Morgan's Blog Entries Archive

Cancer- funny haha or funny strange?

Monday, August 17th, 2009

I subscribed to Newsweek on my Amazon Kindle today so I can get the latest stories delivered to me. Funny that my first read would be a story about 20- and 30-somethings with cancer, adapting with humor. I guess it makes sense to me that younger folks with cancer would take a very different look at the situation, less inclined to be resigned to the diagnosis and more likely to rail against its absurdity.

“You’re 35 and you’ve got cancer? That’s funny…”

“How do you mean? Funny haha or funny strange?”

“Oh, I mean it’s strange. Or weird. Can I say ironic? Because here you’ve been a smoker all your life and this particular cancer has nothing to do with that, does it? You’re chromosomes were f*cked since the day you were born, weren’t they?”

“Yes, it seems so. I guess that’s funny.”

Amazon Kindle – Avid reader once again!

Thursday, August 13th, 2009

Very good friends of mine have just become my lifetime reading benefactors. They’ve provided me with the money to get the new Amazon Kindle, a wireless reading device that can store hundreds of books- old and new. What makes this product so amazing is that I can load it up with free books that will last me for months on end. Classics are easiest to find for free, but I also have a bunch of e-books that can be converted into Kindle format and then sent to the device using my computer and a USB cable.

The Kindle can be used as more than just a book reader. When I was in California this last weekend, Dan was showing me his and some of the cool features, including a basic text web browser (I could even pull up digihitch.com) and instant messaging service (Yahoo! Messenger). As a wireless device, the Kindle can receive new books straight from Amazon, so if I do choose to buy a new bestseller I can be reading it on my Kindle within a minute of purchase. I can also read sample chapters from nearly any new book release without paying a cent, plus get samples/excerpts from many thousands of older books.

A few geek features I’m excited about include the ability to do keyword searches on words within the books I’m reading, as well as digital highlighting of passages. I can even store notes about something I’ve highlighted! Perfect for when I’m doing some non-fiction research. I really think the Kindle is going to make my “bed life” a whole lot easier. I’m heading over to Amazon.com to buy one now.

If you’ve been thinking about buying one yourself, use this link to do so and I’ll get a small commission from amazon.com at no extra cost to you!
Buy the Amazon Kindle Wireless Reading Device (6″ Latest Generation)

CA Road Trip II: Huntington Beach + Med Update

Friday, August 7th, 2009

I’m looking out at the surf and sand of Huntington Beach, not more than 1000 feet away, as I write this. It was more than a stroke of luck that allowed Kasha and I to be here at the Shorebreak Hotel with such a magnificent view. I googled up a promo code to get a sizable discount off the room price when placing the reservation. When we arrived late this afternoon it appeared they’d given us the wrong room. There was no disability access (shower rails, seat, etc). We informed staff and they quickly remedied this by upgrading us to a disability-friendly room with a king bed and waterfront view.

We’re heading downstairs in just a few to take a stroll by the beach, then dinner at Wahoo’s (fish tacos, we love ‘em). The weather is ideal.  Breezy, in the high 60s. The sun is beginning to set. I’ve got to wrap this up!

Talked to Dr. Kukunoor, one of my oncologists, by cellphone 1/2 hour ago. He tells me yesterday’s MRI scan results came back and there’s yet another tumor along my spine that’s coming close to creating spinal cord compression. It’s located between my shoulder blades. There’s no imminent danger of paralysis, but all cases like this have to be taken seriously. He recommends that when I return to Phoenix on Monday I continue with radiation therapy, effectively postponing chemotherapy (yay!).

I feel good, and it’s a relief to know I can enjoy the weekend without worrying about chemo or some dire situation to return to Monday. Kasha and I are so grateful and glad to be here. Really looking forward to seeing family tomorrow. I brought along some family history research for them to browse through, too. Also, can’t wait to see my friend Dan on Sunday and his baby girl, Addy.

Good times, now out the door we go!

California Road Trip: Friday Morning Takeoff

Friday, August 7th, 2009
How to contact me this weekend
If you know my cellphone number, give it a call anytime. You can also find it if you are logged into this blog (right below search box) or you’re a Facebook friend. Go to my Facebook profile and look in my “Info” tab.

