Nine Months To Go! Hooray! Well, technically, I have “only” Nine Months (minus a day) To Go with my chemotherapy course. The nine month mark was yesterday, August 12, 2010. And yes, it’s capitalized. It’s a holiday meant for celebrating and taking time off from work, like Arbor Day or Flag Day.

I celebrated with Loren by seeing Guster at the Fox Theatre in Boulder last night, ten years after we saw them there last with Jason. It may very well have been their first time back at the Fox since we last saw them there. And the date was just a happy coincidence–I gave Loren the tickets for his birthday. Well, his ticket anyway.

It was a great show, and the first stop on Guster’s new tour promoting their upcoming album Easy Wonderful (which, now having heard music from, I am even more psyched to hear). It turned out that the night was actually a radio showcase, in which three bands played, and somewhere among the crowd were radio station executives deciding if they wanted to play any of the music they heard on stage on their radio stations. But, as all three bands noted, it just felt like a night of really, really good music.

In addition to seeing Guster, we were introduced to two indie bands; first, Delta Spirit, one of Ryan Miller (of Guster)’s favorite bands, as evidenced by him standing right next to Loren and I and saying “this is one of my favorite bands.” Next, we saw Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, an ensemble band with ten performers, including a trumpeter, an upright pianist, and a requirement that once you join their band you must be baked for every waking (and probably sleeping) moment of your life. Both bands were good, but Edward Sharpe stood out as a rare band whose album I knew I needed after they had been onstage for just a few moments. They had a lot going on, and their first song could not have possibly been more appropriate than the one the played: The Beatles “Magical Mystery Tour.”

Anyway, Nine Months (minus a day) Left To Go is juuust super.

–Reid.

I celebrated my 27th birthday yesterday, and did a lot of thinking about birthdays. The question rolling around my head was why do we mark the day we were born? All I did 27 years ago was be born, and as I remember it, I had very little to do with that. I’m fairly certain that the person who worked the hardest 27 years ago was my mom. Why don’t I celebrate my high school graduation every year? That was something I worked much harder on and something I’m much prouder to know I did. What are we celebrating other than making it around the sun again?

I think it has to do with probability. For a lot of people, it’s dumb luck. They’re TXTing and don’t immediately notice the walk sign, so that car running the red light just misses them. They decide to hike a new path and don’t get hit by the boulder that rolls down across the path they’ve been walking every day for the past six years. Their alarm doesn’t go off and they miss their plane that never arrives at its destination.

I suppose I have a somewhat predictable feeling about probability. I got cancer, which most people don’t get. I got leukemia, which most cancer patients my age don’t get. I got hemorrhagic pancreatitis, which most leukemia patients don’t get. I’m that .01% that you hear about on the drug commercials who get headaches, cramps, and/or hooves.

But I’ve also managed to hold onto a very different view of probability. I couldn’t get a diagnosis over four months in NYC, and finally came home to be diagnosed with leukemia a week before it almost certainly would have been fatal. Because I thought I’d broken my arm, I wound up at The Children’s Hospital, where I had seen my old orthopedist. While I hadn’t really broken my arm, I was bound to The Children’s Hospital at which, as an adult, my chances for survival from the pediatric cancer I had contracted were astronomically higher than they would have been at an adult hospital. My hemorrhaged pancreas was destroying my internal organs, and when my mom asked the doctors and surgeons at the U if I would be okay, they told her they’d never seen anyone survive that was in the condition I was in–but I did survive.

So, while I’m that .01% who might get headaches, nausea, and/or male pregnancy on the drug commercials, I’m also that .01% who has survived everything thrown at him. Maybe it’s dumb luck. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know.

What I do know is that next year will be my golden birthday–I’ll turn 28 on July 28, 2011. But that’s certainly not the only thing that will make it special. It will be my first chemo-free birthday in four years. It will be a victory, just as these past three birthdays have been, and just as every single birthday for the rest of my life will be. Victory in the face of probability. Victory that I’ve made it around the sun one more time.

–Reid.

As of today, Monday, July 12, I have only ten months of chemotherapy left to go and then I’m done. I wish I felt better today so that I could celebrate properly (whatever that means). Unfortunately, over the weekend the varicella virus decided to stop by for its annual vacation in my body. Just another reason to be excited that in less than a year, I should have some semblance of an immune system again. Woo!

I can’t wait to see the expression on varicella’s lipid envelope when it sees that “No Vacancies” sign next year. It’ll be priceless!

–Reid.

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Now playing: Coldplay – Life In Technicolor
via FoxyTunes

I spent this past long weekend in Washington, DC, visiting my sisters and thus successfully continuing an unbroken three year run of 3R out-of-Denver Independence Days. I think it can now officially be considered a tradition. I’m glad to have been able to spend the holiday with them, even if I was sick and in bed most of my time there.

