Kidney or Apple Pie, Anyone?

Easy as... Okay, nothing about this looks easy, y'all.

My kidney hurts.

It's been getting progressively worse as the months go by, but I've been doing a fantastic job of ignoring it. After all, the back pain it's causing me is way less than what I was dealing with from the cancer wrapped around my spine.

But it's definitely affecting me. When I walk in the morning (or, like today, noon-ish-time), I can usually make it about a third to halfway before the pain becomes intrusive. By my third lap around the block. it's pretty much all I can feel.

Let me put it another way. By the third lap, I'm looking for a spoon with which to dig out said offending kidney, in order to make myself the most disgusting steak and kidney pie EVER.

Side note--does anyone know how cancerous tumors taste? Would the renal mass improve or disrupt the flavors to be found in my aching kidney? Have I drifted way too far off the path of basic human interactions by talking about this at all?

Don't answer that.

Apparently, this is my path less travelled.

I woke up this morning a bit later than I intended. Still a somewhat decent hour, but late-ish. Late adjacent, let's call it.

And then I sat.

I did not want to get up and go walking. Some of that is the fatigue that comes along with chemo. I'm at that point in my two-week cycle. The point where I think I should be feeling better, but my body says something foul that we'll just euphemize (how do you like that fun new verb, y'all?) as "no, thank you."

It's all in the eyes, really.

I distracted myself with all kinds of stuff--emails (important ones!), social media (connecting with others is important!), my job (my job is... well, you get it). But I knew that I needed to get some exercise in, or I would be way worse off this evening.

Want to know how I felt about it? Just so happens, I have a picture, documenting my emotions in the moment of my egress from my domicile.

I will say this--my progressive loss of eyebrow hair makes my
pissed-off expression much softer.

So happy to be out in the sunshine on a beautiful no-longer-morning. And look at those mountains in the background! It's like I don't even realize where I am.

Whatevs. I did it. Three blocks. Enough to hatch one of my Pokemon Go eggs.

Is there a cancer setting for that game? Anyone?

Also, let me rant for a moment about Apple and their damnable watches.

It's the devil's tool, y'all. No joke.

It's not enough for them that I get outside and walk. Oh no! I now have to get my heart rate up into some arbitrary range before it will count my walking as exercise.

Thanks, Apple!

Something I've discovered about myself. I care a lot more about goals than I ever would have thought possible. I am now of the opinion that the real reason I avoided lists for most of my life is that I couldn't handle the disappointment of letting myself down. And it doesn't matter if that goal is self-imposed, or placed on me by some Satanic device (again, looking at you, Apple).

It's enough to make me want to submerge the stupid thing. Oh, wait. Apple watches are designed to go under water. Ah, I love you again, Apple Watch. I couldn't stay mad at you for long.

<cue massive eye roll>

So, between my kidney and my Apple accessory, I have been set up for disillusionment and disappointment. Thing is, that's only true because I allow what I do to dictate how I feel.

It's a real problem, and most likely lesson numero uno (that's Spanish, y'all) that I'm meant to be learning from this whole experience.

Ha! That'll show you, Todd! I am not a fast learner!

My mother must be so proud right now.

So, the choice between kidney or apple pie isn't all that important, I guess. They're external markers that only give information about where I am in a particular moment. They don't tell me who I am.

Want to know who I am? I'll tell you.

I'm the man who went for a walk and is now going to take an effing nap.
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Coming soon--a fierce debate over the variety of non-sugar sweeteners out there, and what those sweet little bastards will do to your digestive tract.


Next post.