Ox Fall Down

Back in North Conway. Skied yesterday and today. Very tentative yesterday. Easier sledding today.

Met with Dr. Yoon on Monday. The incision is fine. He's happy with the progress. He scheduled a scan for May 7th. No adjuvant therapy in the interim.

Sleeping a lot. Starting to eat more. My back is in worse shape than my stomach. Watching the second season of 24 on dvd. That's all.

I am Rodney Harrison.

My body is a pinata.

So that happened.

Want a definition for optimism? I started flossing again.

Just got out of my first support group session. 8 other cancer patients in their late twenties or early thirties. The first people my age I've seen in the hospital since Brad died. Incredible experience. Like looking in the mirror and liking what you see.

Lots of people asking about visiting after surgery. Please. If it's convenient and helpful. Those of you around Deaconess in '92 will remember I wasn't overly talkative for a few days. If you make it, great. If not you can watch from home what I'll be watching: the Morphine vs. Pain fight on Channel 7. It's an instant classic.

Just off the phone with Yoon. PET Scan shows no other disease. Surgery is a go. Meeting with Delaney tomorrow am before the angiogram. Progress.

Just found the angiogram will require most of Thursday. There's a chance they'll keep me in overnight. So as tonight might be my last on the streets with phone/internet access I wonder if the messages could be brief and e-mails especially light and without attachments. Yahoo doesn't give me much storage. If I don't post again know that I'm happy with MGH, with the clarity I have on this decision and that I love you all very much.

Now, in the best Milanese accent and spoken to somebody you will see in hours, "Ciao, ciao, ciao, world! Ciao!"

PET scan, check.
Final labs, check.

IORT consent forms, pending.
Angiogram, pending.

During the scan you listened to Tom Petty (fitting, hopefully) and Bob Marley and a whole bunch of garbage in between. Come on, WBOS, do your job.

Notes from MGH's stage production of Kafka's Der Prozess:

Pre-admission for surgery. At the front desk I'm told I have to go to Admissions first, before I can register at Pre-Admissions. The two departments are 50 yards from each other. At Admissions they tell me I can go back to Pre-Admissions without seeing them. Back at Pre-Admissions the nurse says I have to go to Admissions first, really. I walk back to Admissions and this time Admissions precedes Pre-Admissions.

"Which procedure are you here for, Mr. Smither?"
"I'm here for two. An angiogram on Thursday and the surgery on Friday."
"Which one's first?"
"Excuse me?"
"Which one will you be having first?"
"The angiogram on Thursday is first."
"Ok, then. The angiogram on Thursday is before the surgery on Friday?"
"Correct."
"Thank you, Mr. Smither. Have a seat and somebody will be with you shortly."

My new skis are fast. Thank you, Shaina.

Notes from the meeting with Yoon on Monday:

Incision will run down the scar from the top to just above the navel. He doesn't listen to music. In '92 Jenkins listened to Phil Collins. Yoon says the nurses sometimes turn on the radio but he can't hear it. 6ish hours of surgery and radiation predicted. The distal pancreas will move to the waste basket if the tumor has invaded. The spleen will make the same move if the splenic artery needs to go and other vessels have not compensated. These will be game time decisions.

In the middle of the Super Bowl last night, I mean chemo three years ago, Mags sent me a cartoon. It showed a man with his face twisted in pain. Dashes depicted the arc of a football's flight into his groin. The caption read, "How to get over pain? Time, my friend. Long, slow, hard time."

During the Super Bowl last night, I mean the Simpsons a few weeks ago, Homer works his way on to a film festival's judging panel. His favorite entry is Football in a Groin which, in three mississippis, shows a football striking a man in the groin. That's the entire movie. He loves it because, "it works on so many levels." He loves it also because, "it has a football in a groin."

So I was wondering during the Super Bowl's post-game coverage, I mean this morning, whether this surgery business isn't just a football's flight into the groin. And I wonder if it is just as simple as requiring time for recovery before I can climb and ski again. Does it have to be more complicated than that?

Oh, why don't I just come out and say what's really on my mind? Mike Vrabel, Mike Vrabel, Mike Vrabel, Mike Vrabel, Mike Vrabel, Mike Vrabel.

If I ever have a daughter I will name her Vrabelina.