It's been a while since I've written a post, so I wanted to fill you all in on the latest news. Recovery from Round 6 has been fairly rough thus far. I've had more pain in general with this round than with any other by a long shot. I had a blood transfusion this past Tuesday, which helped how I was feeling. But then by Thursday I was starting to get sick. So on Thursday evening I was admitted to the hospital with a fever and I've been there ever since.
There are a couple of important developments with my situation that I want to share with you. First off, my body has been getting progressively weaker with each round. This is normal with chemotherapy. One of the things that is affected most is my bone marrow's ability to produce new blood cells. So my blood counts, which get knocked out with each round of chemo, are bouncing back more slowly each time. Before I started the sixth round my blood platelets were low enough that I had to wait an extra week to start. After having received the sixth round, my counts are similarly low. So, there is a question around this issue. If my body isn't producing platelets and other blood cells, then it is possible that I've reached the limit of the amount of chemotherapy I can receive. The goal is to kill cancer cells, but not to completely decimate my bone marrow. One other possibility is that my disease is causing this issue. In other words, it's possible that there is cancer in my bone marrow and that's why it's not working like it should.
Now, based on my understanding of chemotherapy, combined with my experience undergoing chemotherapy, and keeping in mind the positive progress I've made so far with treatment, I believe that my weakened bone marrow is the result of the chemo. We will find out one way or the other this week. My doctor has scheduled a bone marrow biopsy that will determine just what is going on in there, and why I'm not producing blood like a normal person any more. This has some pretty big implications. It could mean I'm done with chemo, and can move on to the maintenance treatment. It could mean that the treatment I've received hasn't worked and that I'll have to try something else. Or it may indicate that I do need the last couple of rounds to finish off what I've started here.
I'm excited about this biopsy, being the optimistic person that I am. But there are certainly some scary potential outcomes. Mostly I just want what I'm going through to change, because it's getting close to the point of ridiculously difficult to endure. For now, I'll be in the hospital for another few days at the most. I'll get some more blood, and when my white counts come up either tomorrow or the day after I'll be able to head home. There's so much going on right now, so many things feel dynamic to me. We have the end of October, which to me has always represented the beginning of the end. We have the election looming next week. We're fast approaching the end of what has been an absolutely insane year. I am so ready to take this year's worth of experiences and apply them to my renewed life.
I'll post again when I get the bone marrow biopsy results. Wish me luck. Love you all!
cd
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Reinvention
Every day I think about what I'm going to do, what life will be like when I'm finished with chemotherapy. In a lot of ways I have a blank canvas to work with. And so it's fun to consider all the different ways in which I could fill it in. The life I had before I was diagnosed is effectively gone. My apartment is gone, my old lifestyle is gone, my old body is gone. I will need to recreate all of those things for myself. It's exciting to think about. And it provides me with a lot of motivation. It feels both very close and very far away. Time is crawling by, and is flying by at the same time.
I've had a few opportunities in my life to sort of reinvent myself. A chance to choose a new place to live, and to make decisions about my lifestyle or the ways in which I will spend my time that can be a little more difficult to make when you're in a routine. They have always been times of significant change and growth for me. Because when these fresh starts have been made, they've represented internal change as much as external. That's definitely the case now. It's safe to say that being diagnosed with cancer and going through chemotherapy treatment is the most significant and most challenging thing I've ever experienced, by a long shot. I feel like my entire life was erased, wiped away. And for a while it was pretty scary, because I wasn't really sure whether I would ever get it back again. There are still plenty of things up in the air, but I feel really confident that I will get a chance to live a healthy life again soon. As I move closer to the end of my treatment I can taste the freedom that comes with this opportunity to start fresh again. And it's delicious.
Imagine if everything you had was taken away, and you could decide what to replace it with. Some things you would want to keep of course. And thankfully I have the good fate to be able to keep some of my favorite things in my life. But really take a moment some time and consider what is pleasing and fulfilling about your day to day existence, and what isn't. Take a moment to imagine what you might change if you could. I'm willing to bet that if there is anything you would change, you could probably change it. Some things we feel stuck with, and we decide to keep or to commit to even though we're not thrilled about them. But other things are simply there and become sort of invisible. Things that we really don't like, or wouldn't like if we had a chance to really examine them. It's not easy to do this, because it's hard to step back out of your self far enough to see these things. But for me, there were some ways in which I was thinking about my life, and some behaviors that were inspired by that thinking, that I am extremely glad to have lost. And I know that I will be a happier person for it going forward.
