This is NOT a cancer blog. I do not set out to motivate everyone with my positive attitude or any perceived fortitude in the face of this thing – although if that is a byproduct of my writing, I’d be very happy.
And please don’t take that as a criticism of any other kinds of writing from people going through this… I only submit this disclaimer because I don’t think anything I write could be as motivational or inspiring as some other essays and blogs I’ve read. So if you want to be inspired by real strength in the face of adversity, please go here. Or especially here…this is an essay by an old high school friend whose story is everything all at once. (Ed. – it is no longer available, because this one was written by Elisabeth Finch, who was – in 2022 – found to have been faking her cancer. Just wild. But she’s still such a good writer…)
For my purposes, I figured that since my website was already up and running, it would be a good, non-Facebook place to post updates on things as they progress during my treatment – a place where friends, family and weird stalkers with a disturbing interest in strangers’ chemotherapy treatments can check in and get updates.
Mostly, though, I’m doing this so I don’t have to write the same email seven hundred and forty-eight times. I mean, seriously. There are a LOT of you. When did I get so many friends? I’m so confused.
So please visit here whenever you’d like for updates and the occasional Deep Thought during those times when I’m hopped up on Percocet. BUT please don’t take this to mean that I don’t want you to call, write and/or visit. I have loved hearing from everyone and it really, really helps. As I’ve said to many people, cancer is a GREAT opportunity to really connect with people in ones life, so might as well take advantage of it.
And though you will hear this from me a lot, I can’t help but repeat it over and over: thank you all so, so very much. The outpouring of support and offers to help and exclamations of “what the hell did you have to go and LYMPHOMA for?” have been overwhelmingly touching, and I am so very grateful. So many people go through this type of thing without a fraction of the love I’ve felt over the last few weeks, and I am incredibly lucky to have all of you in my life.
Yes, even you, Stranger Who Found Me on LinkedIn because you need a videographer for your son’s bar mitzvah. (Also, sorry, I don’t do them.)
SO…the update: My second chemo treatment is tomorrow (Thursday) and I fully expect hair to start showing up on my pillow within the next week. Although – who knows? The thing about chemotherapy is everyone is different, and no one can tell you what will happen.
My doctor – who is awesome – remains very confident that I’ll have a relatively OK time with this, and the bottom line is that my Hodgkins symptoms (which were pretty debilitating) have completely subsided after just one treatment, which is the most important thing. So if I’m lucky, the next six months will consist of mostly normal days punctuated by a few days of feeling slightly rundown after chemo every two weeks. Piece of cake, I hope.
And that’s the latest. I’ve been feeling OK so far, and I’m prepared for whatever may happen in the coming months. I’m sticking to the mantra I’ve always had, which is there is literally nothing in life that is so bad that it can’t be made worse by something else. This helps me keep perspective, which in turn has made room in my brain for some awesomely dark cancer jokes.
Stay tuned for further updates…
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