My 7th Birthday

Hi blog,

Apologies for the gap. I've been trying to get a handle on everything and it's been frustrating and draining to say the least. The closer the surgery gets the more things seem to pop up to deal with. I'm definitely going to be looking forward to a nice, relaxing, pain-filled break after I get my shoulder replaced in exactly two weeks, let me tell you.

I was going to put a picture of a knee with AVN, but then I
decided this was a much better option. Don't you think?

Well, I suppose you're waiting to hear about the knee. I am too, I only just had the MRI on Saturday so I won't be learning anything from that for another few days probably. However, two days before that I went in to see my knee specialist (the first guy I saw was my general practitioner, who also does sports medicine) and the x-rays looked about normal, same as before. But then he pulled up a knee MRI I had done back in May (I didn't even remember having it) and he showed me the inside of my knee. It wasn't pretty. The majority of the interior was made up of necrosed (dead) bone. To be fair, this isn't exactly news to me. I've known that there was a lot of necrosis for a while, because of my Avascular necrosis (a degenerative bone disease caused by steroids. See here for details), but as long as the dead stuff stays inside the bone and doesn't penetrate to the surface, it's not going to cause any pain. Well, there was a tiny tentacle of necrotic (just using all sorts of variations of the word today aren't I?) bone snaking down through a big patch of it and had just barely breached the surface. There was only a tiny spot exposed, and my specialist thinks that might be what's causing the knee pain.
Theory: Because the pain only really shows up when I bend my knee at certain angles, that small dead spot is rubbing against something at that certain angle and causing the pain. When I get this newest MRI back I'll learn two things. A) Whether or not the little spot has grown any, 2) What can be done about it, assuming something needs to be done about it. Obviously there's a lot of speculation here, and that in itself is driving me up the wall. As accepting as I am about the shoulder surgery, the possibility that I might need another replacement (if the necrosis is spreading in the knee and the pain continues to get worse, my specialist might recommend surgery again) after that has done nothing to improve my mood. Frankly, I'm pissed. Murphy, always Murphy.

But that's neither here or there now so I'm trying not to think about it too much (and not doing a very good job). The book editing has been coming along, not great or fast, but it is progressing at least. Unfortunately there are more pressing things to do than editing my memoir. I'm not happy about it, because this memoir is literally the most important thing to me, but what can you do?

Let's talk about something pleasant. I feel this whole post has had a somewhat sour tinge to it. But now for something uplifting and cheerful! (Kinda) Two days ago I had my 7-year rebirthday (and I think I'm having a regular one in a few days too). In some ways, I am seven years old. This me, right now, is only seven years old. It's when I got my bone marrow transplant from marrow harvested from my brother Chad's hip bone (the needles look like something out of the Spanish Inquisition).  October 12, 2007 is when I got my new life, a new chance.

Excerpt from Life Has No Title:

When you receive an infusion of bone marrow, the staff up at City of Hope calls it your “birthday,” the day where you’re given new life and, in a sense, reborn. October 12, 2007 is my oncological birthday. The doctor for the day, Dr. Pawlowska (spelled right the very first time!), came in with a nurse carrying a bag of what I at first believed was blood. I had known that my mom was organizing people to donate blood for after I had my bone marrow transplant, and thought that before I could receive it I would need to bolster my cell counts, but I was mistaken. Instead, the ruddy-colored viscous liquid was the bone marrow! This piqued my interest a great deal, insofar as someone who is hopped up on a staggering amount of dilaudid can do anything to a great deal. I had been paying as much attention as possible, learning what I could about this and that, gaining as much knowledge as a second-year med school student in the process. If I had the energy to focus, I would listen in on conversations and pick up some odd terminology or medical explanation for whatever god-forsaken side effect I had picked up that day.

“How are you today good sir?” Dr. Pawlowska asked in her thick-accented way. It was the same question every time she saw me in the morning. “How are you today good sir?”

Most days I would respond with, “Okay I guess.” Or “Not too great.” I was a master of understatement. But today, I gathered up a smile and told her, “Excited. That’s the bone marrow?”

“It is. We’ll just hook this up and you’ll be good to go.”

“Wait…how does it get into my bones then?” I asked suspiciously. As far as I could tell, there were no nanobots lurking in the substance ready to transport the bone marrow from my bloodstream into the centers of my bones, where they would thrive and drive out the remnants of my treasonous cells.

Dr. Pawlowska offered up a tentative smile. “To be honest, we’re not entirely sure. I could tell you all about the different theories and everything, but nothing has been proven definitively. They sort of magically find their way into the bones.”

Magic. One of the last words you want to hear when a doctor is explaining such an important medical procedure to you. “Magic,” I repeated slowly, not entirely sure if I had misheard her in my drug-induced haze.

“Magic,” she reaffirmed.

We looked at each other for a long moment, then I shrugged and lay back in my bed, too exhausted to argue and knowing that the good doctor knew what she was doing, even if she wasn’t sure about the exact nature of the procedure. “Good enough for me. Let’s get started.”

So there you go. Chad saved my life. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't donated his marrow. The poor kid got stabbed by a thousand saw-toothed needles, woke up so groggy he couldn't figure out how to properly use a straw and had a sore hip for several days. I have him to thank for this second chance and the ability to continue to live and enjoy life, all the things I love: writing, space, science, friends, family, space. I'll never be able to repay that, but at least I can pester him with interesting space facts the next time I see him.

