Looks like it has been a month since I have been compelled to write in this forum. It has been a great month! I've been describing to many my feeling of elation; waking up happy, enjoying my days and then going to bed happy at night. Spring moving into summer is definitely a factor. Warmth and renewal does a body and soul good. It seems that everywhere I go people are telling me that I look good; good color, good weight, good energy.
This week I was approaching the 3-month mark where once again I would be reminded that scans were needed to probe deeper, beyond my sense of well-being to an invisible, cellular place where dark forces could be trying to kill me. I thought that my final week of the respite would involve jury duty but after reporting last Monday, I was told that all cases had been resolved and my jury service was complete. Lacks Cancer Center called me a few days ago to tell me that Dr. Scott needed to reschedule my appointment. He needed a vacation and along with the holidays, it would be another month before they could squeeze me in. My scans and blood tests would need to be postponed too.
This is good news. I always am thinking that Dr. Scott needs a vacation. He works too much. And I am in no hurry to get back into the world of pokes and probes.
Strangely, however, this postponement has had the effect of steering my inner thoughts back to the idea of palliative care and mortality. I'd been expressing outwardly to friends and family that I was putting my cancer outlook in a closet. I wanted to practice life with the notion that all had been cured. "Emotionally dangerous", some might say. But I was thinking that a closet was a perfect place for it. Out of sight and perhaps forgotten, but as retrievable as an old winter sweater; far easier to locate and less muddy than if it was buried deep in a damp hole in the ground.
So now I find myself peaking in the closet. Yep. It' still there.
My friend Bob Russell recently entered into Hospice care. To me this is the most poignant reminder of how quickly conditions can change and even an upbeat and wise fighter can arrive at the point where it is time to stop the active battle.
Fortunately I am nowhere near that point. I have no idea even what it would feel like to get those initial twinges that hint at a newly empowered disease, let alone a full-on struggle to simply breathe. Right now I only know that food tastes really good and every day can be filled with beautiful moments and interesting opportunities.
