Phase 4: The Final Countdown

Let's see, let's see, let's see....since I last blogged I've returned to work, started proton treatments again and have survived eight of them so far!

Work has been fine. As good as I am at doing nothing, it is nice to have somewhere purposeful to go each day. It was great to see friends too. Before I left I found it very difficult to focus. It was tough to find anything at work as important as everyone else seemed to think it was at the time. And sometimes I just found it annoying that they thought these things were important. I realize that this is kind of irrational. I was in my own world and that world did not place much importance on the marketing of scientific journals. Now though, I don't have the unknowns floating over my head, distracting me. That helps. It also helps that things were well taken care of while I was gone and it's the end of our fiscal year, so I feel I have a bit of a fresh start.

The return to radiation was another story. This time makes the last round feel like I was getting a hot stone treatment at Canyon Ranch. I knew it would be bad from the planning session and it really does not get much easier as time goes by. The only thing that's easier is that time IS going by, resulting in fewer treatments remaining. Three left. OF COURSE I'm counting.

The staff at the proton center have been extra nice to me this time around. They really are empathetic people, which helps. They always have my music ready and they let me pick a toy for C last week, which was fun. I've been going in the late afternoons this time around. At that time, there seems to be a prostate cancer club in the waiting area. There is a row of guys with bald heads and black socks, sitting in their gowns. They're pretty friendly with each other. I'm a little envious. It must be nice to have some peers there.

Yesterday was a little surreal. There was a boy I've seen a couple of times there, he's probably 9 or 10. He's a little nerdy, a little chubby, very friendly, very happy and he's lost some of his hair. Apparently, he's attending circus school. I didn't know that was available to kids. I thought it was just something you ran off to when you quit regular school at 17. That is, if you can't get into Dunkin Donuts University or the Olive Garden Cooking School in Tuscany (is the latter real? really?) Anyway, he whipped out a unicycle and started riding it around the waiting area. He could do modest tricks and everything. That was a first.

Misplaced anger of the week
My cousin, whom I haven't seen or spoken to in at least 20 years, sent me a prayer shawl knitted by women at her church. I don't know what it is about gifts like that, but I could barely look at it, It makes me resentful when I know I am supposed to be grateful. I know this is irrational (wow, I've been irrational TWICE in this post!). To me, I guess this shawl symbolizes dying and death and something a 90 year old dying person should have. It just felt inappropriate for a 36 year old who is trying to get through this phase of my life. I think some people forget (or don't understand) that so many people get cancer and there are so many different stages and experiences, that it doesn't always mean you're doomed or feverishly trying to pray your way out of doom. In fact, I've learned there's even a movement to stop pouring billions of dollars into trying to eradicate "cancer" and to instead invest that money into better treatment, early diagnosis, and improvement of quality of life for the millions of people living with cancer. We have already invested billions upon billions without a known "cure" so it's an interesting viewpoint. Nevertheless, I fully support both scientific research and prayer. Just not prayer shawls, I guess.

I need to leave some stuff out

Despite the fact that, luckily, I haven't given much thought to the topic I'm about to describe, this post has been ruminating with me for a couple of days now and I feel compelled to write about it and I'm sorry for what I need to omit because, frankly, I probably shouldn't be writing about it on the internet in the first place!

And some of you do know what this situation is all about so you'll get more out of this post.

The other day I met a neighbor whom I never met before. She has three kids and when one of them ran under our tree to see the gnome I bought for C, we introduced ourselves. Her kids had already made the gnome's acquaintance on prior walks. It's funny how kids force you to meet your neighbors. I don't consider myself unfriendly, but I am SO Bostonian in that I generally don't speak to strangers unless spoken to, at least beyond a quick "hi".

So we got to talking and she lives on the next street over. She was talking about who she knew in the neighborhood and I blurted out, against my better judgement, that the only people on her street I knew of were her neighbors directly across the street, who had done a pretty bad thing to us (and to our upstairs neighbor). I shouldn't have told her, but by that point it was too late. She was surprised. She kept saying what "nice people" they were and how she was surprised. Then C and I went back home.

Well, I ran into this neighbor again yesterday and after a couple of pleasantries, I was on my way and then she came running after me. She came to tell me some reasons why the neighbors may have done what they did. And she said "You or I would never have done that, but they may have done it b/c of x, y or z." But here's the thing: even if their reasoning was due to x, y, or z, it just doesn't make what they did NOT wrong. Just because you've had a misfortune in your life, doesn't mean it's OK to spread around that misfortune to some neighbors you've never met before. Does it?

Then I also told this neighbor that I had cancer and what unfortunate timing this had all been because they did this deed to us on the day I came home from the hospital after surgery and I wish they knew that. Again, she was shocked, but we left the conversation with her still telling me they were "good people". Mind you, I never said that they were good or bad people. I merely stated what happened. (OK, I may have said that what they did was ridiculous, but that's all. I swear.)

I guess what irked me about the whole thing is that I don't care if they're good or bad people and if they do have some unfortunate circumstances (which I don't know that they do), I'm sorry for them, but what's irrefutable is that they did the wrong thing and there's really no justification for that, no matter how friendly they might act around the neighborhood nor how many easter bunnies they put out in their yard. I am all for giving people the benefit of the doubt and I'm all for understanding when people have bad days, but do you ever hear "they were having a bad day" as an excuse for a behavior and think, "so am I, but I am an adult and I do have a little self-control?"

