We have all heard the expression, "Adversity breeds character".
Today I was thinking about the meaning of this and how it relates to WHO I have become after my short fight with the cancer fairy.
This fight would definitely fit into the adversity pot so I guess that builds my character right? Is it really that simple?
We always hear of some poor lass going through something quite 'hellish' to you and I and coming out at the end of the day freaking glowing with an aura we all wished we had.
Mother Theresa grew up in the ghettos going through hellish conditions and she died trying to save the poor.
Why is it that in order for us to become 'nicer' people, we have to go through such horror stories which proves our worth to go out and do good in the world?
I think the answer to part of the why is to be found in the number of these 'events' we can tolerate in our lifetimes and how we deal with them when they do.
Cancer would fall into one of those life-altering events which when completed, make us step back and re-evaluate EVERYTHING which we've done.
Maybe this by itself makes us nicer people. When we go back and let go of our pasts and look to improve our futures, it does make us calmer which should make us nicer. :)
I correspond to people all over North America who have had cancer. Some of these people have finished their treatment and are only offering me a bit of wisdom or experience. Most of them however are just going through the 'holy shit' stage and looking for someone, no, anyone to hear them out and calm their fears.
Some of these people will become dear friends for life and some will only be around long enough to find the strength to do it by themselves.
A lot of people stricken with cancer have nowhere to go. Cancer support is 'available' but not initiated. This is so wrong.
How can anyone think that someone with cancer should have the option of having someone to talk to? Shouldn't it be mandatory that you do? How can you not need to talk to someone?
Once cancer treatment is finished, the victims are shuffled out the door with raw-red asses or missing limbs and told to come back in 3 months for re-evaluation.
They go home with a 'red' card to call in case of emergencies and they sit in their front rooms and they look at the clock and they listen to their bodies and they get scared. They are completely cut off from the life-saving dudes that were their best buddies only days ago.
I was that girl who shuffled outside so scared of the future but I decided to do something about it.
I educated myself on my cancer and I got together some questions and I decided to alleviate my fears. I met with my doctors and I demanded them to help me find resources to help myself.
When this feat was accomplished, I sat back and one night decided that I could do this for other people going through their own fights with their own beast on-board.
In a lot of ways, a cancer is a cancer is a cancer....
Am I a nicer person? Yup, I am.
Am I like Mother Theresa? Nope, I'm not.
I'm just an everyday single mom who went through a long tunnel but never once lost sight of the glow of the end of it and I decided to make a difference.
It doesn't really matter if the difference is big or small at this point.
I just want to lay in bed tonight and think about the good that I did today and ponder how better it will be tomorrow.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
The return from Oz
It has become a nightly occurrence in my house to have a bubble bath.
During my cancer treatment, I literally lived in the bathtub finding relief from the radiation burns.
They say it takes 6 weeks of doing something to make it a habit and after being immersed in it for up to 5 hours a day for weeks on end, my habit was born.
Last night bathing with my son in the jacuzzi tub with overflowing bubbles, I happened to notice something.
My pubic hair is growing back !!
Its not my normal shade of blondy/red but like a peach-fuzz of sorts and I see tiny little hairs peeking through the skin. Its almost as if the hairs realize that there is no more radiation and they are seeing the glow from the sun for the first time in a long time.
This got me thinking about how 'fuzzy' in some ways this whole cancer experience has become.
Sure, I remember the radiation and I remember the gut-wrenching fear that I was experiencing but its as if the whole cancer show is retreating back somewhere inside me and finding a comfy place to call its new home.
I no longer get those episodes where I'd sit on the couch and bow my head almost crying. I'd have that feeling as if your stomach was right by your throat and you were going to puke at any second.
I realized yesterday that I hadn't had one is weeks and I hardly even noticed. How could I not notice this? I'd been waiting for them to go away for so long. Its as if life slowly comes back so gently and surely that you don't even get a chance to be afraid of it anymore.
My energy level is almost back to normal and I am shocked that I did not realize how sick I actually felt about 6 months ago before diagnosis. How could I not have known?
My days are now filled with getting used to a new career and fostering dogs and looking after my family and sometimes its as if I didn't even have cancer.
I will never forget how I felt nor will I ever forget the fact that I feel betrayed by my own body which I trusted explicitly only 6 months ago.
The door that I've emerged from is almost closed. There are a few things that still need to find their place in my mind but each day I find them less invasive and hardly beckoning for my attention.
Goodbye Oz and goodbye Dorothy.
You have taught me some very important lessons but the time has come to again seize my life back and relish in the newly sprouting pubic hair.
Spring is almost here and I see so many other doors in front of me that need some attention.
During my cancer treatment, I literally lived in the bathtub finding relief from the radiation burns.
They say it takes 6 weeks of doing something to make it a habit and after being immersed in it for up to 5 hours a day for weeks on end, my habit was born.
Last night bathing with my son in the jacuzzi tub with overflowing bubbles, I happened to notice something.
My pubic hair is growing back !!
Its not my normal shade of blondy/red but like a peach-fuzz of sorts and I see tiny little hairs peeking through the skin. Its almost as if the hairs realize that there is no more radiation and they are seeing the glow from the sun for the first time in a long time.
This got me thinking about how 'fuzzy' in some ways this whole cancer experience has become.
Sure, I remember the radiation and I remember the gut-wrenching fear that I was experiencing but its as if the whole cancer show is retreating back somewhere inside me and finding a comfy place to call its new home.
I no longer get those episodes where I'd sit on the couch and bow my head almost crying. I'd have that feeling as if your stomach was right by your throat and you were going to puke at any second.
