Tattooed

Yesterday while I was waiting to be transported back from Radiology, an orderly walked by wearing a "President's Quality Award Team" sweatshirt. But I only got a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye, and thought that it said "President Quayle's..." and for a moment that I had been transported into some sort of Rod Serlingesque alternative universe where...but then I got a closer look, and realized that nope...this really was my real life after all....

Also got my first tattoo yesterday. Nothing really to write home about (except that here I am, doing just that): five little "targets" on my sides and abdomen so that the Radiation Oncologist can properly sight his ray gun when he goes to irradiate this small (but growing) metastatic tumor at the very tip of my tailbone. This is what's been giving me all the pain in my back and down my legs, so the NEW treatment plan is to attack it first for a couple of weeks before starting my chemotherapy, to see whether they can shrink or (better yet) eradicate it entirely, and relieve this pain which at times is still incapacitating. At least now it's mostly down to a range-of-motion thing; there are some things I can do in reasonable comfort, and others which require a little creative "work around." But until they can finish weaning me off of the good, old-fashioned 19th century intravenous morphine on to something more 21st century that I can take by mouth, I'm pretty much stuck in the hospital -- at least over the weekend. Asked for a four-hour furlough to attend church, but was turned down cold. I'm also a little worried because I've heard that one of the potential side effects of this new drug is that it turns you into a raving, reactionary right-wing Republican radio talk show host. But apparently that's just another urban legend.

I've also been reflecting quite a bit about how battling cancer is just like battling any other insurgency. The first thing you want to do is gain the initiative: inhibit its freedom to grow and move, and force it to respond to you rather than you responding to it. It's also important to try to cut it off from its sources of supply and support in the body: those things which give it aid and comfort and allow it to sustain itself. Cancer is a disease of excess. It loves fats and sugars and all that other stuff we know is bad for us, and turns up its nose at the things that feed our health rather than our malignancy. Winning the battle for hearts and minds is critically important. If we allow the disease to terrify us into giving up hope, its won before we've even had a chance to start. Fear and discouragement are the real killers. And we combat them with trust, hope, confidence and the love and encouragement of those who love us. And, of course, we must do all these things in ways that don't do more harm than good. That's the tricky part of battling any insurgency. Because "destroying the village in order to save it" never really was a very smart option.

The other day I mentioned that one of the first things my oncologist told me during our initial consultation is that I have a form of cancer which can be "treated, but not cured." And I suppose that if I didn't understand that "cured" is a technical medical term about statistical outcomes given known treatment options, I would have been a little worried about that. But I'm not really that interested in being "cured." Hams are cured. I want to healed -- which is to say, I want to remain healthy and vital enough to do whatever work God has left for me to do on this earth, and perhaps even to have a chance of dying of something more interesting somewhere down the line. And God knows, there's nothing wrong with being "treated" every now and again.

But you know, none of this is ever really entirely under our control. It's just that my situation now has a lot more specificity to it than it did six months ago. And all things being equal, I would MUCH rather be sitting here waiting for room service in the Gibson Pavilion of the Barbara Bush Wing of the Maine Medical Center than gearing up in full battle-rattle to be going out on patrol in Iraq.

PS -- I've been receiving tons of supportive e-mails from folks all over the country as word spreads about my illness, but unfortunately the firewall here at MMC apparently prevents me from connecting to my outgoing STMP mail server, which means that while I can read your e-mails I can't reply to them yet. I'm trying to figure out an efficient work around, but until I do please know that you are also in MY thoughts, and that everything truly interesting I have to communicate is already going into this blog. And of course, you are always welcome to comment here if you like!