The end of the tunnel

It occurred to me yesterday that I actually felt pretty good. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I was at the office. And aside from some tingling toes and mild irritation in my lungs, I felt pretty good. Then it occurred to me that if I wasn't getting chemo on Friday, I'd feel even better next week, like maybe even on-top-of the-world-good. I'm looking forward to that.

Always wear clean underwear

Today I had to go to the hospital for my usual pre-chemo blood work and chat with the doctor. Before heading out this morning, I took a quick shower and even ironed a shirt (for easy access to my iPod cable, I usually where a shirt that buttons in the front. For some reason all my shirts that button in the front are usually wrinkled - which I guess is why I never wear them).

Anyway, as I was getting ready, I couldn't find my favorite underwear, or my second favorite underwear. I was running last, so I ended up grabbing a pair that I usually don't wear - for two reasons. One, they are bit too tight where it counts, and two, at some point they got washed with something red, so instead of tighty whities they are tighty pinkies. I figured, "not to cool, but who cares?" I pulled my tighty pinkies on, finished getting dressed and headed out the door.

The nurses are still striking, so I had a long wait at the hospital. No big deal, because I remembered my book. When I finally had my blood work done and met with the doctor, I was kind of proud that I set a new personal best for low white blood count. I joked with the doctor about this, but when I realized he was considering delaying my chemo, I stopped smiling pretty quick. I just want to get this over with. Luckily the doctor decided that if I got a Neupogen shot today, then my blood count would be good to go by Friday.

After our chat, the doctor sent me out to a nurse to get the injection. I was pretty happy the nurse was going to do it, because after the blue track-mark I left last time, I'm a bit gun shy about jabbing myself in the stomach. So I walk up to the nurse, who I have seen many times before, and I say, "So I guess you have to jab me." And she says, "Yep" with a smile. And then she says, "Drop your pants!"

"My pants?" I say. She tells that they usually do it in the thigh. I tell her that I usually do it in the stomach. She smiles and says she'll jab me anywhere I prefer. I say I prefer the stomach, and as I sit down I can feel my tighty pinkies pinching where they shouldn't.

The nurse tried three times to find enough fat on my stomach to poke and then she gave up. She said she had no idea how I ever got a needle in my stomach being as skinny as I am. I said I didn't know there was an alternative. She said there was, and then she made me drop my pants.

I'm throwing those friggin tighty pinkies away!

The hair report

Now that I am reaching the end of chemo, I think I can draw some conclusions about how my bodily hair reacts to all this poison.


As you can see from the image above, my head hair seems to be doing fine. If I leave it alone, I can maintain this impression for about a month. After that, it starts to look fuzzy and mangy again.

It has taken me about eight days to get that manly growth you see on my cheeks. I refer to it as my "seven day shadow". You may notice that I am now completely spared from the hassle of shaving my upper lip. Although it gives me a distinctly Amish appearance, I appreciate the time it saves me (which I now use to floss my teeth).

I'm sad to admit that for the eyebrows I have adopted the comb-over technique. Over my right eye I have 5 thick, wiry hairs remaining (4 black, 1 blonde??). My left eye has 8 of these. The rest is just a downy peach-fuss. If these wiry, structural hairs are arranged just right, my eyebrows look as if I have 13 thick hairs that I have arranged just right. Part of me thinks this is pathetic and that I should pluck them and go totally Terminator, but a bigger part of me can't let go (I will never make fun of the comb-over guys again).

My ear hair...if cancer were ear hair, I'd be fucked.

As for other significant hair loss, today we'll only be talking about what I have photographed.

Lost in Lund

We packed the girls in the car yesterday and drove across the bridge to the city of Lund in Sweden so we could hear Jonas' girlfriend Mette sing opera. I have never known an opera singer before and its amazing that Mette, this sweet and quiet woman, can sing so beautifully and powerfully. Emily and Anna were in awe.

After the concert, Mathilde's Dad took a bunch of us to restaurant for dinner. It was a school night and getting late, so Mathilde and I decided our family would eat fast and leave the party early. We had parked far from the restaurant, so when we were done eating, we left the girls with the others and walked to get the car.

We drove back, Mathilde pulled over to the curb in front of the restaurant, and I ran in to get the girls. I said a quick good bye to everybody and headed out the door with Emily, Anna and Mathilde's Dad. When we got outside, Mathilde and the car were no where to be seen. We looked around the nearest corners, but still no Mathilde and no car.

I called her mobile, and after a few rings a very distraught Mathilde answered. It turns out she had decided to find a place nearby to park the car. In the process she had gotten herself lost, had no idea where she was and no idea how to get back.

To make a long story short, 40 minutes and several phone calls later, Mathilde found her way back. The good news is that by that time the restaurant had closed and the rest of the group was there on the sidewalk, so Mathilde got a rousing standing ovation as she pulled back up to the curb. I could tell by the way she was blushing that she really appreciated that :-)

An Historic Waste of a Primary

Samantha Bee totally cracks me up. At one point in this video, she had me doubled up with laughter.

Anna's disco dance recital

For the past many months Anna and her best friend Sara have been taking disco dance lessons. Anna loves it! I watched one of her classes a few months ago and although it was very cute, I would describe it more as flailing and hoping than dancing.

Last week I went again and was super impressed to see how much they have improved. Especially Anna - she knows the whole dance by heart now and while most of the girls would fire of their moves a second or two after the instructors, Anna was right in sync with the them (and often an enthusiastic step or two ahead).

Yesterday was their big dance recital. Its a pretty impressive event, a four hour deal, with over 50 dance groups, in an arena that seats 5,000 people. Friday night, Mathilde took Anna to the dress rehearsal. Her friend Sara couldn't go so Anna was alone. When Mathilde walked into this huge arena with Anna, Anna basically melted in tears. She took one look around and started bawling, "I don't want to do this!" Mathilde talked to her for a while, and Anna sat and watched some of the other groups practice, and then she found her courage and announced, "Okay, I'll do it."

