Of Whac-a-Mole, Lung Cancer, and Frosting School | Feb 10 2022

Thursday, February 10, 2022

A Cough and an X-ray

One year ago, I had a cough and a chest  x-ray. To be more specific, I’d had the cough since mid December; I thought I had pneumonia. So, chest x-ray –> lung cancer. I don’t need to repeat the saga; you can read about it in this series of posts.

What I want to say is I thought by now, there was a pretty good chance I’d be dead.

That’s a fair conclusion you could draw by looking at stupid statistics.

I’m realizing, though, that lung cancer more like an embodied game of whac-a-mole. It pops up here, you douse it with chemo. It pops up there, you fry it ’til it’s ash.

In the meantime? That’s what’s been on my mind. Especially when I wrote about being uncertain about applying for a job a friend passed my way. Everybody— family, friend, blog readers– said I should apply. I did. Now let’s see if I get an interview. If I do that would be great. Then, if I am fortunate enough to get the job, one thought skulks in the back of my mind: how long until I am unable to work? Someone on one of my cancer discussion forums asked me if I’d considered that in applying and cautioned me to consider that; someone else said he needed to get back into the daily scrum so he went back as soon as they’d chopped out his lung. Two perspectives, living in me simultaneously.

I’m honest when I ask, do I plan for the future as if I’m going to sick and/or experiencing an early death, or do I go on and live my best life?

Don’t laugh, and don’t slap your head and think I’m being a dope. The answer is not as obvious as you might think. Remember, at the start of September 2021, I deserved an Olympic medal for walking about 2,000 steps, and even then I had to stop several times to catch my breath.

“Have hope,” is the mantra, and, as I said yesterday to my DH, I want to know exactly what you mean by that. Because to me, it seems like it means “believe what you want to believe” (or, that I should believe what you want me to believe), i.e., just put that sick and death thing out of my mind.

A poem/writing  attributed to German poet, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, has always inspired me.

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy,

the chance to draw back,

always ineffectiveness.

Concerning acts of initiative (and creation)

there is one elementary truth,

the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:

That the moment one definitely commits oneself then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred.

A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor

all manner of unforeseen incidents

and meetings

and material assistance which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.

Whatever you can do, or dream, you can begin it.

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

Begin it now.

What’s the boldness here? Daring to commit to fully living, putting this illness from my my mind until it rears its head again? (Do NOT give me the speech about “you can beat this.”) (Or, “Just think positive!” Those invalidate my honest spirit-dilemma.) Maybe it’s Covid that’s reinforced the timidity I feel. This inclination to hold back, just a little.

Except. Frosting school. Baking cakes for kids in need. Training on my bike. See? I’m not just lying in bed.

I agree, there’s some work to be done, and I will. But it’s a true dilemma. I suspect that soon, for my own mental health, I will need to commit to a path. At least one I can follow between scans.

Meanwhile, Here Are Some News Flashes.

• I don’t have bladder cancer. Oh, I didn’t mention that little side trip? My recent adventure in the ER revealed red blood cells in my urine. Three tests repeated at different times revealed the same thing. The urologist I was referred to said that could be an early symptom of bladder cancer. I will not lie– I cried. The doc revealed her true medical self when she said those helpful words, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry!” She said it probably wasn’t cancer, but we had to check every option. So, another adventure in CT-land (the spontaneous glow-in-the-dark-thing gets closer and closer) yielded nothing.
• Then there’s the question of the swollen legs. Have the dyes and tracers that have swooshed through my bloodstream damaged my kidneys? Next month, I add another -ologist to my retinue– a nephrologist (kidney specialist.) I have begun a swell collection of compression socks (d’ya see what I did there?) and apparently members of my local lung cancer group have their own collections. I suggested we have a show and tell fashion show at our next meeting.
• I am having a big, fat, learning experience at frosting school: I’m the worst one in the class. It’s been a long, long time since I have been the worst in a class. The instructor walks by and says, “It’s getting there!” Which it isn’t. This amuses me no end. I have actually been taking over the kitchen at night, turning on the Olympics, and practicing. I’m beginning to think it’s all in the amount of force in the squeezing of the piping bag. Man, it takes a lot of hand strength to do this! (Apparently, physical therapists are known to send hand surgery folks to frosting school to develop strength.)

Here’s my first cake (below): a 2 layer chocolate cake with raspberry buttercream filling. It represents a cactus in a basket…. Just go with me here. We had to cut the cake into the shape, and in case you haven’t noticed,  I am no sculptor. We then learned and practiced a bunch of techniques, which were much easier than making the #$%^ flowers I am trying now.

Have You Checked Your House for Radon Yet?

Review why here.

The sun is out here in the Pacific Northwest. Some of the early blooming plants have begun. Soon it will be warm enough to take my bike on the road. Yippee!

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping you find something blooming today, at least in your heart.

2022  by hudsoncrafted from Pixabay

Dandelion by Michael Schwarzenberger from Pixabay

Sunflowers by Nick Magwood from Pixabay