Woof, Woof...

Today began session number four. The “Dog Days” of chemotherapy. Matches baseball season in July and August. None of the excitement or curiosity of opening day, no pennant race to count on. Just sitting and letting these really expensive poisons run into my system. But I’m a very lucky boy…

Yesterday, there were a list of goofs that resulted in my having to change a couple of appointments for work and see Dr. Chang. Without his approval, I wouldn’t have been able to schedule the next four sessions, and he doesn’t work on Tuesdays…my normal “day one” this week. So I visited with him (see below) and got the approval for the next four sessions. While I was in, a darling little ten-year-old girl came in with her mom for her infusion session. Nothing that I’m doing, given the stress involved in days four and five, matches the courage of a child going through the same kind of crap I’m going through. Made me tear up for much of the afternoon as I ran around in the car and thought about it.

Today, there sits near me…for her first session of Folfax, another youngster. Probably 14-16 years old. She had surgery at Salem Hospital, and 14 months of chemotherapy there. She’s here, with Northwest Cancer, for another series of 8 sessions because that didn’t fully do the job. Of course no one asked her how come, and yet listening to her say “yes, I’ve done that before” or “gee, that’s a little different than I had to do last time” made my heart ache. When they instructed her on the fanny pack, she broke into tears because she remembered how the kids at school asked her so many questions last time and teased her. Brutal punks. Better not happen when I'm around.

Made me teary too, just like typing this does. There are two pieces to those stories that I’ll never grasp…how a child can have the courage to do this stuff…and remain normal, healthy and positive. And how lucky we are as parents, not to have to sit in one of these Opium Dens with any of our children while we watch the stuff flow into the ones we love the most. I’m not sure how I’d handle the news of a diagnosis like these parents & kids have heard. Going through it myself is much easier than listening to how a loved one would get to endure this challenge.

So how about the doctor visit? Dr. Chang was curious and supportive. He thinks I look better than I should, and asked a bunch of questions about how things were going. I was pleased to report that the warm water in the thermos bottle seemed to help the clenching pain last time around. He checked down the physical side effects list, and then asked “how are the emotional effects impacting you?” I told him I was incredibly impatient with those who seem to be wasting my time, and that I was making sure not to go nuts when people disappoint me. He asked, “is this not normal?” which of course made me laugh because it probably is closer to normal than abnormal. I told him that it was different than normal, because I generally can put the soften or hide my response, and not go off on people who let me down. I kept thinking, “gee, Nate would love this. He knows how difficult it is for me to suffer foolishness.”

It comes from two places. First, the drugs are making me more emotional and keyed up than usual. At the same time, some tasks and requests that seemed so important once upon a time now seem trivial. My response is “gee, I only have so much time in my week right now, and you want me to do THAT?” “Are you crazy, I have bigger fish to fry in my life and my work.” So my impatience if compounded with emotions that result from the situation in which I find myself. But never, ever, will I think that this is as hard as I thought last week…when I hadn’t really seen young kids in similar situations.

Me??? I got to hit golf balls in warm weather tonight even though I have the pump on. My employer let me sleep in the afternoon rather than drive down to Salem. I have a supportive team of people across the country that lift my spirits in different ways every day. From all corners of my life, whether my terrific kids just check in from time to time, people send email from my Masters' classes, Fubarians call or write that I've known since I was seven or eight--clients that I may have only known a year or two, and of course all the family and loved ones near Portland. I'm reminded that although I may be doing this, I don't really feel like a patient. A teenager with fourteen months who has to come back...she's the courageous one.

More when I get the pump off...but so far Session Four is not too bad.