Probably should change the titie
Given that I'll be 69 in about 8 weeks, I don't think I'm middle aged anymore. I would change the title of this blog if it mattered. But since I'm not aware of anyone else reading this little speck of the Internet and since I have less time than I had expected even earlier this week, I don't think I'll bother.
Yes, I have gotten a terminal diagnosis, at least in a preliminary form. Results of an abdominal MRI show "innumerable lesions scattered throughout the liver....The findings are consistent with widespread metastatic disease." That's metastatic cancer of the liver for those unsure of what those words mean.
It helps me to say it and keep saying it. It also helps me to remember what I've said to others for the past five or more years: that I've had nearly 50 bonus years. I should have died in Vietnam, but not only did I not die, the only scratches I got were from busting my knuckles on generator maintenance. I may also have barked my shins a time or six; after all these years it's hard to remember.
In about three weeks, after they've done a biopsy and a PET scan, the oncologist will give me a definitive diagnosis of what kind of metastatic cancer it is and where in my body it came from (since, apparently, all metastatic cancers come from some other part of the body. Who knew?)
But none of that does more than refine the plain fact that I have liver cancer and that liver cancer is incurable.
I do not feel sick. Nothing special hurts. There are no new lumps or bumps or bruises. My input goes out the back end pretty much as it always has. I know I have BPH; I was gonna take a procedure to shrink the bladder. (Now I don't know if I need to. More on this in a sec.)
Given that I'm coming up on my 69th birthday, I thought I was doing okay: needed to lose weight, needed more exercise, was getting close to needing a knee replacement. None of this seems to matter now.
Now I'm going to focus on having fun and being as comfortable as I can be for whatever time remains. I don't even know what that means. I'm waiting for the meeting with the oncologist so that I know what to expect of my body going forward, what I can do to help myself, what medicine is willing to do to help me. I'm not interested in any treatments or procedures to cure the incurable. I am decidedly NOT interested in making my last days/weeks/months/??? miserable chasing some ephemeral 'cure'.
All life dies and makes way for new life. No one is indispensable. Mine is not some great life than multitudes will mourn. It is an ordinary life, and I will be cremated as much because I don't know six people willing to carry my coffin, at least not locally who are physically able. So I'll give any organs they want to medicine for recycling (though liver cancer may preclude their use. And I'll shuffle off this mortal coil.
That's enough for today.
Yes, I have gotten a terminal diagnosis, at least in a preliminary form. Results of an abdominal MRI show "innumerable lesions scattered throughout the liver....The findings are consistent with widespread metastatic disease." That's metastatic cancer of the liver for those unsure of what those words mean.
It helps me to say it and keep saying it. It also helps me to remember what I've said to others for the past five or more years: that I've had nearly 50 bonus years. I should have died in Vietnam, but not only did I not die, the only scratches I got were from busting my knuckles on generator maintenance. I may also have barked my shins a time or six; after all these years it's hard to remember.
In about three weeks, after they've done a biopsy and a PET scan, the oncologist will give me a definitive diagnosis of what kind of metastatic cancer it is and where in my body it came from (since, apparently, all metastatic cancers come from some other part of the body. Who knew?)
But none of that does more than refine the plain fact that I have liver cancer and that liver cancer is incurable.
I do not feel sick. Nothing special hurts. There are no new lumps or bumps or bruises. My input goes out the back end pretty much as it always has. I know I have BPH; I was gonna take a procedure to shrink the bladder. (Now I don't know if I need to. More on this in a sec.)
Given that I'm coming up on my 69th birthday, I thought I was doing okay: needed to lose weight, needed more exercise, was getting close to needing a knee replacement. None of this seems to matter now.
Now I'm going to focus on having fun and being as comfortable as I can be for whatever time remains. I don't even know what that means. I'm waiting for the meeting with the oncologist so that I know what to expect of my body going forward, what I can do to help myself, what medicine is willing to do to help me. I'm not interested in any treatments or procedures to cure the incurable. I am decidedly NOT interested in making my last days/weeks/months/??? miserable chasing some ephemeral 'cure'.
All life dies and makes way for new life. No one is indispensable. Mine is not some great life than multitudes will mourn. It is an ordinary life, and I will be cremated as much because I don't know six people willing to carry my coffin, at least not locally who are physically able. So I'll give any organs they want to medicine for recycling (though liver cancer may preclude their use. And I'll shuffle off this mortal coil.
That's enough for today.
posted by Tom | 9:07 AM
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