A Cytotoxic Cell-abration -and- Declaring Nuclear War on Leukemia

I just finished my 32nd, and last scheduled, subcutaneous shot of cytarabine. 32 times I have pinched up skin in my stomach or leg, jabbed a needle into my stomach or thigh, and meticulously emptied this toxic drug into my system.

This follows last Monday's final scheduled bag of cytoxin.

Like most chemo drugs, I have a love-hate relationship with cytarabine and cytoxin.

Both of these drugs are intentionally designed to kill rapidly dividing cells in the body including not only cancer cells, but also healthy hair cells, cells that make finger and toe nails, cells in the mouth and digestive track, and cells in the blood and bone marrow.

These are the only drugs that have made me vomit, they have decimated my blood counts and brought my immune system to zero. They've sapped my energy for weeks, and made me black out whole days or weeks. They led to July's infamous infection that put me in the hospital for 9 days.

In short, they are not easy drugs to take.

But, without these drugs, there is almost no chance that I would be around tonight sitting next to a lit Christmas tree, listening to Bing Crosby and Bob Dylan Christmas music, and typing this post.

In many ways, engaging in chemo is very akin to declaring nuclear war on cancer. Like Truman's decision to bomb innocent civilians in Nagasaki and Hiroshima to end the Second World War, oncologists and their patients decide to drop an atomic bomb on the body in the hope that the death of millions of good cells will bring with them the cancer cells, and many more healthy cells will be safe to thrive as a result.

Tonight, even with my counts decimated to the point that I needed to go to the clinic for a bag of platelets and two bags of blood, I could not help but celebrate the fact that, if all goes well and I can avoid a relapse, never again will I need to dance with the vindictive little devils that are cytoxin and cytarabine.

Much like I hope to never see the use of real atomic weapons in my lifetime, I also hope to never attack my body with these cellularly atomic bombs again.

To quote one of my favorite holiday songs, let's hope for:

"A very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now."

All right, it is the holiday season, and one of the many goals of this blog is to encourage acts of good will. Last year, together, we raised well over $1000 dollars to help fund the construction of the Restoring Hope Transplant House near Madison. This brought me more happiness and cheer than you can imagine. So, in the spirit of the holiday season, here are some ideas to help out others and help make this world a better place.

1. Donate to the Transplant House Again.

The transplant house is still short of the money it needs to open its operation. It's founders have worked tirelessly for years trying to come up with the funds needed, and this is a cause worth supporting if you have money to charitably devote. You can learn more and help transplant patients by giving here:

2. Donate to Clean Wisconsin.

Clean Wisconsin is the non-profit environmental advocacy organization that I work for. We work diligently to keep Wisconsin's pristine areas clean, and restore those that are polluted. We focus on clean air, clean water, and push for clean energy. I work for this organization because I honestly feel that Clean Wisconsin is one of the most effective organizations at protecting and preserving our environment -- something important for a guy who treasures the outdoors as much as I do.

Beyond being a damn good environmental advocacy organization, Clean Wisconsin has been a family to me and has helped me through this last year -- unquestionably the toughest in my life. They've demonstrated their unrelenting support, stayed by me in the roughest of times, made me laugh, and made me feel normal throughout this whole absurdly crazy adventure.

I honestly don't know how I would have gotten this far without the organization and it's people, and I would strongly encourage you to give if you're able. You can learn more and donate here, and I promise we'll work hard to make your money matter.

3. Donate Blood.

Sometimes we don't have the extra cash to donate, but luckily, there are hundreds of ways we can volunteer our time (or our blood), to help out others.

This year I have needed to fill up on blood more often than I've had to fill up my Subaru. Without the nameless and faceless donors who so selflessly donated their blood and platelets, I never could have made it through chemo.

Please consider donating blood and helping out others, like me, who couldn't live without it.

All right, I hope this holiday season finds you all well and chocked full of merriment.

-Sam

Inquisitive Eyebrows -and- On the Road Again

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." These wise words from Thomas Gray generally apply to life. I'm now learning the hard way they're also applicable to my follicle state...

Because the chemo drugs knocked out all of my hair before radiation, I had no idea which hair loss was from chemo and which was from radiation.

Now that some of my hair is growing back, I was distressed (actually amused) to find that the outside of my eyebrows (within the field of radiation) remain completely bald, as the inside of my eyebrows begin to grow thickly for about 3/4 of an inch.

