Sitting In A Hotel In The Denver Area

The trip up here was interesting. I much prefer that my trips be boring. I want the excitement to be once I arrive. The Blue Van showed up at 6:00. I got up at 5:15. As I've mentioned, that's far from standard behavior for me. My flight was at 9:00 which left plenty of time to clear security.

I had decided to throw my heat-sensitive meds (two Neupogen syringes, plus a vial of Procrit and a syringe) into my checked baggage. The gel pack to keep them cold probably wouldn't have made it through security. Besides, I really didn't feel like explaining my medical issues to TSA. I was glad not to be in a rush when I set off the metal detector twice. Two strikes and you're out with TSA. I get pulled out and wanded. I was wearing "carpenter" shorts with a side pocket where I carry a cell phone. I completely forgot that. And I had stuck a pack of gum in my hip pocket. It was a plastic blister pack over a sheet of foil, so naturally that kicked the thing off. At one time I travelled twice a month in my job and could breeze through security. But that was before September 11, 2001. I finally get through Security and head to the gate. Plenty of time -- grab a coffee and a muffin, plenty of time.

The flight itself was boring -- as airline flights should be. It was when I got on the ground that things started to get more interesting. The last time I flew into Denver was more than ten years ago. I flew into Stapleton airport, which was in northeast Denver. The new Denver International Airport is located some fifty miles south and east of Denver. Everyone I know from Denver will quickly point out that Federico Peña, former Denver Mayor and later Transportation Secretary under Clinton, just happened to own much of the land that the airport now occupies. I'm sure there was no taint of corruption. He was, after all, a Public Official.

Anyway, the airport being so far from Denver proper, and especially so for me since I was going to the far northeast of the Denver metro area, I had to make a drive. No worries, I have a map and directions from maps.google.com. Let me give you a hint about maps and directions. It helps to read them before setting off on a drive in a strange rental car in a strange city. It took me three hours to get to where I was going (plus an hour for lunch). Next time I come up here, I'm flying the night before. I finally caught up with my team at a local brew pub. Sadly, I couldn't touch any of their very tasty-looking wares. Hopefully I'll have an opportunity next year. No beer for Chris until I have offically achieved SVR. Shed a tear and hoist a glass of club soda.

The class that formed the pretext for this gathering started on Tuesday. It's pretty challenging. The brain fog is not helping, although that seems better since Tuesday. Things were tough then as well. I didn't do myself any favors when I awoke suddenly. I had not heard the alarm clock. I reached over and dragged it to where I could see it. I wear a nasty optical prescription -- I can literally light cigarettes with my glasses, which were not on the bedside table. So I had to look pretty close at the clock. It said 6:45. I had set it to go off at 6:30. I jumped up, started the coffeepot, and climbed into the shower. When I got out and with my glasses on my head, I turned on the TV. It was just coming up on 5:00 AM. I had changed the hour when I reached across the bed. Needless to say, the afternoon was pretty rough. I spent much of the last two hours of the class standing at the back and furiously taking notes -- an old Army trick.

Speaking of the Army, Here's a closing note:

You must be single minded. Drive for the one thing on which you have decided.
General George Smith Patton

Countdown -- Shot Thirty-one: Seventeen to go!

I took Shot 31 on Friday morning rather than the evening as I usually do. I have to travel on business this week and wanted to minimize the residual side effects I typically feel on Monday. I didn't notice much in the way of side effects after I took the shot other than a mild headache. I got to bed by 11:00 (early for me, I have a bad habit of staying up too late). I knew it was going to be a rough morning when I had to get up and take Son to football practice at 5:30 AM. My head was ringing. I got up, made sure he was moving, and drank some juice while he got ready. No coffee, I wanted to get some more sleep. Got to get the bicycle fixed! I went back to bed and slept nearly four more hours hoping that the hangover would go away. It didn't. When I got up I was as headachy and dehydrated as I'd been at 5:30. Breakfast, ibuprofen, and many cups of coffee later I was beginning to feel human. Several chores, but nothing heavy. Nonetheless, when I finished them I felt like I'd done something.

