I have slippery veins, and yes this is a real thing. I wasn't even aware I had them until I had a horrible surfing accident which opened up an artery under my left arm. One of my IV's needed replacing and this wonderful nurse who was massaging my arm, looking for a likely culprit said, "Ohh.... you have slippery veins, don't you?" I wasn't sure what that meant,, but I did know that I hated giving blood, or getting an IV.
You see, having slippery veins is not that big of a deal, as long as you tell the nurse beforehand. Otherwise they might be on try number 2 or 3 and you're turning white and faint before someone figures out what's going on. I really don't mind getting poked, it's just that after three tries my arm and my brain are ready to run away to a far away Caribbean island, where the sharpest thing is a coconut.
IV's are the hardest because that catheter they're trying to stick inside a vein is a fat little bitch and if you don't get it just right.... try again. I'm at the point now where I can tell if it's a successful poke or not right from the get go because it's like a quickie - fast but awesome. If it's a fail, there's always some digging around a bit before the nurse will admit defeat. And trust me on this one - nurses hate failing just as much as you feel it because it hurts like a god damn son of a bitch sometimes.
Today was like that and I thought the nurse was going to cry for a second because she knew (the always know) that her digging was causing me a shitload of pain. Just the way it is when you have cancer and get as many IVs as I do :-(
But there is something you can do if you have veins that play hard-to-get, and that is... drink water. Drink a TON of water before you have to give blood or get and IV. It will increase the volume of liquid in your veins and make the nurses jobs much, much easier. And speaking of nurses, my favs are the pediatric nurses because they have a ton of experience with teeny tiny little baby veins and could stick ladybug with an IV.
So, today was number 16. My 16th infusion of pembrolizumab. 48 weeks of cancer therapy. 48 weeks of starting all over again. 48 weeks of wondering what lays over that next rise, and the next one, and the next one, and the....
I think I'm just going to go for it and just not really give a damn about so much - just let my instinct take over permanently so my senses can overload on anything and everything.
Tonight, it's ice cream, and the keyboard.
Tomorrow it will be my new Honda lawnmower, and a beer.
This is The Day
Readjustment. That's the best word I can think of to explain how I feel every day, these days. I've gone from so many highs and lows and ups and downs it's a wonder I can still find the kitchen in the morning - but thank God I can, and do because I make a damn fine cup of coffee. But right now I have to readjust to the fact that even though my latest PET/CT scans show practically nothing - nada - there will never be any guarantees that my cancer won't come raging back someday soon, or someday later.
This is almost a maddening thing to be at peace with. I so want to just let it all be and live each day indulging and working and playing and everything, but that quiet little bitch will never go away and silently reminds me - every day - that she's still here, with me, and refuses to ever really and completely go away. This is so royally fucked. So what I didn't expect, although when you have stage 4 cancer you just always expect the worse, naturally.
I was well, got stage 4 cancer, went to UCSF, got some meds, am just about NED, and now feel like I'm back to being well but waiting for stage 4 to happen all over again. And people keep asking me "How I can stay so positive etc etc etc..." well I'm not really I just don't choose to let myself get run over by that big ass bus that keeps rounding every corner I take. I really am not doing well, but in a way I am doing really well - better than most - yet you must also understand that god damn little bitch still won't shut the fuck up, or go away, or.....
Peace just won't come to you, you really must carefully seek it out. I find it in my morning shaves, while using a razor that was new in 1932, and lather a shaving cream using a boar bristle brush, while finishing up with an aftershave my dad used to use. I also find while making a hot cup of coffee each morning, with whole beans I grind by hand and brew using one of two pour-over methods or a French press. I can also find peace at the golf course, at the driving range or on the putting green, relentlessly pursuing the perfect shot, or the perfect putt, or even the perfect round. There is also peace when I mow the lawn and pull the weeds and prune the trees and pick the blueberries and raspberries and even when I wash the dishes.
I also find a little peace when I write, too. Not much as writing is just fuel for every fire there is, but in an organized and compartmentalized way, writing feels like learning and moving and finding - all things that surprise and soothe me/us. So if you do read this and then you do see me, I hope you will see me differently now because everything is different and it always will be, and that's really ok.
This is almost a maddening thing to be at peace with. I so want to just let it all be and live each day indulging and working and playing and everything, but that quiet little bitch will never go away and silently reminds me - every day - that she's still here, with me, and refuses to ever really and completely go away. This is so royally fucked. So what I didn't expect, although when you have stage 4 cancer you just always expect the worse, naturally.
I was well, got stage 4 cancer, went to UCSF, got some meds, am just about NED, and now feel like I'm back to being well but waiting for stage 4 to happen all over again. And people keep asking me "How I can stay so positive etc etc etc..." well I'm not really I just don't choose to let myself get run over by that big ass bus that keeps rounding every corner I take. I really am not doing well, but in a way I am doing really well - better than most - yet you must also understand that god damn little bitch still won't shut the fuck up, or go away, or.....
Peace just won't come to you, you really must carefully seek it out. I find it in my morning shaves, while using a razor that was new in 1932, and lather a shaving cream using a boar bristle brush, while finishing up with an aftershave my dad used to use. I also find while making a hot cup of coffee each morning, with whole beans I grind by hand and brew using one of two pour-over methods or a French press. I can also find peace at the golf course, at the driving range or on the putting green, relentlessly pursuing the perfect shot, or the perfect putt, or even the perfect round. There is also peace when I mow the lawn and pull the weeds and prune the trees and pick the blueberries and raspberries and even when I wash the dishes.
I also find a little peace when I write, too. Not much as writing is just fuel for every fire there is, but in an organized and compartmentalized way, writing feels like learning and moving and finding - all things that surprise and soothe me/us. So if you do read this and then you do see me, I hope you will see me differently now because everything is different and it always will be, and that's really ok.
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