Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire The Shaman's Big Day

I've been mostly resting since early afternoon. By 1100, I was spent from just a couple of phone calls. This was one of the biggest days of my adult life-- a major rite of passage.

This is Day 4 AFTER Chemo Camp. Overall, I'm feeling better. I managed to drive the truck today.

Let me back up a bit.

This whole thing with the Seminoma coming back was a bit of a hurried hot mess. No complaints; they hopped on the problem and got me on chemo right away, but there was a lot to be done.

The day before I went in to have the port installed, I finally dragged myself out to Social Security and got my official record straightened out. That was kind of a last-freaking-minute deal. The record had been munged up since the 70's. I found out about the problem maybe 10 years ago, and I knew if I ever went to retire, I was going to have to deal with it. I set off for the SS office with less than 24hours before going under the knife and got 'er done. My main concern as I was leaving was that, if something happened to me, KYHillChick might never get the mess straightened out to collect a survivor benefit.

I also set up a phone appointment for today to talk to someone about getting on SS. That occurred at 1000. It took over an hour. What I found out is that it's flat done. I get my first check this Month. The surprise came when the guy asked, given my circumstances, why I wasn't applying for Disability as well. Dang! I hadn't thought of that.

Bottom line: After a bit more talking, they're going to go about approving me for the full monthly benefit I'd have had if I'd stayed out until full retirement. That's about $500/month more.

But wait! There's more. Like a Ginsu Knife Commercial, the guy asked me if I had any more questions. I said: "What questions haven't I asked?" His answer was to offer #1 Son, Junior, a bump in his disability payment due to my going on Disability. Remember that question next time somebody asks you if there are any questions. I don't know how much it'll be, but it'll keep Junior in Amazon gift cards. You don't hear much about Junior, but he's out there. He's autistic. Well, what I mean to say is. . . yeah, he's out there.

I was already losing my voice when I called State UnEmployment and told the very nice lady (Azalia was her name) that I was faced with a conundrum, and although I could never really say I was not willing to work, the chances of me getting hired with a good case of Seminoma running around in me, the chances of ever getting hired to do what I do was damn slim. If I was going on Disability, I could n't stay on Unemployment. She was very conciliatory.

As a result, I walked out through the back door of my career. My first actual Data Processing job with a W2 started July of 1982. I now walk among you an Old Retired Fart.

Lieutenant O'Hora says you can process her data any time you want to...
Kirk out.

It's good to have that load off your mind, that by it's self will help you feel much better. Rio7

I enjoy these updates, hope they get you stabilized and your benefits ironed out.

That’s a lot to get done in a short time with bureaucrats and under some pressure. However, there are good ones out there. It’s just that the bad ones make such a lasting impression.

Health issues aside, retirement can be a struggle for some. Hope all goes well for you.

Well the reason sucks, but congrats on the retirement and best of luck with the health issues.

Have followed your threads here with interest, Shaman and much appreciate your sharing.

Prayers for you, your family and your new life.

^^^^^Second this. And not far behind you as a retired I.T. has-been….minus the Seminoma.

Glad things are going your way.

Just remember that you always have the farm to decompress.

Glad you found someone competent in the SS office. When my first wife passed, it took several tries to get things rolling so my minor children got the benefits. That’s the real pisser about SS. A spouse puts into it for nearly thirty years. Since I remarried, the government gets to keep everything my first wife would have had, less what they paid out for the kids.

I think it had something to do with this poor wretch either showing up in their office or appearing on the other end of the phone call asking to deal with terminal illness issues. It presses a button. I have to say, that on my trip to SS, I wasn't feeling all that perky. My general affect even before the chemo started had become that of a large sack of potatoes being dragged about by its own cussedness.

Granted, I don't think of myself as terminally ill, nor do the doctors. It's just that, for the purpose of dealing with social benefits, I am .


I am now beginning Day 5 of Post-Chemo Camp. If you'd asked me a month or two ago, I'd say I was having a good morning.

