Well I don't know your situation and I'm no doctor so I guess they know best. My dad's used the colchicine before I think but the allopurinol really seems to knock the gout out before it gets started too bad.
I donated blood once, that needle sucked, but the whole part where they have you squeeze a stress ball during the process to help move the blood along hurt worse.
I've given blood four times. I didn't think it hurt that much, but I had to stop because I get all lightheaded for some reason.
When we had blood drives in high school the game was to race to pump out your quota first then jump up and run across the gym without passing out
Munkus BeaverYou don't have to attend every argument you are invited to.Philosophy: Stoicism. Politics: Democratic SocialistRegistered User, ClubPAregular
So getting the surgery date scheduled.
The good news is that the medicine combination is working against the crohn's. The bad news is that the fistula and abscess are not going away on their own. Barring a miracle, an ostomy is the only way the fistula heals.
So, basically, it's time for the nightmare again.
Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but dies in the process.
I start chemo again tomorrow morning. This will be my third ride on this train in just over a year. This is the first time that I am honestly not sure I'll be coming out the other end. In the past I've always puffed out my chest and just said "I'll be fine, this ain't shit."
But I'm tired. I'm weak, and I'm broken down. Honestly, I'm not even positive I want to come out the other end. I had always said no to chemo, it wasn't worth it, and that fighting the cancer robbed you of your dignity in the end. Evidently those words were hollow. Because when I was faced with the do or die choice, I chose the chemo.
In a lot of ways I'm very lucky, I have an atypical response to the treatment. I don't get as violently ill as some, and my hair doesn't completely fall out. But this shit still drains your very soul. It's like a sponge that soaks up all your will to live. My liver and kidneys are so blasted by this bullshit, I'm not even positive why we're still trying. It's not like I don't have the option to stop, I do. I can stop anytime. I really don't know why I don't.
I've spent 32 years now being told "you'll die soon." 32 years is a long time to live on death row. It shapes how you view the world, how you view relationships, hardships, it fucks with your ability to empathize. I have friends that suffer from depression, my girlfriend is crippled by anxiety, and I want to help. I honestly do, but there is that part of me that looks at their issues and just screams "YOU HAVE NO CONCEPT OF WHAT PAIN IS".
And that is bullshit. I know it's bullshit. I hate that part of me. I do. But I can't seem to ever shake it. I'm happy they don't know what I know, and what others know. I'm thankful for it, and I hope to God they never do. But that little demon is still right there every time in my ear. I've seen it in other patients, it's like a knowing nod. Some kind of fucked up secret handshake. We know that we've gone through about as much pain and suffering as any three people ever should. So if at the end of all this, there is some kind of karmic balance, some kind of God, we know we damn well better be in the black.
I have never been arrogant enough to claim that I know if their is or is not a greater being. I don't know, but I do know that there are people who have it worse than I do, so if there is some kind of ledger, some kind of scale in the universe, and them having gone through more hell than I have made it just a little easier for me, then I know I made it easier for someone else. I know that kind of thinking isn't rational, and it isn't logical, but it helps me justify getting out of bed in the morning.
When I went to the clinic this morning to get everything arranged for tomorrow, a younger kid was there waiting to see the doc, he started talking to me about my tattoos and eventually asked about my treatment. I told him how many rounds I did as a kid, and how many I had done over the past year or so. He grunted and nodded his head, and then asked me for my secret. I'm guessing he was in his early 20s and he seemed calm, except for his eyes. I could tell he was as scared as everybody else in there. I told him there wasn't one. You just have to want to live through it, because shit happens, and then you die. We very rarely get to pick the hows and whens. But what we can do is try to live as awesome a life as possible.
I don't know if he really understood what I was saying, I hope he did. I've had that same conversation with other strangers before. I've never been one for the sappy "leave the world better than how you found it" line of crap. But I'd like to think I at least helped people somehow. I've done my fair share of stupid, evil, and selfish shit in my life and all I can really hope for at the conclusion is that my friends and loved ones can at least be a little happier that I was around for however long I was around.
Then again, what the fuck do I know. This was way longer than I intended and I don't even remember why I started writing this.
VivixenneRemember your training, and we'll get through this just fine.Registered Userregular
edited March 2012
Dammit Dan, no matter what, know that you made a lasting impact on my life, at least, that has and probably will continue to shape how I define myself as a person.