I’ll also be checking email. I hate to reveal my main address publicly, so if you don’t know it you can send a message to me via this feedback form on digihitch.com and it will get to me.

It’s just before 6am and I’m sitting up in my home hospital bed in the living room writing this. In an hour Kasha and I will be on the road, driving to Los Angeles for a weekend by the beach among family and friends.

It’s surprising, all the little precautions I need to take nowadays for a vacation. But considering what’s growing inside me, and all the medications and their little side effects– and the catheter hanging off me– I guess it’s a gift that I can go at all in my condition and not break the bank. My California family is helping make it possible, and I’m so grateful! This is my first trip away from Phoenix all summer; my first reprieve from the desert heat and daily health grind since learning I had cancer.

So how am I traveling? In medi-style, I call it. My sister loaned us her mini-van for the trip, so we have a Honda Odyssey with all the back seats removed. I’ll have my hospital mattress laid down on the floor, with pillows and comforters tucked in every cranny. A large ice chest contains tons of juice, fruit and veggies for an easy grab, and I’ve got both a heating pad and ice pack for whatever ache ails me. (Not to mention some strong drugs for “breakthrough pain,” as it’s called.)

I have a catheter, meaning that all my urine drains into a bag, so this is emptied every several hours. Also, when my condition worsened a bit last month due to the spinal cord compression, I lost feeling to my buttocks and upper thighs. This has caused me to have to wear a diaper. (Humiliating? Telling you now, a little bit, but I’ve mostly gotten over it on my end here.) I don’t have too many “accidents,” other than a serious amount of urine leakage around my catheter that my urologist says is due to bladder spasms. I have a special pill for that I take once a day called Xanthura, but to no noticeable effect so far.

And so, I’ve got all my pills, medical supplies and healthy food. Packed are my long sleeves, a new Aussie floppy hat, and sunscreen for protection. Also important– my laptop! I’ll have it with me, of course, but will also be able to use it in the van to watch movies along the way, thanks to an AC converter. I have I Love You Man and some documentaries. And I’ve got some mp3s loaded up, including the latest release from Iron and Wine– Around the Well.

Well, I’ve got to get up and get ready for the trip! I told Kasha I wanted to leave by 6:30am, even though I knew there was no chance of that. I figure we’ll be lucky to get out of here by 8am. Always last minute things to do for late preppers like us, and it’s especially true when you throw in my health issues.

If I find wi-fi en route to LA I’ll post another blog entry. In the meantime– thanks to everyone who’s helped make this trip possible!

Melissa, Mom, Scott, Vicky, Larry & Sheila, Boone families, Ruth & John, Dan…

(It takes a village or something, eh?)

Vision matching- connecting friends with support opportunities

Tuesday, July 28th, 2009

You may have noticed that I’ve been adding new, interactive blocks to the right side of the blog lately. These are items that automatically get updated when I change them elsewhere on the Web. For example, my Twitter update and personal Amazon wishlist.

Today, I got an email from Amazon saying someone had purchased an Amazon giftcard for me, with this attached message:  “we believe in your future & support your dreams!!!”

I was excited and affirmed by the gift. The email said it was from “Fred 5″ and it took me all day to figure out who that was (My sister & family– can someone say ’stunted brain activity?’). I went through my wishlist and purchased items from it for myself, including two books that will be essential in my research when I begin writing my own book, American Wayside.

I was talking to my cousin, Scott, this afternoon in California. It was really good to hear his voice- and that of my Aunt Vicky. I had let weeks draw on before calling them, sort of hiding behind the non-confrontation of my blog lately, figuring I’d give myself more time before all the emotional dismantling involved in talking about the cancer anew. Not that I’ve got things bottled up right now, but it’s still a big load to break out and talk about sometimes.

Anyway, Scott was letting me know that he and the family wanted to do whatever they could to help. I reminded him that he has most definitely been helping- with emotional support- and that money doesn’t have to be his method.

“That’s how it is with family,” I said. “Some are in a position to help financially at this point, and they have or will. Others have something else to give, and it’s just as important- strong emotional support, organizing, sharing time. You’re doing just what you can and I appreciate it.”

