Cancer: a love story

GOODBYE, ELIZABETH, AS WE BOTH MOVE ON

The previous entry was upsetting for several people to read. I had given considerable thought to including it and came to the conclusion that in order for me to be as authentic as possible in recording my journey through this medical maze I had to include my darker experiences and as much of the full range of my emotional responses as possible. That entry recorded a really difficult week for me and while it was not without its positive moments it was challenging to keep from sliding down a negative spiral. But the week did come to an end and so did my fear and negativity. I was then left with a simple grief at the loss of Elizabeth, my doctor. Her fellowship at Dana Farber Cancer Institute is complete and she will be leaving to be the resident expert in some other hospital. I know that is how the system works. And I also know that I remain in the very best expert hands of Dr Robert Schlossman and the entire Dana Farber institution.

The cancer portion of my journey began in January, 2007. I had flown up to Provincetown to empty Treetops, my wonderful hilltop summer hone, in preparation for its sale. My twenty-two year old friend, Jon Cody, spontaneously and somewhat inexplicably, insisted upon coming with me for a day to help me. He cleaned out the entire attic carrying enough detritus down three flights of stairs to fill a waiting dumpster. I was unable to bend down and pick up a piece of paper. I thought I had thrown out my back but I now believe that was my first experience of the bone pain that was to accompany the spread of the myeloma. Jon Cody’s unexpected assistance was invaluable and what I have come to understand as a sign of the astonishing love and abundance in the universe.

It would be easy to be disappointed and bitter with thoughts of selling my house and flying off to retire in paradise only to get cancer. But I have never done that. Although I was as yet unaware of it, I had cancer, and so I was immensely fortunate to have sold my house in a descending market thereby providing me with the financial means to support myself during this process. Thanks to this fact and to electronic bill-pay, my financial responsibilities were handled while I devolved into the depths of my illness. And that began in April of 2007.

I had felt acute pains beneath my shoulder blades whenever I was standing and doing virtually any task. They were relieved only by sitting or lying down on soft, cushioned furniture. For a month I went to a chiropractor who manipulated me a bit, covered me with green lights, and assured me I was getting better. I also read and was impressed by a book which attributed most illnesses to an imbalance of brain chemistry. So I tracked down his office in New York and made an appointment for a full three day physical evaluation. It turned out that it was a Park Avenue anti-aging clinic which specialized in the Human Growth Compound. At the very last moment this doctor intuitively referred me for a PET scan which was not part of his protocol but which revealed the presence of the multiple myeloma. In a good/bad scenario I was fortunate: Human Growth Compound would have fed the cancer cells. I was also extremely anemic so they wanted to hospitalize me immediately. To this day I can’t explain why I went this circuitous route rather than just going to Boston to see my extraordinarily competent primary care doctor, Stuart Mushlin. In any event, I insisted that they call him and he arranged for Brigham and Women’s Hospital to have a room ready for me as soon as I could get the shuttle to Boston.

The next morning I was awakened by Elizabeth who had been called by Mushlin from Dana Farber. Her presence confirmed my diagnosis. She was to become the face of my hope and trust in what I have come to consider my medical dream team! And, in fact, she has been very caring and extraordinarily responsive. I know that all decisions were made in consultation with, and probably even originated with Dr. Schlossman, but for the most part, it was Elizabeth with whom I discussed them. I am enormously grateful for the privilege of knowing and working with this magnificent doctor. Thank you, Elizabeth, for all the hope and care that you have provided me during the worst of this illness. Thank you, and may you be blessed in your own journey. You have been an invaluable gift to me and I will miss you. You are an invaluable gift to the world.

And today I am in the midst of the second cycle of chemo. The day started out great but the intestinal problems have returned, somewhat less, but are still uncomfortable and inconvenient. I find this side effect to be the most challenging and the hardest with which to maintain an accepting attitude. Nevertheless, there is nothing for me to do but to manage it and keep doing what I want and need to do. And remind myself in every way that I am still here, I'm still able to move about and do most of what I want one way or the other, and so I'm good, very good. Considering.