Last night, while driving home from the art gallery on York road 27, because I over did it and was too hungry for the 400, I broke a molar in half eating a particularly crunchy chip. I'd love to go into a long, somewhat detailed explanation of how chemotherapy weakens your teeth and leaves you more susceptible to tooth decay and other damage. Chemotherapy can cause a lot of oral complications, the most common being painful mouth sores. But I didn't really experience any of that. And, with the possible exception of some mouth cancers, cancer and chemotherapy don't really affect your teeth (I don't know about radiation, I never recieved any and even if I had, it wouldn't have been pointed at my face).
This is a 100% self inflicted injury. At diagnosis, I had to change my diet pretty dramatically. I was the sort of person who did a good job getting my fruits and vegetables, my fiber. But with my compromised digestive system, insoluble fiber is not something I should be having. These changes were fine, largely sustainable and did not cause harm, but it meant my new standard diet was largely my comfort foods, both for dietary and psychological reasons.
Ten months later, in June, the stress leading to the surgery broke me. Since comfort foods were already normal (and since I genuinely didn't know if my guts would allow fast food ever again), I switched largely to junk foods and a lot of pop. But that was only a week, and had things worked out, we wouldn't be here.
But gang, the concept of long term planning is cut off for you, and you're pretty sure you can't fuck it up bad enough to develop, say, diabetes in the time left to you, you always get that pop (or drink that makes you happy). I didn't take care, because in most circumstances I don't need to take care*, and now I'm stuck at home all week eating soup. And I don't care for soup.
From the comments
James Petrosky: *not needing to care isn't necessarily a end of life thing. I know very well what I'm not going to want to consume once chemo starts, and know already that I should only have a burger if I have no plans for the next day (and am near home already). Both of these suck in their own way, but they aren't death.
James Petrosky: This tooth is dead, I haven't taken any painkillers for it at all. It was almost pulled last summer when it's pain level was similar to that of the cancer pain (a greater pain may exist, but it is beyond my capacity to imagine it). Waiting around hoping for a cancelation is more frustrating than the tooth is painful
James Petrosky: Also, big problem with groundwater that people round here on groundwater likely think is an advantage is lack of fluoride. My teeth were simply not as strong as they should have been
James Petrosky:"But James, shouldn't that be era?" Look, it's not anyone's fault that we don't teach the subdivisions of geological time in school (also, I don't think we should, time would be much better spent on astronomy or evolution).
An eon is the largest division of time, the precambrian is takes up three of four eons. In analogy, moving out after high school might be the sort of thing worthy of changing an eon. For me, cancer is an eon.
An era is a subdivision of an eon. The mezosoic is an era. All dinosaurs evolved, lived and died (except birds) in the mezosoic. I have chemotherapy, surgery and post surgery eras.
To torture the metaphor, eras are made of periods. Jurassic, ordovician, paleogene. I did three courses of chemotherapy (broken up by CT scans), each course is a period.
Periods are broken into epochs. If you hear a geologist say "upper triassic", that's an epoch. A 14 day cycle of chemotherapy would be an epoch.
Finally, we have ages. The smallest geological unit. The metaphor is stretched to uselessness, but the comparison is a day.
I've had anxiety about CT scans before. But treatment reduced or eliminated symptoms, so in my memory I wasn't too worried.
I have no confidence about this one. Symptoms are tolerable, but measurably worse. And the source of the agonizing pain, the primary symptom that told me something was wrong, has been eliminated perminantly twice over.
I'm in the dark. I don't talk to my oncologist until after Thanksgiving.
I'm tired. I don't want to be a professional cancer patient anymore. I just want this to be over.
But that's not available to me.
From the comments
James Petrosky: Thanksgiving is October 9fh. I see my oncologist on the 11th.
James Petrosky: It went fine. My physical reaction to the machine and the contrast was the same as always. I think my anxiety spike is getting worse each time, but I don't really remember the scan I had in the spring very well now, and my anxiety has been much worse post surgery.
Boy do I have a lot of feelings about the Terry Fox Run, Fšļøck Cancer bumper stickers and the like, and the way the media talks about cancer patients. But it really is a lot lot of feelings, and I haven't been able to articulate them in months, so I guess this is all I'm capable of saying to mark the 42nd Terry Fox Run.
