Entries Tagged as 'ends & odd'

ends & oddhealth & medical

Floating into 2018

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I think people are afraid to ask me about the cancer these days. That’s kind of funny when you think about how forward and open I have been with all of this. To be fair, though, I suppose it’s possible that they are waiting for a blog explanation? Looking for me to fill in the blanks? I may need to fill them in for myself, as well.

I think that there is usually some kind of grand announcement. Patients get a PET scan or MRI and then a doctor pronounces them NED– no evidence of disease. That hasn’t happened for me. It’s been a little more foggy, so I’m clearing it up for myself. It’s probably time I dragged you into the clearing.

After my surgery in April I was told that my surgeon got clear margins, meaning that as far as anyone can tell she cut out all of the cancer. We (James and I, upon meeting the oncologist and resident) were told that we were “talking about being cured” and that I was “basically cancer free.” Now, the surgeon had already recommended radiation therapy, but that is usually done later (or in place of chemo, like with a lumpectomy). I knew I didn’t want radiation. If my surgeon hadn’t taken so many lymph nodes– like, all of them– then I might have been more interested. However, the lymphedema risks with radiation, along with the cardiac risks associated with radiation, outweighed the added benefit for me. But, back to the wishy washy oncologists who never used the term NED. They strongly recommended chemo to lower the risk of recurrence. Statistically speaking, it does this for many people. I had a previous oncologist do a test on my first biopsy tissue called a Mammaprint. It showed me at a higher risk for recurrence and recommended chemo. Have I mentioned all of this before? Anyway, I never wanted chemo but obviously I did the chemo. Still no one handed me a NED card.

Now, I’ve been working with an integrative oncologist in Az, right? He has done some blood tests. We did cancer antigen tests before surgery (elevated), after surgery (normal), and last week (normal). We also did something called a Biocept test. That test came back at 0. Goose egg. No circulating tumor cells. Still no NED card or announcement.

Here’s the problem: that pesky little thyroid nodule. Technically, it’s cancer. But, it isn’t doing anything. It’s just sitting there. As a matter of fact, it shrank a smidge, even though chemo has no effect on papillary thyroid cancers. I’m basically working at willing it to vanish. The surgeon who wants to take it out is checking on it every four months. Meanwhile, after I went vegetarian all of my thyroid numbers normalized. On paper, my thyroid is healthy. Just don’t look at the ultrasound. lol

So, I’m like 99% NED.

I’ll have another thyroid ultrasound in March. I had a clear mammogram on the remaining breast in December. I’ll have an MRI in April.

They took out my port, which was HELL. I continue my quest to educate the medical community regarding the fact that natural redheads need more local anesthetic. They continue to torture me, only coming round to my side of things (and reading the fucking studies) AFTER they have tortured me. The port removal left a sizable scar. I wish that I had thought to ask them to make me a lightening bolt shaped scar, because sometimes it aches, and I’d like to tell my children that it hurts because Voldemort is nearby. Also, he knows you didn’t do your homework. He’s not happy.

I have not had any reconstruction. I would very much like some of that. However, we got some new insurance this year. Turns out it’s awful and none of our doctors (not a single doctor at Moffitt) are in network. So, I’m plastic surgeon shopping again. I want something called a DIEP, because I don’t want implants and I just want to do this once. Not everyone does it. It’s a difficult surgery, you want someone who does it on the regular. It’s a six week recovery time kind of thing. Maybe later in the year.

My OBGYN wants to perform an oophorectomy— I like saying that word out loud– and I just might let him. It lowers my risk of recurrence about the same amount as taking Tamoxifen, which I am not taking because of side effects and also because I have a genetic mutation that raises my risk of blood clots. I have an appointment to discuss this with him further in June. In March I have an appointment with a Naturopath OBGYN to discuss with her first. I generally find that the naturopath md’s are more honest with me about risks and side effects.

