Well, back in the hospital again folks. Apparently I have a massive infection in my ass and it just showed its worst symptoms today. I knew I was feeling a little 'off' the last two days, but wasn't sure why. I chalked it up to just having a couple of off days and didn't put too much stock in it. But finding a massive amount of bloody discharge this morning told us something was definitely wrong. Called my surgeon's office and they had me come in to the ER to start the procedure of bloodwork and scans. On the plus side, my WBC count is pretty high for me right now. Still low of course in the normal course of things. Won't get any word on the bacteria cultures until late tomorrow. And my docs will come by tomorrow to talk about the results from the CT scan.
They admitted me in to the hospital for at least a day, possibly more. But that info will become more clear as results roll in tomorrow. They have me on IV antibiotics for now, and it has helped me feel better already. Hopefully we can clear this up ASAP. Unfortunately this probably means no chemo next week as planned. They'll likely want to make sure this is completely cleared up before treating me again. Oh well.
Tired, pain drugs are kicking in. Going to try to get what sleep they allow you in the hospital.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Sunday, September 16, 2012
The Cancer Fashion Guidebook
A girlfriend of mine hosted a middle eastern themed afternoon party yesterday. We all gathered outside under a tent, ate middle eastern nibbles, listened to some live sitar music and drumming, drank tea and wine, and generally lounged about on many piles of cushions. Everyone was dressed in saris, salwar kameez or middle eastern tunics. It was a extraordinarily lovely party. And I always love an excuse to dress to a theme, any theme. It's not so much that I'm just into costumes; I like the challenge of playing with fashion and dressing outside the ordinary. The outside the ordinary is really the significant part.
I finally settled into my personal fashion sense a few years ago. I don't know how to describe it, but the lines are very classic mid-20th century, everything is just so, and I like to throw a twist in there through patterns or accessories. Most of the comments I get are that I always look so "put together." And I haven't deviated from my fashion sense this year. As a matter of fact I now actually work that much harder at it when I'm going out and about, especially for doctor's appointments or chemo. One of my best friends (and summer chauffeur) told me that she thought it was really terrific that I didn't give up on style when it would have been so easy to do so. I could show up for chemo in yoga pants and a hoodie, or versions of pajamas. But instead I look put together and fashionable and/or professional. The thing is, there is so much about having cancer that challenges the way you look at yourself. Or actually changes the way you look. Keeping up outside appearances helps me feel somewhat (or a lot) better. And I already spend enough time at home lounging in pjs.
I remember walking, or rather shuffling, through the hospital maybe five weeks post surgery for an appointment. I couldn't walk so well yet and it likely would have been obvious to anyone watching that I was the one there for some reason. But I was in a cute summer dress and trying my best to just walk slowly and not bent over or too shuffle-y. I looked at my husband and said that even though it might be clear, I didn't want to look like a sick person. And that is the key right there. I refuse, in any way, to give in to this situation. And though keeping a sense of style might not seem like a defiant act, for me it certainly is. I relish the look of surprise on strangers' faces when they realize I'm the one with the appointment, that I'm not waiting for a patient. Some of the nurses at the cancer center have taken to calling me 'super model' because I'm always dressed up well for chemo days.
There is not a lot that I can control in this fight. Weeks and months can go by before I get answers to questions, or know the state of my disease and how it's reacting to treatment. I can rest, I can take care of the rest of my body, and I can try to keep myself mentally stable and emotionally content. But really, I just show up when I'm supposed to and go through what my medical team has decided is best. It is challenging and frustrating, and finding stability in the center of it all can be hard. But I have a goal, to again be a normal, healthy person. That's a theme to which I can dress. So here is me, a rebel in peep-toes.
I finally settled into my personal fashion sense a few years ago. I don't know how to describe it, but the lines are very classic mid-20th century, everything is just so, and I like to throw a twist in there through patterns or accessories. Most of the comments I get are that I always look so "put together." And I haven't deviated from my fashion sense this year. As a matter of fact I now actually work that much harder at it when I'm going out and about, especially for doctor's appointments or chemo. One of my best friends (and summer chauffeur) told me that she thought it was really terrific that I didn't give up on style when it would have been so easy to do so. I could show up for chemo in yoga pants and a hoodie, or versions of pajamas. But instead I look put together and fashionable and/or professional. The thing is, there is so much about having cancer that challenges the way you look at yourself. Or actually changes the way you look. Keeping up outside appearances helps me feel somewhat (or a lot) better. And I already spend enough time at home lounging in pjs.
