Sportsmanship, the truck, the Agony & the Ecstacy & Me.
Posted November 10, 2009on:
I’ve been a good sport for the most part about this cancer thing, but I want to report “a late hit” in this round of chemotherapy. I even tried to find the official referee hand signal for “a late hit” in football, which results in a penalty. And surely we can all agree is bad sportsmanship.
I spent the afternoon and evening on the couch Monday after having a great morning, even working a bit. But a small truck hit me in the p.m. and I took to my couch. Actually, first I took an hour and a half nap – unheard of in my life. I’m more of a 15-minute power napper.
I have tried so bloomin’ hard to be perky through all treatment that when the truck hits, I’m really disappointed in myself. I know. I know. It’s not a character flaw. It is possible that the truck takes advantage of my overdoing it. I want to feel good so badly that I convince myself to do more than I should. And the driver begins revving the truck engine when it sees me out in the neighborhood walking. Diabolical.
You may need to hang on tight to follow this reasoning in the next part of this blog post. First, let me say that my first chemotherapy treatment was two days after my son, Michael,’s birthday on September 21. He’s so in the clear on this.
I had my first chemotherapy treatment on September 23 – Maggie’s birthday. I was down and out for a few days but was pretty much back to normal on September 29 – my son-in-law Mike’s birthday. And that has been the pattern since then.
About six days after chemotherapy I’m back to being me. On day six, when I’m so much better, Maggie and I wish Mike a happy birthday once again. Is this celebration going to his head? Should he get presents each time?
Today is chemotherapy plus four days. So if you are planning to shop for Mike’s birthday, you should get something in the mail to him quickly. As to other family birthdays, mine on October 11 was pure disaster. That’s when the semi-truck hit me as opposed to a pickup and ran back and forth across me. I was expecting a tank for the third, but it was only a semi once again. It crept closer to day six bit then I was great the next day – what we’re calling Mike’s birthday.
This time, a pickup hit day three. Who knows? Will the sixth day be the triumph once again? Will Mike get the credit? Presents?
You may recall the movie, “The Agony the Ecstasy,” about Michelangelo’s painting of the Sistine Chapel under the ever watchful eyes of Pope Julius II. He was always in a hurry to have this magnificent work done. “When will you make an end?” the movie pope asks frequently. Michelangelo always responded, “When I am finished.”
“When will you make an end?’ to cancer treatment could be asked of me.
When Pope Julius II’s birthday celebration comes on December 5, I’ll still be in the chemotherapy trenches but with different drugs that supposedly are better tolerated. By my husband’s birthday on January 23, I should be done with chemotherapy and be in my month off for good behavior before starting six weeks of radiation.
I’ll probably still be in radiation treatment when Michelangelo’s March 6. 1475, birthday is celebrated. By my brother’s birthday on April 29, I should be done with all the treatment and maybe I’ll have a lot of my full strength back. Show off, Andy, take credit.
And when Michael and his girl friend graduate from the University of Minnesota on and Maggie from her graduate program at the University of Kansas both the same weekend and possibly the same day in May, I should be just dandy. That is if I can figure out how to get to both graduations without using the Star Trek transporting system.
Now that I think of it, breast cancer treatment is a bit like the Agony and the Ecstasy. There’s plenty of agony – fear of cancer, treatment, complications and trucks aiming right at me. Then there’s the Ecstasy – the joy that comes from feeling better and support from family and friends. And appreciating fun stuff in life – and there’s plenty of it.
And, I should add my ecstasy includes writing this blog, which doesn’t always go along a straight path. Sometimes, I have no idea where I’m going when I begin writing. But that crooked path truly describes what life is all about. We don’t know exactly where we are going and we do have plenty of that agony and ecstasy stuff.
Thank you to whoever reads this blog and my hope is your ecstasy outweighs yours agony. Mine does, despite the challenges of this treatment.