The Last Post from Hartford

Finally, finally, the last typing I’ll be doing in Hartford. We close on the new house in two and a half hours! So, in that frame of mind, I’ll mention that I’ll be out of email contact for the next few days as we wait to get the DSL going at the new place. And I’ll be back under radio silence as far as the site’s concerned. With any luck I’ll have everything back up and online before the surgery (on Wednesday), but if not, one of us will find a way to update you all on what’s happening.

It’s moving time, baby!

Early Mornings, Melted Goodbars

“It’s three thirty in the frickin’ morning. What are you doing awake?”

Well, the short answer, would be “typing softly so as not to wake up sleeping beauty in the next room.” That’s one good thing about the new house – the office is down the hall and around a corner from the master bedroom. That should help mask my late night typing jaunts.

The long answer? Well, that’s somewhat. Um… longer.

You know how sometimes people get reflective on their lives when they have cancer? And how others get reflective when they take part in someone else’s life event, like a wedding or a funeral? And how others still get in the mood when they have a birthday? I hit the trifecta this weekend, baby! A wedding on Saturday, my birthday on Sunday and, well, you know about the cancer thing already.

I guess this would be a good point to post a warning. I don’t really know where this post is going, but it probably won’t be to a shiny happy place. If you’re newly diagnosed with Hodgkin’s, you might want to stop reading here and go read some of my happier posts. Mom, this might not be one you want to print out for Nanny to read. Or maybe it will be – we’ll see where I go with this. At the very least, it will be long and rambling and kill a lot of trees. Be patient, everybody.

Strangely enough, the thing that convinced me to risk waking Barb was an early morning snack. I’ve been awake this whole time and crossed that border between tired and hungry. I came upstairs to do some of my usual random websurfing, checking up on the Hodgkin’s board, some blogs and my Flickr account (new photos added a couple of days ago that I neglected to mention). As I sat here numbly clicking through the world, I realized I had a giant Mr. Goodbar in the left hand drawer of my desk.

Interesting that all of my candy resides on the sinister side of my desk.

One thing about the Whitney Street house – while it’s pretty cold in the winter, it gets hot quickly in the summer. We came home from the birthday celebrating to find the second floor quite stuffy. We didn’t risk the third floor. I opened the windows in the bedroom, so hopefully it had cooled off in there before Barb turned in.

The office, however, has not. Not much anyway. You see, the two windows here don’t have screens. Well, one definitely doesn’t and I’m almost certain the other doesn’t either. Something for the new owners to concern themselves with, whoever those new owners wind up being.

None of this was going through my head as I opened the left hand drawer of my desk. I think what was going through my head was something along the lines of “Food. Eat. Now. Good.” I took out the Mr. Goodbar and proceeded to break it into its component rectangles as I always do. At least, I tried to. The bar wasn’t gooey, but it wasn’t breakable. Just a really pliable in-between state.

So I’m sitting at my desk, eating my Play-Doh textured Goodbar and something poignant and relevant comes to mind. Some grandiose statement on life, death, melted chocolate and Doing Things. Something to make all of you say “Holy CRAP! I’ve got to read this guy more often! He’s DEEP!”

Sadly, that poignant, grandiose statement is lost to the ether, eaten away by ADD, early morning and chocolate satiation. I promise it was really good too. Both the idea and the chocolate.

Even though I haven’t the slightest notion what my early notion was, it got my typing and I figure I should keep going. This is the part that makes me think I’m going to get into trouble. Not trouble exactly. Maybe more along the lines of uncomfortable. Different? Maybe. Depressed? Possibly. Boring? God, I hope not. Rambling? What, are you new here?

Whatever my thought may have been as I was trying to lick the melted chocolate off my fingers, it had something to do in no small way with This Thing I’m Dealing With. You know: the cancer.

Where does my head want me to begin? Let’s start with an update that I forgot to post, then you’ll be able to follow along with the bouncing ball that is my brain. Here’s what I posted over on the Hodgkin’s forum (partially edited so it doesn’t seem weird and stupid over here) :

I do have some good news this morning to add on to all the drama.

