Pin Cushion

Tomorrow is my last LOVENOX® injection! I have had one a day since coming home from the hospital. According to their web site, "LOVENOX® helps reduce the risk of developing deep vein thrombosis, also known as DVT blood clots. LOVENOX® alters the blood's normal clotting process, so clots can't form as easily, and neither can a potentially fatal pulmonary embolism." In short, I get one shot a day to keep any possible blood clot caused by the surgery from getting into my lungs or heart and killing me. I think it's a fair trade. If the cancer or the chemo or the radiation or the surgery doesn't kill you, why let an incident blood clot take you down?

For the first three days Carla administered my shots. A nurse at the hospital coached her through the first one on our last morning before coming home. On day three I flinched when she stuck me, leaving the syringe dangling from my abdomen. Carla did recover and finish the injection, but that was it. She really doesn't like hurting me, and I had no desire to hurt myself, not even for curiosity's sake. Fortunately, we have a neighbor who is a nurse practitioner. Kim volunteered to come over each morning and give me my shots. She said she loved me and all, but she had no problem sticking me with a needle. Some friend. She's been sticking me ever since. Thanks, Kim. We love you, too!

The experience for me has been mixed. Some days I still flinch and some days I don't feel the poke at all. Most of the time the injection stings for a few minutes and occasionally it doesn't. In any case, I'm ready to be done. After 20 of 21 injections I feel like a pin cushion.

Memories from Christmases Past

Two of my cancer blogging friends have been posting memories from Christmases past. I figured I'd join in the fun. So Carole and Fiona, these are for you.

My father scanned these early photos for one of his projects. Here I am in my father's arms.

Christmas, 1963 (18 months old)

That's me on the train. And like your doll house, Carole, I actually remember this toy.

Christmas, 1964 (2 years old)

My little sister joined us the next year. We all made the paper chain hanging on the tree. I'm the one without the doll.

Christmas, 1965 (3 years old)

Somewhere along the line my parents started sending annual Christmas cards with family photos on them. This lasted for several years. Our neighbor would come over and take the picture.

Christmas, 1970 (8 years old)

Fiona, you posted a picture of your home almost buried in snow. I spent 13 years in this house and it only snowed twice. The first year it snowed we got sent home early from school so we could play in the snow before it melted. By that night it was gone. This is a picture of the second year it snowed. It took two days to melt. If we wanted to play in the snow we had to drive into the mountains two hours away.

Winter, 1972/1973

This is our annual Christmas card photo for 1973. We are standing in front of the same brick fire place as in the 1970 card. My father built this fireplace when he added the family room on to the back of our house.

Christmas, 1973 (11 years old)

I don't have any more digital pictures available until Christmas 2008. My wife and I took our children to Bryce Canyon in southern Utah that year where we bought our first digital camera. We spent three days there and had an absolute blast.

My girls—Rachel, Abby and Carla

Hiking on the trail down among the hoodoos (tall stone structures)

Nathan, Michael and Rachel having fun in the restaurant at Ruby's Inn

Michael, Rachel, Abby and Nathan relaxing after a full day outside.

Mr. and Mrs. Claus handing out candy canes

Abigail with Carla, Nathan, Andrew and Rachel behind her

I think my fondest memory from Christmases past is our stockings. My mom knit a matching set of Christmas stockings for the family back when I was still in grade school. Our name was knit across the top. As we married and moved out of the house she would knit one for our spouse and then for each new grandchild. Now Carla and our children enjoy the same memories. These are our family stockings just after Santa's visit last night. The darker green one on the far left is my original stocking from the 1960's. My mom has repaired a few moth holes over the years, but it is still holding up.

Christmas Eve, 2010

I had my daughter, Rachel, take this picture in front of our family Christmas tree to wrap up this post. I thought you'd like to put faces to names. Thanks, Carole and Fiona, for all the cyber support. Carla and I have enjoyed getting to know you. From our family to yours, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a Healthy New Year!

Steve and Carla—Christmas, 2010

"God bless us, everyone!" ~Tiny Tim

I have friends!

Most of you know I took a six week leave of absence from work to deal with surgery and recovery. Carla drove me in to the office last Friday afternoon to visit with my coworkers during their Christmas party. It was great seeing everybody after being gone for two weeks. What was my delight yesterday, then, when a cool Christmas floral arrangement was delivered to our home from my "friends at Applied Signal Technology". I have friends!

Thank you, friends at AST

I've been touched, actually, by the many, many people who have come out in support of me and my family during this cancer adventure. Childhood friends have reached me on Facebook. Family, friends, and even friends of family and friends have sent cards and well wishes. Neighbors have brought meals more times than I can count. I even have new cyber friends from cancer blogs.

Thank you, friends and family

In a world full of horrific headlines, it's humbling and heart warming to harvest the humane side of humanity. Truly, I have friends.

“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked” ~Bernard Meltzer

NEWS FLASH: Cancer Kills Energizer Bunny

Cancer patient Steve Chamberlin of Stansbury Park, Utah, reports that rectal cancer has killed the Energizer Bunny. "Before my cancer diagnosis I used to just keep going, and going, and going," he quips, "but now, all I seem to do is just go to sleep—anywhere, anytime. Except at night, of course. Then I only attempt to go to sleep, even though I'm completely exhausted." Steve believes that Dr. Sklow accidentally removed his batteries along with his rectum during surgery on December 3, 2010. Admittedly, Steve's batteries were first depleted prior to surgery by six intense weeks of chemo and radiation therapy. But with two months off for recharging in anticipation of the surgery, all evidence pointed towards an increase in energy levels. Now, nothing. The Energizer Bunny is all but dead. Steve is currently in communication with Duracell, the CopperTop® people. More news to follow shortly.

Home, Sweet Home!

We made it. We are here. I am in my own living room as I write this! We actually got home about four hours ago. After unloading the car and unpacking my pain meds (OK, so I watched Carla and her mother do this), I promptly swallowed two more pills and went down for a nap—in my own clothes, in my own bed, in my own house! Does it show that I'm glad to be home?

Carla is overjoyed to be back on her home turf. She helped her mom a bit on arrival and then crawled into bed next to me for a nap of her own. That was nice. I have watched her sleep on a sofa bed across my room for a week. And the best part of our bit of sleep? No noise. Nothing remotely reminding of a busy hospital. Carla's mom, Joy, woke me at six for my next round of pills. So now we are back up and visiting with our children, catching up on their weeks adventures.

It's dark outside. If you should pass by our house the Christmas lights are on, adding our bit of cheer to the neighborhood. Inside is a happy family glad to have Mom and Dad home again.

There's No Place Like Home

Today is the big day. We have been cleared by Dr. Sklow to go home. He said last night, with complete satisfaction, that I looked too good to be in a hospital. Funny guy. What I am realizing this morning is that I want to go home now. We have accomplished everything this week we came here to do. It's time to move on.

There is more that can be shared about our stay here, especially the last two days. I know our posts tapered off sharply on Tuesday afternoon. I'll get to that as I recover from the comforts of my own home. For now I just feel tired, reflective, peaceful, and relieved. Mostly I feel immense gratitude for an amazing week filled with amazing success and amazing people—my sweet wife, Carla, being the first among them.

Five steps forward, two steps back

Sorry everyone about not having an entry for Tuesday, but it ended up being a very crazy day.

Steve has been doing so well that they decided to take out his epidural and IV pain medications yesterday and switch him over to oral medications. It was really nice for him to lose his shadow and be able to walk around without any lines or drips being attached to him. Then the pain kicked in.

Looking back, we can see how everything could have been handled a bit better and might have saved Steve several hours of intense pain.