I’m going to begin with another blanket apology. Not only have I been a poor communicator when it comes to blogging, I’ve also not been very consistent about returning personal emails, texts and phone messages. Somehow I lost my date book (in a snow drift somewhere, I betcha) and chances are excellent that if I’ve not done so already, I will miss some appointments.
This galls me because I don’t like being a no-show. In a world rife with promises and proposals, showing up is the only real currency, and I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind in my accounts.
There. Now I’ve at least acknowledged my shortcomings and offered an apology (perhaps preemptively in the case of upcoming appointments).
On the home front, I’ve been back in my apartment for a week and a half now. Servpro did a wonderful job and once again my landlords are to be commended for their quick attention to the mold situation. My eyes are no longer red each morning and my rash has disappeared as well. The only thing that has lingered is my cough, and that, unfortunately, is due to the progression of my cancer.
Yes, when progress is anything but. I saw Alice last week to review my latest scans. Compared to the previous CT scan (six weeks earlier) my cancer is picking up its pace. The largest area of tumor in my upper left lobe increased in size from 4.0 cm x 1.9 cm to 4.2 cm x 2.5 cm. Noted on the radiology report (and quite obvious when viewing the earlier scan side by the side with the most recent one) is increased prominence of the ground glass opacity. And of course there are numerous little nodules in my right upper lobe as well.
The plan is to start back on Xalkori (crizotinib) asap. First, however, my insurance company has to approve the prescription. To that end I’ve received an automated phone call making certain I was me (social security number? mother’s maiden name?) but no other word and certainly no drug showing up in my mailbox. In the meantime, I’m continuing to enjoy grapefruit, which will soon be verboten.
How am I feeling? Overwhelmed. Sad and occasionally very frustrated. Tired and weaker; both of which I attribute to the progression of my cancer. Sore—I’ve screwed up my back something wicked. I was carrying my easel across the parking lot and slipped on some black ice and fell down hard. Unfortunately I think it was the last straw for my back. So, now I’m sporting a brace, sucking down advil and just hoping that time (and, finally, some respect!) will heal.
Of course, in addition to the trials and tribulations there is the wonder and not some small sense of pride at this fresh chapter. I’ve made fantastic new friends and gone to parties, potlucks and art openings galore. In a further sign of my commitment to the future (rsvp-ing, if you will), I have rented some additional studio space at the mill next door. It is where I shall paint but also set up shop—soon I hope to be offering for sale not only my photos and paintings, but a slew of vintage clothing.
Yes, in those months when I was getting chemo I was busy. Shopping. Hanging out at thrift stores and buying up a rather impressive array of clothes, shoes, hats, scarves, bags, ties and jewelry. In April the doors will open to The House of Redemption: Second Chance Clothing.
So you see, as I said to Alice, I’ve got plans. Big plans. And although cancer may mess with them a little, it’ll just be a temporary setback. All this stuff I’m hoping to do is a form of positive visualization; my rich fantasy life put to therapeutic use. And I am certain it can be realized. To wit: after my appointment with Alice last week I placed a phone call to a woman who was selling some inexpensive teak storage units on Craig’s List. I liked the sound of her voice and as I drove to her house I fantasized that she would be really great, we’d become fast friends, and she would invite me for dinner.
Well, when she opened her front door I was enveloped by the smell of curry. We began to chat about this and that. I agreed to purchase the shelving and went out to my car to get it ready for loading. When I came back inside, this very nice woman said that she had just spoken to her husband on the phone and if I waited twenty minutes, he would be able to assist me. And then she asked me if I would like to stay for dinner.
I laughed and told her that I was almost embarrassed as I had in fact imagined this particular scenario. I suppose some people might have been alarmed at this point, but as it turned out, we were two peas in a pod. Her husband came home, we (well, mostly he) loaded my purchases, and then the three of us sat down for a delicious meal. It was a magical experience and, I am certain, quite out of the ordinary for a Craig’s List transaction.
Moral of the story—go ahead and hope. You never know where your imagination may lead you.
life and breath: outliving lung cancer 