8-18-11

You know, I have found that I am a very different writer depending on the time of day that I decide to write.  In the morning, I am not very polished and my filters that make me sound less insane are not quite up and running yet.  Most of my posts that leave you aksing yourself, “What is he on, and can I have some?” are morning writings.

In the afternoon and early evening, I can almost pass for a normal person (despite the fact that we all know better).  I do spell checks, I tend to engage in less parenthetical awesomeness, and sometimes I even proof read what I just wrote.

Late at night I find that I am more introspective, and have less humor than normal.  This is where I find myself tonight.  Another night with sleep difficulties.  More thoughts about the unknown future.  Some people have described stress as a big heavy weight that sits on them and seems to get heavier and heavier as time goes on.  In my experience, stress is like a cold wind.  When it is blowing lightly, you know it is there but it is not all that unpleasant.  In fact, on hot days a cold breeze helps your day be more enjoyable.  But that cold breeze can quickly turn into a biting cold wind.  Now you know that you can take it, and that it will not kill you, but the longer that wind assaults you, the more you notice how awful it makes you feel.  It makes your hands hurt.  It stings your ears.  It seems to somehow wind its way through the protective layer of clothes that you are wearing until it gets into your bones.  It envelopes you to the point that all of your attention is focused on that infernal wind.  Again you know that it will not kill you, and will not even keep you from doing what you want.  But it really sucks, and keeps you from enjoying your day to the fullest extent possible.  Tonight the wind is blowing.

Cole is doing well.  He has almost completed his first week of radiation, and thus far has had no side effects that I have seen.  Radiation thus far has been very anti-climactic.  He does not glow in the dark, and has not grown a third eyeball.  He is in good spirits and is having fun helping Elisa get her class ready for the start of school.

Starting next week I will be on FMLA and will only be working 2 days per week until Cole can go back to school.  He has an appointment in early November to check his T-Cells, but we won’t know the results for a couple of weeks after that.  I am hoping that it will not affect our Disney World trip.  I will keep you posted, but for now please raise your glasses and toast Cole, media mogul.

8-15-11

Dear Cancer,

To begin with let me say Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.  I tried to warn you, and I tried to be nice.  You should have known that when we sent those CT Scans and MRI scans out to locate you, that we would find you and then send in our search and destroy team.  You failed to heed that warning, and you will suffer for it.

We first decided to go medieval on your ass by poisoning you.  You made me course poison through my boy’s body all because you decided to get aggressive.  We got most of you with the poison.  A normal entity would have just wrapped it up and called it a day after 99% of itself was destroyed though poison.  Even a virus knows to skiv off when it can no longer affect its host.  You are clearly a lower form of life than a stupid virus.

Now we are not playing around any more.  We gave you a chance to go quietly into that good night, but noooooooooo, you had to stick around.  You are like the dude who tries to hang around the bar at the very end of the night when all of the workers want to go home just because you know that you are not welcome anywhere else.  Well you know what?  You’re not welcome here.

Today is the beginning of the end for you.  Going medieval on your ass did not seem to work so we are going forward in time.  Today we are going to nuke your ass.  We are going to take all of the potential devastation that could have occurred had the Cold War gone Hot.  But here is the shitty part for you.  The Cold War never went hot because both sides knew that to nuke is to be nuked.  For you; however, you have no response to our firepower.  You have no defense to the reign of death that we are bringing you.  You have no way to stop us from killing you while simultaneously saving Cole from you.  You are done. 

Just thought you should know.  Also please be advised that after you are done we will all be raising our glasses and toasting your destruction.  Peace out, and screw you.

Regards,

Jim Baker

8-11-11

When last we spoke, Cole had a busted broviac line, and the only thing keeping him from bleeding out was a strategically placed paper clip.  Well on Monday Elisa and Logan took Cole down to Kaiser for a little splice job to repair the hole.  All was good on Monday and Tuesday.  On Wednesday night, Elisa went to the Giants game and left us boys to fend for ourselves. 

After scraping together a dinner of steak and calamari, Cole and I put Logan down for the night.  I then began to do medical stuff (yes that is the proper terminology) to Cole.  The easiest stuff to do is to flush his lines.  Naturally while flushing the lines, blood began spewing (or dripping very slowly, depending on who is telling the story) from the repair site.  Fortunately I had been well trained by the RN in the springy clogs.  I immediately found a paper clip and secured the situation.  God, I’m good (and very pretty as well.  The answer to your question is yes, I am the total package).

