Dishman visit

The Dishman's (Mark, Angie, John, and the kids) made a trip down to Houston for a short beach vacation trip arranged so they could visit us. Christine has been struggling a lot with severe headaches recently, but fortunately, she felt pretty well Saturday. So we went out for dinner Saturday to Star Pizza, self-declared best pizza in Houston. Afterward, we hung out at 2115 Taft, a coffee house at which I have spent many hours working using their free wi-fi hookup. It has a unique (tempting) book store in it and plenty of couches to enjoy while reading the books. We sat around and talked about books and such, and then strolled into the connected art gallery, which is now showing an artist whose work I would classify as contemporary expressionist iconography. That evening there so happened to be a swing dance event going on in the other adjoining space and the music flowed into the gallery. So we found ourselves in this odd environment where we contemplated this sacred art to the music of Louis Prima. The result is shown below.




If you are wondering where the energy comes from during radiation treatments to swing dance, I will admit this dance lasted about 45 seconds, after which I found one of those couches to plop into.

Party with no occasion

On Sunday, the Hazels had an open house party for us. (more photos) They wanted to share some good times with us before the radiation&chemo symptoms started kicking in. We did the inviting -- they did all the work. Should a guy experience such undeserved fun? The occasion for the party in Reese's words: "because we like parties."

It was short notice but several people were able to make it - The Reitmeiers, Gaffords, Petkases, Roaches, Parks, Robert Cooke, Sarah Shay, and the Hazel's daughters. There was plenty of good food and drinks (unfortunately, those taking Xeloda abstained). Reese got a hold of a mandolin for me, so we had a string band going pretty strong.
As is the Hazel's custom, there were two toasts - one to Jesus, one to me. (I would have been happy with just the first.) In the midst of my storm, to me the evening was a small taste of the fellowship to be had in the New Jerusalem.
The picture is of us performing Old Joe Clark. You'll notice it has some modified lyrics. (background info: before the party, an exterior pipe in Reese's yard cracked, filling the lawn with water... Reagan is Ruth&Tylers son)
Old Joe Clark
Old Joe Clark, he had a house
Eighteen stories high
Ev'ry story in that house
Was filled with chicken pie
chorus
Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
Fare ye well, I say
Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
I'm a-goin' away
I went down to Old Joe's house
Stayed to have some supper
Stubbed my toe on the table leg
And stuck my nose in the butter

Raccoon has a bushy tail
'Possum's tail is bare
Rabbit has no tail at all
'Cept a bunch of hair

Reese's got a broken pipe
Flowin like a river
Got the plumber on the phone. Gonna
cost some gold and silver

Reagans hair is kinda short
I think it's soft and frizzy
When he bangs upon the drums
He get's us in a tizzy.

Go Rice

Every college fan loves to protest, "we were robbed". I will join the chorus. Despite being ranked in USAToday as #7 in NCAA baseball, Rice was not selected to be one of the sixteen regional hosts for the first weekend of playoff elimination of the 64 teams in the tournament.


Home field is a definite advantage. Thirteen of the sixteen home teams last weekend won their four-team regional tourneys. LSU was one of those who got beat... by Rice. The Owls went 3-0 for the weekend including taking two of two from the Tigers. There are now sixteen teams remaining. Eight go to the College World Series.
Now, as luck would have it, Rice goes to #1 ranked Tulane next weekend for a best of three super-regional series, the winner of which goes to the World Series. Another road upset? I think it is possible.
Incidentally, two years ago, I mentioned on this blog the Owl's run in which they eventually won it all for their first national championship. I chose to stop writing about it because I have a friend who lives in Moscow and reads this blog, but was going to watch the taped series much later when he visited home. So in spite of my joy, I kept my lips sealed. But now, this friend is engaged to be married - so I figure he is in a good mood and doesn't care as much about the Owls anymore. Am I right, David?
For all you Owl fans, the next game is Saturday at noon. It will air on one of the ESPN channels.
Go Owls.

First week

I'm finishing up the first week of radiation. The treatment itself is a matter of seconds once they get me lined up. And I an feel absolutely nothing - no heat, tinging, nada. Symptoms, if there are any, won't kick in for another week or two.