1) Barb has done some wrangling and made some phone calls and has managed to move our closing date on the new house up to June 9th. We’re both overanxious to get into the new place and really tired of being in the old place. She told me last night that she’s gotten to the point where having to come home to this place just wears her out and crushes her spirit. Then she realized that she feels like this coming home from work, but I’m having to spend 24 hours a day here. We might have to pay two mortgages for a little while, but we’ll figure something out to make it work.

2) I forgot to mention yesterday (I dunno why, something must have been on my mind), but my bloodwork is finally back to normal. Still a tiny bit lower than it should be, but no more mask for me! WOO HOO!

3) Last night Barb took me out to Outback for a “No more MOPP” celebration dinner. Incidentally, if you’re on MOPP a word of advice: Even though you can eat cheese again 14 days later, this is apparently something you should ease back into, as my intestines will attest. Anyway, as we were getting ready to leave, my phone rang and it was SuperCoop. It always amazes me when doctors call and talk to me themselves.

He said he had talked to the chest radiologist and the nuclear medicine radiologist and they both agree that it could be pretty much anything that’s lighting up on the PET. So he’s going to be talking to a “very very good” thoracic surgeon about getting that biopsy done. He thinks it’ll probably happen next week and said what will be done to me is called the Chamberlain Procedure (bottom of the page). Apparently I’m going to be a really good basketball player when it’s all said and done. When the surgeon calls, I’m going to see if he can do a Gretzky Procedure on me instead.

So there’s where things are standing now. We’re overjoyed that we’ll be moving into the house soon and super happy that we’re gonna be cutting part of this sucker out to see what’s going on. That’s all I would need is to go through the whole SCT process and still have the same thing light up just because it’s born from the nether regions of Mars. Now I just sit and wait for the thoracic surgeon to call.

That was Thursday morning. I haven’t heard anything from the thoracic surgeon yet, so I’m going to call my SCT coordinator and see who I need to bug about the biopsy. So all this means that there’s a possibility that I’m in remission, and might have been for some time. Except for one thing.

The Itch is back.

It started three days ago, on my back for the first time. Sunday morning, the old familiar itching of the hands came back. Mom, Dad – close your eyes for this next line.

Fuck.

Yes, my number one symptom of the Hodge seems to be reasserting itself. It’s not as bad or as maddening as it was for a year and a half before diagnosis, but it didn’t start out that maddening then either. Am I angry? Not really. Sad? Maybe a little maudlin. More than anything, I’m just tired.

I’m tired of these early morning nights, too itchy to sleep, to tired to think.

I’m tired of putting my body through the wringer. I’ve been on one form of chemotherapy or another for a full year, for a disease that usually takes six months of chemo.

I’m tired of being tired. I can’t help anyone anymore and can barely help myself on the bad days. On the good days, I can sit down and type.

I’m tired of being emotional. Barb will walk into the room to find me bawling my eyes out and all she sees on the TV is a frickin’ long distance commercial. I was quite proud of myself for holding it together all through the wedding Saturday, though there were quite a few close calls. Interestingly enough, as much as I cry about external things, I can’t seem to bring the tears up for my own plight. In fact, thinking about myself is often a surefire way to make the tears dry up. How messed up is that? My theory is that some part of me knows that the other things I’m crying for are short term with a definite ending. If I start crying for myself, where will I stop?

I’m tired of waiting. My whole life has been on hold for the past year, particularly the last six months or so. While things are indeed happening, the majority of my life is in “sit and wait” mode.

I’m tired of scratching. I’ve already got scars from the first round of itching, all of the places where I clawed at my skin until I bled. I’m ready to heal now, not open up more wounds.

I’m tired of my brain not working. Sure, I’ve been doing Sudoku like nobody’s business, and I’m not a complete gibbering idiot just yet, but there are still frustrating short circuits I’ve been having to deal with. For example, I was reading a description of our house which mentioned the linoleum that had been installed “on the cellar floor.” I couldn’t read that correctly until the fourth or fifth time. On all of the initial tries, the line said “cellar roof,” which made no sense to me and caused me to keep rereading the sentence to myself. And this wasn’t just a simple misreading mistake. On those first three or four tries, the paper actually had the word “roof” typed on it, according to my brain. On that last attempt, the word finally changed into what was actually there. That was even scary than the now-usual random mistyping, where I’ll say, replace all of my “f”s with “p”s or something equally bizarre.

