9.12.2016, My Personal 9.11.2001

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Since late 2016, I started noticing some subtle changes going on with my Bowel and dietary habits that I simply chalked up to both growing older and having some lousy culinary choices. I was working construction, so for lunch I would bring either a can of beef stew, chili, or a couple of cans of ravioli and a small loaf of bakery bread to work, open the cans and simply eat the stuff cold and go back to work. --It wasn't 'cuisine' so much as cheap body fuel.

Around this time I started noticing some small, yet subtle changes. Occasionally I would s**t what appeared to be Dark red grease, or perhaps blood. Grease was understandable. Blood was also undersandable if you know that while bugs will not be present in the canned food, their eggs may very well be, and sometimes symptoms of eat bug eggs will be bloody stools from where they have hatched and fed on your intestinal linings.

Another thing was when taking a s**t, was that there would be some type of mucoid stuff present, from having the occasional but very slight wet fart during the day without even realising it until later.

A couple of months later I started having these long winded, and sometimes almost silent farts. They didn't have a normal rotten egg, mercaptan, or fecal smell of a normal fart, but had a smell that I can only describe as a slightly fishy, 'intestinal' smell.


Again, I chalked this up to simply getting older. I was now having the rather nasty gas, that my one of my grandfathers, and a few other older people that I knew had. I was simply getting old, and this was a thing that I would have to deal with for thee rest of my life. On an entirely differant track, while this was not happening I started to notice that I was getting fatigued. Not on workdays, but on weekends when I was relaxing, and surfing the internet anfter imbibing in about a quart of Starbucks Dark roast, I would find myself getting tired, and sometimes even nodding off to sleep, despite being wired on caffeine. This was a mystery to me. -- How is it that I could simply get tired and fall asleep after ingesting so much caffeine?

I didn't know about this, as I was pretty much following my normal sleep pattern. It was a minor cause for concern, but I simply paid it no matter.

A few months later, a job who's jobsite that I had been working on since the site had been nothing more thatn a subfoundation when I got there was completed, and I found myself at my next jobsite, downtown. We were sealing up and demo-ing a bunch of old medical labs in the ground floor of one of the bigger hospitals there so they could build a Subway sandwich shop. We had to be espically careful with dust and particulates getting out, partly because this was a hospital, and most especially because just down the corridor from us was the compounding phamarmacy that compounded and made IV drip bags for their Childrens Hospital. This was a Class 3 cleanroom environment and keeping dust and particulates down from our Demo work was paramount. We established a properly sealed pressure environment that vented out a duct we had installled through one of the old lab windows, and Demo commenced until the place was gutted. As far as bowel control and continuity were concerned with myself, They were softening up a bit, as well as a bright reddish color. I attributed this to the fact that it was all the cans of Red Chili that I had been eating at the time. I was now sometimes needing to go two times a day, and sometimes I would feel that I needed to go, and when I expected there to be s**t, there would instead be a big fart, and I would wind up wiping a big string of mucous. This was new, but again I would simply attribute this to my lousy diet.

After we got done with that job, I found myself at another jobsite that we were doing punchlist work on. This was a new family shelter for one of the bigger charities that helped with homeless issues in the part of South Carolina that I lived in. We got done with it and they had their ribbon cutting ceremony, and I was off to another job. While I was here, I was more or less eating the same, but I was now definately sh*****g twice daily, only now, there was no slowly occuring indicators that I needed to go. When I needed to go, I needed to go, and by the time that I got to a bathroom, it was always an explosive occurance.

The next job was demoing and expanding one of the oldest of a local chain of restaurants that served southern homestyle cooking. It was located of a very busy main artery that handled a consistantly heavy load of traffic across 6 lanes. A couple of blocks in the other direction was the Governors Mansion complex. We got a bunch of crap out of there, incuding old electrical conduits, and a bunch of plumbing that was covered with an accumlation of about 35 years worth of congealed grease, and saved a bunch of windows. Here my continance issues escalated to using the portajohn a few times a day and sh*****g out a lot more mucous. Also, at the previous job, we yanked out a bunch of old rockwool sound batting and I made the bad choice of removing it without a respirator, so I had developed a really nasty cough in the process.

From this job, I transferred to working at one of the biggest private schools in town where we were did some fine demo work for an area that the we were contracted by the school to build a major expansion, a 3 story Science and Technology wing that was to be ready for the 2018 School year. Antoher thing that we had to do was pull a bunch of old fire alarm, and other crap out of 8 Portable classrooms that the school rented for the upcoming 2017-2018 schoolyear. We modified some of the portables by splitting them with ventilated studwalls for extra classrooms and and followed a sheet of which teachers would be be assigned their portables, and then moving all of their stuff from the gymnasium stage into the corresponding portables. This last bit took a few days. In the time my continance issues increased further.

