It’s all over but the testing. As yesterday I arrived early and was in and out very quickly. Most of the regulars were there on the radiation therapy team and I was glad about the chance to give my gift and card to them. They received it graciously but had not opened the card when I left. I was a little disappointed in that and gave myself a talk to remind me that they have many, many patients and their warmth and individuation of me doesn’t mean I’m special. I am going to miss them.
I got my follow up appointment slip for July 22 and a voucher for blood work which apparently has to be done at Sunnybrook. Too bad because it’s much less handy than my local lab. Leaving for the last time I looked around the atrium and felt my distancing happening. When I come back I’m sure it will feel like returning to a school you went to where it’s familiar but you don’t belong. I know it sounds bizarre but I feel let down about it being over. It was good to hear from a friend who has been through the same experience for breast cancer that she too enjoyed the caring and felt a sense of loss and let down at the end. There is some crazy comfort in the routine and good things happened as a result of it. Probably the best was driving Cherie and my son Patrick to work several times. We had the time together and both of them were very appreciative.
As soon as I turned the corner onto Bayview Avenue for my walk to CNIB I began the anticipatory process for getting the news on July 22nd. Perhaps it was because it was a cold rainy day, hard enough after the unusually good weather we’ve had, but I quickly got to a bad news place and shut off the rehearsal. These rehearsals take the form of imaginary conversations with Dr. Szumacher. In my first one she has a big smile and announces that my PSA is zero. In effect I’m cured. I find this course too difficult to stay on because of my fear of being crushed if I am too optimistic. That meant the cure fantasy was immediately followed by a second dialogue in which my PSA has actually risen slightly and she recommends a return to hormone suppressants. After that I focused on tuning in to my surroundings and imagined going into the ravine to look for fiddleheads.
As disconnected as this sounds it comes from a memory of a friend, Doug, and I being in the ravine behind Sunnybrook picking fiddleheads many years ago. Somehow he learned it was place they could be found and with pleasant childhood memories of picking and eating them I joined him readily. We gave it up when it was clearly no longer a secret place because we were joined by dozens of others. Then a memory of reading a piece that fiddleheads are carcinogenic popped into my mind. Fortunately I reached CNIB and was distracted by that experience. Maybe, just maybe, I will make a donation to CNIB in view of all the money they saved me on parking.
Post Script
I haven’t decided yet if I will keep this up during the waiting period. I am thinking probably yes but at less frequent intervals when I feel the need or think I might actually have something to say. The trouble is that to be in the state of denial which puts me back into a more ordinary life I need to stay away from reflection. On the other hand some of it will undoubtedly happen. I can’t always push down the fear and that is probably a good thing. To those of you who have been kind enough to read my blog so far thank you.
Peter
Friday, April 9, 2010
session 32
This was my second last session and I can feel myself beginning to separate from the experience with help from everybody from reception to the therapists. I mean by this that everybody brought it up as soon as I met them. My 5:10 appointment was ahead of schedule and since I was there early I was out at 5:15. After that I headed over to Gus and Suzi’s for a brief visit and played some basketball. I enjoy the remarks about what trooper I am but I feel a little fraudulent when I get them .The truth is that apart from the minor physical issues I’ve describe it hasn’t been that tough. At basketball I’m shorter on energy than is typical but the reality is that I haven’t kept up with my fitness routines through this so who knows which has the most impact on my level of energy. Next week, weather permitting I’ll be back into regular cycling to work. Today I bought some chocolates and candies and a thank you card for the therapists.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Sessions 28-31
Sessions 28, 29, 30, 31,
Go figure, but as the end of sessions drew near my interest in writing waned. Perhaps it was the lovely weather. Last Wednesday is blurry. The weather was beautiful and my late afternoon session was on time. Thursday was at 11 and Patrick came with me. How that happened is an interesting story for another time, but I was delighted. In the young person way he took it all in stride and I delivered him up to a Notes meeting after we were done at Sunnybrook. It was a one day work week for me after a week off which was good but kind of disorienting. Being a part time employee with a Blackberry makes one part actor in the play and part voyeur in the workplace. I think reading emails when off a lot is not a good thing.
We had a long Easter weekend of glorious weather as most of you reading this know. For me it was also a three day break from sessions but with only four left it hardly mattered. Friday night Cherie and I and our friends Dan and Ruth went to see ART at the St Lawrence Centre. It was an interesting, even riveting, take on male friendship, triangulation in relationships, art and ego .Lately the words of Fritz Perls have been popping into mind, not just any words but the mantra that,” I am not in this world to meet your expectations and you are not in this world to meet mine etc.” This “prayer” has been mocked/criticized as the sociopath’s prayer focusing on the implied permission to do whatever I want regardless of the cost to others. But it was created for white western liberal intellectuals wrapped in a deeply entrenched sense of obligation to do the right thing by others. In Art we see interesting tensions played out as Marc who hates modern art is outraged that his old friend Serge has the audacity to pay a very large sum of money for a white on white abstract canvas. His view is unabashedly that Serge should meet his expectations while Serge though not as much a bulldozer believes he has something good. Throw a younger man in the mix who is all about pleasing everybody and you have lots of humour and pathos as the triangles slip, slide and lurch crazily around the stage. It’s a lot like what has gone on in my head most of my adult life and I’m sure lots of other people’s too whether they chose to admit it or not.
