Rip van Roygene

Slowly the fog lifts. My eyes focus. My ears begin to translate strange fuzzy frequencies. My pulse increases, my breathing becomes full. My blood circulates and warms to it’s proper temperature. My hibernation must be coming to a conclusion. I take one tentative step and then another. Pretty soon I am standing upright, erect, though walking wobbly. I hear the cell phone calling me. I pick it up, checking the caller ID before I answer, lest some pesky bill collector wants to ask when I’m gonna send a check (no one believes “soon”, “never” is too blunt, and “as soon as my health improves” just sounds like a dodge, so I’d rather not answer at all). It is safe. It is from a trusted Frambly member. I hit the “talk” button and say “So what’s new?”. Only I don’t exactly say that. That is the message my brain has assembled but as it passes my lips it becomes more liquid and lispy. Kinda like running it through Sylvester the Cat. Thus the results of Chemo #2. Sufferin' Succotash!

I haven't been able to update you as much as I had planned because I haven't been able to stay conscious long enough to operate a keyboard. This extends all the way to last week. About Wednesday (or pretty much smack dab in the middle of Chemo Drip #2 ) I began feeling sick to my stomach and sleepy. By Thursday, if I wasn't throwing up bile, I was asleep. Sometimes the two of them dangerously overlapped. It got to where just the smell of food would cue an expulsion. So, obviously, I didn't eat much for the remainder of my visit.

By Friday everything hurt. I couldn't move, couldn't reach my nightstand table, couldn't eat food. That's when they gave me the morphine (I thought I was gonna get Tylenol. Extra Strength) and everything pretty much disappeared until Saturday.

Charlie Haldeman came to get me on Saturday (you remember Charlie from the KORA afternoon shift several years ago, now a big-time star TV newsguy in Sherman). I rolled in to town, through my front door and after a perfunctory “Hello” and “Adios” I was back asleep, where I have remained far much longer that I expected, at least comparing this time time to my last Chemo bout several weeks ago.

The mouth sores returned on Sunday. They, too, seem to be more plentiful and painful than last time. I have several concoctions I swish in my mouth to numb and heal these, but still my diet has been mostly soup and Glucerna smoothie. Until Thursday, I couldn't even get my mouth open wide enough to get anything in. And then, if I get the slightest touch of salt or spice or sauce, I bounce off the ceiling.

Today, I'm feeling a bit better. I only slept through half the day as opposed to ¾ of the day. I have less sores, though still in critical areas: the tip and top of my tongue and both sides near where the teeth rub up against it (YEEEOWWWCH). If I can return my speaking voice to a non-cartoonish timbre, I hope to be back on the air on Monday. Keep ya posted.

RANDOM RAMBLINGS

I had a to-do list of things I wanted to do whilst under treatment at the Baylor Med Cen. It looks eerily like the list that I prepared tor this week. Mysteriously none of items on either list have been crossed off. Well, there's always the weekend,

I hate when people try to tell me what they dreamed of last night, but this is kinda different. Almost every night at some point I'll be in mid-dream, even mid-sentence, and wake up saying that last thing aloud. I mean, I'll be making some statement in Dreamland and suddenly be beack in the Real World finishing that sentence. Weird. Never had that happen to me before, and now it happens every night. Could it still be the morphine talking?

My apologies to Butch and Nelda, who both inquired to my Howabouts early in the week. I sent a text to Butch telling him I couldn't talk right now. Literally couldn't talk. As in “Unable to speak”. But I know Butch ain't exactly Mr. Gadget when it comes to modern communications and social networking.(No website, no email, no Facebook,etc). He does have a cell phone. I tried to text him a message but I'm not sure if A) it got through or B) he would know how to retrieve it. Anyhow, thanks to you both for the concern.

Sufferin' Succotash!

Nope. Not ready yet.