This So-Called Life

One of the lines attributed to Angela (Claire Danes as a teenager), in “My So-Called Life” (1994-95), is:

“This life has been a test. If this had been an actual life, you would have received instructions on where to go and what to do.”

I’ve heard this quotation in other contexts as well. At any rate, it’s a line that keeps coming up for me right now.

As I navigate this limbo state, between knowing and not-knowing, I sorta wish someone really would just tell me where to go and what to do.

Any suggestions?

My Turn?

At age 69, many of my contemporaries have already faced life-altering and/or life-ending episodes: cancers of various flavors, heart-attacks, strokes, terrible injuries, major surgeries, etc. I happen to fall into the chronic-pain-sufferer category myself. But I have not actually had to deal with a life-threatening illness.

(I was once diagnosed with bladder cancer – two docs in an emergency room – but it turned out to be a mistake.)

So, I keep wondering, as I sit through these days of waiting for biopsy results: is it my turn?

I already know that surgery is in my immediate future. How about chemotherapy? Radiation? The end?

Not really cheery thoughts. Sorry.

Talking About This

I don’t know how to talk about this yet. “This” being my cancer diagnosis. Of course, I only have incomplete information right now, with more news to come. I will be waiting a few more days before I have the biopsy results.

So, I really can’t say much to anyone as I wait. I’ve told only two people so far that I’m in this limbo state, playing this waiting game, sweating this out. Both people I’ve talked to are cancer survivors themselves, one from breast cancer, one from colon cancer. They are doing fine today.

That’s hopeful. Except I don’t really know anyone who’s really beaten a melanoma diagnosis. Even Jimmy Carter has struggled, and he undoubtedly has the best health-care team in the world.

Good News, Bad News

I’m doing ok, really I am. I’m moving through life normally: cleaning my apartment, updating my Mac software, posting my daily photo to Instagram, driving to Corvallis to take a walk at OSU. That kind of stuff. Still, there’s this feeling in the background like I could start to cry at any moment.

You see, it was just last Friday afternoon (three days ago) when I was at the dermatologist’s office and it only took about a minute for her to make the call of skin cancer on my nose. “Basal cell carcinoma,” she said, though we’re still waiting on the biopsy results. But it turns out this was likely the good news of the day. Apparently, with surgery, this condition is going to be mostly resolvable.

The bad news was that we biopsied another spot: a small brown thing on the back of my left leg. “Could be melanoma,” she said, rather casually.

Roto-Rooter & Recovery: Part 5

Continued from Part 4…

Just after the three-month post-surgical mark, I had another follow-up appointment with my urologist. I had had some significant time to recover since the surgery, of course, and I wasn’t doing too badly. I was mostly-healed internally; thankfully, I had stopped peeing pink liquid. The continuing complaints I had were urgency and frequency with regard to my bladder behavior. I was also unhappy with the persistent tightness in my pelvic area that coincided with those symptoms and resulted in more trips to the restroom than I was really comfortable with. And the number of times I awoke during the night, to get up to urinate, continued to be problematic.

During this particular chat with the urologist, I made the observation that after years, yes decades, of frequent bathroom visits, I believed both my body and mind were still products of their long-term behavioral training. Despite the surgery, it appeared, my system was so accustomed to the bathroom ritual that it continued on, despite the radical intervention.

The doc seemed to agree, and named other cases he had had that were similar to mine. He indicated that he been thinking about a strategy to address this condition: unfortunately, it involved yet another medication. He recommended a small dose of a low-risk, low-side-effect drug to control bladder behavior. (“It’s so mild they can give this to infants,” he said.) Although I wasn’t thrilled to take on yet another long-term medication (I had just recently disposed of my stash of Flomax, which I had been on for years), it seemed like a reasonable thing to try … especially when he indicated that we could view this as a temporary fix until my body could re-train itself. The drug involved is Oxybutynin, and I have been taking the 5-mg pill once a day since March 16, 2012 (just over thirteen months now).

For me, Oxybutynin has been only a partial solution. I had a short-term adjustment period getting used to the side effects (mostly dry mouth), but my body gradually came around to accepting the drug. And, over time, the tightness in my pelvic area became less pronounced and my bladder better behaved. However, given that I’m still taking it, this has obviously become a longer-term “temporary” fix than I’d anticipated.

A few months after I’d started on the Oxybutynin I was still having problems with frequency, so I was referred to a physical therapist specializing in bladder issues. (Yes, really, there are such therapists!) The whole physical-therapy experience will be the topic of my next entry.

Update on March 14, 2015:

OK, I lied. I said I was going to continue on with my description of the prostate-surgery recovery, but, as you can see, I never did follow up. So, just let me try to tie up loose ends very briefly. I did see a physical therapist for a while and she was very helpful. The remedy, which turned out to be quite effective (in addition to the Oxybutynin medication), is a routine called “Kegel exercises” – or “pelvic floor exercises.” As I write this here, in March of 2015, I still do this every day, and control of my bladder remains manageable. For a description of this technique, click here.