Since Elisa had a doctor’s appointment and potentially had to spend some time down at the County Courthouse, I had to take the day off to get another repair done.  So Cole and I made the long and harrowing journey to a land known by the locals as Santa Clara.  The journey was fraught with many dangers and obstacles, but our two tepid adventurers managed to survive.  After receiving a hero’s welcome (at which point the mayor gave us the key to the city, again), we proceeded to the clinic to finished what we had started. 

I was praised outrageously (although not without cause) for my sublime paper clip repair by all in attendance.  The medical staff was perplexed as to why the line failed again, but decided to try the repair one more time.  They prepped the site, got all of their tools ready, and were all set to cut the line off above the failed portion when Cole (who is about to start Medical School, see Doogie Howser M.D.) lifted his head and asked the doctor, “Shouldn’t you clamp the line first.”  You see the broviac line goes directly into his blood stream, and if they had not clamped the line prior to cutting it off, there would have been a huge blood stream in that room.  Gotta love it when the 6 year old knows more than the two doctors and one nurse in the room.

We went back home whereupon Elisa left us boys, again, for the evening.  This time, I did not do any medical stuff, and instead just hung Cole from the rafters by his ankles (no real reason, just seemed like fun) until Elisa returned home.

Today Elisa and Cole are going to head back down to the clinic (for those of you keeping score this is the 4^th straight day of going to the clinic) to check the line, and get labs drawn in advance of the radiation treatment that starts on Monday.  He might need a transfusion tomorrow, but otherwise should be ready to start on Monday. 

My anxiety is starting to whip itself up into a frothy frenzy for radiation.  My thinker can rationalize that this procedure will be less destructive and painful for Cole than the last two (Chemo and Stem Cell); however, I still get all worked up with images of a glowing child (not glowing in happiness, actually glowing from all the radiation) in my mind.  I am sure that it will be very anti-climactic, but for now I am going to be a wreck for a while.  You should watch; it will be fun.  For now; however, please raise your glasses and toast Cole, City Planner.

8-8-11

Good weekend.  Cole got some cool looking tattoos (although not as cool as I was hoping for) that, appropriately I guess, look like little targets.  Then, in order to make the radiation tech’s job harder cuz that’s how he rolls, Cole decided to tattoo his hands and arms with similar dots.

Cole also had a physical therapy appointment where the therapist said that he “toes out” but that structurally (bone, muscle, tendon, etc) all the parts are working right.  He thinks that the quad is just a little weak from being in the hospital bed.  Cole was given exercises that, as all physical therapy exercises are, seem to be kind of ridiculous, but since the therapist is the expert, we will follow his instructions.  I still don’t know why Cole has to have a chicken on his head while doing them, but I didn’t go to PT school, so what do I know?

On Saturday, Elisa and I had planned to go to a movie and to lunch to celebrate our anniversary.  We had PJ and Abby come over to watch the kids, and we set off.  Now because Elisa’s life is rather boring with no challenges, I decided to refrain from telling her exactly how little gas we had in the car prior to leaving.  In hindsight, that might not have been the best idea that I had that day.  Naturally we ended up running out of gas at a stoplight on a good sized hill.  I had to pop the clutch (in reverse) to get it going and then do a crazy maneuver to get the car up the hill.  While we ended up missing the movie due to the delay, popping the clutch was pretty fun.  I have not popped a clutch since my old green Honda (I sure wrecked the hell out of that car).

After not seeing the movie, we had a nice lunch at Jack’s Prime, and then headed home.  We played with the boys and seemed destined to have just another normal weekend of hanging out….but oh no…..that would be too easy.  Late in the afternoon, Elisa was flushing Cole’s line when it exploded.   Yes you read right, Cole’s line exploded and suffered a gaping hole (ok maybe a slight exaggeration, but if you have ever heard me tell a story you would know that I am unable to not add color to a story) the size of my elbow.

So we headed down to Santa Clara in order for the line to be repaired by trained medical professionals who have access to some amazing medical instruments and supplies.  Unfortunately the amazing medical supplies part turned out to be wrong.  The nurse, who wears crocs with the spring heel thing... very strange looking, pulled a total MacGyver.  He wrapped the tubing around a paper clip.  Yes you read right, a paper clip.  The paper clip kinked the tube and Cole stopped leaking blood (which for those of you who have less medical training than me (Medical training is the grown up word for watching at least two of: ER, Gray’s Anatomy, Hawthorne, Royal Pains, and the episodes of Friends when Joey was Dr. Drake Remore) is a good thing). 

