Hello, everyone!
My SLOW recovery tends to progress SLOWLY, but I am getting better. I have learned that this is the toughest time in the process for many survivors/patients mentally . . . because you've done all you can with the treatments and you're waiting for the all clear and for your body to shake off 6 months or so of physical abuse.
I've noticed my loved ones around me have been more impatient lately for me to get better. It's so easy for me to forget how this is not just my battle and struggle. Everyone else has so much at stake, and it's natural for them to want to see results too. It's also natural for them to go to the source of those results (me) and be selfish or impatient for me to get better. Of course, nobody wants me better, eating and living than me. Unlike everyone around me, I've been trapped here the whole time. I don't get breaks to visit friends or family, to have a nice meal to get away from it, etc. For me, this IS life. The point is, I understand everyone's love and wanting me to get better . . . but it's hard enough for me to be understanding, patient and calm with my body when I don't have outside negative pressure.
Everyday, I want to get up and be able to grab a bagel and cream cheese, a mocha latte and head to work where I see friends and feel productive. I want to meet up after work for drinks or dinner with friends and then head out to meet Kristina, where we go to a movie, etc. A lot of nights I have dreams about eating food, being at work, and getting my old life back. Then I wake up. It's hard as hell to fight the disappointment and depression, and that gets compounded when the people I love are obviously hurt/inconvenienced by my condition.
This is a part of the strength that is coming with the process though. I've got to be strong enough to fight through all of this, and not get down.
Tomorrow morning, I have my PET/CT scan at 11am ET. It's the test where they see if there's any cancer cells in my body. There are often false positives, meaning the test says you have cancer when you don't. There are almost no false negatives, so if the test comes back negative it's good news. If it comes back positve, I'm not going to fall apart.
In the mean time, I'm battling through the last stages of a little bout with the flu. Everyone around me has had it, just about. It's a little funny to me. Everyone talks about how awful it is, and how they "pray for death", etc. I suffered through it for a few days and thought, this is a piece of cake. Nausea, fatigue, congestion, a little vomiting? Welcome to my world. hehehe. I'm a survivor now, and the flu doesn't phase me.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."
- Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses
In just two short weeks, I am due to be back at work. Given the fact that I'm barely speaking right now and not eating, I'm a little worried about being ready to go back to work. Mentally and emotionally, I've been ready (even eager) to get back to my work. Physically, I'm in great shape to sit at a desk and computer all day. It's what I've been doing, in fact training for, these last few weeks. However, the power of speech without vomiting is pretty critical to what I do. So, I'm hoping to really get some serious recovery going on that front in the next two weeks.
Two weeks. It seems so little time in the grand scheme of 6 months out of the office . . . but I know how this recover business is. Any morning I could wake up and feel well enough to try soup or food. Although right now my throat is full and my nose very congested, this could change. I am hopeful that in the next two weeks I'll be ready to go. It does worry me a bit, but I will do my best. Prayer and determination should get me ready to return.
One thing that troubles me is that my nose is perpetually congested . . . which is a symptom of nasopharynx cancer. Did the radiation nuke the primary site or is there residual that remains? Is it on the rebound and determined to finish what it started? In a few weeks, I meet with Dr. Weinstein and Dr. Sherman again to get answers to this question.
Like Dr. Bar Ad (my radiologist), Dr. Sherman will be leaving Penn. This summer he'll be going to Sloan-Kettering in New York, a world-renowned cancer hospital. It's good knowing that my doctor is so well regarded that he can secure a position at one of the best cancer hospitals in the country.
At this point, getting ready for a return to work, I look back at how far I've come and what I've been through. I still have a ways to go before life returns to anything resembling normal, but the most gruesome parts of the battle are hopefully behind me. I think of the long weeks of radiation, the 6 different chemo treatments, scores of trips to the hospital for fluid and tests, and those lovely emergency room visits. Looking back at it all, it's very easy to forget what I've been through . . . even though it was such a struggle while I was going through it. It's truly amazing what the human psyche can do in forgetting past pain.
