This morning I wept.

I gave myself an injection in the stomach, something that’s supposed to encourage blood growth, and started to cry uncontrollably. Finally just broke (it only took 2 months).

I’m on a break from the chemo because my blood counts are so low.  I woke up feeling good yesterday so I got on my bike to ride to radiation.  The 3 mile ride nearly killed me.  Chest pain, exhaustion, lightheadedness, etc.  The ride home wasn’t any different. I spent the rest of the day sitting down.

This morning I walked down to the farmer’s market with Hill and Putney.  I made Hill late for work, I was moving so slow.

So this is Anemia?  A whole new kind of fun.

I know perfectly well that the feelings of uselessness, despair, are just temporary.  Somehow, knowing that doesn’t make it go away. I’m pretty sure that a few more blood cells and a bike ride would help.

Meanwhile, I’ve just got two weeks of treatment left.  Two more weeks before they pronounce this thing dead (we hope).  With some luck they’ll say, “you’re cancer free.  Go ride a real bike.”  I will comply.

0 Replies to “This morning I wept.”

  1. I’ve been sitting in front of this blank comment box for 20 min now, knowing I want to say something, but what? what can anyone say? it breaks my heart to think of you having to deal with this, to live it every day. the idea of vacation is nice but not totally apt I’m sure. I wish we could do more. I guess all I can say is an echo of the chorus that we are here with you every day and we love you.

  2. What could be more unfair than having to fight cancer? What could be less a reflection of who you are than having your body betray you? It’s a total perversion of how things should be, and the treatment’s terrible all on its own, and “hang in there, buddy” just doesn’t capture it.

    But you’re in better shape for this fight than most anyone I know. I hope that shot gets to work fast & gives you back some sense of well-being. I know you have a great & loving household up there, but there’s extra good thoughts coming to you from down here!

  3. guys, thanks.
    Marian, John. can’t wait to see you on monday.
    Andrew. Whoa. Cool site! did you have something to do with that? Slick!
    Liz- “Hang in there, buddy” actually captures it perfectly. It’s what I keep telling myself. It won’t be long before this is all just an unpleasant memory.. “oh yeah, remember that summer when I had cancer? That was fuckin’ weird.” One of the biggest reasons I’m keeping this blog, is so that I’ll be able to look back and remind myself. In my experience, memory is wonderfully merciful. This stuff, though, I need to remember. To remember, when I’m having a bad day, what a REAL bad day is like. To remember, when I’m feeling tired, what REAL exhaustion is. These are good lessons. It sounds silly, but I’m glad to be getting them. Maybe the most important is knowing what an amazing network of support there is out there when you need it.

  4. Sorry to hear this man, but at least the worst is behind you!!
    After this think is dead you should take a little vacation up
    in Nova Scotia again, that always looks like such a beautiful
    place to charge up on energy!! All the best and hope you have an
    energetic weekend!!


  5. I really really feel for you right now, Ez. That sounded like it all just hit you this morning–which is really incredible because you’ve been a rock up ’till now! I would have been a mess from day 1! Well, like Artur has said, you’ve made it over the hill and now you can just coast gently as your white blood cells recoup. I am envisioning your white blood cells forming a gang right now, getting stoked, eating some trail mix and heading out to kick ass!

  6. Self pity is like a fever. You can baby it, or you push it to break, sweat it out and get back to being well.
    But there’s no need to tell you that.

    It’s not your fight against cancer that makes you a hero to me, Ezra. It’s your fight to keep everything that’s right about life within you that makes you a hero to me.

    And don’t worry, cancer is far to busy feeling sorry for itself to notice that you cried.

  7. If you get any cooler, Ezra, I’m going to have to move to NY, shave my head, and become a disciple. Good thing I like bikes. Hang in there, and try not to make the rest of us look so bad…

  8. I have no words –
    So, I am just going to agree with Dave –
    I am going to move to NY and take “coolness” lessons from you – (I know there is a cool person in me just dying to come out)

    You really are someone to admire!

    Sending good thoughts –

  9. Fuck, I don’t know what to say, but “hang in there, buddy” was what I was thinking too. The fast-boy I’ve come to know on Flickr can stick it out another two weeks, I’m sure. Just maybe a little less fast-boy and a little more couch-boy until you get your strength back up.

    Love from the Antipodes

  10. You seem to be so exquisitely aware of your situation and its meaning to your life that there is not much one can add other than a message of support and thanks for being open to sharing it with others and being so eloquent. Happily, it appears you will survive where many do not – perhaps your writing and photography will make others aware of this disease and by being there, also help save lives. However, I think that the best thing your work has done is to clearly demonstrate that, even though the disease and its treatment are physically and emotionally devastating, one can also lead a rich life despite the onerous difficulty. Thanks again, you and Hillary have my continuing best wishes for a quick and complete recovery.

  11. as always, thoughts of love, strength and courage are being sent your way. I am in awe of the way you are dealing with all of this. The humanness of this situation is breathtaking, and i must thank you for being willing to share your journey with us. Much love – Kim

  12. Re: Ride The City website; nope – wish I did – just saw it on one of the blogs I read and thought of you. Sucks about the dog leash citation – that’s bullshit on rye. You’ll have to teach Putney to run home on command – next time you get caught, issue the command and claim she’s not your dog. 😉 Take care.

  13. Take it from a professional weeper, once the tears are out of the way, there’s less pressure in your head and it becomes easier to get right back on course 🙂

    You are awesome, you are grace. You are fastboy! You are EZRA! And we are behind you every step, learning and appreciating.

    -j, r, s & z

  14. it will be over before you know it, you need to have faith in your friends who believe in you and all will be fantastico. email on its way

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