A text yesterday afternoon from the oncology nurse asked me to return for a “red blood cell shot” this morning. I subsequently checked the results of the lab draws two days ago: quite low red blood cell count and the lowest platelet count in my records. Not entirely clear on how important this might be, I readily agreed; despite the fact that it conflicted with an online meeting I had confirmed only a short time earlier. Calling these frequent interruptions to my “schedule”—such as it is—annoying would be an understatement. I’ve gotten used to them, though, more or less. Fortunately, my meeting partners are flexible, so I was able to change the meeting time. And I have become more malleable, thanks to the realities of dealing with cancer treatment. But yesterday’s last-minute change to my schedule tested my tolerance. I felt tension increase in my neck and back. My jaws tightened. I reacted with anger to something that was not especially important. That kind of reaction seems to be more common in me of late. Metaphorically speaking, the peaks are higher, the valleys are lower, and the vast stretches of flat, endless desert extend farther in every direction. I suppose it’s a matter of being tense and tired of an mental state of mind that feels heavier and more burdensome by the day. The fact that I know the “burden” is not really heavy at all makes it all the more irritating.
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When NASA was the focus of this country’s space-flight program, I remember feeling intensely proud of the team that regularly accomplished remarkable feats. Even though I had no connection to the space program, I felt it was something “we” could embrace as our own. NASA was “ours.” “We” could take pride in the fact that “we” achieved the almost unimaginable. Today, though, space exploration is by and large a commercial venture. NASA subcontracts to for-profit companies whose executives and investors are in it for the money and the fame. When joint space exploration ventures between nations made international cooperation seem increasingly achievable, peace between nations was a realistic goal. For me, space exploration has lost its luster as a symbol of international collaboration in pursuit of exciting objectives. It has become competitively capitalistic. Farming out various aspects of what once was the singular province of NASA has cheapened the concept of looking star-ward. I doubt the pride I once felt will ever return. Space exploration has become a commercial competition like Ford versus GM. It’s depressing. It really is.
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I’m thinking of Duck-Duck and clan this morning, wondering how they and their beasts are doing. I saw a photo of their lonely mailbox, poking forlornly out of the snow, on Facebook and, then, in the local rag. One day soon, when my energy is reliably higher than it is, I will visit. You read that, Duck-Duck?
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I started yesterday with a boost of energy that lasted into the afternoon. But that peaked long before sunset. By 6 PM, I plunged into a valley that allowed me to sleep for the remainder of the day and through the night. At this moment, I feel moderately “strong,” but already I feel drained again, as if I could sleep through the end of the world. I am so damn tired of being tired.