I realized yesterday that I hadn't had one is weeks and I hardly even noticed. How could I not notice this? I'd been waiting for them to go away for so long. Its as if life slowly comes back so gently and surely that you don't even get a chance to be afraid of it anymore.
My energy level is almost back to normal and I am shocked that I did not realize how sick I actually felt about 6 months ago before diagnosis. How could I not have known?
My days are now filled with getting used to a new career and fostering dogs and looking after my family and sometimes its as if I didn't even have cancer.
I will never forget how I felt nor will I ever forget the fact that I feel betrayed by my own body which I trusted explicitly only 6 months ago.
The door that I've emerged from is almost closed. There are a few things that still need to find their place in my mind but each day I find them less invasive and hardly beckoning for my attention.
Goodbye Oz and goodbye Dorothy.
You have taught me some very important lessons but the time has come to again seize my life back and relish in the newly sprouting pubic hair.
Spring is almost here and I see so many other doors in front of me that need some attention.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
I'm beginning to move forward
Its quite remarkable how we have the ability to fall back into our lives after cancer and get back on the bus.
I'm beginning to look at my clothes again and I'm beginning to prefer the stiletto boots over the comfy outdoor slippers lined with sheep-wool that were the staple of my fashion diet as of late.
Gone are the basic black and pearls that I used to wear. Bright yellows and greens and anything that says 'lively' has now replaced most of the black.
I have spent a gazillion dollars on e-bay buying packaging for the new 'me' and it feels wonderful. The emerald solitaire earrings caught my eye and I spent 3 days outbidding a lady aptly named 'newgirl' for a pair of antique mined diamond studs that I absolutely had to have.
I stand in front of the mirror critiquing my form and making small mental notes of things that I would like to change and how to go about it. I even did some yoga today.
The body is a wonderful thing. The way that it can heal after undergoing toxic drugs and radiation never ceases to amaze me.
Its sometimes like I've never had cancer at all.
Tomorrow I wake up and go to my new job getting trained to help others going through their own health issues and I feel so good about that.
I want to look my best because I feel the best that I have ever felt in a long time.
I'm not in pain anymore and I'm not dragging myself to chemo or radiation or to see some other doctor for something or another.
My life is calm and it is has personal purpose.
I can't think of anything else that I would like to have for today other than that.
I'm beginning to look at my clothes again and I'm beginning to prefer the stiletto boots over the comfy outdoor slippers lined with sheep-wool that were the staple of my fashion diet as of late.
Gone are the basic black and pearls that I used to wear. Bright yellows and greens and anything that says 'lively' has now replaced most of the black.
I have spent a gazillion dollars on e-bay buying packaging for the new 'me' and it feels wonderful. The emerald solitaire earrings caught my eye and I spent 3 days outbidding a lady aptly named 'newgirl' for a pair of antique mined diamond studs that I absolutely had to have.
I stand in front of the mirror critiquing my form and making small mental notes of things that I would like to change and how to go about it. I even did some yoga today.
The body is a wonderful thing. The way that it can heal after undergoing toxic drugs and radiation never ceases to amaze me.
Its sometimes like I've never had cancer at all.
Tomorrow I wake up and go to my new job getting trained to help others going through their own health issues and I feel so good about that.
I want to look my best because I feel the best that I have ever felt in a long time.
I'm not in pain anymore and I'm not dragging myself to chemo or radiation or to see some other doctor for something or another.
My life is calm and it is has personal purpose.
I can't think of anything else that I would like to have for today other than that.
Friday, January 12, 2007
The gift of optimism
Why the hell am I so optimistic anyways?
I have always said that I was a true optimist and the question does begged to be asked and again, I have another story to tell.
I was originally married at 19 and got pregnant with my first child at 20.
After having a perfectly normal 1st pregnancy I went into labour with my son and my entire world fell completely apart in the course of 8 hours.
During active labour while in transition, my son's heart-rate went screaming down to the low 60s and all I remember is breathing extra air and all of these bells going off and doctors running down the hallways not having the guts to look me in the eye and answer the question, "Is my baby all right?"
I was too far into labour to have an emergency cesarean section and my son was born shortly after that completely lifeless.
They did get his heart going again and within minutes he was being whisked away via air-ambulance to a far away hospital and I was left standing at the door to the hospital crying and bleeding and wondering what my baby actually looked like.
Within 48 hours of crying and holding his little hands and literally hundreds of tests, we were taken into a small room and told that our son was basically brain dead.
We opted to donate his organs and after lots of soul-searching we also decided to shut down the pumps that fed him his life via machines and IVs.
About an our prior to shutting it down, there was additional tests that had to be done to confirm brain death.
When ice chips were put into his ears one of his pupils dilated so he was deemed to be alive and not really brain dead. Oh the irony of that statement.
We shut down the support anyways and he continued to breathe.
This went on for a heart-breaking 18 months and nearly destroyed me inside.
It was heart-breaking to walk into a hospital room to see your son that has not once moved or made any gesture of any kind and his face is black and swollen and breaking open because he 'coded' a few hours ago and was almost dead but some 'Florence Nightengale' nurse came in and got him going again.
A time comes when you can no longer do this as a mom. As a breed, we are incapable of watching our own kids in agony and silently sit by and watch them suffer like that.
I woke up one night from a nightmare and decided that it was going to end.
I went into a lawyer and we got an injunction against the hospital and we removed our son from that hospital and put him into another.
Ironically, the only hospital that would take him in and stop feeding him was the same one where he was born.
