The Reaping: The Winter of My Discontent

Yeah. That feels about right.

You know it's going to be a fantastic post when I start out misquoting Shakespeare. /s

You don't have to look so proud about it. Seriously, dude.

I'm in the depths of despair, otherwise known as the apheresis wing in the blood cancer department of the hospital I'm in. The place itself isn't any more depressing than any other hospital setting. The nurses are fantastic. The food is better than the normal hospital fare I've sampled.

The problem is that it's been more than a week of driving an hour up to the "big city" and back again (usually during rush hour, so add another hour on top for the return drive). That's almost what my 10 mile commute in L.A. used to take. I'm not saying it's the only reason I no longer live there, but let's say it was one of the deciding factors.

Four shots a day, y'all. Right in the belly. That's an awful lot for a needlephobe like myself. I get three syringes worth of Neupogen early in the morning, and then one of Mozobil that they can't administer until late in the afternoon. The Neupogen tells my bone marrow to make more stem cells. Mozobil tells those cells to float around in my bloodstream so they can be collected. Fun fact: each Mozobil injection costs roughly the same as a new car. Yikes.

Collection of my stem cells takes about four hours to do. So, once I'm done, I have hours to spend wandering around, waiting to get the Mozobil.

All of that is fine, honestly. I'm fighting for my life here, so I'm willing to do whatever needs to be done. I wish that were all of it. But wait...!

Too soon? When did Billy die? It's been a while, right? Right???

It's not going so great. They like to have 5 million cells for the transplant. They can go as low as 2.5. The first day, I collected 1.2 million. Second, .7. Third, .3.

I'm not trending well. Some people collect all they need in one day, like the @$$hole across the way from me on that first day. I'm on my fourth, looking at a fifth, with the possibility that I'll have to wait a couple of weeks and do it all over again.

My body's tired. Of course it is. And under normal circumstances, I'd be slightly disappointed, but not crushed. Problem is, circumstances haven't been normal in some time. I'm beginning to forget what normal even looks like.

There are the side effects of the drugs and the aphaeresis that aren't great. You know, the usual nausea, headaches, bone aches, bleeding, muscle pain, numbness and tingling, fatigue, digestive tract issues. Nothing I haven't been through aplenty with the chemotherapy.

This list is not comprehensive, FYI.

But somehow this time it feels different. Maybe it's the recent gut punch I've talked about regarding my job. Maybe it's because it's winter and cold and snowing and I drive here in the dark and go home in the dark. Maybe it's not having time or energy to make dinner, to pay attention to our kids, to walk the dogs, to do anything other than crawl aching into bed. Maybe I'm just wanting to be done with all of this. Maybe it's the leaps of faith that my wife and I are trying to make right now in our lives, after which things just seem to get worse.

Whatever it is, this time I'm having feelings of shame and rage around my body not doing "well enough."

I know comparison is terrible, and yet comparison is where I've been. When I look around right now, somehow I'm only seeing how things are improving for others. Why not me? Why can't it be me for once???

Cue more white boy tears.

It's narcissistic hogwash, of course. That may be how it feels in the moment, but I know from experience there are people who would love to have had the opportunities I've experienced in my life. Even in my current challenges, I'm not suffering like others in the same medical spot. I don't have to refuse medical treatments that could save my life. It's not like it hasn't hit us financially, and pretty hard. But insurance has made it uncatastrophic.

I mean... is it?

So then come the feelings of guilt. I know I'm privileged. I know I have so much to be grateful for. Why am I being such a self-centered ass? Cancer doesn't discriminate. It's an equal-opportunity leveler. And my prognosis is still positive. Quit yer bitchin', Ben.

I haven't found guilt to be a positive thing in my life... unless it motivates change, and in that case I call it remorse. Shame I consider to be toxic. Remorse can lead me to new discoveries and growth. Guilt lies somewhere in between, I think. Anyway, call the feelings what we will, I'm feeling some big ones. I want them to be ones that lead me into improvement, instead of into bitterness.

I still have a ways to go. My transplant will happen in January, most likely (depending on how well the rest of the reaping goes). That'll be a toughie. After that, I'll do about three weeks of radiation.

Then? I don't know. Right now, I'm trying to take it one day at a time.
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In my next blog, I explore the endless possibilities of automating the process of elimination.

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