The Daily {W}rite Septmeber 2019 wk o4

Hmm. Last week of the month! And my medical journey has just begun. I watch TV at night wearing headphones. I keep my cell phone on my lap so I can feel the vibration if someone calls. Unfortunately, my Cox phone is too far away for me to see it lighting up. Besides, I rarely get a call on it anymore which is why I'm going to get it disconnected. I hope that will bring my cable bill down. Anyway, I was watching American God's  and I  barely heard the Cox phone ring, and when I got to it, whoever was calling hung up! I looked at the digital readout for the number and I caught the name Regional Hospital, which would be my doctor calling about this cancer thing. So, I was a bit unnerved by it. I mean, it was 7:30 at night. Why would the hospital be calling me at 7:30 on a Saturday night? I'll call them tomorrow and find out what's going on.

Monday, September 23, 2019

Mystery of the Saturday night phone call from Norman Regional Hospital . . . it was a survey for the lab work (blood sample) for my CD (Cancer Doctor) I participated in last week.

I'm getting clausterphobic. Staying inside the apartment for two days now. But I can't walk very far. I mean, I took a walk down the stairs to the mailbox on the porch . . . really winded  when I finally got back inside. And riding the bike? Not sure that I'd get very far.

Tuesday, September 24, 2o19
Finally got David up and we went about to Stella Nova for coffee . . . I had a sandwich and water . . . then went grocery shopping at Sprout's and Walmart and . . . I was so out of breath the whole time, damn it. The transfusion was suppose to fix that. It did for maybe two days and then the shortness of breath came back with its definition of vengeance.

Two more days and I go in for the bone marrow biopsy . . . and it doesn't sound pleasant . . . and it's suppose to hurt like hell.

Wednesday, September 25, 2o19

Getting a little uptight, a bit edgy with David because of this biopsy coming up in the morning:

David: What part of the body are they extracting the bone marrow from?
ME: The spine, I think.
David: The spine?!Are you sure it's the spine? That's a tricky area.
ME: Well, I don't know. They said it was the spine . . .
David (Looking up bone marrow surgery on his phone.):  It says here the chest . . . the arm . . . are the best spots to take a bone marrow biopsy . . .
ME: Well they said the spine. Maybe I didn't hear them right. I'll let you know tomorrow.

David: Tylenol. You're getting a brand name. Why?
ME: Because they told me to get extra strength Tylenol. Okay?
David: Sure . . . but it costs more.

David is my best friend and he is doing all kinds of wonderful things for me. We went to see the Brad Pitt lost in space type movie. Interesting.  And tomorrow he'll drive me down to the hospital at 8:30am, and me calling him at 7:30am . . . meaning also that I got to get up at 6:30 am. Yeah, David is a great friend.

Thursday, September 26, 2o19
3:02am

Okay went to bed at 12:30. I figured if I fell asleep that would give me 6 hours before I needed to be up . . . 2 hours after I fell asleep . . . awake. Nervous I guess. What's gonna happen today with this biopsy? What's going to happen to me once the biopsy is over? A bit scared, yeah. That's why I can't sleep I guess. Well, I'll try to get back to dreamland and hope it cooperates with me and doesn't conjure up a fantasy about people who I don't like very much. {trying to smile}

11:28am
So, I don't trust people who smile at you. Professional people, I mean, like doctors and . . . well, doctors that deal with real "life or death" diseases like . . . well, cancer. These guys I'm going to do smile a lot but . . . that don't bullshit you either. Sometimes that make a procedure sound worse than what it is. The truth is for me the bone marrow biopsy was easy. Yes, a bit of pain but not what I was expecting . . . Pulling the bone out, a little piece of bone along with the tissue did BITE a bit but not much.

So, one scare defeated . . . and then the blood guy came in with more scary news . . . I need another transfusion. Damn. Everybody in the room, the nurses, the guy who did the procedure on me, and his assistant . . . seemed a bit freaked out by the news. The biopsy guy made sure to tell me IF this next transfusion doesn't work I need to contact the front desk as soon as I'm feeling out of breath. Well, damn. So I had some relief from thinking about this shit. But that's not the way it goes when your fighting a big time disease . . . right?

