Two-Thirds Complete with Rough Chemo and the 3am lap of 24/9

Recovering from the fourth round of chemo and that nasty infection has left me utterly exhausted this week. A normal day for the last nine has looked something like this: get up and eat, lay down, take a shower, take a nap, go to the clinic for an antibiotic infusion/labs, come home to sleep, walk a few blocks with Katie (going further every day, at least), watch a little TV, then go to bed.

I couldn't remember ever being so tired and worn out in my life -- then I remembered 24/9...

For those of you who do not know, 24/9 is an abbreviation for "24 hours at Nine Mile," a 24 hour mountain bike relay race held annually in Wausau, Wisconsin.

Every year, I'd gather a group of 3-4 friends, and we'd excitedly prepare our bikes, pack our tents, and ready our camp stoves for the event. The race almost always takes place the last weekend in July. It begins at 10am on Saturday morning, ending at 10am Sunday morning. It's not so much a race for time as it is one for distance. At 10am on Sunday morning, the team with the most laps wins.

The trail was always 13-14 miles with a few great sections of gnarly singletrack, so it would take between an hour and an hour and a half to complete a lap. This meant that, on a four person team, we'd have about 3-4 hours to eat, clean ourselves, fix our bikes, and get some rest before heading out on another lap.

I'd always be anxious to get out on the first lap, the adreneline would be going, and I'd be ready -- the first lap was always the fastest.

The second lap always took place in the afternoon/early evening, and would feel business-like. Not all that much fun, but not too bad.

The first night lap was always my favorite. Riding through the trees in the pitch dark with only a headlight was such a rush that I would just fly. My legs would burn and my body ached, but I didn't care, night riding was just too much fun.

After the midnight lap, I'd be fried. I'd usually ride into camp and pass out in my tent, bike shoes still on, muddied by the trail and a few crashes, and go straight for the zzz's.

It always felt like no time at all had passed before someone would stick their head in the tent to let me know that it was time for my lap again. I'd crankily get out of the tent queezy, muscles and head aching, and despising the thought of heading out on another dark lap.

This was the 3am lap. Every year I headed out into the woods on bike, fueled by Jimmy Dean Heat 'n Serve sausage, Ramen Noodles, Cytomax, and cheap beer, and every year at 3am I'd swear I would never ride 24/9 again.

It was miserable. My lights always seemed to get knocked around or broken, and even when I'd see obstacles, my body was too tired to do much about it and my brain too slow to respond. I'd bounce off of trees, crash over rocks, and cuss myself out the whole way for agreeing to -- and even organizing -- another year of this hell.

Now in fairness we could have made it easier on ourselves. We could have skipped the beer. We could have brought along a support crew of a chef and mechanics instead of attractive girls who busied themselves with tanning -- but this just wouldn't have been quite as much fun -- wouldn't have been quite so epic.

As I look forward to two more rounds of chemo, there are times when it seems overwhelming or even impossible, but then I realize that we're at the 3am lap at 24/9. So, while I'm not in the best shape right now, I'm crankily coming out of the tent at 3am preparing for another lap through the woods. I'll bounce off some trees and probably crash a few times, but, like 24/9, I move forward knowing that eventually dawn will break and 10am will come around.

And unlike 24/9 -- I really do hope never to have to do chemo again.

Sam

Back Home and Why I Think my Collegues are Trying to Kill Me...

Well, I suppose that it's fitting that I'm back updating my own blog for post number 50. Yup, that's right this is the 50th post since I started treatment and the blog, quite a milestone when I update as infrequently as I do...

Much thanks to Katie for updating everyone with post number 49. My energy was entirely sapped, and, in fact, I had better get going on this post as I have much to update and my body's and mind's batteries are running real low...

Last Monday I woke up late feeling exhausted. Katie and I had just moved into our new apartment and I figured it was just fatigue from the little bit that I had helped. I finally rolled out of bed around 11:00am took my temperature (it was just below 100 -- a bit elevated but no real concern...) and commenced eating a bowl of cereal. Within 5 minutes I was blagojeviching uncontrollably into the toilet, then into a garbage can and threw my back out something fierce.

