Thanks For Seeing Me Through Chemo

Jeff Cohen

Don't get used to this look.

Last Wednesday marked my last of six chemotherapy treatments to get rid of Hodgkin's lymphoma, which it appears they did. So I'm grateful I had the treatments and I'm REALLY grateful they're over. The next month or two will be devoted to feeling--and hopefully looking--like myself again.

But I didn't get through this alone. From the very first moment I was diagnosed (even before, to be accurate) I've had the support of many people in varying roles and degrees. And this is the time, now that treatment at least is in my rearview mirror, to acknowledge those people. I'll never be able to thank any of them enough but consider this a down payment on what I hope will be a very long period of gratitude and admiration.

If you were looking for snark this week you are going to be cruelly disappointed. Be back next week. I'm sure I'll be cranky then.

Thank you first and foremost to my wife and children. A support system is absolutely imperative to getting through something like this, and I couldn't have had a better one if I'd had my pick of the world's population. Jessica, Josh, Evie: I can't tell you how your love and your concern for me during this time has meant to me. You guys never asked what I needed; you just provided it. And I adore each and every one of you more than I could say in 1000 long novels, let alone a single blog post.

Thank you to the medical team that identified and beat my lymphoma. Big thanks to Kara Saggiomo, the advance practice nurse who was "in charge" of me, who saw me through each infusion and explained the stuff that my Liberal Arts brain was refusing to understand. She did it with grace and patience, both of which were sorely needed. Thanks to Dr. Roger Strair, the physician overseeing my case, for being straight with me, having a sense of humor, and telling me the secret of selling sodas in the old days at Yankee Stadium. Also Dr. Jeffrey Levine, my primary physician, for knowing when I needed to go see the specialists. Thanks to the nurses at the Rutgers Cancer Institute of New Jersey, particularly Lisa, Faryn, John, Kate and anyone I'm leaving out because the Benadryl made me forget your name. It wasn't intentional. Thanks to the man in the fedora and the glasses whose name I never knew but whose function it appeared was keeping a hopeful, joyful tone at the entrance to the treatment center. An amazing job.

Thank you to my friends on Facebook who rallied when I mentioned my illness. Put out a post that you're about to start chemo and you expect 20 or 30 people to respond with warm wishes. I got 483. Brought tears to my eyes, I'll admit. Thank you for respecting my wishes about prayers (go ahead and do what you want but don't tell me about it) for the most part and thank you for caring. That really did make it more bearable and will continue to do so for the next couple of months as I recover.

Thanks to my author friends. I won't name names because I know that embarrasses some people, but the mystery writing community has been amazing, mentioning my book when I couldn't fully promote it and just being there when I needed someone to unload on. You guys are terrific. Special mention, not so much an author at the moment: Dru Ann Love. Never has a person been more aptly named.

Thanks to Josh Getzler and everybody at HSG Agency. One of the worst aspects of the past few months has been the boredom because I wasn't working as much as usual. Josh made sure to call up with news even when there wasn't any, and it was a blast to see him and his wife and son at the NJPAC last week. We had all gathered to see Young Frankenstein with Mel Brooks in the house, and it was a fantastic way to gear up for my last treatment three days later. (I'd thank Mel Brooks, but does he read this blog? I think not.)

Thanks to the distractions. There are a lot of things about cancer that are awful. One of them is the constant thinking about... cancer. So anything that took my mind away has been a real gift. So thank you, Circe Link and Paul Melancon and The Marx Brothers and Speechless and Silicon Valley and Last Week Tonight With John Oliver and Full Frontal with Samantha Bee and Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (especially you, Drew Z. Greenberg!) and perhaps most of all the New York Yankees, who have not only taken my mind away but actually been unexpectedly good at the same time. The benefits to my sanity (such as it is) have been impossible to overestimate.

Thanks of course to readers of HEY THERE'S A DEAD GUY IN THE LIVING ROOM. Don't think I haven't noticed that visits spike when I've written about my cancer. Don't think I haven't appreciated each and every comment. We write this blog each week with hopes that you'll like it and respond. Knowing that you've done so a little bit more when I've needed you most was very touching and put a little wind at my back on days when I really needed it.

Of course thanks to my family and friends, especially my brother Charlie and my cousins Barbara and Linda, as well as my fake cousin Ken Cohen and my friend Jeff Pollitzer who have been checking in (usually when I'm about to take a nap because I'm always about to take a nap) and showing concern. There's no need to worry. I'm going to be fine.

Really. 

 

One more thing: Today is Memorial Day in the U.S. That is a day set aside to honor those who have lost their lives in the conflicts this nation has fought in. It's not "the official opening of summer" and it's not a day designated for backyard barbecues. It's also not Veterans Day, which is November 11 (originally called Armistice Day because they foolishly thought wars were over), a day to honor those who served and returned. So yes, have a nice time and enjoy the day off, but don't forget what it's meant to commemorate.

Comments

[Theresa de Valence]

Hey Jeff. Glad to hear you're doing well!

[Ritaestelle Christiano]

So much to be thankful for, Jeff!!!! So happy for you, my friend!!

Ritaestelle

[Jeff Cohen]

Thank you, Ritaestelle!

[Catherine Mokede]

I enjoy reading what you have to say whether you're soppy and thankful or cranky.

As are many others,I am thankful the chemotherapy is over and that you felt much support in getting through it.

I look forward to a new picture with hair. LOL

Catherine

[Elaine Charton]

I am so happy for you, Jeff! So glad chemo is over and you are healing.

[Linda Rodriguez]

Hurray, Jeff! I know (firsthand) how glad you have to be that you're done with chemo. And hurray for beating lymphoma also. Now, it's time to go back to living your life full speed ahead.

[Patty]

So happy that you survived the treatments and are on the road to recovery.

[Terry from DL]

Woo hoo! Now back to ... "normal"? Ha.

[Jeff Cohen]

It’ll take a while, but that’s the goal. Thanks!

[Aimee Hix]

Stay healthy and snarky, Jeff!

And moon cancer in the rearview on the way out of chemo-ville. ;)

[Jenny Milchman]

I knew you would make it through with your heart and your humor and your head, bald or hairy, intact...and I am so glad to read these words. Here's to your wonderful support system--and to you.

[Jeff Cohen]

Youre part of that support system, Jenny. Thank you.

Sent from a pretty old iPhone

[Lynne Patrick]

Hurray, hurray and thrice hurray! Now all you have to do is recover from the effects of the chemo. Love and hugs from across the Atlantic.

[Jeff Cohen]

Thanks, Lynne! It’s all a question of time now!

[Nora-Adrienne Deret`]

Hey Jeff,
My survivor wife and I are both thrilled that everything turned out well, and yes Dru is an amazing lady who I'm proud to call my friend.

Stay healthy because the world needs your words and laughter to keep us going.

[Joe]

Hodgkin's lymphoma is indeed life threatening.Hurray for the healing