About a week into this job, I decided one weekend I was going to eat a proper high fiber meal. I found myself actually sleeping in until noon, (which is uncharacteristic of me as I'm up earlier) Boy what I mistake, I decided to go swimming in the river about a 1/4 mile away from my house. I took my swim trunks and went down there and swam for about an hour or two, changed and went back. About halfway back, I had this absolutlely uncontrollable urge to s**t, and quickly found a windfall log significantly away from prying eyes, and as I started to pull my pants down, I couldn't hold back anymore and an expolsive torrent of s**t shot down my leg, into my pants and underpants. over my socks and boots, and finally onto the ground before I could even squat. --Luckily nobodyelse would have to see or smell any of this, but I was still mortified by the fact that I was now covered with my own s**t. When I was sure that it was over, I went back down to the river, completely covered with s**t, put on my swimtrunks, and went back in to wash it off. I washed it off my boots as well, bagged up the s**t covered clothes ,and made it back home undetected where I could take a proper shower, and clean eveerything up.

I vowed a definate change in diet, and started bringing French breads and rganic peanut butter to work, and eating lots of salads and fruits for supper. Work progressed to my final jobsite with a super that I knew quite well. My GI issues had also progressed to the point where it felt as if the inside of my rectum had been shot full of tabasco sauce, and luckily still I was still feeling tired and lethargic only on the weekends, oftentimes sleeping very late until 2-3PM, instead of being up bright and early like I usually was.

The new jobsite was a church that was expanding it's facilities greatly, with the installation of a full sized gym, stage, and kitchen facilities. Again, it was only a foundation that we had to first start filling in and prepping for the floor slab. Then something bad happened. We knew that the Super had to go back and do AF Reserve duty, but a week into it, he fell, twisted his ankle, and was essentialy stuck down on his particular AFB in the hospital and confined to barracks as he recovered. After his reserve duty was over, his wife drove down to visit him, and he got a day or so off the base, so he came back to town to see the progress on the jobsite for and file paperwork for the company.

The New super that we had was essentially an assistant who had worked with the company for years, and he turned out to be a decent guy. The Slab pour was going to happen in a couple of days, and I knew beforehand that I would have to be there at 3AM to help direct cement trucks down to where they had picked to locate the pump truck, we would do this until the pour was over and do some minor stuff when that was over. The four of us working that site spent about half of the next day bringing some minor safttey issues to OSHA compliance, and then helped the slab crew roll out, peg and tape the PVC moisture barrier down for the pour while they installed the reinforcement screens. I was still feeling ill, but what was alarming me was that I hadn't taken an actual s**t since the weekend. I couldn't understand it, I was eating a lot of high fiber and roughage, so I should not have been having any issues with this. I was mystified by it.

We did the pour the next morning and I decided that I would just have to stay up all night in order to be there. I atarted out around 1:00 AM. --A few years ago I used to make almost exactly this same walk, and even though I was in worse shape than I was then, I was able to make it in almost eactly under an hour. The plan was to start out a little early, get a few bottles of gatorade at a local 24 hour gas station and continue up to the local Waffle House and eat my combined supper/breakfast, then head to work and have a few minutes to spare before work commenced.

I was off schedule the entire way. I ate the double cheeseburger in about 4 bites, and the double hashbrowns in a few more, and by the time I was supposed to be at work, I was still about a half mile away. --At least I had the Asst. Supervisors Phone # and told him that I was on the way, and was running a little late. He was Okay with it, and when I arrived at the Jobsite I was about 20 minutes late. I donned my vest and Hardhat, and started directing Cement trucks back to the Pump truck. The pump truck had enough room to handle two Cement Mixers side by side, one of them pouring cement, and the other one staged and ready for when the other emptied.

Meanwhile we had trucks pulling in getting into queue, and other's washing their mixers out, and leaving. We kept managing this until about nearly noon and nearly 20 trucks had emptied the loads into the pump truck. The screeding crew had arrived 9, and were staging their autoscreeders to be used, When the pump truck finally got out of the hole and left, we showed him where to wash his equipment out and led the autoscreeders to where the pour had intitially started and let them do their thing. They also had a crew of hand screeders to get into tight spaces that were too tight for the machines, and left for a long lunch. I stayed at the Conex box and simply got some cheap stuff from the little C-Store across the street. After lunch, there sitll wasn't much to do except let the Screed crew change their machines out for ones that had finer screed wheels and repeat the process. All of us with the GC essentially went back to the Conex, and cleaned it a little, and then sat around. --Sometimes in construction there really is nothing to do, and this was one of them.