He was transferred to the hospital and heavily sedated. He was given IV fluids but no food into the tube into his stomach.
We basically waited at home for him to die and it was most undoubtedly one of the hardest and most life-affirming things that I have ever done to date included.
One night I woke up at 2am unable to sleep and felt a need to write.
I got a pen and a piece of paper and wrote out the following like it was ingrained in my brain. It was like it had always been there and out it flowed in the form of a poem entitled, "The Gift"...
It reads as follows:
On the day you were born, the Lord Jesus above
Did look down from heaven and give you his love.
You begged him to take you gently by hand
He said, "Darling TJ, it is not in the plan".
He knew you were suffering but chose you to stay,
To give me a gift in your own special way.
You taught me compassion, how to love and to dream.
You taught me to hope although hopeless it seemed.
You make me grow up, feel pain and to pray
It was then that I realized that you could not stay.
Everyone was crying because it was oh so sad.
But these are sacrifices we make as a mom or as a dad.
I return to you my own special gift for everyone to see.
It does not compare to the one you gave, but it was meant to be.
My gift to you is accepting that you must be free from pain.
You gave me oh so very much. You did not die in vain.
The gift is from my very heart but oh, it hurts me so.
For I have to love you enough, TJ, to gently let you go......
Love Mom
About 2 hours later, the phone rang.
I did not need to answer the phone to find out that my son had passed away a short time ago.
The above poem was read at his eulogy and inscribed on his headstone.
I developed faith and perseverance and a whole lot of optimism having lived through that.
The world is a great place if we look at the positive things around us.
My son taught me so many things with the entire cumulation of those things being my pure and simple optimism for life and all that it entails.
I love you TJ...!!! I'd hope that I've done you proud.
Mom
I have always said that I was a true optimist and the question does begged to be asked and again, I have another story to tell.
I was originally married at 19 and got pregnant with my first child at 20.
After having a perfectly normal 1st pregnancy I went into labour with my son and my entire world fell completely apart in the course of 8 hours.
During active labour while in transition, my son's heart-rate went screaming down to the low 60s and all I remember is breathing extra air and all of these bells going off and doctors running down the hallways not having the guts to look me in the eye and answer the question, "Is my baby all right?"
I was too far into labour to have an emergency cesarean section and my son was born shortly after that completely lifeless.
They did get his heart going again and within minutes he was being whisked away via air-ambulance to a far away hospital and I was left standing at the door to the hospital crying and bleeding and wondering what my baby actually looked like.
Within 48 hours of crying and holding his little hands and literally hundreds of tests, we were taken into a small room and told that our son was basically brain dead.
We opted to donate his organs and after lots of soul-searching we also decided to shut down the pumps that fed him his life via machines and IVs.
About an our prior to shutting it down, there was additional tests that had to be done to confirm brain death.
When ice chips were put into his ears one of his pupils dilated so he was deemed to be alive and not really brain dead. Oh the irony of that statement.
We shut down the support anyways and he continued to breathe.
This went on for a heart-breaking 18 months and nearly destroyed me inside.
It was heart-breaking to walk into a hospital room to see your son that has not once moved or made any gesture of any kind and his face is black and swollen and breaking open because he 'coded' a few hours ago and was almost dead but some 'Florence Nightengale' nurse came in and got him going again.
A time comes when you can no longer do this as a mom. As a breed, we are incapable of watching our own kids in agony and silently sit by and watch them suffer like that.
I woke up one night from a nightmare and decided that it was going to end.
I went into a lawyer and we got an injunction against the hospital and we removed our son from that hospital and put him into another.
Ironically, the only hospital that would take him in and stop feeding him was the same one where he was born.
He was transferred to the hospital and heavily sedated. He was given IV fluids but no food into the tube into his stomach.
We basically waited at home for him to die and it was most undoubtedly one of the hardest and most life-affirming things that I have ever done to date included.
One night I woke up at 2am unable to sleep and felt a need to write.
I got a pen and a piece of paper and wrote out the following like it was ingrained in my brain. It was like it had always been there and out it flowed in the form of a poem entitled, "The Gift"...
It reads as follows:
On the day you were born, the Lord Jesus above
Did look down from heaven and give you his love.
You begged him to take you gently by hand
He said, "Darling TJ, it is not in the plan".
He knew you were suffering but chose you to stay,
To give me a gift in your own special way.
You taught me compassion, how to love and to dream.
You taught me to hope although hopeless it seemed.
You make me grow up, feel pain and to pray
It was then that I realized that you could not stay.
Everyone was crying because it was oh so sad.
But these are sacrifices we make as a mom or as a dad.
I return to you my own special gift for everyone to see.
It does not compare to the one you gave, but it was meant to be.
My gift to you is accepting that you must be free from pain.
You gave me oh so very much. You did not die in vain.
The gift is from my very heart but oh, it hurts me so.
For I have to love you enough, TJ, to gently let you go......
Love Mom
About 2 hours later, the phone rang.
I did not need to answer the phone to find out that my son had passed away a short time ago.
The above poem was read at his eulogy and inscribed on his headstone.
I developed faith and perseverance and a whole lot of optimism having lived through that.
The world is a great place if we look at the positive things around us.
My son taught me so many things with the entire cumulation of those things being my pure and simple optimism for life and all that it entails.
I love you TJ...!!! I'd hope that I've done you proud.
Mom
Thursday, January 11, 2007
There is always a black sheep
There is nothing like having had cancer to make someone more philosophical in nature.
I remember taking plenty of courses on statistics in university but never really saw the true relevance till I was presented with cancer statistics.
