I won't know anything until June 6th.
I do a PET scan on the 4th and then that's when I get the results. That has been the case since the day I walked out of my last radiation treatment. I won't know anything until June 6th.
If you think all this waiting around, wondering how shitty my future might be has worn on me, yea it has. I am fucking tired of it and my main emotional response has been anger.
Most of that anger has come out at work. Well, rephrase: most of that anger has been oriented towards work. I have been EXCEPTIONALLY AWESOME at not walking out and being like "Fuck you clowns" even though I have wanted to really bad like every day for a month and a half.
Something about being dealt a shitty hand... just makes my tolerance for bullshit go way down. This is what I've been working so hard for all my life? To slave away for shit pay at a dead end job and have everyone think I'm not good enough at it? But be too passive-aggressive to tell me because they don't want to shit on the guy who has cancer?
Anyway, I won't know anything until June 6th. But how do you feel Scott? Other than the fact that my first symptom (pain when I drink alcohol) has more or less returned, I feel fine, just fine. And that's what I tell people: I feel pretty good.
Well, that's a good sign right? I won't know anything until June 6th.
There are bad signs, and there is the absence of bad signs. Cancer doesn't have good signs.
I WON'T KNOW ANYTHING UNTIL JUNE 6TH.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
100%: The Waiting is the Hardest Part
Actually, the chemo is the hardest part.
Plus, if I know my body, my luck, if there's more bad that's gonna happen, I won't have to wait for it too long.
Until then I am done and planning to not have cancer again any time soon.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
90%: Eating Junk and Getting Drunk
I am drinking again and it is glorious.
A little dangerous, really, since I have a thirst to begin with and now I am making up for lost time. Everyone is very supportive of me stuffing my face with whatever I come across since 137 is not enough pounds for me to be. But is it also cool if I just get wasted every day for the next month?
Plenty of calories in beer.
Really, I am very conflicted and it's going to be a weird transition. First off the degree to which I missed drinking is a clear sign of a problem. It can't be healthy. Plus every time I've opened a beer in the last week (I had at least one Friday through Monday) I've thought "Is this a bad call? I still have cancer, maybe." I have weird, new guilt about things I used to do without much thought.
I mean what is the relationship between alcohol and my cancer? Alcohol definitely made me more symptomatic in the beginning -- made me feel worse. It seemed like alcohol + cancer was bad.
It all just goes back to not knowing where this cancer came from. If I go back to all the same old habits, eating junk and getting drunk, exercising practically never, will I just get cancer again? Did anything that I did or didn't do even have anything to do with my getting cancer in the first place? No one really knows.
It's one of those "if you don't change your direction, you will end up where you're headed" things. I don't want to get more cancer, if it's at all avoidable. I would like to work on healthier habits. But I don't want to feel anxious and guilty every time I indulge.
I'm not cool with living in fear that the cancer's coming back or believing deep down that getting cancer is somehow all my fault.
A little dangerous, really, since I have a thirst to begin with and now I am making up for lost time. Everyone is very supportive of me stuffing my face with whatever I come across since 137 is not enough pounds for me to be. But is it also cool if I just get wasted every day for the next month?
Plenty of calories in beer.
Really, I am very conflicted and it's going to be a weird transition. First off the degree to which I missed drinking is a clear sign of a problem. It can't be healthy. Plus every time I've opened a beer in the last week (I had at least one Friday through Monday) I've thought "Is this a bad call? I still have cancer, maybe." I have weird, new guilt about things I used to do without much thought.
I mean what is the relationship between alcohol and my cancer? Alcohol definitely made me more symptomatic in the beginning -- made me feel worse. It seemed like alcohol + cancer was bad.
It all just goes back to not knowing where this cancer came from. If I go back to all the same old habits, eating junk and getting drunk, exercising practically never, will I just get cancer again? Did anything that I did or didn't do even have anything to do with my getting cancer in the first place? No one really knows.
