Wednesday, August 24, 2011


I had an appointment this morning with my oncologist. It was very like a bad dream when they said they had me scheduled for chemo afterward. I'd been planning to start next Monday, but their plan was different from mine. This was not at all what I was planning on doing with my day. I agree that it is good to start as soon as possible (and I've been trying to hurry this process up for a month or more) but this came as a shock. It all begins now. The first of the drugs is already running. No, I am not excited. This is not like the first day of school, where there is excitement mixed with the trepidation. It's a sign of how serious this is that I'm back in this place. Pain, discomfort, tiredness and nausea are my new normal until further notice.


Anonymous said...

So much for mental (and practical) preparation..
Can you at least see start seeing the new chiropractor a this week instead of next, so you have some relief?

Kelly McCullough said...

Very sorry you're having to go through this shit again. Sending major good wishes your way.

Tamara said...

I want to come clean your house, wash your clothes, cook some food and walk your dog. Is Saturday or Sunday better for you?

Emily said...

ugh. sorry, dude.

Eclector2 said...

Today was very hard. As a "helper" I felt pretty unhelpful when I could not make it better for you. I'm sure Kevin felt the same way. I am so sorry you need to go through this.

It was good to see Deb in a happy place today, she was going home with minimal pain and successful surgery and giggling about her pain medication. She kept saying "Drugs are my friend" and I recognized that this is very true. These kinds of medications get us through hard times.

This made me think differently about the Chemo drugs. These drugs are your friends also. They fight for you against the cancer. They are attacking the forces that are working against you.

Yes, they are toxic, but they stop short of killing you in order to make you stronger. They are your very best friends right now, because there is nothing else that can fight your cancer so effectively.

I am rooting for those drugs to do their job. They are my friends too.

Love, Mom

nihilix said...

Ooh - the loss of control slapping you in the face, shit ain't the way you want it. Hmf. I have time Friday night, Saturday and Sunday afternoon. I'll help with some cleaning or cooking if you want. I had Friday night as a gaming night, if you want to we can come over and play some Canasta. (I don't play Canasta, but if you want I would learn.)

I talked to Kevin, he was pretty bummed as well.

It's like 'before chemo' is a magical time of putting things off but whoops, now you're in it, the slide down that hill has begun, and who knows what length of highway is on your path.

Hugs and crap.

(Tonka says lick, buttwiggle, and if your food should happen to drop on the floor, I'll pick it up.)


Margaret in Minnesota said...

I go to the same church as your mom & dad ( think they may have moved?) So that is how I came to know about your situation and why I'm over here on your blog.

My friend had colon cancer five years ago and we just celebrated her 5-year cancer-free party this spring. It was a very happy occasion after a very long haul--she'd be the first to tell you that. The cancer/chemotherapy part was really REALLY hard but what my friend said was, basically, as hard it could be some days...and of course there were some really bad days...there was always someone that touched base with her at just the right moment.

All this to say that I'm praying for you and hope you're doing well today.

M said...

@Lsikora, yep I was able to get into the chiro and the acu this week, so I'm feeling prepared in that way, at least!

@Kelly, thanks! I had hoped to use this time for writing, but my head is too foggy, at least at the moment. Hopefully soon I'll be able to catch up.

@Tamara, thanks! Saturday AM works for me, I have a thing in the afternoon -- let's call or text to co-ordinate.

@Mom, you make some good points about the drugs. They have side effects, but its true that they are on my side and are helping me. Last night -- admittedly in an oxycodone haze -- I was telling the cancer that it was not wanted. The trick is to get the rest of my body to recognize the cancer as foe and not friend.

@John, isn't Canasta the name for those wooden "spoons" that you clack together? I have music plans on Friday, but thanks so much for offer. Hope to see you guys soon.

@ Margaret, hello and welcome. I'm eternally grateful for the kind words and thoughts that I get -- I've got some great peeps. And congrats to your friend for beating it!

Deborah in MN said...

Michael, I am sorry I have been kind of absorbed in my own issues this week. I have been feeling bad that I can't be there for you physically this time around, but I realized that I can be a moral support in a different way as we share more fears and pains at the same time. At least I'm hoping it will work that way. The enforced rest gives me more time to pray for you, at least. Please know that I do care very much. You are too sweet a brother to lose.

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