As post-shot sides go, this week wasn't bad. I'm going to shift to Friday mornings on a regular basis. I don't recommend it for someone new to treatment, but once it all blurs together into one big blah, it might be a way to get a few more useful hours.

I've been having problems with congestion which is exacerbated by the dehydration. I've been hacking and coughing and hawking up horrible things. Older Daughter asked if I had a hairball the other day. Close to it. One of my net.friends suggested goat's milk as it has less lactose than cow's milk. I decided to pass on that. When travelling in Northern Arizona many years ago I had breakfast at a cafe on the Navajo Reservation. I ordered a glass of milk along with my pancakes. The milk tasted fine -- until I exhaled. Then this musky flavor that I can only describe as goatish followed. I drank it, but I haven't touched it since. Instead, I tried soy milk. There's a brand called "Silk" which I'd had before. It's not bad. What I'm noticing is that I have much less congestion. My singing daughters reaction: "Duh! Why do you think we can't have dairy before a concert?" I'd always thought it was just at tale told by control-freak choir directors.

Son update

He came home all jazzed last week. They've made him a starting running back. For those who don't follow American football, that's one of the guys who stands behind the line and either carries the ball or protects the quarterback if he's throwing. Either way, he's a target. His mother was especially thrilled to hear it. His arm is mending, but still weak. He's wearing a brace and taping it. That isn't helping his ball handling. He caught a pass last week and jammed a pinky finger. Might be broken. The treatment for a broken finger is exactly the same as a sprained finger. More tape. The universal cure. He's spending a few days of practice running.

The blue van is coming tomorrow at 6:00 AM. It's going to be a long week. A class and meetings. My work has been great about not pressing me to travel, this in a job that could easily be 50 percent travel. I reckon it's time to pay the piper. Besides, I need the class and, I need to meet these people I've been working with for more than a year.

One of my blogger-heroes Hep C Boy alway signs off with something inspirational. I'm not feeling inspired at the moment. Need to work on that.

Shot Number 30 Down!

Eighteen to go. This is feeling more and more like a countdown.

I got a call from Doc on Friday. He had the results of past week's blood test. I'm still in the same borderline low range I was in last week. His suggestion is to gut it out. If he thinks I can, I guess I better gut it out. I raised so much blasphemy over being off treatment I'd rather not reduce the dose. But I have to confess I'm mightily tempted to take two Ribas rather than three tonight.

I missed my Neupogen shot Thursday -- got busy with work. I was on back-to-back phone calls from 5:00 AM until 1:00 PM (The joys of living on Western time while working with folks on Eastern and UK time). It wasn't quite as bad as it sounds. About half of it I didn't have to be completely engaged, but some of it did get pretty intense. Since I was shifting shot times, I decided to put off the Interferon until Saturday night. I had a bunch of house chores stacked up -- a lawn irrigation system that was acting up, my son's room taken apart for a new bed and shelving, but only partially put back together.

The biggest obstacle was the shelves. We took a ride down to the other side of town -- 25 miles -- to the Ikea store. What a nightmare! It was like Disneyland. I hate being herded and Ikea on a Saturday afternoon is all about the herd experience. I felt like all my nerve endings were sitting on top of my skin.

A Miracle Healing

No time for sides today. My son woke up dreaming of somebody shooting him with a watergun. Turns out his ceiling fan had water dripping off of it. The girls' bathroom is above his room. Uh-oh. Check it. The floor was wet around the toilet. Good! The fresh water supply line was wet. At least we don't have a sewer leak! I turned off the water to the toilet and dried the floor. Get everyone up, go to church. Home from church and turned the water back on in the girls' bathroom. No leak. It got well! It's been healed! I still don't know whether someone spilled something or if there's an intermittent leak.

