The previous post will be my last for a couple of days. Ken will be taking over on both my Blog and on Facebook to give updates. I'll be back writing as soon as the Propofol wears off. To those of you who have started reading Frankentongue, thank you so much. It has been terrifying to open myself up like this and yet it has also been exhilarating! I can't wait for the fog to lift and see where the world is in a couple of days!
Much Love...Ran
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Cold Feet
It's just 18 hours away from my date with the Surgeon and like many men facing a life changing moment I am starting to experience cold feet. Actually it is probably more like a full blown anxiety attack. OK, talk yourself off of the ledge I keep saying to myself and little by little it is working. I have an amazing care team. My partner Ken has been amazing. I have a great surgeon (yes, I googled him and talked to another of his patients). My Friends and family are standing by to provide what ever I need, whenever I need it, so really what is the problem here? Calm down....
It's sort of like that nagging feeling when your driving to work that you left the stove on but x1000! This is my life we are talking about here and I am facing a 10 hour surgery where half of my tongue will be removed (along with all of the cancer!) and replaced with a flap of skin and fat from my wrist. Oddly enough, I'm not afraid of the surgery, I'm afraid of the anesthesia. (I made the mistake of reading statistics of complications of anesthesia). The stove that I have left on is the loose threads of my life. Given the possibility that my life could be ended tomorrow afternoon by some careless anesthesiologist who is thinking about his date from the weekend and not monitoring my vitals, I am freaked out by what I could have left unsaid.
Those of you that know me know that I love to talk! It is in truth my number one pass time. If my mouth were a car, I would have a pile of tickets for driving over the speed limit, cutting people off, and god only knows what else. But all of the blabbing that I have done in my life has just been that. I am faced now by all of the times that instead of listening to what someone was saying to me I was concocting what I was going to say next in response to what they are saying that I'm not really listening to. Kenny is the only person that really puts me in my place when my big mouth gets out of control. When I cut him off (which pretty much happens daily) he gets pissed and stops talking to me. And yes, I deserve it, but for some reason it hasn't really stopped my bad habit.
In reviewing my condition from a metaphysical standpoint, I think that the most likely cause of my cancer is talking to much and listening so little. Just do the math, what better way for the universe to create a way to force me to listen than quite my own tongue for awhile. This is a lesson that I plan to work on over the next several months because not learning this could have serious consequences! I believe that every life changing event has the potential of making you a better person. This includes cancer. This includes my cancer! I am choosing to have my eyes and ears opened and learn whatever lessons are to be learned on this journey. I intend to use the information for it's highest good and be transformed into a better person.
So back to the careless anesthesiologist and my anxiety attack. What about all of the time I've wasted blabbing on about useless trivia and not saying what was really important. How will Ken know that I have cherished every single second of our relationship (even the ones when we were acting out and it felt like I wanted to kill him). How will he know that he is in fact the best man I have ever known? How will Steve and Ruthie, Ken's mom and dad, know that they have become my parents too? How proud and honored I am to be part of the Davis family. Does Gabby know that I think she's the coolest person on the planet and I secretly envy how cool she is? Do Bryan and Stevie know that I think of them as brothers? And speaking of family, does my dad know that I think I could have not asked for a better father. True we had our ups and downs over the years, but what an example he has set for me. I think about all of the time's I didn't call him when I had nothing positive to say because more than anything else I wanted him to be proud of me. Looking back it is so clean that just calling to say hi trumps all of the calls I could have made to tell him about a raise I got a work, a new job and new car, etc. Do Carla and Skyla know in spite of the fact that we have virtually no physical contact, I love them and feel there presence in my life daily?
