Round 3: I am doing fine, but I am not so sure about the rest of the world.

[NOTE: I am going to warn you that I get into politics at the end of this post.]

Round 3 was not that bad for me.  I think that I am getting used to the side effects.  Do not get me wrong.  It still sucks.  I feel crappy for about a week or so.  The kind of crappy in which you don’t sleep well, eating is a chore because either the food doesn’t taste right or your GI tract is giving you trouble or a combination of the two, and you are very, very tired.  I seem to be following a schedule:  Wednesday is infusion day.  Thursday and Friday, I feel weird but can function.  Saturday and Sunday, I do not leave my bed.  Monday through Thursday/Friday, I feel crappy and tired, but can work most of the day until around 4 PM after which I just go to bed.  By the following weekend, I am emerging from my fog and start to become a more functional human being. 

I did notice some differences with my side effects.  With the chemo killing all those fast-growing cells, I am now kind of like a hairless cat.  The upside is that I will not need to shave my legs for a while . . . so, I got that going for me.  This killing off of fast-growing cells has other effects.  My teeth hurt. I got my first mouth sore (yuck).  And, I apparently now have “the Taxotere manicure” in which my nails are discoloring and the nailbeds under my fingernails are sore.  You would be surprised by how much you use your fingernails! And the cumulative nature of these drugs seems to mean that my exhaustion lasts just a little bit longer each round.  Oh, I can’t forget about “chemo brain.”  That is kind of an ironic statement in that chemo brain means that you get kind of foggy and forgetful.  That is super fun when you are on a conference call and trying to articulate something intelligently, but your brain cannot find the right words.  So frustrating.  The funny thing about all of this is that while I don’t enjoy these side effects, there is a part of me that just keeps thinking in a strangely self-satisfied way: the nasty chemo stuff must be kicking the shit out my tumor. 

During round three I got some good news.  First, my genetics test results came back, and I do not have any genes that indicate a pre-disposition to any kind of cancer.  That is a relief because I worried about my kids having to worry about some crazy inherited genes.  Second, my echocardiogram came back healthy.  I must get my heart monitored every couple of months to make sure that the immunotherapy drugs are not harming my heart.  Apparently, Herceptin can damage your heart muscle.  I have been trying to get on our Pelaton as often as possible to keep my heart muscle strong.  I must be doing something right because this second echocardiogram showed an improvement in my heart function when compared to my first echocardiogram.  Yay!  Finally, my blood work is showing that while I am feeling the impacts of the chemo, I am bouncing back each time with solid white blood cell counts.  All of that is good news and is keeping me positive as I head into the second half of my chemo treatments. 

So, here I am heading into Round 4 tomorrow.  Today, I was talking to my son, Ben, about starting Round 4.  His comment to me: “I know that it has only been three weeks since your last round, but it feels like it has been three months.”  What he meant is that a lot happened in the last three weeks. 

As if the events outside my house did not already seem to be so huge as to eclipse my little personal struggle, the events over the last couple of weeks have just exploded to the point in which going over the more mundane parts of my life – doctor visits, test results, and chemo side effects — seem trivial. 

When I was first composing this blog post in my head more than a week ago, I wanted to focus on the things that were giving me joy.  It was a chance to focus on the positive and point out that even amid battling cancer, you can be happy in the small moments.  But then, what was going on outside of my house started to take over my thoughts.  How can I write about my garden when the coronavirus death toll tops 100,000?  How can I write about taking walks with Chris or my friends when local governments and states grapple with how to reopen as unemployment rises, state and local budgets strain to the breaking point, small businesses wonder if they can survive, and everyone just generally wonders if we will ever get back to normal?  How do I write about playing games with my family after dinner when we turn on our TV and see the horrific images of a police officer kneeling on a black man’s neck while the man gasps for air and tells them that he cannot breathe as three other officers stand by watching this man’s life slip away under the fourth officer’s knee? 

How can I write about the thoughtful gifts that sometimes show up unexpectedly from kind friends and neighbors when protests and anger erupt – rightfully so – because even after all these decades, all these marches and protests and lawsuits and promises of change, another black person’s life is ended callously and cruelly?  And, how can I write about my feverish baking when our already struggling communities are torn apart by destruction and looting and we are overwhelmed with images of streets strewn with broken glass and burned cars, smashed out windows and ransacked local businesses; the military marching in cities and police in riot gear shooting rubber bullets and tear gas; and a President using a church and a bible as a prop so he can further drive wedges into our society and sow more chaos?

I struggle with how to write about the things that are giving me joy because I am feeling overwhelmed by what is happening outside of my house. I am not the only one.  My entire family is overwhelmed by recent events.  Both Sam and Ben are glued to social media, following the events as they unfold.  I stayed up past 2 AM on Saturday listening to the police sirens, the circling helicopters and the boom of the flash-bangs going off less than two miles from our house.  Our entire family is trapped in our house due to my compromised immune system so all we can do is debate and discuss when everyone just wants to get out there and do something.

With all the family discussion and debates, no brilliant solutions have emerged.  All I can tell my children is that I am clinging to the hope that the events of 2020 will bring about positive change through action.  People will listen to what is being said about the pervasiveness of racism, examine their own actions, expect better of themselves and others, and demand that decisionmakers do something to ensure that the color of your skin doesn’t determine how you are treated or what your future looks like.  Communities will come together to rebuild so that opportunities are there for everyone and not just the wealthy.  More people take the time to volunteer and give to charitable causes. Lifting people out of poverty and building up the middle class becomes a cornerstone of how we rebuild our country.  And, there is a huge turnout in November because finally people have had enough of Donald Trump and his policies of greed, lies, ignorance, narcissism, xenophobia, and racism cloaked as patriotism.   

Martin Luther King wrote in his “Letter from the Birmingham Jail,” “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

I may be stuck in my house until who knows when, but I am not going to let that stop me. I am going to donate, make calls, and do whatever I can to be a part of making that change. Because we are connected in an “inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”  I hope you join me because we all have our role to play in the effort to fix our community, our state, our country, and our world.  Educate.  Participate.  Mobilize. Make Your Voice Heard. And, for goodness sake, Vote!