This will be really short!
I am out of surgery. Everything went pretty much as well as anyone could have hoped for.
I have the biggest headache that anyone could ever imagine, yet I feel great... sort of.
Details to follow whenever I can see straight, probably tomorrow.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Achmed’s Last Supper, Day Four
When I woke up on Saturday morning, at 5:00am, to fly Achmed’s skinny little ass to Winnipeg, one of my favourite bands was rocking on the radio. The shrill scream of Paul Stanley’s voice said, “I really love you baby, I love what you got…” then the thundering guitar and drums, rattling like a machine gun as the melodic harmonies of the rest of KISS chimed in with, “Love Gun, Love Gun, Love Gun…”. That song has nothing to do with any of this but it has been ringing in my mind since I got out of bed to go to the airport and I kind of found myself in a guitar store today trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to play it.
Everyone has their method of relaxation, but relaxation is not something that I have ever been very good at. My life is a constant coming and going of work and play and until a few months ago, ‘relaxing’ was something I only did when I was too tired to do something real… so, ultimately relaxing to me was going to sleep, which I always thought was a waste of time. I used to think, if you never had to sleep, imagine all of the things that you could get done!
These days when I need to quiet my mind, I usually pull out a guitar and sit in my living room playing familiar tunes that I don’t have to put much effort into. Today I am in Winnipeg, with no living room and no guitar, so I did the next best thing. I went pretend guitar ‘shopping’. Well, if you have ever been in a music store you already know, when some dude takes a $3000 guitar off the wall to play it loud, he usually hammers out a few radical riffs and tries to impress everyone in the store, then if he doesn’t suitably impress the staff, one of them inevitably takes a guitar out and embarrasses the dude. Well, my guitar chops are certainly not up to par for trying to embarrass or show off, but they are good enough for me to have fun with. Whaling out some Eagles, Blue Rodeo and Johnny Cash didn’t even hit the threat bar of being a ‘musician’ in the guitar store, so when I noticed the looks I was getting, I turned it up with some KISS. But instead of picking a KISS tune that I actually knew, I tried to play the one that has been singing in my head for 4 days… I soon enough went back to Blue Rodeo and turned the amp down.
I didn’t really get the relaxing tunage I was hoping for, particularly now that I had drawn attention to myself, so I never did get to relax with my guitar. I did, however, stumble across a great deal on an Epiphone Dot Studio. It was glossy black instead of the worn cherry that I have been craving for a few years… but you know, it’s on sale, leftover from last year’s stock. If I am not passed out or heaving my guts up on Thursday, I may have to go back there and make an unexpected purchase. Life is way too short to wonder if you should do something, and if this week has not proven it to me, nothing ever will!
So, other than my playing expensive guitars to try to relax today, I also went fabric shopping with Mom. There is very little that I dislike more than shopping, but the truth is that Mom and me had a fun afternoon. We went to the Pancake house and I loaded up on carbs so I could store some energy for tomorrow, and eventually we ended up strolling though the homeless district of Winnipeg at about the same time that all of the vagrants were heading to the shelter. Mom looked at me and said, “I feel like I am at work.” For those of you who don’t know, Mom works at the mental hospital back home! I have been in worse places than that area, however, Mom has not and I found her nervousness a little bit amusing… I really hope that that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass tomorrow while she is hanging out in a hospital (her second home) and I am literally pinned to a table and a complete bag of nerves. I am just guessing, but I don’t think she will find it any more amusing than I do.
Tomorrow my day will start at 4:30am, with a shower and a sip of water. At 5:15 I will get in the van to go to the hospital and at 6:00 they will stab me with an IV to keep me hydrated and drugged I guess. (If you are in Newfoundland, you can add 2-and-a-half hours to my times). From there on I have no idea how long things will take or what time any of it will actually start, but in order I will get:
1) four needles injected to my head to deaden the skin and nerves;
2) a halo-brace slide down over me;
3) four screws drilled into my skull to hold everything in place;
4) another MRI
5) then I lie down or sit for up to four hours waiting for the attack plan to be put together;
6) then I am laid out on a table and screwed in place so I can’t move;
7) then the surgical team gets the hell out of the room so they do not get hit with nuclear fallout;
8) then they blast me with a reactor, known affectionately as the Gamma Knife!
There is supposed to be valium or addivan in there somewhere… I hope it is before the needles… I hate needles!
Up until a few days ago I was looking at this trip as the end of my journey and I would be on to a new journey. I was wrong. It will be six months before they even know if this blast has worked or not, and a year before it is actually confirmed. In that amount of time things could get worse, or stay the same, or possibly get better. Because of the size and placement of Achmed, traditional surgery is not only going to cause severe side effects (of which I want no part of), but it is also dangerous. If the Gamma Knife fails (Dr. West has a 97% success rate), they will try to blast me again in a few years. We didn’t talk about anything past that.
I can’t even begin to tell you all how grateful I am for the positive energy, text messages, phone calls, e-mails, facebook posts and messages, my very own facebook group that Tina and Lisa set up for me and just general good wishes and concern I have received. I am very lucky for such a large circle of family and friends and I will eventually get back in touch with every one of you!
Tonight I am really hoping to get a good sleep and tomorrow, I really want everyone reading this to send good vibrations my way, I could use every one of them right now.
Thank-you!
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Everyone has their method of relaxation, but relaxation is not something that I have ever been very good at. My life is a constant coming and going of work and play and until a few months ago, ‘relaxing’ was something I only did when I was too tired to do something real… so, ultimately relaxing to me was going to sleep, which I always thought was a waste of time. I used to think, if you never had to sleep, imagine all of the things that you could get done!
These days when I need to quiet my mind, I usually pull out a guitar and sit in my living room playing familiar tunes that I don’t have to put much effort into. Today I am in Winnipeg, with no living room and no guitar, so I did the next best thing. I went pretend guitar ‘shopping’. Well, if you have ever been in a music store you already know, when some dude takes a $3000 guitar off the wall to play it loud, he usually hammers out a few radical riffs and tries to impress everyone in the store, then if he doesn’t suitably impress the staff, one of them inevitably takes a guitar out and embarrasses the dude. Well, my guitar chops are certainly not up to par for trying to embarrass or show off, but they are good enough for me to have fun with. Whaling out some Eagles, Blue Rodeo and Johnny Cash didn’t even hit the threat bar of being a ‘musician’ in the guitar store, so when I noticed the looks I was getting, I turned it up with some KISS. But instead of picking a KISS tune that I actually knew, I tried to play the one that has been singing in my head for 4 days… I soon enough went back to Blue Rodeo and turned the amp down.
I didn’t really get the relaxing tunage I was hoping for, particularly now that I had drawn attention to myself, so I never did get to relax with my guitar. I did, however, stumble across a great deal on an Epiphone Dot Studio. It was glossy black instead of the worn cherry that I have been craving for a few years… but you know, it’s on sale, leftover from last year’s stock. If I am not passed out or heaving my guts up on Thursday, I may have to go back there and make an unexpected purchase. Life is way too short to wonder if you should do something, and if this week has not proven it to me, nothing ever will!
So, other than my playing expensive guitars to try to relax today, I also went fabric shopping with Mom. There is very little that I dislike more than shopping, but the truth is that Mom and me had a fun afternoon. We went to the Pancake house and I loaded up on carbs so I could store some energy for tomorrow, and eventually we ended up strolling though the homeless district of Winnipeg at about the same time that all of the vagrants were heading to the shelter. Mom looked at me and said, “I feel like I am at work.” For those of you who don’t know, Mom works at the mental hospital back home! I have been in worse places than that area, however, Mom has not and I found her nervousness a little bit amusing… I really hope that that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass tomorrow while she is hanging out in a hospital (her second home) and I am literally pinned to a table and a complete bag of nerves. I am just guessing, but I don’t think she will find it any more amusing than I do.