In regards to the farm: Moose called me up from down there yesterday. He had gone down to mow the yard and bring back what was left of Turkey Camp. He and Angus have stepped up tremendously on this front. That's good to see. The death of the deer camp just to our north came as the patriarch was laid low with a heart attack and none of his family would pick up the slack on chores. A year later, he put the place on the block and left in bitterness. It's all fun and games until the grass is 2 feet high.

My guess is that I'll be down there once before they start dumping the bug juice in again. Until August, I'll be somebody's dunnage ; they'll cart me around and throw me in a chair, and let me be patriarchal. I'm expecting to get by with a reduced punch list going into deer season. Just dragging my ass around is going to put extra draw on the system.

I've also been following you on this journey.mostly lurking lately.
You have a great attitude and support.
We're all dealt the cards,we just have to decide how to play them.
Best of luck Sir Shaman

Shaman, you are an inspiration to me, and I suppose, others here on the fire. I continue to pray for you and your family and feel blessed to be this close to you as you wind your way through life the the curve balls it throws.

Just keep on dragging that one-nut sack around..... later will come, later. You’ve got this.

When you retire, every day is Saturday 😁.

You ain’t wrong.

"Anti-nasea pills? We need no stinkin' anti-nausea pills!" said the shaman.

Yikes! that was a wrong idea. I was feeling so good after dinner last night, I figured I was past the worst of it.

I had 2+ hours of . . . well, as with all this stuff, it ain't what you're used to. Yeah, you could call it nausea, but it wasn't. Let's call it what it is: chemical poisoning.

I never felt like hurling, and it was not positional. Normally movement makes it worse. Compared to normal nausea, this was far less acute, but much more gnawing. There was also a burning sensation that wasn't heartburn but could have been. That's what's so unique about this whole chemo thing. It's a whole new set of maladies and sensations wrapped up in familiar terms.

Eventually, I looked at the clock and 2 hours had gone by, and I knew I'd dropped off. We won't be making that mistake again.

This AM, I'm up and feeling fairly normal again.


Thanks. However, I must say the idea of being inspirational sounds somewhat beyond my sensibilities right now.

I suppose there is a choice in all this, and that I'm making the noble choices. However, the alternatives are far more painful. Heck, they don't even think of this as a particularly deadly cancer. It grows fast. It insinuates into all sorts of places is shouldn't, but as a man-killer, it kind of sucks. There is no Stage 4 version of this crap. If I'd wavered a week or a month or even just grabbed a bottle of Scoresby and said, "Enough!" All I'd have had to look forward to was like the lawn equivalent of crabcrass, and I'd have spent years trying to actively dissipate myself to the point of extinction. I've actually known a few folks who did that sort of thing, and they ended up far more miserable in the long run. It may be counterintuitive, but I'm just being lazy.

I met up with one of them while I was going through the Left Nut Job. He was in the parking garage. 10 years ago, he was chain smoking and going through a half-gallon of Wild Turkey a day, and claiming he'd live forever. He finally had his heart stop so many times, they finally convinced him he might have something wrong with him. Even this bastard finally figured out it was easier to get with the plan than deal with the consequences.

As to last night's bit of entertainment, I chose to lay off the anti-nausea pill at bedtime, because I wanted to reduce the risk of constipation. Those pills really shut things down.

Well, don't count your platelets before they. . .

I went down to the hospital at 1000 to have a bit of blood work drawn through the port. I was home in less than an hour. This was my first real trip on my own in a few weeks. KYHillChick stayed home and napped. It was milk run. I had it it in the bag.

Just as I was pulling in the drive back home, I got a panicky call from the oncologists receptionist.

"Are you having any trouble?"

That's never a good sign.

It turns out, my platelet count was unfathomably, Victorian Royal Family, low. I'm leaving shortly for another trip down to the The Waiting Room of the Damned. When they get there they're going to give me a unit of blood.

Andy Griffith awaits.

Lol well don't be whittling.


Good luck shaman. Hope you get it beat.

"I got a panicky call from the oncologists receptionist....".


That's the kind of sentence you never want to write when it's in reference to one's own self. Maybe you can save it and some day restructure it into a more upbeat sentence. Something like, "The crooked politician received a panicky call from the oncologists receptionist.".

Keep us posted. More Prayers offered.