Tag Archives: ileostomy

The wait

Last Saturday I went to get my CAT scan. It was all routine, drinking a ton of oral contrast, walking into the room, having an IV line hooked up to a vein, getting a syringe test, then a water test with the mean machine and finally, after alignment, the poison and the scan. The poison wasn’t bad, I was able to handle it quite well, but it really feels it’s beyond control when it enters the body. The feeling that the body warms up, heats and burns from the inside out, and the flavor and smell of the drug flood the senses and then it’s luck, because it feels nothing can save me. As the body processes the poison, it feels I’m saved. This time I had to go alone, my wife was taking a class in a neihhboring city, but I felt confident. I packed a sandwich, because I had been fasting for the scan. When it was finished, I asked the nurse if i could take a picture of the machine. She started to say that it wasn’t allowed as i took a couple of pictures. It was not a question, I was just being polite. 

On Monday I saw the oncologist. He said we had to remove the lump to have the lab say exactly what it is, and he said other similar lumps had been found in the back of my abdomen. That’s it, no more details. He gave me the number of a surgeon and we left. Arriving home, I now went to see the reports from the scan. It said a lot, but the important stuff was that the lump in the neck has a high probability of being malignant, and the nodes in the back of the abdomen have increased in size since the last scan, in September, and are considered a progression of the disease. Liver and lungs are clear. 

A day later, or two, we went to see the surgeon. We really liked the guy. He explained the surgery is simple and that it won’t take more than two hours at the very most. He explained the risks and he said he’d work under general anesthesia. He said I should be ok to leave the hospital within a few hours, but since insurance is involved, I’d have to stay a day, because of the policy. He filled the paperwork and gave it to us. We bought a couple of club sandwiches down in the cafeteria, and took them home. We were hungry and the sandwiches were great. They packed a bunch of jalapeños in a paper cup and they made everything a ton better. I haven’t been eating spicy for a long time because my tummy is kind of frail, but when I taste it, it’s like a burst of life!

I sent the paperwork to the insurance company and the authorization should be in around the middle of next week, and the surgery is already scheduled for Friday. 

Since I saw things might be becoming difficult, to avoid saying “nasty” or “desperate”, I did go ahead and ordered a few books from Amazon. Two for my dad, and a few for me: one about the philosophy of happiness, one about cosmology, one about Turner and his paintings, and leaning more to the ones about ships and the sea, one about a transplant surgeon, one about submarines in WWII, and Miss Norma’s book, this 90 year old lady that when diagnosed with cancer, she skipped treatment and went to travel cross country for a year with her son until her health failed, and every single day on the road she shared beautiful, inspiring and comforting pictures of her enjoying life to the fullest, always all smiles. My books should be delivered one day before surgery, and with luck, they will go to the hospital with me. 

All this has left me thinking a lot. I feel I have a very high potential to be heading to a death sentence. I feel great. I have been enjoying my days so much now. In the mornings, heading out to work from my dad’s house (I’m taking care of him while he recovers from treatment), I smell the cool, moist air filled with sweet orange juice from the stand by the avenue, I see the clouds, a very light shade of gray mixed with warm tones from the early morning sun, and, going the opposite way of morning commuters, I sit on the half empty bus, happy to be running the three stations to his home quickly and effortlessly. I stop and feel the taste of my food. Man, it’s so good! I usually pack scrambled eggs for breakfast, a little rice, some fresh papaya juice, cheese, cookies, yoghurt.  I consciously observe all I am enjoying at the moment, and I feel happy for it. Yes, nobody wants to die, and I am no exception, but we all will. There’s not much of a choice. We don’t want to die young, but we don’t want to die old and frail, we don’t want to die in pain or sadness, but we want to take the time to say goodbye and finish important business, and we don’t want to die in a state of dementia where we don’t even know what’s going on. So, I think I will take my process as if it is the best and make the most of the grim situation, and enjoy the ride like Miss Norma while it lasts. 

