Sorry kiddies....fought as hard as I could and I'm not giving up, but I'm Dying.

It's been a long time since I posted on here, and as you are soon to find out, that is actually a good think.  Good news I want to pass around as quickly as possible, so I go on Facebook and disseminate it as quickly as I can.  Bad news takes a separate route.  First, I have to tell my family first, using the phone technology I hate so much.  Once very close family finds out,  I have to decide how to let the rest of my friends and family know what's going on.  Making a bad news post on Facebook sometimes comes out tacky and rather common. Moreover, you can't explain exactly whats going on in such a small space and are more liable to create chaos and misunderstandings.   The problem is, there are a lot of people who want to know whats going on, and I WANT them to know....I just don;t have the emotional energy to repeat bad news over and over again. Each time, it takes another sliver of happiness that is trying to hold on to my psyche with all the strength it can.

So Instead of a facebook bost, I thought I would make a blog post, and then let people decide if they want to read it or not.  It gives me a large space with which I can thoroughly and patiently share everything that I want you to know.  And kiddies....this week there is not a lot tell, but clarity is of the utmost importance.

How can I be any more clear?  Kiddies, I'm dying.  Although the last batch of chemo left me generally "sort of" stable, over the last month there has been a tiny bit of progression (ie the tumours are showing signs of growth.  My last oncologist was very bad at explaining what everything meant and what "stability" and "small progression" meant for my chance of living, or the chances of getting surgery to fight for a cure.  He was very untalkative and wasn't very good at responding to my serious questions about survival chances and the next steps if things don't work.

Well, now I have a new oncologist.  This new doctor has a lot more compassion and a great deal more patience.  He doesn't seem to screw around and answered any question I posed in a straight, easy to understand fashion.  I actually liked him pretty quick because he seemed very interested in my current health and asked a lot of questions about my personal l ife.

However, I was devastated when he suggested that because of the cancer progression, I should get back on chemo right away.  I already have a date to get the same Folfiri with Avastin next Friday on the 28th.  As bad as the news was, the worse news came when I asked him how long the chemo would give me, and how long I would need to be on it.

He told me that, by staying on chemo, I might be extending my life for about a year to a year and a half.  Without chemo, he doubted I would make it more than 8 months.

Kiddies, I am now palliative.  I'm dying. Without some miracle of other, I'm gonna be fighting to make it to my next two birthdays.

My doctor did say that the could never say for sure tat a year is all I would get.  There are so many factors involved....I could take very well to the chemo again, which might give me more time.  Maybe with the right nutritional food and more exercise, I may extend that time weeks, months.....years? 

However, things are not looking up, and I won't lie to you and pretend that their is a chance I can be cured. That verges on the impossible, and  I don't want to spend what little time I have chasing schemes that may even in the end shorten my life.

My biggest dilemma right now is whether or not to stay on chemo. Live longer with strong chemo, but have a sitty quality of life.  Not doing chemo is not much better....some months feeling great, and then back to being sick in less time. I don't know what to do.  There is always the route of enrolling in a clinical trial, but that' no quarentee you'll get more time.

I know what you want to tell me right now.  That there is still hope.  That with a good attitude and some luck, I can still make it  You want to assure me that there are people with stage 4 cancer who defy their doctors predictions and go into remission and live long, happy lives.  And I want to believe you, kiddies.  I'm  not just going to lay down and start dying.  That isn't how I want to go. I want to go with dignity, and trying to live the biggest life I can on borrowed time.  But I gotta shoot straight here kiddies....I am dying,  I often feel like I am dying. And although I hope a year survival is a low estimate, I'm not about to deny the reality of the situation.  I am a very sick men, and 94 percent of people with my sickness don't live to see five years after their diagnosis.  I've been going for two.

I love you guys.  I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.  I hope that we can all make some time and effort to spend some time together and enjoy life.

I'm so sorry to have to giving you this news...especially in such an impersonal way.  But I no longer had the emotional strength to tell people face to face.  I did for most of my family, but I'm a very tired guy.  Tired and emotionally spent.

Love you.
Dan

Quick Update

I'll probably be doing a more in-depth post about whats going on with my cancer in the next couple of days.  Honestly,  I've been too tired and busy to go into a lot of detail.  For those of you who don't follow on facebook, things aren't looking awesome.

A couple of week ago, I went in to the cancer center for a blood test and it was found that my CEA levels (an antigen that increases in blood when cancer is growing) were elevated.  A CT test was done the next day and a possible cancerous node was found in my left lung, as well as possible infection in two or three of the lymph nodes in my chest region.

So the cancer is technically back, and metastasized.  What I'm dealing with now is stage 4 colon cancer, and the numbers for that kind of cancer are not good.  I'm not going to give you the numbers...if you are curious, go ahead and look them up.  If you do look them up, please remember that the numbers are out of date (and don't necessarily take into account the latest progressions in drug therapy and surgery).  Five year survival rates are the chances that some one with that type of cancer will be alive in five years.  Remember though, that a lot of people who have these cancers are older and die of other causes as well  (heart attacks, infections, etc).  I'm a pretty tough guy, so my chances are all that much better.

Still, there is a lot going on in my life.  I haven't decided if I'm going to quit school or not.  I don't how effective this chemo is going to be, and I have no idea if or when I will be getting surgery for the latest cancerous nodes.  I'll be trying my hardest to fight this shit....I'm not about to give up, and I'll do just about anything it takes to be able to stick around with you guys as long as I can.

Also, I'm not to proud to tell you that I could always use your help, be it emotional, pscyhological and  financial.  My sister and my dearest friends have set up a page where you can post messages of support, and send financial support using paypal.  I know things are tough for all of us these days, and I really am luckier than a lot of people around the world, but if you have a million dollars just burning a hole in your pocket, I would appreciate whatever you can do.  Sometimes its tough to accept help, but I'd like to think that any of you could absolutely count of me if our situations were ever reversed.

Thank you..I love you all. Here is the link to the page my sister made:  http://joindansfight.blogspot.ca/

I'm Awesome, but Not Okay.

I know it's been a while since I posted, and all five of you who actually read this blog are probably wondering why it's taken so long for me to update.  The truth?  I just haven't felt like it.  At least a couple of times I've had some topics that I thought might be interesting to talk about, but I didn't want to 'do work'.  For some reason, when everything is going fine, blogging seems like work to me.  When I'm having a really bad time or need to reflect, the need to write comes back, and I once again show up here and write another depressing post.

Right now it's late, I can't sleep, and I'm having one of those bad brain nights. So I go online, do some googling, and try to find some articles that make me feel better....or maybe, if not better, at least not so damn alone.

The problem, kiddies, is that I'm doing really awesome....but I'm not always ok.

For those of you not on my Facebook......well, I finished my treatment at the end of June.  Other than an eventual stoma reversal, I'm clean and clear as far as cancer is concerned.  About 6 weeks after, I had a nice vacation in the mountains where I managed, with as little strength that I had, to do some hiking and canoeing in the Rocky mountains.  Since then, my energy has been steadily improving...I got a pass to the gym and I've been doing a lot of walking and some running and biking.  Now it's been over 3 months since my last chemo, and although I still get bouts of fatigue and aches and pains, I like to think I'm doing pretty good.

But big parts of me are so messed up.  Nobody wants to hear it.  Everybody keeps telling me how great I look, and how awesome I'm doing.  But inside....I'm so fucking angry.  I'm so fucking tired. I'm so fucking happy to be alive, and at the same time furious that I should have to be happy to be alive.

I don't think you have to have cancer or some other horrible disease to understand some aspects of going through it.  There are things that even people who have had a generally charmed life can understand.  You can understand pain.  You can understand the negative feelings associated with the loss of control of your life. You can understand the fear of getting cancer, or of cancer reoccurring, because....fuck, who isn't scared of hearing the C word?

What people really can't understand, what somebody who hasn't gone through some life-threatening serious illness like cancer can't get, is what a BURDEN it is to be a survivor.  And that burden comes from both expectations that people have about what a survivor ought to be like, and expectation we survivors have of ourselves.  I know...you are reading this and wondering....what is he talking about?  Does this diatribe have a point? To get my point across,  I'm gonna have you do a little exercise.

First, imagine right now that somebody told you that you have cancer.  Visualize it. Imagine the scenario in your mind.

Second, imagine that you survived.  Imagine that you lived through your immediate diagnosis, and have been given a new lease on life.  However, you don't know if you have another 20 years, or another 3.

