Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Waiting in the Balance



The Scale:

"Wait for the double zero before stepping on” says one of my nurses.

I only have to wait one second but, in that short period of time, my mind races with the potential outcomes: Do I weigh the same, weigh more, or weigh less? 
 This scale, harmless to most, is the benchmark of my success, failures, and efforts.   It tells me if I am living or if I am dying.    

Before treatments, cancer patients have their blood drawn to make sure their "counts” are good.  However, in my case, the blood work results that the doctor reads are from the previous week.  It’s an “after the fact” gauge of my health because two weeks have already passed by the time I hear the results. So, I don’t really get much mental satisfaction from this bi-weekly routine. 

The scale, however, represents a “real time” display of my current physical condition and doesn’t sugar coat anything or stretch the truth.

Throughout my treatments, I have come to fear the condition of "Wasting" the most.  It usually happens after an intense treatment cycle and leaves my face looking gaunt, tired, and lifeless. Sometimes, I can hardly recognize the person I see in the mirror…Out of kindness, my friends and relatives will tell me I look good when they see me at my worst moments.  But, I prefer trusting the scale as a measure of how my body is handling the treatments. 

 "Wait for the double zero,” the nurse says and my heart begins to race.  I think about how hard it has been to sneak in a few extra calories each day.  For the past six years, I have been forcing myself to drink multiple Ensures each day even though the heaviness of its calories sink like a stone in my stomach and  make me feel nauseous.  I think about how I forced an extra forkful of mashed potatoes in my mouth yesterday hoping that would add a few calories to my meal.  I think about how difficult it was to get off the couch this week and walk around the block and do the few pushups I was able to do. Will the exercise add any muscle mass and maybe some extra weight?

"Mr. McGovern, you can step on the scale.” With a deep breath I step on and mutter under my breath to the scale: Come on, you son of a bitch, I will beat you!"

Just one quick second later, I get the result:  144.6 lbs.  Those .6 lbs mean everything to me.  I am .6 lbs heavier than I was two weeks ago!  My efforts have paid off.

The scale has become a symbol of my battle against cancer.  .6 lbs might seem insignificant to someone else, however, in this battle filled with challenges and setbacks, it is a small victory for me.  When added up, all of the small victories that I have been stockpiling help maintain my mental fortitude and allow me to continue the fight.  

2 comments:

  1. Gov! I am so excited to see that you are blogging about your experience; your strength is an inspiration and I am sure your posts will serve as inspiration to others!

    Cheers,
    b

    ReplyDelete
  2. Moving words, Todd, keenly felt. Write on writer!

    ReplyDelete