Tomorrow my day will start at 4:30am, with a shower and a sip of water. At 5:15 I will get in the van to go to the hospital and at 6:00 they will stab me with an IV to keep me hydrated and drugged I guess. (If you are in Newfoundland, you can add 2-and-a-half hours to my times). From there on I have no idea how long things will take or what time any of it will actually start, but in order I will get:
1) four needles injected to my head to deaden the skin and nerves;
2) a halo-brace slide down over me;
3) four screws drilled into my skull to hold everything in place;
4) another MRI
5) then I lie down or sit for up to four hours waiting for the attack plan to be put together;
6) then I am laid out on a table and screwed in place so I can’t move;
7) then the surgical team gets the hell out of the room so they do not get hit with nuclear fallout;
8) then they blast me with a reactor, known affectionately as the Gamma Knife!
There is supposed to be valium or addivan in there somewhere… I hope it is before the needles… I hate needles!
Up until a few days ago I was looking at this trip as the end of my journey and I would be on to a new journey. I was wrong. It will be six months before they even know if this blast has worked or not, and a year before it is actually confirmed. In that amount of time things could get worse, or stay the same, or possibly get better. Because of the size and placement of Achmed, traditional surgery is not only going to cause severe side effects (of which I want no part of), but it is also dangerous. If the Gamma Knife fails (Dr. West has a 97% success rate), they will try to blast me again in a few years. We didn’t talk about anything past that.
I can’t even begin to tell you all how grateful I am for the positive energy, text messages, phone calls, e-mails, facebook posts and messages, my very own facebook group that Tina and Lisa set up for me and just general good wishes and concern I have received. I am very lucky for such a large circle of family and friends and I will eventually get back in touch with every one of you!
Tonight I am really hoping to get a good sleep and tomorrow, I really want everyone reading this to send good vibrations my way, I could use every one of them right now.
Thank-you!
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Achmed’s Meeting With The Surgeon, Day Three
Today started out like so many other days in my life, at 7:30 my phone alarm went off for my weekday ‘get your ass outta bed’ call… apparently I had forgotten to turn it off when I got here.
I spent the first part of the morning moping around the hotel room, kind of nervous, not really able to eat, or think, or really do much of anything, eventually, around 11:00, Mom and I headed over to the hospital to get me checked in with the Neurology Department. A little know fact about my past is that I was once in the army… and I hated every minute of it (that part probably doesn’t surprise very many people). I left the army for two reasons: first, my eyesight was not good enough to get into flight-school, even though I graduated from basic training at almost the top of my class and was accepted to the Officer Training Program. Since I couldn’t fly and wanted to, they decided to train me to be a sniper and put me in the Parrot Troopers… The Airborne Regiment, the same one that was eventually disbanded because of a couple of yahoos in Somalia in the early 90’s. I figured that since there was no sensible or earthly reason to jump out of a perfectly good, mechanically working airplane, this particular career path was probably not the one I wanted to take. The second reason for bailing on a military career was… apparently I ask too many questions. My ability to find a question in pretty much every statement is probably one of the things that makes me good at what I do now, it does, however, makes one a terrible solider!
Anyway, my point was supposed to be that the dude who drove me to the hospital was a retired airborne guy. We spent my whole drive talking about jumps and comparing close calls to tragedy. He found it a little amusing that a guy who turned down a career in parachuting eventually became a recreational jumper who had to pay to jump out of planes. Well, I have always been one to take the long way around to things.
Eventually I got checked in at the Winnipeg Health Science Centre. I have only one thing to say to any Newfoundland Healthcare professionals who may be reading this… customer service, if you can’t figure out what it is, come to Manitoba and go to a hospital! People here are really friendly and people in the healthcare system are not only friendly, they are also HELPFUL! Enough of my ranting, although I am going to recommend to the Health Minister at home that he take a trip out here to see how things could be on the Rock.
So, once I was all squared away, I met with my surgical Team, lead by Dr. Michael West, a tall, relaxed and knowledgeable individual. (I don’t know why, but I am always surprised at how laid back people are who are involved in brain surgery, I know that is probably a good thing, but really, these guys seriously piss icecubes.) After a bunch of introductions and questions and preliminary testes, I saw a picture of Achmed. I now know why my headaches have gotten so bad and have been going on for years and I didn’t really pay attention to them. To put it in Dr. West’s words, “Your tumor is quite large for someone so young.”
Achmed is pushing against my facial nerve, which is causing the numbness; he is growing on my auditory and balance nerve, which are irreparably damaged; and is pushing on my brainstem and reducing the flow of spinal fluid, which is causing numbness in my hand that I always thought was related to a herniated disc I had a few years ago.
Not that I was ever considering any of the alternatives of treatment, other than the Gamma Knife, but after today I have realized that it is the only real treatment that will work, and in another year or two, I may not have even been eligible for it.
Simply, if left alone Achmed “will paralyse me and eventually take my life”, (although Dr. West did say they would intervene before I actually died), because of the location to the nervous system, the relevant nerves and the infiltration in the brain and pressure on the spinal column, tradition surgery is not only an option that will give me a crappy quality of life, but it “would present several unwanted complications, such as: severe nerve damage to your face and balance, complete deafness, potential spinal fluid leakage and paralysis.” Everyone who even knows me a little bit knows that I am not having any of that!
Interestingly enough, I have been telling everyone all along that my balance has not been affected at all by Achmed. Apparently I have been wrong. My body has adapted over the past 10 to 15 years that Achmed has been along for the ride. Oddly enough, if I get some shrinkage of Achmed, and because of his large volume it is quite possible that he may get up to 30% smaller, two side effects are going to happen: the pressure on my facial nerve may be eased and my balance may be partially restored.
In a twisted set of circumstances, if my balance gets partially restored, it is going to screw up my balance until my body readjusts… how’s that for irony?
On the hearing front… my hearing is permanently damaged it is likely to get worse over time, even with a successful Gamma Knife treatment. The roaring in my head is just something that I am going to have to get used to, although it is possible that the fluctuations in my hearing and roaring may stabilize, which would at least give me the opportunity to adapt to whatever level it settles on.
I am not going to be a candidate for any kind of traditional hearing aid, although there is a type of surgically implanted speaker system that I can look into. Simply, they put a microphone in your bad ear and a speaker in your good one, and your good ear picks up the sound on your bad side. Unless I go completely deaf, it is not likely an option I am going to seriously look at.
As I said to Dr. West, “This suck man.”
He nodded and said, “It does suck Kevin, but this treatment is your best option to preserve your quality of life, and that is what is important to you.”
I couldn’t have said that better myself.
Tonight I am taking Mom out to dinner. Tomorrow I am supposed to ‘relax’.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
I spent the first part of the morning moping around the hotel room, kind of nervous, not really able to eat, or think, or really do much of anything, eventually, around 11:00, Mom and I headed over to the hospital to get me checked in with the Neurology Department. A little know fact about my past is that I was once in the army… and I hated every minute of it (that part probably doesn’t surprise very many people). I left the army for two reasons: first, my eyesight was not good enough to get into flight-school, even though I graduated from basic training at almost the top of my class and was accepted to the Officer Training Program. Since I couldn’t fly and wanted to, they decided to train me to be a sniper and put me in the Parrot Troopers… The Airborne Regiment, the same one that was eventually disbanded because of a couple of yahoos in Somalia in the early 90’s. I figured that since there was no sensible or earthly reason to jump out of a perfectly good, mechanically working airplane, this particular career path was probably not the one I wanted to take. The second reason for bailing on a military career was… apparently I ask too many questions. My ability to find a question in pretty much every statement is probably one of the things that makes me good at what I do now, it does, however, makes one a terrible solider!
