Hi all,
It's almost noon on Saturday and I'm back at Dino HQ, working on the home desktop and, all things considered, feeling pretty good.
I checked out of the hospital yesterday afternoon and was given a variety of medications to help control my pain. So far, I have no complaints -- there is the usual stomach discomfort from the incisions, but nothing is too overbearing, and my home bed and all its attendant pillows were quite a bit more comfortable than the hospital bed.
Last night I turned the lights out at 9 PM, and dragged myself out of bed at 8:30 this morning. No, I didn't sleep soundly the entire time -- there was lots of intermittent dozing, occasional forays to the bathroom, and periods of trying to find a real comfortable sleeping position -- but overall, it was far more rest than I've had in the last week. I expect that to get better on a nightly basis as the pain subsides and I get used to being in the home environment.
As I wrote last week when I came home from the hospital the first time around, there is definitely a culture shock in moving from the hospital to home, especially when you factor in the drugs I'm taking and some of their side effects (in this case, general drowsiness and a decrease in lucidity). After a week of constant interruptions day and night, you come to expect these sorts of things and when they don't happen, as was the case last night, the groggy mind tends to ask itself "wait a sec -- how come nobody's busted into my room in the last hour to check my pulse?" Like everything else associated with my recovery, this too shall pass.
This morning I brushed my teeth and shaved my face clean. My head of hair is far too long now, especially given how thin my face has become, and I'm going to have my mom give me a severe haircut tomorrow when she comes back up. (Back in the day, when bowl cuts were all the rage, she used to cut my hair on a regular basis. That ended around 1984, when I finally figured out that it wasn't 1975 anymore.) Once chemo begins, I'm going to shave my pate completely clean anyway, but for the next few weeks, I at least want to keep it in check so that it's not spazzing out all over the place.
Aside from that, I'm gonna rest and relax for the duration of the weekend. The pain meds are still leaving me drowsy and a little bit out of it at times, so I'm not sure about visitors quite yet, but when next week starts and I have a bit more energy, I can probably host a few people here and there for short periods of time... we'll see.
That's about it for right now. I'm off to read on my sweet new Amazon Kindle, maybe play a video game or something, and work in a nap (or several). I hope everyone enjoys their weekend -- get on outside if you haven't been there already today!
With much love,
Dino
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
No Rest For The Weary
Sorry about the lack of posting but I've been a bit out of it the last two days as the Alta Bates doctors have struggled to come up with an adequate level of medication for my pain -- either it's too much or too little, but it's been tough finding that "sweet spot."
For the most part, the various medications I'm on are doing a decent job of dulling the pain, but it's still there. I'm not sure if it's ever going to completely go away until I'm healed, though, so maybe it's supposed to sort of always be there. Life tends to be best just after I get a shot of dilaudid, but when that wears off, the pain comes back.
Yesterday my pain doc upped both the available frequency and the dosage of dilaudid in pill form, so in my eagerness to control the pain, I had a shot and three pills at 11 AM and then again at 1 PM. Shortly thereafter, I was a groggy mess -- definitely too much medication. Whoops. I gave it several hours before taking anything again so I could get my mind and body back under control.
So, here it is Thursday mid-day and I've received several texts and emails asking if I'm okay, since the blog has been out of commission. Thanks for the concern -- I'm here and I'm fine, and in the "Best News of the Day" Dept., it looks like they are going to send me home tomorrow with two new pain med prescriptions. The thought of my own bed and some unimpeded rest is tantalizing.
See, as I've written before, hospitals are not a place for people to actually sleep. There are a variety of reasons for this; for me personally, one is that since I've been here at Alta Bates, I've been on constant IV drip nutrients. The good side of this is that I've gained a little weight -- you can see it in my face and feel it in my gut. The downside is twofold: a) it suppresses my appetite (so I haven't eaten much since I've been here) -- but more importantly 2) it keeps me constantly hydrated and constantly having to relieve myself. We're talking multiple times an hour here. Ergo, do the math: it's impossible for me to sleep for any large stretches of time because I'm continually needing to go wee-wee!
(Sorry for the above terminology, but we had to change the original description since this is a family blog. --Ed)
And remember how earlier in the week, I said that the nurses here were far less intrusive than they were at Stanford? Well, scratch that. Bottom line is that, during business hours (5 AM to around 11 PM), most hospitals are probably pretty much the same in terms of how often they will disturb a patient for any number of things. If you can grab some sleep in the off-hours (which, thanks to the aforementioned IV drip, I really can't), then all power to you -- but from before sunup until after sundown, there will be any number of nurses, nursing assistants, doctors, surgeons, clinicians, dietitians, service volunteers, custodians, specialists, and the like who will come and go as they please, performing their various tasks both in your room and on your body, guaranteeing that you will not sniff an ounce of undisturbed rest for the vast majority of your day.
