Friday, November 15, 2013

Man's Best Friend?


Most of you already know how awesome dogs are. Apart from sniffing butts, bombs, and drugs, dogs are now sniffing cancer like it's going out of style. This is probably old news, but check out this article: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/01/110131194319.htm.

It's pretty amazing what our furry friends can do. I'm always impressed with new discoveries about dogs. I've seen them find explosives and drugs and whatnot, and the animals love their work. They get so much joy out of finding dangerous items. I saw a video explaining that dogs have a sense of smell 100,000 times more powerful than humans. Wow, right?
But wait a second. My brother has a dog and my brother-in-law has a dog. Those dogs sure screwed the pooch on that one. What the hell were they up to? They were probably playing poker or humping something. Check out this video:
CBS news

So this lady's dog tells her that she has cancer and we can't get a little heads up from our dogs? What the crap? We have a hound dog named Ramona who probably knows that we all have cancer, but she would rather bark at the UPS truck than save a life. There's probably cancer all over this house and our dog won't tell a soul.  Man's best friend indeed. And where the hell is Cesar Millan in all of this? The so called "dog whisperer" hasn't weighed in on any of this. The dogs were probably whispering this stuff to him the entire time. I declare shenanigans.

I'll part with a story of why dogs sniff each other's butts. I'm not sure which elderly person told me this story, but it has stuck with me. Without further ado: Why dogs sniff each other's butts:
A long time ago all of the dogs got together for a dog wide meeting to discuss dog issues. When each dog arrived, it would take its butt off and hang it on the coat rack. During the meeting, a dog catcher showed up and all the dogs scattered. In all the confusion, each dog just grabbed a butt from the coat rack without checking, put it on, and scurried out of the meeting. Ever since then, when two dogs meet they sniff each other's butts to see if that is the butt they left behind at the dog meeting.

I was convinced this was true until my late twenties.

Just for fun; this is our cancer ignoring dog who was paralyzed by a towel placed on her head.


Damn Nature, You Scary

I am not special.  News flash, none of us are.
Scientists just discovered proof of living organisms from 3.5 billion years ago.  Fuck! 
I can't even wrap my brain around 35,000 years.
This is amazing and also very humbling.

Not many of us will make a difference in the world.  We can only make a difference in the immediate few around us.  It is important to be nice to people.

This past weekend we hung out with some new people, and it was a blast.  Its been a long time since Matt and I have hung out with someone that really gets our sense of humor.  The person with whom we got to hang out, recently lost his daughter to cancer.  Its a rare cancer, so much that I'm too lame to remember the name of it.  It causes small tumors up and down the spine and brain stem.  Oddly enough we have also recently become friends with another woman who's spouse died of this same type of cancer two years ago.

I feel like a heel, because I have met this guy once before.  He is great, and when I met him the first time his daughter was alive.  She has since passed, and I didn't know what to say.  Do I bring it up?  This is only the second time I've been in the same room with him.  Do I tell him how very sorry I am, when I cannot imagine the pain that he has endured for the past several years, through her treatments?
I did not.
I am an asshole.
I chose the path of least resistance and that was to not say anything.  I didn't say 'I'm so sorry' or 'how very terrible'  because what if he was just trying to have a good time and not think about shit for a few minutes?  What if he wanted to hang out with people that had never met his daughter?  What if he wanted to NOT talk about cancer for a fucking second?

These are all of the excuses I made in my head for not stopping the laughing, for a god damned second, and saying 'hey guy, I'm sorry and it sucks so hard'.
It does suck, all of it.

Why a seven year old girl?
I know it sounds heartless to all adults that have cancer, but it just sucks so much more, when you hear about the death of a child.

The fact that we, as a race, are still thriving, is in of itself something very cool.  We may not all make a difference to the earth or the landscape or the other people living an ocean, state or city away from us.  But we can be nice to each other.  I do struggle with this sometimes.  In my narrow view of the world, I have my own shit going on.  But I will try to be nice, and to acknowledge that everyone is going through hard stuff.  It may not be the same type of hard, but it is shitty just the same.
We are not special, but we can try to make each other feel a little better about a bad day.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Forced Family Fun

We went to a safari park, and although the only panda was the one on Matt's face, we did get to see some cool things.  
We got to feed giraffes and pet kangaroos and we met a goat that was only a few hours old (ridiculously cute, btw).
Matt and I have decided rather than buying each other gifts for birthdays and anniversaries and other crap, we will partake in forced fun.
No more spending money on gifts, we will now do something as a family.  Granted Sofia will HATE this when she gets older, but us being able to torture her with it, will make it that much better.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

33 is the new 73


I'm turning 33 tomorrow.  Whoopie.
I am not really going to talk about cancer, but I will say that I'm very down today.  I'm not sure why exactly.  It just sucks.
Having a birthday should be pleasant, I should be grateful.  I am grateful, I guess, but it has been overshadowed by this horrible nothingness.

