Blogging has not been a regular routine for me since having had surgery. It's not the first thing I think of. What is the first thing I think of? It's getting through the day. Each day is difficult, having to deal with adjustments to life after chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, and now another bout of chemotherapy. What's different? I'll spare you the details, but basically it amounts to everything. Even breakfast is different. Oatmeal doesn't taste so good because it requires rigerous chewing to make sure everything goes down okay. It's no fun. So I've adjusted to eating eggs (which are great), toast, and other easy to chew things. My lunch routine: used to be ham and cheese sandwhiches and raw produce. Well, raw produce doesn't agree with me for now, and ham is bad, bad, bad (in my current opinion). (Today I had a delightful strawberry shortcake. . . life's not all that bad).
What else has changed? Coughing, laughing, sneezing -- they all hurt.
Driving is weird, but getting better. Sitting is weird, but getting better. Wearing anything but sweats is weird, but getting better. Some of these things will always be weird, but hopefully get to be less annoying as time goes by. Lots has changed and will stay changed. But again, I will spare the goary details.
So now what's up? Well, I'm looking forward to getting back to a semblence of life as usual. Next week I will go back to work part time. I'm quite excited. For the occasion, I'm sporting a new beard, new glasses, and some new cloths. I may even swing for some new textbooks so that I can be extra smart when I get back to work.
Well, again, it's not all bad. I get to get back to life as usual. I'm not bed-ridden, chair-ridden, ridden with chronic pain, or anything totally dehabilitationg -- just minor and major inconveniences, some of which I may be able to fix later on. I'm glad to be able to get on with life. I'm glad I have another chance. I hope to do as well or better. My life is a gift from God. I intend to live long and full and fulfil many more chapters of life before I'm finished.
There has arisen more complications with my condition. I'm happy to share it privately, but for those who want the full scoop and don't want to wait, check out Mom's writing on www.caringbridge.org/visit/adambonner
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
My computer forget
It's been such a long time since I've posted to this site that my computer forgot the address. I start typing:
"itsno". . . .
And naturally, I expect my intelligent IE 8 browser to fill in the rest:
"oh, do you mean itsnotH1N1.blogspot.com?"
"yes, thank you. Please take me there"
"right away, sir"
But instead I get a blank stare.
"you want to go where?? Never heard of it. You're going to have to fill me in on the details"
I tried to inform the browser that that was my site, that I had been faithfully posting to it for several months, and a lapse of a few weeks shouldn't be cause for wiping it out of it's memory. But it was too late. It had already forgotten. Now for a long regimen of retraining. How often will I have to post to keep my browser from forgetting me?
I'm begining to think that if I have too many more such conversations with my internet browser, that may be my next occasion for filing a disability claim. . .
"itsno". . . .
And naturally, I expect my intelligent IE 8 browser to fill in the rest:
"oh, do you mean itsnotH1N1.blogspot.com?"
"yes, thank you. Please take me there"
"right away, sir"
But instead I get a blank stare.
"you want to go where?? Never heard of it. You're going to have to fill me in on the details"
I tried to inform the browser that that was my site, that I had been faithfully posting to it for several months, and a lapse of a few weeks shouldn't be cause for wiping it out of it's memory. But it was too late. It had already forgotten. Now for a long regimen of retraining. How often will I have to post to keep my browser from forgetting me?
I'm begining to think that if I have too many more such conversations with my internet browser, that may be my next occasion for filing a disability claim. . .
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Another post
Well, most of you know all the latest news. This is more of the auxillary blog. More faithfully posts go up on caring bridge (www.caringbridge.com/visit/adambonner), and so I don't necessarily have to post everything here. This is mostly where I post when I feel like it, which, it is apparent, is not too often.
But I do feel I must share the latest news personally. Over a week ago, I spent some very unpleasant time in an MRI machine (stop me if I've told you this before. It feels like I have). It was not something I'd like to do every day. My personal journal tells it better than I can. . .
(03/05/2010)
"A joyous day! Yesterday I sat inside the MRI donut for almost an hour listening, as it were, to the sounds of buses and trucks honking and passing at full speed, feeling their winds blowing by me, all in the comfort of the donut. Headphones were placed over my ears to play music and dampen the sound of the instrument which proved to be quite noisey.