A few minutes later she spotted some kids she knew and then she was off running around having a ball. The first thing she said when she got off the scene after her rehearsal was, "I wanna do that again!" Mathilde told her she could go home and practice more and Anna said, "No its not the same. At home, they're aren't all these people!"

So, by show-time Saturday, Anna was psyched to go again. It was a great show (the arena was nearly full) and Mathilde and I were very proud of little Anna. Below are a few pictures and a video. Unfortunately, we didn't empty our camera so our memory card was full and we missed the end of the dance. In the very end all the girls scream and charge Tarzan in the middle. I think quite a few of them had a crush on Tarzan, because it was a pretty enthusiastic charge :-)

This is Anna at the dress rehearsal (we washed the red bell pepper stains off of her cheek for the real show).



Below are pictures of Anna and Sara before going on stage.





The dance started with Tarzan walking on his hands, I think that's what sealed the crush for most of the girls.



Youtube video below, high quality video for grandparents here.

The impending grey problem

Before I started getting chemo, my biggest hair concern was the number of grey hairs that seemed to be creeping in. For the most part I dealt with this as any real man would, by maintaining a strategy of denial (the girls would often try to undermine my strategy by yanking out a grey hair or two as evidence. Silly girls... as if that proved anything!).

It occurred to me the other day, that of the hair I have left (I estimate I've lost about half my hair) none of it is grey. To me that was just something to be looked at as a hidden benefit of chemo. But then yesterday, Mathilde pointed out the fact that this must mean the grey hair is the fast growing hair (chemo kills the fast growing cells). Which also likely means that when the chemo stops, I am going to see an invasion of fast growing grey hairs taking over my head.

It's time to start seriously honing my denial skills.

Trampoline revisited

After my trampoline fun with the girls a few days ago, I decided to give it another shot the next day. I think I should have quit while I was ahead. For some reason, the second round knocked the hell out of me - I spent the next 2 hours trying to catch my breath. But it was still a ball, and Mathilde came out with the camera this time.



(I was experimenting with iMovie, and I uploaded a higher quality version here)

And here are a few pictures. Mathilde is particularly proud of her timing in the first one - notice everybody is in the air.

Dear Doctor, thanks for the cake

NOTE: This post was written yesterday, but I couldn't upload it due to Internet problems (see post below).
________________________________________

Somedays its hard to find interesting stuff to write about, other days "material" comes pretty easily. Today it was served to me like cake on a plate.

This morning, Mathilde and I drove out to the hospital to have a preliminary meeting about the radiation treatment. Up until now, I have been part of the hematological ward, and the doctor who is treating me is a hematologist. I don't totally understand the organizational structure at the hospital, but our meeting today was with a doctor we have never met before, an oncologist (the radiologist will come into the picture in a few weeks).

So today, for the first time, we met the oncologist. Now, I know it probably isn't ideal to be able to crack jokes about your oncologist, but holy shit this lady was wacky! Mathilde and I left feeling like we had witnessed a one woman surrealistic, improvisational theater and we spent the rest of the day laughing at the memory of it.

The introductory, hand shaking stuff went fine, but then we got settled in our chairs and it was time for her to start communicating. The best way I can describe her communication technique is absolutely, completely, totally random. Usually when the doctors or nurses are going to give you information about a treatment, you get the feeling they have done it at least a few times before. They have a certain routine about their presentation which is comforting (We've noticed the nurses have a bit more routine than the doctors). This particular doctor must have left her routine at home, or maybe she is too young to have developed a routine yet.

She started by looking at me sideways, as if she was sizing up a tree she needed to cut down. After a long pause, she says, "Hmm...where should I start?" Another long pause. More looking sideways. "We'll primarily be giving you radiation in the places where you've had cancer."

I write this down, then it occurs to me to ask, "You say 'primarily in the places where I've had cancer'... where else will you be giving me radiation?"

Calm smile from her. "Oh, no where. Only in the places you've had cancer." Okay...

A few minutes later, after a long thinking break, she says, "Your radiation will start 2 weeks after your last chemo treatment."

Mathilde scratches her head and says, "Uhm...the hematologist said radiation will start around FOUR weeks after."

The doctor looks at Mathilde calmly and smiles, "Yes, that is correct. Three to four weeks." Okay...

The meeting progressed in this surrealistic, random kind of way, where she'd pause for a long time, size me up a bit, and then provide some new detail or possible side effect as if she'd just pulled it out of a hat. Initially, we were doubting her qualifications (you know, inconspicuously scanning the walls looking for the framed medical degree). But after a while we relaxed and realized that she actually knew what she was talking - she just sucked at communicating. We also took comfort in the fact that I am not a patient of a single oncologist. That is, she isn't making decisions alone (more senior doctors will be involved in that), she just happened to be the one that we met for the informational meeting.

Anyway, in a random, haphazard, stare-at-Kevin-sideways kind of way, we found out the following things:

- I won't feel any side-effects until about the fifth time
- my lungs will be hit, which could lead to short term and long term side-effects
- my heart will be hit, which could lead to long term side effects
- my (what's the word for food pipe?) will be hit, which could have short term side-effects (loss of appetite, difficulty eating)
- I could have permanent loss of hair in the places where they radiate. I asked if they could possibly radiate in some kind of attractive pattern on my chest, like maybe a heart form. (I hope she knew I was kidding). The cool thing about loosing my chest hair is that it'll lead to a sympathy shave that Rod can participate in too!
- They'll do some heart tests before starting the radiation
- I'll go to a special scanning and then they'll sit down with radiologists and other fancy people in order to determine exactly where to zap
- the radiation will probably start around May 23 (date not set yet) and continue over the next 19 weekdays.
- the first treatment will take about 2 hours, after that I'll be in and out in 15 minutes

Even though she communicated like someone with a mild form of tourette's syndrome (sans curse words), we actually left feeling like we are much more informed about possible radiation side effects than we were about possible chemo side effects.

But she WAS weird. There must have been at least 5 times where I thought she was done and I started packing up, only to find out she still had more. When I REALLY thought she was done and had my notebook closed and I was standing to leave, she announces that she'd like to examen me. So I let her do that, and it went fine. And again I thought we were done. But boy, was I wrong.

