Here's a brief timeline of the Hodgkin's Lymphoma Odyssey, which ended today after my final radiation about seven hours ago.
Mid-May 2011 - I am halfway through week five of P90X. I'm looking damn sexy but not so much that I appear unattainable. In a crushing blow to future underwear modeling gigs I injure my shoulder while doing some kind of crazy no-armed push-ups. The Lovely Girlfriend is away on business so no one is there to hear me cry like a baby. Or help me up. After several hours on the floor I realize I need to take a leak. I spend several moments debating if I should just relieve myself on the carpet instead of facing the pain of pushing myself up. I eventually make my way into the bathroom.
Mid-May (one or two days later) 2011 - I notice I swollen lump on my collar bone and based on how sore my shoulder is from the previous days activities I assume it is related. I spend several hours checking out my rippling pecs then take some Advil washed down with a half dozen double bourbons.
Late June 2011 - My Father and Mother spot the lump on my collar bone and ask what and how? My Mother expertly nags me into my first doctors visit in about six years.
July 5th - I see my family doctor. He takes one look at the monkey fist size lump and immediately realizes it is no sports injury. He schedules a CAT Scan. He compliments me on how fit I am looking.
July 12th - CAT Scan. I start to get the feeling I may be in some real trouble when the Tech puts her hand on my shoulder, looks at me with great concern and wishes me the best of luck.
July 13th - Second CAT Scan. This one on last minute notice because the first one didn't look so great. This one covering the entire body instead of just my neck. I don't wear underwear to help make sure they get a good look at everything important. This time when it's over the Tech puts her hand on my thigh.
July 19th - Surgical Consult. I meet a doctor that reminds me of Diane Keaton and doesn't seem to think I am taking this as seriously as I should be. I tell her it'll all be fine. She fails to recognize that I am indestructible. I probably should have worn my cape to the appointment. It would have helped her see me as the superhero I thoroughly believe myself to be.
July 20th - Surgery. I wake up halfway through the operation and start fighting the doctors and nurses. In my half sedated state I firmly believe that I am being held captive by the KGB and they are trying to pull one of those Face/Off type surgeries with me and John Travolta. Okay, that part probably didn't happen. Honestly, I remember very little of this day other than being sore and sleepy.
July 21st - Diagnosis - I get the call. Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Or as I like to call it The Cadillac of Cancers. I tell Dr. Diane Keaton that I'm thrilled it's the good kind. She seems perplexed. She still hasn't seen me in my cape and tights yet.
July 29th & August 1st - Sperm Bank. I fire off several dozen potential Little Julio's into a couple of dixie cups. It is a lot more romantic than that sounds. Also, they ask me if I'd like to have the Lovely Girlfriend in the room with me then they tell me there is no touching allowed as it can ruin the sperm sample. So basically they are asking me if I care to have an audience for my performance.
August 3rd thru November 9th - Chemo. Hair loss. Nausea. Rapid weight gain thanks to the steroids. And some kind of weird new ability to match any possible outfit with plaid flannel shirts. To be fair, that last side effect may have come from living in Maine and not the chemo.
August 28th - My Father slips in the garage and as a precaution is taken by ambulance to Eastern Maine Medical. He seems fine but the doctor wants to keep him over night just to be sure. Stop reading now if you don't like sad stories.
September 5th - As my sister and I are waiting for the hospice care people to drop off the oxygen tanks and hospital bed for my Father's return home I realize I have come down with a fever. I'd had a port-a-cath put in a week or so before. I am admitted into the hospital with a fever of 103.5. I will not sleep at all that night because I am shivering so hard. On top of feeling like I'm freezing cold because I'm so damn hot I have to stuff ice packs under my arms, between my legs and around my midsection.
