what a difference ten years make

Here we are, looking at the end of another decade (although, technically, it doesn't end for another year, but explaining why isn't worth the energy).

Ten years ago, I was feeling good because it appeared that world peace was about to break out. The Soviet Union was gone, the Berlin Wall was down, the Pope had visited Cuba, and the Parliament of Scotland opened for the first time since 1707. Well, OK, that last item wasn't all that relevant to my false sense that the world was in very good shape, but it helped.

Wow, what a fool I was for being so naive and misinformed. The news media will be full of stories over the next few days detailing all that went wrong in the past decade, ranging from the disputed presidential election in Florida in 2000 to the disasters of September 11, 2001, and downhill from there.

However, on a personal level, this decade has been good to us. Our children finished undergraduate school, and two earned master's degrees. They are all gainfully employed except our son, who's in the third year of dental school. My wife is a ten-year breast cancer survivor, and she's still employed despite budget cuts where she works. I am on the verge of being declared a lymphoma survivor. Better yet, we've been given two beautiful and healthy grandchildren, with a third due in April.

I hit the ripe old age of 65 this year, which is remarkable because a lot of us children of the Cold War never really believed we'd live this long. I've now worked for my employer longer than the three other cities I've worked for in the past and plan to stay on for a few more years if they'll have me. I can't retire soon; I need to pay for my wife's new kitchen and my new Corvette!

To my faithful few regular readers, and the occasional random reader, I wish you nothing but good in 2010 and every year afterwards. May God have mercy on us all.

Five down, THREE to go

Well, nuts. I've been counting down the chemo treatments from the beginning and, according to the schedule, next Tuesday should be my sixth and final treatment.

Not so fast.

Yesterday, the doctor apologized for not telling me the last time we met that I should have eight, not six, treatments. He is concerned because the "pet" scan showed a minute trace of cancer cell activity in the bone marrow - so minute that it wasn't detected when the lab first saw the scan results, but did show up when they were testing a more sophisticated and sensitive machine.

So, instead of being done by Christmas, I'll be done on (or about) February 1.

Meanwhile, I feel fine despite having low white cell and red cell counts during the first 10 - 14 days after each treatment. I'm confident I will feel a helluva lot better when my body finally rids itself of the chemicals but I'm grateful that the chemicals rid my body of active cancer cells.

Stayed tuned . . .

Thanksgiving in Seattle

DSC_1624
Originally uploaded by galbr8th

Two cousins, our first grandchildren, got to share space and toys for the first time last week.

four down, two to go

I'm now four down and two to go with the chemo treatments for lymphoma, and the good news for me is that my "pet" scan shows no active cancer cell activity. A "pet" scan is not like an X-ray. It traces a radioactive glucose solution that runs through your body starting about an hour before the scan. Because the cancer cells gobble up the glucose faster than normal cells, they "light up" on the scan so the doctor can see where they are located.

The scan showed some enlarged tissues but the doctor said they are scar tissue or dead tissue that will be absorbed by the body.

The most obvious sign, for me, is that my swollen left foot and leg have gone down dramatically in the past few days. Today I wore shoes, not sandals, for the first time since this whole thing started back in August.

Light at the end of the tunnel!

Lymphoma, cont'd

I'm way overdue to update this blog with the status of my treatment for lymphoma. My half dozen regular readers already know my status, but I've promised to update this, so here it is:

I'm now three down, three to go, with the chemo treatments. I got the first three treatments every two weeks, not the standard three weeks, because trial work in Germany for my kind of lymphoma and the treatment I'm getting indicates some marginal benefit for getting them every two weeks - plus, I should be done before Christmas. I'm now on a once every three weeks schedule to allow me to travel to Seattle to see my first granddaughter at Thanksgiving . . . and I'll still finish before Christmas.