It's one of those "if you don't change your direction, you will end up where you're headed" things. I don't want to get more cancer, if it's at all avoidable. I would like to work on healthier habits. But I don't want to feel anxious and guilty every time I indulge.
I'm not cool with living in fear that the cancer's coming back or believing deep down that getting cancer is somehow all my fault.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
80%: The Nod
One time I was at chemo, I think just before it started turning to all kinds of shit, and I remember there was this other guy there getting started around the same time I was. None of my meds had come in from the pharmacy, so I was sneaking off to the bathroom to pee before the act became a dance with my -- what the fuck do you call those? -- stupid wheelie thing that is connected to all the tubes and machinery that I am plugged into.
Maybe I have the chrono wrong. Maybe I was on my way to puke. I'm already trying to blur out that whole phase of my life and apparently I am having some success.
Anyway, so I'm walking by this guy. He was like Skyping with someone in French on his laptop or something. Like how I was often watching HBO on my iPad or getting work done with it or reading on my Kindle or watching X-Files on the TV/DVD combo provided or some other awesome high tech convenience that makes chemo sound like riding on a train or sitting at a cafe.
It's not like in 50/50 where you sit next to two awesome old dudes who give you pot cookies. Not in my experience anyway. Not at MGH. People mostly go with loved ones and sometimes you wind up chatting with the people around you, but it's fleeting and more Tyler Durdenesque. Single serving friends, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart.
But this guy looked up and gave me a curt nod, which I returned.
That was when I realized I was a part of something now, a community of people with this absurd bond. It's hard to put into words, but it fits nicely into nods. The nod says something like "Yup, this sucks. Don't go dying or anything." And you don't have a clue who that guy is, but you feel the exact same way about him.
You meet people who had your cancer that you would otherwise have nothing in common with, no reason to think of them as more than an acquaintance or co-worker. But there it is, the cancer connection, running on a deeper level than you can process, almost unwanted.
At some point, maybe soon, if I'm lucky, the phrase "cancer survivor" will apply to me, will be a legitimate way I can describe myself.
Maybe I have the chrono wrong. Maybe I was on my way to puke. I'm already trying to blur out that whole phase of my life and apparently I am having some success.
Anyway, so I'm walking by this guy. He was like Skyping with someone in French on his laptop or something. Like how I was often watching HBO on my iPad or getting work done with it or reading on my Kindle or watching X-Files on the TV/DVD combo provided or some other awesome high tech convenience that makes chemo sound like riding on a train or sitting at a cafe.
It's not like in 50/50 where you sit next to two awesome old dudes who give you pot cookies. Not in my experience anyway. Not at MGH. People mostly go with loved ones and sometimes you wind up chatting with the people around you, but it's fleeting and more Tyler Durdenesque. Single serving friends, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart.
But this guy looked up and gave me a curt nod, which I returned.
That was when I realized I was a part of something now, a community of people with this absurd bond. It's hard to put into words, but it fits nicely into nods. The nod says something like "Yup, this sucks. Don't go dying or anything." And you don't have a clue who that guy is, but you feel the exact same way about him.
You meet people who had your cancer that you would otherwise have nothing in common with, no reason to think of them as more than an acquaintance or co-worker. But there it is, the cancer connection, running on a deeper level than you can process, almost unwanted.
At some point, maybe soon, if I'm lucky, the phrase "cancer survivor" will apply to me, will be a legitimate way I can describe myself.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
60%: Readiness
What can I do except try to be ready for the next challenge that is steadily approaching?
If there's anything that suffering has taught me, it is that there will always be more of it. And how can we get ready? Can we get ready?
We have to believe that when it comes, we will find the strength to weather it within. But it's not something we can know, and I'm not sure it's something for which we can really prepare.
Is the best thing not to think about it? Worry won't make me more ready, will it?
If there's anything that suffering has taught me, it is that there will always be more of it. And how can we get ready? Can we get ready?