My laptop, like me, broke down in DC. This was of some note, as just two weeks prior, I had taken my laptop in to be examined (by a genius, no less) because the screen was blank sometimes when it should not have been blank. Like when it was turned on. That problem was attributed to my screen by the genius, “and definitely not to a specific graphics card put into specific laptops manufactured during a specific period of time in 2007″ (“what an oddly specific thing for this genius to say,” I thought to myself at the time). The genius took away my computer, so as to repair the screen “and definitely not some very specific graphics card like the one inside this super specific laptop” (“why does this genius keep talking about that?” I naïvely wondered to myself).

I got my laptop back, with a brand new screen, and used it only once before traveling to DC. The first time I tried to boot it up in DC, however, nothing happened. My first thought was, “I’ll bet this has something to do with a specific graphics card put into specific laptops manufactured during a specific period of time in 2007.” A more forthcoming genius in DC was only too happy to tell me the whole story. It turns out there is a known error with the specific graphics card I have in the specific model laptop I have that was manufactured during the specific time mine was manufactured.

I was less perturbed than I would’ve guessed I’d be, having had to give up my computer for what will end up being at least two weeks for a misdiagnosed known problem. I’ll chalk this calm reaction up to AppleCare and Apple’s “if it breaks, we’ll fix it no matter what (see terms and conditions for limitations of liability)” attitude. I have Amy to thank for talking my dad into AppleCare when, in an unlikely team-up event, she and my dad teamed-up and went shopping together to buy me a laptop when I was in the hospital in ’07-’08.

Oh, and somewhere in this recent ’010 timeframe, I got hired to write for a comedy website. But more about that later.

–Reid.
Listening to: “Hook” by Blues Traveler.
Painstakingly “typed” on my iPhone.

A Literal Brain Poking

Yesterday I underwent the quick brain poking chemotherapy procedure that I undergo once every three months. I remained ever optimistic that, since I was feeling soooo strong and healthy, the intrathecal methotrexate injection and CNS fluid extraction would be a breeze. Ha ha!! I fooled Me again! My adorable youthful naivete got the best of Me yet again. Oh Me, when will I ever learn?

While I’m never exactly eager to get that needle in my noggin, I do recognize the necessity of the procedure. If, after I’m done with chemotherapy, sneaky Old Man Leukemia and his huge family of li’l leukemites don’t emerge from secret bunkers they’ve built in my brain and spinal cord (and *ahem* testicles) with noise makers and a big banner that says “Surprise! Recurrence!” well then, the brain pokes will have been totally worth my brains leaking out the top of my head every once in a while.

It was pointed out to me that if I did the math right, which I never do, with only 11 months of chemotherapy left to go, I only have two more of these brain pokes left to undergo (hopefully forever). Since I didn’t do the math, I will just trust this information as accurate, although this voice in my head keeps going on about how three goes into eleven three times. I don’t know what that means or if it’s even related to this–the voices in my head often just ramble on and on. I knew I should’ve never converted my brain into a wiki.

A Metaphorical Brain Poking

Farewell friends,

I am moving to an island in The Middle Of Nowhere, totally uninhabited by humankind. The only idiocy I will ever have to deal with ever again will be coming from someone I know well enough to give a stern talking to, and sometimes even a good smack upside the head.. Without any other humans, this island will be free of petty politics, pedantic pundits, and a population of peons. While I’m at it, I will pig out on packs of peanuts, piles of pineapples, and plenty of pickles (my potation will be pails of pop)–put that’s all peside the pig point! Er… I mean, that’s all beside the big point!

What finally encouraged my new secluded, misanthropic, castaway life? The top story on CNN.com last night was “Obama’s speech ‘too difficult’ for audience” Seriously? I’ll admit, it wasn’t the greatest speech ever, not by a long shot–it lacked a lot of specific information on how things he mentioned will actually be implemented. However, “Leaking oil bad,” and, “I will make them pay,” and, “This really sucks,” were concepts considered too hard to understand?

Perhaps the President should dumb down the facts a lot more while angrying up his response a whole bunch, so all those people who don’t even pay attention to anything he says anyway can understand the situation better. He could show some alphabet flash cards, each with a picture of different Gulf species covered in crude, and very slowly, he could show each and explain, “‘O’ is for ‘oiled pelican,’” “‘P’ is for ‘poisoned bobcat,’” and, “‘D’ is for ‘dead roseate spoonbill,’” all while making successively more melodramatic angry faces for each. How about President Obama shows a video of Tony Hayworth and then responds to in sarcastic gibberish, since that seems to be all that’s behind everything BP’s CEO says? Then there’s showing the all too familiar oil plume still spewing out of the Gulf floor, and playing the always popular peak-a-boo with it, showing that even if we’re not looking at it, it’s still there! Oh! And, of course, he should jingle his keys at the camera every now and again to make sure he’s keeping the audience’s attention.

