May 15, 2001: Chemo is a Tricky Thing

Vol. 7.2

Hi Friends: first, sorry it's been a while since you've heard from me. I've had several emails in the last few days wondering where and how I am, and I appreciate your concern--thanks for it and I'll try and do better at upkeep.

So here's the rub. Chemotherapy not only officially sucks (which we learned the last time), but like a Republican from Vermont it's also a tricky, complicated and hard to pin down thing.

I went in last Tuesday (15th) for treatment #2, and can say that compared to the first, it went swimmingly. As you'll remember, by the end of day 2 the first time, I was nauseous and fatigued and generally miserable, and by the end of the four day treatment had thrown my back out being sick, thus adding injury to insult. This time, the only real side effects I felt while in the hospital were extreme fatigue and that "bound up" feeling that decorum keeps us from talking too too much about. By the time I got out on Saturday afternoon, I had a bit of an appetite (felt like picking at food even if I didn't eat much) and was in no way nauseous and even told my staff at work to expect me as early as Wednesday in the office. That's when the Senator from Vermont shows up.

On Monday afternoon, while visiting with my parents (who'd come down to babysit me just in case I was sick like last time) and my good friend Gordon, I began to get a bit more "bound up" than I had been, and over the next 24 hours that feeling became more and more pronounced, and I became nauseous as well. By yesterday morning instead of heading off to work I was running to the bathroom to be sick as my parents prepared to leave, and continued to be sick through the day. Only this morning did things settle down, and right now, God willing, I seem to be on the right track.

Such is life with chemo. Frustrating, angering, and ridiculous.

But not overwhelming.

My back is healing, thank you very much, and I haven't had any real problems with it this time at all. (Answered prayer #1).

I was not nauseous in the hospital, and on the whole am feeling much much better than last time. (#2). All things being equal, I should be at work tomorrow.

And I have lost 25lbs of the 45 that my doctor told me to lose in January. (Chemo is an expensive, drasitic wieghtloss plan).

Further, while I was sitting and waiting on my body to get better, I had the chance to spend quality time with my parents. So, there's even more good coming of it.

And because my folks were able to be here, Sheri hasn't had to take time off to babysit me--so she's not gotten behind on either her work or her hours.

And then there's you--this wonderful and diverse group of folks who are now on this distribution list--you who have taken to the challenge of finding ways to mock the devil and remember the voiceless with a surprising gusto (I get 2 or 3 notes a day with suggestions). You were first my source of comfort and a place to vent. Now you have become an inspiration to me, a reason in itself to survive--you see, I want to see what becomes of all these conversations.

The last few weeks HAVE been hard, I can't lie to you. I think I've had to look at the uncertainty of my condition in a way I'd avoided to this point. But in and through it all, I've been reminded of what i claimed for myself at the beginning of this: that Grace makes beauty out of ugly things. Wisdom is a backwards thing, something that you only have as you're able to look back, and there hasn't been enough time to create much of it. But there's been enough time passed to know that nothing is being wasted here. Nothing--not my pain, frustration, sickness, letters, your prayers, time visiting with you, our dreaming and scheming, nothing. It's all being taken and turned into something good.

This is as close to a creed as I can give you right now, but it's a pretty good one.

thanks for the notes. i'll try and get back to you individually shortly.

love,

Dwight

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