Still Reeling from a Harrowing December

It's a bit strange to write this. But after months speaking with friends, longtime associates and wonderful people in music and entertainment, so many said the same thing to me: It's okay to ask for help.
The month of December was physically and emotionally devastating, the most traumatic time I've had since my emergency surgery in July of 2009 that led to cancer detection and my ongoing battle.

It actually began in November, 2010, when I went back on chemo, but with a new drug, Erbitux. At first it seemed alright; we'd read about many of the possible side effects and my wife Barbara was concerned.  Meanwhile, my ventral hernia, which had certainly been prominent, became severely distended.  
The hernia discomfort grew and my reaction to Erbitux was not good - it was toxic to my system. Combined with the hernia complications, I was in the hospital for five days that seemed much longer just prior to Christmas.  An ultrasound found liquid in not just my swollen abdominal area, but even up into part of the lungs. I was "tapped" twice, two different days; More than 10 liters of liquid was drained.
In the hospital, I couldn't sleep and while I attempted to eat, I began to lose weight at a rapid rate. Even coming home, eating and sleeping were difficult. I became emaciated, gaunt. I'm still thinner than perhaps I've been been in my life. This is not a weight-loss plan I would wish on anyone. Barbara pushed me to eat, even when I couldn't.  I've found I can only eat small portions and I try to eat multiple times a day.

I also needed to almost learn to walk all over again.  One of my doctors thought I might need a walker, because it was so taxing.  I opted for a cane. Lately I haven't had to use it and I hope this continues. But it's there if I need it. Meanwhile, I'm back on my former version of chemo treatments, Folfox, which was effective last time and while certainly draining on my system, I can tolerate it all. 
My focus and concentration has been another hurdle.  When I first came home in December, I couldn't even think about the computer. And I couldn't read, which was frustrating as well, books being one of the few escapes I've had.  
This also meant working would be difficult. I've tried to find work (like so many others, not even with my issues and conditions), but it comes and goes in drips and drops. I thank those who've been able to send a little work my way and everyone that continue to put the word out. It was a dry January and so far, nothing's come up for February. But I press on, write when I'm able and where I'm able, even if there's little or no compensation at all. Because I have to.  It's what I've always done. 
February has been better than January, except for what appears to be something along the lines of a pulled muscle that causes painful cramping at times.  I also appear to be due for more draining of the hernia, which was done again last month, yielding almost 5 liters of liquid and bringing much relief. 
It's a roller coaster, it's a merry-go-round (though there's little merry about it). But I'm determined as ever to beat cancer and send it away and then deal with the hernia problems with surgery.  I'm hoping, envisioning this Spring. That's my goal. And I know it can be done, with the ongoing love - sometimes tough love, and I need that - of my incredible wife;  my little boy, who is so loving and strong he amazes me every day; my parents and my sister and brother-in-law, all towers of fortitude for me; and nephews and nieces, my mother-in-law, who stepped in to help us with everything in December; our vast extended family and so many friends whose hearts have been so giving in so many different ways, it's hard to go a day without shedding tears for these gifts of humanity at its greatest. 
I thank you for your altruism and open hearts.  I know I'm not alone in this: I have an army behind me to help me take down cancer. And I will. We will.