Hi Everyone,
Narkissos, I don?t know you either, but I am eternally grateful for your extremely kind words.
Dave, I?m choked. Thank you for comparing me to a very special candle. You and Denise have always had a special place in my heart, too, and I write this through tears. It is soooo hard!
I?m hoping that whatever happens my posts, along with everyone else?s posts here, will be of help to others.
When I received the details of my diagnosis from the doctor yesterday I thought I was prepared, but it was still a shock hearing it from his lips and seeing Claire so upset tore at my heart (as the thought of it again does now!).
We got home and all afternoon I was upbeat. Everything was out in the open ? which I prefer ? and my plan of action was mulling around inside my head. Unfortunately, last night I couldn?t sleep at all because it became a night of reflection. At one point I thought I was going to become really scared, but somehow the feeling passed. I have this disease and, as I?ve said before, I can fight or crumble.
Evenings, I have found, are always the worst. Things are quiet and my mind becomes extra active. I can dwell too much on negatives whereas, during the day, I dwell almost exclusively on positives.
I am to undergo a chemotherapy regimen known as CHOP along with a drug called Rituximab. The data I have read is not particularly upbuilding, but as this is an uncommon disease statistics cannot be taken at face value. There just hasn?t been enough sound information available. Like most diseases it would appear that if one is sad most of the time one is more likely to succumb, but if one is happy and determined one has a greater chance of survival. I like to think I am in the latter category, though I do have my low moments.
Death, of course, is the greatest fear because it is an unknown quantity. I have my Buddhist beliefs, which I cherish now more than ever. Death, on the whole, doesn?t frighten me as I liken it to a complete, relaxed sleep. What gnaws at me constantly (i.e. during my low moments) is the thought "What will happen to Claire and my boys?" At times there is a purely selfish angle to this thinking: "I don?t want to leave them." and "Will Claire ever marry again? I don?t want her to remarry! She?s mine and I love her."
Of course, this is all irrational as, if I were dead, I wouldn?t know or care and Claire could do, rightly, as she pleased. It is what Buddhists call clinging to this life (i.e. clinging to something that is impermanent). As I say, these thoughts engulf me when I?m low. When I?m upbeat, I never think of them at all.
This isn?t to say there?s anything wrong with wanting to live. Far from it! Indeed, having cancer is no bad thing in as much it puts things into perspective. One can concentrate on doing good during the time one has left ? no matter how long that might be.
I have come to love those I once despised and to love even more those that are particularly dear to me (goodness, I?ve become choked up again. What a sop!).
It?s good to carry on as normal. I love life and don?t intend to leave it just yet.
My most sincere love to you all,
Ian