My eyebrows are back. One of them is predominantly grey. My eyelashes are nearly back. Not quite as long as usual yet. My hair looks like I cut it this way on purpose, sort of. It came back very grey and very curly, so, ugh to that. I have colored it and am having a hard time getting to a shade like my natural color. So, no, chemo won’t give you bright red hair. Don’t try it. On a happy note, my pubes came back their regular lovely shade of strawberry blonde. Maybe you were curious, but afraid to ask. Now you know.

I mostly feel ok. I get tired easily. Some days I just don’t have any energy. Some days I can really get a lot done. I take a lot of breaks. I take a ton of supplements, still. They help. I know this because I’m out of two of them and waiting for them to arrive. I’m told that it could take me a year to feel like my old self. My good days are pretty freaking good, though, and my bad days will never be as bad as last year’s bad days.

I think that should take care of most people’s questions. I feel cancer-free. Sorry if I posted links that I’ve posted before. It’s just easier than going into long explanations. I mean, you’d rather read about my pubes, right?27544828_10216001534575055_3959130468344798232_n

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten pun-liners: The sequel to the sequel

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10. When I popped into the bar and tried to open a ‘Transvestite Account,’ the first thing they did was ask me to provide proof of a dress.

9. The people who talked about me behind my back discussed me.

8. My electrician friend accidentally blew the power to the ice-cube factory next door, and now the company’s gone into liquidation.

7. When vandals destroyed all the road signs in our town, they really pulled out all the stops!

6. I think the highlight of my life must’ve been reaching the summit on Mount Everest, because it’s all been downhill from there.

5. I entered a swimming contest and won the 100-meter butterfly – but what the hell am I supposed to do with an insect that big?!

4. My hamster died from lack of exercise, so I don’t think he had the wheel to live.

3. Ahhhh, return flights, they really take me back.

2. Kleptomaniacs always take things literally.

1. I miss my umbilical cord, because I grew attached to it.
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten pun-liners: The sequel

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10. When I asked the stewardess, “Can you telephone from this plane?” she answered, “Sure, this plane is gigantic and has wings!”

9. A customer was rude to me at the McDonald’s where I work, and I got back at him by not putting any Coke in his drink – so just ice was served!

8. After the psychic midget escaped from jail, the headline read “Small Medium At Large”

7. I was taught how to get on an airplane at boarding school.

6. Pilots look up to astronauts as farther figures.

5. I bought a replica fisherman’s knife, made to scale.

4. Ever since I started using volumizer on my hair, the voices in my head have been a lot louder.

3. Yesterday we wanted to eat Italian, but this enormous woman was standing in the restaurant doorway and we couldn’t get pasta.

2. When the clock factory burned down, there was a lot of second-hand smoke.

1. Terrorists have been hiding bombs in cans of alphabet soup and, if one goes off, it could spell disaster.
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

My top ten new year’s resolutions

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10. I resolve to lose just enough weight so my gut doesn’t jiggle when I brush my teeth

9. I resolve to stop drinking, the moment I pass out or all the booze is gone

8. I resolve to finally find Waldo

7. I resolve to keep my ambitions within reach

6. I resolve to solve world hunger

5. I resolve to email back that Nigerian prince who keeps trying to contact me

4. I resolve to buy a t-shirt that says “LIFE” on it, then stand on a street corner and hand out lemons to passersby

3. I resolve to drive by my gym at least three times a week

2. I resolve to keep all my resolutions to myself this year

1. I resolve to limit my number of resolutions to nine
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

This year’s top ten most dangerous Christmas toys

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10. Black & Decker Silly Driller

9. Gasp! – The Saran Wrap Game

8. Hello Kitty Tiki Torches

7. Fontanelle Lawn Darts

6. Hospital Waste Grab Bag

5. The Alt-Right Indoctrination Kit

4. Fisher-Price Choking Hazard

3. Jihad! – The Self-Detonation Game

2. Easy Bake Microwave

1. Baby’s First Nail Gun
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten driving one-liners

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10. Regular naps prevent aging, especially if you take them while driving.

