Pain threshold

After watching the first two episodes of Last Dance, the hagiographic documentary on Michael Jordan, I’m pumped enough to masquerade as the Michelin Man.  MJ always goes for the win, doesn’t see losing as an option, doesn’t give up, and sees obstacles as parts of a training course that helps him get even better.

I’ve encountered my share of obstacles over the last eight months.  Most I’ve ignored away.  Some came flying in my face and left me dumbfounded for a while.  They’re still as big as they were when they first hit me.  None of my problems has got any smaller.  But I’m here to fight to make them go away, and I’ll smash them to pieces if they refuse.

In 1998 when the Bulls were gearing up for their sixth championship, I was getting ready to start graduate school five thousand miles away from where I grew up.  My destination was Salt Lake City, home of the Jazz, the team that faced the Bulls in that year’s NBA finals.  The games were shown on a big screen in a club in the city where I went to college.  Thanks to the time difference, tip-off was at 1 or 3 in the morning.  I went to watch a few, the only Utah boy in a crowd of Chicago fans, and clearly remember one game with Michael Jordan sick with a flu, ashen-faced, near collapse during every time out, and putting ball after ball in the basket in the most impossible ways.

I might not have much of a drive to win but, like Michael, I am ready to endure pain when I need to.  That’s probably the only thing I share with him.  If there’s a good reason for it, I’m ready to suck it up and suffer.  This got me through my PhD, and it will now get me through the cancer.

Earlier today I got a call from my oncologist with the schedule for the first couple of chemo sessions.  We’re starting in two weeks, just as I had requested.  The doctor had also discussed the question of which antibody to use.  The conclusion was that the anti-VEGF antibody is fine for now.  We might try the anti-EGFR one next time.

On the question of fasting, there was development I hadn’t expected.  The local enthusiast is all for it.  No surprise here.  But he encourages me to start two days before the chemo and then continue until 24 hours after the part of the chemo that’s done in the hospital has finished.  In effect, he’s asking me to fast half a day longer than I’ve tried so far.  Hard to believe, but this guy is even crazier than me.  This makes me feel taken care of in exactly the way I need.

Fasting for 90 hours a time won’t be easy.  It might be total agony.  But it might also help.  I can’t wait to start the second program.  I might collapse on the fourth day.  But that’s by my own choosing.  It’s not going to be the bloody cancer that will bring me to my knees.