Remarkably, I've experienced no nausea. Fatigue, if any, has been marginal but they say it will build up. The main problem has been the low white cell count that occurs after each treatment. I get a follow-up shot the day after treatment to prod the bone marrow into generating more white cells, but that takes ten to fourteen days to kick in. During that time I have to be very careful about exposure to viruses or bacteria of any kind. After my second treatment, I wasn't so careful. I developed a three-degree fever that resulted in my being hospitalized for four days while they waited for blood cultures to come back. They were negative, which means it could have been anything. If they had come back positive, they would have replaced my port.

Another remarkable thing is that I still have most of what little hair I had left, although my doctor says the hair loss occurs slowly.

A bigger issue for me is that the swelling in my left ankle and leg is reduced but has not gone away. My oncologist reminded me how bad it was when he first saw me, and says his objective is to get the swelling reduced one hundred percent.

So, here I am at the halfway point, trying to stay out of harm's way while swine flu and other nasty bugs are in the air (and on door handles, and escalator hand rails, and other things we touch). I'm also waiting to see if I get "chemo brain," or a befuddlement that sets in as you near the end of the treatments. Since I'm befuddled more often than not anyway, it might be hard to know if that becomes an issue.

Stay tuned . . .

going public about Lymphoma

Four weeks ago tomorrow, my left ankle swelled to the size of a softball, with no pain or other symptoms. I'd spent the day cleaning my pool, painting the front door, and other such Saturday tasks, and decided to mow the front lawn before it got dark. I noticed my ankle for the first time when I sat down to put on socks and shoes.

Two weeks ago today, I went to see my doctor for the third time. By now, the swelling was all the way up my left leg but still without any other symptoms of illness - no fever, no weight loss - only a rash on the back of the leg. She'd theorized it was an infection, or a blood clot, or shingles. She sent me back over to the imaging center to recheck for a blood clot and ordered a cat scan of my abdomen. When she saw the bigger picture, she put me in the hospital to be seen by specialists and be prepared for a biopsy.

A mass behind the kidney suggested Lymphoma or kidney cancer, the former being preferable if you have a choice. After more testing, probing and scanning, the verdict came in: Lymphoma. Large B-cell Lymphoma, to be more specific, which is treatable.

The oncologist who saw me at the hospital prescribed chemo treatment, and I've already undergone the first one. I suffered none of the dreaded side effects of chemo but they tell me I will lose my hair, or what's left of it. After watching it go slowly for about 40 years, I can deal with that!

Why am I telling you all this? Mainly, to raise your awareness of Lymphoma, a strange disease. The disease can be asymptomatic or the symptoms can be very subtle, such as a swelling of lymph nodes. Seeing your doctor is very important if you feel little lumps in your neck, under your armpit, or other places where there usually are no lumps. The symptoms are often associated with other diseases. There are no identified causes. The disease strikes people of all ages. There are many varieties of Lymphoma, and treatments vary according to type. I'm being given a treatment that has come into wide use in the past two years with very good results.

The lymph system itself is a mystery to most people. You can visualize a heart or a stomach, but the lymph system sounds like one of the "humors" that medieval physicians believed existed in the body. It runs through the body and performs a variety of necessary jobs like sending armies of white cells out to fight infection.

Because the lymph system runs throughout the body, surgery is not a treatment option. Chemo treatments are. I may go into more detail on that later, but that's all for now. I might add that my left leg is still swollen and may not get back to normal for another couple of weeks, which is painful enough without also keeping me from getting into my new Corvette without crawling across the driveway and up under the steering wheel. As kids used to say, bummer!

random thoughts on a Friday

A few random thoughts while waiting until it's time to leave for a doctor's appointment:

I've been driving my Corvette for a month, now, and it has changed my driving habits in a couple of respects.

The dashboard gives me a readout of my gas mileage, both average and "instantaneous." The instantaneous readout is very instructive. Everybody should have one. It teaches you to drive as if you have a raw egg between your foot and the accelerator pedal if you are concerned about getting good gas mileage. I've learned that fuel consumption is worst when you are starting from a dead stop, so no jack-rabbit starts for me. The rate improves, somewhat, driving on city streets. Once you are up to highway speed, it really gets much better. If I ease up on the pedal, the rate jumps to 55 mpg or greater. Because my overall average is about 20 mpg, driving a route that's part city streets and part Interstate Highway, that's impressive!

