Greetings, readers. I was discharged about noon on Saturday, and I am, once again, back in my wonderful home with my wonderful family.
This previous week started out with some pretty rough business. I was admitted into the hospital with a fever over 103 degrees, and the doctors had some very somber news. One doctor, whose opinion I trust very strongly, truly made it sound as if I have only weeks to live.
This diagnosis was based on two primary points:
- The lymphoma appeared, as of Saturday, to have spread to my lungs and given me pneumonia.
- My right eye was behaving in a way that made it almost certain that the lymphoma had also spread into my central nervous system, including my brain.
Both of these matters are very serious, and would indeed dramatically lower my current life expectancy. Since then, however, the following developments have occurred:
- My primary oncologist, and the doctor who has been saving my life, spent a lot of time speaking with specialists at the Mayo Clinic. Between them all, they’ve devised a course of action that they feel very good about.
- On Wednesday, I started on Stage One of this new plan, which involves a new experimental chemotherapy drug called Brentuximab (and this will be the last time I spell that). So far it seems to be working well, and the side effects have been minimal.
- The second and final stage of this new plan (since it involves the Mayo Clinic, let’s call this Operation Egg Salad) will start on Monday morning, when I’ll be getting additional experimental chemotherapy drugs. Only, these drugs won’t be delivered via intravenous plug, or pill, oh no… this drug will be administered via Lumbar Puncture (also known as a Spinal Tap).
The last thing is, and this is a point I keep trying to make but I want people to hear very strongly: I am not giving up, and I am not going anywhere. It’s in my nature to make sure that every potential disaster down the road is accounted for, so I’ve been working with my life insurance company and making all other sorts of plans, but these are only to keep any worry off of me and my immediate family.
I am sick. I am fighting a very rare and very aggressive disease that wants to kill me a dozen ways. But I am not dying. Repeat after me, please: Ed is not dying.
Unless you’re one of two people in the world, you have no idea how hard I’ve had to fight in my life, and how strong I really am under all this goofiness. I don’t care how strong this disease gets or how many treatments it needs or how many things it takes away from me: I am not going anywhere.
Now that that business is out of the way, I quick update on being home. My hip has completely healed from the surgery a few weeks ago, so my walking is fine. Every doctor is always concerned about their patient falling, especially one like me with so many leg issues. But I’ve healed very well, and I spent the past week walking around my hospital room with no issues at all. Since I’ve gotten home I haven’t even needed my cane (“Michael”).
Of course, the minute I’m home alone I catch my leg on the bottom of my recliner, lose my balance, and whack my face on the edge of the ottoman on the way to the floor.
Can’t hide this one; So now I have to use “Michael,” because there’s no way my doctors will ever let two falls slide without making me do something stupid like surgically attach walkers to my arms.
Also, now that it looks like my wife kicked me in the face, I need to make up a cool reason for her to have done that. Maybe she caught me looking at some really weird porn, like Giraffes, or Squids, or old tires or something? Help me come up with some ideas in the comments, please.