The Sick House

I remember as a child a ‘sick house’ in the neighborhood. ‘Don’t go into her house’ Mom admonished.  ‘Why not’ came my protest.  Sometimes she had her Grandson over, always marginally entertaining.  His parents were ‘golfers’.  But it wasn’t the Grandson, it was the cookies that always seemed warm and over sized, and usually served on her back step with some milk under the shade of the catalpa tree.   Raisin cookies without the raisins, for I had tasted a raisin cookie once.  If Mom knew I would be locked down for life, or at least until third grade.  So I would go and knock on the back door and ask for Roger, sometimes knowing he wasn’t there.  I was always invited into the kitchen and she always carried on a lively conversation getting me to talk more than I should have.  I could make her laugh and I liked her laugh.  Then out the door because ‘kids don’t eat in the house.’  Seemed ideal to me at the time.  Mom would ask where I had been,  ‘playing with Roger’.  ‘You didn’t go in the house did you?’  ‘No’ came my lie.  ‘Good, I do not want you in that house.’  ‘Why not?’  I would always ask and one day she turned, her face darkened and in her quiet voice she said ‘she has ringworm’.

I cannot imagine being ostracized for a common fungal infection.  Mom’s fear was rooted in her lack of knowledge, yet she preferred retaining her ignorance and fear over having a good relationship with a neighbor.  The poor woman must have had it once but Mom went firmly believing it was a life long calamity of the most contagious kind.  In my neighborhood I am the sick one in the sick house.  I can only imagine what impression some of my neighbors have.  I wonder how many of my Mom’s live about who fear the animal as mysterious and contagious.

I have learned to measure what I tell people, preferring to give them a card directing them to this journal rather than verbalizing my condition.  Without knowing their frame of reference I have no idea if I am generating interest, fear, compassion or boredom when answering questions about the animal and me.  It is best just to tell folks I am getting along just fine.  My closest friends and associates and of course any one who reads my journal know more than they care to I am sure.

I have decided to forgo pain medication as a regimen, deciding to take it on an as required basis only.  Once again this week I was plagued with the terrible pain of constipation.  After two days of laxatives washing down laxatives I resorted to the nuclear option yesterday at 3AM.  By early afternoon I was at last functional, with the knee numbing cramps gone.  I made it through the night without pain meds and skipped them this morning.  I hope the chemo has improved me enough that urinary pain is at least bearable.  The next couple of days should tell the tale for the time being.  Tragically I have found constipation to be a common thread among cancer patients.  Based on my Google experience I see there is plenty known about it but apparently little to do about it.  With all the research there are no available pain meds that will not also impact digestion.  If it were mine to do I would certainly want some effort put into finding a working alternative for pain relief that in and of itself does not create pain.