The Story of Daniel - Part Three - REDUX!

[caption id="attachment_183" align="aligncenter" width="608"] Darrell and Danny Playing on the Old Buick[/caption]

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 Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. Today is Wednesday September 3^rd, 2014. I am not at home, right now, I am actually at Orange Coast Memorial Hospital[1] having a ‘P.E.T. Scan’[2] done to my entire body. A P.E.T. scan is a Positron emission tomography scan, meaning that they use Positron emissions to create a ‘map’ of my entire body. Prior to putting me into ‘The Tube’ they inject me with a IV solution of D50W (a High density Glucose IV solution), mixed with a radioactive isotope. Cancer cells, and tumors, just love SUGAR! The cancer cells, and tumors, drink up the sugar solution and the radioactive isotope.

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Then when my body is hit with the Positron Emission the cancer cells, and tumors, light up like a Christmas tree! BINGO! Glowing cells and tumors! This will give my oncologist a much better idea of just where my cancer has spread to, and where all I have tumors! This takes about five hours, and I won’t be back home till after 5PM. Thursday, I am going for a Bone Marrow Biopsy at Los Alamitos Hospital.

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The Bone Marrow Biopsy is a simple removal of bone marrow from my pelvic girdle. They sedate me, and then drill into my butt cheek, down to the bone. Drill into the bone and draw out some bone marrow. Then the bone marrow is sent over to the pathology lab, where they will stain the sample and examine the stained sample under a microscope. Just LIKE the tumor removed from my jawline, they will discover if my Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma has entered my bone marrow. If that is the case, then they will add radiation therapy to my chemo schedule.

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They will ‘nuke’ my bone marrow to kill all of the cancer cells. Friday, I will have the ‘Porta-Cath’ placed under my skin near my clavicle. I still need an MRI done of my brain, again to determine if the cancer has reached my brain. My first chemotherapy is scheduled for Tuesday September 9^th, 2014.

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PLEASE DONATE TO Danny’s Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo![3]

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The following was written in September 2012 as a part of my campaign to raise needed funds for my Power Chair. I am republishing this series of articles because I am just too tired… to fatigued… and too depressed to write my regularly scheduled articles. I do not want to leave you, My Dear Readers, with nothing good to read. As well, I am hoping that, upon reading this story, you might decide that I deserve your support… and contribute to my Cancer Treatment Fund.

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My Dear Readers, I just sat thought a two hour orientation for my chemotherapy. All through the orientation I kept hearing, ‘You need lots of extra fluids-orange juice, flavored waters, fruits, Crytal-lite ANYTHING to keep you drinking Quarts OF WARTER BASED DRINKS ALL DAY to keep your liver from being damaged by these chemicals and the destroyed cancer cells and tumors, “YOU NEED LOTS OF HIGH CALORIE FOODS” to keep eating all through the day (lots of little meals all during the day NOT large meals twice or three times a day) TO BATTLE FATIGUE and HELP YOUR BODY RECOVER FROM THE CHEMOTHERAPY.

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My Dear Readers, I do NOT have fluids or extra foods. Allen and I have been (for the past YEAR) on a STRICT food schedule. We spend $5 to $7 dollars A DAY for FOOD. PERIOD! We do NOT have the funds Nor the budget to pay FOR WHAT I AM TOLD WILL PROTECT MY HEALTH AND BODY. This is the why behind my cancer treatment campaign. Without your help? My body will undergo terrible damage and I fear I will end up hospitalized. Can’t you PLEASE HELP?!?

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The following is ‘Part Two’ of ‘The Story of Daniel’. I hope that you all enjoy this work. Thank you!

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Episode Thee – The Hannings and Life on Francis Street

As I have told you, much of elementary school at Pearland is just gone, “dust in the wind”. For what ever reason, though, my memories of the time that I spent in the (then) new ‘Middle School’ are pretty clear and there a good many of them, too. Now, I really do wish that my parents had purchased those ‘Year Books’. I was never really big on buying them, as a boy. Now that may have been merely because my mother and father both never really showed any interest in buying them, and I was just following their lead or it could be because our family just budgeted out money so frugally that it seemed a frivolous expenditure. What ever the reason, I am working without a net here, so IF I get some dates wrong, or places please be kind.

