I hope that all is well with everyone. Here, it is a week of the most beautiful weather imaginable. I wish I had my sailboat in the water. Then I could be listening to Jimmy Buffet with spray coming over the bow onto my face.
It's been an exciting day here in paradise. My appointment regarding the biopsy was at 1pm. The results came back as expected (not as hoped) and the verdict is that I have a treatable 2x5" throat / lymph node tumor of Squamous cell carcinoma. Although I will not meet with the oncology team until next week, initial thought is that it is not operable so it probably will be radiation / chemo therapy. My low platelet count and the tumor configuration are serious complications, as is the fact that Squamous often comes back.
Needless to say, I had to call my transplant team since I will be ineligible for a transplant until the cancer is neutralized. My MELD is low so it shouldn't set me back too far. The phone rang every 15 minutes all afternoon. Even my last ex-wife, who owns a health-related company, heard the news and called. Not a good sign for a positive outcome. (She's really quite sweet and wouldn't wish me ill, so her concern could be considered an ill omen)
It took the IRS getting out of line to trigger me into learning enough law to sue them as my own attorney and win (I made them settle on April 15th for the press coverage), so I guess this should trigger me into learning enough medicine to navigate the medical system. My friends say that those two stories are books that I should write. Anyway, I thought I already knew too much about health care with this Hep A, B, C and ESLD thing. Oh well, there's always something.
This new research just gives me a new hobby, made even more challenging with the encephalopathy. I could learn the same thing over, and over, and over. Hmmm, I may want to think about keeping better notes. Or find a really cute secretary who will work for peanuts, or room and board.
So you ask, how am I? Except for short bursts of internalized anger, I am pretty fatalistic about it. Not in the sense that life is scripted for us by the maker, because I believe that free will is the gift given to us that puts us apart from the angels, but fatalistic in accepting that I am, and have been, and hopefully will still be, blessed beyond belief. I think that I will overcome this -- but if I don't, I can't complain about my life, my loves, and my experiences. Enough of this touchy-feely rumination -- I should be making football metaphors -- this is the season, and football is my sport.
But now I'm off for a stiff double-shot of lactulose. I may swig it directly from the bottle. Maybe there's a little wild left in me after all. Down and dirty Rolling Stones tonight; and not at the usual low volume that puts me to sleep! Just loud enough to rattle the nightstands.
Be well, John
I have to get up the creek! Now where's that paddle?