Category: Cancer


2:36 AM

Pain is swallowing my body. Walking 250 steps or more brings extreme tightness in the groins both of both legs and lower calves. To that, former WGN radio host Al Lerner would commically retort, ‘a groin is a terrible thing to pull.’ Spasms crept into my right bicep, forearm, through to my fingers, and radiates significant pain when lifting anything above the shoulder. Through it all, I keep reading previous posts on ‘What’s a good life’ and asking myself, “Am I living it?” That exchange is often followed by remembering something from my past, usually negative, and trying to mentally reconcile that person looking back through the mirror.

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Work, exhaustion, movement. Work, exhaustion, movement. If someone asked about my life’s cycle, that would be it: ‘work, exhaustion, movement.’ It’s no epic mystery. And at the end of the day, most cancer patients probably believe few know their cycle or the actual intricacies of living day-to-day or existence. There’s no magic. There’s no spark. No one knows what it’s like to sit in some poorly designed cancer waiting room and have some clinician take away the last remnants of their life.

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A friend knocked at my door and dropped off a bottle of seaweed pills. “It will fix metabolism and fight cancer.” Of course, I accepted the offer unconditionally. After some small talk, I shut the door and tossed them on the counter behind my toaster with the other worthless crap I received. I don’t take ‘magic’ supplements because they don’t work. And technically, it’s hard to do something when there’s a lack of faith. Supplements do not make you invincible.

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Through mid-May, over $21,000 of cancer medical tests were completed. The statistics took me by surprise. “Hell, it’s only May.” I quipped. “There are seven more months left in the year. And that’s without any treatment.” My HSA account has withered from $2,500.00 to $863.00. That means I must decide what medical treatments will not be performed this year. More than likely, that scheduled eye exam and glasses are out of the question. Dental cleaning and tooth crown are out as well. Should I have neck fusion, lumbar fusion, or no fusion? If I choose fusion, should I postpone the cancer treatment? Installation of new brakes for my car? No. The nephew’s wedding gift budget gets decreased. New clothes? No, not this year. Trips to Wrigley Field? Out of the question. Am I thinking about buying lunch at the cafeteria? Nope. Want to see that new movie? No, not an option. When experiencing such significant cancer expenses, everything decreases, including cable, cell phone service plans, gym memberships, groceries, and other incidentals.

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One of the hardest things about having a life-threatening disease is determining when to tell family. As many of you know, I’ve been hiding Parkinson’s and my cancer for some time, having told roughly nine people. And when you do, the thought of what to say is on the forethought of the brain. “Hey, the weather is going to be great this weekend. Daily high temperatures will be 84 degrees. And, oh, by the way, I have cancer. So, wanna grab a cheeseburger? There’s a great palce down the road?”

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New rule: Never go to a Cancer Doctor at the doctor’s request on Good Friday. Why? The news is unlikely to be ‘good news.’ During my April 4th clinical appointment, my Primary Care Physician recommended a friend whose a Cancer Orthopedic Surgeon. “His office will likely call to schedule you in a couple of weeks. He might be able to assist with pain management. I will forward his office your records this afternoon.” Several weeks later never happened; I received the call April 5th. 

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Weird. Just Weird

There’s a moment in everyone’s life when the morning alarm sounds, and you smack the ‘snooze button.’ “Oh God,” we whisper, “Just five minutes more.” That very moment begins another day of weirdness. For instance, I chose to drive to work yesterday. And there’s that weird moment when a white Toyota confused me. At that moment, I lost orientation. Where am I? What am I doing? Where am I going? Why am I here at this spot? What the hell is a white Toyota out here? I couldn’t place my finger on it. Ten minutes later, my brain operated flawlessly. It was weird.

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Cancer is My Job

Bone ache has increased its presence since the last blog post in early February. It makes one weary, and the angel of death suddenly feels more present than ever. It’s not that I am on death’s door. At least not yet. But it’s gnawing its way closer. (At least, that’s how I feel.)

My energy is decreasing. By 7 PM, the bed looks wonderfully beautiful and seduces me with potential dreams of another world. I want to eat, but I cannot. And I hunger for sustenance, but eating makes me nauseous. “Forty-one pounds,” I muttered to myself. “Wow. Forty-one pounds lost since mid-October 2022.”

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When people receive a cancer diagnosis, they are stunned. I wasn’t. The clinician was direct and matter-of-fact. “We suspect cancer.” The calmness was amazing. Not my calmness. His. Thinking back on the exchange, I wish the clinician had hyped it a little more, like that old Dell commercial. “Dude. You’re getting a Dell.” Fist bump and smack, smack. Instead, just the standard textbook delivery that they suspect cancer, followed by a wave of the hand as if to say, “Now get the hell out of here. I am late for lunch.”

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