You're one of the very best people I've ever had the privilege of meeting, knowing, and calling friend, and you will remain that to the end of goddamn time.
If you need anything, let us know. We're all here for you, whether it's in spirit, in support, or just as people whose lives you've touched with your story.
That's the way I feel about all the stories in the thread, particularly Munkus's and Stale's stories. I can't do much, I can only peripherally relate, but I can listen, and nod.
You are a rad dude, Stale. I have absolutely no reference for the amount of pain you're going through but man there is no reason for you to not bitch about it. I think you've earned it a few dozen times over.
Seriously the worst pain I probably had was when I popped a rib in my chest and hurt every time I breathed for the next few weeks. That's nothing compared to, y'know, fucking cancer.
Stale, I got nothin'. Just want you to know that, just like you said about other people having it worse than you do, every time some little hobgoblin sets off an M-80 inside my nutsack, I remind myself that there are dudes like you out there seizing the bull by its fucking horns and getting shit done. Thank you.
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Munkus BeaverYou don't have to attend every argument you are invited to.Philosophy: Stoicism. Politics: Democratic SocialistRegistered User, ClubPAregular
Well, four days with fever is enough to make me go to a hospital since I'm immuno-suppressed and it could easily develop to be something serious.
Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but dies in the process.
My mother is 49 years old and she's had a pilonidal cyst since she was 15 years old. She's pretty prone to other cysts too but after years of hearing from doctors, "Oh it's cancer." instead of something so immensely minor has really shaped her way of viewing the medical world. She's now planning on getting it removed this fall finally, and she's scared as hell of just dealing with surgery again. She had a hysterectomy, there's a family history of uterine fibroids and she just didn't want to deal with it anymore. They treated her like shit. When she came home she was miserable and spent the majority of her time in bed.
She just had a mammogram done too, as she found a lump. Surprise! Just another cyst.
She gets migraines as well. It used to be worse. I don't know if they were possibly mine or my sister's fault cause we were just dumb kids and we were doing things we didn't know that were only causing her more problems.
I get so incredibly frustrated that she doesn't take my depression seriously. Yes, I'm probably fine now, but I still remember what's it's like in your head when you sit on that fence and feel yourself grow lighter and lighter as you lean over the edge to your death, all the while your parents just tease you constantly about how stupid and lazy you are. I don't believe that I would even be able to discuss it with her without just turning into a screaming sobbing mess.
I'm not going to pretend that what she's gone though compares at all to mine. I rarely get cysts. I don't have back pain and I rarely get just regular headaches. The most painful experience I can remember is my wisdom teeth removal and hornet stings. At the same time I don't know if she thinks depression is just where you feel sad and you're a big baby, or if she knows what it's like. Maybe one day when I'm much older and I've been living away from my family for a long while I'll be able to talk to them about it, understand the kinds of things they went though and tell them what I went though if they don't know already. At this point I don't believe they even care but I would like to try at least one day.
I do hope though my mother gets better. She doesn't need that cyst and she's not getting any younger, though I worry that because she's had it for so long it's going to be a problem. After an experience that she can only describe as hell, and she doesn't exaggerate, I sincerely hope that this time she gets what she needs.
DS: 2667 5365 3193 | 2DS: 2852-8590-3716
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Skylarko7 Vile Rat o7o7 Photon Torpedo o7Registered Userregular
edited March 2012
That's some pretty heavy stuff Nuka. Hope everything works out for you and yours.
Ed: Stale: Your tattoos are awesome, and you are pretty awesome as well.
TrueHereticXWe are the future Charles, not them. They no longer matter.Sydney, AustraliaRegistered Userregular
edited March 2012
Stale. Dude. Holy Crap.
Bro hugs.
All you dudes in here dealing with unimaginable stuff are freaking awesome, anyone tells you otherwise I slap them so hard their toes will pop off and become super villians.
I'm spending today trying to get all the cooking done for Secret Saints before the nausea and weakness get any worse. I can feel it starting. If I turn my head too quick the whole world goes black, and I've already dropped the pan full of napalm sugar twice when I tried to move it.
But I'll get this done and shipped.
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cadmunkyOne hand on the bottle,The other a shaking fist.Registered Userregular
dammit.
you goddamn better well know you made lives better. i feel mine would be severely diminished without knowing you.
