End of the world

How preposterous is it to wallow in one’s own misery, misery that is not particularly painful or particularly acute?  How preposterous is it to contemplate self-pity when others have clearly got it much worse.  Does any one cancer register in the grand scheme of things?  Does it deserve any attention, even from the patient, when children die of hunger or cities of millions are quarantined to contain a poorly characterized but rapidly spreading virus?I’m not particularly driven towards introspection, but sometimes I think more questions...

Seventh session

By the seventh chemo session, which ended this afternoon, I should have picked up on the routine, one would think.  I certainly think I have, but then things are always slightly different.  It turns out that my expectations are good for nothing.When I came from the airport on Thursday, I was full of apprehension.  I had just returned from Thailand where it was warm and I felt great.  Chemo could only be worse, and it was freezing in Switzerland.  Somewhat irrationally, I was dreading what was about to come.Things turned...

Flying economy

At Bangkok airport, with nearly two hours on my hands, I once again did not manage to read any of the scientific publications about cancer that I’ve downloaded to my computer.  My excuse?  I just wasn’t in the mood.The flight back to Zurich will be the last one in a while where I enjoy Gold status.  Last year I certainly flew enough to keep this status but made some booking mistakes that landed me in the wrong fare classes.  On these flights, I earned only fractions of the miles and flight segments I thought I was entitled to. ...

Night in Bangkok

I'm not quite sure whether I'm all right.  My nose has been running for over a month now.  I keep saying that I'm carrying a cold, but that's probably not quite correct.  I don't have a cold anymore, just a nose that produces enough mucus for a nightly Jungle Camp slime wrestling match and a cough that tries the same with less success.From time to time my head hurts as if I weren't hydrated enough.  This might have something to do with all the minerals that I lose through my nose and throat.  Isostar is my fix of choice...

Tight schedule

I’m too tired for the bar, but the night is still too young for sleep.  The pool has just closed, and TV is full of cooking shows.  What better way of taking advantage of the night than adding a post to this slow-moving blog?After a ten-hour flight to Bangkok and a three-hour transfer to the center of the country, I’m in Korat for work, which starts tomorrow.  Today, I could relax a little.  The two days – and especially the nights – before departure were an eerie recap of what I experienced in November when my body shaped up...

Time warp

Today was the first day I rode my trainer in a week.  I’m shocked to write this.  What happened to my sense of purpose?  What happened to helping my immune system beat the cancer?It’s not exactly that I’ve slacked.  I’ve ridden my bicycle to work every day since the most recent chemo session, and I’ve gone on long walks over the weekend.  But does this matter?  Does this have a positive effect on the immune system?  Is it any better than watching the Swiss cyclocross championship (in conditions so good and uncyclocrossy...

Halfway through

My cycling metaphor, which has not seen much use since I introduced it when I started this blog, is now breaking down completely.  There is no meaning to being halfway there in a cycling race.  The mountains matter much more than the distance.  But I am halfway through my chemotherapy.  I’m scheduled to undergo twelve sessions.  Today was the sixth.I realize that I go to each session with more apprehension.  It’s not that there’s anything bad about them.  The blood tests before (platelet and neutrophil counts...

Borrowed time

I welcomed the new year with music, champagne and my mom, video-chatting with the rest of my family in Argentina and then my sister’s family in Germany.  It was a brief uplift from a rather somber week.  Now I'm back in a flat that is mostly empty and eerily quiet, despite the CDs I keep feeding to the stereo.  I miss the children’s laughter, yelling and running.  I miss playing Duplos with them (though when I do, in normal times, after work, I’m often tired and not always keen on it).  I miss drawing with them, writing,...