If I divide my treatment into parts, it seems like I am at least two thirds of the way through: Part 1) Diagnosis and surgery; Part 2) Chemotherapy; Part 3) Radiation. It’s the old familiar cut, poison and burn. Still, I think there is a fourth part. I call it “The Waiting”.
After all the treatments are over, an abyss opens. No appointments, no treatments, I’m no longer actively fighting the cancer. It feels like surrender somehow. It’s time to wait and see if the battle was won or lost. Will there be another battle? Did we get it all? What’s going on in there that I can’t feel and don’t know about?
Dr. Cho says we’ll do some blood work every three months but mostly we will wait to see if I am symptomatic. What does that mean? Well, since breast cancer typically spreads to bone, lung or brain, we will wait for bone pain, headaches or respiratory symptoms. I wonder how I will know the difference between these pains and my ordinary aches and pains and headaches. “They’ll be worse.” Dr. Cho answers.
During my previous experience with cancer, I remember the high anxiety before each follow-up CT Scan. Gradually, it got easier and I finally came to believe the cancer was gone. Really, truly gone. That is, I believed it until this new cancer showed up. I know they are not related. Not directly anyway. But it does make me wonder if I have poor defenses against those wayward cancer cells that all of us have floating around in our systems. Is it my diet? Would this have happened if I had eaten better or exercised more faithfully or is it just happenstance?
I know there are people who do everything “right” and still get cancer and, of course, we see the reverse of that: people who do absolutely everything wrong and live long enough to wish they had taken better care of their bodies. I’ve already experienced that regret. Certainly I could have/should have done more to keep my arms toned instead of flabby, and to firm my midriff. I seem to have misplaced my waist altogether.
I suppose a certain amount of decay and decline is inevitable but I do see plenty of women my age or older still active and able to make their bodies obey their commands. They dance, hike, bike, run, compete and seem at home in their bodies. They travel the world, take cruises, see the sights from high places that they manage to climb with nary a complaint from hips, knees and feet. Is it just luck of the draw? Did they get issued better equipment at the starting gate? Or do they have invisible burdens, unknown ailments and painful memories?
I’m ashamed of my envy. I don’t want less for them. I want to celebrate their accomplishments and enjoy their activities even if it is only vicariously. I want to make plans for myself and to believe I will be able to live normally again. I want my life to stop getting smaller.
Perhaps it is silly to think there is some sort of cosmic balance or fairness to our existence. One need only open a paper or turn on the television to witness the truth that the world is full of extraordinary unfairness and injustice. That makes me think that it’s much more important to focus on our good fortune than on the things we wish we had. Why is that so hard to do?
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Sunday, August 30, 2009
Side Bar
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted to my blog. That is partly because I have been tired and caught up in treatment and treating the effects of treatment and partly because I couldn’t get past my own dark thoughts to write in what I consider my “true voice” which is one of hope and optimism. It now occurs to me that there is little use writing a blog to share my feelings if I edit out all the unacceptable feelings. I’ll try to keep Little Miss Sunshine in check but she’s pretty deeply embedded so I will have to resist her editing.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Hitting the Wall
This has nothing at all to do with Pink Floyd for those of you who remember his wall.
We have long used the term “hitting the wall” for saying, “I’m out of energy and done for the day”. Going through cancer treatment has redefined the wall. It is more impenetrable than before--a solid resistance to any activity whatsoever. What once was more like an encounter with a giant Sponge Bob it now more like a true wall, not a suggestion of a wall but very real rock and mortar WALL.
My daughter who suffers a long term chronic illness insists on wrestling with her wall. Getting the coffee pot set up the night before, putting those last few evening dishes in the dishwasher, doing those last few housekeeping chores that she doesn’t want to wake up to in the morning, just one more thing before she can let herself fall into bed. Sometimes she completes her tasks barely conscious or coherent. But for her it means she has won a small victory over the wall. The thing is, the wall doesn’t to like to be defeated. If will come around and get you some other way if you don’t respect it.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow when routines that were easily accomplished just months ago are now too much to do. I can’t help wonder how I got so much weaker and whether or not my strength will come back again. It’s one thing to accept that I can’t do what I could at 35, 45 or even 55, but what about just a few months ago. My routine activities from my previous life now seem like a hectic, busy whirl of action, movement and involvement.
I know things will change when my treatment is done. My strength will return and then I will get to decide how much of my past activity and commitments I can comfortably resume. I will do what my brave friend LaVae has done—reinvent my life. I am convinced that this is something we should do periodically and it shouldn’t take a life threatening illness or a major upheaval in our lives to persuade us to do it.
Things change—we change. The wall is just a reminder that what you can’t get through you may have to go around or outsmart. This is when you have to call up all your resources. Yes, the internet helps, but your best resource is your friends. You may not know why you picked such an interesting variety of friends but it is because one of them will have the answer to almost every problem you face. Time to cal them up, invite them over, send them an e-mail. And, zap, just like that an answer comes back that will put you on the right track.
If you don’t already have a circle of amazing smart friends, get started creating one. They will become more important than doctors or advice books in getting you through anything that turns your life upside down. Never underestimate the power of the wall to thwart you but NEVER ever underestimate the power of friends to get you over under around or through that wall.
.
We have long used the term “hitting the wall” for saying, “I’m out of energy and done for the day”. Going through cancer treatment has redefined the wall. It is more impenetrable than before--a solid resistance to any activity whatsoever. What once was more like an encounter with a giant Sponge Bob it now more like a true wall, not a suggestion of a wall but very real rock and mortar WALL.
My daughter who suffers a long term chronic illness insists on wrestling with her wall. Getting the coffee pot set up the night before, putting those last few evening dishes in the dishwasher, doing those last few housekeeping chores that she doesn’t want to wake up to in the morning, just one more thing before she can let herself fall into bed. Sometimes she completes her tasks barely conscious or coherent. But for her it means she has won a small victory over the wall. The thing is, the wall doesn’t to like to be defeated. If will come around and get you some other way if you don’t respect it.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow when routines that were easily accomplished just months ago are now too much to do. I can’t help wonder how I got so much weaker and whether or not my strength will come back again. It’s one thing to accept that I can’t do what I could at 35, 45 or even 55, but what about just a few months ago. My routine activities from my previous life now seem like a hectic, busy whirl of action, movement and involvement.
I know things will change when my treatment is done. My strength will return and then I will get to decide how much of my past activity and commitments I can comfortably resume. I will do what my brave friend LaVae has done—reinvent my life. I am convinced that this is something we should do periodically and it shouldn’t take a life threatening illness or a major upheaval in our lives to persuade us to do it.
Things change—we change. The wall is just a reminder that what you can’t get through you may have to go around or outsmart. This is when you have to call up all your resources. Yes, the internet helps, but your best resource is your friends. You may not know why you picked such an interesting variety of friends but it is because one of them will have the answer to almost every problem you face. Time to cal them up, invite them over, send them an e-mail. And, zap, just like that an answer comes back that will put you on the right track.
If you don’t already have a circle of amazing smart friends, get started creating one. They will become more important than doctors or advice books in getting you through anything that turns your life upside down. Never underestimate the power of the wall to thwart you but NEVER ever underestimate the power of friends to get you over under around or through that wall.
.
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