None of This is Easy
It has been a rough few days, with yesterday and today probably being the hardest of this round. I don't really want to go into details, but suffice it to say: spending days thinking about one part of your body gets really really old, really really fast. It's not totally resolved, but things are moving in the right direction.
My energy levels also appear to be returning somewhat, in that I am not just sleeping constantly, and am starting to feel a little bored. I'm still incredibly weak, but I feel a little more like myself again.
Everyone knows that Chemoworld is hard. Everyone (mostly people who have never visited here) told that, "it's going to be really awful, but you'll get through it." I still believe they are right on both counts. But "getting through it" is incredibly difficult. I have had plenty of moments of despair, of wondering how I would ever get through this.
And when I look forward, all I can see is there are two more rounds. I have done half the chemo. I know many would say "Wow, that;s great, you're half way done." But half way does not seem very far.
The problem is, I keep wondering what will crop up next. My body seems to keep finding new ways to malfunction and cause me intense pain and grief. What will be next? What other system that I totally take for granted might suddenly decide to go south on me. It's part of the terror thing from the last blog post, I know, but wondering how cancer is going to screw with me next is really tough. My friend Karen was telling me that she is spending an inordinate amount of time in bed with the covers pulled up, trying to close out the world of cancer that she feels spinning in on her. I get that feeling.
Part of my joy in watching old movies (and watching them over and over) is that it shuts out the cancer world. The word "cancer", you will be surprised to learn, never appears in "You Can't Take It With You", "It's a Wonderful Life" or "42nd Street." A couple people have suggested books on cancer-related topics and even documentaries. I'm sticking with "Shuffle Off to Buffalo."
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ReplyDeleteDimitri...well I thought I was going to say something really thought provoking but what?? So this is it, you are in my head practically every day. Just know, the people reading this all love you. I'm keeping in touch with Tom these days to give him some small comfort (I hope anyway). He loves you sooo much. Just sleep and eat. Best remedies in the world.
DeleteI second the Marx Brothers... The stateroom scene from Night at The Opera is one you can watch again and again.
ReplyDeleteThis all sucks.
Keeping you in my thoughts and heart, sending love and healing. xoxox
ReplyDeleteYou keep doing you. One tiny step at a time. Wherever that step lands, however you doing you does it. I wish it didn’t suck so badIy. I really do wish this one thing. That the hard work was hard work but not that you have to feel so rough all over. Thank you for eking out the blog despite feeling this way. Being connected is so real. Love you.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you are able to use the old movies to break away from Chemoworld, and sending love.
ReplyDeleteI agree. The old Movies are the tops. Keep in there fighting.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your honesty and realness in sharing How It Is for you right now. Sending so much love and empathy/compassion for how hard and relentless the effects of the cancer and chemo are currently. You Can't Take it With You is one of my all time favorites too. Glad that the classics are giving your respite. More of that, I say. Out here holding space for better days for you honey.
ReplyDeleteWell, I must say I'm surprised. I always thought that you and I were basically 2 old Jewish guys, and had been from our youth, only waiting for the calendar to catch up. As Captain Kangaroo once said, "The thing I like about this job is that I need less makeup every day."
ReplyDeleteBut it turns out that for you it was only an act, whereas for me it was deepest philosophy: nothing is mine, anything can be taken away without warning, so pre-cringing is the correct stance. You seem to be actually missing good health, and measuring your recapture of some of it. Part of me says "Good for you!" while the other part says "Say it ain't so!" I can't be so selfish as to demand you fly with me in tight earthbound formation, so I hereby release you from a bond you never made.
Maybe I have something worthwhile to say, though. I conceptualize diseases in a hierarchy, jealous of their domains. If you have the flu, you can't possibly get a head cold. For each of the squabbling forms of cancer, the "emperor of all maladies" we're told, each patient is claimed in totality. For example, I have prostate cancer and nothing else can touch me. The payoff is, cancer is immensely ignorant and arrogant, and medical care has no room in its calculations. It thinks it can run its wicked course without interference (or interferon -- hey, whatever happened to interferon?), while bright minds collaborate to foil its plans. "Foil" indeed, in this light cancer seems like nothing so much as a mustachioed villain who tied us to the train tracks but forgot about your Swiss Army knife; we've already called Uber for a ride home.
About the old movies, fine, go ahead. I would skip 'The Eddie Duchin Story'. If you want to go more modern, how about 'Terms of Endearment' or 'All That Jazz'?