Wellbeing
These musings may be therapeutic for me and helpful for others, but it’s the reader comments that I find most useful.
I check the pending comments folder of this blog several times daily to approve the genuine comments and eliminate the spam. You wouldn’t believe the amount of spam that collects on this site. My online services manager tells me the amount of spam that hits the site is a sort of backhanded compliment–the crawlers can find my site!
While I wish I didn’t have to approve all comments before they are posted live on the site, believe me, you are glad that I do… It’s better that I do the blushing and gasping for all of us. If any human tried every idea, product, drug and act that was suggested, they’d be exhausted, injured, diseased in unpleasant ways–possibly even incarcerated. Really, don’t they know we’re trying to collectively get past cancer here, not audition for some carnal circus act?
It’s the comments that I can approve that I cherish. Some, like the ones that talk about the fatigue never subsiding or of one patient’s negative experience with radiation, make me wince. Others that talk about years of ongoing or hormone refractory treatment make me feel a bit more fortunate. Hearing from patients who say their fatigue lifted after a few month, give me hope. One this week from David S., actually made me smile: I’ve been on Lupron continuously since 2005 and it has not been too bad. I had a “year of tears” and then 6 months of “inappropriate laughter…”
Now, I am not smiling because poor David has been on ADT for five years. I am smiling because he can say that his five years have not been too bad. I was also oddly taken by prospect of 6 months of inappropriate laughter. After the last five months, I”ll take laughter, appropriate or not. I like to laugh. In fact, I’m downright good it. Last night, wrestling with one my my uncontrollable bouts of fatigue, I found myself driving home on the teary side of the street. I am sure those who took notice might have preferred to see a driver next to them laughing for no apparent reason. It’s easier to think someone is a little crazy than upset. But I wouldn’t have cared what they thought. These days I feel I have license to laugh whenever, wherever I want. I am sure, given my circumstances, I might be forgiven.
Most importantly, readers’ comments give me and others important perspective to use however we need it.
Last week I asked Dr. Lowe, my oncologist, when I might be able to hear the words, “You are cancer free.”He replied that if I go the next five years without a rise in my PSA level and without signs of recurrence, he would be happy to confer that status on me. Five years may seem like a long time to wait. Yet, I know others would willingly take that timeline.
No matter what our disease stage or response to therapy, we are all in this together. Talking and sharing is an important part of our therapy–for us and our loved ones. So, keep those comments coming and we’ll all feel a bit better.
I check the pending comments folder of this blog several times daily to approve the genuine comments and eliminate the spam. You wouldn’t believe the amount of spam that collects on this site. My online services manager tells me the amount of spam that hits the site is a sort of backhanded compliment–the crawlers can find my site!
While I wish I didn’t have to approve all comments before they are posted live on the site, believe me, you are glad that I do… It’s better that I do the blushing and gasping for all of us. If any human tried every idea, product, drug and act that was suggested, they’d be exhausted, injured, diseased in unpleasant ways–possibly even incarcerated. Really, don’t they know we’re trying to collectively get past cancer here, not audition for some carnal circus act?
It’s the comments that I can approve that I cherish. Some, like the ones that talk about the fatigue never subsiding or of one patient’s negative experience with radiation, make me wince. Others that talk about years of ongoing or hormone refractory treatment make me feel a bit more fortunate. Hearing from patients who say their fatigue lifted after a few month, give me hope. One this week from David S., actually made me smile: I’ve been on Lupron continuously since 2005 and it has not been too bad. I had a “year of tears” and then 6 months of “inappropriate laughter…”
Now, I am not smiling because poor David has been on ADT for five years. I am smiling because he can say that his five years have not been too bad. I was also oddly taken by prospect of 6 months of inappropriate laughter. After the last five months, I”ll take laughter, appropriate or not. I like to laugh. In fact, I’m downright good it. Last night, wrestling with one my my uncontrollable bouts of fatigue, I found myself driving home on the teary side of the street. I am sure those who took notice might have preferred to see a driver next to them laughing for no apparent reason. It’s easier to think someone is a little crazy than upset. But I wouldn’t have cared what they thought. These days I feel I have license to laugh whenever, wherever I want. I am sure, given my circumstances, I might be forgiven.
Most importantly, readers’ comments give me and others important perspective to use however we need it.
Last week I asked Dr. Lowe, my oncologist, when I might be able to hear the words, “You are cancer free.”He replied that if I go the next five years without a rise in my PSA level and without signs of recurrence, he would be happy to confer that status on me. Five years may seem like a long time to wait. Yet, I know others would willingly take that timeline.
No matter what our disease stage or response to therapy, we are all in this together. Talking and sharing is an important part of our therapy–for us and our loved ones. So, keep those comments coming and we’ll all feel a bit better.