I guess most of all, I’m tired of this ever-looming and slowly growing specter of death hanging above me. Sure, Hodgkin’s is the most curable cancer out there. Sure, it’s the “easy” cancer to have. But guess what – the cure rate’s not at one hundred percent. And a good portion of the percentage of people who kick this thing beat it down with ABVD alone. With each different form of chemo I’m taking in and each new procedure being performed, I’m moving more and more into the “special case” category. The one time it pays to be average, I have to go and be different.

I’m often asked how I do it. How I get through the day, each day, every day. How I cope with this thing hanging over my head and the constant, crushing letdowns I’ve had through the course of this stupid disease. Well, there are a few things that have helped me up to this point.

One of the most important things is my ADD. This is one of the very few times it’s helped me out in life. If you’re distracted by shiny objects whenever you start to think Bad Cancer Thoughts, you don’t have a long enough string of Bad Cancer Thoughts to break through your clueless hide. Sure, I’m constantly reminded and remind myself of the fact I have cancer several times an hour. But there’s so much other stuff in the world to cram into my head that it’s easy to put the cancer thing on the back burner often, especially since it won’t stay back there. I mean, sure this cancer thing’s important, but look – tinsel!

That’s the easy, happy answer I most readily give out to people. And while it’s an easy, happy answer, that doesn’t mean it’s untrue. At most, it’s a lie of omission. Forgetfulness is a large part of my Cancer Sanity Program, but that’s not the whole story. It’s just the easiest story.

The next part of the story would be that indefinable trait of human nature known as me. While I can have my dark, brooding depressed moments, it’s not in me to blather on about them to other people. He says as he blathers on to other people. I guess what I’m trying to say is that most often when I’m around other people, I don’t tend to be exceedingly serious. Quiet, certainly, but it’s my nature to be quietly funny. I like to put the people around me at ease, and it’s easier to do that by making fun of this stupid creature than it is to whine about my life’s injustice. There are enough people doing that in the world already – we don’t need one more voice.

As difficult as things may get for me, I always keep in mind that there are so many who have it worse than I do. No matter how I want to look at it, I can always think of people in worse situations. Yeah, I have cancer, but it’s not brain cancer. Or colon cancer. I could easily be in much, much worse shape than I am right now. I could be in a third world country with no available resources for cancer treatment. I could be in this first world country with no insurance. I could have no support. I could be alone. I could be dead.

Aside from that, I really get sick of one-downsmanship. I mean, here I sit with the trump card for almost any one-downsmanship faceoff, and I refuse to play it. In public, at least. In my head, I’m thinking “Oh you poor thing, there with your sore throat you’ve been whining about for the past three hours. I’m glad I only have CANCER to deal with!” Not that I’ve become a less caring person, but come on.

Another large part of my story is support. A big thing that keeps me going are the supportive emails I get from all of you out there, whether family, longtime friends, newfound friends or random folks who stumbled across the site. Each word of encouragement helps me lift my head and prepare to fight the next battle. When I see folks in person and they give their support, I get lifted a little higher yet. You people play a big part in keeping me going, and I do thank you for that.

The last thing is a world premiere. I’m pretty sure I gave Barb a sneak preview awhile back, but as Barb is basically a part of me, this is the first time I consider it to be telling someone else. The biggest secret that keeps me going was a revelation I had awhile back. I don’t remember when it was exactly, but Barb probably knows. She’s the part of me that remembers things.

One day, I was thinking about this whole Cancer Experience. I was thinking about fighting, I was thinking about winning and I was thinking about losing. Mostly, I was thinking about giving up. Let me rephrase that. I wasn’t thinking about actually doing the deed and giving up, more like I was thinking about what “giving up” required. What thing in your body or your mind would have to change to make you quit. I’ve heard of people with other cancers who have relapsed, often multiple times, and have decided to just let the cancer take them. The treatment was worse than the illness, so they’d rather enjoy things while they could, rather than go through the agony of more chemo or more radiation.

