Shelter from the Storm

'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood,
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud;
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.
* * *
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail;
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.

--Bob Dylan, "Shelter from the Storm" from Blood On the Tracks (1974).

I think, therefore I am.
--Rene Descartes, Le Discours de la Methode, pt 4 (1637).

I think I am, therefore..?
--Me ( 2007)

I've had my head cracked open and half of a baseball sized tumor removed. 31 fractions of "targeted" brain radiation. Brain chemotherapy with Temodar. 37 fractions of radiation for the lung tumor. Carboplatin and Taxol chemotherapy. Stereotactic radiosurgery for brain metastases. A second stereotactic radiosurgery for new brain metastases.

It's all taken quite a mental toll. I'm not talking about psychologically, although all of the treatment does exact a toll in that manner, too. I am talking about physical, structural changes to the brain. While the cancer researchers and companies that employ and/or finance them, are always quick to trumpet the latest "breakthrough" treatment which generally involves squeezing a couple more weeks (and occasionally, a month or two) of life out of us, there is almost never any talk about the mental deterioration that takes place with the "treatment advances."

If you have time, take a look at the letters that go with this link on Leroy Seivers' cancer blog on the National Public Radio site dated 5/1/07:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/mycancer/2007/05/why_is_cancer_news.html#commentSection

I've experienced nearly every type of instance mentioned in the letters that accompany that blog. I've come home with milk from the store and immediately put in in the cupboards with the dishes. I've gone to the grocery store intending to purchase one specific item, ended up coming home with two or three bags full of groceries, but still missing the item I went to the store for in the first place on several occasions. Forgetting what I went out to the kitchen to get, and returning to the family three or four times in a row before finally being able to get whatever I had intended to get, and sitting back down with the item in my possession. Short term memory seems most severely affected. Long term memory hasn't really been affected. I remember telephone numbers that people had 20 years ago, but can't remember details of conversations that I had yesterday. Names, even with people I've known for years, are sometimes impossible.

Everyday objects are sometimes the toughest to remember. Give me one of those things you put the coffee in (mug). Losing your train of thought in mid-sentence. I used to know all twenty-nine exceptions to the hearsay rule. Now, don't even bother asking me .

I used to know the artist for every one hit or two hit wonder band from the 60's, 70's and 80's (e.g. "Car Wash"--Rose Royce (1976)). "The Night Chicago Died"--Paper Lace, (1974). I remember one time sitting with my friend Bruce and Melissa in a bar in Omaha, and they had a D.J. giving away free beer and t-shirts and other assorted crap for people who could name the title of the "obscure" songs he was playing. I was not only naming the songs, but naming the band, the year, the album and really pissing the the D.J. off until he decided our table couldn't win anymore. (the three of us had several t-shirts and about six pitchers of beer on table at that point). So I started feeding answers to the other tables near us. I think the game ended a little earlier that night than it usually did. I wasn't trying to show off (well, maybe a little :-)) ; it was just something I knew.

Now, I usually have to look the stuff up on the Internet if I want to find it. And still, that doesn't always work. People (especially Melissa ) used to be able to ask me what song is "Da na na, Duh na na" and I could say, "You Dropped a Bomb on Me", The Gap Band, (1980), " no problem. I can't really do that anymore.

As one of the letters to the NPR blog says "My mind used to be a steel trap. Now it's a colander." An extremely apt description, unfortunately. Sometimes my mind can find a circuitous route and come up with the correct answer; other times, it tries to make the direct leap across the colander, and the information goes down the hole like so much water. Another person commented that we need to stop giving these conditions such silly names like "chemo brain" and "radiation fog", so doctors, researchers, and others take these things seriously. I agree wholeheartedly.

Now, what in the hell did I just agree to?