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When I woke up today there was a historic feel in the air.  I knew that I was in for a memorable evening, but my day prior to arriving at work didn’t exactly begin on good terms.   The weekly check of my blood counts revealed a significant drop of my white blood cell totals – and while the oncologist wasn’t alarmed by the number at all, after seeing my counts rise last week from the previous check, I expected another rise today.  As great as I’ve been feeling, I would have wagered that my counts had risen again.  That goes to show that I’d be a terrible gambler, and that they check scientifically rather than through guesswork for a reason.  At any rate, I was reassured again that my counts aren’t yet troubling, but certainly worth watching, though there is nothing that I can do to help them climb.

After I left the doctor though, that is when things started to get interesting.  I had my car searched upon my arrival at work, and upon entering the building I was rerouted away from the elevator that I ride to my office each morning.  I was sent through a metal detector and checked twice via hand wand at the entrance that I was forced to, while my apparently feeble attempts at lightening the mood fell on entirely deaf ears.  I couldn’t have counted the number of Secret Service men and women in the arena today, but I did get an accurate count of them that I saw smile even once throughout the day.  Zero.

Having been sworn to secrecy about tonight’s “high profile” guest at Verizon Center, I withstood the mounting pressure and held my ground as to not reveal the secret until I was instructed to.  While media reports swirled – from both major Washington-area newspapers and every local TV station on Thursday – per the explicit instructions of the Secret Service I steadfastly refused to reveal what I know.  As I mentioned previously, I’m great at playing dumb and even better at keeping secrets.

Yes, I played to the crowd a bit and mentioned the heightened security around Verizon Center in recent days, and I acknowledged that rumors existed, but even when pressured by The Associated Press and The New York Times to tattle my tale, far be it for me to defy the federal government.  I might have wished that we could have advertised what happened tonight well in advance – always the team-player, I was thinking about how to ensure a sell-out crowd for the game on Friday night – but I can also play the role of a good soldier and just do as I’m told.

Finally, at long last at 2:30 pm we were permitted to confirm the worst kept secret in the 11-year history of Verizon Center – “President Barack Obama to Attend Friday Night’s Wizards vs. Bulls Game”.  The official announcement sent the situation from frenzied to hysteric, as suddenly it sunk in to the masses that our Commander in Chief was going to be one of the thousands of basketball fans at an otherwise random late-February game.  Media members soon ‘remembered’ that they were intending on coming all along to the game, while friends, family and family of friends all happened to be suddenly free on Friday night as well and thought they’d ask for tickets to check out the game.

To make a long story a little bit shorter, I spent the hours from 3:00 – 7:00 juggling multiple tasks at once, while an entire neighborhood braced for the arrival of a single man.  It was a remarkable sight.  From 7:00 – 7:15 I was ‘frozen’ inside of the Wizards locker room, as the Secret Service locked down all movement from room to room inside of the building whenever “Renegade” was on the move.

Ultimately, I did not get the opportunity to meet Mr. Obama – though I also exerted little effort to do so.  It occurred to me that I was there on Friday night to do my job, and that by trying to work outside the parameters of what I was supposed to be doing, I would only compound the challenge of the 500 or so agents that were there trying to do their job as well.  They might not be friendly, but I can respect the job that they have to do.  Plus, they’re heavily armed.

The President’s attendance created an indescribable buzz, forcing the game to tip-off five minutes late until he was seated so that the press, fans and players could all gawk as he entered the building and sat down.  Despite the fact that the organization was forbidden to acknowledge his presence in-arena through an announcement or on the scoreboard, not an eye in the stands missed his casual entrance.  Neatly dressed, though not in a stuffy, political way, President Obama took his courtside seat to thunderous applause and hearty yelling – and as he openly rooted for the Bulls in the Wizards’ arena he appeared to be every bit of a fan trying to enjoy the game.  Ultimately his team was trounced by mine, as the Wizards appeared to play with vengeful intentions as if they took it personally that the Bulls were invited to The White House yesterday while the next-door team has never been asked.