I was reading someone’s blog or maybe just a story about someone with some other kind of cancer. One of the bad ones. They had recently made this decision themselves and were going through the process of dying. Something in their story or in their words finally made a connection fuse in my brain.

You see, up until that point, I was fighting this thing under a major misconception. Not an actively thought out one, mind you. Just working under a notion I hadn’t thought about or thought all the way through. Up until I finished that story, I thought of the death option as a light switch. If I got to the point where I decided to give up and let the cancer take me, it would be over. As if the mere act of giving up and deciding to die would flick this life/death switch to “death” and it would be all over and done with.

I should interject at this point that I’m not a stupid person. I’m merely of an age where I’ve never really thought about death from illness. People in my little world died from car crashes and hurricanes and freak accidents and heart attacks – things that take you rather quickly. Therefore, the people dying from cancer and old age and disease all went the same way in my mind. Sure, I know these aren’t quick deaths, but I never really sat down and pondered what one of these would be like. Have you, little Mister/Miss Healthypants?

Once I thought about it, I was stunned at just how idiotic my subconscious notions were. Giving up on this thing isn’t an easy out. Dying from cancer is a horrifying process. To die from cancer is to lose pieces of yourself little by little each and every day until there’s nothing left. Not only does it steal you away from your loved ones, it steals you away from yourself.

Above all else, this has become my primary driving factor. Not necessarily a will to live, or an urge to not die, but a definitive goal to specifically not die from cancer. I have no fears of being shot or stabbed or killed in a horrendous car wreck. Drowning and burning are still in the top three of ways I don’t want to go, however. But more than anything else, I’ve made a vow to myself that I’m not letting cancer take me. I am not going to give in to disease. I am not going to waste away. I am not going to lose myself. No matter how dark the night, how early the morning or how dismal the test results, there is one thing I can promise to both you and myself with no doubts in my mind or heart.

I will not give up.

Email Issues

Oh, and I just wanted to mention: if you’ve sent me an email in the past couple of days, I’m not ignoring you or being my usual lazy self. Dreamhost has been having some major email issues as of late and right now they’re stockpiling our emails on one of the servers while they try to fix the problem. At some point in the near future I should be getting a flood of email and I can start replying. Until then, feel free to leave me comments on the site.

I’m Growing as a Person

Well, if there’s one thing this cancer’s doing, it’s building my character. Or maybe chipping it away. Either way, it’s starting to help me let go of stuff.

You know how awhile back, I came up with my new “It’s not Art” mantra? Well, sometimes saying is easier than doing.

I had gathered up all of our photos from the house inspection and started building a site to show them off. I came up with a nice clean, design. Then I decided I needed a graphic of a dogwood flower. A little research and some hunting for sharpies ensued. Then I had to find some paper. Next comes the dismantling of a picture frame so I can make an impromptu lightbox (don’t tell Barb). Then comes the scanning and touching up in Photoshop. A couple of hours after I get the idea, I have a flower I’m happy with. Of course, a flower that nice needs a better looking site, so I work on that a bit more.

All the while, I’m complimenting myself on following my mantra because even though I knew a few pixels weren’t in perfect alignment, I was going to let it go and not obsess.

I eventually came up with something I liked, only to realize that I had taken off designing without taking the 800×600 folks into consideration (a small part of my constituency, but an important one – all of our parents). So then I started creating two site versions, one for the 6x8s and one for the rest of us.

Because I wasn’t obsessing.

Finally the Hodge reared its head and sent me to bed. As I lay there thinking about how my arms had no energy and my head was spinny and hating the whole Hodge thing, something in my head clicked. That tiny little rational voice in my head that usually gets overwhelmed by Elivs Costello lyrics and all the other voices in there finally cleared its throat and stepped to the front of the queue.

“Hey – that whole ‘It’s not Art’ thing? That’s not what you’re doing. You’re still thinking like Very Important Design People are going to be coming by and judging you. Get over yourself and just get the photos posted, stupid.”

