Written 6/23-6/24 around midnight in the hallway of Whitehall Hotel hopped up on roids and ice cream
Today marks the beginning of round 3 for chemo regimens. There was a TKO in round 1 and I took the belt, but the refs are letting me continue to kick it while it's down. Kick the shit-ake mushrooms out of it, if you will. The gap in treatment frustrated the heck out of me.
I love to plan. To give an idea of my obsession and slight case of OCD, I have bought the same planner three years in a row. I keep a post-it for each week of the year for to-do's. I migrate the undone tasks from one post-it to the next... and so on. My point is that I have not been able to plan anything since I was diagnosed. But now that I started regimen 3, I can begin to plan some things - tentatively. I plan to have a getaway in August with Ashli. We have our sights on Portland! Music, mountains, wine - heck we could go to Des Moines and enjoy it. I also get to day dream up foreign destinations for a vacation for Ross and me. The criteria is Caribbean, scuba diving (a fear of mine but it's time to overcome and persevere!), palm trees, sand, nightlife, and a whole lotta SPF. Dream a little dream...
I've felt superb the past week and a half. Being poison free does that to a person. My bartender/nurse Caitlin served up three cocktails and the Doctor topped it off with a fourth within a two day span. I still feel fan freaking-tastic but I know the impending doom that lays ahead with the chemo.
One of the chemos in this round is especially daunting; it looks like un-gelled lemon lime Jell-o. Funky! It's as unappetizing as Cosby's sweaters. I had managed to grow out a few silly little hairs on my head. Beyond being on my head, I'm quite unattached to the little guys. The chemos this round will make them abandon ship too. The good news is that I will begin to grow the next crop for keeps starting this fall!
The good physique and health fell at a most serendipitous (fun word!) time. Last week I attended the Jim Gibbons 5K with my parents. My girlfriends put together a stellar team. They were the top fundraisers! They also put together the best looking team shirts, in my humble opinion. The day was one which makes you count your blessings and powerfully face your challenges.
The same weekend I sat on a Cub's rooftop bleacher with my dad. I sat, hot dog in hand, taunting him about the superiority of the Brewer's and Gold Eagles (it was a DePaul event) and at that moment I couldn't have been more content. Well, maybe if I had a beer in my other hand. That night daddy-o and I were able to visit with a handful of my girlfriends and for dinner. I take any opportunity to see them these days. They have done so much to show the strength in our bonds. Then we stopped by Chris and Steve's (fellow MU alum) apartment for a birthday party. I felt like a party goer with a foot still out the door. I can't participate in the activities and I still feel scared to be out and about. Dad was a great wingman, but I still felt odd to be at a party. I just wanted to get tipsy and dance. I felt angry of not getting what I wanted (damn you Rolling Stones for creating that song). On the ride home, I struggled with a paramount tantrum beyond those of beauty pageant toddlers - even beyond the stage moms. It was off the richter scale.
I am not alone. Unfortunately despair has hit home in another form. I was also able to attend a mass last night for my good friend Kim. She's in the ICU fighting something... something that is still an anomaly to the great minds of the doctors. She going on week four. Tears have been shed and helplessness amassed. Normally churches are a no-no on Doc's list approved activities, but nothing would keep me from doing the only thing I can - I was able to show support for Kim's family.
Along those lines, thank you to all of you supporting Kim and myself in these rough times. I say thank you a lot, but appreciation never tires.
“When you can’t change the direction of the wind — adjust your sails.” ~ H. Jackson Brown