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One of my very first memories of middle school, and the new building, was the smell. It didn’t have the same smells as the high school/middle school campus. Those buildings had been there for some time and had very distinct smells. The lockers were the old wooden ones, without locks (BOY that is a statement) and shiny brass-like handles. I liked the old lockers. The new building, when you could smell something, smelled of fresh construction materials. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was very happy that we had a whole new building. The chairs were new. The blackboards were new. The lockers were new. It was the newest building I had ever been in since I arrived at Pearland, besides my own home.

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One of the biggest ‘downsides’ was it was dark. There was hardly any natural light in the whole building. This took me off guard, and kind of gave the school a… ‘prison’ shinning. Everything everywhere had this kind of greenish tinge. Where this struck me most, was the cafeteria/gym. I distinctly remember going into the cafeteria for the first time. Standing in line to get food… well, it all looked so unnatural. None of the foods looked the right colors. People’s faces, looked ghoulish and without natural tones and hues. It took me quite some time before I could even eat, in that cafeteria. The first day, I picked at the food and tossed most of my lunch. The problem was the lights. Especially in the cafeteria, they had these huge gas lights in the ceiling. I am not sure what they were, meaning; argon, xenon, neon I didn’t know what gas or element they used but it gave off the single most unnatural light I had ever seen. Now that I am thinking about this, did anyone else notice this lighting? I mean, I don’t remember mentioning it to anyone. Then again, I still hadn’t (at this time) found a click to be a part of in Pearland. I had been in Pearland now about a year and just hadn’t bonded with anyone.

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Now, don’t get me wrong. It was me, I was the major reason (I’m sure) that I hadn’t found a group (Goths, Jocks, Nerds, Dweebs, Richies) to fit in and hang with yet.

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The good news was I really liked the books. As I remember it seemed like everything was new. All the textbooks and the books in the library and in the classrooms all looked to be new and never used. I very much enjoy books, and reading, so that was welcomed and enjoyable. The floors where brand new and shinny and they lent themselves for ‘sock-skating’, and I indulged my thirst for all things comic and funny by regularly kicking off my shoes and skating to my heart’s desire. The lockers worked well, and didn’t smell like the last person’s gym socks, that was a ‘Good Thing’. The classes were all inside. I remember the last year @ the old school we had all those ‘temporary’ building. Double-wide trailers is more like it, I disliked those ‘class rooms’ for many reasons.

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Now what was the totally incredible, absolutely phenomenal and wonderful? The teachers, that’s what. There seemed to be an energy level, and excitement among them that I hadn’t seen before. I enjoy learning, I have since I was very young. The only class that ever frustrated me more than challenged? Spelling. Sorry, but just way too much rote and no rhyme or reason. Math, totally nailed it, often helping friends in class. Dug it. Science, without a doubt one of my favorite classes and always made ‘A’s or ‘B’s. History, was then, as it is now, a subject I could easily devote the remainder of my life in the pursuit of and be the happiest little ‘Danny’ the world has ever seen… except of course, I would want to act.

I joined choir in the third grade @ Mading. I couldn’t/can sing alone worth didly. But, put me in with choir and it was like a duck taking to water. I sang in every choir, every year from that year forward until I graduated high school. It is what got me through the near-daily beating in gym class. From the time I got to middle school until the time I got on stage (my sophomore year) I was pretty much bullied. It happened, I lived. BUT, my point is choir is what “made the pain go away”. Anyone else remember the woman choir teacher, like, our eighth grade, first year in the new school building? She sang in the The Houston Grand Opera and took her class(s) to see ‘Madame Butterfly’. And she was completely eccentric and ‘larger than life’ and I thoroughly enjoyed the year I was her student.