Of course, if he does all that, the media will say he needs to dress up like a sad circus clown and play a sad song on a violin and shoot the BP logo with one of those guns with the flag that says “BANG!” on it. Although, after his dramatic concerto honoring the lost livelihoods of the men and women in the Gulf region, the media would probably say what he really should have been playing his concerto on a ukulele. Oh, and that a black man firing a gun was scary.

As Fareed Zakaria wrote in this week’s Newsweek (and I may be paraphrasing a bit here), “Who the fuck cares?” There’s so much idiotic focus in the media about what the President should be wearing, whose butts he should or shouldn’t say he’ll kick, and what emotion he should awkwardly mold his face into. For God’s sake, the kind of cologne he wears while working on this crisis, this “epidemic,” as he called it, could not possibly matter any less! I just can’t take it anymore! The Gulf of Mexico’s ecosystem is being decimated, which makes me so incredibly sad whenever I think about it, and yet, people care more about landing with better political standing in what should be a nonpolitical issue, when they should be having no problem being on the right side of an ethical issue. OIL PLUME: BAD! THE PRESIDENT’S ROLLED UP SLEEVES AND THE COLOR OF HIS BOXER SHORTS: TOTALLY IRRELEVANT!

The media is focused on how the President is not focusing enough on the Gulf. O, bitter irony!

I’ve saved some space on my island for you if you’re tired of having your brain poked with this nonsense. Don’t worry, there’s no oil rigs nearby… yet.

–Reid.

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Now playing: They Might Be Giants – James K. Polk
via FoxyTunes

As of Saturday, June 12, I have eleven months to go in my chemotherapy regimen. Performing in New York City at The PIT with Better Than The Machine again, with lots of great friends in the audience who then came to celebrate afterwords, was a great way to mark this day!

Thank you all.

–Reid.

Today, I felt so healthy and strong that I had to roll down the windows of the car and crow as I drove down the highway. I have not felt this good since at least the summer of 2007, before I started feeling the strange and oft misdiagnosed disease that was eventually identified as leukemia.

Earlier this evening, my family was honored by the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), who presented us and another family with their 2010 Torch of Liberty awards for demonstrating “a tradition of community service.” The ADL, in their own words, “fights anti-Semitism and all forms of bigotry, defends democratic ideals and protects civil rights for all.” There’s not much else in the world that I consider more important. It was truly an honor to be recognized by this organization for which I have such deep respect.

Oh, and I didn’t know the award would be an actual physical thing I got to take home, but it turns out that it’s a kind of sharp blunt object. It’s a very neat flame shaped hunk of granite, into which has been chiseled “2010 Torch of Liberty Award”, “Reid Levin,” and an inspiring quote. Everyone who was honored got one. I asked people if theirs said “Reid Levin’ on them, too, but nobody else let me look at theirs. Probably because they thought I was kidding, and knew they all said “Reid Levin” on them. Which is a little odd, but pretty cool. Not as cool, of course, as the honor of actually receiving the recognition for which we were given the sharp blunt awards, for which we are all very honored.

That I felt better than I’ve felt in three years on this particular night was nearly unbelievable. Maybe it was God, or Karma, or Carl Sagan manipulating the cosmos from that place he sent Jodie Foster in Contact. Or maybe it was none of that; maybe it was just a coincidence.

No, that’s wrong. All of it. I just liked the way that sounded. I was totally leading you astray. Keep reading! You’re almost there!

As my dad and I said goodnight to one another, he wondered aloud about my good health and an old, familiar saying that always makes me wince: “laughter is the best medicine.” Before I could even think to lament the use of that tired adage to someone with leukemia who needs real medicine, I heard myself telling him that I woke up laughing this morning.

Clearly, I gotta do that more often.

–Reid.

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Now playing: Joe, Marc’s Brother – Ready to Change
via FoxyTunes

I feel superbly crappy, and as a result, I’ve taken a lot of pain pills today. There’s two groups of pain pills I must/can take on a daily basis. If I’m on a pill to fix something in my body, you can bet it also causes pain somewhere else in my body. For every curative pill or two that I take every day, I also take a pain pill in an attempt to balance out the pain causing to pain relieving ratio. Second, I have pain pills that I can take if the normal everyday pain pills aren’t cutting it. Even though I took all of them today, my being remains in a state of crap.

The first day we were in Miami after disembarking, I was diagnosed with Swimmer’s ear and a sinus infection at a CVS Pharmacy “Minute Clinic” ($25 well spent!), who then prescribed me antibiotics that I could get right there and then. The nurse practitioner even called me the next morning to see how I was feeling! How ’bout that?! Remind me again why health care was so hard to fix. CVS seems to have it all figured out–there wasn’t even a wait. I bet this is the future of surgery: “Come in on your lunch break to your friendly and convenient neighborhood CVS to get that gangrenous limb removed for only $25!”