Still, we have to see the lab results and hear what the doctors have to say about it and the options I have. Maybe I am worrying way ahead of time. With some luck it will be like that, but here we don’t get so lucky. I haven’t waken up to realize it was just a bad dream, and it’s been about four years since this all started, so I’m starting to consider that it is real. Oh well…

CAT scan blues

The time has finally come. This Tuesday my insurance company sent the approval authorizing 22 hundred bucks for a tomography and an ultrasound, and on Wednesday I made an appointment at te image center in my local hospital. As everybody knows, a creatinine test is required, so Thursday morning I woke up very early to cook breakfast for my wife and for me, both to go, and then I went to the lab. I was running late, I arrived 7:30 AM, but it was surprisingly empty, and by 8:00 I was arriving to my dad’s house, to work from there. My dad is recovering from his own radiation treatment, last week he was admitted to the hospital for a few days, and now he’s recovering at home. Radiation is mean. Cancer treatment is very aggressive. My dad was doing great and treatment has robbed him of his strength and independence. He lost a lot of weight and is frail and weak. I have been working from the hospital and from his home for more than a week, taking care of him. Sick cares for sicker. Two years ago or so I was staying in his house. He gave me his room upstairs and he would bring me my food at night to my bed. In the mornings I would come down to get breakfast, but he had to prepare it. Today I help him every way I can. I hold him when he walks, I dry his hands when he washes them, I hand him water and the food he can tolerate, I spray water on his face, I bring medicine, I do as much as I can while doing my work. I see he is a little bit better every day and that comforts me. He will get out of this. Stupid smokers, if they knew what cancer does, I always think. But my dad and I are not here because of any tobacco. We are into this for different reasons. 

These days I have felt great, really better than ever. I have been able to care for my dad, work and I haven’t really been able to lay down during the day, which I usually have to do, because that’s the only way the air will leave my modified digestive tract, and otherwise it can become a painful problem that can take a good while to fix. But these days my body has behaved great to the point that I should be in great health and the scan should prove me clear. I don’t think this is the situation. A lump in an area full of lymph nodes feels like it will bring sad news, the worst I’ve heard so far. Everybody says “you will see you are doing fantastic!” But I don’t know how they can say such thing without knowing. Won’t they feel bad if it ends up being a lie? What will they say then? “Oops!” “I’m sorry, you had to live a week with a cruel lie” what? But I don’t really mind, the comment is silly and mean, but they do it with good intentions, and they really cannot make the situation better or worse for me. It will be what the scans say. 

Tomorrow I will have the ultrasound first. I once had one and it was messy with lots of “lube” to make the thing see (hear?) what’s inside. Then, with all the gooey thing on me, I will head to the other room to drink a liter of contrast mixed with mango drink powder, and when I’m so full that I may burst, I will go to the cold tomography room. A nurse will come to find a decent vein and start an IV line. I will lie down on the bed, arms over my head, and the technician will tell me they will run a quick test to see if the line and my veins hold and can stand the real thing. They will rush water into me. Once this succeeds, they will prepare the dose of poison, the contrast that runs in the veins. As they pump it, my arm will feel hot, then the center of my chest, and finally a fire will start from my lowest of the abdominal cavity, rushing up to the head. The smell of the poison will flood my nose and then the taste of the drug will fill my mouth. Pressure will build up. I will be asked to breath deeply, release and stay still without breathing. The bed will move and by then I will be hearing the machine spinning very fast. While having to lie still and not breathing, this is the time nausea may hit. You don’t want to screw up the imaging. Hold! Hold… can’t… hold!!!! I need to… Hold!!!! Then the voice will tell me to breath normally. This happens a few times. With luck, I won’t throw up. With more luck, I won’t even feel the nausea. The truth is that I have been doing better from my first scan to the latest. Last time I didn’t feel much. I call it “the mechanical scorpion”, but last time in September it was pretty mild. I think it should be mild this time too because I feel good, I feel better and I’m in better shape. What I’m not so confident about is the results. What else can the lump be? Who am I fooling? 

Results will be available a few days later. I will call my oncologist on Monday to make the appointment the same day the results will be in. I will enjoy my weekend. I will go to my yoga class Sunday morning with my wife. I will want to share a beer with my wife on Saturday. I will want to cook a nice lunch for us. I will hug our yorkie and will play with him. There has never ever been a happier dog. I will have Popsicles. 

I know I will enjoy good health at least for a few months, and that’s a lot of days. I want quality, not quantity, in terms of life. I don’t want a medical treatment that will make me miserable without really changing my situation into a promising outlook for a longer and healthier life. I don’t want to live in pain or die in pain. I don’t want to die alone. We all die alone, but I want to be surrounded by my dearest people. I want to reach my last day with the solace that all my loved ones will be left with comforting recollections of what we’ve meant to one another. I will live my healthy days happy and enjoying my time, eating what I like, feeling the sun, genuinely enjoying every sip of the experience of being alive. If results come good, I will celebrate. Let’s see. One thing is what I say and another is what actually happens when reality develops in its full potential. There are no gods here, never, I am on my own. 

