September 21, 2023
I’m grateful for friends who invite me to reflect. I tend to finish something, feel a moment of gratification, then move on to the next thing. But this week, as part of a casual email exchange, a friend asked, “How are you doing post successful ride?” It caught me by surprise; I’m going to answer here.
The Recap
For those of you just joining my cancer life, on September 6, I finished a long hard ride from my home to a renowned tourist destination: Multnomah Falls. These waterfalls are the highest in the state of Oregon. The ride is about 75 miles long, with significant stretches of uphill climbing. I reached the falls and headed back. After 63.66 miles, I ran out of daylight. I know that otherwise, I would have made it home.
If you’re a cyclist, you might be thinking, that’s nice but what’s the big deal? The short answer: a little more than two years ago, I awarded myself an Olympic gold medal for walking about 2,000 steps. It had taken weeks– maybe months, who can remember?– to be strong enough, to be able to breathe enough, to do it. Before my lung cancer diagnosis, I’d been riding my bike without much thought; it was just something I loved it. A year of treatment and recovery from said treatment for Stage 3 lung cancer had left me with a badly scarred hunk of right lung that basically just took up space behind my ribs. Forget trying to inhale deeply.
What’s almost harder is that while you’re working on recovering physically, lung cancer is working to obliterate your identity. If how you have known yourself, in part, is as a joyous cyclist-hiker and suddenly you are not, can not, well, damn. There’s no way to describe how disorienting, how profoundly upsetting this is. You grieve as though you’ve lost someone you love. So you go to dark humor because how else do cope with such an absurd and horrifying thing?
I trained for a year and a half. At first, most of my doctors were skeptical (or appalled). My pulmonologist was the exception. As a dedicated distance cyclist, he thought it was a dandy goal. Then, as I rode longer and longer distances, Dr. Oncology and Dr. Radiology joined the cheering squad.
And then, the ride, and my friend’s question.
What I Learned
- When I think about how I’m doing now, I need to always remember where I’ve been. (Which is probably why I’ve prefaced my lists of learnings with a recap.)
- I’ve paid my respects, as one must, to the presence of death. (It turns out that finishing a big bike ride doesn’t change one’s life parameters.) At the same time, I was amused to find myself feeling a little like I’d just graduated. It was a bit of a letdown to realize– yet again– that you don’t really graduate from lung cancer.
- I’m way stronger, way more fit than I was. That’s an amazing, mind-blowing accomplishment.
- I made a plan, stuck with it over a long period of time, and put working toward my goal ahead of almost anything else. (Oh, you mean goals don’t just materialize because you think about them?) Note: It’s easier to list the priorities you want to have in your life than it is to live by the list…and I’ve learned a few things about how to do this.
How I’m Doing
- If my life were a video, I’d say I’m doing a slow fade from one scene into the next. I’m not jumping instantly to the next thing. It reminds me of driving away from the cancer center after treatment was “finished.” Back then I felt I was driving into an abyss. Now I’m learning I can trust myself to roll with the inevitable transitions that come with cancer. This is one more transition.
- After some initial — and brief– feelings of “now what?” I am surprisingly comfortable lingering between ending one thing and starting others. It’s good to know how to wait when you have lung cancer.
- I’m surprisingly relieved. Training took a lot of time and planning. I appreciate that many days, a stretch of time unrolls in between The Things I Need To Do and I just take a breath and look around. I really look.
- I’m glad to be getting on my bike just to run errands or tool around.
- I continue to feel deeply satisfied.
This bolsters my confidence as I go into scans and Dr. Oncology next week. I’ll keep you posted.
Until then, the long and short of it: I’m doing well, thanks. How about you?
