May 2007 Archives

Do you express your personal power by means of your vision?

I think that there are many ways to interpret that question, and that's what I am looking for: different interpretations. One example is the expression of natural abilities through your occupation. Here's the original context.

Rose thinks that I do. My vision was to get into project management and excel. I express personal power through that vision. This power includes the use and development of certain abiliities and training acquired over the years. More specifically, I get to work in a group, network and socialize, organize, analyse, realize and many other -izes.

What's your vision? It doesn't have to be a professional one; for some it's being the best mom or husband you can be. For others it's solving a global or local problem. How do you express your power through this vision? What is this power?

UPDATE: Please take note of Rose's comment below.

Today, I installed an air conditioning unit in a window. I removed the windows, made the measurements, installed and secured the unit and even installed corrugated plastic above the unit. I am now an official man. Who is a little handy.

This may sound sexist or something, but really, why don't women do these kinds of tasks? Aside from the problem of lifting things, is it really that difficult for women to do? What happens if there is no man? These things just don't get done? Or is it simply a matter of women having no interest in actually doing this type of work themselves? Is it like comparing everyday housework to weekend yardwork and fix-it jobs? I really don't know.

Many women have no problems telling men how they want the work they can't do done, and scoff loudly at any and every mistake the man might make, and attack his masculinity to boot. "Aren't you a MAN? Why can't you just DO THIS?" I'd like to say that just because women can menstruate (an ability that just happens by virtue of their being women), doesn't mean that I can fix your washing machine, because that is NOT something that just happens by virtue of me being male. Just saying.

I just realized: I don't mind being bald, as I was bald for years before having hair. But I will be cancer bald. That's quite different. That may change some things...

Petunia, Rose's daughter, is 7. But she hasn't been acting much like a seven-year-old lately.

She's a pretty bright kid. She's near the top of her class of brighter-than-average kids. Before last fall, when she learned to read, she said, "When I learn to read, I'll be free!" which prided up her mother fiercely. Reading and learning are a number one priority for Rose, so no effort has been spared to give her access to all of this. Every week, Petunia's reading improved until a couple of months ago.

She started acting very blasé and bored about just about everything except computer games. Nothing interested her. Word games became uninteresting. Reading? Forget that. Her reading skills seemed to be declining rather than improving. She had a bigger and bigger attitude in general. She was 14, and now we have figured out why.

Petunia had a best friend, a girl from England called Jackie. They used to do everything together. They are both in Grade 1, but somehow, perhaps through an older sibling, Jackie ended up hanging out with some Grade 6 girls about 12 years old. Jackie then brought Petunia into the group, however, she had to do certain things in order to be accepted. These things included showing attitude, requesting more adult clothing, doing silly things at her expense and for their amusement and worst of all, playing dumb. I barely understand that last one when they're 12 years old. I cannot figure it out for a 7-year-old other than as a way to gain acceptance to some elite group.

Luckily, her father figured things out, explainmed to Petunia that she was being used and made fun of and that perhaps a better friend could be found. Many other girls would have been lost without their best. They often cling to these destructive relationships because anything is better than being alone. And of course, these things often enough continue into adulthood. Thankfully, Petunia recovered quickly and found another girl that she gets along with so well that they call each other "cousin".

Isn't it crazy that this should even happen, though? What the hell is wrong with these older girls? And Jackie? Seriously, this could have been a lot worse than it was; it seems that 75% of women and girls have screwed-up identity and self-esteem issues. This is one reason why.

Continued from here...

The Cancer Rehab Group: It's called prehabilitation, actually. It wasn't bad, and the staff is quite nice and efficient.

PET Scan: This test found absolutely nothing beyond the actual main tumour. However, it did find something, a tiny little thing on my trachea that reacted to the tracer fluid. They have no clue what it is.

Ultrasound: Liver's fine.

Oncologist: He believes that the trachael thing will be destroyed by chemotherapy if it's real, or left alone if not, in which case it doesn't even matter. Further, he is very optimistic about how I will react to chemo. So am I. I start chemo in two weeks.

Last thing to do: I spoke with my brother in law, who has now accepted an assistant professorship position at Harvard. He spoke to my surgeon, and he has a pretty good feeling about him. In fact, the treatment is something that he agrees with medically. However, he still wants me to get a second opinion, and I will be doing that next Tuesday from someone he knows. He believes that this doctor will have the same conclusion, but that I should find out which is the better doctor and go with him.

