Just Passing Through

Softball Saturday: Super Sweet Distraction

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 18:36:42 -0700

August 10

This past Saturday was great. I actually got outside and did something that didn’t have anything to do with doctors! Theatre of NOTE (my old theatre) has started having softball practices (we call them rehearsals) on Saturday mornings and Amy, Michael and I went to watch and cheer everybody on. They even officially dubbed the day “David Conner Bobblehead Day” (despite there being no actual bobbleheads). And even though there wasn’t really a game, per se, they asked me to throw out the first pitch! It was all I could do to not grab my own mitt and run out onto the field (I actually brought my mitt!).

But I had to remind myself that I'm still recovering and that it's really easy to exhaust myself - which I actually did, just by watching and shouting encouragement from the sidelines. It was great to see everybody, as well as spend some time in the sunlight. Seeing so many friends all at once made me very aware of how long I've been out of commission, and I've renewed my vows to heal as quickly and as thoroughly as I possibly can. Michael and I lasted about an hour and a half and then had to return home for some much needed rest. Sunday turned out to be a recovery day and we slept through the entire morning. But the softball was a much needed diversion. Michael seemed to enjoy being outside, too, though he almost got beaned by a line drive on our way out of the park. Thanks, Justin, for catching that grounder! You’re my hero!

I feel so good about Saturday I've made reservations for this Friday to go see Kiss Me Deadly, the show currently playing at NOTE. The show - a full-length parody of film noir - is a huge hit and was written by my good friend Bill Robens. I would be devastated if I didn't get a chance to see it. The trouble is, every night at 5pm I get clamped to an I.V. (called TPN - essentially my liquid nutrition). The TPN is shunted into my arm by a small, whirring machine, which, when I’m carrying it around by its handy strap, makes me look sadly like a modern-day Quasimodo. It’s probably safe to say that the noisy (if helpful) little pest probably wouldn't go over very well with the other members of the audience.

BUT…. today I got my I.V. nurse to show me how to turn the evil little machine off so I can safely detach myself and sneak away from it for a few hours. Woohoo! This and a ride to the theatre from my good friends Jay Jay and Myra and it looks like I’m in for an excellent evening of theatre!

And no ground balls to worry about!

More later!

When Is This Ride Over?

Sun, 2 Aug 2009 16:14:11 -0700

Hey! My sincere apologies for the gargantuan length of time since my last entry. In all honesty, there hasn't been too much to report since then, although Michael's increasing interest in the Dodgers is fun to watch - which has been the only thing that's been fun to watch during Dodger games of late. (Of course, I know he's really only mesmerized by the lights and sounds coming from the TV, but it's great to pretend we're watching together). I dream that some time before the season's through we'll be watching a live ball game. I'll have Michael on one arm, and with the other arm I'll be shoveling in Dodger Dogs. Hmmm…. I'll have to figure out a way to juggle a mitt in there…

Of course, I'm trying not to take the Dodger's recent losses personally. About a week ago, in a fit of creativity and cabin fever, I started to record all of the awesome plays my Dodgers were pulling off. They are doing particularly well this season and I thought, "why not record as many great plays off of the TV as I can and create a Dodger spot for my work demo?" It would be simple enough to do, since I'm watching every game every night, and I could end up with a dynamic spec promo for my reel. You can probably guess at the rest of the story. Since I've started recording the Dodgers have been playing like rank amateurs. It took seven games for me to get a decent double play out of them!

It's Murphy's law, I guess. I should stop recording the games and see if they start playing any better. It's the same with Michael, by the way. He always seems to know when we're pointing the camera at him - even if it's from across the room. He'll be having a spectacularly cute moment with his hands in his mouth, or some particularly fun avalanche of cooing and bleating… in other words, he'll be at about a 10.5 on the cuteness scale, I'll reach for the video camera and ZIP. He shuts up (in the picture above, you should have SEEN what he was doing right before we snapped the photo!). Amy thinks it's some kind of instinctual shyness. I think it's instinctual awareness that he's not even getting paid scale. Amy thinks that's cynical. She's probably right – though ultimately I would actually encourage such thinking in my progeny. I already think of him as a union man.

In health news, I continue to wait patiently for my throat to heal. It's been over two weeks since my last dose of radiation, but the burn still lingers - taking its sweet time. I'm drinking as many as three Ensures a day, but that's all I can take. By the end of the third one - usually at the tail end of the day - my throat is so sore I can barely manage. But I continue to press on, pushing myself as far as I can take it. I want to get off of this nightly I.V. and the only way that's going to happen is if I can comfortably feed myself at least three Ensures a day - and I'm a loooooong way from being comfortable. Meanwhile, I exercise by walking around the block once a day - and even that much I have to take slowly. It's truly amazing how much this treatment has taken out of me.