And Doris, does she know I love her just like a mother? Does she know how much I treasure talking to her on the phone and how much she makes me laugh? Does she know that I know I have a relationship with my father because of her and how grateful that I am because out of all of my relationships I am the most proud of the one with my father. All of my work friends over the years that I think about calling from time to time, but there is no time left. If my anesthesiologist is a slacker will they know that I have really loved them like family? OMG! Caroline, my secret future wife when I go straight and leave Kenny. Does she know how much I love her and that her friendship makes my day so much brighter? What about Theresa? Does she know she's my sister and I love her like one? And my new friends I have started making just since the beginning of this ordeal, how much I appreciate them opening their hearts to me (especially David and Csaba). How do you say what is on your mind when there is no time left?
Simple! You get over yourself, stop being a fucking drama queen and know that universe wants you to stay in it. In fact it and plans on giving you a world class anesthesiologist, That's, how. Mind over matter! Easy Peasy!
It's sort of like that nagging feeling when your driving to work that you left the stove on but x1000! This is my life we are talking about here and I am facing a 10 hour surgery where half of my tongue will be removed (along with all of the cancer!) and replaced with a flap of skin and fat from my wrist. Oddly enough, I'm not afraid of the surgery, I'm afraid of the anesthesia. (I made the mistake of reading statistics of complications of anesthesia). The stove that I have left on is the loose threads of my life. Given the possibility that my life could be ended tomorrow afternoon by some careless anesthesiologist who is thinking about his date from the weekend and not monitoring my vitals, I am freaked out by what I could have left unsaid.
Those of you that know me know that I love to talk! It is in truth my number one pass time. If my mouth were a car, I would have a pile of tickets for driving over the speed limit, cutting people off, and god only knows what else. But all of the blabbing that I have done in my life has just been that. I am faced now by all of the times that instead of listening to what someone was saying to me I was concocting what I was going to say next in response to what they are saying that I'm not really listening to. Kenny is the only person that really puts me in my place when my big mouth gets out of control. When I cut him off (which pretty much happens daily) he gets pissed and stops talking to me. And yes, I deserve it, but for some reason it hasn't really stopped my bad habit.
In reviewing my condition from a metaphysical standpoint, I think that the most likely cause of my cancer is talking to much and listening so little. Just do the math, what better way for the universe to create a way to force me to listen than quite my own tongue for awhile. This is a lesson that I plan to work on over the next several months because not learning this could have serious consequences! I believe that every life changing event has the potential of making you a better person. This includes cancer. This includes my cancer! I am choosing to have my eyes and ears opened and learn whatever lessons are to be learned on this journey. I intend to use the information for it's highest good and be transformed into a better person.
So back to the careless anesthesiologist and my anxiety attack. What about all of the time I've wasted blabbing on about useless trivia and not saying what was really important. How will Ken know that I have cherished every single second of our relationship (even the ones when we were acting out and it felt like I wanted to kill him). How will he know that he is in fact the best man I have ever known? How will Steve and Ruthie, Ken's mom and dad, know that they have become my parents too? How proud and honored I am to be part of the Davis family. Does Gabby know that I think she's the coolest person on the planet and I secretly envy how cool she is? Do Bryan and Stevie know that I think of them as brothers? And speaking of family, does my dad know that I think I could have not asked for a better father. True we had our ups and downs over the years, but what an example he has set for me. I think about all of the time's I didn't call him when I had nothing positive to say because more than anything else I wanted him to be proud of me. Looking back it is so clean that just calling to say hi trumps all of the calls I could have made to tell him about a raise I got a work, a new job and new car, etc. Do Carla and Skyla know in spite of the fact that we have virtually no physical contact, I love them and feel there presence in my life daily?
And Doris, does she know I love her just like a mother? Does she know how much I treasure talking to her on the phone and how much she makes me laugh? Does she know that I know I have a relationship with my father because of her and how grateful that I am because out of all of my relationships I am the most proud of the one with my father. All of my work friends over the years that I think about calling from time to time, but there is no time left. If my anesthesiologist is a slacker will they know that I have really loved them like family? OMG! Caroline, my secret future wife when I go straight and leave Kenny. Does she know how much I love her and that her friendship makes my day so much brighter? What about Theresa? Does she know she's my sister and I love her like one? And my new friends I have started making just since the beginning of this ordeal, how much I appreciate them opening their hearts to me (especially David and Csaba). How do you say what is on your mind when there is no time left?