Again, I could go into so much detail, and I apologize for not doing so, but the fact is, I just don't feel as though I can. There's just one thing I really wanted to share from yesterday.

I was to meet several health professionals to discuss my present situation both physically and mentally. They would give me a baseline measurement of how I am doing and will use this to compare how I am doing in the future. At some point I was with the physiotherapist doing tests. One test involved me walking a distance of about 20 metres back and forth for six minutes as fast as I can. After the test, the PT told that that I destroyed the record. Not hard when you are half the age of everyone else doing the test.

Later on, I was waiting for someone else when I poked my head out of the room I was in. I saw the PT doing the same test with a man that was 75 years old if a day. This man was obviously not doing all that well (although I don't know what "well" is for someone like him). At the end of the six minutes I was afraid that the poor guy would keel over. And then it hit me. This man is suffering from the ravages of old age AND has cancer. What the hell does he have to look forward to?

I don't know this guy from Adam, but really, what's left for him? Don't get me wrong, I don't see myself that way at all. It's a completely different situation as far as I can see. But him? I dunno. It almost seems a little pointless.

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UPDATE: Reading Michel's comment below, I should clarify my position. It was ill-stated and I didn't really try to communicate clearly. In fact, I haven't really tried much lately. Anyway, what I am trying to say is that if it were me in his situation, I might not have 1% of the hope and positive expectations that I have now. So let's change it a little. Instead of "What the hell does he have to look forward to?" I should state, "It is very hard for me to see what I would have to look forward to if I were him." It's entirely possible that he has the same expectations that I do for me, and if so, that's great. If I were in his situation, which I assume is worse, then I hope that I could handle it, but I don't think I could.

I'll just make this point form, more or less.

• Preliminary pathology says carcinoma. They have no other information as of yet. There is no hope of it being benign, not that there was any anyway.
• The GI thought that it was distal esophageal carcinoma. This probably resulted from my so-called ulcer from four years ago that wasn't properly treated, and this may have actually been a case of Barrett's esophagus.
• Right now we are trying to get all the tests we can. To this end I have had the following tests:
  • A biopsy, whose results have not been revealed to me as yet;
  • A CT scan, which, although not the best diagnostic tool, strongly suggested that there was no metastasis.
  • A diagnostic laparoscopy, which seems to have confirmed what the CT scan revealed.

I want to sell some hardware that I've had lying around for years, specifically some monitors. I have two 15-inch NEC monitors and a 19-inch Dell, all flat-screen CRTs. I'll get some pictures up when I can. If you are interested or know anyone that is, they are going for cheap (especially the Dell, since it's not in the best condition).

I also have an Epson 777 color printer up for grabs as well. If you want everything, I might be able to work out a nice deal.

The last line of my last entry was eerily prophetic, for risking esophageal cancer is exactly what has happened.

This morning, I went to get scoped. The experience was definitely far superior to the last time. The doctor used more spray to freeze my throat, and the instrument was bendy, so I didn't have to struggle against it. He also gave me a shot of something to make me woozy, but not enough to knock me out. It was over before I knew it, and I barely remember what happened. Wait, I remember now: air was being shot down my throat at the same time. The procedure, maybe five minutes long, was one looooooong burp. Oddly enough, it didn't smell, and there was no pain afterwards.

I was then asked to lie on a gurney for an hour. Both in the waiting room and in the...gurney room?...I was the youngest there by about 25 years. The old woman next to me emitted these long odourless bubbly farts. Maybe she had the P-scope.

At 10 am, I was told to wait in the waiting room. After about ten minutes, the doctor called me and gave me the news; it's a tumour, and he thinks that it is probably malignant. We won't know until the biopsy results come in which is as early as tomorrow, or as late as Monday. Surgery seems to be the most likely course of action at this point. I have an appointment with a surgeon tomorrow. I will get some scans to check the extent of the growth, if any, and we can make a battle plan.

By the way, this tumour is in the exact same place that my so-called ulcer was four years ago. Coincidence? I think not. The meds didn't work, so I just stopped eating meat for three years. No more pain, problem solved, right? Wrong. The doctor agreed that it could have started four years ago. In any case, although the doctor said that I did everything I was supposed to do, I can't help but think that I should have done more.

More news tomorrow.

UPDATE: By the way, there was a strange omen in the mail today. I received my new health card, with an ORGAN DONOR FORM.

UPDATE 2: 8:17 PM. I am now officially scared.