Blogging Less

Lately, I have been neglecting my blog in favor of a book that I am attempting to write in between social obligations, chores and you know, the ol’cancer thing. You probably have not noticed, or have in fact noticed, and are enjoying the much-needed break from blog obligation and are in the process of letting your mind return comfortably to its natural guilt free state. The book I am writing, by the way, is going to address the current political and health issues that are plaguing our modern society; how to grow our consumer driven economy in a sustainable and environmentally safe manner, immigration reform policies, corporate farming issues, soil bleaching, genetically modified foods, the gun control conundrum, big oil, pesticides, hair loss, starvation, obesity, poverty, corporate welfare, social welfare, social security, pollution and global warming will all be discussed in a no-holds-bar format – I will even be including recipes and exercise tips. Cannibalism: the complete “how to” guide of hunting down, killing, preparing and eating our elders for a better tomorrow, by D.S. Randel, will hopefully be on the shelves by 2015.

In all seriousness, I really am writing a book. It is just a collection of stories about my childhood and growing up in a large, not-so-well-to-do family of mischievous boys. I am calling it The Troublesomes, which is a name that I pirated from my sister, who, unless she can come up with a way to be a lot more exciting and interesting a decade ago, will not have a very large part in my book. (Pick it up Tami). I can tell you, however, that my condition is worsening every day and making it near impossible for me to focus on more than a couple of tasks a day. I unwillingly have to rest more now than anything else and I hate it. This includes writing, as it is becoming increasingly difficult to control my right hand for long periods of time and the simple act of the necessary concentration rapidly drains me.

For these reasons, I will be posting less and focusing what I can towards producing my bucket book. I will however, be posting medical updates of significance whenever I can. They will, most likely, be shorter and more to the point, which might have actually suited you fine in the first place.

My next post will include the date of my surgery and then I am pretty sure that this blog will eventually wrap up with a “Flowers for Algernon” type of fizzle.

David out.

Cancer Update 4

Cancer Update 4

Cancer Update 4, possibly the most awesomess and definitely the most newestess update yet, brings us back full circle. I am once again having brain surgery, but this time there is the added excitement and very possible possibility, though extremely unlikely, that I will become one of those zombies from the walking dead (paraphrasing doctor here). I would prefer to mutate into a superhero or vampire or at the very least something a little less moldy, limpy and slimy – I just don’t want my face to have any open wounds that ooze cottage cheese and French fries.

Here’s the deal, I am the proud owner of a defused tumor (it is not a solid tumor, but rather it has a kind of chaotic web or net shape), which has become active again. Because it is defused and in a highly sensitive/complicated area of my brain that controls the motor functions of the right side of my body (along with numerous other functions) it is too risky for another resection type of surgery (it would be nearly impossible to not remove brain matter along with the cancer). This obviously limits the treatments that are available to me. There is however, the option of doing chemotherapy again. The problem is that the blood-brain-barrier limits the types of chemo that I can be on and most of the available treatments work best in conjunction with radiation, of which I have already received the life-time maximum dose allowed.

Solution? Apparently a virus.

I have been selected to be part of a trial that involves injecting a virus, which carries its own unique DNA, into all of the individual cancer strands in my noggin. The hope is that the virus will bond with and, therefore, mutate the cancer, allowing doses of an anti-viral treatment to target the infected cancer. The nine patients that have preceded me in this trial (at UCSD), have all been manually injected with the virus at the point of resection. I will be the first to undergo the treatment using a combination of cameras and robots while inside an MRI machine.

They are going to drill a quarter size hole into my skull and use a small catheter to pump the virus into the infected areas via the MRI images. The surgery will last about nine hours and there is a possibility that all that radiation from the MRI will give me cancer (lets hope not). There is also the slim chance that the virus can mutate and spread, causing, I assume, really awesome side effects. Granted, I only have Hollywood movies to base this on, but insofar as I can tell, all of the movies depicting cancer have been 100% accurate. Which is really amazing when you realize that I am only about 40% accurate. I’m working on it though.

One more cool thing about this and then I will leave you alone – promise. On top of having another extremely sexy head scar, the quarter size hole in my skull will be left alone for skin and scar tissue to fill in. I have not had a cool soft spot like this on my head since I was a baby. I have to say here, that I remember that when I was a toddler and still had that extremely sought after soft spot on my noggin, that women could not keep their hands off of me: They kissed me, squished my head into their boobs and seemed to take my pants off every chance they got. I am 90% sure that there is a correlation here and I feel that I need to be proactive in this situation: I am married. No matter how irresistible you find men with squishy bald spots on their heads, you must keep your hands to yourself. Now, I realize that this will become increasingly hard for most women when I teach myself a couple of alluring and sexually stimulating bar tricks. For example: “Ta-Da, Where did your quarter go?” Or maybe I will be able to plug my nose, blow really really hard and make bubbles. The possibilities are endless. Take care all.

