Wet Fish In the Tub

The experience of having cancer has certainly been enlightening to say the least. However, it’s not been a “This Is Your Life Kevin B.” look at missed opportunities, stupid mistakes and roads not taken, or one long depressing “This Is The End” while I await the inevitable. Aside from feeling like shit most of the time, it’s been mostly “getting through the day” standard fair.

Granted, for a while standing up on my own was just a pipe dream, never mind getting up and getting anywhere like the bathroom or dining room. That would have taken some good Thai stick and bowl of opium just so I could have imagined accomplishing such a feat.

In fact, my first day home from the hospital I had the brilliant idea that what I really needed was an Epsom salt bath. That bad idea was followed by yet another one, actually taking an Epsom salt bath. Getting in was not much of a problem, considering that I had Elaine and a walker to lean on, it was only when I got in that I realized I had a much bigger problem, how the hell am I gonna’ get outta’ here? Try and imagine some spaz in a tub, soaking wet, unable to stand or walk trying to hoist themselves out of a slick porcelain tub. With the exception of the nudity it might have made it to some home video program or YouTube. Splish, splash I was taking a bath.

While I’ve not revisited the tub lately, showering, shaving, walking and driving are all within my range of activities, at least until 1:00 pm, but that is increasing daily. I can even envision a day where I go to work, come home and eat and go to a meeting, so that’s progress.

Cancer has certainly made me appreciate and love my wife Elaine a great deal more than I have in the past. I can honestly say that had I not had her in my life it would’ve been the end. All the help and assistance from my son Dan has been amazing, although I know how he loathes walking the two hounds in the heat he does anyway, while Erin & Brady have made it point to call & visit from Fort Worth frequently. To be honest, I never really knew how really rich I am, I am loved, I have the family never had and didn’t know I wanted and friends I can truly count on. Hopefully it won’t take cancer for me to fully take notice next time.

Later, as we ease into a mountain kind of mood…

Doctor Opens Mouth, Full Sentences Emerge

My oncologist, for all intents and purposes, does not appear to speak. From May 31st till today it’s been the occasional verb/noun combo and for emphasis the occasional shrug or hand gesture. Well not today by god, he came in talking and left talking in grammatically correct, fully structured English sentences.

I looked good, the tumor is responding (both of them) positively, the steroid torture ends this week not to renewed and it’s quite possible that I only have 1 chemo session and not 3 more as originally planned. As for our C.B. plans he said not a word he merely rescheduled my chemo for the Monday after we’re back.

My regimen of herbs (21 pills or capsules per day) is my biggest hurdle, just taking into consideration the amount of time it takes to consume the little bastards, add to that the 4 other non herbal pills and the 2 liquid vitamins and we’re talking 16 ounces of water before I even have a cup of coffee. However, it was great news to know that I’ve made some tangible progress, and with the steroids going away I am hoping for some gym time soon so I can start rebuilding my withered legs before C.B..

While I don’t know the outcome of all of this I can say that having a positive approach, a loving family and a host of loving friends sure makes a difference on your outlook. If life doesn’t strike you as absurdly funny you maybe there's somethings missing in your life.

I don’t see a doctor, other than my internist, until August 10th and that’s just fine with me. I’m C.B. bound and if you know what’s best for you you’ll not stand in my way.

Herbs? Didn't I Smoke Them at One Time?

Yesterday Elaine and I went to see an herbalist recommended by a Native American friend of mine, Albert O. C., so naturally I assumed that the herbalist was a Native America as well. Well, was I wrong, way wrong in fact. This guy was a traditional Chinese herbalist, of the American, born and bred in Dallas, TX variety which made it even stranger. Then a friend I’ve known for over 20 years shows up at this guy’s clinic out of the blue and she has been seeing him for 20 years and swears by him. So it was serendipitous and to use Elaine’s term, it was empowering.

So today when I spoke with my radiation tech she had some complimentary things to say about augmenting one’s radiation & chemo with some natural remedies as well, as long as you’re not going abandon your current recovery regimen. After getting bathed in the ethereal glow of subatomic particles I had my weekly meeting with my radiation oncologist who not only thinks the herbal approach is an excellent supplementary treatment he wants the herbalist name as he’s been seeing an acupuncturist and taking a number of herbs himself.

Maybe that’s why he’s quite relaxed while my oncologist is wrapped tighter than a frozen tamale. His two word pronouncements followed by the spin of a heel and quick exit are about all you’re going get from this autistic freak apparently. So with that in mind, my wife and I are going to postpone the chemo for a week so we can have some normal life for a couple of days. Since Dr. Wordless only speaks using only one verb & one noun we’re not expecting much by way of feedback. It’s gonna’ be breeze.

More to follow, but I’m hoping the herbs will kick in and my mood will become lighter.

