Good news! (such as it is)

It seems I don’t have liver cancer. My kidney cancer has come back and attacked my liver. So technically, it’s not liver cancer? I always thought cancer is cancer and whatever organ it’s in is that kind of cancer. Seems there are different specialties and the oncologist I saw specializes in liver cancer.

Anyway, the next steps are a biopsy of the mass on my liver to find out if it is the kidney cancer come back, and a CT scan of the chest and pelvis just to be sure it’s not all over the place. Based on recent–within a year–images, it’s not everywhere, just localized in my liver, which is good. There’s a lot of new treatments, the oncologist said, like targeted therapies, but we’re not going to talk about that until the biopsy is done. That will probably be late this week, early next. Mother Nature has thrown a spanner in the works because of the winter storm, so everything will probably be off a couple of days.

My last post went off on my poor son. He’s a “prince” as a good friend called him. He’s been helpful, kind, and makes me laugh. He’s been morbid, talking about how he’s going to tell off my “BFF” and what he’s going to wear (his version of cosplay) at my funeral. I hope he doesn’t get forced into a suit. Anyway, he’s been the best anyone could ask for.

So now it’s a waiting game. Waiting for the appointments, waiting for results, waiting on doctors. Need to advocate for myself and be a squeaky wheel, which I’m not used to being.

Cancer. Again.

I went for an MRI of my liver on January 16. I got the results via the portal on Sunday. “Consistent with metastazised disease.” Doctor-speak for cancer. This is the second time for me; the first being kidney cancer in 2008, when my right kidney got removed. Now it’s back in the liver. I don’t know if it’s operable–I’m waiting for my PCP to give me a call with the official diagnosis and next steps.

I haven’t told my kid, who is dealing with his own issues of having seizures in public places (he doesn’t want to go out and end up in the hospital if he has a seizure, so he prefers to be homebound). He approaches me at 4 this morning saying he doesn’t think he should go with me to the doctor’s today because he had a “mild” seizure last night. He wants me to change the appointment. I already have. Twice because of him being scared. I refuse to change appointments anymore because of him. I can get around in my wheelchair without him.

Yes, I’m in a wheelchair when I go out. I fell once and the drivers don’t want the liability of me transferring into a vehicle (even though I can do it) so now I have to take a wheelchair van to doctor and dialysis appointments. I can Uber/Lyft in a pinch, but not with the big wheelchair. I have a transport wheelchair for in case of that reason. It’s a smaller wheelchair and fits in the trunk. But I have to be pushed in it. The big sheelchair I can push myself. Slowly, but I can.

I want to remain as independent as possible. If chemo is warranted, then I’ll have no time to do anything other than dialysis and chemo. No time for fun or even doctors’ appointments.

But then, I may not have to worry about it.

Don’t be honest with Dah Man

So, I thought I’d be honest with the government and tell them that my utility bills have nearly tripled since I was in rehab. All of them. I went on our Medicaid website and updated my bills, which hadn’t been touched since 2023.
What a cascade of errors.

This caused them to send me a questionnaire. “Are you on LTSS?” I took that to mean “Long Term Something Service” which meant to me, rehab. So I said no.

Three days later I get a notice I’m being booted off of Medicaid.
Panic ensues.

Trying to get through to Department of Human Services is like trying get Taylor Swift tickets. On hold for 2 hours, to find out that LTSS means Long Term Social Services, such as dialysis. Ohhhhh, I said. Ohhhh, she said, “We’ll fix this.”

I get another note. “Please provide documentation from your application dated 4/2023”. I did this already! Call them again. Talk to the same person. “You’re okay,” she said. “The whole thing is automated.” Lovely AI from the 1950’s. Our state Medicaid was notoriously breached three years ago and they supposedly overhauled the computer system. Not.

