currently: @634 (7:13am) on sunday 10.12.08 | 61 hours since last post
This too shall pass.
My friends, what a time we've had the last few days. I'm sorry for not updating more often, but the effort is more than I can take, or at least it feels that way. I'm not feeling any better today than yesterday, but here I am talking to you.
The effects of this illness are insidious. There's the obvious physical discomfort and problems, the fatigue, the hair loss (ha ha! I already had no hair so I fooled them on that one!). There's the obvious psychological effects, the so-called stages of grief, blah blah. But there's other effects as well, effects that one doesn't even recognize or realize are happening. It's hard to even describe. I've become a different person, is the easiest way to say it. And not in a good way. You'll say it's understandable, that I'm under stress and physical discomfort and such. I don't know that it is, though. I snap at Debbie and the girls, I'm unresponsive, basically I'm a dick. I know I'm doing it but feel helpless to stop it. The excuse of the physical discomfort isn't enough for me anymore.
Dr. Winter prescribed an anti-depressant for me, Selexa, which I've been taking for about a week. I understand it takes perhaps 30 days to really start working. I don't really know what to expect from that.
I'm writing all this because I don't want everyone to have the wrong idea about how we're doing. I mean, we're doing OK, in fact we got some really good news today, but it's not all Boom De Ah Da by any means. We argue and fight and she thinks I'm wimping out and I think she's being a drill sergeant and the girls hate it and things are tense. I wake up crying and spontaneously burst into tears at the slightest excuse.
Part of it has to be all the drugs I'm taking. I've never been one to take medicine. OTC stuff never seemed to work for me, or did exactly the opposite of what they were supposed to do. Some of this prescription stuff actually does seem to work. On a daily basis I'm taking: Albuterol, Ativan, Xanax, Vicodin, Cheratussin, Prednisone, Selexa, and Senna. I think that's all of them. Besides the one that's supposed to change behavior, the others have to be having their effect too, right?
Still. The point is, not all sweetness and light. Debbie and I and the girls are partners in this, but it's hard, so hard, to remember that when I feel so physically bad all the time. I've been reading His Holiness' The Art of Happiness and I've been practicing some of the methods in there for staying happy and making use of ones' suffering, but again, hard, so hard. You, my friends, have helped a lot. When I see you, my heart fills up. Emails and snailmails and even gifts that I've received from you have been wonderful packets of happiness.
Anyway, my friends. This has been a bit disjointed. I apologize for that. Many interruptions; it's taken a few hours to write. I love the whole world.
Oh, the good news we got today. I had another chest x-ray yesterday (because my cough seems to be getting more common instead of going away) and Dr. Winter today said that it appears my tumor has not only continued to shrink, but that it has "collapsed" and is dying. It's hard to tell anything concrete from the x-ray; it's so low-resolution compared to a PET scan or one of the other mondo methods they use. Still. That's extremely encouraging news. I don't know what it actually means but it sounds really really good. It's all this clean living.
I just thought of this, though - if all this is true with the tumor, if it's dying and shrinking and collapsing and generally going away, that implies that the way I feel is a result solely of the chemotherapy instead of the tumor. Or mostly. The treatment is what makes me feel bad, not the disease. I have to keep reminding myself that the chemo is a life-giving process. It's saving my life, even though it's making me feel so terrible. This is something that's specifically mentioned in the Dalai Lama's book - that without suffering, our psyche cannot learn and grow. Our suffering makes us stronger. It's sort of elegant and noble when put that way. Doesn't feel like either, but I have to keep my mind on the good things. It's making me stronger. It's healing me. It's making me happier, and that will make my family happier.
It's such a brilliant place.
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