Over this past month a few unexpected bills have come in. It seems these “lab tests” that the nurse referred to when scheduling my tumor biopsy can be more than a few. We didn’t fully understand that. I was uninsured at the time and needed to find out exactly what Buster was as fast as possible. We went ahead and had the biopsy.
After the first cancer diagnosis came, Ewing’s Sarcoma, a pathology (“lab test”) bill followed. A few weeks later, when my diagnosis had changed to Neuroblastoma, a new pathology bill came. Just last week a third bill arrived in the mail. Each one under a thousand dollars, thankfully, but they add up- and we’re not sure if they’re done coming. But, luckily, cash payments mean price slashes in the medical arena. Family members are currently stepping up to help out, and Kasha & I are so grateful.

There are many of you who have expressed an interest in helping or supporting my family’s struggle in some way and I’m deeply humbled by this. Many of you I have not seen or talked to in years! How in the world could I have earned your help or compassion?! I guess it’s a reminder that it’s not totally about me; any more than when my heart goes out to another hitchhiker or homeless youth on the side of the road. I choose to make that connection, regardless of the person’s worth or karma level.

So here’s what I would like to do. And also, what I would like you to help me do:

Tell me how I can support your heart interest. Let me be an advocate for your helping vision. Find what it is I’m doing that you believe in and help me do it better! Provide tools I can use.
For example, if your heart goes out to people who are suffering- physical, emotional- help me find a way to connect with them and lend an extra hand. Believe me, I am in much more regular contact with these fragile people now that I’m in and out of the hospital and other outpatient clinics.

Or, if you believe in my own vision of helping the lost, disconnected and lonely- whether that be youth and homeless on digihitch.com or people seeking a community connection through Road Bard Initiative- tell me how you can sponsor a project. Maybe it’s an actual donation to the non-profit organization that will head these sites/groups, or volunteered time and experience getting things done (networking, researching, paper pushing, fundraising!). You know what you can do and where you’d feel best served, after all.

For family members, you may be in a position to help me continue my Strub family history research. Donations for the use of ancestry.com and other pay services go a long way. Purchase of archiving materials are always a tremendous help, too. Some are found on my Amazon wishlist.

I’m serious, challenge me to match you to your own vision or heart quest. One of the issues I’ve been dealing with lately, since my cancer diagnosis, is a strong sense of losing time. It’s really amazing how much time we actually do have in a day, a week, a month; and how much of it gets squandered along the way through simple indecision. Well, now my months are more important than ever before and I don’t want to keep losing them to uncertainty or fear of failing my vision. Lend me some of your vision and let’s do something great together.

Join our Facebook group, TEAM MORGAN ~ Beat Buster! to start sharing ideas, or browse Morgan’s Amazon Wishlist to begin helping with projects!

My Signs of Cancer

Sunday, July 26th, 2009

Photo of Morgan's head and torso indicating surgeries, treatments and signs of cancer.

First– don’t be alarmed by the picture. My eye sockets often appear hollowed out and gaunt (though there is a narcotic composure to my face I’m no longer comfortable with).  I actually feel pretty good lately, other than the pain in my waist and thigh that has been with me the past week. Luckily, not so much when I’m laying in my bed.

You can click on the photo to read about places on my upper body that are my new “signs of cancer.” War wounds and battle grounds. Each surgery, shaving, tattoo and simple cosmetic change has come to represent my struggle.

I normally don’t like showing off my scraggly, hairy chest. Heck, I don’t even like swimming in public with a shirt off. But I thought some of you might find the body mapping of my cancer to be an interesting thing, as I’ve come to think of it.

Radiation Therapy is current direction, all by itself

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

I am zonked. I have been staring at this blog screen for two hours, falling asleep in a sitting position as nurses and patient techs buzz around me, preparing me for another blood transfusion. (Ah, there it goes– blood delivery on its way).

I have simply been trying to write an update about my new radiation treatment. It began this morning. I was taken downstairs in a wheelchair and carted just a few blocks down the street to Associate in Radiation Oncology. Dr. Miller met with me again yesterday to say Yes, the decision to radiate had been made. My MRI scan showed that the tumor saddling my spine at T11 (Thoracic spinal nerve 11) had changed a bit and was now actually sitting on the nerve. No bueno.

The plan was now this: 8 radiation treatments, all of T11 would occur, each day except weekends. Dr. Miller said that chemotherapy could still run concurrently, but he recommended one of these drugs not be administered since it could counteract the effect.

