Sushi, Sea Dogs, and One More Small Step Forward

And my friend Jerry flew back to Portland Oregon today, after treating me to a truly remarkable three-day-weekend in the hospital. The plan for last night had been to order Sushi, and sit down in the patient's day room listening to the Sea Dogs on the radio while we watched the stadium from the window...but we ended up just watching Game Seven of the Stanley Cup playoffs between Boston and Montreal instead. It's hard for me to describe just how much Jerry's visit meant to me -- a brief vacation from this strange, surreal world into which I was literally carried kicking and screaming in pain. No, it wasn't in the plans. But with the help of friends like Jerry, we're going to figure out a way to make it work.

It's also little hard for me to believe that I've now spent a full three weeks here at the Maine Medical Center. Was originally admitted Friday March 28 and stayed through the weekend; was discharged April Fools Day...and three days later I was back again right around the corner from where I'd been before. But the good news is that the pathology reports are back now from Friday's bronchoscopy, and it looks like I'm clear to be discharged again. Only this time, instead of sending me home, I'll be heading into Rehab for a couple of weeks of Physical Therapy, to see how much of my mobility I can regain before beginning the 18 week regimen of chemotherapy I was originally supposed to begin on March 26th.

Of course, there are still a few more obstacles in the road. The facility I would most like to be discharged to may not have a bed available for me for another day or two anyway. And all of these facilities will want to know that I have a safe and secure place to go to when they're through with me, which is a little like asking me to predict the future, since I won't really know WHAT my abilities will be until after they're done with me.

And finally, none of this really has anything to do with treating my cancer per se. It just sorta dropped into my lap (or more precisely, my left leg and lower back) like a bolt from the blue, and trumped every other consideration. Instead of living in my own walk-up apartment and getting out-patient chemotherapy once a week, I've been trapped in the hospital learning how to get around in the world under my own power all over again.

So I suppose you could call it ironic. But these are also the issues that concern me most. I'm not at all worried about my cancer just now; I feel like I'm receiving as good of treatment as I could receive anywhere in the world, and that statistically, whatever the outcome, I'm destined to be on the high side of the bell curve, simply because of my age, and my otherwise good health, and the outpouring of support and encouragement I've been receiving from those who care about me, and who are sharing this journey with me.

But these more pressing issues: where am I going to live? who will care for my dog in my absence? will I ever be able to get up out of this wheelchair and walk again? -- these are on my mind pretty much every waking moment. They're inescapable, and until they're resolved....