[cancer] Getting narrower

My world’s starting to get narrower as I approach chemo. I remember this exact same effect taking place in the context of last year’s surgery. The prescribing consult will be on 7/27, with various things to happen thereafter, such as installing the port in my chest and scheduling the infusions.

My sense as I go through various activities runs along the lines of well, this is the last time I’ll do this for a while. Also, my underlying fear of dying from this whole experience has kicked back up. (Not like the mortality statistics are exactly uplifting at the moment anyway.) So sometimes I find myself thinking well, I may never do this again.

It’s not that my fundamental optimism has faded, nor my energy and drive. This is like a layer of fear lacquered over that. The Fear, perhaps, spread micron thin and contaminating everything. A reaction to the increasing inevitability of this process. I’m still a bit abstracted from my core emotions, and spending the past two weeks with has helped a lot. We’ll see what flows next. It ain’t easy.

5 thoughts on “[cancer] Getting narrower

  1. Hang in there, Jay! While I’m not on chemo, several of my friends are going through chemo as I write. The bad news is that it makes you sick; the good news is that the new meds can bring about a reduction or a total remission of the cancer. I wish you luck and hope the treatments have a positive result for you.

  2. tetar says:

    Something to remember, if it helps, is that each of us is in exactly the same boat as far as not knowing what the next moment may bring, and mortality. Memento mori, life’s short, all that: As long as you’re okay THIS MOMENT, that’s what counts. Eternal now. It is all any of us have anyway. You’re just being prevented from doing the usual humanoid primate escapism thingie for the time being, that’s all. Hang in there. You’re plenty strong enough to get through all this. How you feeling RIGHT THIS INSTANT? That’s the thing right there and it’s controllable.

  3. C. S. Inman says:

    Statistics are like rules. They are meant to be absolutely smashed to pieces, burned, and then pissed on until they are a smoldering pile of ruined numbers begging their crappy little number gods for mercy and getting NONE.

    I expect nothing less than a creative death for the statistics.

  4. Excellently described, Jay. I really remember that narrowing. I grew so bored with Planet Cancer, and so trapped by its omnipresence–it changed my appearance, organized my life, ruled my nights (I had neuropathy for awhile) and while no one thing was absolutely awful, the six months of it was just so…damn…long.

    Calendula rocks. And the advice to live in the instant is great. Difficult, but great.

    1. Jay says:

      Thank you, Maureen. I know you know.

      At some point I may pick your brain about how it is to work through chemo. I’ll be on FOLFOX plus Avastin, if that means anything to you. (And if I got the names right…)

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