It's not that I don't think these people are unnecessary or that I don't appreciate them; everyone's got a job to do and for the most part, all the pieces fit together to move the patient forward to the point where they can go home. It's just that at certain points, the timing of the whole thing is actually comical -- for instance, I'll get a pain shot that leaves me sleepy and relatively pain-free, and all I want to do is catch some shut-eye. Then, over the course of the next 90 minutes, I will get the two-cursory-door-knocks-and-then-enter routine from:
* An assistant who needs to take my vitals;
* A surgeon who wants to check my stomach to see if the scar is healing;
* A custodian who is swapping out the garbage bags;
* A clinician making her rounds, who wants to talk about medications I'm taking;
* A nurse, who checks in to see if I need anything;
* A dietitian, who wants to get my food selections for tomorrow;
* Another dietitian, who wants to talk about my appetite;
* Another doctor making the rounds that wants to see if my scar is healing;
and so on.
(I can't tell you how many people each day check my scar to see if it's healing correctly. I expect they'll be holding some sort of public symposium on it before long.)
These people tend to arrive at intervals ranging from 7-15 minutes apart from each other; before long, the 90-minute window of relatively pain-free sleep opportunity has closed, and now it's lather, rinse, repeat until the lights go out late at night, the hustle and bustle shuts down, there is a more definitive chance to get some real sleep... and I keep going wee-wee three times an hour through the night.
So. That having been said, as you can see, I'm really, really tired at this point -- but the fact is, until I get home, I'll just have to live with being really, really tired. And yes, I know it's all part of the process of getting better, but the simple act of sleeping is really integral to that process as well, and it's cruelly ironic that a hospital is one of the worst places for a sleep-deprived person to be.
Ah well. Like I said, everyone's got a role to play and I appreciate that. The people here have been good to me, and it's just another step in a long healing process -- and there'll still be a long ways to go on this journey once I get home. My parents had a consultation with Dr. Jacobs at Stanford yesterday to discuss the upcoming chemo plan, and we'll have a similar meeting with Dr. Checci here at Alta Bates probably sometime next week, since I'll likely be doing my chemo here. But mentally, that's not even on my radar at the moment; all I want to do for the next few days is just get some rest, if possible. If the pain comes back strong, we'll figure out a way to deal with it. Otherwise, I likely won't start chemo for a few weeks and therefore don't want to think much about it for the next several days.
You know, of course, that in the 30 minutes that it's taken me to write this post, not one person has come into my room. Let's see what happens once I log off and crawl back into bed!
I'll check in tomorrow once I'm back at the homestead and have caught up on some Z's. Until then, thanks as always for your never-ending love, prayers, thoughts and concern. Enjoy the rest of your Thursday and I'll talk atcha soon.
With much love,
Dino
For the most part, the various medications I'm on are doing a decent job of dulling the pain, but it's still there. I'm not sure if it's ever going to completely go away until I'm healed, though, so maybe it's supposed to sort of always be there. Life tends to be best just after I get a shot of dilaudid, but when that wears off, the pain comes back.
Yesterday my pain doc upped both the available frequency and the dosage of dilaudid in pill form, so in my eagerness to control the pain, I had a shot and three pills at 11 AM and then again at 1 PM. Shortly thereafter, I was a groggy mess -- definitely too much medication. Whoops. I gave it several hours before taking anything again so I could get my mind and body back under control.
So, here it is Thursday mid-day and I've received several texts and emails asking if I'm okay, since the blog has been out of commission. Thanks for the concern -- I'm here and I'm fine, and in the "Best News of the Day" Dept., it looks like they are going to send me home tomorrow with two new pain med prescriptions. The thought of my own bed and some unimpeded rest is tantalizing.
See, as I've written before, hospitals are not a place for people to actually sleep. There are a variety of reasons for this; for me personally, one is that since I've been here at Alta Bates, I've been on constant IV drip nutrients. The good side of this is that I've gained a little weight -- you can see it in my face and feel it in my gut. The downside is twofold: a) it suppresses my appetite (so I haven't eaten much since I've been here) -- but more importantly 2) it keeps me constantly hydrated and constantly having to relieve myself. We're talking multiple times an hour here. Ergo, do the math: it's impossible for me to sleep for any large stretches of time because I'm continually needing to go wee-wee!
(Sorry for the above terminology, but we had to change the original description since this is a family blog. --Ed)
And remember how earlier in the week, I said that the nurses here were far less intrusive than they were at Stanford? Well, scratch that. Bottom line is that, during business hours (5 AM to around 11 PM), most hospitals are probably pretty much the same in terms of how often they will disturb a patient for any number of things. If you can grab some sleep in the off-hours (which, thanks to the aforementioned IV drip, I really can't), then all power to you -- but from before sunup until after sundown, there will be any number of nurses, nursing assistants, doctors, surgeons, clinicians, dietitians, service volunteers, custodians, specialists, and the like who will come and go as they please, performing their various tasks both in your room and on your body, guaranteeing that you will not sniff an ounce of undisturbed rest for the vast majority of your day.