I called my sister, Kate, who promptly came over and I passed out semi-conscious on the couch. Within a half hour I was shaking nearly uncontrollably and I took my temperature again -- 102 -- not only was it high, but it was going up real fast. So, we were on our way to the clinic.

At the clinic they confirmed that I must have an infection and apologized for having to admit me to the hospital "for what would probably be just a 48 hour stay."

It took over 48 hours for my team of doctors to definitively conclude what was going on -- I had a strep blood infection similar to what used to be known as scarlet fever. I highly recommend avoiding Scarlet Fever if at all possible, though that should be easy for most of you as nearly everyone born around or after the turn of the 20th century has immunity to it...

Truthfully, much of the eight total days I spent in the hospital are a haze -- they gave me so much benedryl for blood transfusions and lorazapam for nausea that I was about a quarter conscious at my very best.

I did want to relay one rather comical story, however.

Now, let me start by saying that I don't really believe my co-workers are trying to kill me and I care deeply about each and every one of them.

They have been an amazing source of support to me over the last eight months. They've put up with me when I'm manic on steroids, they've put up with the times I can only make it into the office for a few hours, they've come to visit me when I couldn't make it into the office. All of this and much, much more.

Someone from work also purchased a gross of red wristbands from the lymphoma and leukemia society that read "relentless" in support of my fight. If I'm honest, in my more temperamental moments I've nearly gotten choked up at work seeing so many of my colleagues sporting the red wrist band.

So, as a reminder of this support, I've worn a red wrist band myself nearly non-stop since starting treatment -- that was until last Monday...

Last Monday was my first night in the hospital, and when the night nurse came in I saw her give me a rather funny look. I could not place what would be so out of the ordinary. Later that night she came back in to hook me up to an antibiotic and gave me the same look, only this time let on what it was all about:

"You're mighty young to have Do Not Resuscitate orders," she said.

"Ahh, What?" I inquired.

"The wristband."

"What about it?"

"A red wristband is hospital code for Do Not Resuscitate."

Well, as you might well imagine, the red wristband was off my wrist and hidden in my bag within a number of seconds... That's one mistake I'd prefer not to make...

For now I'm extremely happy to be back at home, but my energy is still sapped (this is the longest i've been able to sit on a computer in weeks.) I also need to go into the clinic once every day to receive an antibiotic and blood tests to see if I need any transfusions -- so it kind of amounts to going from being imprisoned to being on probation. It is extremely nice to sleep in my own bed and not get poked multiple times daily, however.

Thanks to everyone who visited, sent cards, emails, letters, or just good vibes. Shout outs will come but for now i am too tired to remember everything and want to make sure I don't miss anyone...

Sam

Update by Katie

Hi all-this is Katie (girlfriend- not sister) writing for Sam. I am doing a quick update for Sam who is not quite feeling up to posting for himself.

We have had quite the week! Sam had to make an unplanned trip to the clinic on Monday when he started vomiting and had a fever which was rising fairly quickly. This trip turned into a hospital admission and almost a week stay. He is still in the hospital. The doctors have found an infection in his blood and have found an anti-biotic which seems to be working pretty well. He is starting to feel a little better and some of the nurses seem hopeful he may get to go home soon-there is some talk of maybe tomorrow but Sam says he's starting to feel as though the fever is going up again and so he is less hopeful than the nurses.

In order for Sam to be able to go home he needs to have no fever ( or at least a very low grade fever-we aren't totally sure). His white counts are extremely low: 0.2, but believe it or not that is higher than they have been all week. Because of this they are starting to give him something to help his whites kick into gear-hopefully this will help get us out of here sooner.

I can't think of anything else to add at the moment. I'm hoping Sam will feel up to posting for himself soon-I know I personally miss reading the great stories he posts. Hopefully he will be able to give you all a much more thorough and entertaining account of our hospital adventure soon.

Thanks to all those who have been sending good vibes his way-we appreciate each and every one of them!