⁇ Cancer light – The day food became a strategy

⁇ 15:33 The bell that no one wants to hear

It was a call on Friday afternoon at 15:33. I was just preparing a kwis beer tasting. In a few minutes my afternoon changed from light to heavy. Since then, I've been trying to write down everything that happens. Not to get pity, but to keep my head and heart together. These blogs are my way of understanding, sharing and showing how I deal with this, sometimes seriously, sometimes with humor, but always really.

“Life does not call in advance to ask if it is convenient.”

⁇ A detour in second-hand

The day started differently than you would expect from someone who is already ready for his fourth irradiation. Sylvia and I first drove past two thrift stores, a conscious attempt to start the day with something light. As I walked past old books, yellowed puzzles and curiosities, I felt for a moment the old me, the me who should have spoken today at the NLUUG conference. Colleagues and friends were now on their way to a room where I could not stand, purely because my body has different plans. That made the contrast harder than anything I found on the shelves. Yet the cycle worked as a kind of emergency exit from reality, a place where you are not a patient for a few minutes but just someone who doubts between a mug or a vase.

“Distraction is sometimes nothing more than a forgotten puzzle that pops up just in time.”

⁇ The machine that never sleeps

In the hospital it became clear again how many people and resources are moving for something that seems so simple from the outside. Four irradiation devices are running almost continuously, each accounting for more than 30 patients per day. From early in the morning to early in the evening, a meticulous choreography is performed by nurses, radiologists, secretaries and technicians. While I lay under the mask, I felt how a complete care machine conspires for ten minutes in which I can lie still. It's hard to get around: I make the least effort of anyone in that room. And yet it's all about what happens in that little moment.

“You are standing still, but a world is moving around you.”

⁇ The message that sticks

After the irradiation, it was time for the dietitian. She explained clearly and without detours that my body now burns about thirty percent more energy than normal. Every pound I lose is mostly muscle mass. As of the second week it gets tough, and that is not a probability calculation but a certainty. My taste is going to disappear, my appetite probably too. They are those sentences that linger and at the same time leave room for acceptance. Fortunately, there was a point of light between the facts. Now that I can still taste, I have to eat what I like. Soft cheeses, eggs, whole dairy, everything that feeds, comforts and in my case also helps with recovery. Vegetarian should temporarily be on the side because my body is now asking for building blocks that you do not get out of tofu.

“Sometimes the truth is firm, but the intention is soft.”

⁇ Eating as an attitude to life

We made agreements about an eating schedule that will soon provide guidance when taste and appetite disappear. Eating then changes from desire to obligation, a thought that secretly has more impact than much of the medical information. Sylvia mainly heard structure where I heard threat, a difference that has balanced us well for years. At home I found a chunk of soft cheese and threw a few frikandellen in the airfryer, a kind of comic preparation for what is to come. Meanwhile, the bottles of drinking food are on their way, carefully arranged by the dietitian. Each bottle is equal to two sandwiches. It feels almost futuristic, but it is especially reassuring.

“When eating takes effort, every bite becomes a choice for yourself.”

⁇ For now

For now, I look back on a day that revolved around contrasts. Light thrift shops versus heavy hospital corridors, hard facts versus soft advice. The next few days will be more intense, but that's what it is. I keep writing, searching for air and eating what is needed, even if my taste leaves later without a letter of cancellation.

‘Heaviness may have light. And light sometimes weighs surprisingly much.”