So, What's My Excuse Now?
Okay, I have been milking this cancer thing for all it's worth. As I posted, not only did I not plan to be brave, I planned to control the remote, decide what restaurant we ate at, and whine a lot. And when anyone opposed me, I could play the C card.
But now, I can see in my family's eyes, this is rapidly losing it's power. 'But I might still have cancer,' I say. 'I haven't had the CAT Scan.'
'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' they say.
I'm thinking that this 'control the world through pity' strategy may have had it's downside. May have been a little short term in my thinking. And now that I'm having a little chemo vacation, I've had no need for ativan or vicodin or compazine. And I've felt chipper. A little breathless from this virus thingy, but really chipper. Today I'm not taking any analgesics so I can show my doctor that I'm 48 hours without a fever and try to have chemo on Monday. I'll also have more pulmonary tests if I do, and if I am still showing some signs of lung issues, after Monday I won't have bleomycin (the 'B' in the ABVD chemo cocktail that's the treatment for Hodgkins.) Doctor says that since the last four chemos are just kind of clean-up, I can do fine without the bleo if I am having some toxic side effects.
But that probably means that I'll be even more chipper.
Must think of new selfish plan. I still haven't gotten anything from the Make A Wish Foundation.
But now, I can see in my family's eyes, this is rapidly losing it's power. 'But I might still have cancer,' I say. 'I haven't had the CAT Scan.'
'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' they say.
I'm thinking that this 'control the world through pity' strategy may have had it's downside. May have been a little short term in my thinking. And now that I'm having a little chemo vacation, I've had no need for ativan or vicodin or compazine. And I've felt chipper. A little breathless from this virus thingy, but really chipper. Today I'm not taking any analgesics so I can show my doctor that I'm 48 hours without a fever and try to have chemo on Monday. I'll also have more pulmonary tests if I do, and if I am still showing some signs of lung issues, after Monday I won't have bleomycin (the 'B' in the ABVD chemo cocktail that's the treatment for Hodgkins.) Doctor says that since the last four chemos are just kind of clean-up, I can do fine without the bleo if I am having some toxic side effects.
But that probably means that I'll be even more chipper.
Must think of new selfish plan. I still haven't gotten anything from the Make A Wish Foundation.
posted by Maureen McHugh at 2:03 PM
7 Comments:
*But now, I can see in my family's eyes, this is rapidly losing it's power. 'But I might still have cancer,' I say. 'I haven't had the CAT Scan.'
'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' they say.*
You gotta look at it from their point of view. I mean, it's kind of anticlimactic, don't you think? A little like reading, say, beautifully written science fiction novels that never have punchy, dramatic endings...
I'm just saying I see a pattern.
Barth
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(I tried posting this before, but it didn't display properly.)
I'm not sure why I'm reminded of it, but have you seen Julia Sweeney's one-woman show _God Said, 'Ha'_? It's about her brother's -- and then her own -- diagnosis with cancer. Definitely worth seeing; it's available on DVD.
It's not fair for the woman who is a source of pity and inspiration to us all to make me laugh about the pity and inspiration she inspires.
I think you need to come up with a new plan for world domination. World domination through wigs, perhaps? Through chocolate? Through exquisite prose?
I don't know; I've read enough that the pattern is familiar. There's the initial build-up, point of no return, the heroic effort-- check, check, check-- and then after that there's the bright moment, where all the plans seem to be working and the goal is almost in hand. And then after the bright moment comes--
On the other hand, maybe I'd better not go there
Maureen, you are too funny. You crack me up. So far things seem to be a little better this time around. Good luck getting chemo tomorrow (god, I never thought that would be something anyone would want to hear).
You may not have cancer any more, or the cancer may be on the run or in remission or whatever, but you are still being pummelled by chemo, and that's truly something.
If you really do "see" this in Bob's eyes (and I suspect that you're being a bit playful here), just tell him: "You can declare me Over It when my hair starts to grow back." Let him argue with that!
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