Anyway, my point was supposed to be that the dude who drove me to the hospital was a retired airborne guy. We spent my whole drive talking about jumps and comparing close calls to tragedy. He found it a little amusing that a guy who turned down a career in parachuting eventually became a recreational jumper who had to pay to jump out of planes. Well, I have always been one to take the long way around to things.
Eventually I got checked in at the Winnipeg Health Science Centre. I have only one thing to say to any Newfoundland Healthcare professionals who may be reading this… customer service, if you can’t figure out what it is, come to Manitoba and go to a hospital! People here are really friendly and people in the healthcare system are not only friendly, they are also HELPFUL! Enough of my ranting, although I am going to recommend to the Health Minister at home that he take a trip out here to see how things could be on the Rock.
So, once I was all squared away, I met with my surgical Team, lead by Dr. Michael West, a tall, relaxed and knowledgeable individual. (I don’t know why, but I am always surprised at how laid back people are who are involved in brain surgery, I know that is probably a good thing, but really, these guys seriously piss icecubes.) After a bunch of introductions and questions and preliminary testes, I saw a picture of Achmed. I now know why my headaches have gotten so bad and have been going on for years and I didn’t really pay attention to them. To put it in Dr. West’s words, “Your tumor is quite large for someone so young.”
Achmed is pushing against my facial nerve, which is causing the numbness; he is growing on my auditory and balance nerve, which are irreparably damaged; and is pushing on my brainstem and reducing the flow of spinal fluid, which is causing numbness in my hand that I always thought was related to a herniated disc I had a few years ago.
Not that I was ever considering any of the alternatives of treatment, other than the Gamma Knife, but after today I have realized that it is the only real treatment that will work, and in another year or two, I may not have even been eligible for it.
Simply, if left alone Achmed “will paralyse me and eventually take my life”, (although Dr. West did say they would intervene before I actually died), because of the location to the nervous system, the relevant nerves and the infiltration in the brain and pressure on the spinal column, tradition surgery is not only an option that will give me a crappy quality of life, but it “would present several unwanted complications, such as: severe nerve damage to your face and balance, complete deafness, potential spinal fluid leakage and paralysis.” Everyone who even knows me a little bit knows that I am not having any of that!
Interestingly enough, I have been telling everyone all along that my balance has not been affected at all by Achmed. Apparently I have been wrong. My body has adapted over the past 10 to 15 years that Achmed has been along for the ride. Oddly enough, if I get some shrinkage of Achmed, and because of his large volume it is quite possible that he may get up to 30% smaller, two side effects are going to happen: the pressure on my facial nerve may be eased and my balance may be partially restored.
In a twisted set of circumstances, if my balance gets partially restored, it is going to screw up my balance until my body readjusts… how’s that for irony?
On the hearing front… my hearing is permanently damaged it is likely to get worse over time, even with a successful Gamma Knife treatment. The roaring in my head is just something that I am going to have to get used to, although it is possible that the fluctuations in my hearing and roaring may stabilize, which would at least give me the opportunity to adapt to whatever level it settles on.
I am not going to be a candidate for any kind of traditional hearing aid, although there is a type of surgically implanted speaker system that I can look into. Simply, they put a microphone in your bad ear and a speaker in your good one, and your good ear picks up the sound on your bad side. Unless I go completely deaf, it is not likely an option I am going to seriously look at.
As I said to Dr. West, “This suck man.”
He nodded and said, “It does suck Kevin, but this treatment is your best option to preserve your quality of life, and that is what is important to you.”
I couldn’t have said that better myself.
Tonight I am taking Mom out to dinner. Tomorrow I am supposed to ‘relax’.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Achmed’s Winnipeg Trip, Day Two
Yesterday was pretty low-key. Slept in until 9:00 and then went to Mass with Mom. The priest there was this charismatic Italian guy from New York who spoke like an enforcer in a mafia street gang. One of my lifelong interests has always been the history of the Mafia, so this accent always makes me pay attention to whatever is being said, no matter what the topic. I gotta say, it sounded really weird to hear a Mafia voice talking about the Church and Christianity instead of prostitution and whacking some rat.
From there Mom and I hit Earl’s, a Western eatery, where I ate many meals as a student in Calgary. Standing on the bar, directly across from my seat was a Kokanee draft tap. Kokanee is a beer made from glacier water and is smooth as silk when you drink it. I haven’t had any since my last trip out west, which was a few years ago. So while I drank my club soda, I stared at a draft tap of one of my favourite beers in the country, unable to have any of it. I think that feeling is what alcoholics must go through when they are jonesing for a drink. I am pretty sure I am not an alcoholic, but I do hate being dictated to on what I can and cannot have in my life.
If you have ever been to Winnipeg, you have probably been to The Forks. It is nothing fancy, just a market in what I think is an old railway station, but everyone here thinks it is the cat’s ass of tourist attractions so we had to go take it in. What can I say about it… they had good coffee and the buskers knew all the words to the songs that they were singing. Then back to the hotel where we watched about a dozen CSI episodes and tried to keep my mind off my hospital trip for today.
I slept pretty well last night, mostly because of the lingering jetlag I think, certainly not because my mind is at ease. Today I go to meet the surgical team and, of course, Tammy… the voice I relate to both terror and hope. Today is also my last chance to back out of this whole thing and go back to NL with Achmed still intact. This doesn’t really seem like an option to me seeing how the nerve damage from real surgery seriously threatens my quality of life.
My cold seems to be getting better as well. This is great news, as sneezing in the tunnel of radiation would mess me up pretty bad… when a gamma ray hits your brain, I think you are pretty much done as far as cognitive abilities go, hopefully I will be able to remain still. Between the halo brace being screwed to my head, and the bed being screwed to the halo brace, and the valium being somehow in my system to make me believe that I am in a big open space instead of a little tiny tunnel, I am hoping that staying still is no problem. I am a little worried about my small bladder though.
So, if you have any free time on Wednesday, I would appreciate some positive vibes being sent to Winnipeg while I am screwed to the table, under the knife. I don’t think that is too much to ask for.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
From there Mom and I hit Earl’s, a Western eatery, where I ate many meals as a student in Calgary. Standing on the bar, directly across from my seat was a Kokanee draft tap. Kokanee is a beer made from glacier water and is smooth as silk when you drink it. I haven’t had any since my last trip out west, which was a few years ago. So while I drank my club soda, I stared at a draft tap of one of my favourite beers in the country, unable to have any of it. I think that feeling is what alcoholics must go through when they are jonesing for a drink. I am pretty sure I am not an alcoholic, but I do hate being dictated to on what I can and cannot have in my life.
If you have ever been to Winnipeg, you have probably been to The Forks. It is nothing fancy, just a market in what I think is an old railway station, but everyone here thinks it is the cat’s ass of tourist attractions so we had to go take it in. What can I say about it… they had good coffee and the buskers knew all the words to the songs that they were singing. Then back to the hotel where we watched about a dozen CSI episodes and tried to keep my mind off my hospital trip for today.
I slept pretty well last night, mostly because of the lingering jetlag I think, certainly not because my mind is at ease. Today I go to meet the surgical team and, of course, Tammy… the voice I relate to both terror and hope. Today is also my last chance to back out of this whole thing and go back to NL with Achmed still intact. This doesn’t really seem like an option to me seeing how the nerve damage from real surgery seriously threatens my quality of life.
My cold seems to be getting better as well. This is great news, as sneezing in the tunnel of radiation would mess me up pretty bad… when a gamma ray hits your brain, I think you are pretty much done as far as cognitive abilities go, hopefully I will be able to remain still. Between the halo brace being screwed to my head, and the bed being screwed to the halo brace, and the valium being somehow in my system to make me believe that I am in a big open space instead of a little tiny tunnel, I am hoping that staying still is no problem. I am a little worried about my small bladder though.