Third, write down all the things you would do after.  All the changes you would make in your life. Would you quit your job?  Would you take up some new hobby that you've always wanted to, but never had time for?  Would you treat your family and friends differently?

Those dreams, those changes...those are your burdens.

Maybe you are not like me...I don't know.  Maybe you are living your perfect life and would never dream about making any changes.  If you can honestly say that you went through that exercise and changed nothing, then good for you.  You are perfect.  Fuck off.

But for me, and for some of the cancer survivors I've spoken with, there is a real pressure to 'make the most of your life'.  And I think it's important to tell you, kiddies, that it's not YOU who are putting the pressure on me, or other survivors.  It's something WE do to ourselves, because we WANT to have better lives, more meaningful lives.  But if you don't have the energy or strength or courage to make those changes when you are healthy and well, what the hell makes you think you'll have them after you have had the shit beat of out of you?  It's a burden wanting TO BE MORE, but not having the energy or mental wellness to be able to do it.

If that was it, then it would be almost manageable.  But while I'm beating myself up for not being able to do all those things I dream about, other people are either  too busy admiring me or getting flustered by my weakness and fear to understand how I really feel.  And I don't know which feels worse.

I've had people tell me that I inspire them, or that I am a hero......and the truth is that I don't feel it inside. It's not just some sort of false modesty.  Everything I did while I was going through my treatment was for me.  It was for my survival. It was still immensely selfish, if not in a negative sense.  A hero is a person who puts themselves in danger for others, not for themselves.  But there is a pressure to take on that role as well.  To inspire people.  To make them admire you.  To hide away your tears, so that they can see your strength. Because you so desperately WANT to be strong.  You want to fill that role because you don't want other people to know how weak you are.

And then, when the pressure get's to be too much, when the burden becomes something I don't feel I can carry anymore....well, I complain.  I'm only human.  I get damn sick of my life sometimes.  I'm sick of the pain, of the fear, of the pressure......I love my life, and I'm so glad to be alive, but sometimes I hate my life and I wish I was dead.  I'm not suicidal nor would I ever choose death over life, but I'd be lying if I don't sometimes wish I could just be done with it all.  But nobody ever wants to hear that.  Nobody wants to see that weakness.  They either cut you off and tell you you'll be fine, or tell you to be quiet.  Because you should be happy to be alive. You should feel lucky to have survived.  Well, excuse the fuck out of me that I don't always feel goddamned lucky.

Everybody listens to you when you are sick, but very few people actually hear you.  And the fucked up thing is that unless you have been sick, you aren't gonna get it.  You think you understand, but you don't.  You'll either feel sorry for me, feel guilty for pressuring me when you're blameless, or think I'm being a whiny, attention-seeking, neurotic bitch.  But a guy's gotta try.

When trying to Connect Backfires......

When you have cancer, or any disease for that matter, the internet can both be your best friend and your worst enemy.  From the internet, I learned things I didn't want to learn about my cancer (survival rates, procedures, effects of treatment), and I've learned some things that have been invaluable for my continued struggle (in some cases, the very same things I didn't want to learn, including survival rates, procedures, and effects of treament).  Among the greatest thing the internet provides, however, is support: you find other people like you.  People who understand what your going through, people who have been through what your going through, and people who turn to you as someone with more experience than them.

I've talked to many different folks, and I've read very many stories. And most of the time it's a great experience.  You don't feel so alone.  You feel like you have allies in a terrible war.  You see the wins, and you just know your gonna be a winner.

But....

Oh man, are there ever too many buts when it comes to the net.

Today, I  had a major kick in the ass, and I felt so god damn horrible that I felt the need to blog.  Yes, kiddies....when I'm blogging, I'm usually not in the best state of mind.

Honestly, in the past couple of days, chemo has been kind of kicking my ass.  Just to update you, I got my chemo on Thursday (second last, thank the gods), and as per usual, days 5 to 8 are the worst for fatigue.  Not only that, but everything hurts and the chemo brain is in full effect.  Luckily, in the last couple of chemo sessions, I've found out about the magic of Dilaudid.  I try not to use it too often, but makes me feel about a hundred times better.  Anyhow, today I took 4 mg in the very morning, and decided to get through the rest of the day without any more if I could help it.  I was doing pretty good....oh, I felt like a horrible bag of ass, but I was dealing.

And then I went interneting about cancer.

And I found this girl.  A absolutely beautiful girl.  A ray of sunshine.  Sunshine darkened with stage 3 breast cancer at the age of 27.  I read her stories about her chemo.  She was having a rough time with it....rougher than me, that's for sure.  Not only that, but she has a daughter....Ray of Sunshine #2.  And as I read some of her posts, I saw a lot of similarities between us.  Okay, she's religious and a lot sunnier than me, but there is truth in her words and "the real" in her heart.  And the best thing was that she seemed to be doing well.

And then I skipped to here last post in June of this year.  I wanted to see what was happening with her now that she was finished with her chemo and radiation.

Her  latest post was on how it felt to be a Terminal Patient.  How it felt to know she was dying.  How she is trying to fight for enough time to get things set up for her daughter.  She has a lot of support, and I'm sure her daughter will be well taken care of by her father and grandparents.  But how the hell can you ever be sure everything will be alright....how can your daughter grow up without her mother?

And kiddies, that fucking post broke my heart.  I cried for about half an hour.  Then I took 6 mg of dilaudid and thought about my own future.

I have hope.  I do.  But you never know how things go.  You don't.  And I've decided that though I do want to live a nice, happy long life, right now......a couple of years of feeling good, a couple of years of being able to kayak, and camp, and hug my friends and family with the strength of a man without cancer would be good enough.

I wish I could say that I'm gonna stop my internet searches.  It might be good for my health, I don't know.  But I do know that I can't.  Because if there is anything that I need above all, is the "the real".  The real can make me cry, it can make me angry, but it can never stop me from giving up.  It gives me a strength that I just don't get from denial.

Oh...and about that beautiful girl...well, I thought about providing a link to her blog.  I thought you guys might want to know her.  But I've decided against it....I don't want her to link back to here.  I don't want her to know she has affected me so strongly, or to feel any feeling of guilt.  I'll let her be.

Thank you for listening.

Love,

Dan

Sometimes, Being Rational is Goddamn Hard.

I'm back, and I decided I needed to make another post. The secret behind this blog has always been that I've always done it for me. I've had people request some more blog entries and updates, but until now, I just plain haven't felt like writing. In some ways, it's good that I'm not writing...I write mostly when something inside me feels broken, or when I need to get bottled up feelings out.

So much has happened since my last post. Since most of the people reading this are on my facebook page, I know most of you know whats going on. But for the people who may not, I'll describe briefly the last 3 or 4 months of my life.

I finished my four rounds of chemo in Novemember, and then at the end of that month, all of Deceember, and until the 11th of January, I went through radiation and chemo. This consisted of 6 weeks of being on a constant chemo pump of 5-Fu and getting my pelvis radiated every day. As you can imagine, this was an intensely unpleasant time in my life. During this time, I was constantly nauseous and had an extremely painful skin irritations on my butt. Imagine crapping out glass twice a day. TMI? Maybe, but if I had to go through it, might as well share it with you.

That was rough enough. On my last day Jan 11, with much elation, I wrung the "finished radiation" bell at the cancer center. I was looking forward to a period of 6 weeks I would be allowed to recover before I had to go get surgery, the next hurdle in my fight. Of course, the very next day I started getting kidney stone pain. Yep....3 stones tortured me for the next 3 or 4 weeks.

Stupid me, I thought that there was no way I could feel worse. A kidney stone is pretty much the worst pain I can imagine. Well, my surgery and subsequent stay in the hospital was worse. So much worse. If there is one thing I won't share with you, it's the details of my hospital stay. Part of the reason is that, at least this one time, I don't want to remember anymore. I don't want to have anything about that time written down for posterity. I want to forget that awful time. Suffice it to say, I have never felt so sick as I did during that time. I have never felt so goddamn awful and uncomfortable and just plain tortured as I did during that time. I still having fucking nightmares about it and I'm being completely honest when I tell you I'd rather die from cancer than go through that again. That's part of the reason I want to forget....if I have to, for whatever reason, go through it again, I want to forget enough that maybe I'll choose life again next time. No guarantees though.