We'd been talking about replacing Son's ceiling fan and light, so he and I went over to the local Home Depot and found a fan. It's not bad installing a fan if there's already one properly installed. I swapped it out without much trouble, but then the thing wouldn't turn. Bad motor. Home Depot exchanged it. The new one is pretty noisy, but it's a $50 fan. We'll see if it doesn't quiet down.

The Roach

Finally, after all the fun, I'm settled down on the couch with the wife. Older daughter was in the kitchen and suddenly let out a shriek. She ran into the family room and dived into the middle of her daddy who is, of course, here to protect her.

A few weeks ago Younger Daughter's kitten brought a two-inch roach into the house -- a playmate for the lonely times of the day. I nearly caught it, but it proved too fast. The Roach made several subsequent appearances, always for the benefit of the females in the house. Since the light was always poor, I'd begun to question whether they were actually seeing a roach. But there was no mistaking this time. Like Brawny Man, I grabbed a paper towel and girded myself for battle. Sure enough, there it was beneath a low trivet on the counter. Mr. Roach wasn't quite so fast this time. I got him in the towel and gave him a good squish.

Now, my wife is nearly as phobic of six-legged varmints as her daughter. But she wanted to identify the body. I opened the towel so she could see. You've seen the horror movie where the bad guy just won't stay dead? You got it -- Mr. Roach jumped out of the towel, leaving some of his guts behind. Fortunately, he didn't get far, else I'd still be roach hunting.

To bed. Seven o'clock call, plus I'm liable to be feeling the usual Sunday sides tomorrow.

Anemic Again!

Saw the doc on Friday. My HBC is 9.5, right at the borderline of when he took me off treatment back in May. This despite a weekly Procrit injection. I'm going in for another blood work-up this week. Based on how I'm feeling, I suspect it's lower. I now attribute the insomnia to anemia. And the cough. And the congestion. And the constant headache. It's a package deal. Once again, having a number and a name to hang on the way I feel causes me to feel even worse. Or at least like I shouldn't fight it.

On the bright side, the WBC, platelets, and liver panels are all in the normal range. I haven't had a viral load test since starting treatment. The doc has mentioned it, but he doesn't seem in a rush -- something I've both liked and disliked about this doctor. He told me he didn't like to give a 12 week check because some insurance companies refuse to pay for treatment if there has not been a log-2 drop in the virus. And he says that if I'm not undetectable at 24 weeks, I'm off treatment. Well, we're past that. I meant to ask him about it a viral load test at this last visit, but spaced it out. Honestly, I'm not that worried about it right now. He tells me that the consistently good liver enzyme numbers are a good indication. And he operates on the theory that more treatment is better than less, even if someone turns out to be a non-responder or relapser. The more we can slap the virus around, the better.

I took Shot Twenty-Nine yesterday. Nineteen to go. I usually do it on Friday night, but lately seem to be delaying to Saturday during the day. I no longer notice immediate side-effects and I don't like doing the injection at bedtime. Poking myself with a needle is just not the way I like to prepare my mind for sleep.

I saw a recent picture of myself and I was shocked. I've aged ten years. My hair is thinning and my skin is pale and saggy. I have deep-set eyes anyway, but I now stare out of thse hollow sockets. According to everyone who's been through this, the effects go away. People are going to think I've discovered a fountain of youth.

more insomnia...

But first the countdown... I took injection number 28 last Friday. Twenty to go. It is now indeed a countdown. I'm tired, but can't sleep, foggy, grumpy, can't stick with a task for more than 20 minutes at a time. But I'm counting down. Tomorrow night it will be nineteen to go. I spell out the countdown numers. It feels good. I'm being weird...

The past couple of weeks I've had a tough time sleeping. The pattern is I go to bed at a reasonable hour and end up tossing and turning. Fortunately, my wife has been put on a nightly med that knocks her out, else I'd be hearing about it. When I finally get to sleep, I waken myself with my thrashing. From there it's weird. One night I bedded down on the couch. Another night I slept for three hours on the floor. The next day I'm so tired that I drag all day. If I sleep more than an hour, I won't go to sleep at night.

