We are well on the way to accepting our new reality, the world of my husband Howard Natenshon’s cancer treatment which countless people before him have endured.
Every day we hear of somebody in treatment somebody who is recovering, has recovered, is not recovering, will not recover, will soon be on hospice, will not make it, will die.
The force of life is so irrepressibly strong that most of us cling to life until the very last gasp.
Our hope for Howard is as strong as his will to keep on the side of living. I must confess I had a few days contemplating the possibility of widow’s weeds. My daughter says even in their joy, the Irish take comfort in knowing that misery is just around the corner.
Howard’s professional life has been dedicated to the early detection of breast cancer and now is in the 80th percentile of cures — approximately the same odds as his lymphoma, which is in the 70th to 80th percentile. This is where my hope now resides and so does his — the optimistic odds on which he encourages his breast cancer patients to focus.
Now he has to take his own advice.
I’m told that often when a patient is getting out of her hospital Johnny, back in her street clothes, ready to leave the hospital, he will suddenly appear and tell her, her study is normal.
He knows a two-week wait for a primary care practitioner’s result can be an eternity.
Your study is normal, he says as if appearing from nowhere, thrusting a box of chocolates or donuts into the startled patient’s hands.
Go home and relax.
Thank you, Dr. Natenshon, I was terrified of a recurrence.
No need, he says. You’re good to go.
I was attending a harp workshop a few years ago and one of the other harpists said to me, is your husband a mammographer?
Yes, he is.
Why? I asked.
Recently I had a mammogram, and as I was leaving the department after my study, a man in a big raccoon coat with powdered sugar around his mouth said, before you leave, I just want you to know your mammogram is normal.
Are you the radiologist?
She was face to face with a Grizzly Adams lookalike in an X-ray Department.
I am, he said. Sometimes, they let me out of my cave.
Powdered sugar — the tell-tale evidence of his struggle with his sweet tooth. He should be more worried about his diabetes.
Instead, he is intent on saving the world one donut at s time. His mission is even more intense since Adam’s Donuts reopened.
He has cut his work schedule back to two days a week.
On days he is not working, he leaves the house at the crack of dawn. Where are you off to I ask him? Why don’t you relax?
Relax?
I have my donut delivery to do. I’m off to the compost office at Martin’s Farm, the guys at the dump, the ER, The Body Shoppe, Agway and Jennie and Yanis.
He picks up his bread order at Rise Above. I don’t want them to go out of business — his explanation for bringing me home a dozen croissants, six baguettes and four sourdough loaves. What am I going to do with them? I whine. This could feed all the inmates at the Franklin County Jail.
We can use them on Saturday when I have my head-shaving party. I had better have my head shaved soon. I have hair in the palm of my hands.
Isn’t that the first sign of insanity? I said.
I think I’m sane enough, he said except … for the donuts.
No, it came out the side of my head. That’s chemo for you!
Now, I won’t even be able to do a comb over.
We had The Great Shave and Shearing last Saturday, Sept. 18.
It was a fundraiser for Wheeling for Healing started by Bruce Mainville and Howard, which provides help for cancer patients in Franklin County who may need money for a taxi to get for treatment or groceries or child care.
Last Saturday, Cherie Roland’s buzz shaver was the accompaniment to “Hallelujah” performed by my loyal musician friends as Howard’s hair was ceremonially shorn for his favorite charity.
Michael Haley MC was the Wizard Of Hair — costumed by Ann Steinhauser.
There was much to celebrate, laugh, sing and be grateful for, especially a man who would — despite his diagnosis — consider himself lucky.
We also all felt lucky on this past Saturday morning: $6,000 was raised so far Wheeling For Wheeling.
You can donate by going to “Howard‘s The Great Shearing” on the website: justgiving.com.
Rosemary “Rosie” Caine, a musician, lives in Greenfield.