This made enough sense to me to actually drag myself out of bed and come back to the computer. I grabbed the inspection photos, upgraded my Flickr account and threw them all up there. Done. I’m keeping my layout concepts for the house’s site, because at some point, I’ll come back and make that. After all, it is real purty. So from now on, I have a new method for my madness:

1) Take photos
2) Try not to obsess over making them all pretty
3) Upload to Flickr
4) Worry about a pretty site some other day

Sure, people do this all the time. I, however, am a slow learner and this is a huge step for me. You can’t imagine how huge, but I’m sure Barb could tell you. Revel in the new me – I know I will be.

Now that I’ve said what I needed to, you can go look at our new house.

I Guess I’m an Oilers Fan Now

Well, sadly, I was right. The Devils lost Game 5, playing much the same way they did in games 1-3. You know, I was just saying they wouldn’t win so that they would – they didn’t have to prove me right. So now I’ll cheer for Edmonton. Sure, the Ducks brought some more purple into the league, but they took my Neidermeyer, so they get no support. Besides, that Edmonton arena ROCKS!

ATTENTION DAD! Be sure and watch the San Jose/Edmonton game this Wednesday at 8 EST on OLN. They’ll be playing in Edmonton and you’ll get to hear what I was telling you about on Sunday. Plus, if they win and close out the series, the place is going to go bonkers.

In other news, I masked up and we went over to the new house for the inspection. There were a couple of minor issues, mostly with the fireplace. That actually makes it sound worse than it is. Basically, the fireplace needed some cleaning and a good inspecting from a chimney guy. The top of the chimney needs a little mortar and we couldn’t find the cleanout for the furnace side of the chimney. Other than that, a semi-screwy attic fan and little touch ups here and there, the place passed with flying colors. I took a few photos of everything and I’m in the process of throwing them all together for you to see. Expect another post by the end of the day.

Another realtor brought someone by our house while we were at the new house. They didn’t say anything bad about the place, which is a step in the right direction, but we don’t have an offer yet, and that’s what counts.

One last thing – I’m going to be reworking my email delivery system in a little bit. Shouldn’t mean too much to you folks out there, but if you send me an email today and I don’t reply for awhile (like, even longer than it usually takes me), send me a note via the contact form and I’ll let you know if I’m just being lazy. It goes to a different address, so shouldn’t be affected. Assuming, of course, that I don’t do something really stupid.

Nope, They’re Still Not Gonna Make It

I’m not sure if it’s the hockey gods trying to make me look like an idiot or if they just needed me to post about them to win, but the Devs put on a really impressive show yesterday. They finally looked like themselves, even though Gionta still hasn’t gotten a point in this series. I’ll declare this right now – Cam Janssen is my cancer watchdog. Now whenever I’m feeling low from the chemo, I’m just picturing a million Cams skating through my system knocking the Hodge on its ass. Let’s hear it for positive visualization.

So whichever thing I did yesterday to make them win, I’ll do it again today. Let’s see…

The way the Devils are looking right now, I would not be surprised in the least if they lose on Saturday Sunday and are swept beaten 4-1. Being the team they are and on the cusp of elimination, I would also not be surprised if they win on Saturday Sunday. But the way they’ve been playing in this series and, more importantly, the way the Hurricanes have been playing, I don’t see the Devils making it through to the next round. Still, the playoffs are where the miracles happen, right?

Man, it’s hard being a fan…

Cancer-wise, I’m feeling slightly better. My sleeping habits are still hosed from the prednisone and I have bacne like you wouldn’t believe, but I’m slowly getting to where I don’t dread climbing the stairs. I’m still not that fond of them and they still wear me out, but I’m getting there. I’m spending Mother’s Day here alone at the house to be away from the crowd at Bev’s house today. The weather’s being crappy and rainy and everyone’s going to have to stay huddled inside and I really don’t like that stupid little mask. So, I’ll do some more lying around the house today and wait for the hockey game at 7, when I get to climb all the way up to the third floor. I think I’ll pack some provisions and start the journey around 6.

Hmmm… today feels like a Big Lebowski day. I wonder which moving box we’ve stashed that in… Oooo! Maybe a Coen Brothers marathon! Though, I’m pretty sure I sent the Hudsucker Proxy to storage. My life is so full…

Speaking of storage and such, another realtor came by to show off the house yesterday. They were here for about a half hour or so, but no word yet on what the potential buyers thought. Our house inspection for the new place is on Monday, so it’ll be great to get to see our new place again. We’ve got another open house for this place coming up next Sunday, so I’ve got a whole week to maniacally shuffle around the house hiding anything of value. There’s just something about random strangers walking around my house alone that gives me the heebie jeebies, especially in this neighborhood.

