year of the mohawk

I have a shunt. No, it’s true. Dirty as it sounds, I have a shunt. Look it up.

Praise be to the Gods, I’ve been feeling better over the last two days, ironic considering the fact that my last chemo treatment was on Thursday. Perhaps it was that we were all bracing ourselves for the worst: thus far, chemo has had a reputation of taking me out of the game for at least a few days. Quite the contrary, I’ve been sitting up, walking around, eating healthy portions of all sorts of high-calorie foods (the gay boy in me is forced to remain a silent observer in this new world of trans fat…he’ll have his revenge eventually) and yes, I’ve even taken a few small outings. All this is to say that I’ve been experiencing a rise in strength, energy and good spirits that is cause to celebrate. Will it continue? I’m learning not to make any plans with this whole leukemia thing; the second I make a definitive decision, things go a different way than I expected.

I received some news from my oncologist on Thursday. Most likely it was not intended to be ‘news,’ or rather ‘new news.’ I think I had been given different impressions about my state from various doctors, and this was sort of the ‘clarification point.’ Yes, the chemo is going exactly as planned. My white blood cells and red blood cells are super-stars. Equal props to my 1% cellularity. However, the doctors set out on Thursday a very different long-term plan than I had been expecting. Much is still unknown and will depend on tests taken next Thursday (my last official day of this chemo round) but the expectation is that I will not be in a condition to work for at least a year, and that during that time I will more likely than not go through about three more rounds of chemo, passing into different stages of treatment. Like I said before, this is postulating, but it’s educated enough that it gives me reason to begin envisioning my life over the next year, very different than planned for those who may have been party to some of my latest travel schemes. I’ll admit it’s been an overwhelming reality to consider over the past few days. Suddenly, the game changes. Different challenges and obstacles exist than did before. It’s no longer just chemotherapy and the nausea and the headaches and the fatigue; in fact, I have a gut feeling that my body will learn how to navigate its way through those. What scares me most about the next year is the fear that I won’t progress, that I won’t move forward or that as some reaction to all of this I might lose my motivation or ambition. My “A Team” has already started covering the logistics: how do we get Judd in guitar lessons? How about some Spanish tapes? Why don’t you just write “Chemo! The Musical” already?! It becomes a question of the immediate and the long term: starting guitar lessons in the immediate, sure, and soul searching for greater purpose in the long term. Both will need to happen. I find my motivation in purpose, and I don’t know how to change that. Then again, I don’t know that I need to.

My friend Kortney surprised me yesterday with a box full of movies and a short outing to a fast food chain that shall remain nameless. Over chicken wings and a frosty, she said to me, “you just gotta take this thing a day at a time.” Sage advice. As I said before, if there’s one thing this has taught me thus far, it’s to be patient and see how the story unfolds. I’ve been taken care of, immaculately, and in the meanwhile, I wake up every morning to the beautiful sunflowers outside my window and commit to taking this on, knowing that I will be taken care of. And from there, I find my strength.

My love and sincere appreciation to you all.

Judd