The devil you know

Just going to put my thoughts out there, but I promise I will also include a real update on Eric and our family in the midst of the cacophony. 

Many, many years ago (as in high school, so forgive me if anything I say is not totally accurate), I learned about unstable versus stable equilibria in systems governed by differential equations. Differential equations are essentially mathematical models of real-world continuous change (water dripping, stock markets shifting, telomeres decaying). In a system at stable equilibrium, like the average human body, a small nudge in one direction is slowly corrected back to the equilibrium by countering forces. You get sick with a cold, you get a fever, but your immune system responds, and your temperature goes back to 98.6. In an unstable equilibrium, even a small displacement causes the system to accelerate away from equilibrium and can ultimately result in resonance/oscillations around the equilibrium that ultimately break the system. 

Before cancer, I think we were in a stable equilibrium. But now, though our lives have gone back to an equilibrium, I fear it is less stable. 

Let me be more concrete. Eric is stable. His cancer is currently no longer visible on MRI (no longer macroscopic). He is now taking the targeted biologic therapy to try to prevent tumor regrowth. But glioma is an incurable cancer, at least with current technology. It will come back someday. The question isn't if, at the moment, but when. 

That's scary. We live with an astounding amount of uncertainty all the time. Tomorrow, I could have a stroke and die. The chances are never zero. But we tolerate the uncertainty precisely because it is so unpredictable. But when the uncertainties become more predictable, they become less tolerable. At least for medical fears, the devil you know is worse than the devil you don't, in my opinion. In day to day life, we try to ignore this specter, but once remembered it is hard not to be scared.

Also, there are residual damages from the surgery that have changed our lives in more subtle ways. Eric's speech has improved dramatically, but it still degrades when he is tired. In addition, he gets overstimulated easily, and tasks that used to be straight forward for him take much longer, especially if he is in a noisy environment. 

Unfortunately, there is not much about life as a doctor parent household with three young children that is not noisy. Eric used to have 10-12 hour work days, but now those days are longer because it takes him longer to finish tasks.  He used to have to work at night or on the weekend for an hour to catch up with notes and patient messages, but now it's more. He used to be stressed about being behind, but now the stress is worse because he is more behind, and because he feels his performance as a physician is compromised by his cognitive deficits and aphasia. In addition, he gets tired more easily, which is problematic as he is now having to work even harder.  In addition, he has to take lots of breaks from the kids, as they are often overwhelming for him.

Now for my pity party moment. All of this means that even more of the parenting, housework, and other cognitive load (bills, birthday parties, etc.) is falling on me. I was the primary person doing these things before this happened because residency is very hard with three kids, but now it's shifted even more. In addition, I am trying to transition from fellow to independent physician scientist at a time when funding is extremely tight and science is tenuous, which has resulted in a lot of stress at work for me. So I also have more stress at work, more stress at home, and more general anxiety given the uncertainty of Eric's medical future. I sometimes feel burned out, alternately with home and work life. 

This isn't to say that things are bad. Things are so much better than they could be, and I am generally still very happy with my life. Eric could have terminal stage 4 cancer, but he does not, he has the best possible kind. We could be immigrants worrying for our bodily safety, but we aren't. We could be struggling with housing or food insecurity, but we are not. We could live in the middle east and be fearing for our lives imminently, but we do not. I enjoy spending time with my children, and with Eric, and with friends. We still get to do things on the weekend and plan ahead for the future. Eric is on a miraculous treatment that may prolong his remission for years. 

So, overall, life is good. I'm just tired, and the fatigue is accumulating. But it's looking like spring outside, finally, and spring is my favorite season. There is nothing more motivating than sun, flower buds, and warm afternoons. So please don't worry about me. I'm doing alright, and so is Eric. Things are still at equilibrium, and I promise I will let you know if they change, if you are close to me. 

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