After 3 months of feeling good, the trap door opens and I abruptly drop into torturous waves of vertigo, nausea, sweats and chills.
"Da!," Che calls from her bed waking.
"Che!" I yell, throwing up in a bowl on the sofa.
"What?" Sarah asks, jolted from sleep with Che's calls and my wet responses.
The day goes downhill from there.
Much later, we're exhaustively holding hands, after I'm able to sit upright again, and Sarah's slowed down enough from handling everything, smiles and says, "A lot of it really is mind over matter."
I don't know how she wills things to happen, against all odds.
So, the next day, inspired by her, I rise from the dead like Jesus did on Easter, get as high as I can and Sarah drives us to Chuck E. Cheese's, of all places, and we play as hard as we can with each other.
We laugh a lot.
Daughter Laurel and boyfriend Rob join us for the fun.
On the way home, Sarah stops for wine for me and later, with Smirnoff Ice Green Apple, over leftovers, we celebrate, before I fade into early slumber.
These past few weeks, I've had a bit more self awareness, energy and focus. We've been taking advantage of it, going to the St. Patrick's Day Parade, bowling, to an Easter Egg hunt, occasional dining out, the Zoo, and Che and I even rode bikes on a Daddy/Daughter date to the Library!
I'd given up ever doing these things again and it's been a wonderful time, comparatively speaking. Then out of nowhere, I'm sick again, a painful reminder my cancer's not going anywhere. For all we know, it's taken over more of my body.
We'll find out soon when I return to Mayo for scans and entertain new, nuclear, treatments, designed to buy me more time.
"You know," Sarah says, sitting at the table after dinner, listening to the birds loudly sing through the open door, "we're just buying time. The question is what kind are we getting?"
Should I stock up on as much as I can horde or go for the quality stuff, which is a lot more enjoyable but you seem to get much less of it?
That's the question.
The sudden sickness is a rotten reminder of my cancer's growth and we hear the clock loudly ticking.
It's been 4 years since I was diagnosed with stage 4 Pancreatic cancer, and I was really sick for 3 1/2 of them. Now, I feel pretty good and I'd rather continue like this for as long as I can.
It's too much fun.
It's too much love.
Like every kid her age, Che's ready to visit Disney World and, damn cancer and treatment side effects, I want to be part of it. I want to scream beside her and Sarah on Splash Mountain. I want to let the good times keep on rolling.
Time is of the essence and I've got to make certain I'm buying the right kind.