We helped them switch out to a third set of machines, and basically did the same thing, and then when they finally got done with the 4th set of machines, it was around four. The Slab was smooth, but not glass lie as the one we did for the previous church which was to have polished concrete floors.

Also at about this time I was under the impression that I infested with intestinal parasites, it seemed likely in the respect that at a construction site the only thing that you have to relieve yourself/Excrete was by using the PortaJohns. They can can get quite nasty, and because there were a lot of people of various orders of bodily upkeep from normal to quite nasty, it could have come from one or some of them. I was still feeling bloated, nasty, and my continane issues continued. I was now reduced to a once weekly basis, and on that day, I was running back and forth to the bathroom on an almost hourly basis to drop a s**ts that were simultaneuously runny, constipated, and filled with giant strings of mucous. This was getting tedious, and now I was inspecting my turds and my wipes for any signes of worms, or anything moving. I couldn't find anything but some tiny fragments had the possibility of having once been worms of some sort.

The wall crew started install the block walls, the plain block walls that were to be painted went up quicky, but the ones that were to be exposed were made of polished surface blocks wentl up a bit more slowly, then we discovered after about 12 rows went up out, that ther was a slight color mismatch between some of the blocks. after consulting with our supervisors back at the office, the came over to look, then they said that it all had to go and be rebuilt with blockes that were properly colormatched. Again we were reduced to inactivity while this happened, and as we spent time in the Conex. For the first time I found myself nodding off at work. Sure we were at a dead time, and nd none of us had anything to do, but still I was alarmed by what I had just happened, as sleeping at work collecting a payroll check is competely unacceptable.

I knew I had to see a Doctor about this problem but working from 7 until 5 for five days a week, there surely couldn't be a doctor's office that kept these hours. I held on for a couple of weeks more, until it was announced that on the day of the the eclipse, nobody would be working on the entire site in order to counter any potential Workmens compensation claims.

This was optimal, and I found a walk in Dr's Office, and explained the symptoms that I was having, as well as also possible cause of them. The Doctor suggested that it probably wasn't the hookworms that I was suspecting. He asked if I had spent any time outside, and if I spent much time around water.

Certainly, I soent a lot of time outdoors and some of it in the river. The doctor suggested that I didn't have hookworms which primarily concentrated themselves in the upper bouts of the Large Intestine and Duodenum, but that I most likely had Giardia instead. This mostly lived in the Large Intestine. He gave me a Stool sample kit and a catch tub and told me to try and fill them as best as I could and come back with them. First I decided to try to do it in his office to keep this as short and quick as possible. I sort of filled one of them, and tried to clean out the tub to the best of my ability, but this was insufficient. I threw the tub away, and explained to the receptionist what had happened, and she gave me a new tup and a bag that I could carry it around in. Great.

The eclipse was coming along quite nicely, and everything was starting to get dimmer. I decided that perhaps eating a really big greasy lunch would help things along, So I went to a a local PitaPit and ordered a huge Gyro and large fries. As I was beginning st start on the fries, the eclipse happened. The sun didn't fade up, but instead the sky suddenly went dark, as if somebody had thrown a light switch. I had gotten classes and looked up, and was entralled by the solar corona, and decided I needed as few pics as well. I pulled out my phone placed one of the eclipse glasses lenses over the lens, and took a couple of really bad. blurry pics that didn't come out, then went inside the restaurant to finish my meal.

I walked around for a couple of hours and finanally managed to grunt and strain, and squeese out a couple of mucous covered dingleberries, and fill the vials to a sufficient level. I returned to the Dr.'s office where I was given a prescription for the drug that was going to take care of the Giardia. a drug called Flexaryl.

I called around to a coule of local pharmacy chains, And none of them had it at any local stores. It was going to be and order, and fill the next day item, so I told a local one that they should order it, I would be in for it the next day.

The next day, I told the site super, and told him what I had been diagnosed with, and he told me that It would be fine, and that I could come back Monday. The next day I did some research on what I was prescribed, and it didn't seem to be nice stuff, no milk of dairy products were aloowed, and that I had to take the pills, (2, of them four times a day) with food. If what I had turned out to be amebiasis instead, This would also kill that as well. I would feel slightly bad and feverish, with flu-like side effects, minus the histamine reaction.

