Third Day After Chemo PM Report 7.29.2010

Third Day After Chemo PM Report 7.29.2010

Had the hiccups today, but they never lasted very long. Some earlier this morning were pretty painful. Other than that, my chubby cheeks and some weight gain (yeah, in 3 days!) there was nothing remarkable.

Tomorrow is the last day on Prednisone until the next chemo treatment. Anxious / nervous to see what changes.

***

I have an old friend, Bill, that I don't see very often any more. I hadn't seen him since way before I was diagnosed. I had been feeling guilty that I hadn't called him up and gone out for a beer with him to give him the lowdown on my situation. I just couldn't figure out a graceful way to tell him.

Seems to be a recurring theme here lately, lost connections. Bill and I were close friends for years, but in the last several years we've seen each other less and less. No one's fault really, just the same old reasons - living our own lives, in different towns, raising our own families, work.

I guess with certain friends like Bill, it feels like even though you might not see them for quite a while, when you do get back together, you feel like you still know who they are and what they're all about... and they feel the same way about you.

Late this afternoon, I called Bill and told him my story. I felt bad to dump it on him on the phone. I really should have gotten together with him earlier, in person. I do feel better now that I have finally plugged him into it. My fear was that Bill would maybe run into someone who would tell him about me and that wouldn't have been a very nice way for a dear old friend to learn about my situation.

Bill reacted as I would have guessed, with shock and compassion. We had a good talk. He offered his support. He commented how quickly time has passed (we met in 1979).

There was a time when we did everything together, work, skiing, and, I must admit, some legendary partying. Bill was in my wedding and I was in his. How did we lose track of each other?

I tried to make the message as upbeat as possible - my prognosis is good, beating this is doable and expected, I am in good spirits, etc. And, really, that's how I do feel about this....but, for two middle aged guys whose best and most indelible shared memories are from when we were invincible young men, it was a real watershed event to contemplate my mortality.

I wonder if somewhere inside I knew how uncomfortable that very moment would be and that's why I put off telling him.

A few short weeks ago my life kind of passed before my eyes when I heard the word "lymphoma" in a doctor's office. Since then I have had many chances to reflect on things, both good and bad, that have happened in my life.

Falling out of touch with friends like Bill is among the things I regret.