Freida Machoi

Ramblings, rumblings and rectums.

Phlebitis.  I do not have this disease - I believe it is a disease, it may be more of a condition, a horrible condition of course - I am unsure.  I like the word though, and have used it regularly for some 20 years, it is at once both humorous and something else, I do not know what this something else is, but had to have it as I used the term both...and so you have to include two items.

Soon I will be undergoing two - I should have used both here, rather than above, it would have fit much nicer - fantastically awesome procedures.  The first is some word I can simply not remember - asldfjwpaoisd - that certainly isn't it, but lets pretend.  It is a 3 day procedure, which is awesome in itself, and I am unsure of what exactly will be done - or for that matter the purpose.  I believe it is to ensure I don't have any more carcinoids anywhere in my body (I hope they find one in the pocket of my jeans, much easier to remove) - so I assume it involves an IV or six, some sort of imaging machine and me having a number of panic attacks while enclosed in the coffin like tube of death - a true joy.

The second, one known to many of you out there in - I have too much time on my hands and am reading drivel written by morons on the Internet- land.  The super combo, amazingly stupendous colonoscopy with a side of endoscopy and an exorbitant amount of flatulence for dessert. I simply cannot wait for this wonderful experience.  Feels like I'm going to be eating at the captains table, naked, sitting on Gopher's lap.

I enjoyed my first visit with the Doctor, very nice gentleman, he made it seem natural to - in one utterance - use the terms, rectum, anal, flatulence, stool, discharge and lubricant.  I, not to be out done, but for no apparent reason (in fact I simply rambled these off in order) used the terms, butt knuckle, spleen bag, poo poo, anal butter, and ass buckle.  After that things get a little vague. 

I did, however, receive the instructions via mail just today.  They seem to outline many things I must do, of course I will not read these 'things' and will probably be full of 8 lbs of Taco Bell during the procedure. It does have in enormous bold words some interesting directions I did happen to peruse.

I cannot eat beans, corn, celery, lettuce, tomatoes, raw fruits, sees and/or nuts 3 days prior.  So, beans - I get that one, corn - that seems reasonable would hate to hit someone in the eye with kernel. Lettuce and tomatoes, totally clueless here, doubt anyone would be wanting a salad during this - the lettuce could obstruct the view maybe (like riding in a jungle), and I guess eating a tomato could do horrible things...who knows.

It is nice though, that at the bottom of the first page it does state - "When the scope is removed, you may feel the urge to pass air out of your rectum." - is that not simply beautiful.  I hope someday, to write something that might impact others as much as this simple sentence does me.

5 Miles and 7 hours later...

Did you ever think you would rather lie naked with a morbidly obese gentleman?  Maybe, dousing yourself with gasoline, lighting a torch, and then running up 100 flight of stairs blindfolded?  No? Neither have I, until yesterday. 

Yesterday, I, according to the 'training diary', was to run 5 miles.  Now, we all understand by now that I am walk-jogging (sometimes its walk'ging, others more wal'ogging), and yes, I am sure you are able to run the 7 minute mile on your hands with a boat anchor up your ass...I can't (boat anchor, yes - 7 minute mile no).  I, apparently, am able to complete the miserable 5 mi. trail of misery and torture in an excruciating 1 hour and 15 minutes.  So, not only do I hate every second, but I suck as well. 

One thing, if you happen to be someone that has less than 2 lungs, its all about heart rate baby.  So, my completely unscientific, and more than likely totally incorrect conclusions from yesterday run are as follows:

1. People who enjoy running...may also enjoy being slowly sliced open by homeless 'little people' (notice no derogatory language - no midget or dwarf - very nice) using rusty butter knives.
2. Humidity blows.  It is not a "dry heat" here in the south. It is a wrap me in a wet plastic bag, with no air or wind; an "Oh, global warming...I see - did the sun actually crash into the earth?" The hazy horribleness of summer - only its nearly October.
   
