Things I am Learning

As the treatments go on, my fifth now (out of twelve), the side effects are getting more profound. They said this would happen. My family members state they are just glad that I haven’t lost my hair and that I don’t look like a cancer patient. While I may not look like one, there are days I certainly feel like one. My treatments are Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, every other week, and Thursdays are emerging as the hardest day of each cycle.

I try to imagine, along with the extreme fatigue and nausea, the cancer cells dying in my body. I try to visualize this as much as I can, but I can’t always manage it. Not sure why. I remember my first treatment; I felt bad, but not nearly as bad as I feel now. I remember even going fishing just after my first treatment, and also riding my bicycle a little bit. There is no way I could do either of those things now, and the stories I heard about people running marathons while on chemo, I either don’t believe it at all, or I think that they must have been on different drugs.

A close second to the fatigue is a nearly absolute inability to tolerate even the mildest cold. Even at 45 degrees, my hands, feet and face go numb, my face swells – eyes water profusely; and I typically spend the entire winter outdoors, riding my bicycle, hiking to frozen waterfalls in the snowy woods. I will be taking a mandatory leave of absents from most of my beloved outdoor activities this winter. So long as it saves my life, I am good.

As I mentioned before, along with the increasing magnitude of the side effects with time, my attitude changes when I feel bad. It is far easier to slip into a “Poor Me” m.o., and while I hate this aspect of it all, it doesn’t seem to be even mostly in my control. Fear, depression and anxiety have increased – especially during recovery from treatments. I still have occasional flashes of disbelief that I have stage 4 colon cancer and a deep remorse that I hadn’t insisted on getting to the bottom of my symptoms when they arose nearly two years ago.

Over all, I am in moderate to good spirits. While I am not sure, nor are my doctors that I will ultimately survive this illness, I do believe that I will survive a number of years – and I have made peace with that. So long as I regain enough strength to fish and hunt ginseng again, I will be happy. If I gained enough strength to race bicycles again, I would be a very happy person. If I were to be completely healed and thus able to do these things within a typical human longevity, I would be even more thrilled.

Still, and not to dwell on the negative, I am beginning to sense that life in remission must also be difficult. Having gotten sick once, I will evermore be looking over my shoulder for the cancer to come back; and that will be something that will require some adjustment on my part. As it is, I have acquired the deepest admiration for people who are in remission and I will seek their advice when the time is appropriate.

The Holidays, of course are different this year. All of the commercialism – the silliness I find observing the “Black Friday” rush, the “Cyber Monday”, and all of the other aspects of Christmas that, having been fairly meaningless before have given me the sense that we, collectively have lost touch with what is important and meaningful.

And what is important to me? My Son and my family and friends; the health and well being of them all. The physical world has always been my greatest passion; from exploring the woods and landscapes to deep academic study into natures workings…. Being strong and physically fit is something I love – riding my bicycle and going fast is something I value a great deal. But think, if God chooses to call me Home early, I think the thing I will miss most about this life (besides my family and my Son) would be the sense of curiosity I have regarding life and nature. I mean, there will be no more mysteries.

These past few months have taught me a lot about the delicate nature of our existence. It has also taught me something about the powerful duality in a human life; the art of living in happiness within a nature that can be very sad and difficult.