As I was getting ready to leave for the second time, she she blurts out, "I'll be right back," as if she got a bright idea. She hurries out of the room and comes back about 2 minutes later with a smiling, six foot tall, red headed nurse.

The nurse introduces herself, handshakes all around, and that's when I see that in her other hand she has a tube of lubricant - with the top off. This alone makes me nervous, but when the nurse slips quietly behind me (with the tube of lubricant) and the doctor rolls her chair right up to mine, I can't help but half shout, half whimper, "whoa! whoa! what what's going on?"

The wacky doctor then explains that because my (what's the word for food pipe?) may be affected, she would like to have a look down there before hand. (I noticed that she never said she did things because she "was required to" she did it all because she "would like to").

Anyway, as she is explaining this, I see, out of the corner of my eye, that her smiling, fullback of a nurse is lubricating this 2 foot long, dangling, rubber rod. The doctor explains, with a happy smile, that she is going to cram the dangling rod into my nose and down my throat. Turns out the dangling rod is a microscopic camera thing-a-ma-jig. "Okay, that's fine," I say, and I look back at the nurse nervously, "But is that thing clean?"

They laugh, as if their thinking, "ho! ho! ho! this guy so funny." The nurse then shows me how she has put my own personal condom on the rod, so I have "nothing to worry about". Nothing to worry about at all.

I finally accept that this is standard procedure, something they HAVE to do not, and not just something they WANT to do. So I straighten up and decide to be a man about it. I am told to sit up straight and stare at a butterfly picture on the far wall. The doctor slides her chair closer (which was quite a task considering my long spider legs kept getting in the way) and starts feeding the tube into my right nostril. I kept expecting the nurse to put me in some kind of head lock, but she just stood beside me with a calm, gentle hand on my shoulder and coached me along.

It was a pretty uncomfortable little procedure. I can tell you that when somebody sticks a long tube in your nose, your urge is to grimace and close your eyes, but that is the wrong thing to do. Apparently, you should just relax and take it. That's what the nurse kept telling me anyway. She actually said I was doing great, "like I had done it 20 times before" (I think the word is out at the hospital that I am a sucker for compliments).

I didn't think that doctor was going to be able to get the tube past my deviated septum, but I should have known that a little crook in the nose wouldn't stop this lady. She got past the bend, and around the corner and I then I could feel the camera scratching down my throat. The tube also seemed to turn my right tear duct into a faucet, and through the whole procedure I had a waterfall of tears cascading down my right cheek.

The doctor had a good look around down there, had me say "ahh" and "ehh and squeal like a pig, and then she announced that everything was fine. As she pulled the final length of tube out of my nose, the nurse kindly gave me a tissue to dry my face. I dried my face and as I grabbed another tissue for my eye, I said, "See how sad you made!"

The nurse was pretty distraught by this and I had to explain to her that I was only making a joke.

Well, after all of that, the doctor was FINALLY done. She left (presumably to take some other patient for a wacky ride) and the nurse stayed to explain a bit more about the radiation facilities. She gave us a bunch of brochures and then we were done.

It seems the different radiation machines have names. I think I'd like the one named "Odin" or maybe "Thor". There were a few with women's names, but after today, I'll try to stay away from those.

UPDATE: Mathilde just read this and suggested the doctor wasn't THAT bad (she's concerned that my parents are going to read this and get all nervous). Mathilde is probably right. As I said, we left feeling fine about the whole situation (and the nurse was actually very, very nice). Anyway, I didn't make anything up, I just sort of told it all in my own way ;-)

No Internets

Well that was weird. Our internet connection was down, and I just spent a day and a half without being online at all - not even ONCE. That's the first time that has happened in many months, and usually it only happens when we have gone someplace interesting where we aren't thinking about being online.

I don't think I have been at home without the Internet since Al Gore invented it, and I felt strangely isolated from the world. I even found myself watching the television news last night.

It's good to be back!

This made me laugh

Confession

I am getting tired of this. More than anything I'm tired of being tired all the time. I don't even care about the "good days" at this point, I just want to be done with chemo. If I could, I'd take the last chemo right now just to get this shit over with.

There, I said it.

On a positive note, I made a commitment to start flossing regularly and so far I've stuck with it. That makes me happy.

I'm sorry to disappoint

I know a few of you were looking forward to the "Pee Report" today. Unfortunately the only adjective I can appropriately use is "normal"

Not only is that boring, but I have no idea how I am going to break the news to the masseuse. She is going to be so disappointed. She wants so badly to make a difference. Yesterday I found myself saying my neck was a little sore just so she could have the satisfaction of fixing it.

Maybe I'll eat some asparagus...

Oh the irony!

Bouncin' around

This afternoon I was putzing around the yard in the sunshine while the girls were bouncing on the trampoline. Suddenly they called to me, "Come on Daddy! Come bounce with us!" The girls have had the trampoline since December, and I haven't been on it yet - I just haven't felt like bouncing around. Well today, I thought about for a moment and then figured "What the hell."

I'm glad I did. You would have thought it was Christmas again if you had seen the girls when I climbed aboard. They were spinning in circles with glee. And I'll tell you, an adult can bounce 2 kids pretty friggin high if the timing is right. At one point I thought they might land on top of the safety net.

I had a blast though, and the kids did too (I miss playing with those monkeys). They were both nonstop giggles, and at one point Anna shouted, "This is the most fun I have had in my entire life!" Of course, Anna pretty much says that every time she is having fun :-)

Massage day

Several months back, Mathilde was raving about a masseuse who came to her office once a week and gave half hour massages. In January, she had the woman come home here and give me a massage. I'd never had a massage before and I was pretty nervous about the whole thing, but by that time I had been poked and prodded by so many strangers I figured one more wouldn't hurt. And it didn't - the massage was great.

