I'm too tired

Today's post is going to be a compilation of excerpts from other pieces I've written. The first is from an email I sent to my friend Jen in Texas.

When I was growing up I spent quite a few summers at a camp in Pennsylvania called Rock Hill. At the center of the camp was a peaceful and placid body of water known as Lake Ruskin. The lake sat in a valley, the bottom of a bowl comprised of coniferous trees, local vegetation and indigenous fauna. One of my favorite pastimes was to climb the waterfront watch tower, while the lake was vacant, and simply watch the tree lined shores hug the water. When the conditions were right; early morning hours, ambient and water temperatures at precise competing degrees, and the barometer hanging at a specific point, a wonderful fog would be created. The thin veil would begin at the top of the tree line and then slowly creep over the edge of the bowl and slide down towards the lake from every direction. With the sun beginning to rise over the horizon, the fog would dissipate the light and offer up shadows dancing among the forest, heading toward the water. Gradually, even purposefully, the fog would skulk from the shores and eventually meet itself so that it totally cloaked the lake. The sun would climb higher, and with every inch of its ascension, it would burn a little more fog from its play upon the lake, until, as quickly as it appeared, it evaporated into the air to nap again until the next time.

I had my chemo treatment today. While this is a wonderful memory from my youth, it is also an accurate description of how the poison meant to kill my cancer is affecting me. I donÂ’t feel horrible right now, but with every hour that goes by today, I can see the sickness coming. My mind is beginning to muddle. Even as I write this, I struggle with spelling and grammar. I still have an appetite, but I know that will disappear and I wonÂ’t eat for a few days. I donÂ’t feel tired right now, but I know that when I lay myself down tonight, my body wonÂ’t rise again for at least 16 hours. I donÂ’t have a lot of pain, but I know tomorrow when I eventually wake up I will have a lot of trouble walking.

The next section is from a posting I wrote for The Colon Club. A young woman was just diagnosed and she was looking for support and asked "Why do you fight?" This was my response.

Two years ago, at 35, I was dx with stage IV colon cancer. IÂ’ve been through the ringer since then, as have many of the people offering you support here at the Colon Club. Currently I am going through my second round of chemo. In those two years I have found many reasons to quit; the nausea, the stomach problems, the pain of surgery, the emotional darkness and sadness. Here is why I do it:
In the last two years;
One day I laughed my ass off as I watched my three year old godson smack himself in the head with a tetherball for 10 minutes.
One day I had the strength to take the top down on my Jeep and drive in the sun.
One day I hung out with old friends and got so drunk I fell on my ass.
One day I flirted with and kissed passionately a wonderful woman.
One day my sister got married.
One day my father actually brought the things I asked him for to my hospital room.
One day I lost a bundle in Atlantic City.
One day I played hide and seek with my friend's two year old daughter.
I fight for one day.

He coughed up socks! 3 pairs of socks!!

First off, let me say that 'Batman Begins' is a fantastic movie!

Now, onto today's notes.

I've been ridiculously happy lately. On the train home from work on Monday, I couldn't help but smile, simply because the sky was a brilliant blue. Last weekend I hung out with Dougie and Naomi, and had a ball, even when I began a drunken rant about life, perspective, cancer and death. Silly boy.

I'm beginning to think I'm manic/depressive. (for those of you who take everything I say to heart, and worry about me too much, I don't really think I'm manic/depressive) My recent delirium and happiness at every little thing is a far cry from two weeks ago when I thought the world was closing in on me, and that I should just get ready for the kegger at my coffin. I know that I've written before about finding happiness in the every day, that life is in the details, but this past week was a little different. I didn't have to look for the happiness in the minutiae, it was the minutiae that made me happy. Genuinely happy!! Smile on my face, song in my heart, spring in my step happy! Not bad for a guy with a potentially fatal disease, huh?

Next week is chemo again. And the next couple may be a bit harsh, as I'm not getting the extra week in between treatments, you know, the third week, this week, the week that I'm really happy. So......stay tuned for a couple of weeks of lousy writing and depressing thoughts. I'm gearing up for it now. I'm packing all my black clothes for my dad's house. I can't wait to be depressed again! (again, for those of you that worry too much, that is sarcasm)

While I'm in a good mood, allow me a moment to thank you all again for your support. Greg, thanks for writing. Lance, I'm absolutely amazed with the regularity with which you follow this blog. Chris, well.....Sunday bro, let's go! Helen, you are beautiful, in every way, and I miss you and can't wait to get back to Amsterdam to see ya. Heather, oh dear dear heather, if only San Francisco and Bayonne were not so far apart. You're the bee's knees!