So now I'm back at home, and I have a new friend. Yes, I had ileostomy surgery and I have a bag to collect my waste from a hole in my abdomen. A piece of my small intestine is cut off from the rest of my digestive system, and rerouted so that the rest of my bowel can heal properly. It's not fun, and I'm so grossed out by these things that I figure I'm one of the worst people in the world for this to happen to. But it's something I can bear with, if only just barely. Because at least it's reversible, and after I finish the chemo, I'll eventually lose the bag.

And that's my next step. It looks like I will be getting about 4 more months of chemo, every 2 weeks. So fun, fun....I get to spend almost the entire summer sick like a dog. To be completely honest, the thought fills me with despair. I think my main problem right now is that I can't be rational about the whole thing....not like my friends and family can. What happens is that you guys get the exchange.....I go through a couple more months of hardship, but at the end of it, I have a chance to live a long life. But for me....it ain't that easy. I can only see four more months of torture...of sickness....of fatigue so intense, that I feel close to death. For you, it's 4 months. For me, its 4 lifetimes.

So some quick advice for anyone dealing with me....please don't tell me it's going to be over soon. Please don't try to make me think rationally. Please don't tell me there is just one more small hurdle to go. I know that it's often hard to talk to me, and I know that you guys are trying to make me feel better. But I'm telling you that it really doesn't. I could be one chemo treatment away from being finished, and it still wouldn't. Because it just never fucking ends for me, until it ends. And even then it's not over....because there are too much fucking side effects for it to be over. And it isn't even close to over. 4 lifetimes. That's how it feels.

Sympathize with me. Empathize with me, if you are able. Share your troubles and tell me how you're doing. Cheer me up with your company, and with a funny story or two. But if you can, please don't try to get me to see my troubles through your eyes.

Right now, I'm dealing with enough seeing through my own eyes.

Love you,
Daniel

Just a jittery update.

So here I am, a jittery goddamn mess, so I thought Id try to keep my mind busy by writing another blog post.

So I had to go to the cancer clinic today because I was having some really nasty side effects. Apparently, the anti-nauseant I was taking (stemetil) has a whole host of nasty side effect, including extra-pyramidal symptons. What that means kiddies, is that I had just about the worst side effects possible....I'm talking jittterness, shortness of breath, and trouble sleeping. Having these symptoms is the worst thing ever...imagine restless legs syndrome, times it by a hundred, and make it all over your body. Last night, I'm not ashamed to admit, for the first time I prayed for death. I wanted to be dead instead of spend 8 hours climbing out of my skin, trying to be comfortable but failing miserably.

Thats right.....a car can hit me, I can get kidney stones, and I can take the sickness that is chemo and still have hope. But the jitters did me in in a bad way.

Luckily, I was smart enough to call the doctors (I started callling about two hours before the cliinic even opened). So they figured it was probably the stemetil, took me off it, and gave me an iv injection of benadryl to counteract the other drug. I also got a precription for valium, which is supposed to completely take the jitters away while I get rid of the other drug from my body. Well, it doesnt work as well as it should, but Im happy for any relief. Seriously, its not every day you wish for death to get through some lame ass drug side effect.

There is nothing deeper or meaningful about my post today. Im basically just writing this to help me overcome the symptoms

One additional thing....because I'm done my first four rounds of chemo, I keep getting questions of what's next.

Well, next wednesday (the 30th), they will be putting me on a permanent low dose of one of my two drugs (the less nasty one) and then I will start getting radiation every day except weekends. After 5 or 6 weeks of that, then its surgery. Then after my recovery from surgery, I get another 4 chemos similar to the ones I get now.

So thats the agenda.

How to see the Best in People.

My last post was a while ago, so I thought I would go ahead and update. So far, things are going both good and bad. I'm now on my third round of chemo, and, as I post, I am on day 6. Days 5 and 6, as you can remember, are really bad for fatigue. But I although the fatigue is as bad as ever, I've learned how to deal with it a whole lot better than I used to. I no longer sit on the couch when I'm dead tired...this week, I've folded laundry, made coffee, went out to get food, etc. It may not sound like a lot, but when you don't have a drop of energy left, these things can basically leave you breathless.

Yesterday, Bevin commented that I'm not nearly as fatigued as I was the first or second week. I had to admit that ...well...yeah, I sort of am, I just try to deal with it better. Also, the neuropathy has finally kicked in a bit, so on top of being exhausted, I'm restless and jittery as well. Sitting still i is just not an option.

I'm happy to add, though, that I've been eating a whole lot more since I've managed to deal with the nausea a bit better. For the first time since my diagnosis, I've managed to gain 3 or 4 pounds. Since I've lost about 15 pounds since about June or July, that's not all that bad.

Anyways, thats about it for the update. What I really wanted to talk about is the thread of my title.

How to see the best side of people?

Well, kiddies....the answer is easy. Get cancer. No seriously, it's a great way to see what people are made up. Now, because I assume that you guys don't want to go about getting cancer, I'll tell you myself how people behave.

When people first find out you have been diagnosed, the first response is always shock. Whether its your mother, or father, or some guy you just told at the store to explain your twitchy hand, people are always shocked and sorry about your condition. But then something else happens; people care. And not just the people who you think should care about your....your family, your friends, your coworkers. No, the people who care are all around you.

And it's not such a big suprise, is it? That people should care about other people? I sometimes can't believe the support I get at school, from people I barely know. The lady who I used to buy coffee from when I worked by the University found out now that I'm back at school. She remembered me from before and asked me how things are going? I answered....shock, followed by support. The professors from my class have all responded in a similar way...shock, followed by support. I have a fellow student, who went through leukemia, who almost made me cry by introducing himself to me and his past fight with cancer. A guy I barely knew has my back in this horrible fight.

And it's not suprising, because every one of those people I talked to has a story, and in almost every one of those stories, there is someone they loved who had to fight the same fight. They've been there, they've got the wounds, and they are willing to help a fellow fighter out.

The coffee lady has a mother who fought anal cancer. Professors of mine have sisters and brothers who have fought breast cancer and bladder cancer. And leukemia almost took the life of my fellow student.

Kiddies, when it comes down to it, I think people are basically decent. Sometimes we need to be reminded that other people are like us, and not just clones who annoy us with their driving, with their politics, or with their neediness. And it's funny to me that one of those things that brings us together has to be so horrible. Cancer is a way to see the best in people...trust me on this. I would never wish anybody have it, but if you ever do, best prepare yourself to see the beauty in people, and feel the support that you may have never felt otherwise.

Love you all,
Dan

One day at a Time.

I felt the need to write today, although I'm sorry to say I don't have a specific topic in mind. So, apologies if this post seems at all disjointed or aimless.

Well, I guess I can start with a general update on how things are going with the cancer. Got chemo this week, and that was not fun. Decidedly not fun. Today I'm feeling...okay..but the Day 1 of chemo pretty much kicked my ass. I lost a banana to a red bucket, and I'm probably not going to touch another banana for weeks. Yesterday was slightly better than the first, but I don't feel quite human until I get that damn chemo bag removed from my arm. If the last time I got chemo was any indication of what I'm going to go through, I suspect that tommorow I will feel better, the net day even better, and then I'll be completely creamed for about 3 days with fatigue.

You'd think it would be better knowing what's coming, but it's not. Its so much worse, it feels like an inevitibility. Yeah, I know what you're thinking...take it a day at a time, Dan, a day at a time.

Hell, that seems like a topic I can expound on. Of all the cliches...and I do appreciate cliches if they are given with an honest heart...thats gotta be the one I hear the most. I think I trained most of you with my last posts to stop with the "only worry about yourself" crap. That is not something I can do. I mentioned to you guys that I draw strength from my concern for you...not only because it makes me feel less lonely, but because you make me want to be a stronger person. When you guys tell me I'm strong, I want to be that person. I'm not saying I drive myself to impress you....I'm way past that shit. But I want to be something more than a guy just sitting on his couch, feeling sorry for myself. Thinking about you, concerning myself with your health and your lives, helps me get out of my own cancer funks.

But as far as I can tell, and I've tried and tried and tried to be otherwise, I am not "day at a time" guy. Fuck, I wish I could be. Day at a time people just seem a whole lot happier than us focus on the future types, and us worry about tommorow types. But kiddies, that's just not in my bones. With that being said, I just had an interesting conversation with a doctor at my Pharmacy Volunteer placement (remember, I am volunteering at a care home), and she told me that there was only one common characteristic that all of the oldest people in the world share (the people who live to their late 90s and 100s). And thats the ability to accept loss and not worry so much about the future. Well, fuck.

