Riddle Me This ...

"Which creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon,

and three legs in the evening?"

The Riddle of the Sphinx

When you get a cancer diagnosis it is very much like being exposed to a riddle. You want to know the answer but you have to live with the riddle to find it. Maybe the answer is obvious when you finally arrive at it, but getting to it never is. For a really challenging riddle is never solved by logic alone. And cancer is certainly a challenging riddle.

When I think back over the past 10 months since I got the diagnosis the riddle I’ve been given to solve has been very much a community project. I’ve had the help of family, friends, colleagues, caregivers, and so many other people – many of whom I’ve never met – who send me prayers, hope, best wishes, music, poems, jokes, and heartfelt sympathy.

Part of my riddle has been learning to accept not only the reality of my disease but the gifts of love and friendship that are part of how I have learned – we have learned – to live with it. Another part of my riddle is written here in this blog, the part where I try to “show what it is like to” live this way, and in so doing to maybe help others.

I don’t have the answer to my cancer riddle completely worked out yet. But I’m getting there. I imagine that when I figure it out it will be a simple, elegant truth – like the answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx – and that my response to having achieved the insight will be nothing less than a smile and a “Yes!”

So, narrative/riddle detective that I am, I continue to search for clues. I continue to look for – and to find – connections between and among persons, places, words, and things. Out there is “The Big It” and just as the secret to solving any good riddle is patience enough to be open to pure insight, part of the quest I am on requires exactly the same openness. Every day offers new possibilities …

***

When we went in for my weekly “vampire draw” of blood, San and I were happy to see Jobbee getting her final round of chemo. Hurrah! Readers of this blog will recall that she was the first person I talked to about the treatment, back when I was still doing the aggressive protocol and she had just started it. Over time we became chemo buddies, got to know her daughter, and always rooted for each other. And this week she gets the “Happy Dance” and maybe a life free of chemo, maybe not forever, but at least for a while.

What you feel for someone who makes it through a challenging protocol – and they are all challenging, on way or another – is a shared sense of pride. It’s hard to explain. But not everyone makes it through all the treatments, and even for those of us who have completed it, there are times when we just don’t want to do this anymore. So sticking it out, making it through, arriving at that Happy Dance day carries with it a sense of accomplishment as well as relief. We are proud of ourselves and we are also proud of each other.

*** 

San and Nic spent part of Tuesday evening and most of Wednesday morning making Poppy Seed Chicken, roasted broccoli, rice, and an Angel Food cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream for the Four Winds Cancer Clinic team. This task required chopping into bite-size pieces about seven pounds of chicken breast, and since I am no longer using knives Nic stepped up.

We delivered the feast just after eleven o’clock and I then dutifully took my seat in the orange chair, San by my side as always. Turns out that my blood work was good but my platelets are borderline. While it is fine with these lower numbers to proceed with the treatment, Doctor Robin reduced the Gemzar dosage by 20%. Probably this means I’ll have less negative side effects and a reduced recovery time, so I am thankful for that. For some reason, this “lightweight maintenance chemo” drug kicks my ass. 

But I digress. That negative thought was but a moment that quickly passed, replaced by the aroma of warm Poppy Seed Chicken …

Should I say the obvious? Like Hemingway’s famous perfect sentence: “The beer was cold.” Except in this case: The food was good. When the reviews from the team members came in, it was clear that San and Nic spread a lot of Poppy Seed happiness today!

***

The oncology team was in their usual fine spirits even though the clinic was packed with patients and the machines that deliver the magic potions were particularly finicky. Mercury must be in retrograde. By “finicky” I mean that the machines “beep-beep-beep,” which is a minor thing admittedly, but when three of them are beeping at the same time but not in sync, well, it’s aurally disconcerting. Usually these machines require nothing more than a reset, which doesn’t take long to accomplish. Still it keeps the nurses and Jan and Donna hopping back and forth between the two rooms to hit the stop/reset buttons in addition to their usual chores.

We were reunited with our Connecticut pal and were pleased to hear that his treatment is going exceedingly well. “Doctor Robin says she didn’t expect to see results like these so soon,” he grins. That news is cause for a genuine “hurrah” and we give him one. So, too are we happy for the couple that we share a longer history with and for whom this treatment has been rough. But the good news is that they have only one more treatment after this one, and you can tell they are more than ready to be done with it. 

Across the room is a new fellow – or I should say new to us, as he has been a patient here for a few months, just not on the days we’ve been here. His name is Mike and he, like me, is a jokester and a talker. We exchange a few details of our disease and treatment – his is a blood problem that has rendered him nearly diabetic and that threatens his kidneys. I don’t know what triggered the problem but I get the sense it was a negative side effect of something else – maybe chemo, maybe radiation. He tells a couple of “eye” jokes – I gather he’s an optometrist – and I counter with my new favorite riddle:

What is greater than God, worse than the Devil; the rich need it, the poor have it; and if you eat it you will die?

(Answer at the bottom of this post).

This riddle stumped the room and I finally gave them the one-word answer. “Ahhhh …” the chorus replied. Makes perfect sense.

Have you figured it out yet?  Logic may not get you there, even though once you know the answer the logic is impeccable. Instead, open yourself to insight …

*** 

As the magic potions flow into me Jan tells us that she can sense a change in the tone of my blog. “You are less upbeat” seems to sum it and I can tell she is concerned. I tell her not to worry. I think if there is a change in my tone maybe it’s because I write the blog on the two down days following this new chemo drug that, as I said earlier, kicks my ass. “But I’m still the same optimistic fellow I’ve always been,” I assure her.

Which is true. I still wake up each morning filled with gratitude for another blue and apricot Arizona sunrise, for my family and friends, for another day to search out God’s handiwork in the intricate beauty of this world and the wonder of the skies. I have been able to block out a lot of potentially negative emotions by simply accepting life as it is, knowing that there are things I cannot change but aware also that I can still do some good. That doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally “wallow” (San’s term) in a little self-pity or shed a few tears, but San and Nic don’t tolerate much of that. They find ways to jolly me back to a more positive frame of mind. 

But today Jan is a cheerleader for me and I appreciate her efforts. As a person living with cancer herself she is acutely aware of the importance of living each day as fully and as richly as we can. She had a much rougher time of it in her old chemo days, back when she had to work regardless of how badly she felt or how weak she was. She never missed a day. Now she works here at the clinic, helping all of us by sharing her strength, her sense of humor, and her compassion. Plus those painted fingernails! Each week it seems they are colored to a new theme, sometimes representing holidays, sometimes just something whimsical. She also dresses the part, so there is a certain thematic elegance to her fun. Jan always makes me smile.

*** 

So, some good news! The decrease in my dosage made a huge difference in my energy level and today, a day I would normally spend dozing and feeling fluish, I am instead pretty much normal. I slept well (San “pilled me like a dog” with Benedryl) and only took one short nap.

Next week is an “off” week so with any luck the making of new platelets and white blood cells will continue apace. Then, before I see the Doc again I go in for more scans and blood work to see if Gemzar is doing what it was designed to do.

Best outcome? That my blood marker is reduced back down into the normal zone and I don’t require further chemo. Monica is hopeful and so are we. But in the meantime, I’m just fine taking one day at a time. And Anna Brown has promised to deliver some more of her delicious cookies on Sunday …

***

Answer to the riddle: Nothing.