Before I filled the prescription I started to feel a bit worse, and particularly weak so I sat down and drank a quart of gatorade and some beef jerky, for immediate protein. I filled the prescption and the sure enough, the I noticed the die effects, as Flexaryl is essentially a poison in it's own right, designed of course to take out parasites, but it's side effects are still in effect a crossover from one biological organism to another.

I took the next couple of days off recover, and I suppose to certain extant they may have had a placebo affect as I was beginning to feel a little better. I still felt lousy and feverish, (probably the effects of the flexaryl) so Idecided to augment my diet with Papaya. Papaya was essentally a well known Anthelmintic in it's own right, so it was nice to know that I taking care of the issue by augmenting a prescription drug with something natural.

I went back to work Monday feeling slightly but not much better. Fecal nomalcy hadn't exactly returned, but I seemed to be slightly more regular in fits and spurts. I was glad when the prescription went out, but at the same time I felt only slightly better. I had enough energy to work the rest of the week, but I still didn't feel particularly good. -- Perhaps the placebo effect of the pills.

I got the lab results back from the Doctors office, and they were all negative for parasites. I still felt bad, and now I getting really bloated and running back to the portajohns almost constantly to s**t, wat was instead ripping off a long gaseous dhart, laden with a bunch of mucous. This was becoming unbearable, and one day when another subcontractor was beginning to installl the rafters, I felt as if I was completely drained of energy, but I persevered, and kept up with the job.

We had to help the Block crew dismantle their scaffolds, and and do a bunch of other stuff, but at least there were at least rafters and a corrugated steel subroof over the front part of the building, so we hade some shade in a limited area. Still though, I was still running to the bathroom eveery chance that I got, to let out a long gaseous stream of blood flecked mucous, and this was really beginning to frustrate me, as because of all the bathroom brakes that I was now taking rip offa hugee mucous laden farts was beginning to prove that I was a liability to the job, rather than an asset. There was also the fact that began to feel that other people from other crews were beginning to think that I was simply lazy, and that this would get back to the boss.

Laziness certainly wasn't the case, but rather I had to see the Doctor's office again. --Thankfully the office that I went to was open on the weekends, and I could get in there then. I went in and explained the situation, and they pulled up their copy of the Lab results. They said that there wasn't much that they could do other than refer me to a Gastroenterologists office. I took up the offer and searched for some.

Unfortunately, It looked as if we were going to get a direct hit by hurricane Irma, coming through as a Cat 4 storm. This was not a good thing. Until Friday, we started prepping the jobsite for the storm, and hoping that it would shift enough for us to get a less than direct hit. Then the weekend came. Because I lived in an alder neighborhood with a bunch of large old trees, I thought that would be best to stay at the Hurricane shelter that FEMA was opening up across town to be on the same side. By sunday, the Hurricane track had shifted to the west of us, and by that night it looked as if we would still be seeing Cat1 winds from it, not a direct hit from what would still be a Cat4 storm, even though it would have made landfall hundreds of miles away. --We dodged it, for the most part.

The next day, I went into work, packing a my lightweight sleeping bag, and a few freeze dried backpackers meals, ( I have a surplussed USGI sleep system which consists of a Light sleeping bag good to 30F, an second sleeping bag which is good to around 0F, and a Goretex bivuac bag which is good for when you don't have a tent) and the storm was beginning to pick up, a little breeze and some drizzle. We did some futher preps for the Hurricane, and as the breeze turned a little stronger and the rain came along, we headed down to the Super's Trailer/ Office and proceeded to give it a good cleaning before knocking off work at 10. I caught a ride back into town, and another to the Hurricane shelter, arriving there around 2PM. The winds had picked up a bit now, and they were steady with some small gusts, and the rain had also picked up to a steady, showering rainfall.

I got checked into the shelter, assigned a cot and immediately went to sleep. I woke up later when they had some food available, and the Governor of SC give an interview to a local news crew a few feet from the foot of my bed before falling asleep again. I woke up a few more times during the night, to use the bathroom and look for any other snacks they had laying around. Both the Rain and winds from the storm had stopped, so the storm had passed rather uneventfully for me, but what of the house? Had any limbs hit it?

As I was going in, I noticed that there were a bunch of smalll limbs and debris werer in the streets. --Thankfully nothing had hit the house and caused any damage. When I was a work, I started to feel worse and worse, with absolutely no energy at all. I told the Super that I needed to take the day off, and he let me go. I didn't go directly home but went directly to a Gastroenterologists' office located next to the large Hospital that was also downtown. I sighed in, took a seat and waited. My name was called, and after I gave the receptionist all of my preliminary data, She looked at the schedule and told me that the earliest that she could schedule me was October 21. Today was September 12. I couldn't wait that long and told her so as I walked off.

