<p>I reconnected with an old colleague of mine at Bell Labs. We used to a lot of things together back then. She moved away, and we lost touch for a while.</p>
<p>Upon hearing what I am going through she said “Oh, I am so glad you told me. It would be horrible to hear from other people that you died!” I had a really good laugh out of it. This has to be included on the top ten list in a relevant category. I was not bothered by her comments. She has always been a bit self absorbed in a very innocent way - the way little children are self absorbed. </p>
<p>I think I will text her on my death bed so that she hears from my directly. When I shared this observation, a close friend of mine asked “what happens if she dies first?” A good question! Ha ha. Another friend shared this: when her brother died, one of her colleagues had this little gem to share “I perfectly understand what you are going through and how terrible you must feel. Last fall, my dog died”. Kinda hard to beat this one, right?</p>
<p>On a more serious note: it looks like the experimental off label drug is not good enough to help me in a meaningful way. While on this drug, the cancer blood marker has been rising rapidly. So, finally, I have no choice but to go back to the pen: time to bring out heavy artillery. Really wanted to postpone it till at least after the summer. </p>
<p>I may lose hair again. Don’t mind for an aesthetic reason, but it’s a harsh reminder day in and day out. Besides, when I visit Asia this summer, this is a problem. I hate the wigs, but it’s a society that is very harsh against any sign of being different from the norm, and I don’t think I can get away wearing a cap in summer the way I did here in NJ without constantly having it as a major “discussion” point. Besides, during this trip, I am finally planning to share my condition with my mother, and I am afraid she is not going to be able to handle the daily reminder of my mortality as evidenced by either a wig or it has always been that way last 30 years. </p>
<p>I get to the heavy treatment next week. Meanwhile, I have been having several bouts of bowel obstruction. That was painful - literally! I was almost hospitalized but escaped the jail term since the obstruction cleared on its own by the time they were going through the admission process. I have singing bowels now. Really loud gurgling noises all the time. A veritable full orchestra. Are you grossed out yet? I always wanted to be an opera singer in next life time, and my bowels beat me to it. So, I am not fit for polite society. Perhaps, I can get a temp job in a freak show.</p>
<p>Humor aside, this latest set back marks the fourth regimen I failed on since my recurrence last September. I know what this sounds like on the statistical column. Yesterday afternoon, I sat down and thought about what now? By now, I have an official authorization to feel depressed and down by anybody’s standard. However, I could also think about all that I was given - the uncommon privileges I was showered with. A good career that let me reach a fairly meaningful position without compromising my values and mortgaging my integrity. Two great kids who are thriving in spite of all this. A most loving husband. Great friends. Many people don’t get these in their life time even if they live to be 100. So, I chose to feel blessed - and it was not an heroic act achieved with a grim determination. Easy enough when I put all the “negatives” and “positives” in separate columns. There was such preponderance on the “positives” column. </p>
<p>So, I am gearing up for the next round of this saga. I hope I do well. Losing four rounds in a row: this has never happened in my life in anything. A humbling experience, I must say. You may think it would teach me humility. Instead, I get feisty and rebellious. Still a lot of good things happening this summer - visits with friends. A first class trip (remember that?) to Asia with my son. A lot to look forward to.</p>