Chapter 9: Things Are Good...This Too Shall Pass

 

Things are Good....This Too Shall Pass

I wrote a portion of this chapter while relaxing in my oncology recliner listening to the slow drip of Cisplatin as it fell into a tube and then got pumped into my bloodstream. I was fearing this moment because of what happened to me after my first infusion, falls and hospitalization. Today’s date is Thursday, December 6^th and, as of now, I’m feeling okay and my hemoglobin is within acceptable limits.

However, there was a minor glitch which caused my second dose of chemo to be delayed by one day. I was supposed to be treated December 5^th. It happened, yet again, because my hemoglobin levels were too low to safely proceed. Turns out I’m anemic, a condition meaning I don’t produce red blood cells very fast. It also means I’ll probably be getting transfusions throughout the remainder of treatment.

By the way, glitches and surprise discoveries are inherent parts of this whole process.

That’s because everyone is genetically different. And different people doing chemo have different reactions. Cancer and chemo are basically catchall terms which encompass a myriad of conditions and drugs. It may surprise you to learn there are over a hundred different types of cancer. Each of them is fought with one or more of a hundred different chemo drugs. The bottom line is that different cancers are fought with different chemical cocktails which can cause their own types of unique problems.

Some cancer patients get sick during their first day of treatment while others wait a few days before encountering effects. Some go halfway or more through their chemo regimen before reacting. Still, some never encounter any adverse effects. The same is true of radiation. And the reactions as well as any attendant severity can be all across the board. That’s due, in part, to the fact chemo attacks not only cancer cells but destroys good cells as well. That’s why us cancer people are said to be immunocompromised meaning we can’t produce enough good cells to fight foreign shit invading our bodies, especially when we’re in treatment. 

By the way, those of us in treatment take mask wearing very seriously. For instance, in my particular case I’m undergoing chemotherapy and radiation at the same time. Together, they are knocking the shit out of my immune system. Should I become infected by another disease or virus, it poses a significant, perhaps, lethal threat.

At any rate, I was scheduled to start the first of my four remaining treatments Wednesday but my hemoglobin numbers were borderline low so it had to be delayed. I then used that day to medically replenish my red blood cells by spending 5 hours getting two pints of blood transfused in me. Sure enough, the transfusion raised my numbers high enough to move forward. And there, in my transfusion chair, I sat wondering what to write. As I’ve already stated, this is one train you don’t want to slow down because the goal is to be done. So, I’ll write a bit about what I believe a person might want to learn going into treatment so they can avoid delays. Next, I’ll speak to any updates on my blood counts. Then we’ll talk about horses.

God forbid you ever need this advice but should you be forced to go down this miserable road, I believe you’d be wise to learn as much as you can about your type cancer. I suspect this wisdom also applies to any significant health threat, cancer or otherwise. Furthermore, it’s essential to realize this is ultimately the most personal of journeys a person can take. You’re basically dancing with your own mortality. While one may be surrounded by loving caretakers, they are, in the final analysis, walking this uncharted path alone. I also believe doctors and nurses appreciate well informed patients. Why? Because informed patients can greatly aid their professional caretakers in spotting and eliminating potential problems.

The best place to learn about any particular cancer and its potential side effects is the internet. And while it would be highly unproductive for a layperson to turn themselves into an internet doctor sitting around the chemo rooms barking orders or defying nurses’ instructions, the internet nevertheless contains some wonderful sources of knowledge including respected sites such as the American Cancer Society, Mayo Clinic, and the Cleveland Clinic to name only a few.

Additionally, one can likely find a blog detailing patients’ experiences as they face the very same cancer enemy as themselves. By finding a blog relevant to your particular cancer situation you can discover a lot. You might even find a person to befriend and use for support. And more importantly, you might be able to help your doctor spot an incoming problem. As I’ve come to learn, incoming problems can be very bad.

Along with the internet, perhaps the greatest tool you can utilize is blood work results. These lab reports basically detail how the various parts of our body are dealing with the incredible stress caused by the poisons that get pumped through us. For example, I’m an insulin dependent diabetic. Something attacked my pancreas when I was in my late thirties and I now need to pay very close attention to my kidney functions. It would truly suck to lick cancer only to be confined to a dialysis lounge three days a week.

Bloodwork results provide clues as to potential and unanticipated side-effects in the making. And make no mistake, side-effects, while certainly unwelcome, are nevertheless common and inherent features of this nightmare. During the last few weeks of treatment, I’ve encountered multiple patients and heard their stories about what they did and didn’t expect. But the unknown can be adequately managed especially if you monitor your blood-work results and focus on your body.

But to watch your blood-work means to learn what the various numbers mean. Once again, oncology nurse to the rescue on this one. They pretty much know everything..and I’m serious in this regard. They know exactly what to look for and what numbers concern them. After all, that’s why they are in the chemo room watching everything that’s going on. And once again, the internet can be of great assistance to supplement the information obtained from you by your healthcare team.

