Testing 1,2

I recently wrote this on my daughter's Facebook wall: Life is full of tests and I hope to continue to be an A student.

I've had some life tests since my diagnosis, but a few recent tests come to mind:

In an earlier entry, I mentioned that my niece Maddie was participating in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life at her school. Her team raised $3,000 and the event raised more than $95,000!! A very successful event! Maddie invited me and my family to attend the opening ceremony and we were happy to join her. Attending the event, however, was a test for which I was unprepared. As we approached the school on the day of the event, we heard the announcement that registration was closing in 15 minutes. My sister-in-law turned to me and asked if I would like to register in the survivor category and join the ceremony. Survivor??? Me??? Cancer??? Me??? I had anticipated attending a fun high school event that was organized to raise money for a very good cause and suddenly I found myself face-to-face with the cold, harsh reality of my life.  How could I be so unprepared? There were many survivors in attendance and there was talk of those who had died from various forms of cancer.  I felt numb.  I cried.  I stunned those who were with me.  In the end, I rallied and walked a lap or two around the track, feeling the comfort and love of those with me.  It's strange how I can live with cancer day in and day out, go to chemo, take my Revlimid, do everything needed to keep me healthy, and yet still have moments when I feel completely shaken to the core at the reality that I have cancer.

Grade for that test:  C (F for being unprepared + A for rallying = C)

Another life test came yesterday.  I was recalling a helpful hint a friend (and co-instructor) was giving as we were preparing students in an accelerated graduate course for an upcoming test that required considerable reading. She said that you can get the gist of a reading if you read the first line or two of a paragraph and the last line or two of a paragraph throughout the reading. You don't come away with a thorough understanding of the material, but you get...well, you get the gist of the material. This came to mind as I was resting at the one day surgery center, where I had a port implanted under my skin. (My picc line was removed a week or so ago). In preparing for having yet another medical device in my body, - yes, a life test - I spoke with the nurses and a few friends who, in the past, have had ports. I read the first few lines of these verbal paragraphs:

"It's wonderful to have a port, so much easier" and "There is a little discomfort when the port is first implanted."

Then I read the last few lines:

"Take it easy especially today and tomorrow" and "Don't do much of anything other than rest" and "Here's a prescription for Vicodin."

Vicodin??  It was pretty easy to get the gist: the port will be great after it hurts like hell. Ouch!

Grade for this test:  A for accepting a new medical device in my body, A for taking it easy and getting rest, B+ for whining about the soreness.

Round 4 of chemo starts Monday.  I am anticipating good lab test results and then I will get an A for celebrating!