Phase 2
I've had a half-written post in front of me for weeks. It took that long for me to figure out why I couldn't seem to write something decent. A month after trying to write this post, I've figured out what the problems were. I'm determined to post this just to break through the block, but I don't think it's going to be any good.
First, chemotherapy is making me dumber. Everybody has that moment where they can't remember a word. Luckily, it wasn't a common occurrence for me. My problem wasn't finding the words to express myself... it was what I chose to express and when and where and to whom. 👞→👄
I even used big words like colloquialism and schadenfreude. These days, I can't go more than a few hours without reaching for a word and coming up empty. It's terrifying and I devoutly hope it's temporary. Note: 'devoutly' isn't quite the right word. Neither is 'sincerely'. The correct choice eludes me. At least my new deficiency has excellent timing. 👍
That brings me to the other reason I haven't posted: Fear. Until I started radiation, I wasn't scared. Death doesn't scare me. I don't want to die, and the thought of all I'd miss makes me sad... not scared. I've taken the scenic route in life and don't feel like I've missed out on much. But something about radiation scares me and I haven't figured out a way to overcome it. Humor isn't working, I can't really drink on chemo and suddenly I'm out of coping mechanisms.
Phase 2 started about five weeks ago. Here's what my schedule has looked like: Mondays I get hooked up to a pump full of 5-FU and I stay hooked up all week. Remember the cartoons where the prisoners have a ball and chain? It's like that. The good news is that the pump is lighter than an iron ball, the bad news is that it slowly dribbles poison into me. After getting shackled, I go down into the basement and get zapped. Repeat the zapping every weekday and the next Monday repeats the whole cycle.
Radiation got off to a rocky start. They couldn't seem to find my rectum. I told them to wait a few minutes and then watch where I shoved my head.... but apparently that's not how the machine works. Eventually the big scary robot was able to find my tumor and zapped it. I think. Radiation is one of those things where you just have to take everyone's word. You can't see it. You don't feel it. You know it's incredibly dangerous because there's 2 feet of lead between you and everyone else, but there's nothing tangible. The robot spins its arms around you and hums for a few minutes and then you go home.
The radiation room is a dark room with lasers and a huge radioactive robot. There's a long plastic table in the middle of the room. I lie down on the table and a team straps my feet together and positions me in the middle using the various green lasers and the tattoos I got back in March. Then they all scurry out of the room and the robotic arms start circling me and I get scanned. After the scan, the table moves a little bit to position the tumor at the focus of the beam. Then the lights begin to flash, a buzzer sounds and the robot arms rotate around me again. The beam spins around me like spokes on a wheel. The center of the wheel is where the tumor is positioned but my whole pelvis gets various amounts of radiation. After the buzzers and flashing lights go out, the team comes back in and sends me on my way. The whole thing takes 10-15 minutes at most. During the entire process, an MP3 player is spitting out soft rock and pop hits of the 60s and 70s. Frankie Valli singing "Can't Take my Eyes Off of You"
The radiation team is a solid group of people and I'm making friends. They're appalled at my sense of humor but they still laugh. Last week I taunted them about the weather. The radiation center is in the basement and there are no windows. I told them that I got to be outside and enjoy the gorgeous weather... the only downside was that I have cancer. I think it's a pretty good deal but they were on the fence.
One of the many issues with radiation is that it gets progressively harder. It would've been a piece of cake five weeks ago, but I decided to develop a wicked cough and lower back spasms. Wouldn't want to coast through something. 🙄 The cough and the back pain are still lingering, and the radiation has really done a number on me. Everything south of the belly button is burnt. You know when you eat really spicy food and later it leaves your system and things are en fuego? 🔥 It feels like that all the time but I didn't get to eat the vindaloo.
More good news: I got my superpower. The bad news is that my superpower is Diarrhea. 💩 "Chris, diarrhea isn't a superpower" you're thinking. I'd agree, but this isn't diarrhea, it's Diarrhea. Think of Niagara Falls, but with chunks. First time it kicked in I bonked my head on the bathroom ceiling. I installed a seat belt on the toilet to keep from launching like a rocket. I'm working on controlling the flow enough to hover without hitting my head. It's a work in progress. Evildoers beware!
First, chemotherapy is making me dumber. Everybody has that moment where they can't remember a word. Luckily, it wasn't a common occurrence for me. My problem wasn't finding the words to express myself... it was what I chose to express and when and where and to whom. 👞→👄
I even used big words like colloquialism and schadenfreude. These days, I can't go more than a few hours without reaching for a word and coming up empty. It's terrifying and I devoutly hope it's temporary. Note: 'devoutly' isn't quite the right word. Neither is 'sincerely'. The correct choice eludes me. At least my new deficiency has excellent timing. 👍
That brings me to the other reason I haven't posted: Fear. Until I started radiation, I wasn't scared. Death doesn't scare me. I don't want to die, and the thought of all I'd miss makes me sad... not scared. I've taken the scenic route in life and don't feel like I've missed out on much. But something about radiation scares me and I haven't figured out a way to overcome it. Humor isn't working, I can't really drink on chemo and suddenly I'm out of coping mechanisms.