9. My car’s such a piece of crap that its resale value goes up or down, depending on how much gas is in it.

8. I consider the word ‘Dodge’ on the front of my truck to be fair warning to jaywalkers.

7. Have you ever noticed anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anybody driving faster than you is a maniac.

6. I just got into a car accident while reading a sign telling me to keep my eyes on the road.

5. My new house has a circular driveway, and I can’t get out.

4. Apparently, everyone in my town thinks the saying is, “Don’t think and drive.”

3. Honking endlessly isn’t going to make me drive any faster – stupid geese!

2. I just bought a crappy secondhand car and the only gear that works is ‘Reverse’ – but I’m happy, as long as it gets me from B to A.

1. If you try braking, it will give your driving a bit more 00mph!
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

ends & oddhealth & medical

Looking forward

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The last several weeks have been all about the anticipation of an end. An end to the chemo. An end to what we think of as the miserable part of the treatment of this disease. I mean, the whole thing is pretty miserable, but this part is literally poison. This part has been so hard on my kids. They feel it every day. They have begun to understand this pattern in our lives, the way the week begins with a pretty good Monday, then the infusion hits on Tuesday. Wednesday I have steroid energy (but also steroid crankiness) and then the rest of the week is a slow, agonizing climb back up to an almost normal mom on Monday again. My six year old daughter is terrible at knowing what day of the week it is and what day we have plans on, but she knows when it’s Tuesday and what that means in our house these last months. So, this countdown to next week’s final chemo treatment has been on the forefront of our minds. It comes up a lot. A lot a lot.

I’ve been seriously looking forward to the end of chemo. I’ve been beyond looking forward to building my poor body back up. Man, am I jiggly and soft. I try to go for walks when I can now, but it’s so damn difficult and exhausting. If I walk too long I blow my energy for the rest of the day. It’s like I have this finite amount every day and when it’s gone it is just gone. I wish I had a battery indicator light so I could know when I’m pushing it and could know to stop. That would be super helpful. I’ve been thinking about the joy of getting to Tuesday, November the 28th and not going to chemo. Tuesday mornings I feel decent, and I’m downright excited to have a Tuesday that doesn’t get ruined half way through with poison. I think I’ll go to the beach that day and fill myself with salt air instead.

I’m looking forward to having the energy to walk every day and work my way back up to doing yoga. I’m looking forward to going back to physical therapy for this damn arm that got ruined by the surgery. I’m looking forward to having the energy to do all the chopping and cooking that goes into a healthy plant based diet. I’m looking forward to not having to tell my kids that I can’t do whatever or I’m too tired for this or that. I’m just looking forward.

That’s what I’ve been thinking about the last few weeks. It felt like when you’re a kid growing up poor in the 70’s and it’s three weeks until Christmas, and you know your mom has been scrimping together money all year to make it beautiful and you know you’re going to get what you want from Santa, because even though you often don’t have enough food in the fridge you always know you can count on Christmas. Like that.

Then a few days ago I had a long phone consult with my naturopathic oncologist. He’s putting together two protocols for me. Well, actually, he already did, I just haven’t read them yet. One is for helping me clean up my body post chemo. One is for going forward in life and remaining cancer free in the future. (according to some charts I have about a 30% chance of recurrence, according to others as high as 50%). When I hung up from that call I wept. To be honest, I just barely kept it together through the call at all.

Because part of this is over, though there are still more surgeries to come, and part of it will never really end. I’ve had to make changes (that really, I should have made anyway, that make sense for all humans in this world) and I can’t go back to living the way I did before. I want to get back to normal. My family wants to get back to normal. Then there is this realization that there has to be a whole new normal. I can’t live my life in fear, but neither can I live my life in denial. That’s a hard reality to face when you’ve invested some serious time and thought in the idea that this is all about to be over.

Next week is my last taxol infusion. They have a big bell that you ring when you are done. There’s no school next week, so the whole family will be with me. My kids are pretty excited to ring that damn bell. Hopefully they don’t break it. That would be just like us, to over do it and crack the thing. Hopefully it feels like this is over for them, that the new normal just bleeds into their old normal and things get easier for them, lighter. This week has been all kinds of heavy, and maybe next week it doesn’t magically all go away, but at least I could (as my son would say) level up.