When I got back home to Denver this week, I restarted chemo yet again. Normally for me, there’s a three day pattern of feeling bad, then worse, then better with this stuff. But I’m on day four and am still getting worse. I’m writing on what looks like a blurry laptop monitor while checkerboard-painted walls whiz by as the room spins (which is weird, ’cause I don’t have checkerboard-painted walls). My arm just spasmed! The right side of my brain is in the 396th round of a boxing match with the left side of my brain! My throat is raw!, my eyeballs are hot!, my toes have pins & needles in ‘em!, my knee is out of whack!, my skin itches all over!, I’ve got the creepy crawlies!, I’ve got bone pain!, it feels like the room is spinning the other way now!, I’ve got a cramp in my stomach!, and, WORST OF ALL, none of my complaining seem to be making any difference!!

I couldn’t nap during the day due to the unusual amount of pain. I watched a surprisingly large amount of TV, though, and came up with an important, possibly probably definitely world changing anthropological question:

Who do you think would be more impressed by a modern, 80″ flat screen, high definition color television with over 300 cable channels, 100 premium channels, the Playboy Channel, and a terabyte DVR?

• A. An American family from 1950
• B. A Neanderthal family from 33,000 years ago

Remember, this subjective poll does have one right answer. From the research I’ve looked into on the subject, the answer may just surprise you! Stay tuned!

–Reid.

I’d be remiss if I forgot to mention that while I was gone I celebrated One Year To Go.

There are now only 358 days left to go. Let’s get to it.

–Reid.

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Now playing: The Spinto Band – Oh Mandy
via FoxyTunes

Since my last entry, I’ve missed several topics I wish I’d blogged about. Knowing full well from prior experience that if I gave each of these many topics their own posts, I would quickly feel overwhelmed and, just as quickly, give up. So I decided to write about each of these many topics in one entry I’ve dubbed a “twitlog.” Aware of my propensity for verbose verbiage, I decided to treat each story as a Twitter post by limiting each of them to 140 characters. Onward!

-Last Vid: Bobby Fitzsimmons (of screen & stage) vlogs. Los: great! But whycome so few hits for funny video? I want to play Bobby’s cousin.

-New Vid: Crazy lady thinks cat is her son; boyfriend aghast. YT Comedy Spotlight! Moms Day dedication: to all moms, not just the crazy ones.

-Ebert: Why I Hate 3-D (And You Should Too) I’ve been saying that! If only I were a movie critic, they’d listen… and pay! Er, just listen.

-Rachel moved up and out to D.C. Rebecca is graduating on Friday and got into law school. I’m writing in my blog in the middle of the night.

-Dad and I met current Minnesota Senator and former SNL writer and performer Al Franken the other day. He was extremely nice and personable.

-How could I have possibly forgotten to mention burping as a side effect of iron overload? Hmn… maybe it’s because I’ve been busy burping?

-Weekly bar trivia, I think I love you.

-The Fam is going on a cruise next week to honor Boo’s graduation & acceptance into law school, Roo’s promotion & move, and my 1 YEAR TO GO!

-I’ve been feeling well enough to restart physical therapy. Crack! Snap! Oops! Those exercises hurt enough that I’m not sure I can do PT. Ow.

-I went to my first Derby Day party/benefit. Mmm… mint juleps. It was a blast until the last 90 seconds-we had to watch some horse race.

-The Levin Fam is being honored by the ADL for community service & leadership. I serve the community by making videos about boobs and farts.

-My ANC is great, but my platelets are so low that I’m off chemo until at least after the cruise. Note to self: don’t get stabbed on cruise.

-Funny parody of Jay-Z & Alicia Keys’ Empire State Of Mind. Star Wars, I admit I’m still in love with you despite George Lucas’ best efforts.

-I’ve tried so hard to enjoy the new Steven Page-less BNL album. It’s very, very okay. But it lacks a certain… Steven Page.

-New “Give A Shit” lyrics: Earthquakes, volcanoes and the oil spill/My candidate still says, “Drill, Baby, Drill!”

Whew, okay I think that does it. This turned out to be a fun challenge. Maybe I’ll wind up making more of these. We’ll see how I feel about it a few days out. At any rate, I enjoyed doing this enough to create a new category for these things (’cause you know, this entry wasn’t already in enough categories).

For the record, “twitlog” is a double portmanteau, and I love me some portmanteaus. First, of course, there’s the Twitter-weblog combination, which is an apt description of all these Twitter-style stories in my blog. Second is the more self-derisive combination of “twit” and “log”; with the “twit” being myself, and this effort being the only “log” of what happened in the unintended space between more frequent and detailed blog posts.

I’m such a nerd.

–Reid.

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Now playing: Guster – Jonah
via FoxyTunes