Here behind my wall…
Ten more treatments to go. Twenty-three Quasi-Disney rides complete. Some of you may be reading all these blog entries and wondering “Well geez…that all doesn’t sound so bad!” In the grand scheme of life it hasn’t been too awful. However, for the first time today, I’m going to tear down a little piece of the wall and share just a litte piece of my reality.
Disclaimer – If you get bummed out easy then this post is probably not for you.
My routine has changed quite a bit from where I stated some posts back. My days are a wee different.
- I get up at 5am. Usually feeling queasy. I roll myself out of bed forcefully so that I can’t change my mind.
- I keep the alarm clock out of arm’s reach to help facilitate the forceful rolling out of bed. It works.
- I wander around a bit trying to get the 4 or 5 items together to go hit the treadmill. I now am making a pile beofre I go to sleep to mitigate this wandering. I seem to forget what I am doing at the moment I’m doing it.
- Try to eat half a banana or an apple. I like apples. Bananas are easier though.
- Come back from barely making a mile and a quarter on the treadmill. This is half of what I was doing two weeks ago. I have to be careful now as my knees will sometimes not obey, and slip our from under my thigh.
- Rest on the sofa, or work on my blog, and and have my morning prescription buffet.
- At 8am I take my chemo, get cleaned up, and head over to the underground bunker where the Proton Treatment Center is buried.
- I ride the aforementioned Quasi-Disney ride for about 20 minutes with my Proton Helmet on. At least I look cool.
- Then on some days I have various appointements to attend. These usually involve getting some blood drained and taking spacial apptitute tests to make sure body parts are coordinationg with directions they are getting. I am now unable to walk a toe-to-heel straight line. So I guess I’d fail a field sobriety test even though I don’t drive and I don’t drink. I’d probably still get busted for some reason anyway.
- Then I try to take a city walk to get some fresh air. Then I remember that I’m in downtown Boston and fresh air is not particulary abundant here.
- Then I get back to my abode, put on my jammies, and try to amuse myself until it starts all over again.
I’m sharing this with you becuase some folks thought I may be minimizing the situation by using humor to paint a happy picture. I know that blogs like this one all somehow get linked and I would not want somebody using this one for reference when every post I’ve made has been about rainbows or puppies or how it’s impossible to write a sad song on a ukulele. While all that is true, there is also a back end to all this that I haven’t shared. It is not, from any perspective, rainbows and puppies. I thought you’d want to know.
Have a peaceful day. Embrace what you hold dear. Take a deep breath and smile when you think of that which truly has meaning to your life.
Namaste,
Rob
March 11th, 2011 at 7:48 am
Rob, thank you for sharing in such a personal and honest way. We can only imagine what you are going through and how you are feeling. But that your outlook and perspective remain so positive, despite what your physical body is enduring is truly inspiring. Stay as positive as you can, and know that you have so many people thinking of you daily and wishing you well. We had a chance to spend some time with Kasey and the kids on Monday. It was so great to see them, be able to talk face to face and just spend a few hours hanging out! Tracy,Peter and Ellen
March 11th, 2011 at 7:51 am
Walking a straight line is completely overrated.
Keep forcing yourself out of bed, and soon you will be home…
As always Beth and I are thinking of you everyday, and look forward to you walking the streets of the hood.
March 11th, 2011 at 7:53 am
Rob, thanks for sharing a bit of the other side. I can’t imagine the depth of it all, but I’m praying for you often, and in your corner cheering you on.
March 11th, 2011 at 8:52 am
Hi Rob, I can only imagine what your going through. You seem to be taking it in stride and being very positive with it all. Just hang in there for a while longer. You’ll be home soon with Kasey and the kids. I guess in the near future we can really do some Quasi-Disney rides at D-Quest. We’re all thinking of you, love Uncle Paul and aunt Marylou
March 11th, 2011 at 10:27 am
Hi Robbie, this post really puts your feelings into perspective. I’m glad you are able to share these intimate feelings. It makes me sad to see how hard this is on you, and wish i could give you at least a day of robust health and take away your pain; but I remain positive that this is only a short-term roadblock. Soon you will be done with these treatments and going home with your family. You will be “Springing” out of there and experience a rebirth (just like the seasons) Your cousins send you our deepest love and prayers, and respect for your stamina. Love, Marcia & Tony, and kids
March 12th, 2011 at 9:47 am
Admitting fear, pain & vulnerability is one of the most courageous things a person can do. It allows us to create honest and authentic relationships. Through this blog entry, and by just being you, you are allowing others to do the same and there is great power (and a sense of relief/release) in that, for many people.
Thank you for sharing this part of your story. It is honest and authentic. I have such respect for you.
Sending light & love your way.
March 12th, 2011 at 2:22 pm
Rob,
I’m so sorry that you’re having to go through all of this. It cannot be fun or enjoyable for you, or Kasey, or the kids, or any of your family and friends.
I have never once thought you’ve been “minimizing the situation.” Instead, I see you staying focused on continuing to feel love, happiness and wellness in your life. And these are all things you want to keep attracting to you. What better way to bring these positive attributes into your world than seeing them and feeling them already there.
I applaud your upbeat blog. And if you were standing in front of me now, I’d give you a great big hug. I know this ride hasn’t been all sunshine and lollipops, but I’m choosing to see you happy and well, and if that means sometimes I throw in a rainbow or too, so be it.
You’re in our thoughts every day.
Sending you warm, loving vibes,
Vanessa & Gino
March 14th, 2011 at 1:05 pm
i am sorry that it has taken so long to get back to you. i have been so busy at my work that i haven’t had a chance to even come see you. i do have the tickets here for you. i will try to get uop there before uyou go home, if not i will either mail them to you, or give them to you in person at the foxhole when i present the trophy. hope all is well, & you are weathering the storm weith little discomfort.LOVE, PEACE, & BLUEGRASS…..mark
March 14th, 2011 at 9:36 pm
Hey Major Tom.
I will work to align the forces of healing love on you, just as that crazy proton machine is doing. I am building parts for a boat and will meditate on you while I build this boat. I don’t know what good that will do, but I hope it will “sing” your spirit of optimism, humor, and strength in to this boat, and maybe something will come your way too. We are profoundly moved by your experience and your blogs. Susan and I continue to keep you in the forefront of our thoughts.
Here are some songs I have heard lately that I like:
✓ Pumped Up Kicks 3:58 Foster the People
✓ Sink/Let It Sway 3:06 Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin
✓ Tonight The Streets Are Ours 3:42 Richard Hawley
✓ The Last Living Rose 2:21 PJ Harvey
✓ I’d Rather Have the Blues 7:52 Pat DiNizio
Hang in there man, you are in the home stretch. Your strength, as well as your hair, will return and you will be back amongst your family and friends very soon.
Rock on! T (&S)