I did skip my Elavil one night because I failed to renew the scrip (see previous post. Got it the next day, but I wonder if I haven't developed some resistance. I'm only taking 10 mg. It may be time to boost the dose. I'll see the doc tomorrow.

I've been having a lot of congestion in my upper chest -- it's a constant "harumph" and a lot of thick junk. If you're reading this, you must be into this sort of thing. See the first paragraph of the first post of this blog. I'm taking Robitussin expectorant (guaifenesin) to try to thin it out. I'm also having a nasty cough now and then. Yesterday I felt my chest going into bronchial spasms. I recognize it from having a case of bronchitis years ago. That spasm feels like something in your throat but it's not. It's the bronchial tubes going into spasms. It's happened once before since I started this mess. Luckily, we had an Albuterol inhaler left over from an allergy problem my daughter had last year. It was still in date, but I confess I didn't look at the time. One hit set me right.

Home life is busy but seems to swirl past me. My wife is having a tough time at work which seems to have set her off balance. Over the past few months she's started having crying jags. She knew something was wrong and went to the doc who gave her some anti-depressants (and a follow-up appointment). We'd talked about that before. She's not entirely comfortable taking them, but it seems to be doing her some good. She has settled down and says she's more relaxed, but foggy.

The doc doesn't see this as being a long-term issue, it's just a reaction to her situation that seems to have gone over the top. As the doc said, "Step back and look at yourself from another person's viewpoint." With everything that's happened over the past couple of years -- a death and a couple of illnesses in the family, a persistent squabble between two members of her family that doesn't involve her directly, but certainly affects her, my illness and treatment, etc. etc. etc. It adds up.

Meanwhile, the kids are getting ready for school, Son's arm is out of the cast and football practice has started, Daughter 1 and 2 are all off in their things. Daughter 1 in particular had a shock this past week. A friend of hers from school died hiking in the mountains with his brother. I try to be there for her in my clumsy way. It's tough. Both of the older two knew the kid. I'm encouraging them to go to the memorial service -- kids will tend to skip such things if they can. But they need to show support for the family. Way too much reality, that. Sort of puts my little ailment in perspective. My kids are here, healthy, and even speak with me now and then.

Meanwhile, my wife and I bury ourselves in 24. We got hooked on the series last year and have been renting the DVDs. The previous season is the most implausible, convoluted, ridiculous, video game, comic book of a television show I have ever seen in my life. In other words, it's fun. I never knew that L.A. was the center of so much terrorist activity. Oh, and if you're ever following a terrorist and he stops for gas, but you need to delay him while your techie buddy positions a satellite to cover him through the canyons, the best method is to hold up the gas station. If it's good enough for Jack Bauer, it's good enough for me.

I heard they're making a movie version of 24. It will be real time like the TV show, but in order to make it short enough for a movie, they'll just have everybody do what Jack Bauer tells them to. It will be called 2.

Nearly midnight. I think I've bleated here for long enough.

Insomnia

It's after 1:00 AM and I'm here blogging. My own fault. I let my Amitriptyline prescription run out. I didn't know how much it was helping! I thought I might have trouble sleeping and so had taken a couple of Benadryl tabs. The stuff usually knocks me out cold. It isn't touching me tonight. I can't leave my legs still and I'm constantly tossing and turning. Picking up the new scrip tomorrow.

The past couple of weeks have been pretty good. We were rid of the older kids -- they were off on a church trip -- and the youngest had friends to stay with, so we snuck up to Flagstaff for the weekend. It got us out of the heat. The oldest wants to go to school there at NAU. She was up there a few weeks ago. There are worse places.

The past few days I've been getting lots of sides. I'm tired, grumpy, listless, etc. And the little sores have reappeared at the corrners of my mouth. I also suspect I'm a little anemic. I'm getting the sound of blood rushing in my ears, and my heart is running around 90 at rest. I'm still taking Procrit and Neupogen, which boost red and white blood counts respectively. I really hope I don't have to up the dosage. I hate sticking myself.

Past 1:30. Maybe I can sleep now.