Wednesday, September 22, 2021
I walked out of the cancer center last Wednesday with a new plan: active surveillance. It sounds a little CIA-ish, but it’s actually a benign (if radioactive) way of checking for recurrence. A CT scan every three months will keep me on track to meet my goal of spontaneously glowing in the dark. But also, if there’s one thing I’ve observed about lung cancer, it’s that it’s a sneaky little devil. It mutates and sends microscopic young cells careening around the body, much like skateboarders shooting down the hill outside our house. WHOO HOO. The CT scan might pick up early signs of a recurrence.
I didn’t expect this. Well, I did– the NCCN sets this as the next step in the standard protocol of care for my stage and location of cancer. But it’s a little like being cut loose from the mother ship. When I woke up Thursday, I was pretty much numb. The I started snapping at my family. Then, about four days later, I started leaking tears.
The American Cancer Society has a specific section on coping with cancer during and after treatment. It’s straightforward and frank. Why I didn’t find it until yesterday is a mystery to me. On their scale of How Well Are You Coping, I’m not doing too badly, but in the last few days, I’ve realized you can’t really process cancer when you’re in the flurry of testing, doctors visits, organizing prescriptions, hours of infusions, etc.
Early yesterday afternoon, when a meeting scheduled for last night was canceled, I felt the day crack open. I sat at my desk, just sat there. Didn’t even think about much. Last night, I sat some more, in the living room, sort of pretending to read. It was the perfect example of Don’t Just Do Something, Stand There.
I’m thinking about coping for the long haul instead of in response to daily events. I’ve been subconsciously pondering the question of what makes a day meaningful, a life. The book 4,000 Weeks: Time Management for Mortals has been a provocative way to consider this. The question of being on a daily basis is the current, easier, teaser. Here’s what I’ve got so far.
- Mindfulness— some practice that helps me sidestep general chatter and the chatter of cancer.
- Exercise, specifically building endurance, so that I can tackle some cycling goals that have presented themselves as being important.
- Nutrition— continuing to move into a more plant-based diet. Plus, losing weight (ugh), because being overweight is one of the big risk factors for all kinds of disease, including cancer.
- No BS— there simply may not be enough time. No accepting others’ expectations or demands. No niceness for the sake of not rocking the boat. No doing something because it will only take a few minutes and what the heck. BS takes mental time, space, and energy with little return. There may not be not enough time.
- Spending time outside because, nature.
- The people who matter most. See No BS, above.
I’m slowly letting go of commitments and activities to make more room in my life.
What would life have been like if I’d done this decades ago?
Thanks for reading.
Image by David Mark from Pixabay