Last Friday was my second chemo treatment of the second cycle, and it went as expected. I spent the time doing a bit of visualization/meditation at the start of the infusion, then listened to music, read, and did crossword puzzles. I've gotten in the habit of starting each music session with "Wishlist" by Pearl Jam, amending some of the lyrics to describe my own wishes -- for those of you who have heard me sing, no worries, I sing along in my head, not out loud. While the chemo treatments themselves are no big deal, the side effects, even though I know what to expect, still present a challenge. The nausea started a little earlier than usual, that night in fact, and the typical fatigue followed the next day. The pain in my abdomen, while much less than before, is still there but more localized; I like to think that some of it is due to "tumor necrosis," the dying of cancer cells. What pain I have is manageable, though, and it doesn't keep me from doing anything -- I still get to put out the garbage, take the car for servicing, play with my grand-daughter, Violet, and generally enjoy life.
Today was a good day to be alive -- actually, every day I get up and acknowledge the fact that I'm not dying are good days for the most part, but this one had something recent days have lacked, a clear, cloudless sky and a warm sun. After an appointment and some chores took most of the morning, I was able to go for a walk, and unlike yesterday's PanCan walk, which was a good one in it's own right, felt the sun on my face and back (and legs -- I wore shorts!). Ospreys were fishing over Bon Tempe Lake, the first wildflowers, Milkmaids and Hound's Tongue, were in bloom. Spring, season of renewal, is clearly around the corner. And I needed to physically feel that sense of newness, of promise. I've learned that it's one thing to see things rationally, to understand what is happening inside of me, to deal with my treatment and the benefits and side effects it brings, and quite another to stay in this game mentally and emotionally. I've spoken of the physical fatigue that accompanies chemotherapy, but there is also another level of fatigue, emotional, spiritual, mental, that accompanies living with a life-threatening disease. I don't think anyone who has not lived the experience can understand it. I know I didn't before my diagnosis.
It starts with the fact that musings, about the ends of our lives -- and who over 60 hasn't thought about the fact that most of our lives are behind us -- are really just that until life smacks you in the face with a situation that brings mortality front and center. It's sobering, surreal, difficult to comprehend, difficult to escape; there's no longer a what if, it just is. The control we think we have over our lives becomes a chimera -- it's gone, you get some semblance back, it seems to disappear once again. And so it goes. There are good days and not so good days; individual days that go from seeming almost pre-disease normal, to seeing or thinking of something that knocks me for a loop. I cry a lot more, sometimes quietly, sometimes with body-rattling sobs; I never know what will affect me so. And, this doesn't mean that I've given up, that my attitude is no longer "positive," that I don't have the goal of doing all I can to survive this cancer, it's just that the reality of living day-in and day-out with uncertainty about my future and that of those I love and the sadness that accompanies it can be difficult burdens at times.
All the more reason to appreciate the good things that come my way each and every day, gifts from so many sources. Thank-you to those who ran and walked in support of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network on Sunday, whether in the city, at MC, in Fairbanks, or NY's Central Park; your support for me meant a lot. It was good to get out and walk and talk with friends and family, point out different species of ducks and other birds to anyone who would look and listen, and feel very much alive. I do feel better than I have in a long time, and based on the comments I hear, I'm the healthiest looking sick person around! Thanks to all who continue to pray for me, to keep me in your thoughts. Knowing so many are there for me helps counter the down times.
Peace,
Don
