Cancer Selfies

Thursday November 17, 2022

Sometime, my last best day will come

Cycle 5, Day 9

For weeks now I've been plagued by a thought. A worry. A concern. I feel pretty good most days now, as good as I have since Cats was in theatres, but I know that won't last long term. I know that some day is going to be the best day I have left, and after that all that remains is a slow decline.

In just under two weeks, I have a CT scan to see how I've responded to my first round of chemotherapy. In about two weeks, I expect the results will be available. And in just under three weeks, I expect to have them explained to me, in great detail, by my oncologist.

I feel fantastic, and I expect a good result, but cancer is a tricky foe and mine is a fairly rare and poorly understood. So I worry about the short term. And I worry about the long term. The first should be fine, but the second is a certainty (ignoring the surgical option, which itself isn't a sure thing and is dependent on the short term results and I don't think about often because it is itself a whole new assemblage of horrors).

I'm fine. Honestly, I'm thriving. I've never been so on top of my hobbies, in control of my day to day life. It's not a feeling I'm used to. But I know it's temporary, both because treatment must progress because we are working towards the surgical option, and because even with the best treatment available, my care is still palliative. I'm under seige, and there may be no help forthcoming. We hold out as long as we can, but one side will break.

Photo from 15 minutes before sunset at Woodland Beach.

A man with green hair is wearing a high visibility winter coat, a red toque with a grey hood also visible, a boardwalk covered in snow is visible behind him

From the comments

James Petrosky: This is significantly more bleak than I meant it to be. I'm not changing a word, but know that my mental health hasn't been this resilient since 2010. My medication is the right one, my levels are good, I've done my time in therapy and have a good team in place now. I'm not suffering, nor am I avoiding my problems by overworking. Things are going well. But there's simply no way for me not to be constantly cognisant of my own mortality at all times. And it's been this way for months. Given the situation, it's fine, I have a good team supporting me, after all. But it is a lot.