Mistakes...I've made a few

If there's one thing I learned during this process, it's that things change very quickly. I went from feeling the best I've felt in months last week to spending yet another night in the hospital this weekend. For me, it seems hydration is everything and when I get even a little dehydrated, I end up with another addition to my bizzarre hospital roommates collection (roommate number 4, heretofore known as "Guy who looked like Charles Manson", was repeatedly scolded by hospital staff for stealing ice cream).

You can't see it, but Cindy is reading this and shaking her head. She, in addition to being an incredible wife and friend through all of this (not to mention de facto single parent of two kids), has also gladly taken it upon herself to become my own personal Nurse Ratched:

And her constant refrain is "drink!" As such, when I end up back in the hospital because of dehydration, there is a period of "I told you so" finger wagging from Nurse Cindy. I can't blame her. It is, in many ways, far more difficult to be in her shoes than it is to be in mine. She sees things that I can't see, like "You're not drinking enough" or "There's a huge stain on that shirt."

So I'm trying to be better about it, drinking more Gatorade than should be allowed by law. 

Context

I've been thinking about context lately. As we recently saw at the RNC, the GOP basically took an out-of-context fragment of Obama's "You didn't build that" statement and made it the platform of their entire convention. Even Karl Rove must've thought that was a stretch.

You see, context means everything. See, for example, these two ways that you could interpret my meeting with my oncologist this morning:

INTERPRETATION A: A German doctor yelled at a Jew, then sent him to be poisoned.

or

INTERPRETATION B: Dr. F. gently admonished me for not drinking enough fluids, then escorted me to my chemotherapy session.

You see? It's all about context.

Hospital movie reviews

We've previously discussed the hell that is hospital room television. I've decided to make lemons from that lemonade and start issuing capsule reviews of the movies I am subjected to during my visit.

J. EDGAR: Not bad, considering it was directed by a man who just lost an argument with an empty chair. The fact that such a bloated lunatic (Hoover, not Eastwood) had so much power in this country would seem laughably impossible if not for the existence of Newt Gingrich.

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON: Not to put too fine a point on it, but 30 minutes into watching this movie, I was praying for a meteor the size of a Buick to land on my head. No God that I believe in would ever have allowed this movie to happen. My faith is shaken.

Chemotherapy music reviews

Hey, why not. I'm sitting there listing to this crap, I might as well bore you with my opinions on it. Some of what I listen to is old, some is new. Please note that all of these albums were listend to while I was being slowly poisoned.

REDD KROSS - RESEARCHING THE BLUES:

Not bad for a crunchy rock record. My only recommendation is that they should stop researching the blues and start researching the Replacements. OOOOH BURN!

I give it 2.5 doses of chemotherapy: 

ARIEL PINK'S HAUNTED GRAFFITI - MATURE THEMES:

I can appreciate something that's weird, interesting, and original. But that doesn't mean I want to listen to it again. That sums up this record for me.

2 doses:

WYE OAK - CIVILIAN:

Amazing. Best record I've heard in ages. Unique instrumentation, a fascinating voice. Terrific record.

4 doses:

Here's my favorite song from the record, "Two Small Deaths":

That's all for now. Let's hoist a Gatorade together sometime!