Starting Treatment, with jumbled thoughts.
“If i were young again, I’d pay attention, to that little known dimension, a taste of endless time.”
— — Chris Smithers, Leave the Light On.
I’m certainly not young again, but I think, being a therapist for fifty years, I always paid attention to what was going on, and the kind of decisions I was making. Doing that certainly didn’t stop me from making some ridiculous decisions, and often making he same mistakes repeatedly.
I’m not into confessional memoir writing, so there won’t be pages of mea culpas here. Still, having cancer seems to make me pause a bit more than usual — my wife thinks my life already has way too many pauses — and memories of things I’ve done pop up frequently in my mind. More often than not they are memories of small, dumb things that I’ve said, done or not done.
I shudder a bit when I recall those moments. So many of my reactions to these memories are of the “what a jerk” category, although not quite as bad a jerk that Aziz Ansari is being labelled, but then I’m not that big a star. Still, I’ve hurt people, upset them, or just ignored them, when I could have done better.
I have clear memories, which are probably quite distorted, as most are, that go back to the time I was about four and with a friend, lit a “cowboy campfire” in a vacant lot in Brooklyn. We almost burned down a garage but the fire department came in time. I didn’t get in much trouble because I was four and I cheerfully said I did it.
I have lots of memories from kindergarten through two years ago, of saying, and doing, dumb things with women. Only a couple are really egregious, and those are way past the statue of limitations, and I never took any money from the government to pay for them. There may have been some “Me-Too” moments, but hey, things were different then, right?
Lots of other just dumb moments of going the wrong way, saying stupid things, embarrassing my wife, my kids or myself. Memories remain strong if they are linked to emotion, and feeling foolish lasts a long time. There were, of course, many minor mistakes, such as buying both Netflix and Facebook early, and then selling them at a 7% gain, after a dip, convinced they were going to fail. But, hey, I did buy Microsoft at a split adjusted $2.50, and sell it for $92. That’s partly how Ipaid for my kid’s college. I also made some money on Apple, RIMM and now on NVIDIA, and lost lots of other mony that I’ve forgotten about. That’s why Bob manages 99% of our money.
I can now blame these moments of reflection on my cancer treatment. I began the recommended course of chemical intervention four days ago. I take one pill of Tamoxifin a day.
I’ve been told I will have to take this pill for anywhere from the next six months to ten years. Here is the list of side-effects : “Hot flashes, nausea, leg cramps, muscle aches, moodiness, hair thinning, headache, and numb/tingling skin may occur. A loss of sexual ability/interest may occur in men.” So, maybe it’s the pill, or just the idea of having the disease in me that elicits these haunting memories. But, I’m going to have my 73rd birthday in a few weeks, and it’s difficult to tell if what I feel is a side-effect of the pill, or just a major effect of being me, at this age.
I haven’t had any hot flashes yet. but I certainly have had a bit of almost everything else on that list, just from hanging around so long. The list doesn’t include arthritis in my knee, shoulder and neck, a smashed disk in my lower back, various skin cancers, a hernia in my abdomen that no one had diagnosed before I got the CT scan last week, three cornea transplants ( one for each eye, ha-ha) an magnificently enlarged prostate, with a PSA that ranges for 10 to 51, but no cancer after five biopsies, and I’m already taking pills for high blood pressure, that goes even higher in any doctor’s office.
The best thing is that despite all of this, I feel fine. I would say that I was in excellent health, except that I know better. I’m busy. I’m happy to be retired so that I have all the time I need to see all of these doctors without having to cancel my own patients. I don’t have another appointment with a doctor for two months, when we will see if these pills are working. I have lots to do — bother my kids and grandkids, play with my wife, as we are going to someplace warmer, work to get rid of all of the greedy, racist Republicans, hang out with my cynical and less cynical friends, watch the Celtics, and recall that there was a time when I could shoot better than Marcus Smart if no one over 5’11” was guarding me, and write this bog to my now double digit number of readers.
I’ve also gone back to playing an old guitar that my sister-in-law gave to me many years ago. I can play the Chris Smithers song quoted above and below, certainly not close to as well as he does, but enough to amuse myself. The problem is that I have a voice that is best suited for silent movies, so I won’t be in concert anywhere soon.
If this is the treatment, then I think I’ll survive. I expect that things will get worse as the medication really takes hold of my systems, but it hasn’t yet. I’ve been told that the best I can do for myself is to keep exercising, which I do, and not drink too much, which is Ok, as too much just knocks me out. It’s interesting to feel how all of these systems interact; genetic, hormonal, muscular and digestive. The mental aspects too, some of which are from the disease, some from the treatment, and also from the anxiety that comes with waiting to find out what “cancer” will really mean.
So, again, I’ll see what happens next.
Thanks for reading this far. Here is a final, relevant quote from the same song, and a clip of the writer singing it, if you click on the underlined quote. Enjoy the song.
“I’ve got plenty left I’ve set my sights on, don’t wait up leave the light on, I’ll be home soon.
— Chris Smithers, (who is a year older than I am).
