How does one live as though life will go on forever and,
simultaneously, as if death awaits tomorrow? I ponder this question fairly
often. The positions seem to be opposites, but actually both are facts of life
for everyone. After all, neither is a certainty. No one lives forever, but it
is self-defeating to live on the verge of death. Equally, except in rare cases
and barring the unforeseen, most of us aren’t going to die tomorrow.
The diagnosis of a potentially fatal disease can quicken appreciation
of the here and now. Today. Carpe diem, as the saying goes. That’s my answer to
the question. It’s easy to get caught up in the grind of daily life and forget
to step back and view each day through a longer lens and be grateful for the
opportunity to live it. Some days the knowledge that my body is fighting cancer
hangs over me like a storm cloud, poised to drench me in despair. I have a
family tendency toward depression at the best of times, and such feelings can
be hard to shake.
Readers who follow this blog may recall that I developed
problems related to the targeted therapy drug Sutent, which I had taken since
last spring but had to discontinue it a few weeks ago. I recently completed the
first week on another targeted therapy drug called Afinitor. So far, the side
effects have been fairly minimal; however, two have been irritating. One is
that this drug increases my insomnia. Most of my adult life I’ve struggled with
what is often termed “early rising insomnia.” I fall asleep readily enough but
have difficulty staying asleep. Several of the days during this first week on
Afinitor I have turned in about my usual time of 11:00 p.m. only to awaken
around 3:30 or 4:00 a.m. to find it difficult if not impossible to fall back to
sleep.
Another effect has been nervousness. Several days my nerves
tingled for much of the day, which also made me aware that this drug tends to
bring out minor muscle and joint aches. But it’s the jitteriness that is most
annoying. Both that and the insomnia increase depression and lead to irritation
and impatience, which I struggle to contain. Add in the cancer pain, managed
(sometimes only barely) with a generic version of Percocet, and it can be
challenging to step back and appreciate any given day. I like to turn that
storm cloud overhead into an umbrella, but it’s not easy.
Three things help. First, being active. I try as best I can
to set aside the pain, the jitteriness, the fatigue, and all the rest and just
get on with living. Whether it’s writing, baking, painting, shopping, or some
other activity, I find that doing something invariably feels better than doing
nothing. Second, and just the opposite, purposefully doing nothing also can
provide relief. Meditation, mild exercise, yoga—all turn the mind purposefully
inward. Finally, being with family and friends, talking and laughing together,
provides relief. All three of these things are distractors, of course. Dwelling
on problems, fretting, projecting negatively about the future—these in
themselves increase the awareness of pain and nervousness. Healthy distractions
provide relief. This is something I’ve written about in earlier posts, but as I
begin taking this new drug I needed to refresh my memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment