Boston College Football Tickets, Part 1

On Saturday, September 5^th, 1992, the Boston College Football Team was playing Rutgers at Alumni Stadium. It was their first game of the season, and the first game of my freshman year at BC. I had tickets to the game (which The Eagles went on to win 37-20), but I could only watch it on TV because I was at UMass in Worcester getting my last round of chemotherapy. I was kind of bummed that I couldn’t go, but I could tell I was close to declaring victory over my cancerous brain tumor. And I was right.

BC may have lost their home opener today, and I didn’t have to watch it from a hospital bed. Still, I’m betting somewhere today there is a college student who missed going to a football game because of cancer. To all those college students who missed out today because they were getting chemo or some other cancer treatment, hang in there. I finished my battle 19 years ago this weekend, and have been cancer free ever since.

Just keep doing what you love, laughing, and thinking positively. Before you know it, you will be going to those games and cheering your school on.

Go Eagles!

Poems from a Tragic Comic Book Cover (2006)

Five years ago I published my first book of poetry, Poems from a Tragic Comic: Surviving cancer, drinking, and women.

My idea for the cover was almost a precursor to this blog, and my sister Carolyn made the idea a reality.

I wanted the cover to be a smorgasbord of events and emotions that captured the kinds of feelings contained in my poems. There are medical things, drinking things, dating things, and sports things.

The BC hockey pieces demonstrate this wide range of emotions in particular. I wanted to include a BC-BU ticket because that rivalry is near and dear to my heart. The BC hockey pictures define the Wide World of Sports tagline “The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” – they are the sign on the Mass Pike after BC won the championship in 2001, and a picture of the players after they lost the championship game in OT in 1998.

Most of the other items I’ve blogged about already:

1. My Friends in Blue
2. Court Summons from a Best Friend
3. Hospital Bracelets – Cancer and Kidney Stone
4. Note from Suzie
5. Rejection Letter from BC Stylus (which is also included in this book – a promise I made myself when they rejected me)
6. Tragic Comic Note
7. Focusin
8. Note from a Friend
9. Westboro House of Pizza Menu

Eventually, I’ll have to make one huge collage of everything I scan.

More on BC hockey tomorrow…

Medical Records, 2nd Round of Chemotherapy (5/13/92-5/15/92)

Yesterday, Friday May 13^th, I went to UMass for a CT Scan of my intestines because of some symptoms I had been experiencing with my Crohn’s Disease. What I didn’t realize until after my appointment was that exactly 19 years ago to the day (5/13/92), I went to UMass to start my second round of chemotherapy for my cancerous brain tumor.

Even though my two trips to UMass were 19 years apart and involved some serious medical issues, they were both overshadowed by something (to me) that will always trump CAT Scans and chemo meds: Boston Bruins Conference Finals Playoff Hockey.

In 1992, the B’s were getting ready to face the Penguins for a chance to advance to the Cup Finals – also after sweeping their round 2 foes (The Habs). They lost Game 1 on May 17^th, and would end up getting swept by the Pens and “Super Mario”. The Bruins had lost to the Penguins in the Conference Finals in 1991 as well, so it really wasn’t too surprising (I brought a Walkman to my Junior Prom that year so I could listen to game 6 – the game that eliminated the B’s from the playoffs).

This year, the B’s aren’t facing an NHL Powerhouse like the Penguins of the early 90’s, and I’m not facing a life-threatening situation like my brain cancer. But I think if they believe in each other and victory as much as I believed I would beat my brain tumor, they will be the ones advancing to the Cup Finals this year. I have B-elieved in this Bruins team since the beginning of the season, and I know they are capable of bringing the Cup back where it belongs. I’m not saying it will be easy, but anything is possible if you put your mind to it…

GO B’S!

UMass GI CT Appointment Sheet (w/ video)

So, I thought I'd try something different today and make a little video of my GI CT appointment. Enjoy!

Ray Bourque Rookie Card

Back in December of 1988, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease and spent Christmas in the hospital. It wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had, but without knowing it, I was preparing myself for a cancerour brain tumor diagnosis three years later. The biggest reason I was able to get through both of these medical ordeals was the tremendous support from my family.

On Christmas morning 1988, my 11-year-old brother Tom handed me a present. What I found inside was this Ray Bourque rookie card. Not only was it unexpected, it made me forget that I was in the hospital and that I was still recovering from my life-saving surgery. Even though Tom was only 11, he was a pro at card dealing and had amassed a huge collection himself. To this day, my Bourque rookie card remains at the top of my collectable list. Worth well over $100, but it’s not for sale.

Now the B’s are heading into the third period tied 1-1. Let’s finish this series now, Bruins…this is the year!!!!!

Medical Records: First Round of Chemotherapy Summary (4/21/92-4/24/92)

It was on Good Friday in 1992 that I found out my brain tumor was cancerous, so I thought this would be a good scan for today.

Little did I know when I went to the Bruins/Habs game on April 21, 1990 that exactly two years later I would be starting my first round of chemotherapy…

I got a chuckle after reading my “CHIEF COMPLAINT” was being there for chemotherapy. But, I’m pretty sure when I walked in, I said, “Hi, I’m here for my chemotherapy.” I hope I didn’t sound like I was complaining. And FYI, my younger brother has asthma, not my sister (in case you're keeping score at home).

I really wasn’t scared when I started getting treated with the VP-16, carboplatin, and bleomycin. I was glad the doctors knew what I had and was confident the chemo meds were going to work. (By the way, if you look at all three of the medicines I was treated with, you’ll notice that all of them are used to treat testicular cancer. That is because even though I had a brain tumor, it was the same kind of cells as testicular cancer. Proving, without a doubt, that I was a dickhead.)

I stayed in the hospital a few days for that first round of chemo, and it went pretty well. I didn’t feel sick until the last morning I was there, and had enough family, friends, and movies to make me feel as normal as possible. I also had something to look forward to the day I got out.

On April 24, 1992, Skid Row and Pantera had a show at the Worcester Auditorium. Before I was discharged, my oncologist asked me about the show because one of my meds had the possible side effect of hearing loss. She asked me if they were “loud bands” and I just laughed. She told me she didn’t think I should go to the concert, but I assured her I was going no matter what she said. She even suggested I wear ear plugs, and I laughed again. I “promised” her I would leave if my ears started hurting, and I was discharged.

As my mother and I left the hospital and started walking to the car, I felt like I needed to lie down. I fell onto a nearby bench while my mom went to get the car. I remember lying there and seeing all of these doctors and nurses about ten feet away from me all smoking cigarettes. I wanted to yell at them and tell them they looked like idiots. I puked instead, and my mom pulled up with the car. She was wondering why I was laughing, and I told her to look at my semi-digested Fruity Pebbles on the sidewalk. It wouldn’t be the last time I threw up that year.

Even with my sidewalk spewing, I made it home and got ready for the concert. I was pumped. Then when I got to the show, my sister gave me her back stage pass. I got to meet everyone in Skid Row! I was wearing my Motley Crue “Decade of Decadence” t-shirt and when I said hi to Sebastian Bach, he said, “Cool shirt, man!” I had just seen Pantera and Skid Row rock the place, met the band, and the lead singer told me my t-shirt was cool.

Not once did I think about having cancer or the fact that I had just finished my first round of treatment. Cancer made me feel physically really crappy many times. But, it never took away my ability to enjoy my family, friends, music, movies, and sports. Going to see Skid Row and meeting the band that night after my first round of chemo helped set the stage for how I dealt with my cancer. Like heavy metal often preaches about life, I said “F- You!” to my cancer and kept having fun (whenever I wasn’t throwing up, which, I think heavy metal bands do often as well!).

By the way, I just found out this guy has a bootleg of this show and trades for other bootlegs. Maybe he’ll burn me one without a trade.

More on cancer later…

A Few Cards I Got When I Had Brain Cancer (1992)

It’s hard to believe it was 19 years ago that I was in the hospital being treated for my brain tumor. My doctors didn’t know if the tumor was cancerous or not, but I had confidence they were going to figure it out and get me better. Even though the doctors were unsure, I knew one thing was very sure: I wasn’t fighting the tumor alone.