Feeling absolutely fatigued, I went to ER atthee hospital next door and checked in. My name was soon called, and I fould wieght being taken, (down from my normal 185), my temp being taken, (a feverish 102) and given a vial for a urine sample. Even though I had been drinking lots of water, I passed them a vial of orange urine, so I know something was causing my to dehydrate.
I talked breifly to a Doctor, and gave him the lab results from my Inital Doctors visit 3 weeks ago to show him what I knew I didn't have. At the same time, a few weeks previous, I noticed that a rather hard mass was now protruding into my solar plexus. I pointed it out to him.

I was catheterised and given a quart of Solution to drain into my arm, and another nurse came by when the bag was half emped and gave the other port in the cathetet a shot off something, and by the time I waas taken off the ringer, I felt absolutely normal. I was also told that I had been scheduled for a CAT scan, and that somebody would come to take me there shortly.

I went off to the CAT scan and they hooked my catheter up to another tube on the machine, and went through the machine a few times and I was done. I was taken back to the ER, and told that a Doctor would be seing me in a while.

Sure enough, he came and introduced himself about a half an hour later, and one of the first things that he asked me, is "What do you tink is causing all of your issues?"

"I don't know, but I'm thinking along the lines of Gastroententeritis, or Ulcerative Colitis." I replied.

"Maybe." He shot back, "But that is not what's causing your issues, you have cancer."

So. Cancer it is then. I wasn't in shock, or hit by a sudden wave of sadness or anything but more of a philosophical acceptance of this, and the new order that my life was bound to take because of this. Cancer. There is a Zen Proverb that says, "Beofre Enlightenment, chop wood, and carry water. After you achieve enlightenment, Chop wood and carry water." --This was exactly was exactly the attitude that I was taking towards this.

He went on, " I usually work at the VA, and most of my patients there prefer for me to be blunt and direct with them, you seem like that type. The First th ing that you should do is not tell any of this to your family members because this almost always causes a major upset in the family if given too soon."

And further on, "Secondly You have what we currently suspect to be Colorectal cancer that has since metastacissed to your liver, which is what that enlarged lump in your solar plexus is. The CAT scan has subsequently shown that it has also spread to your lungs. I have powers of admittance here, and I'm admitting you for further testing, firstly a colonoscope as well as a secondary CAT scan after that is over."

A few minutes later, I and my stuff were taken to a room on a ward, and this became my 'home' of sorts for the next 5 days, I spent the next day resting and researching what I had via Internet.
I had what was referred to as Stage IV-B Colorectal Cancer. Stage IV is where it has matastacised to the Liver. Stage IV-B is where it has metatstacised beyond the liver. I Googled 'survivability statistics for Stage IV-B colorectal cancer'. The results were not good. Even with long bouts of Chemotherapy and Radiation, (Toxic and poisonous in of themselves) treatment prolonging it, I only had a 15% probabaility of being alive in 5 years. I dodn't know how long I had without it, but the end results would ultimately be the same. --I would be dead, but sooner, rather than later.

Day one was rest and prep day. I called my boss and told him where I was and what I had been diagnosed with the night before, and told him that I most likely wouldn't be back at work because of the decision. I also told him to goog the results on what I had previously entered in above, and

There was a third option as well. Suicide. But just simply killing myself didn't seem correct. Since I was using the Hospital's network, and I didn't know if they monitored it PRISM style for certain keywords, I held off on searching while I was there. Soe first morning came and ordered breakfast. 3 pancakes and sausage seemed like a decent choice. I orderd, and two hours later I got my cold rubbery pancakes, not the 6" things that I was expecting, but tiny little thiings that weren't enough to feed a bird. I complained to the nurses about the lousy food and service, nothing could be done about it.

Fine. Lunch came around, and I put my jacket on to cover up the catheter that was in my right arm and went to the elevator, which was by the nursing station. One of them noticed me, and asked where I thought I was going. --I told her, Since I can't seem to get decent food in a timely fashion here, I was simply going down to the cafeteria to get something to eat.

I did, and I got yelled at by the nurse that I was not to leave the ward while I was there. Well, at least I had the freeze dried backpackers meals with me. Supper was my bag of Chili-Mac. --good stuff actually.

Later that evening, a Nurse came in with a 3 liter container of stuff that I had to drink before 10 AM the next morning. This was the stuff that would flush my colon out for my colonoscope the next day. --Good, I knew I had a bunch up there, and if this would get it all out, this was a good thing. They told me that they could flavor it with several differant flavors, Fruit punch, Cherry, or Lemon-Lime, I figured that the last probably wouldn't taste the worst so I chose it. I gupled away at what could only be described as a half liter of diet sprite flavored chemical nastiness.

