But when I view the future through the reality of TWO cancers, I see a different picture. It’s more out of focus and landmarks are difficult to see. I can see death around the edges, where before it was so far ahead of me that it didn’t seem real.
The quarantine has been easier for me than most folks I know. I can’t really get out and do much, I’m relegated to my bed, or my recliner, for all of the time each day that I’m not moving from room to room. With so many folks in a similar situation (stuck at home) I feel less alone in my recovery, it’s as if the whole world is recovering with me.
Every three months I’ve been going in for my checkup with my oncologist, every 6 months I get a pet scan to make sure the Lymphoma’s not returning. So far, so good – until today. The numbers were a bit wacky, so I have to go back on Thursday for some more decisive tests. I’m expecting all to be well, it’s really the only way to focus my mind and not go a bit crazy waiting for test results.
I do feel alone quite often, but that’s a function of my recovery. It’s hard to get out and socialize; moving is painful, I get so tired, and being in a crowd (even in a restaurant) seems to unsettle me in a new way. I don’t know if it’s because for 18 months I’ve essentially lived most of my life in a hospital room, a bedroom or my living room, but my Living with Loss group at Gilda’s Club (6-10 people) is about as large a group of people that I feel comfortable interacting with.
We’re buckling down because a ‘once-in-a-decade’ storm is supposed to be coming, although at this point it’s six hours late (and it will probably be angrier for waiting…) One friend is writing, his wife is making Swedish pancakes and the kids are organizing a board game for later in the day.
This year has been a long journey of learning to acclimate myself to a new – everything – it feels like some days. Recently I was in a group where we were asked to describe ourselves using a series of adjectives. It was a confusing exercise, and at first no one did very well with…
It’s been a very emotional week for me, not least because my doc has had me cut back on my Oxycontin to half of my previous dose, although I also have 5mg Oxycondone I can take for breakthrough pain. I’ve done this step-down twice already since ending chemo, and I agree that it’s necessary to…
It’s a good season of GOT, Gerry would have loved it. I’m loving it. It seems a lovely farewell to a beloved TV series; I wish I had had time to give Gerry the same kind of farewell. I still wake up in a cold sweat from dreams about Gerry dying with no one around him but medical staff, no family, no me. I was functionally immobile from my reaction to strong chemo, but that doesn’t lessen my guilt at not being WITH him at the end. Just because you know something’s out of your control doesn’t necessarily lessen the guilt.