3. The heat (see #2) may cause your body to work harder, even when what you are doing is something a small infant (or very elderly paraplegic) could do for hours.
4. This additional effort, may cause your heart rate to increase.  Even more than it already is.
5. Your heart is working over time, or maybe, it is simply trying to adjust to life without 2 lungs.  This causes it to completely shit its pants on occasion (this in turn may cause you to follow suit).
6. When running (walk-ging) you may suddenly feel you are unable to catch your breath.  STOP JOGGING IMMEDIATELY.  If you do not begin to walk (instead of jog) immediately you will lose your mind.
7. Even if you do stop, it will take at least 30 seconds for you to be able to fully inhale - and believe you are able to actually breathe.  Until that time, you will absolutely want to freak out on the side of the street (or in a pleasant neighborhood) in broad daylight.  This is due to the fact you are positive you will never catch your breath and will pass out, or die, before your next step.
8. You will not pass out - I don't think - but you will have several episodes that make you wish you actually did.
9. When you are finished with your walk/jog your chest will feel like its been hit with a hammer by a very large man, over and over again.
10. You will not feel like you have accomplished anything - as you have just walked 3 or more miles out of the 5.
    

So. Tomorrow is 3 miles.  I think I may eat 4 lbs. of raw bacon and drink a bottle of ipecac right before the run - this way I can truly enjoy myself. 

4 Miles is a long way to carry a colostomy bag.

So.  Today I walk-un'd  4 miles.  It sucked.  It was better than the 3 mile walk-n'd (much more walk then run there), but it was running...so it sucked.

My wife, God bless her, was great - she had to book it after 3 miles in order to actually break a sweat (and to be on time to volunteer @ our son's class).  So, running with 1.3 lungs, a month after a thoracotomy is very similar to placing a piece of saran wrap over your mouth and nose and running - I imagine - as I have never run with a piece of saran wrap over my mouth and nose.  It also provides a very nice feeling of - holy crap I think the right side of my chest is going to fall onto the ground - or - please stop kicking me in the chest with your high heels on you insensitive butt-knuckle.

Apparently we only use 10% of our lung capacity - this has not been validated, in fact I think the woman who said this is full of sh*t, and that she may only use 10% of her lung capacity but that's because she weighs 11 lbs. and only eats 10% of her meals.  If, however, this is true - then I have a serious problem - as I apparently require 100%.  In fact, I may need 110%, that may be why I have always abhorred running. 

What I can say for certain, is that my run goes a lot like this; 

O.k., let's start our very casual, almost geriatric in nature,  jog.  5ft...10ft...25ft (now able to hear my breathing if running next to me)...40ft (now if you are within 100 yards you can here my breathing and may wonder if a dying moose is in the vicinity)...65ft (I am now just about ready to panic, not quite there, but am definitely trying to catch my breath unsuccessfully)...75ft...STOP! I am unable to catch my breath, am certain I am drowning somehow out of water, and am telling myself quietly "...it's all in your head, you have plenty of O2, Missy Y. said so and she's a lady that does something or other with people or not, maybe alone...",  if it lasts too long I may skip like a little girl and let out a small yelp - also like a little girl - in order to stop myself from diving head first into a fully developed panic attack.  I, of course, eventually catch my breath (it takes longer than I would like it to) and the panic fades, until, once again I'm ready to start running (jog) again, and start the process over (and over, and over)

This goes on for...well 4 miles today.  If I were my wife I would have hit me with a hammer.  What an annoying ass.  Its like jogging with grandpa, carrying his colostomy bag and dragging his mobile ventilator behind him while his mechanical larynx voice box is stuck on high making him sound like a dying cow on the national geographic.

But, we both stuck it out.  Next is 5 miles.  I hoping I accidentally break my spine while sleeping...or maybe not, it'd be a great thing to make it to Disney and do more running than walking a marathon.

Running sucks. Let's run a Marathon.

Prior to the slight detour into the geriatric ward, my wife and I had planned on running a marathon.  It may be more appropriate to say, my wife planned on she and I running a marathon.  I was passive in the decision making process - that may be due to my general lethargy, short attention span, and general inability to take anything seriously.

