Yesterday, Jen and I jumped in the car and drove all the way into Baltimore and parked in the garage and walked to the Radiology department and checked in and sat in the chairs and waited only to have someone come out and tell us the machine broke. So we got a new appointment for 2PM today where we’ll do the whole thing over again and pray that something actually happens. I was pretty quiet for most the day yesterday but even quieter after we got home, because I’m waiting for something to fucking happen. Yesterday’s Today’s appointment is to get all set up for the first treatment, but they’re not actually going to shoot me with anything–that happens today tomorrow. At a time that we don’t know yet because they can’t schedule us until we’re in the room, or something.
It’s been three weeks since the initial diagnosis, and I’m getting pretty impatient. The radiology folks have been absolutely stellar in getting back to us, talking to us, facilitating treatment, and generally keeping us sane. I’m supposed to have chemotherapy with the radiation; we haven’t heard a peep from the chemo doctor yet, and I HAVE QUESTIONS. Nobody is shooting me up with anything until I know what the fuck is going on (if some rando shows up on Wednesday with a needle and a smile, I’m going to slap that shit out of their hand and have a nice long chat in my Dad-talking-to-Finley voice) and what I’m supposed to expect. Are they putting in a port? What can I eat? What can I drink? Will my hair fall out? Will it knock me flat or do I have any expectation of having half of a normal life? Do I qualify for medical marijuana? Because if I can spend at least a little bit of the Trump Presidency doing legal bong hits with a hole in my chest, I’M GAME. It’s all about the silver linings here.
I spent most of the rest of yesterday trying to stay out of an angry funk, which was not easy. We walked over to the school to pick Finn up and stood out in the field talking to other parents while she played. She and I picked up Goblet of Fire and started reading it again (we got stalled when she got scared) after dinner, which was great. And some friends brought over a big bag of cookies, which was very appreciated. (I ate more than a few last night after putting Finn to bed). Because if I can’t smoke dope, I’ma eat the shit out of some cookies.
We hiked up to the park on Saturday to take some family photos before I start radiation and chemo treatment. I brought the Fuji and the Yashica, loaded with a half a roll of black and white film. We walked down to a wooded, open area beside the river and did some tripod shooting with the timer, which was difficult due to the sun going in and out of the clouds; none of the shots metered the same. Then, based on some advice from a nearby hiker, we walked up a nearby trail to a beautiful waterfall and shot some more.
I’ve been having problems getting consistent color with the Fuji and I don’t know if it’s how I’m working with the camera or how I’m importing and processing in Lightroom. I want to love this camera more but it feels like the results I’m getting are regressing the more I shoot with it. I’m also concerned that my skill level is regressing.
The Yashica is a crapshoot and I have no idea if anything I’ve shot will come out, but that’s been the fun part. I’ve got two rolls of 120 dating back to our vacation that I’m keen to have developed, two rolls I shot with the Minolta, and another roll I found in the Rolleicord I’d forgotten about. Most of the stuff I shot with the Yashica was guesstimated by using the meters from other cameras, but I’ve been working on getting a Gossen Super Pilot light meter to work for the past couple of weeks. After some confusion with the replacement battery I purchased, I got it working relatively well. I’ve still got to do some testing with a modern camera to see if the readings are correct.
All of the film is getting sent off to thedarkroom.com, who developed a handful of mystery film for us back in April. My fingers are crossed for a couple of good shots from each roll; I’d love to get some blown-up silver gelatin prints of us from each, if possible.
The latest word is that the baby hasn’t gotten any larger. Monday’s CT scan shows nothing new, which means I’m cleared for chemotherapy as well as radiology starting next Monday. Beyond a little that I’ve read I have no idea what to expect in the coming month, but I’m going to do my best to stay strong and motivated.
That’s a lot easier said than done. I think I’m suffering from a low-grade depression right now. I’m afraid to start any projects because who knows if I’m going to be able to finish anything while I’m dealing with this. I don’t want to read too much about the coming treatment because the internet excels at scaring the shit out of anyone researching anything; I think it’s already taken about 10 years off of Jen’s life. I’m not that interested in mass media as a diversionary tool; I find myself flipping through my internet bookmarks in search of little hits of dopamine, wasting time. Work is OK and everyone is understanding and supportive and awesome but I have moments where I’m listening to people talk and wondering why the fuck any of this matters. I’m struggling to keep from withdrawing into myself, which is an easy but selfish way to deal with this situation; I look at Jen and Finn and know that I have to be present and focused for them.
I got some news out of the blue on Tuesday that sent my mood further south. It doesn’t have anything to do with my medical condition; it’s a voice from the past that started shouting again, and for reasons I won’t get into here, I’m keeping it on the down-low. It’s been a shit couple of weeks, really.