From the Comments
James Petrosky: The man did great things, but it sure would have been nice if we, as a society, hadn't decided that running across the second largest country in the world was one of the proper ways of dying of cancer. It's an impossible standard to live up to.
Nobody dare say you don't hold me to this standard. Just don't.
I know you, individually, don't. But I've been scouring the news for months and it is absolutely how we, as a society, feels.
The actual requirement to die this way correctly is to pick a physical feat that a regular person would recognize as difficult and also something they'd never do. Journeying across the country is the best possible choice. The country is fucking huge. Across a province, or a long trail system also work for less physically capable people. Going from fat pre diagnosis to running marathons also works. The important thing is that you have beaten cancer, and are taking a victory lap (and telling society that you care about your health now, because did you really do everything in your power to avoid cancer in the first place?), or are the general, getting yourself ready for the final showdown (you were going to die either way, in the case, but at least you tried by doing something that was never going to affect the outcome)
James Petrosky: I am not about to go policing how any cancer survivor, family member, or terminal case relates to, and talks about, the disease. If you're thinking of a fuck cancer sticker for my benefit, don't. I hate them. I don't need the constant reminder, I already know it's a pretty shit disease. But if it helps you, have at it.
This is complicated by the juvanile jackasses who broke out the Fuck Trudeau signs days after his election. Whether any of us like it or not, a comparison is being made. What was once a flippant say of saying "ugh, this giant class of diseases, right?" now is forever tied up in conservative grievance politics and the fascist trucker convoy. They made a statement against a disease into a statement in favour of another one (that would fuck me up beyond fixing if I got it again)
James Petrosky: Devoting your life to something important to you is one of the three correct ways to die of cancer. The second is to deny the situation, seek out experimental treatments, and fight (because cancer is a battle, and when you lose a battle, you are at least somewhat at fault (unless your a World War 1 general)). So, really, if you don't fight, how can you be upset about dying?
Again, I don't need to hear that you don't think this about me.
Of course it's really complex in reality, most experimental treatments don't work because that is the stage of research they're at. It showed promise in a dish, let's see how it works in a body. But side effects exist, especially on treatments that haven't been proven to work yet. So, really, the treatment probably won't do much good, it's almost certain to leave you with vomiting and constant diahrea. But you're still the general, and it's still your battle to lose.
James Petrosky: The third proper way to die of cancer is only available to people much older than me. 50 is young in a lot of cancer circles. People 65+ can be praised for dying in their beds, surrounded by friends and family, reflecting on a life well lived. I'm 36, so I haven't lived enough. I just get to die an illegal death from cancer.
James Petrosky: Non Canadians. Terry Fox was a young man who died of cancer while trying to run across the country. He started on the east coast and made it to Thunder Bay, Ontario. He's probably the person you can get the most Canadians to say was the Greatest Canadian.
Extremely bad news to all my anxiety friends! You're going to spend the whole time you're aware that you are dying (and I don't mean in the sense that death is the only birthright of any living thing, I mean in the active sense) worrying that you're doing it wrong, that maybe you should be spending more time tidying so that you can look like your holding together (which obviously has nothing to do with how much dust is on your bookshelf, but fuck does it feel like it should).
From the comments
James Petrosky: I think this is the unpleasant death subject I think about most. My sincere belief is that I made a todo list of mostly just weird junk to occupy time and give me enjoyment. But another valid interpretation is that it's an act, intended to fool me and everyone else, into thinking I'm processing things well, when really I'm so fucked that I can't even be honest about my own motivations.
I think I'm doing trips because I experience genuine joy from them, but I haven't figured out how to tell for sure.
James Petrosky: Tidying and cleaning is a really, really big one for me, because it's something I've always failed at. So, naturally, if I can keep my apartment in order, then I'm doing fine, and since it's a fucking disaster around here (asside from the litter box and toilet), I'm not fine. (Specifically do not want offers to help, holy shit the only way to make this worse is to have to admit I'm no longer capable of maintaining my space, even if it's true)
James Petrosky: My thoughts are very fragmented here, I should have probably let this one develop a little longer. But the take away is that there's no right way to die, there are probably wrong ways but if you aren't doing colonialism looking for the fountain of youth, you're probably okay.
I poured out everything that remained of my alcohol collection today. I've known my body can't really take it anymore for over a year, and by surgery time knew with medical certainty that there was no outcome that would make it safe for me to have. I think part of me was still hoping for a reckless glass of celebratory scotch that was never going to happen. And now cannot happen.
