Words

I had my second treatment today.  Side effect-wise, I think I did really well with the last one-- well enough to walk every day, go to yoga several times and put about 35 miles on my bike across about 10 days. I've heard that the first treatment is often a good indicator of how the others will go so that feels promising. For me, the side effects of chemotherapy map rather closely to the state of the hangover (without the, "did I really say/do that? aspect). It is an ongoing management problem. Sometimes, the answer to what ails me is easy and appears like magic..."a banana!" or, "a nap!". But other times, the answer is not as straightforward. Those days are definitely harder. I remember a particularly excruciating moment in labor with my first child when the nurse came in and asked cheerfully, "Can I get you anything?" I had to resist the urge to say, "How about a gun?" So far, this has not been that.

I find it interesting that 75% of the infusion time is dedicated to delivering pre-meds. These are the ones that help you minimize that scorching list of  side effects. The remaining time is spent receiving the actual chemotherapy drugs, Adriamyecin, and Cytoxan. My oncologist said that the chemo drugs work with the force and precision of  a sledgehammer. So I guess it makes sense to make yourself fully available to any therapy that can lessen the blow. When the nurse began to push the Adriamyecin, I told her about the reference to red sunshine. She said that she and all the other nurses refer to it as Kool-Aid. That immediately gave me a Jonestown connotation but I didn't say it. I'm trying to be positive. These medications are my friends, mean friends, but friends nonetheless.

Each time the nurse come in to transfer me to the next IV bag, she'd explain the new medicine and what it does. I told her that while I am typically of lover and a seeker of information, I've suspended this aspect of my personality for the time being. The words that medical people use scare the shit out me. Words like, "aggressive," or "complicated," are the ones that keep me up at night.  On the surface, it might appear (even to me) that this kind of denial might be counter to the sense of agency I am trying to cultivate. But I actually think the contrary is true. I know me. And I think goal here is to figure out what it will take so that I am not lying awake picturing the next chapter in my kids lives or who will take our dog if I am no longer here. And for the most part, it's working. Staying within the data points is key.


Speaking of words, this blog is incredibly helpful to me and I appreciate any readers at all. As with the last bit of nonsense that had me blogging, it serves a bunch of purposes. Writing helps me think more clearly. Through this blog, I am able to develop a kind of order or a narrative about who I hope to be within the context of this series of challenges. The blog is like a breadcrumb trail; I have knowledge of my destination but only a vague sense of the path to getting there. As for the comments, they encourage me and often make me cry in that sad/sweet/grateful way, which I think of as good crying. I've decided not to respond in the comment forum. In general, I feel like I already issue more words than I am rightfully due. So I'm thinking that it makes sense for me to leave a  space for others to interact, if the spirit so moves. But again, I'm sure I'd write even without readers. But it's nicer to do so with. So thanks.

I subscribe to a magazine, called "The Sun," that hails from Chapel Hill, North Carolina. It's got great photography, decent poetry, excellent memoir, and a nice fiction section. And...there are no advertisements which brings the monthly subscription to 25 bucks (mentioning the price is the Long Islander in me, couldn't help it). On the last page of each issue, there is a section called, "Sunbeams." These are quotes the editor gathers and presents around a topic. This month the topic was psychiatry (weird) but I found a quote I wanted to share that sums up this business of litening and feeling heard better and more succintly than I ever could:

"When someone really hears you, without passing judgement on you, without trying to mold you, it feels damn good...When I have been listened to and when I have been heard, I am able to perceive my world in a new way and go on. It is astonishing how elements that seem insoluble become soluble when someone listens."

--Carl Rogers