http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2012/06/atul-gawande-failure-and-rescue.html

Good article.

At times I just think I'm going to burst and the aftermath will be no messier than what has been created of me in the last 8 months. People are sick of hearing the same thing over and over again - why I can't see them and how my blood counts are too low. Half of the time they don't even understand what that means and having to explain over and over again, I just don't have the patience for that any more. They don't have the patience to keep asking me when they can see me and get a vague answer. Over time, it takes a toll on those relationships no matter what.

Why is my blood not growing? Why do I need to get transfusions every couple weeks or so? Well, mostly because of the complications that happened from March until now. They are resolving, yes. With a lot of medication and a lot of resilience, I am stronger than say a month ago. I couldn't walk then without some support, but the strength has been coming back. The only setbacks are the days when I'm losing blood and my cells are dying, but even on those days, I can go about my daily routine. My fear now is what if this is a long term condition? What if it takes years for my bones to make their own blood and in the meantime too much passes creating more and more health issues. People keep saying, oh a few more months and you'll be fine. Well, that's no longer a guarantee. It's not a promise. All the doctors can assess is a day to day report, there can't be any forecasts.

A lot of times, I'm neutropenic and have to say no to even people coming over. I can't go anywhere myself during the day because the sun burns me. I haven't gone anywhere since Jan. 1st except the hospital and the doctor's office. What kind of a mental condition do you think that has put me into? Don't you think I'm gonna start taking risks now and not wait for my cells to grow? I have to balance the risks I take with the risk that this may always be the case and waiting is just a waste of time. I'm not getting any younger and the last time I waited for stuff, it was the wrong thing to do. Why? Look where I am now. What if I never took a risk and danced again and just thought ok 3 years from now, I won't be doing chemo and I can do whatever I want? I would have no new memories to live off of now. That's all I do now - live off of memories. There's no guarantee even now that I won't relapse again and that in a few months, I'll be doing whatever I want.

I know, I know, I should just be happy I have a second chance. A lot of people in my situation don't get that. I saw a young patient the other day at the doctor's office looking at his blood report and felt sick to my stomach. I knew exactly what he felt before he was handed that piece of paper and having it in his hands finally and interpreting the results are one of the scariest things I have ever felt in my life. I wanted to hold his hand and hope that he's as lucky as me or even luckier and that the fact that his hands were also shaking didn't mean he was expecting something awful. A lot of time, we just expect nothing and that's the best plan, because wasting time in formulating anything beyond a few days at a time is foolish when sitting in a cancer patient's chair. If you show up at your doctor's office every time hoping to see unrealistic results, the disappointment is too great; there's no need to spend time thinking about the results of your biopsy or blood tests. Take the day you have off and chill. Who knows, tomorrow they might send you to the hospital again. I drove by INOVA Fairfax before the relapse with an amazing fear and just wished so badly that I wouldn't have to go there again, but what was the point in that? I've added Hopkins to that same list of places that scare the bajeesus out of me.