So what is the lead here -- the chemo is working or the haircut?

The haircut, hands down.

For the five days preceding my chemo on Monday (10/22), my hair was generously falling out of my head. Seemed pathetic to let it go like that, so I decided to take charge.

After 6 and 1/2 hours of chemo, I went straight to Supercuts. I asked the young lady barber for a burr haircut. She never heard that term.

Well, I know it exists because in 3rd grade, 49 years ago, when my mother made me (for the last time) get one, that's what it is called. And if you Google it, it's there.

Ms. Supercuts knows it as a buzz cut. She made a mess on the floor with what was left of my long hair.

People are nice to cancer patients. Wife Mary, daughter Lori, Lori's friend Andrea and our housekeeper, Annie, have all said I look great. You be the judge. Attached is my current do and what I looked like in third grade.

Back to the chemo. It knocked me down again which is why it has taken this long to write this. But still not as bad as the first time, though cookie tossing was in the mix.

I saw Dr. Anthony Ciarolla on Monday and he felt my lump, noting it was noticeably smaller after the first round. He was almost giddy about looking forward to telling the good news to my radiation doctor, Dean Davis.

And on the previous Friday, I had a PET scan, which showed the only cancer I have is what is in my neck. This was a procedure I had to keep making phone calls to make sure I got it. Sometimes as a cancer patient you have to be your own advocate.

If you ever get one of these, don't make the mistake I did. Toward the end of the 65 minute scan, you have to put your arms up over your head. I did it at the beginning, but in the end I was in some pain in that position.

I'm hoping I feel well enough to play in a golf tournament on Oct. 29. You can bet I will give it my best shot, though perhaps I'll still be too weak to hit my best shots.

I got a lot of great e-mails after my column on all this ran on the front page of Saturday's (10/20) Californian.  From now on my blogs will go in the newspaper so more than just the computer nerds can follow along.

A couple credits were left out of the story. The picture that ran of myself and Nurse Renee was taken by Mary Creswell Swenson, a woman close and dear to me. And the physician's assistant who discovered my lump is Kevin Nelson, who always takes good care of me.

Oh, I did get the chemo hat. A light blue Titleist, which matches my pretty blue eyes. The hair is dorky, but the eyes are still kind of cute on either side of my perfect nose.

 

 

Well, it's begun.

I noticed an increase in beard droppings on my shirt on Monday and Tuesday. And on Tuesday night, I went to scratch my ear and my fingers came back with an alarming strand collection.

Right now, my hair is just resting on my head, but if the wind picks up, I expect it to fly off.

So, I can put up with the abdominal pains, the inconsistency of bowel movements, the can't get-out-of-bed tired, the headaches, the dizziness, the weird dreams, the heightened sense of smell, the dulling of tastebuds, the potpourri of medication and the weakening of my golf game (on Saturday I hit 3 more clubs than before chemo), but now we're talking about my Beatles-style hair that I'm pretty sure every woman on earth finds exceedingly attractive.

When I went to my 25th high school reunion, I was so proud I had lots more hair than 90 percent of my classmates (all boys school).

I have nothing against bald people. I just don't want to be one of them.

I'm telling you right now, I'm gonna go out and buy a hat. I'd like one that says, "I'm not bald, just having a chemo setback."

The hair will grow back. (It damn well better. If the doctors lied to me about that, I'm suing for emotional damages)

All of this comes during the week when I felt like my old self again. I walked 9 holes on the golf course last night. I'm eating like a pig. Feeling good. Back to work.

This coming Monday, I go back for more chemo. Lots of side effects to look forward to.
And the new hat.

 

After that first week of chemotherapy where side effects and exhaustion kept me mainly in bed, I expected to recover this week with a hearty rebound.

Well, that didn't happen.

But I did get better, and I was able to eat with abandon (though the chicken burritos on Wednesday set me back a little).  I've regained 9 of the 12 pounds I lost in the first week.
(see, I do have skills).

I returned to work Thursday morning. Didn't last until noon, I was so lethargic.

I headed toward the Sundale Country Club where I had to decide if I was going to be able to play in the club championship this weekend.

I rented a cart. Didn't know if I could play two, or six, or nine or even 18 holes. For the past 11 days, I had had no exercise at all.

I parred the first hole.

Drive was straight but not that far. I thought I hit a good second shot (used an extra club, but it wasn't enough).  Hit a tricky sand wedge to 3 feet and sunk the putt.

I was swinging and there was fresh air and it was good. (well the 7th hole was a disastrous 8 cuz it took 3 to get out of a wet and hard sand trap)

So I finished with a 43 after nine. Not horrible considering the 7th hole.

And then I kept going. And before it was done, I birdied four of the 9 holes for an even-par 36. And I was thrilled.

(disclaimer: the club is reseeding the tee boxes so the temporary tees were at the senior citizen level.)

But the point is, the round -- one of the most phenomenal I've ever played in my life -- was therapeutic. It felt like I went to the doctor and got better.

My nurse, Renee, tells me the chemo is still at work in me and will probably dissipate by the end of next week. Just in time for a second round on Oct. 22.  That's a second round of chemo.