I remember walking, or rather shuffling, through the hospital maybe five weeks post surgery for an appointment. I couldn't walk so well yet and it likely would have been obvious to anyone watching that I was the one there for some reason. But I was in a cute summer dress and trying my best to just walk slowly and not bent over or too shuffle-y. I looked at my husband and said that even though it might be clear, I didn't want to look like a sick person. And that is the key right there. I refuse, in any way, to give in to this situation. And though keeping a sense of style might not seem like a defiant act, for me it certainly is. I relish the look of surprise on strangers' faces when they realize I'm the one with the appointment, that I'm not waiting for a patient. Some of the nurses at the cancer center have taken to calling me 'super model' because I'm always dressed up well for chemo days.
There is not a lot that I can control in this fight. Weeks and months can go by before I get answers to questions, or know the state of my disease and how it's reacting to treatment. I can rest, I can take care of the rest of my body, and I can try to keep myself mentally stable and emotionally content. But really, I just show up when I'm supposed to and go through what my medical team has decided is best. It is challenging and frustrating, and finding stability in the center of it all can be hard. But I have a goal, to again be a normal, healthy person. That's a theme to which I can dress. So here is me, a rebel in peep-toes.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Aunt hill
I attempted to be productive today. Only found mild success. Working on projects for my sister and the coming nephlet. (I blatantly use my major in English as an excuse to create words.) I'm pretty excited about the whole prospect of being a kooky aunt and am having fun being involved with the process. Baby shower invitations are 90% ready to print. The material for my first sewing project is washed, dried and ready to be cut tomorrow. I've been practicing my crochet again for many cute little upcoming projects and items. I also got dinner cooked and the kitchen cleaned. Though I wasn't expecting to be that on top of the latter this early in the evening.
My plan for this part of the evening was to see a local band playing free at a pub in town. But when I got to the pub... no band and mostly empty. A bit annoying since I was looking forward to it all day. My positive attitude has really permeated however. I double checked to make sure that it was the pub and band that were wrong and I didn't have the wrong week (I didn't, the liars!). Then ran an errand and picked up ice cream and champagne to indulge myself as a consolation. How do you stay down with that kind of treat? Put on some peppy music and accomplished the dishes and kitchen as soon as I got home (after half a glass of champagne of course). Now I'm rather pleased and also accomplishing this blog entry. Go me.
A year or more ago the evening wouldn't be going nearly so well. After looking forward to going out all day I would have been sorely disappointed that the band was not there. I would likely have harumphed and allowed myself to sit in disappointment for the rest of the evening. Upon coming home, I would have seen cleaning up as a huge chore. And if I did seek indulgence, I would have weighed guilt on myself about it. What a chit I was back then! I have become so much more laid back. A real 'shit happens' kind of gal who rolls with the punches. I think I like me better this way. Part of what has helped with this mental transition has been allowing myself to let go of control. Or to be more honest, to let go of a false sense of control. I can plan for things, can even allow myself the indulgence of imagining how they'll play out. But I have no control over how places, people and outside events actually happen. The best thing I can do is be there, in the moment, and make the best of the situation. Or make a new, better situation. There have been some awfully good lessons learned this year. Who knew that cancer could beat you down and yet build you up at the same time.
My plan for this part of the evening was to see a local band playing free at a pub in town. But when I got to the pub... no band and mostly empty. A bit annoying since I was looking forward to it all day. My positive attitude has really permeated however. I double checked to make sure that it was the pub and band that were wrong and I didn't have the wrong week (I didn't, the liars!). Then ran an errand and picked up ice cream and champagne to indulge myself as a consolation. How do you stay down with that kind of treat? Put on some peppy music and accomplished the dishes and kitchen as soon as I got home (after half a glass of champagne of course). Now I'm rather pleased and also accomplishing this blog entry. Go me.
