Journaling was a major help to me when I was in chemo and radiation after my breast cancer diagnosis. I journaled every day, using collections that had both faith-based and secular prompts. It’s something that I have carried with me into my post-treatment life. I find that giving voice to the insanity helps keep it at bay.
I began a public blog to share parts of my cancer and survivorship journey in case it could help others. We all go though some crappy things in life, after all. One constant item in that blog is music. Much of my life I have sung along to an internal soundtrack. Old classic rock. Broadway show tunes. Indie guys with guitars. Disney. Jazz. So, I open each of my cancer blog posts with a musical verse.
One post sharing involved the boys of fall. Some Kenny Chesney, anyone?
It’s slinging mud and dirt and grass
It’s I got your number I got your back
When your back’s against the wall
You mess with one man you got us all
The boys of fall
The conversation with my oncologist’s office began simply enough.
“We’re calling to move the next infusions from Wednesday to Friday.”
Welp, that’s not gonna work.
“We know that you prefer Wednesdays.”
‘Prefer’ may not be a strong enough term.
“Is there a need for it to be Wednesday?”
Football season, ma’am.
I may have actually panicked when Nurse Michelle said that my chemo infusion schedule – which was weekly at that point – would have to move from Wednesdays to Fridays for the following 4 months. My infusions were delivered at a facility close to my home while my provider’s consolidated breast center was being completed. A change in where my personal medical team was slated to be stationed necessitated that I either change my weekly infusion date or drive to a distant site. Credit to Nurse Michele. She laughed once I explained that I needed an early week infusion to preserve my ability to watch football. Apparently, most of her patients valued a convenient location over watching the boys of fall.
In many ways, I wasn’t ‘most patients’. I was often frustrated at the side effects of chemotherapy. I took it personally when they hit. I was used to being active. The fatigue and my need to sleep offended my sense of self. I had found my routine, though. If I was infused on Wednesday mornings, that meant three days of being knocked on my FA. By Saturday I was recovered enough to slip into the weekend as an alert couch potato. And, I’d have had recovered my hankering for tastier foods like wings, pizza and chili. Are you ready for some football?
I have four football teams: two college, two NFL. Beyond that, I enjoy watching other games. I actually care how Clemson plays (please read that with a southern accent) and will watch Oklahoma just to root against them. That last part is a scar from childhood, but I digress. Some of my earliest memories were of old Green Bay Packers, and my dad and a few of his friends in our basement with stale Ballentine beer and staler cigarettes. My dad and his crew were tolerant of me and my sisters hanging out, absorbing the game. In retrospect, it was likely because we were there to change the channel and fetch more beers, even if we were barely 5 years old. Learning in those conditions was a gift; two of those men in that basement played in the NFL. It also formed my allegiances to Penn State and the Redskins. So yeah, I like football.
When I started spending time with Thor (Mr. Tessa), there were a few Laws of Tessa and Thor to be navigated. Law 1 of Tessa: Saturdays are for football. American football. You go do whatever you want. My FA is in a stadium or in front of a TV. Or both. Once I explained my need for football to my oncology team, my scheduled was sorted. It turned out that we could do infusions on Tuesdays at the center closest to my home. My weekends were preserved.
Back to Kenny Chesney. When you mess with one boy of fall, you mess with them all. It’s that way with authors. And it’s that way with you, our readers. You’ve got our backs. For that, I am indebted. I appreciate your follows, your insights, and your time.
Much love – Tessa
