Sunday 23 April 2017
Little Fireball
We're expecting our first baby in the next couple weeks! I wrote this one back in February.
It feels like slow motion, as we get rolling
For your first ride around the sun
I’m a little scared and under-prepared
Waiting for the countdown to come
CHORUS
One of these days I’ll open my eyes
And we’ll be gazing at the sky
You’ll blow me away, imagining why
It’s up there at all
One of these hands’ll be here to hold
As the universe unfolds
Every star has a fiery soul
No matter how small
My little fireball, little fireball
Little fireball, little fireball
Your ship is ready, engine revving steady
Can you feel her rhythm?
I press my ear to your atmosphere
And tap to the beat of your tiny drum
REPEAT CHORUS
My little fireball, little fireball
Little fireball, little fireball
My little fireball, little fireball
My little fireball, little fireball
Thursday 13 April 2017
Five Point Five
I don’t really know why I’m posting this or if anybody’s even reading this blog. But if you do and it inspires a loving thought for me or anyone you know in a similar situation, then that makes me feel a bit better.
I wrote this song, Five Point Five, back in January…
My family doc called to say that the X-ray I got that morning showed a large mass on my left lung. There are no words that truly describe what those words do to you. Terrified and confused barely scratch the surface.
I had a CT scan within a week and saw one of the best surgeons in the country a couple days later. He said there were a few things it could be, but that its characteristics most suggested that it was a benign tumour grown out of the pleural sac. He operated on March 1 and removed it.
I cannot say enough nice things about everyone my family and I encountered at Toronto General through the 30 or so hours I was in the building. The incredible skill and compassion they exhibit daily is truly amazing. Andrew, Sheila, Nelson, Angela, Bon Jovi (yes, I had a nurse named Bon Jovi!)… there are more names I never got or can’t recall right now. So many great people — thank you for taking such incredible care of me.
If you know someone who works in healthcare, give 'em a hug right now.
Surgery went very well and the team was confident that they got all the bad bits out. The operation was done laparoscopically, so I was back home by suppertime the next day. My dad, who was an RN for around 30 years, flew up to be my personal nurse for over a week, changing dressings etc., and doing odd chores around the house. Thank you!
4 weeks later, I had a followup with the surgeon. To everyone’s surprise, the pathology report said that the tumour was in fact malignant. It was cancer. I had cancer. The good news is that it was quite localized and all indications during surgery and from the post-op lab-work were that it was all out. I’d have a follow-up with a radiation oncologist soon to discuss possible treatment. But I was feeling good, that it was probably cured.
I had that meeting yesterday and now I’m scared again. He recommends doing radiation treatments for 5 weeks. His thinking is that there’s no way to know if there are any remaining cancer cells in the area, so he’s inclined to take a conservative approach and radiate now. If there’s anything bad left in there, we’ll have a better chance of killing it while it’s weak, rather than when it’s stronger if it grows back months or years down the road. And if it were to grow back, there’s no telling what form it might take… it could be even worse.
I’d talked with a relative of similar expertise and experience a few days earlier, and her inclination was that, given the clear margin (no perforations in the extra layer that was removed with the tumor), it would be reasonable to monitor and only radiate if the cancer returned. It might well be cured now.
Both doctors acknowledge that there’s no definitely right way to proceed. The problem is that it’s a very rare cancer — there are only 45 published cases in the whole world. That’s far from enough for any statistically significant conclusions. No one knows how it behaves, what the recurrence rate might be, etc.
So now I have to choose between waiting and radiation. If I wait, there’s a chance that it’ll never return. Or it might. If it does, there’s a chance it’ll take exactly the same form and be fairly easily dealt with. Or it might be totally different and deadly. If I do radiation now to try and prevent recurrence, there are risks of various side effects that terrify me. There are also odds that none of them will happen. There’s a chance that the radiation will kill any remaining cancer cells. There’s also a chance that it’s pointless because the problem’s already cured. Nobody can quantify any of the odds related to the tumour. The only odds they can quantify are about radiation risks. For example, there’s a 1/1000 risk of spinal damage causing paralysis. That’s a small chance. But it’s still scary as heck, as is the thought of this thing coming back in some worse form. There’s scary all around. So… I’ve got some thinking to do over the next few days.
