And…GO

“We thought we’d start the chemo on Monday.”

“But I have a meeting on Monday.”

Doing Defence

I've been thinking about the skills and experiences that have strengthened my defence, and will bolster me in the cancer arena. I used to box. In boxing, there are a variety of defences - contact and non-contact. There's blocking: covering your face with your gloves and taking the punch to the arms not to the head. There’s parrying: deflecting the blows off to the side with a swat. There’s slipping: ducking or moving to one side to avoid contact all together.

Yup, that's my bone marrow

The waiting is the hardest part. That’s what many people have told me. It’s the not knowing that’s intolerable.

Baking Soda – You’re Soaking In It

I can feel myself getting more anxious. My back went out in a restaurant bathroom this afternoon. Tomorrow I have my appointments at 10:30 am with Lymphoma, and 1:30 pm with Head and Neck cancer.

A Large Build-up of Snot. An Unremarkable Brain.

I’ve been thinking about the MRI I’m getting. Will it reveal nasty thoughts - like setting fire to the latest Diary of a Wimpy Kid so my child will look away from the computer screen? Or steal my great ideas - like Tupperware coffins? I’ve been trying not to conjure tumours. I’m told visualization is a powerful thing.

The company I keep

The waiting rooms are packed. So many people waiting for treatments. Waiting for blood work, to tell them they are healthy enough for more toxins. Waiting for news. Waiting to crumple to the floor in the presence of a stranger. Waiting to have that last optimistic fragment of "benign", shattered. Waiting to step away from everything familiar. Waiting. No reading. Just peeing for distraction.

Can you see it in my face?

It couldn’t just be simple.

Every time the phone rings and it says Private Caller, I panic. I suspect I’ll have this Pavlovian response for the rest of my life. (The rest of my life... but that's another story.)

The Amazing Race

I've been feeling racey lately and I’m starting to think it might be anxiety. (Yes, starting.) Not head anxious, like the kind where you keep saying to yourself “Boy, I really feel anxious”, but body anxious.

Sunday in Lymphoma Land.

My Sunday was all over the place.

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