one year ago today
today, i celebrate a different kind of anniversary.
where were you on july 23, 2009?
me? at this time one year ago, i was probably in a room after having my right kidney removed from my body by dr. brian k. wade. turns out that kidney had been housing a malignant mass for who knows how long. also turns out that i ended up being one of the "lucky ones". i was lucky, in that, for whatever reason, those perverted cells that made up that mass had not yet decided to go exploring in the rest of my body. the friday after the surgery, dr. wade came into my room and told me it was "completely contained" and also told me to "celebrate".
a year later, i don't know if i've let myself celebrate. for the first six weeks, post-surgery, it was all about the physical recovery. getting back into shape after having been cut into was a new, long and painful process i had never done before. after three weeks, i went back to work. after six, i started lifting and exercising again. looking back, the surgery and the physical recovery was the easy part.
then came the demons. after i started getting back into my normal life-ly routines, i started worrying. i've always been good at worrying, but now i felt like i really had something to worry about. after all, i just had freaking cancer removed from me. surely the doctors had missed some of those perverted cells moving somewhere, right? in my mind, i was convinced that the answer to that question was "yes".
i was dizzy all the time. i started seeing floaters. so, in the first six months leading up to my first follow up ct, i went to the eye doctor and had my eyes checked for tumors there. no tumors. just floaters. i also went into my primary care doctor's office, cried like a baby and allowed them to schedule a "peace of mind" scan on my head so that we could rule out a brain tumor. no tumors. just anxiety. i went to therapy three times for the anxiety. learned the "is it possible? yes. probable? no." mantra.
six months passed. i went back to see dr. wade, again knowing full well that my first follow-up scan was going to show something bad. it didn't. neither did the chest x-ray. by this time, i had been prescribed and started taking lexapro to help fight off the demons. it helped. time helped. all the clean scans helped. the no tumors in my eyes report helped. and i started acting like the crappy human being that i am again.
i plugged back into church. we got limbo off the ground. my store became a point of pride again. things started feeling..."normal". two weeks ago today, i went back for my year-out visit. the scan looked good again. they saw something in one of my lungs. but then, they didn't. i had a chest scan. clean there too.
is it time to celebrate?
maybe it is. i still worry. this week, i started the process of weaning myself off the lexapro. can't take that shit forever. we'll see how good i've got at coping with the demons on my own.
today, a full year removed from my surgery, sarah and i are heading to gatlinburg. it'll be my first trip there since late 1999 when i took a few youth there to see gay-ass josh mcdowell and the columbine crosses (that part was actually kind of moving) at some youth praise-all-things-that-came-from-jesus-which-is-everything gathering.
today, we are going to travel somewhere without children for more than one night for the first time since 2002. it is going to be weird. we hope it's relaxing. and fun.
it's been a helluva year. here's to many, many, many more (without cancer).
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
false alarm
so, tuesday morning, i got the "official" phone call that i had been waiting on.
yes, it's true. last friday morning at 8:10 i had my year-out follow-up scan. and the initial reading of that scan by dr. wade could not have been any more positive. i went through the ct machine four separate times. once, without the iodine contrast, two times with the iv hooked up and the dye flowing through my veins and one final time with the iv unhooked for good measure. i got my clothes on and sarah and i waited patiently for the man that took out my right kidney to come in and make us hip to what the scan revealed. he came in the and the first thing he said to me was, "happy anniversary". he had his very pleasant smile on his face and it was obvious that he wasn't worried in the least that the images were going to show anything other than the expected. he asked sarah and me if we'd like to come over with him to the computer and check things out. i asked him, respectfully, if i could wait until he could give me a "thumbs up" or "thumbs down". he grinned and said, "of course". so, i turned to the side and he pulled up the images. sarah watched the screen and i watched her face as he went through his checklist.
"spleen looks good."
"bladder looks good."
"stomach looks good."
"left kidney looks good."
and so on. he went through and looked at everything, and everything looked as it should on someone that's had one of their kidneys removed. and so i breathed a sigh of relief. time to celebrate, right?
well...
flash ahead to tuesday morning. i am mid-workout and my phone rings. i recognize the number. it's dr. wade's office. i pick up the phone and it's the ct technician that i started last friday morning with. her voice is kind of high and a little scratchy. she also has a little valley girl southern twang. this phone call, ideally, will be to tell me that the official radiologist report is in and confirms what dr. wade saw, which is nothing out of the ordinary. it will also tell me that the result of the chest x-ray.
"kevin, i just wanted to tell you that the radiologist looked at your ct images, and every thing there looked great,..."
"woohoo!", i said to myself and her at the same time.
she continues, "but..."
but. but? but, what? my forehead began to sweat.
"but, something showed up on your chest x-ray."
holy.
shit.
my stomach turned. i wanted to sit down but my legs wouldn't move. i stood there, destroyed. almost a full 365 days worth of panic and anxiety turned away came flooding back at me. i had already been told a year ago that if the type of cancer i had were to move, the most likely place it would go would be to my lungs, hence the chest x-ray that has accompanied all of my follow-ups.
"but, something showed up on your chest x-ray."
she then continued with what i should have heard as good news. "they don't know, exactly, what it is. it is very small, about two millimeters long. it could be a smudge or possibly a shadow. the part of your lung that they are looking at was actually captured on friday's ct. i took those images to the radiologist that read your chest x-ray and, as i was looking over his shoulder, he said he couldn't see anything."
"he is not worried."
"i am not worried."
"dr. wade is not concerned. if dr. wade was concerned, he would have called you, himself."
all good things. in that moment, though, i coudn't hear them. rather, i couldn't process them as good things. i could only fear the worst. i could only imagine this being "the other shoe". i was right. everyone else was wrong. my cancer was not all gone. in fact, it had moved to my lungs.
thankfully, it had not.
after coming down from my panic, we rescheduled a follow-up chest scan from thursday to wednesday of last week around lunchtime. i only had to wait about 24 hours after the phone call to hear and then process what everyone else was already certain of. that i was fine.
the same technician called me wednesday afternoon with the final piece of this follow-up's puzzle. the chest scan looked "completely normal". they suspected the mark on the chest x-ray was a "motion artifact".