Thank you, cancer, I get it now. You can go away for good.

ends & odd

I’m walkin’, yes indeed …

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I’ve been walking, lately. And I’ve been walking a lot more, getting out past my usual routes of recliner-to-frig, and car-to-office. And the funny thing is, I’m LIKING it.
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Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten excuses of a German man who had to be rescued by firefighters when he got his penis stuck in the hole of a 5½-pound dumbbell plate at the gym

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10. “I couldn’t afford a Fitbit and thought this would be the next best thing.”

9. “I’m a big fan of ‘pumping’ iron.”

8. “I thought it would be a good way to meet one of those hunky firefighters.”

7. “I made a miscalculation; the 6-pound dumbbell has a bigger hole.”

6. “It’s the male equivalent of Kegels.”

5. “It takes a dumbbell to fuck a dumbbell.”

4. “I’m very nearsighted, and I honestly thought it was a cat.”

3. “I misheard something about the gym being overcrowded, and then something about cramming in a member.”

2. “I was practicing my short-range ring toss.”

1. “Well it had a hole in it, didn’t it?!”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

ends & oddtechnology

All a-twitter over Twitter

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I’m confronted with what one of my boys would call a “first world problem” …

Last week, Twitter launched an experiment, expanding the number of characters allowed on posts to 280 from the original limit of 140. The test, I read later, involves a small, random group of users (a single-digit percentage of the total users). It seems I’m one of the select few.

“We few, we happy few …”

Hmmmm, happy? Maybe not … at least, not in my case,. I rather liked the 140-character limit. It was a challenge to me. Could I communicate my thoughts successfully – and succinctly! – in my tweets? It required me to stretch my vocabulary, use punctuation more effectively, and move away from rambling rants and towards brief bullet-points.

Sort of a haiku for the new millenium.

I’ll be interested in learning the results of this experiment. For my part, I’ll be contributing to the 140-character end of the bell-shaped curve (or whatever) illustrating those results.

Just because I get twice as much space doesn’t mean I have to fill it. If I have more than can be said in 140 characters, I could always post something on “When Falls the Coliseum.”

 

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten one-liners 2: Electric Boogaloo

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10. Preventing childhood obesity is as easy as taking candy from a baby.

9. I don’t know why all the kids call me Quasimodo, but I have a hunch.

8. If I could have dinner with any person living or dead, I’d pick the living one.

7. I have kleptomania, but when it gets really bad, I take something for it.

6. I had to cancel my appointment with the impotency clinic, because something came up.

5. The police recovered my stolen sofa, which was really nice of them because it was looking a bit tatty.

4. Diarrhea must be hereditary, since it runs in your genes.

3. If you believe in telekinesis, raise my hand.

2. My granddad had the heart of a lion, and a lifetime ban from the Philadelphia Zoo.

1. My wife may nag me at times, but when she told me to stop impersonating a flamingo, I had to put my foot down!
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

ends & oddhealth & medical

Is it over now?

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Have you ever been on that stupid carnival ride that sends you up in the air, in a long row of seats, then bounces you violently back down to the ground? (It’s especially unpleasant for the boobed half of the population). I feel like I’ve been riding that thing for at least a week. I have felt so supported and loved by my family and friends, and so slammed and beaten by chemo. Up an down, again and again. Damn carnie won’t let me off! Lovely and miserable all at once.

The chemicals hit me hard this time. Day one seemed like it was going to be an easier ride, I got a gift from Miami and was smart enough to use it before I was on the floor and desperately needed it. I had some good prep, too, from some great alternative practitioners. Thank You, Mama!! Then day two I was in the depths, feeling underwater and seasick, far worse than the first go round. Right away my hair started to fall out, my mouth began to sting and burn, my heart took off racing like I’ve perpetually just finished running a mile, and everything I tried to eat tasted like a chemistry set. Fruit is the only food that still tastes like itself, even water was impossible until I added lemon. I was so tired, though, I didn’t care about food at all. I ate some plums, drank some juice, and slept.