So you day at a time people keep on me. Because I want to live a long, happy life.

Anyways, I'm out. This is a short one. I'm feeling tired, and the fiancee has Jersey Shore on the Tv. For some reason, I can't write coherently with guidos fighting on the screen.

Love ya all,
Dan.

When the Will Power is lost.

I'm sitting here at 12:30 in the morning, and despite access to some pretty good drugs, I still can't sleep. Well, let's call tonight one of my weaning days....in order to not affect the efficacy of the medications I take, I abstain every now and then from one or two of them. Tonight I didn't think it would be a problem because I was so tired, but I've been laying awake for the last hour. Plus, I really felt like posting and when I get the bug, it's like an itch I can't scratch.

Today I wanted to talk about willpower. I've talked about it before, but I'm not sure I really understood what it was until lately. Despite all of our scientific advances and knowledge about the brain, I think even the best of us scientists often get caught up in separating ourselves into our bodies and our spirits (or souls, or whatever). We all do it.....and I think a big part of the reason we do is because we hate the thought that so much of us is biologically determined. We love the concept of free choice....even though it doesn't seem a logical result in a lot of the results we get from science (quantum mumbo jumbo nonwithstanding) or even logical when you throw a god in the equation (oh predestination...how can you have a choice when the big guy in the sky knows your fate?).

The reason I'm bringing up "the spirit" is that that's the place we usually put our willpower. You can't faulted when your muscles give out. You can't help it if your so winded you have to stop running. These things belong in the physical realm. We may be angry that we are so weak, and accept responsability that excercise would have helped, but we don't often give our psyches a beating when we reach our physical limits.

But those spiritual limitations....we find those a great deal more disconcerting, don't we kiddies?

You can't help it anymore...you need to eat that last piece of cake. "I'm such a fucking pig".

You can't muster up the will to study a couple of more hours you know you need to. "I'm so freaking lazy".

You know you need to finish that report for work but you watch TV instead. "I'm never going to get promoted because Im such a bad employeee."

I'm very much like this....I've always been proud that I had that extra little willpower that I needed to get things done. Sure, it's failed on occassion, but there was always a rationalization for it. For the most part, when something is hard and I don't want to do it, I just WILL myself to sit my ass down and just get it done.

After my little work and accident crisis, I found my will power really challenged. I knew I should be spending more time looking for work and asking for interviews, but a lot of times I just couldn't do it. On other other hand, sometimes I did. It was tough, but in the end, the will won out and I did apply for some jobs. I also applied for school.

But this week...well, I finally accepted something with my entire being that I previously only sort of believed. I finally accepted that willpower is absolutely physiological.

During my chemo, I've had a lot of pretty shitty side effects. Nausea sucks...even when it's controlled well, you can still feel it there, under the surface, ready to come out if you miss a med. I've had only slight neuropathy, though it is a bummer. The fatigue was especially bad this week, where walking three blocks feels like a marathon. But the worst thing the chemo did to me...the worst thing it took away from me, was my will power. Sapped it from me like a fucking milkshake. Even when I had the energy to do things, sometimes it was my will that gave out first.

Let me put it in perspective. I've written papers while sporting insanely high fevers. I've gone for long walks with the flu. Colds barely keep me in bed. But last night, my will power....the things that keeps me going, was absent. I. COULD. NOT. DO. ANYTHING. And for a little while, I hated myself for it. I had emails to check. I have a lab report to finish. Hell, all I needed was to text someone. I couldn't. And it messed me up. Because I thought I was different. I thought that I am a person with a strong will. I thought that I should be the exception, even in chemo, even with cancer.

I want you to ask yourself this too. Do you think you would be the exception? I think that if you ask yourself honestly, you do believe that you would be able to handle being sick with your will intact. You may see someone with cancer, or amputation, or parapalgia struggling; and though you feel empathy for their struggle, you think you could push through it better. If you don't, you're a better person than I....because I thought the will was inviolate. Transcendant.

Fuck that. It's just another part of your brain. And sometimes, it does give up on you.

But it comes back. I'm not here to depress you, kiddies. I tell ya...it comes back. Today I sent the email I had to send. I started studying for an exam that's a week away. And I'm almost ready to start my lab report.

I guess I wanted to share this subject with you for two reasons:

1)I want you to stop kicking yourself so hard when you have a lapse in will. It is physiological....it's a finite resource. Hell, eat some sugar, and try again. Your brain may just need glucose.

2) I wanted to vent my frustration on people who don't get it when I was having my bad day. I know they mean well, but sometimes telling a guy who is fatigued and has no will power that "you just need to muster up some will and maybe get outside or do something to make you feel better" is frustrating.

With all that said, I am finally starting to feel a bit better. The first 3 days of chemo were pretty crappy and made me sick, but the bad shit.....the fatigue and weird feelings...happened days later. Now, I'm in the getting better phase, right before I get my next drop of poison.

I want to thank everyone whose been going through this with me. You guys have no idea what it means to me to have your support and your messages. I'm especially touched when people send me stories or tell me about their friends who read my blog and get something out of it. Sometimes I forgot that there are more than just 5 or 6 of my friends reading it.

And please....if you know somebody who is suffering through cancer or who could benefit from reading my shitty blog, please feel free to reshare it.

Love ya.

Daniel

Chemo is death. Chemo is life.

I'm sorry I haven't given another good update in a while. A lot has happened, and I've been feeling sick, and still trying to manage all of the homework I have to do. So far, so good. However, in trying to get stuff done, I've been pretty bad at keeping everyone here updated.


Well, here is the long and short of it. I god a port surgically put into my arm, as shown in the pretty picture, last thursday. Then this Tuesday, I had my first show of chemo....a mix called FOLFOX that contains 5FLU, Leuvocorin, and Oxalipatin. I go in, sit for 3 or 4 hours while they fill me full of poison, then they attach a pump that gives me a flow of 5FLU for the next 48 hours.

This will be happening for every 2 weeks for the next 2 months. After that, I get radiation and chemo for a another 5 weeks....this is when it gets really hardcore. Because of the already sterilizing potion that is chemo, my baby makers already don't stand a chance. Now add high doses of radiation that low (rectal tumour, remember?) and my swimmers are going to all be dead or have 8 heads. I'm sure Bevin won't even want to give those little guys a chance lol.

After the radiation, I get a week or two of recovery, I think, and thats when I get the surgery. They cut the tumour out and a nice piece of the colon too. Yep, colostomy time. I am not looking forward to it. The last thing I need is two assholes. Oh well, whatever I gotta do to survive, I will do. Then after that, another 2 months of chemo.

Then after I've healed and hopefully recovered from cancer and the rest of the shit I will get, they might be able to reconnect the colon, although my doctor made it clear with it being so lows, there is not a very good chance of that happening.

So now that you know about all the specfic details, what about me? How am I doing?

Well...I'm okay. I feel sick as a dog, but better than I thought I would. The medication I'm taking helps a lot, so I dont feel too much nausea (though I still have some). I've been hiccuping like crazy, and I get weird flushing feelings.....but apart from a general sort of mailaise and fatigue, I'm not so bad. I won''t get too cocky, but I'm hoping to go to school tomoorow...if I can do that, then chemo will have lost it's round of keeping me down. Fingers crossed.

People, I'm going to take a little time right now and be comlpletely honest with. I'm taking some drugs right now that's making me sort of emotional (that's my excuse, so fuck off if you don't believe it). But I want to tell you that I honest to goodness cry when I get your messages, your letters of support, and when you tell me your remembering me. If you all even knew how much I love you then you'd cry too (or be awkward around me...whichever works for you.).

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. For thinking about me. For praying for me. For sending me good vibes. For giving me hope. For helping change me into a person I can respect. If something has to come from this, let it be a closesness with all of you who have my back.

You guys inspire me with your strength.

Love,
Dan

Update on this cancer thing.

Wow, I got a good piece of news today. I got the result back from my MRI and I do not have any tumours or nodes on either my liver or my lungs. So it looks like I'm dealing with Stage 3 cancer, and not Stage 4.....which is great news, because Stage 4 is basicallly game over. But now I've got a fighting chance. I'm young, I'm not in horrible health apart from the cancer.....the odds are in my favour.