However, once I'm up to speed, I no longer appreciate being passed by fools driving clunkers or pick-up trucks with the pedal down unless I happen to be driving slow and cool on purpose. I especially do not appreciate being passed on the right by somebody "slalom-skiing" down the highway, or being boxed in by truckers and slow-pokes. If there's empty space between me and the car in front, it is there for a reason and I don't appreciate someone trying to fill it. I used to tolerate such behavior on the road, but now it is comforting to know I can leave such fools behind in a cloud of dust by goosing the gas pedal. In fact, I've done it, and it is very satisfying!

Changing subjects:

When I heard that the Congressman who called President Obama a liar was a Republican from South Carolina, I was not surprised. He's now the poster boy for the Republican Party, which seems to have nothing constructive to say on any issue but simply stands about, arms folded, hoping our President fails. The GOP has been veering to the extreme far right, headed for the cliff, ever since President "Tricky Dick" ("I am not a crook") Nixon and his band of rogues.

About that doctor's appointment: I have had a swollen ankle, going all the way up the leg, with a rash on the back of the leg, for two weeks. My doctor at first thought it might be an infection or a blood clot, but ruled them out. Now, her diagnosis is shingles, but without the typical symptoms of shingles. I am going to see her today for another look and possibly a new diagnosis. I hope she can at least get the swelling down. I'm tired of sitting about with my leg up, or feeling guilty when I'm at work and can't sit that way. I'm grateful my Corvette has automatic transmission because I no longer need to work a clutch pedal with my left foot.

Enough of this; it's time to see the doc.

If you are what you drive, I'm a Corvette!

After several years of driving a nice little Nissan that was paid for and got great gas mileage, I gave in to the impulse to buy a sexy car. If I tell you I bought a six-year-old Chevy, you'd not be impressed. I bought a 2003 Corvette that is in mint condition, pictured here.

This came after weeks of eyeballing other cars on the road, noting that most cars nowadays are pickup trucks, citified versions of pickup trucks called "SUVs," or generic cars that look like bars of soap with four wheels, designed in a wind tunnel with absolutely no sex appeal at all. Where are the great cars of yesteryear with the fins, the fenders, and distinctive design features that allowed kids like me to identify a car by make, model and year on first glance? (I almost said running boards, but they were way before my time.)

I was attracted to the Saturn Sky and actually visited a Saturn dealer for a closer look, but the Sky has no room for a duffel bag with the top down and barely room for one Scuba tank and nothing else with the top up. Then I drove across the street to a Jeep-Chrysler dealer and saw this beauty with a price I knew was right. The salesman wanted to sell, and gave me a huge trade-in on the old Nissan to make it hard to resist. My resistance collapsed because I knew, if I slept on it overnight, it would be gone.

So, goodbye to the Buick station wagons, four-door family sedans, and fuel-efficient cars with no power in the top end gear that I've been driving. The two cars I most enjoyed were the big old Chevy Impala I bought when I came home from the Army, and a Pontiac Catalina we used to bring the twins home from the hospital. The rest have been sedate cars that a father of four is supposed to drive. I'm now a Chevy man again, and I love it.

this old house

Fixing something in an old house is like replacing a part on an old car. Once you get started, one thing leads to another and you have that '56 '57 '58 '59 Chevy that somebody wrote the song about.

We replaced our kitchen, which sorely needed replacement. That included the kitchen window, the ceiling, the floor all the way down the hall to the bathroom, the shelves and cabinets, the a/c ducts over the kitchen, and most of the appliances. And a new electrical panel to replace a panel with those funky old glass fuses.

Then we replaced the front door with a door that should withstand a hurricane.

Then the garage door began to disassemble itself after one of the two big springs went sproinggg, so now we have a new Miami-Dade rated hurricane resistant garage door.

