Happy CancerversaWHAT?!

August 18th marked the 4 year anniversary of my last chemo treatment, but I was saving my happy dance for August 19th when I met with my oncologist for the "All Clear".  Unfortunately, instead of the All Clear, I had some crazy lab results so she wanted to recheck my labs as well do a neck scan because of some neck pain I had been having.

And so I had to postpone my Happy 4 Year Cancerversary announcements until after my labs and CT came back normal.  The labs came in the next day - back to normal.  After a week and a half of waiting for authorization and scheduling, I finally had the CT yesterday.  Two pokes in the left arm to no avail.  They finally got a small vein on the right side - neck CTs require two injections of dye - one for each angle they scan.  Fun times.  More poison and radiation.  How long before the nurse calls with that All Clear???

Finally!  I see Aurora on my caller id today and anxiously answer, only it's not a nurse.  It's my oncologist.  The numbness sets in.  Doctors don't give All Clears on the phone.  Ever.

My lymph nodes are enlarged.  Not enough to say tumor for sure, but large enough to be noticeable.  After going back and forth on how I've been feeling (absolutely fine other than more tired than normal), it came down to either just keeping an eye on it or getting a PET scan.  Ultimately, she opted to order the PET scan.

So now again I wait.  Wait for the insurance.  Wait for scheduling.  Wait for an answer.  Wait for my all clear.

An All Clear that may not come, forcing me to remember everything I went through and imagine if I would do it, could do it again.  I don't think that I can.

It's Been A Long Time...

It's been a long time since I've laid in bed fighting off the fear that if I fell asleep I would die, but last night I had an episode of that panic. I tried to rationalize it, telling myself that is was because January 29th is hours away, or that maybe it was anxiety over my upcoming tests, but honestly I think I may have just gotten too comfortable with living. Perhaps I needed a reminder that I'm on the clock.

At any rate, I'm tired as hell today and my mind is racing with thoughts of dying. Happy Monday!

Holiday In The Life of Me

Since cancer first entered my life almost four years ago, every birthday is a celebration of my survivorship. Holidays however, are something completely different.

First there is the overwhelming list of things to do, and by overwhelming I mean my mind can only process one thing at a time during a time when multitasking is essential. As an example, I just remembered today that I haven't delivered Girl Scout nuts to a friend of mine that came in a month or so ago. I have no excuse other than I forgot. Plain and simple. This is the way it goes with most things these days. These memory lapses lead to my feeling useless and even stupid.

Next there are of the demands from the outside world. People calling me, begging me to make decisions about when, where, and what to do. The questions that need to be answered ASAP drive me into tears as my slow mind struggles to process decisions.

Finally, there is the ever-present feeling of doom that consumes me. This may very well be my last Christmas. These may be the last gifts I watch my girls open. This may be the last cookie exchange I participate in, or the last tree I decorate.

Sadly, this is Christmas for me. This and a glass of wine to take the edge off.

One Would Think

One would think after two very hard years of being a full-time mom, full-time student, and working part-time, second shift outside of the house that one would get some kind of congratulations for graduating.  One would think one's husband would say something about it, anything about it.  One would think that perhaps, one would get a little praise for getting a 3.947 GPA despite the many struggles of having chemo brain (http://www.cancer.org/Treatment/TreatmentsandSideEffects/PhysicalSideEffects/ChemotherapyEffects/chemo-brain).

Just sayin'.

Forgetful Jones?

In 2009, I was diagnosed with stage IV Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  In 2009, my friend Mikey was diagnosed with stage II Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  In 2009, Mikey and his wife put together a team of people to walk in the Light the Night Walk for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society.  He set a goal of $1000, and much to our surprise, we well exceeded that goal!  So many people donated and we were overwhelmed by the generosity and well wishes from those all around us.  The night of that first walk was the first time since my diagnosis that I didn't feel alone, and every year since I so look forward to that one night a year where I can feel the comradry around me; I can feel "normal".

I have forgotten a lot of things, but I have not forgotten my experience and I have not forgotton the feeling of being part of something as big and beautiful as the Light the Night Walk. 

However, I fear many have forgotten.  Our team has raised a mere $180 since May.  A far cry from that first year, or the second, or even the third.  I'm hoping we can turn it around in the next 30 days.

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.

Well, my last cancer check came and went. I finally didn't feel the heavy weight of impending doom like normal. It made me wonder if I'm getting numb to it, like so many other things in my life. I have been upgraded to straight x-rays now, which is bittersweet. I hate that I have to be radiated so much, yet I prefer the accuarcy of the CT scan over the xray. Especially after having so many overlook the cancer in the first place on an xray. I'm pretty sure; however that nothing doctors do or don't do can surprise me now. In other news, there's more evidence that cancer survivors suffer from PTSD. Reading through the symptoms I'm pretty sure I have it...thus the previously mentioned numbness I spoke of. However, my lack of trust of doctors and my unwillingness to spend any amount of time searching for a competant counselor that I trust leaves me to deal with certain things on my own. So for now, I'll suffer through the numbness and surround myself with people and things that draw out extreme emotions and in between days, I feel, things will get back to normal. Sometimes I can feel my hard shell cracking. It just may take more time than someone who goes through extensive counseling.