I wonder if the next time I fall out of the shower and smack my head on the toilet, if it will suction cup? I will let you know.

Cancer Update 3

Cancer update 3

Hi and welcome to the third installment of the third most popular way to find out about my health status. That is correct; this is the critically acclaimed and highly anticipated segment of this blog: Cancer Update.  If you have not read this segment before, you are missing out and are in for an amazing treat. This segment is the intellectual equivalent of breast-feeding your mind, and it should be your primary source of nutritional information, but only if you would like your mind to grow-up big and strong with actual facts. Otherwise you can always get your information from the two leading outlets: My mom and my wife. Be forewarned though, that yes, all their information might be derived from actual facts, and yes, from obsessively studying all the available information that they can get their hands on, and okay yes, they actually listen to the doctors when they’re speaking to us instead of making jokes and using all the time the doctors are speaking to formulate convincing arguments as to why they do not need seizure medications and that they should be given a prescription for one of those cool robot legs that would allow them to run like the wind, look like a rad super hero or at the very least, be able to kick small kids and squirrelly animals that always scurry in their way and trip them. But, can either of them give you the status of my condition in a way that leaves you with feelings of indifference and slight amusement? I have talked to them both in great length of my condition and I can tell you from experience that no, they cannot – they are both complete bummers and should be avoided as a source of news about my health. That is unless you wanted to be bummed-out, of course.

The Update: I am increasingly losing more function and sense of my right side due to an indeterminate mass that is growing in my noggin. The panel of neuro oncologists are split 50/50 on whether the growth is due to a mutation of the tumor that is beginning to branch out and spread or if the mass is actually delayed narcosis from the radiation treatments. If you are thinking that this scenario does not sound that different from the last Cancer Update… Well, that is kinda how it goes – get used to it.

The takeaway? No matter how eloquently or passionately I argue my case, they will most likely keep denying me that cool robot leg that I want and I will have to drag this crappy semi-detached Franken-foot for the rest of my life. Cheers.

Post Script.

My mom read my latest blog (this one) and has informed me that (1) Nobody cares about the stupid robot leg thing and (2) the description of my current condition was lacking. I needed to include that there is a panel of specialists meeting this Friday to discuss the appropriate action to take.

And the choices are: Have a virus coded with its very own deoxyribonucleic acid implanted in my brain tumor via a large needle inserted through my skull. I would then take a kind of antiviral-chemotherapy that would hopefully target the tumor and leave the rest of me alone. It is experimental and I would only be the 7^th person on the study at the Moore’s Cancer Center.

-Or-

Go back on Temodar (chemotherapy) for brain tumors. Which is the rat poison that I was on last year. 

-Or-

Start Avastin: A type of chemotherapy that is pumped through a permanent stint in your chest and does something or other and probably sucks as well.

Cheers.

Medicated Meditations

Welcome to the first installment (and hopefully last) of:

The Medicated Meditations of an Insomniac

A contemplative essay by a man that had his TV watching couch hijacked - by sleeping children that complained that their upstairs room was too hot - and was consequently forced to play on his computer while high on medication (if it was medical marijuana, I could have gotten a snack and just went to bed).

And now, without further ado: A stroll through the mind of the obviously inept and apparently insane.

Every thing has a beginning, including time and therefore reality as well. In thinking about time as entity that was born of nothing, it becomes necessary to decipher the concept of nothing. But, attempting to objectify nothing results in nonsense because nothing is, by nature, a nonentity and therefore, cannot actually be conceptualized without running into a circular argument that utilizes only what is known and tangible in an attempt to prove the unknown and intangible. Nothing precedes time and therefore, time was born of nothing which never existed in the first place.