When first diagnosed, I was most concerned with the statistical chance that I would survive it. This is human nature.
Once I figured out that I'd likely be here next Christmas, I started delving into the other stats related to my treatment and to the side effects I would experience.
95% of people treated with anal cancer will lose their hair completely or else have 'significant' thinning of the hair they have. (The thinning is referring to losing over HALF of your hair...holy crap..)
I have long strawberry blond hair and I REFUSED to give it up. I vowed that no more hair would fall out of my head than before I started the chemo-therapy roller-coaster.
Did I?
Yes, I lost a few hairs but no more than I did on most days in Winter. God knows, I was always checking. I brushed it and brushed it waiting for the tell-tale sign but it never once happened.
If anything, my hair got curlier. The oncologists told me that sometimes yes, this does happen.
I am irish by background so this did nothing but add to my putting more faith in my heritage and the curly locks of the irish women we all remember.
Chemo-therapy drugs are toxic poisons to our bodies that kill off good, healthy cells as well as the bad boy cancer ones.
There are drugs that are taken to compensate for the nausea one gets from having a combination of drugs coursing through our veins via a PICC line. (One pill makes you bigger and one pill makes you small and the one the doctor gives you doesn't do anything at all...Go ask Alice...ok that was wierd...flashback to younger days.:)
I dutifully filled my prescription but left them at home on the first day of Chemo.
The nurses didn't want me to take the chemo drugs without the nausea drugs but I was hooped. They could not give me anything there as I drove myself in and had no one to drive me home 1/2 stoned and ready to sleep off the drug's effects.
"Give me the chemo", I said. "I'll take a pill when I get home."
I get rigged up with the drugs in my hip pack and walk out of the cancer centre with over 100,000.00 in gene therapy and chemo drugs and go home to find myself NOT being nauseous at all.
Why take a drug if we don't have to right? My body was probably thanking me for not adding to the cocktail of toxic drugs that were already on-board and looking for the cancer cells in my body.
Did I get nauseous? Nope....Did I sleep a bit more than normal? Yup, I did but I DID NOT get sick once.
When I was first diagnosed with anal cancer, I researched it for weeks. I wanted to know where I was right now and where I could potentially be going as a 'road trip', of sorts.
I found though that once I got to a certain point of knowledge acquirement, I felt safe and I felt comfortable in what the game-plan was going to be and how it was going to effect my body and my life in general.
Sure I perused the chat boards reserved for us people that are 'stricken' with cancer. It provides a lot of people with solace and comfort and I'm sure gives everyone a sense of belonging when all the stories are basically the same.
I think I stayed active on the boards for about 3 weeks into treatment and then one day I woke up and didn't feel a need to 'check in' on a daily basis anymore.
It was like passing a certain point on your first bike-ride where your mom and your dad step back and just let you go. You look over your shoulder and you're secretly glad that you don't need them anymore. You can do it alone now.
You've seen what its like and you've had enough time to accustom yourself to the game.
There were others on the boards that had been NED for years but still felt a need to be with others like them.
In a strange way, I am really no different.
I am helping others with cancer but I'm not looking to get support from others like me. I am wanting to give support to others like me.
Is there really a difference?
Some of us need to cry on someone's shoulder in a time of need. Some of us need to reach out and help someone else to get the help that we need.
I sometimes feel robbed in this cancer experience although I feel so blessed and I am so thankful to be writing this...so far anyways..:)
I never lost my hair and frankly, I'm doing pretty damn good only being well, 2 months out of treatment now.
I get the distinct feeling from other 'survivors' that I didn't really have a 'bad' cancer because my treatment protocol was so short and so 'uneventful.'
Its somewhat like your 'bike' is not as good as my 'bike' is. This bike has been through way more crashes than yours has so is that much better.
What the hell is up with that?
Why can't we all just agree that we had cancer and just leave it at that?
Cancer makes some people so damn bitter...hehehe
Its really odd talking with other anal cancer survivors...(4000 diagnosed in N. America last year. My oncologist has only treated it one other time in his 35 year career.)
I had a clinical trial protocol that is completely different than anyone else's. I did not get to experience what everyone else did.
I had 3 times weekly visits with psychologists as part of my research team and have nothing but awesome things to say about these people...(you rock guys !)
Fellow 'ass' cancer people are fearful of the treatment that I had as its un-proven.
I'm a 'black sheep' of sorts among the masses and I think it makes them feel insecure that things are changing now.
Statistically I am an odd-ball in this game and I sometimes wonder why this is.
Why are the statistics so very different than my experience?
I think the power of the mind is an amazing thing. It is what sets one thing apart from another and makes us lay awake at night and wonder why these things happen as they do.
It takes a black sheep to makes things change. Its always the black sheep that bends the rules and bounces over the curbs instead of gently hitting them every now and then.
The world needs a few more black sheep.
I remember taking plenty of courses on statistics in university but never really saw the true relevance till I was presented with cancer statistics.
When first diagnosed, I was most concerned with the statistical chance that I would survive it. This is human nature.
Once I figured out that I'd likely be here next Christmas, I started delving into the other stats related to my treatment and to the side effects I would experience.
95% of people treated with anal cancer will lose their hair completely or else have 'significant' thinning of the hair they have. (The thinning is referring to losing over HALF of your hair...holy crap..)
I have long strawberry blond hair and I REFUSED to give it up. I vowed that no more hair would fall out of my head than before I started the chemo-therapy roller-coaster.
Did I?
Yes, I lost a few hairs but no more than I did on most days in Winter. God knows, I was always checking. I brushed it and brushed it waiting for the tell-tale sign but it never once happened.
