Viruses and Assholes

Assholes. There I said it. You who were too selfish to even comprehend that viruses beg for crowds to strengthen them. The more the better, and you just couldn’t stay put for a couple of weeks to save humanity. 3,000 people in the United States are dead as a result of COVID19, as of today March 30, 2020, or so we’re told. If there are too few people to take hostage the virus will become less deadly because a virus, like a parasite, won’t kill off all of its potential hosts. To survive with less the virus weakens. So with fewer to infect so it can remain alive only far less deadly. Much unlike stupid metastatic cancer, which will eventually kill its hosts.

But such assholes probably won’t die. The ones who will die are the aged and the infirm.

I fall into the category of “infirm.”

I have one of the diseases metastatic cancer along with diabetes, AIDS, and other lovely human killers have repressed the immune systems of the human beings who walk around with those assholes. Those jerks who couldn’t stay home just for the sake of their fellow Americans to avoid such an imminently high death toll.

And the slow burning down of our Economy is their fault, too by the way.

Having metastatic breast cancer means jumping from one therapy to the next until they no longer work. Right now the very Immunosuppressive chemotherapeutic medications ingested into my body to hunt down cancer cells and save me, could kill me. Good luck to me for trying to find a lab willing to draw my blood for the four major blood tests I need to know if the Verzenio and aromatase inhibitors are working and if I’m suffering from liver or kidney dysfunction. Oh and how bad my white blood cell count really is right now to see just how open my system is to this corona virus. I’m not too happy to have been home now going into the fifth week.

I had two telemedicine visits last week with my palliative oncologist and my medical oncologist. My palliative oncologists and I are just in the “getting to know you” stage of our relationship. He’s a great guy, and I hope he lasts in the role longer than the previous four I’ve had at Stanford. I don’t think palliative medicine is still taken as seriously as it should be for those with terminal and chronic illnesses. But what a great time to educate yourselves if you’re at home like I have been.

Dr. B and I had a laugh or two on our call. He’s not as techno savvy as he will be when this is all said and done. I hope for his sake and mine he stays well. He’s in the “aged” category and I am in the “infirm” category so we run similar risks although mine’s a bit worse than his but he was in clinic doing our call. I need some ascites fluid drained off – the new protocol I’m on doesn’t seem to be getting rid of it as we’d hoped. I have a hard time breathing and I can’t button my jeans and the rest of me looks thin. It’s making my back ache where I had the L5 stress fracture in my lower back. That was two months ago when I had my CT scan. It’s showed a slow accumulation of fluid and it needs out. We will try to find a place to have it done but chances are I’ll have to go to the cancer clinic – alone. No use anyone else getting sick if I do.

But I’ll do what I have to to keep myself alive and well as long as I can. Every time Craig and our friend S leave the house they are the only ones wearing masks and gloves. They assure me the looks they get are like two men about to commit a crime. When the opposite is true – those assholes who refuse to take this situation as seriously as it should be are the thieves and crooks. The thieves of lives and the crooks of humanity.

Every time they come home from the grocery store, the post office, or the pharmacy and the occasional trip to the hardware store – we procure most of what’s needed online and the rest we try to buy from local small businesses when and if at all possible – they remove their clothes in the garage to be washed later and shower in our downstairs bathroom. They keep me safe.

I do get out for my walks and for some much needed gardening, too.

Our friend has been staying with us for the past three weeks and knows once he leaves the house he cannot come back due to the high incidence of the virus in the Bay Area and specifically to his neighborhood. He is the opposite of an asshole: the Yiddish word mensch comes to mind. He’s here to help complete what’s necessary to bring our house up to move in ready. It turns out our dream home wasn’t as move in ready as we were led to believe.

So people reading my blog aren’t likely in the part of the Venn diagram labeled assholes. And there’s a few who should stay home or face a ventilator and take a hospital bed away from someone who couldn’t help it, like a nursing home resident. If it was your mom or grandmother I doubt you’d think – well they already had their lives…fill in your own blanks. I know Americans. They love their freedom, but freedom at what cost? The cost is detrimental this time. And to those who least can afford a virus as deadly as COVID19. I don’t care if the conspiracy theorists are right and it was unleashed by the Chinese on an uprising in Wuhan province. I don’t care if it came from Mars. I’m a native New Yorker and I know the venom from the fangs of the rabid individualists. It’s deadly too.

But hear my plea. Don’t, for the love of those you love, take risks on our behalf. Don’t be an asshole. Assume no one can fight off a very strong virus. And don’t assume you don’t have it right now. You might. The massive campaign to politicize this virus is only now becoming apparent. Shame on those assholes, every last one of them. But here I sit, happy in my bath of green tea, macha powder, frankincense, and Epsom salts. I’m lucky to have telemedicine, immunotherapy, people who love me, and a house far from the madding crowds. And if you’ve got metastatic cancer and need to get away for a couple of days drive in and stay. My house is open to you.

