A Feel For Horses

  I haven’t been writing much lately and there’s a reason. I got sick. Seriously sick. So, here’s the latest in the journey of a rookie throat cancer patient trying to make his way through a dark and putrid swamp called chemoradiation. And the going’s been a little tougher than what I’d been expecting. By the way, I’m editing this chapter during the Thanksgiving Holiday weekend. My original intent was to write about the events surrounding my disease as close to real time as I possible so I could better relay my feelings of the moment. However, the last two weeks have kept me occupied with health concerns which resulted in a short stay at a local oncology intensive care ward and six pints of blood. Crazy as it may sound, I haven’t had a lot of extra time to gauge my feelings. In fact, I’m not even sure I had any emotional feelings. I’ve been more of a robot in survival mode. But now I have time as well as feelings. As for the moment, I feel amazingly good with an energy level I ...

  I told a white lie while writing my last chapter. Sorry, but I suspect we all speak an untruth now and then, maybe a couple. But in all fairness to me, I think mine was a pretty small one in the scheme of things. I lied when I said I wasn’t all that worried about having a feeding tube surgically inserted into my stomach. And there really was a part of me that wasn’t all that worried. But that part was pretty small. The larger part remains horrified by the thought of laying semi-naked on a metal gurney in a sterile, brightly lit white room while some stranger and company cuts me open. That particular fear will likely always be my truth even though I know they’re trained professionals, even though I know their highly experienced, even though I know I’ll be fast asleep and unaware of any pain, and even though I know that hardly anybody checks out from feeding tube complications. However, I have since learned from talking to friends and acquaintances, it must be a primordial fear...

  The decision has been made. My cancer will be treated by chemoradiation alone. So, if any of you have been hanging around just to see if I croak during surgery, I’m sorry to ruin the suspense. On the other hand, if you want to witness how much torture I get to endure over the next two or more months, hang in there. I have this nagging hunch you won’t be too disappointed. This has been a very difficult chapter for me to organize. My thoughts have been all over the place. That combined with a very busy work schedule along with the standard life obligations outside the realm of cancer has kept me from posting as regularly as I’d like. So, this particular chapter is a compilation of thoughts and feelings I had pre-surgery decision making and post. So here we go. Monday night was wet and dreary. It reminded me of some Lon Chaney movie where the ghoul suddenly appears out of the London mist. I sat on my couch listening to the gutters dripping left over rain from last weekend’s de...

My timetable for decision making suddenly changed this week due to a scheduling mix up. I’ve headed to Indy seven days earlier than planned for an MRI and a pre-op meeting. I never attended a “pre-op” meeting before but it's something they schedule close to surgery to rule out any surprises. It’s also a sign that surgery is close although I still don’t know any dates. Right now, I’m not much in the mood for any more surprise changes but I’ve come to recognize they are just part of this dreadsome process. I’m currently stuck in this emotional comfortable/uncomfortable holding pattern. It’s what I would call the “emotional landscape in between,” meaning nothing is currently etched in stone activating my undivided attention. Therefore, in a very limited sense, my peace of mind is not being directly assaulted by an invasion date. That is the comfort, and it’s extremely small. Still, this particular unknown called “my decision to elect major surgery” is on the nearby horizon causing...

Been almost a week since my last post. So, here’s the latest. As many of you may have noticed by now, if it weren’t for cancer my life would be a fairly boring place to visit. I basically get up, take the dog to the sitters, go to work, pick the dog back up, make dinner, chat with the neighbors, watch some tv, and go to bed. I do the same thing on the weekends except I don’t go to work, I go to the lake where I eat, drink, and play with my dog. But sometimes I work at home or the lake if something pressing is on my law horizon. Now I’ve added blogging to the mundane. Speaking about blogging, I’ve received a lot of positive feedback from my friends. It feels good to know that this whole episode is providing at least a little interest and entertainment. My ultimate hope is that I can eventually reach a larger audience comprised of people going through this shit and perhaps give them a forum for emotional support. But I do have to say I feel a little uncomfortable when someone gives...