Being sick or unwell is a psychological challenge. It's a constant battle for me. I feel up, then I feel down, and when I feel down it can feel like the deepest hole, impossible to climb out of. But this shining future that I can see sitting on the horizon keeps me going forward. I know I'll make it there, even when it seems really really far away. And the moments in which I get a chance to connect with someone, or feel a little bit normal, and the moments in which someone shares something from their heart with me, those things keep me going. And the encouragement I've received from so many of you. The words of reinforcement and strength and love that so many of you have shared. Those things keep me going. Like I said, this is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not sure I could have done it without you. Thank you, I love you all, and I will definitely see you on the other side.
I've had a few opportunities in my life to sort of reinvent myself. A chance to choose a new place to live, and to make decisions about my lifestyle or the ways in which I will spend my time that can be a little more difficult to make when you're in a routine. They have always been times of significant change and growth for me. Because when these fresh starts have been made, they've represented internal change as much as external. That's definitely the case now. It's safe to say that being diagnosed with cancer and going through chemotherapy treatment is the most significant and most challenging thing I've ever experienced, by a long shot. I feel like my entire life was erased, wiped away. And for a while it was pretty scary, because I wasn't really sure whether I would ever get it back again. There are still plenty of things up in the air, but I feel really confident that I will get a chance to live a healthy life again soon. As I move closer to the end of my treatment I can taste the freedom that comes with this opportunity to start fresh again. And it's delicious.
Imagine if everything you had was taken away, and you could decide what to replace it with. Some things you would want to keep of course. And thankfully I have the good fate to be able to keep some of my favorite things in my life. But really take a moment some time and consider what is pleasing and fulfilling about your day to day existence, and what isn't. Take a moment to imagine what you might change if you could. I'm willing to bet that if there is anything you would change, you could probably change it. Some things we feel stuck with, and we decide to keep or to commit to even though we're not thrilled about them. But other things are simply there and become sort of invisible. Things that we really don't like, or wouldn't like if we had a chance to really examine them. It's not easy to do this, because it's hard to step back out of your self far enough to see these things. But for me, there were some ways in which I was thinking about my life, and some behaviors that were inspired by that thinking, that I am extremely glad to have lost. And I know that I will be a happier person for it going forward.
Being sick or unwell is a psychological challenge. It's a constant battle for me. I feel up, then I feel down, and when I feel down it can feel like the deepest hole, impossible to climb out of. But this shining future that I can see sitting on the horizon keeps me going forward. I know I'll make it there, even when it seems really really far away. And the moments in which I get a chance to connect with someone, or feel a little bit normal, and the moments in which someone shares something from their heart with me, those things keep me going. And the encouragement I've received from so many of you. The words of reinforcement and strength and love that so many of you have shared. Those things keep me going. Like I said, this is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not sure I could have done it without you. Thank you, I love you all, and I will definitely see you on the other side.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Rare Earth
Whoa, it hit me kind of hard this morning. I stepped into the shower and that song, 'I Just Want To Celebrate' was in my head. You know, the 1971 smash hit by Rare Earth. And as I started paying attention to the words I realized that I haven't been celebrating each day. I haven't been enjoying each day of my life. I haven't even been appreciating them.
It was another difficult week in chemotherapy land. I managed to make it through the blood count nadir this time without having to spend a night in the hospital, which is fantastic. But almost every day for the past week has been really unpleasant. I've had this intense stomach pain and nausea which have eliminated my appetite, caused me to throw up, and basically killed any and all joy I may otherwise have been experiencing.
On Saturday I went over to the hospital and they gave me a blood transfusion. And now, a couple of days later, I'm feeling much better than I had been. I'm still a bit queasy, but nothing like before. So I guess when I 'heard' that song in my head this morning I was a little more receptive to the message. What struck me right away was this emotional pang of sadness that I would spend my days in this beautiful world without appreciating them. I immediately thought of my family and the huge amount of love we feel for each other. And I couldn't imagine how I could possibly not appreciate every single moment I get to share with them.
The other thought I had was about having cancer. There are a couple of things here. First, if there's any lesson that someone with cancer, or any other potentially fatal illness, ought to learn, you would think it would be to appreciate each day, right? I mean, what could possibly create a clearer perspective on how valuable each day is than the possibility of having them taken away? And the truth is, I do feel this way. I am indeed more grateful than I can express to still be alive and breathing, and to be connected in any way to all of you. Because the second part of this of course is the reality that this might be it for me. I could realistically spend the rest of my life in treatment, physically miserable, and then die, never having regained my full health. I'm not saying I think that will happen, I don't. But it is a possible outcome, and so I thought about it. And that idea made me feel pretty sad as well. Not sad that I could die, but sad that I could spend the rest of my life unhappy.
