It's a curious thing, the motivation or inclination to express oneself to others through writing. I felt it quite distinctly and regularly during the time that I was in treatment for cancer. But since returning to "normal" life I don't seem to have the same desire very often. I think there's a part of me that just doesn't believe my life is all that interesting. But that's not really the issue, because when I was writing before I was doing it for me, not for the audience. Probably it has to do with experiencing pain and suffering and needing to do something to manage that experience. And since I haven't really been dealing with anything remotely as challenging as chemotherapy I haven't needed to "deal".
I did go through something traumatic though, earlier this year. Around late May I started having trouble with my breath. I couldn't get a full, deep breath without really trying and my breathing in general began to feel labored. Then I started getting light headed when I would bend down and I noticed that I wasn't breathing normally while asleep. These symptoms were very similar to what I experienced prior to being diagnosed with cancer four years ago, so the alarm bells were definitely ringing - I was scared.
I made an appointment to see my primary care doctor and they gave me some breathing tests. I was only able to expel something like 60% of normal lung volume, so something was definitely going on. I got a chest x-ray and it was negative, meaning there wasn't anything wrong showing up on the x-ray. But I was still having these symptoms and I was still very concerned, so I made an appointment with my oncologist.
The cancer doc decided to order a CT scan to be safe. So I had that scan and it also came back negative. She told me, I'm not sure what's going on with you but it's not cancer. So obviously this was the news I wanted to hear. But I still didn't have any answers.
During the time I was going through these tests and waiting for the results my wife Denise was in the final weeks of her pregnancy with our first child. I don't think I can express how upsetting it was to contemplate dealing with a recurrence of cancer during the first days and weeks of our daughter's life. I found out the news, that I didn't have cancer again, just a couple of weeks or so before Amira was born. It was an incredible weight off my shoulders. I truly was worried that I might be dying. It was terrifying.
So, having thought all those dark thoughts about not being able to watch my daughter grow up and what sort of Breaking Bad shit I could pull off so my family would be ok when I was gone, I came out the other side. After Amira was born I waited a few weeks and then I reached out to my doctor again. I was still having breathing issues, not as severely as I had at first, but I knew there was a real problem and I still had no idea what it was. I asked them to refer me to a lung specialist and they had me come in for one more visit before they did that. They confirmed that it wasn't an issue with my heart and then referred me to a pulmonologist.
I'm still waiting to get in to see the pulmonary doc, so I don't have any news beyond that. My suspicion is that my issue is related to allergies and I have been experiencing some sort of allergy induced asthma or something like that. It's odd that I would develop that at this point in my life, but who knows, maybe that's normal, or maybe all the chemo I had has changed my lungs, or who knows what. So, but I'll see someone at the end of the month, and maybe they'll be able to tell me what's going on.
At this point the symptoms have gotten much better, and I don't notice them as frequently. I can still ride my bike and do things outside and basically enjoy myself, so I'm not particularly concerned any longer. But there you have it. This is the reality of being a cancer survivor. Every time I have any weird health issue the rest of my life I'll be scared that it's cancer.
On a much brighter note our daughter is 11 weeks old today. You have to count your baby's age in weeks to give it significance. Saying that she's zero just doesn't have the same impact. And every week truly is significant when they're this age. Watching her grow and change and drool is fascinating and heart-exploding. I keep looking at her wondering who she's going to be. It's going to be fun to find out.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Come Down to Earth
Note: I wrote the following post I think sometime around late November, 2015. I had waited to publish it because we hadn't yet announced Denise's pregnancy to all of our friends and family and I didn't want to share the news this way. But here it is, the experience I wanted to share during that time.
Hello there. It's been a long while since I posted to this blog. There have been some significant developments in my life that I'd like to share with you.
This year has been a great one for me. I completed chemotherapy last December. And so as the months have progressed I have been able to experience a gradual process of cleansing, for lack of a better term. I received chemo over a period of two and a half years. During the final half of that time the doses were small, but it was chemo nonetheless. And during that entire time I was periodically taking steroids as a part of my treatment. I was tired a lot. I felt sluggish. I gained some weight due to the steroids. And some of the chemo was stored inside the cells in my body. And there is some in there still.
So, as I have spent more time without adding chemo in, I've had a chance to clear some of the old chemo out. This isn't a very scientific description, perhaps. But it matches my experience. For example, on days when I exercise strenuously - say, go for a long mountain bike ride - I often will feel some slight effects, similar to what I used to feel after a chemotherapy treatment, for several days afterward. This experience has diminished over time this year as I have continued to be active, to burn some of the fat I had stored up over the past few years.
