Well, here I am checking in. So far, so good. I went to see my family doctor yesterday and told her I feel fine. She was surprised at how good I looked and sounded compared to the last time I was there three months ago. She sent me to the lab for bloodwork and it turned out that she lowered my blood pressure medication and took away one of my diabetic medications altogether. I've lost another 20 or so pounds which she said helps with both diabetes and high blood pressure. Before I left, she said, "go home and keep doing it your way." I said, "I usually do," and we both laughed.
She said there is no predictable time table for cancer. I could go on like this for quite a while or I could go to hell in a handbasket next week. C'est la vie.
Here is one thing I've definitely noticed since I was diagnosed: my metabolism has completely flipped in several ways. For instance, my internal thermostat was always set on "hot". Mom and I used to go behind one another's backs to change the temperature. I always turned it down and she always turned it up. If we were still living together, I would now be in total agreement with her on the ideal setting.
I have a big fleecy robe I've had for years but never wore because I always got too warm in it. Last winter, I wore it every day.
My appetite has dwindled to almost nothing and my tastes have changed. I used to be a sweet lover - fudge, chocolate cake, sugar cream pie. Now I prefer fruit to sweets. I was also a beef and pork lover but now I don't like the dense, heavy meats as well. My favorite meal now is fish.
Sometimes, I have to force myself to eat or I get dizzy and blinky-eyed. I look at the clock and say to myself, "It's 3:00 p.m. - you've got to eat something." Usually, I end up fixing soup because its the quickest and easiest.
I think the little aide at the clinic was taken aback by my macabre humor when I told her, "I'll probably get that svelte figure I've lusted after for 60 years just before they shove me into the crematory."
My whole life, I could lie down and fall instantly to sleep. Pain didn't keep me awake and neither did worry.
No more. Now I don't have much pain or much worry but I toss and turn sometimes for hours before I go to sleep. On the other hand, I loved my afternoon naps. People knew not to call me between two and four because I was probably napping. I never take naps anymore.
Over all, I consider myself lucky. I have a wonderful support system of friends, which includes my doctor and my dog and three cats. I can still do all the things I love to do most. I sleep 'til the sun comes up, then open the big door so the animals and I can watch the bird feeders. I get my coffee and cigarettes and head for the computer. I write on my column and blogs and books. I read my Kindle and watch politics and NASCAR and the Outlander on t.v. I argue with with people on Facebook.
I'm not trying to encourage anyone to follow the same path I'm following. It would only work for people who can accept their situation and their own mortality. If you would fret and stress about when and where and how and why and what comes next, then it's better to put your fate in the hands of the medical profession.
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