Friday, January 25, 2013
bendeschaad's thinking again: Cancer: Spinal Tap! Methotrexate!
bendeschaad's thinking again: Cancer: Spinal Tap! Methotrexate!: Intrathecal Methotrexate-----scared me---one of the few times I really knew fear. Injection of fluid into the spinal cord-canal and carried...
Friday, October 28, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Cancer: bendeschaad
I mixed my two U.K. friends blog site addresses.
Both are battling cancer.....both named Carol (one with an "e" Carole), both fighting, winning, battling.
Here are the correct blog address.
http://confessionsofacancerpatient.blogspot.com
and
http://caroleandcancer.blogspot.com
Both are also on my blog site.
Sometimes Bendeschaad should do more thinking (or maybe less) .
Whew!!!!
Both are battling cancer.....both named Carol (one with an "e" Carole), both fighting, winning, battling.
Here are the correct blog address.
http://confessionsofacancerpatient.blogspot.com
and
http://caroleandcancer.blogspot.com
Both are also on my blog site.
Sometimes Bendeschaad should do more thinking (or maybe less) .
Whew!!!!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Cancer: Friend from U.K.
Those of you who follow my battle with cancer may find the following interesting.
I have 'teamed' with Carol from the United Kingdom.
Carol is battling Neuroendocrine small cell carcinoma of the vagina.....she is winning.
You can follow her blog at any of the following:
Inspirational Cancer Blog--Navigating Cancer.
http://caroleandcancer.blogspot.com
http://navigatingcancer.com
Confessions of a cancer patient. Daily diary of a woman diagnosed with a rare cancer.......Google.
bendeschaadsthinkingagain
I have 'teamed' with Carol from the United Kingdom.
Carol is battling Neuroendocrine small cell carcinoma of the vagina.....she is winning.
You can follow her blog at any of the following:
Inspirational Cancer Blog--Navigating Cancer.
http://caroleandcancer.blogspot.com
http://navigatingcancer.com
Confessions of a cancer patient. Daily diary of a woman diagnosed with a rare cancer.......Google.
bendeschaadsthinkingagain
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Cancer: Adios
November 7, 2007 until January 2009 spent in emotional, spiritual, physical recovery (nice little trio, don't ya think so).
The ad read ' hiring part-time clinical instructors'....I applied.
Could not work full-time still too worn down, but part-time....think I can.
Blackhawk College called and the interview was arranged.
I needed this job more than one would ever know.
Probably would have worked for almost nothing.
For a pittance I would of worked.
To be with teachers (like at my previous job....wonderful group they are) and,
with nurses,
and students.
When K.B. the Department Chair said "you are hired,"
I could have ran around the block.
Back with my own people...my peers (like with my musician friends).
Another gift from God.
He had heard my cries and He was listening.
God was listening ( He always does....we are never too much of a nuisance).
God time is different from mine.
My time frame is 'right now' His is 'let me think this over.'
Part-time worked well for my energy level and K.B. delivered God's blessing.
An opportunity to be in a local play presented itself.
The play "Hard to Believe" (J.T. writer-composer) was based on the book of Job.
I was offered the part of Bildad, counselor to Job.
Having read Job dozens of time during this cancer battle, and now, I was to play Bildad.
The role of Bildad was not difficult unless one is in the middle of recovering from cancer treatment.
I became out of breath while singing.
Sang my entire life James Brown to Tom Jones to Three Dog Night and, that takes power from the lungs. Boy! Did my lungs get a work out which is what they needed.
Sometimes forgot dialogue (except when cursing 'chemo-fog' under what little breath I had). The troupe rescued my errors on numerous occasion and, the play came off well.
Those who have not battled cancer and the aftermath of treatment do not realize the toll exacted on body organs. Weak lungs, heart, vocal cords, memory...ah! memory was a real problem for me, but, as the saying goes "the show must go on."
My name was mentioned in a local review which, I guess is a good thing, as long as the mention is positive.
