Roller Coaster

People like me who live with a disease like cancer frequently use the roller coaster as a metaphor for the journey.

Cancer is no longer a death sentence, depending on the type of cancer and access to good medical care.

I was extremely fortunate in that just as I presented to the local cancer clinic, a new oncologist had arrived to begin practicing here.  Happens that he was very experienced in the type of cancer I have and had actually developed a protocol to treat it.  At the time the protocol was not approved in this province, but he fought for me to get it and managed to get approval for me to benefit from his experience and knowledge.

But just because I was in remission for six years afterwards didn't mean I was 'cured'.  In fact I lived with that fear of return before every check up.  I did so well that my check ups went from every three months, to every six months to once a year.

And then it came back.

By that time, however, break throughs were being made in the treatment of the cancer I live with and instead of chemo again, the new oncologist put me on a 'miracle' drug.  Instead of poisoning my entire body with toxic chemicals in hopes of killing the cancer not the host (iow, moi) the new drug targeted just the rogue cells.  Unfortunately, while it worked extremely well to kill the cancer cells, it also did a number on the rest of me.  Commonly called 'adverse effects'.

And so I hit the portion of the roller coaster where the peaks became higher and the drops more stomach dropping.

Roller coasters are not a continuous round of sharp ups and downs - they give a few seconds of respite between rapid corners and stomach turning spirals.

And so does living with cancer.  At least the type of cancer I have.

Right now the peaks and valleys are fairly low.  I go in for check ups every six months.  Mostly I ignore the fact that I have cancer like a black cloud looming over me - like the cartoon character from Dogpatch - because for most of the year it is pretty far 'behind' me.

But I cannot forget for one minute that it is there.  And as the time for my check up draws nearer, I spend more time thinking about it - is this physical issue cancer?  Or allergies?  Is that physical issue cancer?  Or pandemic stress?

While I have gotten pretty good at isolating such thoughts (swimming in De Nile is not always a bad thing), the closer the appointment, the more I think about it.  Is it back?  Or do I get another 'pass'?

So I ride the roller coaster.

To those people who ask how I am 'celebrating' still being in remission?  I don't 'celebrate'.  As the stress of the 'not knowing' shifts to 'knowing' the remission holds, I can once again take a deep breath and shove the black cloud further away, further behind me.  Unless I detect symptoms, my next appointment is in six  months.  In the meantime, it will be back to weaving.  I still have way too much stash.

But the cancer, plus cardiac, plus my age, mean that I am three times susceptible to the Covid-19 virus.  So, because I can, I will continue to isolate as much as possible.  If I need to go out (as I do today) I will wear a mask.  I will sanitize my hands, mask, etc., when I get home.  I have the privilege of being able to self-isolate, so I am removing myself from the line of transmission as much as possible.

We are all riding the pandemic roller coaster.  Some of us just have extra twists and turns in ours...