"Think of it as Evolution in Action"
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FencingsaxIt is difficult to get a man to understand, when his salary depends upon his not understandingGNU Terry PratchettRegistered Userregular
I always have trouble figuring out what to say in these types of threads. You dudes hang in there.
My heart seriously goes out to Stale and Munkus. My grandmother basically raised my sister and I, and had a similar cycle of illness before she died, and two of my best friends have recently been diagnosed with Crohns.
I actually have managed to dodge (so far) chronic illness even though my family has a history of cancer and diabetes. My wife is a dancer with fibromyalgia though. For the better part of our early relationship she couldn't stay up past 10, or perform in public, or really go out and do any vigorous activity without pain and crippling fatigue. I completely agree with Munkus's earlier assessment of doctors; it took fifteen years of searching to find a rheumatologist and GP who both understood what FMS is and how it can be treated. Even now we're still playing with drug cocktails, and sometimes the side effects from those are almost as bad as the original condition. But things are getting better, day by day, and our understanding of the syndrome is improving both personally and scientifically. I guess that's my takeaway from all of this. Sometimes things can get better, even if it usually looks like they won't.
I actually got bastion on Steam for my birthday, and I've never had trouble with Steam and offline mode, but I'm not confident that my laptop will run it smoothly enough for me to actually play it.
Posts
Yeah, I dunno, I just take whatever they hand me.
I figure the less attention I pay the better.
When we had blood drives in high school the game was to race to pump out your quota first then jump up and run across the gym without passing out
The good news is that the medicine combination is working against the crohn's. The bad news is that the fistula and abscess are not going away on their own. Barring a miracle, an ostomy is the only way the fistula heals.
So, basically, it's time for the nightmare again.
Feel better.
I have no idea if that actually works, it kind of sounds like it's too simple an answer on some level.
Guess I gotta trust them.
Docs gave him 9 to 18 so we will see.
Satans..... hints.....
But I'm tired. I'm weak, and I'm broken down. Honestly, I'm not even positive I want to come out the other end. I had always said no to chemo, it wasn't worth it, and that fighting the cancer robbed you of your dignity in the end. Evidently those words were hollow. Because when I was faced with the do or die choice, I chose the chemo.
In a lot of ways I'm very lucky, I have an atypical response to the treatment. I don't get as violently ill as some, and my hair doesn't completely fall out. But this shit still drains your very soul. It's like a sponge that soaks up all your will to live. My liver and kidneys are so blasted by this bullshit, I'm not even positive why we're still trying. It's not like I don't have the option to stop, I do. I can stop anytime. I really don't know why I don't.
I've spent 32 years now being told "you'll die soon." 32 years is a long time to live on death row. It shapes how you view the world, how you view relationships, hardships, it fucks with your ability to empathize. I have friends that suffer from depression, my girlfriend is crippled by anxiety, and I want to help. I honestly do, but there is that part of me that looks at their issues and just screams "YOU HAVE NO CONCEPT OF WHAT PAIN IS".
And that is bullshit. I know it's bullshit. I hate that part of me. I do. But I can't seem to ever shake it. I'm happy they don't know what I know, and what others know. I'm thankful for it, and I hope to God they never do. But that little demon is still right there every time in my ear. I've seen it in other patients, it's like a knowing nod. Some kind of fucked up secret handshake. We know that we've gone through about as much pain and suffering as any three people ever should. So if at the end of all this, there is some kind of karmic balance, some kind of God, we know we damn well better be in the black.
I have never been arrogant enough to claim that I know if their is or is not a greater being. I don't know, but I do know that there are people who have it worse than I do, so if there is some kind of ledger, some kind of scale in the universe, and them having gone through more hell than I have made it just a little easier for me, then I know I made it easier for someone else. I know that kind of thinking isn't rational, and it isn't logical, but it helps me justify getting out of bed in the morning.
When I went to the clinic this morning to get everything arranged for tomorrow, a younger kid was there waiting to see the doc, he started talking to me about my tattoos and eventually asked about my treatment. I told him how many rounds I did as a kid, and how many I had done over the past year or so. He grunted and nodded his head, and then asked me for my secret. I'm guessing he was in his early 20s and he seemed calm, except for his eyes. I could tell he was as scared as everybody else in there. I told him there wasn't one. You just have to want to live through it, because shit happens, and then you die. We very rarely get to pick the hows and whens. But what we can do is try to live as awesome a life as possible.