Had I requested blood-work be done after my initial chemo treatment and subsequent saline infusions, we would have seen my hemoglobin numbers falling into dangerous territory. And please don’t think I’m blaming my doctors or my other health care providers. I absolutely treasure them. But we can all learn from our experiences. In my particular case, my chemo nurses had rarely, if ever, seen Cisplatin attacking bone marrow. But now they have and I suspect they’ll be closely monitoring future Platin recipients for changes in hemoglobin. And that can only be done via blood work.

Another reason to learn all you can about your particular cancer is that oncologists are fairly busy these days. I’m an early riser so I get to my treatment facility around 7:30 a.m. One day last week, I arrived early, gave my name, and the woman at the front desk sorted through a bunch of papers looking for my orders (a single sheet of paper telling staff where to send me and why).  She eventually found it after sifting through a large stack which appeared an inch thick. Out of curiosity, I ask her how many people were being seen that day. After telling me it was none of my business, (that’s pretty much how we greet each other every day) she told me they were seeing over two-hundred people. The bottom line is our health care workers are extremely busy and we can give them a little help by learning more about our condition.

By the way, I’m seriously hoping none of you face this disease. Nevertheless, I think this advice is sound for anyone who faces a health issue of any magnitude.

So anyways.

This week followed a four-day Holiday break in treatment. I spent those days doing basically nothing but napping and walking my dog. I felt fine but fatigue was causing me to rest more than I’d like. Emotionally however, I was all over the board.

I cussed out God on Black Friday because I was upset about the fact I can’t taste food. For me, it’s absolutely the worst part of this little trip I’m on. And trust me when I tell you, I’ve scoured the City’s grocery stores looking for something I can taste. However, there’s nothing there. In fact, I’ve given up the search and have come to rely on my good friend, Mr. feeding tube for most of my nutritional needs. I’m now resigned to filling my mouth with cereal and milk to keep my swallowing muscles working and filling my feeding tube with protein shakes and water to keep me hydrated and nourished. Prime rib and homemade Christmas cookies are no longer a feature in my world.

By the way, I’m not all that concerned about God being upset with me for cussing him out. After all, there’s been times in the past when I yelled at him before. But I’ve always figured he’s big enough to take a little abuse from a discontented servant.

So anyways, with the exception of being delayed by a day, my last chemo treatment was uneventful. As of Sunday Dec 5, I’ve had no nausea or any other side effects. In fact, all of my numbers are in the normal range and improving meaning the need for more transfusions prior to chemo may have ended. In addition, my radiation treatments have not affected my ability to swallow. However, I do notice my mouth becomes very dry on occasion but that affect can quickly be dealt with by me sipping water.

But here’s an added caveat to the above few paragraphs. On Monday December 6, my hemoglobin numbers have gone down. This follows three days of going up despite having Cisplatin in my system. Why it’s happening, no one knows. The thought is the initial dose of chemo temporarily fried my bone marrow and inhibited its capacity to produce oxygen-giving red blood cells. Tomorrow I’ll get another test and if the number goes any lower, I’ll be getting a transfusion. I’m hoping I see the numbers going up because I’m hell bent on not letting anything get in the way of finishing this torture session. God how I love going through all this shit.

Here’s another added caveat dated December 8. After today’s radiation I tried to eat a bowl of very mild chili. I couldn’t get far because the food burned the deeper part of my throat. The message is the radiation is about to takes it toll. Nevertheless, I’ll keep swallowing unspicy foods and cool liquids. Mr. Foodtube has now become an essential tool in this fight.  And yes I did need a blood transfusion so as to insure that my next chemo treatment can go forward without delay on December 9^th. So on the afternoon of December 8^th, I went to outpatient services and received a pint of blood.

But all in all, it’s been a week and a few days where I can count some blessings. I’m fortunate enough to have a brother who has taken a couple months out of his life to hang around my house and be there if needed. The company is nice to have and the security his presence brings is an absolute godsend.

Plus, a huge shoutout to my office for helping me with a leave of absence. I actually believed I could work through this crisis. My plan was to spend mornings getting chemo and radiation and then hitting the office in the afternoons and on weekends. And it worked okay for a week or so. However, the treatment regimen along with all those little surprises like hospitalization for low hemoglobin numbers have made it virtually impossible to focus on anything other than my health. I even have a dog sitter watching Apollo (he’s my dog if you didn’t guess) because I’m running out of energy to poop him on our daily afternoon walks in the cemetery.

But one of my larger blessings is that, by the end of this week (which happens in two days), I’ll be two thirds of the way finished with treatment. So far, the shit has not hit the fan real hard although I’m guessing the race to the finish line is about to become fairly brutal. But I’m very grateful I’ve been able to get this far and still function on my own. Fingers crossed.

But soon thereafter comes the big question…Did it work? Has that ugly mass of tissue been annihilated? I’m told I won’t know the answer for a couple months after treatment concludes. The “old” me would be driving myself crazy over the wait with my mind going everywhere creating a zillion different scenarios. Not anymore.

