{"id":2031,"date":"2025-11-06T20:25:51","date_gmt":"2025-11-06T19:25:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.data-pro.nu\/?p=2031"},"modified":"2025-11-07T09:04:31","modified_gmt":"2025-11-07T08:04:31","slug":"%f0%9f%a9%b5-kankerlicht-de-puzzel-van-de-dondersteen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.data-pro.nu\/en\/%f0%9f%a9%b5-kankerlicht-de-puzzel-van-de-dondersteen\/","title":{"rendered":"\u2047 Cancer Light - The Thunderstone Puzzle"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>\u2047 15:33 The bell that no one wants to hear<\/h3>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\n

Life doesn't call in advance to ask if it's convenient.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 The day started empty<\/h3>\n

The last two days were full. Very full. It just started with emptiness: I'm home alone, Sylvia and Mandy on their way to a place under the smoke of Rotterdam. Just a little silence. Until the bell rang, Willem van Mepal stood at the door, at the same time as neighbor Petra, armed with food. Suddenly it was busy, and that while my energy level was towards zero.
Willem did not come with work, but with warmth. A gift, a puzzle from De Dondersteen, my favorite toy shop in Hengelo. And a message that was even more beautiful than the gift itself: We want you to get better. We're looking for replacements so you can rest.<\/em>
I was sorry, honestly. The Mepal laptop disappeared in his bag. A piece of identity in the cover. But at the same time, I felt relief. Less pressure. Less needs to be done. More to go.<\/p>\n

\n

Sometimes letting go is not a loss, but space.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 Thank you, Mepal<\/h3>\n

The process at Mepal started a bit chaotic, but grew into something warm. The cooperation, the trust, the humanity, it stays with me.
Thanks to Willem, Stephan, Huub, Marijn, Jaap, my companion Peter, and of course Jordi, Allard, Jerymo, and everyone I forget. Thank you for the humanity behind the brand.
In the evening, I read back my medical records. The phrase that stuck: Do not remove the entire tumor.<\/em> Cutting edges. Residual tissue. No interpretation possible: There's something else.
Sylvia and Mandy were now at home, working on Mandy\u2019s new pole pole pole in the living room. The thing was crooked, I was about to explode. Short fuses are part of the side effects, but I didn't want to show it. I fled, to bed, to silence, to breath.<\/p>\n

\n

The night has no judgment, only room to sink.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 From panic to precision<\/h3>\n

The next morning I was mentally in chaos. It's frightening. Uncertain. The ride to the hospital felt like a marathon. We were late, traffic jams, stress. While Sylvia was parking, I ran in and was overtaken by walking people. It couldn't be more symbolic.
The day started with an appointment with the dental hygienist of MST Enschede. Two warm, knowledgeable ladies. They took their time, explained everything, reassured themselves. I had to bite for fluoride caps, but my gag reflex was already protesting at the word \u2018spoon\u2019. Without hesitation, they switched to a 3D scan. No clumsiness, no pain. Only professionalism with compassion.
I got explanations, tips, recipes. Fluoride snacks, remedies, shopping lists. My teeth have rarely felt so clean. And now I realize: It's going to be a lifelong care relationship, my mouth and me.<\/p>\n

\n

Care is not what they do, but how they do it.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 The mask and man<\/h3>\n

Then I had a conversation with my case manager. She told me about the accompaniment, the lines, the appointments, the daily routine that will soon become my new rhythm. For the first time, I felt I was in good hands. Not only technically, but also humanly.
Each irradiation is followed by a visit to the dental hygienist. As if the treatment is a tandem between technique and care, between radiation and recovery. That idea is reassuring.
Only one certainty remained: I don't plan any further than the end of this year. That's all I dare do.
Tuesday I thought I'd get my first radiation, but no, it's going to be the day of the mask. A main shape in plastic in which I will be clicked daily. I grinned for a moment, it looks like cosplay but without applause.
Then a CT scan, a planning, a schedule. The machine takes over the rhythm.<\/p>\n

\n

Treatment plans sound clinical, but they are actually rituals of hope.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 Frikandellen and philosophy<\/h3>\n

After the hospital, Sylvia and I went into town. We bought chamomile tea, Manuka honey, protein shakes, the equipment for battle.
We ate at a snack bar. Frikandellen with too much mayo, just what I could handle. And how much I enjoyed it.
There, at that table with plastic napkin, I spoke to an old colleague of Ecare, Hans. He has the same brain tumor I once had, but it can't be removed with him. He lives with what I've survived. His tumor is shortened every so often, like cutting a hedge that never stops growing. Confrontational.
I suddenly felt small, but also grateful. Not for the disease, but for the time I have left.<\/p>\n

\n

Food tastes more intense when you know that everything is finite.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 Caught and worn<\/h3>\n

After the city, I was exhausted. Broken, broken. Ausgenutzt<\/em>, As the Germans say honestly. Claudia and Rody came by, but I was already in bed.
Rody helped Mandy with her pole pole pole and bicycle, Claudia folded the laundry and promised to help soon with the garden. Small things, big gestures.
The awareness grew: I don't have to wear everything alone. The world lifts along, sometimes quietly, sometimes with a laundry basket.<\/p>\n

\n

Real support makes no noise.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 The cancer shop<\/h3>\n

In the evening, when Sylvia and I lit up in silence, the idea arose. A webshop for people with cancer. Not heavy, but practical.
Manuka honey, soft chamomile tea, warm blankets, protein products, heat pit cushions, support cushions, everything that makes life more bearable. We called it out loud: The cancer shop.<\/em>
With the best cancer products. From the best cancer providers. And of course, a cancer discount. Humor as armor.
I'm not working this year. That's clear. But maybe this will be something that gives you energy. Something meaningful instead of meaningless.<\/p>\n

\n

Sometimes something new starts right when you don't expect anything more.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

\u2047 For now<\/h3>\n

For now, this is where I am. The days feel short and full at the same time. There is fear, but there is also an absurd amount of love. The next few weeks are going to be tough, but I have my puzzle, my tea, my frikandellen and my people. And that's enough for now.<\/p>\n

\n

Gravity can have light. And light sometimes weighs surprisingly much.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u2047 15:33 The bell 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 feel sorry, but to 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