File That One Under "Gyro."

I don't know if it's mental/emotional fatigue from all the intensive medical stuff from the last four years or just how I'm wired differently, but when a surgeon tells me "about a week or more recovery in the hospital," what pops into my head right after "Can I see my daughter during that time" is "Is your wifi any good?"

Waiting to hear back on test results and analysis (and wifi answer!), chats between surgeons and doctors and oncologists, etc. File that one under "Joygasm." Or "Gyro," since I ordered one for lunch as part of my "food for the soul" regimen I tend to self-prescribe to after hearing troubling news.

No, nobody understands my filing system.

Imagine if She Could Read ...

I gave Ariana a pad to draw on months ago from my desk, not even really thinking about which one it was. Found this and 100 more drawings this weekend on the pad's pages while digging through her craft stuff and it just broke me. There's some annoying English class word for this ... allegory? Yeah, allegory. This is a perfect allegory for a day, any day, in my life, my personal version of the six-word story that I, ironically, didn't even write.

Clinical Trial News.

For those interested, this is the clinical trial drug I am taking (ACY-241) and the news from ASH this weekend about it. Celgene, who makes Pomalyst (and Revlimid, another big hitter in Multiple Myeloma) just announced in the last few days that they were buying this company. It's bizarre to actually read about a clinical trial you are in. Probably be more bizarre if the announcement was that 90% of the participants had spontaneously combusted or something.

Acetylon Presents Early Phase 1a1b Results for Citarinostat

"Great" Article.

Yeah pretty much. It's surprising how much of this stuff is misunderstood.

Dear every cancer patient I ever took care of, I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

Sleep Study Anecdote.

Ironically the worst night of sleep I've had in years was last night -- feel like midgets spent the evening slapping me in the forehead every time I closed my eyes. That should make for some entertaining results with this sleep study. Going to end up the poster child for something at this point.

I, For One, Welcome Our New Cyborg Overlords.

Getting a port put in today. I fought this for what, 3 years? Sick of getting poked and nurses not being able to find my veins easily anymore, but I had fought this until recently. I think something changed when I was in the hospital last month with pneumonia. I just feel defeated a bit, broken down. Tired of mentally fighting to pretend things could go back to normal, that this was all just a phase. Something about staring at those ceiling tiles, again and again, just broke down my resistance, until the thought of just not being stuck (or missed, as the case more often is) constantly got to be too much. 

Oh well -- on the bright side, I foresee a LOT of natural painkilling methods tonight followed by a sick UFC card on Saturday, so screw it, bring on the cyborg Rich.

Pneumonia Again.

Pneumonia.

Again.

Sigh.