Actually, since it's incurable, I guess
it was never really gone. But it was not actively making my life
difficult. And now it is... again.
I shouldn't have been as surprised as I
was when my doctor told me my proteins were elevated, which indicated
the remission was over. I mean, I've written here any number of times
that on one of these Fridays when I went in for my blood work, he was
going to tell me my cancer was back.
And this last Friday was it.
Here's the thing, though. Yes, I knew
it was going to back some day, I just didn't expect it to be that
day. It's not as if my blood work had been just OK over the last few
months. Not at all. My doctor was beyond delighted with what he was
seeing, and kept raving about how terrific things looked.
Well, I must admit, after a few months
of that, I let my guard down. Maybe I figured my multiple myeloma
would sneak back, a little at a time, and I could be ready. But, it
was no one's fault that I was surprised by the news. The doctor even
said, at one point, that that was why we refer to it as incurable,
with no guarantees that remission would be forever.
On top of all that, I have the
chromosome 17p deletion issue that I was told would affect any
remission. The deleted piece is designed to manage things like my
cancer treatment, and, without it there, stuff happens.
So, here we are again. As I was driving
home from the clinic, with the news still a secret between my doctor
and me, I realized there was a heavy sense of deja vu all over again.
I would have to find a way to break the
news to Sheri. There were our kids to be told and a number of friends
who needed to be told personally... just like the first time. It
wasn't necessarily easier for having done it before, it was...
well... different is all. We all know so much more than we did the
first time around that it is easier to talk about, somewhat, and
easier to separate the words and medical terms we need from those we
don't.
So, everyone is as OK with it as we
could expect them to be. I mean, what are you supposed to say when
someone tells you their cancer is back? The teller has the advantage
of knowing what is coming. The tellee can only take the hit and
respond as best they can. Everyone feels bad, of course, and I wish
they didn't. Even more than the first time, I know what Sheri and I
are up against and I know many of the things we need to do to come
out on top in this deal.
The majority of bits remain as they
were: having cancer still sucks, the feeling of powerlessness remains
strong, there's still no point in asking why me, there's still a
fight to be fought.
One of the things I had (mercifully)
forgotten was the busy-ness of cancer. The biggest part of that so
far is, how are we going to attack it this time? We quickly decided
it would be, at least at first, with the oral chemotherapy I had been
taking before. It made me nauseous, so we're starting with the
smallest dose.
Once that was decided, we had to figure
out how to pay for it. It's very expensive and the co-pays we were
going to be responsible for were considerable. We immediately made
some phone calls and arranged for the financial assists we would
need.
Then there's the re-certification
process to be endured. Because I hadn't taken this medicine in quite
a while, I had to be re-educated on how dangerous it was and the
conditions under which I had take it.
And on, and on, and on. We'd forgotten
how much went into fighting cancer, and how much of it had to be done
on the phone. Oy.
So, after 135 posts about looking for
the pony, there is a sense of being back at the beginning. But, we
aren't, of course. We're stronger and much more aware of what it is
we are up against. We are also very aware of the tools we have to use
in the fight, including the hundreds of prayers we get from you.
Thanks for sticking with us. We knew you were going to be back to the
fore. And here you are!
There are a variety of versions of
the story that gives this blog its name. The pony is the constant in
all of them. A man is on his way to a party when he comes across a
young boy shoveling ass over tea kettle at an enormous mountain of
manure. The man asks the child if he wouldn't rather go with him to
the party than shovel all that poop. The kid says, “No way man.
With all that poop... there must be a pony in there somewhere
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