The interesting thing is that the masseuse believes in a lot of what I guess you would call "new age" stuff - a lot of stuff that I am far too much of a skeptic to believe. Anyway, as she gave me massage, she talked about different things she was doing, for example, she she said she was massaging areas that effected the lymph system and were supposed to help my body clean itself out. That one seemed plausible to me, but I didn't think much about it after she left. I just felt super relaxed. And then I woke up the next morning and peed. To put it politely, my pee smelled rancid.

I don't know about all the "new age" stuff, but I know this, she gives a damn good massage. And after 11 rounds of chemo, I am starting to feel pickled, so I decided to call her and ask her to come back and do whatever she did again. She was here for an hour today, and it was excellent. I'll report back on the pee tomorrow.

Chemo bla bla bla

I am really so bored of writing about chemo.

Chemo 11.3

Okay day today. Slept quite a bit. Not much to report really. It seems like it is on day three that I have the little mini black-outs.

Oh yeah, yesterday I got a letter from the hospital. I have a meeting with the oncologist on Thursday to talk about the radiation. It'll be nice to have that scheduled. I should be done with radiation in the end of June. Thats when the girls will be in the States visiting my parents, so as soon as we have the date of the final radiation, then Mathilde and I will book a little weekend getaway somewhere. It's nice to have something concrete to look forward too.

Chemo 11.2

This seems to be another round of chemo where I feel like I am getting off easy. Maybe it's the weather. The sun is shining in a clear blue sky. The kids spent the morning on the trampoline and we just ate lunch on the patio. I think spring is finally here.

Yesterday was my Mom's last day here, and Mathilde and I were both very grateful to have her. The two of us spent a good amount of the day sleeping, me recovering from chemo and Mathilde recovering from her stomach flu. My Mom played with the girls and took care of breakfast, lunch and dinner. I felt bad that her last day was mostly hard labor, but I know she would much rather have had us be sick when she was here to help out.

She is on the plane now, flying back to the States. Although she stuffed a bunch of plastic bags in her carry-on in case she caught the stomach bug, I really believe and hope she escaped here unscathed. But as my Dad said, if the bug hits here while she is on the plane, she'll be someone the other passengers will be telling stories about for years to come. And that's quite a feather to stick in your cap.

As for chemo-boy, I'm doing well. My mouth is starting to get that metal flavor, and I can tell it's time to take another anti-nausea pill. I enjoyed the time in the sun with the girls. I miss my Mom though, its always depressing to say good bye when the distance is so far.

Chemo 11.1

So far so good. I slept on a mattress on the floor in Emily's room last night (see post below) and that was cozy. Emily chatted away for about 45 minutes before I told her it was time to sleep. I won't mention how the Ativan made for a delicious nights sleep, because that might get me in trouble, so I'll just say I slept fine. It did actually take me about an hour and half to fall asleep though.

At the moment, I am on the couch and feeling okay. My face is the color of a tomato. Nausea is at bay. Feeling kind of tired.

Stomach bug bites again

It took Emily about a day and a half to get over her stomach flu. Yesterday, Mathilde couldn't get off work because she was responsible for running a big workshop. So, my Mom took me to chemo and Mathilde's Dad, Anders, worked from home so he could care for Emily. When we returned from the hospital in the afternoon, Emily was back to her old self, so we all crossed our fingers that the bug was behind us.

Mathilde arrived home from work with these two cakes that were left-overs from the workshop (I didn't think to ask why they were serving kermit the frog cakes at a workshop for adults).



She wasn't home long before she mentioned that her stomach felt weird. She also confessed that she left the workshop with three cakes, so I assumed that her queasy stomach was more related to consuming half a pound of green marzipan.

Turns out the kermit cake was pretty innocuous, because by nine in the evening it was clear that Mathilde had a full blown stomach flu. After watching Emily and Mathilde fight this bug, I think I'll just stick to plain old chemo. It does not look like fun. I'm hoping that having all this poison in my body will kill any stomach flu germs. And I think my poor Mom is just crossing everything she has hoping it doesn't hit as she buckles into the plane tomorrow morning.

The good news is Mathilde is feeling much better now, but it was a rough night.

Chemo 11.0

We just got back from the 11th round of chemo. We waited more than usual, due to the strike, but it wasn't that bad. It was strange to see the usually bustling hospital be so deserted.

I had blood tests first and then met with the doctor. My white blood count is low, as usual, but good enough for chemo. The results were in from my lung test a while back. They didn't show any signs bleomycine lung damage, which is great. My lungs still don't feel quite right, but it is a mild irritation and will hopefully go away when I am back on my feet after treatment. I also asked the doctor about the side effects of radiation. He said that it can cause exhaustion and even nausea (due to where I am getting it). I was kind of counting on radiation being side effect free. It may still be, but I guess I shouldn't plan to much on it.

My usual nurse, Lena, had to go to her grandmother's funeral, so another nurse administered my chemo. I missed Lena's soft, kind demeanor, but the other nurse did fine. For the record, because this nurse was new to me, I had to explain to her what drugs I usually get. For example, she only had three anti-nausea pills for me, and I usually get ten. She asked how many Atavin I usually get, and although its usually 10, I was good, and I told here I only needed 5 (she gave me six. hehe)

I have had a bed the last two chemos, but today it was back to the chair across from the Chagall poster that I am starting to associate with nausea. Getting chemo went fine. No nausea at all. I slept for at least an hour of it and other than that I chatted with my mom. Only one more left!

Below is a picture of me in the recliner. The red stuff being pumped into my "iPod cable" is the chemo drug called adriamyicin. It makes you feel pretty sick. Funny, for years my Mom couldn't even say the name without trigger her gag reflex.



Here is the infamous Chagall poster.



That deer-caught-in-the-headlights look my Mom has is because this picture was taken right after she got sight of the red bag of adriamyicin.

Mine goes to eleven

Yep, it's chemo number 11 tomorrow. Friday is a holiday so I get my poison early this week. My mom will go with me this time and hopefully seeing the red bag of chemo won't bring back all sorts of nauseating memories for her.

It'll be interesting to see how the day goes. The nurses in Denmark went on strike a few days ago. Oh no! But luckily for me, my super nurses are staying on duty. I'm sure that that consequences of the strike will reverberate through the entire hospital though, and I could end up having to wait for a lot of the day.