It's not that I don't think these people are unnecessary or that I don't appreciate them; everyone's got a job to do and for the most part, all the pieces fit together to move the patient forward to the point where they can go home. It's just that at certain points, the timing of the whole thing is actually comical -- for instance, I'll get a pain shot that leaves me sleepy and relatively pain-free, and all I want to do is catch some shut-eye. Then, over the course of the next 90 minutes, I will get the two-cursory-door-knocks-and-then-enter routine from:
* An assistant who needs to take my vitals;
* A surgeon who wants to check my stomach to see if the scar is healing;
* A custodian who is swapping out the garbage bags;
* A clinician making her rounds, who wants to talk about medications I'm taking;
* A nurse, who checks in to see if I need anything;
* A dietitian, who wants to get my food selections for tomorrow;
* Another dietitian, who wants to talk about my appetite;
* Another doctor making the rounds that wants to see if my scar is healing;
and so on.
(I can't tell you how many people each day check my scar to see if it's healing correctly. I expect they'll be holding some sort of public symposium on it before long.)
These people tend to arrive at intervals ranging from 7-15 minutes apart from each other; before long, the 90-minute window of relatively pain-free sleep opportunity has closed, and now it's lather, rinse, repeat until the lights go out late at night, the hustle and bustle shuts down, there is a more definitive chance to get some real sleep... and I keep going wee-wee three times an hour through the night.
So. That having been said, as you can see, I'm really, really tired at this point -- but the fact is, until I get home, I'll just have to live with being really, really tired. And yes, I know it's all part of the process of getting better, but the simple act of sleeping is really integral to that process as well, and it's cruelly ironic that a hospital is one of the worst places for a sleep-deprived person to be.
Ah well. Like I said, everyone's got a role to play and I appreciate that. The people here have been good to me, and it's just another step in a long healing process -- and there'll still be a long ways to go on this journey once I get home. My parents had a consultation with Dr. Jacobs at Stanford yesterday to discuss the upcoming chemo plan, and we'll have a similar meeting with Dr. Checci here at Alta Bates probably sometime next week, since I'll likely be doing my chemo here. But mentally, that's not even on my radar at the moment; all I want to do for the next few days is just get some rest, if possible. If the pain comes back strong, we'll figure out a way to deal with it. Otherwise, I likely won't start chemo for a few weeks and therefore don't want to think much about it for the next several days.
You know, of course, that in the 30 minutes that it's taken me to write this post, not one person has come into my room. Let's see what happens once I log off and crawl back into bed!
I'll check in tomorrow once I'm back at the homestead and have caught up on some Z's. Until then, thanks as always for your never-ending love, prayers, thoughts and concern. Enjoy the rest of your Thursday and I'll talk atcha soon.
With much love,
Dino
Monday, June 23, 2008
TV Or Not TV
And now, some thoughts on the amazing putridity that is TV.
Having spent close to three full weeks in the hospital over the past month, I've had ample opportunity to watch more than my fair share of television during this time. Frankly, there's not much else to do besides read, and I've done some of that as well, but since I've been on painkilling drugs that alter my lucidity much of the time, watching TV is the easiest and most brainless pastime there is at the moment.
Despite the presence of my 50" high-def TV at home, I actually don't watch that much TV in my free time (this whole hospital thing excluded, of course), so while I was vaguely aware of the pathetic state of the boob tube, I had no idea as to the extent of just how ridiculous the whole thing really is. From the programming to the commercials, it's hard to accurately summarize in words just how much complete crap there is on TV, but I'm in a saucy mood, so I'll give it a go.
First off, put yourself in my shoes for a moment. You're facing a life-threatening disease and while you have all confidence that you'll win the battle and enjoy a long and prosperous life, you need to always keep your mind focused on positive thoughts and concepts. Meanwhile, you're receiving a constant flow of painkilling drugs that slightly alters your perception of what you see and hear, amplifying the extremes of the emotional spectrum. Ergo, the highs get higher and the lows get lower, and anything with a negative connotation has a more severe effect than usual.
Now that you know a bit more about where I'm coming from, here's what I've learned by watching the 20ish available channels (ESPN not being among them) here at Alta Bates over the last three days, as well as the 25ish channels I had at Stanford before that:
* Over two million customers have switched their phone service to Vonage. I know this because a smug woman tells me so in the same commercial three times an hour, regardless of which channel I happen to be on. Discovery Channel, Food Network, whatever -- the same commercial airs all day, every day, everywhere.
* Apparently Hulk Hogan is really important at the moment, because every time I flipped through Headline News when I was at Stanford, he was on the TV. I have no idea why he's important because I refuse to stop and read the headlines regarding him, but from what I can gather, the world is revolving around Hulk Hogan at present time.
* I can't stop on CNN for too long because 90% of the stories deal with gas prices, the energy crisis, some sort of murder or death or mayhem, or other news that doesn't exactly feed a positive mindset.
