I have never run a full marathon, but last fall I ran a half-marathon. Many of our experiences over the last months remind me a bit of running and can be divided into the sprints and the marathons. This is true from both the runner's point-of-view as well as the spectators'. Sprints are full of speed and have intense energy levels. They are fun to watch and only require a short moment of attention. Marathons (easier to say than half-marathons, although I'm speaking a little beyond experience) are long and steady and require perseverance. The observer has to pick strategic spots to cheer on the runners, but only catches short segments of the excitement, usually the beginning and the end and a few spots in the middle.
The initial discovery of the mass and the initial diagnosis. Sprint with lots of emotional energy.
The infection and the abscess. Sprint.
The first chemotherapy treatment. Sprint. Short course. New experiences.
Going home for the first time. Sprint.
Chemotherapy while the family is stricken with influenza. Probably a sprint for us, but marathon for observers.
Passing a kidney stone. Sprint for the observers. Feels like a marathon for the stricken one.
Being home between chemotherapy. I imagine it to be a marathon. We haven't experienced it to its fullest yet.
Today we discovered a new marathon. J had another spinal tap and received methotrexate (the greenish stuff) into his spine. After he returned to his room, he started cytarabine. This is going to run continuously over the next 5 days. Everything to this point has been infusions that last anywhere from 1 hour to 4 hours and then they just run fluids. Totally new for him to receive an endless drip of poison into his body. Hoping it doesn't make him feel too sick. That would make it feel like an ultra marathon.
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