Doom-scrolling

Pandemic numbers and bunker best practices

It is possible that yet another post, news story, or telecast concerning the pandemic constitutes one too many for you.

After all, de-nial is more than a river in Egypt..

At a time when I might be better-served to reduce my media attention, I have signed on for access to local news for just one dollar a month. It is part of my stay-alive strategy.

You see, I am one week into post-chemotherapy living. I welcomed the harsh chemicals into my body in the sure belief that I had no other choice than death. I reframed the fluids as this or that sort of fruit juice. I counseled myself on the sacred demands of hospitality — radical hospitality. I chose to welcome what had not sought an invitation to enter the core of my most private space. I cherished the opportunity to share posts describing my choices and experiences along the six-month-long road to the place that I occupy today.

The six months have flown by on eagle’s wings.

May the next six months match that pace.

It will take six months for the chemo drugs to leech away, to loose their grip on every cell in my body. During this time my immunity will be as suppressed, in inverse proportion, to the immune-response erosion of the past six months. My body will not be able to produce antibodies from vaccines during the months to come.

In three weeks, I will have a follow-up PET scan, from eyes down to thighs. The future of my treatments will revolve around the test results. I have stage four Hodgkin’s lymphoma; there is no stage five. From the day, not too far in, when my oncologist, Dr. B grabbed me under my armpits and palpated this hotspot for lymph-node enlargement, I have believed that the treatments have pushed back the cancer. Are they smaller, I asked Dr. B. They are not swollen at all, Dr. B said.

The bone question, however, is another thing.

All my blood markers but two are in the normal range; the remaining two point to inner hostility involving white blood cells. I have no sense of the current situation concerning the bones. On the positive side, I am producing enough new red cells to avoid the need for a blood transfusion. That is huge, given the chemo-caused stress on my system. The rest is a matter if waiting (or just living my life here and now).

I have not been able to stay here-now with the sharpness that I desire. I am, most often, floating down that river I know as De Nial. I am not angry with myself about this, though I do notice a lawyer-like voice of whinish self-justification. We chat.
I stay upbeat and faintly amused, but not dismissive.

The other day, I simply walked away from the 24-hour inner news cycle with just one top story that I have been watching obsessively — my version of doom-scrolling.

I just walked away, weary from nonstop attempts to answer the Big Question —

Will I live or will I die?

This can be a terrifying question, especially in the absence of a real and present threat. It seems like I have heard and tried to ignore that question every day of my life. The psychologists call this a third-degree impasse. That always bothered me.

Whatever.

I am glad that I reached the point of just walking away. I believe those who say that cancer patients who can say that they do not invested in the question of whether they live or die are paradoxically more likely to live.

Now I notice the inner debate, and I seek to bring curiosity and compassion to the show. This single click of change has been a multiple blessing.

Will I live? Yes, I will. Poke me and I will poke back. I am alive.

Will I die? Yes, I will. When you poke me and I do not poke back, I will be dead.

And free. Flying on eagle’s wing across the frontier that has always been there.

I am in no rush to cross over. This life of mine is just too sweet to turn away from. Besides, I have plans, and I have zeal, and I have reserves of strength that I have yet to call on.

This is my expectation: I will have a plan for living with cancer that will specify specific treatments in an open-ended way. I will not have the option of saying, I am so glad that that is over. I do not want that to be the outcome. I want to flow with the reality of that old saw that says, The only things that are inevitable are death and taxes.

And so I live, and wait.

Blessings and peace,

Jon