* Invariably, network programming presents the same dilemma, unless I happen to stumble upon a comedy. I can't watch any drama shows because half the time there's someone getting killed or the story revolves around someone with a disease, and again, this is not the sort of stuff my mind needs to be focusing on at present time.
* I can always go to the History Channel for a little non-fiction fix, but last night they were running a series called Ice Road Truckers or some such thing. Are you kidding me? What happened to the "History" part of the "History Channel"? And why would I care about ice road truckers? What's next -- they gonna do a show about how deadly it is to fish in open waters?
* The TNTs, TBSs, and USAs of the world have completely given up when it comes to weekend programming. Yesterday I checked these networks several times over the course of the day and I kid you not, these channels were repeating the same movies all weekend. One of the channels showed Spider-Man on both Saturday and Sunday; another channel alternated between Iron Eagle and A Knight's Tale all day yesterday. So let me get this straight -- if I missed that all-important showing of Iron Eagle (a really crap movie from 1986, for what it's worth) at 11 AM, I can still catch repeats at 3 PM and 7 PM? Great, thanks a ton.
I mean, come on, at least try and mix things up a little, would ya?
* Along the same vein, last night A&E was alternating between hour-long blocks of The Two Coreys and Gene Simmons Family Jewels. Setting aside for a moment the fact that these two shows even exist in the first place, whatever happened to the network that brought us Biography? Now that was a show that was often worth watching.
* Apparently pharmaceutical companies have developed quick-and-easy solutions to just about every medical condition out there (except my own), because ads for drugs simply cannot be avoided. It's such a pleasure to be watching a comedy or something, have the show cut to an ad break, and hear a narrator say something like "If you have Type 2 diabetes, then we've got the answer for you..." or something similar. Makes it real easy for me to keep my mind off my own particular medical condition.
So, to sum up: I can't watch the news because it's too depressing, I can't watch network programming because it's too dramatic, I refuse to watch reality TV because it's all crap, and even the commercials are a detriment to my mindset. Therefore, I've been reduced to looking for Seinfeld reruns or even scraping the bottom of the barrel and watching old episodes of Home Improvement (a show that I used to enjoy back in the day, but can now watch for many consecutive hours without laughing once).
Ah well, thus endeth my rant. Thankfully my mom is dropping by to bring me my new Amazon Kindle, which a friend so graciously bought for me, so I'll give that a go and maybe try to do some more reading. I'm sure I'll do some more channel surfing this evening, but I've developed a pretty quick trigger finger for the on/off switch when I find there's nothing even remotely worth looking at (which is typically the case).
Still haven't talked to a doctor yet today, so I'm not sure of how long I'll be here, but as always, I'll keep y'all posted when I find out something new. I'm going to get up and walk around and get a little exercise now before the next pain shot arrives in a half-hour or so... and then maybe I'll look for a repeat of Friends to send me into a quick catnap.
With much love,
Dino
Having spent close to three full weeks in the hospital over the past month, I've had ample opportunity to watch more than my fair share of television during this time. Frankly, there's not much else to do besides read, and I've done some of that as well, but since I've been on painkilling drugs that alter my lucidity much of the time, watching TV is the easiest and most brainless pastime there is at the moment.
Despite the presence of my 50" high-def TV at home, I actually don't watch that much TV in my free time (this whole hospital thing excluded, of course), so while I was vaguely aware of the pathetic state of the boob tube, I had no idea as to the extent of just how ridiculous the whole thing really is. From the programming to the commercials, it's hard to accurately summarize in words just how much complete crap there is on TV, but I'm in a saucy mood, so I'll give it a go.
First off, put yourself in my shoes for a moment. You're facing a life-threatening disease and while you have all confidence that you'll win the battle and enjoy a long and prosperous life, you need to always keep your mind focused on positive thoughts and concepts. Meanwhile, you're receiving a constant flow of painkilling drugs that slightly alters your perception of what you see and hear, amplifying the extremes of the emotional spectrum. Ergo, the highs get higher and the lows get lower, and anything with a negative connotation has a more severe effect than usual.
Now that you know a bit more about where I'm coming from, here's what I've learned by watching the 20ish available channels (ESPN not being among them) here at Alta Bates over the last three days, as well as the 25ish channels I had at Stanford before that:
* Over two million customers have switched their phone service to Vonage. I know this because a smug woman tells me so in the same commercial three times an hour, regardless of which channel I happen to be on. Discovery Channel, Food Network, whatever -- the same commercial airs all day, every day, everywhere.
* Apparently Hulk Hogan is really important at the moment, because every time I flipped through Headline News when I was at Stanford, he was on the TV. I have no idea why he's important because I refuse to stop and read the headlines regarding him, but from what I can gather, the world is revolving around Hulk Hogan at present time.
* I can't stop on CNN for too long because 90% of the stories deal with gas prices, the energy crisis, some sort of murder or death or mayhem, or other news that doesn't exactly feed a positive mindset.
