The Art of Letting Go

April 27, 2007 | Filed Under cancer, self-hypnosis, stress | No Comments

One of the things that I’ve considered to be a major factor of my disease is the unbearable amount of stress I’ve been under for the last several years.  Not just the stress coming at me from the outside world, but the internal stress that my very nature places on my body.  My body has always been sensative to every ripple in the universe.  It all adds up — diet, unemployment, money worries, failure and the fear of failure, the war in Iraq and my own unbending, stubborn unforgiving self.  All of it pushing at me inside and out. In the several months before I got sick, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think I might have a stroke. 

Changing one’s diet is an easy matter. Exercise isn’t too difficult either.  What about the things you can’t change and the stuff that’s nearly impossible to change?  I can’t do anything about what’s happening in the world.  Not really.  Exercising my right to free speech and free thought hasn’t stopped the war in Iraq or the genocide in Darfur.  And how does one alter his very nature? I’ve always been an emotional retard.  Maybe because of shit that happened to me as a child (won’t get into that here — that’s a whole other blog, daytime tv talkshow nightmare, whatever) and perhaps it’s something engrained in my DNA.  Fuck, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s very easy for me to be an opinionated asshole, telling people what I think no matter if it hurts their feelings or not — being the one guy to always say, “I told you so” whenever I am right.  But telling people how I really feel is a different matter.  Sure, I can tell someone I don’t care for to “fuck off” but telling people I like or love how much they mean to me is hard and the deeper the feelings the harder it is for me to articulate.  And yes, I am stubborn, proud, spiteful, possessive and a tightly wound juggernaut of unbending will.  And you might say, yes, John it’s going to take some of the unbending will to beat cancer and you’d be right.  But it’s also going to require the ability to let go.  To shrug off the weight of things.  To be more forgiving and more loving.  To be someone I’ve never been able to be — at least not completely most of the time. I’ll admit lately I’ve been making an effort.  I’m trying to embrace change.  I’m trying to roll with the punches.  I’ve been making a point of telling people how I feel about them, thinking if I beat this thing, they’ll be a better me waiting at the other end and if I don’t, at least I’ve left nothing unsaid.  One of the things that’s helped is self-hypnosis.  Learning to manage my stress and relax and also learning to be okay with my emotions, realizing that battling cancer isn’t about avoiding death but embracing life. 

Feeding Tube Pt. 1

April 25, 2007 | Filed Under feeding tube | No Comments

As fate would have it, Dr. Tassakis, the guy I went to for my liver several months ago is the same doctor who will insert my temporary feeding tube.  Even though radiation therapy is will easily be one of the worst parts of my treatment, the thing that bothers me the most was having to have a feeding tube.  I think I was mostly worried about how it would affect my daily routines and physical activity.  I was less concerned after the doctor explained it to me.  He said that the feeding tube wouldn’t interfere at all with exercise or anything like that and that once it’s in the only way for it to come out is if someone deliberately pulled it out.  And, as far as that goes, whenever it does come out, the stomach has a way of sealing itself so I won’t even need stitches — ain’t that somethin’ !

Anyhow, I get my feeding tube in two weeks.  May 9.

Dental Evaluation

April 25, 2007 | Filed Under Dentist, mouth, oncologist, radiation, teeth | No Comments

Since I don’t have a regular dentist and am officially broke, I was forced to visit the Dental Clinic at the Community Health Care building in Bridgeton. When I entered, the waiting area was standing room only. I checked in at the desk and was told that I would have to go to the administration office to apply for charity care since they don’t accept the charity care from the hospital. So, I go upstairs and have to wait in another holding area. There’s a Mexican woman breastfeeding her baby. Another Mexican guy has nodded-off to sleep and is snoring up a storm. Two more Mexicans are sitting quietly next to me. A black woman is sitting on the other side of me with her two grandkids  and they are screaming their heads off. This black guy comes charging into the room with a mild cough and an expired health card complaining that he needs to see a doctor. He shoots me a look like I don’t belong there. After much waiting and listening to complaining and crying (from adults and children alike) I am called into an office in the back where I present my financial forms and driver’s license. I am issue a temporary health card and return to the dental clinic. At this point, I’ve been their for an hour and a half. A half hour later, my name is called.

Under better circumstances, I’d be totally chickenshit about going to a dentist but after being told I have cancer, it’s hard muster any real fear. My mouth is x-rayed from all angles on two different xray machines. I’ve never had so many xrays of my teeth taken at one time at a dentist office. The dentist is from Africa. Judging from his accent and name, I’d guess from somewhere in the Congo region. He’s not overly friendly, but thorough and precise. You can tell he’s a bit of a workaholic and deadly serious. Although, the oncologist had explained why a dental evaluation is necessary, the dentist hammered the point home by vividly describing what happens if a bad tooth comes in contact with radiation — a condition called Osteoradionecrosis.  The kiss of death from the sound of it. After examining my teeth, he tells me my teeth aren’t so bad. My dental health has deteriorated since my health problems began and I was afraid I’d have to have a bunch of teeth pulled. He tells me that only one will have to be extracted and a few small cavities filled. I am somewhat relieved as it’s the best news I’ve heard in awhile. He tells me that I am a priority patient and that if I can arrange to have my teeth fixed next week, he’ll sign the consent form next Friday.

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