So apart from being horribly fatigued, in constant discomfort from the tumour, and bloated worse than week old road kill, I'm not doing all together that bad.

I am, however, in considerable anxiety. Tomorrow I talk to my chemo and rad doctors, and I find out what my next 8 months or more will look like. Kiddies, I'm scared shitless of this chemo thing. Sleep is hard for me to do, even with drugs....thoughts, worries, fears....they plague me. A friend of mine suggested I take yoga for excercise and to calm me...I'll be looking into it. It sounds like something that might help me.

I've been trying to be regular with my school, but I haven't been as good as I should be. I made it to some classes this week, and I even made it through an 8 hour day complete with a lab class. It hasn't been easy for me, but I'm glad that I'm giving it my best. The lab was a bit of a gong show, and the results my partner and I got weren't so great. I feel especially bad sometimes because it should all be so easy for me. The lab is mickey mouse, but I get so tired and frustrated that I can't think straight and I make mistakes. The worst was a lab quiz I had to write...I'll be lucky if I pass it.

But you know, maybe this isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it's about time I learn that I don't have to be the best, and that bad marks or failure is not the end of the world. It's a lesson that I've never had to learn because school has always been easy for me (well, maybe not always easy, but always manageable). Maybe it's about time I learn that it's more important trying, then it is achieving. Maybe I need the humility that the cancer is delivering in spades.

Stupid cancer. I'll learn your lessons, but don't expect me to like it. And after this big fat lesson, you better cut me some fucking slack, because I think I've had enough lessons for a life time. The next lesson I want to learn is "What should I do with all this money". I definitely haven't learned that lesson yet.

Love you all,

Daniel.

Life Bookmark

So here I am, late on a Thursday night, on enough sedatives to put a horse to sleep, and I can't catch a wink. Bevin and I went to bed at the exact same time, and about 5 minutes later, she's asleep. Thank you very much Tylenol 3, Gravol and Zopiclone. They call this over sedation? Bollocks to that, I say.

Okay, I may not be asleep, but I probably have enough drugs in me that this post probably won't make too much sense. That's okay...I've said it before, kiddies...I write for me, not for you. Especially when I feel like I'm at low points in my life....and I'm pretty damn low right now. I was handling shit pretty good considering how sick I am. But last weekend, I spent two and a half days in the emergency room, and it left my system reeling. I went to the ER because of severe constipation and abdominal pain, probably from taking T3 (although only about one a day) and not enough stool softner. Well, to make a long story short I spent the weekend on a clear liquid diet, and enough laxatives to make a pornstar blush. Try it someday, and see how great your mood is a couple of days later. Also, if you know a supermodel, hug them. Seriously. Give them a hug. Their work isn't easy.

So today I didn't make it to school, and I've been more or less locked up in the house feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to try my hardest not to make it a habit, but I'm giving myself permission to feel weak today. Fuck, okay..that's not true...I feel so bad, that I'm not even able to make myself be alright with feeling bad. It's funny how you can have stage 3 cancer, no energy from a diet of laxatives and water, and living on no sleep....and can still feel guilty for being sad and unable to function.

But enough of that....I actually wanted to tell all of you about a little thing that I used to do (and still do). I think about it every now and then, but today it's been playing over and over in my head. I actually came up with a spiffy little name for it too.

Life Bookmark.

Awesome. So what is a life bookmark? Well, one day, when I was walking home from my friend Jason's house, I walked past a little park that I usually did when I walked the route (for my Regina friends....it's that shitty little park on the 900 block of MacIntosh Street). I remember this particular day in perfect deal. I remember that it was a warm day, with a pretty cool breeze. I was walking past a shopping cart that was just sitting there, with one of the front wheels bent. I remember looking at it and thinking....man, who knows where that cart has been, and how long it's been used, and now its just laying there because some kids probably decided to ride around with it in the park. Then that prompted me to think about where I'm going to end up in 10 or 20 years. What I did at that point was made a promise that I would never forget that moment....whatever happened, this moment would live on in my memories. Even the ugly broken cart. I took a snapshot in my head, and it's never left since. Life bookmark. Fuck that's awesome.

Okay, it really isn't all that sophisticated. Kind of dumb, really. But so many of the memories we carry and that we remember vividly are not not conscious. They are a product of focus and attention, and since we largely live in a state of disattention, we don't have vivid memories of...well, "nothing moments". Like looking at a broken cart almost 20 years ago. So I thought it would be cool if I occasionally made a mental snapshot, just to remember where I came from, and what I thought the future could hold. I've done it at least 10 or more times since then.

But you know what...I don't remember any of them. Not a one, except for maybe vaguely one that I made about two years ago. But that first picture....that's stuck in my head.

Anyhow, I encourage you to try it out. Life Bookmark (tm). I hope it works for you. Maybe find a broken cart first though....it seems to be the magic glue that holds things together.

Now that I introduced the idea, I want to maybe expand on it in a future post. Maybe as a spring board for some inspirational tale or wise anecdote. For now, I'm feeling too tired. These drugs may be kicking in. I hope so.

Love ya,

Daniel.

P.s. Forgot to add...my chemo starts on the 22nd. Can't wait. Blech.

The Most Important Lesson

Well, the news isn't good. Those of you who are on my facebook know that the ultrasound results sucked, and sucked bad.

My cancer is stage 3. I won't know for sure if it's stage 4 or not until I have my MRI this Friday. Even if the results are good, it doesn't actually change things very much. I talked to the surgeon during and after my ultrasound and he told me that the MRI may give them a better idea that the "node" in my liver is fat or cancer, but it is not definite. Whether I'm stage 3 or 4, my treatment will be the same, and they will probably give chemo and see whether it shrinks or not. If it does, they will do surgery on the liver as well as the rectal cancer. If it doesn't shrink, then they will probably do some exploration and biopsy during my rectal surgery.

The treatment doesn't change unless I decide to go for palliative care. And kiddies, homey don't play that.

The plain truth is that I've got entirely too much to live for. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have a future in front me. I've struggled too long and too hard with both my inner demons and the not so inner demons (hi, ex-boss) in my life to give up now. Even with all the shit news I've gotten lately, and all the crying, and all the feeling sorry for myself, I've yet to return to the dark place I was only a year ago. My life is threatened, and I feel weaker than I ever have before....but I'm still better off.

Because I have hope. And until you realize, in this destructive, scary way, that life could be taken away from you, you can't imagine how important living is. I used to think I was real, and that I had a pretty good idea what life was about. I was fucking delusional. I realize now how life is just slipping by in a way I never did before. Although I wish with every fibre of my being that I live a long life, in the end it doesn't really matter. All of us are dying. I was dying before I had cancer, and I'll be dying long after I beat it.

I've learned an important lesson. Maybe I've learned it late, but it's a lesson you can NEVER learn too late. Even if I die tomorrow, it wouldn't be too late. The most important lesson is that even if you accomplish every goal you ever dreamed of, go every place you've ever wanted, and make massive amounts of money, there will still be a DVD copy of Gigli with Ben Affleck somewhere in the world.

Wait.

Sorry, that's not the lesson I wanted to teach here.

Crap.

Uh....my actual lesson was going to be something about treating life with a sense of humour. I forget the specifics.

Anyhow, love you guys.

Dan

Strength and Support: A Little Give and Take.

I have a lot to say today, and yet a lot of what I have to say I don't want to. Not because it's hard for me to tell you, but because it hurts me that you have to hear it.

I had an appointment with my doctor to go over the results of my CT scan. And the news wasn't good. It wasn't the most horrible news, but it could have been better. The scan found the tumour in my rectum and what looks like swelling in the lymph nodes. I'm not saying the cancer has spread to the lymph nodes....the doctor said that until we get an ultrasound on it, we just won't know. The CT scan also looked at the rest of my GI, my lungs, and my liver. The GI and lungs were clean, but a node was found on my liver. No need to panic yet though, because the doctor just couldn't tell if it was cancer or fatty tissue. See, I've had fatty liver for at least five years, and he couldn't be sure that it was cancer. I have to get an MRI either next week or the week after to make sure it's not cancer.

So we still aren't sure what we are looking at. It's definitely at least stage 2, but anything more than that we do not know.

So now that the technical information has been delivered....how am I feeling? Well, it's hard to say. Not well...not horrible. I have a headache from the stress of the day, but apart from that I seem to be okay. I was an emotional wreck this afternoon, but have calmed down a fair bit since then. But I'm trying to be "strong".