I'm not exited, I no longer get the jittery fun feeling of the anticipation.  Its just another day.  When do we lose that?  and more importantly WHY do we lose that?
I want that back.

I want to be thrilled that I'm getting older.  I do want another year to set goals and disappoint myself with them.  But this past year has been especially challenging.  So much so, that I'm just too tired to be excited.  I'm tired, but I'm ready to keep on keeping on.

We lose the feeling of invincibility from our 20s and the 30s are a decade to figure shit out.  I've figured shit out, for the most part.  We are grown ups, we have a kid and a house, and a Subaru,  and a dog.  It is a normal suburban life.  The 30s are our decade to appreciate all of that crap, and not be concerned with aging.  I'm not scared about getting wrinkles or gray hair (mainly because I already have plenty of both) but I'm scared I'm not taking care of myself, but too lazy to do anything about it.

Tom Hanks was on David Letterman the other night, and told everyone he has Type Two diabetes, he then said "ya know, something is gonna kill us all, Dave. Something is gonna kill us all"

Tom (we're on a first name basis) then said:  “My doctor said, ‘Look, if you can weigh as much as you weighed in high school, you will essentially be completely healthy and not have type 2 diabetes.'  And I said to her, 'Well, I’m gonna have type 2 diabetes.’”

If I'm 33 and worried about cancer and blah blah blah, what fun will my life be. I guess I need to be conscious about it, but not let it overwhelm me, because something's gonna kill us all.

I've had two trains of thought, since our brothers were diagnosed.
1) "it doesn't fucking matter, eat that doughnut, fuck it, eat 10, and do a snow angel in the powdered sugar and cartwheel into chocolate frosting"
2) "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, We need to buy every book Michael Pollan has ever written and spend our life savings on eating organic and juicing, and never even smelling another fast food restaurant."

As you can see, we struggle with this several times a day.  I love baking, and I'm pretty damn good at it.  So I want to eat yummy cakes and cookies that I bake.  I also love cooking, and guess what, I'm pretty fucking amazing at that too.  So we eat well in our house.  But dammit if McDonald's doesn't make a really tasty cheeseburger.  So I guess moderation will become our mantra.
Now I'm going to go eat another piece of pumpkin spice cake with cream cheese icing on it, then throw the rest in the trash can, so I can start fresh on my 33rd Birthday.  
Wish me luck homies.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

The Gift of Colonoscopy


My brother has given me the gift of colonoscopy. He's 34 and recently got the awesome news that he has stage IV colon cancer. Because of this, my Doctor thinks that I should get a colonoscopy every couple of years. The first one is tomorrow. I will provide coverage of this event.

Day One

9:32 AM
So they tell me that the hard part is the preparation. Up until after the procedure, I am on a clear liquid diet. That's no solid food, and nothing with color added. I'm allowed to have broth and jello. It's like spending the day at an old person's house, but with more pooping.
Another fun thing about today is the laxatives and special drink that I get to have all day. The special drink is a four liter jug filled with colon cleanse. They want the system cleaned out, so today is about pooping and not eating. It's a porn star's diet.
Before bed last night, I weighed 207 pounds. I'm hoping to get down to an even 200 by tomorrow.

11:00 AM
At noon I have to take 5 laxatives, and then the fun begins. Poopfest Extreme 2013.

12:03 PM
I have taken the laxatives. No more than 3 minutes after taking the poop pills did the power in our house go out. We have well water in my house, and when the power goes out, so does our well pump. No well pump equals no running water. I'm pretty sure that I'm being punked right now.

3:15 PM
I have Jedi-like focus. I am willing myself not to poop. I'll file these last few hours under, "how to make your colon angry."