Then the air conditioner died, after 18 years of faithful service. We could have just replaced the a/c unit but there's a nice tax credit if you replace the cooling and heating system with an energy efficient system. That meant taking out an oil furnace, new six years ago, and putting in a heat pump. With the tax credit, the cost difference was less than a thousand bucks. We lived without the a/c for ten days which reminded me how much fun it was to grow up in Florida without air conditioning. I didn't mind it then because we all got sweaty and we all smelled alike, but now I thoroughly dislike the high humidity.

All of this should make the house easier to sell someday if we (or our children) put the house on the market.

This gives new meaning to the expression, "I'm out spending my children's inheritence," but in this case it's all borrowed money. They might get most of it back whenever the house sells - which we sincerely hope will not happen for the next 20 or 40 years!

major and minor marvels

Yesterday evening I was thinking of two marvels, one major and one minor, but not unimportant.

The major marvel is that my opthamologist zapped my bionic right eye with a laser, cutting a square hole in a cloudy membrane behind the artificial lens that was installed last summer, and making my world look clearer. It seems that getting a cloudy membrane behind an artificial lens is a side effect that occurs in some cases. The good - no, amazing - news is that the problem can be fixed with a laser beam that cuts a hole in the membrane, cutting out a little tiny squarish piece that becomes a "floater." The doctor says the floater will become less obvious with time; in fact, should sink out of sight (so to speak) in a week or so. Even if it does not sink out of sight, it is so minor and the improvement to my visual acuity is so great that I don't care!

(My next appointment with the eye doctor is to have X-ray vision installed. Just kidding, but wait a few years. It might become possible some day.)

The minor marvel is my obtaining a . . . (drum roll) . . . meat thermometer, one of the instant-read kinds with a digital dial, of course. I used it last night on a nice piece of salmon. I waited for it to get to 145 degrees and it was perfect. No more stabbing with a fork, trying to decide if it's done enough, no more bringing it inside to be told it isn't done enough. I've always had the hardest time with salmon because I don't want to burn it or overcook it, and it looks pretty much the same to me whether it's done or only half-way done. No more of that! All I need to do now is replace all the working parts of my grill and I'll be set to grill with the best of them.

Speaking of marvels, the Rays are on a roll. They have discovered that the thin air of Denver seems to allow baseballs to fly out of the stadium easier than at sea level. Or, that's my theory for today.

Saturday

I'm "celebrating" today (Saturday) in my favorite manner: Slept in late, but not too late; enjoyed reading the paper and drinking coffee in bed with my best friend in the whole wide world; fiddled with the computer long enough to transfer photos from my camera into it; got out of the house long enough to clean the pool filter and then sweep the pool manually with a new-fangled brush; trimmed back two bushes that were threatening to take over a wall; came in for lunch with my BFITWWW after doing her the favor of taking a quick shower; and now I'm fiddling with the computer again, thinking about how HOT it is outside.

I'm overdue with the task of sending photos to people. My friends can find me in Flickr, where I will upload some photos of grand-nieces taken in Naples last weekend. I also need to add new photos of our grandson, Quentin, to our iPods. I need to run up to the library to get another book by Randy Wayne White, an author from Ft. Myers who writes adventure/ mystery stories that remind me of the Travis McGee stories written by John D. MacDonald, a Sarasota writer. White's main character, Doc Ford, is like Travis McGee only smarter and tougher. The stories are page-turners and I feel like I've been there, like I could drive down to Sanibel Island and find Doc Ford in his house/lab or on his boat.

I'd take my bike to the library but I also need to go pick up more chlorine for the pool. The house next door has been gutted, right down to the masonry walls, and we've had dust blowing around the neighborhood and into the pool for weeks. Today, the filter wasn't green with algae as usual; it was brown with dirt. That new-fangled pool brush has a big flap that forces the brush into firm contact with the pool wall and bottom, making the job easier. I seldom brush the pool manually but, today, it was overdue.

I need to get back from the pool store in time to get ready to go out for dinner and a movie, bringing this Saturday to a perfectly suitable end.