Simple! You get over yourself, stop being a fucking drama queen and know that universe wants you to stay in it. In fact it and plans on giving you a world class anesthesiologist, That's, how. Mind over matter! Easy Peasy!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The best laid plans...
We all know the saying, yet we go on day by day continuing to make plans. My plan was called "Sexy by 50". It started out based on something that my dear friend ,Cynthia Lingg, once said. Don't allow yourself to turn 40 and not be sexy. Well 40 had come to pass and I hadn't headed her advice. I found myself almost 45 and 90 lbs overweight. I made a promise to myself that I would not turn 45 and be over 200 pounds.
Weight Watchers helped me take the weight off. Still sexy managed to elude me. Sure I was in the best shape of my life, but I still couldn't manage to see myself as sexy. One thing about cancer is that there is nothing (and I do mean nothing) sexy about it! Having cancer and being sexy at the same time is simply not possible.Think about it. Men would shove there stuff into just about anything. A watermelon, a sheep, a defrosted chicken carcass. Anything (or anyone) that isn't cancerous that is. The minute that the "c" word is brought into the equation men retreat! Who can blame them? Cancer simply is not sexy. Hey, just a few weeks ago before my diagnosis, I would have done the same thing.
The light at the end of the tunnel for me is this: I'm not 50 yet so the joke is on you Universe! The plan is still on. Yes, I'll have a couple of new scars. Scars can be sexy just look at Joaquin Phoenix! For those with truly diverse tastes, I'll have a cute two tone tongue. Hey, I can make this happen!
The reality is this. Sexy is a state of mind! Not a goal weight. Not a label. It is a state of being. I'm not there yet but I there have been glimpses. I saw myself in a mirror at the theater last month and realized I looked damn good! I'd call that a step in the right direction! Years ago I was taking to my dad and informed him that I had discovered that I was masculine. "How'd you discover that?" he asked. "I changed my definition of the word" came my response. I was smart enough in my 20's to realize that there were different types of masculinity and now in my late 40's I'm realizing that there are different types of sexy.
So you may be wondering how much I'm going to have to change my definition of sexy to include cancer. I'm not. That is simply beyond me. Here is my thought on it: As of Monday when they remove the tumor (well actually the half of my tongue that has the tumor on it) and reconstruct my tongue, I will no longer have cancer! That's right! Think about it. From a metaphysical standpoint (and many modern scientists agree with this as well) our thoughts create. Therefore it would be thought Russian roulette to say anything other than I had survived cancer! And survive cancer I will. So in a couple of years when you see this handsome guy with beautiful green eyes, spiky grey hair and a pouty lower lip and think, damn he's sexy, It just may be me!
Weight Watchers helped me take the weight off. Still sexy managed to elude me. Sure I was in the best shape of my life, but I still couldn't manage to see myself as sexy. One thing about cancer is that there is nothing (and I do mean nothing) sexy about it! Having cancer and being sexy at the same time is simply not possible.Think about it. Men would shove there stuff into just about anything. A watermelon, a sheep, a defrosted chicken carcass. Anything (or anyone) that isn't cancerous that is. The minute that the "c" word is brought into the equation men retreat! Who can blame them? Cancer simply is not sexy. Hey, just a few weeks ago before my diagnosis, I would have done the same thing.
The light at the end of the tunnel for me is this: I'm not 50 yet so the joke is on you Universe! The plan is still on. Yes, I'll have a couple of new scars. Scars can be sexy just look at Joaquin Phoenix! For those with truly diverse tastes, I'll have a cute two tone tongue. Hey, I can make this happen!