Which brings me to another matter that I wanted to express my feelings on in this post. I've already told a lot of people about my condition, and there are two things that I keep hearing over and over. The first is be strong, and the second is that I have all the support I need. The second is so appreciated....I'm having a hard time, and I need your support, and I appreciate your support, and I love you because of your support. The first....well, I'm having a bit of trouble with that one.

I'm guessing that a lot of you realize by now that I'm not the most optimistic person in the world. I know, shocking. At the same time, I'm also not a person who gives up easily. A big part of the problems I've had in the past were due to my tenacious nature. Hell, it's why I didn't quit that stupid job even though most normal, non-masochists probably would have. It's why I foolishly kept going on my career track, even though it was completely wrong for me. And it's why I won't give up on life until the universe pulls it out of me.

But here is the thing, kiddies. I'm not about putting on a stiff upper lip and bravely writing inspirational pap. I'm not Mr. Positive-Everything-Is-Going-To-Be-All-Right. If I have any strength in this world, I take it from being Real.....from expressing who I am and what I feel. I've said it to you in a previous post, and I'm going to do it again now. I will no longer lie about who I am, what I feel, and what is happening to me. I think, unconsciously, a lot of people want supernatural strength and positivity from cancer victims (and survivors) because it makes it easier for them. But that sort of positivity does not do the afflicted person any good if they are positive when others are around, and then they go home and drop the act when no is around.

I won't do that. I can't do that. To be strong, I need to show you what I'm feeling, even if it makes you uncomfortable. Don't ask me to be positive when I am not feeling positive. Don't ask me to be strong when I am feeling weak. Because that takes too much energy for me...energy I will be using to fucking fight.

And here's the thing....I don't need you to be happy and positive for me either, unless it's what YOU ARE FEELING. Because when you put on a happy face that isn't real, I can feel it. And when you refuse to tell me how shitty you feel, you make me feel alone. There is this idea out there that I should only be concentrating on my own fight, and that I shouldn't have to worry about other people's problems. But doing that makes me feel worse, if only because it makes me feel that I'm the only one with problems. Focusing only on my feelings, and my health, diminishes me....because part of being Dan, the most important part of being Dan, is caring about YOU.

So talk to me. Share with me. Give me support, but let me give you support. And maybe, together, we can get through this bullshit in one piece.

I love you.

Dan.

I have Cancer.

The world is funny sometimes. Sometimes we laugh at it's jokes, sometimes we cry. Every now and then it pulls a joke so awful that we laugh, so we don't cry. It seems, lately, that I've been the butt of some really unkind jokes; is it too late now that I realize now that those jokes weren't as terrible as I thought they were? Shit, they may have been of way of toughening me up, making me resilient, making me the type of man who is able tell the world to fuck off while I stood back up and went on with my life. Best of all, maybe it was to teach me how to take a joke..and to laugh as I cleaned up yet another mess caused by the universes myriad jokes.

Well folks I've finally learned the lessons the universe has taught me, and it couldn't be a moment too soon. Because now I'm dealing with something that isn't quite as easy to shake off.

You see, I've just been diagnosed with colo-rectal cancer. Like my last post intimated, I've been having some symptoms....problems with my ol' pooper. Yesterday, I got a colonscopy to see what was going on in there. My expectations were that it was some sort of ulcerative colitis or maybe, at worst, Chrohns. Cancer was not even in my mind.....cancer in the colon in people under 40 is extremely rare...something like 3% of colon cancer cases.

Well, they found a tumour in my rectum 3 to 4 cm big. The doctors think there is a very large chance of it being malignant, but have no idea of how long it's been there. The next couple of weeks I will be have ultrasounds, cat scans and other tests to get a better sense of the stage this cancer is in. The doctors will want to see if the cancer has spread, and this will give them an idea of how to go about fighting this thing.

And folks, I will fight. You have my guarantee.

Now, it seems to me that this is going to interrupt some of my plans. The surgery that I will eventually get will be a very intense one, that will have me in the hospital for some time. I also expect, based on the staging, that I will have to get radiation or chemotherapy.

My first thought, after learning about the cancer, was not about death or dying. My first thought was that I would have to quit school. My plans, plans that I was really excited about, were in the toilet. I wouldn't be able to go to school and handle this at the same time. I also thought about how tough it would be to be employed at all.

But I've thought long and hard about this. I'm no longer letting the world dictate what I do or do not do. I'm tired of having every plan I set up being knocked down. I'm tired of the jokes.

Dear Universe....fuck you. I am going to keep going to school. And no matter what bullshit you send at me, I'm going to handle it. Because I AM smart, goddamit. Because I am resilient. Because I am Daniel Contreras, you fucking cocksucker, and you can't beat me that easily.

My friends, I'm not going to pretend I don't need your help. I will need your support more than ever. I was sort of hesistant, at first, to announce this news. I won't lie to you...even though I'm making this public, I would appreciate some distance from you....I need your support, but right now I also need some space for my family and I. However, any of you who want to talk, either by phone or email or messaging, I am available. I won't promise you I won't break into tears if you call me, but that's just par for course for now.

I will keep you all updated...all of you who care about me. With a little luck, It won't be as serious as I think it will. But no matter how serious and bad this may be...I want to again asssure you that I'm not going to give up. Even in my moments of weakness, I won't give up. Because you won't let me give up. And I don't want to give up.

And if I ever feel like giving me up, just give me a hug, and kick my ass. But not my actual ass...cuz, you know...rectal cancer and everything. Just a little left of my ass. Okay no, maybe we'll say a slap in the face.

Just give me a slap in the face.

I love you all.

Dan.

Crappy update where I say nothing of worth

Well, it's been a while since I've given an update, but the truth is, I just haven't felt like writing lately. A big part of the reason that I've been putting off writing this entry is because, for the past couple of months, I've had some health problems that have left me unable to concentrate on writing.

When it rains, it pours.

I'm not going to get into the particulars of my maladies, but lets just say it's a really bad cherry on top of the shit sundae my life has been lately. This brother can't catch a break.

Luckily (?), my symptoms have been horrible enough that an appointment I have with a specialist has been expediated. I can't really concentrate or sit still long enough to give you all those great, amazing blog posts your used to, but I'm hoping that once I start feeling better I will write more often. I just wanted to let you guys know that I haven't completely abandoned this blog and there is a reason why I haven't been writing.

I guess the focus of the blog will probably change a little in the future. I'm really no longer thinking about career changes now that I'm going to school. I'll give it some thought and see where I want to go with this.

Other than that shitty update, I don't have anything to add.

Stay tuned.

Dan

Why the Fuck Not: How I now make Decisions.

Wow, it's been a while.

Well, a lot has been going on in both the categories of Career Change and My Awful brain.

My biggest news is that I was accepted into a Pharmacy program. Although I was happy to be accepted, I had a lot of worries about actually going back to school. There are the typical worries that I have to deal with, chief among them being the debt I will have to go into to go through my new career. There is also the fact that I feel kind of old to go back to school, and the trepidation that comes with realizing I'll be doing tests, labs, and studying again after being away from it for some time.

Then there are the worries that are unique to my own awful mind (or maybe not so unique, who knows). In a lot of way, I have become a new person in the last year. I've endeavoured to be a lot more self aware about why I make the choices I do, and I don't want to repeat the mistakes that I've made in my past. Most of my mistakes have been caused by my false pride, by my idiotic attempts to prove my intelligence, by my laziness, and by my fear.

I really don't want to do something, and end up at the same place I am right now. So I've had a lot of angsty doubts about whether or not I should accept entry into pharmacy, or if I should take a risk and just get some job, and keep an eye out for a dream. Is it funny that I consider NOT going to school a risk, but going to school as the safe alternative?

So I did a lot of soul searching about my motives for entering pharmacy, and one by one I ruled out my concerns.

I think my fears about false pride and proving my intelligence are unfounded. I looked deep inside and I found something interesting....I don't care anymore what people think of me, or my occupation. I've already told you so much about what I'm going through, that I no longer feel any fear about what my friends and family think about me. I don't want to go into pharmacy because it makes me look smart. Not at all. I felt like crying when I realized I've been more or less freed from that burden. You can think I'm a brilliant, or you can think I'm an idiot. It's irrelevant. I'm me, and that's what counts.