The s**t was vile, but I managed to start on my next cup befre it started to come back up as I was downing it. I spit it out, and continued. It was beginning ot give me the runs so I ran to the bathroom a few times, glad to be ridding my body of all the pent up s**t that it had in it. I spent a good part of the rest of the night choking the swill down, and sh*****g out. When I was done with the first two liters, I s**t a few more times, and went to sleep.

The next morning I finished off the swill, s**t a few more times, and watched Cable TV, waiting, bored out of my mind. I knew that I didn't want to die alone in a place like this, and remembered my Pepere Buddy. He had been a big, swarthy, dark skinned man when he was younger. During WW2, had had participated in the invasion of North Africa, the Invasion of Sicily, and slogged his way up the boot of Italy with the Army. When he was dying, He had turned a Yellow-grey color, and had lost a lot of wieght, and was inchoherant most of the time. The last that I saw him was Christmas Eve 2003. He died two weeks later, alone in a gurney bed at a nursing home.

I knew that something like this would be in store for me if I took Chemo and stretched out the dying process, and sooner if I just went along with what the hospital was saying, and this is not something that I could imagine myself slowly morphing into. I hated the thought of dying in a hospital bed alone, with tubes and IV's going in and out of me.

Option three, was also upsetting as well, the only appeal that it had was that it least gave me the option of choosing where, when, and under what circumstances I would die. That was viable, if only for that reason. -- With Terminal Cancer, there are simply no happy endings.

I waited, watched TV, waited, watched TV some more waiting, every minute getting more bored out of my mind. I took a drink of water, as I was thirsty, and waited for the GI Dr. to rape me with the colonoscope. A nurse came in and she asked me a few questions, and found out that I had a drink of water a little earlier.

She immediately got really pissed with me. and asked why I did it. I told her, because I was thirsty. She asked how much, I told her about a cup, and she stormed out of the room. She came back in about 10 minutes later a bit more composed that this could jeopardise the date with the colonoscope, the reason being is that you get put under, and if you have anything in your stomach, it can come back up when you are out, and choke to death on your own vomit. I apologised and told her that I wish that she had explained why it was imperative that I drink nothing for several hours before alll of this had transpired.

I was accepted by the GI Dr., and wheeled into the room for the colonoscope, they knocked me out, and the next thing that I knew It was over and I was being wheeled back to my room.

The next day was sort of a repeat of the last, minus the nasty swill and the bit with the empty stomach, and the colonoscope. I waited until around two os so, then they brought in the next bit of nastiness, I was to have another CAT scan while my body was till cleaned out, and they gave my a pint of this cloudy stuff that had, (I guess) about the cosistancy of donkey jizm. This was the stuff that cout my intestines and give off a luminescense. I choked it down, and about an hour later I was wheeled back off to Radiology for yet another CAT Scan. They wheeled me back, and apparently forgot about me. I spent another night there, hoping that they would now finally let me out.

I woke up the next morning, waiting, wating, watching bad TV, wating and watching more bad TV. Past noontime. Waiting and hoping that today would be the day that I was discharged. I really wanted the Catheter out of me, and to be doing other things rather than being pent up inside a hospital for another picosecond.

Finally around 2PM, The Doctor and a couple of Social Workers came in, followed by what they assumed was going to be my future Oncologist. The Doctor told me that he was discharging me, but first I had to do some paperwork with the Social workers, as I had no Insurance when I had just walked in. We did that, I met with the Oncologist, and she set me up for preliminary appt., and finally left. I took a little while, but the discharge paperwork was filled out and signed, the Catheter removed, and I was wheeled towards the discharge exit.

That Monday, I went to the oncologists Office, was given a blood test, and was then introduced again to the Oncologist. She gave me a fifth grade lecture on what chemotherapy does, and how it affects the rest of the body. She set me up an appointment, (that I never intended to show up for) on getting a specialised long term Catheter called a 'Power Port' installed somewhere in my body.

When that was Over I pulled her aside and told her, "You know, since you neglected to mention it at all, I looked up my odd for surviving this despite going through your whole wonderful regime of chemotherapy, and I know I only have a 15% chance of suriving this and being alive in 5 years. Why again, despite the Sickness and the abysmal quality of life brought on by your drugs, should I be consenting with you again?

She didn't know what to say, and tried to hide the fact that she was flustered quite well. How many before had asked her this? I asked her again, " Since you neglected to tell me, seriously, how long will I have if I decide to forego this whole grand regimen that you have planned for me?'

