Tony Snow, R.I.P.

Tony Snow, conservative television personality and former White House spokesman, passed away this weekend.
I didn't know until I saw the Sunday edition this morning while I was listening to a phone-in press conference.
here's a link to my past blog on Mr. Snow.

Sunday Cover Story

My final piece for the Arizona Daily Star ran Sunday. It was a first-hand account of my experience with Cancer.
Read it here. Also, you can view a short video of me returning to the clinic.
Side note: Guadalupe does not like the photo of us that ran...

i can has cheezburger?

A few years ago I had a chest x ray done. Standard, since the origin of my cancer came from a tumor in my chest. In that x ray the doctor saw some..thing. So i had another one done. Same thing. So the good doctor freaked me out by telling me that there was a possibility that i might need surgery again to clean up what ever of the Thyroid was left behind (according to the x ray). He sent me to see a surgeon. He then put a scope down my throat and had a peep. He saw nothing but some acid reflux. He recommend that i take Zantac once a day to repair my esophagus. Done.

Flash forward a few years, a new gun ho doctor, and with the new doctor can a battery of tests...i was impressed. I had new chest x ray done...results came back as before. They saw...something. What? They don't know. I have to get another one done tomorrow. In addition to the chest x ray, i had blood work done. To quote the nurse; “ Hi Paul, your test results came back, and your triglycerides are out of whack...so doctor Bodwin is going to put you on Lipitor...ok?” “wait...what?” Thats right folks, I just turned 30 and im on Lipitor. Jesus Christ.

I should be more depressed then i am at the moment. But im not. A years ago, around the same time of that chest x ray, also had a blood test done. I was suppose to fast...no food for 24 hours, and no liquid a few hours before. But, i was thirsty. I thought to myself, whats a dr pepper going to hurt. Well, that threw my blood sugar all out of whack. They thought i was a Diabetic. Im not. So im taking all this news with a grain of salt. Ive been down this road before. Im not that worried. But...god damnit, if i have to have surgery again or have to go through that no salt diet again...Mother F-er!!!!! I dont know what i'll do.

I dont need this shit, and You know in spite of what George says about me (I dont eat more chili-cheeseburgers than i should), im in relative good health. Though i dont work out like i should (its been a rough few months), i dont gorge, eat small portions, and im trying to cut out process foods. If this isnt enough motivation to get my ass in shape? Then paying 88 dollars for 30 pills will. 88 dollars! Blood money to the pharmaceuticals

what the F?

sssheck it out, a

Coming in the Sunday Star
...

R.I.P. Alicia

During the course of my chemotherapy, I met a young Latina at the clinic. Her name was Alicia. When we met, she was about 19-years-old and had a handsome three-year-old son.
This morning I found out that she passed away.
She was a leukemia patient. It was clear she was very sick when we met. The veins in her chest were all bright purple from infection. It had been a long time sick her locks of hair hung down from her head. her head was shiny when we met. I can remember the tubes, filled with blood, that hung from the port above her collar bone.
Some mornings she had trouble holding down her food.
Yet she was pretty. Her youth shined through her eyes. She was probably beautiful before cancer brought her to Arizona.
Her presence brought a comfortable life to the clinic that no one else did.
She and her mother spoke Spanish, which I otherwise did not hear much of in the clinic. that always made me smile.
And her son brought that chaotic energy that only children can. Running around the clinic, getting into the juice bin and playing with the few other kids that might be around on any given afternoon, he was a handful, to say the least. I believe the nurses said more, actually.
Alicia and I might have first met on Labor Day weekend. I cannot recall right now.
I honestly feel sick to my stomach knowing she's gone.
After our first meeting, I would always check in on her when she was around.
I remember listening to her story about her son's father. I remember her talking about how they discovered her cancer and how she sought treatment in Texas and Mexico before arriving to the clinic in Tucson.
Alicia came from Las Cruces, New Mexico.
take care kid

Adrian says...

A few minutes ago, I sent an e-mail to Adrian about my experience last night.
Here's his response: "Yeah, word to the wise, don't go back to the labs!"

addendum

I visited the cancer clinic last night. I sat in the chair that I started chemotherapy.
I pulled the leg rest up, like I did at the beginning of every treatment, motioned with my arms how blankets were rolled over my legs and began to describe how the nurses would search for a vein on my right hand or wrist. then I started to cry.
I didn't even see it coming. the tears, the reaction -- I mean.
I cried again later when I talked about the first day and how my father watched me briefly then got up and left.
later that night, I spoke with Guadalupe about the experience. I suppose the reaction shouldn't be strange given that I was reliving a traumatic experience. Also, we noted, I never cried or acted that way during chemotherapy.
While I was in the thick of chemotherapy, i struggled to not allow myself to be afraid and when I was, to not show my fear. Psychologically, I wrestled with my fear because it could only harm me and my recovery. so I gave it no quarter. i guess until now.
the rush of emotions wiped me out for the rest of the evening. after a short visit with the González family that night, I went home, cooked something and crawled into bed early. like I haven't in weeks.
honestly, I'm still tired from the event.