Since I’ve been quite frank about my experiences in these New Adventures in Cancer, I thought I’d lay out where my head is today. A very long walk on the Papillion Creek Trail gave me plenty of time to sort through what I’m thinking and feeling, inasmuch as that’s possible right now.
First off, I am intensely relieved to have the potential cancers down to just the liver anomalies. My colon’s continuing attempts to kill me are very much at issue, but that’s not a battle I need to fight today. Hopefully the lymphatic stuff will stay firmly in the “false alarm” category. The liver stuff will suck, a lot, but it’s constrained. At the same time, I’m also very angry about it. I think this is a healthy anger, falling somewhere between “borderline psychotic will to live” and “kill them all, God will know His own.” Part of what I need to stay mentally, emotionally and physiologically motivated to beat these little tumorous fuckers to death.
Secondly, I’m realizing that the battle of the colon will be a continuing process. Part of how I coped with last year’s Excellent Cancer Adventure was by unconsciously assuming that it was a one-time event, an anomaly, and that I’d return to a normal existence at some point. Clearly this is not the case. This is resetting my emotional horizons in fundamental ways. I have been planning my life in decades, assuming at least til age 70 for active, productive healthy daily existence, and at least age 80 for reasonable health and productivity. While that’s not off the menu — everything going on now is controllable — my risk factors are going to be much higher than the general population for the foreseeable future. It’s not that I think I’m going to die young. It’s that I know I might. So my sense of living for the day, already very strong since last year’s struggle, has been sharpened. I grow monsters in my gut, and sooner or later one of them may kill me. I can live with that, I just need to live in the now, however long the now turns out to be.
Third, the outpouring of love, support and affection here on the blogs, via Twitter, via email, via telephone, in person — it has been overwhelming. Sort of like going to my own funeral, Tom Sawyer style. I have not even pretended to keep up with everyone, for which I am sorry. I want to say the sense of community has been a very powerful part of my ability to weather this experience thus far, and will be a critical aspect of these next phases of the process. Thank you, everyone.
Meanwhile, life goes on. I have been working with
Thank you, every one. And most especially, thank you to