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The Stank Of Scanxiety

With the usual stank of scanxiety in the air, I underwent my tri-monthly brain MRI scan yesterday.

The resulting reconnaissance images of the bloodied battlefield showed that one of the EOAM‘s Orc armies seems to have grown after a long, four-year (!!!!) hiatus.

The good news is that there were no new tumors detected on the battlefield; and the other three Orc cancer fortresses have remained quasi-quiescent in their respective puddles of edema due to the monthly, $25k, immunotherapy whuppin’s they’ve been gettin’.

Because of this new, but not-so-surprising development, a CT/PET scan of my brain is currently being scheduled in order for my generalissimo neurosurgeon to get a high resolution look at what those fugly Orcs are doing. My trusted Cyberknife friend will probably have to be deployed yet again to burn those feckers back into their hellholes. If not, it’s either brain surgery or hospice….. just kidding. I have no idea what will happen next until it happens. lol, let’s rock!

Categories: Cancer Tags:

A New Weapon

April 23, 2022 Leave a comment

I added a new doctor to my weapons cache in the ongoing death-match with the Emperor Of All Maladies. After getting a referral from my oncologist, I went to a neurologist for a consultation regarding the havoc my rebellious right leg is wreaking upon me due to the onslaught of the Emperor’s Orc army. I was curious to see if my newest Sun Tzu recruit could help blunt the progressive nerve deterioration I’ve been sensing along my entire leg (and feet).

As I arrived for my appointment, I quickly discovered that the beloved Bitcoin Vandal had preceded me. I find it Interesting how the BV has the same neurologist as BD00.

I’m very fond of my brilliant oncologist and neurosurgeon dynamic duo because they have taken good care of me for the past six (!!!!!) years, scanning and monitoring the locations, movements, and strength of the Emperor’s orc armies. It’s understandable that the spastic/twitching/quivering nerves and tight/fatigued/crampy muscles that have been plaguing me extra hard for the past few months are outside their areas of expertise. While not suffering in outright pain, it’s a continuous feeling of discomfort stuck somewhere in purgatory outside of the realm of the famously debated 1 -10 pain scale. Mentally, the agitating cacophony of physical sensations is constantly hijacking my awareness away from the sacred “now” and projecting it into a fabricated thought-storm of frightening “wheelchair” scenarios.

I actually didn’t meet with the neurologist during the visit. I was examined by his delightful LPA, Rose. We conversed for 45 minutes while she worked me over with all kinds of nerve-diagnostic gizmos that Q would be envious of. She was pushing, pulling, tapping, and poking all over the battlefield that is my right leg (and feet). Then, out of nowhere, in a Larry David moment, she stated that my calves were much bigger than my ankles. She paused and looked up at me as if I was supposed to know why. I frowned, shrugged, laughed, and asked her what the right proportion should be. She laughed, then I asked her if she was flirting with me, and then we both laughed at the absurdity of such a statement.

As Rose continued to examine my neurological state, she noticed the twitching frenzy going on just under my skin, and up and down my entire leg. I told her it feels tight, fatigued, crampy, and vibrating all at the same time (from Orc-hijacked nerves randomly misfiring and zapping the schitt out of my muscles?). She also noticed some twitches up and down my right arm. That was surprising to me because the arm feels fine and I’ve never had issues with it other than the occasional, chemo-induced, fingertip-numbness flareup. Oh, and also when I kept annoyingly dropping a notebook I was holding when I had a small stroke in 2019.

During our convo, we talked about the meds I’ve been taking to alleviate the symptoms from my nerve distress (gabapentin, alpha lipoic acid, B12, “ganja”). I also mentioned that I take klonopin occasionally for anxiety/sleep and I thought I noticed a positive correlation between the much-abused controlled substance and symptom alleviation. I wasn’t sure of the correlation because I don’t take it often and I couldn’t remember if I did so during bad flareups. Rose perked up and immediately said there absolutely was a positive correlation because klonopin serves as a muscle relaxant in addition to providing anti-seizure and anti-anxiety therapeutic effects. She then advised me to start taking a low dose daily.

I was both happy and sad when I heard Rose’s recommendation. I was happy because it’s just a dosage bump and not another new med to add to my drug cabinet. I was sad for two reasons:

1) I, the omniscient know-it-all, should’ve deduced that the klonopin-relief linkage made sense and thought of trying it daily months ago, Duh! Maybe I didn’t make the connection because of the threat of benzo-addiction loitering in the back of my mind, which is funny since I’m a stage 4 cancer patient and I shouldn’t give a schitt about addiction at this point. πŸ˜‚πŸ€£

2) I thought my neurosurgeon’s nurse (whom I also appreciate very much) should have suggested the bump in klonopin dosage to me years ago – since I’ve been whining about progressive neurologic problems at every MRI follow up since the beginning of time.