Friday, September 27, 2o19

The Enlightened. I know many of them. Cool people. They know exactly what to say, how to say it. My dad used to say about the Enlightened, "They know their onions!" Hmm. I agree with my dad's point of view . . . although I don't know what the hell onions have to do with enlightenment. But my dad has passed on and . . . I never contradict the dead. The Enlightened do know their onions, I guess. I mean, they know everything else . . . why wouldn't they know their onions? I listen to the Enlightened anytime they choose to speak, and they usually choose to speak anytime someone else is speaking. You see? The job of the Enlightened is to educate anyone who doesn't think the same way as the Enlightened folks think.  That's why I'm not all that sure that the Enlightened are as enlightened as they want you to think they are. To me when I listen to one of them talk, when I listen reall close . . . all I hear is someone else's voice. Something that the Enlightened who standing in front of me has memorized . . . something they heard . . . not a thought that they have come up with . . . but something that they . . . a parrot! That's it. Most of the Enlightened that confront me with their "wisdom" sound like parrots repeating the words of their owners.

3:53pm

Artists. Peculiar. They're not much interested in the opinions of others . . . except when "others'" opinions spark a poem, a painting . . . a song within the creative soul of the artist.  I remember a quote by Samuel Beckett that went something like, "I can't tell you what my plays are about  . . . but all you need to know about them are in the scripts. Figure it out for yourself." That paraphrased quote had a significant effect on me and my art. I want people to read my poetry . . . but how they react to it is none of my business. That's sort of the idea behind my "secret" poetry project. Yes, I want people to see my art. In fact, them interacting with my art IS art in itself. But I don't need to know how they felt, what they felt, why they felt the way they felt when they encountered one of my picture/poems. Art is existence. And as existence is not always acknowledged in a communal setting. Not everybody knows art when the see it.

Saturday, 28, 2o19

One more test on Monday then I should know where on stand on this cancer scare. I went out for game day today. The second transfusion seems to be working. The shortness of breath was still there but not as heavy on me as before. But there's no telling if it will hold.

Game day was a bit lackluster. Just a few people there . . . well, relatively speaking. And the game? Well, OU just beat the opposition into the ground. Yeah, OU won but it wasn't even close.

Girl on Bicycle. To my left. Picture taken two weeks ago from inside the Boyd St. side of  Starbucks. I used an painting app. on the pic, Dreamscope.

If I could conjure up  a dream, a dream with you in it  . . . why would I want to do that?

Sunday, September 29, 2o19
I can't eat or drink anything after midnight tonight. Having a sonogram on my abdomen. Nothing to drink or eat after midnight. I feel like a gremlin.  Soon I should know about my health . . . cancer . . . no cancer . . . maybe something else. Tired of talking about it, actually.

Twilight burns its exit into the hide of the sky . . . tattoos its initials onto the gathering clouds' wet and tender flesh . . . no worries. No damage done. By tomorrow this night's end of day will be a memory . . . and we will have forgotten its existence all together by the time a new sunset shows it artistic sensibilities on the sky canvas. 

Monday, September 3o,2o19 

Putting this month to bed. Good night, September. I hope I live just long enough to see your face again. In fact, I would love to live long enough to you, September, and all your sisters finally grow old and tired as me. 

The sonogram went great, I guess. I slept through most of it. The girl who  . . . I mean, the technologist, really knew what she was doing. The procedure took about 30 minutes, WHICH means I went with out food or water or coffee for over twelve hours! Twelve hours! As soon as it was over, I ran down to the little coffee shop in this part of the hospital and  . . . . drank whole bottle of water. Actually, it wasn't a whole bottle. I gulped down maybe two big swigs and tossed it away. Gues I wasn't as thirsty as I thought.

So, all the tests are done (I hope) and with a bit of luck I should know what's up with my body sometime this week. Keep your fingers crossed for me. {smiles}