Greetings from the Nadir Point

Hey Everybody,

Well, I think I’ve learned what they meant by Round 2 of chemo being “harder.” I mean, it’s not been the end of the world and I don’t want to whine too much, but I’ve definitely done a few things in my lifetime that were a bit more fun. Who am I kidding, I love to whine! Here’s the skinny: headaches every day, two platelet infusions, an allergic reaction to the first round of platelets (itchy rash all over, stuffy nose, a big goopy eye booger they had to wipe out with dry gauze, two nurses and a pregnant doctor at the end of their day asking their last remaining patient over and over if I was better yet so they could go home), fairly intense back pain all day yesterday from the neulasta shot I got in my belly last week, oxycodone intoxication (which was actually really unpleasant, I don’t get how people get addicted to that horrible feeling), fatigue all day all week, and a five hour infusion of whole blood scheduled for tomorrow morning which hopefully lasts less than 10 hours.

So nadir point. Antonym to zenith point.

Is that what this is? I dunno, I’ve had some pretty good zenith points: I’ve been in love, I’ve been to (a lot of) college, I’ve got a fabulous career and a job that I love, I’ve been to Europe, I know really good food, good wine, good beer, good music, and can identify with the undouchey aspects of “Stuff White People Like”, I’ve got tons of family and friends who just won’t let a hot minute go by without telling me they love and care for me, I’ve got great hair, good bone structure, and a reasonably good shoe collection. I even look good with a bald head. So cancer and her jerky side effects? Whatever… bring it bitch!

(This “you-go-girl” moment was brought to you by hours and hours alone with a lot of Buddhist/Spiritual/Self-help books and videos scattered about, please don’t feed the ego…)

Anyway, I’ll think I’ll just be happy when I get out of here and finally re-join the world of the living. I’ve completely sequestered myself indoors all week so that I “stay safe” from all of you “dangerous people” out there trying to give me your germs and make things worse for me. I’m embracing this time alone though (between your delightfully endless phone calls, texts, facebooks, and emails) as it has given me a little time to break through my denial and seriously start to consider what is the meaning of all of this. What is the experience of sickness teaching me about the concepts of wellness, strength, and weakness? How are my body and mind connected? How will my self-concept change to include all of these low moments and strengthen my high moments?

When I start to think outside of this moment I’m in right now I get pretty scared and angry. The literature says the next few months are going to suck for me and it’s hard to see past them. It makes me want to change my mood immediately and the lack of satisfying options I have for that these days frustrates me. As I have come into my adulthood I have often thought of myself as a problem solver, a strong healer, here to make things better for others. Although I have tried to accept that I am a fallible human being, I’m pretty confident that I’m pretty good. But what if I’m actually weak and too sick to really do anybody any good? Will that stop me from being me? Is it even possible to turn my strengths as a healer on myself? Or better to trust others to be as responsible with me as I would be… with me?

As I type those things I notice myself reaching for a quip or a joke or try to find some way to denigrate myself as overly serious. It’s because I’m uncomfortable with weakness and that’s what makes cancer frightening for me. They have drugs and treatment protocols for all of these silly symptoms and side-effects, but what if I’m too weak to handle all of this? What I’m not smart enough or strong enough make meaning out of this?

When I started writing this blog I was worried about sharing too many of the details of my life, that I’d be giving away my privacy. I’ve probably done a little of that, I mean you know about my underwear and have seen me with a needle stuck in my chest which is fine I guess. I also want people that I love to have a detailed reporting of my progress without having to tell everyone the whole story. Check.

I think what I’m really trying to do here though is to tell a story that connects to the way we as humans process big events as they correlate to our own individual life experience. I’ve not had much in the way of suffering; no trauma, abuse, oppression, discrimination, poverty, addiction, or depression in my life so the way that I’m doing cancer as a middle-class white guy has got to be easier than if I had had any of those things. But maybe it’s not about easier or harder, smart or dumb, good or bad, right or wrong. Maybe living through the sensations of pain I felt yesterday will let me connect in a richer more honest way to someone else who has had those other experiences, separate from or in addition to cancer. Maybe I can stop judging myself and others for living in a way that makes sense… even if it’s not always graceful. Maybe I won’t lose my compassion for others because “I’ve got it worse than you” but maybe compassion will get stronger and honesty will become more valuable than grace.

G’nite folks.