I came within a hair's breadth of spending Christmas in the hospital.

For about two weeks before Christmas, my days and nights were spent mostly in bed, fighting off nausea and never getting fully rested.

Mary fed me through my stomach tube. Various medicines didn't always keep the food down.

On Christmas Eve I had to have my weekly blood withdrawal at Physician's Automated Lab. This is how they measure my hydration and immune system. So far it's been pretty good.

These trips are a continuing series of needle pokes into my skin for blood or medicine. Since this began in September I've been poked 24 times.

 Here's what I've learned. You look away when they poke. Just another little thing to endure.

On Christmas Eve, my normal lab was closed that afternoon so we drove to the main center at 28th and H Streets. It was about 2:30 p.m. and as soon as we got there, I reached for my blue pippyup bag we carry in the Mercedes.

That saved a big mess in our Mercedes. I dumped the bag in a trash container outside and went in for my blood draw. You just have to finish things in this process.

By Christmas morning, I threw up three more times. It seemed hopeless at trying to keep anything down. But at noon, I tried one more can of Ensure. It stayed down and I stayed home.

We had a nice family (Mary, her daughter Lori, and I) Christmas at 3 p.m., the first time all day I had strength to sit up.

By this time, I can barely talk, what with all the tongue sores and other guck in my mouth.

A couple days later, I finished my 30th radiation treatment. I went in for a CAT scan to see what's left of the tumor. I don't have the results yet, but a new radiation plan is being prepared for the final 9 doses.

I was hoping to be finished by Jan. 11, but now it looks like it will be almost a week or more later.

Right now (Dec. 31), I haven't had treatments for four days. This has allowed some improvement so I can write this and keep six cans of Ensure down per day.

Ativan at night is still my new favorite friend. Mary during the day is my angel.

Zofran and a suppository called Compazine have kept food down during the day.

In the midst of all this, I had to get my driver's license renewed. We made an appointment on Dec. 28. It took a half hour. But they made me take a new picture of my "cancer look."

I pity the poor people who ask for my identification. It's just one of those things we have to endure.