I came down by myself for this holiday-shortened week. This weekend, I return to Dallas and move back here to Houston with Christine for the remaining five weeks.

It sat on the shelf for a while, but I am now again reading Birth of the Clinic by Michel Foucault. In his words, it is "an archaeology of medical perception". The themes are reminiscent of Kuhn's Nature of Scientific Revolutions. Anyway, I got a kick out of the requirements for students to be trained in medicine at around the time of the French Revolution. Quoting from a guidebook of the time, students were chosen who demonstrated "good conduct, pure morals, love of the Republic, and a hatred of tyrants, sufficient education, and above all, a knowledge of some of the sciences that might serve as a preliminary to the art of curing."

A lot has changed since then. But I have noticed that while these oncologists down here have many idiosyncrasies and a whole range of strengths and weaknesses, it is true that as far as I can tell, none has a love of tyrants.

Marked

"Just lie there still
Like a sack of potatoes."
Fragments of sound from a smile.
Surely these recited utterances had meaning
Her first time.

A sack of potatoes, I lay.
Obedient. Naked. Marked. Numbered.
For the best. They do care. They must.

Indigo stripes shamelessly violate
The buttocks. Hip. Back.
Crosshairs tatooed for the gun
To be aimed at naive potatoes.

Do the white-jacketed figures feel?
Gathered at the screen. Pointing. Scheming.
Dutifully murmuring about millimeters and degrees.

A hand, human, touches my shoulder
Grants permission to rise, dress.

"We'll see you Tuesday."
A voice. More recited utterances.
"Don't forget free valet with validation"

I emerge. Delivered.
Breathe.
Think.
Pray.
Gaze skyward.
No longer a sack of potatoes.

The morning mirror insists still
That I am.

Status after trip to Houston

Highlights of our trip:

* CT scan was clear - no visible cancer. I am so thankful for this good result.

* CEA (cancer blood marker) was up to 4.6 (normal is below 3-4). This is "some concern" to my oncologist, but not alarm. It has gone up due to chemo in the past, so it is possible that the elevation does not indicate microscopic cancer. I pray not.

* Radiation/chemo is next to reduce chances of recurrence in the area of the last surgery. I decided to have this done in Houston at MD Anderson with the team of doctors I've grown to respect and who know my case well. External radiation treatments will be daily from 5/31 until 7/12. I will take chemo (Xeloda) at 75% level during this time to make radiation work better. It's not looking to be pleasant, and long term side effects include a small possibility of getting another cancer. But all doctors involved seem to be in agreement that it is best to go ahead with this treatment. It's funny - the chemo oncologist told me the radiation will be worse than chemo. The radiation oncologist said, no, chemo is worse. I guess I'll find out.

* After radiation treatments, the plan is for 8 more weeks of chemo. So, that puts me at a end-of-treatment date around mid September.

* The hernia repair during last surgery turned out not to last very long. A new hernia has developed several inches long in my ab wall. This will require surgery, although it can wait a year or two. Funny how cancer changes perspective. Before diagnosis, if I were told I had to have gut-opening surgery to repair a hernia, it would have been a pretty big deal. Now, it's like, "is anybody going to die? ...no prob." Seriously, this is disappointing, but doesn't strike fear down deep the way cancer news does. You think maybe I could sell my ab on ebay and just get a new one?

Spring hope

I have completed my four post-surgery cycles of chemotherapy. My body is hanging in there - weak but still kicking. Tomorrow, we leave to go to MD Anderson for evaluation and to discuss with doctors what is next. Everything is dependent on the scans that are taken. I am counting on them being clear! We'll find out if they still want to do radiation on the area of the most recent surgery, and if so when, where (Dallas or Houston), and what dosage. After that, maybe some more chemo. Every day that creeps by is one day closer to the end of treatment.

Here's the first bloom from my recently planted "Memorial Day" rose bush -- a spring first fruit of better things to come.

Natasha is healthy and growing. She is still in the neo-natal care unit. Here are some pics from last weekend visiting Natasha - all four pounds of her! We're all looking forward to her coming home.