If anything, my hair got curlier. The oncologists told me that sometimes yes, this does happen.
I am irish by background so this did nothing but add to my putting more faith in my heritage and the curly locks of the irish women we all remember.
Chemo-therapy drugs are toxic poisons to our bodies that kill off good, healthy cells as well as the bad boy cancer ones.
There are drugs that are taken to compensate for the nausea one gets from having a combination of drugs coursing through our veins via a PICC line. (One pill makes you bigger and one pill makes you small and the one the doctor gives you doesn't do anything at all...Go ask Alice...ok that was wierd...flashback to younger days.:)
I dutifully filled my prescription but left them at home on the first day of Chemo.
The nurses didn't want me to take the chemo drugs without the nausea drugs but I was hooped. They could not give me anything there as I drove myself in and had no one to drive me home 1/2 stoned and ready to sleep off the drug's effects.
"Give me the chemo", I said. "I'll take a pill when I get home."
I get rigged up with the drugs in my hip pack and walk out of the cancer centre with over 100,000.00 in gene therapy and chemo drugs and go home to find myself NOT being nauseous at all.
Why take a drug if we don't have to right? My body was probably thanking me for not adding to the cocktail of toxic drugs that were already on-board and looking for the cancer cells in my body.
Did I get nauseous? Nope....Did I sleep a bit more than normal? Yup, I did but I DID NOT get sick once.
When I was first diagnosed with anal cancer, I researched it for weeks. I wanted to know where I was right now and where I could potentially be going as a 'road trip', of sorts.
I found though that once I got to a certain point of knowledge acquirement, I felt safe and I felt comfortable in what the game-plan was going to be and how it was going to effect my body and my life in general.
Sure I perused the chat boards reserved for us people that are 'stricken' with cancer. It provides a lot of people with solace and comfort and I'm sure gives everyone a sense of belonging when all the stories are basically the same.
I think I stayed active on the boards for about 3 weeks into treatment and then one day I woke up and didn't feel a need to 'check in' on a daily basis anymore.
It was like passing a certain point on your first bike-ride where your mom and your dad step back and just let you go. You look over your shoulder and you're secretly glad that you don't need them anymore. You can do it alone now.
You've seen what its like and you've had enough time to accustom yourself to the game.
There were others on the boards that had been NED for years but still felt a need to be with others like them.
In a strange way, I am really no different.
I am helping others with cancer but I'm not looking to get support from others like me. I am wanting to give support to others like me.
Is there really a difference?
Some of us need to cry on someone's shoulder in a time of need. Some of us need to reach out and help someone else to get the help that we need.
I sometimes feel robbed in this cancer experience although I feel so blessed and I am so thankful to be writing this...so far anyways..:)
I never lost my hair and frankly, I'm doing pretty damn good only being well, 2 months out of treatment now.
I get the distinct feeling from other 'survivors' that I didn't really have a 'bad' cancer because my treatment protocol was so short and so 'uneventful.'
Its somewhat like your 'bike' is not as good as my 'bike' is. This bike has been through way more crashes than yours has so is that much better.
What the hell is up with that?
Why can't we all just agree that we had cancer and just leave it at that?
Cancer makes some people so damn bitter...hehehe
Its really odd talking with other anal cancer survivors...(4000 diagnosed in N. America last year. My oncologist has only treated it one other time in his 35 year career.)
I had a clinical trial protocol that is completely different than anyone else's. I did not get to experience what everyone else did.
I had 3 times weekly visits with psychologists as part of my research team and have nothing but awesome things to say about these people...(you rock guys !)
Fellow 'ass' cancer people are fearful of the treatment that I had as its un-proven.
I'm a 'black sheep' of sorts among the masses and I think it makes them feel insecure that things are changing now.
Statistically I am an odd-ball in this game and I sometimes wonder why this is.
Why are the statistics so very different than my experience?
I think the power of the mind is an amazing thing. It is what sets one thing apart from another and makes us lay awake at night and wonder why these things happen as they do.
It takes a black sheep to makes things change. Its always the black sheep that bends the rules and bounces over the curbs instead of gently hitting them every now and then.
The world needs a few more black sheep.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Sometimes all you have to do is believe.
I'm getting a wee bit bored sitting at home on the 'clinical trial' money.
I sit making good money, doing nothing except being a great tool for some cancer centre to make a great deal of cash from. I've been told this and frankly don't have much to really say about it other than, "YIPPEEE....I get to live..."...Its quite simple really. I'm hardly stupid.
I have accepted this.
Some might say that this says awful things about me. I tend to disagree. I think one of my best qualities is wanting to do things that do it for 'me'.
Being an aquarian chick, I've always had these humanitarian, super-hero traits.
I cross streets to pet puppies and I always stop for people stranded on roads.
The psych. industry might say that I'm 'lacking in confidence'. I think not.
I just get my 'ju' (so to speak) from helping other people or other dogs or birds or goats or sheep.
The very first time I saved a litter of puppies that needed syringe feeds every 2 hours and they lived to see the day, I was incredibly and almost 'sucker-like' hooked.
Does she become the warped chick that ends up with 60 cats doing her rescue thing when she is 60 and blue-haired?
I decided to try a variance on that path and do my own thing.
Since I started this whole cancer journey, I have changed.
It wasn't an instant change. It took awhile evaluating where I was and what I wanted to become when I was all 'growned up.'
I have this need to do better by others. I'm not sure what to call it.
It was like waking up one day and feeling like you've 'done good' and you want to share it with others.