I enjoyed watching the fuss that supposedly level-headed people made about his presence, ignoring their responsibilities to try to figure out how to meet the man.  I too was honored by his presence, and would have enjoyed meeting him, but abandoning my post to wait by the tunnel that he was likely to walk through in hopes that I’d sneak 1.5 seconds of his time just didn’t seem like time well spent.  Hopefully it will happen for me at a later date.

I’ll take with me the simple memories of the evening, and the experience of having worked it.  The closest I came to the president was actually an encounter with his ‘car’.  At nearly six-feet tall, with tires as high as my knees and as wide as my body, the gleaming Cadillac looked like the love child of a tank, a limo and an Escalade.  I can only imagine the technology inside of it.

Other stories would be just heresy, so I can’t go into detail.  He autographed the seat that he sat in for the Wizards to auction for charity…The Secret Service had two 6×6 foot “ballistics blankets” within a throw of President Obama in case he needed to be immediately shielded in bulletproof material from head to toe in an instant…and the lucky ticket holders that he sat next to were somehow identified and screened by the Secret Service an hour before the game to be vetted as permissible patrons for him to sit next to.

All in all, it was a fascinating evening that ended with a win for the Wizards.  Hail to the Chief.

Other

My Thursday included very little of any blog-able substance.  Sometimes ‘routine’ is a good thing, and Thursday was ordinarily routine.  For that, I cannot complain.  Friday, on the other hand, promises to be a different beast altogether.  With an 11:30 ‘routine’ appointment scheduled at the oncologist’s office, I’ll hopefully get the good news that my blood counts are still within the acceptable range to continue with treatment as planned, and my vital signs and neurological responses are on par with what is expected.  When I leave the oncologist around 1:00 pm though, that is when I expect things to get truly interesting.  Media reports are swirling in DC that Verizon Center will be graced with a “high profile guest” tomorrow night – and so says the fliers that plastered all of the cars parked in the garage beneath the arena today that warned of a heavy Not-So-Secret Service presence on Friday night.  I am particularly adept at playing dumb, so I will continue to do so, but if you can believe everything that you see on TV and read in the newspaper, Friday night will be a special one at 601 F Street NW in the Nation’s Capital.  I’m always honored to be a part of the pageantry of the NBA, but a seemingly nondescript Wizards-Bulls game in late February might bring that honor to 20,000 more people tomorrow.  You didn’t hear it from me though.  I always keep my secrets.

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As I progress through the next five and a half months of chemotherapy – having completed two of my 12 scheduled daylong infusions – I have been advised to drink water in heavy doses.  Specifically, it’s suggested that I drink the equivalent of six 12 oz. bottles of water per day, with the goal of helping my liver and internal organs process the poisons that chemo brings into my system.  I used to swear up and down that I didn’t like the taste of water; a supposedly tasteless substance.  I have since come to realize though that it was the temperature of the water that bothered me, as ice cold water pained my teeth and my throat, and I associated the unpleasantness with bad taste.  Now that I have solved the problem by drinking water at room temperature, I polish off 72 oz. of water per daywith ease, and as I mentioned previously, the proper hydration has left my entire body feeling refreshed.  That said, the obvious drawback of consuming water in high doses is the accompanying need to visit the restroom frequently – which isn’t all that problematic during the day, but leaves me longing at night for the days when I was in diapers.  Last night, for example, I woke up on three separate occasions to use the facilities, and each time I had trouble falling asleep after I returned to the bed.  Oddly, this hasn’t been nearly as big of a problem as it was last night for the majority of this ordeal, which leads me to believe that something else was waking me from my slumber, and I just took the opportunity to pay a quick visit to the bathroom while I was awake.  Ordinarily one mid-night journey is sufficient, as well as an extended trip upon waking in the morning.  At any rate, after struggling to stay asleep for any length of time last night, my irregular sleep patterns continue.  I’ll hope for a smoother slumber tonight.

Other

In my fight against GBM, today was just another day.  I have said before – and can’t say enough – that I would never dream of referring to this battle as ‘easy’.  To do so would be disrespectful, insulting and ignorant to the thousands of poor souls that aren’t as fortunate as I am.  I have heard the horror stories, and I am aware of the daylight nightmares of many.  For that reason, never would I diminish their struggle by calling my tussle ‘easy’.  Instead, I’ll continue to view myself as eminently fortunate that I’ve been spared from the worst of it. 

My system has been able to tolerate the blend of drugs that aims to poison my cancer away.  My support system is wider than the Verizon network, and my wife is perfect in every way.  I realized today that my comments of yesterday may have come across sounding like I was complaining about being tired.  For that, I apologize.  I have nothing to complain about. 

I was invigorated today by a great night of rest yesterday (rest that extended long after I should have been at work this morning), and I passed my hours today productively and feeling healthy – not unlike the old days when even the doctors agreed that I was in great health.  Today, I am seemingly the only one that knows that I’ve been cured – though I do my best every day to convince Jessie of that fact as well.  It’s a good thing that I’m used to having an opinion that differs from the masses.

With little to report on the cancer front today, I’ll just comment quickly on tonight’s Presidential address.  Without getting into detail or beginning a political discussion, I’ll share two quick thoughts.

1) Because of Saturday Night Live’s portrayal of our Speaker of the House, it’s an impossibility for me to take seriously anything that Nancy Pelosi says or does.  Her presence behind President Obama was an utter distraction for me.
2) Have standing ovations entirely lost their luster for anyone else?  I thought about counting the times that a standing ‘o’ was offered tonight, but Nancy Pelosi distracted me from doing so.  That said, at one point I recall an ovation after Obama identified that Americans invented automobiles and that we won’t walk away from them now.  I don’t deny his eloquence, but is a comment as simple as that really worthy of standing raucous applause?

Perhaps I’m wrong.  It wouldn’t be the first time.  At least I know that I am healthy.

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Forrest Gump’s mother compared life to a box of chocolates.  In life, she theorized, like in a box of chocolates, “you never know what you’re gonna get.”  I agree partially with Ms. Gump.  Life is a wildly unpredictable ride.  Boxes of chocolate on the other hand, with a road map inside detailing exactly what is in each particular treat (for people the benefit of people with allergies, I guess), are tame by comparison.  Structured, organized, properly identified and neatly wrapped…if I was looking for something in which I knew exactly what I was going to get, a box of chocolates wouldn’t be a bad place to start my search. 

Cancer, on the other hand…now that’s life.  I pray for all that life won’t be like a bout with cancer, but for those waging war with cancer, you never know what each day, each hour and each minute will bring.  I spent my day today feeling energized at work.  I was alert, enthused, and full of life.  Three hours have now passed since I left work, and I’m not nearly as vibrant any longer.

It’s nothing to be alarmed about; perhaps just the effects of a 4:00 am, 3:30 am and 2:30 am bedtime for the past three nights respectively.  Tonight however, I’ll surely be asleep before midnight calls.  Tomorrow is another day, and I don’t want to suffer on Tuesday in weariness because of my lack of sleep again tonight.  I’m determined to be asleep soon.

Other

My Sunday was everything that a good Sunday should be.  I slept late, ate great, enjoyed a visit from my older sister and brother-in-law…and dedicated the appropriate time and devotion to attend church services and to exercise.  In summary, in mind, body and spirit, I was well cared for on Sunday. 

Aside from the time that we spent paying bills – a necessary evil, I suppose – I was stimulated in some form or another for the duration of the day.  On the subject of bills though, why is it that Jessie and I each get paid twice a month, and pay our bills just once a month, but it somehow feels like vice versa?  I’m not referencing any medical bills – my health insurance continues to amaze me with its handling of my expenses (upwards of $300,000 by my guess, so far) – but the day-to-day bills that come with living that aren’t burdensome in any way, but can be somewhat annoying to pay seemingly so frequently.