"i am sorry you had to worry, but these things happen all the time."
not to me.
but to me, it happened.
what my reaction to the smudge on my chest x-ray tells me is a little cloudy. it had already been established that i have not rid myself completely of anxiety. i am still quite certain that, spiritually, i am not ready to pass from this place.
i thought, though, that i had worked on and succeeded in controlling my fears over the last six months. i thought that the sum of time and lexapro had given me an advantage over the irrational demons that lay in wait for my most vulnerable moments to present themselves.
maybe i haven't. maybe, in a sense, i don't want to. i don't know.
what i do know is that tuesday morning's false alarm will be remembered with just as much clarity as any piece of news i received last summer and in january, because it is every bit as much a part of this process of healing as the rest.
as i begin to wean myself off of the medication this week, surely i am better equipped than i used to be. to deal with those demons, that is.
we shall see.
so, tuesday morning, i got the "official" phone call that i had been waiting on.
yes, it's true. last friday morning at 8:10 i had my year-out follow-up scan. and the initial reading of that scan by dr. wade could not have been any more positive. i went through the ct machine four separate times. once, without the iodine contrast, two times with the iv hooked up and the dye flowing through my veins and one final time with the iv unhooked for good measure. i got my clothes on and sarah and i waited patiently for the man that took out my right kidney to come in and make us hip to what the scan revealed. he came in the and the first thing he said to me was, "happy anniversary". he had his very pleasant smile on his face and it was obvious that he wasn't worried in the least that the images were going to show anything other than the expected. he asked sarah and me if we'd like to come over with him to the computer and check things out. i asked him, respectfully, if i could wait until he could give me a "thumbs up" or "thumbs down". he grinned and said, "of course". so, i turned to the side and he pulled up the images. sarah watched the screen and i watched her face as he went through his checklist.
"spleen looks good."
"bladder looks good."
"stomach looks good."
"left kidney looks good."
and so on. he went through and looked at everything, and everything looked as it should on someone that's had one of their kidneys removed. and so i breathed a sigh of relief. time to celebrate, right?
well...
flash ahead to tuesday morning. i am mid-workout and my phone rings. i recognize the number. it's dr. wade's office. i pick up the phone and it's the ct technician that i started last friday morning with. her voice is kind of high and a little scratchy. she also has a little valley girl southern twang. this phone call, ideally, will be to tell me that the official radiologist report is in and confirms what dr. wade saw, which is nothing out of the ordinary. it will also tell me that the result of the chest x-ray.
"kevin, i just wanted to tell you that the radiologist looked at your ct images, and every thing there looked great,..."
"woohoo!", i said to myself and her at the same time.
she continues, "but..."
but. but? but, what? my forehead began to sweat.
"but, something showed up on your chest x-ray."
holy.
shit.
my stomach turned. i wanted to sit down but my legs wouldn't move. i stood there, destroyed. almost a full 365 days worth of panic and anxiety turned away came flooding back at me. i had already been told a year ago that if the type of cancer i had were to move, the most likely place it would go would be to my lungs, hence the chest x-ray that has accompanied all of my follow-ups.
"but, something showed up on your chest x-ray."
she then continued with what i should have heard as good news. "they don't know, exactly, what it is. it is very small, about two millimeters long. it could be a smudge or possibly a shadow. the part of your lung that they are looking at was actually captured on friday's ct. i took those images to the radiologist that read your chest x-ray and, as i was looking over his shoulder, he said he couldn't see anything."
"he is not worried."
"i am not worried."
"dr. wade is not concerned. if dr. wade was concerned, he would have called you, himself."
all good things. in that moment, though, i coudn't hear them. rather, i couldn't process them as good things. i could only fear the worst. i could only imagine this being "the other shoe". i was right. everyone else was wrong. my cancer was not all gone. in fact, it had moved to my lungs.
thankfully, it had not.
after coming down from my panic, we rescheduled a follow-up chest scan from thursday to wednesday of last week around lunchtime. i only had to wait about 24 hours after the phone call to hear and then process what everyone else was already certain of. that i was fine.
the same technician called me wednesday afternoon with the final piece of this follow-up's puzzle. the chest scan looked "completely normal". they suspected the mark on the chest x-ray was a "motion artifact".
"i am sorry you had to worry, but these things happen all the time."
not to me.
but to me, it happened.
what my reaction to the smudge on my chest x-ray tells me is a little cloudy. it had already been established that i have not rid myself completely of anxiety. i am still quite certain that, spiritually, i am not ready to pass from this place.
i thought, though, that i had worked on and succeeded in controlling my fears over the last six months. i thought that the sum of time and lexapro had given me an advantage over the irrational demons that lay in wait for my most vulnerable moments to present themselves.
maybe i haven't. maybe, in a sense, i don't want to. i don't know.
what i do know is that tuesday morning's false alarm will be remembered with just as much clarity as any piece of news i received last summer and in january, because it is every bit as much a part of this process of healing as the rest.
as i begin to wean myself off of the medication this week, surely i am better equipped than i used to be. to deal with those demons, that is.
we shall see.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
hello, panic. it's been a while.
dateline - eastern urology, july 9 @ 8:10 cst.