I don't know much about the strike, but I know this - however much they are paying the nurses, the nurses deserve more. As I said in an earlier post, I am so impressed with them and grateful for their dedication. I'm on their side!

The Tivoli repercussions

So, after a day in Tivoli, which included a hot dog, fruit punch, cotton candy, french fries, an ice cream and about 45 wild rides, Emily came home and promptly puked her guts out.

At first we thought it was because of the Tivoli trip, which surprised me, because Emily is VERY hardcore with that kind of thing. However, when Emily kept throwing up into the evening we realized it was a stomach bug. I felt so bad for her, at 10 o'clock, after having puked countless times, the poor girl was hugging the bucket and asking in a desperate voice, "how many times do I have to do this before it goes away?"

Poor Mathilde was up caring for her half the night. And luckily my Mom was here to handle the day shift, because Mr. Chemo-brain completely forgot about a meeting he had today and suddenly had to race out the door.

Emily seemed to just be bouncing back this evening, almost exactly 24 hours after it started.

Tivoli Gardens

Yesterday Tivoli, the amusement park in the center of Copenhagen, had a special event for kids with cancer and their families. Turns out that due to my childish behavior, I qualified for free tickets (just kidding. I was invited because of the work we did on the Kemo-Kasper game I mentioned a while back).

The girls were psyched that they got to skip school in order to go to Tivioli and super psyched that everything was free and there were no lines for any of the rides. Usually Mathilde is the spinaholic who takes the kids on all of the nausea inducing rides, but unfortunately she had to work. Luckily though, my mom and I were able to hijack the girls' 14 year old cousin to chaperone on the rides.

My mom and I had a great day walking around, chatting and finding the sunny spots, and the girls had an absolute ball. I think they rode one roller coaster about 15 times in a row.

Below are some pictures from the day. The first is my Mom enjoying the Tivoli palm trees.



Anna and her friend Sara on the roller coaster.



Emily and her cousin Madeline (the Danish cousin).



Notice my Mom's cotton candy is about half the size of Emily's. You wouldn't guess Emily got hers first. I realized that giving my mom cotton candy is kind of like giving Homer Simpson a doughnut.



This is me trying on the latest hat in my growing collection.

A strange reunion

Yesterday I got a phone call from a woman whom I haven't spoken with since we studied together 7 years ago. She was calling about a work related issue but I ended up telling her that I was in chemotherapy for cancer. She then told me that she had just gotten over her first round of chemo for breast cancer. I started laughing and said, "Well congratulations!" And then we both laughed at the absurdity of our tragic coincidence.

I wish her all the best (and fuck cancer!)

Busted

Today, Mathilde took Anna for her yearly visit to the school nurse. She just called to give me an update. Anna told the nurse that she often had stomachaches. The nurse asked her a few question about this and then asked Anna if she ate a healthy diet. Anna thought for a while and answered, "Yes. But my Gamma is here visiting, and last week she took care of me when I was sick. And she gave me ice cream and coke for lunch!"

Kids crack me up!

Unassisted sleep

I just want to say, for the record, that sleeping with Ativan is a lot more pleasurable than sleeping without. I woke about about ten times last night, once to discover that I had sweat through my shirt. But at least it's nice to know that the night sweats I have now may be more related to anxiety ridden dreams than to anything cancerous.

Obama again

I haven't mentioned anything political on the blog for a while (at least I don't think I have). The reason is that I have become extremely frustrated with the Democratic nomination and I have developed somewhat of an anti-Hillary bias. Every time I feel tempted to post something political, it is always something poking fun at Hillary. I suspect that unless you share my bias, a bunch of Hillary mocking posts would get old fast (the search phrases involving Hillary were NOT mine).

My frustration has also meant that I haven't really been paying a lot of attention to what is going. But this recent, and ridiculous, flap about Obama's bitter voters comment, lead me to the video below. It is Obama speaking at at a recent rally in Pennsylvania. This is what fascinates me about Obama (and it happens every time) - When I started watching the video, I saw it was 9 minutes long. I figured I would watch a minute or two and then move on. But before I new it, I was totally sucked in. After about 5 minutes I had a smile on my face and was saying to myself, "Man! This guy is cool!"

I guess this is the reason why when Obama starts campaigning in a state, his poll numbers start rising.



(For the poking-fun-at-Hillary video, go here)

This one seems pretty interesting

I just read this article in Wired magazine titled, Cancer Therapy Without Side Effects Nearing Trials. Although I am pretty unqualified to give my opinion, of all the new, potential cancer treatments I have read about, I think this one is the most exciting.

Fresh air kid

Spring seems to be testing the waters here in Denmark - hopefully it's getting ready to jump right in. I think I may have spent more time outdoors in the last two days than I have in the last 5 months. It feels super.

Yesterday was warm and sunny. We ate lunch at a cafe by the harbor and then drove to the beach where we had a sea-glass hunting contest. After confidently telling Emily and Anna that there was no question I was going to find the most sea glass, I felt like my honor was on the line. But I am happy to say I wasn't the only one who got obsessive about it (even Mathilde was pushing Emily out of the way for colored pieces of glass). After two hours of combing the beach the five of us had found over 1,300 pieces of sea-glass.

Below are some pictures from the hunt. Notice the posture of Emily in the first picture. That's pretty much how we all walked the length of the beach.









The above picture is me with all of my loot. You'll see I am eyeing Emily nervously as she finishes her count. Mathilde and Anna played as a team and won the contest. I actually did beat Emily, but I don't feel right about it considering how many times I tripped her, stepped on her hand and pushed her down in order to steal a piece of glass.

Today was equally nice so we went for a long walk in the park. I'd upload pictures of that too, but my Mom is babysitting and Mathilde and I are going on a date, so no more blogging. (By the way, Emily hit me in the face with a stick while walking in the park, so I figure we're even for yesterday.)

