I think and think and reason and research, and still I can’t make the best decision until it’s time to decide.
This from a strategic planning and organization change consultant!
I think I’m learning what it means to live in the moment. The moment comes when it comes, you can’t actually live it in advance, no matter how great your imagination is. To “get” the moment you have to be fully in it, you can’t be worrying about the past or, for that matter, the future.
Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever stop visioning and planning and imagining scenarios – that’s what opens up my curiosity and feeds my creativity. That’s all still good. It’s just that I’ve been known to pin stuff down too early and I’ve also been known to let decisions slip past that were important to make.
The trick is in knowing the moment. When it’s time to decide. When it’s time to act.
All last week, I struggled with cancelled chemo, and my low white and red blood counts. I rested. I fretted. I walked and enjoyed nature. Ate well. Got a massage, acupuncture, took my supplements. Didn’t answer phone calls, or spend too much time on the computer. I took good care of myself.
Yesterday, though, when it came time for chemo, my blood counts were still low. Low enough that the moment finally came down to the point where I had to make the decision: Do one final third treatment and call it quits; or take neupogen injections to push my bone marrow so my counts would come up and I could get myself to round 4.
In the final moment before we talked to Dr. Gosewehr, when it was just us in the waiting room, Dave and I struggled. He had more information to explain, I wouldn’t listen. In that moment, I chose to send him on an errand so I could meditate, get calm and be present to consider my options. We both know that it is my decision to make.
Dr. Gosewehr, who I am trusting with my life, came in and asked me what I thought. I explained all the back and forth information I had gathered – including what my heart was saying, my fears that my body is trying to convey to me it’s time to stop with only 3 treatments. I tell him how much I need to understand the choice. I let him know I am wavery.
Gosewehr said, “You could stop at three. You’ve got most of the good you’re going to get. But I think you should go for 4 or 5. This is your chance to kick this stuff out of your body once and for all. When I thought about it myself, I imagined you coming back here in two years. If that happened I would feel very bad; I would be mad at myself. If you were evidencing any nerve issues at this point then I’d say “bag it now”. But you’re not, it’s just your white cells need a boost.”
I think it was his use of the word “boost”: It’s such a friendly word.
Hence, yesterday morning – and tomorrow – and Saturday – (and perhaps for longer into next week) - I get injections in my abdomen. Right between two of the five scars from my hysterectomy. It doesn’t hurt. I don’t watch the needle go in. Onwards.