At the end of the year some of us, in the choir, gave a performance of ‘If I Were A Rich Man’ It was at night, and parents were there, as well as our class and other children. IT was in that darn ghoulish cafeteria… but the lights were out and it looked normal. But, right then that night on that makeshift stage in front of many parents and children of Pearland, I took my choir experience and added something. This something would occupy the next four years of my life and education, and have some effect or the other on every aspect for the rest of my life. She (the choir teacher) had cobbled together a rather convincing costume and a fake beard. A Jewish Prayer Shawl and a Yamaka, my budding baritone voice, a pair made of brass and something happened. That, my dear readers, was the single most fun I had in my life and I never wanted it to end.

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During the period from the time the Hannings arrived in Pearland, and the last days of Middle School, the Hanning rituals continued like clockwork. However, in the garage things were changing. The world outside was changing, in very big ways. The last few years the Hannings were in Houston, my eldest brother Ken was taken from us and sent to Vietnam. Those were difficult times, for the Hanning family.

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The whole time he was there and we were in Houston, the whole family would sit and record letters (small reel audio tapes) to Ken. We would all take turns talking to him, and then Dad would mail it and we would wait to hear back from Ken. Sure enough, three or four weeks later, there in the mail would be our reply tape. We would gather back at the table and sit and listen to Ken talk and tell us of how things were and what he had seen. I loved hearing his voice; I was like seven or eight when he left for Vietnam. I wasn’t even anywhere near being ready for anyone to be taken away from the family, and Ken was the cool one.

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Then, starting in Pearland, we didn’t need the tapes anymore. My father had invested a great deal of time (and my time, every night and most weekends) and money and totally upgraded his HAM transmitter and antenna. Well, I could go on and on and on about this project, but I won’t. Suffice to say that when my father was through he could clearly transmit and receive ham radio/single sideband and shortwave signals to… Vietnam!

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My father and I now spent hours and hours in the garage working on connecting parents (here in America) with their sons (in Vietnam). They are called a ‘phone patch(s)’ and we worked most every night connecting mothers and fathers to their children. It wasn’t part of the electronic repair business, but the money for all the upgrades came from the business. And dad never, like, asked for money from people. So I worked with my Dad and sat beside him while he did something pretty incredible, out of his garage, nobody ever knew about it and it touched so many lives all across this nation.

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I won’t lie; my life was not a ‘Norman Rockwell’ picture by any stretch of the imagination. Quite honestly the time that Dad spent in the garage, and no doubt the financial investment, put a strain on my parent’s relationship. I know, now, that some holidays things might have been tight but only because my father had spent money on equipment for the radio. I didn’t know about it at the time and, I mean, I was a part of the investment.

The next great adventure I had, with my father, was the ‘Space Race’. It captured both our imaginations and before the moon landing was over many a night’s sleep was lot, many a roll of film had been developed, and many a ‘bed time’ had been missed. But, like with the ‘phone patches’ and electronics repair before this, the adventure always outweighed the risk.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for all your kindness and support. And; May God Bless

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Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting my cause. Thank you for caring.

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That, My Dear Readers, brings us to the end of today’s edition of ‘The Story of Daniel’. I am seeing just how short these chapters, are, and I am thinking that I am going to share more than one in the future. I hope that you, My Dear Readers, enjoy these looks back on my life and on my writing at this blog! That’s right, these articles were written by me, Danny Hanning, two years ago. My, how my writing style has changed and improved. My Dear Readers, I cannot stress just now difficult the past decade has been for me. Being struck by a falling typewriter (back in 1987) set it all in motion, and from 2000 on I have been plagued with failing health, growing tremendous pain, and progressively decreasing mobility.

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In spite of all of that I have done my best to keep busy… to “Keep Moving Forward!”. Now, I have been hit below the belt with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma CANCER! With limited to Spartan resources, my battle might well be quite short. With your, My Dear Readers, HELP? I stand a fighting chance of beating my cancer and not damaging my body, my liver, my kidneys… due to a lack of proper nutrition and proper amounts of fluids. I am NOT lying. I DO lack the money to purchase these ITEMS.

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Thank you for dropping by… and PLEASE CONSIDER DONATING TO Danny’s Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo![4]

Adieu!

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Thank YOU!

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Danny's Cancer Treatment Fund @ Indiegogo

[caption id="attachment_3338" align="aligncenter" width="225"] Danny in Rolling Hills Estates August 12, 2014[/caption]

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