Today I sat at my window and watched a guy walk down the sidewalk outside my office.
Oblivious to his surroundings, head buried in his iPhone, he was emailing, texting, surfing the internet, playing “Words with Friends” – I don’t know – but whatever he was doing it had his complete and undivided attention. The man was focused. So focused he walked directly into a lamppost and almost broke his nose.
Surgery number five was overwhelmingly uneventful… right up until the biopsy came back and that’s when things got really interesting.
The surgeon didn’t like what he found and felt it foreshadowed a lot of hinky things going on in cancerland. So they pumped me full of radioactive isotopes, shoved me through a tube and while I held my breath and ducked, they shot me full of gamma rays. Or at least that’s what a PET Scan feels like.
The pictures that came back were not exactly filled with rainbows and unicorns. They showed that instead of leaving town after the last round of radiation, my cancer had decided to get the band back together and take them on the road. This time multiple spots showed up on my lungs. Not good.
Not good at all.
My Oncologist, who I now have to admit, no longer hates me, has ideas. Lots of positive ideas and hope and options. We will keep at it, maybe a clinical trial, maybe an aggressive three chemo cocktail, but at any rate we keep moving forward, totally focused on the task ahead, and I will take it the only way I know how, head up, one step at a time.
Because if I can keep doing that… at the very least? I can avoid the occasional rogue lamppost.