I Can Do This

I can do this.

That is my motto. I’ve had the monster in my body for about 4 months now. I was brought to my knees by multiple myeloma cancer on February 25th and got the diagnoses a day or two later while in the emergency room at the hospital. My two weeks there was hell on earth. I’ve never been in so much pain before. As a matter of fact, this is the first time I can actually write about it without having to stop. It was worse than anything you or I can imagine. I thought I was going to die and that the only way I was leaving was going to be in a bag.

Nope. I can do this.

It started with a nurse named Hope. Yes, that really was her name. I took it as a sign. She’s a spry black woman that I’d guess to be about 50 years old. Obviously she was in charge and didn’t take shit from anybody, especially me. She had an attitude that was scary. There’s no other way to describe it. My immediate goal was to win her over. I’ve met a lot of grumpy folks in my lifetime. Most are retired CEO’s that are used to being in charge. Not on my boat. I’m proud to say that many of these same men with the attitudes are now close friends.

So I started out asking her questions about her family and why she was a nurse. I don’t believe any patient of her’s had done that before. She warmed a bit, but it took several days to win her over. We did each step of my hospital recovery together and she even made a point of stopping by to see how I was doing, even when she was working a different area of the ward.

Thank you, Hope. I can do this.

Dying

I must admit I hadn’t thought much about dying. It had occurred to me that it will happen but only as a background thought. Up until my cancer diagnosis I was feeling fairly bulletproof. I’ve been told by many that I look young for my age. When I tell people I’m over 60 they look at me like I’m lying. Most guess middle 40’s. Very flattering, but wrong.

And then along came the monster, cancer. I now think about death on a daily basis. I don’t know if that’s normal or not but I have to believe it is. I’ve met a lot of people that are not as sick as I am and they say the same thing.

I’ve been told that the survival rate for multiple myeloma is anywhere from a few years to over 10 or so. That’s a pretty wide range with seemingly no rhyme or reason to it. I read about a young man who died in about 2 years. I’ve also read about quite a few that have survived over 10 years and that’s with older technology and chemo medicines. Obviously a lot has been learned over the last 10 years and it’s paying off in longevity.

I do know that if you are diagnosed with MM at a later age in life you are more likely to survive longer. Odd but true. Young people don’t survive very long, whereas older folks do.

I really don’t know why I’m worried about dying. If you die you leave all the problems behind and everyone else has to deal with it. Maybe that’s why I have a problem with it. I love for everything to have an order and if you die too young you are messing up the order. Then again, perhaps it is best to die first. What I mean by that is I really don’t want to lose all the family and friends I have, first. I’d rather go first. Selfish? Maybe.

OK. So now back to reality. I’m going to do everything I can to survive this. I’m going to work toward remission and then hope that the powers that be find a cure for this disease. That’s the plan. I had plans to make it to 90 and I’ve got to figure out a way to survive 29 more years. 

I Miss My Dad

I really miss my Dad. He passed away from a sudden heart attack back in the summer of 2000 and there are so many things I’d love to talk to him about. There was also a wealth of information that he held in that amazingly analytical head of his that I’d love to pry through, but it’s just not to be.

My Dad could do the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle in his head and then write all the answers in with an ink pen. It was something to behold. It’s too bad he was never on Jeopardy. He would have cleaned up.

He also gave away a ton of information and tips about fishing to me over the years. The funny thing was, he didn’t spend a lot of time fishing. He did, however, spend a lot of time reading. He was one of the most well read people I’ve ever known, so he seemed to have an answer for just about everything. He would send me tips about rigging and I think he was fascinated by the different species we had and how each had their own way of feeding and breeding.

We had a discussion one Sunday afternoon about moon phases. I've used parts of that talk to this day during seminars on tides, winds and currents. He was very insightful and pointed out things about the correlation between the moon and fish.

I didn’t start my career as a fishing pro until the year after he died. I often wonder what he would have thought about all this. He was one of those people that believed in the steady job. You know; the long term position with the big “firm” and then the career leading to a successful retirement. That is certainly not where I was headed when I decided to get my captains license and then make a living on the water. But years later I proved to myself and others that I could be a success. It made me happy. I never thought I’d find a job that I’d never view as a job.

I think my Dad would have been pleased to see how it turned out. I miss him now more than ever.

Back Pain

Back pain is a pain in the ass, not the back.

Gosh, I really never thought that a certain pain could last so long and be so persistent. I was wrong. I now clearly understand the pain that some of my older charter customers were experiencing on the boat over the years. I had one gentleman named Joe who had a bad back. He was constantly looking for the next panacea to make everything as it was in his much younger years. Medicines, rubs, braces and even surgery. It took him almost 6 years to get it right. But he did. His persistence beat out the pain’s persistence. He was so happy about it, as was I.

My pain is fixable. Or is it? I know that surgery is going to be best. I’ve read enough to know that compression fractures, a side effect of multiple myeloma, can be fixed using a glue or cement like substance injected into the spine to set things straight. But there is also the possibility of new fractures appearing if I don’t reach remission soon enough. It’s ok. I really don’t want to go through what Joe went through for 6 years. I’m going to get this done and move on to the next hurdle that MM will surely throw my way.

I’m being tested.

Conflicted

Conflicted. That sums up my feelings after the past week or so. I have lots of advice coming at me from a lot of different directions and new doctors are popping out of the woodwork. I know it’s important and I do the best I can to sort things out, but it’s difficult at best.

Part of the problem is being able to pay attention. The assortment of drugs I’m taking for the pain do make me more comfortable, but my ability to absorb detailed information has been a problem. I have to rely on written notes and JoNell’s memory. Good thing she has a great memory!

I do need a central controller of all things medical. A handler that can sort out all the doctors, their needs and request, along with insurance needs and pharmacy issues. I often wonder what pills can go with what pills and are there dangerous mixes. Just one of those things you pick up on pharmaceutical television ads.

I’ve been a very independent person for many, many years but I recognize the need for help. It’s been embarrassing though. Because I’ve always been able to take care of myself both physically and financially, it’s tough to accept the help. I’ve been the giver not the receiver. Now I need the help. I want so badly for things to go back to the way they were. That’s going to take some time.