Team DeAnne

Mile 6.4, complete!  Attitude crisis, complete, and currently resolved!  Like I always say, mile 6 of a marathon, which equates to the time between Round 2 and 3 of chemo, is where I crumble rather than later in the race!

Yet,  how can I not get over myself and my problems, with all the love  and support around me.  A few days ago, I felt like I had control over nothing in my world.  I still feel that way.  Cancer has a way of doing that to a person! But it also shows you who your loved ones truly are!

When you are battling cancer, the focus is on you.  “Poor you, you’ve lost your hair!”  “Poor you, you have to take scary chemotherapy!”  “Poor you, there’s so much uncertainty in your life!” 

What we don’t see are the people behind the scene, making everything turn out right.  They are alot like the crew behind an olympic athlete, making sure he/she eats right, rests enough, trains right, etc.  When the athlete wins, the crew wins too, but nobody notices them.  The world seems to think the athlete got there by the miracle of his/her talent, when probably 70 % of the achievement was because the crew was in place, making it all work out!

When a patient beats cancer, he or she was able to because the crew was there, behind the scenes, making it all work out!!!  I’m telling you, 70% of my battle is fought and won for me by my team!!  I just take the medicine, they run around and keep my world turning.

My most unsung heroine is my Mom.  She was the one I ran to on the day of my diagnosis.  It was a Saturday, Oct. 24th.  I got the urgent call from my radiologist.  It was worrisome enough that he didn’t wait until Monday to call.  I took the news and promptly went into shock.  For the next hour, I went grocery shopping, to the bank, and returned a few phone calls.  Then as planned, I drove up to my parents’ house.  Mom and I were going to go for a drive or something.  We just love autumn in northern CA!!!

It still didn’t register that I was going to soon be a cancer patient.  I got out of the car, waved at her through the window, and made it into her kitchen bravely enough.  “Well, yeah, I guess I do actually have cancer.”  Then I was a mess!!!

Ever since then, she’s been drying my tears, making me feel special, reassuring me.

Through it all, she has been the one who stayed up all night with me when I couldn’t sleep, made sure I was still eating, wasn’t alone when I was scared.  She was there, with my Dad and my sister all through my surgery, making me laugh and ready to help the doctors pull me down from the cieling so they could go about their business with me.  (I’m mildly phobic in hospitals.)

When it was time to give a blood sample, she wasn’t allowed past a certain point.  The phlebotomist said no visitors, but she fenaggled herway behind the red tape and sat with me, because she knows I hate needles.  She figured it’d be easier if the phlebotomist needed someone to sit on me if I went loony at the sight of the needle, and besides, no one says no to her!  Not when her baby, (albeit her aging baby) is concerned!

When I temporarily lose my tastebuds, she brings me a steady supply of treats.  She constantly runs errands for me.  She pops by my house, and if the condition of it scandalises her, she bites her lip and quietly sets to work.  ( I was always kind of messy, even before cancer.  If I have time to run and stretch, and practice, and maybe even blowdry my hair, I’d do that before doing the dishes and putting away the laundry.  Inconievably twitchy-strange behavior for the daughter of the premier stager of the county!)

People always tell me, “Hey, DeAnne, if there’s anything we can do to help, just call , OK?! ”  And I would, but ”la Mona”, my amazing mother, has already beaten you to it!

People who know me always remark about how well I seem to be holding up, how healthy my attitude is, how strong I seem.  I’m that way, because I have my mom.  She is the one who deals with the trauma and drama that I wouldn’t dare to show the outside world.  It’s her arms I cry in when I’m having a cow.  On the days when I can understand why some people opt to die instead of go through with chemo, she lovingly wrangles me back into a more positive frame of mind.  She deals with the ugly.  She makes me strong so I can put on a wig and a happy face and get on with me life. I couldn’t do this race without her!

I don’t know what I’d do without her.  She even lovingly fibs about how great I look bald.  Maybe it harkens back to easier times, when I was a bald infant, and something like cancer seemed like it would never happen to us. 

Mom, we are dealing.  Thanks for helping me to deal, and not worry.  You are heroic, and I love you!  You keep my head on straight and a song in my heart.  This happened to us, but we are bigger than this!  Onto the stretch of miles 6.4 to 9.6 of this race.  (This part of the race has always been easier for me…I hope it’ll be easier for you, too.!) 

I love you!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 10th, 2010 at 10:30 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.