A year or more ago the evening wouldn't be going nearly so well. After looking forward to going out all day I would have been sorely disappointed that the band was not there. I would likely have harumphed and allowed myself to sit in disappointment for the rest of the evening. Upon coming home, I would have seen cleaning up as a huge chore. And if I did seek indulgence, I would have weighed guilt on myself about it. What a chit I was back then! I have become so much more laid back. A real 'shit happens' kind of gal who rolls with the punches. I think I like me better this way. Part of what has helped with this mental transition has been allowing myself to let go of control. Or to be more honest, to let go of a false sense of control. I can plan for things, can even allow myself the indulgence of imagining how they'll play out. But I have no control over how places, people and outside events actually happen. The best thing I can do is be there, in the moment, and make the best of the situation. Or make a new, better situation. There have been some awfully good lessons learned this year. Who knew that cancer could beat you down and yet build you up at the same time.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Sunday Respite
Ah, Sunday afternoons. They always feel better if you've had a productive Sunday morning. Still have errands to run, but taking a tea break and chilling with Roy Orbison. It has been a pretty good couple of days even though the last few were on the chemo pump. Since the cancer center is closed on the weekends, I had to go to the hospital to get my pump taken off yesterday. A bit more waiting than at the center, but all in all the same process. Felt pretty wiped out Thursday and Friday. Napped through most of Friday actually. And after sleeping in and another nap on Saturday, my energy was pretty good yesterday afternoon and evening. Keeping up on the sleep really helps in the first few days after chemo. I had originally planned to attend a dance party last night, but wasn't sure if just coming off the chemo was going to agree with that plan. Turns out all that rest worked for me. I was able to dance a good part of the night away. Though I can really tell that I am out of shape and don't have the endurance I'd like. All that jumping and flailing around for a couple of songs and I would need a break. And I was totally wiped when I got home. But it was great to be able to dance it out again.
I've learned to see naps and rest in a more positive light. I have in the past been one of those folks who says that "sleep is for the weak," or "you can sleep when you're dead." There is far too much to explore every day, so many things to get done, work, projects to finish and start, and somehow still find the time for the balance of relaxation and fun. There just never seems to be enough hours in the day. I would often sacrifice sleep for many things, some important and some just not. A year ago I had picked up a book by a British writer called "How to be Idle." It was a lesson I felt that I needed to work on. Of course finding the time to read the book, much less take the time for idleness was futile at the time. I've always been excellent at just losing time to what seems like nothing: staring out a window, intently focusing on a run of songs, sitting in your head not even thinking. And I've been very good at imposing an inordinate sense of busyness and overt responsibility on myself. Many months ago I would have held the latter above the former for a good use of time and energy. But now I've come around to thinking the opposite.
I wonder about all the 'busy' that we put on ourselves. The busyness can help us feel important or worthwhile, especially when we are feeling unsure of ourselves. It can also be the sense of responsibilities that are not ours to bear (an issue I've been working at for quite a while). Sometimes, it is enough just to get through the day. Taking care of, and paying careful attention to, only the basics can be revelatory. Deep satisfaction can be found without ticking off a massive to-do list. And sometimes staring idly out a window can be the reboot that our brain needs. So I've become rather the good idler nowadays. And somehow I still get things done. And the days that I don't get much done, those are okay too. Right now, it's time for cup of tea number two; a fine moment of respite.
I've learned to see naps and rest in a more positive light. I have in the past been one of those folks who says that "sleep is for the weak," or "you can sleep when you're dead." There is far too much to explore every day, so many things to get done, work, projects to finish and start, and somehow still find the time for the balance of relaxation and fun. There just never seems to be enough hours in the day. I would often sacrifice sleep for many things, some important and some just not. A year ago I had picked up a book by a British writer called "How to be Idle." It was a lesson I felt that I needed to work on. Of course finding the time to read the book, much less take the time for idleness was futile at the time. I've always been excellent at just losing time to what seems like nothing: staring out a window, intently focusing on a run of songs, sitting in your head not even thinking. And I've been very good at imposing an inordinate sense of busyness and overt responsibility on myself. Many months ago I would have held the latter above the former for a good use of time and energy. But now I've come around to thinking the opposite.
I wonder about all the 'busy' that we put on ourselves. The busyness can help us feel important or worthwhile, especially when we are feeling unsure of ourselves. It can also be the sense of responsibilities that are not ours to bear (an issue I've been working at for quite a while). Sometimes, it is enough just to get through the day. Taking care of, and paying careful attention to, only the basics can be revelatory. Deep satisfaction can be found without ticking off a massive to-do list. And sometimes staring idly out a window can be the reboot that our brain needs. So I've become rather the good idler nowadays. And somehow I still get things done. And the days that I don't get much done, those are okay too. Right now, it's time for cup of tea number two; a fine moment of respite.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
More Live Blogging!
