Monday, December 9, 2024

     I feel like I am in a self-imposed exile. Taking care of my house and garden, taking naps, dreaming of outings to the ocean, to coffee houses, to Denney’s for breakfast and so on.  But when I get up and move around the fatigue and brain fog are here. Am I really sick, or bored or maybe depressed? I go back to thinking oh yes this is just the side effects of docetaxel chemo over the last ten months. Just do what you can, I tell myself.

     During the last three and a half years I have joined the line of adventuresome old people as we experiment with dangerous and torturous procedures with humans wearing protective gear.  We aren’t protected. We are exposed to poisons, viruses, bacteria, chemicals, radiation infusions and scans, body cutting and burning, medicines to keep us just barely alive during surgeries. 

     We do this somewhat willingly.  We believe, at least initially, we are being cured and the treatment folks know what they are doing. We forget that we are as courageous and adventuresome as astronauts flying in space or mountain climbing on Mt Everest. And we are the old invisible people quietly waiting for the next dangerous adventure.

     Are we more courageous than the folks wearing the protective gear. No I don’t think so. I experience the kindness and skill of the medical people. But I live in the community of the old people.