No Day But Today

 

No day But Today

In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril,  Amlodopine,  Omeprazole, Tamsulosin

On The Stereo: No Day But Today: Idina Menzel

So, this week we are back to cancer - my full time partner in life.  I often write for weeks without touching on that which began my trip in the beginning.  Sometimes I need to ignore my disease, and my technique is to travel a different road for a time, and avoid that which I face every day of my life.  And have done so for some 35 years, from my first diagnosis of melanoma, in Toronto.  

Interestingly, in my case, I consider cancer to be symbiotic in its nature.  Melanoma returns often, at irregular intervals, to shake my grip.  To shock me.  To remind me of my mortality.  And, because of my cancer, I commit myself to writing.  Cancer, and the subsequent treatments of survival, often force me to reflect on all the good which has happened in my life.  And there I have had my bucket filled to overflowing. 

 I have been treated as a patient by doctors, good, and bad, health care workers, technicians  and even by Bristol- Myers Squibb, a drug company, whose inclusion of me in their clinical trial, absolutely saved my life.  My death was predicated and expected seven years ago.  Three months was my future.  And here am I, still moving forward.  And very much alive, as my child bride would tell you.

However, being alive, and having a will to live, are quite different things.  Survival is basic in living.   But the enhancement of your life and the lives of others is something else altogether.  We need to be influenced to want to live.  I mean really live.  To have drive - a desire to make each and every day better.  Not just for yourself.  More importantly, for others.

The instances of that spark which has awakened me and shaken me, throughout my battle with cancer are far too many to recount.  But some live with me every single day of my life.  The right ray of hope at a time of need, when, in fact, I did not even realize that I was in need of anything at all.  Perhaps that is the most subtle of differences.

My friends Sylvia and Gerry, with whom we have shared much time over the years, and have enjoyed so many trips together, are a case in point.  While in my sixties, and worn down by a chemotherapy treatment at the time, we escaped to Italy, the four of us.  The trip had been planned, much earlier, and they knew I was ill.  And one morning I was too sick to walk down the stairs.  I lay down on a small bench to regroup.  I was lost.  Nauseous.  Just hanging on.  There was no energy left.  My batteries were almost dead.

Syl came upstairs to see me.  I told her I could not make our daily outing, and for her and Gerry to carry on without us.  She calmly and slowly told me that they had made the trip to be with us.  They were going nowhere until I felt better.  We would stay together.  That was the reason they came.  Nothing else mattered.

One selfless act when I was most vulnerable.  How could you ask for more?  And I am grateful to them to this day.  Kindness to others has no expiration date.

When I had my AVM and subsequent brain operation, I was in hospital, struggling to gain my functional capabilities back.  I could hardly stand up and was only slowly regaining my speech and motor skills, when I told the doctors that I wanted to go home. " Impossible", was their collective response.  I remember Kath's face.  She was obviously concerned that I was in no shape to return home.  My fragility was clearly evident.  Whatever the risks, she knew that I would heal, happier and faster, at home, with her.  She told the congregation that she would get the car and meet us at the front door.  At that moment, I really knew I would survive.  She had demonstrated her faith.  In me and in our life.

And when we got home, and stumbled to our front door....

This was my view.  Avet and Beatrice, two of our grandchildren, had decorated my home for me.  The hight and spacing betray their age at that time.  My God, they made me cry.  With sheer love and such joy.

I had made the right decision.  No matter what the future might hold.

And these accounts, and more, are with me every single day, without fail.  They come to me when i least expect it.  In the middle of a task, or watching television.  From a wisp to reality.  In an instant.  And I am reminded of those loving moments.

And I am touched and thankful for the regularity of calls and notes from my dearest of friends.  From several countries I receive their gifts and I cannot express what good it does for me.  An unsolicited call provides me encouragement, which I did not know I needed.  But I surely did. And still do, each and every day.

Idina Menzel's song gets more than  its share of air time in our house.  It was introduced in the play "Rent", in which she had a part.  She was not the person who sang this song.  But she recorded it and sang it in her Naples concert.  A tear forms each time I hear it.  We have only today.   We are promised nothing more.  Do not misuse your time.

Cancer haunts my every day.  And then I am drawn away by the circus - the center of my life.

While feasting on a steak dinner on Saturday evening, I felt a space in my teeth.  I looked at my plate, and there lay a piece of tooth.  Crap!  As a result, I was forced to miss our weekly "big boy" game on the Grand Pines, and made plans to call our dentist.

Note the smiley-face

As always, things are never simple.  I first had to drop the teacher off at her school.  Then I was off to a UPS store which opened earlier than others.  Why, you ask?  Because my GPS golf device had given up, and it could not be resuscitated.  It would no longer hold a charge.  I had called the company to see what could be done, and they suggested I buy a new one and receive a $50 credit on a $400 device.  I told them that I would think about it and look elsewhere.  At that point they suggested I buy a new $50 battery.  If you can't make the big sale, at least make a small one, I guess.

However, the machine cannot be cracked open at home.  The work had to be done at their factory in Colorado.  And that is why the UPS side trip.  Done.

Then, instead of phoning the dentist, I thought the best approach was to show up, unannounced.  You know, kind of like the IRS or the FBI might do.  And now, me.  There did not appear, at first, like there was any openings.  The receptionist said the doctor was already well into a surgery, and he was solidly booked up.  She asked if I was in pain, and I asked her if it would make a difference if I said "yes".  But I told her the truth - that I was not.  It did not help my case that I looked like a hillbilly.  Laughable.  Hardly serious.

Behind the scene, they had already briefed the doctor and he had told one of the hygienists to take some x-rays, to see what would be required.  I was invited in and we were on our way.  But it was not to be a hasty process.  During the x-ray procedure, the slide came off its holder and slid down my throat.  The poor woman, shocked, jumped back and threw her arms in the air.  I was already choking, and saw that she was not about to help me, and I gagged, reflexively, and reached in and pulled the little bugger out.  Great start.

I was left waiting for almost an hour, before the dentist arrived.  He is a great guy (for a dentist, anyway).  I told him that I had put the tooth under my pillow with no tangible result.  The fairy was asleep before I got to bed, and was still there when I got up to make breakfast.  So I brought it with me.  He was already exploring it, and cleaned and polished it while we were talking - and we did talk.  My head wound was a great subject of conversation, and he took great lengths to check that out as well.

I mentioned that there was an upside to the missing tooth.  I could floss much easier and I could drink through a straw without opening my mouth. 

He was not at all impressed with this little piece of tooth.  It was a poorly-made crown, in his opinion, which had finally met its match - that being a beautiful, tender, Saturday night filet.  He suggested what should be done to put me back together.  A bridge held in place with some modifications on two neighboring teeth should do the trick.

"But why don't we just try to hang it back on?"  He had been filling my mouth with his hand, fitting and fiddling with the tooth and its post.  He thought it might just work, and if it did not, he had his plan ready to go, should we have to go the whole way.  Finally, with the help of some Bondo, blue light, and pressure, I was back together again, unlike Humpty Dumpty, who apparently relied on horsemen, and did not know my dentist.  Too bad.

On Tuesday, I was on my way to Moffitt for biopsies.  I live a romantic and adventurous life, do I not?  Others might have babes and bartenders.  I have dentists and doctors.

There is more to tell.   But, so long as we have tomorrow, I will be with you again, next week.

robin

jrobinmullen@gmail.com