Somehow, someway. Kind of my go to motto these days. Slowly but surely I am figuring this shit out.
With the mouth sores under control (hallelujah), depression remained my biggest problem. I had a virtual meeting with a psychiatrist and we discussed the possibility of trauma therapy. I have yet to receive a referral (it was a year wait for the trauma therapists at MGH), but in the meantime she added an antidepressant to the prozac I take daily. It’s called mirtazapine and I am on 15 mg in addition to 40 mg of the fluoxetine. It seems to be working, as my mood and energy level are both elevated.
Stable cancer, manageable mucositis and mood. A week from tomorrow I am scheduled for yet another infusion of DS-1062a.
Yesterday morning I began my book FOR REAL. I am nudging myself into a schedule—art studio in the a.m. (while it’s still cool) and writing the rest of the day, with some walking, exercise, and meal preparation in the mix.
There is a freight elevator in the old mill where my studio is located, but I choose instead to walk up the four flights of stairs daily. I am working on becoming stronger, and those steps are an opportunity.
I am also starting to be out and about more–even going to some thrift stores. Of course I wear my mask and am careful about hand cleaning, but I refuse to remain a hermit for the next year or two. I need to be social, if only in a limited fashion. In fact, this weekend I shall be meeting two of my kids in the Boston Common for dinner—the first time we’ve been together in months. It took some convincing on my part (that it was ok) but again, one has to weigh the benefits against the risk.
Two months ago I didn’t think I’d be feeling as hopeful as I am right now–I came awfully close to saying uncle. The trick was finding the correct antidote to the side effects of treatment. A workable balance between the quality and the quantity.