* Invariably, network programming presents the same dilemma, unless I happen to stumble upon a comedy. I can't watch any drama shows because half the time there's someone getting killed or the story revolves around someone with a disease, and again, this is not the sort of stuff my mind needs to be focusing on at present time.
* I can always go to the History Channel for a little non-fiction fix, but last night they were running a series called Ice Road Truckers or some such thing. Are you kidding me? What happened to the "History" part of the "History Channel"? And why would I care about ice road truckers? What's next -- they gonna do a show about how deadly it is to fish in open waters?
* The TNTs, TBSs, and USAs of the world have completely given up when it comes to weekend programming. Yesterday I checked these networks several times over the course of the day and I kid you not, these channels were repeating the same movies all weekend. One of the channels showed Spider-Man on both Saturday and Sunday; another channel alternated between Iron Eagle and A Knight's Tale all day yesterday. So let me get this straight -- if I missed that all-important showing of Iron Eagle (a really crap movie from 1986, for what it's worth) at 11 AM, I can still catch repeats at 3 PM and 7 PM? Great, thanks a ton.
I mean, come on, at least try and mix things up a little, would ya?
* Along the same vein, last night A&E was alternating between hour-long blocks of The Two Coreys and Gene Simmons Family Jewels. Setting aside for a moment the fact that these two shows even exist in the first place, whatever happened to the network that brought us Biography? Now that was a show that was often worth watching.
* Apparently pharmaceutical companies have developed quick-and-easy solutions to just about every medical condition out there (except my own), because ads for drugs simply cannot be avoided. It's such a pleasure to be watching a comedy or something, have the show cut to an ad break, and hear a narrator say something like "If you have Type 2 diabetes, then we've got the answer for you..." or something similar. Makes it real easy for me to keep my mind off my own particular medical condition.
So, to sum up: I can't watch the news because it's too depressing, I can't watch network programming because it's too dramatic, I refuse to watch reality TV because it's all crap, and even the commercials are a detriment to my mindset. Therefore, I've been reduced to looking for Seinfeld reruns or even scraping the bottom of the barrel and watching old episodes of Home Improvement (a show that I used to enjoy back in the day, but can now watch for many consecutive hours without laughing once).
Ah well, thus endeth my rant. Thankfully my mom is dropping by to bring me my new Amazon Kindle, which a friend so graciously bought for me, so I'll give that a go and maybe try to do some more reading. I'm sure I'll do some more channel surfing this evening, but I've developed a pretty quick trigger finger for the on/off switch when I find there's nothing even remotely worth looking at (which is typically the case).
Still haven't talked to a doctor yet today, so I'm not sure of how long I'll be here, but as always, I'll keep y'all posted when I find out something new. I'm going to get up and walk around and get a little exercise now before the next pain shot arrives in a half-hour or so... and then maybe I'll look for a repeat of Friends to send me into a quick catnap.
With much love,
Dino
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Lazy Sunday
Hi all,
It's Sunday afternoon and I'm looking out at the Oakland hills from my hospital room at Alta Bates, awaiting a shot of dilaudid (a stronger form of Sister Mo) that will be coming my way in about 10 minutes.
I've been here since early Friday morning, when I went to the ER for pain control. The pain pills I had at home simply were not doing the job and I woke up just after midnight on Friday in pretty good pain. They checked me into the hospital in order to get me on a pain control protocol, so for the past three days, I've been on a combo of dilaudid shots, pills and now a patch attached to my skin that will gradually help get the pain under control in the next few days.
I'm not thrilled to be here, but aside from the absolute suckiness of the TV (unbelievably, they don't get ESPN, so I missed today's Italy-Spain soccer game -- although from everything I've read, I actually didn't miss much, as it was a dull game and Italy deserved to lose), things aren't that bad. I have my own room, the setup is reasonably comfortable, the view is nice, and most importantly, my stomach pain is being handled in a way that simply would be impossible if I was back at home. The fact is, the pain isn't excruciating, but it's bad enough that it needs more direct attention (as in, through direct injection) than I could get at home.
Also, while all my vitals are great, my white-cell count is running just a tad high, so they have me on antibiotics just in case I have a minor infection somewhere. From what I've been told, both the pain issue (obviously!) and the infection issue are not uncommon after major surgeries, so at the moment, the situation is not a cause for worry -- it's just an annoyance more than anything else.
So, it's been a long, lazy weekend and the doctors will re-assess my situation tomorrow. The initial guess from the on-call doc today was that it will be at least two or three days before I head home, so I can expect to be here until Tuesday if not later. If I was still sharing a room with someone at Stanford, this news would be very discouraging -- but the nurses here are far less intrusive (since they don't need to keep me under constant observation) and I'm not constantly being disturbed for pills and shots and other continual interruptions that keep a hospital patient from actually, you know, resting. Plus, the private room makes this stay a lot easier to bear, so I can deal with a few extra days in the hospital if it means keeping the pain to a minimum.
That's the scoop! I hope everyone had a great weekend and I'll check back tomorrow with the latest. Now it's time for another dilaudid shot and maybe a nap. Come to think of it, maybe this whole surgery thing ain't so bad after all...