While this entry is far more diary-like than I ever intended for it to be, it’s now become appropriate to detail some of the other happenings of my day.  I watched Syracuse lose on national TV…laughed at the thought of the CD that my littlest sister Chrissy recently sent me (thanks Chris!)…missed a call from Denise (but will be sure to call her back tomorrow)…spoke with my parents at length…and struggled to operate my Mii (pictured) on our new Wii fit (also pictured) that Cheryl so graciously set-up for us today.  Computer games never were my forte.

Here’s hoping that my Monday – like most days – will be as rousing of a success as today.

Other

Pictured here you can see for yourself my lack of hair re-growth to this point.  While it was estimated by my radiologist that I might begin to see some re-growth 4-6 weeks after radiation, I’ve passed the four-week mark with nothing to report.  It is pertinent though that the 4-6 week estimate was made without factoring in the effects of the chemo regimen of Irinotecan, which has been known to cause hair-loss or hair-thinning in some. 

Before I cut my hair this afternoon it grew to a length that illustrates perfectly where I have follicles and where I don’t.  Though this isn’t what is meant by the term ‘male pattern baldness’, my baldness pattern is a unique one.  Bare up front, growing in the back, but replete with an off-center bald spot in the rear that must be where one of the radiation shots exited from my head.  Call it an exit wound, I suppose – an exit wound that would leave me looking downright silly if I hadn’t amassed such a debonair collection of lids.

Side View

Bird's View

Exit Wound

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I’m thrilled to report that as I type this now, I feel truly terrific with nary a complaint to speak of.  I can’t say that I’m side-effect free though, as the time is currently approaching 2:00 am and I’m as wide awake and bright-eyed as a marathoner on amphetamines.  After a day full of infusions today – including the steroid Decadron – I anticipate that I’ll be awake for another few hours with ease.  On the date of my last infusion two Fridays ago, I didn’t drift to sleep until 4:00 am.  With a Wizards home game on Saturday night, I’m hopeful that I’ll get to sleep at a more reasonable hour tonight, but if my sleeping issues continue to be the worst of my issues, I’ll continue to reiterate how fortunate I am.  I was prescribed Ativan by my physicians (a sedative that has anti-nausea and sleep-aid characteristics) but considering my success at tolerating the drugs that I’ve thus far been required to take, I’d prefer not to push my luck and take my chances with a drug that was only prescribed if I “need” it.  I can report though that the Decadron hasn’t turned me into “The Amazing Hulk” as of yet, but rather given me the energy to perfect my imitation of Charlie’s un-named British big brother in the “Charlie Bit Me” video, and to play the role of Harry Potter’s Dobby the House Elf to perfection. 

As happy as I am that things went so smoothly today on my end, I can’t exactly say that today’s appointments proceeded as seamlessly.  My blood counts were more-than-adequate to proceed with the infusions – and in fact were improved from last check – but it took close to a half-hour to draw three small vials of blood.  Every other week when I have to submit to a more extensive blood check than the lab is accustomed to (by Duke’s orders), they tell me that “this isn’t a reference laboratory” and that they won’t be able to assist.  It then takes a half-hour to sort out the situation – and they tell me how the problem can be avoided in the future – but three months have passed and we still endure the same ordeal every two weeks.  I’ve come to expect it though, and with my newfound levels of patience, it has almost become amusing.