Strangely going through this experience has served to calm my inner chatter somewhat. It’s not that I have mellowed out completely and I am now philosophical about everything. I still want things. People still make me mad. I can still be fearful but I am at least for the moment less divided internally. I won’t go so far as to say more integrated just yet. Maybe it is just a function of going every day and seeing so many people be ill and vulnerable in one place. It is so humbling. When people compliment me on how well I am handling all this I know because I see it every time I go to Sunnybrook that what I am dealing with is nothing compared to some of my fellow patients.
Yesterday I was really late for my session for the fist time in 31 sessions. Partly I left late and partly it was parking hell at Sunnybrook. I went straight there instead of Sunnybrook instead of CNIB because I wasn’t sure they would be open on Easter Monday. I could have checked but I didn’t. The receptionist rebuked me very gently by asking me to be on time next time. Of course I bristled but managed to contain myself pretty much. When I apologized to the crew they said it didn’t matter because they were a little late too. I have learned so much about grace from this crew.
Today was my last review. The doctor was not there and I admit I felt a little cheated though my nurse is competent and very nice. I found out I get my follow up appointment on Thursday and when I asked she told me that typically they would keep on following me. I protested because I don’t want to give up my 7 years with Rajiv Singal for a doctor, who although very nice, I barely know. The nurse was a little surprised and said most people want to stay on. She allowed that once we get through the first few months I could perhaps alternate. I’ll have to think about that. She advised me to consider myself as cured while I’m waiting for my first PSA result. I doubt if I can pull that off but I’m pretty sure I can forget about the whole business until a week before I get tested. Denial can be so functional. By the way I have built the better bird feeding station which with any luck is squirrel proof. By, by the way I'm going back to imodium. That metamucil is disgusting. In two weeks and two days the side effects will wane.
Go figure, but as the end of sessions drew near my interest in writing waned. Perhaps it was the lovely weather. Last Wednesday is blurry. The weather was beautiful and my late afternoon session was on time. Thursday was at 11 and Patrick came with me. How that happened is an interesting story for another time, but I was delighted. In the young person way he took it all in stride and I delivered him up to a Notes meeting after we were done at Sunnybrook. It was a one day work week for me after a week off which was good but kind of disorienting. Being a part time employee with a Blackberry makes one part actor in the play and part voyeur in the workplace. I think reading emails when off a lot is not a good thing.
We had a long Easter weekend of glorious weather as most of you reading this know. For me it was also a three day break from sessions but with only four left it hardly mattered. Friday night Cherie and I and our friends Dan and Ruth went to see ART at the St Lawrence Centre. It was an interesting, even riveting, take on male friendship, triangulation in relationships, art and ego .Lately the words of Fritz Perls have been popping into mind, not just any words but the mantra that,” I am not in this world to meet your expectations and you are not in this world to meet mine etc.” This “prayer” has been mocked/criticized as the sociopath’s prayer focusing on the implied permission to do whatever I want regardless of the cost to others. But it was created for white western liberal intellectuals wrapped in a deeply entrenched sense of obligation to do the right thing by others. In Art we see interesting tensions played out as Marc who hates modern art is outraged that his old friend Serge has the audacity to pay a very large sum of money for a white on white abstract canvas. His view is unabashedly that Serge should meet his expectations while Serge though not as much a bulldozer believes he has something good. Throw a younger man in the mix who is all about pleasing everybody and you have lots of humour and pathos as the triangles slip, slide and lurch crazily around the stage. It’s a lot like what has gone on in my head most of my adult life and I’m sure lots of other people’s too whether they chose to admit it or not.
Strangely going through this experience has served to calm my inner chatter somewhat. It’s not that I have mellowed out completely and I am now philosophical about everything. I still want things. People still make me mad. I can still be fearful but I am at least for the moment less divided internally. I won’t go so far as to say more integrated just yet. Maybe it is just a function of going every day and seeing so many people be ill and vulnerable in one place. It is so humbling. When people compliment me on how well I am handling all this I know because I see it every time I go to Sunnybrook that what I am dealing with is nothing compared to some of my fellow patients.
Yesterday I was really late for my session for the fist time in 31 sessions. Partly I left late and partly it was parking hell at Sunnybrook. I went straight there instead of Sunnybrook instead of CNIB because I wasn’t sure they would be open on Easter Monday. I could have checked but I didn’t. The receptionist rebuked me very gently by asking me to be on time next time. Of course I bristled but managed to contain myself pretty much. When I apologized to the crew they said it didn’t matter because they were a little late too. I have learned so much about grace from this crew.
Today was my last review. The doctor was not there and I admit I felt a little cheated though my nurse is competent and very nice. I found out I get my follow up appointment on Thursday and when I asked she told me that typically they would keep on following me. I protested because I don’t want to give up my 7 years with Rajiv Singal for a doctor, who although very nice, I barely know. The nurse was a little surprised and said most people want to stay on. She allowed that once we get through the first few months I could perhaps alternate. I’ll have to think about that. She advised me to consider myself as cured while I’m waiting for my first PSA result. I doubt if I can pull that off but I’m pretty sure I can forget about the whole business until a week before I get tested. Denial can be so functional. By the way I have built the better bird feeding station which with any luck is squirrel proof. By, by the way I'm going back to imodium. That metamucil is disgusting. In two weeks and two days the side effects will wane.
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