Reflection 37: My new normal, for now*

* Dedicated to my new friend LH who is a cancer servivor and coined the phrases "new normal" and "new reality". 

  After over 8 1/2 months of living with the cancer melanoma, including the recovery of the disease, I have finally come to accept that there has been and will continue to be a significant change in me. I am living through a paradigm shifted from the “old normal” to the “new normal” because of the cancer. This is a new reality. (First verbalized by LH while we were discussing such things along with her husband over lunch, I think, or simply coffee. She is a breast cancer survivor and is learning her “new normal".)  

 Thinking back, the "new normal" has been taking place since my operation. I have just never completely rationalized it. That took a teaching moment for me to put this label on it. It happened a week prior to a Christmas concert I attended. 

 A good friend of mine invited me to the concert in her apartment complex. They have a common room where such events are held periodically. It is rather spartan, but it serves multi-purposes to the 55+ senior residents and has a stage up front. We sat about 6 rows back from the stage, in approximately the centre. 

 On stage there were two musicians, a man with a guitar and a drummer. Both seniors, were about the same age as their audience. The lead was the guitarist. He would introduce the song. They would both play and one or the other would have something to say afterwards. Sometimes there was hijinks.

 I could not make out anything that they were saying! It was just indistinguishable sound in high and low tones, and cadence. I could tell the different sounds of the guitar and the drums. But that is about all. 

 It was a defining moment. Of course I have known for years that I was loosing my hearing. I generally ignored it. My operation expedited that realization. But it was not until attending that Christmas concert that it really sank in! Really! 

 I was so disappointed. My body is taking change with a vengeance. Driving home, I realized that this, my friend, really was my new normal, for now. 

 Another I would like to write about also has to do with music. When I purchased my latest vehicle about a year ago, it came with "free" XM-Radio (for a year). The understanding was that I would purchase an annual subscription. Well, my hearing has diminished so appreciably that the benefits of having such a purchase do not outweigh the cost. I stopped my subscription. 

 No no, please don't read me wrong. This Reflection is not about sour-grapes. Not at all. I am simply writing about the transformation that I am going through. True, I have been going through it since my operation. But it is only now that I am acknowledging and accepting some of these changes; my new normal. I have a tendency to analyze teaching moments to a default. Give me a break please. I am after all a teacher. 

 Since I have no hearing on my right side and very little on my left (20%), I am constantly thinking of life as a deaf person and coping strategies. Stuff does happen. Turning to others, I have read books on Beethoven. If you are not aware, this second-most famous composer (Mozart is recognized as the most famous) gradually went deaf prior to composing his greatest musical scores. How he survives and overcomes misfortune is a lesson to be studied. His humanity -- his fears, anger, outright frustrations, love of composing -- comes through very strongly in those three books. He, and countless others, pick themselves up, brush themselves off and get on with living their new normal. A struggle? Indeed. But there are greater adversities. 

 Perhaps a greater new normal for me is my loss of appetite. I just don't care to eat. This was caused by the removal of a saliva gland causing the medical condition "dry mouth" and the radiation therapy that essentially disabled my taste buds. Food sticks to my teeth and gums. I have a little taste. Most foods tastes like cardboard. I have dropped from 183 to 164 pounds since June. I know this is unhealthy. But it is very difficult to muster the courage and desire to eat.

 My coping strategies consist of trying different foods and writing down the names of the ones that are the most appealing. (My list is short, believe me.) At Christmas, for example, I could not handle the traditional dinner, so I ate beans (the pork and bean variety out of a can) and smoked oysters. It is rather unconventional wouldn't you agree? This is not something that you will read about in A Christmas Carol.  

 I have been told on good authority that taste may return sometime in the future. I have heard perhaps a year or longer. In the meantime I will try different foods and record my findings. I am a firm believer in where there is life there is hope. Hey, maybe there is a book here in the offing!

 At the moment I see no magic pill that I can take with my type of cancer. Once it grabs you, you are in for the long haul. Medical folks talk about 5 years once recovery starts. When I first heard this, I thought it excessive. Now I don't. But hope must and will reign eternal. Never fear! I do have my teaching and will continue. I do have my writing and will continue. This is my new normal, for now. 

 To be completely candid, I am finding it harder now than my pre-op, surgery and treatments. Yes, my body is healing, but psychologically? My emotions tend to run amok. 

 I will continue to write for anyone who wants to read what I have to say or listen to me talk about head and neck cancer. I might even start a Speaker's Bureau. Speaking as a educator, head and shoulder cancer is a subject that cannot get too much dialogue, in my opinion. I refuse to sit in the corner of a dark room with the lights off. That does no good. Using a term from my military days, my "mission" is to stay focussed on my new normal.