A Lonely Weekend and a Broken Car

So, bad news follows bad I guess. I took the car into the dealer for a checkup while I am living here in the "big city" and was told that it has problems. It's running and all, but sometime not too far down the line, it will need some serious maintenance. Now, I love my car. I've had it since it was new and it's served us well. Besides, it's fun to drive, but it's also approaching eleventh year and major issues can be expected. So, on top of everything else, I have been car shopping, which, as you know, can suck. I've finally narrowed it down to two dealers and am looking for the best price. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to pay for it.

I stayed here over the weekend because we are moving treatment up to Sunday so that I can leave for home after my Wednesday treatment and spend Thanksgiving there. I'm really looking forward to it. I miss my wife and home and need a break from this routine. Up in the morning and make myself have a good breakfast. Make sure I drink enough water before the treatment so my bladder is extended and out of the way of the radiation beam. Walk across the street. Check in with my own bar code badge and wander down to the radiation reception. I'm beginning to see familiar faces waiting their turn.

Last week while I was waiting, someone down the hall struck a large bell three times. The sound rang though the ward and people applauded. Hanging near the entrance to the radiation area is a real, brass bell with a small hammer attached. When a patient is done with the course, he or she gets to smack the bell three times, signaling that their course is over and they are going home. Man, I'm gonna smack that thing pretty soon.

This weekend has shown me that the most difficult part of this so far is the fact that I have to be away from home and from my wife for five weeks. Living alone is not what some people fantasize. I've had friends tell me that they would love to live by themselves but I think now that they don't know what they are talking about. If that's the way one has been for years then it's probably no big deal (but I might not believe that either) but for me, not having my wife and friends around, not being in my home or own bed at night is more like punishment. Sure, you can go visit a museum, eat out, go to a movie, walk in the part, wander around downtown keeping an eye on the crazoids, but when that's done, where do you return? To a small empty apartment with really nothing much to do.

OK, pity party over. I've got only two more days and I get to go home. For a while.

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In Treatment

Since my last post, I've essentially moved into the John Zay Guest House in Colorado Springs which is across the street from the Cancer Center at Penrose Hospital. We found this place by my doctor telling us that the hospital has a place where I might stay during my five weeks of radiation treatment. I had a kind offer from a friend to stay at his place, but it is half an hour or more outside of town and, being winter here, the daily commute to get my treatment might have been subject to the weather. In fact, the first week I was here was extremely cold and, of course, snowing. Here, at the John Zay House, I only have to walk across the street, and believe me, when it is 7º outside and the wind is blowing, it can be mighty cold.

The hardest thing about this is not the treatments, they are relative quick and painless even though they have to be done regularly. It is the need to be away from home and my wife. She is so important to me, and such a support, that being half way across the state from her is hard. I'm sure it is hard on her as well and I so much appreciate her taking care of our home while I'm here.

The house here is full of people undergoing various health issues, or supporting family as they go through healing and treatment, so we share a lot in common. One thing, of many, that has come from having and dealing with cancer is that I am much more open minded and polite that I was before. Dealing with a serious illness, or condition (I don't feel particularly 'ill') is that one's perspective on life and what it is about changes. Moreso than in the obvious ways. There has been, with me, a subtle and fundamental change in how I fit into and relate to the world. I don't think there is any reason why I, or anyone else, exists but I do think I have an obligation to be kind and helpful and as little judgemental as I can be. This, especially for me, is not easy, but understanding that we all have a short time on the earth and what we do here amongst our loved ones and neighbors is important to the quality of our lives and perception of ourselves is making me a better and more peaceful person.

Every day I walk to the Cancer Center, check in with my own bar-coded badge and walk back to the radiation thearpy area where I'm always greeted cheerfully by the technicians there. When my turn on the machine comes, I get my warm blanket and lay back on the table. My feet and legs are supported by shaped dense foam pads and I'm given a large foam donut to hold. This keeps my hands occupied and my arms from floating around. When the treatment starts and the machine moves, clicks, whirrs and whines around me, I have found it easy to begin a kind of meditaton in which I concentrate on my breathing and the environment around me. When thoughts come, I recognize that there is a thought, then somehow send it on its way recognizing it is a thought and not the thinker. I manage to become, for brief moments strung together, part of the world around me, not apart from it, an observer, but more of an experiencer. Difficult to describe.

Soon, some indeterminate time after it's begun, it is over. I leave and walk to the hospital cafeteria for lunch. It's a good place to eat since they offer both nutritious and mostly well-prepared food at very reasonable prices. Then I have almost twenty-four long hours before I get to do that all over again.

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