The SOUTH ORANGE COUNTY COMMUNITY COLLEGE DISTRICT —
"[The] blog he developed was something that made the district better." - Tim Jemal, SOCCCD BoT President, 7/24/23
One who has cancer and undergoes chemo often experiences something called “chemo brain.” According to the American Cancer Society,
Most define [chemo brain] as a decrease in mental “sharpness” and describe it as being unable to remember certain things and having trouble finishing tasks, concentrating on something, or learning new skills. Even though its exact cause isn’t known, it can happen at any time when you have cancer.
These mental changes can make people unable to perform usual activities like school, work, or social activities. Or it can seem like it takes a lot of mental effort to do them….
I had a pretty good case of chemo brain, among other things, when, over a month ago, I had to finalize all the Byzantine paperwork and hoop-jumping involved in retirement and Part b sign-up. (I faced numerous possible or actual deadlines.)
I realized that, I just couldn’t do it alone. So I asked friends—especially one old friend—to accompany me in collecting documents, strategizing, filling out forms, mailing them, etc.
"You be the brain," I said. I could barely be the body.
In two days, we made real progress, and on the third, I made more on my own, waiting (for hours) for an appointment with a real, breathing human being at the Social Security office.
I didn't think progress was possible; I was genuinely amazed.
How wonderful it is to have good friends!
The end is near:
"Boo."
With any luck, I’ll complete my chemo regimen in about a month. My 5th cycle (starting with an infusion) should commence this Friday. It will take most of the day, as always. The 6th and last cycle should occur 3 weeks later, if there are no complications, as there have been.
Chemo is a kind of poisoning, and, though it’s not horrible (at least it wasn't for me), it’s no fun either, mostly because of profound and persistent fatigue of body and mind. I’ll be glad when it’s over, which, I figure, should be in about two months (the impact of the last infusion will linger a while). I look forward to it!
Chemo trivia:
Recently, my doctor’s fine nurse practitioner, Sarah, told me that the nadir, i.e., the low point in how one feels, after a cycle, occurs usually two weeks post-infusion. I was precisely two weeks into cycle 4 when she told me that, and, sure enough, I was at a relative low point, energy-wise, though that has persisted, and I find myself, several days later, still feeling like 40 miles of bad road.
I can barely function. The heat doesn't help. (I have no AC.)
Mostly, though, my spirits are high. And why not?
Dealing with it/health maintenance:
I finally got my Medicare card via snail mail yesterday. It took 3 weeks to get here! Ruby down at the district was effusive when I emailed a copy of it to her. Whew! You see, SOCCCD retirees have to sign up for part b (of Medicare) to be eligible for the district’s contribution to post-employment health insurance. It turns out that, if you try to sign up for part b in a hurry, or at the wrong time of year, you run into obstacles. I made my way through them—sometimes by just insisting on talking to people with knowledge or power (e.g., at the local Social Security office) and even by resorting to playing the cancer card.
Getting such things squared away is important when you’re smack in the middle of chemo therapy! Mostly, nobody cares about your lethargy and chemo brain. They just expect you to get things done and have the right cards and shit.
Meanwhile, I've got lots of stuff going, health-wise. I'm picking up my new super-duper hearing aids tomorrow. We'll see how that goes (I've been pretty deaf for years). I'll be seeing my eye doctor early next week. That should go well (and I'll get rid of these damn goggles).
Deal with it, youngsters. You get to a certain age and everything goes to crap. You'll find out (if we're not all incinerated first). I sincerely do hope you make it to sing the battle hymn of the decrepit, which isn't such a bad thing really.
My cat, Teddy, deals well with the heat. In this regard, he’s a paragon of virtue. I see him now, resting comfortably in the shade. He won't move for hours. He's got it down, man. What a guy!
I have excellent friends and role-models.
Be well!
As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line
* * *
Tryin' to stay alive You gotta keep real cool Ask all the brothers Getting hard to be fooled Mad blood and happy crackers standin' firm Hope I leave town 'fore it starts to burn And try to live in song and silence With no ideals of violence Tryin' to stay 'live Buddy, how 'bout you?
I'm your top prime cut of meat, I'm your choice, I wanna be elected, I'm your yankee doodle dandy in a gold Rolls Royce, I wanna be elected, Kids want a savior, don't need a fake, I wanna be elected, We're all gonna rock to the rules that I make, I wanna be elected, elected, elected.
Forgot my six-string razor, hit the sky
Half way to Memphis 'fore I realized
Well I rang the information; my axe was cold
They said she rides the train to Orioles [a town in Kentucky}
. . .
Yeah it's a mighty long way down rock 'n' roll
As your name gets hot so your heart grows cold
'n you gotta stay young man, you can never be old*
All the way from Memphis
Yeah it's a mighty long way down rock 'n' roll
Through the Bradford cities and the Orioles
'n you look like a star but you're really out on parole
All the way from Memphis
*Hunter was about 34—much older than the rest of the band—when he wrote this song and sang these words. The song is about the mean state one is actually in touring a foreign country as a "hot band." Losing one's guitar can seem like losing much, much more.
Boy did I love these songs when I was a kid. Still do.
The mascot of the "Roy's enablers" club: Polish cat coffee mug. Cool.