The reality is this. Sexy is a state of mind! Not a goal weight. Not a label. It is a state of being. I'm not there yet but I there have been glimpses. I saw myself in a mirror at the theater last month and realized I looked damn good! I'd call that a step in the right direction! Years ago I was taking to my dad and informed him that I had discovered that I was masculine. "How'd you discover that?" he asked. "I changed my definition of the word" came my response. I was smart enough in my 20's to realize that there were different types of masculinity and now in my late 40's I'm realizing that there are different types of sexy.
So you may be wondering how much I'm going to have to change my definition of sexy to include cancer. I'm not. That is simply beyond me. Here is my thought on it: As of Monday when they remove the tumor (well actually the half of my tongue that has the tumor on it) and reconstruct my tongue, I will no longer have cancer! That's right! Think about it. From a metaphysical standpoint (and many modern scientists agree with this as well) our thoughts create. Therefore it would be thought Russian roulette to say anything other than I had survived cancer! And survive cancer I will. So in a couple of years when you see this handsome guy with beautiful green eyes, spiky grey hair and a pouty lower lip and think, damn he's sexy, It just may be me!
Friday, January 28, 2011
First things first
First, I had promised everyone that this blog would be the best way to get up to date information so let me start out there. I met with my surgeon, Dr Oh yesterday. Surgery has been moved to Monday morning (31st). Surgery will take approximately 10 hours (5 to remove and 5 to repair/replace). I will be sedated for quite some time. The earliest that they will wake me is Tuesday afternoon. Those of you that were considering visiting please wait until later in the week. If you are squeamish, I advise waiting for a couple of weeks and visiting me at home.Now with that out of the way here we go!
There is an old joke about the reason patients were called patients. I don't really recall the entire joke but the point was that you had to be patient while waiting for a doctor to get anything done.Or more importantly just waiting for your doctor. Who among us hasn't had the irritation of making a 9:30 doctors appointment only to sit in the waiting room for 45 minutes to an hour. Finally have the nurse moves you to the examination room. On the way down the hall you notice 3 or 4 other patients waiting. You briefly make eye contact with them and they roll there eyes and shake there head as a warning that you have entered the real waiting room. Judging by the other patients you'll be waiting for some time. Another 45 minutes pass by. The nurse pops by the apologise and let you know that the doctor just has a few people before you. Most likely the same people you passed on the way in. Is the doctor even here? You become irritable, and finally call work to let them know you have been kidnapped by the medical profession and would be held against your will until further notice. These aren't typical calling out of work calls. Typically these calls are usually met with sympathy. That is because like most of the world your boss has been there to and completely understands.
Finally there is a quite rap on the partially opened door and the doctor appears. He asks why you are there (even though he could have read the note from the nurse), listens to your lungs and runs from the room with instructions to pick up a prescription from the nurse. Time spent with the doctor: 5 minutes if your lucky. Couldn't we have just done that over the phone?
By now you're probably feeling your patients being tested. You're wondering when is Ran going to get to the point. Sorry, there is really no point just the following observation. . If your 5 minute encounter reveals something that "looks troublesome" you will experience time speed up! Suddenly you aren't really waiting around doctors offices anymore. You are ushered right in past of other jealous looking patients who in no way would trade places with you if they understood the reason for the VIP treatment. The doctor keeps his appointment times and spends as much time with you as you need to get all of your questions answered. You suddenly fine yourself longing the days sitting in the waiting room reading a three year old mangled copy of Better Homes and Gardens.
I know that time is of the essence when dealing with cancer, but it would be nice to just have a moment to take a breath and stop and think. I have been a course of antibiotics longer than it took me to be diagnosed and scheduled for surgery! I would just like to have a minute here. I don't have time to use the patience that I have developed over the years. Now I'm just a Patient.
