Ugh...and I don't mean "Tonto"

Today is Day Seven and I can actually move around. Days Four and Five were a nightmare. Usually, if I take it easy on Thursday I can manage my way around the Friday and work a little. But as they say, "these poisons are cumulative." I was completely worn out, listless, fatigued, whatever you want to term the inability to move much. Plenty of water into the system, but it didn't help flush things out very well.

The good news...and perhaps the bad news...is that I only have one session left. I'm uncomfortable with how taxing it will be, but when it is over, it is OVER. I won't have schedules to keep at Cancer Care Northwest, and I won't have to manage around these awful numbering systems that help me keep track of the days.

Let's assume that the next thing you read will suggest...HOORAY...session 12 is done. I'm not sure I'll have much energy to post notes during the session...I found myself lying in bed thinking "gee, I haven't moved a single muscle in thirty minutes...maybe I should roll over."

Thanks for all the nice comments, and the terrific support at work. I'll be ok in two weeks..and it will all seem like a horrific nightmare by that Sunday. In between, I'll be busy at work this week and then brace myself for the final.

Just Keep Playing....

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Here I am. Eleven of twelve sessions nearly complete. I say "nearly" because they aren't truly done until the poisons are washed from my body. That doesn't happen on day three, when the nasty pump comes off. It happens over the remainder of day three and completely through day four...usually a Thursday. My Rotary-mates find it difficult to understand how I fail to attend our Thursday luncheons. People at work think Thursday is an odd day to take off, as they prefer Mondays and Fridays. All I know is that I want them over. Only one more bad Thursday in the summer...and it will come in two weeks when my final session completes.

Meanwhile, the intervening weeks, when no chemotherapy is scheduled, are a godsend. I'm able to visit with friends, travel, share good times with the people who care so much about me. Some of the Fubarian brotherhood and I gathered this past weekend for a tournament in Baker City, OR. Sharing concerns that we each have, though different in content, always brings us closer together. Knowing that we will pull the same stunts on a golf course that we've enjoyed for nearly 30 years will bring a laugh, no matter how old the gag. Wondering what magical shot we'll pull off next, in the midst of the Coors Light and the laughter--that's the best part. Three hours of kicking ourselves around, surrounding the minutes that make it all worthwhile. Usually a quarter of the time...so something like an hour of magic that is very difficult to describe to anyone else. Shots that come from nowhere, that sometimes rain down on the people ahead...that sometimes fool even the guy with the club in his hands.

But it isn't just the magical shotmaking. It is the way we can share with each other. Little catch up is required, we've known each other for 40 years or more. No apologies are required, we all know we have foibles and challenges that are deeply personal, but able to be shared with certain, special people. We can invite others into portions of our relationship, and this time we were even commended at what good fellows we were...something that happens rather seldom. Behaving as adults, though acting like children...there must be something magical about Neverland that happens on the golf course when Fubarians gather together.

And that, my dear reader, is the reason we should all keep track of our good friends. In "Bowling Alone" the author suggests various reasons for the breakdown of friendships and long term relationships. He asserts that each of us has declined from three good friends, to two...and that loss is hurting us all. I'm fortunate to have more than three...and though they take time to manage, I wouldn't live without them in the world. So thanks...I'll never play golf...or bowl, alone.

Finishing...

The best I can comment for this session is that it is working its way out of my body, and I have only two to go. Didn't make it to work this morning, no energy...don't have any appetite, and I feel rotten.

If there is any good news, it was the discussion with my oncologist on Monday. He suggests that we may remove one drink from the cocktail, as he is concerned over my sensitivity to touch and cold. "Wouldn't want that to end in permanent nerve damage," he suggested. Of course, I didn't know that "permanent" was any part of this regimen, so that took me by surprise. It turns out that the oxyplatin is the biggie for this nerve stuff, and if we take that out of the mix for the next two sessions, I should begin to gather energy and reduce the chance of impact from the cold. At the very least, that would allow me to drink cold liquids during the "flush out" stage, which would be a bonus. Not that the flush-out stage would necessarily be shortened. I'll still have the bigger cancer killer, the "five f/u" running through the pump for 48 hours, and with ten sessions down he is confident that we're taking care of all the little demons that may have been floating in my bloodstream.

With two to go, however, I figure I'm over the hump and on the home stretch. The accumulation factor has really kicked in for these last two sessions, and the next two will likely be just as challenging.

I hope all my readers are doing well...and relaxing for the summer. This summer feels a bit wasted, though I get to do a lot of fun stuff next week before Judy returns. (Oh, and they are having a ball in Africa, if the random voice mails are any indication...) I'm heading to Eastern Oregon to play golf with some Fubarian brothers, goof off, and just have a summer weekend. That will set me into a good mood for the final push, which I can really use, emotionally. The positive spin I've had on all this isslowly wobbling to the end...thankfully at about the same time I'm really sick of it, it will be over.

Godspeed...