Nothing else of any significance to report, thank God. Oh, we've figured out that sometimes when Michael is unhappy he's determined that only his mother can fix the problem. That's a fun lesson to learn. It happened the other night when Amy went out on a long-deserved "Girl's night out," and Michael became my charge. Now, I'm no idiot. I know I'm not completely well, yet, and I invited my good friend Otto to come help, which he did gladly. Unfortunately, Michael developed a bad case of gas that evening and wouldn't stop crying – no, scratch that… wouldn't stop screaming no matter what we did. After two and a half hours I was on the verge of hysteria and had to call Amy back home. And, of course, the second Michael heard her voice as she walked through the door, he calmed down completely. Amy was very understanding about it, but my lesson is learned – She can never leave!!!

Oh, and second lesson: Otto is the best friend anyone could ever want.

Thanks for reading.

More later!

Watching Ball Games With Michael

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 00:00:00 -0700

Home Sweet Home.

I still can't believe I was in the hospital for nearly a month. That seems crazy to me. A month! Thirty-one days! How in heaven's name do people survive for longer than that? I tell you, without the benefit of you, my friends and family, visiting, texting me, calling, emailing, commenting here at my blog, I think I might have lost what remaining marbles I have. So, thank you all for thinking of me and sending your good thoughts towards Amy and Michael as well.

There's something huge that happens inside when someone tells me they're thinking of me, or praying for me. Huge, and yet if I'm not looking I can miss it. I know, "Thinking of you!!" is the easiest thing in the world to write at the end of an email or a text message, but it truly changes something in me when I read it. Knowing that there is someone out there, even if it's for only a moment out of their day, who's sending me good vibes causes a shift within me that… well I just feel better. My body feels better. My soul lightens and my day feels a little bit more hopeful. All the messages of hope and care that were sent to me while I was in the hospital remain inside me, continuing their good work. It only remains for me to thank you once again, and then pay it forward when the time comes… or contact someone to let them know I'm thinking about them.

So… News… We saw the doctor this morning. He made it clear that my recovery may take as long as three more months. That was disconcerting. The good news is I can already feel the pain in my throat starting to ease up a little. Either I'm getting better, or my drug handling is improving to the point where it just seems like I'm getting better (don't think so!). Although it's still really difficult to swallow, my nausea is almost completely gone and my energy level is getting better every day – so I know it's not just the pain killers.

Alas, the oral thrush is trying to charge back and take over my throat again. Come on White Blood Cells! Grow Back now!!!! If you're into visualization, please picture my white blood cells growing back with hearty vim and vigor, fighting off the evil minions of oral thrush and winning the girl and the kingdom and the Nobel prize and whatever seems good and pure.

I'm still unable to eat, but I'm doing night-time I.V. so I'm not losing THAT much weight. I'm down to 184 pounds. I don't want to get much lighter, but it won't hurt me now that the treatment is finished. It's mostly because of the pain in my throat, so as soon as that goes away I will be eating baguette sandwiches and burgers - I'm hoping to be on solid foods in about two weeks.

There. Those are all the health bullet points. In other news: I've recently become a Dodgers fan. Which means I've recently become interested in baseball, period, which is completely weird. The last time I was even remotely into baseball I was about thirteen. I'm not sure why it's suddenly become so much fun to watch… probably because the required level of concentration is perfect for my sleepy condition. I'll write more about it later.

Michael continues to delight and amuse. I wish he would lend me some of his weight gaining skill. He is already outgrowing most of his clothes! Currently, he's wearing shorts that look like Daisy Dukes'.

It’s eight o’clock in the evening. Amy and Michael are sleeping on the couch while the Cubbies are getting trounced by the Phillies on T.V. Life goes one as always, I guess.

Thinking about all of you!

More later…

Ups and Downs At Sleepy St. Joseph's Hospital

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 15:20:48 -0700

Jeez… two weeks of recovery news. The dilauded I’ve been taking for pain since I got to the hospital has completely siphoned off my ability to concentrate for longer than two minutes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up with my hands still on the keyboard trying to write something for the blog. If I could walk around while I typed I might be able to blog a lot more often.

To avoid drifting off, I will keep it quick. Here’s what’s new:

Almost two weeks ago I was under the impression that I had only 7 days of radiation left, and only one more chemo session. Since then I’ve been informed that the radiation sessions actually totalled 12 (A simple, if maddening miscommunication between my Radiologist, Dr. Hoffman and me). Furthermore, because I was responding so positively to the last chemo treatment (given on June 29th) Doctor Jacobs would really like to stick just one more chemo session in.

Woohoo. Rock n’ Roll. No good deed goes unpunished. Party.

