Everything Will Be Alright, Remember When You Thought That?

Hell - Hieronymus Bosch

 Weekend Jam

I fell again this morning--thanks inner ear crystals! In the beautiful series of events that comprise my life, I had terrible abdominal cramps last night that led me to going downstairs and laying across an ottoman just after 9, trying to find relief.  My torso covered the ottoman, my head bent down over its front, my knees bent on the floor at the other end.  Its a fucking freezer down there.  Nevertheless, I fell asleep while reading about CA 19-9, maintaining that awkward position for two hours.  Jenny, came to check on me around 11, as she and Kim were going to bed.  I woke briefly, intending on going back upstairs, yeah--not so much.   At 3:15 a.m., I woke again. 

It was so cold, cold enough I should have checked for hoar frost on my chin.  I didn't.  It was my first mistake.  The second mistake? I tried to stand up.  Silly me.  I fell like Tommy Hearns connecting with a Tyson jab.  My head struck the overstuffed ottoman, so at least that. 

I managed to get upstairs and to the sectional where I nest every night,  each step I took felt like jumping on a trampoline. I am proud that I maintained my balance--it's the little things these days I celebrate.  I see a neurologist on Monday.  

Talking with my therapist yesterday, she thought this vertigo is a perfect physical metaphor for the world in which I am living.  I can't say I disagree with her. I spend so much time worrying about the undertow, I forget that I am swimming in raw sewage.



Jenny is recovering well from chemotherapy and seems better today. She and Kim went to VM together for the second day in a row to get Jenny's saline bolus.  Given that Jenny's sisters are both out of town, one skiing in Vail, the other in Yakima at the new condo she purchased, I am indescribably grateful there was someone able to pinch hit for me.  I am immobile today. The dizziness and tinnitus have combined to make my Saturday just perfect.  
I hate this trendline.



I've been doing a little light reading today about the import or significance of a rising CA 19-9 level.  At first it felt a bit like hunting grumpkins and snarks, but eventually, I came across this:  "The median survival time from the beginning of recurrent rise [of CA 19-9] to death was 220 days (95% CI 177-262 days). Age and gender did not show significant differences or a trend for significant differences regarding survival by univariate analysis."  I gathered all the data culled by the lab since August (and through 3/25) and made a chart so I could understand the numbers more clearly. Seeing things in a chart, for me, is often helpful.  I hate this trendline. It looked great through the fifth measurement, then a bumpy yet relentless march upward.  The move from 939.9 to 2321.5 was huge.  The move from 2349.4 to 3427.8 was also stark and concerning.

St. Peregrine fighting off vampires?















We need a hail Mary here.  I would pray to the shrine of Eric the pinché motherfucker if I thought it would slow this cancer down.  We have an electric candle sent by a friend of St. Peregrine, the patron saint of cancer. Legend has it he acquired the disease in the 1300s from standing around too long-3 days if you believe the story.  If that was a cause of cancer, I worked in a check stand for more than 5 years.  .  . Anyway, he prayed to his God really hard and miraculously the "cancer" went away.  Rather than mock the superstitious bullshit as I am wont to do, and constitutionally (thanks to inheriting my mother's constitution) almost can't help doing so, I want to find the Hail Mary, the laetrile, the sorcerer's stone to fix this scourge. I don't even know where to look.  Also, the way St. Peregrine's holding the cross in the picture, I am pretty sure the sketch artist is a vampire who moonlights.  








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