And it ain't over.
At some point, a "5-10% chance" that I'd need surgery turned into "about 40% of cases need surgery." I don't know if he was lying to me then to ease my mind, or lying to me now to ease my mind, or if there's some Kabbalistic difference between the two statements. But the point being, I need surgery. In all other ways, I am in all-but-unbelievably good health. I am recovering from chemotherapy with nearly (but not quite) unheard of speed and efficiency.
Just, there's something in my lung. Maybe a bit of tumor (bad!). Maybe a bit of scar tissue (benign). Maybe a nifty little thing called a teratoma (will eventually turn into cancer; next week or in 2030, it's impossible to predict). We can't know without removing it. And so remove it we shall.
I know nothing else right now. I talk to a thoracic surgeon one week from today. After that, I'll know the where and when and everything else worth knowing.
Honestly, this is more annoying than upsetting.
But I am finding it difficult to maintain my sense of joy.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
These are the days of miracle and wonder
I went and got myself a CT scan today, and with a little bit of luck I will learn in three days that there's not one damn speck of cancer left anywhere inside of me.
In what I cannot believe is a coincidence, I have been happier today than I have been in oh, about twelve weeks. If I believed in the soul, I'd say I had a weight lifted from it. As is, I'll just say that I am profoundly relaxed and (dare I - I, of all nihilistically gloomy men! - say it) full of joy for life. I can't bring myself to believe that there's anything left to worry about.
A 5% chance that I'll need surgery to remove scar tissue. But what's 5%?
Come on, Thursday! Let's get it over with! I'm soon to move on, and begin my fucking life again! God, it feels good to say that! Everything feels good!
לחיים
In what I cannot believe is a coincidence, I have been happier today than I have been in oh, about twelve weeks. If I believed in the soul, I'd say I had a weight lifted from it. As is, I'll just say that I am profoundly relaxed and (dare I - I, of all nihilistically gloomy men! - say it) full of joy for life. I can't bring myself to believe that there's anything left to worry about.
A 5% chance that I'll need surgery to remove scar tissue. But what's 5%?
Come on, Thursday! Let's get it over with! I'm soon to move on, and begin my fucking life again! God, it feels good to say that! Everything feels good!
לחיים
Thursday, April 07, 2005
It's over!
I have received the last dose of chemo I will ever receive. And I have suffered no ill effects today; perhaps a little fatigue (damn you Benadryl!), but certainly no fevers or anything else unpleasant.
I'm done with chemo. I'm done with motherfucking chemo! I still feel all excited saying it...I know it's only been nine weeks, but they've been hell. And they're over now. Yeah, it'll take a while for my body to recover (I won't be doing any marathons this month), and technically, I haven't been "cleared" and it's possible that I might yet need surgery. But the chemo is over. Which is a very wonderful thing.
Josh Elder - whose personal experience puts my whiny two months to shame - gave me a bit of advice awhile back: "those first few weeks post-chemo will be some of the best in your life. Savor them." Thank you, Mr. Elder. I think I shall.
I'm done with chemo. I'm done with motherfucking chemo! I still feel all excited saying it...I know it's only been nine weeks, but they've been hell. And they're over now. Yeah, it'll take a while for my body to recover (I won't be doing any marathons this month), and technically, I haven't been "cleared" and it's possible that I might yet need surgery. But the chemo is over. Which is a very wonderful thing.
Josh Elder - whose personal experience puts my whiny two months to shame - gave me a bit of advice awhile back: "those first few weeks post-chemo will be some of the best in your life. Savor them." Thank you, Mr. Elder. I think I shall.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
It's almost over!
Oh, how I do enjoy Wednesdays.
Left work at 1:15 with a fever of 100.5 degrees, slept pretty much straight from 1:40-4:30, drifted in and out of consciousness for a few hours, and in bed for the night by 9:00.
But that doesn't matter nearly as much as: only one more of the fuckers to go. Seven days from right now, I will be completely done with chemotherapy drugs. And 28 days from today is The End, in which I talk to my doctor, etc. Four weeks, I can handle. Especially because most of that four weeks will be drug-free and proud.
At the moment, I even feel pretty much like a normal human being, albeit a sleepy one.
Left work at 1:15 with a fever of 100.5 degrees, slept pretty much straight from 1:40-4:30, drifted in and out of consciousness for a few hours, and in bed for the night by 9:00.
But that doesn't matter nearly as much as: only one more of the fuckers to go. Seven days from right now, I will be completely done with chemotherapy drugs. And 28 days from today is The End, in which I talk to my doctor, etc. Four weeks, I can handle. Especially because most of that four weeks will be drug-free and proud.
At the moment, I even feel pretty much like a normal human being, albeit a sleepy one.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Weekend Thoughts III
The generally anemic* quality of my posts for the past week bears some explanation and apology, for those who still read me.
You see, each an' every single cycle of chemotherapy weakens your body a little bit more than the last. Because, although the weeks off let the system recuperate a bit, it's not enough to regain 100% functionality. So every cycle leaves me a bit more winded, because I wasn't as good to start.
It's also a bit geometric: the weaker I start, the more is taken out of me. I grew proportionally weaker during Cycle 3 than Cycle 2, etc.
Which is all to say, I felt really goddamn worn-out as of roughly Wednesday morning, and I'm still not completely back in the world of humanity. I'm not in the world of humanity at all, actually, just a reasonable facsimile thereof. I have pervasive acid reflux, a general inability to focus, and a complete unwillingness to do anything physically stressful, like stand, talk on the phone, or drink water.
