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| View on the way up Dog Mountain, May 2018 |
M & I were talking about Dog Mountain when Dr. Oncology entered the room. Dog Mountain, is a gorgeous but challenging hike in the Columbia River gorge. You get to a point where, just when you think you’re going to fall over from the elevation gain, you get to a sign with two arrows. One arrow points left and is labeled “Hard.” The other points right and is labeled “Harder.”
“Dog Mountain?” Dr. Oncology said. “Isn’t that kind of steep?”
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| View from Dog Mountain, May 2018 |
Dr. Oncology may be kind and gentle but she yelled at me today. I’ve blocked the exact exchange from my mind because I was so surprised. OMG, she’s yelling at me! was all I was thinking. Her yelling is really just an extra firm, chilly tone and a Look in her eyes, yielding a total affect of I AM NOT PLAYING.
I was telling her about last Saturday’s bike ride, which, in the Before Times, would have counted as a simple errand. The plan was, ride to REI to pick up something, maybe find some iced coffee, pedal home. What happened instead was, after REI, we headed toward NW 23rd St, with tons of shops and restaurants. But it was up a gradual hill, it was hot, I was fading. I realized I was done well before we got halfway to 23rd. M usually rides ahead of me and then circles back to wait for me, so I just turned my bike around and stood in the shade until he noticed and rode back to me. “I’m done. I need to go home,” I said, “Now.”
Being a good husband, he said OK. Still, I needed to find a bench and sit in the shade for quite a spell before heading over the bridge and home. He went off to find iced coffee while I looked at the river and had a few pity tears.
Dr. Oncology, however, was showing NO pity. Instead, she 100% backed my poor body, which has been through so much, she said, even starting immunology with barely any time to recover from the chemo and radiation. (That was a direct hit, which I accepted with a slight nod– after all, *I* had pushed to start immunology exactly two weeks after chemo & radiation, mainly because Dr. Radiology said the Pacific study indicated there was some significance to that….)
Dr. Oncology did not let her point slide. Your body has been through so much– give it time to recover. She said this several times, I guess in case I missed it the first and second times. The goal is cure, she reminded me, and I have to give my body time to heal.
On other fronts, my blood looks good, the nausea I’ve been feeling is probably residual from the radiation and chemo– remember how my body is still healing from that, while simultaneously being jazzed up with immunology? (No rest there.) The tiredness I felt after my last immunology treatment? Not something she would expect; she chalked that up to chemo and radiation as well. “You can’t just finish chemo and radiation and flip a switch and expect to be back to normal,” she scolded.
Really? Really?!? Aren’t they the ones who are telling me to lead as normal a life as possible? In my normal life, I ride my bike to REI and get coffee and it’s just part of a regular day. But what they really mean is live my normal life, with a lot of rest? Like, naps? OK, OK. I need to start thinking about how I’ll ease back in to my normal life.
She checked All The Things that doctors check: heart, breathing, etc. We talked about how she reads the results from the blood tests and how we’re all handling Covid– she encouraged me to act like everybody else who is being cautious about so-called re-entering. She wears a mask inside different places because she doesn’t think people are reliable right now. I agreed– I didn’t wear a mask once we were seated at the Thorns soccer game Sunday, but once the stadium is fully opened and they aren’t checking for vaccination, I will certainly wear one upon entry *and* while seated. It’s about taking due caution, she said. “Wear a mask because you’re like everyone who is being cautious.” “Not because I have cancer, ” I said. “Yes!” she said.
After the usual farewell chatting, she said goodbye. Midway through sliding the door shut, she looked back in and said, “No Dog Mountain!” “No Dog Mountain,” I promised.
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| On the way up Dog Mountain May 12, 2018 |