Now, I do run - I run often.  I run to the bathroom, to the couch, occasionally I run from my children, or maybe on those days I feel bold I will run...no wait, that doesn't happen.  Truthfully, I hate to run.  I hated to run when I was 8 - as I flipped my coach the 'bird' for making me run (my parents were - and are - proud); I hated to run in high school, as I yelled "...running sucks the ass of humanity..." while running extra laps after football practice for walking (again) across the line during sprints (which is also running and therefore hated).  

Running for the simple purpose of running, to me, is akin to vomiting for hours at a time - it is horribly uncomfortable, painful at times, causes bizarre pains in regions of your body you simply wished to forget you had, while it may not smell as bad as vomit, nor can running accidentally come out of your nose, it does cause you to lose weight.  I don't know if you can grow inappropriately long hair on your arms from running, but I would not doubt it.  I do know people that are addicted to it (I hate all of them) - and of course many people enjoy running, I also know many people that enjoy vomiting - maybe they should run, and vomit.  I plan on it.

So.  I am 40.  Have never run more than 4 miles (I think I ran 4 miles, probably more like 3 and walked a mile).  I have 1.33 lungs.  My legs are seriously the length of some of my friends fingers - think of someone that is 5' 2" and take a picture of them from the knees up - oh and shove a pillow in the back of their shorts (that would be my ass).  Is it possible for me to run a marathon in a little over 3 months?  I believe I can.

I am doing this for my wife.  She deserves more than I could ever provide.  The thing I was most upset about when I got sick was the fact I might not be able to run this marathon that my wife and I had started training for...after every run she told me how great it was (insanity) and how much it meant to her.  So, for her I simply cannot give it up.  I'll do the best I can, which in my case we all need to keep our expectations fairly low.  If anyone happens to read any of this, and has any pointers, I'm all ears.  If you want to maybe have surgery to shorten your legs, gain some weight and become a horribly pessimistic narcissist as well - you could take my place (no one would know).

Today we began, or rather, restarted our training.  3 miles.  I walked much of it.  Breathing is still difficult, a lot like having asthma - I imagine, as I don't have asthma - it was great being passed by the group of Alzheimer patients with walkers, a real ego boost.  But I'm not giving up, maybe tomorrow I'll push those bastards down and run pass them laughing - right before I bend over trying to catch my breath in the throws of a panic attack.

I am an Executive. Now What?

Now these are just a couple of things I have learned, they do not apply to the guy who is trying to cure a horrible disease, or feeds all the hungry, or gave his arm to the coffee bean picker who lost his limb in a coffee grinding accident. This is for the rest of us.  The one's that work at a company, the company that has 12 meetings to discuss the meeting, and if in the meeting and the important people in the meeting are there you have to also speak at the meeting and of course always attend the meetings with the important people even if the meeting is about squeezing the anal glands of the neighbors giraffe.  If you are an executive, or are on your way, or think your on your way...remember

1. What you are doing is unimportant.  No one cares if your product/service/craft/assbuckle has one more facing in the H&B isle; or increases market share by nearly a point; or brings out the emotion at the right time of the 30 second spot airing on the new "it" show.  In fact no one cares about the new 'it' show.
2. The others in the meeting with you, if they did not know you, and saw you at the grocery store (or the whatever it is you go to) would think you are a tool.
3. You are a tool.
4. Most of the people in the meeting with you, care what you think about them.  In fact, if they make a mistake, or you somehow don't look at them, or say their name, or make them feel somehow accepted - will have a small panic attack inside their head.  Talk too much to their colleagues and rush home and yell at their kids, tell their spouse what an amazing mound of fart-dust they are and potentially sleep less than 5 minutes.
5. It is a job.  If it defines you...what are those people that live in the same house as you there for?
6. It would be nice when one of your folks is giving a presentation - if you didn't wonder aloud if the table your sitting at is made of oak, or maple. 
7. What happens when you realize you have reached the highest rung you'll ever reach and you've got 20 more years to work? 
8. Please stop doing outlandish, absurd things in meetings because you are so important that the rules simply do not apply to you.  Douche.

