The Little Things That Pull You Down Or Up

It is kind of a bitch...this living with cancer thing. No one wants to be the one who sits around complaining, but cancer does not give you much to be happy about and it is easy sometimes to drown in melancholy. 

For instance, I am constantly advised to be cautious. To stay away from anyone with a cold. To not walk outside on icy days. To carefully inspect my body for any changes or problems. My wife has become the kind of person who will embarrass you in a restaurant if you have a cold and decide that you want to go out anyway.  We were at a pancake place a few days ago. A few moments after we were seated, a couple with two school aged children were placed across from us, in a booth. The children were both loud and bratty, which was annoying enough. One, who was at least ten years old, threw a major tantrum because his pancakes were supposed to have a smiley face with an orange nose on them. The nose on his pancakes was yellow. He was not amused and complained. His sister laughed at him and an underneath-the-table kicking fight ensued. His mother hailed the waiter over and berated him loudly for the pancake's lack of an orange nose. He apologized and promised to correct the problem. The boy bravely wiped away his tears and told his mother that, "I ordered it a special way and I expect it to look that way." His mother chucked him under the chin and nuzzled him, saying that she was proud of him for speaking up. 

Now, this was not fun to watch, but T and I didn't say anything. Okay. I did say that if I had behaved like that in a restaurant with my mother, I would have gotten spanked instead of praised. T whispered back that, "And lucky me, he will probably be my student in a few years." 

But, this is not what set T in motion. It was the father. A large man who had a killer cold. A large man with a killer cold who seemed unaware that he needed to sneeze and cough into his arm, not the table. And let me tell you, that cough had the kind of phlegmy ring to it that made the thought of food not so appetizing. T began to seethe each and every time this man coughed or sneezed. Began to make comments in a loud pretend sotto voice about people who insist on sharing their "lousy colds and bad cold manners" with others. I shushed her several times and she replied that "He is NOT covering his infected mouth and his germs are WAFTING all over the place. What kind of an imbecile goes to a public restaurant when they are obviously SICK?" 

I didn't remind her that we have gone to restaurants many times when we were getting over colds. The problem wasn't that this man had a cold. It was that he didn't know or care enough to cover his mouth. The family ignored us. I was glad of this. I had no doubt that if the young child had wished to come over and blow snot all over our food in retribution, his mother would have found a way to make this an act of acceptable bravery. 

I didn't catch that cold. 

It is also hard to constantly be careful about ice on the sidewalk when you live on the prairie in Winter. Icy sidewalks are just part of life here in the Winter. You learn to watch where you are walking or walk with care, if you are older. If you are younger....you learn to slide. But, if I stayed in on every icy day, I would be a recluse from October through March. Still. It frightens me. I am on a chemotherapy dose that is particularly hard on the bones. I often feel as if my bones could snap like a chickens. Just a few days ago, I was getting out of the shower and somehow or other, managed to whack the inside of my left ankle with the shower door. The bruise that blossomed was incredible. And now I can barely walk on my left foot. The top and side of it are tender to the touch and walking feels precarious and painful. So, I limp. And then, one night I made the terrible decision to shave my legs in the shower. I don't have much hair. I have weird looking patches of hair. This chemo round has wrecked havoc with my hair. It seems to attack some of it and leave other parts alone. Thus, I have a right leg with practically no hair on it except for my kneecap and a left leg that is bald except for the inside of my shin, which is growing healthily. I decided that I was tired of this weirdness and would shave away the remaining hair. I leaned over in the shower and managed to get up all the patches. 

And then....I attempted to stand upright again. 

Nope. My back was not interested. Every time, I went to go upright, pain shot up my back so sharply that I lost my breath. I somehow got out of the shower and dried off and went to bed. The next day, I woke up and went to get out of bed and my body was still in stiff, bent mode. By the end of the day, it was slightly better. I just walked around like an 80 year old with a very noticeable dowager's hump. That, paired with my limping from my bad left foot, made for a rather pitiful picture. 

It is difficult to remain in a happy mood when this kind of shit is happening. I have to tell myself that I must find joy in what I can. 

This morning, T was working on her computer. When I walked by, she quickly hid what she was doing. This got my attention. 

"Show me!" I demanded. Because I am THAT wife. With great reluctance, she showed me what she had been working on. There is a Fulbright meeting in Colorado in April. She has been asked to speak at it since she is a Fulbright scholar. She was hiding her letter saying that she had to decline. I threw a fit and now she is accepting. But, with great reluctance. She is terrified to leave me alone in the house. 

I argue with her that it is for three days. I can easily get along for three days. She sat, blinking back tears. Finally she let it out. 

"I am so terrified that you will fall or be sick and who will help you if I'm not here?" 

I reminded her that she works all day and I am alone in the house and do just fine. 


"But, I am a phone call away." 

I reminded her that we have a next door neighbor who would help us. C is a phone call away. I have friends from my support group. She finally gives in, but it is a sad victory for me. How many other speaking engagements has she turned down and not told me about? 


I hate it that my being sick takes a toll on her. 

More than anything, I do not want to be a burden on my family. But, cancer isn't quiet and it doesn't seem to want to leave me alone. It seems intent on attacking me, attacking my bones, my back, my foot, my brain. I'm fighting a rattle snake with a ruler. 

Sometimes, the only thing that I can do is try to find the joy. I pick up my book. I smile at the stack of cards beside my bed. I eat a piece of white chocolate. I write. 

I suspect that cancer will not kill me with the large gestures. It will be the constant barrage of small jabs, small pains. Like a chisel on a iceberg. Little by little, the cracks form and breaks occur. 

I must work to keep my dignity. It may be all that I have, in the end. 

I really want to keep my dignity intact all the way to the end.