Anyway, it’s all cleared up now. But by the Gods, it was scary. I was calculating Uber and Lyft costs to dialysis ($150 a week) on my disability income since I have no car. Medicaid Ride Share is notorious as well–I hear it’s like that all across the country. We take the Ride Share to appointments, and sometimes Uber home because it can take upwards of an hour to get back. Yesterday, I got out of dialysis at 2:30. I didn’t get home until 5.

So that’s my complaint for the week. Medicaid is helpful in keeping you in your home, but you have to be patient.

Better year (oh, please!)

2025 sucked. In a really big way. Back surgery, rehab, can’t walk without falling…it’s bad.
My son visited me in rehab every two weeks. My dad came up from Florida to visit. I made a few friends (some I didn’t want) in rehab. I found out what nursing homes are like, and that I don’t want to go there.

My writing suffered. I wrote a lot in my journal, but did nothing on my work in progress, Blood Relations (a memoir about dialysis). I did a lot of work for my publisher, mostly editing, slush reading, and other project management. I played a little of City of Heroes/Villains (CoX) but always solo. This from September until now.

Mental health is spotty. Some days I’m ready to fight, and other days, I binge drink (water or Ice drinks) or binge eat because I feel why bother. One thing last year is I found out how it is to lose a lot of weight, but it was too much. I felt all my bones. The weight I’m at right now is perfect (though not at dialysis–they want me back to what I was when I was in rehab).

What are my goals in 2026? Manage money better. Stay out of rehab! Get a haircut. Utilize Uber/Lyft/non-emergency transportation companies more effectively. And write a little every day, 200 words or so, even if they’re just worthless throw-away prompts. Journal in the morning a la “Artist’s Way”. Communicate more clearly. Sleep more at night.

Here’s to a better year.

Dusting off…again

I’ve dusted off, yet again, Hunter’s Realm, a story I wrote in 1990. Yes, it’s 35 years old.

It’s over 150,000 words. I’m putting it through The Wringer (not its real name), a novel revising course I bought in 2017 and paid a lifetime membership for. The website has since disappeared. Luckily I printed and downloaded everything.
Anyway, this weekly course is nothing if not thorough. I’ve used it for three novels now, and it’s helpful–only if I would have finished it. I’ve gotten as far as lesson 12 out of 24. Trust me, it takes a lot of time and effort. And space.

Hunter’s Realm is a modern fantasy. Imagine if the SCA had received a grant for most of the state of Maine in the 1940’s. Just imagine it. I know it’s impossible.. It takes place in 2000, before cell phones and swiping credit cards yourself.
The State of Maine has been trying to get back the land, and this year is enlisting the federal government to do it. The people who live there don’t want to join up with the US, so are fighting for their autonomy. Long story short, a young woman comes to their annual Renaissance Faire and she’s drawn into the myths and laws of the land.
Magic is in this land. So is old-fashioned chivalry and weaponry. Fiefdoms and lords and honor. Protectors of the land. Brigands.

The whole book is a wreck. Of course it is, since I wrote it right out of college. I was angsty I hated people. I didn’t have a love life. I read it now, and it throws me back to that time, where I’m thinking, “Whatever was I thinking?” Future me is sad over past me.
But I can fix it. If I pull out the details that are broken, I can totally fix it! The idea is still good.

I have released Grimaulkin and Brent into the world, along with other angsty poetry and a guide to magic for writers. So, as far as I’m concerned, they’re all set. I pull Grim out every once in a while and play with him, but he’s established–married with kids and a good, stable job.
Mo and Taurin are still in my mind. Their conflicting natures, and eventual coming together; the conflict of the story; and the anger of the people over “Flatlanders” .taking over their land and world.

Lesson one is trying to decide what the story I meant to tell was supposed to be. I’ve read the first five chapters before putting it through The Wringer and deciding I need help because it’s such a wreck. I’m skipping through a lot of it until I get to chapter five. A lot of it is impossible, terribly written, and it so needs editing. We’ll see how long it takes me to get through it.