there are days in the last sixth months that i think i have started to own the idea that i had cancer. had cancer. past tense. that, on july 23rd of 2009, a malignant, physiological anomaly was removed from my body along with my right kidney. there are days, more of them in the last six months than the previous six, where my state of mind is one of control. whether that control comes due to a function of time removed from last july, lexapro, or a combination of both maintains no real consequence. on those days where i am in control of my mind, i can think an irrational thought, compartmentalize that thought and file it away under "you shall not pass!!!", and i am a functioning member of society. loving, father of two. decent to crappy husband. par to above average director of a locally owned and operated franchise. getting worse by the game softball player. getting better by the day friend. a still-wasting-tens-of-peoples time blogger. a proud member of limbo. an emeritus weed. and so on. not only do i function, but i, believe it or not, can enjoy life. the girls make me laugh. the girls make me yell. the braves bring me joy. bobby cox makes me question his worth as a human being. i love going to work. a customer reminds me that loving going to work is a privilege, not a right. i am happy. i rap along with eminem and then sing along soulfully with the gaslight anthem. in the last six months, i have had many more of these days.
and then there are days like yesterday...
i know my anxiety is racing more than usual because i set my year-out follow up scan last week. i know it. intellectually, i get it. i just can't do anything about it. yesterday, it was all i could do to hold it together.
and nobody knew. that's an improvement.
around lunchtime, i found out that a 32 year-old coworker from the homewood psp prematurely lost her life saturday to causes yet known. before that news, i was already on edge. after, it was a ramped up version of that on-edge story. my senses turned themselves to hyper-aware. i felt dizzy all afternoon 'til i came home and was able to sit down. pains and/or tweaks in my neck, back and lower abdominals that i've been talking away for weeks now all came back at once. her circumstances had nothing to do with my medical history. but her tragedy and my sadness towards it, though, sent me spiraling into deathdreams i had not experienced since before christmas.
to compare or try to tie together my fate with that of meredith would be beyond ridiculous and selfish to a blasphemous fault, and, please believe me, i am not trying to do so. not one bit.
what i saw and heard in my co-worker's passing was an unsolicited reminder of my mortality, and my instinctual reflexes, bent, perverted and re-conditioned through my experience with cancer last summer betrayed me.
i wanted to cry for meredith, but i was too scared too. i wanted to call her employees and tell them i was sorry, but i couldn't shake myself out of the office. i wanted to call the store director at pelham and meredith's old boss to share with him my condolences, but i could only manage a text.
days like yesterday, for me, are fewer now and farther between. what massive work on my state of mind i'd like to believe i've made was deconstructed right before my eyes by horrible news.
i now worry for friday's results with little thought for rationale. i worry for them and see them through selfish and tragedy tinted lenses.
fuck you, cancer and fuck you, circumstances that tore meredith away from her family, her friends, her co-workers and loved ones.
rest in peace, meredith. and godspeed.
dateline - eastern urology, july 9 @ 8:10 cst.
there are days in the last sixth months that i think i have started to own the idea that i had cancer. had cancer. past tense. that, on july 23rd of 2009, a malignant, physiological anomaly was removed from my body along with my right kidney. there are days, more of them in the last six months than the previous six, where my state of mind is one of control. whether that control comes due to a function of time removed from last july, lexapro, or a combination of both maintains no real consequence. on those days where i am in control of my mind, i can think an irrational thought, compartmentalize that thought and file it away under "you shall not pass!!!", and i am a functioning member of society. loving, father of two. decent to crappy husband. par to above average director of a locally owned and operated franchise. getting worse by the game softball player. getting better by the day friend. a still-wasting-tens-of-peoples time blogger. a proud member of limbo. an emeritus weed. and so on. not only do i function, but i, believe it or not, can enjoy life. the girls make me laugh. the girls make me yell. the braves bring me joy. bobby cox makes me question his worth as a human being. i love going to work. a customer reminds me that loving going to work is a privilege, not a right. i am happy. i rap along with eminem and then sing along soulfully with the gaslight anthem. in the last six months, i have had many more of these days.
and then there are days like yesterday...
i know my anxiety is racing more than usual because i set my year-out follow up scan last week. i know it. intellectually, i get it. i just can't do anything about it. yesterday, it was all i could do to hold it together.
and nobody knew. that's an improvement.
around lunchtime, i found out that a 32 year-old coworker from the homewood psp prematurely lost her life saturday to causes yet known. before that news, i was already on edge. after, it was a ramped up version of that on-edge story. my senses turned themselves to hyper-aware. i felt dizzy all afternoon 'til i came home and was able to sit down. pains and/or tweaks in my neck, back and lower abdominals that i've been talking away for weeks now all came back at once. her circumstances had nothing to do with my medical history. but her tragedy and my sadness towards it, though, sent me spiraling into deathdreams i had not experienced since before christmas.
to compare or try to tie together my fate with that of meredith would be beyond ridiculous and selfish to a blasphemous fault, and, please believe me, i am not trying to do so. not one bit.
what i saw and heard in my co-worker's passing was an unsolicited reminder of my mortality, and my instinctual reflexes, bent, perverted and re-conditioned through my experience with cancer last summer betrayed me.
i wanted to cry for meredith, but i was too scared too. i wanted to call her employees and tell them i was sorry, but i couldn't shake myself out of the office. i wanted to call the store director at pelham and meredith's old boss to share with him my condolences, but i could only manage a text.
days like yesterday, for me, are fewer now and farther between. what massive work on my state of mind i'd like to believe i've made was deconstructed right before my eyes by horrible news.
i now worry for friday's results with little thought for rationale. i worry for them and see them through selfish and tragedy tinted lenses.
fuck you, cancer and fuck you, circumstances that tore meredith away from her family, her friends, her co-workers and loved ones.
rest in peace, meredith. and godspeed.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
the color of urine
(2009 year in review)
((the curse of dcd))
this might not be as relevant a topic for my female readers (at least those that pee sitting down, wipe and never inspect their urine the way that men, by nature, are accustomed to doing), and for that, i apologize. but the question is this. how often do you pay attention, when going number one, to the liquid waste that is coming out of your body? if you are anything like me, pre-june, not very much. if it comes/came out extraordinarily yellow, one might think to themself, "man, i should drink more water." if it comes/came out extraordinarily clear, one might think to themself, "man, i've been drinking a lot of water." and that's about it, right? it was for me. for 32 and a half years, going to the bathroom standing up was about as unexciting a part of my day as it would be for any other human being.