There is an old joke about the reason patients were called patients. I don't really recall the entire joke but the point was that you had to be patient while waiting for a doctor to get anything done.Or more importantly just waiting for your doctor. Who among us hasn't had the irritation of making a 9:30 doctors appointment only to sit in the waiting room for 45 minutes to an hour. Finally have the nurse moves you to the examination room. On the way down the hall you notice 3 or 4 other patients waiting. You briefly make eye contact with them and they roll there eyes and shake there head as a warning that you have entered the real waiting room. Judging by the other patients you'll be waiting for some time. Another 45 minutes pass by. The nurse pops by the apologise and let you know that the doctor just has a few people before you. Most likely the same people you passed on the way in. Is the doctor even here? You become irritable, and finally call work to let them know you have been kidnapped by the medical profession and would be held against your will until further notice. These aren't typical calling out of work calls. Typically these calls are usually met with sympathy. That is because like most of the world your boss has been there to and completely understands.
Finally there is a quite rap on the partially opened door and the doctor appears. He asks why you are there (even though he could have read the note from the nurse), listens to your lungs and runs from the room with instructions to pick up a prescription from the nurse. Time spent with the doctor: 5 minutes if your lucky. Couldn't we have just done that over the phone?
By now you're probably feeling your patients being tested. You're wondering when is Ran going to get to the point. Sorry, there is really no point just the following observation. . If your 5 minute encounter reveals something that "looks troublesome" you will experience time speed up! Suddenly you aren't really waiting around doctors offices anymore. You are ushered right in past of other jealous looking patients who in no way would trade places with you if they understood the reason for the VIP treatment. The doctor keeps his appointment times and spends as much time with you as you need to get all of your questions answered. You suddenly fine yourself longing the days sitting in the waiting room reading a three year old mangled copy of Better Homes and Gardens.
I know that time is of the essence when dealing with cancer, but it would be nice to just have a moment to take a breath and stop and think. I have been a course of antibiotics longer than it took me to be diagnosed and scheduled for surgery! I would just like to have a minute here. I don't have time to use the patience that I have developed over the years. Now I'm just a Patient.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
a cancerous education....
Just like starting a new job with a new company and having to learn the lay of the land so to speak, having cancer is much the same. It's just been a couple of weeks so I'm not some expert but I am learning more daily. Please feel free to benifit from my knowledge and pass it on. (oh and spoiler alert, if you drink alchahol you might not like at least one of the lessons).
1. Day one. The doctors grill you. How did you get this growth they want to know so asking the same questions over and over again in several ways trying to trick you into differenct answeres is how they collect information. (sort of like those rideculous "surveys" that you are asked to fill out when applying for a job. i.e. 1. It's ok to take merchandise from the store because you work harder than everyone else.
2. If you saw another empolyee taking merchandise would you report it.
3. If you grandmother was shopping at an art store and put a tube of paint into her purse would you say anything?
4. blah, blah, blah.....you get the point)
With Cancer of the tongue the questions surrond 1. smoking (I was expecting that) and 2. Drinking (WHAT?) I found out that alchahol is the number 2 cause of oral cancers that day. Those of you know that I really don't drink all that much (even though I make amazing booze balls! Which by the way I rarely eat. Hey I didn't get to goal weight by scarfing down a plate of pastries filled with tequila, congac, rum, or burbon!) It's just being told that drinking is the number 2 cause of oral cancer was beyond a shock for me. Why are bottles not covered in Surgeon General warnings? Well they are but it's usually about drinking during pregancy and not being able to become pregnant myself I never really read them. But if a bottle of Captain Meyers had a warning on it saying something like "drinking this rum on a frequent basis could lead to having half of your tongue removed and replaced with skin and fat from your wrist, I might have paid attention to that. In fact Im's sure I would have. But wait, there's more. Drinking and smoking together (because they do tend to go hand in hand) increases the risk even more. (unless you're Eddie Van Halen. If you want to know what I'm refering to Google Eddies battle with cancer which in no way was caused by his drinking or smoking. Oh well, I couldn't help myself and told you anyway)
1. Day one. The doctors grill you. How did you get this growth they want to know so asking the same questions over and over again in several ways trying to trick you into differenct answeres is how they collect information. (sort of like those rideculous "surveys" that you are asked to fill out when applying for a job. i.e. 1. It's ok to take merchandise from the store because you work harder than everyone else.