About life and how I live it. 

Life is complicated, when it kicks me it can be very cruel, insane and merciless, but then it’s also so enjoyable and sweet, and this makes me think a lot. The last few months have been rather good. It will soon be eight months without visiting the ER. They already know me there! I spent a little more than a year going pretty frequently, always for the same reason, dehydration. Electrolytes would go low after a night with diarrhea, and when my hands started tingling and then cramping, it was time to go. I tried to brave it a number of times, delaying the short hop to my hospital until it was obvious that I wouldn’t be improving by myself. A few times I just admitted things were not right and headed there well in advance of the meanest symptoms. It was much better to go there early, because I wouldn’t be with the horrible cramps, it was getting hooked up to an IV line, recovering liquids and electrolytes, spending the night and coming back home the next morning or one day after. But life is a lot better when we don’t require hospital care. I will be forty this year, but I feel like I am the same I have been since I was twenty. Yes, I am the same guy, but my health has changed a lot. I say I have aged twenty years in the past two. Back when I was seventeen or so, I used to think everybody should be able to run 5 km any day of his life. I have now already been through quite so many days where I can’t even walk around the block, or doing so has been very hard. Or thinking about walking around the block by myself is just ridiculous, what am I going to do if I need help when I’m halfway around the block? But I have made an effort to stay sane and understand the situation. 
These days I am happy. Not only I haven’t seen the ER in months, but I also feel better. I have had a little more freedom with foods and I am using less medicines. At work I am able to handle more work, and I was given the quarterly award for excellence. I don’t feel I am excellent yet, but I feel that I do as much as I can, and I feel happy that my efforts are recognized. I intend to improve. My company and managers have supported me a lot through all this, and it just became personal, I now have an important commitment with my job and my people at work. 

Not everything has been sweet. A month or two ago my oncologist found me anemic once again. He prescribed a ton of iron through the vein and asked me to have a colonoscopy and a gastroscopy to look for a reason for my anemia. Oncologists look for cancer, and us patients want to be told that we’re ok and that there’s no cancer. That’s the deal, otherwise we are not happy. That night I considered all options: being healthy, cancer returning, finding a new different cancer, finding a terminal cancer, having to face a very harsh treatment and so on. 

As if having one cancer patient in the family were not enough, it was in those days that my dad told me he had had a problem in his throat for a while, and I asked him to go see the doctor. Things didn’t go as we wanted. I was heartbroken when he told me the pathology report said it was a tumor. That moment I felt like I had a watermelon stuck in my throat. How was it possible that my dad could be having to have to go through this? My best friend ever, my guidance, my source of wisdom, a man able to bring me into reason, my dad, with whom I share our own sense of humor and with whom I agree on most things… How could it be possible that anything could be attempting against his life?!

As always, he was wiser, and he was able to restore a nice amount of calm. He was transplanted about 36 years ago, and he told me that I shouldn’t be upset about this, it’s already been almost 40 extra years we have had and that we were not going to have. He was right. Transplanted people don’t live this long usually, but still, it is unfair. I get watery eyes as I write all this. I need to find a way to understand life, to understand what happened to me , to understand what happens to my dad and to understand what is yet to happen to me. I have been thinking a lot about this and I think I have made progress. 
I have been thinking a lot about my childhood with my dad, about how great a father he has always been and about what was daily life when we lived together. These days I call more, I visit more (which to me is still difficult, and since I came back to my home from my recovery days in his house, I don’t visit as often as I used to before the surgeries, but I really have had a tough time, I spend a lot of my time lying down waiting to feel better) and I email more. I have emailed him about how we lived together, about how life was when I was a kid and about how good those times were. The truth is that those are great memories in my mind. I think back to those days and I feel happy about how we lived them. I hear the music we played those days and I smell what he was cooking for lunch or dinner, or feel how I drifted off to sleep in my earliest childhood. I remember the books I read, the books we used to buy every year in the book fair. It has been a good life together and I feel rather happy. These days I am the one who buys the books or the toys. He still buys books, but I often ask him if he has books in mind, and I get those for him, and get some for myself. I buy model boats, cars and planes for him, for me and for my wife too. Life is about sharing. Money, properties and wealth are good, but when life ends, the only thing we take with us is the richness of the soul that we acquired during our lifetime. Our loved ones that remain alive after our parting will have the memories of the good times we lived together and the good things we did to them. We will leave satisfied about the memories we are leaving them and about the knowledge we acquired during our life. We will be happy to have live an honest life to have read the books we read, to have played the music we played and listened to the music we enjoyed. We will be happy to have spent our free time doing the things we liked and that contributed to build our wisdom, our personality and the satisfaction of having done something right. We will be happy to have cooked and shared the meals we cooked, because cooking is a social act and an act of love, and in this I am very happy and proud that I cook a lot for my wife, always trying to please her and surprise her, and of course she likes that. 

About life, when in the context of a serious illness, I have become convinced that quality is a lot more important than quantity, and as much as I have chosen to follow this path, I want to be brave and able to choose the same for my loved ones if I ever have to do it. I feel confident that when the times comes, I will be wise enough to be able to understand my situation and choose to live my last days as comfortably as possible and not pursue a stubborn dream of long life when not possible and suffer while modern medicine extends my days a little while making me miserable. We always seem to try to hold to dear life even when it’s no longer possible or reasonable, and this is not a good idea. 

What is a good idea is to be prepared in a way that if we die, we can think, “hey, life was good and I really didn’t leave a lot of things undone!” To this end there are things we can do, and the most important one is not to leave a single “I love you” without being said and shown. I try to cook for my wife as much as I can. When she leaves early to teach her classes I always try to prepare her a good breakfast and pack everything in her lunchbox. I like to cook different things so that there’s variety and surprise, and it’s always a good experience. I send her hot coffee with hot milk in her green thermo that keeps temperatures for hours. I pack her a main course, some veggies, some cookies to go with her coffee and yoghurt. This is one way I tell my wife that I love her. Of course she hears it a lot, but all couples do, from the newest found love to those who fight each other hard and there can’t be much truth in the common phrase. I try to find ways to tell her. Then if I’m gone, she will remember me as the loving husband I tried to be. I tell my dad that I love him, and when I see him I always give him a hug and I kiss him on the cheek. I want him to know very clearly that I love him and how good a dad he has always been. If I’m gone he will remember not only his kid that he always loved, but how I loved him too. It’s much easier to tell a wife that we love her than a dad, and then we have to do the same with everybody important to us in our life. We have to show appreciation to everybody we appreciate: friends, family, coworkers. This is the only way to leave and feel satisfied, and not feel we left things without saying. I recently had my two work colleagues in the country (hey, we work a large territory and it’s only three of us in the country!) come for lunch. We had a great time. One of them cooked dessert and brought it. I had cold beer to take care of the worst thirst that has been ever felt. The other guy brought his family: wife and sons. We had a great time together and I think there was even an impact in our teamwork, which is very good too but wasn’t my main focus. My best friend, he has been very close through all my health adventure, and we’ve just been so close our whole life since we were three or four years old. We call each other brother, not always, but when circumstances are difficult, in this case for me, because he has the health he should have at our age. 

Another thing that has to be done is, I was thinking that our time alive can be thought like when we have an amount of money and we must decide how to spend it. The same with life. In the end we must be happy with how we spent our time alive. Who would be happy having spent their time watching TV? Not me. I don’t watch it. We have a screen here, but we watch movies we choose. We don’t watch any TV at all. I stopped watching it about ten years ago and now I even feel uncomfortable the very few times I have tried (like once in the hospital). I try to read as much as I can. It isn’t much, because I end up spending a lot of time lying on my right side and reading isn’t good like that, it’s possible but it’s not comfortable. But I still buy more and more books and one day I will read them all. I try to play music. I have been playing harmonica for a long time and I recently started playing accordion again (I used to play a little when I was a kid, but eventually chose to have the whole afternoon to go out and play). I bought my arduino and my raspberry pi, and I have built a few circuits. I had one that turned some lights on and off in the house, and I started playing with the camera, connecting to it from my phone and seeing the Christmas tree in the living room. I was following a programming class online (recorded), but since sitting in front of a desk for an hour beyond the time I spend at work was a little difficult, I had to stop. I will return to that one day. I am putting together a few model airplanes, cars and boats. My progress is slow, but I keep building when I can. 

All those activities are important to me, I will be happy I spent the time on them and I will feel satisfied and accomplished. In that sense I am ready, but believe me, I’m not in any hurry. We can wait sixty years. I don’t think I will be one hundred, but I would like to be around for some more decades. I like the warmth of the sun, the smell of rain, the taste of the foods I can eat… I had oatmeal this morning and my tummy is twisting and turning like crazy. I am hoping I don’t have to go to the hospital, but if I need it, I will go. And preparing for these tough times I just finished giving my wife full control of my bank accounts. It seems I am more interested in doing that than she is, I almost had to force her, but it’s done for the most immediate part. She has to be able to run the household if I’m locked in a hospital or just finally gone. 

Let’s just post this. It’s been two days writing and the more time that passes the worse quality it will be…

Of pouches and bags

I spent last week seeing doctors. I had a tomography done and all needed to see it. I saw the oncologist first, no worries, see my previous post. The next day, I had a bad night with diarrhea, and I saw where it was leading, so around six am, my wife was already driving me to the ER. A doctor, a nurse and a paramedic said hi to me with the attitude of someone that finds an old friend. I always say I’m a frequent customer, but this time they did know me!

I spent two nights in the hospital and my ER gastroenterologist saw me. He gave me different drugs looking to fix my ongoing issues with diarrhea and loss of fluids and electrolytes and I left on Thursday. 

On Friday I went to my first gastroenterologist, the one that diagnosed me, the one that has cared for me longer, and casually also the teacher of my ER gastroenterologist. We spoke about a lot of things: he would go and see the tomography with the radiologists, as they are the experts, he found it strange that the report didn’t say any explanation for my situation had been found and he discussed adhesions and a permanent ileostomy. 

So, that is what I have been thinking. I have a J-Pouch, but for nearly two years it has performed very poorly. Back when I had the ileostomy, life was so much better. Could it be like that if I went back to the ileostomy?

Today I had a bad day I spent lying in bed without doing a thing. This is way too much. The uncertainty of not knowing when it will be the next time I will land in the ER is ridiculously evil. I’m really considering the permanent ileostomy. I will be discussing with my doctors and carefully taking the steps. I think that’s what will end my problems. My lifestyle has become very severely limited. I used to be in better shape with the bag. I’m very restricted at work, very thankful for having been given the chance to work from home, but this is not the way things were intended for the long term. With the bag, as it was before, I’m sure I could start visiting local customers and handling more activity. 

I’m going to be exploring the idea carefully, but I think it will end up being the solution. The pouch idea is good, but it didn’t quite work for me. The bag doesn’t scare me, it’s rather an old friend. I think the time for me has come to recover my life. I will be working on this. 

Hello, Xeloda!

Today was my first day with radiation and chemotherapy. Half an hour after breakfast I took the three pills of pure poison and began consciously checking how I was feeling until I forgot. Then, a few hours later, I left with my dad on a taxi to get the radiation. It turned out simple as they had told me. They had said, you won’t feel a thing the first day, and it was true. In the afternoon I went to the supermarket to buy sandals, baking soda, a scale and supplies to take care of my chemoed body and my nutrition. I ate enthusiastically today. It’s just the first day, but a good start and I am wishing the whole treatment could be like today!

Third visit

Today it’s been two weeks. My dad and I finished our night meal (a lot of countries have their main dishes around five PM, but here, the main dish is around 2 or 3 PM, and we take a light meal around 8 or 9 PM) and spent a while talking. It’s always good, sometimes if I am in a nasty mood it isn’t, but it’s usually very good. We understand each other well and laugh at our own nonsense and discuss the things that really matter and complain about the ridiculous things that are wrong in this country and this world. Today we were talking about the Scottish and the Catalan and how in our country poor people stand no chance and in other countries poor people can live a reasonable life, and the new fence we are building… So it got late enough and I went as always to wash the dishes. I didn’t look forward to it because his wife, and let’s mention here that I am living with them during my recovery and treatments, she had left a bunch of dishes and a pan! Wow! Doing dishes isn’t my favorite hobby, but pans… I have been hoping for disposable ones for half my life! So I got to it. My dad said that sometimes it’s more work but we can’t just wash our own dishes. He was right. I was washing. It wasn’t so much. I was thinking, two weeks ago, that Thursday night, I went to wash the dishes. As I began I felt a little pain in my belly. It grew as I worked and I finished in a big hurry, resting my elbows in the sink at times. I said good night and left quickly to my room! Today I was doing fine. I took my time. I washed the sink carefully. I thought this was a ton better than two weeks ago and I felt grateful for feeling good while doing that small amount of work.

Two weeks ago I rushed to my room thinking it was going to be a bad night and I’d be ok in the morning. Beginning August 22nd I had been getting pains in my stomach. On August 25th my loving girlfriend earned her master’s degree and had her lab colleagues in our house. My house, because we don’t live together yet, unfortunately, but we will. I drove her and one of her sisters to their house, and got the pains on the way. Driving back I stopped for medicine, almost puked and went to my house to sleep the night.

So finally, two weeks ago I prepared for a bad night to wake up feeling well in the morning, but that didn’t happen. Around five I realized I hadn’t slept much, I had thrown up and felt bad. I emailed a clumsy message to my managers at work saying I wouldn’t help that day. I emailed a clumsy message to my surgeon, my gastroengineerologist and my oncologist saying I was doing bad. The oncologist was the first to answer and said I should go to the hospital. I took a long shower and we all went there. Every bump on the road hurt. I knew the way and knew when to lift my butt to save me! It was a quick ride to the emergency ramp. As we pulled over, a guy was already rushing outside with a wheelchair asking if I was the patient. I said I was, sat there, and was wheeled in. I had a knot… Not a knot! I had a watermelon in my throat! My intestines had halted to a complete stop. They were swollen and nothing was moving. I knew they would put the ng tube in me. It wasn’t later than noon that they told me and brought the infamous hose. They started to push it in my right nostril. As the body made a curve downward it felt scratchingly painful while turning, and reaching the throat they said to swallow when I felt it. I did my best. I felt it bent somewhere inside my chest or lower chest. It was so bad! My dad held my hand while they processed me. I held him hard. He is a great hero of mine! They brought an X-ray machine painted to resemble a giraffe. They said the tip was in the proper spot. My left arm had an IV and my dad filled all the papers that had to be filled. I spent Friday in pain and late that day my girlfriend arrived. She said she’d stay with me. She is awesome! She is another great hero of mine! I had three or four tomographies, last one was Saturday during the night. Lots of throwing up. The contrast was a disaster in me. My belly hurt horribly. Friday night a colorectal surgeon from this hospital came to say that if this didn’t improve he’d have to open me up and fix the sewage piping. My girlfriend and I didn’t like it the least little bit. She is awesome, I’m not sure I said it, and she called my surgeon, the man that removed my colon without leaving any track at all. He is yet another hero of mine. I have several. He was furious! He said to go to his hospital immediately.

I called him after we discussed the idea and we agreed to go Saturday morning. Eventually, around five in the morning, the local surgeon said I was improving and I would not need any surgery.

I was certainly improving. I woke up wet on my right side. My ileostomy bag had gotten so full that it burst and some of the stuff spilled. I took a shower and a nurse changed my bag and barrier, the stuff that makes a cyborg out of this awesome guy I am. That Saturday I began eating. Just liquid. It felt great. Sunday morning I was given an omelette made of egg whites, a boiled apple and tea, and I was released after processing that food safely.

I learned a painful lesson. I don’t know exactly why this happened to me or how to avoid it, but these past two weeks I have been eating carefully. I also eat a lot, because if I was already skinnier than the skinny I’ve always been, now this made it worse. So my ileostomy patient diet is now two eggs sunny side up with two slices of bacon for breakfast. Chicken breast for lunch and one scrambled egg with ham at night, and I eat cookies and (hey, I learned this word in Colombia!) pound cake, because it was just my dad’s birthday. I also drink yoghurts and eat whatever seems reasonable. I have stopped eating chocolate and craisins and nuts and tortillas and tortilla chips and a few other things.

I sometimes become scared. I don’t know if I have cancer, if I don’t have it, if I have a lot of it or a little bit. I don’t know what will be of me. If in five years I write about how I celebrated my 42nd birthday I will be cleared of the main problem. If I never write about it… Hopefully I will have given up writing!

Meanwhile I spend my days working in my room, fixing computers remotely in all the American continent, and when my shift ends I open iTunes U to take a programming class. I am learning to code in Python. I am also devising to build a small robot arm that should be a cool project. Writing the code that transforms Cartesian coordinates into the angles of the links of the arm will be fun. I am also rereading king solomon’s mines and I am playing my harmonica. I don’t have time to do it all every day, but I do as much as I can. Saturdays I go out with my loving girlfriend. We eat out and spend time in my house. Sundays I go running and I spend time in my house. The time should come for me to be able to care for myself again and live in my house. That girlfriend of mine will have to move in with me, and I will be happy to marry her. I have been trying very hard to seduce her: I have cooked her many meals! I always tell her I am trying to convince her and laughs saying that she’s already convinced.

Today I am happy. It’s been two weeks without the slightest pain or discomfort. Only my own demons, my fears, have played hard on me once or twice. It’s ridiculous but sometimes not knowing how my health will behave makes me go crazy. Rainy days make it worse. Cold days too. Today it was sunny and hot, and I feel happy.