Column: Hands of Time
On the one hand, I want to take note every month on the 27th as yet one more notch on my living-with-cancer belt. On the other hand, maybe I don’t need a belt to be notching but rather a life to be living. Perhaps it’s time, nearly 44 months post-diagnosis – at press time, to stop counting backwards and try more living forwards.
“Hey Beez; Beez, It’s Me”
It was my father all right – in a dream. Standing five feet away, approximately, in a well-lit, local convenience store with which I am extremely familiar. This was no case of mistaken identity. Besides, he was wearing those blue, terrycloth shorts of his that my mother always hated. So yes, I called out to him, surprised as I was to see him, locally as it were.
“Subjectively Speaking”
In my opinion. It’s what I think. It’s what I feel. It’s what I think I feel. It may not be something I know, but it’s certainly something that I hope I know. And if it’s not exactly something that I know, then I hope it’s something I believe.
Column: “Less Fluid, Most Nodules Stable, Minimal Growth.”
Given how I feel now, three-plus years later, and considering the results of this most recent scan, the future may simply be what it is: not now, but later. At least, that’s the way I see it, subjectively speaking. (Now whether “subjectively speaking” is just a euphemism for “unrealistic” is likely a topic for a “future” column.)
Column: My Team
Not literally, of course. Nor am I the coach or the general manager. But I do feel like an owner, in that there are people that I invest in – again not literally, but definitely emotionally.
Column: Refillable. Rechargeable. Reusable.
More like replaceable. Obviously, I want to remain positive and believe that today is not a good day to die (Worf from “Star Trek: Next Generation”) and that there will be many more tomorrows to live for and days beyond that to plan for. However, having a terminal disease has a tendency to darken up those rose-colored glasses.
Column: Trip Without a Fall
Recently, for the first time in nearly two years, I took a trip without having my car. Significant to me in that not “having my car” meant not being able to transport/have all my cancer things.
Column: Symptoms or just Sometimes
Making the best of a bad situation, that’s how I roll (I’m a Red Sox fan after all). Some days are easier than others, some symptoms/treatments/results are better than others. And some columns make more sense than others. But that’s cancer for you: an equal opportunity “screwer-upper.”
Column: Diagnosed But Not Sick
Having/being diagnosed with cancer/a terminal disease is neither fun nor funny; however, unless I find some humor or wishful thinking in how I approach this situation, I don’t suppose I’ll be approaching it much longer. To me, it’s always been mind over matter, and even though these matters are rather serious, I still don’t mind.
Column: Life in the Cancer Lane
Having been there and done that now for three and a half years certainly helps. And however familiar it may be and/or has become, it doesn’t exactly help to pass the time or affect the results, unfortunately. Cancer sucks! That much is clear. Now and in the future.
Column: A Pill a Day…
Hopefully will keep the cancer at bay. (I’d say “away,” but let’s be realistic, three and a half years past a NSCLC diagnosis, there is no way, generally speaking, that stage IV lung cancer disappears into the ether; it’s classified as stage IV for a reason.
Column: Derive to Survive
Now that I can taste food again, or rather have food taste like normal again, my attitude is much improved.
Column: Choosing My Words, Respectively
It has been brought to my attention by some regular Kenny-column readers – who are friends, too, and whose opinions I value, that my most recent batch of “cancer columns” (as I call them) were not funny; in fact, they were more depressing and negative than anything, and not nearly as uplifting and hopeful as many of my previous columns have been.
Column: A Life Worth Living, Still
It might be my age (as in getting older), or it might be the fact that I have cancer (you think?), but my brain and the related physical and mental tasks it coordinates are not exactly working at peak efficiency.
Column: Circumstances Be Damned
If only it were as easy to actually live it as it is to write it. As much as I believe what I write, it’s still difficult to ignore certain facts (“the underlying diagnosis,” as I often refer to my diagnosis) and the feelings associated with it.
Column: A Victim of My Own Circumstances
Outliving one’s prognosis leads to all sorts of twists and turns and treatment conundrums: the longer one lives, the fewer the treatment options.
Column: Writing On!
It was June ’09 when I published my first column in the Connection Newspapers about being diagnosed with cancer. It was actually a column detailing the diagnostic steps I had taken during the first few months of the year attempting to identify the pain I had initially felt under my right-side rib cage in late December.
Column: A GAP In My Thinking
Recently, due to circumstances beyond my control, I was forced to buy a new car (in this instance, “new” means different, not a current model year). Estimated repairs at 137,000 miles that could have escalated into the unknown – and unaffordable – thousands compelled me to fish so I wouldn’t have my bait cut (and I don’t even like to fish).
Column: Where To Begin?
I realize this admission may sound weird, but having cancer is boring. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky to be alive, and quite happy about it, too. But waiting for the other shoe to drop, i.e. some bad cancer news to appear (lab work, scan, advisory from my oncologist), is tiresome because it’s always so worrisome.
Column: Apparent, Now More Than Ever
I last celebrated my father’s day six years ago, in 2006. Six months later, in early December, he finally succumbed to that which had been ailing him: old age for sure, the effects of two strokes for certain and the realization that it was, as we like to say in our family: “Enough already.”
Column: Haven’t I Learned Anything?
I’m not going to beat myself up too badly; after all, I do have terminal cancer. However, I am disappointed in my behavior of late, especially as it relates to my status as a still-active (thank God!) cancer patient/survivor undergoing treatment.
Column: Off Topic, Almost
If only it were that simple. And as much I’d like to turn the cancer switch off, finding that switch has proven to be extremely challenging.
Column: Living Longer, Sort of Prospering
Though my column has appeared in the newspaper as usual the last few weeks, I haven’t felt much like writing. Typically, I’m weeks ahead with my column inventory, having regularly found the time and inclination to put pen to paper and provide the prose you regular readers have come to expect.
Column: “Psycho-not-so-matic” Anymore
Whatever I thought was only happening in my head – or not, or was really happening physically – or not, is the muddled description of the thoughts and emotions that this cancer survivor/cancer patient-still-receiving-treatment feels every time I make a 24/7 self assessment (which is often).
Column: “I’m Fine”
Mostly. All things considered, and as a stage IV (terminal) lung cancer patient, it’s impossible – for me, to not consider all things.
Column: News That’s Fit To Print
As our Publisher and fellow cancer survivor, Mary Kimm, e-mailed back to me last week: “Who knew ‘stable’ could be so exciting?”
Column: Really?
Having recently upgraded my cell phone, I have finally, due to its larger keys and simplified data-entry process, learned how to enter “contacts” and their phone numbers as well as select some of these key contacts for speed-dialing.
Column: “Meagulpa”
As a veteran of the chemo wars, I should have been better prepared mentally for the food/taste challenges often caused by the infusion of such cancer-fighting chemicals, but I wasn’t.
Column: Look What I Saw, Really
A male patient sitting directly across from me being infused with his unique chemotherapy cocktail, a bit too far for a conversation, but certainly close enough for a knowing/empathetic glance.
Column: Infusing Is Semi Amusing
So here I go again; heavy-duty chemotherapy for the first time in nearly three years. As such, I thought I’d try and write another column while actually sitting in the Barcalounger at The Infusion Center (as I did three years ago: “Chemo-Cocktailing at the Depot” was that column’s title) and see what my pen has to say.
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