The Unknown Known
We’re back with season 3 of Mattie D vs. The Evil C. Treatment is starting again. Just as soon as we figure out what that treatment will be, how we attack this time, and where it will take place. We’ll fix that in post. And in a second post. The point is, this is the season premiere. #MDvsEC
But first, How I Spent My Summer Vacation. As hoped, I crammed in a lot of travel. Visited Cleveland, enjoyed the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, although clearly not at the same level of consciousness as some of other visitors. Saw an Indians game at Progressive-but-the-locals-still-call-it-The-Jake-Field, the comfort of the weather and the people I met lingering more than the actual game (they lost). Visited the A Christmas Story house, ate no soap and kept my tongue safe.
Returned to Western New York, one of my calm happy places in the world. Saw old friends, enjoyed more (sometimes) cool air, and watched a symphony play near the edge of one of America’s largest canyons. By near, I mean 500 feet or so away. This wasn’t some crazy Red Bull stunt.
Spent my birthday in Nashville, more friends, Ben Folds and Cake on stage.
Participated in a wild Filmland weekend with my Arkansas Cinema Society crew, where I am the token male on staff and was reminded of this often by smiling attendees. Met some amazing people, left with a few memories that would need far more words than I got in me today to properly iterate their awesomeness.
Went home to Seattle (and got in a little Portland) for a week. Still more good friends, amazing weather, a Mariners game (they lost), two Dave Matthews Band shows and one evening with Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls.
Finally, Chicago. Hamilton, a Cubs game (they won, I was getting paranoid), reunions with dear friends from my TV days and even one of my best friends from high school.
Let’s return to the Seattle trip as we transition to the medical side. About halfway through, I had a stomach demon. After a restless night of pain, nausea, and the other illness accoutrements, there was enough occasional light-headedness to recognize I was truly running on fumes and it was time to find a hospital. While I was staying at my boyhood home, my parents were traveling, on a mission to build orphanages for abandoned pandas in central China (Actually, they were vacationing in Kauai, but I don’t want them to feel any residual guilt).
I gathered myself the best I could and steered my rental car toward the hospital. I had been to this ER once before, when I was in 10th grade. My parents decided I was mature enough to handle a real knife and I rewarded their faith by cutting open my finger three nights later, requiring seven stitches. This was the “Just Say No” era, but I learned that night that nothing will scare you away from drugs like hearing someone having their stomach pumped to prevent an overdose while fighting against it. This happened ten feet from me, separated by a curtain with the thickness of a dryer sheet.
When I checked into the ER this time, the record from the night of the knife popped up instantly. After 29 years. The system never forgets. Happily, I got a room.
Four hours of tests and IV fluids later, it doesn’t look like anything serious outside of the cancer thing. However, they want to run one more test on some cancer fluid to rule out an infection there. This meant… paracentesis! I usually get excited about these things, but in this case, they didn’t get much fluid and poked me somewhere, because I found new and weird ways to bleed for a few days.
After accumulating very little new fluid over a year, the tumors flooded me with new fluid in the 11 days between that procedure and my CT scan in Little Rock. They refilled the amount previously removed and just kept going. There’s now a new fluid pocket under my right lung and a significant buildup in my abdomen.
The tumors have awakened. There doesn’t appear to be significant growth yet, but my doc is conferring with radiologists to make sure. Along with being painful, tumor fluid can also act as a smokescreen to hide small tumors from scans. Just the worst. Regardless, the break is over. Whether it’s back to chemo, the ever-elusive clinical trial, or another shot at radiation, treatment will start in the next few weeks. When I know, I’ll update again.
Musically, I know I did Seattle videos last time, but we’re going back once more because of this great single by Death Cab for Cutie about searching for a past you’ll never find.
Then, if you need some firing up, Hozier has returned from the woods, found Mavis Staples, and recorded this fist-pumper. Back soon with more news.
