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You are welcome to apply any part of this article to your own personal use. Please do NOT publish any part of the article or apply any part of it to any non-personal use without the express written concent of the author.
Namaste, dear readers.
Infusion Cycle #4 is complete. Not much to say. I came through it just a hair better than #3. But that's mostly your doing. Your thoughts, prayers or intentions have really made a difference.
What difference? Well, let me get down to the nitty gritty.
The first cycle was pretty bad, the second not much better. But now I seem to fly. I'd say the first cycle we were learning how my body was responding to the chemotherapy and the side effects. The second cycle we were learning how to deal with the side effects of the medications to control the side effects. Now we've got that down pretty well. We know what to expect at any point along the way. What's left is to take conscious control of the remaining side effects.
To illustrate let's take nausea. There're all kinds of medications to control it. The stronger versions have their own side effects, usually affecting consciousness. They can make you sleepy, dizzy, headachy... During the first cycles I used those medications, grasping at something that would make me feel better. Unfortunately they only exchanged one set of not-so-hots for another. Now I know what medications I can take comfortably and how much nausea above that that I can handle on my own.
So now when nausea hits I just close my eyes and take a deep breath. With my eyes closed I see the nausea as a thick black cloud rising from just below my navel. It's shaped and has a texture something like the cotton candy, the spun sugar confection. Envisioning all you folks sending me energy in that moment, I gather it all and channel it into my hands. Then using my hands I slowly press down on that black cloud to drive it back from whence it comes. It works. It works because you're sending me all that good energy. Thanks again.
Shortly after the last dispatch we set up some uplifting special events.
An important one for me was to be able to teach sailing for one module. The students were spectacular, as was the weather. This always uplifts my spirit, even on the dullest of days.
Another was a celebration of completing half the cycles. The Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA) has an arrangement with the "Mallory Todd" - a charter schooner. We arranged for nearly two dozen complementary tickets for a three-hour cruise (sorry, no Gilligan's Island jokes here). I got to drive until I ran out of energy, maybe half way through the cruise. Definitely an uplift to my spirits.
Before being admitted we always meet with the medical team for a physical exam and for some open Q&A (question and answer) time. Some interesting things came out of that appointment.
If you've kept up with my dispatches you probably know that sarcomas never go away. I've known that too, but for some reason never let it sink in. So it hit me suddenly that, if I'm to believe my doctors, I'll be living with this for the rest of my life. Well, you know I'm only half-baked at 60, so that means I'm looking forward to another 60 years of dealing with sarcoma. Okay... I guess that's what I get to do. Mostly it's not seen as a big problem. I just have to have CT (pronounced: CAT) Scans every 6 months or so when this is all over, leaving this hanging over me like The Sword of Democles (I hope I got that right... chemo-brain and all). I don't have to like it, but I do get to do it. Bummers!
The doctors also talked of another CT Scan at the end of this cycle. Depending on the results there will be (their words, not mine) some surgery now, not at the end of the sixth cycle. They want to examine the nodules in my lungs to see how the chemotherapy is going. Surgery on one side would likely do the job from their perspective. Hmmm...
I wasn't prepared for their sudden change in plans. Being the one in charge of the body proposed for said surgery, and not liking the idea one bit, I asked for some alternatives. They told me of "CyberKnife," considered experimental in some venues. "CyberKnife" is a non-invasive substitute for some surgeries, using radiation. Rather than going into details of how it works in these pages, let's just say that I'm intrigued and am investigating further, weighing the pros and cons thoroughly before arriving at a conclusion. I guess this calls for another dispatch with the CT Scan to keep you folks up to date.
You recall that I've been complaining of gas and a crust in my eyes? Duh... (Italianesque gesture: smashing of forehead onto open palm of right hand). I've got a few doctors here that might be able to do something about these symptoms, no? So I asked. Oh, no problem... Here are some pills and eyedrops. The first eyedrops wiped the crust away, and the gas went down considerably with the first of the pills. This emphasizes one of my jobs on the team - tell everything, no matter how small.
At this point we expect the Nadir Days #4 to go pretty much the same as the Nadir Days #3. We seem to have the fevers under control, the medical condition with which we are most concerned. Yes, we are expecting the downward spiral for the next few days until I hit bottom. Yet we feel that with your energy being channeled this way, we can handle whatever else comes up.
At this point I had planned to share with you some of the things this cancer is telling me. But it doesn't seem to be the right time. I've spent two days just trying to get my fingers to sequé into the subject without success. I've learned to trust my fingers in that regard, so I guess we'll all have to wait.
Before closing I do want to mention Cavalia (www.cavalia.com). I went recently. It's a fabulous show, really uplifting to my spirits. If you have a chance to see it, take it. 'Nuff said.
Keep up those prayers, intentions, thoughts... I feel them every waking minute.
Namaste, dear readers, and fair winds.
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