Stanko's Stance

I have my second round of Chemotherapy today. It’s been a long time coming. I’ve been yo-yo’d a bit in terms of my appointments because of various tests and clinical trails that I may or may not be a part of. 

The constant shuffling of my calendar ended up with myself getting Chemotherapy a week later than I was originally scheduled. 

Turns out that extra week matters. This week has been brutal. Starting this past Sunday, I began waking up every morning in pain, and the displeasurable feeling has its own vindictive personality. Sometimes it decides to persist throughout the day, and sometimes it disappears for a few hours before barging in like an unwelcome drunken house guest. 

Today, Thursday, was particularly terrible because “The Bin” had to come out. “The Bin” had only been used in extreme cases of nausea and indigestion during/post my last chemo treatment. The fact that I had to grab for it and regress into a truly ugly drooling troll again before a second Chemo appointment…well my mental state is not great right now. 

But credit to my parents and fiancé for reminding me that last week was a good week. Last week I felt as if I’d be able to secure a bit of normalcy. I was able to clear out emails, accomplish menial tasks and enjoy moments that deserved to be appreciated. 

Shoutout to Steve for planning an impromptu Memorial Day picnic at my place. I don’t want to admit how stressed I was hosting people despite not knowing anything Steve was planning or doing….but the day ended up being fantastic. Friends from college and beyond came together for a great day filled with good food (from what I could gather), good gaming and great laughs. Somehow the Celtics pulled out the win that night too, so all in all, it was a damn good day. 

Thank you Steve. I didn’t know how much I needed it. 

And thank God Saturday was the last day I felt like myself. Seems like fate decided to be kind for that 24 hours. 

Now I am currently on my way into the worst place on earth, New York City. In order to get Chemotherapy treatment as quickly as possible, this session needs to be in Manhattan and not West Harrison. And because I have no idea how I’m gonna feel after the fact, it’s a car ride into the city rather than a train. I love my parents, but navigating NYC traffic using WAZE (😑) is not their strongest trait. 

But that’s okay. We are here. We know it’s gonna be a long day. And credit to my mom, she did well on the drive in.

I’m scared for how this “port” in my chest works. Last Tuesday I had a surgery to install this medical instrument in my body. It meant that the three wirey tube’s I had coming out of my right arm were removed, but how do these doctors access something under the skin? I don’t know. I’m not a doctor, and I never could be. 

I have mentioned to anyone who will listen that my fiancé has turned into a doctor. She keeps me honest on my pills and hydration while also injecting me with two shots everyday. 

One of the biggest cock teases of this first month of cancer diagnosis happened when a vascular surgeon said I could get off the blood thinner shots. He wrote a prescription for pills and everything. 

You know what’s coming. 

I told my main doctor at Sloan and his tone on the phone was like a parent having to pick up their kid early from a birthday party. He had to deliver the bad news that he hated the idea of using a pill to treat my blood clots and then rattled off a myriad of examples as to why. 

Well, fuck. 

So now I am still on the shots. I’m battling my digestive system in an attempt to have regular bowel movements, and losing badly. The bouncing back and forth between needing to take heavy pain killers has my brain and stomach in a pretzel. A nurse described it as a game that many patients need to play, and I can say that I’m currently getting clowned. 

So yea, this is the update. Right now it’s not great, but if you asked me last Friday, I would have said that I felt…dare I say…optimistic. 

But perspective is key. It’s been less than a month since I found out what type of cancer I have. It feels like eons, but in reality, it’s been a blink of an eye. 

I was on oxgyen and unable to walk under my own power at my first Chemotherapy sessions. In three weeks I’ve shed the O2 tanks and have been able to be around people without feeling like a total monster. My caretakers remind me of this, and they are right.

I won’t deny that the last three to four days of bodily degradation has really irked me. But here is to hoping that this round of Chemo and the subsequent planned sessions help me find the right track. 

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