Before we get to the boring medical stuff, let’s get to something juicy.
Emma and my apartment has bullet holes in it!
On Tuesday, September 10th, there was a shooting outside of our home in Norwalk, and four stray shots struck the exterior of our Mansion. Two struck the lower half where Emma and I live, and two struck the upper level where our neighbor lives. One of the shots at our neighbor’s apartment supposedly entered the home, and she had photographs that she was showing police on the night.
Bonkers!
It was around 9:20 PM when the commotion began. Emma and I were in bed watching the presidential debate and doing a crossword (because we are essentially grandparents) when we suddenly heard very loud noises outside. There were bangs in quick succession, and seconds later, what sounded like the peeling off of a car.
We old souls looked at each other confused and pushed the question aside. Fireworks or firecrackers? Right? They were just silly, dumb kids acting stupid.
Well, wrong.
Emma heard a car hop a curb minutes later, and because she is more mobile and curious than me, she got up to see what was happening.
As it turns out, there were a shit ton of cop cars outside of our house. From down the hall, I heard Emma say, “Honey, there are cops with rifles patrolling our street.”
Luckily for us, all of the windows to the house were open. Well, perhaps it makes us luckier that a bullet didn’t fly in, but now, after the fact, it means that Emma and I could eavesdrop on what the cops were saying. Rather quickly, it was quite obvious that this was not about firecrackers.
Within a few minutes, more cops were on the premises, and evidence markers began popping up on the ground. There was a cell phone charger, a cell phone itself (somewhere, we heard this), and blood stains on the road.
What the hell is going on??
After our unprofessional sleuthing stopped providing new evidence, Emma and I returned to our bedroom wired. The presidential debate was still airing on my phone, but that wasn’t the only stage where shots were being fired, am I right?
Thank you, I’m here all week.
Within minutes of us returning to the sheets, there was a knock at the front door of our house. Our living arrangement is a little strange because the front door leads directly upstairs to our neighbor, but the front door is right next to where Emma and I sleep.
I roll up the blinds, and there’s a cop with his flashlight patiently waiting. He sees our movement and asks us to come outside, so we tell him that means the back door.
Yes, all backwards.
Emma and I step outside, and we are in the middle of a crime scene. There is yellow caution tape stretching from the top of our street down a few houses, and the evidence markers, as well as the number of people walking around, has increased quite a bit. It’s rather surreal, and we can’t help but laugh a little bit at the absurdity of this situation. This is Norwalk, Connecticut. The Mansion is situated between a middle school and a high school. Walking distance. Just an absolutely crazy random occurrence.
There is a detective who takes Emma and my statement and information. Unfortunately we don’t have much information to provide because our blinds were down and we didn’t see anything. Even our RING doorbell failed. It didn’t pick up any motion at 9:20 pm so it didn’t record anything. What is the point if it can’t help in a CRIME??
The silver lining of being outside is that we got to hear more details about the case and what the cops were finding out. They were discussing the make and model of the car that was speeding away, and I heard a cop say that he found a pool of blood near a car down the street and some blood on a random car as well. Just some juicy details that made standing out in the cold, barefoot, a bit worth it.
Part of me is surprised there wasn’t immediate news coverage of the event, but an article was published the next day.
https://www.wfsb.com/2024/09/11/victim-serious-condition-after-shooting-norwalk/
And for fun, my car is in this video report.
https://longisland.news12.com/norwalk-resident-shot-multiple-times-hospitalized
Okay, do we want to enter this update’s medical/personal portion?
It’s not going great.
I have completed my radiation therapy on my back. I had my appointments on Thursday, Friday, and Monday. After the first appointment on Thursday, I met with the primary radiation doctor for a brief recap. It was at this point that I learned that it could take a month for the radiation therapy to kick in fully, but one should see improvement steadily over time.
In eight weeks (two months, in case you are counting), I will have an MRI of my whole back to make sure the lesion has disappeared and that none others are appearing. I also learned that because I have had one lesion, I am more likely to get more. It is like panic attacks; once the breach happens, one must always protect against it.
I understand that a month is short in the grand scheme of things, but let me tell you, I am growing impatient. I admit that I do not have patience as a major virtue, and the past month has been one of the most frustrating since I was diagnosed in early May. Every day I wake up in pain, but the pain is always on a spectrum.
