Whenever I’ve been confronted with something I deem monumental, I have a tendency, I think, to fall back on that question. I remember when Tracy was pregnant with Zach and was wondering how we would measure up as parents. My response was that millions of babies are born every year and we were certainly as capable as most of those other parents. We would provide a loving home. We would be caring parents.
How hard could it be?
What a foolish thing to ask. As anyone who has been a parent knows, raising a child is very hard. There is no minimizing it. Certainly the lesson learned here is not to say such a foolish thing.
And yet here I am facing a bone marrow transplant and asking the same ‘How hard could it be?’ as I whistle past the proverbial graveyard. Lots of other people have BMT and come through cancer free. I can accomplish what they accomplish.
How hard could it be?
It’s my means of getting through frightening descriptions by the doctor of what is in my future. But when those frightening descriptions become real, grasping at ‘How hard could it be?’ just doesn’t seem to work all that well.
After two weeks of treatment I am confronted with ailments that I thought would be several weeks away yet. My skin pain is probably not any worse than I’ve dealt with previously, but it is definitely noticeable. The toughest part right now is that my feet and ankles are badly swollen and it is painful to walk.
I had an unscheduled meeting with my radiation doctor today and the best he could offer is that all of this indicates the treatment is working. Oh, and BTW, things are going to get much worse than they are now.
I guess this has been a convoluted way for me to whine and I apologize for doing it. I promise not to bore you all with this type of thing again. For now we can just chalk this up to my needing an outlet to talk about this (the check out girl at Randalls is just not that great a listener).
A very special thanks to those of you who have e-mailed me and offered words of encouragement.
Rick
I truly believe your courage and determination to beat this thing is remarkable. It’s easy to offer up “Hang in there” or “It will get better” . . . but I’m not faced with an everyday pain which I know I couldn’t tolerate. You are–and I’m constantly amazed by your inner strength. So be strong, be happy, and when you’re celbrating being cancer-free in December . . . whatever your plans, I’m in!
You will be getting some pictures from Tim in the next day or two. He took at least 50 so that Jeanne could see everyone. He called to get your address so they are on their way. Everyone asked about you and sent best wishes and prayers. It was a very nice affair — food, food, food. I missed you and Tracy and Zach. I’m looking forward to seeing you in the fall. You are my picture of courage and I am so proud of you, Rick. Later
Rick, you never have to apoligize for complaining a little. Heaven knows you do so little of it and I don’t think any of us could be as strong as you have proven to be. I am so glad to know about this website and have a way to keep in touch with what is going on.
I’ve got lots of bikers, I know they will want to come to Omaha to bike with you.
Barbara