Day three I shaved my head. I was just tired of the clumps falling out. What’s the big deal about losing your hair? It’s not just that, as a woman, I feel my hair contributes highly to my attractiveness and appeal. It’s not just that, as a redhead, I’m super attached to my identity as the fiery ginger. Those are some serious truths, but when you are diagnosed with cancer, losing your hair is like losing your ability to control your narrative. Was I open about my diagnosis? Maybe more than I should be. Now, though, I may as well be walking around with a scarlet C on my chest. I’ve been out in a beanie and out in a wig, it’s very clear what my deal is either way. I see the faces, and man people cannot hide their expressions. Their questions and their curiosity are written all over their faces. It’s like being the worst kind of famous. I’m Monica Lewinsky. I’m Tonya Harding. I’m the sad train wreck because I can’t alter the perspective of the crowd. I can’t look them in the eyes and say: “I’m fine, I’m going to be OK, this is temporary, don’t put your sad cancer juju on me!” I guess I could say it, but then I’m a train wreck for real, right? Fucking hair.

At the same time, right now, I can afford to pay for things by the miracle that is this go fund me campaign. The new mushroom supplements came in the mail. I was able to have a mid cycle acupuncture treatment today (seriously, the relief it brings is miraculous). I am calling a cleaning company tomorrow to make an appointment and get some help with this house. I have never been the girl who depends upon the kindness of strangers. I’ve been the girl who bristles at the mere mention of possibly needing any help at all. And then one day I just couldn’t keep it together and do it all. My husband says we’re like George Bailey at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life. The money is pouring out on the table in front of the Christmas tree, and we definitely feel the love.

The third treatment (of eight, fucking EIGHT) is next Tuesday. I’m meeting my new oncologist that morning. According to the nurses that I’ve had during my infusions, the AC chemo is hitting me too fast and hard. The second nurse said to ask for an adjustment of my dose, which I plan to do. I hope this oncologist doesn’t suck. I hope he listens. I hope he’s read my damn file before I get there. I need to get through this without completely falling apart. He better be ready to help. Unfortunately, I won’t have my red hair on display to excuse my ginger attitude for me. Hopefully he can handle it.

 

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten things you don’t want to hear at tomorrow’s Fourth of July barbecue

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10. “Hope everybody likes tofu burgers!”

9. “Is my hot dog supposed to have an engagement ring on it?”

8. “Tell Uncle Jerod’s that’s not a flask; it’s lighter fluid.”

7. “Okay, NOBODY LIGHT CIGARETTES OR FIREWORKS NEAR UNCLE JEROD!!!!

6. “Wish somebody had told me this BBQ was BYO!”

5. “Why do all these burgers have long, thin tails?”

4. “Who stuck Yank My Doodle! It’s A Dandy! into the VCR?”

3. “Is coleslaw supposed to move like that?”

2. “Who puts mayo on top of all the buns? Oh, wait…. Whose bright idea was it to put our picnic table directly under this tree?”

1. “Don’t worry about blowing your fingers off with those firecrackers; we’ve still have Ocamacare for at least another twelve hours!”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

ends & oddhealth & medical

One down, seven to go

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The very first thing that crossed my mind when I got my diagnosis, I am not proud to say, was “shit, I’ve been growing my hair out forever.” That is the first thought that I think we all have when someone says the word chemo, the fact that a person’s hair falls out. Initially, I was hoping that I’d be one of those lucky women who could just have a lumpectomy and some radiation (maybe) and then move on. Then I hoped it would just be the mastectomy without chemo. Once I got used to the idea that the chemo was going to happen (my tumor was more aggressive than first suspected) I just wanted to be done with it already. That didn’t work because I started the revolving door of oncologists. I was informed on May 16th that I needed to start chemo, on June 27th I got my first treatment.