I mean… this is a GREAT neighborhood! Buy our house!

Man, I Need a Break

It’s been quite a week since last we spoke. Let’s see how much I can recall.

The biggest news is, Barb and I have found a new house and our offer’s been accepted. We’ve got an inspection on Monday, so sometime after that I’ll put up some photos. We’re both tremendously excited, as there’s so much that’s absolutely perfect about this house. When we bought our current abode, it never quite felt like home. First, we had a good solid year’s worth of work we had to put into ti just to make it liveable. Then with its location and such, we always knew that we’d be moving at some point once it came time to be havin’ little chilluns. This new house is it. The Last House. At least until the kids all grow up and we get moved to an assisted living community.

One of the many truly excellent things about the new house is, it’s ready to move in. It could use a little paint on the walls, but that’s IT. We can immediately start settling in to this place. We don’t have to rip the kitchen down to the bare studs before we can cook anything. We can move our boxes and furniture into the house, unpack the boxes, stash our stuff and STOP! I cannot put in to words how amazing that is. Let me see if I can do it with a picture.

Me in our old kitchen.

This, to me, is the one photo that typifies everything we’ve gone through with this house. There are SO many more that do an equally horrifying job, but… well, let’s just zoom in a bit here.

The eyes have it.

Yes, I think the look in my eyes says more than the rotted floorboards could ever say.

Cancer-wise, life has really sucked as of late. I’m done with the chemo, but this one has finally done me in. If I go up or down the stairs here, I have to rest wherever I wind up for awhile before I can even think about making the return trip. My pulse races like I’ve been running a marathon and I’m just as out of breath. All from one flight of stairs, taken very slowly. This really sucks, to say the least.

I went to the doc’s yesterday to get checked out because of it. Actually, I was taken to doc’s ’cause Barb had to leave work and come take me. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to actually drive myself there and back. I’m just that tired.

They drew some blood and my red cells are okay. Low, but workable. My neutraphils, however, were in the basement. These are the things that your white blood cells are based off of, so it’s a key as to your immunity from illness and infection. They start to worry a little if your count gets down to 1500. Mine was at 400. So now I have to stay away from groups of people and children, wash my hands like I have OCD and wear a mask if I’m feeling energetic enough to wander out into the world. Fortunately I’m too tired to make it to the front door let alone go out it, so I don’t have to worry about the mask too much for now.

The medical folks are thinking this might all be a reaction to stopping the prednisone, the steroid that makes up the last “P” in MOPP. Dr. D gave me another prescription for the pred that we can taper off this time, as well as an antibiotic to help head off anything bad I might catch until my counts come back up.

So now I just take pills and lie around the house. It’s not as glamourous as they make it seem in the movies. the next thing on my medical agenda is a PET scan on Friday the 19th. This will be the one that determines what we’ll be doing next.

One more good thing about the new house – it’s 19 minutes away from Yale Medical. That means if our timing works out right with the closing and the stem cell transplant, I won’t have to stay in a hotel after the SCT! That would so rock.

I think more than anything, I need a cancer break right now. I would love to just have one day where I didn’t have to think about it. No pills to take. No aches and pains and tiredness. I’d stay away from the hodgkin’s forum and eat whatever I want. I’d go down to my new workshop and build something. Spend the day making something instead of thinking about dying. Yesterday was my one year anniversary. I’ve been fighting this thing for a whole year and I’m tired of punching.

Hockey-wise, things have been even worse. The Devils are down 3-0 in their series against Carolina. I blame myself, as you can see from my playoff picks. Everyone I picked is getting their ass handed to them. The Avs were swept, the Devs are down 3-0, the Sens are down 3-1. Edmonton’s putting up a bit of a fight and hanging in there, down 2-1, but still. The way the Devils are looking right now, I would not be surprised in the least if they lose on Saturday and are swept. Being the team they are and on the cusp of elimination, I would also not be surprised if the win on Saturday. But the way they’ve been playing in this series and, more importantly, the way the Hurricanes have been playing, I don’t see the Devils making it through to the next round. Still, the playoffs are where the miracles happen, right?

