My Family and Support System
I feel I cannot go much further without talking about my parents.
My parents, Ken and Bernice, moved from my childhood home in Grapevine to Krum to be closer to us and the boys. This has been a godsend.
My parents are both retired, and I have been lucky enough to have had them through everything thus far. They were there in the hospital. They are there to watch the boys when I can't function. They drive me to all of my appointments. My dad sits with me through my Chemo.
I know this is hard for them. I know reading about this is worse. And I am proud of them. I am proud of them for being so strong and having the same fight. They are remarkable.
The countless sacrifices they make and the generosity and love they give, I can never pay back. I am blessed to have them in my life, and so lucky that they are mine. I love them so much. Which is why I will beat this.
I have an amazing Mother-in-Law. The night I was admitted into the hospital she was working a 12 hour night shift. 7 pm to 7 am. She is a nurse, and she was there for the patient all night.
That same morning she was there for me.
She has been there every chance she could. She has provided more than just support. She allowed for Ashley and my parents to be with me in the hospital from the beginning while she watched my boys. I am so grateful for this, I'm not sure if I could ever really say it and do it justice.
My support system has been an eye opener. I knew I would have family there for me. They always are. But the support from everyone else has been incredible. Since my diagnosis and first chemo treatment, the donation site that Ashley set up for me and my medical costs have raised more than $6,000. Incredible.
Every donation, and every message brings tears to my eyes. I just can't believe people care this much to want to help me. I can't imagine I've done anything in my life to deserve this much love and support.
Somehow, my donation site, and with it my diagnosis, made it to the students in my school. And they started donating.
Students. Current and former. Giving $10, $20, $30, $50 $100. Then parents. Then students I've never had. Parents I had never met. Giving. I just can't believe that it is for me.
Thank you.
There is good in this world. So much. I cannot believe that with this much good that something so bad can win. There is no way.
Chris Cogswell: Give Forward This is my site. I feel like I have a lot of sites.
Contact
I touched briefly on the impact of messages. I have to admit, that they feel good. Text messages, calls, Facebook, blogger, no matter the forum, they help.
I know this is hard to talk about and that a lot of people just don't know what to say, but that is okay. Don't be afraid of it. I will talk about it, because it helps. I am not going to live in fear and ignore it. I am doing something. I am going to beat cancer. Because I have to. Because I can.
I've spent a lot time these past couple of weeks thinking. Thinking and catching up on The Walking Dead. It's too much time to think. It doesn't do any good. Which is why I appreciate the messages. It breaks up the time. It's positive. Happy. And it helps.
For all of the messages and kind words so far. THANK YOU! More than you know, thank you.
The C Word
No one wants to say it. I understand, but it doesn't help. It feels like we're running from it. I'm not running.
The word is cancer. Say it with me now, CAN-cer.
When I was in the hospital, the only person that called it what it was, was Dr. NotWorthADamn. Everyone else, no.
Lymphoma. They all liked Lymphoma. Like it's easier to take. Easier to deal with. I would catch people tripping over it. I'd hear the CAN come out of their mouth, then Lymphoma.
He who shall not be named.
"It". "It" was very popular. We can treat it. We need to test it more. It it it it it it it it it it it... CANCER! SAY "IT"!
As you can tell, since I am assuming you have been reading from the beginning, I don't have a problem with saying the C Word. The C Word IS my problem.
Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me. I am not afraid of words. And I am not afraid of the C Word. Or Cancer.
Side Effects
TV and movies tell us what to expect. We get the image of the cancer patient. It's not a very flattering picture they paint. But they work in extremes. It's for the money. I get it.
My side effects haven't been made for TV. No extremes.
I haven't felt nauseous. I've been eating well. My weight has been steady. I've just been tired. Really tired.
I'm not sure if the fatigue is chemo related or if it's due to my blood levels. Only time will tell. But I feel like I have been hit by a train. Then it backed up. Then continued going.
The fatigue has been the worst part. Simple tasks are so tiring. Showering. Getting dressed. Walking up stairs. Playing and taking care of my boys. Sometimes I just can't. I need to sit down. I need to rest.
It's tough. I am so used to being independent. I do things on my own. Now, I need help. And it sucks.
