This is What you do When The News is Not Great
I was not looking forward to my meeting with the oncologist yesterday. Just a feeling in my bones. Things aren't right.
Labs first. This is always a toss up. I have crappy veins. They roll, dive, and just fucking misbehave on a regular basis. So, I was pleased when the phlebotomist got me on the first stick. And I get it that my veins are mad. My whole body has basically had it with me. First, I get breast cancer, slice off both of my breasts and then pour deadly chemo into it, followed by radiation that leaves me with third degree burns all over my chest. That heals up and then just as I am starting to get my sea legs back, I get leukemia. So, I spend the next eight months basically torturing this poor body with arsenic. The arsenic kills the leukemia, but pretty much kills everything else, too. I was like a dead woman walking for months. I survive that somehow.....and don't ask me how because....seriously, I have no idea how I pulled that rabbit out of the hat. I truly wanted to die many, many times. My spirit was gone. But, my body just kept fighting.
Then...remission. The day that I was told I was in remission was December 6, 2017. I was 59 years old, but felt at least 90. I was so weak, had to use a cane to walk. But, there was an elation, too....a
HELL YES MOTHERFUCKERS
flying around my head. I had done it. Somehow, I had survived. The next six months were a slow process of waking up again. Finally, I felt as if I were making some real headway.
And then it hit again. The fatigue. The aching bones. The feeling inside that something was just not right. I hid it for a long time, that feeling. Told myself that I was just being silly. I had just been to hell and back, OF COURSE I was tired.
But, on the inside...that part that speaks to you at 3 a.m? I knew the gig was up. Something new was wrong. It was almost as if I could feel the slow rising of anger in my poor, tired body.
Not again. I can't do this again.
In November, 2018...almost a year after I had hit remission, I found out that my breast cancer had metastasized to one of the arteries in the center of my chest.
A mass was discovered. Biopsied. Diagnosed. I would once again have to go on chemo. Except this time, there would be no victory. I am really proud of the way I took that one on the chin. I cried, but not very much and rarely in public.
I decided to pick up the sword again and just fight until I couldn't anymore. What else could I do?
So, now I am on full time chemo again. It is not fun. There has been some progress over the years, but not a lot. Only 5% of the cancer budget goes to metastatic breast cancer.
I started full time chemo on December 28th. Yesterday was my first oncology appointment to see how I am faring.
Fair to middling. While my cancer markers show that the tumor in my chest is shrinking, my body is simply too weak to hold its own with the chemo. The chemo does not discriminate. It attacks everything in its way.
My white blood cells are not producing. My kidneys are showing signs of failure.
I am off chemo for a week to see if my body starts to re-engage again. If it does, I will go back on the chemo. If not? Well, that is to be determined. I may be given more time off from it. I may go on a lowered dose. We may try something different. I'll know more in a week.
Right now, I am trying to be good to my body. Suck it up. The sword is down. I am sitting quietly.
In bed, at night, I hold my body close in a hug. I cry silently.
Body, I am so sorry that this is happening to you. I know it seems unfair. You are tired. You don't want to fight anymore. That sword is just getting to be so heavy. I want you to know how proud I am of you. You never quit. You tried so hard. It is okay if you need to rest now. Do what you need to do. Maybe this respite from the chemo will give you a second wind and you can try again. Maybe not. Whatever you need....it's fine with me. Just know that I love you and I am sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to do that. I had no choice. I wanted SO BADLY for you to grow old and live to be 80 and read a ton more books, see more movies, sit and laugh with your kids, spend time riding in cars with T. But, I get it. You can only be expected to do so much. At least you went down fighting. No one can say you didn't.
I wish that I could see around corners, but I believe in my heart that it is best that I don't. If I have learned nothing else, I have learned to take one day as it comes.
One beautiful day at a time.
Labs first. This is always a toss up. I have crappy veins. They roll, dive, and just fucking misbehave on a regular basis. So, I was pleased when the phlebotomist got me on the first stick. And I get it that my veins are mad. My whole body has basically had it with me. First, I get breast cancer, slice off both of my breasts and then pour deadly chemo into it, followed by radiation that leaves me with third degree burns all over my chest. That heals up and then just as I am starting to get my sea legs back, I get leukemia. So, I spend the next eight months basically torturing this poor body with arsenic. The arsenic kills the leukemia, but pretty much kills everything else, too. I was like a dead woman walking for months. I survive that somehow.....and don't ask me how because....seriously, I have no idea how I pulled that rabbit out of the hat. I truly wanted to die many, many times. My spirit was gone. But, my body just kept fighting.
Then...remission. The day that I was told I was in remission was December 6, 2017. I was 59 years old, but felt at least 90. I was so weak, had to use a cane to walk. But, there was an elation, too....a
HELL YES MOTHERFUCKERS
flying around my head. I had done it. Somehow, I had survived. The next six months were a slow process of waking up again. Finally, I felt as if I were making some real headway.
And then it hit again. The fatigue. The aching bones. The feeling inside that something was just not right. I hid it for a long time, that feeling. Told myself that I was just being silly. I had just been to hell and back, OF COURSE I was tired.
But, on the inside...that part that speaks to you at 3 a.m? I knew the gig was up. Something new was wrong. It was almost as if I could feel the slow rising of anger in my poor, tired body.
Not again. I can't do this again.
In November, 2018...almost a year after I had hit remission, I found out that my breast cancer had metastasized to one of the arteries in the center of my chest.
A mass was discovered. Biopsied. Diagnosed. I would once again have to go on chemo. Except this time, there would be no victory. I am really proud of the way I took that one on the chin. I cried, but not very much and rarely in public.
I decided to pick up the sword again and just fight until I couldn't anymore. What else could I do?
So, now I am on full time chemo again. It is not fun. There has been some progress over the years, but not a lot. Only 5% of the cancer budget goes to metastatic breast cancer.
I started full time chemo on December 28th. Yesterday was my first oncology appointment to see how I am faring.
Fair to middling. While my cancer markers show that the tumor in my chest is shrinking, my body is simply too weak to hold its own with the chemo. The chemo does not discriminate. It attacks everything in its way.
My white blood cells are not producing. My kidneys are showing signs of failure.
I am off chemo for a week to see if my body starts to re-engage again. If it does, I will go back on the chemo. If not? Well, that is to be determined. I may be given more time off from it. I may go on a lowered dose. We may try something different. I'll know more in a week.
Right now, I am trying to be good to my body. Suck it up. The sword is down. I am sitting quietly.
In bed, at night, I hold my body close in a hug. I cry silently.
Body, I am so sorry that this is happening to you. I know it seems unfair. You are tired. You don't want to fight anymore. That sword is just getting to be so heavy. I want you to know how proud I am of you. You never quit. You tried so hard. It is okay if you need to rest now. Do what you need to do. Maybe this respite from the chemo will give you a second wind and you can try again. Maybe not. Whatever you need....it's fine with me. Just know that I love you and I am sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to do that. I had no choice. I wanted SO BADLY for you to grow old and live to be 80 and read a ton more books, see more movies, sit and laugh with your kids, spend time riding in cars with T. But, I get it. You can only be expected to do so much. At least you went down fighting. No one can say you didn't.
I wish that I could see around corners, but I believe in my heart that it is best that I don't. If I have learned nothing else, I have learned to take one day as it comes.
One beautiful day at a time.
Comments
Post a Comment