A Miracle of Medical Science

One has to be taken on an empty stomach at least a half hour removed from the other and (when possible) two hours from other drugs. Good luck.

Seriously, how is this even possible for humans to follow?

I traded messages earlier with Frank Clifford (aka Flank Clipboard). He’s at Yale getting his insides trimmed a bit. Like me, Frank is a veteran of the Medical Industrial complex.

A few years ago I helped Frank find a drug he needed which wasn’t yet available. He and I are prime examples of better living through chemistry. We are miracles of medical science.

My pill list is kept on a spreadsheet. It’s become too complex to deal with by hand.

Take the two new pills added to the list yesterday. One has to be taken on an empty stomach at least a half hour removed from the other and (when possible) two hours from other drugs. Good luck.

Seriously, how is this even possible for humans to follow? My daily pill count is well over 20.

These two new meds are treating an ulcer that could have been brought on by other drugs or my cancer treatment in general. My specific regimen of pills is probably one of-a-kind. Who knows how they all interact?

Back when I lived in Hamden I had my back repaired with a lumbar discectomy. Without surgery I’d be unable to walk today.

Now I’ve been freed from pancreatic cancer through surgery, a half dozen or so ‘procedures,’ 12 chemo sessions, 28 radiation treatments, IV iron and a bellyfull of drugs.

BTW, three more bags of iron coming. The latest blood work says I’m anemic, just not as anemic. It also says my cancer markers remain negative.

It’s crazy. Look at all that’s been done to me. And yet, I’m about to walk upstairs, take a shower, put on a shirt and tie and do the weather in Nebraska.

In the history of humankind the cures Frank and I received are nothing short of miracles.

Where Were We?

There were lots of things it could have been, including cancer. Swell. Today I went to the hospital and let Dr. Oman have a look.

It’s been a long time since a blog post, a sign I was obsessed with stuff I can’t share. Alas, done.

So, where were we?

I guess I should fill you in on my health. Fine, for me.

2017 Geoff is different than the earlier model. I was re-plumbed last October. I’m more complex. From time-to-time things change or go wrong.

Sunday I noticed blood where there should be none. Not a lot. A slow leak!

There were lots of things it could have been, including cancer. Swell.

H and I hit the circuit Monday, visiting two practices and giving blood twice, including a 7 vial session. Today I went to the hospital and let Dr. Oman have a look.

A little propofol and I was out. Good idea because they then lowered a camera down my throat as far as it would go.

I came to in a recovery room. A few minutes later Dr. Oman walked in with the news. It’s an ulcer! He even had full color pictures.

Helaine and I high fived. Ulcers can be treated. And, oh yeah, it’s not cancer.

One More Vial

It was off to the lab this afternoon. One more vial. Today’s blood draw, a ferritin test. That’s a new one on me and I’ve been poked plenty!

A ferritin test is a laboratory blood test that measures the amount of ferritin in a person’s blood stream. Ferritin is the major iron storage protein in the body, so the ferritin test is ordered as an indirect way to measure the iron stores in the body.

This is all about my fatigue. I am anemic. My blood is short of iron.

But why? Can it be solved by adding iron to my bloodstream? That’s often the solution. Or I could gnaw on a crowbar.

It might also be a capacity problem. My blood might not have enough ferritin to carry the iron I need.

In any event all this is fixable. First we test.

In California, by law, the lab cannot release my test results to me until the ordering physician has had them for two weeks. I guess I’ll get a call in the next few days.

I Believe The Circled Guy’s Me

There are moments in my life I remember vividly. It was 1967, a weeknight, a school night. I was already in the kitchen when the phone rang.

“May I speak to Geoff Fox, please?”

It was a woman. A grown-up. Grown-ups didn’t call me at 16½.

“This is he,” I answered.

The woman on the other end was Ethel Burns. She was a TV producer in 1967, but she began as an English teacher. “This is he,” scored points and she told me so. I felt really proud.

Fifty years later I still remember her compliment.

Ethel Burns produced “Dial M for Music,” a WCBS Public Affairs Presentation. It was produced in cooperation with the New York City Board of Education and hosted by a Catholic priest, Father Norman J. O’Connor. It was a showcase for traditional jazz performers.

What did this have to do with the Board of Education? I have no idea, but for every taping a bunch of hand picked public school students were the permanent audience.

We were deemed trustworthy enough for a day of temptation. If you can imagine, on taping days we high school kids were left to wander the CBS Broadcast Center on West 57th Street by ourselves.

Tonight for no reason I went on YouTube to see if Dial M still exists. I found an episode with Gene Krupa I’m pretty sure I attended. And though there are no front shots of the audience, I believe the circled guy is me.

Less Drama This Year, Please

She and I talked a little about last year at this time. We were still in limbo. Doctors had already found the mass in my pancreas and another in my kidney (very common and benign).

It’s my birthday, July 26th. I told Helaine I wouldn’t say how old… but old.

She and I talked a little about last year at this time. We were still in limbo. Doctors had already found the mass in my pancreas and another in my kidney (very common and benign).

We didn’t know what a biopsy would find. We were scared of what was likely.

We didn’t celebrate my birthday. It didn’t seem right.

A year has passed. It was a tough year, but it produced a miracle. My cancer is gone.

No sooner did my treatment end than Channel 8 called asking what I was doing for the summer?

I’m looking for less drama this year. I didn’t mind the happy ending.

I Do Stuff Behind The Camera Too

TriCaster Mini
I love my TriCaster. Let me say that upfront. It’s my control room. Without it, no studio. Its power can’t be overestimated.

And the people from TriCaster (NewTek is the actual company) have been very nice to deal with. Unfortunately, my expertise comes from too much dealing.

Today I spent the better part of an hour online with two guys who can help me. We talked mostly about macros.

Macros are created by recording my keystrokes. I then go back and edit, often adding short pauses to allow my machine to keep up. A macro should playback exactly as recorded.

Macros

They should. They don’t.

We shared screens so the guys in Texas could watch. They seemed to get it. They want to make it right. I hope they do, please.

Overnight I sent 1.1Gb of files to the home office. They can now replicate my setup exactly.

The only way I can control my show while standing in front of the camera is with macros. They’ve got to do what they’re supposed to do and consistently or they’re not much use.