Cruise Control
A couple of years ago, I took a road trip with my nephew and my dog, Gracie. We explored Flagstaff, Arizona, the Grand Canyon, the Petrified Forest, Moab, and visited family in Colorado. It was a great trip. The three of us loved it. Sadly, Gracie is now in doggie heaven. My wife and I don’t have kids, so she was our baby and I’m still heartbroken. But I’m glad she got to experience snow and lakes and oceans and the American Southwest. I digress.
On the road, my nephew and I split the driving responsibilities. A lot of the trip was on wide open roads. My nephew loved using cruise control on the long straight stretches of road. Me, on the other hand, preferred keeping my foot on the gas pedal. I just feel like I have more control. Cruise control makes me nervous. I feel like if the car is on cruise control, I’m not totally in control in the car.
Cruise control was the goal
When I was first diagnosed, my doctor said the goal with treating my cancer is to be on cruise control, meaning my disease is stable and my only conversations with the doctor are to say hello and verify everything is alright. It took a while to get there, but I’ve been on cruise control for the past few years. I’ve been on the same treatment regimen for four years and my disease is stable. With telemedicine, I almost never see my doctor anymore. Our calls the day before my monthly infusion last maybe five minutes. One minute on how I’m feeling and four minutes about what each of us has been up to. Last month we talked about intermittent fasting.
And don’t get me wrong, being stable and on cruise control is great. And I feel pretty darn good. Unfortunately, just like on the road trip, cruise control makes me a little nervous. It’s hard to explain and perhaps hard to understand, but I feel like my head always needs to be on a swivel. I need to be aware of any changes in how I’m feeling. I need to review my monthly labs for any changes in my numbers. A couple of months ago my hemoglobin took a 10% drop. I’d been feeling tired at the same time, so I began to worry I was becoming refractory to my treatment. My doctor said not to worry. The next month, everything was back to normal. Cruise control continues.
Waiting for something to change
On the road trip, my nephew would switch off cruise control if the road conditions warranted. And then he’d turn it back on when the road was clear. I tried it and I just couldn’t get into it. And with my myeloma, being on cruise control should keep me calm and for the most part I am calm and without anxiety. But a small part of me hates cruise control. It’s as if that small part of me is waiting for something to change or a hazard. It’s not a good way to embrace my relatively good health. Life is too short and time flies by too fast.
So let’s all stay vigilant and on top of what we need to do for our health. But we also need to not talk ourselves into being stressed out. And when I say “we” and “all”, I’m really telling myself these things. Cruise control is a good thing. Cruise control is a good thing.
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