My bloodwork counts are way up this week. Still below the average zone, but the important numbers are double and triple what they were last week. And apparently my bilirubin numbers are in a much better place as well, which means my liver is in better shape. The extra eight days off chemo this last week gave my body some needed recovery time. My immune system is still pretty compromised, so I'll have to continue keeping a watchful eye on myself. But it is fantastic to know that my body can bounce back on its own so well.
9:40 a.m.
So right now I'm accessed, hooked up to the first IV fluids, got my pillows and a warm blanket, and I chose a chair with good sun exposure. My belly is full of a good, warm breakfast and they just brought me some fresh coffee. Not too bad of a start for chemo day. Going to go play all the scrabble games now. Keep refreshing for the ongoing live updates!
9:55 a.m.
The drugs begin... A shot of two anti-nausea meds, and start up the Ativin. Herewith starts the mellowness. I'm hoping the muscle relaxant properties help to loosen my right shoulder up. Woke yesterday with it all tight and sore up into my neck. Heating pad time and ibuprofen didn't help it any yesterday. If they get done with me early enough today then I'll head upstairs for a free chair massage to try to finish working the kink out.
10:15 a.m.
The Ativin has definitely started kicking in. Feeling a bit unfocused and losing the typing skills. Started the third anti-nausea med, this one stays in my system for three days. And yes, the overloading of the anti-nausea drugs are needed. It seems a bit crazy overdoing it, but it's important.
10:45 a.m.
Moving on to the Avastin, an angiogenesis inhibitor which helps the body prevent the creation of new blood vessels. Cancer cells grow and spread by forcing the body to create new blood vessels to feed them. This acts as a counter. And sleepiness is winning. Might be time for nap number one.
11:18 a.m
No nap yet. Getting hooked up to the Oxaliplatin now. Will have to move to warm drinks from here on out today. This is a two hour infusion, so good time for napping.
12:24 p.m.
Napping accomplished. Could do some more, but not feeling completely at its mercy now. There will be more napping when I get home. Also feeling less fuzzy from the Ativin. I bought myself a sandwich to go at my breakfast restaurant this morning. I should be hungry by now and should attempt to eat at least some of it. Unfortunately I can already feel the effect of the drugs on my system and hunger is dissipating. Talking with a couple of the ladies here about nutrition through this process.
1:27 p.m.
The long hang is done and now flushing me to prepare for the pump. Apparently we can't get a blood return from my port access, which means that a blood clot or protein skin has formed at then end of my catheter. So I get a dose of TPA to break it up. We wait for a while for it to work and then try again. Time to catch up on scrabble games.
2:10 p.m.
Blockage is clear, waiting for the pump now. Then, I think I'll scoot upstairs and get one of the free chair massages they offer after this. My shoulder is a little less tight (probably the Ativin), but still tender and sore up to my neck. And I am so very tired and don't have much focus. Tried to play a scrabble game and just kept micro-napping. Getting the bolus of the first 5-FU now. Another ten minutes or so and I'll be free.
2:30 p.m.
All hooked up and ready to go get my massage. Then home where I will attempt to get around to eating my lunch. And naps, there will be much napping. I hope you've all enjoyed this 'oh so exciting' (note the ripe sarcasm) edition of live chemo blogging. I'm outie!
So right now I'm accessed, hooked up to the first IV fluids, got my pillows and a warm blanket, and I chose a chair with good sun exposure. My belly is full of a good, warm breakfast and they just brought me some fresh coffee. Not too bad of a start for chemo day. Going to go play all the scrabble games now. Keep refreshing for the ongoing live updates!
9:55 a.m.
The drugs begin... A shot of two anti-nausea meds, and start up the Ativin. Herewith starts the mellowness. I'm hoping the muscle relaxant properties help to loosen my right shoulder up. Woke yesterday with it all tight and sore up into my neck. Heating pad time and ibuprofen didn't help it any yesterday. If they get done with me early enough today then I'll head upstairs for a free chair massage to try to finish working the kink out.
10:15 a.m.
The Ativin has definitely started kicking in. Feeling a bit unfocused and losing the typing skills. Started the third anti-nausea med, this one stays in my system for three days. And yes, the overloading of the anti-nausea drugs are needed. It seems a bit crazy overdoing it, but it's important.
