Who's NED?

After 4+ weeks, I finally, FINALLY got my NED!  For those of you non-cancer-lingo-knowing people, that's the "All Clear" I've been waiting for.

I've spent these weeks in my little denial bubble (as a good friend told me, "sometimes you just have to go there") and I was pretty happy there.  I can say very honestly, that I really did not want to know the results, much to the chagrin of my family.

I know I drove my husband crazy with my going about like the cloud of impending doom was not hovering above my head, smiling and singing and baking.  As long as I did not have bad news, I was absolutely happy.

Yesterday though, I thought "enough is enough".  I think my husband lost at least 5lbs this week.  I called the clinic and talked to Dee (name changed for privacy purposes).  I love this woman.  I honestly think she makes the cancer experience better for the patients in that clinic.  She told me doctor wouldn't be in until Thursday to which I replied, "are you serious?"  Because it was late in the day, she told me she'd have a nurse call doctor in the morning (today) and let her know I'm waiting.

So shortly after 9:30 my cell phone started playing the theme from Law and Order: SVU and I recognized the number immediately.  It was Jay (again with the clever name changes), my 2nd favorite nurse in the clinic.  My whole body tingled and froze as she started talking to me.  I felt paralyzed...my happy denial bubble was gone and I felt naked sitting there at my desk.  I immediately regretted answering my phone while I was at work.

She began telling me they saw NED.  Oh how I love that mother trucker!  No Evidence of Disease!  None!  Clear!  I yelled "all clear!" in the office and got all kinds of yays and then I started crying.  Apparently that bubble was keeping all of the emotion away from me and it all came swirling around me after I got the news.

This experience has brought out the best and the worst in me and I cannot wait to go down to the Light the Night walk tomorrow night, put on my "Survivor" t-shirt, and walk with my favorite people, celebrating this victory.

Now, who wants to have a drink with me?!

How Can I Not Want To Know?

With this recent scare, I have put off my scan, and have made it very clear that I did not want to know anything until after my daughter's birthday.  My family, and possibly some friends cannot fathom my not wanting to know.

My husband was in such a state Friday because of my scan that he came home from work.  I was smiling and relaxed, making birthday cake in my clueless bubble.  He was sick to his stomach.

So how could I not want to know anything?  It's simple.  I've been there, done that.  I don't want to go through it again.  I don't know if I have the strength to do it and so I'd rather live in the bliss of an oblivion.  When I think about recurrence, I think "I don't know if I'd do anything about it anyway".  And therefore, it is easy for me to relax, and enjoy my daughter's birthday with my family.  To live in the moment.

In the back of my mind I know it could be the last family gathering, but I've lived with that knowledge for just over four years now.  I know my time is limited.  I no longer have that sense of being indestructible.  I'm fully aware that at any given moment, I could be gone and to be perfectly honest, a huge part of me just doesn't want to know.

Now, I don't have a death wish.  I don't want to leave my daughters or my life and I'm sure if it came down to it I would fight like hell.  I just have had to accept and live with the knowledge of my mortality for some time.  Every family gathering, every get-together with a friend; I try to savor them and hold them in my heart.

And so when it comes to this, I have to have faith that whatever the outcome, it is what is meant to be.  

Sweating

I've been sweating all day long.  A symptom of my PMS.  Sitting here sweating, got me thinking about the exercise class I'm supposed to start on Friday with a friend of mine.  I was pretty excited about it.  I signed up for a Mayor's Fitness Challenge with some other friends so this class would help keep me in line and let me spend time my friend.

However given everything that's going on, I'm second guessing myself.  Should I still sign up?  Should I spend the money?  If I've relapsed I'll be told to stay away from crowds.  I'll have to limit my activity and my availability would suddenly be very compromised (along with my immune system, no doubt).  But if I'm fine, and I didn't do I have to wait until November or December for the next class.  And what if I get no answers at all?  What if there's a big fat question mark on my next scan?  Should I be living my life scan to scan?  

That's not what I wanted for myself and yet I have to admit that anytime I come close to a scan I'm hesitant about making any plans until after I meet with the doctor.  I'd like to say this time is no different, but I fear that it is.  I guess you could say I'm sweating bullets this time around.  All of this sweating has to be good for a pound or two right?    

What Cancer Cannot Do? Oh Yes It Can!

A friend posted this poem on his Facebook the other day and while I didn't want to shatter the rose colored glasses of many of his cancer-surviving and fighting followers, I DO have much to say about this poem.

It cannot cripple love.  Really?  Because ever since my "journey" with cancer, there is definitely some love in my life that's been "crippled".

It cannot shatter hope.  Really?  The definition of hope is, the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.  I'm pretty sure I don't have any of this left.

It cannot corrode faith.  Really?  Let me see...faith, by definition is confidence or trust in a person or thing.  Mine?  Definitely corroded.

It cannot eat away peace.  Really?  I haven't had peace since my doctor's secretary beckoned me into his office January 29, 2009.  Not even for one day.

It cannot destroy confidence.  Really?  Tell that to my stomach every time I walk into the oncology clinic.  Tell that to me every time I feel the slightest pain, strain, lump, or bump.  Better yet, tell that to my children who question my mortality.

It cannot kill friendship.  Really?  I would laugh at this statement if it didn't make me cry.  I can name just a few people who I feel abandoned me during the worst time of my life.  I can also name just a few people who I let slip away because my "cancer talk" was annoying to them, or they thought it was high time I "let it go".

It cannot shut out memories.  Really?  This is one is just a joke to me.  Thank you chemo for destroying my short-term memory as well as wiping out a good 10 years of my life and leaving it in a thick haze.

It cannot silence courage.  Really?  Did the person who wrote this ever even have cancer?  I mean people give us way to much credit.  I am not courageous or inspirational or strong.  I am none of those things.  I suffered in the worst pain of my life, in silence because I had to.  I didn't choose to.  There was no choice. 

It cannot reduce eternal life.  No, it cannot reduce eternal life.  But it can, and does reduce mortal life.  

It cannot quench the Spirit.  Right again.  It cannot quench the Spirit.  In fact, since cancer plagued my life I have been thirstier than ever; searching endlessly for some spiritual uplifting.  It cannot quench the Spirit, it can only damage it.