Before I go, let me digress: The last time I was in Tarpon Springs I drove out to find the house where we lived when I was a kid, in the early 50's. Couldn't find it. I've now figured out where it is and why I didn't recognize it. The city acquired the lot next door, then ran a new street back into what used to be piney woods. Those woods, which used to have old brick streets left over from Florida's boom days of the 1920's, are now full of houses. Progress, Florida style. Disgusting.

I'm going to miss Pontiac

The news is that GM is going to drop the Pontiac model in its entirety.

I'm going to miss it. As a kid, the Pontiac was a step up from the Chevrolets my parents drove. The distinctive Indian head logo you'd see in a garage needed no words of explanation.

I owned only one Pontiac, a Catalina. Our neighbor said they weren't as good as they used to be, but we got good service out of it. I used it to drive our twins home from the hospital, and we took it to Boca Raton when we moved from Tallahassee.

The Pontiac GTO was the first muscle car, with an 8-cylinder engine. The Beach Boys sang about their "little GTO." So did a group named Ronny and the Daytonas.

I'll miss it, but considering I haven't bought one since 1975, I'm not shocked they are closing their doors for good.

Facebook and the slow death of blogs

OK, so I'm one of the millions of old folks who have discovered Facebook. The young folks who jumped into Facebook earlier need not worry (too much) about their parents wanting to snoop over their shoulders. We are having too much fun re-discovering people we haven't seen since our time in the Army, college, high school, and even elementary school.

I have noticed that the bloggers in my family (including me) don't "blog" as much as we used to. Our limited time for such stuff is being consumed by Facebook, where you can make editorial comments like this one knowing who your audience will be.

Writing on a blog reminds me of the classic poem, "I sneezed a sneeze into the air. It fell to Earth I knew not where, but hard and cold were the looks of those in whose vicinity I snoze." I don't know who will read this - if anyone - but I know my "friends" in Facebook will see my little status updates and photos I put in my album, and I'll see theirs.

So, I'm not saying goodbye here, but if I seem to be doing this even less frequently than usual, you'll know why. If you want to keep up with me more often, you'll have to join Facebook and become my "friend."

oh, shut up

I have a very low tolerance for "talking heads" on TV, but there are a few in particular I would like to single out, if for no other reason than to vent my spleen.

("Vent my spleen" is from a medieval notion that the spleen was the source of a hot temper, and by "venting" it, one would be letting loose of one's anger. Think of it as primitive anger management. Now, you are smarter than you were 30 seconds ago!)

The people I would like to hear nothing from again include:

Nancy Grace. How can a woman so beautiful and so smart be so utterly obnoxious? I'll bet she uses commercial breaks to change into dry panties. I cannot watch her on our big TV any more because, if I hear the phrase "tot mom" one more time, I will throw something at it. Is there any other case in the country going on besides the Caylee Anthony case?

Jim Cramer: This guy is CNBC's resident expert on the stock market. He appears to be off his meds, hopping and jumping around, while the TV cameras roll from left to right, zooming in and out. It's enough to induce an epileptic fit in a healthy person. If I could hear him on the radio I might pay attention, but I fear he'll have a heart attack one of these days.

Lou Dobbs: Before the last election, Dobbs' main agenda item consisted of illegal immigrants. That's basically all he talked about. Now, he ranting about anything "liberal," including the liberal media, who won't cover the stories he thinks important. One of these days he will vomit green bile, right in front of the camera.

Newt Gingrich: This blowhard brought us the "Contract On America" in 1994. Now, the liberal media keeping bringing him back for sound bites. I frankly don't care what the man says.

Rush Limbaugh: Need I say more? The guy is stark-raving bananas. He was the featured speaker at the Conservative Political Action Conference, misquoting the Preamble to the Constitution and otherwise raving like a loon. Now conservatives are amazed that Democrats are trying to make him look like the new face of the Republican Party. If he isn't, who is? Perhaps one of the governors who want to turn down federal money?

I could go on, but I think I'll shut up myself and go to bed.

random thoughts for January - er, February already?