10:45 a.m.
Moving on to the Avastin, an angiogenesis inhibitor which helps the body prevent the creation of new blood vessels. Cancer cells grow and spread by forcing the body to create new blood vessels to feed them. This acts as a counter. And sleepiness is winning. Might be time for nap number one.
11:18 a.m
No nap yet. Getting hooked up to the Oxaliplatin now. Will have to move to warm drinks from here on out today. This is a two hour infusion, so good time for napping.
12:24 p.m.
Napping accomplished. Could do some more, but not feeling completely at its mercy now. There will be more napping when I get home. Also feeling less fuzzy from the Ativin. I bought myself a sandwich to go at my breakfast restaurant this morning. I should be hungry by now and should attempt to eat at least some of it. Unfortunately I can already feel the effect of the drugs on my system and hunger is dissipating. Talking with a couple of the ladies here about nutrition through this process.
1:27 p.m.
The long hang is done and now flushing me to prepare for the pump. Apparently we can't get a blood return from my port access, which means that a blood clot or protein skin has formed at then end of my catheter. So I get a dose of TPA to break it up. We wait for a while for it to work and then try again. Time to catch up on scrabble games.
2:10 p.m.
Blockage is clear, waiting for the pump now. Then, I think I'll scoot upstairs and get one of the free chair massages they offer after this. My shoulder is a little less tight (probably the Ativin), but still tender and sore up to my neck. And I am so very tired and don't have much focus. Tried to play a scrabble game and just kept micro-napping. Getting the bolus of the first 5-FU now. Another ten minutes or so and I'll be free.
2:30 p.m.
All hooked up and ready to go get my massage. Then home where I will attempt to get around to eating my lunch. And naps, there will be much napping. I hope you've all enjoyed this 'oh so exciting' (note the ripe sarcasm) edition of live chemo blogging. I'm outie!
Monday, September 3, 2012
Here Comes the Sun
I am slowly conquering the car. This weekend I have survived a three hour car ride with only mild discomfort, and made a two hour drive myself. The drive was a bit more twinge-inducing. I could have used a longer break once every hour. But I feel a level of freedom opening up in this ability to get further from my house without a lot of accompanying pain and annoyance. Saw my surgeon late last week and he corroborated that my ass is healing rather nicely. I won't see him again for another month. And I hope by then that the incision is even closer to a hundred percent healed.
It's already September, and I am having a difficult time getting my head around that. Even though a lot has happened this year, it doesn't feel like I've been through an entire eight months. I'm sure a large part of that is that I've missed many of the events and activities that typically mark off the year's passing. But I believe another part is my lack of doing much of anything these past couple of months. Time passes strangely when the atmosphere and timbre of your days stay much the same. I've also lost the rhythm of weekdays to weekends. The passing of time seems to be something outside of myself, that other people do, but not so much me anymore. My sense of time is much more fluid. It is all around and stretches out in front of me like the horizon, visually tangible but never attainable. But I heard a flock of geese beginning their fall migration one morning this week. Fall recipes involving pumpkin and apples are beginning to appear. The walnuts and first leaves are falling from the trees in my yard. The days are still long though, and delightfully warm. There is still time before the cold starts to take hold and the color begins to drain from the outdoors.
It has been a blessing to go through some of the hardest recovery (so far) in the spring and summer months. The dark, colorless cold of the winter can sometimes be long tiring months for me. I imagine my cheery mood is often helped by the sunbeams streaming through my windows. The permeating warmth of summer afternoons that induce soft, easy naps. Even in the first weeks of surgery recovery, I could briefly escape to my porch and pretend I wasn't trapped, housebound, by my body. As much as I love the night and worship the moon, I am very much a sun child. So I guess I could tell you that it has been a pretty good summer for me. Although it definitely won't rank in the top ten (or twenty, or thirty...). I'm still up, around, and kicking. And I'm definitely feeling sunshine-y.