You mourn life and normalcy in fits and starts. I haven't felt much since I got home in July. But it's September now, the tourists are leaving, the season is changing, and the geese are practising Vs. It's a reflective sort of time for me, and pouring it all out hits a much more raw nerve than I expected.
From the comments
James Petrosky: I've definitely mentioned it before, but it fits well here.
After academia and I had a pretty rough falling out (undiagnosed, dangerously wrongly treated bipolar disorder played a part), I had no idea what to do with myself. I spent a couple years temping and working retail, and knew that wasn't for me. But it taught me I liked people. And like a lot of hipster types at the time (2012-2014jsh), I got into making drinks.
Over the next few years I made all the drinks at gatherings and family events, and really enjoyed the experimentation and adventure of it.
I started work at my final employer in 2015, as a temp. I didn't know if I was going to make another try and grad school, finish the courses I needed for a geology designation, or try my hand at mixology school. And becoming a bartender was more than just a passing fancy (although it may have been just a bipolar/ADHD fancy).
Obviously I didn't do it, and not regret that decision. But getting rid of these bottles is getting rid of something that was once very important to me.
James Petrosky: I've written a lot of morbid and depressing shit over the last year, and this may be the first time it's pure mourning, without a hint of anxiety, terror or anticipation thrown in.
James Petrosky: (I actually kept a full bottle of pisco I bought in Peru, I don't know why, if I haven't drank it in ten years, I probably never was going to, but some things are too hard
Ryan: Man, of all the things youāve posted, this has been the most . . . like really reckoning with things, at least as Iām parsing it.
I know youāre not a person of faith, and I am not one any longer, but the feeling I have toward you in this moment is one I only have words for in a faith based context, and I donāt know how to say them in a way that doesnāt rely on a fantasy. But Iām going to try here, so please forgive any weird phrasing:
I feel the echo of your heart within me.
James Petrosky: Ryan I've tried and failed three times at a response, so instead all just say thank you.
Ryan McGill: James Petrosky itās all good, friend. I find myself in the same situation with many of your posts, but this one connected in a way that I couldnāt just leave a reaction. And with what we know about human memory, I think Iām going to carry it with just about every glass I raise.
James Petrosky: The fucking wild thing is that I actually wanted to talk about being off work for a year, because we're 6 hours away from that. But it's recycling this week, and decided I wanted to dust the bottle shelf. And here we are. Nothing is ever planned, things just happen because the universe is chaotic and impenetrable and beautiful.
James Petrosky: Because I'm having Something Of A Day, I went and broke into my forbidden song vault and listened to Kettering by The Antlers. And that was very dumb of me. The vault has been resealed.
I was writing a post about the evils of complementary and alternative medicine and my power went out š®
Coincidence? I mean, yeah, probably, those fiends are too busy finding cancer patients to take advantage of
From the comments
James Petrosky: Got an issue with my fundamental point here? I encourage you to go do some good quality research. I'm not available to argue about to ā¤ļø
James Petrosky: If it makes you feel better, new agers and faith healers are similarly problematic. Also not debating this.
Ron: Not enough is made of the fact that people who push that crap are actively preventing people who need real help from getting it in time to matter. Evil indeed.
James Petrosky: Ron I was reading my memories and it apparently took less than a day for the algorithm to serve up this kind of stuff to me. Skepticism has long been one of my interests, so I'm okay, but not everyone would be
Facebook really, really wants me to use a cheesy animation effect on this image. And yeah, fair, it looks better on this photo than any other I've tried. But this is from the day after my surgery was cancled.
So great work, Zucc, for reminding me of one of the two worst days in my life, 2-3 times a day for the last week.
(I'm fine and am more upset I can't demand someone at Facebook justify this crime than I am about the reminder itself)
From the comments
James Petrosky: The post this photo came with had the words "inoperable" and "tumor" in it, if I was making a list of words to blacklist, those would be on it. Those would have been on it in 2019.
James Petrosky: I need you all to know that the morbid part of my sense of humour, which has long held a strong minority stake, thinks this shit is funny as hell. I am unbothered.
