Life has been good over the past ten days. I have eaten well and felt well throughout. Despite the strong recommendations by the Federal Office of Public Health and my company’s recently changed policy, I didn’t work from home much. I had things to do in the laboratory that would have been difficult even from my desk at work. Instead, I set up a pandemic-proof corona cave where I can connect my laptop to a bunch of screens right next to the computer controlling the diffractometer. Despite a lot of work, things are still not working as they should. I’ll be back at work next week.
How good life is depends on how you look at it. In analogy to a piece of kitchen philosophy that says, “whether you think you can do it or you can’t, you’re usually right” (true, by the way), I would argue that, “whether you think life is good or life isn’t, you’re usually right”. This goes back to what Mrs. Tweedy said in Chicken Run when her perceptive husband noticed the defiant poultry plotting a rebellion: It’s all in your head, Mr. Tweedy.
The good life is certainly in my life. I have said many times what a lucky person I am. I have a happy family, a great job and plenty of friends who care about me. Corona has passed me by almost completely, so far anyway. The treatment that’s helping me beat cancer has not destroyed my body yet. Who wouldn’t want to be in my position? Ok, maybe that’s overdoing it a little but it shows how good I am at deluding myself.
In general terms, then, Mrs. Tweedy was right. It’s all in the head, and if the head isn’t in the right place, there is nowhere for the rest of it to go. If you start seeing the negative aspects that everyone’s life inevitable has, you’ll end up miserable. But in the particular case of the rebellious chickens, Mr. Tweedy had open eyes and an open mind and saw what Mrs. Tweedy couldn’t believe. With cancer, I choose to be Mr. Tweedy, and it’s served me well.
This week I can add that life is good because the side effects of the anti-EGFR therapy seem to be under control. The pustules have largely stayed away from my face this time. My shoulders are a mess of red spots, but I don’t see them and don’t suffer from them. Even so, I can tell that my skin is suffering. It’s dry and quick to rip. I have a cut under my nose where surely I didn’t cut myself. The tips of four of my fingers are similarly damaged, with cuts and cracks. I have to go through minor digital contortions to type without pain. Working in the laboratory can be tricky. My lips are chapped.
Several times a day, I apply hand and face cream and lip balm. This helps. It could all be much worse. But what if it gets worse? What if more skin splits open, in more places? What if I fail to catch developing cracks and madly cream them back to smooth skin? This could become debilitating and painful.
I have three more sessions to go. The last one will be at the end of November. Whatever the scan after that show, I will take a long break until January before submitting to more of this abuse. My body will thank me and my head have an easier time thinking of life as good.
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