The surgeon is supposed to be back in town today, and we are hoping to get a more permanent fix.  A binder clip at least.

Sunday was pretty chill.  We went to the park (Cole and I rode our bikes there), and video chatted with the Zonians over Xbox.

Hopefully today we will get Cole’s line all taken care of, and Elisa and the kids can enjoy a nice summer day.  For now, though, please raise your glasses and toast Cole, medical supplies distributor.

8-5-11

So I totally had a great idea for my next book that I will probably never actually write.  I haven’t decided if it will be a sequel to the last book that I didn’t write, or a stand alone.  I willing to accept feedback from anyone who has read any of the books that I haven’t written.

When we last spoke we had narrowed down my unfortunate swing/gravity incident to a few possibilities, and after further investigation I think that we can very clearly identify the culprit as those working on behalf of Little Foot, that little subversive. 

Now I know that you are riveted with the strangeness the seems to fall from my brain, but this blog is really about Cole, so let’s get to it.  Any objections?  No? Good, the measure passes.

Today Cole is getting a tattoo.  We thought that he deserved it given how well he has been responding to his treatments.  I suggested that he get a naked lady holding a sandwich from Columbo’s in Pacifica (insert drool here…for the sandwich, not the naked lady….come on, this is a family show…sort of), but instead he took the advice of his doctors and is getting tiny dots where they are going to aim the radiation blasts (is radiation blasts the right term?  Sounds not very accurate.  Maybe it is radiation shots….or maybe points….I think I like blasts….like blasts the Cancer back to the stone age). 

He also is going to visit a sadist physical therapist today to try and work on getting his walking and running gait back to normal.  It is going to be a long day for Elisa and Cole because the tattoo session is early this morning, and the PT is not until later this afternoon.  Fortunately Granny and Pappy Rinde live nearby and they can chill at their homestead. 

Elisa starts school later this month (goes back 8/22) which means that I will be utilizing the FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act) as well as the IGTSHFWALA (I Get To Stay Home From Work A Lot Act).  I think that we need to immediately change the law so that I can take indefinite FMLA leave with pay.  Give me Obama’s number…..wait, never mind, I’ve got it.  Alas, had to leave a message.  I guess this means that I will just have to take the unpaid leave.

I would like to say that me staying home with Cole would not have worked out without the amazing, extreme, wonderful, crazy awesome, badass, generous, selfless, lovely donations and support that we have received from so many of you.  I can not even imagine how we would have made it without all of you.  I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.  Instead of asking you to raise your glasses and toast Cole, today I raise my glass (yes I am drinking on BART on my way to work.  What of it?), and toast all of you.

8-3-11

Definition of being a fat ass: when you sit on the swing with your 3 year old son, and the swing breaks.

Definition of being old: after falling from a broken swing, your body hurts in places that were not involved in the impact.

Definition of being awesome: drinking the pain away with nice Scotch that you did not buy.

So there are a few possibilities as to why the swing broke.  1: A certain Auntie Julia weakened the structural integrity in response to, and retribution for, a certain unfortunate incident with Little Foot (I make no apologies.  He had the necessary information.  He should have talked.  No reason to take that kind of pain.  Lives were at stake.)  B) A certain Uncle Chris girthy self prematurely aged the support rope; or III. I had to suffer that great indignity in order for the universe to balance itself out when I win the lottery.

I cannot tell you how happy I have been to watch Cole these past few days.  He has great energy, has been eating well, and (other than the bald head and pipes hanging from his chest) looks and acts like any little 6 year old on summer vacation.  The second I get home from work I am attacked by two little dirty bare foot kids begging me to play with them.  Irregardlesslyness of how tired I am from a long day of sitting on my ass at work, the second I am accosted by those imps, I am ready to rock and roll.

The only thing we have noticed with respect to Cole is that his gait is not normal.  He walks and runs like his hips hurt.  We have asked him repeatedly if his legs or hips hurt, and he repeatedly (and exasperatedly) says no.  Now for those of you who know Cole, you know that he will always say that he is fine, but watching him you can tell that he is not in pain. 

The doctors think that it is just that he was in bed for almost a month, and the muscles have kind of forgotten how to move properly.  I had the same problem after my knee surgery. (random memory.  Shari’s shakes in Tucson.  Yum.) 

