January 28, 2007

This morning I find myself in the midst of a energy burst, the likes of which I haven’t felt for many days. Maybe weeks. For that reason I thought this might be a good time to post something here.

I feel so good this morning that several times tears of relief flowed down my face. The past couple of weeks have been a living hell, so I suppose it’s only natural that even a few minutes of feeling better causes my emotions to come bubbling up.

I completed my chemo treatments last Thursday. No more of the foul liquid for me. Nasty stuff, I’m tellin’ ya. I feel so relieved to be done with it. The next step is to complete the radiation. Eight more sessions to go – not that I’m counting!

Food has now become a bad subject for me. Left to choice, I simply wouldn’t engage in the practice. No only do I not have any appetite – except for watermelon – but it actually hurts to swallow food. The radiation has now inflamed my esophagus to the point where virtually anything passing through it causes pain.

I’ve lost 12 pounds over the past couple of weeks; a fact that didn’t escape the doctors treating me. They keep telling me, “You have to eat.” But they aren’t here when I have to sit and stare at what looks like nothing more than a plateful of pain.

I can’t veer too far off the food path. Should I, there’s a remedy waiting that would be even worse: a stomach feeding tube. Ain’t goin’ there!

My hip continues to mend. A physical therapist comes here three times a week. She really puts me through the paces. Moves my hip and leg around in ways they don’t seem to want to go, but feels much better as a result.

I’m getting around on crutches. At the behest of the PT, I’ve been up on one crutch a few times. I can do it, but having both of them under me feels so much more secure.

The subject of crutches makes me laugh. When I was about to leave the hospital the lead nurse, a tall, rather elegant black woman, came in to talk with me about the equipment I would be needing she mentioned a “walker.” She and I had butted heads a couple of times, mainly about who was in charge, but eventually decided that we liked each other. Within limits.

Said the nurse, “Now, you’ll need to use the walker.”

“No, I won’t.”

“But you’ll have to . . .”

Several people were in the room at the time. It was clear to everyone that two egos were about to clash. The non-participants, seemingly not willing to join the brewing fray, remained silent.

“I’m not 85 . . . . . and I’m not about to leave here on a walker!!!”

“But . . .”

“I will not be using a walker . . . . . . . I would rather crawl!!!”

“Are you always this tough?”

“When it’s important I am.”

The banter went on for a few more volleys, then she flashed a big grin.

“This is so weird.”

“What?”

“I placed the order for the equipment myself . . . . . . I distinctly remember ordering a walker for you.”

“And?”

“The insurance company sent crutches!”

Laughing. “See . . . . . . . . If you’d just listen to me once in a while.”

“You’re impossible,” as she shook her head and returned the laughter.

The non-participants sighed a breath of relief. A battle had been adverted.

A few minutes later, after everyone else had left the room, the lead nurse came back. She told me that in departure from the norm, and certainly not within hospital practices, she wanted to pray with me. I really appreciated that. Not being a man given to group prayer, it still felt good to me to pray with her. In the ironies of ironies, we had somehow forged a relationship out of adversity, and our shared prayer was proof of it.

I apologize to everyone for not answering the many e-mails that are still sitting in my in-box. I wanted to answer, but haven’t had enough energy to even open the messages. I’ll get to them as soon as I can. In the meantime, please know that I’m thinking of all of you.

Be well!