David Everett Fisher


September 19, 2014 introspection

Beach Fever

Yesterday was the last chemo treatment of the first cycle. This means I’m 1/3 of the way through.
Sharon and I were looking forward to going to the beach Thursday night to Sunday night. Nothing but books, puzzles, roku & maybe a quick game of sequence and the peace and quiet coast life in my parents adorable little beach cottage.
We left a little after 6:30 after Sharon got off work. I had packed books and notebooks and downloaded some podcasts for the trip. I really was excited to get out of the apartment for a few days. I had been getting pretty bad chemo brain and depression.
So we jumped in the car and we drove. Sharon seemed so happy to be going out to the coast. When we got over into Beaverton the whole western sky has turned golden from an exploding sunset. Absolutely beautiful. Sharon was in awe of how gorgeous the horizon was.
I started feeling chills. At first I thought it was side effects from my chemotherapy. We stopped at Dairy Queen and got something to eat. I was so cold and I started shaking. In wanted so bad for the chills and the shaking to stop and that I would just be fine, but as we got closer and closer to the beach, my symptoms became worst.
Lee got to the Seaside Safeway and Sharon ran in and got a thermometer and Tylonol. I looked up the Seaside hospital and saved it to my phone. All I wanted at this point was to get under the covers and sleep.
Lee got to the cottage and I immediately took my clothes off and got under the covers. Sharon took my tempature and it was 102. Fuck. We called my oncology office and the dr on duty said I needed to go to the emergency room. Sharon & I decided to go all the way back to Portland and go to Good Sam. We loaded up the car and away we went.
On the way back my fever went from chills to heat. I started visualizing me being a wizard fighting another wizard. We were shooting fountains of fire at each other. I started sweating. I remember defeating the other wizard by not resisting his fire spell and let him burn himself out while I crawled into a little ball.

I was in and out as we drove back into Portland. We got to Good Sam around 9:30 and immediately was taken into the emergency room. I had a fever and they were very concerned about me having an infection. They took blood and I had some x-Rays taken. The whole time I just wanted to sleep.
They checked me in and now I have to stay in the hospital for a few days. My white blood cell is super low, so anyone who comes into my room has to wear masks and if I leave the room I have to wear a mask. They might not find the origins of the infection, but I’ll have to stay a night or two in the hospital.

My view is better this time- no cross. I’m try not to be discouraged by being in the hospital another few days, but I am a little depressed that none of this has been easy and Sharon’s beach trip had to be cancelled because I know how much she loves it out there at the cottage by the sea.



4 to “Beach Fever”

  1. Max says...

    well, two awesome things happened:

    – the title of this blog post
    – a fever hallucination that enacted my wildest dreams of being a fire wizard and burning another fire wizard alive, proving once and for all that you can in fact fight fire with fire

  2. Ben Farrell says...

    Take care, my friend. The beach and cabin will be there when you are ready. You are well loved.

  3. Deb Mandeville says...

    No bueno David… I am sorry your trip was postponed by a nasty infection but like Ben above me said: How great is it that you have the beach cabin to look forward to!

    Get better very soon!

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  4. Kaylin Jensen says...

    I remember being in the hospital for an 8 day stretch and watching people going about their day, like how did everything go from ‘I’m throwing a party at my parents house’ to ‘if you don’t go into surgery now, you’ll die and even then we can’t be sure’? Thanks life. But then cards and poster boards came from my school from people I didn’t know, who knew me. It’s kind of like me writing you. My recovery period was 2 months and I was very lucky. I think you will be too. I’m reminded of someone saying when they were diagnosed with stage 3 malignant cancer they responded with “you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Me almost dying comes up like twice a week.” I don’t really think this cancer knows who it’s dealing with, who you are and how many people think you’re awesome. Unfortunately there are no slogans that can wrap all this in a pretty package and make everyone feel better, with the exception: Cancer fucking sucks and so does being really sick with other shitty shit. I always look forward to your and Sharon’s posts.

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