I was perusing the local paper today and came across a career ad that appealed to me and yet I did not possess the 5 years 'health-care' experience required.
The ad said that they were looking for an ideal applicant as one being someone who possessed the innate ability to solve stressful situations.
All applicants were invited to submit a resume outlining qualifications as well as describing a current stressful situation and how you handled it.
I was thinking all day about how I would be perfect for that type of position.
I had the skill-set but did not have the qualifications in terms of 'field experience'.
After about an hour, I sent them a resume outlining the fact that I had cancer and was getting it together after having done so but I wanted to do something different.
I went for an interview 3 hours later and spent 30 minutes giving them my 'story' and hearing their remarks.
Cancer hasn't done too wrong by me. I've worn it well and if people were to pick their cancer based on appearance, they'd probably pick the one that I was gifted with.
They loved me and thought that I would be awesome dealing with palliative care patients and end of life issues.
Which comes back to the question of , "Why Beady? Why do you want to deal with people who are stressing out? Why would that make you tick?
I did it. I have been in a completely utterly stressful situation and I survived.
This was the premise that I used to secure 2 job interviews and get invited to the 'psych. interview' requirement for the job.
Whether I get the job or not is irrelevant at this point.
I had an interview.
Obviously, what i had happen to me was worth the 5 years of experience I was supposed to have.
Maybe my story was enough.
Maybe my believing in 'myself' was enough to get me that job.
We shall see.
I sit making good money, doing nothing except being a great tool for some cancer centre to make a great deal of cash from. I've been told this and frankly don't have much to really say about it other than, "YIPPEEE....I get to live..."...Its quite simple really. I'm hardly stupid.
I have accepted this.
Some might say that this says awful things about me. I tend to disagree. I think one of my best qualities is wanting to do things that do it for 'me'.
Being an aquarian chick, I've always had these humanitarian, super-hero traits.
I cross streets to pet puppies and I always stop for people stranded on roads.
The psych. industry might say that I'm 'lacking in confidence'. I think not.
I just get my 'ju' (so to speak) from helping other people or other dogs or birds or goats or sheep.
The very first time I saved a litter of puppies that needed syringe feeds every 2 hours and they lived to see the day, I was incredibly and almost 'sucker-like' hooked.
Does she become the warped chick that ends up with 60 cats doing her rescue thing when she is 60 and blue-haired?
I decided to try a variance on that path and do my own thing.
Since I started this whole cancer journey, I have changed.
It wasn't an instant change. It took awhile evaluating where I was and what I wanted to become when I was all 'growned up.'
I have this need to do better by others. I'm not sure what to call it.
It was like waking up one day and feeling like you've 'done good' and you want to share it with others.
I was perusing the local paper today and came across a career ad that appealed to me and yet I did not possess the 5 years 'health-care' experience required.
The ad said that they were looking for an ideal applicant as one being someone who possessed the innate ability to solve stressful situations.
All applicants were invited to submit a resume outlining qualifications as well as describing a current stressful situation and how you handled it.
I was thinking all day about how I would be perfect for that type of position.
I had the skill-set but did not have the qualifications in terms of 'field experience'.
After about an hour, I sent them a resume outlining the fact that I had cancer and was getting it together after having done so but I wanted to do something different.
I went for an interview 3 hours later and spent 30 minutes giving them my 'story' and hearing their remarks.
Cancer hasn't done too wrong by me. I've worn it well and if people were to pick their cancer based on appearance, they'd probably pick the one that I was gifted with.
They loved me and thought that I would be awesome dealing with palliative care patients and end of life issues.
Which comes back to the question of , "Why Beady? Why do you want to deal with people who are stressing out? Why would that make you tick?
I did it. I have been in a completely utterly stressful situation and I survived.
This was the premise that I used to secure 2 job interviews and get invited to the 'psych. interview' requirement for the job.
Whether I get the job or not is irrelevant at this point.
I had an interview.
Obviously, what i had happen to me was worth the 5 years of experience I was supposed to have.
Maybe my story was enough.
Maybe my believing in 'myself' was enough to get me that job.
We shall see.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Love comes in all sizes.
I foster for the SPCA and rescue societies. I have for years.
Today I got my 77th foster dog. He is a 10 month old Newfoundland dog I've named "Blue"...
Blue is huge although huge seems like almost some sort of understatement when you see this dog.
He has the heart of an angel and after only having him in my house for 8 hours, I can see the gentle side of his beautiful soul and I'm so happy for having been around him.
He was at another foster home for 2 days but they couldn't even make him come inside their house.
Within 10 minutes here, he was inside my house and laying on my feet.
Maybe we each just need our 'comfort zone' and we flourish there.
Maybe that is the secret to life.
Pick your friends and pick your situations where you always look like a super hero and you'll do well.
Today I got my 77th foster dog. He is a 10 month old Newfoundland dog I've named "Blue"...
Blue is huge although huge seems like almost some sort of understatement when you see this dog.
He has the heart of an angel and after only having him in my house for 8 hours, I can see the gentle side of his beautiful soul and I'm so happy for having been around him.
He was at another foster home for 2 days but they couldn't even make him come inside their house.
Within 10 minutes here, he was inside my house and laying on my feet.
Maybe we each just need our 'comfort zone' and we flourish there.
Maybe that is the secret to life.
Pick your friends and pick your situations where you always look like a super hero and you'll do well.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
I'll trade you 10 smarties............
Have you ever noticed we make deals with ourselves?
If I get that new job, I'll work 3 hours each night at home.
If I don't have cancer in my ass, I'll change my whole life. !!!!
I remember sitting outside my doctor's office trying not to choke on my diagnosis. I have cancer.