WAIT. STOP THE MILL. It is Tuesday evening and there’s a new plan.

Dr. Kukunoor, my regular oncologist, came to my hospital room and told me we don’t even have to start chemotherapy yet. The fact that this round of treatment could be more painful and extreme than others was reason to think twice and take it slower. Why not just resume chemotherapy after radiation therapy ends?

I’m for it. Give me another week and a half to have better mental clarity. I’m fine not fast-tracking for the moment.

So, I began radiation therapy on Wednesday with this plan: 8 concurrent treatments  lasting just a few minutes each. The first session, today, took over an hour as they set up the alignment of my body and made markings, to make sure I am positioned exactly the same each blast. At tomorrow’s session they will tattoo the markings, I’m told, before my continued treatment, then I should be discharged from the hospital to complete the sessions on an outpatient basis. The last radiation session will be Friday, July 31st. I’ll then begin my second cycle of chemotherapy on Monday, August 3rd, inpatient here at John C. Lincoln.

Ready to start moving toward leaving!

Chemotherapy postponed for spinal check

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009

Yesterday when I met with Dr. Bibb here in my hospital room he went over these new pain symptoms with me– mainly, numbness and throbbing in my right thigh and additional muscle weakness in my legs. It was expected he would be approving me for my chemotherapy regimen within the evening, but he instead put it off to have a MRI scan done.

It’s possible that one of the tumors along my spinal cord is exerting enough pressure on my nerves to be doing serious damage to my legs and causing the pain to really step up. Dr. Bibb mentioned the next step may actually be surgery. We won’t know for sure until a thorough review of the MRI scan by several doctors (oncologist, surgeon, etc), and so a lot has been hinging on this.

Last night, after dinner and visitors, they came to collect me for the MRI. Kasha walked down with me to the basement room where it would be conducted. The technician who would be performing the scan didn’t have much to say, once she learned I had done this before. I was set in the machine, my headphones blasting classic rock, and the rumble-whirl of the machine and its magnetic resonance began.

…and didn’t stop. Well, the sounds changed and the table position shifted, but everything just went on and on with no feedback from the technician. I had no idea how long this was supposed to take and here began the dreadful pain, spreading down my thigh and now under my knee. Throb and clench. The pain was picking up steam and I could no longer keep my mind off it.

The next time the machine stopped whirring I yelled out, “The pain is getting bad!”

No response. My headphones kept playing Rolling Stones, and a washcloth over my eyes as I lay in the bowels of the machine had me totally cut off.

Another 5 or 8 minutes passed while the machine kept scanning. Then another stop.

“Help!” I yelled. “The pain is bad. I need morphine!”

Again, no response. Again, the machine whirred back into action.

I don’t know how much longer before the machine finally spit me out and the technician removed the washcloth from my eyes. I repeated that I needed morphine and was told my nurse was being called from upstairs. In the meantime I could lay there on the narrow tongue of the machine, in the prone position that was causing my pain to build. The scan was halfway done.

The technician left the room and I waited for my nurse. The pain changed and I moaned and shifted accordingly. Deep breaths. Curses. Pain explosions and acid burning. I curse LOUDER.
Finally:

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

I could wait no longer. The technician reappeared and said my nurse was still on her way. I told her I didn’t care, that I wanted her to get me out of there NOW.

It took some time for me to be able to move. It was as though my hips were flayed and stapled to the table. Finally, after some minutes, I was able to roll back onto the gurney. I was wheeled out of the MRI room and into the basement corridor toward the elevator. My night nurse, Trif, met me in route.

I have your morphine, she told me. My eyes were clenched shut and I was totally focused on getting the hell out of there.

“We need to get you back in there so you can finish the scan,” she told me. “Out of 1-10, what is your pain level?”

“10,” I hissed. Trif injected 10 mg of morphine into my IV. Within a minute I was calmer and the pain receded a little more to the background. I explained that I could not go back there tonight. The MRI was officially over. I wanted to go back to my room. Any hope I had of getting it done went out the window after the 3rd impotent yell.

And so, that’s what kept me from getting my MRI done earlier, and set me up for a miserable night on the floor, with doses of morphine and oxycodone delivered around the clock.

This morning, at 7am, Trif was back in my room with a 10mg syringe of morphine. She told me they were getting me into MRI first thing this morning and the pre-dose should help. I was glad to hear it. Even though the morphine failed to dope me I was glad for the extra girding.