My new hope was that I’d be one of those bitches who says that chemo doesn’t really make them feel bad. Isn’t hope funny? I was told that it would take at least three days for the chemo to get in there and create the dreaded side effects. It took about four hours. I think. I actually have no idea what time it was when I started to vomit. I felt like I was made of granite. I was heavy, so heavy that I couldn’t move my arms and legs. When I was getting the infusion, I could feel it going into me. Especially the red devil, because they actually hand pump it into you with a giant syringe, like you’re a cartoon character getting a shot from a mad scientist. Lying on the floor hours later it felt like the red cement had finally hardened. I’m pretty sure that at some point I just texted my husband (only two rooms away) “help.” My thumbs weighed too much to say what I needed. I only vomited once. All that I will say about that is that a friend of my husband’s brought me something that helped.

Every day since has been a little different and a little better. On day two I barely moved or ate, and the bone marrow bomb on my hip went off, which was super weird. Apparently people weren’t showing up for their day after chemo appointments to get this shot that forces your white blood cell count up. I don’t blame them. The solution was to stick the shot onto the patient with adhesive, and set it like a time bomb to shoot the meds into them at precisely twenty seven hours past infusion. I could feel it pumping into my abdomen. Super freaky, not in the Rick James way. Last night, night four, I slept without taking anything for the nausea. Today is Saturday, and not only have I not spent the entire day sleeping and spitting (I feel like I need to spit a lot, and I’ve never felt the need to spit previously, like ever), but I also walked a few laps around our pool. I’m sure that sounds weird, but I didn’t want to get a block from home and then realize that I had to just sit down and text someone to come carry me back.

I have big plans for the upcoming week. I will spend the holiday feeling grateful that my extended family will make sure my kids have fun (as they are doing today). Then I intend to feel well enough by Wednesday to go wig shopping, and on Friday I hope to make it to physical therapy. Woot woot. Until then I am thanking my lucky stars that my kids know how to cheer me up, my husband feeds me when I can stand it, and I have Netflix, Hulu and HBOGO when nobody is home.

ends & oddhealth & medical

Three weeks out

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Three weeks ago today my right breast and 25 of my lymph nodes were removed. Man, did it hurt. It’s getting easier, as far as the pain goes. The strangest part, physically, is that when it doesn’t hurt there is an emptiness. Having air where there used to be this part of me is a strange and sad adjustment to make. It feels ghostly, is that a word? The strangest part, emotionally, is coming to terms with that surgery being just the start.

People talk a lot about fighting. All these war references seem misplaced after a bit. You see it especially with breast cancer. We are all referred to as “warriors” pretty regularly, and we are doing battle with boobs. They make tee shirts that say: “Yes, these are fake. My real ones tried to kill me.” Some women begin to resent and hate their breasts and their bodies when they get breast cancer. I can’t relate.

I have certainly had a love/hate relationship with my body (when I was skinny I wished for curves and then when I wasn’t skinny I wasn’t happy with that either. It wasn’t until my late thirties that I realized I usually looked pretty great and needed to stop caring). It took having cancer to make me feel genuine love for my body. I didn’t get mad at my body. I didn’t feel like an angry warrior. I felt sorry. I have apologized to my self so many times since my diagnosis. I’m so sorry that I didn’t do better and know better. I’m most sorry that I didn’t love my body. I didn’t appreciate it, I insulted it, I didn’t take care of it. I’m not angry with it now. I love it now. I see it now as such a gift. Every day in this body is a gift. Some crap life lesson that we all know is true and never spend two seconds to think about until we are knee deep in the quicksand.

