The Emotional Ups and Downs

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my third week since beginning treatment . Tomorrow will be my 4th chemo treatment (which generally is taking six hours each time). After tomorrow's treatment I will be more than half way home. I have had 14 radiation treatments (28 grays); I will be half way done with radiation when I hit treatment 18 next Thursday.

I'll be interested to see what my blood count is tomorrow. I don't have a cold or fever. (I have been careful to wash my hands because you don't want to catch a cold. When you're white blood count is down, it could turn into pneumonia.) I will probably avoid crowds if my immune system is going to be weakened. (Getting on a plane or going to a football game or art show is not something I will do again in the weeks ahead.)

I have not felt tired or fatigued (which should happen when your red blood cells are reduced). In fact, I feel better than when I started. I have more energy now than before treatment began. Yoko is more tired than I am!

I believe the treatment is working. I do not cough at all any more; a month ago I could not stop coughing. I am not vomiting as I did before treatment began. (I got sick twice last week, after chemo, but since then I have been taking aciflex on a daily basis and I have not gotten ill at all. ) I was very arthritic before treatment began. If I sat in my recliner for an hour, I was struggling to stand up because I was stiff. The stiffness has gone away. Apparently the steroids they give me in chemo helps but I am sure the tumor was producing chemicals that made me arthritic.

All these lack of symptoms suggests to me that the tumor is shrinking and that the treatment is working. So I am feeling optimistic. My cousin Sammy called today asking after me and I told him that, if anyone is positioned to beat the odds, it is me. I am younger than most people who are diagnosed with lung cancer. I have no complicating health issues. We caught it at stage IIIA, not early, but not TOO late; the cancer has NOT metastasised, as far as we know, and I am tolerating the current treatment extremely well. Unless I told them, no one could tell by looking at me that I am being treated for cancer. In fact, I would venture to say I am in better shape than when I was diagnosed. So I am feeling optimistic. Tomorrow the Nortictrac Teadmill arrives. I will be able to exercise, watch CNBC and work on this blog site all at the same time!

"What about your mental state?" you say. Anyone that knows me knows how emotional I am. I lost it one night a few years ago, when I was speaking in front of a large gathering at a Rotary dinner. I had been president of my local club that year (the year Hurricane Charley blew down my house). As local club president, I was the one who was able to hand out $40,000 in checks to hurricane victims and help families get back on their feet. As I was recounting all the good things we did as a Rotary Club that year, I got all choked up and could not finish what I had to say. (I was horrified and my "friends" in Rotary have made it a point not to let me forget that moment of weakness; Chris Mahr and others frequently say, when I stand up at a meeting to speak, "You're not going to cry, are you?!" The thing I most clearly remember about that night, however, was Dave McCormick, the president of our local hospital, coming up to me afterward and saying, "don't worry about it; it takes a pretty big man to cry in front of all these people!"

I am even more emotional these days. One of my favorite musicals is South Pacific; I can hardly watch it because I get so choked up with emotion. I see so much of my own life in the story, which is about inter-racial relations, love, conflict and overcoming bigotry. My father fought in the South Pacific and it is one of my favorite travel destinations. We have so many happy memories of our visits to Hawaii; and Yoko and I honeymooned on Saipan. Anyway, I am always choked up watching South Pacific. But these days, almost anything can set me off. I get choked up watching the sunset. I get choked up reading some of these blogs out loud. I am not sad or depressed -- just more emotional (than normal). All I can think of is Grandma Cappiello, who could cry at a drop of a hat. I must have of her genes.

The funny thing is that Yoko thinks she may be starting menopause -- so it doesn't take much to get one of us going. She says she is getting "mean" for no good reason, (You should see Yoko's version of "mean." For example, I 'll say "I'm hungry" and she'll say "Why don't you get it yourself. ... Sorry. I'm being "mean" -- must be menopause. What do you want me to get for you my honey?")

Isn't she vicious?

Anyway, this should be an interesting weekend. We have a Frenchman coming to stay with us for three days beginning Saturday afternoon. He is the Group Study Exchange (GSE) student we agreed to host. We have to figure out how to entertain him and I am wondering what we are going to do. Perhaps we will go golfing or take a boat trip down the Peace River. A Frenchman, eh? If his name is LeBec...I'm toast.

Keep smiling.