With much love,
Dino
It's Sunday afternoon and I'm looking out at the Oakland hills from my hospital room at Alta Bates, awaiting a shot of dilaudid (a stronger form of Sister Mo) that will be coming my way in about 10 minutes.
I've been here since early Friday morning, when I went to the ER for pain control. The pain pills I had at home simply were not doing the job and I woke up just after midnight on Friday in pretty good pain. They checked me into the hospital in order to get me on a pain control protocol, so for the past three days, I've been on a combo of dilaudid shots, pills and now a patch attached to my skin that will gradually help get the pain under control in the next few days.
I'm not thrilled to be here, but aside from the absolute suckiness of the TV (unbelievably, they don't get ESPN, so I missed today's Italy-Spain soccer game -- although from everything I've read, I actually didn't miss much, as it was a dull game and Italy deserved to lose), things aren't that bad. I have my own room, the setup is reasonably comfortable, the view is nice, and most importantly, my stomach pain is being handled in a way that simply would be impossible if I was back at home. The fact is, the pain isn't excruciating, but it's bad enough that it needs more direct attention (as in, through direct injection) than I could get at home.
Also, while all my vitals are great, my white-cell count is running just a tad high, so they have me on antibiotics just in case I have a minor infection somewhere. From what I've been told, both the pain issue (obviously!) and the infection issue are not uncommon after major surgeries, so at the moment, the situation is not a cause for worry -- it's just an annoyance more than anything else.
So, it's been a long, lazy weekend and the doctors will re-assess my situation tomorrow. The initial guess from the on-call doc today was that it will be at least two or three days before I head home, so I can expect to be here until Tuesday if not later. If I was still sharing a room with someone at Stanford, this news would be very discouraging -- but the nurses here are far less intrusive (since they don't need to keep me under constant observation) and I'm not constantly being disturbed for pills and shots and other continual interruptions that keep a hospital patient from actually, you know, resting. Plus, the private room makes this stay a lot easier to bear, so I can deal with a few extra days in the hospital if it means keeping the pain to a minimum.
That's the scoop! I hope everyone had a great weekend and I'll check back tomorrow with the latest. Now it's time for another dilaudid shot and maybe a nap. Come to think of it, maybe this whole surgery thing ain't so bad after all...
With much love,
Dino
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Friday Bump in the Road
Back in the hospital for Dino after a lousy night. Early this morning, his mother took him to the emergency room at Alta Bates in Oakland after he woke up (for the second night in a row) with a severe pain in his right side. They did a CT scan and blood test and, at the very least, want to keep him overnight. The blood work showed a minimal possibility of pancreatitis (for which they can give him an antibiotic, but they aren't doing so yet) and the scan showed a small amount of water on the outside of his right lung (typical of this type of surgery and possibly the cause of the pain).
At any rate, while he's not happy to be back in the hospital, he is happy that he's got Sister Mo again. His level of pain is more or less consistently around a "3", so it's not terribly elevated, but he told me he was frustrated, which we can all understand. He continues, of course, to keep the faith (hasn't let down one iota in that area), so let's see if this thing will settle down and we can get him back home tomorrow or Sunday. Can't tell if it's just a bump in the road - maybe this is a somewhat typical post-op response? As usual, we luv ya for all your good thoughts - our man is powering on.
Dick Scoppettone
(Dino's dad)
At any rate, while he's not happy to be back in the hospital, he is happy that he's got Sister Mo again. His level of pain is more or less consistently around a "3", so it's not terribly elevated, but he told me he was frustrated, which we can all understand. He continues, of course, to keep the faith (hasn't let down one iota in that area), so let's see if this thing will settle down and we can get him back home tomorrow or Sunday. Can't tell if it's just a bump in the road - maybe this is a somewhat typical post-op response? As usual, we luv ya for all your good thoughts - our man is powering on.
Dick Scoppettone
(Dino's dad)
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Ultimate Weight-Loss Program
Hi all,
It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm biding my time until I get to take my next painkiller pill. The pain isn't overly brutal but it's noticeable and unless I can find the right position in which to sit or lie down, it's constantly there. I get to take a pill every four hours and right now there's about 30 minutes to go before the next one might bring some relief for a while.
So I'm mostly settled in at home and mom is out running a few errands. I did get some sleep last night -- not the whole night by any stretch, but short patches here and there, and that whole process will get easier as time goes on. This morning, I washed my arms and legs -- there's still a lot of tape residue on my arms and my mom is going to grab some baby oil as suggested by Francesca in the comments to my last post -- washed my hair, brushed the teeth and shaved. Then I stood back for a good look in the mirror.
The face and body staring back are very unfamiliar. I've lost a ton of weight and my face is now very gaunt and (I never thought I would ever say this!) far too thin. Someone posted a picture of me on Facebook from when I wasn't too far from weighing 200 pounds and my face was really chubby, with chipmunk cheeks -- well, that was 40 pounds ago. My cheekbones really stand out now, and I almost feel like my eyes are bugging out of my head.
It's very odd to look at myself like this and I'm looking forward to the return of my appetite and the process of putting on some pounds (which are going to come right back off once chemo starts), but right now, I'm struggling to eat a lot of food. I know that this, too, shall pass, and once again the bells will ring in the town squares and the criers will joyously sing to the masses "Yea, verily, he returneth again to the Tacoe Belle for the fifth time this week!"
As for my body, well, it's a mess. Since reaching adulthood, I've gone through phases where I could reasonably be described as "stocky," "chubby," "packing a few extra pounds," and "boy howdy, try mixing in a salad every now and then, man!" Now? Now, I can actually feel the bones on my backside when I sit on anything that's not cushioned. Now, I can probably fit into a pair of size 30 jeans (although I won't be wearing jeans anytime soon -- it's pajama bottoms for me for the next week at least). Now, my arms look frail and my legs look thin.
Looking specifically at my stomach is probably the toughest thing for me to do without cringing. There's a huge blue scar that begins at my waist, runs vertically up through the belly button to the middle of my stomach, makes a 90-degree turn to the right side of my body, and then does another right-angle turn straight up to under my right armpit. Loretta wrote me that her and Tommy's boy T.L., who had open-heart surgery a few weeks ago, wants to compare his scar with mine; sorry, T.L., I think I'm winning this one in a walk.
I know that all this is going to get better and it's only a matter of time and rehabilitation; still, looking at the entire situation -- the sallow face, the frail body, the horribly-scarred stomach -- is still a bit shocking for me and I'm not entirely comfortable with it at the moment. That will come later, I know, and after the entire treatment regimen is over, I'll gain some permanent weight -- maybe not back to the 180s, hopefully, but I'll move out of the 150s. But that's down the line and right now, I just have to accept that it is what it is.
Anyway, that's the not-so-pretty update for today. Sorry to be so graphic, but this blog is all about the ups and downs of the entire journey, and while being home is a major "up," dealing with this incredible overnight bodily change is a huge "down" at the moment.
A few people have inquired about visiting and I would say that we should hold out until Friday and then see how I'm feeling. Right now I just need to rest, relax, and eat. Hopefully this weekend I'll have made enough progress to welcome a few visitors into the home; let's see how things go for the next 48 hours.
Okey doke -- it's almost time for the magic pain pill! Time to lie down in bed and let the rush of the pain medication sweep me into dreamland. As I get more energy in the next day, I expect to start responding to all the email messages you've all sent in the last two weeks, so you should be hearing from me directly in the next several days. Thanks again for all the great support...
And on that note, I will leave you with a very emotional moment I had today.
For the last two weeks I have been trapped in the hospital and in my own head, countless thoughts flowing through days and nights of a drug-induced and sleep-deprived groggy existence. Quite often during this period, I would find certain songs making their way into my brain and replaying over and over. One of these songs was a 30-second snippet of a new Coldplay tune, Viva La Vida, that plays on an over-exposed iTunes TV commercial. For two weeks, I often replayed that snippet in my head, even though I hadn't yet heard the full song.
Today a friend got me an iTunes gift certificate so I could download the latest Coldplay album, which was released yesterday. This morning, I downloaded the album, sat back, and clicked on the full track of the song Viva La Vida -- and as its pulsating, uplifting beat kicked in and I reflected on the entirety of my hospital stay, I began sobbing with tears of pain and joy and thankfulness and unbridled gratitude at the amazing group of family and friends I have around me, holding my hands and walking me down this road. My tears lasted the length of this amazingly beautiful song and when it was over, I felt a great sense of relief. I'm going to make it through this -- we all will.
Live the life, indeed.
With much love,
Dino
It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm biding my time until I get to take my next painkiller pill. The pain isn't overly brutal but it's noticeable and unless I can find the right position in which to sit or lie down, it's constantly there. I get to take a pill every four hours and right now there's about 30 minutes to go before the next one might bring some relief for a while.
So I'm mostly settled in at home and mom is out running a few errands. I did get some sleep last night -- not the whole night by any stretch, but short patches here and there, and that whole process will get easier as time goes on. This morning, I washed my arms and legs -- there's still a lot of tape residue on my arms and my mom is going to grab some baby oil as suggested by Francesca in the comments to my last post -- washed my hair, brushed the teeth and shaved. Then I stood back for a good look in the mirror.
The face and body staring back are very unfamiliar. I've lost a ton of weight and my face is now very gaunt and (I never thought I would ever say this!) far too thin. Someone posted a picture of me on Facebook from when I wasn't too far from weighing 200 pounds and my face was really chubby, with chipmunk cheeks -- well, that was 40 pounds ago. My cheekbones really stand out now, and I almost feel like my eyes are bugging out of my head.