Of course, to those of you who check it out, but I'm not aware of, thank you all for your concern. I consider myself quite blessed to have such friends.

Don't drink the milk. It's spearled.

ca·thar·sis (ku-thär-sĭs)
Psychology.
A technique used to relieve tension and anxiety by bringing repressed feelings and fears to consciousness.
The therapeutic result of this process; abreaction.

And then, there it is. A little bad news may hover grey clouds around me for a few days, but they tend to dissipate. The last couple of years have been the total cliche "emotional rollercoaster". Not long after I typed my previous "my life sucks and it's black all black nothing but black" post I checked the message boards at the Colon Club. There was a posting there from a young woman who was recently diagnosed. She was frightened and worn out by the overwhelming circumstances under which she now finds herself. She asked our little support group, what was it that made us fight? I thought about it for a while, and penned a gloriously poetic response, sure to tug at the heart strings and inspire even the most downtrodden. (why yes, I do have a rather high opinion of myself)

It took a little time, but I'm back to my fighting self. I've regained my sunny outlook on life and what is important to me. Damned be this disease and the horse it rode in on. Even if I do die soon, at least I've already dressed up like little school girl and danced in the rain through the streets of Barcelona. Everyone should.

Fourteen clowns can't be wrong.

Not too long ago I had a conversation with a friend during which I mentioned the idea of moving to Europe, Amsterdam specifically. She asked me if I was serious, as if perhaps I was just speaking in the abstract. When I told her that I was serious, she was surprised. "What about your family? Your friends?" she asked. In turn, I was surprised. I thought that she knew me well enough to expect that I would be serious about such an idea.

I've always loved to travel and visit new places. I went to college in West Virginia, twice, have been across the country a few times, and have spent some time in Europe. While, up until this point, I have always returned to my little corner of New Jersey, I would not hesitate to take up residence some place else. I love my family dearly, and am very close to my friends, but it is this deep bond to all of them that allows me to venture to new places. My family and my friends will always be there for me, and I for them. And they all understand my nature. I have felt this way my whole life.

Perhaps it is the reassurance in the fact that I can always come home that has enabled me to feel I am not for ever tethered to New Jersey. I've always felt the possibility exists. I don't worry about how I will make my way, or where I will go, I am confident in myself and know that I can always make my life work. I've never seriously seen any impediment. Until now. Of course, that impediment, is my cancer.

During my last visit with my oncologist, it was suggested that I might not ever be free of this disease. It seems that I may never be rid of it, and may only keep it at bay, contained in small amounts, ever lurking, waiting to screw up my life. For ever. All of a sudden I have a leash. I have to worry about a job, so that I can afford my treatment. I have to be close to my doctors. I will need people to take care of me. If you know anything about me, you know that it is an incredibly difficult thing for me to need people to take care of me.

I had a mildly cohesive thought for this post. I have a million thoughts racing through my mind. I am angry at absolutely nothing, and worried that I am going to be taken over with sadness. I have no direction for my words right now, but I needed to write them out.

Ups and downs, it's just the way.

So, it's been a while since I posted. Let's see what I've got to say.

Last week was fantastic. I hung out with some old friends, made some new ones, went to a birthday party, Atlantic City, and a Christening. I flirted, got drunk, fell down, got sunburned, lost a few bucks, and did a lot of driving. This is life. But, on Sunday, even though I had all of these wonderful experiences, that black cloud settled over me, for Monday was back to chemo.

I met with my oncologist and told him about the issues I had after my last treatment. He again told me that he doesn't want to so negatively impact my quality of life and decided to lower the dose again. There were some other discussions about my cancer in general, which I'm not quite happy with, but I'm going to mull it over a bit before I talk about it. I'm not doing too bad right now, the lower dose seems to have helped.

There is a lot running through my head right now, including the chemo, so I'm not quite sure how I feel. I just wanted to get something down on this post and tell you all that I love you and to thank you for all your support. Hopefully by the end of this week I'll be a little bit more clear.