We have to believe that when it comes, we will find the strength to weather it within. But it's not something we can know, and I'm not sure it's something for which we can really prepare.
Is the best thing not to think about it? Worry won't make me more ready, will it?
Friday, March 30, 2012
55%: The Resentment Post
I have some Cancer Feelings that aren't great. Not sure what to do about them. In 50/50, Joseph Gordon-Levett just yells really loud at one point, but I think in real life you write a long nasty post in your blog about it.
I'd like it all to be gratitude and empowerment. But sometimes I just want a foot rub to distract me from the throat pain in the same INSTANT that I want my girlfriend to stop acting like I'm a big baby and she needs to take care of me 100% of the time. I can go to the hospital by myself. I can handle my ailments. I don't know why I am projecting all that crap onto her just because she is always so ready to help. She's not trying to make me feel bad at all. But if I start to feel better, then I have to be a regularly contributing human in our domestic and interpersonal dynamic, and not The Sick One, and I'm not entirely ready for that.
Readiness is a sore spot right now. Everyone's being really positive about how I'm just blowing through radiation treatments. If I hear the phrase "home stretch" one more time I am going to lose it. You can't just fast forward to the part where I feel better with stupid expressions. I am in treatment with worsening symptoms and there will be a recovery period of weeks, maybe months. I carry around unpleasant sensations all day (including my awful shin splints -- not a cancer thing, but I can barely walk, it is ridiculous) so don't expect me to bound into the room and talk about cancer like it is already in the past.
And I hate it when people tell me what's going on in their life and then have to add "Obviously it's not as bad as cancer." Deal with your guilt better. I'm here to listen to you tell me about your life. Do you think I am keeping a secret suffering tally in which I am always winning? Sort of assumes I am a douchebag, if my actual thought in that moment is "Jeez, this guy with his bad day at work. Doesn't he know I have cancer?" We both know cancer basically beats traffic jam. That doesn't mean I am incapable of sympathizing with how obnoxious all those bad drivers are. Plus, everything is relative. Everyone has their shit. When I am done having cancer I will still have problems and how much relief will I really even be able to give myself by thinking "at least I no longer have cancer"?
I know people are tired of hearing about cancer. Tired of not knowing what to say, mostly, which I am also resentful about. Just say "That sucks" every so often SO THAT I KNOW YOU ARE STILL LISTENING. It's not too much to ask and it really isn't that hard. No one expects you to say something deep that heals my soul. The whole "it's so overwhelming, I don't even know what to say" response is such a cop out.
In fact, here's a response to one of my recent email whines about people being vapidly religious and positive at me. To show you how it is done:
"I have trouble being positive about most things, so I can only imagine my cynicism if I got dealt the cancer card. I would be weirded out and think you were actually dying if you became zen-like and cheery. And between you and me, I think most people who find solace in god can't be thinking all that hard."
I'd like it all to be gratitude and empowerment. But sometimes I just want a foot rub to distract me from the throat pain in the same INSTANT that I want my girlfriend to stop acting like I'm a big baby and she needs to take care of me 100% of the time. I can go to the hospital by myself. I can handle my ailments. I don't know why I am projecting all that crap onto her just because she is always so ready to help. She's not trying to make me feel bad at all. But if I start to feel better, then I have to be a regularly contributing human in our domestic and interpersonal dynamic, and not The Sick One, and I'm not entirely ready for that.
Readiness is a sore spot right now. Everyone's being really positive about how I'm just blowing through radiation treatments. If I hear the phrase "home stretch" one more time I am going to lose it. You can't just fast forward to the part where I feel better with stupid expressions. I am in treatment with worsening symptoms and there will be a recovery period of weeks, maybe months. I carry around unpleasant sensations all day (including my awful shin splints -- not a cancer thing, but I can barely walk, it is ridiculous) so don't expect me to bound into the room and talk about cancer like it is already in the past.