PS: Comet Siding Spring will be flying past Mars on October 19 at a distance of 89,000 miles (much closer than the moon is to Earth). It'll be awesome.

Your 7-year-old Master,
Andrew Bundy

On the (New) Horizon(s)

Hi blog,

I don't have a ton to add, but I'll see what I can do so this post isn't just two sentences.

School started up last week, much to my surprise. I thought it was starting this week but apparently I have no idea what's going on with that so...school. I was taking three classes: critical thinking, history, and biology. I'm very excited about the first two, they both seems like interesting classes taught by interesting people (I researched the teachers first to make sure I got ones that wouldn't kill me with boredom). All three were at least partially online and the biology course had an on-campus lab that lasted three hours. Now, for those not in the know, I'd attempted to take an on-campus class complete with lab for the spring semester of this year and it went catastrophically. I was away from home for seven hours with only one break to rest and the toll it took on my body put me in so much pain I was forced to drop the class or see my health severely impacted. That was my big concern with taking a lab (when I went on Friday it was about studying snails. This is actually interesting, I swear) this semester, but since it was only three hours, I wasn't as negatively affected. It still hurt, my arm is still tender from the lab three days ago, but it wasn't debilitating. Maybe it would get worse as the labs got more complex and maybe it wouldn't have, but it's a moot point. At the moment it seems like I'll be dropping the class regardless of what it does to my right arm. Why? Because of my left arm, which I shall now explain. 

October 28th, 2014. That's my explanation. Not ten minutes after I left the biology lab I got a call from my doctor's office from his surgery scheduler. Yes, that's when I'm having my left shoulder replaced, in just over two months. If I stayed in the lab I'd be missing out on the last few weeks of class, and after talking to the person teaching him, he said it would be extremely difficult to pass the class if I stopped showing up. Plus I'm going to be wonked out of my mind on drugs, and two classes will be hard enough. Every sensible fiber points to dropping the class, and my disabled student service counselor agrees. The more important focus here is in the surgery and getting better, both so I can move forward in school and in life with as few problems as possible.

Polar bear cubs are the personification of warm fuzzy feelings

Why is that? Because, and I dread saying this because it got me in trouble last time (I said that after the knees and then the shoulders got bad), this will probably be my last surgery for a while. I'm out of joints, this is #8/9 (because the left hip was done twice the numbers are a bit finicky), the only things left after this are redos when the artificial/allograft joints wear out and need to be replaced. I'm actually excited. I don't know many people who are excited to have someone cut them open and tear this joint out only to replace it with something else, but I am one of them. I'm more comfortable with surgeries than I am with most things in my life, I guess that says something. It's their familiarity that really comforts me. The monotony of surgery is part of the appeal. The surgeries may be different on the surface but underneath they're essentially the same. The only uncertainty is with the surgery itself. But once you go under and come back up it's all about the same. The pain is in different places but it's still there. The methods of recovery are a little different but you still go through it. It's one of the few constants I can count on to understand in a maelstrom of uncertainty I'm currently facing. So I cling to it with joyful relief and get spared the looming specter of a cloudy future for a few more months. It's a smidge macabre, but you find the warm fuzzy feeling of familiarity wherever you can (especially in polar bear cubs; see above).

And now for a new segment that is really only taking place today because a bunch of stuff happened...

Today in space:

Yes, Neptune is STILL in space

• Two years ago we lost the great Neil Armstrong. There's a man who has left a mark (literally) on history that very few people will ever replicate. 
• Also today two years ago (although the date is a little more approximation than hard truth, but it's pretty close), the Voyager 1 spacecraft left our solar system, making it the first man-made object to leave our little neck of the galaxy. 
• Voyager 2 performed its flyby of Neptune in 1989 on this day as well, getting a good view of our (now) farthest planet and one of its strange moons, Triton. 
• Finally, the spacecraft New Horizons crossed Neptune's orbit (25 years to the day that Voyager 2 did) on its way to rendezvous with Pluto and then a couple objects in the region nearby. New Horizons should be reaching Pluto in a little under a year.

And just to round things off: I finished up a short story. It's actually a remake of a story I did a few years ago. I'm going to find a place to put it and then link it to this blog sometime in the future probably.  That's about it. 

Your cosmic-minded tyrant,

Andrew

It Begins

Hello blog,

My name is Andrew Bundy, and I will be writing in you insofar as I can remember to do so. You may have heard about my other blogs and how I ruthlessly neglected them because I would sometimes (a lot) forget they existed and then stopped caring. I assure you, that (probably) won't happen to you! I hope we can be friends, and I look forward to telling you all sorts of interesting and (probably not) exciting things about my life! I have a good feeling about you blog, you will be witness to (some) many interesting things! Space, space, writing, space, meandering thoughts, tangents, science, space, random stuff, and of course, space. If you don't like this arrangement, don't worry, you have no free will or choice in this matter, so there really isn't any point in complaining, you might as well accept your fate.

In conclusion, I look forward to working with you, and I foresee a long and prosperous relationship between us that shall nary be torn asunder (probably). Alternatively, this might be the only post you ever see, in which case, I hope you like it, because it will be the only thing you'll ever see (besides that thumbs up) for all eternity!

Sincerely, Your New Master and Commander, Andrew

PS: Just to reiterate, space!