3:30 PM
The power is back on. Just in time. I had a shovel in my hand, ready to dig a hole in the backyard when the lights came back on. I am thankful for toilets that work. Let the pooping commence.

4:00 PM
It is time for me to drink my special drank. The mix is basically baking soda and sodium. I'm not really sure how this all works, but for the next hour I need to drink two liters of the stuff, 8 ounces at a time. The bottle says that diarrhea will start within an hour of drinking the solution. The pooping is supposed to stop after three hours. So I've got that going for me.

4:30 PM
I am down one liter. I have had roughly four glasses of the nastiness. It tastes like salt mixed with band-aids. It is not the worst thing ever. It's like taking a shot of whiskey without the fun. I am muscling through this. It's pretty horrible.

5:00 PM
Two liters down. And now the waiting. That last liter was difficult. My stomach is sloshing around. No immediate need to drop a deuce yet. Time to enjoy the calm before the storm.

5:20 PM
We have lift off. I never dreamed that there could be poop like this. It's an ass faucet situation. A high pressured jet of filth is coming out of my body. It's strange. It is not like a poop your pants situation, and there's no cramping. It's just time to go to the bathroom, and then all the water in your body evacuates through your butt. It is all kinds of fun. I honestly don't see how there can be any more in my system to poop out.

5:45 PM
There was more.

6:10 PM
And more.

6:30 PM
And some more. This has to be all that is inside of me.

7:30 PM
Not quite.

8:10 PM
I am pretty sure that's it. I don't have a crazy urge to poop anymore. I think that will do it for the night.

9:30 PM
I am laying in bed early tonight. There is a battle in my guts right now. My stomach sounds like a Wookie orgy. It's growling and gurgling. I am going to bed hoping for no more poops.

DAY TWO (EXAM DAY)

7:00 AM
So it was an uneventful night. I stepped on the scale and it read 197 lbs. How's that for weight loss? 10 pounds in a day. I'm going to go on biggest loser next.
I am not a big food guy. I don't get crazy cravings and I rarely finish my plate. I don't get cranky when I don't have food. I usually go without breakfast and lunch. It's weird, I know. I've gone some time without eating before, but it was a choice before. When someone tells me that I am not allowed to eat, it makes me want to eat. Needless to say, I am starving. The good news is that I get to drink the rest of my special drink in an hour.

8:00 AM
On to the special drink. Two liters to go.

8:30 AM
I am not sure if I can drink the rest. I feel like it is the end of the night of drinking and people are trying to get me to do a couple more Jager Bombs. My body is very upset with me right now.

9:00 AM
How is there any more to poop? My body keeps proving me wrong, with the ability to poop. I haven't eaten anything in more than 24 hours, and yet, I am pooping like it is my job. If this is my new super power, I am going to be very upset.

10:00 AM
So I just read the instructions that the doctor gave me again. Apparently, I was only supposed to drink half of the four liter bowel preparation. What can I say, I'm an over achiever. There's a lesson to be learned in this. When I figure it out, I'll let you know.

11:30 AM
At this point, I am no longer allowed to drink anything until after the procedure. I know the question that is running through everyone's head is: Can Matt Beard still poop? The answer is a resounding yes. Yes I can still poop.

12:40 PM
My throat is dry, my bowels are empty, I'm weak as a kitten, and off we go. My procedure is at 1:30, but I have to get there at 1:00. I'd like to say that I'm not nervous about this, but my brother wasn't worried and he has stage four colon cancer. So yeah, I'm a bit nervous. I have been carefully examining all of my bowel movements for inconsistencies, you know, like a crazy person. Nevertheless, here I am; I've been to war twice, jumped out of more airplanes than I can count, and now I'm afraid of a doctor looking at my butt. Away we go.