(I really would like to make a project manager feel uncomfortable about it for around five minutes, though)
Today I learned that I have no idea what an ounce is, nor do I have an idea why a medical professional would be using it
From the comments
James Petrosky: I was talking to a dietician, because my diahrea is only going to get worse over time and I wanted some advice. It's fine until we come to meat. I think it was 18 ounces of meat (maybe just red?) per week maximum. But because I got so confused about this unit, I can't remember if it was red, the time interval, or even if it was 18. I'm pretty sure it's per week because that's a lot for a day. And I think the dietician confused ounces to cups with ounces to pounds because I thought it was 8, so that's two contradictory things that are now locked in my brain, ready to cause catastrophic problems in the future
Anyways we're going with generic advice for now, which means more soluble fiber, being careful about insoluble fiber, and patting down foods for extra grease. Nothing I didn't know, but sometimes I need an expert to motivate me.
James Petrosky: No big stuffed animal tea party this time. I bought pizza (sprung for the deep dish option) and am breaking out the hash I keep for special occasions. It'll be shark movies until I pass out, which won't be long because deep dish has so much cheese.
The biopsy was the single most painful thing I've ever experienced. I was at near maximum cancer pain, and had to hold an intensely painful position for around ten minutes while they went in through my back to get a sample from my appendix.
I had known for less than two weeks, as had my partner. My family had known for five days. I was very alone, very confused, and hopeless. But now lots of people I'll never have the joy to meet know, I'm very comfortable talking about everything, and I've never felt more supported.
The Cancerversary is a celebration of life. Biopsy day is a celebration of community (even if I didn't invite anyone but the cat to the party)
Now that I'm no longer a practicing electrician, I'd like to wear my Iron Ring again. But unsurprisingly in the past decade I've put on weight and developed muscle and it no longer fits. I could get a replacement or I could wait for chemo to fix the problem.
I've decided to wait.
From the comments
James Petrosky: Engineers in Canada can participate in a weird cult induction ceremony (that I swore not to talk about the details of because cult) and receive a stainless steel ring to wear on our dominant pinky finger, it's supposed to remind us of our professional responsibility to the public.
Like all cults, it's only interesting if you don't know what's going on and becomes fabulously boring once your in the know. Scientology is the exception.
There's no memento mori quite like walking into a cancer centre at 0800 on a Monday
From the comments
James Petrosky: At least I'm the youngest one here by a decade or two. All you alls are allowed to be saddened by that on my behalf, but it's so much easier for me
Don't worry about me, death causes me a lot less mental anguish than the fact that I need to do a urine test in half an hour but really, really need to pee now
After much research (spending a hour looking at a couple websites) I have some observations about the state of roadside attractions in Ontario
we've got way more than I expected, and I can grab some new ones even on trips I've made dozens of times
we (governments, private businesses and individuals) really like to build inukshuks. We probably shouldn't be doing that. I'm generally leaving them off my list.
there are four giant coins, three are real currency, all are extremely accessible and I'm very excited
there are so many giant Muskoka chairs, there must be a war on for who can get the largest (someone claims the largest in Northern Ontario to save themselves some trouble. If you can't sit in the chair, it's worthless as a photo
there are many many many moose, bear and walleye
there are more cows than you'd expect
there are a lot of dinosaurs, usually at mini put
St. Thomas has a Jumbo the elephant statue that I simply must visit
Wawa apparently has three goose statues these days
I also found lists for other provinces, if I can ever make it more than 100km from Lake Huron
From the comments
Britta: I want to see the big coins
James Petrosky: Britta there's a nickel in Sudbury, a place I go and go through regularly, a loonie and a toonie along the routes to see other things (my brother in Ottawa, for the toonie, and the Wawa geese for the loonie). The last is a gold coin way up by the Quebec border in Northern Ontario, which is probably not going to happen. James Petrosky: I've been to The Big Nickle maybe four or five times over my life, and until I realized there was a set I needed to complete I wasn't going to go back š James Petrosky: I can't find a photo I like (one with a human for scale) but the coin itself is 30ft tall (9.1m, it was built before metrification). I always forget how big it is
Monica: If one of the websites you looked at wasnāt Atlas Obscura, I recommend taking a look. Lots of weird things to see and do
James Petrosky: Monica I've used it in the past, but it's Ontario coverage is sadly pretty poor. In Toronto and Ottawa it isn't bad, though James Petrosky: Monica Bell I must have been searching badly because it's got way more junk than I remember now
James Petrosky: If anyone knows cool shit between Kitchener, Ottawa and Elliot Lake, I'm all ears. I already won't get to everything in my notebook (maybe even if I had ten years, BC is far, after all), and I'm finding the idea of possibilities really pleasant right now.