". . . I chatted with the good doctor, who informed me that my MRI results were in already. I almost didn't want to hear the news, but we have all been praying for a good outcome, and we were reminded at prayer meeting the other night that God delights to answer our prayers with "yes", and that the Holy Spirit prays for us, and God the Father delights to answer the Spirit's prayers for us. Praise be to God! His answer was "yes". (Although we should also have been content with a "no", it would have been much harder).
No vascular involvement!
No bladder involvlment!
No prostate involvement!
This can only be the work of God! In fact, my lymph nodes have shrunk down further yet since after my CT scan. This is all very good news, and we rejoice.
Well, there it is. I figured I wouldn't be able to write it as well if I started from scratch. Don't ask me to open the rest of my journal to you . . . it's personal stuff, and I won't ask for yours either. . .
But I do feel I must share the latest news personally. Over a week ago, I spent some very unpleasant time in an MRI machine (stop me if I've told you this before. It feels like I have). It was not something I'd like to do every day. My personal journal tells it better than I can. . .
(03/05/2010)
"A joyous day! Yesterday I sat inside the MRI donut for almost an hour listening, as it were, to the sounds of buses and trucks honking and passing at full speed, feeling their winds blowing by me, all in the comfort of the donut. Headphones were placed over my ears to play music and dampen the sound of the instrument which proved to be quite noisey.
". . . I chatted with the good doctor, who informed me that my MRI results were in already. I almost didn't want to hear the news, but we have all been praying for a good outcome, and we were reminded at prayer meeting the other night that God delights to answer our prayers with "yes", and that the Holy Spirit prays for us, and God the Father delights to answer the Spirit's prayers for us. Praise be to God! His answer was "yes". (Although we should also have been content with a "no", it would have been much harder).
No vascular involvement!
No bladder involvlment!
No prostate involvement!
This can only be the work of God! In fact, my lymph nodes have shrunk down further yet since after my CT scan. This is all very good news, and we rejoice.
Well, there it is. I figured I wouldn't be able to write it as well if I started from scratch. Don't ask me to open the rest of my journal to you . . . it's personal stuff, and I won't ask for yours either. . .
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Feeling Fine but Supposed to
As many of you know who see me on a pretty regular basis, I feel fine. Frankly, I wouldn't do anything about my condition right now, except that I'm told if I don't it will kill me. I often think about how nice it would be if I could just remain in my current condition without going through surgery, as I know that surgery will only make me feel worse, and I may not recover to the same state of comfort that I'm in right now. But the risk of not doing the surgery is too great (so say the experts). So it appears that my best chance is to have the surgery, even though it will likely leave me in a state of misery that I've never known before.
As I've said, I'm feeling fine. But this is apparently not a surprise to the experts. In my reading, I find that the body responds to different kinds of cancers differently. Some cancers are really nasty, and they make you feel really sick. Other cancers do not effect the body in the same way. In my case, until Very late stage, I could generally feel in good health -- no nausia, no major discomfort. That was very intresting to me. I always had this picture that everyone in my condition was nothing but miserable all the time. That's how TV portrays it. But it's not the case.
So for those of you who want to know when it the dreaded day, it is March 23. I will fly out March 21, go in for tests and whatnot on March 22, and be admitted that evening. Then it's all downhill from there. What can I say. Sometime this week I will go in for an MRI so that the docs can "restage" my disease (I was stage III last time, and I don't think they'll downgrade me).
And what am I doing about my current state? Lots of supplements as prescribed by sister-in-law, brother, and me (based on a fair deal of research):
Omega 7
Omega 3 and 6
Calcium, Magnesium, Zinc
Vitamin D3
Tumeric
Garlic
Bioperine (helps the body absorb stuff)
The list will be added to today, I think, with Vitamins C and E. Can I handle any more than this? Not sure. I'm not sure it's doing me any good, but it makes me feel like I'm doing something about it, on top of exercise and good diet, and healthful mind exercises (reading, puzzeling, what not).