For awhile I felt like Brian Picallo (but in far worse shape physically, and perhaps as played by Dave Foley rather than Jimmy Kahn). I was happy that I was responding well, but to be rewarded with another round of miserableness? That just hardly seemed fair.

Thankfully(??), my “positive” response was not to last. My body started to turn green, temperatures went up, vomitings began and infections started settling in like unwelcome guests. And just as quickly, the threat of an added chemo went the way of the Dodo. Great News! Unfortunately, the new infections proved to be the toughest customers yet, tossing themselves around my head, esophagus and lungs like so many shipping peanuts. My voice has disappeared even further into its shell and my stomach is thinking about filing for divorce – even though it knows that mine is a “family values” body and is going to stick with itself through thick and thick. Even my Pikk line (my semi-permanent I.V.) got infected and had to be replaced.

So the last two weeks has pretty much been me sitting around trying not to feel too sick to my stomach, trying not to drown every time a take a sip of water, nodding off like a little old man watching community theatre, and learning to live without my voice for the fourth week in a row.

Life on the edge.

But here’s the good news: as of right now, I’m feeling better than I have in weeks. My truly last chemo recedes into the distance with its attendant residue. My voice is actually starting to come back – albeit timidly. I can drink water without drowning or automatically spewing. I’m starting – just starting, mind you – to take in solid foods like soups and jellos. Thanks to the TPN (the liquid food) I’m still weighing in at a healthy 189 pounds. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is making its appearance. And it’s starting to look like I’ll be out of the hospital by next weekend (everybody knock wood!).

I’m especially thankful to the people who have come to visit me. Otto and Melissa have been especially kind in that not only have they continued to visit but they gifted me with a lovely portable DVD player that has TRULY saved my sanity. My good friend, Rob Henry lent me his entire collection of The West Wing which has really pleased my inner political junkie. Jay Jay Barerra and Myra Stephenson visit every now and then, showering me with their love and collections of British comedy DVDs. I’ve had visits from Richie Werner and Scott McKinley two of the funniest, sweetest men I know. Bill Robens and Lynn Odell filled me in on the opening of their show, Kill Me Deadly, at Theatre of NOTE, which has been getting the best reviews of any show NOTE has ever done. Amy and I have optimistically booked tickets for closing weekend on the first of August. Can’t wait!

In other news, Amy and I had a tremendous surprise on Tuesday night when my former supervisor from Playboy, Pat Shaver, and a couple of co-workers, Hilary Wade and Jody Comai, visited and gave us a present we will never forget.

Apparently all of the folks over at my old job at Playboy have been busy. They got together, collected hundreds upon hundreds of personal items and held an immense garage sale over Father's Day weekend... then they went and donated all of the proceeds to the Conner Family Recovery Fund. Every single penny. I won’t say how much but let’s just say it will either help cover our COBRA payments for the next five months, or keep Michael in diapers until he's 27. I'm still speechless, too. It's Monday, nearly a week since they surprised us with the news and I still get emotional talking about it. The most amazing kindnesses come out of moments of adversity such as this. I knew when I was at Playboy that I was working with special people, but I didn't have any idea HOW special. Thanks so much everybody!

Michael continues to grow and cute-ify himself to the point of ridiculousness. Seriously, my nurses will walk in, laden with I.V. drugs and liquids, and just drop everything so they can run to him and make faces at him for five minutes. They barely even acknowledge I’m here. I can’t say that I blame them. He’s got the most winning smile I’ve ever seen. He looks at you and – out of nowhere – breaks into this knowing smile as is he’s just discovered the most wonderful person in the world; you. Yesterday the three of us napped together for an hour of absolute bliss.

Those are the recent highlights. Hopefully, I’ll be blogging from home soon and with far fewer drugs in my system. I’ve got three more sessions of Radiation this Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday morning, which means I am officially through with treatment in four days. (!!)

As always, your continued thoughts and prayers have been felt through all of the rough times as well as the good. I can’t thank you enough for you interest in how we’re doing.

Love to you all
More later…

Napping as Therapy

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 08:11:48 -0700

Medically, I finished chemo yesterday. My body will be reeling from the infusion for the next five days while I continue to undergo radiation every morning. I’m already feeling some of the chemo crud, most notably the hiccups that erupt if I so much as cough. Thursday and Friday should manifest the worst of it – pain and nausea-wise. Amy continues to visit, bringing books and magazines. Friends pop in now and then. Meanwhile, we wait. And every other day Michael comes over and does something miraculous for his dad, even if it’s just sleeping in his dad’s lap for the afternoon, which is the best treatment I could be getting right now. Of course, the nurses practically scream every time they see him. It’s like a micro beattlemania. Michaelmania. I like that. And it's not like it's undeserved.

I mean, two and a half months! That’s gotta be waaay early, right!?

More later…