Concessions

I checked out of the hospital yesterday, and Ann and I are spending a couple of days in a local hotel in Houston as my body resets and hopefully gets ready for the flight home - especially my liver as my blood counts remain dangerously low.  I am so happy to be out of that hospital room and the IV machine, but am a bit worse for wear.  My skin is shot with chemo burns and various splotches and irritations and I still cannot stand any kind of food.  I still have my PICC line with two valves coming out of my arm, cyborg style.  Ann took a class on how to change the dressing on it and keep the lines clear and passed a test in front of a RN yesterday, I'm very proud of her.  Plus, I'm really weak - and it kills me to admit it.  Ann and I walked across the hospital to the pharmacy yesterday and it wiped me out most of the day and I had to lay in bed for the duration.  On the other hand, it was the first time I received a shopping bag full of meds and a whole other shopping bag full of medical supplies.  They are sending me home with 10 prescription drugs and other creams, lotions, salves, etc.  I guess the two weeks at home will not be a return to normal.  That whole reality, that "normal" is something we left behind last week before I got admitted and not something we'll see again until I finally kick this cancer, really did hit me hard.  I've already given up my career, my beloved bike. Now no more playing with the kids in  the pool, chasing the dogs around the house, having a beer at the end of the day with the wife.  OK, cancer got one up on me on this front but I'm not conceding easily because this is temporary.  When I get that lifestyle back I'll relish it, and worship each energyful moment I've been able to snatch back from the disease.  All future non-sick moments will be a small dance on cancer's grave and I'll savior each and every one