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.
Category: Cancer
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.”
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.”