and then, i peed blood.
the night in question was rather unremarkable. a pretty normal monday night as monday nights go. i played softball. have zero recollection as to whether or not we won (the trauma that would follow has rendered those events rather meaningless). i was probably dehydrated as i always was and had been before that night. i never drank water. always drank coke. probably quenched my thirst, post-game, with something carbonated. i half-way cleaned up. was ready for bed. went to the bathroom.
and then, i peed blood.
having never done so before, you can imagine my surprise. i went and got sarah, we went downstairs and started to google. i didn't even know what to be afraid of, but i was wishing that it was a one time thing. a figment of my imagination. we saw several options online, i calmed down enough to go to bed and sleep for a bit. i got up, nervously walked into the bathroom...
and then, i peed blood. again.
so, you are saying that something was off?
i called the doctor and you've heard the story since then. i was treated for an infection. i drank tons of water. things seemed to clear up. maybe they were right. maybe it was just "a really bad infection." several days passed. i started to feel better. one day remaining of my antibiotics. woke up six days after the initial incident thinking i had dodged a bullet.
and then i peed blood.
dammit.
"normal sized..."
"this is not."
"...mass."
"come back monday with your wife, and we'll talk about a plan."
"am i going to die?"
"no."
"you're sure??? i'm gonna make it?"
"we've got some work to do, but you are going to make it."
surgery.
day after.
"it was what we thought it was."
"renal cell carcinoma."
"completely isolated."
"totally contained."
"you can celebrate."
what the fuck just happened?
recovery.
sore.
dizzy.
scared.
getting stronger.
start to go crazy.
i am crazy.
seeing spots.
vision exam.
glasses (that i don't wear).
no eye tumors.
have a brainscan.
no tumor.
still feel crazy.
chest x-ray.
"results...negative"
get medicine.
start feeling a little better.
my elbow hurts.
what's that thing in my neck?
"it's a gland. or a lymph node."
"you are fine."
i don't believe you.
"you are going to be fine."
we'll see.
back to the original question. how often do you pay attention, when going number one, to the liquid waste that is coming out of your body? since that night in mid-june, i do every time.
every. single. time.
the intensity with which i anticipate going to the bathroom is knee-buckling at times. what if i pee blood again??? i only have one kidney now. i don't have a safety net. i am too young. i don't want to lose my family. i am not ready to die. I AM NOT READY TO DIE!!! WHY AM I SHAKING AGAIN? WHY AM I YELLING AT MY DAUGHTERS?
snap out of it, kevin...
please. chill the fuck out.
ok. i'll try. god help me. let 2010 be different. let 2010 be something else. let it be a celebration of the life i was taking for granted. let it be the first step in being prepared to handle something like this in a healthier fashion (for all involved) than i was able to this year.
let's rewind.
1) be a serviceable lay leader - well, serviceable was about as good as i can rank myself here. many pastors claim that the first year in their congregation isn't about doing as much as it is learning and getting to know their congregation. i tried to take the same approach, myself. i made all but one sprc meeting. i didn't miss a finance meeting. co-chaired a relatively smooth nominating process. took in a whole lot. didn't speak out of turn once. offered several opinions on things i thought important. didn't pick any fights. left some on the table. got through a fairly easy pastor transition. set my eyes upon being more proactive and visible in the coming year. all of which leaves me with what? a passing grade? yeah, i would think so. there are probably some that would still argue that i and my sunday school class had way too much to do with a pastor and some "key" members tucking tail, but i would argue that no one makes you leave a church. if there is a problem, it's a "you" problem as colin cowherd would put it. that's for another post. now, if my sunday school class and i can just shake this damned curse. more on that later.
2) don't die - i have shuddered every time i've gone back and read this since june. for each time this has made the list the last few years, it's been with tongue planted firmly in cheek. it will be number one with a bullet next year, but for very different reasons and with very different thought behind it. not that not dying was never important. it was. it just wasn't until this year that it sunk it that is was going to happen to me sometime. and maybe if i hadn't peed blood, it would have happened a lot sooner than later. shudder. nevertheless, if i am lucky enough to claim this as my second chance, things will be different moving forward in a major way. "don't die"??? check. goodness.
3) buy a motorcycle - in an ironic twist of fate attached to my losing a kidney, my doctor only set two limitations on my life moving forward when i asked him what i would have to change. "no motorcycles. no trampolines." if that means not meeting my maker for a long time, you just tell me where to sign, dr. wade. anybody got a pen?
4) speaking of my brother... - this one resolved to spend more time with brian, because my life is a better place when he is close and in it. unfortunately, the only time i saw him was when he made the trip to see me through my surgery. i am not sure if he or i imagined that he'd be helping me out of a hospital bed in 2009, but he never thought twice about coming. and i love him for that, even if i couldn't make this resolution happen.
5) don't get fat - mostly thanks to the extreme amounts of weight that i lost worrying about my condition and not eating for three days after the surgery, this one gets a check in the "success" column. i am hopeful that next year weighs more on my healthy habits (better diet, continued exercise) moreso than another trip to the operating table.
6) handle hannah's transition to kindergarten with dignity and respect - really, i handled this quite well. in truth, her going to school fell victim to my selfish state of mind when it came around at the beginning of august. i was only beginning to lose my mind, and, while it seemed sad and wonderful at the same time that she would be going to school, i didn't have it in me to shed vast amounts of time and energy worrying about her being ok. or mommy being ok. or my being ok. truth be told, she handled it better than anybody, and that's the way it was always going to be.
7) handle alabama's growing pains in 2009 with dignity and respect - lost a senior quarterback? starting running back? three starters off the offensive line, including two all-americans? who cares, right? i am so glad i was wrong on this one. this alabama football season has meant more to my mental healing than i probably even know. jan. 7th is very close now.