It makes you feel so useless. Pathetic. Helpless. And then you go into your bedroom and cry from frustration, but you have to stop because you are tired again. You can't even get frustrated like you want to.
Cancer sucks.
My energy level has been improving though. Maybe it is the blood. Maybe the chemo is helping my blood. Dr. Spivey said it would.
My hemoglobin levels are at 11.4. They are currently higher than they were when I went into the ER the day before Thanksgiving. This is EXTREMELY good. I'm still anemic. But I am out of the danger levels. And I have energy.
I almost feel normal. It is the most normal I have felt in months. Even with the chemo brain.
Ah, chemo brain. This one is fun.
Okay, first, it only lasts for a few days (so far), so I can handle it. It's just frustrating. What else is new?
Chemo brain hits you immediately. At least it does for me. As soon as the drugs are introduced it feels like a fog sits on your brain. The curtain comes down and places go dark.
It hurts to think. It's hard to remember things. Simple things. Names. Places. Things you just did. Conversations are difficult. You know what you want to say, but the connection from brain to mouth doesn't seen to be firing.
I am thirteen drinks in and I don't think I'll pass the sobriety test. Thats how it feels. You have to stop a lot. Think. Think more. Get frustrated. Think again and pray it comes to you. If not, screw it. More frustration.
I have written all of these entries so far with chemo brain. It is hard and of course very frustrating. Ashley has to proof read a lot. But I just have to get this all out. It helps me sleep.
Finally, my hair. I still have my hair. But Dr. Spivey assures me that I will lose it soon. He's funny. But I don't think he means to be. He just doesn't pull any punches.
So Far So Good
My blood levels are getting back to normal and it has been over two weeks since I have experienced any of the B Symptoms. I seem to be handling the chemo okay, and my energy is returning. My head hurts and I feel tired. But I am otherwise okay. I am okay.
I have a long fight ahead of me. Things could get worse or stay the same. The side effects could change or improve. There are a lot of what if's out there, but then again everyone's lives are full of what if's. I finally have answers. A plan. And as long as there is a fighters chance, I will be throwing punches.
I am stronger than cancer. And it's pissing me off.
I feel I cannot go much further without talking about my parents.
My parents, Ken and Bernice, moved from my childhood home in Grapevine to Krum to be closer to us and the boys. This has been a godsend.
My parents are both retired, and I have been lucky enough to have had them through everything thus far. They were there in the hospital. They are there to watch the boys when I can't function. They drive me to all of my appointments. My dad sits with me through my Chemo.
I know this is hard for them. I know reading about this is worse. And I am proud of them. I am proud of them for being so strong and having the same fight. They are remarkable.
The countless sacrifices they make and the generosity and love they give, I can never pay back. I am blessed to have them in my life, and so lucky that they are mine. I love them so much. Which is why I will beat this.
I have an amazing Mother-in-Law. The night I was admitted into the hospital she was working a 12 hour night shift. 7 pm to 7 am. She is a nurse, and she was there for the patient all night.
That same morning she was there for me.
She has been there every chance she could. She has provided more than just support. She allowed for Ashley and my parents to be with me in the hospital from the beginning while she watched my boys. I am so grateful for this, I'm not sure if I could ever really say it and do it justice.
My support system has been an eye opener. I knew I would have family there for me. They always are. But the support from everyone else has been incredible. Since my diagnosis and first chemo treatment, the donation site that Ashley set up for me and my medical costs have raised more than $6,000. Incredible.
Every donation, and every message brings tears to my eyes. I just can't believe people care this much to want to help me. I can't imagine I've done anything in my life to deserve this much love and support.
Somehow, my donation site, and with it my diagnosis, made it to the students in my school. And they started donating.
Students. Current and former. Giving $10, $20, $30, $50 $100. Then parents. Then students I've never had. Parents I had never met. Giving. I just can't believe that it is for me.
Thank you.
There is good in this world. So much. I cannot believe that with this much good that something so bad can win. There is no way.
Chris Cogswell: Give Forward This is my site. I feel like I have a lot of sites.
Contact
I touched briefly on the impact of messages. I have to admit, that they feel good. Text messages, calls, Facebook, blogger, no matter the forum, they help.