Gamma's sleepover

My Mom is having a sleepover in the basement with Emily and Anna. They have PJ's and popcorn and games, and from the sounds trickling up the stairs, they are having a great time. But then, a few minutes ago my Mom came up with a sort of terrified look on her face and gasped, "I don't know about this. One of them is pretty gassy!"

I almost feel bad for her - she survived four boys, and now this from her adorable little granddaughters.

They say I'm looking down that junk road

One problem with making jokes about stuff is that not everybody always gets it. For example, last night at dinner I was joking about how fond I was of my relax-ative pills. Some clever person asked why I am taking pills to help me sleep when I feel tired all the time anyway. Apparently, my stuttering answer wasn't sufficient to satisfy my Mom and Mathilde and they spent the rest of the night bugging me about the risks of getting addicted to sleeping pills.

Well, this morning, I decided to settle things once and for all, so I Googled the pill, called Temesta, in order to could show them it wasn't really a sleeping pill...that was a dumb idea. Turns out Temesta is another name for Ativan. I've never heard of Ativan, but my Mom has. She spent all morning explaining to me how Ativan is, "MUCH more addictive than sleeping pills".

Looks like my party is over (next time I'm keeping my mouth shut).

CHEMO CLAUSE: I don't care what they say, I'm still taking them a day or two (or three) after chemo.

The joys of cancer

Pernille and Benjamin invited all of us out to their place for dinner last night, and we had a great time. I haven't had the energy to socialize much these days, so it was great to get out. And Benjamin, who is a steady reader of the blog, picked up on the spicy food tip and made a delicious spicy dish.

All in all it was a very nice night, and I can't decide if my favorite part was seeing Benjamin (Mr. anti-Apple) gushing over his iPod Touch, or if it was when Pernille just about swallowed her foot.

The Pernille story goes like this. Pernille and Benjamin like to throw parties. Kevin and Mathilde do not and never do, something which Pernille and Benjamin have often teased us about.

We were talking about something and I said, "Yeah, and maybe we'll throw a party." To which Pernille laughed and said, "Yeah right! Your first party will be your funeral." And as the words slipped out, she realized she was talking to a guy with cancer. She very quickly stuttered, "...uhm, in 50 years!" And I patted her on the back and thanked her for the "50 years" bit. And then I promised her it was going on the blog :-)

Self affirmative searches

I thought we were probably done with the Google search phrase silliness, but these were too fun not to post:

squatic diversion, brian mclean is awesome
squatic diversion, brian is the best brother
squatic diversion, brian is so funny for sending the hair
squatic diversion, are you getting these kevin???
squatic diversion, this is fun

Easter eggs everywhere!

Some of you really make me laugh :-)

I now know that people can successfully find my blog by searching the following phrases:

singles seeking squatic diversion
bald eyebrow fetish squatic diversion
kevin mclean fucking matt damon?
hillary's sympathy shave
hillary's blow booth confession
hillary's blow booth video
hillary fucking kevin mclean
drugs blow squatic diversion
"squatic diversion" chemo nickels
squatic diversion, brian mclean is rocks (that typo had me laughing my ass off)

and...

good night kevin, squatic diversion

Good night. And thanks for the laughs!

And I don't even want to know how much time was spent trying to find this blog through some of those search phrases. I tried Googling "hillary's sympathy shave" - I looked through 11 pages of results and still didn't find my way here. Somebody was determined!

Like little Easter eggs

In a post yesterday I mentioned how somebody accidentally stumbled across this blog while Googling the phrase "blow booth". Well, after hearing that, Jim H. wrote this in the comment section: "Your post has inspired me to only navigate to your site after googling for something bizarre and/or obscene + "squatic diversion" as the search terms. I hate the thought of you wading through all your google data without anything fun!"

Now checking the site data is like looking for Easter eggs! For example, somebody recently came to the site by searching for "kevin mclean totally naked squatic diversion". I also stumbled across this little gem of a search phrase this morning: "hot squatic diversion videos." Awesome!

Chemo 10.5

Time to close up the chemo posts for this trip. I weaned myself of the anti-nausea drugs yesterday, and that went fine. I was feeling pretty good yesterday, but about 2 o'clock I felt like I should lie down. I ended up taking the nap to end all naps - one of those naps where you feel like somebody shot you with a tranquilizers and then pasted you to the mattress. I kept dreaming there were Polish working men right out the bedroom window, but I couldn't lift my head from the pillow to tell them to go away. Mathilde had to work late last night, so it was great to have my Mom here to get the kids dinner, because after that nap I felt like I was walking in soup for the rest of the evening.

Today, my mouth tastes like nickels. I still don't have all my energy back, but it is manageable. I went to the office today and Luke was there, which was cool. Unfortunately, we had to spend a bunch of time working through boring paper work (and we still aren't done). By the time I got home I was feeling pretty beat, so I took a nap. Mathilde, my Mom and the girls walked down and picked up dinner from Rod's place (thanks Rod!).

Oh yeah, I also get faint if I stand up to fast (so maybe it had nothing to do with all the blowing I was doing yesterday). And incidentally, somebody visited the blog after searching the term "blow booth" - I wonder what they were looking for?

Hillary contesting the NCAA Championship

I just read a very funny post at the blog End of Politics as Usual.

From the blog:
Ms. Clinton stated that Memphis, while losing the game, had actually shown more ability to act like a National Champion on Day One. She argued that Memphis had passed every test during the game, including scoring more points than Kansas for 38 minutes. For 38 minutes they had shown the experience necessary to be National Champion. "Just because some team comes along in the last minute and scores more points than the other guy doesn't mean they're necessarily able to be National Champion on Day One."

Jimmy Kimmel responds

Back in the beginning of this blog, I wrote this post where I linked to a very funny video clip from the Jimmy Kimmel show. In the clip, Sarah Silverman (Jimmy Kimmel's girlfriend) sings a duet with Matt Damon - the song they are singing is, "I'm fucking Matt Damon". It's pretty funny stuff (if you ask me).

I just found out that Jimmy Kimmel had a response (thanks to Scott D. for the tip off).



Once you get over the shock of the Matt Damon and Ben Affleck revelations you may just be hardened enough to deal with Hillary's latest confession (thanks to Brian for send that one).

