My apologies for letting several weeks go by without any updates. I started this post a week ago, but never found the time to finish it -- partly because we were able to get away for a mini-vacation on the Russian River. But, better late than never, I hope.
With last week's chemo session, I finished six months and seven cycles of therapy; what began two days after Christmas as an unknown has become a regular part of my life, my routine, my new "normal." As with most recent sessions, Wednesday's infusion was something to endure, even though I was able to laugh at myself and share the laughter with a couple of nurses at a point I felt had to be the nadir of the past two weeks. I thought I had come to chemo well prepared with some Ativan on board and distracting devices, a new mystery novel and new music on my iPod, but the anticipatory nausea couldn't be held at bay. I also tried to make the session, as I do with all of them, a positive, visualizing the chemo drugs flowing through blood vessels like righteous napalm and engulfing my tumors, incinerating cancer cells. But, and here's that mind-body connection again, it seems that some things just cannot be avoided no matter the degree of preparation. Like one of Pavlov's dogs responding to a bell, I gag, retch and vomit just about every time I use one of the bathrooms on the infusion floor -- and use them I must since I can spend close to four hours there. It happened twice this past session. The first was all retching, but that caused a nose bleed -- more excitement! The second came after my infusion was complete, and I thought I had vomited clotted blood, and, worried, had the nurses who had heard the gross sounds coming from the bathroom check it out. Before they could say, "That's not blood," I realized that, yes, it was those blueberries again. We all had a pretty good laugh.
Since then, I've been trying to manage the accumulating and increasingly debilitating effects of chemotherapy. They are beginning to wear me down a bit as are various symptoms that may be due to the cancer or the chemo or something else entirely. Coupled with the emotional letdown that followed a busy week that included MC's graduation and my retirement and the Dipsea, the result has been a rather "flat" few weeks with too much time spent not following my own advice about attitude, living in the present, and believing. While all of that is to be expected, it does take some work to get re-focused, and that has been my goal for this rest week. I'm feeling better physically as the side effects slowly ebb, and that helps how I look at the world around (and inside of) me. I'm looking forward to this weekend with a trip to Novato to watch the Fourth of July parade -- Jessie and Violet are in it -- perhaps a movie or two (dates with Jane), and a day at the County Fair (Elvin Bishop and Los Lobos).
I see my doctor next Wednesday and begin my eighth cycle of chemo that day, with the possibility that I may be able to eliminate my middle day of treatment in each cycle, switching to an every-other-week schedule. It's a question of risk-benefit, of course. If I can get the same results -- stable disease or better -- with one less chemo treatment and a reduction in the accumulating side effects, it sure seems like the thing to do. I'll know more next week and will post an update toward the week's end. Until then, I'll try to practice what I've been preaching.
Peace,
Don
