Well, here I sit on the eve of my 42nd birthday. Considering my status I guess this is a great accomplishment. It doesn't feel great, in fact, it doesn't feel like much of anything. Don't get me wrong I am not ungrateful. I have two amazing girls that continue to blow my mind with their wisdom and honesty. I am going on 10 1/2 years with the man of my dreams. We have been through so much and yet I am always safe in his arms and happy to be by his side. I truly love these three people unconditionally. They are my heart and my home.
I have unbelievably gracious friends. They are honest and steadfast and funny and always there for me. They never stop giving and propping me up and making me laugh. Everyone should be lucky to have an amazing group of friends.
I have found a group of women who have survived breast cancer and everything that goes with it. They keep me sane and grounded and in the present while this disease tend to steal the present and force us to operate in a false future. The "establishment" tries to make us believe that this "new normal" is a natural place to go after diagnosis. Unfortunately it is not.
I have a medical team that keeps on keeping on and will keep me going for a long, long time. They are indefatigable.
I live in a time where a cure is actually a reality and something that could happen. I have met scientists, lobbyists, physicians and advocates who spend every day working toward a cure. I know they will be successful. I believe that my daughters will not have to deal with breast cancer they same way that I have.
So really upon further assessment what is not to be happy about? I really am a very fortunate woman. Perhaps I just worry that I won't have the breath to blow out all 42of those candles. Maybe the 42 spankings will be too much for my delicate derriere. I guess I am happy to be here, to be celebrating another birthday. I mean '40 is the new 30' and I have experienced a lot during these four decades. I have been through the ringer in the last 14 months. What's another birthday.
In the end I still have the amazing ability to always think of something worse. At any time I can come up with a situation that is way worse that what my family is going through right now. It is a talent that can never be shown off in a talent show. I mean thank God I don't have a colostomy bag. That would suck. Or I could be related to Sarah Palin and that would be worse than the colostomy.
Happy Birthday to me. Things truly are great!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Anonymous nails it. The fight to just be.
Someone wrote this as a response to my latest blog. It is so meaningful to me. It really says so much with so little. Thank you anonymous. Thank you for sharing about your Mother's search for self with cancer and the vigilance to keep one's self that is necessary. Thank you-I hope you read this. MLH
Fighting and battling... my mom is a stage four cancer survivor--different sort. We used to have the same discussions about what it means to fight and to battle cancer. Having never gone through this myself, and only sharing what she came to believe... it was a fight to be you, to be who you are and be strong while you face this every day... to not lose yourself somewhere in the middle. She said that she wanted to be seen as herself first and not as someone with cancer. I wonder does that make sense? Watching her, it was one of the toughest struggles... doctors, and medicine, and treatments, and people changing around you, and tests, and more doctors, etc. as she fought to just be.
Fighting and battling... my mom is a stage four cancer survivor--different sort. We used to have the same discussions about what it means to fight and to battle cancer. Having never gone through this myself, and only sharing what she came to believe... it was a fight to be you, to be who you are and be strong while you face this every day... to not lose yourself somewhere in the middle. She said that she wanted to be seen as herself first and not as someone with cancer. I wonder does that make sense? Watching her, it was one of the toughest struggles... doctors, and medicine, and treatments, and people changing around you, and tests, and more doctors, etc. as she fought to just be.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
One year, One month and One day
I just noticed on my pink ticker at the bottom of my blog that I have been "beating breast cancer for one year, one month and one day." It is so strange that everything about cancer is about fighting, and beating, and battling and killing. So very warlike, very offensive (the double entendre here.) They do say the best offense is a good defense.
I don't feel like I am FIGHTING. I mean it's not like I go into the ring and give the old cancer a left jab and a right hook to the chin and then a sucker punch to the kidney. Yes, this would cause a person that you were FIGHTING to pee blood for a few days but so can snowmobiling or going 4byin' in an old Willy's jeep. I don't really get an opportunity to FIGHT in that sense. I don't stay up at night because me and my cancer had some nasty words and it really hurt my feelings or was unfair. I don't get the fight thing. Maybe it is that "Fight Club" concept where foxy Edward Norton is constantly FIGHTING the evil and elusive Brad Pitt. Sadly, though that would make me the Ed Norton character (crazy & delusional) and the cancer would get to be Brad Pitt's character who is such a snazzy dresser and has a hell of a lot more fun in the movie.