So, if you have any free time on Wednesday, I would appreciate some positive vibes being sent to Winnipeg while I am screwed to the table, under the knife. I don’t think that is too much to ask for.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Achmed’s Last Flight, Day One
As a rule, I love to travel, but after only one night in Winnipeg I now realize why I have never spent any significant amount of time here. I have nothing against the place, the people are very friendly and the weather is better then we are getting back home on the island right now, but I spent a Saturday night lying around a hotel room watching the tube, which has to be an absolute first for me.
The trip here was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that by the time I got off the plane I was pretty much a walking zombie. I don’t sleep well the night before I fly on an early flight and I don’t sleep on planes. So by the time I checked into the hotel I was exhausted, managing on three hours of sleep in two days and it was only lunchtime when you factored in thethree-and-a-half hours time difference to the mountain zone. When I sat on the bed, I passed out while Mom was in mid-sentence to me talking about something… of which I have no idea what it was… sorry Mudder.
Another absolute first for me on this trip yesterday was going shopping with Mom. Not just any kind of shopping… BRA shopping! When I woke up from my two-hour nap, I was starving so we headed to the mall across the street to look around, and I figured I would grab a slice of pizza to hold me over until the big dinner that I was looking forward to… I love to eat! Mom says, “let’s go over to the mall across the street, I need to pick up a few things.”
Finding a slice of pizza proved to be a much bigger job than I had anticipated and we ended up settling for chicken salad at Wendy’s instead. Finding the bra section at Sears worked out to be a much easier task than I had hoped. I was getting some pretty strange looks as I leaned on a rack of lingerie, drinking my coffee and smiling at women picking out something nice to wear on their next big date. I believe security would have been by to escort me out if I hadn’t gone up to the cash-counter when Mom went to pay for her things and everyone realized that I was a ‘Momma’s boy’ spending the day shopping with her. No offence Mom, but the next time you need underwear, I am just going to wait in the car.
Another thing that has made this trip a little uncomfortable is that I was fighting a cold all week before I took off to come here and it seems that the lack of sleep for two days has let my resistance down enough for it to take hold. I am stuffed up and sneezing and that just doesn’t sound like a good combination for a tunnel of radiation. If I sneeze during the surgery, I have a feeling that could be a bad thing… maybe I will come back home with new spider senses!
And the ‘big dinner’ I was looking forward to last night turned into a club sandwich in the hotel restaurant, while my eyes were practically bleeding from lack of sleep and I was texting Matt (from 4-guy fame) back and forth on the updates from the Flames / Oilers game, which no doubt I would have been eating a steak in his kitchen if I was home for game night.
Anyway, today Mom and me are going to be tourists in Winnipeg, seeing how it is unlikely that either one of us will ever be back here, and the forced staying up and sleeping in today took care of the jetlag. Being full of piss and vinegar and I have no where to be until tomorrow when I meet the surgical team, we might as well go out and see what this city has to offer.
I see brunch in my very immediate future!
From Achmed and Me… Live Live!
The trip here was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that by the time I got off the plane I was pretty much a walking zombie. I don’t sleep well the night before I fly on an early flight and I don’t sleep on planes. So by the time I checked into the hotel I was exhausted, managing on three hours of sleep in two days and it was only lunchtime when you factored in thethree-and-a-half hours time difference to the mountain zone. When I sat on the bed, I passed out while Mom was in mid-sentence to me talking about something… of which I have no idea what it was… sorry Mudder.
Another absolute first for me on this trip yesterday was going shopping with Mom. Not just any kind of shopping… BRA shopping! When I woke up from my two-hour nap, I was starving so we headed to the mall across the street to look around, and I figured I would grab a slice of pizza to hold me over until the big dinner that I was looking forward to… I love to eat! Mom says, “let’s go over to the mall across the street, I need to pick up a few things.”
Finding a slice of pizza proved to be a much bigger job than I had anticipated and we ended up settling for chicken salad at Wendy’s instead. Finding the bra section at Sears worked out to be a much easier task than I had hoped. I was getting some pretty strange looks as I leaned on a rack of lingerie, drinking my coffee and smiling at women picking out something nice to wear on their next big date. I believe security would have been by to escort me out if I hadn’t gone up to the cash-counter when Mom went to pay for her things and everyone realized that I was a ‘Momma’s boy’ spending the day shopping with her. No offence Mom, but the next time you need underwear, I am just going to wait in the car.
Another thing that has made this trip a little uncomfortable is that I was fighting a cold all week before I took off to come here and it seems that the lack of sleep for two days has let my resistance down enough for it to take hold. I am stuffed up and sneezing and that just doesn’t sound like a good combination for a tunnel of radiation. If I sneeze during the surgery, I have a feeling that could be a bad thing… maybe I will come back home with new spider senses!
And the ‘big dinner’ I was looking forward to last night turned into a club sandwich in the hotel restaurant, while my eyes were practically bleeding from lack of sleep and I was texting Matt (from 4-guy fame) back and forth on the updates from the Flames / Oilers game, which no doubt I would have been eating a steak in his kitchen if I was home for game night.
Anyway, today Mom and me are going to be tourists in Winnipeg, seeing how it is unlikely that either one of us will ever be back here, and the forced staying up and sleeping in today took care of the jetlag. Being full of piss and vinegar and I have no where to be until tomorrow when I meet the surgical team, we might as well go out and see what this city has to offer.
I see brunch in my very immediate future!
From Achmed and Me… Live Live!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Countdown Is On...
One week from today I will either be on my way to recovery or on my way to becoming some kind of Super Hero. There is always the chance that I could sneeze in the radiation tunnel and become blind, or comatose, or dead I suppose... but I choose not to think of those options as very likely.
I have kept myself pretty busy for the past week-and-a-half; taking in social engagements, busy with work, attending a couple of fundraising events and a Rick Springfield concert and it has all kept my mind pretty occupied and not thinking about what is waiting for me in Winnipeg. I feel a bit like the kid who has really screwed up and is just waiting for Dad to get home from work to see what kind of punishment I am in for... the waiting was always worse than the actual sentencing.
I remember the time I stole Mom’s car and me and my buddy Nick took it joyriding around town for the day. Mom had left the car home that day for me to wash; I was too young to drive at the time. Honestly, I don’t even remember if I actually washed the car, but I damn well remember the feeling in my stomach when I pulled up around the corner that day to see Dad’s car in the driveway. It is pretty much the same feeling I have in my stomach right now.
Through all of the events that I have used to keep my mind active the past two weeks, none stands out more than the Healthcare Foundation Fundraising dinner that I attended Saturday night. By my estimates, adding up tickets, auction item sales and publically accounted for donations, the healthcare system here raised about $250,000.00 in one night. Pretty good dinner and I am glad that this town has a social scene that will support such a cause.
I boycotted buying any tickets when the girl selling them could not tell me where the money was going. When I asked, she simply replied, “To healthcare.” I looked at her and said, “I have a brain tumor and I have to buy my own plane ticket to get treatment, so obviously it isn’t going into the transportation budget... I’ll pass on any tickets, thanks.”
I was probably a bit hard on her, I think she was just a student volunteer... but she still should have known where the money was going.
This interaction made me realize how little attention we sometimes pay to where our money does go. We pay outrageous taxes so that we can have universal healthcare in this country, yet we don’t have it. I have to go to Winnipeg on about 60% of my own budget. I wonder if all the people who donated thousands of dollars to “healthcare” have any idea that travel to actually get “healthcare” is not really paid for, and what is covered is reimbursed in a ‘speed-of-government’ type of fashion.
For a while I was really pre-occupied with the fact that getting to this blast was going to be something I had to pay for, yet I am grateful that I am able to get the Gamma Knife, so I probably should not complain. And because so many people who do have to come up with money to travel for treatment are so grateful that they are able to be treated, we rarely hear about the financial frustration of those who go thorough the medical system.