Things to Remember when Visiting the Oncologist

On August 28^th I was lucky enough to have a thorocotomy and let me tell you it was awesome.  Now, two weeks later I feel like a million bucks.  I am now proud to be overweight, old, out of shape (see overweight), decrepit...soon I will babble without purpose, crap my pants, and drool while sitting at the table.

A little insight into how one may feel - one who is horribly lazy and has the pain threshold of a small child - after a thorocotomy.  The day I was released from the hospital my son had a football scrimmage at a field less than a mile from our house.  I - because I am super intelligent - thought it would be a great idea to surprise everyone and walk up to the scrimmage.  In addition, I thought it even better, if I walked our two dogs to the field to surprise everyone at my son's football scrimmage.

SURPRISE!! Your husband/father is a moron, please dial 911 and if there are any EMT's around or I could steal the oxygen from the 87 year old paraplegic war veteran I'd be much obliged.  Needless to say, don't do this if you have had a thorocotomy - you may be mistaken for Betty Davis at here last appearance at the Oscars.

A week later, I decided it was time to clean up my office (I was in the middle of this pre-op or maybe I am simply always in the middle of this exercise) - after an hour I began to think how awesome a 4 hour nap would be.  I think I blacked out then...

Knowledge.  If you want to understand why the elderly (or simply older than you may be) appear to have narcolepsy as they drift into deep sleeps if left sitting - or in some cases standing - for a period greater than your average 9 year old's attention span. Have a thorocotomy.  You will immediately want to hang out with anyone older than 65, and join a local NA group. 

Yesterday I was able to have a follow-up with my oncologist - that is a great term there "my oncologist" - it sucked.  He did say my case was brought in front of the oncology board or whatever due to its rarity...boy that is just super duper.  Some things to remember when you visit the oncologist.

1. It is not a weight-loss clinic. 
2. Do not tell the people with walkers to hurry their ass up.  Poor form.
3. Try not to bring young children.  They aren't clear on the "don't tell people they smell funny", or ask the women "why she just threw-up into their purse", etiquette.
4. Those IV's aren't filled with anything you want. So don't ask for one...ever.
5. Jokes don't go over very well in the waiting room. 
6. People that work in the front office might be horribly inept.  Remember, they aren't paid much, and while it may be scary to have to tell them 6 times you don't have to be schedule for another surgery, and it was your lung not brain that had the problem - getting upset over something so small is just that - small.
7. People learn really bad news while visiting this office.  Would love to have something crass to say here, I don't.  
8. Visitors in this office are often scared sh*tless.  Allow them to ramble aimlessly about the food they have in their refrigerator - it helps them forget why they are there, or at least allows them to pretend they forget.

I now have 4 more appointments lined up. One with the radiologist, another to get a an octreoscan, then a fantastic extra super colonoscopy & endoscopy combo (I simply can't wait for that - stay tuned for great video) and finally the follow-up after all of that with the oncologist. 

Maybe I'll keep posting. It is a bit cathartic, I guess.  Maybe not.  Regardless.  Visit an oncologist sometime - hopefully not out of necessity - you'll learn a lot about life, and the strength of some folks (maybe even your own).

You Have Cancer. Psyche. Its only a carcinoid - and we're going to remove your lung.

In an effort to dispel rumors and to avoid having to actually speak to people - something I abhor and a great neurosis if your looking to pick one up - I thought I'd summarize my recent bout with cancer.¹

Beginning sometime in early August, as I lay in a fetal position on the floor, I became aware of a problem I was having physiologically. To successfully urinate I had to strain to such an extent that

1. I was breaking blood vessels in my forehead
2. I was making horrible grunting noises in the bathroom - scaring the children upstairs
3. I would almost always be lucky enough to crap my pants (this came to be called P-u-SH-ing)
4. Oh, and I was lying in a fetal position in agonizing pain

I, of course, ignored all of these symptoms.

