Again, I could go into so much detail, and I apologize for not doing so, but the fact is, I just don't feel as though I can. There's just one thing I really wanted to share from yesterday.
I was to meet several health professionals to discuss my present situation both physically and mentally. They would give me a baseline measurement of how I am doing and will use this to compare how I am doing in the future. At some point I was with the physiotherapist doing tests. One test involved me walking a distance of about 20 metres back and forth for six minutes as fast as I can. After the test, the PT told that that I destroyed the record. Not hard when you are half the age of everyone else doing the test.
Later on, I was waiting for someone else when I poked my head out of the room I was in. I saw the PT doing the same test with a man that was 75 years old if a day. This man was obviously not doing all that well (although I don't know what "well" is for someone like him). At the end of the six minutes I was afraid that the poor guy would keel over. And then it hit me. This man is suffering from the ravages of old age AND has cancer. What the hell does he have to look forward to?
I don't know this guy from Adam, but really, what's left for him? Don't get me wrong, I don't see myself that way at all. It's a completely different situation as far as I can see. But him? I dunno. It almost seems a little pointless.
UPDATE: Reading Michel's comment below, I should clarify my position. It was ill-stated and I didn't really try to communicate clearly. In fact, I haven't really tried much lately. Anyway, what I am trying to say is that if it were me in his situation, I might not have 1% of the hope and positive expectations that I have now. So let's change it a little. Instead of "What the hell does he have to look forward to?" I should state, "It is very hard for me to see what I would have to look forward to if I were him." It's entirely possible that he has the same expectations that I do for me, and if so, that's great. If I were in his situation, which I assume is worse, then I hope that I could handle it, but I don't think I could.
You're kidding, right?
Honestly, who are you to judge someone for wanting to remain among the living? Maybe he's got a wife for whom he still cares. Children and grandchildren. I really don't think, until you're in that situation, when you're on death's door, that you can say anything about him.
Because, honestly, I could say the same thing about you. What do you have so great going on in your life that makes want to continue living?
I understand you're probably going through the "anger" stage, so perhaps I'm being a bit harsh. But 12 years ago, I was that guy, yet I'm still here, though I take about 17 pills a day to survive. Even when my conscious self decided it was okay to pass on, there's always some part of a person that refuses to pass on.
You've noticed something tremendously important when it comes to your prognosis, the fact that you're way younger than the average patient with your type of tumor. This means that most of the dreary statistics that you can find on the web won't mean squat.
I'm sure that your docs have drilled into you the importance of keeping your caloric intake at normal levels. I've read earlier that you've discovered Ensure. If you get sick of it you might also look into those supplements that are sold to body builders. Lots of proteins and calories in a small volume.
Good luck buddy.
Michel, I fully realize that I cannot actually judge him by any kind of universal wisdom. I was simply judging him by a completely uninformed point of view: mine. I was essentially projecting. There were some things that I forgot to say in this post, namely that I don't know a thing about this guy. This post was a gut reaction. There was nothing fair about it. I have updated the post to better reflect how I feel about it.
Hee, gut reaction. Because, you know, your biopsy. In the gut. Moving on.
Didn't mean to sound off on you, and am somewhat aware of how you feel (perhaps we can compare biopsy scars some day, I have about 20 of 'em), but you'd be surprised at how great a person's "rage de vivre" can be.
I understand what you were conveying in this post and can also understand Tinman's reaction to it. I think your update has clarified what you meant, and I agree.
A couple years ago, I had had a "cancer scare" that I told few about. It turned out to be a lymph node inexplicably gone rogue. It righted itself on its own, but I only realized how serious it could have been by the amount of blood that drained *back* into my doctor's face when he told me it was benign. In those hospital visits, I too was struck by how hale and hearty a foundation I had, surrounded by those more ravaged by time and illness than I. To me, I had no doubt in my mind that the doctors would "fix it" and I would move on healthily, which is what happened. Others in the room I knew were not so lucky.
My good friend Ti-Cul has a form of muscular dystrophy. Margaret, a good friend of his, has the same type. Ti-Cul is strapped into an electric wheelchair and doesn't have the strength to lift a fork. Margaret lives lying down on an electric stretcher and doesn't have the strength to swallow.
Ti-Cul wonders whether, when the time comes that he has lost as much strength as Margaret has, he will want to live. He suspects he might, given Margaret's evident tenacity; the question then becomes, Why?
One answer is, Because. Ti-Cul is perfectly aware that able-bodied people ask themselves the same question thinking about him, and yet he knows what satisfactions he gains from life.
But his ultimate conclusion: When life is all you have left, it becomes that much more precious.
(So no, I don't think that philosophising about the meaning of life is insulting to anyone. I think it's a completely legitimate domain of philosophy. Particularly so when one's own life is threatened.)
(Hugs!)