Notes from the Cafe Fiasco

The Number Please ...

Well, the August number is in and it is 5.1. 

This is two tenths more than the last time that I was tested in May and shows a slow progression of about two tenths of a point every three months.

Bad news: The numbers are getting bigger

Good news:  The numbers are getting bigger slowly.

This level is getting just under my historical high, but I've still got a ways to go before "treatment."  So, I get three more months to contemplate mortality (at least in terms of Prostate Cancer). 

Sigh.

Next test:  November - just in time for Thanksgiving.

Edward M. Kennedy 1932-2009

“The work begins anew. The hope rises again. And the dream lives on.”

Oh, Danny-boy

Anne Drinan reminds us that it was 25 years ago yesterday since we lost my old friend and roommate Dan Brennan to testicular cancer. Danny was an artist and general mystic and the first of our college crowd to go into what Joan Halifax calls "the lucky dark." I've often wondered if, for him, death was just another artistic adventure that he was going on. I hope so.

Anyway, even after 25 years, I think of him with much love and miss that laugh. Wherever you are, Dan, I hope that you're having at least as good a time as you had when you were with us.

CancerWorld - Yet Again

It's been 26 months now since diagnosis and you're think that I'd be used to the anxiety that comes before another visit to the doctor and another PSA test, but no, this is not the case. My urologist appointment is a week away and the stomach is starting to crank for no apparent reason and I'm starting to fantasize about PSA numbers - all of them high and all of these leading to the "treatment" that I've been trying to avoid for better than two years now. Ugly.

This isn't all that bad if this is the worst of it (at least until the numbers do get so high that I have to decide which self-mutilating procedure I'll have to accept). Still, I totally understand why men who are diagnosed with stage one prostate cancer immediately opt for surgery or radiation without thinking too much about the wisdom of holding back and giving themselves a few more months of a high quality of life. You can talk all you want about how slowly the cancer grows, but the anxiety associated with knowing that something is growing within you that can kill you can be crushing and, at least at the moment, the end place of the prostate cancer process is eventually the same: surgery or radiation.  Why wait and go through all that?

As usual, I have taken a contrary view. I've convinced myself that I can deal with the anxiety and, for the most part, I can. In fact, I can probably deal with anxiety too well. I've taken to wearing one of those yellow Lance Armstrong bracelets to remind myself that I have cancer and that I'd better pay attention to my diet and supplements to try to ameliorate the cancer's growth and effects. Except for occasionally wanting a burger or remembering that I should be doing my chi gong or having to trudge out to the burbs once a week for sometimes painful acupuncture, I can pretty much ignore it.

Except, it seems, for the final week of the three month cycle when the demons get released just before the cancer gets checked and I become moody and nasty and generally not a whole lot of fun to be around (sorry, d.). At this point, whether I want to or not,I become part of CancerWorld again and I'm never happy to be back.

Last time that saw Dr. Loughlin, I asked him how long we'd have to go through this. His answer was, "for the rest of your life." And "treatment" isn't going to change that. I'm a permanent resident of CancerWorld. The three month appointment reminds me that I'm a member of the club that no one wants to be a part of.

Remy & Mental Illness

No one would actually say the words on Wednesday night when beloved commentator Jerry Remy returned to Fenway Park for a visit after being out for most of the season, but the reason that he's not been in the booth for a long time is because he's been "mentally ill" not because of his lung cancer. The stigma lives on; and even in this age of Prozac we can't bear to say the words. They bring up too much baggage and fear.

Of course, officially Remy is recovering from lung cancer (check the nesn.com website) and that's the truth, but it isn't the whole truth. The fact is that a cancer diagnosis comes with a whole load of psychological baggage whether you officially recover from the cancer or not (I can personally attest to this). Certainly if you had any problems relating to your own sense of mortality before, then a cancer diagnosis particularly slaps you in the face. His cancer has been "cured," but the effects of the cancer live on.

Not that Remy himself has ducked the issues that have been plaguing him. In an interview Wednesday, he freely admitted that he'd been depressed and, though he has been working his way out of it, it is still an on-going issue. He said this in the plain, straight-ahead style that makes him so loved her in New England. He didn't duck the issue but everyone around him did.

It's has to be tough having Reny's job in particular. No one wants to hear that the color guy isn't just thrilled to be at the park for yet another wonderful baseball game. Being upbeat is a job requirement for someone with Remy's job and this makes things even more hazardous for him because no one is happy and "on" all of the time but the expectation is that he will be. The pressure not to disappoint well-wishers must be immense.

The mental health issue hits too close to home with people I guess. We can become physically ill and not change too much who you think you are. But mental illness is something else - it strikes directly at your own perception of who you are and, sometimes more importantly, who other people think you are. And if you get the label, it can stick for life.

And if Jerry can become sick and confused and depressed so that he can't function, then it can happen to any of us and no one wants to believe that. Unfortunately, this also means that people who have been designated as "mentally ill" have to put up with being labeled for the rest of their lives as people who can't be trusted because they're "nuts."

If it can happen to Jerry Remy, it can happen to any of us. Scary and still under the table.

New American Buddhism

Strive to do good;

Cease to do evil;

Cut yourself and everyone else

a little slack in the process.

WBCN - Goodbye

Well, if there's any doubt that the youth culture of the 60's is dead, CBS drove a stake into its heart last night by "turning off" WBCN - the Rock of Boston in favor of an all-sports format.  WBCN was one of the first commercial radio stations nationally that undertook a format of "underground radio" that had been the province of small college stations up until that point (1968) and it gave a voice to a generation that went on to change the American culture (and then congratulate themselves for the next 30 years).

One wonders if it was a coincidence that flip of the switch happened almost 40 years to the day after the Woodstock Festival celebrated a culture that was a threat to almost every cultural norm of the time. Lucas was right - the Empire always strikes back (even if it takes a while).

The question is what will my generation do about it.

Dawn at Winnipesaukee

No sounds;

Not even a random Loon.

Only stone and pine and water and moss

And smoke quietly rising from the lake

In the dim, gray light.

Still

like just before an exhale.

Near Future - MIT

Got a email this morning from the current VP for IT at MIT outlining consolidation of roles in IT Financial after someone leaves for Harvard. I can foresee a time in the near future when there will be four guys in IT at MIT - a network guy, a help/desk support guy, a programmer guy, and a guy who just goes to meetings. This is called "bad economic times."

Elder

The young man in the white shirt and black pants showed me a card

on the platform

of the Harvard Square subway station.

Mormon.org.

"Ah, the meaning of life and all that," I said.

"Yes. Answers to all those questions," he furtively said.

"No, son. No answers, only questions," I replied as I looked him in the eye.

He looked slightly upset.

Missionary work is a tough business.