In addition to the suggested change in klonopin dosage, Rose ordered a 2 hour, full body MRI (in late May) to see if there’s a separate structural issue with my neck that may be causing or contributing to my chronic discomfort. I’ve never had the slightest neck problem before, but since she saw the same twitchy symptoms in my arm as the leg, she wants to cover that base.

So, that’s the latest update from the battlefront in my existential war with the fucker that is… the Emperor Of All Maladies.

Categories: Cancer

A Six Year Journey

February 1, 2022 2 comments

As my astonishingly stunning, six-year, cancer-versary approaches, I decided to whip up a simple timeline of what has happened over those joyously wonderful, but radically different, years.

To underemphasize the long gone past and emphasize recent events, there’s a huge, non-linear compression of time on the boring left side of the X-axis. The segment in the timeline after the “I’m Very Scared” admission to the “Now” declaration has taken place over the last 4 -6 weeks.

My previous post described in detail what made me start feeling very (feckin’) scared. It was the Emperor’s formidable power to insidiously inject ominous thoughts into my consciousness whenever he wants. I often fancied I was on final descent and destined for a world of pain in the near future. The steroids then kicked in and a quantum leap in my mental/physical health magically occurred. Hallelujer!

The cherry on top of my Lazarus-like experience was the MRI scan follow up with my neurosurgeon, which happened today. Good News: There are no new growths and no progression of existing tumors. Bad news: Those pesky, relentless, chronic, hemorrhaging, lesions are still working their asses off for the Emperor Of All Maladies.

Categories: Cancer

The Last Mile?

January 26, 2022 1 comment

Something doesn’t feel right. A familiar group of brain-tumor-sourced symptoms have joined hands, synchronized with one another, and ganged up on me yet again as expected when you have a terminal cancer diagnosis. My DHS (Daily Health Score) has been a big “goose egg” for 4 days in a row and I haven’t taken a shower in the last 3 of those low motion days. Whenever I get up and start walking, my entire right leg tightens, gets fatigued, crampy, numb, and vibrationally “hot”. In addition to the leg symptoms, my ears are “popping” often, I’m “woozy” all the time, and the ringing in my head has stepped up its volume. Yes, it feels like all those things are happening at the same time.

Because of the well-known cancer woes I just whined about above, I sent this S.O.S. message to my neurosurgeon’s office:

I will update this post when I hear back from the doctor’s office. In the meantime, I have my 46th Opdivo immunotherapy infusion today at 2. My goal for today is to take a shower today before going to the infusion. Quite a lofty goal, no?

UPDATE Jan 27, 2022: I started the steroid regimen and my MRI has been moved up a week. πŸ‘

Categories: Cancer

The Dreaded SDFFR Acronym

January 11, 2022 1 comment

After being out of sorts for a bit, I’m back bloggin’ again cuz ya never know when the fit is gonna hit the shan. So, here’s a simple state machine model of BD00’s daily goal seeking behavior. The goal is to sequentially enter/exit each health-advancing state without experiencing an SDFFR event that triggers an early exit with a suboptimal daily physical health score (less than 3).

Here’s a scary graph of my dhs over the last several days.

Coming off of 3 straight 0 dhs scores due to SDFFR events precipitated by the Emperor, I was feeling really stressed about logging yet another goose egg day. But, as you can tell from the trace below, I thwarted the Emperor’s latest plan with a perfect Korbut 3. Today was a good day, a really good day.

Before exiting, I want to share some more recent Bitcoin Vandal crime scenes with you. The Emperor hates the Bitcoin Vandal too. He’s deployed his Orcs out in the field to hunt down the scoundrel.

Categories: bitcoin, Cancer Tags:

My Cousin, Father, Two Cats, And Now, Morrie

December 22, 2021 8 comments

I was diagnosed with terminal stage 4 cancer in 2016. Since then, I’ve lost a cousin the same age as me, my father, two cats, and now, just this morning, our beloved son, Morrie. Morrie was diagnosed in February with tumors in his lungs and prostate put there by the fucking Emperor Of All Maladies. Until about a week ago, his health was gradually declining. The Emperor then abruptly decided to speed up the process and take him away from us. That FUCKING FUCKER!

Here is the last picture I took of our sweet, sweet, labradoodle, Morrie.

We were at the vet’s this morning waiting for the doctor to come in and start the gut-wrenching farewell process when our dear Morrie gently put his paw on Mary’s forearm. Upon seeing this, a deeply disturbing shiver ran up my spine and I popped up to take the last picture of the greatest joy in our lives. Then, I spontaneously lost it and started crying my eyes out at the impending reality of losing the loving companionship from such a beautiful creature.

I’m humbled and forever grateful to have been gifted our beautiful boy. RIP, dear, dear, dear, dear, Morrie.

