I hit the wall this week. Actually, lately I've been hitting the wall every day, usually late in the day. What do I mean "hitting the wall"? It's when I reach the point of total physical (and probably mental too) exhaustion and start shutting down. I can barely keep my eyes open (the fact that the skin around my eyes becomes dry and painful to even blink doesn't help) and just want to drop off into a deep sleep. Usually, I hit the wall late in the afternoon, and by the time I reach my vanpool, I'm truly ready to nap, which I do in the back seat, and wake up in time to drive home after being dropped off, and then if I'm lucky, maybe take a short nap before dinner. But I've been pushing myself pretty hard for the past few weeks - mostly because I've been feeling pretty good and have been getting out and doing a few things that seem like my PC (pre-cancer) life. I got to go razor clamming (even if I did get skunked), and have been serving as an assistant instructor with the Tacoma Mountaineer's latest Navigation class. I've particularly enjoyed getting back together with the Mountaineers folks - I've been an assistant instructor for this class before, but it's a little different this time - some friends who were in the Alpine Scrambles class that I was taking just before I was diagnosed are teaching it now. I don't think they expected me to volunteer to help this time around, and there was kind of an interesting little double-take when I showed up for class last week (I'm still sorting out some of the reactions). There may have been a little apprehension in talking about my cancer, and I hope that I was able to make them a bit more comfortable in seeing that I am living with cancer. And I hope that I didn't blow it today by not participating in the all-day field part of the class, which is conducted at the Carbon River section of Mount Rainier National Park. But more about that later.I've been pushing myself, and I paid the price for it this week. I was so exhausted on Wednesday afternoon, that I could barely drag myself downstairs to my vanpool from my cubicle at work. I really hit the wall big time. I felt about as lousy as I've ever felt - everything ached, from my scalp to my toenails (I've described this once before as being tired all the way down to the cellular level - my poor mitochondria were just out of gas). We had dinner early and I went to bed and slept all the way through my alarm clock radio (which stays on for an hour) in the morning. I woke up at 10:00, had a quick breakfast and thought I'd head into work a little late, but made the mistake of laying down for a second, and woke up about 5 hours later. I'm glad that I can log into my office PC from home and do a little work from home so that I don't end up just dumping all my work on my coworkers to cover for me. I needed the rest. I probably should have worked from home on Friday too, but that stupid sense of duty and responsibility made me go in.
Lest you think that my stupid Y-chromosome completely runs my life and makes me continue to push myself too far, I did have to settle on an unhappy but smart choice for today. The field exercise for the Navigation class is really the best part of the course - you get to try your skills in the field 
with some reasonably challenging exercises. The fact that I'm actually pretty good at them is a point of personal pride for me, and I really enjoy showing other people how much satisfaction you can get from finding yourself in the woods with a map and compass. I was feeling a bit better on Friday, but spent a lot of time thinking about whether spending the day in woods today (which also meant getting up at 04:00 in order to get there by 07:00) was a smart thing to do. I really wanted to go, even if my participation was at a greatly reduced level, but the one or two good brain cells that I have left overuled the rest, and I decided to bag it and stay home. I hated to send that email to say that I couldn't go - I let them know that I had not been feeling well and that it probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to push it, lest I also become something of a liability if I got sick again out in the woods. Dammit. I feel like any ground that I made demonstrating that it really is possible to live with cancer by being in the classroom these past two weeks just got erased. But I'm still on the volunteer list, and I'll get it next time. And I'm going to get another shot at razor clamming - two final seasons for the spring have been announced for the second and fourth weeks of April. Revenge will be mine - I will outwit an organism that has a brain half the size of mine. 
with some reasonably challenging exercises. The fact that I'm actually pretty good at them is a point of personal pride for me, and I really enjoy showing other people how much satisfaction you can get from finding yourself in the woods with a map and compass. I was feeling a bit better on Friday, but spent a lot of time thinking about whether spending the day in woods today (which also meant getting up at 04:00 in order to get there by 07:00) was a smart thing to do. I really wanted to go, even if my participation was at a greatly reduced level, but the one or two good brain cells that I have left overuled the rest, and I decided to bag it and stay home. I hated to send that email to say that I couldn't go - I let them know that I had not been feeling well and that it probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to push it, lest I also become something of a liability if I got sick again out in the woods. Dammit. I feel like any ground that I made demonstrating that it really is possible to live with cancer by being in the classroom these past two weeks just got erased. But I'm still on the volunteer list, and I'll get it next time. And I'm going to get another shot at razor clamming - two final seasons for the spring have been announced for the second and fourth weeks of April. Revenge will be mine - I will outwit an organism that has a brain half the size of mine. 
