R.E.M. Sleep

Recently, I have been taking about a half dozen naps each day. Most of them are quite short-- often of only a few minutes duration. Almost invariably, I dream. These dreams are rarely nightmares. 

I had long thought that it took awhile to go through several stages of sleep before reaching the rapid eye movement (R.E.M) stage that I had understood was a prerequisite for dreaming. I suppose that I must have a cumulative deficit not only of sleep in general, but of R.E.M. sleep in particular.

Current Events

Day before yesterday, thanks to the initiative and editorial prowess of Professor Andrew Lo, I had accepted for publication, in the highly regarded Journal of Investment Management, a modest compilation that I had written originally in 2008 for my colleagues at Harris & Harris Group, "Some Lessons Learned in 42 Years of Business." 

Yesterday morning, our daughter, Elizabeth, arrived on a redeye from the West Coast for a visit through tomorrow.

Yesterday afternoon, two months ahead of deadline, thanks to the Herculean efforts of my colleagues, we submitted  to Cold Spring Harbor Press the manuscript of my book, Incurable: A Life After Diagnosis.

Today, I will go to MSK to have blood drawn.

Friday morning, I will be readmitted to MSK for a procedure in which interventional radiologists are to insert a permanent drain in my body to attempt to reduce the fluid level in my peritoneal cavity caused by ascites.

Saturday morning, if all goes well, I will return home.

Happy Fourth of July Weekend!

Taking Inventory

With the aid of a drug, Reglan, I can still eat small portions of chicken, potatoes, rice, pasta, eggs, cream o'wheat cereal, yogurt, molasses cookies, apple sauce and cooked zucchini. I can drink water, Gator-Ade and cranberry juice. I can sleep, in spite of a worsening skin rash, in the fetal position on my left side for an half hour at a time, occasionally even an hour, before I am awakened by musculoskeletal pain from lying in one position or by the need for a bowel movement. I can see well enough by peering to hunt-and-peck out this post, to read in good lighting and to watch television. I can concentrate well enough to read a newspaper article, though not a book. I can still work on the book with our editorial and design team for brief, intense stretches. I can still remember things, though sometimes I have real lapses in short term memory-- I am hoping such lapses are owing to the Reglan. I enjoy listening to music, mainly classical and jazz. I am strong enough to walk a few blocks, but I would have physical difficulty enduring another long wait in the Urgent Care Center. I can wear a loose polo shirt, though not a tee shirt or a dress shirt. In certain positions, if I am not too tired, I can sit pain-free in a comfortable chair for a couple of hours. Sometimes I have no fever, often I have only a mild fever and only rarely do I have chills and shakes. I am taking Tylenol now, but only when my temperature starts rising. I like getting emails from family and friends, and I check my CrackBerry often.

We interviewed home hospice services late last week and expect to sign a contract with one early this coming week.

Returning to the Winner's Circle

In today's sixth race at Belmont Park, Hot Money circled the eight-horse field on the turn for home in a seven furlong turf race and won going away by a half a length under jockey Rajiv Maragh. Unlike today, Hot Money had not gotten smooth trips in his first two races. But those two losses did not deter the bettors from backing him down to second choice at 2.4-1 odds today. Hot Money's cumulative gross earnings are now some $87,000. Although I was not well enough to go out to Belmont Park, Susan represented us well in the winner's circle.

Because Hot Money works extremely well on dirt in the mornings, we are going to race him next on dirt and see if he is as good or better than he is on turf. Meanwhile, there are races in coming days for Mustang Island and for Backslider, which would be making his debut.

The Little Children

The most heartrending sight at a cancer center is the kids with cancer. If they and their families are not amongst the most suffering and bravest of humankind, who could be?  If I believed in a personal God, I think that my compassion for them would be combined with extreme anger.

Illness and Inefficiency

During my adult life, I enjoyed exceptionally good health. Consequently, I find that being ill, especially in the context of terminal decline, to be frustratingly inefficient. I have spent the last 12 hours or so, starting about 5 PM yesterday, dealing with a low-grade fever, bodily pain, diarrhea and slight nausea. I have been able to eat only small portions of food and sleep only in stretches of about an half an hour. No interactions with people outside my immediate household, no writing, no reading, only small snatches of television.

An existence consisting primarily of tending to my miseries while in inexorable decline is not only boring, but also strikes me as self-indulgent and ignominious. I am very fortunate that, so far, I have still been able to work most days with my colleagues-- via email, Skype and FedEx-- in recasting this blog into a book. Otherwise, I would have no project and little work to show for my waning days.

Purgatory

After studying my blood tests and examining my right Achilles tendon, the physician on duty, Dr. Klotz, thought that the soreness and stiffness in the area of my Achilles tendon was either a blood clot (I'm not kidding) or a swollen tendon caused, most likely, by Levaquin. Rather than, as he said, torture me with more tests or readmission to the hospital, he sent me home about midnight with two new antibiotics. I was most grateful for Dr. Klotz's common sense and compassion.

Heaven, hell, and purgatory can be located anywhere. The emergency room of a cancer center is one outpost of purgatory.