Cancer: a love story

UNDER THE RAINBOW

Tonight there was a double rainbow in the distance. The first was a perfect arc. It was quite beautiful to behold. And whether or not it has anything at all to do with good luck that is how I hold it tonight. It was as if a shield of good fortune for me as the second day of my chemotherapy came to a close. NO NAUSEA! In fact I feel very little other than some familiar side-effects from the steroids. For example, for some inexplicable reason I get the hiccups on the day following the ingestion of the steroids but at no other time.

Immediately following the infusion of the Velcade I felt good enough to drive the twenty minutes to my accupuncturist in Boca Raton. I hold Leslie McNight with the same profound love and respect that I do Dr. Elizabeth Trice, my oncology fellow in Boston. Both are utterly thorough in their unique practice of medicine, both are completely responsive, and both are warmly relational. (For example, after I emailed her that I was anxious about beginning this new course of chemo in Florida without her, Elizabeth replied: "I will be keeping you in my heart and mind, Gary". Know what I mean?) I am so grateful for the gift they are to me and to the world.

Despite the energy of the steroids which I had just taken I fell asleep on the table. When I left the office the rain had stopped and the sun had come out and I felt wonderful. I drove home without the old post-operation hesitancy; just zipping along the highway listening to music. It wasn't until I found myself dancing to Barry White at the wheel at a stop light that I remembered the "roids". I'm sure I was amusing to the passengers in the surrounding cars.

Incidentally, when Jeff and I met with Dr Seigel's warm and informative nurse, Debbie, on Thursday she showed us the infusion room and I smiled broadly and said: "This is wonderful!" She looked at me puzzled and asked why I said that. I just pointed at Jeff who replied correctly: "The light". The entire room consists of individual recliner stations where the infusions are administered. The room is painted a very comfortable pink/beige color and is built around a glass enclosed garden open to the sky. It is pleasantly unhospital-like. So that's all I know at this point in time. I don't know what will happen as I continue the chemo cycle but I am hopeful and positive. And I am very grateful for the ease of this beginning.