My fears that I am just being lazy and going into pharmacy because it is convenient, when I really looked into it, seemed almost laughable. A lazy person does not commit to four years of difficult school because they are lazy. Is school an easier out than trying to find a job and just working? No. Is school easier than trying to find a passion in life and committing to it? I don't know. Maybe. But I've been looking for ten months, and I'm really no closer to finding what I really want to do with my life. I do know that pharmacy is a good choice in that, even if it's not a passion, it still gives me some of what I need in a job. Helping people. Providing a useful service. Giving me a fair compensation so I can do what I want outside the job. All things that my last path couldn't give me.

Despite all of my reasoning, when it came down to it, I still had problems deciding if it is what I want. I think reasoning and deliberating only ever takes you so far. In the end, you know how I made my decision?
Four words:

Why the fuck not?

My biggest realization, the thing that I did not realize before my accident or before my last job or before these last couple of shitty years, is that in the end, the future doesn't really matter all that much. I've been thinking about the future so much, that I've missed out on what life really is.... a shit-load of "right nows".

I don't really care about a retirement fund, or buying a house so I'm comfy in the future, or any of the stuff most people seem to care about. I don't care, because life is what I'm living now and I have no guarantee that I'm even going to be alive in the future.

There is a choice before me. Go back to school or don't. And going back to school seems a lot more interesting and attractive than not going to school. So I'm going back to school. I WANT to go into pharmacy, so I'm going. It's exciting to finally WANT to do something. It's exciting to learn something new and it's exciting to try something different.


And if I don't like pharmacy once I leave school, so what? I'll do it for a couple of years, live on the cheap, and pay off my loans like I do know. And I'll go on to the next thing. I'll just live my life. The nice thing about my realization is that it takes a lot of my regrets and puts them in perspective. Yes, I've had a lot of bad shit happen. Yes, I've made some mistakes. But who cares...it's made me who I am.

And whereas before I did the wrong things for the wrong reasons, I like to think that now I'm doing things for the right reason, whether the "things" themselves are right or wrong.

So let's do this thing.

Deserving Compassion: Why are we always the Exception?

Why is it that we often treat the one person we should love the most, the worst? I'm not talking about our best friends, our wives, or our kids. I'm talking about ourselves, about the voice in your head that wants to make you the exception to every rule.

How often does your inner voice attack you in ways it would never attack other people? When you and your friend both have an exam the next day, how many times have you turned to your friend and told them that they were going to fail because they didn't study enough? When your friend or coworker has to do a presentation at work, how often do you tell them they are stupid for being nervous, and that everyone is going to laugh at them and see how nervous they are? How many times do you say those things to yourself?

Even knowing that fear of public speaking is the greatest fear shared by the largest number of people, you feel you SHOULD be an exception to the rule. Even knowing that most people burnout if they work too much and have too much stress in their work, you feel you SHOULD be the exception to the rule. Even though many people every day deal with mental illness due to a combination of genetics and environmental stimuli, you feel YOU ARE the exception to the rule.

I came face to face with this destructive tendency in myself last Wednesday, when my counselor asked me one simple question.

"Dan, you seem to be a very compassionate person. Why don't you have any compassion for yourself?"

The question knocked me (figuratively) on my ass. The truth is, even though I've accepted that I may be dealing with some PTSD, I'm incapable of accepting that it should have any bearing on what I get done. Before she asked me the question, I had been telling her how silly it was that such a little thing like workplace bullying or an accident should be keeping me from finding a job. I kept insisting that my trauma was such a minor thing, and that I hadn't even been as badly hurt as I could have been. I kept insisting that other people had been through worse than me.

In fact, in a lot of ways, I feel like a complete fake. I feel like I'm using some negative things that happened in my life as a way to tell myself a pretty little story so I don't have to take personal responsibility. Even as I get panicky considering career searching, I tell myself how stupid I'm being, and how lame I am for ever believing that it's because of something as ridiculous as PTSD.

And my counselor listened to all this and told me that maybe I should be more compassionate with myself, like I would be if I had witnessed all the crap that happened to me happen to a friend. Then she told me something that almost left me in tears (almost...remember..I don't cry...the only time it's okay to cry is if you get mauled by a bear...and that's only to lull it into a false sense of your weakness before you uppercut it). She told me that transition periods in a person's life, whether it's work-related or divorce, is extremely difficult and can cause a lot of anxiety and depression in and of itself. Many of her clients visited her for that reason alone. To add a life-threatening accident to the mix was almost unthinkable.

And, kiddies, do you want to know what I, in all my wisdom, told her?

"Well, my accident wasn't really life threatening"

Of course she asked me if I had known that at the time. After I got hit, did I know that? Did I know that when I was laying bleeding on the concrete?

I couldn't answer her. I didn't trust my voice at that moment to tell her the truth. Because I absolutely thought, at the time, that I could die. I kept trying to feel my face, to see how bad I was hurt, and I couldn't move my arm, and I thought I might die. I thought I might die.

And at that point, I was taught an important lesson. I learned that I am a normal person, and as such, deserve compassion. When I get it from others, I should accept it, and I don't need to feel like a fake. More importantly, I deserve it from myself.

I want all of you to learn this too. You are not an exception in the universal human experience. We are all strong, and we are all weak, and you are no different. You deserve respect and dignity, and your inner voice should give it to you. You should never beat yourself up for something that you aren't willing to beat someone else up for. And finally...take it easy on yourself. Life is hard enough, without you making it harder.

And as always, if you need an ear, I am here for you. You are never alone.

Dan

Why You Should Absolutely See A Counselor

I've always had trouble sharing my feelings and emotions with other people, especially ones that I don't know. I'm working on it, and this blog has definitely been a way for me to share a lot of what's going on in my brain, but I still have difficulties. To be sure, I'm WAY better at it then I used to be, especially as of late. I used to be the kind of guy that was more comfortable getting teeth fillings without anaesthetic than saying I love you (or I hate you, for that matter). Now, I can say it fairly easy, and I'm even getting more comfortable sharing my feelings with strangers.

However, the one thing I could never see myself doing was visiting a counselor or therapist, even when people I knew suggested it. I always thought I knew my mind better than any other person, and I figured that I could do it without any help. The only thing worse than visiting some mind shrink was the horror of other people finding out that I was visiting a therapist. Knowing I was weak was barely tolerable...letting others know I was weak was unthinkable.

The fucked up thing about it is that I honestly never considered OTHER people who visited therapists weak. I may have felt sad for them, and empathy for them, but I didn't think LESS of them as people. Like usual, the stupid voice in my head criticizes me way more than it does other people. Stupid brain.

Of course, I was completely wrong about visiting my counsellor. Although I still think I'm the best person for the job at dealing with some of my mental issues, accepting help from someone with experience is absolutely vital for my well being. If you feel like you have any issues that are getting in the way of you being the best person you can be, I recommend that you talk to a trained professional. I'm going to give you some reasons why you should, and hopefully help you with your doubts.

Mental Problems are Physical Problems

Your brain is a physical organ, just like your liver, your muscles, or your heart. Your thoughts and feelings are made up of neural pathways, and like any other organ, can be "damaged". If you go to the gym and do dangerous exercises with bad form, you hurt yourself. Fixing the damage requires proper guidance, and in the worst cases, medical help. Similarly, depression, anxiety, etc are all "bad forms" of thinking, that reinforce neural pathways which are not good for you. The good news is, the brain has plasticity and you can change the way you think, learn and feel if you have someone help you. If there is no shame going to the doctor for a torn muscle, there should be no shame in going to a mental health specialist.

Family and Friends are helpful, but are not necessarily a suitable replacement

Yes, we all turn to our families and friends in our time of need. They can be there to support you mentally, financially, spiritually, etc. The problem is that sometimes our loved ones have biases or ideas that prevent them from helping us to the best of our abilities. For example, as much as I love my family and use them for support, they were unable to give me help I needed when I was going through the worst of my depression. I was getting help for how to deal with my boss, and advice on "sticking it out", because my family and friends believed that making money was important and leaving without another job would be a mistake. Part of the problem, of course, was that I was not completely open and honest about what was going on in my job. Nor was I completely honest about how difficult a time I was having after my accident. But that's part of the problem; your friends and family will give you advice without delving deeper into your mind and situation. A counsellor is a lot more careful, and listens a lot better. Even after I left the job and recovered from my accident, most of the advice I was getting was "get off your ass and do something" advice that wasn't dealing with the core of my problem and wasn't very helpful. I know that I need to "get off my ass". I'm trying to "get off my ass". It's just that I'm having a terrible time doing it. Going to see a counselor gave me an understanding of why it is so hard, and gave me resources so "getting of my ass" can become a possibility, instead of something I beat me self up over everyday.