The male technician who performed the MRI was communicative and I got through it. Granted, I had finished the longest stretch of the scan last night, but there were still a few times I wasn’t sure the pain in my thigh would win over. Funny, but I consider the fact I made it through this whole traumatic experience without aborting to be one of my best accomplishments this year.

Life goes by a whole new standard of measurements now.

Chemo part two

Monday, July 20th, 2009

So here I am, back at John C. Lincoln Hospital, room #443. My chemotherapy cocktail has been ordered and they should start me up on it using my Power Port catheter this evening. In the meantime I’m getting hydrated with a big IV bag labeled “Nutrimix® Macro System.”

I’ve been doing pretty good keeping myself calm, not jumping ahead to worry about side effects of the chemotherapy cycle over these next few days. Last time was rough, and I felt like hell for 72 hours straight. But maybe this time will be better. If not, well… by the time I begin freaking out it will already be half way over.

I’ve been having more trouble with my legs these last few days. Pain and numbness in my thighs and hips, plus almost constant numbness in my buttocks (a very strange feeling, one I’ve had in the past several months). Doctors said this could be a sign of spinal pressure caused by the tumors along my upper spine. For this reason I’ll be going downstairs for a new MRI scan sometime this evening. The pain’s been mostly on the right side of my body. Last night it got so bad I almost had to be admitted through emergency right then. But I convinced Kasha to let me ride it out as I snoozed on the couch in front of the TV throughout the night, being careful not to get stuck sleeping in a rut that would activate the acid burn nerve pain experience.

Melissa and the girls are on their way down here for a visit. I’m craving cookies, so she’s bringing some from Paradise Bakery, along with goodies for the nurses on the floor. Evan is my current attending nurse. She has been a wonderful advocate and seems to go above and beyond for me. My mom will also be here and  sleeping in the room with me tonight. She was a great help on my last chemo dose, so I’m grateful for this.

Oh, mom just arrived. More from me later!

Friend and fellow cancer battler hitches in for visit

Saturday, July 18th, 2009
Frank and Morgan at Carefree Highway in Phoenix Area
Frank and Morgan at Carefree Highway in Phoenix Area

Thursday afternoon I got a call from my good friend Frank. Turns out he was at a truck stop along I-10 in Quartzsite, Arizona, heading for Phoenix on a cross-country hitchhiking trip to Maryland.

It had been a while since I saw Frank- not since last spring in Southern California when we were working on a hitchhiking documentary called Along the Way. Frank was diagnosed with cancer this last fall. He’s been going through chemotherapy and radiation since that time, while living in California. The doctors told him he’s got at least a month until his next treatment so he decided to hit the road, hitchhiking from one coast to the next as he has many times these past few years.

I was excited to hear that Frank had time to stick around for a day. I told him to plan to stay with me overnight and I’d get him a little further down the road the next morning.

“You lose your hair yet?” he asked me.

“It’s begun to fall out, yep,” I told him. “I took some photos of me pulling out clumps.”

“Well, mine’s growing back in. I get to tease you now that you’re the baldie.”

The next day, early Friday afternoon, Frank called to say he was down the street from my place. He had ridden local buses in from the Flying J truck stop he was dropped off earlier on the southwest side of town. Kasha went to pick him up and from the moment he walked through the door we were catching up on travels and our recent struggles and realizations with cancer.

Plans were made to meet up with the family for dinner. We chose Fajita’s, an old family favorite not too far away. All the sibs and spouses were there except Michael. Frank kept us entertained with stories of traveling through Mexico. I was glad to have everyone get to hear. You see, Frank is a hero of mine. The way he travels, the experiences he creates through sharing– I consider them vital and inspirational. He is a mentor and strong voice on digihitch.com, but here’s the reason I wanted my family to hear: to meet an important friend of mine as well as get a sense of what is important to me through his experiences.

Frank called me several hours after Kasha and I dropped him off at Carefree Highway this morning on the edge of Phoenix. He said he was already in Flagstaff and would be staying the night at the hostel. Sounds like the perfect place to be for such a sweltering weekend (115 degrees in Phoenix!!). I feel energized after our visit and am looking forward to hearing how his trip progresses as Frank blogs to digihitch.