I don't know if he really understood what I was saying, I hope he did. I've had that same conversation with other strangers before. I've never been one for the sappy "leave the world better than how you found it" line of crap. But I'd like to think I at least helped people somehow. I've done my fair share of stupid, evil, and selfish shit in my life and all I can really hope for at the conclusion is that my friends and loved ones can at least be a little happier that I was around for however long I was around.
Then again, what the fuck do I know. This was way longer than I intended and I don't even remember why I started writing this.
Dang
You're one of the best around and I'm gonna be pissed if we don't get the chance to country up some place together
Hang in there man. I'm praying for ya
You've got my number now, call or text if there's anything I can do
But we can listen when you want to write about it.
Satans..... hints.....
You're one of the very best people I've ever had the privilege of meeting, knowing, and calling friend, and you will remain that to the end of goddamn time.
If you need anything, let us know. We're all here for you, whether it's in spirit, in support, or just as people whose lives you've touched with your story.
All the hugs.
All of them.
Good luck today, and I'll be praying.
Just gonna smother him in titty filled hugs
The best way to go out.
Breast Sandwich is go!
Keep on keeping on.
I love you two beautiful bitches.
and everyone else too.
Seriously the worst pain I probably had was when I popped a rib in my chest and hurt every time I breathed for the next few weeks. That's nothing compared to, y'know, fucking cancer.
She just had a mammogram done too, as she found a lump. Surprise! Just another cyst.
She gets migraines as well. It used to be worse. I don't know if they were possibly mine or my sister's fault cause we were just dumb kids and we were doing things we didn't know that were only causing her more problems.
I get so incredibly frustrated that she doesn't take my depression seriously. Yes, I'm probably fine now, but I still remember what's it's like in your head when you sit on that fence and feel yourself grow lighter and lighter as you lean over the edge to your death, all the while your parents just tease you constantly about how stupid and lazy you are. I don't believe that I would even be able to discuss it with her without just turning into a screaming sobbing mess.
I'm not going to pretend that what she's gone though compares at all to mine. I rarely get cysts. I don't have back pain and I rarely get just regular headaches. The most painful experience I can remember is my wisdom teeth removal and hornet stings. At the same time I don't know if she thinks depression is just where you feel sad and you're a big baby, or if she knows what it's like. Maybe one day when I'm much older and I've been living away from my family for a long while I'll be able to talk to them about it, understand the kinds of things they went though and tell them what I went though if they don't know already. At this point I don't believe they even care but I would like to try at least one day.
I do hope though my mother gets better. She doesn't need that cyst and she's not getting any younger, though I worry that because she's had it for so long it's going to be a problem. After an experience that she can only describe as hell, and she doesn't exaggerate, I sincerely hope that this time she gets what she needs.
Ed: Stale: Your tattoos are awesome, and you are pretty awesome as well.
Bro hugs.
All you dudes in here dealing with unimaginable stuff are freaking awesome, anyone tells you otherwise I slap them so hard their toes will pop off and become super villians.
I'm spending today trying to get all the cooking done for Secret Saints before the nausea and weakness get any worse. I can feel it starting. If I turn my head too quick the whole world goes black, and I've already dropped the pan full of napalm sugar twice when I tried to move it.
But I'll get this done and shipped.
you goddamn better well know you made lives better. i feel mine would be severely diminished without knowing you.
"Think of it as Evolution in Action"
I actually have managed to dodge (so far) chronic illness even though my family has a history of cancer and diabetes. My wife is a dancer with fibromyalgia though. For the better part of our early relationship she couldn't stay up past 10, or perform in public, or really go out and do any vigorous activity without pain and crippling fatigue. I completely agree with Munkus's earlier assessment of doctors; it took fifteen years of searching to find a rheumatologist and GP who both understood what FMS is and how it can be treated. Even now we're still playing with drug cocktails, and sometimes the side effects from those are almost as bad as the original condition. But things are getting better, day by day, and our understanding of the syndrome is improving both personally and scientifically. I guess that's my takeaway from all of this. Sometimes things can get better, even if it usually looks like they won't.
Hang in there, Stale.
Got another 12+ hours of sitting doing nothing on a saline drip coming up, while this involves no pain or discomfort, it is boring as fuck.
Anyone got recommendations?
Wait that'd probably make you WORSE
"Think of it as Evolution in Action"