Smooth Operator

The time came on Christmas Eve to finally do away with the hair. Chemo had pretty much knocked out the beard a week or two ago, so it had been cut off and the remaining hair on the head was looking pretty bad. Now all that remains are the remains of a thin mustache which is hanging on for dear life.

This is a good thing.

My hair had started to look like that of a chemo patient. I decided that it needed to look like a legitimate choice, not just a reaction. I have been surprisingly accepting of this change in appearance. I was concerned that I might have an unattractive head for this type of style. I have been assured by many that I can carry it off quite well. This is a relief. Still a major change, but a relief.

Now I may need to reconsider that earring.

It's A Bird, It's A Plane...

Last week I returned to work for three days. I had sufficiently recovered from chemohell and felt a desire to get out of the house and get a change of scenery.

So I decided to go to work.

Yes, I know, chemo makes you crazy.

But before you judge me too harshly, you must understand what happens to my desk if I am gone for a week. Since I have no assistant on a regular basis, stuff starts to pile up on the desk, emails pile up in the computer, and phone messages pile up on the answering machine.

I had been gone for almost three weeks. The horror!

So, I headed out for work, determined to subdue the savage beast that my office had become. Little did I realize what was in store for me.

The parking lot.

Now, it is cold in Michigan right now. Not as cold as it's going to get, but I am particularly sensitive to cold right now, and it was plenty cold for me on Wednesday. Coupled with the fact that the parking nazis are out towing employee cars from the visitors lot, I found myself parked pretty much as far from my office as possible while still remaining on the property. This was not a good combination. The walk, all bundled up against the weather, took a lot out of me. I wasn't quite as recovered as I thought. I made it into the building and immediately headed for the nearby cafeteria where a small breakfast restored my energies.

This is where Superman comes in. I found some of my co-workers in the cafeteria and joined them to eat my breakfast. They had lots of questions, mostly about how I was faring with chemo. Oh, yes. I had been very ill, almost dead actually, but had dragged myself back in to continue working to make their jobs run better and solve all their problems. Then, upon finishing my breakfast, I hobbled off ahead of them to resume my customary place. All very noble, self-sacrificing, super.

I pretty much repeated my performance at each place I reached, keeping the legend alive as I went. This only goes so far. Now that I had reached my office, I had to actually produce. So I set into the office monster with a vengence. I attacked the papers on my desk, returned phone calls, weeded out and returned emails, went to visit people in various departments to check on progress. In short, I did three weeks worth of work in three days, partly to maintain my reputation as a miracle worker (Star Trek reference you Trekkies) and partly to stave off the office monster since I was going to be gone again for at least another week. I had to take a nap each day after hobbling all the way back to the car, driving home, and crashing in the LazyBoy.

I am Superman. Chemo is my kryptonite. The legend is secure.

Kindness

Mitzvot: At the heart of halakhah is the unchangeable 613 mitzvot that G-d gave to the Jewish people in the Torah (the first five books of the Bible). The word "mitzvah" means "commandment." In its strictest sense, it refers only to commandments instituted in the Torah; however, the word is commonly used in a more generic sense to include all of the laws, practices and customs of halakhah, and is often used in an even more loose way to refer to any good deed.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have not been well. The chemotherapy finally caught up with me and when it did it kicked my ass. Repeatedly. I ended up having my chemotherapy suspended while my body regains the high ground and I am up to another round. They will be changing my program to something I should tolerate better, but for now a reprieve.

During this time, my friends have been out in force, making sure that if I needed anything, they were there to jump in. I thanked one of my friends one evening for her kindness and she said that in fact she should be thanking me for allowing her to help. She mentioned the concept of mitzvot which I wasn't totally familiar with. I looked it up and found the definition listed above. I was surprised, not because of the philosophy, but in that it so closely mirrored my own concept of what it means to be a good person. Many times in my life people have prevented me from helping them or offering support because they kept their troubles from me. In some cases, they even kept their happiness from me and didn't allow me to celebrate it with them. In every case I felt injured. Their reasons were usually noble; "I didn't want you to worry" or "I didn't want you to feel sad" or other reasons, but I still felt robbed of the opportunity to be of service. Since then, I have tried to make sure that my friends are all given the opportunity to help me in any way they can. It is for them as much as for me. This was not exactly how I was raised. We were taught to be self sufficient and to look at offers of help as somehow being suspect; "What do they want in return". No sense being a pawn about it, but if someone I trust wants to help me in some way, I would be a poor friend if I would not allow it.

Miztvot: I may be more Jewish than I suspect.