ex cultu robur

Status unchanged today. The heat continues to be oppressive a'nd muggy with high humidity, so it's very uncomfortable. I have developed a lot more empathy for Don, who suffers from COPD and my other friends who are asthmatic. I now better understand how they suffer in the humidity and in pollen season. It's remarkably difficult to take a breath, smell a smell, sniff a sniff... (bonus points if anyone identifies the source for that line! Helga, Joanne, Giselle, Heidi, Therese, Alana? 🤪)

The weather also bolsters some negativity. I'm amazed at how often I find myself slipping into a depressive state lately, often tied to an episode of gasping for air. I am tempted to cancel any non- critical medical appointments and avoid phone calls from unknown numbers, Perhaps thankfully, my friends are all identifiable when they call, and they also tend to avoid unknown callers. They're also good at leaving pertinent voicemails and sending texts and emails, so I don't- miss anything from them (= important menages)

My dad has become an unwitting source of amusement for me. He's a staunch vaccine advocate, and has been avid about all of us getting "the jab" (as he calls it.) He also looks forward to my calls each evening, when he will read for me the day's news on the pandemic, while bemoaning those who refuse the vaccine. Each night, I say that I'll call the next evening, and he always says that I don't need to call every day, but he's happy to hear my voice. I've learned, though, that if I miss a day, or even if I call later than usual, he worries that something has happened to me. I find the contradiction to be charming. Of course, it also means that I work even harder to ensure that the news that he receives from me is good or at least encouraging. So sometimes he gets heavily edited versions of my reports, and they seem to satisfy the urge for news.

That meant that I've developed an approach to dealing with the recurrent fear that each scan will show that my cancer .was being fruitful and multiplying.. It's a very real fear faced by every cancer patient. we worry that any new symptom means that things are progressing negatively. I'm yet to meet anyone who hasn't fallen victim to that fear. No matter how much logic you apply, that irrational fear sneaks in until the doctor says that things are "stable" or that there's no need for treatment now. I freely confess that I go through. that every 3 months when I do my followup scans. The fear escalates when I have appointments that unintentionally (I'm sure) increase my level of anxiety or (as has happened this week) when I fall into a depressive state.

To partially answer one of my questions from yesterday: I'd like to have skipped the last 9 years of dealing with this illness, but still keep the many lessons that I've learned, about what is important (relationships, people) versus what isn't (jockeying for position; working extra hours); about how to identify real friends from hangers-on; the value of self-care; and the fact that laughter is essential to a good life. I'd have been happy not to know the Ottawa Hospital as well as I do! There are all valuable life lessons that I could probably have learned in a less dramatic method!