As I've said, I'm feeling fine. But this is apparently not a surprise to the experts. In my reading, I find that the body responds to different kinds of cancers differently. Some cancers are really nasty, and they make you feel really sick. Other cancers do not effect the body in the same way. In my case, until Very late stage, I could generally feel in good health -- no nausia, no major discomfort. That was very intresting to me. I always had this picture that everyone in my condition was nothing but miserable all the time. That's how TV portrays it. But it's not the case.
So for those of you who want to know when it the dreaded day, it is March 23. I will fly out March 21, go in for tests and whatnot on March 22, and be admitted that evening. Then it's all downhill from there. What can I say. Sometime this week I will go in for an MRI so that the docs can "restage" my disease (I was stage III last time, and I don't think they'll downgrade me).
And what am I doing about my current state? Lots of supplements as prescribed by sister-in-law, brother, and me (based on a fair deal of research):
Omega 7
Omega 3 and 6
Calcium, Magnesium, Zinc
Vitamin D3
Tumeric
Garlic
Bioperine (helps the body absorb stuff)
The list will be added to today, I think, with Vitamins C and E. Can I handle any more than this? Not sure. I'm not sure it's doing me any good, but it makes me feel like I'm doing something about it, on top of exercise and good diet, and healthful mind exercises (reading, puzzeling, what not).
Monday, February 22, 2010
Wouldn't do anything different (part 2)
I'll get to the point of the title. As I think back about how I've been living (healthwise, that is), I really have no regrets. I seem to have done everything right. I've posted quite a bit about little dietary changes that I've been trying, and keep trying. These are great adjustments. And I've been more intentional about exercising everyday, consistently. But I've been thinking about the way that I ate and lived before this whole ordeal happened, and I'm really quite happy about it. Thai food does seem to satisfy most of my new healthy requirements for eating. So when I get back to life on my own, I do think I'll get back to that. And of course I'll add juicing to the mix. But in general, I'm satisfied that my lifestyle was pretty healthy -- exercising most days, eating right, low stress. . . you name it, I might have done it. So what will I do differently to fend off a return of this nasty disease? Maybe take up the piano? :-)
Here are the things I've been learning about staving off cancer:
1. Eating -- my new philosophy is that I have to recognize my foods as something that I could have picked, gathered, milked, hunted, or fished (I think this is the Schwarzbein Principle) (I leave red meats out entirely now, as they seem to be cancer promoters. Green tea has become my favorite drink).
2. Exercise -- 30 min per day, preferably strenuous enough to produce a little sweat.
3. Stress -- zero. I generally have figured out a way to do that, which is that I don't really remember the things that are stressful, so I don't even think about stress usually. It's a gift, methinks :-)
4. Sleep -- hmm, I used to do pretty bad at that. I guess I should improve to 9 hrs per day, enough for the old immune system to kick in over night, without becoming a sloath. All I read tells me that sleep is the time the body heals itself. Perhaps it's the time the immune system kicks out those nasty cancer cells too. Just a theory. Anyway, if I'm only in bed for 8 hrs, I figure only 7 of those are actually sleep time.
5. No number 5
6. Stress again -- I forgot that I think massages are anti-cancer, but maybe that's just the metro side of me ::-) (that's a smiling spider with 4 eyes. Sydney's going to correct me and say "spiders don't have four eyes". Get over it).
There's Adam's unscientific list of cancer provention protocol. It might have worked for me if I didn't have the FAP gene. But for me it was essentially inevitable.
7. Faith in God -- No, not a cure all, but he will get me though it.
Oh that men would praise the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!
For he satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.
Such as sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, being bound in affliction and iron. (Ps 107: 8-10)
Here are the things I've been learning about staving off cancer:
1. Eating -- my new philosophy is that I have to recognize my foods as something that I could have picked, gathered, milked, hunted, or fished (I think this is the Schwarzbein Principle) (I leave red meats out entirely now, as they seem to be cancer promoters. Green tea has become my favorite drink).
2. Exercise -- 30 min per day, preferably strenuous enough to produce a little sweat.
3. Stress -- zero. I generally have figured out a way to do that, which is that I don't really remember the things that are stressful, so I don't even think about stress usually. It's a gift, methinks :-)
4. Sleep -- hmm, I used to do pretty bad at that. I guess I should improve to 9 hrs per day, enough for the old immune system to kick in over night, without becoming a sloath. All I read tells me that sleep is the time the body heals itself. Perhaps it's the time the immune system kicks out those nasty cancer cells too. Just a theory. Anyway, if I'm only in bed for 8 hrs, I figure only 7 of those are actually sleep time.
