i am still saddened a bit by the loss of the previous post; it was an epic saga, my bachelor party weekend; one involving a black bear, a conversation with the police, lumberjacks and their axes, adventures in the delaware water gap. i have pictures, which are remarkably tame, and do no justice to the hilarity and camaraderie of our time together. i named my fellow unofficial groomsmen my enforcers and have requested that they wear purple ties for purposes of identification next weekend. i will be surrounded by a group of fine, upstanding gentlemen, and those who would seek to distract me from the marrying task at hand would do well to remember their presence.
it is three days since i began taking the zelboraf once again. it takes about three days for the pain to make its presence known. i am fatigued more than in recent memory, and i woke up from an afternoon nap feeling that yes, the pain has found its way to me once more. i’m in the midst of a completely escapist fantasy trilogy, and the hero, eragon, suffers from pain so intense that it brings about seizures. after a day of particularly affecting episodes, he says – to his dragon, naturally:
i have a new name for pain.
the obliterator. because when you’re in pain, nothing else can exist. Not thought. Not emotion. Only the drive to escape the pain. When it’s strong enough, the obliterator strips us of everything that makes us who we are, and we’re to creatures less than animals, creatures with a single desire and goal: escape.
and just when i was enjoying the book as a tool of that same escape! it is remarkable to me, the lessons that the world has to teach us, if we are ready to listen. i did not expect to find such a powerful way of explaining pain in a book about elves, dwarves and dragons, and yet this lesson is staying with me already, enough to share it with you without embarrassment for its source. my pain is not yet to obliterating levels yet, but its power is plain to see, and if another day passes with this same pain, i will ask my doctors for a dose reduction. though they did consider giving me a full break for the wedding and the honeymoon, it gave them pause – they’re concerned that all this stopping and starting is comparable to failing to finish a course of antibiotics. that is to say, given a break from the destructive powers of the drug, the cancer could potentially begin to mutate and find a way to work around the anti-cancer properties of the treatment. and we don’t want that, do we?
no; we want the cancer obliterated.