This is "one of those weeks"--the sort of week I could not have imagined (or: could not have dared imagine?) when I was younger. A week full of visits to doctors and clinics.
As I type this (a little before 7 a.m.), I'm soon to drive with Joyce up to Seidman Cancer Center, where I'll "enjoy" some bone scans. My prostate cancer, as I've written here before, has metastasized--has been sneaking into my bones. These scans will chart its recent progress.
Tomorrow, I have a follow-up visit with my optometrist, who will check on the progress of the cataract surgeries I had on both eyes in recent weeks. I'll also meet with my family physician, who's a little concerned about my cholesterol levels. I'm hoping to avoid yet another med ... but we'll see.
Wednesday--it's back to Seidman Cancer Center to meet with my oncologist, who will talk with me about my recent blood tests--and the bone scans. That will be fun--almost as much fun as what will happen when the talk is over: my quarterly injection of Lupron (in the butt!), a drug which kills testosterone (prostate cancer loves testosterone--junk food for a killer)--but only temporarily--until those sneaky cancer cells figure out a workaround (which they always do--little buggers!).
In many ways, I am very grateful: I have some very competent professionals keeping an eye on me and (so far) I've not really been "knocked down" by any of this. It does, of course, wear on the the mind: Worry is a most abrasive cloth with which we rub ourselves.
And today--this week--the ensuing weeks--as long as I breathe, I will have Joyce with me. Among her many gifts and assets: she knows ...
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