The circular arguments of time continually disprove any logical conclusions of reality, in that in order to grasp one, a solid comprehension of the other is absolutely necessary. Both time and reality, spiritual and temporal, seem to be just on the periphery of logic and reason and are therefore, both of them, unable to be considered directly, but float close enough to lure you into their contemplation. Metaphors and similes are used in excess to support our “whys” and “hows,” but only help to further the confusion by allowing the development of false blocks of logic, built from rational attempts at classification and meaning in an effort to support our systems of belief and purpose. Therefore, our attempts at rationalizing have led us down fictitious roads that feel validated only by comparing what we cannot completely form against our familiarity with the abstract and simplified norms that are ultimately just miniscule variables of the same complex unattainable issues that have been broken down to a scope and measure that is both more easily questionable and as a result, more easily answerable. But ultimately, it is always only a metaphor that attempts to analyze a single and artificial part, ceteris paribus, lacking the depth, relevance and direct relationship, correlation or link to the actual questions of time, reality, life and purpose to be of actual use. And is therefore, again, a circular argument that is as misleading, as it is inaccurate and artificial.

This all results in comforting analogies that allows existence to continue without creating, not only mental, but societal fractures of reasoning for the sole purpose of keeping sane amongst the chaos for decisive maneuvering through the unfathomable complexity of actuality. Board games, sports, rollercoasters, consequences and wars, are all amongst the available and massive grab bag of helpful, guiding and consoling clichés that are used as band-aids to bridge together the impossible logical gaps caused by the impassable scale and intricacy of a question too large and unstable for us to answer in a snap-shot, let alone in our perceived “real time.” Insofar as any direct attempt at analyzing the circular argument of time and reality ultimately leads to a narrowed focus, however brilliant, that will splinter, morph and eventually crumble when removed from the airtight vacuum seal model it has been created in and is forced to struggle in an attempt to hold form and relevance, while simultaneously stretching thinner as it is continually manipulated with incredible effort and imagination to fill in the impossible shapes and phenomenon of not only the natural world and its connective bridges over to the yet larger, and some how even more complex, world of the metaphysical realm that completely defies any human design and its capabilities, and lays out of reach of any known form of mathematical measurement available to be understood by mankind. And therefore, the sciences must be replaced with the arcane arts of philosophy and our faulty rationalizations.  

That’s it…that’s what I got.

We hope that you have enjoyed your time here at the magical and magnificent Stupidlandia™; where your dreams and coherent thoughts come to die while waiting for the children to wake up and give me my couch back…where I am sure I can fall asleep watching infomercials for P90x and finally restore balance to the world.

Incongruently-ness

About two months ago, I was told that my condition is permanent. I was in the middle of excitedly explaining my future plans and boasting that even while going through all of the invasive, tedious and sometimes painful treatments and while dealing with the massive pile of crap that goes along with having any type of serious illness (notably for me was the vomiting, headaches, paralysis, etc…), I managed to obtain a graduate certificate in management accounting and was ¾ of the way to an MBA. My plan was to beat brain cancer, while simultaneously finishing my master’s degree, landing a real estate or property management account/finance position, working my way to prominence and then writing a book about how amazing the human spirit is (of course I would have to graciously use myself as the example). To which my doctors - after looking back and forth at each other for a few seconds - informed me that even if the tumor shrinks to a microscopic level, it will never be gone and that since I have one tumor, there are multiples of others that have just not announced themselves as of yet and therefore, I cannot ever actually consider myself in remission or legally tell an employer that I am.

This was news to me. From the moment I woke from surgery and could form a coherent thought, I have been working diligently on my health and education with the necessary aspiration of changing career paths to something more suitable for my new physical limitations and therefore, still be able to support my family and give my kids the life that I know they deserve. I know what you are thinking, suck it up wuss, nothing is ever carved in stone…except death…death is probably carved in stone. But you’re not dead…so suck it up and walk it off. I have been telling myself that exact same thing. I just need to come up with a new new plan. It’s totally cool, I have been creating new career plans every since my wife, waved that magical plastic wand (that smelled like urine) in my face and yelled Avada Kedavra (yes, we both read Harry Potter before we even had kids – because we are super cool), effectively killing my life’s ambition of having absolutely no ambition (just like Charlie Sheen, I was “winning”).

So, in the face of this new dilemma that the doctors delivered to me with all the critical detachment of an alcoholic father explaining why you are worthless and will never amount to anything, the kindly doctors have informed me of the new overwhelming obstacle that I have appropriately named Are You F-ing Kidding Me? Like Wiley Coyote, it is once again back to the drawing board. And lucky for you I have decided to share my amazing, I don’t want to say genius (but, I kinda want you to say it), talents of career (re)planning in the face of overwhelming obstacles and the repeated failures of reality to conform to or even comprehend my meticulously, yet simply, planned future of greatness and accomplishment (like that stupid Road Runner, reality appears to be an easily manipulated and beatable moron – but it can unfairly run through hte caves painted on the side of a cliff).

