Today I made the journey to Toronto, to return to Mt. Sinai for what I hoped to be the final time, I had a followup appointment with the surgeon who preformed my aborted HIPEC surgery.
The surgeons were very happy with how my incision was healing. My home care nurse in Elliot Lake had been updating my surgeon, so it wasn't too surprising, but it's still great news. The area that seperated, that is still healing, is where my belly button was. My belly button was removed during the surgery (the only cancer that was removed), so there was some lost skin here. I hadn't made the connection, hadn't realized that I was missing skin, and this allows me to cease worrying that I could have done more for healing. I also hadn't figured that the belly button was the source of my pain all last year, so when pain returns, it can't be the same source.
I no longer have any physical activity limits. I can work my way up to any sorts of exercises I'd want to do (weight lifting would still be out, but I've never had interest). I was told that what I really want to do, gradually increasing my walking endurance, is exactly the sort of thing I should be doing. Which is fantastic, I'd love to recover some strength and a lot of endurance before I restart chemo, which is going to hurt both of those things. I should have a chemo rest period before the cold weather sets in, so I can recover more, but I remember how cold I was all winter, that will be a season of atrophy (I have Ring Fit Adventure for Switch, which I hope will help mitigate the winter losses).
This week I have to get a CT scan, and ensure its summertime hot flash, and visit the cancer centre at the Royal Victoria Regional Health Centre in Barrie, and then next Thursday I meet with my medical oncologist in person to discus the results and come up with our Summer/Fall treatment plan. My surgeon thinks that if we can afford to delay (the CT scan shows minimal change from the CT scan I had back in March at the end of my second round of chemo), we should allow the incision another few weeks to heal, but that it's healed enough that we could start chemo sooner. That's ultimately a question that only the medical oncologist can answer, and while I have some say in the matter, I fully intend to defer to her.
Traveling (inside downtown Toronto)
Hanging with the Couch Monster
Mt Sinai doesn't have any signs or letters on buildings to take photos with. It's very frustrating for my naritive project here
Outside Mt. Sinai
Turns out half a day is all I can do right now
From the comments
James Petrosky: As is traditional when non-Torontonians from rural Ontario visit Toronto, we got food that's hard to get in Midland (dim sum, in this case) and took a stroll in a walkable neighbourhood with fun stores (Chinatown, it's almost always Chinatown, especially because it's minutes from the hospital). We stopped at a Chinese bakery, many bbq pork buns were enjoyed (also a good selection of other tasty treats, but the pork is my favourite)
I really wanted to visit the Art Gallary of Ontario, Couch Monster is just outside the AGO), but the 600m walk from the hospital to the AGO took a lot out of me. But there will be future trips, hopefully planned far enough in advance that I can invite others.
I was pretty pleased about passing my licencing exam last year. But we now know that I did it with excruciating cancer pain AND some pretty bad intestinal panic. Also I did extremely well.
Couldn't have been prouder of any other accomplishment to end my career on (even though it traditionally marks the beginning of a career)
James Petrosky: You can sad and care react if that's what feels right, but I'm genuinely pleased with what I accomplished, and am comfortable with it being an ending. I am at peace.
Today I left Elliot Lake and returned home to Balm Beach, Ontario. Since we departed early in the morning on June 8th, I've only seen Thomasin for around half an hour. I adore Annie and Bessie, my Poodle Pals, and don't know how I'd have handled the last month without them, but I'm overjoyed and relieved to be with my cat again. And she's never been this affectionate. I know I'll eventually have to leave her again, but until that day we're together.
Suspicious berries in Elliot Lake (actually just mountain ash)
Northwest Trading Company, Espanola, Ontario
French River Trading Post, French River, Ontario
Home!
She doesn't like being held, but endured it for me
From the comments
James Petrosky: My incision still has a lot of healing to do, and I'm still restricted on how much I can lift, and the motions I can make. If I were planning on returning to work, I'd still be off for two months.
Oh hey! It's the anniversary of the start of the worst, hardest two weeks of my life. But today's the day I get to return home, too, where Thomasin awaits. Truly a mixed bag of a day.
We must choose to focus on the good, however. Which is pretty easy when she's so soft
James Petrosky: For spoilers, August 5th is the day I traveled five hours, alone, to tell my parents about the cancer diagnosis. I do not recommend, but I can't think of another way I'd have done it.
But the two week period wasn't all bad, I watched a lot of Universal Monsters movies while I had covid, and still think of those quite fondly.
When I woke up from general anesthesia late in the day on June 9th, the equilibrium I'd grown comfortable with over the course of my treatment was shattered. End of life planning is a complex thing, there's a financial component, there's a kitty cat component, there's a what do I do with all my junk component, and obviously a fairly major medical component. And there's a surprisingly profound psychological component.
Obviously the biggest part of this is the sudden mandatory mortality salience. I think we do our best to ignore it much of the time, but there is no escaping the inevitably of it. And there's especially no escaping it when you hear or read the word palliative, in relation to yourself, several times a week. Or similar, more euphamistic phrases, such as "someone in your condition" or "with your diagnosis". The subject is inescapable.
(Most of the time I'm actually fine with this, and would like to talk more openly and directly about it. I have an appointment with my cancer centre social worker coming up, and this is the main thing I'll discuss)
Another mental thing I did was give up on a bunch of things. Not things I loved, I didn't stop playing with the poodles, or seeing the friends I'm able to see, I still play video games and watch trashy shark movies. I gave up reading the news, because at that point I thought I has 3-6 months, and 3-6 months is just too short to be concerned about anything that didn't affect my circle of friends (everyone reading this is included), I'd still read things people shared, but I quit checking the CBC and APTN daily. I paused all podcasts, and considered moving some of the more upsetting ones (news and atheism podcasts, mainly, the latter because they cover a lot of heinous behaviour directed at queer people).
This last few days, my mental state has improved. I'm not at my old equilibrium, I had a treatment and the possibility of ten years then, but I've spent the year gazing upon death's terrifying face, and am seeing that it's just misunderstood, and there is comfort in that. A comfort that makes me want to remain in contact with the world as much as I can. I'm reading the news again, and while the stories are horrible, I feel like a more responsible citizen when I stay informed. And I'd forgotten how important those atheist podcasts were to my feeling of being part of a larger community. Being a good citizen and being part of community are extremely important values to me, I'm glad to have them exercised again.
From the comments
James Petrosky: The moustache wants to stick straight out instead of connecting to the beard and I just might do it and go villian look
Surgical recovery remains frustratingly slow. My trip to the hospital on Thursday resulted in all the staples being removed (each hurt somewhere between a mosqueto and a needle, closer to the needle, except those in the open area which were extremely unpleasant). This changes the treatment plan for the incision, but surgical stuff continues to elude and confuse me, so I cannot say more. What I do know is that we've given up on the skin at that point joining back together again, instead new flesh will grow to protect the opening. I do not know how long this will take, but I suspect my body will be slow at it.
The chemo restart has been scheduled fast (although a date won't be set until August 3rd). I have another CT scan, so we can see how much the tumors have been able to rebound since I ceased chemotherapy three months ago. We're hoping for very little change, but I'll be honest, it's been a lot of bad news recently, so it's hard to he hopeful. There's also blood work, because there's always blood work. If you ever require chemotherapy, I hope you can get over your aversion to needles quick, it's a lot easier that way.
Until the CT scan I remain with my parents in Elliot Lake. I'm hoping I'll have recovered enough by then to be able to go back home, but this process is just so slow and, again, it's hard to be hopeful.
