When I was on a neutropenic diet, I couldn’t have uncooked foods and foods that sat out.  You know, things like salsa, queso, guac, pico, etc.  Mexican restaurants were off limits.  Now that I’m back in the office, there are a lot of people that go to lunch.  And now that my numbers are up, one lunch destination that is no longer off limits is Puerto Vallarta, my favorite Mexican restaurant.  I was in the office for 4 days last week and ate at Puerta Vallarta for 2 of those days.  I might try and keep up the same ratio this week too.

Sounds funny, but I have to remind myself of that sometimes.  At first it was simply because of my diagnosis…Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.  Do you see the word “cancer” in there?  Me neither.  There’s Breast Cancer, Testicular Cancer, Pancreatic Cancer, Prostate Cancer, etc etc and then there is Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.  Somewhere along the way, the word cancer got lost.  I don’t feel slighted, but I did have to remind myself that I’m not fighting an infection or some type of other disease.  Even though the diagnosis doesn’t quite spell it out, I have cancer.

It’s not a membership card or anything like that.  It’s not even a physical card.  But it can be effective.  For all you Hoosiers or those that have learned euchre while visiting the Midwest, it works a lot like the right bower, it basically trumps anything.  You don’t want to just throw it down at any old point though.  No the cancer card must be played with restraint.

Here’s how it might work.  We all know the traditional rules of calling shotgun.  First person to call it gets the front seat.  Now enter the cancer card.  If you so choose to play it, it trumps the person who called shotgun first.  All you have to say is “I have cancer, I get the front seat.”  Or say there is only one cookie left and someone tries to grab it.  You simply slap their hand and say “I have cancer, I get the last cookie.”  If you play the cancer card correctly, you’ll soon find yourself eating a cookie while riding in the front seat.

The cancer card can be quite effective, but only used in moderation.  It also doesn’t work everywhere.  For instance, if you are at a cancer support group, it loses all power.  Some may frown on the use of the cancer card, and for others it makes them feel uncomfortable.  Rest assured, when it’s played it doesn’t mean the owner is taking cancer lightly.  It’s just a way for some of us to deal with our diagnosis.  And for those that still don’t like it, well “I have cancer, I can play any damn card I want.”

I won’t name any names here, but someone I’m married to and a frequent witness of the cancer card has astutely pointed out that come February 18th, it will most likely be confirmed that I am in remission. If I am in remission, then I can’t technically say “I have cancer.”  The good news about the cancer card is that is doesn’t get revoked.  I just have to modify my phrasing a bit.  Instead of “I have cancer” I’ll simply change it to “I’m battling cancer.”  That will be a true statement for the next 5 years.  That buys me plenty of time to think of another phrase for when I’m cured.

WBC – 6.3

Hemoglobin – 10.1

Platelets – 270

ANC – 4.8

My hemoglobin took a nice little bounce there.  The other numbers are down a bit, but don’t you fret (and don’t you frown), they are still in the normal range and I have another draw tomorrow.

Dear God, thank you for this Sabbath.  Thank you for this day of rest.  Thank you for another day.  Amen.

Have you ever been in a traffic jam?  You’re sitting there with someplace to be and you could get there if it wasn’t for the stupid traffic.  You can’t change lanes and you can’t weave around cars.  You sit there and alternate between the gas and the brake as you creep along.  Stop, Go, Stop, Go, Stop, Go.  That’s what life feels like right now.  I have some place to be.  I have ideas to implement.  I have work to do.  Vacations to take.  Family events to attend, but instead I’m stuck in leukemia treatment traffic.  My chemo starts, STOP.  My number creep up, GO!  I have side effects, STOP.  And then they subside, GO!.  And then my chemo starts again, STOP.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I’m just explaining.  Just as things begin to return to normal, traffic will stop again.  It makes it hard to get momentum and be invested in things, especially at work.  I look forward to the day the traffic jam clears.

I write about things getting back to normal, and what I really mean by that is getting back to the way my life was before leukemia.  The normal routines, the normal problems, the normal benefits.  But the reality is that that normal is gone.  To try and hold on to it as it was would be foolish.  Today, blood draws are normal.  Chemo is normal.  Naps are normal (not complaining about that one).  Even when my treatments are done, my new normal is that of a leukemia survivor.  There will be events to attend and causes to advocate for.  There will be more blood draws and a fear of relapse.  Granted there will be many things that overlap between my old normal and my new normal, but the important thing is to remember that I can’t yearn for the normal of old exactly the way it was.  I need to embrace my new normal, adjust to the changes, and be glad for each day I get to experience it.

Today I went back to work.  It was my first day in the office in about 2 months, and it felt like my first day back to school after summer break. I got out of my car and walked in with a lot of anticipation. Will people recognize me?  What will they say?  Who will I see?  I saw a lot of people that I hadn’t seen in awhile.  I shared a lot of stories from my time away.  And most importantly, I smiled a lot 😉

While I’ll only be in the office for this week and next week (I’ll be back in the hospital on 2/18) it’s really good to be back.  I love seeing my coworkers and I really appreciate their support.  I feel like I can get more done and contribute more while I’m there in person.  I truly value not just the working relationships I have, but the friendships I have as well.

Actually, I made it in to the office at about 7:45 and stayed until 4.  I did a lot better than I thought I would.  I was dragging a bit around 2 and set the goal to stay at least until 3.  Then 3 came and went and I felt pretty good.  Someone brought me Popeyes for lunch and someone else brought me a mountain dew, which I drank with my chicken.  I also got a Starbucks.  Another person saw me from behind and confused me with the other bald guy at work.  Guess maybe I need to differentiate myself somehow.  One person suggested I write “The Strength It Takes” around my head.  Maybe I’ll try that 😉

It’s kind of anti-climactic these days since my numbers are up, but I’ll keep this going for you Robstrong stalkers…

WBC – 7.8

Hemoglobin – 9.2

Platelets – 314

ANC – 6.4

Don’t fret about the platelets dropping.  It’s normal for the platelet count to fluctuate in healthy adults.  Although, Lindsey has been hitting me more lately, so perhaps the platelets are being used to clot some internal injuries.

Father, it’s hard not to look too far ahead.  Each day is important.  Each step holds a lesson, but sometimes I wish I could skip a few steps ahead.  A few days ahead.  A few months ahead.  Renew my patience Father and help me to concentrate on the victories of today.  Tomorrow will bring new challenges and new opportunities.  I pray I can face them anew and be strong for you.  Thank you for another day.  Amen.

Father God as I look around at others in this busy world, I wonder what afflicts each person.  Perhaps now, looking at me, you can tell I have cancer, but I have outward signs.  So many others show no signs of what they are fighting against.  Of what worldly affliction has a hold on them.  Be with all those I see God and those that I don’t see.  I know you are ready to meet them and hold them too if they don’t already know you.  Allow someone to be the catalyst in their lives that draws them into you, the ultimate physician.  Thank you for another day.  Amen.