5. No number 5
6. Stress again -- I forgot that I think massages are anti-cancer, but maybe that's just the metro side of me ::-) (that's a smiling spider with 4 eyes. Sydney's going to correct me and say "spiders don't have four eyes". Get over it).
There's Adam's unscientific list of cancer provention protocol. It might have worked for me if I didn't have the FAP gene. But for me it was essentially inevitable.
7. Faith in God -- No, not a cure all, but he will get me though it.
Oh that men would praise the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!
For he satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.
Such as sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, being bound in affliction and iron. (Ps 107: 8-10)
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Wouldn't do anything different
It's been a while since I've posted. A lot has happened since then. I shot off to Mayo Clinic for several days last week with my brother. Nathan did all the driving through the wet, slippery stuff. I suppose I will blame my not posting on being gone for a week. I was quite impressed by Mayo, at least in it's facade. It's composed of several beautiful towers, all connected by heated crosswalks as well as an extensive subterranian shopping center, so there was no need for us to leave the heated comforts of confinement after parking the car.
Insurance, on the other hand, was one big mess. Thank God for Nathan. Otherwise I would have had to make a $5000 deposit before seeing the doc. HMO's are a real pain, but N made it work out okay after doing a lot of phone calls. About 2 hours later we had most of it worked out and went up to wait to see the doc.
...
Half the post. . . I'm bored. Come back later to see the rest . . .
Insurance, on the other hand, was one big mess. Thank God for Nathan. Otherwise I would have had to make a $5000 deposit before seeing the doc. HMO's are a real pain, but N made it work out okay after doing a lot of phone calls. About 2 hours later we had most of it worked out and went up to wait to see the doc.
...
Half the post. . . I'm bored. Come back later to see the rest . . .
Sunday, February 7, 2010
It's not H1N1
To the puzzlement of some, I've given my blog a rather strange title. I shall explain. My chummy colleagues at work already understand, so you can pass this entry by.
'Twas swine flu season, and all through the corporate world was the message, "If you have swine flu, please STAY HOME!!" Swine flu and the pigs that carry it were clearly not welcome in the workplace. Given that we all work in rather close confines, we generally know when someone is out sick, and of course as far as the rest of us are concerned, they are out with Swine flu, "Oink, Oink". It was around that time that I was starting to feel a little out of the ordinary. I needed more sleep, and ended up getting to work a few minutes later every morning and going home for lunch break for a bit to eat and a short nap each day (also unusual for me). All of this was of course not unnoticed, given our close quarters. "What's going on?", "Oh, not much," says I. "You've got Swine flu, don't you? Oink, Oink!". "Ha ha, yeah, Swine flu. Oink, Oink!" echos another. Indeed, Swine flu would not be much fun. So, of course I had to get myself checked out by the Swine flu specialist. After my evaluation and diagnosis, of course I was pleased to announce to my colleagues, with much releif, that "At least it isn't Swine flu (Oink, Oink!)." Yes indeed, it could have been worse.
'Twas swine flu season, and all through the corporate world was the message, "If you have swine flu, please STAY HOME!!" Swine flu and the pigs that carry it were clearly not welcome in the workplace. Given that we all work in rather close confines, we generally know when someone is out sick, and of course as far as the rest of us are concerned, they are out with Swine flu, "Oink, Oink". It was around that time that I was starting to feel a little out of the ordinary. I needed more sleep, and ended up getting to work a few minutes later every morning and going home for lunch break for a bit to eat and a short nap each day (also unusual for me). All of this was of course not unnoticed, given our close quarters. "What's going on?", "Oh, not much," says I. "You've got Swine flu, don't you? Oink, Oink!". "Ha ha, yeah, Swine flu. Oink, Oink!" echos another. Indeed, Swine flu would not be much fun. So, of course I had to get myself checked out by the Swine flu specialist. After my evaluation and diagnosis, of course I was pleased to announce to my colleagues, with much releif, that "At least it isn't Swine flu (Oink, Oink!)." Yes indeed, it could have been worse.
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