So - it seems that it has been awhile - over two years - since I've made an entry in this blog that started as a result and along side of a Lymphoma diagnosis.
This entry begins on this note: The time for treatment has now come. I will have my first round of Chemo- and Immuno- Therapy on April 1st.
Yeah. I know. Only I'm not foolin'.
The biggest problem I am facing right now is this: How do I reconcile the seriousness of the situation with the idea that this is not a life threatening situation? When someone says "Cancer" or "Lymphoma" all of the red warning lights go off, the red flags go up, the words "death sooner than expected" begin to rise. That is not the case in this situation - at least, that's not what I've been told, which matches with what I've read. It is a serious treatment - but it will be over after 6 times/24 weeks if all goes as planned. There is some maintenance involved - but that may be every other month - or it may take place in a pill form.
In other words, I don't have to worry about this killing me. I guess I would like to find a way to talk about this in the same manner that two diabetics might compare their daily diet/shot regime: this is what it is - no more, no less. It's just a thing that I have to do now. I haven't had to do anything for 7 years - and now I have to do something. And this is the treatment: beginning this Thursday, I will have an appointment for chemo (about 20 minutes in the chair), and then on Friday, I will have an appointment for immunotherapy (about 6 hours in the chair). I will continue for 5 more rounds - 6 total. I was hoping for 4, but my doctor is saying 6.
My brother - God Bless Him (really - I love him bunches) - said, "What?!?! You're not up for all 6?!?! Deb - think about it. You might meet someone - after all, you'll be sitting in a chair next to someone for 6 hours!" Yeah - we even started talking Lymphoma dating service and a web site. And if you are not laughing right now, you do not understand the black humor in our family - for which I am ever so grateful.
When I sent the letter to them all to let them know what was happening in my neck of the woods, I was reminded of "early on" black humor shortly after the diagnosis. I was playing spoons with my sister-in-law, my daughter, 2 nieces, a boyfriend of one niece, and my nephew. My nephew and I were battling over the remaining spoon. We battled for a good 10 minutes, and neither of us would let go of the spoon. My daughter quietly said, "Mom - you haven't used the 'L' word yet." Light Bulb Moment! I said, with all the might I could must (which was quite a bit), "I am 60 years old, and I have Lymphoma - now give me the gottdamned spoon!" to his credit - he did not let go. The boyfriend was a little freaked, I think. A PS on this recent letter with the updates had a "P.S.": "Please tell my nephew that if this sad story does not get me the gottdamned spoon in perpetuity, then his hard heart cannot be reached."
So - today, I will be walking up and down carriage roads for about 5 miles - and I will continue to try to get in at least 10-15 miles/week. It keeps the leg swelling at bay, and keeps me healthy. It gets me outside which I love and where I thrive. Tomorrow and Wednesday, I will try to get some paperwork done (annual reports) for a couple of kiddos so that I don't have to do them later when I "may" be having side affects (which, again, I am told are minimal). I will plant flowers and vegetables and herbs and try to figure out how to keep the deer from eating them. I'll be on Virtual Sings with friends who have been singing together since the 1980's.
I'll be living - just as I always have - doing things that bring me pleasure. I will have my arms open for whatever comes next and the next big thing - whatever that may be - as I stay as present as possible in this very valuable, very precious, very grace-filled moment.
Much Love - from Me to You.
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