The daily fight against cancer--little things, not big ones

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May 11, 2015

I have been working on a longer document dealing with indecision and imprecision. By indecision I mean the inability to make decisions as a result of worry about the consequences of rising PSA. By imprecision I mean my incomplete, even embarrassing lack of information on the physical working of prostate cancer.

I will post those entries later when I have finished them and am not publishing basically a rough draft.

For now I want to comment on the daily task of fighting cancer. For me the issues are not pain, or “why me?” syndrome, or fear of death. The issue is a kind of indifference. It is hard to define this experience. One way to talk about it is to use the phrase ‘Who cares?’  To put it a different way, it is the sense that the day ahead is mostly empty. I don’t feel a sense of commitment to this day or the tasks I might have to do. The opposite feeling can be illustrated with an image: I walk forward eagerly chest out, ready for what the day brings.

The negative feeling is, I suppose, some kind of depressive reaction. It seems to come from nowhere. Nothing particularly sets it off. Just there it is. The other feeling is almost as random.  I have had both all my life, but I felt the latter one more often. Job, family, duties, hobbies, interests, all called me and I responded, chest out, into the complexities required of me. The required tasks, when completed, left me with a sense of well-being. I had it many times after a good class. I have had it rock climbing when I have a good day on the wall, even if I don’t complete a new, more highly rated route.

The days I am talking about find me flat, feeling empty.  That feeling is what has to be dealt with. I don’t have a sure fire method to handle the feeling.  The best I have been able to do is identify it.  That strategy gives me strength. If I can identify it, I can keep it from controlling me. It is not me, it is this thing that happens.  That strategy is part of my advice about dealing with cancer—Look it in the face. See it for what it is.

In some of my posts and emails, I have gone on about keeping up my activities and my goals, and I do keep up. But those writings often have a sense of whistling in the graveyard. I will endure.  Those are fun to write and the general attitude is one that is easy to agree to. There I am on my white horse, combatting the enemy dragon in single handed combat. Those writings tend to occur after a test where my PSA has once again gone up. I want my support team to know that though this cancer has a grim ending, one can’t be cowed.

The feeling I am addressing here, though, is not in that vein. It is the quiet murmuring that burbles up without warning.  It is there.  And it is insidious. So for me, and for you if you are suffering from this cancer, I have to say—this happens. It is hard to deal with. What I know is that it will pass. Keep going forward.