Sunday morning

A quiet mostly at-home day yesterday. David and I did go to the movies to see the new end-of-the-world disaster film, 2012. It was - as expected - an end-of-the world disaster film. No surprises. But since for some reason, I've always liked disaster films... It was just nice to get out..

This morning I took Jessie to the park. We walked the front and the back loop. Lots of ducks and some Canadian geese on the pond. I understand this is mating season for ducks (as opposed to spring for most birds). They were kind of quiet today, apart from the one laughing duck. There was also a large flock of what I think are starlings. They were on the ground, pecking at the turning-brown grass. My guess would be around a thousand of them. I had forgotten to write here an incident from a prior visit to the park, last week I think. Jessie and I were coming back to the main entrance of the park from the back loop when I heard a strange sound. Suddenly I realized the sound was coming from above us. A huge, truly gigantic flock (much much larger than today's flock of 1,000) of starlings was circling overhead. They began alighting in trees across the center of the park, each tree holding hundreds and hundreds of them. All of them were calling out to one another - thousands upon thousands of starlings, all calling out. It was an amazing sight (and sound)!

A couple things on my cancer-mind. First, my poor little fuzzy head continues to shed my poor little fuzz. I do think it is less traumatic than having clumps of longer hair fall out. The current fuzz sheddings could pass for Jessie's bristly fur, which she drops regularly in all locations including across the apartment. I have been out several times, but always wearing a cap of some sort (I've worn the green wool cap that V gave me in her care package, and also the soft black knit cap that Aunt M made me - thanks again to both of them!) Tomorrow I have been planning to go into the office. I admit I am nervous about going in now, with my almost-shaved head (but who knows - by tomorrow I could lose most of my fuzz). I am nervous about wearing a hat/cap. I think I'm getting used to myself, but it's harder to deal with how other people may react to me.

Which reminds me - I read an interesting article in the NY Times this morning about a Cancer Center - kind of a patients and family only (no doctors, nurses, etc.) recreation center - at Sloan-Kettering hospital in NYC. Here is a quote about one cancer patient who goes to the center: "He felt comfortable in the center. Among other things, it allowed his cancer to be out front, because it was everywhere in the room. It is those without cancer who felt strange here. Outside of the hospital, Mr. Piepho rarely speaks of his condition, even to close friends. 'I think there’s a certain ethical responsibility about handling cancer,' he said. 'There’s a burden you place on people when you tell them you have it. Here there’s no burden. This particular place is common ground.'”

I do understand the concept of "common ground" with other cancer patients; that's what I felt in the group treatment room at the Cancer Center here. But I'm wondering about his statement that "there's a certain ethical responsibility about handling cancer... a burden you place on people when you tell them you have it". I'm not sure I understand what he means. What is the burden he's referring to? Is it the question of how people will respond to you when they learn you have/had cancer? Admittedly I don't have much experience yet. I'm a cancer newbie, but already I can see that people respond to learning you have cancer in a wide variety of ways. Even among people you know really care about you, reactions vary widely. I wonder if the situation of a person with cancer shares something in common with a person with a physical or mental disability in terms of how a circumstance beyond the control of a person - having cancer or a disability - can result in making other people - even people who care about the person - uncomfortable. Yet the idea that something about who I am that I have no control over - I am a person being treated for cancer - should be something to be kept hidden out of concern about making other people uncomfortable - well I'm not sure I buy that, at least in the abstract. I can understand not wanting to draw attention to it - for example, by wearing a cap/hat to work tomorrow - but in my case, at least, I must admit that my motivation would be to care for my own feelings and not about putting a burden on other people.

I have started to feel a certain knot of tension building in me about my second chemo session - this coming Wednesday. And yet I can't say I'm really dreading it. I think I am sort of looking forward to it in an odd way - to get it over with and mark another one finished.

Anyway, I am off to buy some Legos for my grandson to play with during his visit (in just 2 weeks!) and a couple of other errands.

Peace