[2021-03-10] Showing up
Today, it was warm enough that I could sit out on my deck. It's a lovely place to rejuvenate and reflect.
My brief chat yesterday with gynecologic oncologist Dr. Sinasac confirmed that my CA125 number of 8 is very good.
Regarding my blood tests, Dr. Sinasac explained that the main indicators she and her colleagues monitor to ensure that I am not experiencing serious side effects from Lynparza (the tumour-suppressing drug I'm taking) are hemoglobin, white blood cells, neutrophils, platelets and creatine. Fortunately, my numbers for all of these are in the normal range. Dr. Sinasac was not concerned about my low red blood cell count or any other results that were slightly above or below the normal range. As a result, I will now move to monthly blood tests, just before my monthly calls with one of the oncologists. This is encouraging news even as I continue to adjust to the medication.
The nerve damage in my hands and feet, known as chemotherapy-induced peripheral neuropathy, is not unexpected. It could get better or stay the same. Dr. Sinasac told me that it's important to note side effects of chemotherapy in case I need to have such treatment again in the future.
Dr. Sinasac had no news on the results of my genetic testing to determine whether or not the BRCA2 gene mutation found in my tumours is in all my cells. I will need to be patient for a bit longer.
Sleep continues to be an important part of my recovery. I'm typically in bed for 9½ hours. My latest sleep aid is a series called Meditative Story, which I listen to on Spotify. Last night, I listened to Cal Ripken Jr.: Showing up is never an end in itself. I selected this one as I remember watching Ripken play with the Baltimore Orioles when I faithfully followed the Toronto Blue Jays in 1992, the year I was caring for baby Shane while pregnant with Melanie.
For those who don't know Ripken, he holds the record for the longest streak of consecutive games played, at 2,632. The previous record holder was Lou Gehrig, who played 2,130 consecutive games—a record that stood for 56 years. A member of the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Ripken won two Gold Glove Awards and was twice named the American League's Most Valuable Player.
What impressed me most about Ripken's narrative on Meditative Story was not what he achieved—though his longevity and many awards are impressive—but how he played the game. For Ripken, more important than showing up was playing hard and playing honorably. "Showing up is table stakes," he says. "It's not an end in itself. It's what I do in order to compete."
Ripken tells a story about a game in which his Baltimore Orioles teammate pretended to throw the ball back to the pitcher but kept it so that he could tag the runner on second base when he took a lead. Ripken walked over to the runner and said, "Stay on the bag. The second baseman has the ball." Though his teammates were angry with him, Ripken did not back down. In his view, tricks were not part of the game. He explains in the podcast: "I've always had a principle, whether it's playing cards with Grandma or baseball in the big leagues, if things don't turn out well, there's a way to lose respectfully. And then you just come out and do better the next day. Day after day after day. Preserving my honour on the ball field is as much a part of being a competitor as winning is."
I liked this story. It made me think about some of the challenges I've faced as an ovarian cancer patient and the efforts I've made to remain respectful in all my interactions with healthcare professionals. Sometimes communications have gotten crossed, appointments have been delayed, the wrong information has been conveyed, results have taken longer than anticipated, interactions haven't been as empathetic as I'd like. But I have strived to be respectful of everyone I've met in the healthcare system, both in my interactions with them and my reporting on those interactions in this blog.
Years ago, a colleague said to me, "We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their impact." What this means is that we know our intent and judge ourselves by what we meant to do, not necessarily by what impact our actions had. However, because we don't know the intent of others, we judge them by the only thing we can observe—their impact on us. If we feel put out, it's easy to assume ill intent on the part of the other person. On occasions like that, it helps to do an MRI—a most respectful interpretation. For example, though my genetic testing results were expected to arrive in 2-4 months and it's now been almost 4½ months, I choose to believe that they will come in due time and that no one is at fault. As Ripken says in Meditative Story, "How we show up matters."