Mathilde rocks!

Mathilde came home from work yesterday with a bottle of champagne.

Last Friday, there was a party at her office that she couldn't attend because she was taking care of chemo-boy and the girls. It turns out that the leader of her department gave a speech where he thanked two people in particular. He thanked them for their vision and their ability to continually challenged him (in a positive way). He presented a bottle of champagne to each. Mathilde was one of the two he singled out.

This is impressive in it's own right, but even more so considering that besides juggling everything at work, she is often single-handedly keeping this little family on track. But its probably a good thing she wasn't at the party, if I know Mathilde, she would have blushed a hundred shades of red :-)

Chemo 10.4

Nausea kicked in a bit at the end of the day yesterday, and although I started the day with a lot of energy, I ended feeling kind of drained. So far, so good today.

I just got back from my lung test, and that went well. The doctor didn't have all the results, but those he had looked very good, which is a relief. I wish I had taken my camera so I could have grabbed a shot of the "blow booth", which looked like a cross between a phone booth and Woody Allen's "Orgasmatron".

It works like this: You sit down on a stool in a glass booth, wrap your mouth around the plastic snorkel, the doctor puts a clamp on your nose, and you pretty much suck and blow until your vision turns black. You do that a bunch of different times, the doctor and nurse praise you each time, and then you are done. (I felt so cheap)

It's turning into a profit deal

Woohoo! I just won 20 bucks. I bet my Mom that the girl in the "Kassie Kicks Monsters Ass" video is not the same as the terrifying landlady in Will Ferrel's hilarious "The Landlord" video. I can see how she could get them mixed up though, they are both super cute and super funny.

If you haven't seen either, they are good for a pretty healthy giggle (if you think cussin' kids are funny, that is).

Kassie Kicks Monsters Ass

(Thanks to Kelley for sending this one :-)

The Landlord

My Mom is here...

...and except for the fact that she keeps reminding me to blow my nose, it is wonderful.

We just went for a walk, and then she made me lunch. We ate it in the sun on the patio.

Chemo 10.3

I slept late while Mathilde and my Mom handled the girls this morning. Amazing how Emily didn't make a peep while Gamma brushed her hair!

Toes are tingly and I am starting to get that metallic taste in my mouth. No nausea. I spent the morning answering some emails and I finished up a small test thingy for a customer. The sun is shining and it a beautiful day, so I think I'll go for a short walk with my Mom.

And I thought it was cancer!

From the New York Times:
"Other bloggers complain of weight loss or gain, sleep disorders, exhaustion and other maladies..."

It's the blog!

Chemo 10.2

Still doing pretty good, so I don't really have anything exciting to write about. Mostly I just feel tired. Slept well last night. Have had some mild nausea today, but a few extra pills and some food helped that. One thing I don't think I have written about is how chemo seems to impact saliva production. I woke up several times last night, and my mouth was so dry that my tongue felt like the pads on a dogs paw. That usually gets better after about a week.

Internet vs. Internets

Ever since I confessed to having "cheom brain", and admitted that I wasn't so good at catching grammatical errors in my posts, I have had a number of people tell me that the word Internet does not have a plural form and therefore should not be spelled Internets. Well, I beg to differ.

I have it from one of the highest authorities that..uhh...Internets is a perfectly acceptable usage. See below:

I'm finally worthy

As many of you know, my Mom had her own battle with cancer 8 years ago. Thankfully she is doing great now, and she has been a huge support to me these last several months. It was especially nice to get her tips and advice back in the beginning when I was a chemo virgin.

One thing my Mom kept going on about was this great hat that Rod gave her after she lost her hair during treatment. It was her sleeping cap. It was soft, it was the perfect thickness -not too hot and not too cold, and the best thing was that she could pull it down over her eyes when sleeping and just disappear beneath the comforter (disappearing is a nice thing sometimes). I remember her talking about the hat 8 years ago, and I have heard her reminisce about it in the years since. I even think she flirted with the idea of keeping her hair short just so she could continue to sleep with her hat.

When she found out I had cancer, one of the very first things she did was offer me the hat. It didn't occur to me at the time, but this was the equivalent of a kid offering another kid their favorite teddy. When she came to visit in December, she brought the hat. And when she left in January she took the hat back with her. I didn't take it personally, I just knew that I wasn't quite worthy yet- I still had my hair.

Well, my Mom is back again, and since then I have lost my hair. The long and the short of it is - I am now worthy. She brought the hat, and she's leaving it.



Another cool thing about the hat, is that I kinda look like Dopey. Which is good for a smile.

Chemo 10.1

After positing Chemo 10.0 yesterday, I took about a 3 hour nap. I usually like to treat myself with a "relaxing pill" after chemo (I keep wanting to call it a "relaxative"), but I decided to go au naturale. I figured if the pill knocked me out for the nap, then I might not be able to sleep at night, and you can only take one pill a day. As soon as I put my head on the pillow I went out cold though, so it seems the pill is just over kill. Once again, the best way I can describe chemo is that you feel like you have been poisoned. Your body doesn't like it. Among other things, it makes me really tired.

I slept fine last night. I got up at about nine this morning, and right now I am siting on the couch waiting for Mathilde and the girls to get back from picking up my Mom at the airport. Her flight was delayed by about 3 hours, which actually works out pretty good. Mathilde's Dad is also returning from a 4 week business trip in the States, and arrives just about now. So, for the girls its a double bonus - they get to pick up two grandparents in one swoop. They were up early this morning making welcome signs for the both of them.

Other than being tired and feeling poisoned, chemo round 10 is going fine so far. All the usual nasties are in check.

Another example of what I love about those Internets

Wait for the payoff, it comes halfway through.

Gamma is boarding soon

My Mom is about to get on a plane to fly over for a 2 weeks visit. It'll be really nice to have her back to help around the house, play with the girls, and to hang out with (is there something about ending a sentence with a preposition?). She arrives at 7:30 tomorrow morning. The girls have been counting down the days. Emily even planned to organize one of her drawers because she thought that would impress Gamma. Strange, when I was a kid, it never occurred to me that kind of thing would impress her.

