Day 4/-5

Hello all, from my perch on 6E, UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center.

Day 4 of my visit. 5 days until I get my stem cells put back in.

So far, so good. I’ve been handling the chemo pretty good, or so the doctors tell me. A little nausea. A little headachy. A little worn out at night. Apparently, the first and last days of chemo are the worst. The middle days are pretty benign. I get about half way through the day in good health until a bit of queasiness sets in. Right about…10 minutes ago. So, I’ll be friends with the porcelain god for the next few days.

They tell me that next week is the roughest. Once my counts drop I’m going to get visited by all sorts of side effects, most of which I’ve had before. So it is kind of like expecting old friends. Or old enemies, I guess. Mouth sores will be the biggest problem. Nausea. Lots and lots of fatigue.

I do my laps around the floor. I’m not allowed to leave the wing, so they are pretty quick trips. I’m sure they will get longer as I slow down. They also gave me an exercise bike, which tells me that they think I’m young and active or they think I’m fat. I’m so full of saline right now, I’m leaning towards the latter.

I’m also pushing to get my room switched to the other side of the floor. I have a pretty terrible view of the other wing of the hospital. And people can see in my room at night as they wait for the elevators. I’m not doing anything exciting for them to see…but still, the other side of the hospital has a view of Westwood and the ocean in the distance. The sun makes a big difference and since I’m here for an extended stay, I might as well push for the best comfort possible.

So, between the computer, the DVDs, books, exercise bike, PS3, magazines and other assorted oddities…sounds like paradise? Except for the constant stream of doctors and nurses, beeping IV poles and essentially being held prisoner in this room. At night I get some anxiety when I try to fall asleep. As long as I focus on the short-term, things stay together. I can’t think about tomorrow or next week or two weeks. I can only keep my eye on pieces of sunshine and know that I’ll be out there soon.

And we’ve been decorating – Ezekial and Eliana brought me a framed picture of a frog and a rainbow. I’ve got photos of all the dogs and cats and kids in my life (which I have to keep explaining to the nurses that none of them belong to me). I’ve got inspirational phrases and a calendar to count the days. And one photo of Golda Maier (which needs no explanation…right?)

Like home. Only with more poison.

I’ll try to check in again before things head too far south next week.

Be well. And thanks for thinking of me. I’ll see you soon.


14 responses to “Day 4/-5

  1. Can anyone visit you? Not that I will, but just wondering about my sis coming in. Any other videos or new games you like? Love you!

  2. I can have visitors, but just one or two at a time. And they have to be clean, germ free, no colds and not around anyone with a cold. I’m avoiding people who are traveling or coming straight from work. Visitors are better this week then next week, due to my fatigue and low counts. So I’ve had a couple of friends come by for short visits. Jen is always welcome.

    And I’m all stocked with games and books and DVD’s. Really. I’m just started Fallout New Vegas – with over 60 hours of playing time in the game, it should keep me busy. The chemo makes my concentration pretty short so I’m trying to jump back and forth between PS3, reading and computer time. And resting, of course.

  3. you are amazing….both you and jen!
    thinking of you always…


  4. Be well, my friend. Our thoughts of strength and good health are with you. Miss you, love you.


  5. I love you.

    That is all.

  6. dude, what that room really needs is a Nerf basketball hoop. With multiple Nerf basketballs. Miss you, WEWO!

  7. “keep my eyes on pieces of sunshine” = awesome. Thanks.

    Just bouncing in to check on you, reminding you that people you’ve never met are in your corner, praying for you, pulling for you–man, you’re gonna need a bigger corner.

  8. Thinking of you Steve. I would love to come and visit— I need to wait for my cold to go away first so I dont bring any germs with me. I love your blog- it is really truly awesome. I look forward to a fast and speedy recovery for you and hope to see you soon! xo

  9. Thank you for the update…. quite a process indeed, that view will be accompanied by a rainbow!!
    On another note…. maybe for fun.. you could give the people waiting for the elevator something to look at!!
    Thinking of you… sending good wishes!!

  10. Keep up the fight. The Dupont’s send their love.


  11. Stephen,

    I just saw Jen’s posting of your blog and had no idea what you were going through. I still tell people about our shoot / non-shoot with Ashton Kutcher. Seems like so long ago. My thoughts are with you for a strong fight and a speedy recovery. Hopefully, this little memory will put a smile on your face.

    Hang in there!


  12. I was showing Ella the picture of her on your blog, when Johnny walked over, slugged Ella in the head and said, “Nobody puts Johnny in the corner.”….. I had no idea Johnny was reading your blog…

  13. hahah. i don’t comment much, but jana’s comment kills me…. in a good way

  14. As always sending much love. I hope they have moved you to a sunny room. You deserve a master suite with the best view ever.
    You and your wife constantly amaze and inspire me . You are forever in my thoughts and heart and I can’t wait to see you on the other side of this cancer shit. FUCK CANCER!

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