i am too pissed about this situation to give a clever title or to even capitalize.

So tonight's blog is brought to you by Paula and the black gentleman named Johnny W that she introduced me to on my birthday.

The following conversation happened almost exactly as I am recounting.  I have only changed the names, accents and facts in order to protect the slightly more innocent than me.

(As an aside I think that I hate the idea of indenting paragraphs.  If I skip a space I really don't think that I also need to indent to let you know that we are on a new paragraph.  It seems kind of condescending. But I digress.  Here is the promised conversation)))))))(just cuz))))))

Setting: a living room in a non-descript suburban household on a plot that contains the legally allowable number of chickens and not one more.

Characters: Role-a 12 year old boy human.  Rad-a 40 year old bad ass dad type dude with magic powers and an Alar like Ramson Steel.

Role: Rad, why come you don't blog no mo?
Rad: Verily I say to thee, I haveth beenth busyth myth sonth
Role: say what?
Rad: Ah rekon ah gots ta talk dffrnt
Role: not helping
Rad: Go to bed

Now that we have been entertained and confused appropriately let's commence with the business that is the business at hand.

As previously reported Cole's last set of scans showed a new lesion (or as I have just decided to call it, legion).  This means...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................we are back in treatment.  Yea for us!!!! Of course by yea I mean yeah.  And by yeah I mean stupid fu@#INg cancer.  And by that I mean....well I think that is self explanatory (aside: which of my insane grammer things is more annoying the parenthetical fetish or the .........?  The phones are open now.  Vote early and often.  Oh, and another stupid grammar redundancy that I have just decided to start hating.  I am, of course, talking about capitalizing to start a new sentence.  If I am punctuating to show that a sentence has ended, shouldn't I assume then that you are smart enough to understand that right after that punctuation a new sentence has begun?)()()(())

If you are lost, let me recap.  I am crazy.  I am slightly drunk.  I hate cancer.  Cole is going to restart treatment.

So the recommended option is something called ch.14.18 (for the record the periods herein are not of my own making) which is an immunotherapy which, as I choose to understand it, turns Cole into a mouse...or was made from a mouse, or a mouse was sacrificed in a ritualistic manner in order to create the therapy.  It will mean that we will find ourselves back as regular residents of the wonderful 3rd floor.  If you are part of the calvary, stand by.  You will be getting a call soon.

The other option is to go back to eating sweaty socks and not eating meat fat, milk, or things that are hot (see previous posts about fenretinide).

So that sucks.

Oh well, we will handle our business as we always have.  While we do, please raise your glasses and toast Cole, tenacious defender for his Abbott Falcons.

2/10/17 I hate birthdays

I have never been a big fan of birthdays.  I, in fact, only have one happy birthday memory.  Now it is important to note that lack of happy does not necessarily mean unhappy, it just means a lack of affirmatively happy memories.  Now my one happy memory of my birthday was only happy due to a piano player, The Undertaker, and Glenn the bartender.  Other than that I have a bunch of neutral memories, one sad memory and then starting 6 years ago, shitty memories.  But I digress....no I don't....tomorrow is the day formerly known as my birthday, but that I have rechristened Chemo Christmas and I find that we are right back where we have been, but thought we weren't.

That's right sports fans, we are going back into the world of treatment.  For the last 9 months I have been working diligently to make myself forget all those treatments, days/nights/weeks in the hospital, Kaiser, UCSF, bone marrow, surgeries, hair loss, anti-nausea meds, fear, fear, fear, and fear.  I had almost even convinced myself that I did not remember what it felt like to get kicked in the parent nuts.

To give a quick summary since I have not written in a while, last summer Cole had the big surgery at UCSF and then had to go on a crazy low fat diet due to issues from the surgery.  But (and this shows what a bananannas life we live in and how our perspective of "normal" is all messed up) other than that, we have not had any C-word stuff for quite a while.  He has been in school, making friends, playing basketball, and generally loving life.  Well now that is about to change.

This week we had scans.  The CT came back clean.  The MIBG came back with a new spot in the lower back.  This i,s to quote the, apparently, visionaries of the future, a most heinous turn of events.  It means that our plan of do nothing and have a great life is not to be.  Next week I will meet with the team and Kaiser and figure out what our treatment options are.

Let me just say that Cancer sucks.  I don't mean it sucks like Cauliflower sucks.  I don't mean that it sucks like the Nets suck.  I don't mean that it sucks like ties suck.  I don't even mean that it sucks like 45 sucks.  I mean that it sucks more than anything else ever.  In fact if you take all the sucky things that have ever existed and add them all up, you still will not have the suckness of Cancer.

When I told Cole about the new scans, he, of course, took it in stride.  I often wish I had half his strength.

I will try to update after we decide what to do, but my ability to write is based in large part in the amount and type of alcohol I have at my disposal so if you are a fan, send booze.  Also make yourself a drink and toast Cole, the boy who lived.