After my blood was finally drawn and I had an uneventful check-up with the nurse practitioner, we tried to begin the infusion process.  I drew the assistance of a nurse that was in her first day on the job after a lengthy tenure as an ER nurse – where I’m told that starting an IV on patients isn’t the responsibility of the nurses.  Her inexperience was quick to show.  She appeared nervous at first, and fumbled with my meds and papers alike – dropping things accidently to the floor with alarming regularity, including herself when she fell off her chair.  I did feel bad for her at that point though.  When she finally gathered herself and tried to insert my IV, she palmed and prodded my arm for what felt like an eternity before deciding on a vein.  While none of her peers have ever had a problem with my veins, she expressed that my veins weren’t behaving as they should today, and that I’m in all likelihood dehydrated.  I didn’t have the strength to tell her that I’ve had 6+ bottles of water per day for longer than I can now recall, including three bottles of water since my arrival at the doctor’s office to facilitate the urinalysis process.  When she finally found a vein to her liking, she proceeded to jab me with the needle and grind it into my wrist as she dug and searched for an entry point.  I was biting my tongue and doing my best to ignore what was happening until she asked Jessie to pass her a tissue.  No, her nose wasn’t running like mine was…she needed the tissue to sop up the blood that was running down my arm and my chair towards the floor that she so recently became intimately acquainted with. 

At long last, the IV needle found its way into a vein of mine, and the process was as smooth as can be thereafter.  However with all of the delays that we encountered today, once again my day at the oncologist stretched over five hours.  I am committed though to finding the silver linings, and as I’ve said before, if these are the worst of the issues that I have to deal with, I’m extremely fortunate.

I had a very slight bout of stomach uneasiness tonight – and in the words of Charlie’s brother “it’s still hurting” – but I’m hopeful that it’s something that a Zofran tablet will take care of.  I’m not alarmed.  My day was long but successful, and hopefully nearing its end. 

I don’t like to toot my own proverbial horn, but I was sent an email today that meant a lot to me.  Said its writer…“Brian, there is royalty in your DNA.  You have the blood of a champion, and you were created to reign in life!”  Well, perhaps that praises my family more than me…but they are certainly deserving.  If what my friend said is true, I was literally dripping with championship blood this afternoon.  Thank you for your support.

GBM

On the occasion of my 100th post on BrianSereno.com, I could take the opportunity to tell you how I great I continue to feel.  I could also detail the day of IVs and appointments that I face tomorrow, or discuss some of the particulars about my day today.  Instead, I’m going to share this video that has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but that makes me laugh harder and harder each time I watch it.

Other

After experiencing varying levels of fatigue over the past few weeks, I fully expected that today would bring more of the same.  I slugged my way through a long day yesterday – and while I was uplifted by a victorious night for the Wizards – I didn’t drift to sleep last night until a much later hour than I care to admit.  However, I was determined this morning to make it to work at an hour that approximately resembled an on-time arrival, and I was somewhat successful in that endeavor.  I figured that I’ve been absent enough over the last few months, and the mental burden of leaving my coworkers and team as much as I have is beginning to wear on me.  With that – while I am committed to trusting my instincts and taking care of my health – I pushed myself to work this morning expecting that I’d feel at least as weary this afternoon as I have recently.  Clearly I’m not an expert. 

I’ve yet to exercise today, but even without the energy boost that exercising always brings, I haven’t felt a speck of exhaustion today.  I’ve been energetic and strong, hearty and enthused – proving yet again that this sinister disease is a baffling enigma.  Like the rollercoaster pictured here that I rode with Denise and Chrissy in 1995 (I can only wonder what happened to Cheryl), the past few weeks and months have been filled with ups and downs.  Granted the ‘downs’ are never low – just slightly below the ‘ups’ – but ‘ups and uppers’ sounded too much like a drug pushers stash for me to term my situation accordingly.  At any rate, I was unexpectedly extremely ‘up’ today, and I still have the physical boost that my nightly ride on the stationary bike always brings.  Perhaps I’m setting myself up for disappointment, but I’m now expecting a similar day tomorrow.  With my great fortune, in the emotional and physical battle ahead on Thursday as it is each day, I can say with guaranteed accuracy that I’ll be strong on at least one of those counts tomorrow.

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