8) be more intentional about finding time for my friends - for the most part, an unfortunate fail must be registered on this one. sure, i saw kiker at softball and on several occasions outside of that, but circumstances dealt my want to see andy more a cruel blow and chris perry and i never hooked up. i found and find them on facebook now and the temptation to let that be good enough will be hard to fight. as i mentioned in january, i know we are "busy", but jeez. i saw one football game with the boys all together this year??? one??? one can hope that the national championship game will provide the means to make up for lost time. i will say, though, that there are and were beautiful exceptions to this rule. i feel like i got to spend a lot of good time with amy and katie, and let me be brutally honest for a second. i could not have made it through the year without my sunday school class. to kathy, brad, donald, tanya, chris, melinda, kim and deb...thank you for inviting me and sarah into your fold. thanks for putting up with all my sarcastic and inappropriate comments and language. thank you for your support. and thank you for your friendship. i would have always done anything for you if you had asked, but now i look forward to those opportunities. i love you all. now if we could only get past that curse. more on that later.
9) introduce other voices to HACAM - this started off with a bang. i appreciate rebecca and kiker's contributions. things waned heavily in my making it a priority, though, in the latter 3/4ths of the year, but this is still going to happen. this blog is going to feel a lot different next year. and that's a first glimpse of one resolution for 2010.
10) don't let the church consume me - you know. i made this work. i do feel like we are there every time the doors open again. and i was at a lot of meetings, events, etc. maybe because we did it more as a family than when i was on staff, but this year will provide a good template for next year and hopefully many years after that.
and now...saying good-bye to the curse of dcd.
i am not very well versed on being the victim of a curse. perhaps, you don't know that you are, in fact, cursed until you come out the other side. let's take a look at certain proverbial stones that struck the heads of the weeds class in 2009.
cancer.
the death of a husband/father/friend.
the celebration of a newborn child tempered by the realization that something is amiss.
the passing of the mother of one of our emeritus members.
why did all of this happen to us? was it because we didn't get along very well with the previous pastor and he has used his black magic, upon leaving, to ruin our lives? well, that's my theory, but i am rarely (and by "rarely" i mean usually) right about anything.
were we just unlucky? maybe in some terms. in others, though...
i lost a kidney, but not my life.
our class was blessed with healthy twins and a fighter in the mighty noah that will make all of us, most especially his incredible parents, better human beings.
one of us was a serviceable lay leader.
one of us rejoined our church's staff.
one of us will manage our facility with a strong, yet humble, hand.
one of us (with the help of the rest of us) will always make vbs rock even if she says this year is her last year.
one of us is now a city councilperson and can get me free stuff (oh yeah, and change her church AND her city for the better)
one of us continues to make our daycare a place worthy of a waiting list.
one of us championed our children, challenged our council and then led the way by shepherding our many faces of our future, herself.
one of us will bring our worship technology into the current millenia.
one of us will set an example for all our of church's mothers through the trials she has and will continue to overcome at home.
one of us, with his "questions", got this ball rolling.
were we cursed after june? as far as this blog was concerned, um, yes. absolutely.
in reality, crappy things happened, but lessons in perspective through the victories that we enjoyed together will forge, for us, a brighter tomorrow. that's a promise.
good riddance, 2009. don't let propaghandi hit you on the way out. because they will hit you. hit you in the face with my best record of the year.
2009...
the end of my world as i knew it.
(2009 year in review)
((the curse of dcd))
this might not be as relevant a topic for my female readers (at least those that pee sitting down, wipe and never inspect their urine the way that men, by nature, are accustomed to doing), and for that, i apologize. but the question is this. how often do you pay attention, when going number one, to the liquid waste that is coming out of your body? if you are anything like me, pre-june, not very much. if it comes/came out extraordinarily yellow, one might think to themself, "man, i should drink more water." if it comes/came out extraordinarily clear, one might think to themself, "man, i've been drinking a lot of water." and that's about it, right? it was for me. for 32 and a half years, going to the bathroom standing up was about as unexciting a part of my day as it would be for any other human being.
and then, i peed blood.
the night in question was rather unremarkable. a pretty normal monday night as monday nights go. i played softball. have zero recollection as to whether or not we won (the trauma that would follow has rendered those events rather meaningless). i was probably dehydrated as i always was and had been before that night. i never drank water. always drank coke. probably quenched my thirst, post-game, with something carbonated. i half-way cleaned up. was ready for bed. went to the bathroom.
and then, i peed blood.
having never done so before, you can imagine my surprise. i went and got sarah, we went downstairs and started to google. i didn't even know what to be afraid of, but i was wishing that it was a one time thing. a figment of my imagination. we saw several options online, i calmed down enough to go to bed and sleep for a bit. i got up, nervously walked into the bathroom...
and then, i peed blood. again.
so, you are saying that something was off?
i called the doctor and you've heard the story since then. i was treated for an infection. i drank tons of water. things seemed to clear up. maybe they were right. maybe it was just "a really bad infection." several days passed. i started to feel better. one day remaining of my antibiotics. woke up six days after the initial incident thinking i had dodged a bullet.
and then i peed blood.
dammit.
"normal sized..."
"this is not."
"...mass."
"come back monday with your wife, and we'll talk about a plan."
"am i going to die?"
"no."
"you're sure??? i'm gonna make it?"
"we've got some work to do, but you are going to make it."
surgery.
day after.
"it was what we thought it was."
"renal cell carcinoma."
"completely isolated."
"totally contained."
"you can celebrate."
what the fuck just happened?
recovery.
sore.
dizzy.
scared.
getting stronger.
start to go crazy.
i am crazy.
seeing spots.
vision exam.
glasses (that i don't wear).
no eye tumors.
have a brainscan.
no tumor.
still feel crazy.
chest x-ray.
"results...negative"
get medicine.
start feeling a little better.
my elbow hurts.
what's that thing in my neck?
