J. Michael Jones

We have made it thought another day and the second session of dialysis, separated by one day of plasmaphersis. It has started as a better day, physically.  I got up and gave my own sponge bath (can’t shower with a central dialysis line in). I then did a little reading and walked about 1/2 mile around and around the hospital corridor. Had a negative encounter with my nurse (over her attitude), then we became friends. She came and sat with me for a while and we then swapped funny stories.

Saw my (nephrololist) doctor about noon. One more tiny, tiny bit of positive news. Despite the fact that I did plasmaphersis (which is trying to remove the bad cancer protein that’s plugging up my kidneys but does not help my kidneys directly) my kidneys improved (via blood tests) on their own overnight, very slightly. My  nephrologist (very, very bright) flashed one of her rare smiles and said, “There is some  hope.” She is speaking of hope of saving my kidneys, the cancer is another matter.

I went through a period of emotional collapse  as I was hooked up to machines for three hours and can see out the window, the beautiful hills that I loved to hike. My kids are coming to visit and it stirs up the emotions. I hope to meet someone who started out this badly and still survived, that would be helpful.

I’m not a strong person and have no pretense to be. I hate pretentiousness entirely. I know I will have bad days and better days.

I am honest when I say I feel no bitterness (at this point). Maybe that will change. But honestly, it isn’t because have have a strong faith, it is because I’ve suffered great disappointments in my life before and I had to work through them in minute and hard detail (the well spring of my book, Butterflies in the Belfry).

It is odd, that while I understand Denise’s fear, fear is not a big part of my issue. I think it is because cancer is the most scary thing you fear, then once its here, what’s left to fear?

I don’t have doubts, not in God’s goodness or the fairness of life. I’ve had to work through those issues in the past as well, so, at this point, I feel satisfaction.

My biggest fear, speaking honestly, is being forgotten by my family. I know that sounds strange, but I’m just being honest about it and I have to find a way to deal with this emotion.

People respond toward the sick in their own way. By far, people have been very kind, caring and at worst, aloft. I fear the superficial response. What I mean is, someone telling me that I should “Cheer up, God did this for a reason, to teach you patience.” I will slug them with the strength that I have left.

If surviving this cancer is climbing Mount Everest, then maybe today I got one crampon on, on one boot . . . still unlaced.