It's very odd to look at myself like this and I'm looking forward to the return of my appetite and the process of putting on some pounds (which are going to come right back off once chemo starts), but right now, I'm struggling to eat a lot of food. I know that this, too, shall pass, and once again the bells will ring in the town squares and the criers will joyously sing to the masses "Yea, verily, he returneth again to the Tacoe Belle for the fifth time this week!"
As for my body, well, it's a mess. Since reaching adulthood, I've gone through phases where I could reasonably be described as "stocky," "chubby," "packing a few extra pounds," and "boy howdy, try mixing in a salad every now and then, man!" Now? Now, I can actually feel the bones on my backside when I sit on anything that's not cushioned. Now, I can probably fit into a pair of size 30 jeans (although I won't be wearing jeans anytime soon -- it's pajama bottoms for me for the next week at least). Now, my arms look frail and my legs look thin.
Looking specifically at my stomach is probably the toughest thing for me to do without cringing. There's a huge blue scar that begins at my waist, runs vertically up through the belly button to the middle of my stomach, makes a 90-degree turn to the right side of my body, and then does another right-angle turn straight up to under my right armpit. Loretta wrote me that her and Tommy's boy T.L., who had open-heart surgery a few weeks ago, wants to compare his scar with mine; sorry, T.L., I think I'm winning this one in a walk.
I know that all this is going to get better and it's only a matter of time and rehabilitation; still, looking at the entire situation -- the sallow face, the frail body, the horribly-scarred stomach -- is still a bit shocking for me and I'm not entirely comfortable with it at the moment. That will come later, I know, and after the entire treatment regimen is over, I'll gain some permanent weight -- maybe not back to the 180s, hopefully, but I'll move out of the 150s. But that's down the line and right now, I just have to accept that it is what it is.
Anyway, that's the not-so-pretty update for today. Sorry to be so graphic, but this blog is all about the ups and downs of the entire journey, and while being home is a major "up," dealing with this incredible overnight bodily change is a huge "down" at the moment.
A few people have inquired about visiting and I would say that we should hold out until Friday and then see how I'm feeling. Right now I just need to rest, relax, and eat. Hopefully this weekend I'll have made enough progress to welcome a few visitors into the home; let's see how things go for the next 48 hours.
Okey doke -- it's almost time for the magic pain pill! Time to lie down in bed and let the rush of the pain medication sweep me into dreamland. As I get more energy in the next day, I expect to start responding to all the email messages you've all sent in the last two weeks, so you should be hearing from me directly in the next several days. Thanks again for all the great support...
And on that note, I will leave you with a very emotional moment I had today.
For the last two weeks I have been trapped in the hospital and in my own head, countless thoughts flowing through days and nights of a drug-induced and sleep-deprived groggy existence. Quite often during this period, I would find certain songs making their way into my brain and replaying over and over. One of these songs was a 30-second snippet of a new Coldplay tune, Viva La Vida, that plays on an over-exposed iTunes TV commercial. For two weeks, I often replayed that snippet in my head, even though I hadn't yet heard the full song.
Today a friend got me an iTunes gift certificate so I could download the latest Coldplay album, which was released yesterday. This morning, I downloaded the album, sat back, and clicked on the full track of the song Viva La Vida -- and as its pulsating, uplifting beat kicked in and I reflected on the entirety of my hospital stay, I began sobbing with tears of pain and joy and thankfulness and unbridled gratitude at the amazing group of family and friends I have around me, holding my hands and walking me down this road. My tears lasted the length of this amazingly beautiful song and when it was over, I felt a great sense of relief. I'm going to make it through this -- we all will.
Live the life, indeed.
With much love,
Dino
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Viva La Vida
What a glorious day. The Italians made it through to the knockout rounds of the European soccer tournament by beating France 2-0 (and all thanks to the Dutch, who beat Romania to uphold their end of the deal). Meanwhile, Coldplay released its new album today, and I'm anxious to go pick it up.
And, oh yeah -- I'm home.
All the tubes, wires and IVs are out of my body. There's just a couple bandages remaining, and those I can take off in a day or two. Now, I really need to wash my hair and get all the tape and bandage residue off both my arms -- I'll get to that later this evening. For the moment, I'm relaxing in relative peace and quiet. It's a bit of a system shock, to be honest, after 13 days of the unending hustle and bustle of the hospital.
It's great to be home. I'll write more tomorrow when I'm more settled. Until then, Viva La Vida, Forza Azzurri, and all that good stuff.
With much love,
Dino
And, oh yeah -- I'm home.
All the tubes, wires and IVs are out of my body. There's just a couple bandages remaining, and those I can take off in a day or two. Now, I really need to wash my hair and get all the tape and bandage residue off both my arms -- I'll get to that later this evening. For the moment, I'm relaxing in relative peace and quiet. It's a bit of a system shock, to be honest, after 13 days of the unending hustle and bustle of the hospital.
It's great to be home. I'll write more tomorrow when I'm more settled. Until then, Viva La Vida, Forza Azzurri, and all that good stuff.
With much love,
Dino
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