Chicago from 40,000 feet in the air.
At work, we use the phrase "from a 30,000 foot level" a lot. When we're looking at a project from high above (30,000 feet) everything looks great. No problems. But as you get to the ground level or into the weeds, you start seeing the details. Complications and issues start to present themselves.
After my scare a couple of weeks ago, from a 30,000 foot level I am now doing fantastic. I'm riding to work. Working out. Feeling good. Things are good. No appointments this week. No lab work. It's all pretty darn good. From 30,000 feet. When we get into the weeds, it's a little different. Steroids leave my teeth real sensitive to cold, even deep breaths on a cold morning cause some tooth aches. My stomach is constantly in turmoil thanks to the variety of medicines I take. I recently went to a lunch time meeting. After eating I had a presentation to make, and I was so worried that I'd have a little gas sneak out while I was giving the presentation. Revlimid gives me crazy night time leg cramps. I bruise easily. Mentally, I'm on edge a lot. My house is still a mess from the remodel. We fired our contractor. Work starts up again next week and I can't wait for it to be done. Tired of going to the garage to get my clothes. My car makes goofy noises. I fall asleep at 7:30 almost every night. Noon time naps in my office are becoming fairly commonplace. 20-30 minutes of power napping makes a massive difference for the afternoons. In general I feel like I'm an 80 year old man.
I think myeloma has fast forwarded me, biologically speaking.
So let's take things back up to the 30,000 foot level. Things look so much better from higher up. I'm alive. The cancer is under control. We'll keep on keeping on.
This is my first update in about a week. I haven't really had much to say. Dr Berenson always says that treating myeloma is a marathon. So if I'm at mile 10 of the marathon and cruising along at a good pace, there really isn't much to report.
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