James Petrosky: Geoffrey I've been to a small number of these. The Rideau Canal is pretty easy, Nicholson, Ontario (an hour drive and half hour boat ride outside of Chapleau) is quite another.
Anyways I'm saving this so because there's lots of neat stuff here
Did you know that I find carillons to be one of the coolest non synth instruments? Did you know there was one in the Peace Tower? I didn't! But parliament's centre block is under renovations and it isn't presently in use. So I need you all to leave out hardhats and reflective vests for the construction gods because I need to get to listen to it.
From the comments
James Petrosky: There are ten other carillons in Canada, all but two are in southern or eastern Ontario. So my goal is to get the nine easy ones. Montreal might be possible. Victoria is unlikely.
I genuinely thought that there were a handful in the states, largely in the original states, and that was it for North America. I didn't even think to look for more š®
Hank Green is also dealing with cancer, and exactly as you'd expect, has been vlogging his experiences. I love this video, I learned a lot from it. If you know someone with cancer, consider taking ten minutes out of your day to watch it. It's fantastic.
From the comments
James Petrosky: I got a lot of soup in tupperwear at the start. It was very kind. But I don't like soup, and couldn't eat some of it because it had apple sauce in it and I had a bad chemo-applesauce adventure. And the added dishes were not much, but more than I wanted to deal with.
Early on, after I'd had a month to process but was just starting to tell people, there were a few coworkers (no one who can read this, won't ask, I won't tell) who it felt like I had to do the work of emotionally comforting over my diagnosis with a terā¦ See more
Being told "ask if you need anything", unless you're my family or partner, is just asking me to become a manager for my own care. I already use all my management capacity between the four doctors I regularly see, home care visits, pharmacy trips, bloodā¦ See more
It's a shame it took a full course of treatment to get to this point. In a better world, I'd be done treatment right now, maybe to need it again in a year or so. But that's the way of things.
All this being said, if you've done anything for me - even as simple as animal photos when I've asked, thank you. I couldn't have made it here, with my mental health largely intact, without you
Is it weird that I'm kind of jealous that Hank Green gets to try radiation treatment for his cancer and I won't get to? (yes I got to do surgery and he probably won't but shhhh)
(I'm mostly joking but it's an experience I won't have (and probably don't want) and could have had if mine was caught at an earlier stage)
(this video isn't essential viewing, just a jumping off point for a weird emotion I had)
From the comments
James Petrosky: He also did so many fewer cycles than me, but his chemo sounds a lot harsher. It's curative, though, so patient comfort is less of a concern than with a palliative treatment like mine. It took ten cycles for me to have similar side effects to what he had after two.
While the level of pain I'm in does hurt like a mother fucker, the pain's ability to block out other signals (mainly hunger, thirst, and need to use the washroom) where its true villianous nature is revealed
Fun fact! Phone anxiety only gets worse when it's literally a matter of life and death
From the comments
James Petrosky: Okay I whine but I think it's all done. Turns out the trick is to short circuit my worry circuits with the care circuits by putting "order flee medication for Thomasin" last because I will always put off stuff for me but cats are much too important James Petrosky: To anyone worrying, it's important but not iminant. I need to get some CT scan results to someone at another hospital, but apparently the best/only way to so that is a USB drive.
James Petrosky: It's not like I'm not calling an ambulance because I'm too nervous, is what I mean. Stefanie: James Petrosky really in this day and age they canāt send the files over in a better more accessible way? Thatās really unfortunate James Petrosky: Stefanie patient confidentiality is the killer, I think Stefanie: James Petrosky it makes sense but itās unfortunate given you probably canāt like mail it James Petrosky: Stefanie I think it's a USB drive, so I might be able to mail it. Once I have it I'm calling and asking how they want it sent James Petrosky: It's a CD/DVD. What is this, 2005?
I can't even look at the files š Stefanie: James Petrosky damn thatās really old school (says the nurse who was still sending out patients with CDs last year š) yeah you probably canāt because of software needs and they put some super security measures on them for confidentiality James Petrosky: Stefanie no I can't because I haven't owned a CD drive in almost a decade