I am too busy now trying to get the health part of my life back in order, but I can assure you that when I am back to my old self, the Provincial Department of Health here is going to be getting pretty sick of me. Between terrible customer service and repulsive financial service, not to mention that fact that I had to do all of my own research just to find out what my options were, I think I have a lot to bring attention to. I hope that everyone reading this shows up at the fundraiser I am putting together for travel assistance for people like me... it will be my victory party. If the Healthcare Foundation can raise over $200,000 in one night to buy some computer equipment, I should be able to raise at least 10% of that amount to get my fund started and help people in my position.
Meanwhile, mentally preparing for Winnipeg and physically recovering from it are on the top of my agenda for the next several weeks.
From Achmed and Me... Life Life!
I have kept myself pretty busy for the past week-and-a-half; taking in social engagements, busy with work, attending a couple of fundraising events and a Rick Springfield concert and it has all kept my mind pretty occupied and not thinking about what is waiting for me in Winnipeg. I feel a bit like the kid who has really screwed up and is just waiting for Dad to get home from work to see what kind of punishment I am in for... the waiting was always worse than the actual sentencing.
I remember the time I stole Mom’s car and me and my buddy Nick took it joyriding around town for the day. Mom had left the car home that day for me to wash; I was too young to drive at the time. Honestly, I don’t even remember if I actually washed the car, but I damn well remember the feeling in my stomach when I pulled up around the corner that day to see Dad’s car in the driveway. It is pretty much the same feeling I have in my stomach right now.
Through all of the events that I have used to keep my mind active the past two weeks, none stands out more than the Healthcare Foundation Fundraising dinner that I attended Saturday night. By my estimates, adding up tickets, auction item sales and publically accounted for donations, the healthcare system here raised about $250,000.00 in one night. Pretty good dinner and I am glad that this town has a social scene that will support such a cause.
I boycotted buying any tickets when the girl selling them could not tell me where the money was going. When I asked, she simply replied, “To healthcare.” I looked at her and said, “I have a brain tumor and I have to buy my own plane ticket to get treatment, so obviously it isn’t going into the transportation budget... I’ll pass on any tickets, thanks.”
I was probably a bit hard on her, I think she was just a student volunteer... but she still should have known where the money was going.
This interaction made me realize how little attention we sometimes pay to where our money does go. We pay outrageous taxes so that we can have universal healthcare in this country, yet we don’t have it. I have to go to Winnipeg on about 60% of my own budget. I wonder if all the people who donated thousands of dollars to “healthcare” have any idea that travel to actually get “healthcare” is not really paid for, and what is covered is reimbursed in a ‘speed-of-government’ type of fashion.
For a while I was really pre-occupied with the fact that getting to this blast was going to be something I had to pay for, yet I am grateful that I am able to get the Gamma Knife, so I probably should not complain. And because so many people who do have to come up with money to travel for treatment are so grateful that they are able to be treated, we rarely hear about the financial frustration of those who go thorough the medical system.
I am too busy now trying to get the health part of my life back in order, but I can assure you that when I am back to my old self, the Provincial Department of Health here is going to be getting pretty sick of me. Between terrible customer service and repulsive financial service, not to mention that fact that I had to do all of my own research just to find out what my options were, I think I have a lot to bring attention to. I hope that everyone reading this shows up at the fundraiser I am putting together for travel assistance for people like me... it will be my victory party. If the Healthcare Foundation can raise over $200,000 in one night to buy some computer equipment, I should be able to raise at least 10% of that amount to get my fund started and help people in my position.
Meanwhile, mentally preparing for Winnipeg and physically recovering from it are on the top of my agenda for the next several weeks.
From Achmed and Me... Life Life!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Achmed's Blind Date, October 28
So finally the waiting for news is over and the waiting for an actual blast has begun. On Wednesday October 28, Achmed and I will be having an intimate meeting with a 40,000 pound nuclear reactor.
On Friday evening, just after I got back in town from Uncle Pat’s funeral, Tammy called me from Winnipeg to let me know that my case has been accepted by the Gamma Knife team and they wanted me up there as soon as I could make arrangements. I will be flying out of here on Saturday, Oct 24 to make sure that some kind of weather delay doesn’t make me miss my long awaited date. Living in Newfoundland this time of year that has to be a consideration, it is not like I am only going to miss a day of vacation by showing up late.
At the funeral I was getting bombarded with questions on when I was going to Winnipeg. I know that people were only asking out of concern, but by the end of the two days I was getting tired of saying that I didn’t know and hopefully I would find out in a few days. In the back of my mind, every time I answered that question I worried a little tiny bit more that my case was going to be rejected and I was not going to be a candidate for the Radio-surgery, forcing me to go the ‘real surgery’ route. I can’t even explain the weight that was lifted off my shoulders when Tammy told me I was accepted by the doctors in Winnipeg.
Friday night I had to go to a fundraiser for the CNIB, where I was also bombarded by questions of when I was heading to Winnipeg. It is amazing how much things can change in a few hours. I went from being more frustrated with each question, to being happier each time I was asked the exact same question.
To say I am looking forward to getting zapped is not really an accurate statement. The fact is I am not looking forward to it at all. I am, however, looking forward to it being over and getting on with the recovery stage of it all. One of the great things about the Gamma Knife is that the recovery is a lot faster that ‘real surgery’, in fact I should be back to work within days instead of months. The headaches and the roaring and the dizziness will be worse for a while, but when the aggravation of Achmed is over, things will start to get better. I am planning to be on skates again before Christmas.
This is Thanksgiving weekend and I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, if you are able to read this, so do you, and hopefully you realize it as well.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
On Friday evening, just after I got back in town from Uncle Pat’s funeral, Tammy called me from Winnipeg to let me know that my case has been accepted by the Gamma Knife team and they wanted me up there as soon as I could make arrangements. I will be flying out of here on Saturday, Oct 24 to make sure that some kind of weather delay doesn’t make me miss my long awaited date. Living in Newfoundland this time of year that has to be a consideration, it is not like I am only going to miss a day of vacation by showing up late.
At the funeral I was getting bombarded with questions on when I was going to Winnipeg. I know that people were only asking out of concern, but by the end of the two days I was getting tired of saying that I didn’t know and hopefully I would find out in a few days. In the back of my mind, every time I answered that question I worried a little tiny bit more that my case was going to be rejected and I was not going to be a candidate for the Radio-surgery, forcing me to go the ‘real surgery’ route. I can’t even explain the weight that was lifted off my shoulders when Tammy told me I was accepted by the doctors in Winnipeg.
Friday night I had to go to a fundraiser for the CNIB, where I was also bombarded by questions of when I was heading to Winnipeg. It is amazing how much things can change in a few hours. I went from being more frustrated with each question, to being happier each time I was asked the exact same question.
To say I am looking forward to getting zapped is not really an accurate statement. The fact is I am not looking forward to it at all. I am, however, looking forward to it being over and getting on with the recovery stage of it all. One of the great things about the Gamma Knife is that the recovery is a lot faster that ‘real surgery’, in fact I should be back to work within days instead of months. The headaches and the roaring and the dizziness will be worse for a while, but when the aggravation of Achmed is over, things will start to get better. I am planning to be on skates again before Christmas.
This is Thanksgiving weekend and I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, if you are able to read this, so do you, and hopefully you realize it as well.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Cheers Uncle Pat:)
Today I woke up with a screaming pain in my ear that kept me almost crying in my pillow until 9:00… yes, I was once again late for work. This afternoon I got a call from my mother that my oldest uncle had passed away. That news made my pain seem pretty trivial. Uncle Pat was almost 90. He had good times and bad; hard times and easy; and lived primarily what most people would consider a rewarding life doing things on his terms… he lived the way he wanted to, period. When time came for him to check-out, he sat back in his chair, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Getting the news at first shocked me, he wasn’t sick; then it made me sad, I hadn’t seen him in quite awhile; then a smile came to my face when Mom told me how he died. He lived the way he wanted and he died the way he wanted, most of us can only hope for that.
