⁇ Cancer light - Six bottles and a full living room

⁇ 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 serious, sometimes humorous, but always real.

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

⁇ Roads without margin

There is a check-up every Wednesday. Rhythm provides guidance, even if the message does not. Two weeks ago, I lost weight again. In my situation, that is not a detail, but an alarm signal. Losing weight here does not mean tighter in your suit, but fewer reserves that you should be able to eat. We've changed the nutritional regime. Stronger, more consistent, with no room for negotiation with myself.

Since then, I have been drinking six bottles of food a day, not because I like it, but because my body needs it. Remarkably, I actually felt better. More energetic. Present. As if someone carefully turned the dimmer a little higher.

“Sometimes recovery is not in more willpower, but in more calories.”

⁇ Holiday planning with package leaflet

I talked to the doctors about something else. Sylvia goes on vacation with Mandy on January 12. I honestly didn't like that. So early in my recovery, while everything still feels shaky. At the same time, I fully understand. They too are up. Emotional, mental, practical.

The doctor was clear. The first two weeks after the end of the radiation almost always follows a deep dip. The body switches from attack to recovery and that rarely goes silently. For me alone, that wouldn't be a problem. Eight days on the couch, taking meds, drinking six bottles. But taking care of someone else is not in it. So we had to come up with something for that. Not out of fear, but out of realism.

“Recovery sometimes calls for plans that don’t really make anyone happy.”

⁇ Knee tightness as a stress test

Saturday December 20th was the open day at our home. The annual Knee Day. Nineteen people on the floor, three kilos of batter, more than three hundred kneeperties. Everyone went home with a bag, box or drum full. A number of regular guests were missing this year, otherwise we would have gone effortlessly to the thirties.

It was tough. Lots of people, lots of noise, lots of stimuli. I was commuting between the bottom and the top. Every twenty minutes rest when my body or Sylvia indicated that. Every time I came downstairs, it got harder to acclimatize. The crowds, the noise, the energy.

At the end of the afternoon I went upstairs to rest. When I got downstairs, it was eight o'clock. Everybody get out of here. All cleared up. It was a great day.

“You can be broken and grateful at the same time.”

⁇ Resurgence with warning

I was convinced that Sunday and Monday would be lost days. That didn't happen. My voice largely came back and I felt better than since the October 24 operation. My case manager carefully tempered my enthusiasm. Probably this revival was simply the result of finally enough nutrition. A temporary gain, not a structural turnaround.

Evert came by on Tuesday night. It went well, until suddenly it didn't go. From one moment to the next the rack was out and I sent him home quite brusquely. He didn't mind. I found it especially instructive. Apparently, I can still pull off abruptly, even if it feels fine in advance.

“Progress does not mean that borders disappear.”

⁇ Final warnings before the finish

Wednesday I had my last irradiation before Christmas. Two more after the holidays and then this chapter is closed. It was also my last conversation with the responsible oncologist about the treatment pathway. She was clear. These fluctuations are part of it. A collapse is on the horizon somewhere.

I can't stop the pain medication yet. I really need them in the next few weeks. We'll call about this in two weeks, because I want to get rid of the Fentanyl. It helps, but it's not friendly stuff to my head. In addition, new side effects may occur in the first few weeks. I already have cracks in the neck skin. My teeth feel restless. The only thing that was missing was mucositis and that now seems to present itself cautiously.

“The end of treatment is not the end of work.”

⁇ Christmas in a poncho

Today is Christmas Day. I was invited to a Christmas meal with my sister-in-law. First I said no. In the middle of the afternoon I changed my mind. Just being gloomy didn't seem like an improvement. With a pill for depression and people around me it would probably be better.

Sylvia picked me up around 5:00. It turned out to be a miscalculation. Too busy. Too much noise. After an hour I sat on the couch, hiding deep in my poncho, closed off from everything. I was hoping to make it to the end of the night so Sylvia and Jaero had fun. That didn't work. Around eight o'clock Sylvia took me home.

And there I am now. Rest. Music. No people. It's all right.

“Sometimes going home is not giving up, but choosing.”