Chemo is still messing with me. Yesterday I felt great. I actually got out in the real world (briefly) without supervision and wasn't too tired. Today I have been tired all day and yet when I lay down it's hard to sleep.
Yesterday was group meeting. If you don't remember my group post, I will give you the real quick down and dirty. Basically there are two groups, one for cancer patients/survivors and one for loved ones/caretakers. There is no set agenda or leader. There is a therapist in the meeting that starts it, but he stresses he is not there as a therapist (even though they only let therapists do that part of the meeting). I feel especially lucky because our therapist is also a cancer survivor, so everyone in the room is going through or has been through the same thing.
I was kind of torn when they said that cancer fighters and their loved ones don't attend the same meeting. After all, this has been a long tough journey that we have both been on, neither of us by choice. Throughout this its seems we have been side by side, it just doesn't seem right talking about the journey, without the person that has been riding shotgun the whole time. They explain it is so the cancer patient can freely talk about any abuse (such as not receiving an American made Paul Reed Smith guitar with twenty four frets and double cutaways) and the caretakers can freely talk about what a joy it has been to be around me and to cater to my every need (almost, there is still the issue of the PRS guitar). My wife seems to enjoy it. I think she likes making the other caretakers jealous about what a wonderful patient she has.
Yesterday though, we had a real small group. I have enjoyed the groups before, but yesterday was different. It seems in the big group, you always steer the conversation back to cancer. Sometimes it can be a little depressing. But yesterday, with a group of five to seven of us (some came late, some left early) it was more like a normal conversation, with cancer as the common thread we all had. Yes, a lot of what we talked about was cancer, but we talked about everything else in the world. And we laughed. We laughed at our pain. We laughed at our joys. We just seemed to all enjoy a conversation where everyone in the room had the common experiences. One thing about cancer is you may all have the "C" word, but there is the surgery group, the radiation group, the chemotherapy group, the "just watch it" group, and those of us that have had the combinations of treatments. Yesterday, we had all been through chemo (I was the newbie) and we just had a grand ole time complaining about treatment. And everyone got a kick out of me, the chemo one-shot-wonder, going to receive treatment with books. It is hard to concentrate in the chemo room, especially as a first timer, so no one really read books and I was the only one in the room without some sort of electronic device sitting in front of me. As soon as I mentioned I didn't bring an MP3 player or a computer/DVD player, everyone in the room laughed at me. Being the only one at chemo not tethered to some form of electronic entertainment I felt like the only kid on the playground that while everyone else had brand names, I had clothes my mom made. At least I assume that is what that felt like, being a Navy brat on the playground in the 70s and 80s, pretty much anything went at the schools that catered to military kids.
I think yesterday was the first day I didn't look at the clock to see when it was over. OK, that is a slight lie. I am still drinking of ton of fluids from the chemo, so I did look to see if I could hold it until group was over or if I had to get rid of the fluids before then. But our conversations went everywhere. I am not allowed to talk about the conversations. I would make the joke "What happens in group..." but that joke is so overdone at the point, I will just say that it is proper etiquette that we are free to speak in there knowing that the person we are talking about will never hear that we said we are being abused because I still don't have the PRS guitar. Plus if all the non-cancers knew all the cancer secrets, everyone would want cancer. Did you know if you show your tumor at Sizzler, your meal is half off? You are also asked to leave immediately (especially if you are like me and have testicular cancer) so it is best to do it towards the end of the meal. Unfortunately we don't have any Sizzler's here so I can't use that benefit. There are many more cancer secrets, but I have already said too much.
But the one thing that our conversation really reminded me about yesterday, is that we all hate cancer treatment. There are certain tests we all take that we all dread. There are parts of our treatment that we all dread. And every single one of us hates the waits. I had a conversation one day with a gastro-intestinal pre-med student who said that they take turns doing procedures on each other (endoscopes, barium X-rays, etc.) so that they not only know how to do the procedure, but that they know what the patients are experiencing as well. I think that spoiled me. More than likely, your oncologist is not going to know exactly what it is like to be in your shoes. They can tell you what they have heard or read about chemo, or radiation, or even the surgeries, but they probably don't know. And that is where getting together with others and talking about your experiences, and knowing you aren't the only one, really helps.
So now I am left with a myriad of emotions. Part of me kind of wishes the groups are always that small, because I really enjoyed yesterday. On the other hand, although some of my favorite people from group were there, there was at least one missing. I used to think I may not go anymore after I am given the all clear. One of my favorites (that was missing yesterday) has been coming for years after he was given the all clear. And after yesterday, I think I understand why. So, I will wait for next Thursday, where I can commiserate with other cancer patients that don't have American made PRS guitars, and find out where else we can get dining discounts.
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