Re-calibrating Worry-Meters

Dear Friends,

I’ve been falling down on the critical job of declaring official theme songs lately, for which I do heartily apologize. In my defense, many of the posts had embedded but undeclared theme songs. However, in an attempt to pick up my game, I hereby declare the theme song of today’s post to be Rod Stewart’s cover of Forever Young.

Allora, I topped off a week of doctor-ordered teleworking with my second to last dose of herceptin and rested a few more days before embarking a work trip to Seattle. As I sat at the gate in National, I got another fraud alert text from my beloved bank. Did I just make an $86 purchase at Forever 21 in Nevada? Wait a second, are they questioning whether I shop at Forever 21? How dare they! Oh, no wait… no, they must know I hate Las Vegas (it’s like Disney World on steroids for adults with ADHD who aren’t taking any medication… *hard pass*). CLEARLY that’s what tipped them off. OK, we’re on good terms again.

Anyway, despite being in Seattle sans-credit card, it was a good trip. Well, for work purposes it was a success. Wildfires in British Columbia were sending smoke down south and creating very poor air quality, which is both unusual for Seattle and not ideal for my still recovering lungs. Everyone we met with kept apologizing and inviting us back when it was clear so we could see the mountains. The combination of my slowly recovering lungs, the bad air quality, and the fact that downtown Seattle is surprisingly super-hilly made for some interesting walks to dinner. By which I mean, we stopped frequently for me to catch my breath, which I sometimes did with my hands on my knees, bent over and breathing heavily like I’d just sprinted a marathon.

One of my colleagues in particular seemed very worried and felt that our leadership wouldn’t have let me come if they “knew how sick” I still was. Ahh, silly colleague-friend… in between gasps for air, I told her we needed to recalibrate the Mer Setting on her Worry-Meter. Yes, it looks and sounds terrible, but I have to do it. I can’t stay at home until I’m fully recovered because that will take several months. Whether it’s pneumonia or a chest cold, anything that hits my lungs means I’m in for a long recovery. And I’d be depressed if I didn’t go anywhere for that long. So. I promise to speak up (or wave my arms and write a note) if something medically concerning (and we all remember everything about my case is relative, correct?) comes to light. All is well. Even though my lungs hate me at the moment and my body no longer thinks it’s 80, but now 90.

I do feel like I’ve aged in the past year, more than just a year’s worth. I don’t know if it’s quite a decade’s worth, but since I started that medicine a year ago (the one Old Oncologist recommended I take for 10 years), I definitely feel that it’s aged me. I told New Oncologist that before my herceptin infusion, and she sympathized. I appreciate that New Oncologist acknowledges both what is medically appropriate and the real life, human aspects. She said let’s first aim for five years and then regroup and revisit another five years.

But in the meantime, we can all agree I’m forever young, right?