The good news, is that it's effectively over. I have to go to the hospital 5 more times for this whole cancer-type deal (I am going to assume that surgery will prove unnecessary, because dammit!...well, just dammit). Only two of those are chemo. And while Wednesdays have consistenly sucked, they haven't been long-term sucky, just one-off shots of sucky.
At one point, I had hoped that this board would serve as an inspiring tale of how cancer doesn't have to ruin your life. And it has, insofar as it's mostly a tale of how thoroughly chemotherapy ruins your life. Actually, I felt just fine with cancer for almost a full year. It's just the seven weeks of treatment that have driven me into suicidal despair.
Kidding! I was never suicidal. And it hasn't been that big a deal; 4 days out of every 21 have been almost intolerable, and then I get better. Remember kids, check yourself for suspicious lumps every month. And tell your doctor if you find any. Because I want every last goddamn one of you to suffer the way I have.
Kidding again! I wish cancer on no-one! Because it's a bad thing. Even though I have inspiringly sailed through it in a measly seven weeks.
Seriously, I cannot believe that people manage to do this for months at a time. I have really indescribable respect for those who did. I'm just coasting through on bile and sarcasm, and I am truly in awe of those who had to actually suffer for huge portions of their lives.
*A weak pun.
You see, each an' every single cycle of chemotherapy weakens your body a little bit more than the last. Because, although the weeks off let the system recuperate a bit, it's not enough to regain 100% functionality. So every cycle leaves me a bit more winded, because I wasn't as good to start.
It's also a bit geometric: the weaker I start, the more is taken out of me. I grew proportionally weaker during Cycle 3 than Cycle 2, etc.
Which is all to say, I felt really goddamn worn-out as of roughly Wednesday morning, and I'm still not completely back in the world of humanity. I'm not in the world of humanity at all, actually, just a reasonable facsimile thereof. I have pervasive acid reflux, a general inability to focus, and a complete unwillingness to do anything physically stressful, like stand, talk on the phone, or drink water.
The good news, is that it's effectively over. I have to go to the hospital 5 more times for this whole cancer-type deal (I am going to assume that surgery will prove unnecessary, because dammit!...well, just dammit). Only two of those are chemo. And while Wednesdays have consistenly sucked, they haven't been long-term sucky, just one-off shots of sucky.
At one point, I had hoped that this board would serve as an inspiring tale of how cancer doesn't have to ruin your life. And it has, insofar as it's mostly a tale of how thoroughly chemotherapy ruins your life. Actually, I felt just fine with cancer for almost a full year. It's just the seven weeks of treatment that have driven me into suicidal despair.
Kidding! I was never suicidal. And it hasn't been that big a deal; 4 days out of every 21 have been almost intolerable, and then I get better. Remember kids, check yourself for suspicious lumps every month. And tell your doctor if you find any. Because I want every last goddamn one of you to suffer the way I have.
Kidding again! I wish cancer on no-one! Because it's a bad thing. Even though I have inspiringly sailed through it in a measly seven weeks.
Seriously, I cannot believe that people manage to do this for months at a time. I have really indescribable respect for those who did. I'm just coasting through on bile and sarcasm, and I am truly in awe of those who had to actually suffer for huge portions of their lives.
*A weak pun.
Friday, March 25, 2005
The last full day
My fifteenth full day of chemotherapy is also, thank God, Christ and all the little angels, the last. And I feel pretty damned good, if I do say so myself. A little worn down, and I have some nasty acid reflux...but FUCK IT! I AM DONE WITH CHEMO! (at least, in practical terms...the little half-hour trips on Wednesday don't count, at least not to my immediate psychological well-being).
As I posted a couple days ago, what remains is simplicity itself: a quick shot of Neulasta on Monday, two Wednesdays (and we never know what fun to expect with those, do we...), and then, on the faraway so close day of April 25, a CT scan that, God willing and the crick don't rise, will show that I have No Cancer Of Any Kind in my body.
This is such a fucking relief. And I'm not even, like done yet. So in about two weeks, I will be Cap'n Ecstatic, I will. Watch this space for more.
As I posted a couple days ago, what remains is simplicity itself: a quick shot of Neulasta on Monday, two Wednesdays (and we never know what fun to expect with those, do we...), and then, on the faraway so close day of April 25, a CT scan that, God willing and the crick don't rise, will show that I have No Cancer Of Any Kind in my body.
This is such a fucking relief. And I'm not even, like done yet. So in about two weeks, I will be Cap'n Ecstatic, I will. Watch this space for more.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Home stretch
I've been kickin' it in Lake Villa since yesterday evening, as I forgot to mention. Which is sort of nice (I don't have to cook) and sort of really crappy (1hr+ car ride instead of 3 minute car ride. Which nearly killed me this morning).
I am so insanely close to done, I don't mind how utterly weak and tired I feel right now. And it is rather curious, just how week and tired I feel. Tomorrow should be a delight.
But Good God! only one more full day of chemotherapy! I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me feel.
Anyway, I spent most of today sleeping. Which is why I have to indulge in platitudes.
I am so insanely close to done, I don't mind how utterly weak and tired I feel right now. And it is rather curious, just how week and tired I feel. Tomorrow should be a delight.
But Good God! only one more full day of chemotherapy! I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me feel.
Anyway, I spent most of today sleeping. Which is why I have to indulge in platitudes.
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