It's a dreary, foggy morning. The trip of 35 miles of freeway took about 1 hr. and 15 min. - avg speed? about 30 mph. So starts the count down. I have had my blood drawn, 19, yes I counted 19 vials and a urine sample and had my vitals taken, BP 117/67, temp. 97.8. Over the next 2 weeks not a stone will be left unturned. I am feeling pretty good now and we will find out if the cold I have had will delay things. I also am feeling pretty good about starting this process. I can think of few things that have helped me turn this corner.
The first one is that thanks to the help of a therapist, out of the session, I came away with a couple of things. I realized I had a great deal of apprehension about being away from home and home life and so many things that needed to be taken care of and who's going to do all that, the stuff that I have taken care of day in and day out. And I have found myself doing a lot of deep exhaling, as I practise letting go of control over things over which I have no control and letting go and letting others help. As I sit at MDA in the waiting room, others are taking care of what needs to be done at home and such and my task now is, to do what only I can do and that is take care of things here. And then, there are other things that will just have to wait. That has come easier the closer we get. The other thing, with which she helped, I'll come back to later.
The second thing I have done is look at how much, our son Joshua's cancer and his death have carried over, into my approach to my illness. Cancer, the word strikes terror in all of us. And it has been terrifying for us. There is an element there, that feels like I don't have the right to get better because he didn't. Survivor's guilt? I think so. I remember to this day, the time we were in Dr. Borthakur, my oncologist's office, and we were hearing that there were ways to treat my disease, and I'm looking right at Josh and it all felt so hollow after a few seconds, how so badly we had wanted to hear that for him and he said he was glad for me. It tore me up. There's a lot to be gained by my having the SCT, like health and longer life. Josh would never ever want me to feel guilty about living. I know that. In our car the radio is not working well or not at all but the CD player does and Lynne has one of her favorite CD's in there and one of the songs on there is Sarah Brightman's song, "Time to Say Goodbye". Yesterday I was on the road for a long enough period of time to listen to it at least 3 times and again 2 times this morning as the CD played. And it is going over and over and over in my mind, "It's time to, say good-bye" and that's tough. I know in my mind it's time to say good-bye to Josh for I have felt at times as long as I have cancer I suffer with him and hang onto him. So I must be willing to let go of my cancer and take what I know to be Josh's "blessing", of a chance at health and longer life. My suffering serves no purpose. I know that. So, Josh, "thanks for the blessing".
Back to the second part of the therapist's insight. Yes, we agreed this is frightening. It is, however, "time limited", she said. After the chemo and the transplant then boredom is going to be my friend. She likened it to a roller coaster ride into which she had been coerced. She asked "How long is the ride?" They said, "3 minutes and seconds." She said, "I'll do it. I can do this for 3 minutes". Her point was that it's not forever. It's only for a period of time. It is easier, she said to endure with the notion of an ending. Another way to say it, is what I came up in a conversation with myself, "Time to man up and grow a pair". (Hey, I was talking to myself) I can do this.
It is now 3:30 and I have one more appointment to go today and what with rain, the wonderful rain, and evening traffic I should be home by 6. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Ps 118:24
Day 1 under my belt.
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