It's pretty hard to be happy when you feel like crap. I'm not sure what it is, and maybe it's just me, but there just isn't much joy in feeling physical pain and discomfort all day and night. It's hard to step out of it, is the problem. It draws you in and sort of envelopes you in a dark and foggy haze, and you just have to wait it out. I often find myself literally curled up in a ball, breathing my way through that fog, just letting the time pass until it's gone. But the thing is, I'd rather live out each day, even if it happens to include experiencing that kind of pain, than to not be alive at all. Part of that has to do with me believing that I won't feel this way for much longer, and I'll be able to return to a pretty normal life. But part of it is simply my appreciation for the opportunity to experience life, no matter what it contains. Any experience is better than no experience at all. And that is the underlying concept that I can return to that allows me to appreciate each and every day, for exactly whatever it happens to be. After all, it's a day that I get to live. It's full of moments that I get to experience. All of those moments provide me with the opportunity to learn, to grow as a person, or simply to take them in and let them inform who I am.
I may not feel like celebrating each day. And frankly, for a lot of days, celebration would be a little much, don't you think? Some days are just barely survivable. But every single day is worth appreciating. It's another gift, another chance to feel, to express, to be. And so, I appreciate today. I appreciate that I am here to experience it. And that I can share that with you.
Love,
Chris
It was another difficult week in chemotherapy land. I managed to make it through the blood count nadir this time without having to spend a night in the hospital, which is fantastic. But almost every day for the past week has been really unpleasant. I've had this intense stomach pain and nausea which have eliminated my appetite, caused me to throw up, and basically killed any and all joy I may otherwise have been experiencing.
On Saturday I went over to the hospital and they gave me a blood transfusion. And now, a couple of days later, I'm feeling much better than I had been. I'm still a bit queasy, but nothing like before. So I guess when I 'heard' that song in my head this morning I was a little more receptive to the message. What struck me right away was this emotional pang of sadness that I would spend my days in this beautiful world without appreciating them. I immediately thought of my family and the huge amount of love we feel for each other. And I couldn't imagine how I could possibly not appreciate every single moment I get to share with them.
The other thought I had was about having cancer. There are a couple of things here. First, if there's any lesson that someone with cancer, or any other potentially fatal illness, ought to learn, you would think it would be to appreciate each day, right? I mean, what could possibly create a clearer perspective on how valuable each day is than the possibility of having them taken away? And the truth is, I do feel this way. I am indeed more grateful than I can express to still be alive and breathing, and to be connected in any way to all of you. Because the second part of this of course is the reality that this might be it for me. I could realistically spend the rest of my life in treatment, physically miserable, and then die, never having regained my full health. I'm not saying I think that will happen, I don't. But it is a possible outcome, and so I thought about it. And that idea made me feel pretty sad as well. Not sad that I could die, but sad that I could spend the rest of my life unhappy.
It's pretty hard to be happy when you feel like crap. I'm not sure what it is, and maybe it's just me, but there just isn't much joy in feeling physical pain and discomfort all day and night. It's hard to step out of it, is the problem. It draws you in and sort of envelopes you in a dark and foggy haze, and you just have to wait it out. I often find myself literally curled up in a ball, breathing my way through that fog, just letting the time pass until it's gone. But the thing is, I'd rather live out each day, even if it happens to include experiencing that kind of pain, than to not be alive at all. Part of that has to do with me believing that I won't feel this way for much longer, and I'll be able to return to a pretty normal life. But part of it is simply my appreciation for the opportunity to experience life, no matter what it contains. Any experience is better than no experience at all. And that is the underlying concept that I can return to that allows me to appreciate each and every day, for exactly whatever it happens to be. After all, it's a day that I get to live. It's full of moments that I get to experience. All of those moments provide me with the opportunity to learn, to grow as a person, or simply to take them in and let them inform who I am.
I may not feel like celebrating each day. And frankly, for a lot of days, celebration would be a little much, don't you think? Some days are just barely survivable. But every single day is worth appreciating. It's another gift, another chance to feel, to express, to be. And so, I appreciate today. I appreciate that I am here to experience it. And that I can share that with you.
Love,
Chris
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