Disappointed with my sudden bout of cussing, I decided to do a little count Saturday. By bed time, I was at seven. Carol-Ann said it was a huge percentage decrease from the previous few days, but she wouldn't give me an exact number. (When I get back to work, I'm going to try that with my stories....ah the Giants won Something-over-Something...wonder how that might work?)
I know I'm 40 and the swearing is not a big deal, but I don't want to be that guy. And, in interest of full disclosure (here we go again...I warned you that had become a favourite phrase of mine...could that be a drug side effect?), being a fella known for not swearing often can have its benefits. During normal times, when I do get angry enough to cuss, people who haven't seen Angry Steve are shocked and it tends to get their attention and things work out in my favour.
OK. I'm warped. I was warped before getting cancer. I'll be warped when I'm done with cancer. Don't judge. That's not nice. Remember? I have cancer. Be good, people.
(Yes, I'm having too much fun this morning. No need to call the authorities.)
Strangely enough, yesterday might have been an ideal day for salty language. My shoulder was sore. When I was in VGH, they often asked me to grade pain on a 1-10 scale. I'd consider a 6 as uncomfortable. There were a couple of times yesterday that we hit 8.
The pain is normal from everything I know. You get a little swelling around the area, and we had some trouble on Friday at radiation getting me set up on the table, so I think I tweaked the shoulder a little bit.
Still, we're in good shape pain wise compared to most people with cancer. I took two extra sets of two Tylenol yesterday. I took three extra sets on Friday. The previous four days combined I had taken two.
(My regular pain medication right now is Hydromorphone. I'm taking one capsule twice a day. I do have some lower dose Hydro for what my Dr. Jennifer Rogerson says is for "breakthrough" pain, but the Tylenol seems to work better for me and she's OK with it. I trust her. She gets it. She's been huge in how much better I feel these days. It's Carol-Ann's family GP -- yet another reason why my wife rocks.)
I spent yesterday morning lying on the couch, playing PlayStation, a little Madden Football. I have to admit: I had a hoot. It was nice to not worry about anything other than my cartoon men on a TV screen.
The plan, for the afternoon, was to go to the mall and window shop and then watch my 10-year-old nephew, Tyler, at his field lacrosse game in Richmond.
We were driving out of New West when the radiation rundown just swamped me. I had some serious jump, and then suddenly I couldn't keep my eyes open. It just engulfed me. I told Carol-Ann, and we opted instead to hang out at my parents in Richmond and then go to the game.
We came home, watched a little hockey and then the movie Valentine's Day. It was a pretty bland day but exactly what we needed. (My sore throat from earlier this week has disappeared for the time being. I've been able to get down sausages last night.)
Today, we're going to try to get into the pool and do some walking in the shallow end after the football games. I've enlisted a couple of junior high buddies, Arnold Sison and Grant Moffat, along with Grant's wife Tracey, to help. Scott Rintoul and his wife Fiona may come by, too.
My in-laws, Ron and Verna, are on side as well.
I'm a little panicky. I don't like new things. That's why I'm coming with a football of my own. But we'll muddle through.
Just as long as I don't swear too much.