Last week, it seems, was summer. I finished the Philadelphia Triathlon on June 25, we closed on our home on the 26th, and then Jacqui and I spent a few days on the beach in Cape May over the July 4th weekend. I had scans a week or so later, and so began a month of testing which led to where I am today–bald, low on hemoglobin, and wishing that I could travel back in time to stop myself from drinking that pesticide flavored milkshake that probably caused my lymphoma. Mmmmmmm, pesticides.
And then suddenly it was fall. Earlier this week I noticed that the leaves had begun to change on the tree outside our bedroom window. A few days later I felt a chill in the air for the first time, and today I got several unsolicited suggestions that I dress as Nosferatu for Halloween.
I have had little sense of the passage of time these last three-plus months. It was shocking when I realized it was Fall. I suppose I could write this off as some strange chemo side-effect, or caused by watching reruns of Star Trek over and over again, but I think that it feels more like time outside of our home has been suspended rather than its having slipped away. By this I mean that when I am home and recovering with Jacqui and Otis and whoever else comes to visit I feel far away from the passage of time in the outside world (which includes, I’ve been told, a country that actually seems to be marching backwards in time).
My best measurement of time has been Jacqui’s growing belly, and the continued growth of our baby-to-be. Unlike the suddenness of fall, each day when Jacqui comes home I see her growing belly and realize that we are getting closer to that extraordinary day. Next thing I know it will be “Junior’s” fifth birthday party at Chuck-E-Cheese, his or her Bar/Bat Mitzvah, or parent’s weekend at college. Better start saving now.
Tomorrow (Wednesday), should a bed be available on 6 or 7 Rhoades at Penn, treatment 2A in the HYPR-CVAD chemo cycle begins, and we are a little bit further down the road to de-lymphomatization.
I was hoping for this week off, but my blood counts keep bouncing back quickly (a good sign, I am told by my doctors), and so my life as a lymphoma patient continues and time marches on.
3 thoughts on “Time”
Before you know it, the tulips will be out, spring will be here, and you and Jac and Otis will be strolling junior on the river, cancer free!! We can’t wait for that.
Good to know- I’ll be avoiding the pesticide flavored milkshakes from here on out. I share my wife’s sentiments- just as long as you don’t go for a swim in the river. I heard some unfortunate stories about a certain triathlon in the Schuylkill River…And you’re on for a game of Scrabble this weekend. Do two-letters words count?
“…and today I got several unsolicited suggestions that I dress as Nosferatu for Halloween.”Yeah, but I said it first. Say hello to the Rhoads 7 staff for me, and remember, samurai movies beat Star Trek every time.
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