What a World... What a World...
Todd is dying.
After my fourth treatment, I went in to get another PET CT (that's the one where you drink radioactive lemonade), and all of the areas that showed up on the first scan have shrunk. Well, except for the kidney, but we already knew that was renal cell carcinoma (as a side-note, we named the kidney mass Wayne). But the rest is Hodgkins.
Basically, it was the best news we could have hoped for.
I had a weird reaction to the news. I was relieved, of course. If the renal cell carcinoma had metastasized, that would have been bad news. But I also experienced a strange sense of... something. Sadness? Loss? Disappointment? Something along those lines. And I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.
Then I realized. I was no longer "special." All along, my case has been a strange one, stumping and confusing even specialists. I have two forms of cancer that were only caught because I finally got fed up with my back pain and gave in to the MRI. I had no other secondary signs of cancer. All pretty bizarre stuff.
But now?
Now I'm just a guy who will go through twelve treatments of standard ABVD chemotherapy (this is the typical chemo for Hodgkins) and then will have his kidney taken out. I know that sounds crazy. It looks crazy to me as I type it. But that's how I felt. Like somehow I almost hoped for the RCC to have metastasized, so that I could continue to be a long-shot case.
Just to be clear, I don't have a death wish.
Another clarification--I am ecstatic that the treatment is working and that I can see the pathway ahead more clearly. The results were incredible news. But I do have to admit to that other, darker desire that lurked inside me. The one that wants to be special at all costs, even if it might mean my death.
I don't think that part of me actually understands the idea of dying. It's an emotionally immature part of me that must have fractured a long time ago, leaving a toddler or pre-teen mentality along with it.
In this case, I really can settle for some kind of normalcy.
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In our next episode, we'll discuss all the unsanitary indignities that cancer brings along with it.
Next post.
 |
| I almost feel bad about it. Almost. |
Basically, it was the best news we could have hoped for.
I had a weird reaction to the news. I was relieved, of course. If the renal cell carcinoma had metastasized, that would have been bad news. But I also experienced a strange sense of... something. Sadness? Loss? Disappointment? Something along those lines. And I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.
Then I realized. I was no longer "special." All along, my case has been a strange one, stumping and confusing even specialists. I have two forms of cancer that were only caught because I finally got fed up with my back pain and gave in to the MRI. I had no other secondary signs of cancer. All pretty bizarre stuff.
But now?
Now I'm just a guy who will go through twelve treatments of standard ABVD chemotherapy (this is the typical chemo for Hodgkins) and then will have his kidney taken out. I know that sounds crazy. It looks crazy to me as I type it. But that's how I felt. Like somehow I almost hoped for the RCC to have metastasized, so that I could continue to be a long-shot case.
Just to be clear, I don't have a death wish.
Another clarification--I am ecstatic that the treatment is working and that I can see the pathway ahead more clearly. The results were incredible news. But I do have to admit to that other, darker desire that lurked inside me. The one that wants to be special at all costs, even if it might mean my death.
I don't think that part of me actually understands the idea of dying. It's an emotionally immature part of me that must have fractured a long time ago, leaving a toddler or pre-teen mentality along with it.
In this case, I really can settle for some kind of normalcy.
-------------------
In our next episode, we'll discuss all the unsanitary indignities that cancer brings along with it.
Next post.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteAw dang, that's unfortunate. I noticed a typo in my comment after posting but couldn't figure out how to edit, so I copied my previous comment into the buffer and deleted the original, only... apparently copy and paste is a technique which I have not mastered. Because the copy is not in my buffer. So... here is a slightly abbreviated re-creation (and if I make a typo, I'm just leaving it this time).
DeleteI know a guy who had a similar situation. He was diagnosed with cancer, told he had only so many months to live, etc.... and then went on to beat it and survive another 20 years (at that time) which is now closer to 30 years. Still alive and well. He said that he was initially very PISSED OFF when finding out he was going to live, which sounds paradoxical, maybe, but not so much if you consider that he had already gone through the grieving/letting go process (which is not easy or pleasant) and didn't want to have to do it again. I imagine this is something like cleaning your house from top to bottom because you think you're going to sell it, only to find out that you're not, multiplied by 1,000 or something.
On the happy side, he reports that life after the cancer scare was vastly improved for him, due to the fact that he was forced to do so much emotional heavy lifting when he thought his death was imminent. May you have a similar experience (or better): Full recovery and vastly improved relationships with the people you love. Yeah. I'll sign that petition.