It's been a great feeling actually, to know that I'm clearing out some of the nasty stuff that is still inside me. I had assumed that it would take some time for my body to fully recover from treatment. I don't know how long it will take for me to be 100% clear of it. But things are going well.
I spent a good portion of the autumn taking trips to go mountain biking. I think I drove west out I-70 to Grand Junction and beyond at least four or five times during a two month period. It was awesome. I am really loving mountain biking as a way to regain some fitness and enjoy the outdoors.
The last trip I took involved an entire week off of work. I drove out to Grand Junction and picked up my friend Lydia and we headed west to the Zion area in Utah to do some biking. Then we made our way south to Sedona, and then on to Tucson to visit our friends Tony and Anna who had a month old baby at the time. Little baby Lena is beautiful and we had a great time visiting them.
If you have followed my story with cancer from the beginning you may remember that my doctors told me I would not be able to have children of my own. That was a tough pill to swallow at the time, and it's something I have thought about from time to time since. Denise and I have discussed the idea of someday adopting children. And as I spent time with my friends and their new baby I experienced a series of emotions. I was touched by the love they felt for their daughter, and at the same time thought that perhaps I was happy that I would never have to deal with the challenge of taking care of a newborn.
Lydia and I made our way back to Grand Junction at the end of the week and I drove home to Denver alone. Before I left GJ, Denise texted me and told me she had something to share with me when I got home, something too crazy to tell me over the phone. For some reason I had the thought as I drove east on I-70 that she might be pregnant. But I knew that couldn't be possible. So I tried to imagine other things that her news must be. The problem was that I couldn't think of one other thing she wouldn't tell me over the phone. When I got home Denise confirmed my suspicion. We embraced each other after my long trip. I could feel her heart beating rapidly and I knew right away what she was going to tell me. She broke the news. And I'm still coming back down to Earth.
Little did I know, when I was visiting Tony and Anna and their baby, Denise was sitting at home with the knowledge that she was pregnant. She wanted to wait to share the news with me in person. So I was thinking I would never have the experience that Tony and Anna were having. I had had a long time to absorb the news that I wouldn't have kids of my own. But that trip somehow made it more real, seeing two people I am close to be so full of love for their child.
So when Denise confirmed what I thought might be true, I was truly blown away. My doctor had been wrong. We were both completely caught off guard, blindsided by the news.
I am going to be a father. I cannot tell you how happy I am that this has come to pass. I had written it off, given it up, and was in the long process of trying to move on. Who knows, I may never have truly been ok with that loss. I was hoping that if we adopted a child someday that I would love that child and I would know then that it was ok that I didn't have one of my own. I just didn't know yet, I guess. And all of these questions and regrets and emotions were something that just sat there in me, something I didn't know how to approach.
There's a point at which I think most people realize that they can't go back. That there are opportunities that have passed them by. When you're young you don't feel that way. Growing up I always had this feeling deep down that I could have any kind of life. It may not have been true, but I felt that way. So for me, if I'm being honest, my diagnosis was the point at which my life changed irrevocably and there was no doubt in my mind that I could never go back. Despite that, I have tried over the past few years to "fully recover". To get back to where I was before. But the thing is that will never happen. I will never be 29 years old again. I will never be the same person I was before I had cancer. And that's ok! It's a good thing even.
So, but that emotion, it's like loss I think, that knowledge that you can't go back and do it again. That longing. That's something I have felt, sometimes rather heavily, since I learned I had cancer three and a half years ago. But this news that Denise is pregnant, that we are going to have a child together, that I'm going to be someone's dad...that news has wiped clean that layer of pain and loss and missing out that had built up over time. It has changed my life yet again.
Before I wrote this down I was reading through some of the comments that have been posted by people who have read this blog over the past few years. Comments expressing love, and support, and joy, and encouragement. And it reminded me how fortunate I've been to be supported by all of you. When I was sick, your support touched my heart and made me want to live so that I could show the same kind of love in return, and to others. As I have recovered from being sick your encouragement has given me reassurance that I am ok, that I am going to be ok. I want each of you to know this. I want each of you to feel the love you have shown me reflected back in appreciation. Thank you.
Love,
Chris
Hello there. It's been a long while since I posted to this blog. There have been some significant developments in my life that I'd like to share with you.
This year has been a great one for me. I completed chemotherapy last December. And so as the months have progressed I have been able to experience a gradual process of cleansing, for lack of a better term. I received chemo over a period of two and a half years. During the final half of that time the doses were small, but it was chemo nonetheless. And during that entire time I was periodically taking steroids as a part of my treatment. I was tired a lot. I felt sluggish. I gained some weight due to the steroids. And some of the chemo was stored inside the cells in my body. And there is some in there still.
