Clipped Wings

It's Chemo Eve (Treatment 4 tomorrow, already!), and I'm back to share more thoughts with you, my friends.

So as you may know, I'm living in my old place in Fort Collins with my sister. It's been pretty nice; our house is comfortable and all my stuff is finally pretty much put away. There are things that are really nice about being home-- my nuclear family is mostly all here and so are my oldest friends. Winter Park was a great place to live, but there are definitely some conveniences about "city" living that I missed. I do miss, however, not being able to walk everywhere. Most walks would probably tire me out anyway, but I try to go on a couple a week.

But something has started to bother me. I'm starting to feel sorta... trapped. I love traveling; it represents freedom to me. I love planning a trip, saving for a trip, looking forward to a trip, going on a trip, sharing a trip, remembering a trip. There's something about being able to afford a vacation (though mine are modest and short, and typically my financial situation is at least somewhere on my mental radar) that makes me feel grown up, like I'm know what I want and I'm doing it. At some point, I got tired of always talking about doing something spectacular and not following through. So I try not to give voice to a fleeting idea if I have no concrete intentions of realizing it. I think it started when I actually went to France for a year to study (sometimes I still can't believe I did that... I dreamed in French last night, come to think of it...), but it became more of a personal philosophy when I made my adolescent dream of being a ski bum come true.

In the days preceding my quarter-centennial, I was really freaked out about turning 25. The number just seemed too big, too solid. Too serious. But in the end, I went to Arizona; Rocky Point, Mexico; San Francisco; Las Vegas; and Seattle this year. Not bad!

But now I have chemotherapy treatments every week until the end of October, and then the bi-weekly treatments for another two months after that. Not only do I have to be physically present to receive treatment, but I also am supposed to avoid crowds and places with germs and sick people, making traveling and airplanes seem even less of a plausible or safe option. Plus, I'm tired most of the time and feel kinda crummy about half the time. Not good for vacation.

I've ready many places that cancer patients feel like they've lost control of their lives because things keep happening to them, not by their own doing. Not being able to do my thing, to fly away to wherever I want whenever I can, makes me feel like that. It's one of the things that makes me feel powerless. And kinda pissed, actually.

I really wanted to go to Vegas for the RCPM concert this weekend, and Mexico for Circus Mexicus around my birthday in October. I'm still reserving some hope for Circus Mexicus... but I really do feel like I can't leave home very easily. It makes me a little nervous to think of going away, even somewhere as close as Winter Park, because I know I'll be away from the familiar (and more adequate) medical facilities of Fort Collins. It would be a nightmare to go somewhere fun and exciting and then get sick and not know where to go. Scary.

I'm also thinking about the things I want to do after this whole cancer nonsense is over. I think I want to move away for a while and put this whole icky period of my life behind me, forget about it as much as I can. But I don't know how post-cancer surveillance works if I leave Fort Collins. I know that one of my doctors (not really clear on which one) will be keeping a close eye on me for the five years following my eventual clean bill of health. After five years, survival rates go way up; it's during the five years immediately following cancer that you have to be really careful of recurrences, apparently. I've been thinking that it would be fun to either move to a big city or Hawaii for a year, but does that mean I'd need to come back for all the doctors' appointments, or try to find a quality provider in my new spot? Sounds hard.

Anyway, maybe I'll try to tell cancer that it doesn't scare me, that it can't take away my freedom (how Braveheart of me...), and go on a little trip. I guess we'll see. But I'm getting to the point where I need to plan some little milestone events to look forward to, to help the time pass and to get me through this.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with the oncologist. I don't really know what it's for; I'm guessing she'll do an exam and take measurements of my tumors to chart my progress. I really hope she thinks things are going well! After that, I have chemo, as usual... I think it took only 2 hours last week, so that was nice. This week, I think I'm braving it alone. And that's OK.

Hair Update: My hair hasn't really started to fall out. I just thought you'd want to know. It kinda makes me feel like the chemo isn't working, but hopefully it is.

Shout Out: Congratulations to Big Brother Michael, reportedly devoted reader Lindsay Smith, and the entire SUNY Buffalo women's soccer team for their first victory of many to come this season! Whoo hoo!