Seeing positive

This blog is already more than fifty posts old, but it’s not anywhere near its end.  I’m in for the long haul, until the cancer has been beaten and I can walk free.  I can imagine no other outcome.  With my eye on the distance, I sometimes forget to cherish the small steps.  This is not good.  A wise man once said not to “forget to celebrate the small wins along the way”, and this wasn’t even all that long ago.  So here goes for a celebration of the positive.

When I set out on chemotherapy, my weight was a concern.  I had lost about 10% of my weight during and after surgery, then recovered most of it in the following weeks, only to lose it again during a bout of gastritis that left me rather dispirited.  They do chemotherapy on strong people only.  In the end I made it, just a couple kilos short of my normal weight.

I have since gained these couple of kilos and maybe half a kilo more.  If that doesn’t sound much, it is for me.  My weight is steady no matter what I eat.  Gaining weight is unusual – and probably entirely due to my legs building muscle thanks to the rides on the trainer.  I’m surely in better physical shape now than I was three months ago.  This is something to celebrate.

And who gains weight during chemo?  Most people weaken and shrivel, and it’s the oncologist’s call to pace the sessions such that the patient survives.  I’m breezing through the therapy and am happy and grateful about this.  I also celebrate the fact that I’m not nauseous and can eat whatever and however much I want.  Life is good.

Life is so good that I’m considering entering a race along the river in a few weeks.  It’s 13k, not a huge challenge, but also not something cancer patients usually do.  I don’t like running but could imagine running the race just to make a point.  Problem is that I will have my pump when the race is held.  On the other hand, I’m also riding my trainer with the pump.  Where’s the difference?  I might float the idea with my oncologist next time.

My blood values are just fine.

I also celebrate my blood.  Before each chemo session, half a milliliter is drawn from one of my fingers for a quick check.  One expects the red cell and platelet count to shrink throughout chemotherapy.  I show both symptoms but lose my red cells only slowly.  My platelet count is low but still within the bounds or normal values.  My immune cells are just fine.  All of this is not a given.

It’s also not a given that I haven’t caught an infection yet.  It’s flu season, a new coronavirus is on the prowl, and my children bring all sorts of germs back from kindergarten and day care.  In spite of all these dangers, my somewhat compromised immune system is holding up and fighting off whatever it encounters.  Let’s hope it does a similarly good job with the cancer cells that might escape the chemo.