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| Missed Thing Example: Rita's water ice on a sunny evening. |
Phase 2 started about five weeks ago. Here's what my schedule has looked like: Mondays I get hooked up to a pump full of 5-FU and I stay hooked up all week. Remember the cartoons where the prisoners have a ball and chain? It's like that. The good news is that the pump is lighter than an iron ball, the bad news is that it slowly dribbles poison into me. After getting shackled, I go down into the basement and get zapped. Repeat the zapping every weekday and the next Monday repeats the whole cycle.
Radiation got off to a rocky start. They couldn't seem to find my rectum. I told them to wait a few minutes and then watch where I shoved my head.... but apparently that's not how the machine works. Eventually the big scary robot was able to find my tumor and zapped it. I think. Radiation is one of those things where you just have to take everyone's word. You can't see it. You don't feel it. You know it's incredibly dangerous because there's 2 feet of lead between you and everyone else, but there's nothing tangible. The robot spins its arms around you and hums for a few minutes and then you go home.
The radiation room is a dark room with lasers and a huge radioactive robot. There's a long plastic table in the middle of the room. I lie down on the table and a team straps my feet together and positions me in the middle using the various green lasers and the tattoos I got back in March. Then they all scurry out of the room and the robotic arms start circling me and I get scanned. After the scan, the table moves a little bit to position the tumor at the focus of the beam. Then the lights begin to flash, a buzzer sounds and the robot arms rotate around me again. The beam spins around me like spokes on a wheel. The center of the wheel is where the tumor is positioned but my whole pelvis gets various amounts of radiation. After the buzzers and flashing lights go out, the team comes back in and sends me on my way. The whole thing takes 10-15 minutes at most. During the entire process, an MP3 player is spitting out soft rock and pop hits of the 60s and 70s. Frankie Valli singing "Can't Take my Eyes Off of You"
The radiation team is a solid group of people and I'm making friends. They're appalled at my sense of humor but they still laugh. Last week I taunted them about the weather. The radiation center is in the basement and there are no windows. I told them that I got to be outside and enjoy the gorgeous weather... the only downside was that I have cancer. I think it's a pretty good deal but they were on the fence.
One of the many issues with radiation is that it gets progressively harder. It would've been a piece of cake five weeks ago, but I decided to develop a wicked cough and lower back spasms. Wouldn't want to coast through something. 🙄 The cough and the back pain are still lingering, and the radiation has really done a number on me. Everything south of the belly button is burnt. You know when you eat really spicy food and later it leaves your system and things are en fuego? 🔥 It feels like that all the time but I didn't get to eat the vindaloo.
More good news: I got my superpower. The bad news is that my superpower is Diarrhea. 💩 "Chris, diarrhea isn't a superpower" you're thinking. I'd agree, but this isn't diarrhea, it's Diarrhea. Think of Niagara Falls, but with chunks. First time it kicked in I bonked my head on the bathroom ceiling. I installed a seat belt on the toilet to keep from launching like a rocket. I'm working on controlling the flow enough to hover without hitting my head. It's a work in progress. Evildoers beware!
I believe the word that eludes you to replace "devoutly" is...COVFEFE!!!!😋😵😉🤣
ReplyDeletePS..it's Lisa Gonzales.i don't know how to sign in to this
🤣
DeleteMe again..just want you to know everyone at HUH is still thinking of you and asking how you are...miss you tons and sending my best thoughts your way!!😺😺😺😺😺
ReplyDeleteMissing all you guys too! Spread the word: July 8th at Magerk's in Ft Washington. I'll be there and I hope to see a bunch of HUH peeps there as well!
DeleteChris, it's Jerry Cohen. I have just read your most recent post, actually read it a few times, and my inner voice is saying to me "The Force is STRONG on this one!" Dude, your chemo brain is sharper than my caffeine brain! Your words and your writing are an art form, so please, no worries about fuzzy thinking, it's flowin' sez Cohen.
ReplyDeleteAs for radiation, you know what I do! 23 years in, my lifetime accumulated dose is WAY up there, and I'm good, and you are too! And Diarrhea, well, I can't blame the rads, I believe the root cause is Frankie Valli - - ask them to change it! I like your approach though, controlling the flow, just like the rest of life. In this case, we can refer to it as delayed poopgasm.
Thinking of you and your family Chris, and I hate to use the overworked phrase "Thoughts and Prayers, so I'll say that I've synced my spirt with you and we can all take it to the next phase, the one called recovery.