Button day

As I mentioned in an earlier post, last fall at UOVO we did some pro bono work for the Danish charity, "Families of Children with Cancer". Besides the Kemo-Kasper game (Chemo-Casper), we also helped with a lot of other promotional stuff. Luke designed some wicked buttons that turned out to be a huge hit with kids.

I spoke with a guy from the charity a few weeks ago, and after I insinuated, again, that the work on their project probably gave me cancer (I think he knew I was teasing ;-)), he asked if there was anything they could do. I said I would love a whole bunch of buttons. I had a meeting with him last week and he delivered.

Today I brought the buttons with me to the hospital, and gave them to the nurses. I think they were super psyched, especially the ones who have kids. I bet a bunch of the kids will wear them to school and say proudly, "This is what my Mom does!" At least I hope they do.

You can see the buttons below at the end of this promotional video that Luke made (the video below is small and pixelated, so you'll just have to imagine the original that is wide screen and crystal clear)

Chemo 10.0

Just got back from my tenth chemo. Feeling a little green, but other than that it was completely uneventful. I napped most of the time. I'm sure I'll have more to say later, but I think now I'm gonna keep on napping.

Before I doze of though, I just want to say a BIG THANK YOU to all of you - thanks for all of the super supportive emails, comments, chats, and thoughts you have sent my way. I really appreciate it - it makes me feel really good :-)

Only two more to go!

Tony vs. Paul

This is pretty cool. Two guys took over 4000 still photos of themselves and spent 2 months stitching them together to make this video (I think I would have been impressed with just 1000 or so). Stuff like this makes me love the Internets.

A good dream

I kissed Anna on the cheek to wake her up this morning. She rolled over, looked at me with groggy eyes, and started talking a mile a minute, "I was having a really good dream. It was summer, and Gamma and Grampy were here, and we'd been to the circus, and we were in Tivoli, and everything was free and you weren't sick anymore".

I said, "That sound like a really good dream." And then I asked what I was like when I wasn't sick. She said, "You had your hair back, but not all of it. And everybody was happy!"

Then Emily came in to say good morning to Anna and Anna asked, "Emily, when you dream about Daddy and he isn't sick, how is he?" Emily thought for a moment and answered, "He's just like himself."

Those girls are so cute.

12

I just got back from my meeting with the doctor. He said the CAT scan looked good. Based on the results, I will get 12 rounds of chemo (woohoo) and then radiation treatment after that. It is what I had hoped for, and expected. The super results would have been no radiation, but that was always very, very unlikely. The bad results would have been 14 or 16 rounds of chemo. So, I am really happy it is what it is! This means I will get my last chemo treatment May 2. Then I'll have 4 weeks off, and sometime in June I'll start radiation treatment, which will last for about a month.

The lymph node masses in my chest are still shrinking, which is good. The one big mass is down to about 6 cm (it was 7 before and 14 in the beginning), another mass that was 3 cm is down to 1.5 cm. 1 cm is normal. I asked why the big one hadn't shrunk more, and he said there is a lot scar tissue there that could take years to go away.

I have also been doing some research about what might be causing my lung irritation. I asked how he knew that it was not "Bleomycin-induced pneumonitis" - I bet doctors hate the Internet sometimes :-) Bleomycin is one of the chemo drugs I get and it can, in some cases, cause pretty serious lung problems. He explained that they look at a number of factors, how the patient feels, how the lungs sound, xray, CAT scan and the lung test I get next week. So far, the only sign of any lung problem is how I feel, everything else looks and sounds normal. So that's good. He also said that for them to decide to stop the Bleomycin treatment, my lungs would essentially have to be so bad that they could hear me wheezing and gasping as soon as I walked in the door. I guess its what you call the lesser of two evils.

All in all it was a very reassuring meeting. And best of all, I can start counting down!

I'm sorry for insulting you

Yes I know. Yesterday's link to a BBC clip about flying penguins was a lame attempt at an April fools joke. I apologize if you felt I insulted your intelligence. I promise to put more effort into it the next time I try to fool you. (I bet bald flying penguins may have had a few takers)

Modern parenting

Mathilde left at 4:30 am to go to a conference in Århus (a Danish city that is several hours away). She'll be back tomorrow evening. Same as last time, she left with a lot guilt and a comprehensive list of things I might need to know. I tried to quell her guilt by saying, "I'll be fine. I only have cancer - and there's probably just a little bit left." That didn't seem to help.

Anyway, it was my responsibility to make sure the kids got up, dressed and out the door. After my alarm went off, I lied there trying to talk myself out from under the covers. Then I was struck with a brilliant idea (some people might call it lazy, I call it brilliant). I rolled over grabbed my mobile phone and sent Emily a text message telling her it was time to get up. I snoozed for another 5 minutes, and when I woke up again, I could hear Emily and Anna chattering away out in the bathroom.

The funny thing is, it seems that Emily follows instructions a lot more enthusiastically when they come through her phone - they got dressed, brushed hair, etc. without a hitch. I'll have to remember that.

For the record, I did get up after the next snooze and make them breakfast.

Flying penguins

This video is just unbelievable - so cool!

Electric Milk

I had my CAT scan today and it was trouble free. The last two times, I have had PET/CAT scans together and it is the PET scan part that takes the most time. For the CAT scan, I was off the rack after 10 - 15 minutes tops. The only downside is that when you have a CAT scan alone, you have to drink the radioactive milk stuff.


Luckily, I also got the injection in the arm which means I got to experience the warm, Bengay sensation in my crotch, sans shoulder pain. Nice. I also lucked out this time because they must have changed the electric milk recipe - this time I only had to drink half a liter as opposed to a whole liter, and it tasted a lot less like paint. So, drinking the milk wasn't the downside - its that you have to do it over a 45 minute period, and I forgot to bring a book. Its kind of lame just sitting there, sipping your milk, watching a bunch of depressed people. Next time I think I'll take my milk over to the maternity ward. People are happier there.