Remembered all guitar chords although, a couple of time I wandered off into 6/4 rather than 4/4 time but, again, the drummer saved me ( love those drummers).
Great experience and one very strange way to re-build the body (will not find such therapy in any medical text).
One of the other actors was the son of our church's choir director.
The son mentioned me to the choir director (his mom).
She phoned. Asked if I would sing with the choir, and, "yes" (what else does one say
when other Hands are working you!)
I was being remodeled. Wowie kazowie!
God truly works in mysterious ways (well, maybe not so mysterious).
I was singing these words:
"Who are we to scorn God's discipline,
God wounds, God also heals, there are no deals,
So praise God, who does marvelous things,
The whole universe sings,
The praises of our God,
God does as God wants by night and by day"
('Hard to Believe'. Musical by J.T).
Who brings these events these coincidence to pass?
"In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls,
drop by drop upon the heart until,
in our own despair,
against our will,
comes,
the awful grace of God" (Aeschylus).
The awful grace of God became part of my psyche my DNA...the awful grace of God.
From cancer to recovery by the long route and all points in between.
Just a seasoned nurses tale of what has been, what was, and what is.
Someone up there likes me.
Adios.
bendeschaads thinking again
The ad read ' hiring part-time clinical instructors'....I applied.
Could not work full-time still too worn down, but part-time....think I can.
Blackhawk College called and the interview was arranged.
I needed this job more than one would ever know.
Probably would have worked for almost nothing.
For a pittance I would of worked.
To be with teachers (like at my previous job....wonderful group they are) and,
with nurses,
and students.
When K.B. the Department Chair said "you are hired,"
I could have ran around the block.
Back with my own people...my peers (like with my musician friends).
Another gift from God.
He had heard my cries and He was listening.
God was listening ( He always does....we are never too much of a nuisance).
God time is different from mine.
My time frame is 'right now' His is 'let me think this over.'
Part-time worked well for my energy level and K.B. delivered God's blessing.
An opportunity to be in a local play presented itself.
The play "Hard to Believe" (J.T. writer-composer) was based on the book of Job.
I was offered the part of Bildad, counselor to Job.
Having read Job dozens of time during this cancer battle, and now, I was to play Bildad.
The role of Bildad was not difficult unless one is in the middle of recovering from cancer treatment.
I became out of breath while singing.
Sang my entire life James Brown to Tom Jones to Three Dog Night and, that takes power from the lungs. Boy! Did my lungs get a work out which is what they needed.
Sometimes forgot dialogue (except when cursing 'chemo-fog' under what little breath I had). The troupe rescued my errors on numerous occasion and, the play came off well.
Those who have not battled cancer and the aftermath of treatment do not realize the toll exacted on body organs. Weak lungs, heart, vocal cords, memory...ah! memory was a real problem for me, but, as the saying goes "the show must go on."
My name was mentioned in a local review which, I guess is a good thing, as long as the mention is positive.
Remembered all guitar chords although, a couple of time I wandered off into 6/4 rather than 4/4 time but, again, the drummer saved me ( love those drummers).
Great experience and one very strange way to re-build the body (will not find such therapy in any medical text).
One of the other actors was the son of our church's choir director.
The son mentioned me to the choir director (his mom).
She phoned. Asked if I would sing with the choir, and, "yes" (what else does one say
when other Hands are working you!)
I was being remodeled. Wowie kazowie!
God truly works in mysterious ways (well, maybe not so mysterious).
I was singing these words:
"Who are we to scorn God's discipline,
God wounds, God also heals, there are no deals,
So praise God, who does marvelous things,
The whole universe sings,
The praises of our God,
God does as God wants by night and by day"
('Hard to Believe'. Musical by J.T).
Who brings these events these coincidence to pass?
"In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls,
drop by drop upon the heart until,
in our own despair,
against our will,
comes,
the awful grace of God" (Aeschylus).
The awful grace of God became part of my psyche my DNA...the awful grace of God.
From cancer to recovery by the long route and all points in between.
