Dang Lucky!!!
On Easter Sunday, I awoke after a long week of side effects that just wouldn’t go away. They weren’t the scary, life-threatening kind, just the kind that crap out my attitude. When my attitude isn’t in gear, then I lose my will to eat healthy and drink enough water (8 to 10 glasses/day, and some doctors say that’s still not enough for someone on chemo!) I don’t feel like looking or being nice, not to anyone, including myself.
Anyhow, after a week of that nonsense, I rose like a pheonix and looked at my not-so-noble savage noggin. I looked into my eyes; after forcing a smile, I realized that I don’t look like such a sick person when I smile! And I said “Enough! Time to join the living!”
I put on my running clothes, ate some healthy stuff, packed a water bottle and drove out to the redwoods. That is my healing place. I have religious friends who wish I’d go to church. But the redwoods are like church to me. I ran for about an hour, thinking funny thoughts and some sad ones too. I wish I could be one of those heroically brave women who beat the hell out of cancer and smile and laugh and look great doing it. But I’m not. I cry and complain and whine alot. I worry that I’ll never get through it, and that when I do, it’ll just happen again in a few years.
But then I reflected on the fact that I’m going to be 39, the day after Easter! And when I recieved this diagnosis last October, I wasn’t sure if I’d be spending my birthday in a hospital, or if I’d even be alive. I remember during the surreal process of the biopsy, being perfectly awake and capable of talking. I was scared, and so I talked alot with the doctor and the nurse.
“Well, of course this is an early dectection, if it is cancer, right?!”
The radiologist sort of sniffed and looked at me as if he wished I were asleep, and would stop ptting him on the spot with all these questions. “Well, sometimes with women under 40, it’s not, because you don’t get screened. We’ll just see.”
“Well, if it is cancer, then of course I’ll survive, right? I mean, they treat this all the time. It’s easy! Right?!”
Again, the sniff, and the serious eyes looked away from his screen and into my eyes. “Yes, people survive. It depends on what type of tumor it is, whether or not it’s easy to treat.”
“Well, it’s not cancer, right? We don’t get this in my family! And you can’t tell just by looking, and I don’t have time for cancer…” (Silence from the doctor.) “DeAnne, 4 times out of 5, when I biopsy someone, it’s nothing. But when it looks like this, 4 times out of 5 it is. But it’s treatable, OK ? We have to biopsy these two sites to see.”
“I see.” And I wasn’t happy. “So, tell me about your kids! Or, any fun vacations?!”
After the diagnosis I met with a nurse/counselor. I told her I wanted to be brave and not torture the people around me with my moods and self-pity. She said there is no graceful way to get through this. It’s not a Ghengis Khan-styled raid or a Stormin’Norman type of battle brilliantly won. It’s more like a white-water rafting excursion when you’ve been capsized. “DeAnne, you will bounce from one shore to a boulder, grab ahold of a log, and breathe for a moment until the next current grabs you. The currents are like phases of treatment. You, too shall get through it, and after about a year, you’ll be all done and fine! And you won’t have gotten through it the way you’d ever thought you would.”
But here I am, dang lucky! I’m not stuck in a hospital. I’m out running in my favorite place! I’m going to celebrate another birthday when I had once been unsure that that would happen!!! I’m not at 100%, but someday soon i probably will be. I have an excellent team of doctors. And I’m blessed with a dear and loving family who will move heaven and earth for me. And great friends!!! And I looked at my calender. Out of 100 days of chemo, I have only 46 left to go! YOU KNOW I’m on the countdown!!!
Yup, I’m dang lucky!
April 6th, 2010 at 7:41 pm
I like that analogy: white-water rafting when you’ve been capsized! It definitely lets you off the hook, I’d say, because all you can possibly do IS breathe and look for the next boulder to grab onto. Your journey is all your own, and if it’s not as graceful as you would have wished bah-hooey! Just keep breathing and grabbing on and surviving.
The realism and honesty in your blog will surely help other people who also get capsized and also maybe wish they could smile and laugh their way through it but just really can’t.
I’m glad you got to run, and in redwoods no less!