Update, basketball

Met with my oncologist Nestor this afternoon. He said I shouldn't freak out too much about the increased CEA number because it's too soon to tell whether the chemo is working and may bring that number back down. I have chemo tomorrow afternoon. I hate the chemo. It feels like going to your own execution - except they don't kill you, just make you really sick and then send you home. And the people are very nice and cheerful.

To make myself feel better, I played basketball yesterday and today. Two games of full court yesterday and about four games of half court today. I'm tired now, but the part of my tiredness that's from basketball is a good tired. I figured I should play while I have the chance, since I will be wearing the gross chemo pump for the next few days.

I used to be pretty quick on the court. Not Chris Stark quick, but pretty good for our game (Chris is the fastest guy in our game). But now I am soo slooow. I'll go into a move that used to work well, and halfway through I'm thinking: this is taking a long time, and it's not working so well, as the defenders go and get a drink and come back. And I used to have pretty good hops. In my 20s, before my knee surgeries, I could dunk - not bad for a 6'2" white guy. But now any rebounds I get are due to position, not height off the floor. I have to "do my work early," as they say (work to get good position before the ball goes up).

But speaking of quick and hops, Lucky Tedrow was on a tear today. He drained his first three three-pointers. When he got the ball again, he pump-faked his defender into the air and drove around him. With a mighty grunt he launched himself from just inside the foul line. As he soared through the air he adjusted the velcro flaps on his snazzy shoes, just before slamming the ball through the hoop, hanging on the rim, and inviting his erstwhile defender to taste his salty nuts. Personally I thought that was a bit much, but if I could make that play I suppose I'd talk some smack too.

But seriously, I have felt very supported by our little basketball community. A lot of the players have let me know in little ways that they know about my situation and they're pulling for me, which I appreciate.

As my friend Eric and I have talked about (and he wrote about in his excellent novel "Winners," which I highly recommend http://www.amazon.com/Winners-Eric-B-Martin/dp/1596921617 - perfect for every Christmas stocking!), pickup basketball friendships are a funny thing. Most of these guys I rarely see off the court. And yet in some ways we are close - for the past 8 years I have sweated, competed, collided, argued, made up, high-fived, and celebrated with them.

Ethan