Still Alive… Mostly

Hey everybody – I’m still here. The MOPP! has been wearing me out for the past week. Yesterday I didn’t even wander in front of the computer until 11:00 or so at night. This has been more of an all over exhaustion, akin to the post-hospital recovery times more than the chemo-tiredness. My body’s weak, my brain’s cloudy and I just can’t seem to get out of my own way. So let’s get you updated before I pass out at the keyboard here…

Barb’s game went well – the students beat the faculty, 12-7. Last year was the first year the faculty won and they only did it by one run, so being five behind isn’t all that bad. Especially compared to some of the past shellackings. Barb even got a hit – atta girl, slugger!

The open house went well as well. We got a few interested nibbles, including the former owners of the house. Barb and I came home from Wallingford to find them all sitting in our living room – quite an offputting sight. They loved what we’ve done with the house (how could they not, considering the condition we got the house in) and are hoping to be able to buy it back. Probably not a likely situation since the house price has doubled since they sold it. Of course, the value has quintupled at least.

In hockey news, after the first round of the playoffs, my predictions are at 50 percent (warning – large, wallpaper-size graphic ahead). I told you I didn’t know jack about the Western Conference. But then, who would expect none of the top four seeds to make it in? As for the East, Philly over Buffalo was more wishful thinking on my part, since I didn’t want the Devils to have to face Buffalo. Of course now that things are underway, I remember that the Stanley Cup isn’t a straightforward tree structure to allow for home ice and such, so it doesn’t matter that Buffalo won anyway.

In keeping with sticking my neck out on the line, I’ve made a revised playoff tree (warning – large, wallpaper-size graphic ahead again). We’ll see how I do in this round…

Now I’m gonna go lie down…

Get Out the Brooms

And it’s a Devils’ sweep! And Gionta got a short handed goal! Elias now has five goals and six assists! Gomer got a goal!

I have to say, I really do respect the Rangers’ coach for pulling their goalie with three minutes to go after the Devils took a penalty. It showed that he wasn’t ready to let his team give up and they actually made up a little bit of ground. Kind of the opposite tack that I usually think of anything associated with Jaromir Jagr, but it probably helped that he re-injured his shoulder on his first shift. That let the rest of the Rangers play tough and not give up. Still… sweep time, baby!

On the chemo front, I had another good night. Looks like taking Zofran an hour before the chemo drugs is the key. I’m still going to wait until after Wednesday before I have any tomato sauce again. Wednesday I get another blast of vinblastine, so by Thursday I might be secure enough with my belly to eat red things.

Barb’s faculty vs. student softball game is tomorrow, but I’m not going to be able to be there. It’s down in New Haven at 10 and we have the realtors coming over at 12:30 to get the open house set up. Since I won’t be able to race back and forth (it’s about a 45 minute drive, even at Brianspeed), I’m going to be sticking around here to make sure they get in the house and get set up okay. I did get to go with her today to watch their practice. I don’t know what the students look like, but the faculty was looking pretty good. Nothing like seeing all of that gray hair flying through the breeze…

And so it Begins…

Well, I’ve been sprinting around like mad trying to remember all of the places in the house we’ve touched since the last time we showed it because… a real-life realtor’s going to be showing the place in about half an hour. Woo hoo! Now I just have to figure out where I’m going to go for the next hour or so.

Oh, and since I didn’t mention it last time, if you’re looking to buy a house in Hartford, our open house is going to be this Sunday from 1PM-3PM. The contacts on the page are our rockin’ realtors. Say you’re a fan of the site and you’ll get a $1 discount on the price of the house!

Okay, this is really frickin’ creepy. For some reason I have the song “Just Once” by James Ingram stuck in my head (please shoot me). Being the meticulous blogger that I am (as evidenced by my site’s complete lcka of tpyos), I went over to AllMusic to make sure he’s the one who sang the song. I go there only to find that their album of the day is James Ingram’s Greatest Hits: The Power of Great Music, which includes “Just Once.” How often could something like that happen?

The first person to say “just once” gets a slap.