Part Eight

Sorry it's been so long between updates, fans.  Went back on the road and have traveled to Nebraska, South Dakota, and Nebraska again in the past six weeks.  Doing all this behind the back of my chief oncologist, who was pretty emphatic about not wanting me to drive, and certainly not this much.  Following these trips, I've come around to his way of thinking.  More on that below.

On the cancer front, I returned for new MRI's two weeks ago.  This was after a four-week break from any treatments.  The reading of the scans by my doctor was a little vague, but I guess as good as I could have hoped for.  What the photos below show is how my brain looked right after the surgery on 7/15 and how it looked on 11/4.  The first photo shows (with the help of lines drawn on the scans by my doctor) my brain with one side pushed off to the left like an old, beat up Clincher 16" softball we've knocked around the empty lot too long. The new photos show a brain with two nice, even hemispheres, like a new out-of-the box Clincher.

7/15/2013 (post-surgery)

11/4/2013

That's the good news.  The doc was a little less clear about explaining the lighter blobs you see near the bottom of the scans.  This could be scar tissue or cavities left over from the surgery, or some of it could be cancer.  They don't know at this point, which struck me as a little weird, considering I was in that machine for over 40 minutes.

If you've ever had an MRI on your head (I hope not), you know what a weird process it is. I can't explain it, of course, but your head gets stuck into this strong magnetic field which makes your hydrogen atoms go nuts and start emitting radio frequencies.  The magnetic coils are switched on and off rapidly, which causes all kinds of wacky noises inside that machine, something like Jimi Hendrix or Pete Townsend abusing the hell out of their Marshall amp towers.  All this racket somehow gets turned into images, helped along by contrast dye the techs shoot you up with.  See . . . I told you I couldn't explain it.

MRI machine

Following the MRI's, I took one more road trip before starting a new chemo routine.  Only five days every four weeks, but at double the dosage.  The first night I mixed up my nausea meds and found myself talkin' to the toilet (round-trip meal ticket!) four times in one night.  The next night I used the nausea med that works (Zofran!) and kept everything down.

Also, after I returned from this trip, I knew I couldn't do this job anymore.  It involves driving at least 10 hours every day (with stops for inspections) and usually covering 1200-1500 miles in a week, frequently in truly horrific weather.  Considering my doctor doesn't want me driving at all, he would freak if he knew I was doing this.  So after the last trip I told my employers I had to get off the road and asked to be re-assigned to some other duties.  They had to accommodate me, so they came up with a new job that will pay about 30% less than my current job, even though other opportunities exist that pay the same or more.  It is pointless for me to elaborate on the personalities and corporate culture that produced this kind of shabby treatment, so I won't bore you further with it.

My new situation will create some financial stress as we head into the holidays, but I'm looking forward to the holidays nonetheless.  Time to assign toxic situations and toxic people to the waste containment facilities where they belong, safely removed from my consciousness.  Time to enjoy the company of those I love, or at least those who can stand my presence.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, AMIGOS!  SEE YOU SOON!  HAH!