Do We Celebrate?

It’s been a minute since my last post. Remember that decision to post shorter but more often? That lasted a couple of weeks but then faced a little hiatus. It’s not for lack of desire to write, but feeling like what was on my mind wasn’t what I wanted to put to the written words. I probably should have pushed through the motions of writing, but just wasn’t feeling the right words come together.

Full disclosure would require me to admit it’s been a rough few weeks. I’ve mentioned here and there this new drug I’m on has had some difficult side effects. That’s true, but for the most part I *think* those have evened out a little. That’s not too say the effects have been easy, but they have been manageable. I still feel perpetually fatigued with interrupted sleep and random body aches and pains. I still get kaleidoscope headaches with the outside periphery of my vision showing the shapes and colors as a result of migraine induced pressure on my optic nerves. But all that has become a new normal to a degree.

It’s the pain that has increased and become sharp. Abdominal, intestinal and side piercing pain lasting for days hit again pretty hard a couple of weeks back. I’ve learned that most side effects come in for a bit. If I tough it out, getting up and working hard to make each day as normal as possible, the issue usually subsides. By compartmentalizing the way I feel or simply distracting myself, I can believe it’s not so bad. Call it denial if you want, but it’s worked. Fake it ’til you make it right?

This new pain has forced me to take a time out, several days in a row. Finally last week I had to give in and call the doc asking about what we could do. Both the Oncologist and my primary doc agreed I needed something for the pain. This is the first time since my diagnosis and post surgery recovery I had to ask for something more than Ibuprofen. We tried a shot of Toradol and thankfully it worked. Within a couple of hours the edge of the pain was gone, and within day I couldn’t feel it at all. The shots usually last a few days, and a week later that significant pain hasn’t returned. I still have what I’d call discomfort, but not the sharp make you lay down and hope it goes away kinda pain

Throw in the daily normal kind of side effects and lack of sleep associated with it all, that makes it pretty tough to get my mind focused on some words of wisdom to juice the daily positive attitude. But then, isn’t that when we need it most?

So that’s why it’s been a little hard to write at times. I don’t want to get on here regularly and just post “whoa is me” here’s how my life is tough but see I’m tougher today. I gotta believe that starts to sound trite as it sounds in my head. It’s a bit of cheerleading for myself, but while I do believe it there’s more to the human condition we experience every day. I try to think about all that.

I like to believe I’m determined, or at least have a determined attitude. But some days I have to ask myself “Ok so I’m determined, but for what?” What does the future look like? Can I think beyond this next year or even the next few months? Things inside me are changing quickly and pretty much out of my control. No, not pretty much but completely out of control.

I was inspired and felt deeply the other day by the post of a high school friend that has gone through her own medical issues in recent years. It was her “heartiversary" which should be a celebration of sorts marking another year of living since a major event. As she said, “it’s a day to be grateful, to feel blessed and all those feel good words…I’m not quite there yet. I need to embrace this life and own what it is now…today, I’m not quite there yet.” That frank honestly struck me then and continues to be on my mind over these last few weeks. Anyone that goes through a potentially life ending diagnosis understands some of what goes along with it. The anxiety of treatment, or what new pains may mean, of what a new scan may show. Not every day is a motivational speech in the making. Some days, it’s just tough.

It’s hard to not see it as weakness, and to allow those feelings to be a real part of the experience.

Today is an my anniversary of sorts. Today I write this sitting in the Radiology waiting room again, exactly 2 years since the CT scan that resulted in my cancer diagnosis. I’m back to get my fourth scan this year, second scan post surgery to check in and see if this terrible chemo drug is doing what it’s supposed to within my system. Given the last few weeks, forgive me if my optimism is a waning a little against the signals my body has been giving me. Today, I’m not quite there.

My wife and I have had several discussion about how we can’t be 100% perfect in faith and optimism at all times. We have to have one foot firmly grounded in reality with the other just as firmly set in hope and optimism. That’s where each foot should stand, but then lately it feels like I need to get better and doing the splits because those two places feel a little far apart. When you start to have those discussions with your doc about how “pain management” will be more a part of your daily effort, that doesn’t bode well. Those are hard words to hear about what your new normal might become.

And yet, after those more difficult days, there always seems to be some kind of reprieve. After allowing those feelings of concern and despair we can find a new hope. There’s those warm days with family by the fireplace opening stockings and the light in my daughters' eyes and they enjoy some gifts selected specifically for them. The video call with my missionary son and seeing his enthusiasm for his service. Those dates out with my bride and friends sharing in good stories and commiserating on harder times. The mornings when the pain subsides and I can find renewed strength in a good spin or yoga class and remember that each day is a new one to be lived to it’s fullest.

Today’s photo was from Christmas Eve morning. I drove up the canyon hoping to catch a sunrise with beautiful light and dramatic skies. Instead I was met with strong winds, overcast skies and flat light. Nothing interesting came out of the camera worth keeping, and yet there was still joy in the experience. Getting outside and simply doing anything does that for me. So stuck the camera on the tripod, walked out on the frozen reservoir and shot this photo of me. I hoped it represented me digging deeper once again to find determination in the midst of harsh conditions. Legs spread wide secure in those footings of hope and reality, giving a secure foundation against the buffeting winds. If I can put on the look, maybe I can still feel it inside. Fake it ’til you make it, right?

So today as I take sips of contrast solution between paragraphs I prepare for yet another look at the beast inside. I’m resolved to accept wherever it’s at as a new data point rather than a doomsday declaration. My treatment and effort will not change on today’s information, but it will give me yet another milestone to reference when we look again in the near future. We continue to find joy in the journey, and the hope to keep this journey as long as we are allowed to live it.