10k down, miles and miles to go

The weather in Atlanta has been March-like this weekend, with highs in the 60's. I took advantage and ran 5 kilometers twice, which I will probably regret, having previously run a total of 12 miles over the last two months. But here's the thing. If you are a runner, you run whenever you can. Warm weather makes it easier, but most of my running friends and I would never let a sub-20 degree morning in January keep us from getting in some road work. You do it, because running is what you love to do and because without it you risk turning into a complete ass, at least according to those with whom you live. 

When you have cancer, it's a little different. You don't do stuff because you enjoy it or because it makes you amiable. You have a better reason. So when they tell you they're going to zap your backside once a day for two weeks, and that it might turn you mocha in places you were previously pasty white, you do it. When they want to pump you full of poison that will make you nauseous, cause you to need Imodium in the Sam's Club 500 count bottle, or turn your chest hair orange, you do it. OK I made that last one up. I'm only one chemo treatment into this new routine, and it's probably best to assume there are many more to come. It's easy to sound tough about it when you're feeling good, as I am now. What's hard is pushing through all the crap (meant figuratively...mostly) and eating the day after chemo when it's the last thing you want to do. It's drinking 2 gallons of fluid on the days when you just want to curl up and watch ESPN2 all day (because one can't get enough bowling, women's college hockey, etc.). 

I wasn't so good at those things the first time so I lost weight. A lot of weight. As most of you know, I'm not somebody who was fighting to knock those last ten pounds off. Thanks to (reasonably) good living and all those miles on the roads, I've weighed about 170 lbs since my senior year and Briarcliff High (shout out to you Barons). When the nurse weighed me at 162 a week after chemo, I knew I was in trouble. So after 10 days of packing in the calories, I'm within a donut or two of 170 now. Just in time to start all over again this Thursday. 

Our neighbor, the drug rep (the legitimate kind, so no help with that brownie project we talked about, DG), came by today with lots of good info about how to prevent side effects from getting to Stage 3 or 4. Who knew side effects had stages just like cancer does? After selling oncology drugs for years, she's heard it all. If you ever want to talk diarrhea, especially the chemo-induced kind, stop by and I'll introduce you. Seriously, thank you Jackie for caring and for sharing! By the way, I guess we owe our real estate agent Steve Tinter big thank you for 16 years ago putting us on a street where we'd eventually be surrounded by MD's and at least one pharma-rep. It's a bit like what David S said about living in Druid Hills. If some kid falls on the ice on Ridgewood, six pediatricians swarm in to check vitals. It's very comforting.

The road I'm on is very long, and I've taken only a few steps down it. But miles and miles from here, there's one helluva post-race party. You're all invited to join me there. Just make sure to leave one of the porta-potties available for me, OK?