When I was six years old, my Grandfather (Uncle Pat’s father) passed away exactly the same way. As a young boy I often heard my father and my uncle’s say that was the way they all wanted to go… no suffering, just close your eyes and go to sleep. I am not sure what way I want to check-out, there is something to be said about having an approximate date, it gives you time to do the things that you want to clue up. I guess if you spend your life taking care of that stuff as you go, just going to sleep is a pretty attractive deal.
Even at 90, sudden death is hard on the remaining family, and in a long line of pre-mature funerals, in a huge family, Uncle Pat’s will be no exception in that regard. The difference is that once the shock has worn off, people will smile when they think of the twinkle in his eye. The sadness will heal a lot faster when you know someone did things on their own terms.
As you can imagine, in the past several months, death has been one of the things that has occupied some of my grey matter. As far as I know, I am only half way there… but ultimately, one never knows what is on the end of your next nap, or walk, or car ride, or trip to the doctor. Living and appreciating life is the way I roll now, I take nothing for granted and I try to treat every day like it might be my last.
One time when I was 11 or 12, there was an incident in Merasheen that probably would have been my last if Uncle Pat hadn’t been as strong and fast as he was. I was dumping garbage over the cliff with my cousin Gary. (Yes, this was before we all realized how bad it was to dump garbage in the ocean.) Anyway, all the stuff was in this huge iron wheelbarrow, at least huge for me at the time. When we tipped it over to get everything out, it all didn’t go down the 30 foot drop to the icy cold water below, so Gary let go of his side of the handle and got on his hands and knees in front of it to brush it all off the edge of the cliff. I was a kid, and the two of us together could barely handle this rig, much less me alone. Fortunately for Gary, and probably for me, this all happened in front of Uncle Pat’s cabin and when he saw what was happening, he came bolting down the hill to grab the wheelbarrow and more than likely saved the two of us from a drop to the beach. We got told off pretty good that day. I haven’t thought about that day in years… it’s funny how sudden news about a person can jolt memories from your subconscious.
Now my waiting to hear when I go to Winnipeg has taken a backseat to more important matters. When I was first looking at being shipped up to the mainland for my blast, it would have been around now if all had gone according to plan. People say that everything happens for a reason and if I didn’t believe it before today, I certainly believe it now. Now I will be here instead of Winnipeg this week. Now I will be there to be supportive to my family who have all been so supportive to me. Now I will be able to say good-bye to my uncle, my friend, my one time guardian… and now I will have one more angel watching over me when I get shot up with radiation.
Cheers Uncle Pat.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Getting the news at first shocked me, he wasn’t sick; then it made me sad, I hadn’t seen him in quite awhile; then a smile came to my face when Mom told me how he died. He lived the way he wanted and he died the way he wanted, most of us can only hope for that.
When I was six years old, my Grandfather (Uncle Pat’s father) passed away exactly the same way. As a young boy I often heard my father and my uncle’s say that was the way they all wanted to go… no suffering, just close your eyes and go to sleep. I am not sure what way I want to check-out, there is something to be said about having an approximate date, it gives you time to do the things that you want to clue up. I guess if you spend your life taking care of that stuff as you go, just going to sleep is a pretty attractive deal.
Even at 90, sudden death is hard on the remaining family, and in a long line of pre-mature funerals, in a huge family, Uncle Pat’s will be no exception in that regard. The difference is that once the shock has worn off, people will smile when they think of the twinkle in his eye. The sadness will heal a lot faster when you know someone did things on their own terms.
As you can imagine, in the past several months, death has been one of the things that has occupied some of my grey matter. As far as I know, I am only half way there… but ultimately, one never knows what is on the end of your next nap, or walk, or car ride, or trip to the doctor. Living and appreciating life is the way I roll now, I take nothing for granted and I try to treat every day like it might be my last.
One time when I was 11 or 12, there was an incident in Merasheen that probably would have been my last if Uncle Pat hadn’t been as strong and fast as he was. I was dumping garbage over the cliff with my cousin Gary. (Yes, this was before we all realized how bad it was to dump garbage in the ocean.) Anyway, all the stuff was in this huge iron wheelbarrow, at least huge for me at the time. When we tipped it over to get everything out, it all didn’t go down the 30 foot drop to the icy cold water below, so Gary let go of his side of the handle and got on his hands and knees in front of it to brush it all off the edge of the cliff. I was a kid, and the two of us together could barely handle this rig, much less me alone. Fortunately for Gary, and probably for me, this all happened in front of Uncle Pat’s cabin and when he saw what was happening, he came bolting down the hill to grab the wheelbarrow and more than likely saved the two of us from a drop to the beach. We got told off pretty good that day. I haven’t thought about that day in years… it’s funny how sudden news about a person can jolt memories from your subconscious.
Now my waiting to hear when I go to Winnipeg has taken a backseat to more important matters. When I was first looking at being shipped up to the mainland for my blast, it would have been around now if all had gone according to plan. People say that everything happens for a reason and if I didn’t believe it before today, I certainly believe it now. Now I will be here instead of Winnipeg this week. Now I will be there to be supportive to my family who have all been so supportive to me. Now I will be able to say good-bye to my uncle, my friend, my one time guardian… and now I will have one more angel watching over me when I get shot up with radiation.
Cheers Uncle Pat.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Freedom is just another word...
I don’t make very good company these days; my mind wanders and loud crowds frustrate me because I can’t understand what anyone is saying.
I have come to accept the fact that Achmed is with me for life and I have come to accept that radio-surgery is the way to get him under control so that I can start leading a normal life again. That being said, I have a lot of trouble accepting the fact that the Canadian Sick-care Program hauls its sorry ass into gear slower than a delinquent teenager suffering from their first hangover!
This is October 5th. My first medical appointment relating to all of this was in March. So far, it has taken the bureaucratic scientific community in this country seven months just to diagnose me and decide on a course of treatment. It’s a damn good thing that Achmed is not Cancer, because if he was you would probably all be reading my obituary right now, instead of my rant of frustration!
There is a good side effect that has come out of this situation. I have proof that this spiritual journey that I have been on for the past couple of years is actually working on me. The old Kevin would have been arrested by now on assault charges, because he would have been sick of waiting around to hear something and would have completely snapped.
The thing that bothers me above all else right now is that no one in the “healthcare” system seems to give a flying F*@% that I want an answer to what is going on with my head. The fact that Achmed is not classified as a terminal tumor seems to make everyone in the healthcare system think I am being hard to get along with because I want something done.
People seem to think, just because they will get to me before this thing could ever kill me that I should just shut-up and wait until they are good and ready to give me a nuclear blast. Well, I have news for them...dying has never scared me. Don’t get me wrong I don’t want to die, and I don’t generally do things, anymore, that could speed up the process, but as a rule I am not afraid of death and seeing how it is the one thing that no one can change about their lives, we might as well all come to terms with the fact that at some point in time we are all going to become acquainted with it. I gave up losing sleep about things that I can’t change years ago.
But, there is one thing that I am afraid of: being paralysed or incapacitated. I don’t ever want to have to rely on someone else to look after me, or feed me, or change me. The little buddy in my head, if he is left alone, has the potential to mess up my quality of life pretty good. That is why I am getting fed up with waiting. Every day that passes without me getting zapped, makes it a little bit more likely that the Gamma-Knife won’t work. If you have been following along at all, you have a pretty good idea already of what that means.
Freedom is the thing that I value above all else and this waiting around has me feeling jailed and on someone else’s schedule, and there is nothing I can do about it. My tolerance for waiting and my patience for the right outcome is actually quite high, but I am pretty sure that lately I am down to the last strand of a pretty frayed rope.
Don’t even get me started on how much two plane tickets to Winnipeg are going to cost me at the last minute! There really has to be a better way to deal with all of this... I should go on a speaking tour when this is over because I am sure I could shed some light on simple ways to improve the medical system... being friendly is one that could help.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
I have come to accept the fact that Achmed is with me for life and I have come to accept that radio-surgery is the way to get him under control so that I can start leading a normal life again. That being said, I have a lot of trouble accepting the fact that the Canadian Sick-care Program hauls its sorry ass into gear slower than a delinquent teenager suffering from their first hangover!
This is October 5th. My first medical appointment relating to all of this was in March. So far, it has taken the bureaucratic scientific community in this country seven months just to diagnose me and decide on a course of treatment. It’s a damn good thing that Achmed is not Cancer, because if he was you would probably all be reading my obituary right now, instead of my rant of frustration!
There is a good side effect that has come out of this situation. I have proof that this spiritual journey that I have been on for the past couple of years is actually working on me. The old Kevin would have been arrested by now on assault charges, because he would have been sick of waiting around to hear something and would have completely snapped.
The thing that bothers me above all else right now is that no one in the “healthcare” system seems to give a flying F*@% that I want an answer to what is going on with my head. The fact that Achmed is not classified as a terminal tumor seems to make everyone in the healthcare system think I am being hard to get along with because I want something done.
People seem to think, just because they will get to me before this thing could ever kill me that I should just shut-up and wait until they are good and ready to give me a nuclear blast. Well, I have news for them...dying has never scared me. Don’t get me wrong I don’t want to die, and I don’t generally do things, anymore, that could speed up the process, but as a rule I am not afraid of death and seeing how it is the one thing that no one can change about their lives, we might as well all come to terms with the fact that at some point in time we are all going to become acquainted with it. I gave up losing sleep about things that I can’t change years ago.
But, there is one thing that I am afraid of: being paralysed or incapacitated. I don’t ever want to have to rely on someone else to look after me, or feed me, or change me. The little buddy in my head, if he is left alone, has the potential to mess up my quality of life pretty good. That is why I am getting fed up with waiting. Every day that passes without me getting zapped, makes it a little bit more likely that the Gamma-Knife won’t work. If you have been following along at all, you have a pretty good idea already of what that means.
Freedom is the thing that I value above all else and this waiting around has me feeling jailed and on someone else’s schedule, and there is nothing I can do about it. My tolerance for waiting and my patience for the right outcome is actually quite high, but I am pretty sure that lately I am down to the last strand of a pretty frayed rope.
Don’t even get me started on how much two plane tickets to Winnipeg are going to cost me at the last minute! There really has to be a better way to deal with all of this... I should go on a speaking tour when this is over because I am sure I could shed some light on simple ways to improve the medical system... being friendly is one that could help.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
U2 and a Brain Tumor – Part 2
It was 7:10am when the three of us heard the synthesized blues riff that emits from my phone every morning, just after my alarm clock, to wake me up for work. It seems that I had forgotten to turn it off when I went to Toronto for a few days. My eyes popped open instantly at the familiar sound and the first thing I could think of was, “Oh shit, the boys are gonna kill me for that!”
I was face first into a pillow in bed, or more accurately on bed, next to Other Kevin when I jumped up to run over and turn off the alarm when my pants fell down around my knees and I almost went flying into the wall. It seems that a few beers on an empty stomach, the time difference and the fact that I had been up for almost 24 hours by the time I hit the rack in the first place, all combined to make me pass out while I was in the process of going to bed. My shoes were on the floor, my belt and jeans were unbuttoned and the rest of my clothes were exactly as they were before I went out the night before. It struck me that this was starting to turn into a 4-guys kind of trip... and this time I didn’t even have a place to stay.
The day was Thursday... concert day... the reason we were all here in the first place. Everyone had things to do that morning, Bruce had to work, Other Kevin had to visit his sister and we weren’t expecting to hear from the guys in Scarborough until at least lunchtime, so the three of us went for coffee and then went our separate ways for a few hours.
This was kind of like my alone time in downtown TO. I went for more coffee, had lunch at Dundas Square watching a U2 concert outdoors on a huge screen, finally got keys, met the Scarbarians for another lunch at a Subway (the sandwich shop, not the ride) and eventually got my luggage from Other Kevin and Bruce’s hotel and hit the condo for a shower. Usually when I travel, a shower at the hotel is one of the first things I do once I check-in... I am pretty sure I saw travel and hangover grime slide off of me under the pressure of the water.
Eventually, we all met at O’Malley’s... which incidentally was the scene of the U2 cover band from the night before... for dinner and pre-show pints. It seems that Other Kevin, Bruce and I left an impression everywhere we went those few days, the entire staff remembered us from the night before and the manager gave us his card to skip the line when we came back after the concert. (To all of you reading this, who work in the healthcare system, this shows how it pays to be polite and smile!)
The concert itself was indescribable. The roar of the crowd drowned out the roar of Achmed. The energy of being down on the field in the middle of all the action was like something everyone needs to experience for themselves. The feeling of having 60,000 people looking down on you as you stand near the pitching mound was nothing compared to when everyone there started to sing “Where the Streets Have No Name” all in unison and to the point of actually drowning out the band. That guitar intro has to be one of the most recognizable riffs in rock and roll history...thinking about it here is giving me goose bumps again. We all decided that we are going back to see them again... my choice is in Dublin!
I have never found the streets of Toronto particularly friendly, but that night, after the show, 60,000 people spilled out onto Blue Jay Way and were all in happy and jovial spirits. The beer consumed and organic aroma of the Skydome may have played a part in the odd Torontonian behaviour.
Never ones to walk away from a conversation with a group of pretty girls; Other Kevin, Bruce and I found ourselves trying to convince a group of young professionals to come along to the bar with us. Apparently they all had to go home because they had to work in the morning. At this point, frat-boy Kevin crept into the conversation, “Don’t be a bunch of whimps! So you will be regretting it tomorrow, but if you don’t come you will be regretting in a few days anyway and you will keep regretting it for weeks... next thing you know you will get diagnosed with a brain tumor and will have missed out on your last chance to party with us.”
After they finished snarling at me, I told them, “you have to live life... I have a brain tumor, his name is Achmed and I am out having fun tonight.” They didn’t believe me until the other guys started nodding that I was telling the truth. They all went home anyway... I may have scared them.
The rest of the night basically turned into a carbon copy of the night before, except I had a full stomach and did not pass out in bed with another dude.
The next morning my phone rang, it was Other Kevin looking for someone to go for lunch with. Well, I am all over eating, especially on a sunny patio full of girls that seem to have to pass a beauty test before they get hired. Other Kevin, Bruce and I met at Jack Astor’s on Dundas Square and spent our last few hours in TO chilling to great tunes, great scenery and cold beer. Outside of the concert, it was the highlight of the trip. The lads had an earlier flight than I did, so eventually they went to the airport, and I went and packed.
It was a whirlwind tour, about 50 hours between airport gates. It’s one of those moments in life that seems surreal and is both cloudy and clear at the same time. It wasn’t the trip I was expecting, but I wouldn’t trade a minute of it for something else. Sometimes you just have to roll with what is in front of you and things will work out top drawer!
As the 4-guys would say, “Let it roll!”
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
I was face first into a pillow in bed, or more accurately on bed, next to Other Kevin when I jumped up to run over and turn off the alarm when my pants fell down around my knees and I almost went flying into the wall. It seems that a few beers on an empty stomach, the time difference and the fact that I had been up for almost 24 hours by the time I hit the rack in the first place, all combined to make me pass out while I was in the process of going to bed. My shoes were on the floor, my belt and jeans were unbuttoned and the rest of my clothes were exactly as they were before I went out the night before. It struck me that this was starting to turn into a 4-guys kind of trip... and this time I didn’t even have a place to stay.