"it's a gland. or a lymph node."
"you are fine."
i don't believe you.
"you are going to be fine."
we'll see.
back to the original question. how often do you pay attention, when going number one, to the liquid waste that is coming out of your body? since that night in mid-june, i do every time.
every. single. time.
the intensity with which i anticipate going to the bathroom is knee-buckling at times. what if i pee blood again??? i only have one kidney now. i don't have a safety net. i am too young. i don't want to lose my family. i am not ready to die. I AM NOT READY TO DIE!!! WHY AM I SHAKING AGAIN? WHY AM I YELLING AT MY DAUGHTERS?
snap out of it, kevin...
please. chill the fuck out.
ok. i'll try. god help me. let 2010 be different. let 2010 be something else. let it be a celebration of the life i was taking for granted. let it be the first step in being prepared to handle something like this in a healthier fashion (for all involved) than i was able to this year.
let's rewind.
1) be a serviceable lay leader - well, serviceable was about as good as i can rank myself here. many pastors claim that the first year in their congregation isn't about doing as much as it is learning and getting to know their congregation. i tried to take the same approach, myself. i made all but one sprc meeting. i didn't miss a finance meeting. co-chaired a relatively smooth nominating process. took in a whole lot. didn't speak out of turn once. offered several opinions on things i thought important. didn't pick any fights. left some on the table. got through a fairly easy pastor transition. set my eyes upon being more proactive and visible in the coming year. all of which leaves me with what? a passing grade? yeah, i would think so. there are probably some that would still argue that i and my sunday school class had way too much to do with a pastor and some "key" members tucking tail, but i would argue that no one makes you leave a church. if there is a problem, it's a "you" problem as colin cowherd would put it. that's for another post. now, if my sunday school class and i can just shake this damned curse. more on that later.
2) don't die - i have shuddered every time i've gone back and read this since june. for each time this has made the list the last few years, it's been with tongue planted firmly in cheek. it will be number one with a bullet next year, but for very different reasons and with very different thought behind it. not that not dying was never important. it was. it just wasn't until this year that it sunk it that is was going to happen to me sometime. and maybe if i hadn't peed blood, it would have happened a lot sooner than later. shudder. nevertheless, if i am lucky enough to claim this as my second chance, things will be different moving forward in a major way. "don't die"??? check. goodness.
3) buy a motorcycle - in an ironic twist of fate attached to my losing a kidney, my doctor only set two limitations on my life moving forward when i asked him what i would have to change. "no motorcycles. no trampolines." if that means not meeting my maker for a long time, you just tell me where to sign, dr. wade. anybody got a pen?
4) speaking of my brother... - this one resolved to spend more time with brian, because my life is a better place when he is close and in it. unfortunately, the only time i saw him was when he made the trip to see me through my surgery. i am not sure if he or i imagined that he'd be helping me out of a hospital bed in 2009, but he never thought twice about coming. and i love him for that, even if i couldn't make this resolution happen.
5) don't get fat - mostly thanks to the extreme amounts of weight that i lost worrying about my condition and not eating for three days after the surgery, this one gets a check in the "success" column. i am hopeful that next year weighs more on my healthy habits (better diet, continued exercise) moreso than another trip to the operating table.
6) handle hannah's transition to kindergarten with dignity and respect - really, i handled this quite well. in truth, her going to school fell victim to my selfish state of mind when it came around at the beginning of august. i was only beginning to lose my mind, and, while it seemed sad and wonderful at the same time that she would be going to school, i didn't have it in me to shed vast amounts of time and energy worrying about her being ok. or mommy being ok. or my being ok. truth be told, she handled it better than anybody, and that's the way it was always going to be.
7) handle alabama's growing pains in 2009 with dignity and respect - lost a senior quarterback? starting running back? three starters off the offensive line, including two all-americans? who cares, right? i am so glad i was wrong on this one. this alabama football season has meant more to my mental healing than i probably even know. jan. 7th is very close now.
8) be more intentional about finding time for my friends - for the most part, an unfortunate fail must be registered on this one. sure, i saw kiker at softball and on several occasions outside of that, but circumstances dealt my want to see andy more a cruel blow and chris perry and i never hooked up. i found and find them on facebook now and the temptation to let that be good enough will be hard to fight. as i mentioned in january, i know we are "busy", but jeez. i saw one football game with the boys all together this year??? one??? one can hope that the national championship game will provide the means to make up for lost time. i will say, though, that there are and were beautiful exceptions to this rule. i feel like i got to spend a lot of good time with amy and katie, and let me be brutally honest for a second. i could not have made it through the year without my sunday school class. to kathy, brad, donald, tanya, chris, melinda, kim and deb...thank you for inviting me and sarah into your fold. thanks for putting up with all my sarcastic and inappropriate comments and language. thank you for your support. and thank you for your friendship. i would have always done anything for you if you had asked, but now i look forward to those opportunities. i love you all. now if we could only get past that curse. more on that later.
9) introduce other voices to HACAM - this started off with a bang. i appreciate rebecca and kiker's contributions. things waned heavily in my making it a priority, though, in the latter 3/4ths of the year, but this is still going to happen. this blog is going to feel a lot different next year. and that's a first glimpse of one resolution for 2010.
