Looking Forward….with a smile!
Mile 23 or so…just like in running, by this time, I forget where in the heck I am, and so I can only keep trudging doggedly onward. Then, suddenly, I’m in the shoot, I’m done, and I’m wolfing down whatever goodies are served at the finnish line, with a ridiculously large finnishers’ medal around my neck and swatting me in the belly with every step! Suddenly, I can’t remember what in the world I’d been complaining about a few miles back…I’m wondering where and when the next marathon might be, that I could be ready for!
I’m sure that I’ll never be looking for another opportunity to do chemo again, but in hindsight, as I have finnished round 7 of 8, it hasn’t been so bad. I felt alot of the time like I had a really bad cold. I was so tired from the medicine, combined with putting on a wig and a happy face 6 and sometimes 7 days a week to teach, that I missed several important events. I didn’t have the energy to do many of the things I love. And geez, did I look BAAAAD!
BUT!!! I didn’t have to cancel students unless I had a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t have to give up my music studio and move home with my parents! I kept on going, maybe on 2 cylinders instead of 8, but the bottom line is, I’ve kept moving forward! (Thanks in large part to my team!)
Instead, I’ve grown a braver spirit. I’ve learned that friends and family love me even when I’m at my worst! (I don’t think I ver really believed that.) I’ve learned that things are never as bad as you think they’re going to be. There’s always some sort of silver lining to the cloud you’re under!
I was wandering around the chemo ward last Friday. Some of the medicine was making my legs jump. I was standing there with my IV pole, talking to an elderly gentleman who was also tired of sitting around. We both sported hats on our bald heads.
“What are you having treatment for?” he asked me.
“I had breast cancer. Now we’re just making sure it doesn’t come back!”
“Breast cancer isn’t even real cancer anymore!!” he declared.
It took me all of about 3 seconds to stash away my indignation. Not real cancer, my A–! I thought.
As it turns out, he has bone cancer. Surgery, lots of radiation, and 10 months of chemo…all that does indeed make 3 months of chemo for breast cancer seem like a walk in the park. All I could do is tell him how brave I think he is, and that aren’t we lucky that we live in a time and place where we can get a pretty good prognosis!
He asked me, “What’s your prognosis?!”
“Mine’s really good! How about yours”
“It’s only as good as you make it! And as bad as you let it be. God bless!”
Something about that lttle man annoyed me , and yet I was struck by the truth in what he said. Truly, what good is a 100% cure if the person cured doesn’t do amazing things with his/her life?! Feeling sleepy again, I meandered back to my little room, where Jenny was working on her computer, and snuggled up to ponder what I could do to become amazing someday, in that I am blessed with a good prognosis!
As Jenny tucked my blankets snugly around my feet, and moved the table with my snacks and water over so I could reach them easier, I was moved by how loved I am. How can I not get better and do something amazing someday, when I’m surrounded by so much love and truth?
Only 12 days left, then I’m done with chemo! I’d roar but I’m tired and emotional, in a happy way!