The day was Thursday... concert day... the reason we were all here in the first place. Everyone had things to do that morning, Bruce had to work, Other Kevin had to visit his sister and we weren’t expecting to hear from the guys in Scarborough until at least lunchtime, so the three of us went for coffee and then went our separate ways for a few hours.
This was kind of like my alone time in downtown TO. I went for more coffee, had lunch at Dundas Square watching a U2 concert outdoors on a huge screen, finally got keys, met the Scarbarians for another lunch at a Subway (the sandwich shop, not the ride) and eventually got my luggage from Other Kevin and Bruce’s hotel and hit the condo for a shower. Usually when I travel, a shower at the hotel is one of the first things I do once I check-in... I am pretty sure I saw travel and hangover grime slide off of me under the pressure of the water.
Eventually, we all met at O’Malley’s... which incidentally was the scene of the U2 cover band from the night before... for dinner and pre-show pints. It seems that Other Kevin, Bruce and I left an impression everywhere we went those few days, the entire staff remembered us from the night before and the manager gave us his card to skip the line when we came back after the concert. (To all of you reading this, who work in the healthcare system, this shows how it pays to be polite and smile!)
The concert itself was indescribable. The roar of the crowd drowned out the roar of Achmed. The energy of being down on the field in the middle of all the action was like something everyone needs to experience for themselves. The feeling of having 60,000 people looking down on you as you stand near the pitching mound was nothing compared to when everyone there started to sing “Where the Streets Have No Name” all in unison and to the point of actually drowning out the band. That guitar intro has to be one of the most recognizable riffs in rock and roll history...thinking about it here is giving me goose bumps again. We all decided that we are going back to see them again... my choice is in Dublin!
I have never found the streets of Toronto particularly friendly, but that night, after the show, 60,000 people spilled out onto Blue Jay Way and were all in happy and jovial spirits. The beer consumed and organic aroma of the Skydome may have played a part in the odd Torontonian behaviour.
Never ones to walk away from a conversation with a group of pretty girls; Other Kevin, Bruce and I found ourselves trying to convince a group of young professionals to come along to the bar with us. Apparently they all had to go home because they had to work in the morning. At this point, frat-boy Kevin crept into the conversation, “Don’t be a bunch of whimps! So you will be regretting it tomorrow, but if you don’t come you will be regretting in a few days anyway and you will keep regretting it for weeks... next thing you know you will get diagnosed with a brain tumor and will have missed out on your last chance to party with us.”
After they finished snarling at me, I told them, “you have to live life... I have a brain tumor, his name is Achmed and I am out having fun tonight.” They didn’t believe me until the other guys started nodding that I was telling the truth. They all went home anyway... I may have scared them.
The rest of the night basically turned into a carbon copy of the night before, except I had a full stomach and did not pass out in bed with another dude.
The next morning my phone rang, it was Other Kevin looking for someone to go for lunch with. Well, I am all over eating, especially on a sunny patio full of girls that seem to have to pass a beauty test before they get hired. Other Kevin, Bruce and I met at Jack Astor’s on Dundas Square and spent our last few hours in TO chilling to great tunes, great scenery and cold beer. Outside of the concert, it was the highlight of the trip. The lads had an earlier flight than I did, so eventually they went to the airport, and I went and packed.
It was a whirlwind tour, about 50 hours between airport gates. It’s one of those moments in life that seems surreal and is both cloudy and clear at the same time. It wasn’t the trip I was expecting, but I wouldn’t trade a minute of it for something else. Sometimes you just have to roll with what is in front of you and things will work out top drawer!
As the 4-guys would say, “Let it roll!”
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Achmed is Still Waiting...
I have been in a lot of strange and stressful situations over the span of my life but one thing that the majority of them have had in common is that there was something I could do about it. I can’t remember a time when I have felt more helpless than I have over the past several months... I don’t think I have ever been completely at the mercy of outside influences before.
That being said, I do my best to stay positive and patient, but everyone has their limits. I try to live my life as normally as I can under the circumstances although it seems that my summer of checking off things on my bucket list has been anything but normal. If I wasn’t going to the gym all the time doing balance and core strengthening exercises, I would probably be writing a will by now instead of a blog!
The past few nights I have slept like a baby (an expression that I never really understood, as so many babies don’t sleep well or regularly). I have recently changed my bedtime reading back to the kind of books I have always loved to read... entertainment autobiographies, and I think that has something to do with getting rest again. Over the past year or so I have been into reading a lot of books about spirituality, higher self and of course, business. The problem is that the majority of my reading time comes when I am hitting the rack for the night and all of these books have been making me think. Add a racing mind to a roaring head, and you have a restless night!
Currently I am reading Slash’s book, “Excessive- just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen”. That man had a wild life before Gun ‘n’ Roses got going and once he had the money to really do what he wanted... well, you should read the book. Anyway, my point is that I know that I am never going to live a life like Slash or Johnny Cash or Ray Charles, so their books are an escape from reality for me, and I think until I get the nuclear blast over with, I am going to stick to books at night that put me to sleep rather than keep me up.
So even though I have slept well for three nights in a row (a record since I first saw the doctor in April) I am still hanging out there in limbo waiting to hear when I am leaving on a jet plane. At least I don’t feel constantly tired and the headaches have not been too bad either lately. The jaw pain comes and goes, it seems to be mostly at night when it flares up and of course my hearing still fluctuates and makes me feel like I am in a Charlie Brown cartoon half the time. I was starting to think that my facial numbness had gone away, but when I actually think about it, it seems that I am just getting used to it and it isn’t on my mind all the time anymore.
Maybe part of the whole healing process with brain tumors, or any other ailment, is just putting it out of your mind and moving on as if all is normal. I know that is not always possible, but I am getting used to it.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
That being said, I do my best to stay positive and patient, but everyone has their limits. I try to live my life as normally as I can under the circumstances although it seems that my summer of checking off things on my bucket list has been anything but normal. If I wasn’t going to the gym all the time doing balance and core strengthening exercises, I would probably be writing a will by now instead of a blog!
The past few nights I have slept like a baby (an expression that I never really understood, as so many babies don’t sleep well or regularly). I have recently changed my bedtime reading back to the kind of books I have always loved to read... entertainment autobiographies, and I think that has something to do with getting rest again. Over the past year or so I have been into reading a lot of books about spirituality, higher self and of course, business. The problem is that the majority of my reading time comes when I am hitting the rack for the night and all of these books have been making me think. Add a racing mind to a roaring head, and you have a restless night!
Currently I am reading Slash’s book, “Excessive- just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen”. That man had a wild life before Gun ‘n’ Roses got going and once he had the money to really do what he wanted... well, you should read the book. Anyway, my point is that I know that I am never going to live a life like Slash or Johnny Cash or Ray Charles, so their books are an escape from reality for me, and I think until I get the nuclear blast over with, I am going to stick to books at night that put me to sleep rather than keep me up.
So even though I have slept well for three nights in a row (a record since I first saw the doctor in April) I am still hanging out there in limbo waiting to hear when I am leaving on a jet plane. At least I don’t feel constantly tired and the headaches have not been too bad either lately. The jaw pain comes and goes, it seems to be mostly at night when it flares up and of course my hearing still fluctuates and makes me feel like I am in a Charlie Brown cartoon half the time. I was starting to think that my facial numbness had gone away, but when I actually think about it, it seems that I am just getting used to it and it isn’t on my mind all the time anymore.
Maybe part of the whole healing process with brain tumors, or any other ailment, is just putting it out of your mind and moving on as if all is normal. I know that is not always possible, but I am getting used to it.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
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