After early-morning bloodwork and a CT scan, the word is in: no surprises in my chemistry, no new passengers on board. This means we slow my visits from twice a year to once a year, and my chances of recurrence have dropped again. Good news we all needed on a Monday after a long, hard weekend.
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.