Ray of Light

It's a sunny day in San Francisco--not a totally unusual event, but the past few days have seen late afternoon fog roll in, loll around all night, and stick around through the following early afternoon. Then, two scarce hours of sun would hit the hill we live on. The next fog would then blow in, bringing a stiff breeze with it.

Winter is approaching us here, and this will be my first resident Winter season here--I've been here in December, a Midwesterner marveling at Californians in down jackets when it's 60 degrees out--but now I'm one of those Californians. Especially as about half my blood supply is, I think, made of chemo chemicals.

So today is special in that it begins in sun, and other rays of light have poked through other clouds. Yesterday, during long chemo (when I get the full doses and it takes about 6 hours), I started to feel...good. I went to chemo in a good mood. Scott drove me and stayed with me, and somehow, that made more of a difference than when he's done that before. I saw the P.A. Kristen, and all of our news was good.

I went to the Clinical Trials team at UCSF and found that they don't think I'm a hard-up case at all. Turns out, they think it's possible I may not need them. There is a trial I might be right for in 6 weeks, but I may not need it. Erbitux, they think (and I think) is working. The shrinking underarm tumors, the recession of pain, the fact that I'm irrascible--these things point to a re-emergence of normal; a variegated normal, but normal nonetheless.

There's no one single horizon or single sun in Cancerworld, of course. We revolve around various orbs of burning hydrogen here--some signaling sort of better, some sort of worse, some just a way station on the way to others. The horizons change, too, depending upon where one is tossed out of orbit of one star onto the next. Today, the day after chemo,  I feel...good. I plan on walking with Scott and Madoc. I'm hungry.  I slept like a log until 8am. I rarely do that.

Yes, I still have holes in my neck that need to heal. I still have gunk in my mouth that needs to be excised,  I still have a trach tube. But screw it. One thing at a time. One emergency down, the next will pop up to be solved.

Of course I'm no closer to my next Super Duper Burger (if you ever come to San Francisco you must have one). But screw it. Digest one drop of happiness before begging another.

I have spent enough time bemoaning various difficulties and hearing various prognoses that offered nothing more optimistic than the fact that I feel...good. A simple thing. This being my second day of feeling good though makes it a true landmark in that this hasn't happened in months.

Yesterday when I realized I felt good, even during chemo infusion,  I spent much of my time online shopping. I had put off buying anything in case I really did only have a few months left--it would be a shame to leave new clothes that fit no one I know, and  I am a practical type. But feeling good leads one to give oneself pesmission to feel better, and what better than Designer Shoe Warehouse to lift a guy higher? One pair of boots and one pair of natty oxfords later and I felt refreshed.

So I finished with cheapie cotton sweaters from Old Navy and a sale merino from Macy's realizing that I had just given myself permission to feel good, permission to be optimistic and persmission to live as long as I want to, and as long as this body can.

Now I'm going to give myself permission to get rid of this trach tube, learn how to swallow again and hopefully eat something and gain some weight. I do hate the fact that size 29 pants are big on me. And I would not mind having a bit of a butt back to sit upon...

So whatever your Friday brings, let it be a ray of light. Just give yourself permission to feel it. It sounds like an odd way of going about it, but it seems to work.