Today I saw my “terminal illness” psychologist. He told me it’s to be expected that I would be depressed after all I went through. It seems obvious, but I was so worried that it was all the Lupron and I lost perspective. I convinced myself that if I couldn’t handle Lupron I was failing myself and my wife. After all, I was thinking I had to be able to take the first line drug for our family’s benefit. Looking at it dispassionately now, most of the depression could very well have been from the illness and I completely ignored Casodex as a backup drug to replace the Lupron. Our minds can play tricks on us when we’re under a lot of stress. This session was a huge help. At the end of it I was feeling great and decided to come back to start the discussion on improving the purpose in my life.
These things are fragile, though. When I went home, my wife mentioned she’d found a dog at the shelter that we might want to adopt. For whatever reason, it threw me into another deep depression. Fortunately, by the end of the evening I came out of it and was fine. I don’t really know what was going on there.