Sometimes it’s a Tylenol day, and sometimes it’s an Oxycodone day. There are days when I can bend down and feed the cat, but there are other days when I cannot put on my socks. Every day is a slow day because I cannot pace myself faster than an 85-year-old in the mall. Whether it be getting up from bed, the couch or arising from the car, my old nickname of StankDaTank is back in full effect. I move slowly, and if you ask me to go up steps, set your timer and open up a book because you’ve got time.
The rest of my body is feeling okay, at least for the most part. As of writing this Stanko Update, I have been having more problems with nausea than I expected. There was a point of four straight days with stomach issues, which compounded into more back issues. Lurching and wretching up bile and saliva violently significantly strain the lower lumbar. I know it is not a pretty picture to imagine, so I apologize for the image I’m typing out.
The toughest scene over the past two weeks was on a night when Emma had to work late. I was feeling alright, well enough to try to prep dinner. It was nothing fancy. I was just going to do turkey burger. Simple, beyond simple.
That is, until the nausea struck.
I wanted to make sure I didn’t have back pain the rest of the night, so I took half an Oxi and a Senna to help compound the side effects. Less than five minutes later, I am leaning over the sink and grabbing for the dreaded bin. I throw up the pills I just took, and I have an involuntary body movement that sends my body to the kitchen floor. Suddenly, the timer went off for the bacon to be flipped, and I was curled up in a near-fetal position on our kitchen stool. I get up to make sure the bacon doesn’t burn, collapse back down, and then Emma walks in to see the mess that dinner has become. There is nausea in the sink, a visible orange pill in the bin, and defrosting refrigerator items spread over the counter.
This is not what I envisioned.
I broke down.
Emma does so much. So fucking much. I only wanted to do dinner once, but I could not complete the task. Harrowing scenes in the Mansion.
Then there is the work aspect. I have not been able to go to work with the back because of the commute into the city. That means working from home. Unfortunately, my job does not have a ton of work to do at home, so I try to keep myself busy as best I can. You have heard all of this before.
This week, a massive project got dumped onto the plate. This is a glorious thing, right!?
Wrong.
I have begun freaking out. It’s a massive project that will take great concentrated effort to wrap my head around. Thankfully, I am not going to be working on this alone. Still, the project was illuminated during my days of increased nausea and right at the start of my radiation therapy appointments. Not the best timing to start.
I fully admit that I have recently struggled to concentrate on work because I feel poorly at home. The fact I am always in pain and monitoring how I feel is putting more mental stress on my well-being than I expected. I am struggling with how to cope.
My therapist and those around me make it a point to tell me that I need to take care of myself first before I worry about anything else. My mental anguish is at its worst during the workday when all I want to do is be productive. However, all my body wants to do is lie on the couch on the heated pad and nap. It doesn’t help that I still wake up at least once a night to try to use the bathroom. (We won’t go into the bowel movement issues again).
I know this sounds like I am brown-nosing for work, but I genuinely need this for my mental health. Physical exercise is an obvious no-go, and I do not feel comfortable writing my blog during work hours. I need to be able to focus and get my mind unknotted. I need to be able to find some peace. My last radiation appointment was on Monday, so I was hoping I would get a bit more clarity. That said, I had two doctor appointments on Wednesday, and today is a Chemotherapy day. It is hard to get back in a flow when things keep popping up. Appointments. Appointments and appointments.
Today is my 9th or 10th Chemotherapy session. This is my 10th Stanko Update.
Have things improved overall? Without a doubt, yes. Less than five months ago, I couldn’t breathe without a machine, and I couldn’t eat anything except liquids. Now I can have a burger and enjoy it. Fuck the consequences later, I will have that burger because I deserve it.
It is all about perspective, and I wonder when I will achieve that perspective when it comes to the predicament with my back. When will I finally acquire the patience? When will the tide turn? When will the back begin feeling better?
I fully admit that I am six months into having Stage IV cancer, and I am very tired of it. I am tired of being poked, prodded, and scheduled for things non-stop. I am tired of constantly taking pills, going to the pharmacy, worrying about my bathroom schedule. I am tired of having to rely on other people for rides, and I am tired of not having the energy I used to pride myself on every day.
I know I have cancer for life, but I don’t want my life to be this now, or going forward. Things have to get better. Let’s focus on the back first, then the mind, then the rest.
I know. Happy update, right?
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