It's already September, and I am having a difficult time getting my head around that. Even though a lot has happened this year, it doesn't feel like I've been through an entire eight months. I'm sure a large part of that is that I've missed many of the events and activities that typically mark off the year's passing. But I believe another part is my lack of doing much of anything these past couple of months. Time passes strangely when the atmosphere and timbre of your days stay much the same. I've also lost the rhythm of weekdays to weekends. The passing of time seems to be something outside of myself, that other people do, but not so much me anymore. My sense of time is much more fluid. It is all around and stretches out in front of me like the horizon, visually tangible but never attainable. But I heard a flock of geese beginning their fall migration one morning this week. Fall recipes involving pumpkin and apples are beginning to appear. The walnuts and first leaves are falling from the trees in my yard. The days are still long though, and delightfully warm. There is still time before the cold starts to take hold and the color begins to drain from the outdoors.
It has been a blessing to go through some of the hardest recovery (so far) in the spring and summer months. The dark, colorless cold of the winter can sometimes be long tiring months for me. I imagine my cheery mood is often helped by the sunbeams streaming through my windows. The permeating warmth of summer afternoons that induce soft, easy naps. Even in the first weeks of surgery recovery, I could briefly escape to my porch and pretend I wasn't trapped, housebound, by my body. As much as I love the night and worship the moon, I am very much a sun child. So I guess I could tell you that it has been a pretty good summer for me. Although it definitely won't rank in the top ten (or twenty, or thirty...). I'm still up, around, and kicking. And I'm definitely feeling sunshine-y.
Friday, August 31, 2012
In the Zen Zone
Starting this week with being denied chemotherapy was, honestly, rather difficult for me. Although having another week of recovery is nice, there were fears to be faced. My body gets an additional week to strengthen, but the cancer cells also get a reprieve... I can only hope that the scales balance in my favor. And there is little I can outwardly do to increase my bodies ability to be up for the treatment again next week. This lack of control in the situation makes me uneasy. Added to this is the fact that there is not a lot of structure in my daily routine. The two-week chemo schedule was the only structure that I really planned around. And having that one solidity taken away required some mental readjusting.
On a daily basis, I try to keep a rather zen attitude. I listen to and attend to my body's needs first. If there's nothing that needs tending, then I ask myself "what can I do now" or "what do I wish to do now," or some combination of the two. If I don't get to something in a day, or cannot finish a project, then I allow that to be acceptable. There's a sense of fluidity that I attempt to maintain from hour to hour and day to day. And I am getting rather good at being present in whatever I am doing in the moment. There is much less internal judgement now. I used to carry lots of mental measuring sticks and was always coming upon them in everything I did or thought about doing. And it often made me see a rather poor presentation of myself. I realized how futile all those sticks were when held up against the ultimate criterion of life versus death. Because that is the whole of your thinking when first faced with cancer.
All we have is what we have already done and what we do today. There is no promise of tomorrow. Lack of attachment, in the Buddhist tradition, is really about bringing you to the present moment. Yesterday, even two minutes ago, is gone and you cannot reach back to change it. Tomorrow is a dream, a hope, but not a given. Although this can appear dismal, and can be argued in both a positive or negative frame philosophically, I sense it as rather freeing. It has helped me discard judgement and expectation, unshackling my psyche, and providing more space for ease and happiness. This moment is my choice. Only mine. That is an empowering revelation. -I- can choose... right now... I am the only one in control of myself and my actions. I can sometimes choose to give that choice away, or to make a choice that assuages others, or to not make a choice and simply flow with the circumstance. But the responsibility ultimately lies only within me. My reaction to the consequences of those choices is also a personal decision. So, a question for each of us is, what attitude do you choose to affect? I choose happy, positivity.
This perspective has ushered in even more felicitous insights. I have found that any given moment can feel like an indulgence if you let your mind and body loll about in the senses of it. For someone of such a sensual nature as myself, this was an amazing discovery. I sort of recognized the possibility before, but didn't understand how complete it could be. I now allow myself to fully revel in many moments every day. It helps to make each day feel special. It turns the simple into something more divine. And sometimes, like earlier this week when I had to bring my mind back across to the sunny side of the street, it makes the work easier.
So today has been up and down. I awoke hungry and found deep satisfaction in satisfying that need. Then there was back pain, and I accepted it and tended to my body. Today flows with hunger, music, tiredness, satisfaction, disorder, sunbeams, contemplation. Each moment worthy and true. I float with the rhythm of the day and am content.
