Overall I am feeling fairly well, although physical stamina is still slow to build. The medication I take for pain leaves me a little dizzy and weak at times. However, I am eating normal food, I am home, doing things I want to do, enjoying friends and family. Much to be thankful for.
I tested stamina during the Jazz and Blues Festival. It was terrific. Not only was Patrick home, celebrating the launch of his great new CD 'No Destination'. After the concert Friday there was a wonderful influx of at least 15 musicians to the house, consuming a keg of microbrewery beer, and jamming in the basement around Doug Riley's Hammond B3 until 5:00am. With 5 sax players of the calibre of Mike Murley and Kelly Jefferson, B3 players like Vanessa Rodriguez, guitar players like Ian Toms and Jim Head, two drummers, two bassists, and many others. Needless to say, I didn't miss any of this. The same thing happened the next night with Ted Quinlan and his group. It was a thrill. I only wish that Doug Riley and Chris Driscoll could have been there. When Martin on the B3, Ian on guitar and Rich Knox on the drums beat out Bob Dylan's 'Don't think twice, it's alright', it hit my heart. This was the best track on the DVD make from the memorial concert for Chris Driscoll in January 2005. Powerful stuff.
I am in Toronto first to be at the launch of Pat's CD at Hugh's Room, Sunday October 4th. In the meantime I will visit the Fall Home Show. I have decided that if I beat this melanoma, I will reward myself with a kitchen makeover. I love working in the kitchen. It appeals to my need for
immediate gratification - in this case - a gustatory reward.
I will be in Tampa October 8 and 9th. It is unlikely that anything will change. I will likely have repeated imaging to be sure the cancer is stable, or hopefully slowly continuing to disappear. If it progresses, I won't get more of the ipilumamab, as the side effect of colitis was so severe. However, there is a new similar antibody for biological therapy called PLX 4032, with exciting early results. It may even be available in Toronto.
Clearly this is going to be a journey, that I cannot accelerate, or predict. Mentally I am pretty well recovered, but my body won't permit a return to much I would like to do. I would be a marsh mellow on the squash court, and tire after 30 minutes on my new bike. I nap - something I never did. I am on a mitt full of medication, whereas I would have none three years ago.
But, when you are where you are, and don't have choices, one must learn what I have not learned much in the past, patience. Those that know me well, know that I typically found the straight line between where things are, and where I felt they should be. The impatience in some cases led to an earlier arrival at the destination, but sometimes it was at a cost of going over, around or through others who refused to be convinced of the wisdom of my self acknowledged wisdom and judgement. Now, when the journey, with its detours, unexpected roadblocks, and unpredictability is imposed on me, I must approach it with a new paradigm, that teaches patience, listening, awareness of others and their feelings, humility (believe it or not), and comfort with uncertainty. I want to continue to improve, possibly returning to urology in the new year, but can only hope for this. Other than good self care, I am not in control - I gave it up months ago.
Life is so terribly unpredictable. A dear friend, generally healthy, landed in the hospital three days ago with a heart attack. Joan's friend and former med-school roommate, died of pancreatic cancer yesterday, after a diagnosis less than two weeks ago. It is a reminder of an axiom I truly take to heart:
"We are not human beings on a temporary spiritual journey.
We are spiritual beings, on a temporary human journey."
Blessings to all.
Ian
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