Sisyphus climbing Maslow's Pyramid

My second chemo treatment went relatively well, although it's taking me a bit longer to recover than from the first one. I'll report more of that medical tedium in another post in the near future.

Right now I want to commit to writing an introspective rant, while the thought is still fresh.

Reflecting upon my life up to the present day -- which I've had ample time, and opportunity, to do lately -- I see a repeating cycle of rising and falling fortune. The cycle is sine-wave shaped as my fortunes -- material, emotional, spirital, social, creative -- rise, and sawtooth- or staircase-like as they fall. I'm oversimplifying to be sure, but the pattern is undeniable.

The image that best captures the pattern for me is that of Sisyphus, the character of Greek myth condemned to push a boulder up a steep slope, only to have it fall back to the bottom at the end of each day. Except I'm not pushing a boulder up a mountain -- I'm pushing it up Maslow's Pyramid.

Abraham Maslow articulated a hierarchy of human needs, arguing that needs at the "base" of his pyramid had to be satisfied before an individual could meet, or even aspire to, the needs in the next level of his hierarchy. The base includes fundamental physiological needs: food, shelter, clothing, that sort of thing. From there, one can move through higher levels: Safety, Love, etc. until one reaches the highest level, self-actualization, at which true artistic expression (among other pursuits) becomes possible.

I have been far more fortunate than Sisyphus, in that I can recall many moments where I was able to pause at the summit of Maslow's Pyramid, my boulder tucked under my arm and thus prevented, for an always-too-brief shining moment, from rolling back down. At such times, I have come excrutiatingly close to being an artist -- or rather, to give those moments an even broader and yet more accurate description, close to creating something genuine.

I am also tickled to note that in any fair assessment of my joys and travails thus far, I cannot credit my strengths or abilities with aiding my rises in fortune, nor my weaknesses or errors in judgement for the times when my fortunes fell. It hasn't been random, exactly, but the recurring moral of the story (or at least, the moral I choose to distill) is that I'm not in control of my life, and that there are other forces at work here. Forces worth trying to understand and appreciate.

In mulling over all this, something I do far less than this post would suggest, I find my thoughts accompanied by a background noise, a muffled mantra, or perhaps, a weakened but still sonorous battle cry: I'm not done yet.

Need accomplice to bust outta chemo

My next chemo treatment is this Friday, October 30.

I'm pretty sure they won't let me leave without an escort, and Valerie can't do it that day.

So I need someone to help me bust out of there circa 3:00 pm. Any takers? Email me, if so.

Misc news, mostly good

Random items that came up in the past week:

• Dr. Martin, my oncologist, visited me a few times while I was captive in my adjustable bed in the hospital. He told me that he finally received the complete report from my second biopsy. I have diffuse B-cell lymphoma, a.k.a. the "aggressive" kind of non-hodgkin's lymphoma. This is good news for several reasons. First, it makes it likely that we caught this earlier than previously thought (but that's still to be determined). Second, it means the chemo regimen I'm undergoing, selected based on an "educated hunch," is in fact exactly the correct regimen for my specific condition. Third, since the operating principle of chemotherapy is to attack fast-growing cells, "aggressive" lymphomas are more susceptible to the treatment (since the cells divide faster than in slow or "indolent" lymphomas).
  
  
• I did some homework on IRS-allowed exemptions from the 10% "early withdrawal" penalty, and I qualify for 4 of the 8 exemptions (including one for unemployed people paying their own medical insurance, and another for out-of-pocket medical expenses). So I'll call the bank Monday and I expect to soon have a modest slush fund, which should make any number of things easier in the short term.
  
  
• I'm starting to feel angry about my situation -- normally this would be bad news, but in this case anger may prove a valuable motivator.
  
  
• Arguably the best news of all: I found my mobile phone charger, which henceforth will be in my pocket every single time I leave this house, guaranteeing that I will never suffer again from unscheduled information or communications blackouts. Ironically, the charger was exactly where it should be in my storage system, in a clear plastic box full of other chargers. Its being exactly where it was supposed to be is what made it so devilishly hard to find.

Many new beginnings, scrunched together

A great many things have happened in my life recently which compel me to once again indulge my compulsion to communicate. I also have a need to share practical news and updates with a small group of friends, and email is unwieldy for doing that.

So, this blog. I make no representations or promises that anything posted here will ever be interesting to anyone. Indeed, I anticipate that many posts will be little more than crazed, confessional, self-indulgent rants -- in other words, precisely the kind of exhibitionist-diary blogging against which I have railed my entire adult life.

But no matter. This is for myself and a small group of close allies. If you are not one of them, dear reader, and you find anything of value here, rest assured it is entirely accidental.

Home again

Just a quick note to all to say I was discharged from hospital this afternoon.

I am now safely at home sitting down to dinner,

Please DON'T call that 212-535-NNNN number as you will only wake up another patient probably far worse off than I was. My cell phone is recharging and should be fine by morning.

Big thanks to you all for the calls & moral support + extra big thanks for Jane for being the star quarterback of the medical establishment.

Love all around - help yourselves.

Post-chemo # 1

2 days after my first chemo session i feel wobbly and tired but otherwise normal. The worst side effects have been quite bearable.

My last consult with Dr. Martin (oncologist) I learned that the bone marrow biopsy was negative (no lymphoma). This means my ability to restore my own white blood-cell levels is intact. Very good news. Also the fluid removed from near my lungs was also lymphoma-free.

Still no news on the second tissue biopsy. I'm being treated for an "aggressive" lymphoma as a precaution. Since I'm taking the treatment well, I anticipate we won't change the regimen / dosage / schedule even if my lymphoma proves "indolent" (slow-growing). In short, faster = better.

The only remaining major short-term risk factor is the periocardial effusion. This is fluid, similar to the one that was blocking my lungs, but that's caught in my periocardial sack. Worst-case scenario is the fluid accumulates there faster than the periocardial sack can expand, creating a high-pressure zone around my heart that exceeds the strength of my heart muscles. In the extreme case this can cause cardiac arrest.

The first chemo treatment has probably reduced the lymphs enough to let this problem correct itself. I have another echocardiogram 9am tomorrow (Friday) just to make sure. Then a meeting with the social worker to review housing options, then a review w/ Dr. Martin. I won't need any help or escort for any of these meetings, and I have enough cash to cover round-trip taxi fare.

Last item: my cousin David Schechter, freshly Barmitzvah'd (muzeltov!) has volunteerred to join Team Daniel Recovery. You can reach David at 999-999-9999 or via email at xxxxxxxx. How can you not love a man who still uses an America Online email address? Welcome David to our merry crew. I think you know nearly all the existing players.

I'll try to limit this missives to 1ce/weekly. I'm also hopeful the ratio of fun stuff to medical stuff will increase with each passing week.

One more time, special big thank you to Dani for the amazing job cleaning the house, and to Valerie for the brilliant way you individually wrapped the pizza slices. You both show great artistic potential in the tiniest things you do.