In real time, I have had a busy couple of weeks – which I will delve into later. In the meantime, here is more of my journey…
November and December
Sessions four, five and six were accomplished in what could be described as the “Bleak Midwinter.” True, it was still technically Autumn, but still…
After a short absence, “Willie”, the quiet veteran in his wheelchair from the first infusion, started to become a usual acquaintance. What happened to the other veteran, we have no idea. Maybe he thought that quitting treatment like he said his other group did, was a viable choice.
I could see where someone could think so. Just give up and let the bastard win.
A Facebook friend in Ohio was having similar thoughts after having a stage four lung cancer diagnosis of his own. That friend had been through the wringer for several months prior to his diagnosis beforehand. Still, he decided to see if treatment would do him any good – buy him more time before the grim reaper came by to collect him.
Another friend, one from high school, consented to experimental treatment for his lung cancer several years ago. The treatment bought him another year. When he went, he went quickly. There were continuing conversations we were having which would never be completed.
Several other of my high school companions had more luck with their treatments. Two of them went to the Mayo Clinic and are in remission, leading me to quip that because we didn’t have a Mayo Clinic, we in Texas had to settle for a Miracle Whip Clinic. (Bad joke, I know, but I am known for bad jokes.)
Another of my compadres from high school went into remission at the Cleveland Clinic. He was spared the early death his father suffered. I recall running into his father less than a month before his demise. He appeared normal for a man in his early sixties. It was a shock to learn of his passing.
For myself, I don’t think I’m finished quite yet. Still want to be shot by a jealous lover at the age of 102.
By the time of my third infusion, I could be certain of a couple of things. For one, I could handle certain functions all by myself. On the eleventh of November, my wife went to San Antonio to visit her ailing mother. I was on day four of that round of infusion and for the most part, I felt that I could manage being on my own. I did rather well, considering. Some friends were having a gathering out in the county… people I wanted to see, so, I went. Solo. Did fairly well – donated to the potluck (a Pizza Hut goodie box), had a great time and came back with enough leftovers to last a week. What luck!
The only problem I was having at this point was constipation lasting one to three days after the infusion. Sparing the details, it was one of the worst side effects I had had so far. Combined with hemorrhoids, I was much less than pleased that my own personal plumbing system was not working correctly. Over the course leading up to the halfway point in my Chemo journey, I eventually learned ways to keep from having to be constipated.
The second infusion in December marked the half-way point in my infusion journey. Quite the accomplishment in many ways. In other ways, the journey was becoming tiresome, having to deal with some of the side effects. In addition, I was dealing with my usual Seasonal Affective Disorder. Snapping out of SAD was the next task I had to steel myself with. That and another event which made Christmas not as happy as it should have been.
Brave
From one of the various observations I’ve made on this journey:
Round 5, Day 5
Sunday (12/10)
Other than feeling a bit out of phase, Sunday was actually fairly good. I woke up earlier than usual (by design) and was able to take care of my normal Sunday morning duties with little fuss. There was the bit of fuss about Carol dragging her feet and making us late to church, but I let it go until after we got home, explaining that part of what keeps me grounded is having routine.
We left it at that.
I found myself with my mind wandering and my body attempting to keep up with what we Episcopalians call “Pew Aerobics” (Sit, Stand, Sit, Kneel, Stand, Sit, etc.). Our Seminarian – on the cusp of being Ordained, delivered the sermon – something having to do with Advent. I didn’t realize that he was the Seminarian until after the service when I asked, “Who’s that hippie?”
Immediately after Communion, I went with Carol to the Crying Room in the back of the church where she made herself available for healing prayer as a member of the Order of St. Luke. We had a chat with a parishioner whose brother had cancer. We had been praying for him and his brother for several weeks. He told us when we met that his brother died the previous Sunday. We prayed for both.
The Rector (Minister as a point of reference to non-Episcopalians) came in while we were commiserating, offering comforting words and then pivoting to my experience, stating that he thought I was brave for going through Chemo.
I never considered myself to be “Brave.” Rather, the opposite. Not that I’m a craven coward. I’ve been scared of plenty of things, not the least of which has been going through Chemotherapy. Thinking it through, though, what our Rector said made plenty of sense. It takes a fair amount of bravery to face a potentially fatal disease head-on while being afraid of what’s needed to face that disease. The pokes, the prods, the surgery, the port, and the medicines are all pretty darn scary. At the same time, something in the back of my mind tells me to keep on keeping on. I will get through this.
Something else keeps me going. It’s the support of family and friends through this stage of my life. I have been astounded at the response to some of my postings. They have helped me make it this far… helping me to be brave in the face of what I am going through. For that support, I am humbled beyond reckoning.
Sunday’s best show of support came from my stepson, Warren. He was down here in the DFW Metromess to attend a wedding over the weekend, and he took the time to stop in to see us Sunday afternoon. Although he never said so directly, he was concerned about my health. Something I especially appreciated from him. Now, I wasn’t being particularly brave in his presence, but I have an inkling that somewhere in the back of his mind he’s proud of my bravery. It’s just his way.
Again, I appreciate the Prayers and the Karma coming my way. I’m going to make it through this. Honest.
Be Seeing You!
bdharrellauthor 