I leaned my head on my steering wheel and I thought of my promise to myself. I didn't have to change my life.
What was I thinking?
Of course, I have to change my life. I got cancer didn't I? I obviously wasn't feeding the body the way that I should have. I didn't do something right. I needed to change some things.
After I finished my treatment, I was more convinced that I needed to change a whole shit-load of stuff and get serious about making positive changes to my life in order to actually stay in it.:)
I was watching a discovery show called "Flip that house". It is a show about doing some renovations to an existing house to make it bigger, badder and stronger.
Maybe that was the ticket for me.
I started a buddy group changing little things day by day to get there. I find that I get over-loaded if I have to do it all freaking today.
I can commit to drinking water and not eating bread for a week and so can my online friends.
They say that it takes 6 weeks for a habit to be made or broken and baby steps are the way to go I think.
We as a group are doing things one week at a time and getting used to those things before adding another.
Maybe at the end of the day, this is the secret to life and to living.
We evaluate where we are each day and we stretch that threshold one day a week and try and do something better.
What a great world it would be if we ALL lived our lives this way.
If I get that new job, I'll work 3 hours each night at home.
If I don't have cancer in my ass, I'll change my whole life. !!!!
I remember sitting outside my doctor's office trying not to choke on my diagnosis. I have cancer.
I leaned my head on my steering wheel and I thought of my promise to myself. I didn't have to change my life.
What was I thinking?
Of course, I have to change my life. I got cancer didn't I? I obviously wasn't feeding the body the way that I should have. I didn't do something right. I needed to change some things.
After I finished my treatment, I was more convinced that I needed to change a whole shit-load of stuff and get serious about making positive changes to my life in order to actually stay in it.:)
I was watching a discovery show called "Flip that house". It is a show about doing some renovations to an existing house to make it bigger, badder and stronger.
Maybe that was the ticket for me.
I started a buddy group changing little things day by day to get there. I find that I get over-loaded if I have to do it all freaking today.
I can commit to drinking water and not eating bread for a week and so can my online friends.
They say that it takes 6 weeks for a habit to be made or broken and baby steps are the way to go I think.
We as a group are doing things one week at a time and getting used to those things before adding another.
Maybe at the end of the day, this is the secret to life and to living.
We evaluate where we are each day and we stretch that threshold one day a week and try and do something better.
What a great world it would be if we ALL lived our lives this way.
I believe in things I can't see
I was always the optimist skipping down the street humming to a tune. The sky was blue. The people were honest and no one would steer you wrong. People would always help you out and you always had something to be thankful for at the end of each day.
Cancer has changed me yes, but I'm still skipping down the street and I'm still humming that same damn song.....
Why is that?
I've thought about this late at night when I'm feeling dejected.
Why haven't I developed a hardened layer keeping to myself and protecting myself from the great hurts of the world?
I believe in karma, serendipity and fate.
I believe that everything is exactly as it should be. I am only a mere participant in this huge play of life that is going on all around me.
If I look really close, I can gain incredible amounts of knowledge and fore-sight from my experiences and how I see those experiences playing off of other ones that have happened already.
There are people that I've never met or laid eyes on who have provided me with comfort and solace. Yet, we've never met. We've never hugged. We've never even set foot in front of the other person and yet I've never felt such love or caring.
I admit to rooting for someone's pregnancy on FF when I first joined it...(FF is short for fertility friend...an online community for women trying to get pregnant and have healthy babies.) I have now logged over 4000 posts on FF and its gotten way beyond rooting for some anonymous person's positive pregnancy test)
Technology allows us to not leave our house and yet converse with others. This is the wave of the future.
When I was first diagnosed, I sent out posts on some of these communities sharing my plight and how I decided to deal with it.
I have never been shown such love and compassion in my whole life. The outpouring of solidarity was amazing.
Maybe it is my ability to believe in these unseen things that has allowed me to get rid of my cancer and maybe use my new improved abilities to show others?
Cancer has changed me yes, but I'm still skipping down the street and I'm still humming that same damn song.....
Why is that?
I've thought about this late at night when I'm feeling dejected.
Why haven't I developed a hardened layer keeping to myself and protecting myself from the great hurts of the world?
I believe in karma, serendipity and fate.
I believe that everything is exactly as it should be. I am only a mere participant in this huge play of life that is going on all around me.
If I look really close, I can gain incredible amounts of knowledge and fore-sight from my experiences and how I see those experiences playing off of other ones that have happened already.
There are people that I've never met or laid eyes on who have provided me with comfort and solace. Yet, we've never met. We've never hugged. We've never even set foot in front of the other person and yet I've never felt such love or caring.
I admit to rooting for someone's pregnancy on FF when I first joined it...(FF is short for fertility friend...an online community for women trying to get pregnant and have healthy babies.) I have now logged over 4000 posts on FF and its gotten way beyond rooting for some anonymous person's positive pregnancy test)
Technology allows us to not leave our house and yet converse with others. This is the wave of the future.
When I was first diagnosed, I sent out posts on some of these communities sharing my plight and how I decided to deal with it.
I have never been shown such love and compassion in my whole life. The outpouring of solidarity was amazing.
Maybe it is my ability to believe in these unseen things that has allowed me to get rid of my cancer and maybe use my new improved abilities to show others?
You wanna put your penis where?.....
How can a female get radiation to her pelvic area TWENTY FOUR times and not be told what to expect afterwards in regards to...umm...you know...shagging...doing the dirty deed...trying to have a baby...or just getting banged cause you want to...you know what I'm talking about people...that sex word....