On a daily basis, I try to keep a rather zen attitude. I listen to and attend to my body's needs first. If there's nothing that needs tending, then I ask myself "what can I do now" or "what do I wish to do now," or some combination of the two. If I don't get to something in a day, or cannot finish a project, then I allow that to be acceptable. There's a sense of fluidity that I attempt to maintain from hour to hour and day to day. And I am getting rather good at being present in whatever I am doing in the moment. There is much less internal judgement now. I used to carry lots of mental measuring sticks and was always coming upon them in everything I did or thought about doing. And it often made me see a rather poor presentation of myself. I realized how futile all those sticks were when held up against the ultimate criterion of life versus death. Because that is the whole of your thinking when first faced with cancer.
All we have is what we have already done and what we do today. There is no promise of tomorrow. Lack of attachment, in the Buddhist tradition, is really about bringing you to the present moment. Yesterday, even two minutes ago, is gone and you cannot reach back to change it. Tomorrow is a dream, a hope, but not a given. Although this can appear dismal, and can be argued in both a positive or negative frame philosophically, I sense it as rather freeing. It has helped me discard judgement and expectation, unshackling my psyche, and providing more space for ease and happiness. This moment is my choice. Only mine. That is an empowering revelation. -I- can choose... right now... I am the only one in control of myself and my actions. I can sometimes choose to give that choice away, or to make a choice that assuages others, or to not make a choice and simply flow with the circumstance. But the responsibility ultimately lies only within me. My reaction to the consequences of those choices is also a personal decision. So, a question for each of us is, what attitude do you choose to affect? I choose happy, positivity.
This perspective has ushered in even more felicitous insights. I have found that any given moment can feel like an indulgence if you let your mind and body loll about in the senses of it. For someone of such a sensual nature as myself, this was an amazing discovery. I sort of recognized the possibility before, but didn't understand how complete it could be. I now allow myself to fully revel in many moments every day. It helps to make each day feel special. It turns the simple into something more divine. And sometimes, like earlier this week when I had to bring my mind back across to the sunny side of the street, it makes the work easier.
So today has been up and down. I awoke hungry and found deep satisfaction in satisfying that need. Then there was back pain, and I accepted it and tended to my body. Today flows with hunger, music, tiredness, satisfaction, disorder, sunbeams, contemplation. Each moment worthy and true. I float with the rhythm of the day and am content.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
We interrupt this broadcast...
Went in for this week's chemotherapy and was turned away. This morning's blood work shows that my WBC counts are in the red zone and are too low for them to risk giving me treatment this week. I asked if the cold was affecting this, and was told that being on the antibiotics and fighting a cold should have boosted my WBC count, not lowered it. This is a result of ongoing chemotherapy and is not all that uncommon. It has been two months of poisoning, and my body just isn't ready to handle more yet. I don't feel any worse or different than I normally do at this stage of things, and that's not unusual either. This just means that my immune system is almost non-existent right now. And I was told not to have any visitors that are sick or potentially think they might be sick. So back to hermitage, taking it easy and getting as much rest as possible.
There is a shot (neupogen) they can give me that will artificially increase my WBC count. They could choose to do that this week, and then be more certain that I would be up for treatment next week. I'm now scheduled in for chemo again next Thursday (Sept 6). The problem with the neupogen shot, however, is that it can have its own set of lovely side effects such as muscle and bone aches, headaches, and reaction/tenderness around the injection site, amongst others. And apparently it is a drug that is often a hassle getting covered by health insurance. I didn't hear back from my oncologist today, so I don't know where the choice on this stands.
I was very discouraged when they sent me home this afternoon. After all, I'm on the fast track to kicking cancer's ass through whatever means necessary. This road block is not a stop I want to make on the journey. I wish my body could be as strong as my will.
Luckily, my afternoon ride was able to come early to get me back home. After a wee bit of wallowing at the house, I took myself out for a late lunch at my favorite restaurant. Then sat outside one of my favorite coffee houses in town with a nice cappuccino and an excellent book. Followed that up with a long nap. I awoke feeling like I had sidestepped the depression that had been hovering, waiting for its opportunity to get a foot in my mental door. After all, this ended up being a much nicer day than one spent hooked up to chemo all afternoon. And I have another week of feeling pretty good ahead of me instead of the post-chemo days of uselessness. I'm certain one week's delay will not derail my ass-kicking plan.
Serendipity is a beautiful thing. I am just wrapping this up when what song starts playing in the background but Don't Give Up by Peter Gabriel (feat. Kate Bush).
Couldn't say it better myself. Thank you Peter for bringing the first true smile to me today.
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