September 6th - My Mother calls me in the hospital to tell me my Dad isn't waking up. The ambulance is on the way. I talk the nurses into letting me go downstairs into the ER to see him when he comes in. I still have got a fever of 103 (I'm hot blooded! I'm hot blooded!). They wheel me down. For the next three days I shuttle back and forth between my room on the 6th floor and the ICU. I have MRSA. A doctor tells me it's the third deadliest Staph. I make some kind of wise assed remark and he doesn't laugh. On September 7th my fever finally breaks. I sweat so much I wake up repeatedly to change my clothes and the bed linens. The next day a nurse tells me she'd never seen someone keep a temp that high for that long. I am strangely proud of this fact.
September 9th - I am released from the hospital. My Father dies.
September 13th & 14th - Around 700 plus people come out to celebrate the life of one of the Greatest Men to Ever Walk the Planet.
September 20th - I get a package of antibiotics mailed to me and a nurse comes to my house to show me how to use them. Ending an ten day run of having to got to the hospital three times a day at 8am, 4pm and 11 at night. No exceptions. That's after the viewing. Before and after the funeral. Every day since I'd been released from the hospital. I now can do the injections at home. For another three weeks or so to make sure the MRSA is gone.
November 14th - I finally get to see the West Coast again. A space between chemo and radiation allows me to have three weeks back in LA. Three much needed weeks. The Lovely Girlfriend and I throw a party. Travel. Eat some amazing meals, drink some incredible wine and have loads and loads of intercourse. Not because we wanted to. But because we needed to make sure that the chemotherapy didn't leave me with any drastic side effects. It didn't.
December 19th - Radiation begins. Only not really as I have a full fledged freak out and can't go through with having a mask strapped to my head and getting pinned to a table. Thankfully we figure it out and the 20 sessions don't exactly fly by but we manage. Which brings us to...
January 18th - The Rest of My Life Begins. I'll see if I can fit back into my tights and cape.
Mid-May 2011 - I am halfway through week five of P90X. I'm looking damn sexy but not so much that I appear unattainable. In a crushing blow to future underwear modeling gigs I injure my shoulder while doing some kind of crazy no-armed push-ups. The Lovely Girlfriend is away on business so no one is there to hear me cry like a baby. Or help me up. After several hours on the floor I realize I need to take a leak. I spend several moments debating if I should just relieve myself on the carpet instead of facing the pain of pushing myself up. I eventually make my way into the bathroom.
Mid-May (one or two days later) 2011 - I notice I swollen lump on my collar bone and based on how sore my shoulder is from the previous days activities I assume it is related. I spend several hours checking out my rippling pecs then take some Advil washed down with a half dozen double bourbons.
Late June 2011 - My Father and Mother spot the lump on my collar bone and ask what and how? My Mother expertly nags me into my first doctors visit in about six years.
July 5th - I see my family doctor. He takes one look at the monkey fist size lump and immediately realizes it is no sports injury. He schedules a CAT Scan. He compliments me on how fit I am looking.
July 12th - CAT Scan. I start to get the feeling I may be in some real trouble when the Tech puts her hand on my shoulder, looks at me with great concern and wishes me the best of luck.
July 13th - Second CAT Scan. This one on last minute notice because the first one didn't look so great. This one covering the entire body instead of just my neck. I don't wear underwear to help make sure they get a good look at everything important. This time when it's over the Tech puts her hand on my thigh.
July 19th - Surgical Consult. I meet a doctor that reminds me of Diane Keaton and doesn't seem to think I am taking this as seriously as I should be. I tell her it'll all be fine. She fails to recognize that I am indestructible. I probably should have worn my cape to the appointment. It would have helped her see me as the superhero I thoroughly believe myself to be.
July 20th - Surgery. I wake up halfway through the operation and start fighting the doctors and nurses. In my half sedated state I firmly believe that I am being held captive by the KGB and they are trying to pull one of those Face/Off type surgeries with me and John Travolta. Okay, that part probably didn't happen. Honestly, I remember very little of this day other than being sore and sleepy.
July 21st - Diagnosis - I get the call. Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Or as I like to call it The Cadillac of Cancers. I tell Dr. Diane Keaton that I'm thrilled it's the good kind. She seems perplexed. She still hasn't seen me in my cape and tights yet.