Just a seasoned nurses tale of what has been, what was, and what is.
Someone up there likes me.
Adios.
bendeschaads thinking again
Cancer: Rabbi is Gone
Thirty years is a long long time. Yet that is what it was. Thirty in people time years. Up and down, side way at times, and he was there for me. Through manic-depression (particularly painful depression) then through cancer.
Him and I had ridden the roller coaster of life. Together. In sync and out of sync, he was my rabbi.
Dr. R. Kind gentle family doctor later to become a blessing from God Almighty....psychiatrist.
It was manic-depression that brought about the acquaintance. An acquaintance leading to true friendship. The pain of depression had brought me to my knees and he held out his hand (much like Peter was I sinking into the sea) and steadied me lest I falter and drown a mere crumpled wailing heap of nothingness.
Make no mistake mania and depression leaves one frazzled and, at times, fractured.
Dr. R stitched me back together, nurtured, guided, and taught me. Shepherded me through manic-depression and now cancer.
Time does not stand still and waits for no one to think so is vanity.
Now, Dr. R was retiring. My second father (that is what he had become...a second father) this doctor, background per the Jesuits, was retiring.
I shall miss him so.
Moving on to the next part in his life.
And so must I.
He stitched you well Aaron. You will not tear or fray or unravel. The stitches will hold.
We talk on the phone now and again. Dr. R and I...we talk.
I still want to please him.....although it was never a requirement of the relationship.....want to make him proud, which, with certainty, I know he is.
Good luck Dr. R
bendeschaadsthinkingagain
Him and I had ridden the roller coaster of life. Together. In sync and out of sync, he was my rabbi.
Dr. R. Kind gentle family doctor later to become a blessing from God Almighty....psychiatrist.
It was manic-depression that brought about the acquaintance. An acquaintance leading to true friendship. The pain of depression had brought me to my knees and he held out his hand (much like Peter was I sinking into the sea) and steadied me lest I falter and drown a mere crumpled wailing heap of nothingness.
Make no mistake mania and depression leaves one frazzled and, at times, fractured.
Dr. R stitched me back together, nurtured, guided, and taught me. Shepherded me through manic-depression and now cancer.
Time does not stand still and waits for no one to think so is vanity.
Now, Dr. R was retiring. My second father (that is what he had become...a second father) this doctor, background per the Jesuits, was retiring.
I shall miss him so.
Moving on to the next part in his life.
And so must I.
He stitched you well Aaron. You will not tear or fray or unravel. The stitches will hold.
We talk on the phone now and again. Dr. R and I...we talk.
I still want to please him.....although it was never a requirement of the relationship.....want to make him proud, which, with certainty, I know he is.
Good luck Dr. R
bendeschaadsthinkingagain
Cancer: Band of Scars
Days to weeks to months and effects of surgery, chemo, radiation, and, spinal injection lingered. Alive yet dead. Thankful but still stifling the urge to rail against God for the condition remained. Afraid.
Afraid to yell at God for relief. I did it anyway....and He heard my cries.
My first attempt at walking around the block was failed.....and the second and third. By the fourth I made it halfway. Shuffled back home. Out of air. Low red blood cell count causes oxygen deficit (hey! theres a nursing diagnosis for you nurses).
My dog, Chubbs (Chubbs was not chubbie; he was a purebred boxer in great shape..do not want to offend man's best friend). Walked. Walked diligently with me did Chubbs. Seemed to know I could not walk far, maybe he heard my breathing, panting like he did. Pulled me along sometimes, really, pulled me gently along.
Walked with my wife. Slow plodding like a plow horse was I. Walked for strength and endurance and stamina. I walked.
Cancer's aftermath was too long tolerated...rebelled against the negative effects....I yelled at God...."Thank you but let me live again." I thought of Jack London's book "The Sea Wolf" and 'Wolf Larsen' the Ghost ship captain. Don't know why. My mind strays, wanders, drifts yet, I shall abide.
And, He heard.
God sent me a gift.
Our local child abuse council wanted to know if I could pull some musicians together and do a benefit for children. Strange gift from God (great mysterious God why do you torment so?)
Musician friends agreed to donate their time. We needed 30--40 songs the six of us...Bill, Greg, John, Lee, Paul and me. Fine musicians and good decent men. Known them all since I was 12 years young; such a long time ago when, we were children once.
It was pure coincidence, or so it seemed, that four of the six were enduring hell's wrath, a 'time of troubles' as the Irish say. But four of us were enduring great pain. Unbearable, unrelenting, grief four of us carried. Too personal to share beyond our little 'band of scars' but, pain was palpable. Such a curious coincidence!
You could have called us a 'Band of Scars' rather than 'stars' (not that we were pompous...we were not). But we were scarred the four of us.
The band pulled me from self imposed prison.....music, friends, shared pain all mixed together by God ( by God or for God..I do not know).
So we shall give our talents, whatever they may be, to aid abused children who also suffer great pain.
Singing, playing, practicing began to rebuild my endurance, strength and lung capacity, all of which were in short supply. I needed this 'Band of Scars' more than most knew.
High notes were the toughest to reach but, low notes required the most air....took my breath away, literally, took my breath away. But we sang and sang and played and played and a healing took place, delivered by God.
'What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me'
Lend me your ear and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key'
I get by with a little help from my friends,
Gonna try with a little help from my friends ( Lennon-McCartney "Beatles").
bendeschaadsthinkingagain
Afraid to yell at God for relief. I did it anyway....and He heard my cries.
My first attempt at walking around the block was failed.....and the second and third. By the fourth I made it halfway. Shuffled back home. Out of air. Low red blood cell count causes oxygen deficit (hey! theres a nursing diagnosis for you nurses).
My dog, Chubbs (Chubbs was not chubbie; he was a purebred boxer in great shape..do not want to offend man's best friend). Walked. Walked diligently with me did Chubbs. Seemed to know I could not walk far, maybe he heard my breathing, panting like he did. Pulled me along sometimes, really, pulled me gently along.
Walked with my wife. Slow plodding like a plow horse was I. Walked for strength and endurance and stamina. I walked.
Cancer's aftermath was too long tolerated...rebelled against the negative effects....I yelled at God...."Thank you but let me live again." I thought of Jack London's book "The Sea Wolf" and 'Wolf Larsen' the Ghost ship captain. Don't know why. My mind strays, wanders, drifts yet, I shall abide.
And, He heard.
God sent me a gift.
Our local child abuse council wanted to know if I could pull some musicians together and do a benefit for children. Strange gift from God (great mysterious God why do you torment so?)
Musician friends agreed to donate their time. We needed 30--40 songs the six of us...Bill, Greg, John, Lee, Paul and me. Fine musicians and good decent men. Known them all since I was 12 years young; such a long time ago when, we were children once.
It was pure coincidence, or so it seemed, that four of the six were enduring hell's wrath, a 'time of troubles' as the Irish say. But four of us were enduring great pain. Unbearable, unrelenting, grief four of us carried. Too personal to share beyond our little 'band of scars' but, pain was palpable. Such a curious coincidence!
You could have called us a 'Band of Scars' rather than 'stars' (not that we were pompous...we were not). But we were scarred the four of us.
The band pulled me from self imposed prison.....music, friends, shared pain all mixed together by God ( by God or for God..I do not know).
So we shall give our talents, whatever they may be, to aid abused children who also suffer great pain.
Singing, playing, practicing began to rebuild my endurance, strength and lung capacity, all of which were in short supply. I needed this 'Band of Scars' more than most knew.
High notes were the toughest to reach but, low notes required the most air....took my breath away, literally, took my breath away. But we sang and sang and played and played and a healing took place, delivered by God.
'What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me'
Lend me your ear and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key'
I get by with a little help from my friends,
Gonna try with a little help from my friends ( Lennon-McCartney "Beatles").
bendeschaadsthinkingagain
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