Not surprisingly, my family and friends were there to support me. They came to visit me in the hospital, they helped me through the hard days when I was home, and they kept laughing through it all with me.

Not long after I had been hospitalized, the get well cards starting pouring in, too. The amount of support I received was really overwhelming, and I know it’s a big reason why I beat my cancer. Every single one of the cards I got helped me, and I kept them all. Here are a few of them. Thank you to everyone who supported me through my cancer with visits, hugs, prayers, laughs, calls, and cards.

Medical Records, Crohn's Diagnosis (12/20/88)

Even though I had symptoms long before my initial surgery and diagnosis, I’ve been officially living with Crohn’s Disease for 22 years, 2 months, and 15 days.

There have been good days and bad days since my first Crohn’s hospitalization, but I’ve been lucky compared to a lot of people with this disease.

Bad days for me mean a lot of cramps, bathroom visits, no energy, bloating, and feeling sick of having to deal with it all.

Good days are when I can go to the gym, eat a lot, and temporarily forget about my Crohn’s.

Really bad days are when the pain is so intense my only thought is “I need to see my doctor”.

Since that night in 1988, I’ve only had 3 really bad days:

Once in 2004, my gut was killing me and my doctor order a fun Barium test. They determined that where my intestines were reattached from my surgery was most likely scarring up and causing my digestion process to “back up” like a clogged drain. The worst part about this flare-up was the principal for the school I was working at. After I went to see the doctor and told her I needed more time off for my test, I added that he said there was a slight chance I might need more surgery. Her reaction: “I’ve never heard of anyone needing surgery for Crohn’s Disease.” Thanks a lot, (Many words I’d like to call her, but my mom might be reading this).

In 2008 I experienced another day of intense pain, but this time I couldn’t stop throwing up (after first throwing up in my car as I was driving home). My awesome dad drove me to the ER, and I was in the hospital for over a week. No more surgery needed, but it was a wakeup call to what I could be doing to improve my battle with Crohn’s. I started exercising more and put a lot less caffeine into my body. Both of these helped immensely, and I learned that even when I woke up feeling like it was going to be a “bad, no energy” Crohn’s day, a quick 30 minutes on a stationary bike could help turn it around.

Yesterday was another really bad day for me. After a fun weekend snowmobiling in New Hampshire, my friends and I went out to breakfast before our trek back to Massachusetts. I wasn’t feeling hungry, and barely touched my eggs, hash browns, and toast. My stomach was hurting the whole drive back, but I tried sleeping it off as much as I could. As we pulled into a rest area, I could tell my scrambled eggs were going to make another appearance. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom, so my only plan was to not puke in my friend’s car. I’m sure I gave everyone watching a “Oh my God, we were at the NH rest area” story to share when they got home, but I was just glad I didn’t feel as sick anymore. I knew I wouldn’t be eating any more for the rest of the day, but thought I’d be safe drinking Gatorade. I guess I drank it a little too quickly, because about 30 seconds after I walked into my apartment I was having what I call a “double explosion” in my bathroom. Luckily, I have experienced these before and was quick enough to make sure both spills were contained.

Today I stayed in bed, sipped Gatorade, and watched TV. I found out my Corhn’s Dr. is on vacation, but I think I’ll be able to make it past this episode without his help. Last night I kept telling myself that I’m a quick healer and wouldn’t you know it, my body is responding.

Kidney Stone Hospital Bracelet (October 29, 2002)

It was late October in 2002 and I was psyched because I had just bought the new Grand Theft Auto game, Vice City. I had been playing it for a while after work and started getting a weird feeling in my back. I thought maybe I had been sitting on the couch the wrong way and was cramped, so I readjusted my position. It didn’t seem to help.

5 minutes later, I was in agony (Keep in mind, I had been dealing with Crohn’s Disease for about 14 years, went through six grueling months of chemotherapy for a cancerous brain tumor, and had been hit by a Ford Bronco while crossing the street. All of those made me pretty familiar with Mr. Pain, but this was like none of them). I crawled upstairs and started knocking on my roommate’s door. “Dude, I have to go to the hospital…”

As we made our way to the car, my roommate asked me where the pain was. After I told him, he suspected it might be a kidney stone. He was relatively new to Waltham, so I tried my best to direct him to the hospital as I was hunched over in the passenger seat. I remember looking up and seeing he was going the wrong way. “No, no, other way. Other way…”

We finally got to the hospital and even though I was experiencing the worst pain of my life, the ER receptionist still made me give her all of my information. I kept thinking, Jesus just get me a doctor and some pain meds, PLEASE. Even after I was done “checking in”, I still wasn’t brought into a room right away.