July 29th & August 1st - Sperm Bank. I fire off several dozen potential Little Julio's into a couple of dixie cups. It is a lot more romantic than that sounds. Also, they ask me if I'd like to have the Lovely Girlfriend in the room with me then they tell me there is no touching allowed as it can ruin the sperm sample. So basically they are asking me if I care to have an audience for my performance.
August 3rd thru November 9th - Chemo. Hair loss. Nausea. Rapid weight gain thanks to the steroids. And some kind of weird new ability to match any possible outfit with plaid flannel shirts. To be fair, that last side effect may have come from living in Maine and not the chemo.
August 28th - My Father slips in the garage and as a precaution is taken by ambulance to Eastern Maine Medical. He seems fine but the doctor wants to keep him over night just to be sure. Stop reading now if you don't like sad stories.
September 5th - As my sister and I are waiting for the hospice care people to drop off the oxygen tanks and hospital bed for my Father's return home I realize I have come down with a fever. I'd had a port-a-cath put in a week or so before. I am admitted into the hospital with a fever of 103.5. I will not sleep at all that night because I am shivering so hard. On top of feeling like I'm freezing cold because I'm so damn hot I have to stuff ice packs under my arms, between my legs and around my midsection.
September 6th - My Mother calls me in the hospital to tell me my Dad isn't waking up. The ambulance is on the way. I talk the nurses into letting me go downstairs into the ER to see him when he comes in. I still have got a fever of 103 (I'm hot blooded! I'm hot blooded!). They wheel me down. For the next three days I shuttle back and forth between my room on the 6th floor and the ICU. I have MRSA. A doctor tells me it's the third deadliest Staph. I make some kind of wise assed remark and he doesn't laugh. On September 7th my fever finally breaks. I sweat so much I wake up repeatedly to change my clothes and the bed linens. The next day a nurse tells me she'd never seen someone keep a temp that high for that long. I am strangely proud of this fact.
September 9th - I am released from the hospital. My Father dies.
September 13th & 14th - Around 700 plus people come out to celebrate the life of one of the Greatest Men to Ever Walk the Planet.
September 20th - I get a package of antibiotics mailed to me and a nurse comes to my house to show me how to use them. Ending an ten day run of having to got to the hospital three times a day at 8am, 4pm and 11 at night. No exceptions. That's after the viewing. Before and after the funeral. Every day since I'd been released from the hospital. I now can do the injections at home. For another three weeks or so to make sure the MRSA is gone.
November 14th - I finally get to see the West Coast again. A space between chemo and radiation allows me to have three weeks back in LA. Three much needed weeks. The Lovely Girlfriend and I throw a party. Travel. Eat some amazing meals, drink some incredible wine and have loads and loads of intercourse. Not because we wanted to. But because we needed to make sure that the chemotherapy didn't leave me with any drastic side effects. It didn't.
December 19th - Radiation begins. Only not really as I have a full fledged freak out and can't go through with having a mask strapped to my head and getting pinned to a table. Thankfully we figure it out and the 20 sessions don't exactly fly by but we manage. Which brings us to...
January 18th - The Rest of My Life Begins. I'll see if I can fit back into my tights and cape.
Jules...it's hard to imagine that all of this happened in just the past nine months. You have been courageous, humorous, caring (don't worry...I won't tell anyone), and shared your journey in an open, honest, sometimes sad, sometimes hilarious, sometimes difficult way. Thank you so much for this blog. I wish you the best of everything in your long life ahead. Safe travels and much love. - Beth
ReplyDeleteJules,
ReplyDeleteSo happy that you are at the end of this difficult year. I have to say that your story, the way you handled all this, is an inspiration. Its a testament to the idea that a positive attitude and support will bring us through anything, even the most unamaginable things, in life. I wish you and "the Girlfriend" the most wonderful future.
Jeanette
Julio... Your gift of humor has gotten you through some pretty hard times. I look forward to fb-stalking your page for that cape and tights. Seriously consider writing a book. I'd read it, you have a gift and are very inspiring.
DeleteAshley (Allen/Lacognata)