I''ll be playing a second round of golf before then. I want to get better and I'm not going to argue with the best therapy on the planet.

After spending six days (beg. Mon. Oct. 1) of barely having enough strength to get out of bed, and feeling like the top one-fourth of my head was lighter than air, I think I'm turning a corner after my chemotherapy began.

My head fills a little more full. I'm still not out running marathons (indeed, what I can really manage is to shuffle around the house, introducing my new persona as Mr. Shuffles), but it is no longer a major strain to sit up.

By Sunday, I had lost 11 pounds through this not much eating, not much exercise regimen.

One change occurred Saturday night when I kept a commitment to give a speech at the retirement party for Superior Court Judge Frank A. Hoover. I worked all day to manage my drugs so that I would have some energy that evening. I lasted a couple hours but I still had to leave before it was over.

But what I got that the Four Points Ballroom was about the best, tender, grilled white chicken meat I have ever had. And I ate a lot of it, which was the first substantial food I had had all week. That gave me encouragement to start eating more and more of what I like to eat.

So I dabbled in some scrambled eggs in the morning, some pasta in the afternoon, some creamy chicken soup and steak in the evening. They all went down and stayed down.

 But even more importantly, my neighbors, Nancy and Paul, came back from the Tehachapi Apple Festival on Saturday and brought us apples and a cinnamon apple pie. The pie was an absolute godsend. I've had four or five pieces since then and each one tastes wonderful.

By Monday  morning, I weighed a pound more than I did Sunday.

The other momentous thing on Monday morning is I took my last two chemo pills. I will have no more chemo until Oct. 22. Since it is the chemo that is knocking me down, I am hoping I get regain some energy and get back up.

I have made it this week with support and prayers from family, friends and colleagues (my co-workers gave me a touching gift Saturday that made me cry). But most of all, I made it with Mary's help.

There were times I didn't have enough strength to make me food to eat or to get my medication when I needed it. Her boss, Andy at the State Fund,  has given her time off work to be with me. I am very serious -- I don't think I could have managed by myself. So Mary gets another, " I love you more than life, Sweetie," from me.

 I was going to end it there, but I just noticed we haven't talked about bodily functions. The short answer is I've stopped tossing cookies, and things are getting out of the system on a regular basis, although I've stopped taking stool softeners altogether.

Okay, that's a wrap for now.

I went in Monday for my first chemotherapy. That is is Thursday afternoon now and this is the first I'm been able to write about it shows that it knocked me down.

But I just got back from the doctor's office and learned I'm not checking out yet.

The plan was to get  chemo on Monday, play 9 holes of golf on Tuesday and see if on the third and fourth day if the chemo kicked in.

It kicked in before I got home on Monday. The predominant feeling all week has been tired, light headedness and side effects that began with (gee, I hate to use this word, but) diarrhea.

That quick was a very unusual reaction. But it didn't last. I probably have the other end of that spectrum now.

Here's the deal with chemo. Bowel movements are a window to your health.

Because chemo has strong effects, you are given anti nausea pills. I was lucky to get the best on the market.

But Tuesday, I started upchucking, and that continued into Thursday morning at rather long intervals.

I've been talking with Renee (she's the pretty nurse in the picture) every day, and once Wednesday night with Dr. Anthony Ciarolla, on my effects, so they decided to bring me in for an office visit Thursday afternoon.

It was like taking your car in to find it was mostly all right. My blood pressure,  heart beat and  lung capacity are all okay.

But I have lost 5 pounds. The biggest trick in all this is figuring out what to eat and drink, and then seeing if you can actually do it.

The first thing is when you are essentially in bed most of the time, you really don't feel like eating. Having the strength to eat and eating something that tastes good have been rare times since Monday.

I've been instructed to work on that and get up and around more.

My favorite foods aren't making any of these lists. But we tried spare ribs on Tuesday night, and while I didn't eat much, a few hours later I was face down at the porcelain bowl.

I had two fluid bags of chemo on Monday -- Taxotere and Cisplatin -- and I take four  5FU pills a day for a couple weeks. These are moderate strength. I'm glad they didn't start me with anything more heavy duty.

I met some nice folks. It was all men in the morning so we could leave the toilet seat up.

One man was in for his second treatment. He is a golfer so we had lots to chat about. His brother, once a heavy man but now very svelte, had been through chemo and radiation such as I will receive, and he was kind enough to show me his stomach tube.

(The tube is because you can't swallow with radiation and you need a passage way for nutrients. I'll get radiation in about 5 weeks.)

I couldn't have gotten through these four days without Mary. She has taken time off work, worried about me, massaged me, cooked for me and told me I was her rock. Well the rock isn't quite as sturdy right now.

But Dr. Ciarolla told me all these down times will pass. So I'm going to try to be less of an oddity or wimp. I want to be out in the swing of things.

I've been writing about this to demystify the process. I've talked with others who haven't had anywhere near as many problems. So if you develop cancer, maybe your road will be better.

We in the news business try not to make up facts for a pretty story.

I am glad I have so many people caring about me. Know that I equally care about you.