As a result, I now have a constant expression of puzzlement and inquisitiveness... At least I don't look angry like Uncle Leo (pictured).

So, if you should run into me on the street, I'm not confused -- it's just the eyebrows...

For a quick update, we're now back on track and I'm getting the rough stuff right now (the same stuff that put me in the hospital last time). It's beginning to hit me, but I'm so excited about getting close to a finish line that I remain in really good -- nearly euphoric -- spirits.

Last week Monday I got what I hope to be my final bag of cytoxin. I never thought getting cytoxin could be a celebration, but as I sat in the chair listening to music, I couldn't help but smile and rock out as I thought that this could well be the last of the toxic stuff that I watch drip into my veins.

Tuesday, snow, snow and more snow. 18 inches here in Madison. I was so excited that I headed out into the night for some "sidewalk skiing" despite my inability to find my poles. All went well until a few blocks away my skis began to slide out from under me and I went ass over teakettle in a valuable lesson regarding both Newton's Law and Karma (for gloating about a snowstorm.)

Not wanting to come in, as I would have felt like Ralphy from "A Christmas Story" who had just shot himself with the Red Rider BB Gun, I continued skiing with my elbow and my pride a bit worse for wear...

That night I had another 3am "here we go again," session of blagejeviching, and Wednesday morning I woke up unable to move my elbow as it swollen to a point that it looked as though I was trying to smuggle a racquetball under my skin.

It healed rather quickly, however, and I'm hopeful that I'll get back out on the skis this week -- with poles this time.

My good friend Phil has been in and out of town. It was great to see and spend some time with him. He and I know each other a little to well, and many who have spent time with us have laughed as he and I bicker like an old married couple. We really know how to get on each others nerves, but we have also shared some of our greatest adventures together, and it was fun both to goof around and to reminisce about absurd adventures of the past.

I've always meant to write some "Phil stories" on this blog, but I don't even know where to begin...

That's really most of the excitement. I'm entering what I expect to be a really rough three weeks, but eagerly anticipating getting it behind me -- and hopefully getting back to life.

Any good vibes you can spare would be appreciated.

Festive holiday vibes radiate toward all of you, from me.

Take care, and happy holidays,

sam

Stalling in the Soft White Snow

There is something remarkably magic about the first angel-white snowfalls in winter. Every year, the first snow brings out the innocence and childlike enthusiasm in all of us. Like most signs of the changing seasons, snowfall renews and rejuvenates my spirit.

I can't help but become a small child filled with joy as I try to catch soft white flakes on my tongue during the first days and nights of snowfall. Like the city lights reflecting off the white roofs of houses, part of me glows from deep inside.

This year I've been fortunate to have two first snowfalls. Last week I drove through the beautiful deep woods of Northern Wisconsin on freshly-snowy gravel roads (a barn near Rhinelander is pictured above), and tonight in Madison streetlights reflecting off of snow lights up the streets and houses of my neighborhood.

Well, my counts were too low to start the last leg of rough chemo on Monday so the bad news is we seem to be currently stalled out. The good news, however, is that I feel great and have been fortunate to have the health to truly enjoy the first snowfalls of this winter.

Take Care,

Sam

###

The Silence and Sounds of Snow

As I sit in my apartment

sipping warm cider,

the snow falls silently

outside my windowsill.

The silence of this season’s

first late-night snowfall

provides peace, and

quiets my restless soul.

As I quietly and contentedly

watch the soft flakes silently fall,

it occurs to me that snow

also has many sounds.

Snow squeaks and whooshes

under my thin Rossi skis,

as I speedily glide through a

dense grove of evergreens.

It illicits the innocent laughter

of euphoric young children,

who sled and make snow-angels

on the school year’s first snowday.

Sometimes, after a snowfall,

the surface of the snow is Icy

and, as I walk, each step

provides a satisfying “Crunch!,”

reminiscent of a silver spoon

breaking the caramelized crust

of a freshly-torched crème brulee.

When I hear any of these

familiar sounds of snow,

my usually active mind

falls silent, and I slowly

drift into the strong

and wonderful memories

that these sounds summon.

As I watch the snow

fall silently outside my

windowsill, from the warmth

and comfort of my Apartment,

my restless soul feels quiet, and

I am simultaneously thankful

for both the silence as well as

the many distinctive sounds of snow.