2. If you saw another empolyee taking merchandise would you report it.
3. If you grandmother was shopping at an art store and put a tube of paint into her purse would you say anything?
4. blah, blah, blah.....you get the point)
With Cancer of the tongue the questions surrond 1. smoking (I was expecting that) and 2. Drinking (WHAT?) I found out that alchahol is the number 2 cause of oral cancers that day. Those of you know that I really don't drink all that much (even though I make amazing booze balls! Which by the way I rarely eat. Hey I didn't get to goal weight by scarfing down a plate of pastries filled with tequila, congac, rum, or burbon!) It's just being told that drinking is the number 2 cause of oral cancer was beyond a shock for me. Why are bottles not covered in Surgeon General warnings? Well they are but it's usually about drinking during pregancy and not being able to become pregnant myself I never really read them. But if a bottle of Captain Meyers had a warning on it saying something like "drinking this rum on a frequent basis could lead to having half of your tongue removed and replaced with skin and fat from your wrist, I might have paid attention to that. In fact Im's sure I would have. But wait, there's more. Drinking and smoking together (because they do tend to go hand in hand) increases the risk even more. (unless you're Eddie Van Halen. If you want to know what I'm refering to Google Eddies battle with cancer which in no way was caused by his drinking or smoking. Oh well, I couldn't help myself and told you anyway)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
So this is Cancer...
First thing we need to do is get you caught up. The last 12 months have been crazy! A great year for career, body (I finally hit my goal weight), relationship (Ken and I hit the 11 year mark), we moved into a house we really love! Not a bad year at all, we even set up a Christmas tree this year. Then, just 27 hours prior to the calandar changing over to 2012, I was informed that I had cancer of the tongue.
Were you a big ol' smoker? No, Drinker? No. So how did this happen? Who knows? There are those that believe that our negative toughts creat our physical reality. Could be it. I sure as heck can be judgemental! Some say be careful what you ask for you may get it. Ok, I didn't ask the universe for cancer. I did however put it out that it sure would be great to have an extended period of not having to work. (universe, in case your still listening: This is not what I was talking about!)
One of the worst parts of having cancer is letting people know. The sad, troubled looks. The "I'm really not sure what to say's", the "I'm so sorry's". The worst is "Why you?" (to that I say "why not me? I'm tough enough to handle this. In fact thank god it was me and not several of the people that I'm close to that I suspect may not be able to handle this kind of suprise".)
What ever the case there is one thing for sure! It has never once crossed my mind that I would die from this. How do I know? I don't know, but I know. So those of you that may want to follow the survival process, this blog is for you. Welcome!
Were you a big ol' smoker? No, Drinker? No. So how did this happen? Who knows? There are those that believe that our negative toughts creat our physical reality. Could be it. I sure as heck can be judgemental! Some say be careful what you ask for you may get it. Ok, I didn't ask the universe for cancer. I did however put it out that it sure would be great to have an extended period of not having to work. (universe, in case your still listening: This is not what I was talking about!)
One of the worst parts of having cancer is letting people know. The sad, troubled looks. The "I'm really not sure what to say's", the "I'm so sorry's". The worst is "Why you?" (to that I say "why not me? I'm tough enough to handle this. In fact thank god it was me and not several of the people that I'm close to that I suspect may not be able to handle this kind of suprise".)
What ever the case there is one thing for sure! It has never once crossed my mind that I would die from this. How do I know? I don't know, but I know. So those of you that may want to follow the survival process, this blog is for you. Welcome!
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