Thankfully (or so I thought) a week later, while PuSHing, a small projectile lept from my penis into the shiny yellow bowl and all was forgotten. This was short-lived, for just a few days later tad-aah! I was physically unable to pee.

It was time for action, and while I ignored it, my wife (thank God) refused - immediately making an appointment with a the Doctor (we apparently have a doctor, very good, we'll call him DOC 'A').

Off to see the doc 'A'. Blood work. Check the doc's ring size. Pee in cup. Referred to urologist (Doc 'B'), and a CAT scan of my abdomen to be thorough. Go see urologist. Check his ring size. Big sale on rings.

Get CAT scan (have mild bout of claustrophobia while in the CAT scan machine). Go home. Return home. Immediately go to the bathroom and have no problem urinating.

Get a call from the doc 'A'. [very serious tone] "The radiologist saw something in your lung and we thought it best for you to go back and have another CAT Scan, this time of your chest". Me [oblivious to any potential problem] "O.K. cool...."

Have a second CAT scan. Have a more serious bout of claustrophobia. Scare the technician.

Doc 'A' calls, schedules something with lung Doctor (Doc 'C'). I require a bronchoscopy a biopsy, and a PET scan. Doc 'A' even more serious sounding. I remain completely aloof and ignorantly care-free (my wife, much smarter, not as care-free)

See doc 'C' (lung) Schedule bronchoscopy. Prior to falling asleep make rude comment having something to do with breath and ass. Have bronchoscopy. Go to have PET scan. Argue with secretary. Asked to leave hospital. Reschedule PET scan. Rude to secretary. Have PET scan.

To elaborate a bit on the bronchoscopy, they don't hurt, you are fast asleep. What does hurt is the enormous Qtip they shove up your nose to - they say - numb something; but what feels a lot like a frontal lobotomy done via the nostril with shards of glass and a rusty ball of nails.

Post "bronch", drooling all over myself in some hallway or the parking lot. Doc 'C' speaks to wife. Doc 'C' states with near certainty "Your husband has a malignant tumor in his right lung..." Doc 'C' leaves, the tests will be back in 2 days - super.

2 - (agonizing for my wife) for me only when she is successful in her endeavor to scare the crap out of me - days.

Visit doc 'C' to get results. A carcinoid is born. No malignancy but they have to take a lung.

Heather is overjoyed. I am also pleased - not so keen on the losing the lung part though.

Referred to surgeon. See surgeon. Schedule surgery. Have surgery.

Here are some statements I remember. "Most painful surgery"; "...will be in very much pain"; "wouldn't wish this pain on anyone..."; "what an idiot.."

Post surgery. ICU. 4 IV lines, foley catheter, chest tube. Super fun. Remain in hospital 4 days. Slept in chair. Watched TV. Kicked out of the cafeteria while walking with bag of urine and chest tube drainage on a poll. Baffled at reason for physical removal from cafeteria. (this is already too long or I would elaborate). If you know me, then just know its par for the course.

During surgery they removed the lower and middle lobe of my right lung. I'd show you a picture, but I don't have one. I now have 1.33 lungs. You only need 1 though, so its all good. Been out of the hospital for 5 days and all is well. So, I'm back home and will begin my work on faith soon.

If you want any more info on carcinoids, look it up. Or, take 10 pieces of bubble-gum. Chew them well. Take the wad out of your mouth. Now enhale it. You now have a carcinoid in your lung (or have choked to death)

Finally, I feel very blessed to have found Heather, my wife, and while I am as baffled as the rest of you as to why she ever married me, I thank God everyday - she is truly awesome - without her I would be much less of a person. My kids - as with all parents, are my world. My goal here was to provide a brief summary of my ordeal. You may continue to procrastinate, and put off all the those things you have, to date. Feel free to never tell the folks you care about how you feel, in fact be rude to them.

I have one wife, four kids and a dwarf's hand full of friends. This hiccup in my health hasn't changed that. Hopefully it changes how I treat them.

¹ Note: this is a re-post as I've been bored lately