3:30 PM
Procedure complete.
My wife and I were the youngest people in there. It's a good ego boost if you are starting to feel a bit old. They called me back to the preparation are, I kissed my wife and left her in the waiting room. A nurse led me back and weighed me. She took me to a curtained area with a bed, had me sign some forms, and told me to take off all of my clothes and put on a gown, but not to tie the back. I asked her why as a joke, but medical professionals don't like to joke around before looking at your butt, I guess.
I'd like to take this time to note that I have no problem with being naked. I really don't. I used to be the naked guy at parties. It's really not a big deal to me. Unfortunately, the gown that they gave me to wear must have been for a child or something. I'm not an enormous person, but I'm certainly not small. I'd like to think that I'm a large medium person or a small large person. This gown had to have been built for a toddler. I put it on, and it was like wearing a slightly large shirt. I couldn't find a way to lie on the bed without my downtown bonanza on full display. I just decided to hike up the gown and let it hang out despite it being cold in the room. I was on my side with the goods on display when the nurse came back and quickly told me to roll over on my back. She grabbed a blanket that I was supposed to use, and put it over my lower half. I suppose looking up my butt is cool, but genitals are out of the question.
She put in an IV and I waited, counting ceiling tiles (15 if you are wondering). A few minutes later a nurse rolled my bed back to the procedure room. It was dark and calm. A doctor came to my left side and introduced herself as my Anesthesiologist. I asked her what they were using on me, she said Propofol. I asked if that was the drug that Micheal Jackson used, so that I could seem smart. I already knew that it was, but it couldn't hurt to trick her into thinking that I'm intelligent.
The doctor who was preforming the procedure came in and sat and talked with me for a while. It was nice. I figured that it would be more like a drive through operation, but he took the time to talk. He asked me why I was getting a colonoscopy at the age of 33. I explained about my brother, we talked family history, etc. He told me that it was a great idea that I had come in, so I felt better about the entire situation. He asked if I had any more questions. I said, "Just one. If my colon is healthy, could you put in the report that 'Matt Beard's colon is magnificent?" He just laughed.
It was the anesthesiologist's turn next. She prepared large vials of sleepy medicine. She injected a clear liquid in. Then there was a milky white liquid. She said that it was very fast acting. In my head, I was like, "yeah right, I used to drink professionally, I can hold my own." Then she injected the white liquid. I sat up and I said, "That's good." They positioned me back down.
Then the Doctor said, "Okay, we are all done."  I was awake, like wide awake. I wasn't groggy at all. I told them I felt like singing. They told me not to, but I did anyway. They wheeled me back to the room that I started. It felt like the next day, but it was only forty minutes later. The nurse removed my IV and asked if I wanted to bring my wife back there before the doctor came in and talked to me. I said of course. I got changed and Leah was back there with me. The doctor came back and explained that my colon is healthy. No problems. I asked him if he thought that it was magnificent, he said that it was certainly healthy, then he left. I have to come back every three years because of family history. Then Leah and I, ignoring all doctor's order, ate big greasy cheeseburgers at a restaurant a couple of blocks away from the doctor's office. 

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Appropriate dinner convos

We went to visit my brother-in-law and fam last night.  I guess I'm a little too used to talking about this whole cancer thing because Matt reprimanded me for not tippy toeing around it.  Matt's brother was saying that he isn't sure if there is a type of genetic colon cancer and I jumped in with figures.  12% of colon cancer cases are genetic.  I discussed this over dinner and didn't think twice about what I was saying.

When a family member is diagnosed with cancer, it's all anyone can think about.  It's the elephant in the room and the room is tiny with no AC and it's full of shit.  The only things to talk about seem terrible.  It's difficult to joke around about normal everyday things like farting in public and not murdering your coworkers.

After a year of thinking about cancer nonstop, it's commonplace for me to regurgitate cancer tidbits and not have any concern for my audience.  I have to keep in mind, though, that to a newly diagnosed patient and his family, they may not want to discuss percentages.  And the pit of cancer talk is just as desparaging as the diagnosis itself.  In the future, I will try to not depress my dinner company.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Bitch, Peas


So in an effort to live as far away from cancerville as possible, We are going to be eating healthier.  
I'm not trying to eat diet food, just real food.  Yes, of course, I will still be eating cookies, but I will try to eat cookies with ingredients I can pronounce or cookies I bake myself.  

I enjoy cooking and I love baking but working full time doesn't always allow for scratch cooking.  Pre packaged food was a norm for side dishes in my prior dinners.

My new goal is to cook real food at least five nights a week.

I've actually been successful for the past two months, and it's cheaper.
I'm not freaking out about organic vs pesticide laden, right now I'm trying to eliminate preservatives.  I'm no expert but if preservatives can keep food from breaking down on a shelf, they sure as hell can keep fat from breaking down off my ass. 

Cheers to a new kind of healthy, that will include real butter, and real milk and a lot of fuckin veggies!