Apologies aren’t getting me anywhere with this body of mine, though. Not so far. And there are so many miles left to go before I rest easy. I’m maybe 20-25% there. I just did this hard thing, and all of these people showed up and fed us and cared and asked and helped. I was so grateful, and then at the same time I wanted them to stop. I wanted to remind everyone that they should maybe come next time instead, when maybe it will be worse. There is so much more to come. I now have two kinds of cancer. About 3% of women get thyroid cancer after they get breast cancer. Most of those 3% get it way after, but I couldn’t wait. I’ve never had any patience. So, this thyroid will probably be removed as well. Those appointments start soon. They want to focus on the breast first, and I have been doing the same (mentally, I mean). I am up to like 6 or 7 doctors now (including naturopath types). Last week I had four appointments in three days and afterward I just crumbled. I had started to feel a little better physically, feel like I was accomplishing something by healing from surgery, and then I realized that my sprint turned into a marathon turned into a triathlon. Is there a kind of race that you run for life?

Life is now the strangest mix of desperately trying to let myself feel joy in every possible moment, being ever diligent about my food and supplements, my doctor’s appointments, treatments, meditation and exercise, and trying to provide my family with the care and love that they need and deserve. I just keep thinking that I want more more more. More of everything. More of this exact life. I don’t think anymore about what I might have done differently. I would take more of exactly this forever.

 

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten United Airline excuses

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10. “We had no idea he was a doctor, because he wasn’t wearing scrubs and a stethoscope.”

9. “Our slogan is ‘Fly the Friendly Skies,’ but we were still on the ground.”

8. “All publicity is good publicity, as long as they spell your name right – and that’s ‘Airlines, with an ‘s’.”

7. “Our in-flight entertainment system was on the fritz, and we wanted to provide our passengers something with a bit of drama to it.”

6. “Of course we think United employees should get preference; after all, they’re United employees!

5. “He refused to return his tray table to its full upright and locked position.”

4. “We had no idea other passengers would use their cell phones to take footage of the incident – that’s on them!

3. “We offered him accommodations in an overhead compartment, but he refused.”

2. “The day before I gave the order, I massively shorted United Airlines stock.”

1. “Why do I get the feeling any excuse I give just won’t fly?”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten unanswered questions

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10. Where does it say Humpty Dumpty was an egg?

9. Do gun manuals have a “Trouble Shooting” section?

8. If a man is talking in the forest and there is no woman there to hear him, is he still wrong?

7. If someone with multiple personality disorder threatens to kill himself, is it considered a hostage situation?

6. Why does mineral water that has “trickled through mountains for centuries” go out of date next month?

5. If a firefighter’s business can go up in smoke, and a plumber’s business can go down the drain, can a hooker be laid off?

4. Doesn’t expecting the unexpected make the unexpected become the expected?

3. Why don’t autobiographies ever end with the author writing a book?

2. If an indoor shooting range is burning, what do you yell to raise the alarm?

1. On a scale of 6 to 2.3, how much do you hate not being confused?
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten pun-liners

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10. I bet the butcher fifty bucks he couldn’t reach the meat on the top shelf, but he said the steaks were too high.

9. When my wife kicked me out, I started living in a telephone booth, because I just wanted somewhere I could call home.

8. I made a chicken salad last night, but apparently they prefer to eat grain.

7. Standing in the park, I was wondering why a Frisbee looks larger and larger the closer it gets, and then it hit me!

6. I was hanging from the bridge when a rescue worker shouted, “Whatever you do, don’t look down!” – so I started smiling.

5. When people ask me why I wanted to be a film editor, I answer, “Well, to cut a long story short…”

4. I’ve just invented a working catapult, but it’s disguised as a sofa, so it tends to throw a lot of people.

3. While I was using the ATM, this little old gray-haired lady asked me if I’d help her check her balance, so I pushed her over.

2. I sent ten different puns into a local newspaper’s pun contest, hoping that one of them would win but, unfortunately, no pun in ten did.

1. Yesterday, on its last day, my best friend, who’s a dyslexic plumber, told me just how disappointed he was in this year’s Philadelphia Shower Flow.
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

ends & oddhealth & medical

It almost feels like a plan…

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So, where did we leave off? I think I was in Atlanta (sort of). Two good things came out of that trip to Atlanta. Well, one for sure good thing and one possible good thing. The absolutely good thing was that I got to spend three days with a great friend. We caught up on about 10 years worth of news. In the past ten years I think we had seen each other 5 or 6 times, tops. It was pretty great. I’m bad at letting people help me, but she was extraordinarily helpful. Everyone should have someone just like her to accompany them to important third opinions with doctors. Sometimes she heard them say things that I missed, sometimes she reassured me that I heard what I thought I heard, and she took amazing notes that I have already gone back to many times. Thanks JJW, you’re the best.