Anyway, here’s the song from January:
Five Point Five
It came right out of nowhere
Just about a week ago
I couldn’t quite catch my breath
And I still haven’t yet
Thinking I’ve got a long way to go
Oh, I’ve got a long way to go
Yeah, I stumbled over denial
Staring at a 3D scan
But I must admit I still hope
They call me up and say oh
No, that was of another man
Oh, that was of another man
CHORUS
It weighs heavy on my mind, heavy on my mind
The scariest song I’ve ever sung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
It wants to make my darlin’ a widow
Open its jaws and take a bite
And, though the jury’s still out
Let there be no doubt
I’m not going without a fight
I’m not going without a fight
CHORUS
It weighs heavy on my mind, heavy on my mind
The scariest song I’ve ever sung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
It weighs heavy on my mind, heavy on my mind
The scariest song I’ve ever sung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
At the bottom of my left lung
I wrote this song, Five Point Five, back in January…
My family doc called to say that the X-ray I got that morning showed a large mass on my left lung. There are no words that truly describe what those words do to you. Terrified and confused barely scratch the surface.
I had a CT scan within a week and saw one of the best surgeons in the country a couple days later. He said there were a few things it could be, but that its characteristics most suggested that it was a benign tumour grown out of the pleural sac. He operated on March 1 and removed it.
I cannot say enough nice things about everyone my family and I encountered at Toronto General through the 30 or so hours I was in the building. The incredible skill and compassion they exhibit daily is truly amazing. Andrew, Sheila, Nelson, Angela, Bon Jovi (yes, I had a nurse named Bon Jovi!)… there are more names I never got or can’t recall right now. So many great people — thank you for taking such incredible care of me.
If you know someone who works in healthcare, give 'em a hug right now.
Surgery went very well and the team was confident that they got all the bad bits out. The operation was done laparoscopically, so I was back home by suppertime the next day. My dad, who was an RN for around 30 years, flew up to be my personal nurse for over a week, changing dressings etc., and doing odd chores around the house. Thank you!
4 weeks later, I had a followup with the surgeon. To everyone’s surprise, the pathology report said that the tumour was in fact malignant. It was cancer. I had cancer. The good news is that it was quite localized and all indications during surgery and from the post-op lab-work were that it was all out. I’d have a follow-up with a radiation oncologist soon to discuss possible treatment. But I was feeling good, that it was probably cured.
I had that meeting yesterday and now I’m scared again. He recommends doing radiation treatments for 5 weeks. His thinking is that there’s no way to know if there are any remaining cancer cells in the area, so he’s inclined to take a conservative approach and radiate now. If there’s anything bad left in there, we’ll have a better chance of killing it while it’s weak, rather than when it’s stronger if it grows back months or years down the road. And if it were to grow back, there’s no telling what form it might take… it could be even worse.
I’d talked with a relative of similar expertise and experience a few days earlier, and her inclination was that, given the clear margin (no perforations in the extra layer that was removed with the tumor), it would be reasonable to monitor and only radiate if the cancer returned. It might well be cured now.
Both doctors acknowledge that there’s no definitely right way to proceed. The problem is that it’s a very rare cancer — there are only 45 published cases in the whole world. That’s far from enough for any statistically significant conclusions. No one knows how it behaves, what the recurrence rate might be, etc.
So now I have to choose between waiting and radiation. If I wait, there’s a chance that it’ll never return. Or it might. If it does, there’s a chance it’ll take exactly the same form and be fairly easily dealt with. Or it might be totally different and deadly. If I do radiation now to try and prevent recurrence, there are risks of various side effects that terrify me. There are also odds that none of them will happen. There’s a chance that the radiation will kill any remaining cancer cells. There’s also a chance that it’s pointless because the problem’s already cured. Nobody can quantify any of the odds related to the tumour. The only odds they can quantify are about radiation risks. For example, there’s a 1/1000 risk of spinal damage causing paralysis. That’s a small chance. But it’s still scary as heck, as is the thought of this thing coming back in some worse form. There’s scary all around. So… I’ve got some thinking to do over the next few days.
Anyway, here’s the song from January:
Five Point Five
It came right out of nowhere
Just about a week ago
I couldn’t quite catch my breath
And I still haven’t yet
Thinking I’ve got a long way to go
Oh, I’ve got a long way to go
Yeah, I stumbled over denial
Staring at a 3D scan
But I must admit I still hope
They call me up and say oh
No, that was of another man
Oh, that was of another man
CHORUS
It weighs heavy on my mind, heavy on my mind
The scariest song I’ve ever sung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
It wants to make my darlin’ a widow
Open its jaws and take a bite
And, though the jury’s still out
Let there be no doubt
I’m not going without a fight
I’m not going without a fight
CHORUS
It weighs heavy on my mind, heavy on my mind
The scariest song I’ve ever sung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
It weighs heavy on my mind, heavy on my mind
The scariest song I’ve ever sung
It measures 5 point 5 centimetres wide
At the bottom of my left lung
At the bottom of my left lung
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