So, as I have spent more time without adding chemo in, I've had a chance to clear some of the old chemo out. This isn't a very scientific description, perhaps. But it matches my experience. For example, on days when I exercise strenuously - say, go for a long mountain bike ride - I often will feel some slight effects, similar to what I used to feel after a chemotherapy treatment, for several days afterward. This experience has diminished over time this year as I have continued to be active, to burn some of the fat I had stored up over the past few years.
It's been a great feeling actually, to know that I'm clearing out some of the nasty stuff that is still inside me. I had assumed that it would take some time for my body to fully recover from treatment. I don't know how long it will take for me to be 100% clear of it. But things are going well.
I spent a good portion of the autumn taking trips to go mountain biking. I think I drove west out I-70 to Grand Junction and beyond at least four or five times during a two month period. It was awesome. I am really loving mountain biking as a way to regain some fitness and enjoy the outdoors.
The last trip I took involved an entire week off of work. I drove out to Grand Junction and picked up my friend Lydia and we headed west to the Zion area in Utah to do some biking. Then we made our way south to Sedona, and then on to Tucson to visit our friends Tony and Anna who had a month old baby at the time. Little baby Lena is beautiful and we had a great time visiting them.
If you have followed my story with cancer from the beginning you may remember that my doctors told me I would not be able to have children of my own. That was a tough pill to swallow at the time, and it's something I have thought about from time to time since. Denise and I have discussed the idea of someday adopting children. And as I spent time with my friends and their new baby I experienced a series of emotions. I was touched by the love they felt for their daughter, and at the same time thought that perhaps I was happy that I would never have to deal with the challenge of taking care of a newborn.
Lydia and I made our way back to Grand Junction at the end of the week and I drove home to Denver alone. Before I left GJ, Denise texted me and told me she had something to share with me when I got home, something too crazy to tell me over the phone. For some reason I had the thought as I drove east on I-70 that she might be pregnant. But I knew that couldn't be possible. So I tried to imagine other things that her news must be. The problem was that I couldn't think of one other thing she wouldn't tell me over the phone. When I got home Denise confirmed my suspicion. We embraced each other after my long trip. I could feel her heart beating rapidly and I knew right away what she was going to tell me. She broke the news. And I'm still coming back down to Earth.
Little did I know, when I was visiting Tony and Anna and their baby, Denise was sitting at home with the knowledge that she was pregnant. She wanted to wait to share the news with me in person. So I was thinking I would never have the experience that Tony and Anna were having. I had had a long time to absorb the news that I wouldn't have kids of my own. But that trip somehow made it more real, seeing two people I am close to be so full of love for their child.
So when Denise confirmed what I thought might be true, I was truly blown away. My doctor had been wrong. We were both completely caught off guard, blindsided by the news.
I am going to be a father. I cannot tell you how happy I am that this has come to pass. I had written it off, given it up, and was in the long process of trying to move on. Who knows, I may never have truly been ok with that loss. I was hoping that if we adopted a child someday that I would love that child and I would know then that it was ok that I didn't have one of my own. I just didn't know yet, I guess. And all of these questions and regrets and emotions were something that just sat there in me, something I didn't know how to approach.
There's a point at which I think most people realize that they can't go back. That there are opportunities that have passed them by. When you're young you don't feel that way. Growing up I always had this feeling deep down that I could have any kind of life. It may not have been true, but I felt that way. So for me, if I'm being honest, my diagnosis was the point at which my life changed irrevocably and there was no doubt in my mind that I could never go back. Despite that, I have tried over the past few years to "fully recover". To get back to where I was before. But the thing is that will never happen. I will never be 29 years old again. I will never be the same person I was before I had cancer. And that's ok! It's a good thing even.
So, but that emotion, it's like loss I think, that knowledge that you can't go back and do it again. That longing. That's something I have felt, sometimes rather heavily, since I learned I had cancer three and a half years ago. But this news that Denise is pregnant, that we are going to have a child together, that I'm going to be someone's dad...that news has wiped clean that layer of pain and loss and missing out that had built up over time. It has changed my life yet again.
Before I wrote this down I was reading through some of the comments that have been posted by people who have read this blog over the past few years. Comments expressing love, and support, and joy, and encouragement. And it reminded me how fortunate I've been to be supported by all of you. When I was sick, your support touched my heart and made me want to live so that I could show the same kind of love in return, and to others. As I have recovered from being sick your encouragement has given me reassurance that I am ok, that I am going to be ok. I want each of you to know this. I want each of you to feel the love you have shown me reflected back in appreciation. Thank you.
Love,
Chris
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