A few random thoughts before heading off for work:

Our lives are marked by little pieces of paper we collect along the way, beginning with birth certificates, then high school and college diplomas, honorable discharge certificates from the Army, professional licenses to practice, and so forth. I got a horrible one in the mail yesterday - a Medicare card with my name on it. I have my parents' cards around here somewhere, but this one is mine. Holy cow. Most guys my age, who grew up during the Cold War, never thought we'd live so long. I'm tempted to ask, "God, can I really be old enough for this?" But God's answer would be, "Yes, dummy, and you know it. Now leave me alone so I can worry about 300-pound athletes who think I'm supposed to protect them from injury while they run over each other at 30 miles per hour."

Changing subjects: If the feds want to pump money into infrastructure to get the economy going, why not give it to state and local governments that build and maintain the roads, bridges, sewer treatment plants, and so forth? God knows how many of Florida's bridges are ready to crumble.

By infrastructure, I do not mean Clearwater's proposed new marina. The waiting list at the marina on the beach is so long they expected a huge demand for the new marina but only three or four people have paid deposits for slips. Give that idea up, commissioners. Put that money where it will do more good.

I also do not mean those miniature traffic circles I see under construction, so small they fit within street intersections. Those things are traffic hazards and a waste of money.

I can understand why several of President Obama's appointees have serious income tax problems. When you see federal tax money going to the banks so they can spend millions to redecorate their offices, pay huge bonuses to the "good people" who ran them into the ditch, and plan getaways in Las Vegas, you wish you could get away with not paying, too. Those appointees are powerful, successful, big-time politicians; you wonder how many smaller fish simply haven't been caught yet.

Isn't it refreshing to see our president look at a TV camera and admit that he screwed up? The American people can forgive someone who 'fesses up and does not play the duck-and-cover drill we are accustomed to seeing.

My children haven't "blogged" for weeks. I wonder whether FaceBook has taken the place of blogging? The kids went to FaceBook and now us old folks have, too. I've contacted several high school friends I haven't seen since graduation. I suppose that means the kids will abandon FaceBook and find another place where they can hang out, electronically, without us old folks looking over their shoulder.

More later -

death of Google? maybe not yet, but -

Earlier today it seemed that Google, the source of nearly everything I know, had shot itself in the head. For awhile, if you went into Google and entered any search, no matter what for, you got this message: "warning - visiting this web site may harm your computer."

As a test, I searched for the two major daily newspapers in the Tampa Bay area and then searched for "mapquest," and got the same result. For fun, when I searched for "google.com" using Google, it appeared there, too!

The main problem was that you couldn't go forward and take your chances. You had to go back and try again, which failed for the same reason. You had to wonder if someone had hacked Google and caused this to happen.

I don't know who Google's competitors are, but they just got a major boost. This may have been a temporary glitch, but I'm looking for a good alternative.

counting down the hours

George W. Bush has four more days plus a few hours to occupy the office of President of the United States. I'd be happy if he would hit the road for Texas tomorrow and be done with it. The following web site is counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until high noon on January 20, at which time his term of office ends and the term of Barack Obama begins:

http://inaugurationday2009.com/schedule.html

To my friend(s) from high school and in-law(s) who have been sending me bad jokes about Barack Obama, please understand that I am deleting them faster than you are forwarding them. (Why are none of them ever original to the sender?). They are not funny and I am not amused, or would not be amused if I bothered to look at them. You may as well just relax and see what happens over the next four years. Mr. Obama won. Get over it. To paraphrase what our British cousins say when the royal crown passes to another head, the President is gone to Texas, long live the President.

almost finally done

DSC_0706
Originally uploaded by galbr8th

The topless island got its top installed, and now the kitchen looks done except for a few odd jobs by the electrician. Finally!

Colin and Sarah and ___

Colin and Sarah and ___
Originally uploaded by galbr8th

Three months away, more or less . . .

looking almost finished

looking almost finished
Originally uploaded by galbr8th

The kitchen, functional and nearly finished.