She told me, "Maybe about six months." And I left back to the hospital downtown to fill out a mountain of paperwork. I spent a good part of the afternoon filling out Medicaid forms, SSI Forms, SSDI Forms, and many other forms with a socialworker at the hospital.

In the Discharge paperwork from the Hospital, They gave me a number to call if I waas having feelings of depression, and feeling suicidal. This was neither Depression, or Suicidal thoughts, other than making a clear, conscious decision to seek physician assisted suicide, and follow through with the objective. I figure that if anybody from the hospital found out, they could declare me temporarily insane from the diagnosis to the point that I was no longer responsible for myself, and declare guardianship of me until they gaslighted me into chemotherapy.

I also went to the records Dept, and had them make a copy of all the files and records that I had accrued there, and also had them burn two copies of all the CAT scans, and got out of there.

I knew what I needed to do. I went to the local Kinkos and had them make two copies of the hospital records, sealed them well, and spent some time composing cover letters to both my dad and my mom.

The one to my dad was difficult. Since 1980, we had only seen each other briefly, Once when I passed through ND at the age of 18, in 1985, and briefly again when I was 31 in 1998, when we were both in SC, visiting family. The first sime I was my Half Brother, was in 1985. He was a baby then, and still couldn't talk. This time he was about 17 or so, kind of dark complected, (My stepmom is half Italian, and the other half dark complected Slovak/Ukrainian.) and had long hair. He seemed like a nice enough kid, but I wondered what type of hell he had been through growing up with my dad and his wife. --I suffered at their hands to the point that I started to run away,( I was bginning to fear for my life and asnity just by being there.) to the point where I was locked, and essentially stored away in the State Hospital. Writing him a heartfelt letter really put me under the line, as I was in essentially now in one of the weakest positions that I had ever been in in my life.

My Mom's was also hard as well due to the fact that we had parted under somewhat acrimonious conditions.

I FedExed the packages off, If anything else there was always the fact that they were my parents, and they both needed to know that I was now Dying. I had been planning on moving to Washington State on the fact that they had laws that allowed for physician assisted Suicide. It was Tuesday, and I was planning on being out of there by Sunday. On Friday, I was walking around taking care of some business, when I got a call on the New Telepone # that I got from another provider. It was my Dad, and he apologised about a bunch of stuff, and we talked for a bit, ab
out what I was planning on doing. I told him that I was planning on moving to Washington, and reiterated the three choices that my diagnosis had now given me. I didn't come out and say Suicide, but left the option open enough that anybody with a brain could guess as to what I was alluding to when I called it the "Kamekaze Option". We talked, about as much as talking in a pulic place could permit, and it was beneficial for the both of us, and when we hung up, I think that we had a greater amount of respect for each other.

He called back later that night with an offer to come down to SC, but I turned it down, and said that on my trip through North Dakota that there was the possibility that I could pass through Bismarck. This was okay with him as his jobs were pretty much winding down for the year, He was an old school oilfield Geologist, still working as an independant contractor, spending much of his time in a Conex/Office/Lab that he delivered to oil rig drill sites when he was working.

Needless to say, as this has gone on long enough Cancer has taken away my life but given me my family. I had originally planned to spend maybe a week or two connecting with my father, but would up spending two months, first some difficulties arose when My dad's work truck got stolen from the hotel that I was staying at. I was invited to stay a few more days as my Half- Brother, (who lives with his wife in Perth, Aus.) had been doing a presentation in Canada had a week or so deaad time before doing some consultation work at two mines in Northeast Ontario and Northwest Quebec. I'd be delighted, as I had never really spent any time with him before.

I had ID card, and Birth Certificate issues that got squared away, and the truck got recovered in Watford City. Dad, I and my half Brother took a day trip to recover it from the Watford City Impound lot, and bring it to his regular dealer in Dickenson to get it inspected and repaired. But still, they both figured out my decision, and were surprisingly supportive of it, though I think that my Dad and Stepmom wanted me to stay in Bismarck. --I couldn't do that.

I am currently in Vermont gaining my Vt Citizenchip so I can finally do this. I have been prescribed Morphine ( Which alternately scares me with it's potential for abuse, being only a step removed from heroin, and amazed by the fact that it has given me back a good deal of my functionality) to kill the pain. I am expecting a visit from my Half Brother in a couple of days, along with his never met before Australian wife, as they will be taking a trip to NYC to visit her sister.

I am sorry you have to go through this and I hope that your decision works out for you.

