Cancer plays funny games with your head. I never thought I had a problem hearing my diagnosis. I constantly think I am strong and can handle it, and then I find something happening that says otherwise. From the beginning, it never entered my mind for a second that I would die from this, mainly because testicular cancer caught early is extremely survivable, that's why the checks are so important. Also partially because I can be extremely stubborn and that is not the way I wanted to die. For one thing, my wife and I haven't quite worked out my funeral plans for when the inevitable comes. We honored my father-in-law's wishes and spread his ashes at one of his favorite lakes. I would like to do the same with my favorite place in the world. I have told her I want to be left at Walt Disney World on either the Pirates of the Caribbean, the Jungle Cruise, or Haunted Mansion, but I also don't want to be cremated. Since she hasn't figured out all the minute details on how to make that happen, I better not die yet. But, if it's my final wish, she has to do it, right?
Back to the cancer, a couple things have bothered me. The first is I don't know how long I have to fight this. Not how long do I "have", as in "Be honest doc, how long do I have?" But how many years does the fight generally take? I know I am going to beat this, but am I done now after my surgery? Will I be done after chemo? Am I done after the ten years of monitoring? When are you "done"? It seems I am in limbo on everything from applying for jobs, to planning a trip to Florida, to even getting a haircut. After all, I would feel stupid if I got a haircut if it was just going to fall out in the next week or two anyway.
The other thing is just the word cancer. It invokes so much fear. So often you hear on TV or in the movies, the word cancer preceded by the words "is dying of". And the media also portrays people with all types cancer, all the same. They are always lying in a hospital bed, bald and grey, tubes coming in and out of them, basically creating a "cancer patient" look. These are the things that go through your mind when you get your diagnosis. And you only seem to hear the horrible fights with cancer, the long drawn out battles that are constantly touch and go. Not ones like mine, with a slice, a lot of waiting, and a lot of sitting on the couch watching the Top Gear marathon. OK, I will admit, it probably doesn't make for good television to film someone sitting on the couch watching television, but that is the reality of my cancer. Well, that and the occasional restlessness that leads to me doing something dumb, which leads to me hurting the slice, and leads to even more time on the couch even after the Top Gear marathon ends tomorrow at midnight. Maybe instead of doctors just telling you that you are stage I, II, III, IV, they can show a picture.
"You are here at Stage I." he would say, holding up a photo.
"But doc, that's just a guy sitting on the couch."
"Exactly. The Top Gear marathon starts next weekend, I think if we do the operation now, that will give you a great excuse to watch the whole seventy-two hours."
The picture could have a little sticky icepack that he could move around on the photo, depending on where you get sliced and diced. I don't know if that would help or not, but it certainly wouldn't hurt.
It's these things that hide constantly in your subconscious that lead to the dream I had this morning. In real life we recently rescued an abused and neglected basenji. Yes, after already owning one basenji, we decided it was in our best interest to make the same mistake again. The ironic thing is because of her history, we are working hard to get her to open up and act like a regular dog, however, in my dream she was THE most affectionate dog in the world! The dream had me lying in bed recovering from my last chemo treatment in a scene that looked a lot like the ones you see in the movies. I am laying there, gray and bald and all "tubey", when a lady walks in and grabs Daisy the basenji and starts to walk out of the house (not our house, apparently in my dream they just stick you in a random house to recover from chemo). I ask what she is doing with our dog and she says, "Oh, she's just a therapy dog, and you are going to be better soon, so we're taking her back." I start crying, a lot. I keep protesting that we rescued her and the lady says that they just told me that she was a rescue, she was really just a "therapy loaner". In real life, Daisy has been a big help to me while I have been recovering from surgery. One of the few places she feels safe is on the bed, so her and I had a lot of quality time together the first week. I wake up with a jolt, Daisy laying at my feet on the bed. And I realize I was crying, not just in my dream but for real. My eyes are wet, my cheek is wet, and the pillow is wet. A lot of crying, especially to be something I did in my sleep. I haven't let that many fluids out since I was eight and had that dream I was peeing after drinking a big glass of milk and going to bed (or my teenage years when I had the dreams about Christie Turlington or the girl I saw at the store yesterday). But waking up like that this morning just hits you. It says, I may be convincing some people I am taking this well, but I haven't quite completely convinced myself yet.
Although we haven't gone to the new oncologist yet, he has sent us information about the Wellness Community. We have put off going to a group meeting for those dealing with cancer. No real reason, just other things come up, like arguing with our former, crazier oncologist. They have special meetings too at this place. This weekend was a "drum circle". A really cool idea, except in the back of my mind, most of the people I know that did drum circles in college would gladly get cancer just for the medical marijuana. We decided to pass. I think we will go to one of the general meetings this week. It seems talking/writing about things has been a big help, hopefully going to one of these meetings will flush out the things I am still not dealing with. Whatever those things are. I am not telling anyone where I live though, just in case there is a therapy dog repo-man in the room (would that be a "therepo-man"?). Maybe I can find out if other people have these feelings and dreams, or if it's just something I ate. I don't think I can handle ten years worth of crazy dreams and fluid spills.
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