I'm not sure why I was such a
jokester on Tuesday. It may have been because I was disappointed that my
neutrophil count hadn't gone up (neutrophils are the white blood cells
that fight bacteria and infection). For weeks I have had none;
chemotherapy does that to you. That's the main reason they had me
isolated on East 8.
To give you an idea, a normal healthy person has a neutrophil count of 1.8. On Friday I clocked in at an impressive 0.1. Doctor Forsythe congratulated me on a 100% improvement. On Saturday I hit 0.2, and on Sunday I hit 0.3 - that's when doctor Petersen let me know if I measured 0.5 I could go home. So then Monday I scored 0.4, and I was poised to go home on Tuesday. But, as you may already know my levels held - Tuesday I was still at 0.4. To battle the bewildering blow I just goofed around.
That morning I woke up giggling because I had this silly idea. While AJ was sleeping I slipped on my tennis sneakers and snuck into the hall. I had queued up "Eye of the Tiger" on my iphone and put the volume all the way up. Just before I past the nurses station I hit play... Bada-bada-bada-bada-bada-bada-bada-bada - Dunt... dunt, dunt, dunt... dunt, dunt, dunt... dunt, dunt, dunnnnnn! So as I'm sauntering by I start throwing air punches to the beat; dunt... dunt, dunt, dunt... I kept the music playing as I walked my laps for the morning, and I'm pretty sure everybody that got a glimpse of my antics had a pretty good laugh.
But the shenanigans didn't stop there. The woman that cleans my hospital room is bilingual (Spanish/English). When she came I told her I was going to play a song for her... To be honest, I wasn't sure what I was going to play so I took the easy route - The Blues. I summoned what Spanish I could remember and sang:
No hable espanol
Pero yo trato
No hable espanol
Pero yo trato
Gracias por limpiar mi cuarto
It must have gone over pretty well because she had a huge grin on her face when she left.
After my customary shower for the day, I decided to wear what I call my "newsies cap". Rather than go with my customary New York accent though, (my work friends know that one well) I decided to try some Irish instead. There were many random reasons for this:
First, early in my hospital stay my Grampa Reese told me all about my Irish ancestor Stillman Pond (Kezman's middle name is Pond just like my Grampa). Second, my brother Justin sent me a Louis L'amour novel titled "The Iron Marshal" and it just so happens that the main character is an Irish immigrant who finds himself out West. Third, the woman across the hall with AML (it's like my cancer but red blood cells instead of white) also has Irish ancestry. Her sweet daughter (Therese) flew in from CA to look after her and has been here nearly as long as me. Turns out Therese is an amazing bagpipe player (and teacher).
So I'm quoting silly stuff from that movie Far and Away with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, "Tell me yuh like me hat Shannon. Why can't yuh tell me yuh like me hat?" The nurses laugh, but I have a hankering suspicion that they are just trying to be nice (it's their job to help people feel better).
I knew I was running out of material when I started quoting Irish Spring commercials, and Lucky Charms slogans. It occurred to me that I don't know what a real Irish accent sounds like, and it was a good thing that no real Irishman was around to clean my clock for trying to fake it - I've heard about the "fighting Irish".
I must have subconsciously known that it was my last night in East 8 because as the day drew to a close I had the urge to invite anyone who would listen to come to my room for what will now be referred to as my farewell concert.
I'll post some more videos later, but I wanted to share this one as it relates to an earlier blog entry. I dedicated this song to Joleen (Therese's Mom) because she was having a rough week. I wish you could meet this woman though, she is just a ball of fun with a smile so broad that it can hardly balance on her face.
If you read my previous post, you know that when I listened to Enya's version of this song (ironically Enya is also Irish) it really touched me and was my inspiration through the first phase of my treatment.
Well you know me, I had to write my own version, or should I say, "me own vareshun"...
How Can I Keep From Singing?
I'm not sure if it was the music, everyone's prayers, or the luck o' the Irish but when they did my blood draw the next morning I hit 0.5.
To give you an idea, a normal healthy person has a neutrophil count of 1.8. On Friday I clocked in at an impressive 0.1. Doctor Forsythe congratulated me on a 100% improvement. On Saturday I hit 0.2, and on Sunday I hit 0.3 - that's when doctor Petersen let me know if I measured 0.5 I could go home. So then Monday I scored 0.4, and I was poised to go home on Tuesday. But, as you may already know my levels held - Tuesday I was still at 0.4. To battle the bewildering blow I just goofed around.
 |
No hable espanol
Pero yo trato
No hable espanol
Pero yo trato
Gracias por limpiar mi cuarto
It must have gone over pretty well because she had a huge grin on her face when she left.
After my customary shower for the day, I decided to wear what I call my "newsies cap". Rather than go with my customary New York accent though, (my work friends know that one well) I decided to try some Irish instead. There were many random reasons for this:
First, early in my hospital stay my Grampa Reese told me all about my Irish ancestor Stillman Pond (Kezman's middle name is Pond just like my Grampa). Second, my brother Justin sent me a Louis L'amour novel titled "The Iron Marshal" and it just so happens that the main character is an Irish immigrant who finds himself out West. Third, the woman across the hall with AML (it's like my cancer but red blood cells instead of white) also has Irish ancestry. Her sweet daughter (Therese) flew in from CA to look after her and has been here nearly as long as me. Turns out Therese is an amazing bagpipe player (and teacher).
 |
| My hat is kinda like this one |
I knew I was running out of material when I started quoting Irish Spring commercials, and Lucky Charms slogans. It occurred to me that I don't know what a real Irish accent sounds like, and it was a good thing that no real Irishman was around to clean my clock for trying to fake it - I've heard about the "fighting Irish".
I must have subconsciously known that it was my last night in East 8 because as the day drew to a close I had the urge to invite anyone who would listen to come to my room for what will now be referred to as my farewell concert.
I'll post some more videos later, but I wanted to share this one as it relates to an earlier blog entry. I dedicated this song to Joleen (Therese's Mom) because she was having a rough week. I wish you could meet this woman though, she is just a ball of fun with a smile so broad that it can hardly balance on her face.
If you read my previous post, you know that when I listened to Enya's version of this song (ironically Enya is also Irish) it really touched me and was my inspiration through the first phase of my treatment.
Well you know me, I had to write my own version, or should I say, "me own vareshun"...
How Can I Keep From Singing?
I'm not sure if it was the music, everyone's prayers, or the luck o' the Irish but when they did my blood draw the next morning I hit 0.5.
You truly lite up the life of the nursing staff!
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