Training Wheels

The chemo treatment I received last week may be my last.  Or, it may not be.  We don't know.

The problem is the we don't know part.  We obviously want to do this thing as thoroughly as possible, but we also would prefer not to kill me in the process.  Apparently, there aren't many studies out there that can tell us the answer.  And no one has a crystal ball.

I told my oncologist I am psychologically game to go the whole six treatments.  That was a bit easier to say before treatment #4 kicked in.  This last one had a whole new aspect to it: nastier, deeper, more determined to find those deep seated hold-outs, and take the rest of me with it in the process.  Kind of hellacious.  Kind of not fun. 

But still, I'm game to go the distance, if that's what it takes.

And -- I have to be honest -- there's a part of me that is a little reluctant to not go the distance.  There's a part of me that is now so acclimated to being fairly consistently physically uncomfortable that this is the new normal, and moving on means a whole new set of questions, assessments, and challenges.  It's not that I don't want to feel and be healthy again ... I do, desperately...  I just don't want to delve back into that cold dark deep end of uncertainty again.  Not quite yet.

I have a mental timeline for how long I will be going through this.  That timeline includes having plenty of time to learn all my lessons, assimilate all the wisdom, grow internally as fully and strongly as I need to so that when I do emerge -- like a goddamn Phoenix -- at the end of this, that I'll be strong both outside and in.  That I'll be able to talk the talk and walk the walk.  So we won't have to do this again.  So I won't go into the world being afraid of myself and my life any more.

This long stretch of chemo -- 4 1/2 months -- feels like training wheels to that end.  The time where I move in and out of sickness and get to try things out during the times I feel well.  I am working part time so I get to play with how to manage that stress and those time constraints.  In my head, I had these four and a half months to learn all the lessons deeply.  Now that that may be cut down to three months, I'm feeling a little nervous, a little hesitant.  Am I ready to move on?

Well, this all goes back the lessons I'm trying to learn.  How to be the person running my life, rather than the person being run by it.  And, of course, I'm totally game to try to shave six weeks off my chemo rather than learn my lessons by running another two times around the track.  So, while walking the dog the other day, I came up with a short list of rules to live by, as I contemplate moving on to the next step and one huge board game move closer to being back to a full and healthy life.

1. Do only one thing at once.  Have you tried this recently?  Like really?  First of all, it's amazing when I can do it.  It feels great.  Second of all... it's really fucking hard.  I did give myself an exemption when driving... not the permission to text and talk and look up restaurant hours online during stop lights... but the ability to listen to the radio.  That's it.  Drive.  Listen.  That's all.   Doing one thing at once.  This one goal seriously reduced my stress for the, um, maybe, half an hour I was able to do it the other day.  And, no, the world didn't come to an end. 
2. Leave 15 minutes earlier than I have to.  Or plan to at least.  I always add buffers to my schedule but, like edging the clock ahead a few minutes, I am onto my own games.  I think I need to add another buffer to the buffer and see if that helps keep the adrenaline down.
3. Don't spend any more time than strictly necessary with people who vex my spirit. OY, this is hard, especially in the workplace.  But, it's a good thing to keep in mind.  I just need to limit the interactions.  Don't engage with them.  Treat them like the toxic carcinogens they are (not in reality, but to me) and move along.
4. Listen to my body's true messages.  Try to keep breathing and grounded enough to hear when my body is hurting, or happy, or stressed out.  Like #1, this is amazingly hard for me to do.  My natural adrenaline takes over and I am off to the races, like a blood hound on the scent.  Goal is to stop that and listen.  
5. Listen to my brain's true messages.  This one is interesting.  I get all these subtle messages ("Don't let these people down." "You need to do the job right.") and I follow them like they are messages from the fuhrer.  Where are these messages coming from?  Who am I answering to?  Who is setting the standards for me, and does that metric-setter truly have my health and well being in mind?  Somehow I need to differentiate between the messages that are really coming from a place of soul, spirit, and truth... and the messages that are coming down from an ancient and overemphasized need to please, or exceed expectaion, or get so far ahead of the game that I can't possible trip up and be eaten up alive.  This is tricky.  Almost as hard as doing only one thing at a time.

The goal for the practical stuff (time and stress management) is to be able to dial into the the more difficult listening stuff.  How can I hear my body's messages when I'm listening to voice mail while driving to work with three minutes to spare?  It makes it much harder.  How can I do the deep psychological adjustments of revising who it is in this world that I'm trying to please, when I'm spending all my energy bitching about all the people who annoy me?

I think the key attribute that the training wheels afford me is silence and time.  I need to figure out how to build those training wheels in organically, so I don't have to bolt them on externally for any longer than I have to.

Honestly, yes, stopping the chemo after this last round would be heavenly.  I will find out next week what the plan is.  In the meantime... one thing at a time.  Avoid the vexers of spirit.  Buffer the buffers.  And listen.  Listen, listen, listen.