Once upon a time…
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The belly bully was pretty angry last night.
I think he knows that his days are numbered so he made some noise.
I had a PET Scan this morning, which as it turns out, has nothing to do with our beagle. I think she was pretty relieved that she didn’t have to get tested. She was ready to take one for the team though.
In the last few weeks every part of me has been scanned and studied. I’ve seen my lungs and my kidneys. One report said that my spleen was unremarkable.
That was a little hurtful.
I always thought that, surely, I must have a special or even extraordinary spleen. But, nope…it’s unremarkable.
Anyhow, we showed up at the hospital bright and early, can I just say that my wife is amazing. She has already spent way too much time in waiting rooms.
I got called back by a man in scrubs, I think EVERYONE should wear scrubs, they seem like a pretty comfortable fashion choice.
I got poked and they put a splurt of radioactive sugar water into my veins. It is basically nuclear Kool-Aid (which would be a great name for a punk band!) that lights up the bad stuff. It exposes the junk. I became a big glow stick. After getting the magic glow juice, I waited for an hour in a sterile orange vinyl chair and watched the morning news. It takes a while for the sweet radiation to kick in. Once it did, the tech took me into the back of a semi truck trailer. This is where the PET scanner is. I like getting treated in the back of a truck, it kind of makes it seem apocalyptic in a fun way.
I dropped my pants…AGAIN, laid down on a thing that looked like a modified ironing board and went back and forth though a big tube. The machine was very quiet, I just laid there listening to a local station playing Ariana Grande songs. (I wonder what size drink Ariana Grande gets at Starbucks?)
And then, just like that it was over, another notch off the medical to do list. This test will show us exactly where the belly bully is hanging out and if he has any buddies.
His days are numbered.
During this process, I’ve encountered some truly lovely health professionals from doctors and nurses to receptionists, technicians, and physicians assistants. They have been compassionate, real, human and hospitable. I appreciate them so much. It reminds me how completely therapeutic the simple act of kindness is.
It has made a huge difference.
I’ve learned that kindness glows in the dark more than radioactive sugar water.
It is strong medicine and you don’t need a prescription or a pair of scrubs to administer it.
I remembered an incredible story this morning…
We are off to the races! I took my first med today, it would have been easier if it looked like a Flintstones vitamin.
Posted: July 13, 2018 in UncategorizedWell dang, it looks like I’m going to have to get one of those old man pill organizers. I was putting that off. I wonder if I can get one with Darth Vader or maybe Batman?
Posted: July 13, 2018 in UncategorizedWe got a plan to beat the belly bully today.
We are still trying to figure out timing and when this rumble is going to start.
There are a lot of moving pieces, It depends on when the hospital can insert the port and do an echocardiogram.
But then it’s on!
The cancer chump is going down.
Once treatment starts it will happen every three weeks six times. I will get a delightful cocktail of super aggressive chemo, steroids, and fluids every day during treatment week. I also get to wear a pump all the time for a few days during treatment week, I will carry the pump in a tasteful man purse.
In another fun fashion choice, I will be occasionally wearing a paper mask…pretty much anytime I want to go outside. My immunity will be very low throughout the entire process so I have to live a germ free lifestyle, that will be interesting. Most of my favorite things are germy.
So…18 weeks of treatment…
What is 18 weeks in the span of a lifetime?
It’s basically a semester! I’m ready to see what I learn and how I grow during this semester.
Many people have asked me about my chullet: is it safe? Is it endangered chin fruit? Well…pending some kind of beard miracle, I will lose the chullet.
That’s going to be tough, the chullet has been my fuzzy constant companion for years. It has proclaimed that there is a party on my face. It has served as a scarf in the winter. I’ve hidden food in it. I’ve carried my car keys in it.
I’m going to miss it.
I will probably also lose my eyebrows too, so I’m going to be one freaky looking little dude. You’ve been warned!! Picture Uncle Fester in cargo shorts.
I’m thinking about using a sharpie to draw on eyebrows and facial hair. My look can change daily depending on mood…”these are my angry eyebrows, these are my confused brows. Today I have a Frito Bandido mustache, today I’m Burt Reynolds, today I’ve got a hipster soul patch.” The possibilities for self expression are endless. The chullet will grow back after treatment, but it might grow back different. I’m hoping it grows back red! I’ve always secretly wanted to be a ginger.
I’m ready to step into the octagon, or the infusion room as the case may be.
Let’s do this thing!
The Lord fights for me.
I’m ready to come out on the other side of this semester…smarter, whole, more in love with my Savior, my family, and friends.
Look for me, I will be the hairless, masked little dude with the man purse doing a very undignified happy dance.

I woke up feeling it, the suddenly explainable knot in my stomach. I’ve been feeling it for a while and blaming it on stress. Now I know it’s something else.
It’s biopsy day and we are driving downtown.
We find ourselves waiting in Charlotte traffic.
Today, I put on my JOY REBEL t-shirt, I’m pretty sure that it gives me superpowers, and I bravely march into the hospital like a big boy.
It was a super complicated maze just to check in. We went to about seven different desks, talked to several helpful medical professionals, and finally ended up at a brightly colored kiosk. Then we were sent to two different waiting rooms.
We find ourselves waiting.
Waiting rooms are interesting places full of stories that have been put on hold.
It’s a community of “the waiting”.
Nobody likes to wait. Nobody wants to be there.
So you kill your time with old magazines and home improvement shows on the fuzzy television.
I think it would be better if they showed nonstop old Marx Brothers movies.
Our friend Brenda was waiting with us, she is awesome.
After waiting for a while I was taken back for the ultrasound biopsy and told to hike up my shirt.
I got the goop on my belly. I saw the Doppler radar screen. But, It turns out that I have mischievous bowels, they kept getting in the way. They don’t see a straight shot to the belly bully.
So we were moved to another waiting room to wait for a cat scan biopsy.
(Is it really a surprise to anyone that I have ornery body parts?)
I was taken back for the cat scan and told to drop my cargo shorts.
Through this process, I’m getting used to people calling me Luther as I tell them my birth date over and over again.
I’m also getting over some body issues, I will now basically drop my cargo shorts in front of any stranger that asks.
I laid on my side and got pictures taken of my insides again.
they were still unsure about sticking a big needle in my gut.
So we waited to talk to another doctor for a couple of hours who had a plan to outwit my intruding bowel. It worked, I laid on my belly as they stuck a needle as big as a pixie stick into my back and sucked out four chunks of the ugliness.
The samples have been sent to the lab and we wait to find out the legal name of my belly bully.
That is the first step in kicking his ass.
And so we find ourselves waiting…