BEATING now there is something I can relate to. Not that I have been BEATEN or have I ever BEATEN anyone else but I do feel like if my kids were at risk I could and would BEAT the living shit out of someone. One time I BEAT an alarm clock. Then I threw it out of my third floor apartment to a lonely death on the pavement. I have BEAT many people at Scrabble and have been BEATEN too. But again cancer is not a game and there is nothing and no one you get to BEAT. No checkered flag, no "uncle" and no trophy.
Am I BATTLING? Am I really BATTLING in the true sense of the word? Do I get up out of my bunker and BATTLE? Is it like what the soldiers are experiencing in Iraq-istan? Am I leading someone or something into BATTLE? I certainly don't sit up and yell, "Charge!" then point my sword at the enemy and proceed to lop their heads off. No 'Braveheart' action here. I basically stumble out of bed, trying to get the 5 feet to the bathroom to pop pain pills without falling. Nothing glorious there. Pathetic actually.
KILLING now that is where it gets weird. Am I KILLING cancer? Do I actually have anything at all to do with KILLING cancer? I don't know. I take a whole host of cancer KILLING drugs. My pee and my blood and my bones are constantly being tested for cancer death. But is it me that is doing the KILLING or am I just the host? And in being the hostess with the mostest do I not only accomodate the evil cancer but the evil cancer KILLING drugs, and the uncomfortable cancer death measuring tests and the indignities of all the side effects of the drugs that KILL the cancer. I mean really is it natural or normal to have to mark time out of one's calendar to take a shit? What do the real soldiers do? My husband, a soldier in another era, says that the MREs make the soldiers really constipated so it doesn't become an issue.
Can you imagine:
"One Delta One are you ready to drop the bomb?"
"Uh hold up One Delta One we got one that needs to take a shit."
"One Delta One let us know when you are ready."
Absurd.
I digress. I guess I am not a fighter or a batterer or a battle savvy warrior or a killer. I am just a chick with cancer and a pacifist's heart.
I don't feel like I am FIGHTING. I mean it's not like I go into the ring and give the old cancer a left jab and a right hook to the chin and then a sucker punch to the kidney. Yes, this would cause a person that you were FIGHTING to pee blood for a few days but so can snowmobiling or going 4byin' in an old Willy's jeep. I don't really get an opportunity to FIGHT in that sense. I don't stay up at night because me and my cancer had some nasty words and it really hurt my feelings or was unfair. I don't get the fight thing. Maybe it is that "Fight Club" concept where foxy Edward Norton is constantly FIGHTING the evil and elusive Brad Pitt. Sadly, though that would make me the Ed Norton character (crazy & delusional) and the cancer would get to be Brad Pitt's character who is such a snazzy dresser and has a hell of a lot more fun in the movie.
BEATING now there is something I can relate to. Not that I have been BEATEN or have I ever BEATEN anyone else but I do feel like if my kids were at risk I could and would BEAT the living shit out of someone. One time I BEAT an alarm clock. Then I threw it out of my third floor apartment to a lonely death on the pavement. I have BEAT many people at Scrabble and have been BEATEN too. But again cancer is not a game and there is nothing and no one you get to BEAT. No checkered flag, no "uncle" and no trophy.
Am I BATTLING? Am I really BATTLING in the true sense of the word? Do I get up out of my bunker and BATTLE? Is it like what the soldiers are experiencing in Iraq-istan? Am I leading someone or something into BATTLE? I certainly don't sit up and yell, "Charge!" then point my sword at the enemy and proceed to lop their heads off. No 'Braveheart' action here. I basically stumble out of bed, trying to get the 5 feet to the bathroom to pop pain pills without falling. Nothing glorious there. Pathetic actually.
KILLING now that is where it gets weird. Am I KILLING cancer? Do I actually have anything at all to do with KILLING cancer? I don't know. I take a whole host of cancer KILLING drugs. My pee and my blood and my bones are constantly being tested for cancer death. But is it me that is doing the KILLING or am I just the host? And in being the hostess with the mostest do I not only accomodate the evil cancer but the evil cancer KILLING drugs, and the uncomfortable cancer death measuring tests and the indignities of all the side effects of the drugs that KILL the cancer. I mean really is it natural or normal to have to mark time out of one's calendar to take a shit? What do the real soldiers do? My husband, a soldier in another era, says that the MREs make the soldiers really constipated so it doesn't become an issue.
Can you imagine:
"One Delta One are you ready to drop the bomb?"
"Uh hold up One Delta One we got one that needs to take a shit."
"One Delta One let us know when you are ready."
Absurd.
I digress. I guess I am not a fighter or a batterer or a battle savvy warrior or a killer. I am just a chick with cancer and a pacifist's heart.
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