Shallow thoughts

Perfectly safe

I had a PET scan last night at about 10:30. The technician, after explaining that I was about to be exposed to an amount of radiation that would give Karen Silkwood the vapors, tells me this: "It's perfectly safe. But don't go near your kids for at least six hours."


"Perfectly safe" is the new "incredibly toxic".

On food and Fox

Naturally, the events of the past two weeks have me thinking a great deal about my mom (for those who don't know, she passed away from pancreatic cancer a couple of years ago). As I was sitting as still as possible during the PET scan, I remembered that my mother, while in the late stages of her brawl with cancer, would spend her days watching the Food Network (though she couldn't eat) and Fox News (though she was an even bigger pinko, socialist, commie liberal than I am). It never occurred to me to ask her why, but I think I understand it now: as the end drew near, she took comfort from the fact that she would soon no longer have to breathe the same air as Guy Fieri or Sean Hannity.

Thing One and Thing Two

One of the hardest parts of this process, of course, is in ushering two twelve-year-old kids through it. Sam, whose cognitive disabilities make it difficult to know how much of this he understands, periodically buries his head into my chest while rubbing my belly and saying "I'm worried about you." Otherwise, his energies are spent eating enormous quantities of food and hating Josh Beckett.

His twin sister Sara is a different story. A day after we broke the news to her, she (with the help of Cindy's parents) went to the mall and, with her own money, purchased an array of items with which she has created a sort of portable healing station. Each night, she sits me down by her table, on which she has arranged a series of scented lotions and oils, candles, medicinal herbs, various antioxidants (such as garlic and ginger), and other momentos she deemed as spiritually important (a necklace from my my mother, the satin bag containing the glass I stomped on during our wedding ceremony). She then runs me through the paces of a meditation and yoga session she developed, complete with a soundtrack of singing bowls and Tibetan throat singers.

It's both a sad and proud day when you realize that you're intellectually and emotionally inferior to your own child. What an amazing kid.

So-so news & good news

Interesting developments today. On the down side, my ability to eat solid food is changing and changing rapidly. As recently as last week, I went out to lunch with people from work and easily wolfed down a sandwich and fries. Over the weekend, I noticed that my ability to eat solids was greatly reduced. By this morning, it's clear that solids are completely out of the question. I'll spare you the details of how I learned this.


As luck would have it, we had a meeting with the surgeon scheduled for today. I explained the situation to him and he decided that we need to move rather aggressively. So, the plan now is that I will get a port put in (through which I will be administered chemo) and a feeding tube (through which I will be administered tequila) on Monday. The reason for the feeding tube is that I need to maintain my caloric intake (particularly in the form of protein) in order to withstand the chemo, and I am no longer able to do this through my word hole. All told, this will involve 3-4 days in the hospital.


Shortly thereafter, we'll start some form of chemo, followed by  daily chemo and radiation for five weeks. Then I recover for five weeks, followed by surgery to remove my stomach, part of my pancreas, and some other assorted pieces of plumbing.


Please, everyone, do yourself a favor. The reason I'm in this mess is, basically, heartburn. I've had a low level of heartburn and acid for years. It was never anything that a couple of Tums couldn't handle, and certainly nothing I ever felt required a doctor visit. I ignored it. Now I'm screwed. Please, if you have those symptoms, learn from my mistake.