Thank you, quite frankly I'm scared at the prospect of actually doing this, but of all the three options that I find myself facing, this one seems to be the quickest, and least painful of them. As I have said many times, there are no happy endings when it comes to terminal cancer.

What I plan to do just before this happens though, is to change my signature to let people know that this has been done. FWIW, the Avvie that I am now using is myself standing in front of the replica of the Gøl Stavkirke in Minot North Dakota. I plan to keep that up as well.

I'm sorry you have to go through this. You sure seem to have your head on remarkably plumb and level about it all. Hope when my time comes I can do so well.

Where-ever the road goes from here, walk well.

Yeah, I'm basically focused on an objective, and achieving it. The problem is though is that some times I will come very close to just bursting out in tears, and I fear that I will simply break down in public. There are certain pieces of music that I now have a hard time listening to without tearing up and ready to bawl, so those are pretty much off limits, particularly if I'm im public.

I've always wondered about that road of fate of which you speak. Mine, or at least the living part of it has now been cast by this disease which now has me. --The outcome will ultimately be the same, no matter which of the choices I make.

I've always wondered about what happens after that. Lot's of religions say many differant conflicting things about it, many of the Judeo Christians ones seem to be caught up in the dogma that suicide is the ultimate sin. Perhaps, but then it seems to me to be an incredibly cruel thing make somebody suffer unnescesarily to uphold some religious dogma, and promice them eternal hell and damnation if they do not prolong their lives to the bitter end. --Then again, I prescribe very little to most Judeo-Christian traditions, and scorn the management who sees themsselves as 'Shepherds' to the common people who are little more than 'sheep' to them.

I think that when you die, (I'm not sure, as I've never to my knowledge died, or known anybody who has come back from death after beeing dead for quite some time) you just simply die, and that's it.

Sounds pretty normal, with the emotional rollercoaster. Other than maintaining the reserve necessary to preserve your ability to make your own decisions in this fucktarded society, I'd guess that it's perfectly OK to mourn the hell out of the ending of your physical life. I mean, MERRY HELL!! Words escape me.

I don't know what happens after life, either. I tend to subscribe to some universally apostate form of mysticism. I don't think even YHWH and similar could damn a person to eternal torment for choosing to take control of a process that is already in motion (or choosing a modicum of control over the inevitably imminent termination of it).

"Suicide" in your case is not, to me, vaguely the same as, say, me deciding I don't want to live with autism any more and helping myself to a strong tincture of hemlock.

I understand. I contracted Shigella from some mostly undercooked salmon about 20 years ago at a "fine restaurant." While I didn't have cancer, the symptoms were similar and immediate. Boy howdy. The ER attending physician told me bluntly that I could have "died in the next four hours." What a wake-up call!

I am glad to see that you have some spiritual guidance in your knowledge of Zen Proverbs and connection with family members. I hope you stay in contact with us other Wrong Planetians. We can help you as best we can, at least by supporting you. Be strong!

If it makes any additional difference, my grandmother's life ended in what was half a Hospice-managed death at home, half an assisted suicide (congestive heart failure, multiple organ failure, possibly some kind of blood cancer... basically she was very, very old and everything except her mind was just worn out). Outside of the fact that we had a very hard time convincing her that it really was OK to let go and just, you know, die, it certainly seemed by all appearances to be peaceful, painless, and generally not-scary for her.

No, I wasn't inside her head. Didn't have her experiences. But it really seemed to be OK. Have every reason to believe I'm completely sincere in telling you I think it will be OK for you, too.

So I'm still here, not dead, My old computer developed a bad power switch and went on the blink, so I have finally gotten around to getting a new one.

Other than that with the Cancer, it still varies from day to day. the past two have been quite bad, with bloating, fever, and weakness. I can barely lift a 50 or so pound Ruck that a few years ago I was perfectly capable of going on a 10 mile trip through the boonies with.

My legs are bloating due to, ( I think) all of the Sodium that I am taking in the form of laxatives and stool softerners. I have an appointment tomorrow with a doctor who can get me into Article 39, ( The Vermont Voluntary Euthanasia scheme) So I hope that goes through.

What a lot of people don't realise about Voluntary Euthanasia, is that when you get to the final stages of Cancer, (as I believe has happened to me a few weeks ago) is that it truly is painful, and you just want it all over and done with.

If it helps you (however slightly) to share your experiences with us, I for one, would be happy to learn, and respond as best I can, about them (I just ended a four-year tour as my mother's primary caregiver; age not cancer, but hey, it comes close, and I never expected to be giving morphine doses to my mother). Yes, when pain enters the equation, it changes one's perspective. Let us know how it goes tomorrow.