This weekend I was asked if I'd accepted the diagnosis. I replied, yes I have.
Accepting the diagnosis by no means saying I like it, or won't fight it with what I have. What it means is I've come to terms with the oncoming end of my life. Do I like that? Well hell no, I don't like that, but that doesn't mean I'm not at peace with this part of my life. My cancer is rapid growth stuff. When even the Oncologist looks at CT's taken before, after, and immediately before surgery and says "Wow, that grows really fast", maybe it's time to say, "Wow, my cancer grows really fast". I know it does. I can sort of tell why it's having a growth spurt. I get tired, cranky, and achy. Like this morning. Well, this morning could be lag from the fun I had at Kerrville. That being the case, it's no big deal, because that's an ache I'd put up with every day if it meant I'd had fun the weekend before.
Acceptance means that I'm not willing to spend what time I have left, hooked up to a PICC line having poison pumped into me once a week for God knows how long. It means that I do not want to spend my time trying to keep from vomiting. That creates an entirely different set of problems than simple Chemo yakking does. It means that I'd rather be as lucid as possible. It means that what time I have left, be it a years, way less or maybe more, isn't going to be spent wondering if it slowed down the cancer enough to squeeze in an extra 2-3 weeks. No, that's not doing it on my terms. That's letting someone who doesn't have a personal interest vested in me decide how my life is going to proceed. The clinical trial was going to be more harsh than the standard Chemo. Bless their hearts at MD Anderson, because I know they are looking down range and trying to help other people after I'm gone. I'm thrilled they do that, by the way. They have samples of my cancer tumors and tissue. They have a sample of the muscle that died in my mouth. That's enough of Rock Guinea Pig, they don't need me to be sick for them at all, not if it's not going to cure me, and I as told it would not.
Acceptance means that I see things a bit differently. There are places I probably won't see now. Somewhere down the line there are people I'm going to see for the last time. I can taste a bit of the foods I like, but I won't be eating them again. People's smiles, voices, how they smell, the feel or their hands when we greet each other. Those are things that, one day, will be the last time I experience that particular person. Jesus, sounds like I'm being a drag, right? I'm not. These are the things I took for granted when I thought I was immortal after beating Baxter down the first time. Not that I didn't cherish my friendship with everyone, that goes without saying. But I took a lot of things for granted. I don't do that now. How often do we really just look and soak in what we are seeing? How the flats turn into the hills? How the hills are wooded differently in different areas? I can tell you when we are getting close to West Texas just by the difference in the Mesquite and pasture land, even if I've been asleep and wake up not knowing where we are exactly. Everyone's hands feel different when you shake them, because it's a person, not just their hand. Pay attention next time you grab mitts with more than a couple of people, it's amazing what you can tell from just grabbing a hand and shaking it. I started noticing that more lately. I think I'm making an image of that person that won't be lost...ever. I'll take some of everyone with me, where ever it is I'm going on the next leg of the journey. I'll have dozens of people with me, how can that be a bad thing?
Acceptance makes it easier to get everything Immortal Rock should have gotten done, finished in a timely manner. Put this off, put that off, the next thing you know none of the stuff you wanted done is even close to finished and you're out of time. Me? Hell, I'm getting that done. When the time comes to shake these mortal coils, the only thing the family will have to do is be with each other. No mad running around getting stuff finished for my depot stop. Except maybe the party stuff. That'll have to be set up later. Although we are having a BBQ sometime in November, hopefully while I'm still able and feel up to it. I find myself not planning too far out right now. More my style actually, to begin with. It's giving me a chance to reconnect with some folks I hadn't seen or talked to in years. Not to lay a guilt trip on them or myself, but to let them know that in some way they made a difference in my life. That's a good thing for me to do right now, and I hope it's a good thing for those people to know as well. Acceptance also means it's okay to admit I'm tired and I hurt a lot of the time. Before either round with cancer I had a lot of aches from things I did when I between 4 and 47. I had aches and minor arthritis from broken bones. Pulled muscles and over exerted everything. It was something I had and learned to live with. Lately I get asked a lot "What's your pain level?". It constantly ran a 2-3. So compared to what? A good day? Then a 5 or 6 is tolerable. And I hate to admit it when I'm really hurting. Shit, I limp a bit because I'm missing part of a quad, so what's a little pain? The Palliative Care Dr at MDA said, "It matters because you deserve to be as comfortable as you can". That struck home for some reason. Okay, that works for me, I accept that. And anyone at Kerrville can attest that I got as comfortable as I could be on that day.
Acceptance also means that I'm not going to keep telling everyone to suck it up. It gives me the peace of mind to let everyone that wants to be upset with my current run from Terminal Velocity to Critical Mass, be upset. Do I like to see my loved ones cry? I can be a mean old Son of a Bitch at times, but I'm not heartless. It really upsets me. But, acceptable for me now because the folks I love need to have a time to be upset, leak a bit, be mad, all of that. They can even be mad at me for behaving like I was Immortal Rock and doing as I damn well pleased because I wasn't ever gonna die. Surprise surprise surprise Sgt. Carter, looks like I might after all. I didn't used to like the fuss. My wife thinks she can't cry in front of me, I think, so she can look strong for me. WRONG Lizzy, you can. You've always been my strength and my rock, nothing is gonna change that. It also means I've given up a chunk of myself. I was always loathe to accept help, let alone ask for it. Stubborn Rock never liked having to have help. Stubborn Rock often took longer to do some things because he wouldn't ask for help. At work, my mantra was "If you need it, ask for help, there's no shame in asking.". Ahhhh to have taken my own advise. I can suck it up because I own this, it's not the same for me as it is others. Let me suck it up, and who ever needs to have that time to be upset, cry, break a dish, vent it out. In the long run it'll help both of us. A bit of something: "Surprise surprise surprise" was what Gomer Pyle USMC used to tell his drill Sgt back in the 60s early 70s, for those of you too young to remember the TV show
Acceptance means that I have to accept the fact my thought bucket has run dry.
Today's blog was brought to you by the word "dammit" and the number 3.
All y'all take care now, hear?
