Forgetting What I Forgot

I was talking to a co-worker this morning about my memory, or lack thereof, since I was treated for head & neck cancer.

If you've been reading my blog since July of 2008––thank you if you have, and you can always go back and read ALL of my posts––you've seen me write about "chemo brain" and how real it really is. As I'm getting older chronologically––because those that know me know I'm Peter Pan in disguise––I've been wondering where the intersection of radiation and chemo damage and old age will be. And am I at that dreaded 4 corner intersection without a clue as to where I go? I also think of the multiple concussions I've had in my life––at least 3, that I can remember––numerous blows to the head in football, elbows in basketball and a few baseballs off the noggin' in the box or on the base paths in baseball. Oh, and then there's the stitches I took in the head when I was 4 years-old and the year of Judo-Jujitsu that knocked me around a bit.

As far back as I remember, I wanted to make my living with my brain. First it was a lawyer––until I found out I had to go to school forever––then a poet (it was the 60's), a sportswriter (good thing I didn't go down that path now) and eventually a writer of some sorts which is what I am today. The long, extended point is, my brain is my livelihood. I make dozens of business decisions a day, create multiple ideas for my clients and our company and try to stay even with this whole web-thing that is really catching on (insert sarcasm here).

I also get to thinking if I'm ever going to stop thinking about my survival from cancer. And what/how much I will remember of the entire diagnosis, treatment and recovery. Teresa will tell you she just wants to forget all of it, especially the scary parts she saw me go through. I want to remember and then again I don't. I'd like to able to forget what I want to forget and remember what I want to remember.

If only I could remember to do that every day.

A Matter Of Control?

A lot has changed since I was diagnosed and beaten cancer. Some good, some bad.

But one thing that hasn't changed is trying to figure out what I can manage––or control––and what I can't. The Serenity prayer, when I remember it, usually snaps me out of it. "God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference." Lately, it hasn't been what's been within my control, but as it relates to others. And I haven't been doing a very good job managing myself and others.

What the good people who help save your life physically don't tell you is, the mental aspect of recovering from cancer is the toughest. Most of you probably scoff at that notion, as cancer and the treatments beat the hell outta your body. And the physical side effects last 3-5 years or depending on the type of cancer you have, forever. (I still can't produce enough saliva 2 years after treatment for head & neck cancer). Even worse, it ages your body. I look like I've aged 10 years in the last 2.

But mentally, the scars remain. I still have "chemo brain." Which means synapse problems galore. Disconnected thoughts. Your mind racing faster than your tongue. Trying to say a word you can see in your head, but you just can't say it. Which makes you frustrated, feel inadequate and then can lead to anger. For me, I usually get the trifecta when that happens. And that's where I lose control. And that's no good for anyone. Because even as I'm writing trying to express my emotions right now, all the stuff I've written above is happening. I didn't plan it that way and it is somewhat ironic as I try to post my thoughts.

I will have to work on that. And that, I can control.

The Honey-Do List

C'mon, you know what I'm talking about.

It's that never-ending list of things to do. Around the house. To the house. A list of things from cleaning out the garage––in my case, for the hundredth-millionth time––to digging holes to buying another gallon or two of paint. The Honey-Do List is not to be confused with The Bucket List. (Although I don't think I'll finish my Honey-Do List before I kick the bucket). The Honey-Do List is really a bunch of little lists that show up on the refrigerator, on the night stand and shredded in your pocket after a spin in the washer machine. (No matter how many times I try to destroy it, another one comes alive :)

When I was trying to manage the side effects from my cancer treatment, I had a list that looked a like a pharmacy order: Roxicet, Percocet, Metoclopramide, Fluconozale, Clindagel, "Magic Mouthwash", and Gel-Kam 0.4%. Not to mention the 6 cans of Jevity that was pumping into my body through my G-tube in my stomach and the I.V. sponges, yards of tape and the boxes of alcohol wipes. Plus the pump, plastic bags and syringes my back pack contained, going every where I went all the time. I had a big list of stuff. I called it my Gotta-Do To Live List. I had 5 Doctors, all telling me things to keep me alive, keep my body battling, keep me writing things down. This was a list I didn't want destroyed in the wash.

I was never much for lists before that. I kept everything in my head. I would remember things. Until the chemo and radiation. It was frying my brain. It was killing the cancer in my body. It was destroying body parts, one by one, checking them off like an internal list. Yeah, let's mess with his stomach. Oh, and while we're at it, let's give his intestines a bad time––how about diarrhea for a few days straight. And while we're at it, we'll take away your saliva so you can't swallow or chew, give you killer headaches and then for laughs that almost never end we'll give you chemo brain that's gonna last for 1, 2, 3 years. We don't know!

So now I keep lists. To-dos at work. Passwords. Birthdays. A list of all the social networks I belong to and the passwords for those. Birthdays. (Oh, I already said that. There it is, chemo brain). Hospital visits and Doctor visits. And lists of the milestones of being alive after all the treatments and surgeries. I never forget where those lists are. Which makes The Honey-Do List sweeter than ever.

If I can only remember where I put it.