I broke out in a cold sweat

My oncologist prescribed pilocarpine to promote saliva production. It seems to be working. He also prescribed prednisone for some residual swelling in my throat. It also seems to be working. Yay for modern chemistry.

Last night, after being in bed about a half hour, I noticed I was sweaty. Very sweaty. But I didn’t feel overheated. I traded my down quilt for a lighter blanket. That had me feeling a little chilly (it was about 45°F/7°C) in the van) but was still sweating. I traded my damp t-shirt for a dry one. Once in a while a tingling wave would wash across my torso.

Were sweating and tingles side effects of the meds? Today I looked it up. Neither was mentioned.

Was it something I ate?

Was it a combination of the drugs and food?

Was I trying to express my adoration for a woman?



Anyway, the weirdness eventually passed (replaced by my normal weirdness) and I slept well, woke up refreshed.

Finding what I didn’t know was lost

I don’t carry much in my wallet. Driver license, debit card, insurance cards, senior discount pass for national parks, and cash. Today I was fishing one of the insurance cards from its compartment when, surprise, a hundred dollar bill.

I must have stashed it there sometime in the past few months since acquiring the new wallet. But I don’t remember doing it. I don’t even remember getting the Benjamin.

This happened once before when I discovered Ulysses S Grant had been living in my wallet for quite some time.

If this is old age forgetfulness, it’s not the worst kind. As my mind gets worse the dollar amount gets higher. I hope one day to discover a few hundred thousand bucks I forgot I hid under the mattress.

It’s open door weather in these parts

“These parts” being far southeast California

He’s got legs, he knows how to use them

The bum living in the van saves the day

I had ordered a very messy sandwich then discovered all seven of the napkin dispensers were empty. “Yeah,” said the dude behind the counter. “The delivery hasn’t arrived yet. And we’ve used up all the restroom towels, too.”

So I went out to the Rolling Steel Tent and returned with a jumbo roll of Bounty select-a-size paper towels. Strong, absorbent, etc. It’s handy having all your stuff with you wherever you go. “Happy Friday the 13th, everyone.”

So, how recovered are my taste buds?

Enough that I could actually enjoy this sausage-bacon-onion-corn-mushroom pizza from Pizza Studio in Blythe CA. No weird tastes, no blandness.

The cook apologized for it being “a little burned,” but I assured him I really do like it charred.

Here’s the news

The PET scan of my head, neck and torso came back clean—except for a tiny spot on one lung that may or may not be something. The doctor says we’ll check it at my next followup in March and see if anything changes.

They took a good look around my throat with an endoscope. The screen was out of my line of sight, but Ceebs got a picture. The docs were pleased with what they saw in there. I was pleased they were pleased.

It looks rather, um, gynecological in there

My epiglottis got a little beat up from the radiation, but since I can swallow properly, with no food or liquids getting into my trachea, there’s no cause for concern.

My vitals were excellent, and the bloodwork results showed only one item slightly outside the preferred ranges. The tests in August had a dozen concerning readings.

So, I’m good to go.

Though saliva production is still low, I can eat and swallow most solid foods, and my tastebuds are about 85% recovered.

I really have been feeling well—well enough to dance around on camera. I would’ve been severely bummed me out if they’d said I might feel fine, but I’m not and needed to go back into treatment.

I’m good. Life is good. I’m lucky.

Trouble?

A friend says he’s no longer able to post comments here. I have commenting turned on and moderation turned off, and I’ve never taken steps to block anyone.

Could some of you try commenting to this? If I get zero comments then I’ll presume there’s a wider problem.

On the road west

It was time to head back to Los Angeles so the oncologist could give me the word on the PET scan results and do a little poking and peeking.

Though I had posed the Rolling Steel Tent at an abandoned gas station in downtown Desert Center, there was another one west of town I had never stopped at. The oval shape of the former sign makes me believe it was an Exxon/Esso/Standard/American station. The land is for sale, in case you want a place in the desert where you can watch and listen to traffic go by on the Interstate.

Since I had plenty of time, I also stopped to pay my respects to the dinosaurs in Cabazon. It’s sad, probably even angering, that the roadside attraction is now a creationist museum. But at least they’re maintaining the dinos, keeping them from extinction.

Al in the alley

I stood in a sketchy alley behind a mostly unoccupied strip mall on the edge of a struggling desert town. I held a partially full trash bag. I had rung the buzzer, as the sign instructed, and now I was waiting, as the sign instructed. A security camera looked down at me.

I felt like I should have a code word, a high sign, and the name of my connection. “Stumpy sent me. I’m here with the goods.”

After a minute or two the latch rattled and the door opened. Instead of the armed thug I half expected, it was a pleasant woman who gladly accepted my bag and asked if I wanted a receipt.

“Nah, I’m good.”

The door was for donation drop-offs at the Sheltering Wings thrift store. The bag contained four pairs of jeans, six T-shirts, a flannel shirt, and a down vest. Clothing from before my cancer. Clothing that was now too large and had to make room for its replacement. I had no mattresses or box springs.

Later that day

Same spot, no rain

I almost broke one of my rules

I was at UCLA Health this morning having my first post-cancer-treatment PET scan. I won’t know the results until I meet with the oncologist on Monday. Rather than twiddle my thumbs in the city for four days, I headed back out to the desert.

In dry weather it’s about 3.5 hours to the boondocking area at the south entrance of Joshua Tree National Park. But the rain slowed traffic down. And a stop for a few supplies didn’t help.

Based on a couple of past experiences, one of my rules is to get settled in a campsite before dark. That’s especially important when the ground could be wet and soft and eager to trap vehicles.

The sun was setting on an already-dark day as I passed Indio, about 25 miles from my destination. Should take about 25 minutes, right? However, the grade was choked with slow semis. Not a problem if they all stayed to the right, right? But no. Big rigs insisted on trying to pass trucks going a fraction of a mile per hour slower, only to get held back by another slower truck. Or two.

Ergh. I watched the sky. I watched for my exit. I gave the finger to a couple of truckers.

But I made it a few minutes before darkness. There was a vacant spot just off the pavement. No puddles, no ruts, no sweat. And it’s below the cloud ceiling. And not actually raining. Yet.

Lubricate the pavement

An abandoned gas station in Desert Center CA looked like a good arty photo op. The still-wet fluid spill on the pavement was someone else’s disaster, not mine. The Rolling Steel Tent is behaving itself. Another quick photo and I was on my way.

Another benefit of the abnormal life

Thanksgiving is a huge travel period with everyone and their pets going over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house. And just about every year—like this one—there’s a blizzard somewhere messing up air and ground travel. Even when the weather is dry there are still all those people out there trying to get somewhere else. And back.

Being a single, childless, socially inept guy, I don’t go anywhere during the holidays. That means far less travel stress. (And family stress.)

I was reminded of that yesterday when I saw westbound traffic on I-10 backed up more than a mile at the California agricultural inspection station, long lines for cheaper gas in Arizona and, I imagine, long lines at restrooms. Mmmm, no thanks. I can wait until after the weekend to resupply.