[cancer] The state of play
Just a headspace update, nothing new to report on the diagnosis and treatment front.
I’ve been having a great time lately in my social and personal life. These past few months I’ve enjoyed more energy and focus than I’ve had in over three years. The real me, the sparking, clever, thoughtful, sensuous, impetuous, energetic me, is back in full force. And I’ve been loving it.
My next round of tests are in four weeks. As has been the case with this disease, we find the metastases through early detection. I don’t get sick, feel unwell or anything else. That loss of somatic and mental health is a function of the treatments, for me. So I will most likely continue to feel fine and focused until I walk into that lab on Monday, August 13th for my bloodwork and my CT scan. If my doctors run true to form, by the time I walk into my oncology consult on Wednesday, August 15th, I’ll know the bloodwork and scan results. So for about two days, I’ll have Schrödinger’s tumor, and then we’ll open the box.
It’s like knowing your entire life will change based on a coin flip that happens every few months. Except the odds of my coin flip aren’t anywhere near as good as 50/50. Everything hangs in the balance, by a thin thread. This will be true even if my current status of No Evidence of Disease persists long enough for me to be considered in remission. This will be true even if I were to persist in remission long enough for me to be cured. Cancer is a shotgun duct taped to my forehead, and I don’t control when it goes off.
For the rest of my life, there will be this monster in my mental closet. If I’m lucky enough to have the years go by with me remaining unmolested by the disease, that monster will grow smaller and more distant. But he will never go away.
I guess the pre-test weirdness is starting up in my head. That’s what I’m saying here. I should still be okay for a couple of more weeks, then around the beginning of August I will start feeling freaky and sad. It’s still true that every time I do something, a little voice inside my head whispers, “This might be your last time.” That voice will grow to thunder by the time I sit down to open my veins and slide my body through the CT scanner.
This I do not love.
Posted: 5:43 am Tue July 17 2012 |