"Daniel" mother called, "Daniel, fetch me some flour from the pantry."
"Yes mother" Daniel replied.
Daniel grabbed a kitchen chair and dragged it behind him into the pantry. He placed the chair against the shelf and climbed onto the seat, steadying himself with one hand on the back. He craned his neck, looking for the precise location of the flour. He spotted it, there, just beyond the box of rice. Daniel stood on his toes, bracing himself with one hand on the shelf just below the flour. He stretched the other arm and reached forward. As Daniel's child finger grazed the front of the package of flour, he got cancer and died.
Relax. I'm ok. Like a bad 70's song, this story got stuck in my head for the last few days and I needed to sing a few bars to shake it loose. The muses, like the cosmos, have a sick sense of humor.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
Buckle up. This one is bumpy.
The other day a friend and I were discussing how I'm doing. He said to me that he felt I was hiding something, that the situation was worse than I was letting on. I thought about that for a while. Am I hiding my true feelings from everyone? I don't think so. I'm very honest about the whole cancer situation, with everyone. But, at most times, I don't look or seem like someone greatly concerned for his health. I comprehend the enormity of my situation every minute of every day, but I choose to not let it affect my life. I choose to be happy and enjoy everything. I choose not to become emotional and break down in front of anyone. If I need to crawl into a fetal position and loose my mind, I'll do it on my own time, thank you very much. If I need to vent, I'll do it here.
And so here it is...
I had a ct scan on Monday to re-stage my tumors. I met with the surgeons at Sloan-Kettering yesterday. I won't be having surgery any time soon. There are a lot of details that led to this decision but I will spare you. Suffice it to say that chemo is my best option right now and so I start again next week.
That's the nuts and bolts of it. The facts. The basic plot of the day. Hidden in the shadows is a tale of almost unbearable anxiety. Yesterday was not a good day. I have a complete understanding of my situation, my cancer. I comprehend all the details, complexities and variables involved. At most times it is a bit surreal; I view it from the outside looking in. Yesterday's discussion with the surgeon forced me to face it all with a blinding reality. These doctors were open and frank and held nothing back. Yesterday was not a good day.
Again, I'll spare you the tedious details of the conversation and just give you what I'm left with. My cancer is not going away anytime soon. The main tumor is growing, quickly. In the last month and a half it has doubled in size. The affected lymph nodes have also grown. With my remaining treatment options there is just as much chance that I will be cured as I will not make it to see my next birthday. Yesterday was not a good day.
My sister sat there, angry, as she will get when confronted with a discussion which involves harm to someone she loves. Angry at the air, at the specter, not necessarily at the doctors, though they did take the brunt. I came close to falling to the ground, regressing to infancy, but could not as it would have brought my sister's anger to tears, and I will not be responsible for that.
This is now my friends. I'm angry, concerned, confused, and absolutely terrified. I'll go out tonight, have a good time with some friends, and then go home and try to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat, and then chemo. That will be then.
And so here it is...
I had a ct scan on Monday to re-stage my tumors. I met with the surgeons at Sloan-Kettering yesterday. I won't be having surgery any time soon. There are a lot of details that led to this decision but I will spare you. Suffice it to say that chemo is my best option right now and so I start again next week.
That's the nuts and bolts of it. The facts. The basic plot of the day. Hidden in the shadows is a tale of almost unbearable anxiety. Yesterday was not a good day. I have a complete understanding of my situation, my cancer. I comprehend all the details, complexities and variables involved. At most times it is a bit surreal; I view it from the outside looking in. Yesterday's discussion with the surgeon forced me to face it all with a blinding reality. These doctors were open and frank and held nothing back. Yesterday was not a good day.
Again, I'll spare you the tedious details of the conversation and just give you what I'm left with. My cancer is not going away anytime soon. The main tumor is growing, quickly. In the last month and a half it has doubled in size. The affected lymph nodes have also grown. With my remaining treatment options there is just as much chance that I will be cured as I will not make it to see my next birthday. Yesterday was not a good day.
My sister sat there, angry, as she will get when confronted with a discussion which involves harm to someone she loves. Angry at the air, at the specter, not necessarily at the doctors, though they did take the brunt. I came close to falling to the ground, regressing to infancy, but could not as it would have brought my sister's anger to tears, and I will not be responsible for that.
This is now my friends. I'm angry, concerned, confused, and absolutely terrified. I'll go out tonight, have a good time with some friends, and then go home and try to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat, and then chemo. That will be then.
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