And I hate it when people tell me what's going on in their life and then have to add "Obviously it's not as bad as cancer." Deal with your guilt better. I'm here to listen to you tell me about your life. Do you think I am keeping a secret suffering tally in which I am always winning? Sort of assumes I am a douchebag, if my actual thought in that moment is "Jeez, this guy with his bad day at work. Doesn't he know I have cancer?" We both know cancer basically beats traffic jam. That doesn't mean I am incapable of sympathizing with how obnoxious all those bad drivers are. Plus, everything is relative. Everyone has their shit. When I am done having cancer I will still have problems and how much relief will I really even be able to give myself by thinking "at least I no longer have cancer"?
I know people are tired of hearing about cancer. Tired of not knowing what to say, mostly, which I am also resentful about. Just say "That sucks" every so often SO THAT I KNOW YOU ARE STILL LISTENING. It's not too much to ask and it really isn't that hard. No one expects you to say something deep that heals my soul. The whole "it's so overwhelming, I don't even know what to say" response is such a cop out.
In fact, here's a response to one of my recent email whines about people being vapidly religious and positive at me. To show you how it is done:
"I have trouble being positive about most things, so I can only imagine my cynicism if I got dealt the cancer card. I would be weirded out and think you were actually dying if you became zen-like and cheery. And between you and me, I think most people who find solace in god can't be thinking all that hard."
It was good to hear these thoughts and I am glad for the friend that shared them with me. See how when she tried to put herself in my shoes I wasn't like "WHAT YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND." That is the opposite reaction of how I feel. I appreciate people using their imagination to consider what I am going through. And I definitely appreciate someone saying "That sounds like bollocks" way more than "Hey, I wanted you to know, I am reading your blog, but I just never know what to say, you know? So just like know, that I am reading it."
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
50%: The Trade Off
So I am half done with my radiation treatments, and this week I have not had any explosions of crazy lymph node pain. It seems safe-ish to assume that I'm through that phase and now just need to worry about the stuff I was told to expect, which has definitely started.
I have a ring of red skin around my shoulders. I am lotioning often. It is odd.
My throat is sort of sore all of the time. I bought lots of various lozenges and candies.
I'm not sure what's going on with food -- on the way down it often encounters resistance, but not like constricted esophagus resistance. Not just like the tube is swollen and smaller. It's like my stomach says "Nope" and sends up a fleet of burps. I dunno, eating sort of hurts.
Which is funny, because I am doing an awful lot of it. I am not worried about putting those lost pounds back on. I've missed food and I am making up for lost time.
I am a little concerned by last night's "sleep." I had the sweats a bit, not sure what that means. And I had to get up to pee urgently two times in the middle of the night despite emptying the tank before bed and again when I got up in the AM. Seriously I'm talking 4 major pees in under 7 hours. Where's all that liquid coming from? Cancer's doing something nefarious, I just know it. Melting away, I hope.
For feeling as crappy as I do, I am doing really good. That's relativity for you.
I have a ring of red skin around my shoulders. I am lotioning often. It is odd.
My throat is sort of sore all of the time. I bought lots of various lozenges and candies.
I'm not sure what's going on with food -- on the way down it often encounters resistance, but not like constricted esophagus resistance. Not just like the tube is swollen and smaller. It's like my stomach says "Nope" and sends up a fleet of burps. I dunno, eating sort of hurts.
Which is funny, because I am doing an awful lot of it. I am not worried about putting those lost pounds back on. I've missed food and I am making up for lost time.
I am a little concerned by last night's "sleep." I had the sweats a bit, not sure what that means. And I had to get up to pee urgently two times in the middle of the night despite emptying the tank before bed and again when I got up in the AM. Seriously I'm talking 4 major pees in under 7 hours. Where's all that liquid coming from? Cancer's doing something nefarious, I just know it. Melting away, I hope.
For feeling as crappy as I do, I am doing really good. That's relativity for you.
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