10) don't let the church consume me - you know. i made this work. i do feel like we are there every time the doors open again. and i was at a lot of meetings, events, etc. maybe because we did it more as a family than when i was on staff, but this year will provide a good template for next year and hopefully many years after that.
and now...saying good-bye to the curse of dcd.
i am not very well versed on being the victim of a curse. perhaps, you don't know that you are, in fact, cursed until you come out the other side. let's take a look at certain proverbial stones that struck the heads of the weeds class in 2009.
cancer.
the death of a husband/father/friend.
the celebration of a newborn child tempered by the realization that something is amiss.
the passing of the mother of one of our emeritus members.
why did all of this happen to us? was it because we didn't get along very well with the previous pastor and he has used his black magic, upon leaving, to ruin our lives? well, that's my theory, but i am rarely (and by "rarely" i mean usually) right about anything.
were we just unlucky? maybe in some terms. in others, though...
i lost a kidney, but not my life.
our class was blessed with healthy twins and a fighter in the mighty noah that will make all of us, most especially his incredible parents, better human beings.
one of us was a serviceable lay leader.
one of us rejoined our church's staff.
one of us will manage our facility with a strong, yet humble, hand.
one of us (with the help of the rest of us) will always make vbs rock even if she says this year is her last year.
one of us is now a city councilperson and can get me free stuff (oh yeah, and change her church AND her city for the better)
one of us continues to make our daycare a place worthy of a waiting list.
one of us championed our children, challenged our council and then led the way by shepherding our many faces of our future, herself.
one of us will bring our worship technology into the current millenia.
one of us will set an example for all our of church's mothers through the trials she has and will continue to overcome at home.
one of us, with his "questions", got this ball rolling.
were we cursed after june? as far as this blog was concerned, um, yes. absolutely.
in reality, crappy things happened, but lessons in perspective through the victories that we enjoyed together will forge, for us, a brighter tomorrow. that's a promise.
good riddance, 2009. don't let propaghandi hit you on the way out. because they will hit you. hit you in the face with my best record of the year.
2009...
the end of my world as i knew it.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
all the world is a symptom
so, why has HACAM become so hit and miss again after getting back into the swing of things last month?
well, the embarrassing and easy answer is because i can't work myself up to write much these days. it's not that i don't want to. i really do. but the last few weeks have been tough, and i am mired in something that i don't know how to get out of just yet.
i want to write to "you" about my new glasses.
what is that feeling in my back?
i want to write more about football.
wait a second. i've never seen that mole before.
i want to sing the praises of the braves that have won, like, 25 games in a row since i wrote them off and still are playing relevant games during the last week of the season.
why am i dizzy?
i want to write about my girls. when's the last time i churned out a "hannah and caroline and me" post?
has that lump always been there?
i saw inglourious basterds and loved it. you wouldn't know it from visiting this site, though.
are those floaters that i am seeing?
i just bought brand new's daisy. after several listens, it's rivaling "the end of the world" for my album of the year (not so difficult this year since i've purchased less than ten records in 2009. pathetic.).
jesus christ. am i dizzy again?
fringe and the office are back. and yet, there's only a tiny part of me that gives a flip.
(types webmd.com again...clicks on "symptom checker") yep. brain tumor. that's the other shoe.
sarah asked me the other afternoon how much time during my day i wasn't thinking about the random things going on in my body. i told her less than five percent. that's probably being generous. i am constantly thinking about it. and by "constantly", i mean always. and by "always", i mean every waking second. i am not thinking about my girls. or my friends. or the halloween carnival. or playing softball. or alabama football. or the braves. or anything else. ever. because i am scared. to death. of something.
is it death? maybe. separation from my family and friends...or god? probably. something else entirely? just anxiety that's going to seem like a big joke six months or a year from now? damn...i hope so.
it is killing me right now. eating away at my soul. and i can't say it out loud. not as much as i feel it, because when people ask me (knowing what i went through during the summer) "how are you feeling?", they don't have the wont or the time to hear the real answer. that i feel like i am going crazy. that i feel like i've never felt before, and i want to get out. that if i was honest with the inquiring mind, i would probably start crying. it's not fair to those folks that have been thinking about me and praying for me. i've been a burden on them for too long already. i am thankful you don't live in the same house with me and see me during my lowest points. sarah and the girls spent the night away last night. i was a basketcase. i dozed for two hours (maybe), tops. and that was on accident. i woke up to the same sensations that i laid down with. i should be stronger than this, right?
this i know. i could go to my doctor and tell him all this (again). i could convince him to scan my head or my body and give me the visible evidence the pathology report suggested. i could make them show me they didn't "miss something" or that something hasn't been growing someplace they didn't look back in july even though the report says that what i had didn't go anywhere. i could do that. and i may, still, have to to escape having to admit myself into a psychiatric unit. but how long would that last? how long would i give that information its right credit? when would it's worth expire? a couple months? six? a year? do i really want to be "that guy" that has to pay out of pocket for co-pays and scans for the rest of his life for peace of mind, or can i just trust my doctor and those that love me and are privy to the same medical information i am and know that i should be and am ok. i want to be the latter. i do.
but i am a mess right now.
and i don't know what to do with it all.
on the surface, i look fine (other than this terrible-ass excuse for a beard). my scars have healed. i've got most of my weight back. i'm working. exercising. playing. faking a smile.
below the surface, something wicked this way will come. maybe in a few minutes at church. maybe later. but, it'll come. in the form of a dizzy feeling or tweak in my back or a sensation in my leg. and i am going to freak out about it.
i am sorry. this post is much more self-serving than most. i don't need you to feel sorry for me. i just need you to know. so, i don't have to tell you out loud and waste any more of your time.
this is homework. this is for me to read later today and tomorrow. this is me looking in the mirror and trying to move forward.
this is getting old.
so, why has HACAM become so hit and miss again after getting back into the swing of things last month?
well, the embarrassing and easy answer is because i can't work myself up to write much these days. it's not that i don't want to. i really do. but the last few weeks have been tough, and i am mired in something that i don't know how to get out of just yet.
i want to write to "you" about my new glasses.
what is that feeling in my back?
i want to write more about football.
wait a second. i've never seen that mole before.
i want to sing the praises of the braves that have won, like, 25 games in a row since i wrote them off and still are playing relevant games during the last week of the season.
why am i dizzy?
i want to write about my girls. when's the last time i churned out a "hannah and caroline and me" post?
has that lump always been there?
i saw inglourious basterds and loved it. you wouldn't know it from visiting this site, though.
are those floaters that i am seeing?
i just bought brand new's daisy. after several listens, it's rivaling "the end of the world" for my album of the year (not so difficult this year since i've purchased less than ten records in 2009. pathetic.).
jesus christ. am i dizzy again?
fringe and the office are back. and yet, there's only a tiny part of me that gives a flip.
