Life without a rudder

 Jess and I just had our latest consult with my interventional radiologist. By video chat. In a gas station parking lot on the way back home from Port Angeles.

She was able to give us good news that we'd already heard about two weeks ago. I think that she was a bit surprised that we weren't happier, but my local oncologist had already shared good news. But good news is still not a cure. My cancer marker numbers are still elevated, and have decreased since the previous test. I don't know if that is because I have active cancer, or if it's because I have a load of dead cancer tissue just hanging out in my gut. But the numbers are still trending the right way.

One thing that I learned is that she (Dr. Kim) is going to meet with the brain trust and try to determine whether they think that resection is still on the table or not. I was of the impression that it would no longer be necessary, but it's still a possibility. I'd rather NOT be away from work for any length of time now that I feel so much better and I'm actually starting work again. <sigh>

Which is why I titled this: On being rudderless. My path is sort of "back on track," but is still feels like I don't have firm grip on the wheel, and the continuing storm can push me off direction.

I've spoken with my "cancer counselor" about feeling directionless now that my cancer is arrested, but not "cured." Nor will it ever be cured. Or maybe it might be? With resection. Dying was at least a DIRECTION. But getting back to my "regular life" also seems (premature?) necessary.

I don't know, man. It's still a strong possibility that this disease may get me. But then again, I've beaten the odds already. Can I really keep coming up lucky? Is it fair to those who have "lost" their cancer battle? Why do I get to live? I should just be happy with what I've got, right?

Please note: I'm not complaining. Having your body work properly and not having the scythe of the reaper nearly on your neck is a much better place to be.

I had a fantasy, which was too strong to be a simple musing, but also not an hallucination. I thought that maybe I didn't actually get better from the cancer, and that I actually died. That I got my wish, to be with Jess, to be able to do good things for other people. To do camp and be able create art.

Maybe heaven is being your best self, to have a sense of thankfulness and appreciation for what you have. To count yourself lucky.

If that's the case, I'll take what I can get.