Thursday, February 07, 2008 - Day 20 - Post-diagnosis

Today I went and got my pre-chemo teeth cleaning. I’ve got to tell you, if you want to get a dentist appointment real quick, just tell them you’ve got cancer. They shut right up and schedule your appointment. Of course, when you get there, the assistant wants to hug you non-stop, and the dentist will spend the entire time telling you about how a foot of his colon was removed, and that you shouldn’t be embarrassed because those people that are working on your butt look at it just like a mechanic looks at a car (by the way, I don’t think this is quite as reassuring as he thinks it is – I’ve seen plenty of mechanics taking their frustrations out on car parts). They’re good people at the dentist office, and I know they mean well, but there is only so much I can take of strangers offering to help me out. A few days ago I lost it on someone and when they asked if there was anything they could do, I responded with “How about a cure for cancer?” The next one that asks me, I’ll just ask them to come pick up my kids at 8.

So I spoke with my Aunt Roz and Uncle Bear (Alan) today, and it was great. I think it helps a lot to hear others laugh at the cancer as well. As I’ve said before, I think that the only power our fears have is what we give them. We feed them on silence and respect. When we can laugh at them, when we can talk about them, we diminish their power over us.

Alan spoke of the prayer circles in Eugene that pray for him, and I find something about this hilarious. In Salt Lake it’s the Mormons praying for me, and in Eugene it’s the hippies praying for him. It’s funny and sweet and sad, all at the same time.

I got a call from the Huntsman Cancer Center today, and it looks like I’m going to have my own home health nurse come visit after I get the pick-line in on Tuesday. They’re going to show me how to disconnect and reconnect it, and maybe a few other things (how I’ll be able to shower with it, etc…). Who knows, maybe she’ll be cute too? At least this tube will be going somewhere I can see. Hahahahahaha.

So, gonna end today on a great note. I was searching for the entire poem that J.B.S. Haldane wrote entitled “Cancer’s a funny thing,” and I found it. It is great that a man that died in 1964 could write something that not only mirrors my own case so closely, but something that can make me feel so damn good. Here it is:

Cancer’s a Funny Thing

J. B. S. Haldane (1964)

I wish I had the voice of Homer
To sing of rectal carcinoma,
Which kills a lot more chaps, in fact,
Than were bumped off when Troy was sacked.
Yet, thanks to modern surgeon’s skills,
It can be killed before it kills
Upon a scientific basis
In nineteen out of twenty cases.
I noticed I was passing blood
(Only a few drops, not a flood).
So pausing on my homeward way
From Tallahassee to Bombay
I asked a doctor, now my friend,
To peer into my hinder end,
To prove or to disprove the rumour
That I had a malignant tumour.
They pumped in BaS0₄.
Till I could really stand no more,
And, when sufficient had been pressed in,
They photographed my large intestine,
In order to decide the issue
They next scraped out some bits of tissue.
(Before they did so, some good pal
Had knocked me out with pentothal,
Whose action is extremely quick,
And does not leave me feeling sick.)
The microscope returned the answer
That I had certainly got cancer,
So I was wheeled into the theatre
Where holes were made to make me better.
One set is in my perineurn
Where I can feel, but can’t yet see ‘em.
Another made me like a kipper
Or female prey of Jack the Ripper,
Through this incision, I don’t doubt,
The neoplasm was taken out,
Along with colon, and lymph nodes
Where cancer cells might find abodes.
A third much smaller hole is meant
To function as a ventral vent:
So now I am like two-faced Janus
The only* god who sees his anus.
I’ll swear, without the risk of perjury,
It was a snappy bit of surgery.
My rectum is a serious loss to me,
But I’ve a very neat colostomy,
And hope, as soon as I am able,
To make it keep a fixed time-table.
So do not wait for aches and pains
To have a surgeon mend your drains;
If he says “cancer” you’re a dunce
Unless you have it out at once,
For if you wait it’s sure to swell,
And may have progeny as well.
My final word, before I’m done,
Is “Cancer can be rather fun”.
Thanks to the nurses and Nye Bevan
The NHS is quite like heaven
Provided one confronts the tumour
With a sufficient sense of humour.
I know that cancer often kills,
But so do cars and sleeping pills;
And it can hurt one till one sweats,
So can bad teeth and unpaid debts.
A spot of laughter, I am sure,
Often accelerates one’s cure;
So let us patients do our bit
To help the surgeons make us fit

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*In India there are several more
With extra faces, up to four,
But both in Brahma and in Shiva
I own myself an unbeliever.