I spent the day kind of hanging around house today, attempting to take it just a bit slower. This was made a bit easier by the discovery that the starter in my truck seems to be broken, effectively keeping me grounded for the day. I foresee the guys at East Hill Tire being able to make a few more boat payments after they finish with me this coming week. Always proud to support the local economy. I did manage to cut the grass in the yard for the first time this year, and attempt to fight back the ever encroaching moss.
Everbody seems to be writing books about their experiences as cancer patients. Pennsylvania senator Arlen Specter has written a new book titled "Never Give In: Battling Cancer in the Senate". It details his latest battle with cancer in 2004-2005 - Hodgkins lymphoma (he has previously had two brain tumors - damn, this guy is really tough) while actively serving in the Senate. He appeared on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" on March 19 to plug his book, and I'll have to say it was one of the better interviews I've seen. Specter shows an amazing sense of humor, and in the interview, he shows a picture of him, bald as a cue-ball from chemotherapy, shaking the 
President's hand. The discussion of that moment in the picture sticks in my mind, because he points out the President's body language in the picture in a way that many of us patients feel at least once. You sometimes get the sense that the person who's hand you're shaking is maintaining just a bit more distance - as if maybe you might be contagious, and maybe they'd rather be someplace else. In reality, we patients need to be kind of careful whose hands we shake - with compromised immune systems, we're more concerned that they might be contagious. It was a pretty good interview, and the folks at Comedy Central have the video clip that runs at a bit more than six minutes.
President's hand. The discussion of that moment in the picture sticks in my mind, because he points out the President's body language in the picture in a way that many of us patients feel at least once. You sometimes get the sense that the person who's hand you're shaking is maintaining just a bit more distance - as if maybe you might be contagious, and maybe they'd rather be someplace else. In reality, we patients need to be kind of careful whose hands we shake - with compromised immune systems, we're more concerned that they might be contagious. It was a pretty good interview, and the folks at Comedy Central have the video clip that runs at a bit more than six minutes.http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=164522&title=arlen-specter
I heard an interesting story on NPR's Fresh Air that aired on March 12 - show host Teri Gross interviews comedian Robert Schimmel "Humor eases the toughest journey". Schimmel has a new book out describing his cancer journey "Cancer on 5 dollars a day (not including chemo) How Humor Got Me Through the Toughest Journey of My Life"". The interview is a little long at 38 minutes, 43 seconds -some parts are a little tough to listen to - his personal relationships are an absolute nightmare, but overall a good listen. Adobe Flashplayer will play the clip. I'm ordering the book from the big company named after an even bigger river, along with Specter's book, so I'l be able to offer reviews. I noticed that there are couple of "Cancer for Dummies" books out there too - I'm not sure what to think about that.
I heard an interesting story on NPR's Fresh Air that aired on March 12 - show host Teri Gross interviews comedian Robert Schimmel "Humor eases the toughest journey". Schimmel has a new book out describing his cancer journey "Cancer on 5 dollars a day (not including chemo) How Humor Got Me Through the Toughest Journey of My Life"". The interview is a little long at 38 minutes, 43 seconds -some parts are a little tough to listen to - his personal relationships are an absolute nightmare, but overall a good listen. Adobe Flashplayer will play the clip. I'm ordering the book from the big company named after an even bigger river, along with Specter's book, so I'l be able to offer reviews. I noticed that there are couple of "Cancer for Dummies" books out there too - I'm not sure what to think about that.
My friend Angie got great news last week - her oncologist says that she is officially in remission from her cancer. She got the news the last time I was in for treatment, so she and her husband came up to share their news. No more treatments - just checkups and scans for a while. I'm really happy for her, and I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't just a little jealous. Sigh. Some day...
Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.
Here's hoping your chocolate bunnies are solid.
PS - numbers on last visit dropped by one to 17.