I know this is hard to talk about and that a lot of people just don't know what to say, but that is okay. Don't be afraid of it. I will talk about it, because it helps. I am not going to live in fear and ignore it. I am doing something. I am going to beat cancer. Because I have to. Because I can.
I've spent a lot time these past couple of weeks thinking. Thinking and catching up on The Walking Dead. It's too much time to think. It doesn't do any good. Which is why I appreciate the messages. It breaks up the time. It's positive. Happy. And it helps.
For all of the messages and kind words so far. THANK YOU! More than you know, thank you.
The C Word
No one wants to say it. I understand, but it doesn't help. It feels like we're running from it. I'm not running.
The word is cancer. Say it with me now, CAN-cer.
When I was in the hospital, the only person that called it what it was, was Dr. NotWorthADamn. Everyone else, no.
Lymphoma. They all liked Lymphoma. Like it's easier to take. Easier to deal with. I would catch people tripping over it. I'd hear the CAN come out of their mouth, then Lymphoma.
He who shall not be named.
"It". "It" was very popular. We can treat it. We need to test it more. It it it it it it it it it it it... CANCER! SAY "IT"!
As you can tell, since I am assuming you have been reading from the beginning, I don't have a problem with saying the C Word. The C Word IS my problem.
Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me. I am not afraid of words. And I am not afraid of the C Word. Or Cancer.
Side Effects
TV and movies tell us what to expect. We get the image of the cancer patient. It's not a very flattering picture they paint. But they work in extremes. It's for the money. I get it.
My side effects haven't been made for TV. No extremes.
I haven't felt nauseous. I've been eating well. My weight has been steady. I've just been tired. Really tired.
I'm not sure if the fatigue is chemo related or if it's due to my blood levels. Only time will tell. But I feel like I have been hit by a train. Then it backed up. Then continued going.
The fatigue has been the worst part. Simple tasks are so tiring. Showering. Getting dressed. Walking up stairs. Playing and taking care of my boys. Sometimes I just can't. I need to sit down. I need to rest.
It's tough. I am so used to being independent. I do things on my own. Now, I need help. And it sucks.
It makes you feel so useless. Pathetic. Helpless. And then you go into your bedroom and cry from frustration, but you have to stop because you are tired again. You can't even get frustrated like you want to.
Cancer sucks.
My energy level has been improving though. Maybe it is the blood. Maybe the chemo is helping my blood. Dr. Spivey said it would.
My hemoglobin levels are at 11.4. They are currently higher than they were when I went into the ER the day before Thanksgiving. This is EXTREMELY good. I'm still anemic. But I am out of the danger levels. And I have energy.
I almost feel normal. It is the most normal I have felt in months. Even with the chemo brain.
Ah, chemo brain. This one is fun.
Okay, first, it only lasts for a few days (so far), so I can handle it. It's just frustrating. What else is new?
Chemo brain hits you immediately. At least it does for me. As soon as the drugs are introduced it feels like a fog sits on your brain. The curtain comes down and places go dark.
It hurts to think. It's hard to remember things. Simple things. Names. Places. Things you just did. Conversations are difficult. You know what you want to say, but the connection from brain to mouth doesn't seen to be firing.
I am thirteen drinks in and I don't think I'll pass the sobriety test. Thats how it feels. You have to stop a lot. Think. Think more. Get frustrated. Think again and pray it comes to you. If not, screw it. More frustration.
I have written all of these entries so far with chemo brain. It is hard and of course very frustrating. Ashley has to proof read a lot. But I just have to get this all out. It helps me sleep.
Finally, my hair. I still have my hair. But Dr. Spivey assures me that I will lose it soon. He's funny. But I don't think he means to be. He just doesn't pull any punches.
So Far So Good
My blood levels are getting back to normal and it has been over two weeks since I have experienced any of the B Symptoms. I seem to be handling the chemo okay, and my energy is returning. My head hurts and I feel tired. But I am otherwise okay. I am okay.
I have a long fight ahead of me. Things could get worse or stay the same. The side effects could change or improve. There are a lot of what if's out there, but then again everyone's lives are full of what if's. I finally have answers. A plan. And as long as there is a fighters chance, I will be throwing punches.
I am stronger than cancer. And it's pissing me off.
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