Eventually, I was put on a bed and was given some pain meds. They didn’t start giving me the really “good stuff” until the scans came back and confirmed I really had a kidney stone. By that time, my parents had arrived and the kind nurse gave me some morphine. I told my mom, “Oh, now I know why people are addicted to this.” Then I told the nurse, “As soon as you can give me more of that, I’d really appreciate it.” Then, I threw up.

They released me later that night/early morning with a prescription to some heavy pain medication. I was happy to be able to go back to my apartment, but upset I had missed my first Focusin show. I was eager to get back to killing people in Vice City.

I have since gotten another kidney stone, and both of my ER doctors told me they had female patients who had given birth and had kidney stones (not at the same time), and said the kidney stones were more painful. That’s good to know…

Article from BC Paper The Heights (November 7, 1994)

I was a junior in college and heading back to my apartment after class. I was glad when the BC shuttle bus stopped at the intersection right across from my apartment. Even though it wasn’t an official stop, none of us students complained to the driver. The bus was stopped at an intersection, and I assumed the light was red. It wasn’t…

When I stepped out into the street, I saw a truck (like a Ford Bronco) less than ten feet away from me. I only had time enough to think “I’m going to get hit”, and then I got hit. I remember the impact and being on the ground. I don’t remember flying through the air – a guy I knew who was a friend of a friend was across the street and saw it happen (He said I flew about 5 feet in the air about 15-20 yards).

When I was on the ambulance, the EMTs were asking me all the standard questions – what is your name, what day is it, etc. I knew what was going on, but when they asked me “Who is the president?”, for some reason I thought I would have fun with them. I knew it was Clinton, but looked at them and said, “Um, JFK, right?” They looked a little shocked, but I laughed and told them the right answer.

When I got to the hospital I tried calling my family to let them know what happened, but the ER phone only allowed you to make local 617 calls. So, I called my roommate Kevin and the conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey Kev, it’s Dave.

Kevin: Hey.

Dave: Hey, I got hit by a truck and I’m in the ER.

Kevin: Very funny.

Dave: No, I’m serious.

Kevin: Ha, ha.

And this continued until I said, “I really need you to call my mom and tell her I’m okay…”

When he finally believed me I asked him if he saw all the fire trucks and ambulances outside of our apartment. “Oh, that was you????”, he replied.

I was only in the hospital one night, and my Uncle told me “We know you have 9 lives Dave, but you need to slow down…” I returned to BC with a sling , a prescription to pain medicine, and a story I would be telling for the rest of my life. When I got out of the bus to go to class the next day, my friend of a friend looked at me like he was looking at a ghost. I said hi to him, and he just stood there with his mouth open. I laughed and asked him what was up. He said, “I saw you get hit yesterday…I thought you were dead!” I casually replied, “Nope, just a broken clavicle. I’m fine.” He got on the bus and was still shaking his head in disbelief.

One more interesting thing happened when I got hit. My friend Andy, who was thousands of miles away studying abroad in Australia, felt the impact. He had a feeling something had happened to someone in his family, and called home to make sure everything was okay. Even after his mom had assured him everything was all right and his Australian friends wanted to head out to a bar, Andy decided to stay in because he still had a bad feeling. I sent Andy a letter a couple of weeks later with a crude drawing of me getting hit on the outside of the envelope. I also included the date it happened, and suddenly Andy’s feelings of dread made sense.

Even though this was the only time I was featured in a Heights article, I did receive anonymous ink a few times in the police blotter. And for the record, I was misquoted about “the bus driver being in a tough spot” and “he shouldn’t have stopped there”. But I stand by my quote: “If anyone should be charged with anything, I should be charged with being stupid.” Someone or something was definitely looking out for me, that’s for sure.