One night, many years ago, I was driving home from my parents house and it was a really foggy night and I couldn't see very well and I clipped a car that was parked on the street. For a split second I thought of driving on, but instead I pulled over, walked to the door of the house, rang the doorbell and told the owner of the car what I'd done. Does that make me a good person? No. Was it the right thing to do? Yes. I was just owning up to my responsibility. These neighbors are not being responsible for themselves and that's just annoying.

I shouldn't have pulled out the cancer card. The fact that I had (have?) cancer is irrelevant and our upstairs neighbor (who had a nightmare about this whole situation) didn't deserve this as much as we didn't deserve it. But I do wish these neighbors had given some thought to what they were doing and it made me think about the fact that the people next door might not have it as great as you'd think, so can't we just live and let live for Pete's sake?

And I do take solace in the fact that karma's a bitch. Thanks for listening.

Serendipity

Last Thursday was amazing. Truly. D called in the middle of the day and said that, miraculously, there were tickets available to purchase for the Atoms for Peace show that night. AFP is Thom Yorke's new band and since I am a huge Radiohead fan, I've worshipped him (alongside the masses) for years now. D asked if we should do it and I said "of course we should do it!"

The stars aligned in sort of a ridiculous way:

We each managed to order a ticket on the website (you couldn't order 2 at once) but the seats were right next to each other.

We had no babysitter lined up and my parents were out of town. I emailed the babysitter and she replied immediately and said she'd be happy to watch C.

I was slated to go to a memorial for my friend's grandmother that evening. D had to pick up his car at the mechanic's without my help. We both managed to do these things and get to the show with time to spare.

When we arrived, we discovered that our seats were waaaaaaay up front. Six rows behind the orchestra. Oh, and in the center. D ran into an acquaintance who had ordered tickets on the day they went on sale. She was way in the back.

Everyone stood for the whole show so there wasn't hours of sitting involved.

The show was amazing and the energy was unreal. It reminded me of what it's like when a rock show can be trascendent. I didn't feel like the suburban mom that I am (never mind that I'm watching a rock band of suburban dads. Is Oxford a suburb?) I felt like I did when I was in my twenties, when all I had to worry about was how to get tickets to a show and I was responsible only to myself. I don't want to be there again, but every once in a while, it's nice to go back for a visit.

During the show I thought, "This is the best thing to happen to me this year."

Of course, that's not really true. I think things like the removal of my tumor with clean margins trumps that. Or my uncomplicated recovery. Or the support and kindness I received from family, friends, acquaintances, coworkers and caretakers since my diagnosis. Or my daughter's second birthday.

But if I put all those things aside for a moment, this was a great experience that came out of nowhere. It was unexpected. It wasn't a good outcome from something bad. There was no baggage or struggle. It was just good. All good. And the reason that I thought it was the best thing to happen to me at the time was because it was just that, a pure, unexpected pleasure for which I felt extremely grateful.

While I do count myself among the "lucky" cancer ranks, this was just the kind of lucky thing that hadn't happened to me in quite a while. And I'm ready for more.

Feel free to skip this one and/or not for the squeamish among you

OK, so I've been feeling somewhat compelled to blog about this topic since last Thursday but I haven't been able to because it's, ahem, a sensitive subject. And hugely embarassing. So now you're thinking "Out with it, sounds juicy!"

If this is a truly a good, bad and ugly blog and hopefully one that no one is reading anymore (OK, not true, I do want people to read it, but if they happen to miss this post, I won't mind in the least), then I have to document the ups and downs of this whole experience.

In the weeks following surgery, I was pretty well convinced that the worst of this experience was over. And I've been feeling pretty good for the past couple of weeks and I'm feeling like I'm turning a corner. And on the whole, that was true then and is still true now. But, smack in the middle of all that, there was last Thursday.

I had my CT prep for radiation. Radiation starts back up on the 21st. The first time around wasn't so bad (except for the aftermath) and this time I've only got 11 post-op sessions compared to the 28 of last time. No problem, right?

Ah, but there's a wrinkle.

This time I'm going to be in a face-down position and I will have a catheter inserted where the sun don't shine. And last Thursday we had a practice session of that. And it was plum awful.

I used to wonder a couple of months back why my radiation oncologist told me several (like at least 4 or 5 times) about this catheter situation. I kind of blew it off then, since I was thinking more about the surgery. But now I get it. He told me numerous times to warn me, I think. But I don't think it quite sunk in. Maybe that's a good thing.

When this thing was being inserted it was painful, uncomfortable, embarassing and I felt kinda violated. As violated as one can feel by someone who is in no way violating you but is instead trying to save your life. And only as violated as one can feel during an insurance-approved procedure.

One of the radiologists assisting the doctor was asking me if I was OK and while I was saying yes, I was thinking "I am in no way OK. I have rarely been less OK in my life. OK does not in any way represent my current situation." But I still don't know what the appropriate response was? I knew I was going to survive this, if a little scarred.

But here's the rub, I have to endure this 11 more times b/c they will do this every time I get radiation.

You can be sure that I will be making X's on a calendar as each of those 11 sessions passes.