C.B. here we come…

You Don't Have a Tumor, You're Getting Chemo

All of the ancillary effects of all the treatments I’m receiving can now safely be blamed on chemo: nerve pain, nausea, weakness in the limbs, loss of appetite, and lack of energy, swollen joints, and hair loss. Yes, you guessed it; it’s all due to chemo. Dengue fever, the yaws, malaria, Ebola virus and other exotic tropical diseases have yet to enter into the stew of afflictions, but I expect their appearance any day now. In fact, since we’ve come this far, let’s just blame it all on chemo.

But the walker has been tossed aside and traded in for a cane and I did go to a meeting this morning at C-stone where I actually mingled with real people as well as my good buds Harry, Steve & Sam. It was good to be out amongst them.

I could have added a movie to my list of accomplishments but we’re having dinner guests and I’m going to attempt to hijack the cooking and get my ass back in the kitchen where I’ve been out of action for a few months. In a couple a week’s maybe I can take back the laundry and start feeling like a true participant, but at the moment the stairs up are a little too daunting when I think about coming up the stairs with cane and laundry basket in tow. However, dinner would be a good start for me, I enjoy cooking, people enjoy eating what I cook (most of the time) and it’s therapeutic too.

So watch out, Chemo Kev is on the comeback trail and even though those 6 hairy tits and 199 mph fastball I was expecting to acquire as a result of all those steroids failed to materialize, I will be a force to be reckoned with, just you wait and see.

58 Year Old Man Shaves for the First Time

Okay, I know what you’re thinking, if I were living in Festering Wound, Indiana, population 249 this might be news, a headline perhaps in the bi­­‑weekly Wounded Gazette. But you’re not living in Festering Wound are you?

The headline (as such) refers to Kevin James Backmann having shaved his head for the first time, a rather strange feeling when your face requires no shaving but your head does. While wiling away the hours in one of my 2 hospital stays I underwent a metamorphosis from Kevin Backmann to Elmer Fudd by way if chemo. It was somewhat of a shock, but not by much as I was expecting the hair loss anyway. Wascally wabbits and all it certainly was a new look to say the least. However the next metamorphosis was to go from Elmer Fudd to Tweety Bird. That was too fucking much. Am I going to have to go through the entire Looney Tunes pantheon before this madness stops (sans Yosemite Sam of course)? So Elaine did the first bald pate assault and now I’ve done one of my own, so it now seems normalized. Trepanning is about all that can be done to my skull now, and that’s far beyond the scope of any treatment that I know might be coming my way.

And in Other News

I decided this morning that I had had enough of me. Not that I was going to start neglecting treatment, but my entire thought process was this vortex wrapped around ME. So when I went to radiation therapy this morning I asked the radiologist what initially attracted her to her line of work, and she spent the next 25 minutes as treatment progressed telling me about being introduced to radiology at UTEP, coming to Dallas because her dad needed treatment at Presbyterian and finding a degreed course here in Dallas. The rest was history, she’s been here for over 20 years and it was one of those serendipitous stories one doesn’t hear often enough. I need to speak up more often and at least make an attempt to know the people around me, care givers, friends, loved one, you name it. My usual M.O. is to listen to someone for years, from a remote distance of course, and eventually come to a judgment of some type.

While I don’t recommend cancer as life changing event, it can be life changing in an extremely positive way and I would at least like to grow positively through this physical assault on my soul, psyche and spirit. So, if you should have a tip, or see that I’m slipping back into those o-so-comfortable Brooklyn modes of behavior be bold and point it out.

If the chemo doesn’t kill you than maybe the cancer won’t either…

Welcome to Terra Incognita

Chemo is one mean son of a bitch. It can destroy your taste buds, or kill your appetite but maybe neither. For me it’s been a little nausea until now, last night each muscle in both shoulders and arms tied themselves into a variety nautical knots and refused to untie. The pain wasn’t excruciating but it sure was relentless, so I am now on pain meds for this condition and gratefully so I might add.

So my spiritual growth, if any, has been difficult to monitor. The last few weeks it’s all been physical, hemoglobin, insulin, blood sugar, white and red blood counts ad nauseum. Perhaps cancer was meant to be a full physical experience combined with the mental and spiritual and you get to focus on what needs attention at the moment. Maybe my spiritual focus is to see beyond the discomfort and pain and focus on my spirit instead.

If anyone has any pointers in this regard it would be greatly appreciated.

Regardless of my physical state my spirit is always free to roam…

Living Better Chemically

Well, it has been some time since my last post, which says a great deal about the toxic waste they’ve pumped through my collapsing veins. The weekend had some milestones to speak of, which was getting to a meeting all by my little self and showering and dressing myself like a big boy. But Monday was CHEMO DAY!

The actual process of getting chemo is quite simple; you sit in what is a comfortable chair (for the first 20 minutes or so), pretty nurses hook you to an IV attached to which are a number of plastic bags. These bags are supposed to contain the key to my recovery, but personally I’m convinced that they’re filled with toxic waste from wherever it may be found, sewage, garbage, last week’s rotting veggies from kitchen. Then it’s “We’ll see ya’ in about 4 ½ hours.”