You will Eventually Deal with Your Issues: A therapist can make sure you do so constructively instead of destructively.

When mental pain becomes to much to bear, we as organisms will find a way to get through it. The problem is, most times we are not equipped to deal with it in a constructive manner. How many people do you know who find the solutions to their problems at the bottom of a bottle? I find it funny (but not ha-ha funny) that some of the most macho guys out there will insist they don't need a shrink or emotional pansy shit, and then go home and beat the crap out of their wives. Or get into street fights. Or drink and do drugs. Or buy a gun and blow their brains out. There are better ways; you at least owe it to your friends and family to think about counselling.


Talking to Someone Can Crystallize your Problems in a way Thinking Can't

Often times, the solutions that you need for your problems is in your head. Speaking with a counsellor isn't always about getting advice; it's also about having someone listen as you deal with your own problems. When we write and speak, we open up and use parts of our brain that we aren't using when we are using "the voice" in our head, that niggling little jerk who leads you astray. In the same way that making a list on paper can help you organize your day, talking to someone and bouncing ideas off them can make you aware of solutions or give you new insight into what may really going on in your life. Speaking with a counselor allows you to talk openly and honestly in a confidential setting, with someone whose feelings you can not hurt.

It's not as expensive as you may think.

There are plenty of organizations such as Family Services or Catholic Family Services that have a tiered payment structure that allows you to pay based on your economic situation. Since I'm unemployed, I pay only 10 dollars per visit. You may have to pay a little more if you make more money, but it's absolutely worth it.


I've been seeing a counsellor for a little over a month, and it's been absolutely an eye opening experience for me. I hope I've given you some good reasons why visiting a mental health professional can be a rewarding activity. If you have any questions or comments for me, feel free to ask. Also, please feel free to link to this post if you have any friends or family that could benefit from it.

Thanks for listening.

Dan.

The Thing That Keeps Screwing You Up: I Sort of Found Mine.

It's funny how a realization about yourself can sort of come up on you and smack you on the ass while you're not doing anything in particular. For a guy who does a lot of soul-searching, I find that I get a lot more answers when I'm doing it passively (i.e. when I'm sitting around listening to music) then when I'm doing it actively (i.e.meditating, searching the Internet for advice, and other mental masturbations).

The particular realization I will share with you today happened after listening to Stone Temple Pilot's "Sour Girl" and during Red Hot Chili Pepper's "Aeroplane". Before I share it with you (patience, kiddies, patience), I want to talk about a realization that occurred to me about a week ago, shortly after my last blog post. Some of it was due to the feedback you guys gave me after my post. Some of it was due to my THOUGHTS about you guys (specific people) after my post.

I realized that, complex as we all think we are, most of our problems can be boiled down to one thing. I can't tell you what that thing is because it is different for everyone. The problem is, we are terrible about finding our own thing, because we try to defend our psyches at all cost. So we make up bullshit to cover it up, and our problems multiply because of it.

Think about how often our arguments with our parents, our friends and our significant others repeat themselves. I bet you there is an argument you have had over and over with your spouse or significant other that you could recite by heart. You could probably have the argument by yourself at this point, and completely cut out the other person....rote arguments, if you will. Here's the kicker...if you continually have the same argument, and never seem to get your point across, then you are likely dealing with a person's thing. If you are having an argument, and are trying to deflect it or end it, then you are likely dealing with your own thing.

This thing is also why we so often continuously find ourselves in the same predicament. Whether you keep finding yourself with the wrong person or at the wrong job, or you keep finding yourself drawn to books and television shows with a certain theme, or you keep getting screwed in the same way, the chances are your being led by your thing to those situations.

What is your thing?

Do you like being a martyr?

Do you think you deserve to be treated like dirt?

Do you hate to commit?

Do you have an inappropriate attachment to a destructive habit?

What is it about your personality that keeps leading you over and over to conflict, problems, and angst?

Like I said, this little realization has something to with certain people in my life, and how there always seemed to be one thing that continuously created problems in their lives.

Now, before you start thinking that I'm some sort of guru with special insight, let me disabuse you of that notion (and no, I don't actually believe any of you actually think that). This idea has obviously gone back to...gee, I don't know...Shakespeare, if not before then. Yes, kiddies...we all have a tragic flaw. We are all heroes just waiting to be impaled by the sword of Damocles hanging just over our heads. No, this isn't exactly an original idea. Moreover, I did some Internet research on this concept, and came across this magnificent post by blogger/career advice columnist Penelope Trunk (incidentally, after I came across her blog, I spent hours perusing it..I'm surprised I've never heard of her, seeing as how she had great advice and resources for people like me).

So this got me to thinking about what my thing is. After all, I've got some problems I'm trying to deal with; if I've got a pretty good handle on other people's things, I don't seem to have a good handle on mine. So I did some brainstorming, and came across some good ideas. Could my thing be:

1)I hate responsibility and will try to stay away from it.
2)I need people to know how smart I am.
3)I have to have people's respect.
4)I can't live without positive feedback.
5)I hate conflict, and will do anything to avoid it.
6) Fear of failure.

Each of these things seemed like fundamental problems to me, and all of them seem to capture at least part of my personal flaw. But none of them seemed quite right to me. None of them seemed....complete.

Which brings me to today, when it hit me like a ton of bricks.

In a startling moment, I looked into myself and found that I loathe knowing the future and revel in uncertainty. I love being lost more than anything in the world, even if I find it terrifying and it leads me to losing things that I want, that I need. Don't get me wrong...in no way am I saying that I'm adventurous, brave, risk-loving person. In a perfect world, where I didn't have all the hang ups I have, I may have been that sort of person. But there is too much fear in me to be that way.

However, the hatred I have of a stable future is perversely true. It's a lot of little things that leads me to believe it, though I haven't seen the common thread until now. If I have any arguments with my fiancee (although we don't fight all that often), it's about making plans and staying on track "for the future". Furthermore, as much as I blame my old boss for being abusive (she was a horrible, horrible hag, and I wish her secondary...no tertiary stage syphilis), it's knowing that I had to go back over and over to the same job that really terrified me about the job. And that happens with EVERYTHING I do. Even the job I held with a professor I loved, doing work that was stimulating, sort of depressed me. How screwed up is it that I was elated when he told me he no longer had funding for me?

Want to know something even more screwed up? Maybe it's because I've been watching too much news about Joplin, but the other night I had a dream that I lost everything I owned in a tornado. The apartment, all my stuff, and my car. And in my dream, and for five minutes after I woke up.....I was happy. I was happy that I lost everything, because it meant that I didn't know what was waiting for me the next day.

When I go for walks (which I do almost every day), I like to walk down strange alleys and streets, and I live for the moments where I don't know where I'm going, and what I'll see. The same goes for when I drive my car. When I finally manage to orient myself, I feel a little disappointed.

Even this...even all of this career angst that I'm having...I get off on it in some respects. If I didn't have some of the PTSD bullshit that I'm dealing with, I'd probably be having a hell of a good time right now. A future with uncertainty is an exciting future, ripe with possibility, if you allow the cliche. Before I had the accident, before I had my hell job, I had a dream that I would go to a new place, and have new experiences. It was great, and I was happy. And then I came to this new city, and realized it was the same thing, the same shit as before. And I grew despondent....

Like I said, I'm not super adventurous, nor am I a risk taker (although a big part of me wishes I was). As well, my drive for uncertainty doesn't seem to apply to my relationships. Although I enjoy meeting new people, I have an attachment to people that I don't seem to have for material things or places. I can't even fathom not being with my fiancee, or losing any one of my family members or friends. But losing a job, changing my career, moving to another city, losing all my stuff..well, it excites me and makes me happy in a way it doesn't seem to do to other people. I allow for the possibility that I am wrong about my thing. Maybe I'm describing something that everyone feels. Maybe it is my psychological problems talking. But somehow... I don't think so. It's way too scary and difficult for me to accept not to be the truth.

Who knows though...maybe this is all just bullshit covering up my real thing. You may know better than I.

Anyways, thanks for listening to this particular mental masturbation.

Dan.