Categories: Cancer

Delicious Organ Meats

December 21, 2021 Leave a comment

The results of BD00’s latest chest, abdomen, and Pelvis CT scans are in. In keeping with the Randy Pausch doctrine of tracking and openly writing about his war with the Emperor Of All Maladies, here is the latest status of BD00’s delicious organ meats.

Compared to the “heterogeneously enhancing, hemorrhaging lesions” indicated on his most recent brain MRI, BD00 would say that his organ meats below the neck look like delectably delicious additions to a Christmas meal Dahmer and Hannibal Lecter would duel to the death over!

Categories: Cancer Tags: ,

Global Wooziness

November 23, 2021 6 comments

I had my tri-monthly brain MRI scan last week. I scored 2 “goods” to the Emperor’s 1 “bad“.

The words “chronic hemorrhage” sound disturbingly like my death is imminent, courtesy of the sword of Damocles. The saving grace is that it’s not the first time those morbid words have appeared in one of my MRI reports. The initial shock and fear have worn off. Instead of shitting my pants, I now just say “meh” whenever I see those dastardly zingers, which is always, because they seem to appear in every MRI report. According to those reports the hemorrhaging never stops. But it must stop sometime, no? Wouldn’t my brain suffocate in a pool of blood? I guess not, because I’m still here.

At least the hemorrhaging is only chronic, not acute, and it’s only localized to each radioactive tumor site. It’s not a diffuse, “intracranial” hemorrhage, which I think would render me tits up in no time flat. It seems like there’s a never-ending, bloody war of attrition being waged at each of the tumor battle sites between cancer cells, radioactive cells, Opdivo, and healthy cells. The hemorrhaging blood is a byproduct of this nasty, multi-party, conflict taking place inside of my thick skull.

Since how I physically feel changes frequently (sometimes even intra-daily), the ebbing and flowing “war of attrition” metaphor could be the reason for the large swings. Right now, at the moment of writing this post, I’m feeling an elevated sense of “global wooziness“. It’s not like dizzy, it’s not lightheadedness, it’s somewhere in between. It’s not like drunk, it’s not like stoned, it’s somewhere in between. When I turn my head fast, it feels like there’s a time delay between the physical head turn and when my attention catches up to where my head gets finally positioned. They’re out of synch, lol.

Along with the global wooziness infiltrating my consciousness, there’s an increased level of ringing in my ears; and my feet and calves are so numb that I can feel them vibrating through my socks. The good thing is that the vibrations are masking the peripheral nerve pain in my feet that coexists with the numbness.

All or some of these side effects from the war of attrition going on in my head can subside or escalate at any time. Sustained physical activity that increases my heart rate, like walking or vigorous stretching, magnifies the symptoms at least temporarily. It is what it is and I’m dealing with it delightfully.

Happy thanksgiving. Gobble gobble!

Categories: Cancer

Instantaneously And Involuntarily

November 11, 2021 3 comments

Because of the nasty, mean, culture of the web (of which I fully admit to being a conscious contributor to), I think it’s stupid to do what I’m about to do. I’m going to expose my worst fear at the moment to the entire world. The one saving grace is that only about 2 people waste their time reading this gawd forsaken blawg.

For five years after being diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, I’ve totally stunned myself at how well I’ve been mentally handling the thought of the “Sword of Damocles” lurking above my head the entire time. I’ve been hugely successful at keeping that morbid thought at bay despite the Emperor’s relentless, 24 X 7, attempts to reinsert it into my thought stream. That fucker!

So, I’ll start off with my second worst fear:

It’s when either my oncologist (after one of my tri-monthly chest/abs/pelvis CT scans) or neurosurgeon (after one of my tri-monthly brain MRI scans) utters the word “progression“.

That would mean the Opdivo immunotherapy regimen that has successfully kept the Emperor Of All Maladies at bay all this time is starting to fail. Thus, another treatment, which will be my fourth line of attack against the beast, must be chosen.

And now, for my worst fear…. Drum roll please:

My worst fear is that after hearing the dreaded “P” word, I cede total victory to the Emperor. I instantaneously and involuntarily disengage from life, giving up all hope of moving forward and receding into a stationary shell of my former psychological self. No more infectious enthusiasm, no more attempts at witty jokes, no more provocative stances, no more maniacal Bitcoin advocacy, no more weed-ingesting party animal.

So that’s it, that’s the post. Have a nice day.

Categories: Cancer Tags: , ,

A Cancerous Bitcoin Wardrobe

September 30, 2021 Leave a comment

Checkout my new FUCK cancer wardrobe additions below. I might be buying a FUCK cancer hat in the necessarily near future, but not a FUCK cancer pillow or blanket.

My current, overarching goal is to replace all my existing 30 year old, vintage, clothes with bitcoin and FUCK cancer garb before the Emperor escorts me downstairs to my final destination.

Categories: bitcoin, Cancer
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