On Sept. 5th I started my biological therapy for the bladder cancer. It was to be a 6 week program. I finished it today. That's a long damned 6 weeks. Now, I wait until mid-February for my next cystoscopy. At that time the Docs will look for any sign of new tumors.
Meanwhile, my cardiac status has changed. I have had 5 MI's but the last was ten years ago. I have 6 stents but those have been stable for almost as long. So many people have called me an S.O.B. (including my Mother who never caught that she was insulting herself) that I've lost track of the numbers. Now it means Shortness Of Breath and is a symptom of other things. Thus, I had to go for another stress test. They shoot you with a radioactive marker and you climb aboard a treadmill. In just over 2 minutes I started with claudication. (Pain in the calves, named for Emperor Claudius is the closest I'll ever get to a purple toga.) in under 4 I had SOB and chest pain. They stop the treadmill and shoot me with a chemical that fakes a heart attack then take another scan. On the 28th I'll go for more testing.
I asked the Doctor how much sense all of this made. Nobody lives forever. If my choices are cancer or heart attack wouldn't the heart attack be preferable? "Of course it would be. But it's too damned soon for you to make that choice." I accepted that.
Now, after the tragic shootings at Newtown, I wonder why I care. My life has been rich and full. It's time for me to shut up and accept that no matter what happens, it's better than those children got.