What I cannot forget is the love and strength I had around me through this battle. I remember so clearly how surreal it was to hear that I had advanced cancer, and thinking I was going to die. The calls that I made to my mom, my wife, my friend Brian, and to my boss Alada remain so vivid to me. The drives to University City with dad and with mom for treatment are indelible. Mom's smiles and Kristina's constant and tender support will always be with me. The kind words from those on this blog, Nancy's cards, Shelly's visits, emails, texts, and the caring look in friends' eyes, these are all treasures that I've collected during this difficult time. With the love of so many, I've gotten through it.
- Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses
In just two short weeks, I am due to be back at work. Given the fact that I'm barely speaking right now and not eating, I'm a little worried about being ready to go back to work. Mentally and emotionally, I've been ready (even eager) to get back to my work. Physically, I'm in great shape to sit at a desk and computer all day. It's what I've been doing, in fact training for, these last few weeks. However, the power of speech without vomiting is pretty critical to what I do. So, I'm hoping to really get some serious recovery going on that front in the next two weeks.
Two weeks. It seems so little time in the grand scheme of 6 months out of the office . . . but I know how this recover business is. Any morning I could wake up and feel well enough to try soup or food. Although right now my throat is full and my nose very congested, this could change. I am hopeful that in the next two weeks I'll be ready to go. It does worry me a bit, but I will do my best. Prayer and determination should get me ready to return.
One thing that troubles me is that my nose is perpetually congested . . . which is a symptom of nasopharynx cancer. Did the radiation nuke the primary site or is there residual that remains? Is it on the rebound and determined to finish what it started? In a few weeks, I meet with Dr. Weinstein and Dr. Sherman again to get answers to this question.
Like Dr. Bar Ad (my radiologist), Dr. Sherman will be leaving Penn. This summer he'll be going to Sloan-Kettering in New York, a world-renowned cancer hospital. It's good knowing that my doctor is so well regarded that he can secure a position at one of the best cancer hospitals in the country.
At this point, getting ready for a return to work, I look back at how far I've come and what I've been through. I still have a ways to go before life returns to anything resembling normal, but the most gruesome parts of the battle are hopefully behind me. I think of the long weeks of radiation, the 6 different chemo treatments, scores of trips to the hospital for fluid and tests, and those lovely emergency room visits. Looking back at it all, it's very easy to forget what I've been through . . . even though it was such a struggle while I was going through it. It's truly amazing what the human psyche can do in forgetting past pain.
What I cannot forget is the love and strength I had around me through this battle. I remember so clearly how surreal it was to hear that I had advanced cancer, and thinking I was going to die. The calls that I made to my mom, my wife, my friend Brian, and to my boss Alada remain so vivid to me. The drives to University City with dad and with mom for treatment are indelible. Mom's smiles and Kristina's constant and tender support will always be with me. The kind words from those on this blog, Nancy's cards, Shelly's visits, emails, texts, and the caring look in friends' eyes, these are all treasures that I've collected during this difficult time. With the love of so many, I've gotten through it.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Recovery Doldrums
It's been such a great while since I posted. Why? Because I've been sort of stuck in the recovery doldrums, standing still it seems. I feel about the same as I did a week ago, and still get sick every so often . . . but feel better than last time. I was sort of hoping I'd be more recovered at this point, but it hasn't been a month yet.
My doctor's visit with Sherman went fine. The big news there is that they took a blood test to check the EBV levels in my DNA. It's a test that gets sent to Hong Kong for analysis. Remember nasopharyngeal cancer is epidemic in South China. so treatment and research is quite advanced there. This DNA test will actually be more predictive than PET/CT or MRI in determining whether or not they truly wiped out my cancer and what the chances of it's return are. So, I'm eager for my April visit to see my results . . . and praying they are good news.
My mom went home last week, leaving me in the care of dear old dad. He's gonig a good job of subbing for mom . . . but there's really no substitute for my mom.
My doctor's visit with Sherman went fine. The big news there is that they took a blood test to check the EBV levels in my DNA. It's a test that gets sent to Hong Kong for analysis. Remember nasopharyngeal cancer is epidemic in South China. so treatment and research is quite advanced there. This DNA test will actually be more predictive than PET/CT or MRI in determining whether or not they truly wiped out my cancer and what the chances of it's return are. So, I'm eager for my April visit to see my results . . . and praying they are good news.
My mom went home last week, leaving me in the care of dear old dad. He's gonig a good job of subbing for mom . . . but there's really no substitute for my mom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