Well after about 4 ½ hours of this crap you’re not only weakened, but mangled as well. That comfy chair you thought you were sitting in turned out to be an iron maiden and you don’t even want to know about the contents of those bags and the only comfortable position is what’s commonly referred to as a blackout.

So yesterday I did nothing, and I mean nothing. I went to radiation, came home and ate lunch. All that chewing took so much out of me I went to bed until dinner time, followed by some limited mastication (tortilla soup & pork tamales don’t take too much effort in that regard) and back to bed.

So today I need to respond to some calls that I couldn’t attend to in the last few days. But chemo is now 3 weeks away and I should be able to carry on blogging away like the terror typing demon that I truly am.

Onward through the chemo induced fog…

Like Wow, I'm Ambulatory

Sitting here listening to the Kinks on a hot summer Saturday, I’ve consumed some cereal, a smoothie and now I’m behind the wheel of some kick ass coffee. Something will kick in eventually.

As my dose of steroids diminishes I am actually starting to feel somewhat human again. I have an appetite, I crave protein, and with the full-brain fry radiation treatment over with I can think in phrases that extend over 10 individual words. Which is good, as everything needs to be thought out, pondered and routes planned before you even contemplate taking any action while in my state. Two weeks ago dressing my self took 1 to 1.5 hours; it’s now down to smoking 30 to 45 minutes. As for the sprint to the car, it’s a piece of cake. I can make it from the second floor to the car in less than 4 minutes.

After fading away for over 2 weeks it feels strange to actually be aware of being on the mend. I’m actually looking forward to when I can start building some leg mass by working out at the Landry Center again; it would be nice to toss aside the walker. Shit, between Joann and I it’s gonna’ start looking like some sorta’ tent revival at C-stone.

Thanks for checking in, and I think I’ll be posting later on too…

One Should Live at Home, If at All Possible

So, let us take stock, shall we? The anger and frustration from last week’s fiasco has all but dissipated, the appropriate complaints were lodged where they needed to be lodged, so I believe I can let that gaggle of geese loose.

Here I sit listening J.S. Bach, English Suite #2 in A minor, and as far as I’m concerned, early mornings require some Bach, or at least mine do. So I'm off to a flying start by my standards, I can let go with impunity, I am beyond bliss.

Each passing day endows me with a more energy and the will to get around by myself, but what I currently lack is any sort of muscle mass on either leg. I get this total hip transplant last November; spend weeks building up leg mass by working out five or six days a week only to wind up with these sticks that were imported from Auschwitz or Babi Yar just for me.
But the attitude has changed for the better, as one does not heal through hate of any kind, nor anger for that matter. Therefore I am swearing off as of right now, 6:34 am on Thursday, July 09, 2009. Although I must say that that resolution may have come and gone several times by the time you get to reading this.

My kind acupuncturist, Susan Hammett was kind enough to needle me gratis to assist me on the road to recovery, over the week‑end my wife’s best friend from high school spent the weekend with us and as I get stronger I’ll be able to tackle guests on my own, I just never know when I’ll have the energy to actually engage in a lengthy conversation.

One thing for sure though, not getting my entire skull irradiated for 16 days and the elimination of those vile steroids, I’ve been assured I will not be as stupid as I have been (and you have complete license to interpret that in the manner of your choosing).

I will hopefully make additional entries today as the only real thing on my plate is my chest X-ray treatment. This is almost like an off day.

Later, my friends, following more coffee & radiation, the real breakfast of champions.

The Unintended Cost of Hell Care

Zen Kev was an abysmal failure this last week in the hospital. No sapphire bullets of pure love emanating from Chemo-Kev. No sir, nor was it a meditation on “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Actually it was more like what is the sound of two wooden mallets crushing the skull of your supposed care giver. I still imagine beating them into some gelatinous state of being as I write, they’re skulls still have such a soft hypnotic percussive effect, at least when I’m ½ way through with them in my minds eye.
My solution at the moment is to crank up some Tito Puente, which is doing the trick nicely.
So, as you can tell there is much, much room for some spiritual growth on my part. Of course I could make it about them, but I seem to have been trapped in some HIPPA bureaucratic nightmare from which there was no escape and I know I was not the first since they ignored this with such aplomb.
The shit they do to you as they attempt to align your listing vessel is beyond my energy to describe at the moment, so maybe they aren’t trying to kill your body, just reproduce a reasonable facsimile of what it would be like hauling a dead body around.
So, here’s looking to better days ahead and if possible some amends on my part.
Forward, into the smog…

Blog Post Pending, Like With Content

Tomorrow will my first opportunity to blog about my last 6 days in Medical City. At the moment I am basking in the glow of being home with my wife & hounds.

More to follow...