I am a tough guy.
There’s no way I would have said that seven or eight months ago, before pancreatic cancer. It’s nothing I thought I was. However, as they say, shit got real.
Recuperation seems to be in my wheelhouse. I’ve smashed most medical benchmarks. If a doctor said two weeks, it was three days. Stronger, faster¹.
Again, this is a major surprise. There is nothing which led me to believe any of this was likely… much less possible.
My stomach is still in upheaval. Instead of 80% upset it’s 80% calm. There’s still that 20%.
The most frustrating part of my recovery is physical weakness. Recently I’ve averaged 11-12 hours a day in bed. It shortens my day–too short already.
I run out of energy like a little kid. Much of the ability to pace myself is gone. Chalk this up to 28 days of radiation and Xeloda. As I detox this should ease.
Yesterday was a test. From the curb to our gate at McCarran was around 3,000 feet (thank you Google Maps). That’s a kilometer carrying one bag and dragging another.
¹ – I have written this sentence “Stronger faster,” “Stronger, faster” and “Stronger. Faster.” Each seems to have a grammatically correct use. Each looks wrong, including the version I’ve used. My English teachers would be happy this perplexes me in 2017.