Friends, Romans, Country Men!
Two weeks into the ring with this thing, and we’re still standing.
Vitals and numbers are holding steady—thankfully. But my body is deep in the trenches, and I’ve noticed a shift that I can only describe as a kind of ADHD-on-hard-mode. My mind is racing, the focus is elusive, and the inner monkey has taken over the controls.
Enter: Breathwork
I’ve gone back to focused breathing. If you’re feeling scattered—whether you’re in treatment or just in the chaos of life—this is something I recommend:
49 Breaths (Monkey Mind Tamer Edition)
1. Inhale through your nose for 4 counts
2. Hold your breath for 7 counts
3. Exhale slowly through your mouth for 8 counts
Now, here’s where I add my twist:
I do 7 rounds of this, and before each round, I mentally count in multiples of 7 (7, 14, 21, etc.).
If I lose track at any point, I start over.
The goal is to get to 49.
The point? Calm the mind, find your center, and prove you’re the boss of your breath
💩 The Great Stool Caper
Now for something… completely different.
For the past few days, the staff has been on what can only be described as a full-blown scavenger hunt for my stool sample.
The problem is that the meds had me more backed up than the Flinders toilet after chili-mac night. (yeah, a Saturday’s Warrior reference)
But today… today was the day.
When the poor nurse’s aide (who can’t be older than 20) walked in to collect it…
I heard an audible gag.
Movie-level retch.
I can’t say I blame her.
This thing was a specimen.
Michelangelo had the Sistine Chapel. I had that collection cup.
I’m not proud— we now exchange awkward eye contact in the halls.
The nurses and staff have been incredible. Some are constants on my care team, others
pass through for a shift—but nearly all of them have specialized cancer training, and all of them bring humor, warmth, and patience to a place that could quickly feel sterile and cold.
It makes all the difference.
More soon. I’m working on building up stamina, taking rest, and trying not to dropkick my IV pole every time it gets caught in the bathroom doorway.
No quarter. Tapout Cancer.
–Tyler