Today, this very moment, is all any of us ever have. The past has vanished and the next moment hasn’t arrived yet. So that leaves the present. I sorta taught myself to live life here in the now by using my senses to focus on everything I can touch, see, feel, and eat (unfortunately, the eat part is pretty well out of the equation for living in the present). And granted, it’s not all that easy to stay here because of all our distractions. I’d say I’m here about sixty percent of the time. The rest of my moments are spent like everyone else’s, focused on recollecting a past or envisioning a future.

By the way, I warned you in the first chapter that I’m sorta whacked.

The horse?

So, here’s that story.

About seven or eight years ago I immersed myself in writing a book. In fact, I have 275 pages completed and pretty much edited. It’s a book involving the different philosophical and spiritual aspects of our existence. The genre would best be described as self-help. In preparation, I suspect I read over 200 books from different authors and from different times. I absolutely love traditional Buddhist writings as well as those of the modern followers/authors. I’m a huge fan of Stoicism and keep a copy of Marcus Aurelius’ book on my nightstand. I also enjoy contemporary authors such as Maryann Williamson, Eckhart Tolle and the late Wayne Dryer.

In addition, I did a year or so as a volunteer for a local hospice agency a few years back. I’m not sure what exactly prompted me to volunteer but it turned out to be one of the most rewarding experience I’ve ever had. I spent most of that time helping a woman who had Lou Gehrig’s Disease. When I first met her, she had lost her ability to speak so she communicated via a chalkboard. Myself and three other people spent a considerable amount of time with her and with each other, each of us simply amazed at how much she was loving life while dying every day. On one occasion we found ourselves celebrating her incredible spirit by hijacking a nursing home van and driving her to her favorite bar for margaritas. As I recall, that didn’t go over all that well with the nursing home. God forbid I ever get stuck in one of those places.

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons I learned from being with Alice came during her death. The other three people who watched over her, as well as myself, had already said our goodbyes while she was unconscious and in the active part of dying. But for some reason, I felt the need to return to the nursing home to be with her when she expired. I arrived there about the same time as the other three people who’d befriended her arrived themselves. The same “something” that led me there, independently led them there too. And within minutes of our collective arrival, she passed. Coincidence? No, it was something far greater.

The lesson? This is a world that offers each of us the opportunity to connect with our spirituality. We only need to seek.

So anyways.

I used my experiences and readings to conclude in my book that we’ve become a Nation where many of us have simply never learned to love ourselves. And there’s a lot of empirical data that would seem to support my conclusion. For example, almost twenty percent of our Nation’s teens have seriously considered suicide. In fact, what’s been labeled the “fierce exit” is now the second leading cause of death for those between the ages of 10 to 24.  And addiction statistics for both illicit narcotics and prescription drugs are through the friggen roof. The fact one in six of us takes antidepressants is only further evidence that, not only have we fallen out of love with ourselves, but we can’t seem to forgive ourselves either. So, we medicate thinking the answer is in pill form when all a pill does is prolong and deepen the discontent.

The bottom line is people who love themselves and life don’t engage in behaviors where they destroy themselves and others. How do they stop? They grow to view life as a journey into awareness using their mistakes as lessons leading to higher levels of consciousness. The book then focuses a chapter detailing a few of my past behaviors. Suffice it to say, it’s not a very pretty account.

So here comes the horse. It was the introduction to my book and was going to be the title.

I was only 12 years old when I first got drunk. On a hot, late summer day I was hanging out with some buddies at my best friend’s girlfriend’s farm. Someone pulled out a warm six pack of Colt 45 Malt liquor. I grabbed one and down it went although I have to admit I didn’t like the taste. Nonetheless, I began to feel something I’d never felt before. It wasn’t long before my friends and I went outside to explore the farm.

One of the first things I saw was Nancy’s horse, a huge dark-brown animal that towered over me. I’d been there before and tried to ride the thing. But it knew I was afraid of it and no command from my voice or turn of its reins would keep it from running me underneath every low branch on the farm. But the Colt 45 vanquished all my fear of that creature so within a few minutes I was inside the horse’s pen hell bent on demonstrating my new-found bravado.

I should have known something bad was about to happen because all my friends were watching the show and smiling. And sure enough, after a couple trots around the pen with me in chase, I went to grab its tail. Immediately it raised its back hoof and struck my body right where it counts. The next thing I knew I was rolling back from underneath the pen and holding my groin trying to stop the pain. But as most of us guys know, once you’re nailed in the nuts, there’s not a lot you can do to feel better. It’s a pain that has its own time.

The point of the horse story in my book was to tell the readers I spent the next few decades chasing that proverbial horse and kept getting kicked harder each time until I finally got a clue. I stopped the destructive behaviors.

So how does the title “A Feel for Horses” apply to the subject matter of this blog? Well for one, I think it’s a neat name. But more than that, the book is ultimately about achieving an increasing level of spirituality where every mistake or situation provides a lesson to advance a person’s journey even further. So here I sit, with some low level of peace that would have been extremely difficult for me to achieve had I never tried the climb.

Peace.