So homie has an appointment on Friday with the physical therapist.  I am hoping that they make him do awesomely strange exercises to help out, but that is just how I roll.

Seriously, I hope that he is able to get his normal walk back, but we will see.  For now, please raise your glasses and toast Cole, fashion designer.

8-2-11

Ok so first things first.  I have to get something off my chest.  Now I know that I am hardly a fashionista.  I also recognize that clothes worn by one generation must, and a central rule of the universe, look completely ridiculous to other generations.  I also recognize that I am rapidly becoming old.  Despite all that, I have to say that there this a fashion trend that I have been noticing that troubles me greatly.  You know what I am talking about.  Capri Pants on dudes.  Come on.  As Cole would say, “seriously.”

Now that my conscious is clear, we can move on to why we are here today.  Today I am not going to talk about Cole (except maybe tangentially), nor am I going to talk about medical stuff.  Today we need to recognize Elisa.

Eight years ago today Elisa momentarily lost her mind and married a balding, silly man.  Granted the man has a quick wit, easy going nature, and nice round backside, but let’s be frank.  He is completely off his rocker.  Still Elisa took the plunge and agreed (based primarily on the eternal promise of ready water glasses upon request) to be married.

In those ocho anos (insert ~ as appropriate for you purists), there have been many ups, and as you all well know, some staggering downs.  But through it all Elisa has held her family together, and kept her husband on the straight and narrow (well at least kept him near it.  Come on, she is only human after all…..or is she?), and has generally just been the best possible wife a man could ask for.

If you see her today, or if you get some time to drop her an email or a facebook note, wish her happy anniversary, and let her know how awesome she is.  I know that I will.

Love you babe.

So I ask that you please raise your glasses today and toast Elisa and my marriage (to each other).  I know I will.

8-1-11

Sorry we haven’t spoken in a while, but I have been having too much fun….too much fun…what’s that mean?  It’s like too much money…no such thing.  It’s like a girl too pretty, with too much class, being too lucky, or a car too fast.  Whatever they say I done, …..er something.  That distraction was your fault, not mine.

Going back to Thursday, we pick up where we left off with our tepid adventurers.  I brought Jackson and Sophia, full of grace, what a pretty face, down to la casa for a noche of pelucliaing.  Given that we had not yet watched Yogi Bear 1000000000000000000000000000000000000 times, and considering that there are not any other movies that will play on my laptop (think that Cole may have hacked it), we bundled up the Arizonas in blankets and filled them up with hot chocolate and watched Yogi Bear in our open air exterior Cineplex. 

Jax and Soapie stayed the night, and played all day on Friday with Lobert and Coley Moley Guacamole.  When Chris and I got down there, we let Elisa and Lo take a nap and the rest of us played some D&D.  The adventures were grand, the humor was crass, and the battles were won.  Good times all around.

That evening, Julia (whose favorite movie is Side Out….go ahead ask her about it.  She can quote the entire move…go ahead ask her to…..please…..please….if you do, she will give you money….please….please) and Tina (my understanding is that welcome to fb is in order) came down and we ate sausages and frozen pie (nothing is too good for big homie’s birthday). 

That evening we said our goodbyes to the Arizonas.  I just wish that our language was not so limited.  I have been trying and trying to find the words to express my thanks to them for coming out for the entire month and taking the lion’s share of hospital shifts, and for all that they did.  I think the only way to truly show my gratitude is to say: pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake.  You guys are the best.

They left on Saturday morning, and Elisa and I just enjoyed hanging out with the kids.  Logan went to swim class, and got to use the kickboard.  We went down to SJ for some pizza.  Nice and relaxing.  Sunday was more of the same.  We took a fun little adventure to see the tide pools in Half Moon Bay (unfortunately the tide was in, but we had a great time anyway), ate some clam chowder, and just enjoyed having our little family all together.

This last week Cole also had his follow up appointment at UCSF, where (of course with this kid), everything looks good.  He also had an appointment with the radiation department and an appointment at the normal clinic.  They explained the process of radiation to Elisa.  Basically he has 20 sessions (one session per day M-F for 4 weeks).  Most of the sessions are lower levels of radiation, but there will be some (~6…..Elisa told me but I don’t remember the exact number if you can believe it…I know, surprising) that are higher levels which will be directed at the spots that the surgeon tagged with the clips.  Right now we are set to start this process on 8/15.

I think that is all for now, but stay tuned.  While you are staying tuned, please raise your glasses and toast Cole, stock broker.