Monday, August 26, 2013

Chemo #4

Had my fourth treatment today. I woke up feeling like garbage. I was already nauseous and feeling chilled, so I was in no mood to fight cancer this morning.

I met with a PA since my doctor was off doing whatever chairmen of cancer centers do (e.g., rolling around in money and laughing). I've waited for the results of my latest PET scan for five days and all I got out of her was "everything looks better". Anticlimactic as shit. But even though it was a vague reassurance, it was a reassurance nonetheless.

There's still some cancer hanging out inside me and so I have to go ahead with the last three treatments.

I'm feeling really overwhelmed right now. My life is paused. I can see the end of my treatments, it seems within reach; but beyond that is crushing uncertainty. I have no idea how my CFS/ME will be effected by all of this. I keep holding that study about Rituxan as a viable treatment as a symbol of hope; but the results were shaky. The problem with CFS/ME is that it could just be everything that cannot be currently diagnosed; so knowing if the 60% who were cured by the Rituxan had the same causal agent as the 40% it didn't is impossible at this time. Not to mention that there's no way of knowing how I relate to either of those groups.

I've been feeling worthless and bored lately. All of my tricks to keep my time occupied are wearing thin. I take it as a good sign that I want to be out and about doing things, but the frustration is not being physical or mentally able to do much toward those ends.

No help to these feelings of worthlessness is the rejection email I got from a press I thought would really "get" my manuscript. Sunday evening is a terrible time for rejection emails btw. Especially if the recipient has chemotherapy the next day. I believe in this book and that it deserves to be published, but I am running out of ideas on places willing to give it a chance.

Anyway, my brain is full.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Round 3

I'm sitting and waiting for the pharmacy to mix my chemotherapeutic drugs. I'm sharing a room with a snoring man whose wife is furiously clicking a mouse connected to a laptop. I suspect she's playing solitaire. The Today Show is blaring and I hate it.

I didn't get a window today. My room is dark (which I prefer). My mom couldn't come along today, so I'm flying solo until Paula gets off work. She scheduled a shorter day so she could at least sit with me for the last couple hours of treatment.

I feel like I'm constantly using this space to talk about how great my girlfriend is; but rest assured that it's calculated. A large chunk of this ordeal has been (re-) learning how important love is. Not that it's been unimportant to me before, or that my definition of it hasn't evolved; but I am thankful everyday to have the love that I do.

Since cancer patients supposedly have an aura of wisdom, I'll offer this gem: love takes practice. Do it often.

p.s. My roommate left. Ellen was interviewing Selena Gomez. I kinda wanted to hear the rest of that. I'm too proud to turn on my TV.