(types webmd.com again...clicks on "symptom checker") yep. brain tumor. that's the other shoe.
sarah asked me the other afternoon how much time during my day i wasn't thinking about the random things going on in my body. i told her less than five percent. that's probably being generous. i am constantly thinking about it. and by "constantly", i mean always. and by "always", i mean every waking second. i am not thinking about my girls. or my friends. or the halloween carnival. or playing softball. or alabama football. or the braves. or anything else. ever. because i am scared. to death. of something.
is it death? maybe. separation from my family and friends...or god? probably. something else entirely? just anxiety that's going to seem like a big joke six months or a year from now? damn...i hope so.
it is killing me right now. eating away at my soul. and i can't say it out loud. not as much as i feel it, because when people ask me (knowing what i went through during the summer) "how are you feeling?", they don't have the wont or the time to hear the real answer. that i feel like i am going crazy. that i feel like i've never felt before, and i want to get out. that if i was honest with the inquiring mind, i would probably start crying. it's not fair to those folks that have been thinking about me and praying for me. i've been a burden on them for too long already. i am thankful you don't live in the same house with me and see me during my lowest points. sarah and the girls spent the night away last night. i was a basketcase. i dozed for two hours (maybe), tops. and that was on accident. i woke up to the same sensations that i laid down with. i should be stronger than this, right?
this i know. i could go to my doctor and tell him all this (again). i could convince him to scan my head or my body and give me the visible evidence the pathology report suggested. i could make them show me they didn't "miss something" or that something hasn't been growing someplace they didn't look back in july even though the report says that what i had didn't go anywhere. i could do that. and i may, still, have to to escape having to admit myself into a psychiatric unit. but how long would that last? how long would i give that information its right credit? when would it's worth expire? a couple months? six? a year? do i really want to be "that guy" that has to pay out of pocket for co-pays and scans for the rest of his life for peace of mind, or can i just trust my doctor and those that love me and are privy to the same medical information i am and know that i should be and am ok. i want to be the latter. i do.
but i am a mess right now.
and i don't know what to do with it all.
on the surface, i look fine (other than this terrible-ass excuse for a beard). my scars have healed. i've got most of my weight back. i'm working. exercising. playing. faking a smile.
below the surface, something wicked this way will come. maybe in a few minutes at church. maybe later. but, it'll come. in the form of a dizzy feeling or tweak in my back or a sensation in my leg. and i am going to freak out about it.
i am sorry. this post is much more self-serving than most. i don't need you to feel sorry for me. i just need you to know. so, i don't have to tell you out loud and waste any more of your time.
this is homework. this is for me to read later today and tomorrow. this is me looking in the mirror and trying to move forward.
this is getting old.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
hannah and caroline and my sick kidney
(part three)
short and sweet this time around. my day-before-surgery "preparation" will call me back to the bathroom soon.
i am feeling ok about things this afternoon, and i thought it might be worth my time to document that. i worry. that's what i do. i can't claim that all of the fears that have ravaged my imagination and led to night after night of bad sleep are no longer there.
but fear is such a silly thing anyway, isn't it? the way that it manifests itself to me is probably different than you. and that's natural, of course. more than anything else in the last three weeks, i've been reminded at how immature my faith still is. how, in spite of immersing myself in the bible and church and god for the last ten-plus years, i could not have felt and feel more inadequate or unqualified at the thought of having served as a spokesman for god for the last however many years. people should listen to me, why? i probably know more bible trivia than most of you. fantastic. that hasn't helped me at all the last three weeks.
the only thing that has helped has been grasping, with new understanding and enlightenment, that i am not in control. but that there are many, many people (probably most that i've never even met) praying for me. for my health. for my peace of mind. for a calmness. for my family. for my future. all on behalf of a god that i know loves me very much. what a gift. what a gift that i will never be able to pay back. pretty overwhelming.
my surgery will be at 7:00 tomorrow morning. i know you will be there with me.
talk to you soon.
good-bye, right kidney. we had a good run. i am sorry you decided you'd be better off serving as fertile ground for some silly mass/tumor/whatever it ends up being. where did that get you? homeless, that's where. homeless and alone.
i am glad i am not alone.
(part three)
short and sweet this time around. my day-before-surgery "preparation" will call me back to the bathroom soon.
i am feeling ok about things this afternoon, and i thought it might be worth my time to document that. i worry. that's what i do. i can't claim that all of the fears that have ravaged my imagination and led to night after night of bad sleep are no longer there.
but fear is such a silly thing anyway, isn't it? the way that it manifests itself to me is probably different than you. and that's natural, of course. more than anything else in the last three weeks, i've been reminded at how immature my faith still is. how, in spite of immersing myself in the bible and church and god for the last ten-plus years, i could not have felt and feel more inadequate or unqualified at the thought of having served as a spokesman for god for the last however many years. people should listen to me, why? i probably know more bible trivia than most of you. fantastic. that hasn't helped me at all the last three weeks.
the only thing that has helped has been grasping, with new understanding and enlightenment, that i am not in control. but that there are many, many people (probably most that i've never even met) praying for me. for my health. for my peace of mind. for a calmness. for my family. for my future. all on behalf of a god that i know loves me very much. what a gift. what a gift that i will never be able to pay back. pretty overwhelming.
my surgery will be at 7:00 tomorrow morning. i know you will be there with me.
talk to you soon.
good-bye, right kidney. we had a good run. i am sorry you decided you'd be better off serving as fertile ground for some silly mass/tumor/whatever it ends up being. where did that get you? homeless, that's where. homeless and alone.
i am glad i am not alone.
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