On top of all the rest of this garbage the last few years of this battle, I’ve just been diagnosed this week with now having metastatic bone cancer in my spine, in the T2 and T9 vertebræ, discovered after severe pain manifested in my right shoulder and along my right arm over the past week or so, culminating in the loss of strength and increasing numbness in my dominant/right hand. So much for further music, for writing, hell, typing was even getting difficult; before a round of steroids, oral and IV, I couldn’t even hold my fork to eat. Joy.
I’m getting a new PET scan today/Friday/June 1st that should reveal the fuller scope of the latest problems and quite possibly a few other things—I should know the results in a few hours; considering what’s been going on, and how things have developed or devolved since my last PET scan, I expect rather more bad news than good, more beyond just the bone cancer metastases. My oncologists have already made referrals for more radiation, yet more treatments, more time, more hassles, more exorbitant wads of money essentially thrown down the drain. I’m tired. I’m thinking of finally just giving up, saying no, no more of this. It’s been horrific; it’s getting worse.
I’ve never been a “quitter”; I hate even the idea of quitting, anything—but how much is one person supposed to endure, with no hope in sight?
“What is Hope? A smiling rainbow
children follow through the wet;
‘Tis not here, still yonder, yonder:
Never urchin found it yet.
“What is Life? A thawing iceboard
on a sea with sunny shore;—
Gay we sail; it melts beneath us;
We are sunk, and seen no more.
“What is Man? A foolish baby,
vainly strives, and fights, and frets;
demanding all, deserving nothing;—
One small grave is what he gets.”
—Thomas Carlyle, “Cui Bono” (1827)
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