Suddenly I'm aware that this part of my life won't last forever, that sooner than I know it I'll be packing up, saying good-bye to Loma Linda, the proton patients and doctors and techs, leaving southern California, and heading east.
Suddenly I'm looking at things differently. I look at the little pantry of food I've accumulated and think, I'd better stop buying food and just eat this stuff. I look at the trees (I'm still seeing them) and realize I've only got another month to enjoy them.
Suddenly I'm realizing there are things I want to do before I leave, and I'd better get at 'em. I still have yet to get in to a regular exercise regimen. I stopped my exercising (tread mill and weights) abruptly before leaving Lubbock because of the back pain and have made only fitful starts at getting going again. I swam one day. Felt good, but hurt the next day. Walking is good, and hiking is great, but even here, pleasant hike routes are not just outside my door. Today I thought I'd give Revolutions a try. This is a workout class utilizing stationary bicycles. I think its called Spinning elsewhere. Wow! I thought I was gonna die. I couldn't even begin to keep up with my fellow pedal pals, and as far as emulating Rachel the trainer, forget it. I wondered, as the hour neared its end, if I'd be able to walk once I got off my bike. Worst thing about it, though, was spending an hour sitting on my prostate area. Somehow it just didn't feel right. So I'll keep looking.
I also want to get to the mountains—that will be this weekend—and back to the ocean again, hopefully to some of the areas I've never visited. Maybe do some deep sea fishing if I can figure it out. I've got a couple events scheduled in Upland, which is a good thing, since I haven't had much contact with friends and relatives there.
As far as my treatments are concerned, I made an appointment for Tuesday with Stella the Nutritionist, about whom legends abound. Probably should have done it a week or so ago. Rumors are, she'll recommend lots of meat, eliminating cruciferous vegetables and salads, no coffee, and no alcohol—this to specifically assist the body in dealing with the proton impacts. Apparently she advises a much different regimen for after patients leave. And Dr. Bush says that, in about a week, they'll modify the proton beam so that, instead of targeting my seminal vesicles as well as my prostate, it will focus exclusively on my prostate for the final weeks.
Today we purchased Amy's air ticket to fly her out here so we can make the trip back to Lubbock together. This reunion is the one aspect of wrapping up my experience here that I look forward to with unmitigated anticipation.
I observed the half way mark today by adding the third dot to my name badge—a blue one to go with the green and yellow ones I already have—signifying that I'm in the third quarter of treatment. I also ordered and thoroughly enjoyed a New York steak at Clara's tonight (anticipating Stella?). And I thought my way through this blog entry.
We don't have a ceremony for celebrating the half way mark on life. Maybe we should. Of course, it would be a question where that might come—35? 40? 45? We could pick an arbitrary age. We'd have to give it a name. Maybe Solstice? There should be appropriate celebrational feasting. We might also build in a retreat during which the Solsticer would go apart and spend a couple days taking stock of life to date and contemplating the second half. At that time in my life, I was all but overwhelmed with raising a young family and beginning a career. Too bad. It would have been a healthy thing to stop and take stock.
Treatment count: 23 down, 22 to go.
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