The other potentially good thing? A lead on a Naturopath MD Oncologist. We’ll see how that turns out in a couple of weeks. The doc is super far away, but does phone consults (for a bajillion dollars, of course). Hopefully it will be worth it.

Other than those two things, that cancer center was not what I hoped. They do have a great Naturopath MD on staff, I liked her a lot. The surgeon that I met with, however, was the least pleasant consultation that I have had yet. By far. Real far. The biggest red flag for me was that the schedulers set me up with an appointment to have a chemo port put in before I ever even met with a doctor. Um, hello, what? And they kept ordering tests for me. The trouble I had with that was that I just wanted to speak with the doctors first. Also, everything there was out of network for my insurance. It was not going to be cheap. Had I done everything they asked, I would have had a port, an EKG, a bone density scan and a CT scan. I’m sure that if I were headed there after having a really bad experience somewhere else, or feeling like I was ready to just jump into treatment, that would have been fine. That’s not where I was, though, mentally. So, the twenty people who worked there and told me that I had “made the right choice” by seeking treatment there, just sounded creepy to me.

Meanwhile, I started to feel not as great as I was feeling the last few months. I came home and started trying to catch up after being gone for four days, and I still haven’t caught up. How many days has it been now? Ha! I haven’t had any energy. It doesn’t help that I’m still coughing from that flu we had. I think the cough made me think I was just still getting over something. Then on this past Tuesday I had a PET scan (ordered by Moffitt oncologist who speaks very quickly but is still my favorite of the three that I auditioned). The good news is that I am not riddled with cancer or anything crazy like that. It is still contained in the one boob and one lymph node. The bad news is the scan showed that there is something wrong with my thyroid. (So, I’m anemic, and my thyroid is out of wack. If you see me at the kid’s school, sleeping on the sidewalk, maybe just scoot me into a spot where I won’t get stepped on.) Endocrinologist, here I come!

The other bad news (at least I’m taking it that way at this point) is that “standard of care” requires that 2/3 of my surrounding lymph nodes have to be removed. All because of that one lymph that went astray. It seems excessive to me, and there are clinical trials going on to determine if that is really necessary, but that doesn’t help me now. Add to that the fact that they won’t build my bionic boob yet because they want to make sure I don’t need radiation first, and I’m a little annoyed with the process at the moment.

I do like to bright side things, though, and I finally have a date for surgery. April 10th. Mark your calendars, cause’ we’re having a raging kegger on the 9th and I will be topless! Gotta get the most use out of these before one is gone! Obviously, all but the surgery date is a joke. As long as my thyroid isn’t holding anything up, that’s the day.

I keep moving the goal line of my expectations, but it hasn’t reached the edge of the cliff yet, so there’s that! Actually, I still feel pretty stinking positive, maybe more than I did a month ago, maybe more than I should. Ha!

Bob Sullivan's top ten everythingends & odd

Top ten riddles

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10. What has four legs and an arm?
A happy pit bull.

9. What are the three most terrifying words a woman can say?
“Notice anything different?”

8. How do you find Will Smith in the snow?
You look for fresh prints.

7. Why did the chicken commit suicide?
To get to the other side.

6. What does a man with two right feet wear to the beach?
Flop-flops.

5. Why can’t you hear a psychiatrist using the bathroom?
Because the ‘p’ is silent.

4. How does a pessimist count his blessings?
“Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…”

3. What is ET short for?
Because he’s got them tiny little legs.

2. What do the films Titanic and The Sixth Sense have in common?
“Icy dead people.”

1. Why does Donald Trump sleep with a tub of hummus?
Because there’s nothing he LOVES MORE than when he has a chickpea in his bed.
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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