Yesterday, I did take that ride on my LifeCycle. Road 12 minutes at half my normal intensity. Turned on my iPod, and in random mode it kicked out the following two songs to start: The Allman Brothers Band “Midnight Rider” from Live At The Fillmore East (Deluxe Edition) and The Rolling Stones “Happy” from Exile On Main St”. These two songs immediately reminded of my Webster buddies Papa Ray and I-Man; the two albums tie to adventures, musical and otherwise, I shared with the two JAX boys. I was on that bike pedaling and Duane's guitar cut right through me. And I got mad. Mad for the first time in a long while. Mad at cancer. I can't be nice in a fight for my life. I had a rush of energy along with the anger and started yelling (in my head, expletives omitted) at the tumor. Anger is not something I do well or often. I used to see all emotions as “good” or “bad”. As I’ve gained wisdom and less hair (pre-cancer), I’ve grown to realize that each emotion has a full range of good to bad. What I do with the emotion is the key. So, here I am pedaling and seeping anger and it felt so good! When my bike ride was finished, I was in the best mood I’ve been in a long time. And I carried some of that being pissed off with me. My task now is how to harness it when I need it.
I’d certainly earned a nap, but didn’t fall asleep immediately. I lay on the couch patting Rudy Dog and having him snuggle closer. At some point, I went deep into nap land. When Ann came home, it took me a while to wake up and sit up.
My stomach is still playing the Imodium game, so I ate a careful supper. My digestive system has to straighten itself out; I need to eat mass quantities and put some pounds on before the radiation treatment starts.
I stayed up late watching the Butler v. Duke NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship. It was like a book I couldn’t put down. I was rooting for Butler, who lost by a bucket, but it was an exceptional game to watch. Tonight my Connecticut Huskies take on The Stanford Cardinal in the NCAA Women’s Championship. I’ve got my bottles of water lined up! Side note: did you see President Obama play Clark Kellogg in horse (renamed POTUS for the occasion)? The President has game! He was consistently hitting long three pointers. Clark let Obama win the game I think (amid some gentle trash talk), but the President’s left hand jump shot is impressive.
I woke this morning feeling better. My stomach is still unsettled, but I’m hoping it will straighten itself out soon. Chemo attacks cells from the esophagus down to the lower GI tract. It’s such a pleasant side effect.
I started the day with a Boost and a bowl of Cheerios with a banana and soymilk. It’s odd, I l normally love Cheerios, my choice for breakfast for years. But now they taste, uh, not so good. I ate them, need them, ignored the taste. Being a vegan toughens up your taste buds. I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, then poked around on my computer before taking my morning nap.
I had a few emails about yesterday’s posting. My dear Webster friend and ace nurse Laura advised “I REALLY THINK YOU ARE EXPECTING TOO MUCH AT THIS TIME.!!!!!!!!!!!!” and then elaborated in great graphic detail about each paragraph in my posting. She wasn’t sure whether to send the message, but I wrote back, yes, please hit me upside the head when you think it’s called for. Laura’s a peach; she never minces words. Cousin Betsy wrote “I understand your anxiety; you wouldn't be human if you didn't have some. You're dealing with the unknown. And if you're asleep, you don't have to think about what's next on the agenda.” and “I'm in disagreement about earning your naps. You're undergoing treatment for cancer.....those naps are well-deserved and greatly needed. I feel like I earned every single nap.... Your body needs to regroup. I never fought it. I think naps are as important as medication, maybe even more so.” Betsy just finished her cancer treatment and has been wonderful in holding my hand as I go through the process. Cousin Arlene added, “Please don't be so hard on yourself... All your feelings are normal. You still have a long road ahead but you will take it ‘one day at a time’, one moment at a time. One thing that can't be controlled is the passage of time and it will pass, along with your treatments.” Arlene is the sweetest and toughest woman I know. She’s fought cancer three times and is an inspiration to the rest of her family currently fighting the fight.
This whole anxiety and attitude thing is my current challenge. Am I being reasonable with myself? If someone else were dealing with this same issue the way I am, would I think they were being too hard or too soft on themselves? My mind is a dangerous neighborhood. The monsters and the angels are me or mine.
I rode the LifeCycle again today, same time and resistance. It was a fluid ride and felt good, but I didn’t have an epiphany like yesterday. Hey, how often should I expect an epiphany? I’m off to see psychologist D and see if he can help me clarify what I’m feeling and thinking.
Thanks everyone for your support and good wishes. I never feel alone in this fight.
Love…
Richard
Nobody should ever feel Alone... You are strong and your attitude is everything... I am sure your drs have told you the same....
ReplyDeletebicyle .. you are brave...!
If someone else were dealing with this same issue the way you are, you would think that you were reading the words of one of the strongest and bravest people you’d even known. You’d worry that he was being too hard on himself, that he was not resting enough, that he was not being gentle enough on himself. You’d worry that he was being too soft on himself and not shepherding all of his forces all of the time so that he could get through this very difficult treatment. You'd worry. But, you would realize that he is smart and wise beyond measure and you would know that he would find a balance between the two. You’d call on all of your experience, personal experience if you had it, professional experience if you had that, to try to help minimize the burden knowing that, ultimately, he would have to find his own way. You’d wish that you could do something, take a round of chemo or radiation for him so that he could at least have a break. You'd feel a little helpless. You’d feel deeply grateful reading his posts every day, deeply thankful to know that he was still there, still fighting, still mad, still connecting (and still listening to the Rolling Stones). You’d feel honored to be included as a friend in his life when it was hard and when it’s glorious. You’d feel blessed, even though you don’t like that word very much (oh, wait, that’s me, not you), to be a part of it all. That’s what you’d think if someone else were dealing with this same issue the way you are.
ReplyDeleteJust so you know, I’m with Cousin Betsy on the sleeping thing. If it were me, I’d want to sleep through not only what’s next on the agenda, but the whole series of treatments. I’d asked to be knocked out for the whole thing. (That’s not advice, by the way, I’m just expressing my own anxiety. I went to the hospital and got knocked all the way out to have my wisdom teeth extracted. I’m not brave when it comes to medical/dental procedures. I just want to sleep through it, thanks.)
I made eggplant curry with peas and tofu on rice and quinoa for supper. I cooked it down to mush, all but the tofu, which isn’t really any chewier than white bread. It was yummy and soft and you could have eaten it. You should have come over. It’s only eleven and a half hours, if all goes well. It’s a long drive for something that might have tasted like today’s Cheerios to you. But, you would have made me think it was the most delicious thing you’d ever tasted regardless. You’re just like that.