Anyway, brilliant career planning always starts with simply free writing about your strengths, weaknesses, likes, dislikes, abilities, disabilities, and of course, relevant experience. With this technique, it is easier to arrive at a more specified target as the writing continually cancels out meaningless unimportant routes and narrows to a point; like trimming the blurry branches of an idea to create a razor sharp and crystal clear conclusion on which to impale yourself on later.

Possibly the most significant strength that I possess, is the ability to perfectly plan and navigate life. Unfortunately though, I can only do it in hindsight, ceteris paribus and without the Road Runner of reality hitting me with trains from nowhere or dropping safes on my head. I am also proficient at finding Easter eggs a year after they have been hidden and I possess the ability, and testicular fortitude, to eat the contents of the year old egg without becoming overly sick (most of the time). I can usually generate the phenomenon of finding things in the last place I look in the first place I look, with an accuracy of about 90%. In direct relation, I can give statistical percentages 91% of the time with an 85% accuracy, at least 72% of the time. This is actually something that I can do even if I am 100% unsure of the topic being considered (I guess I can work for Fox News).

Also, I can make it all the way to the end of Rudy and not weep like a baby, but Cool Running's gets me every time (they carry the sled over the finish line people). I can lie convincingly, my children still believe in Santa Claus and I have an amazing singing voice. My children might be lying to me to get more presents though and my voice only sounds good in the shower when no one is listening (and that’s if there is enough hot water left after I get done with the washing and my practiced and perfected American Beauty shower scene). Oh, and last but not least, I can point out the flaws in every movie while others are intently watching it.

An unfortunate weakness of mine though, is the inability to commit to the last couple of paragraphs of any blog that begins to bore me and more often than not, I will switch directions before actually providing any congruent conclusion. But never fear, while writing these last couple of paragraphs and watching the Road Runner (the Coyote is a genius, why can’t he kill that idiot bird?), I have come up with a few suitable career paths and am going to jump right in.

1. Become a Busker – I do not have any notable street performing talents like playing the spoons, guessing people’s weight, drawing, miming or playing an instrument.  But, I do know how to get drunk, pee on myself, limp around, handle a pan and look absolutely crazy…it could work.
2. Sell Avon or Tupperware – My mom did this, but I am pretty sure that she only made an accumulation of Avon and Tupperware, not money.
3. Host a bake sale - If this is anything like selling candy bars for Little League, I will end up eating all of the profit and my mom will have to foot the bill.
4. Write commercials – This could work!!!

Domestic Beer Commercial

Two men (of appropriately different races) walk in to their apartment joking and playing around like an ambiguously interracial gay couple from an 80’s style sitcom. They playfully head to the fridge for a beer in attempt to fain manliness (in true life we all are aware that they would be grabbing a Mike’s Hard Lemonade or each other).

Oh no! There are only two beers left in the fridge – A domestic something and a green import of… who cares (in true life it would taste better – but this is an awesome American made commercial).

The one with the domestic brand takes a swig and immediately his pupils dilate. The camera zooms in through his dilated pupil and into his thoughts:

• Classic footage of baseball clips – Teenagers in Levis playing guitars in the back of a Ford pick-up truck on the beach – Surfer coming out of the barrel of a wave – Pamela Anderson smiling and running in slow motion towards you on the beach.

The camera zooms back out of his thoughts just in time to change directions and zoom into the pupil of the guy who just started drinking the imported green bottle:

• German soldiers marching in high step– the Zeppelin exploding – Augustus Gloop being sucked up the fountain and ruining all of the delicious Oompa Loompa chocolate – David Hasselhoff smiling and running in slow motion towards you on the beach (disgusting).

The camera zooms back out of his eye and refocuses on me just standing there wondering, as I am sure that you have got to be wondering, what the hell I am actually writing about and where this post is going. I am not really sure, but I think that this is what I got from it: When a woman hands you a stick that she peed on, wash your hands before you go out to dinner and don’t set it on the counter where you prepare food either, I have an enormous amount of pointless school debt on top of my ever-accumulating medical debt, Wiley Coyote and I both suck at planning and I like to write f-ing, because I must think that by only implying the word and forcing you to say it, it is somehow different than just manning up and actually saying it.

This post is really not my best and in fact, is pretty stupid. But I am still unsure what I am supposed to concentrate on at this point. Further education seems pointless. I cannot drive, walk, pick things up, concentrate for too long (even reading books or writing lame blogs causes seizures), rooms that involve motion of other beings (or inanimate things of complicated angles) makes me dizzy and even my ridiculous good looks are beginning to fade. Oh well. Time to go plan something ingenious and wait for the next piano to fall on my head.