Sometimes I think this cycle never endsWe slide from top to bottom and we turn and climb againAnd it seems by the time that I have figured what it’s worthThe squeaking of our skin against the steel has gotten worseBut if I move my place in line I’ll loseAnd I have waited, the anticipation’s got me glued
I am waiting for something to go wrong
I am waiting for familiar resolve
And it’s strange/ They are basically the sameSo I don’t ask names any more.Death Cab for Cutie, “Expo 86”
Eventually that boulder will become so heavy it will fall back and roll me over completely. That day will come, but that day isn’t today.
I was genuinely surprised by the news of the liver mets. How could he miss 6-8 tumors, one of which measured 1cm by 3 cm?
Direct quote from Liver surgeon, post-op: “We removed everything that we could see, both by the naked eye and with imaging.”
Remember my pep talk in prior entries about letting go and learning to trust doctors? Yeah, I’m pretty much done with that.
To be clear, I don’t think that any of these doctors are outwardly malicious. What I do believe is that they all have too many patients. And none of them take the time and effort to study your whole case, or remember prior discussions. They make decisions sometimes based on personal reasons and not always based upon what is going to give that patient the best shot at survival or a longer life. They think about maintaining hospital stats. They think about working things around their schedules and plans. They have internal biases and pre-conceptions. And most of all, they make mistakes.
And they will go on with their day as usual. They will have dinner with their spouse, enjoy their next family event and use their chunk of the six-figure surgery to go on their next trip to Hawaii. And they will never think about it again.
This is how it works with people in a position of authority. They mess up, they move on, and you get told that you should too, because it’s now in the past. The difference? One party gets to live with the consequences of those actions, or die from them. The other faces no consequences at all.
- My liver and peritoneum are less cancer-y than before.
- I have no mets still to my lungs or lymph nodes.
- My back pain appears to not be directly related to my cancer.
- I am going back to a chemo regimen that was previously working on my liver mets (though the jury is still out on whether it will help the ones in my small intestines).
And here’s another silver lining. I am pissed off. Pissed off enough to stay involved in my treatment. Pissed off enough to stay as healthy as I can for as long as I can. My familiar resolve has come back.
So I will keep sliding and run to climb again. I will keep pushing the boulder uphill. I will move forward, knowing full well that something is bound to come and push me back again. And the only answer I have to the eventuality of it all?