But the rest of you – don’t be an asshole. Stay home, please, because this too shall pass and all will be well after the dust settles. I just hope I’m still here to see that first sunrise on that first day we can all breathe in the same air and heave a collective sigh.

PS The photo is of three donkeys who live up the road from us. They look rather unbothered by this fiasco and I take solace in their existence every day they come down by the fence when I am walking by. They see me and trot quickly down to say hello to me no matter where all three of them are at that moment. Craig said they don’t do that when he walks by without me. They come to the fence and shake their manes at me as though they’re inviting me to hang with them for a while. Maybe next walk I will, too. They’re asses not assholes. 😜

My Bi Monthly Cancer Wellness Survey

If someone handed you a clipboard with a survey attached regarding your “wellness” today, how would you respond? Doing my best to circle the closest answer to each inquiry using various rating scales, I hand the one-sided piece of paper sharing all my hopes, dreams, pains, and happiness to one of two nurse practitioners. Neither can truly comprehend the fitness of m6 mind and body by grazing over my confessional. Worse, they seem as uninterested with a quick flick of the wrist it’s tossed on the exam room counter, after it’s removed from the clipboard. I believe I spotted an eye roll of cynicism as I sat watching for an6 sign of interest on their face.

As always I inadvertently misappropriate the ballpoint pen on temporary loan I really don’t need, given my penchant for purchasing an embarrassment of redundant office supplies, to fill in the survey: “YOUR WELLNESS: how well you feel so your cancer center staff could attend better to your needs?”

The Stranger
Immediately an Existential crisis ensues. Such questions provoke an intensely dramatic Shakespearian-Hamletesque- “to be or not to be” soliloquy of the mind, or just plain thought vomit. Hopefully I don’t puke all over the page as I must determine the scale on which my most important stressors exist including appetite and nausea. For instance, rating my ability to think and judging during this particular day a level of satisfaction with my relationships? Seriously I think it’s not cogent at the moment, but I answer evoking my centrist point if view, since going too far right means I’m really angry and headed too far left means I’m going insane with happiness. The middle answer for the question is “sometimes.” Makes sense I suppose and I do not need those prescriptions adjusted.

Also I’m pursued by this paper chasing mind stalker to rate my current pain level. Do you mean right now? This morning when I got up? In general? If they mean at that moment right then or that just passed while I’m filling out this supposedly innocuous survey of my overall well-being? It’s giving me gas and a bit of acid reflux, plus this pen is really crappy for a nice place like Stanford and gives me a hand cramp that won’t let up due to neuropathy. (Note to self, donate nice pens for metastatic patients to lift in my last will and testament.)

What does it all mean?
Now the real kick in the ass – how I rate the meaningfulness of my life on a scale from excellent to poor, my activities in my home, social life, and community rating from completely to not at all. Two specific questions require an essay by Diogenes regarding cynicism and stoicism but there’s no blanks for open form answers. If you’ve read my posts you’re thinking the form might require five pages of addendum to control my verbosity. The questions in question:
My life lacks meaning?
Irritable, anxious, or depressed?
Rated from “never” to “always,” and “sometimes” the middle ground, on this particular day, I circled “sometimes.”

Sometimes my life lacks meaning for reasons such as my usefulness to society in general, to my financial stability, to my husband, to my friends, even to my customers in my Etsy shop – shameless self prhttp://www.yeuxdeux.etsy.com – should you want to do some holiday gift shopping from a very small business that directly supports metastatic breast cancer at the grass-roots level.

The purpose of consciousness might be as simple as love. Therefore we are all here to bring each other joy through love. And I firmly believe love is our purpose. What if, as imperfect as we are, we can achieve a clearness of mind to allow our thoughts about people to fall away, and rather than judge them love them instead? Wow! the joy we could feel if we lived without those thoughts, and the love we truly feel could comfortably be shared even further than inside the doors of our rooms.

Try a little tenderness.
Experiment with the following: show a little love to somebody you don’t particularly like today and see how your whole attitude about them and yourself changes in an instant. Perhaps, you can love yourself a bit more, too. But don’t give them a satisfaction survey when they’ve been loved sufficiently by yours and their agreement, because you’ll lose the squishy warm feeling of human interaction to the marketing puffery even taking place in your personal brand study.

Cynical? Nah.

 

 

A Must Listen BBC “About Death”

Bravery on the precipice of the end of life.

British woman who exhausted clinical trials for metastatic lung cancer died the next day after recording this podcast for the BBC. I’m not afraid of death – my belief is this gift of life in our physical manifestation of consciousness is bookended by not being. I’m not – I’m here – I’m not. For those whom we leave behind when we are no longer, really need to try to listen to her talk. She had a tumor wrapped around an artery, and liver failure amongst other mets, contributing to her demise. “All I want is options, because when you have options you have a chance.” Indeed, brave woman, indeed. My greatest gratitude to you posthumously for this gift of speaking out when you could have quietly gone into that good night.
— Listen on www.bbc.co.uk/radio/play/p06hkhx7