kind of what it feels like to get a FNA done, although much worse.  The whole thing was fairly traumatic.  I could see the surgeons hands as they moved the needle around rapidly within my thyroid and I could feel my neck give way each time and all I could think of was, "This is how a chicken feels when you cut it."  Whatever the hell that means.  At one point I began to cry - again, not due to the pain so much, though there is a lot of that - but more because of that pressure on my neck and the visualization of what is going on inside me, combined with the possibility of what this test could reveal.

Done.  I sat up, tear-stained and feeling violated.  The rest of the visit was a blur.  Suddenly I'm in my car driving home, crying.  Why?  I can't say.  There isn't one thing I can point to, it was just the entire experience of going in to see a doctor for a pre-surgery visit and then to come out with a swollen neck and the fear of the unknown.  Plus the surgeon's hands moving up and down as she stabbed me over and over didn't help.

This was on Friday.  By Wednesday I got the call.

I officially have cancer.

How did this happen?  What does this mean?  How does this feel?  These are the questions I have and the ones I'm going to explore, sort of taking you on the mental journey that I'm now forced on.  I want to let you know what it's like to hear that you have cancer and how that changes the way you think about everyday little bullshit that normally doesn't phase.  Little things become bigger, and big things that once consumed you don't matter any more.  And yes, it's only Thyroid Cancer, which I'm told is just about the easiest form of cancer you can get, and it's super treatable, and everything is fine.  But it's CANCER, right?  It's SCARY and FUCKING SCARY, even if it is localized and contained.

Anyway, this is now my cancer blog.  So if you want to know the weird things that go through an idiots head on the subject, now's your chance.  I plan on being as open as I can about this whole deal, and hopefully the end result will be the spreading of knowledge about Thyroid Cancer and how you can get screened for it.  Even though it's a fairly simple cancer, if unchecked it will spread, and that's never good.  Unless Cancer is a stripper.

Elder Sign Game Review

Recently, I have found myself playing lots of "board games" with friends.  Some Monopoly, some Risk, but mainly I've been on the lookout for some real nerdy type games.  I put board games in quotes because i'm not sure what to call a game that doesn't have a board.  "Card Games" just doesn't sound the same, and would take more explanation as to how it was not a traditional card game like Poker or something.  So I stick with Board Games.

Last night was the first night spent trying to sort out the latest aquisition - Elder Sign, part of the Arkham Horror series of games.  It is very much a part of the resurgence of H.P. Lovecraftian-type games, where the player battles all sorts of tentacled creeps and ghouls - including Cthulhu.  I like dark, sci-fi games like this, so Elder Sign sounded like something I'd enjoy.

The premise is simple - you and your pals are investigators, trying to fight off evil in a darkened museum.  Spooky, eh?  There are different rooms and scenarios you have to solve called "Adventures" and they are represented by cards - the whole thing is card based, by the way.  No boards.  As you move your character through these rooms, you have to roll dice in order to clear the room and claim your prizes, which consist of artifacts or Elder Signs.  Fairly simple.  As the game is set up and you have chosen your heroes, you draw a card from the monster pile to find out which of the The Ancient Ones you must stop during the game.  The goal is to acquire a predetermined amount of Elder Signs in order to seal The Ancient One away before it gets awakened.  Included in the game is a clock face that keeps track of game time, with the clock advancing 3 hours after each players turn.

Elder Sign, with all it's little cards and pieces

As an added twist, the game has a deck of Mythos Cards.  When the clock hand reaches 12 Midnight, you must draw another Mythos Card.  These little things throw wrenches into your game play, as most of the time they require you to add what's called a Doom Token to The Ancient One card in play.  If you add enough tokens, the monster comes to life and generally eats your insides out.

Elder Sign is for 1-8 players, and I played it with 4, with a game taking about an hour, give or take.  Gameplay was fast, once we got the hang of combat, and the characters were rich enough to make you want to read the small text on each card for more background.  I really enjoyed this game, and will be playing lots of it as we draw closer to Halloween.  I cannot see myself playing alone, as it is a cooperative game that encourages you to share information among your fellow Investigators, but the artwork and design is cool enough that solo play isn't out of the question.

If you are looking for a fun, nerdy game to play, I recommend Elder Sign.   The rules are lengthy and it will take at least one round of gameplay to understand them, so play with a group that is fine with waiting for you to look their questions up.  You can find this game at most specialty game shops, or pick it up from me right here!

Petros Farms: A Removal

In case you weren't aware, I have been raising chickens in my backyard for just about 2 years.  I built them a nice coop, took care of them, stepped in their crap, and in general made their lives the nicest ones I could.  Why chickens?  I'm not really sure, even now.  It seemed like a nice pet to have, and things that give you food by way of a single hole (called a "vent"), well, how can that be bad?  Plus, their cuteness factor is just off the charts ...

Our youngest birds, Rhoda and Buffy, after about 3 weeks.

Over those two years I learned a lot about what it takes to raise chickens to adulthood and beyond.  The man at the feed supply where I bought the chicks said that they really aren't that loud, and rarely make noise, save for when they lay an egg.  All the research I had done online had pretty much confirmed this, so I felt confident that I would get some birds that would just peck around the back yard and fire out eggs once a day while being quiet and nice things to own.

It's nice!

For some reason, I seemed to get the only loud bird in existence.  My girlfriend named her "Mrs. Butterworth", for reasons yet unknown, and this fucking bird loved to just yell all the time.  It was almost a scream, and it was unleashed for no particular reason.  Over time, it was almost as if Butter taught the other girls to yell at the Sun or whatever, and for those two years we always had at least two chickens that would start screaming at 5:30 - 6:30 each and every single morning.  And of course, we are good neighbors, so one of us (usually me) had to whip out of bed and run outside to quiet the chickens so as not to piss off anyone in the neighborhood.  Then, once the garden started to come in, the birds were all over that thing.  Eating everything in site, they are more like goats than birds.  First it was the lawn, then the cauliflower, then tomatoes, squash, flowers - name it, they ate it. Over two years we only got one complaint, which is nice, but all of this waking up early and being stressed out about angering others made us realize that our current living situation just did not facilitate owning chickens.  So after several months of talking about it, we decided that it was best to find a new home for our girls.

A rare group shot, taken on their last day at Petros Farms.

Enter: The Dineens.  Eve and Danny are in the top 6 people I know that are super positive and loving, and one minute with them makes you want to celebrate life.  And eat really well.  They have a large farm and were willing to take our four chickens to their place to lead a better life than in my decimated backyard.  15 acres and 20 other birds to hang with, plus other animals - it really was a no-brainer.

Buffy and Butter clear-cutting our plants. 

Don't think this was an easy decision for us.  For two years we have been dealing with these animals, and we have come to love them like ... well, like cats!  They each have their own little personality and they each like certain treats that the others don't.  It became less about having nice pets and more about just getting quality sleep.  They really interrupted our sleeping patterns a lot, and some mornings it was impossible to go back to sleep after trying to quiet them down at 6:30 in the AM.  Chickens are really unique animals, and now that they are gone, I am pretty sad about it.  Sadder than I thought I would be. Every time I went outside, they came running.  Every time I turned the hose on to water the plants, they were digging around looking for bugs.  Then they'd waddle-run to the next newly watered patch of dirt to look for more.  It was a great experience for us, and one I would do again, but not without having some property, first.  Chickens get under your skin and work into your soul.  They become part of your day and part of your family, but we just couldn't hang on to them any longer.

Me being the big girl that I am, I can't help but look out the window at our empty coop, wondering if it really was that bad having chickens and thinking of ways to get them back.  But knowing they are living a better life than they were here sort of brings me back to reality.  The romantic in me wants to drive up and take them back, to hell with the neighbors and our sleeping!  At least there's always cats to pet ...


Bye, chickens.  We'll miss you very much.  So long, and thanks for all the eggs ...

Everyone loaded into the Dineen's truck, bound for a real farm.