Firstly, there is the very important fact that you went 24 times and propped yourself up on a table while the 'others' sent high doses of radiation to your ass and to your 'wahoo'.
Saying it was burnt is a complete and utter understatement. I was FREAKING FRIED TO A CRISP.
Then there is the little tidbit of never being able to have another child. Why have sex then? Isn't our sole purpose in life to add to the good of the world by having more babies? Passing on our genes and resting in the knowledge that we might get that golden egg this month and a few moons later bear a baby with uncle Joe's nose and aunt Gertrude's eyes?
Throw into the mix going into immediate menopause and you've got quite the mess of mixed emotions and uncertainty in your role as a female.
I've lost the ability to read my cervical mucous to see where I'm at in my monthly cycles. Hell, I don't even have any monthly cycles anymore. I have not had a period in over 128 days and counting.
Does that make me a eunich? :)
I haven't been feeling very sexually sexy as of late. I feel sexy but in a much different way.
I wear this invisible badge of courage and I wear it well. It shows itself in how I talk and how I relate to others. Although it cannot be seen by anyone, it is felt by everyone that I meet now. I can feel it. The strength is strong in this one...heheheh
I just don't feel like jumping on board of someone and rocking their world.
Maybe its cause my world has been rocked so much lately. That might even be an understatement.
I really don't want to have sex. I know it and so does my partner.
I want to be cuddled. I want to be held and fall asleep and not have dreams about things left to do......
I want to stay up late by the fire and talk about the things that I should have told someone, man, anyone a long time ago.
A few months from now, I'm sure my opinion on sex will change and I'll have a few drinks of red wine (panty remover for us ladies in our 30's or 40's) and I'll feel a need to feel like a woman again.
I just don't right now.
I'm not quite back with feeling safe being a woman yet. I'm still way too busy relishing in just being a survivor and having tomorrow.
Firstly, there is the very important fact that you went 24 times and propped yourself up on a table while the 'others' sent high doses of radiation to your ass and to your 'wahoo'.
Saying it was burnt is a complete and utter understatement. I was FREAKING FRIED TO A CRISP.
Then there is the little tidbit of never being able to have another child. Why have sex then? Isn't our sole purpose in life to add to the good of the world by having more babies? Passing on our genes and resting in the knowledge that we might get that golden egg this month and a few moons later bear a baby with uncle Joe's nose and aunt Gertrude's eyes?
Throw into the mix going into immediate menopause and you've got quite the mess of mixed emotions and uncertainty in your role as a female.
I've lost the ability to read my cervical mucous to see where I'm at in my monthly cycles. Hell, I don't even have any monthly cycles anymore. I have not had a period in over 128 days and counting.
Does that make me a eunich? :)
I haven't been feeling very sexually sexy as of late. I feel sexy but in a much different way.
I wear this invisible badge of courage and I wear it well. It shows itself in how I talk and how I relate to others. Although it cannot be seen by anyone, it is felt by everyone that I meet now. I can feel it. The strength is strong in this one...heheheh
I just don't feel like jumping on board of someone and rocking their world.
Maybe its cause my world has been rocked so much lately. That might even be an understatement.
I really don't want to have sex. I know it and so does my partner.
I want to be cuddled. I want to be held and fall asleep and not have dreams about things left to do......
I want to stay up late by the fire and talk about the things that I should have told someone, man, anyone a long time ago.
A few months from now, I'm sure my opinion on sex will change and I'll have a few drinks of red wine (panty remover for us ladies in our 30's or 40's) and I'll feel a need to feel like a woman again.
I just don't right now.
I'm not quite back with feeling safe being a woman yet. I'm still way too busy relishing in just being a survivor and having tomorrow.
Who the hell is 'Murphy' anyways?
I've never met Murphy although he seems to know where I live and where I shop.
He knows when I will be somewhere and he seems to always know when to show himself to make me believe in such amazing and crazy-ass circumstances.
Case in point:
1. I am a hard-core biker. (Please insert 200k on awesome Bianchi racing bike and you get the picture...) The absolute worse place to get cancer for me is in MY ASS (thank you very much)
2. When I first found my treatment dates, I made an appointment to have my long, blond, curly hair cut off. There was NO way I was going to find it in piles on my pillow one morning. 20 minutes before my appointment with the buzz-saw I found out I WOULD NOT lose my hair...whew
3. As a female, I curse the monthly visits from Aunt Flo. I don't know how many times I wished I never had another period for as long as I lived. I actually cried when I received a dose of radiation to my ovaries that would forever take them away. It only took 8 seconds to take that dream and ram it into the ground and kill it in an instant. I sucked it up though and got up off of the cold slab of steel with my head high. I put my clothes back on and I hugged my son and I knew I gave up the ability to have another child permanently just so I could hold him temporarily.
4. When a radiation oncologist tells you that your radiation burns will be 'open and painful', they really have no damn idea what they are talking about. My 'wahoo' was burnt to a crisp and the only comfort I got was sitting in a tub for about 10 hours a day. Oh sorry, maybe that really is only 'open and painful.'
5. How many times have you said, "I have no idea where that person gets their strength from?" I have no idea how many times i said it. I was always bewildered with seeing others come up with this inhumane strength to do things and now I know why. THE WILL TO LIVE. It is strong in me as its strong in everyone else. We are all afraid of dying. Why wouldn't we be? We all have lives and at least ONE person who would be sad if we died tomorrow. All of our lives have a purpose here. When you are presented with the prize behind door #4 and its death, damn rights we wanna live.
6. We all think we have it so bad. Nope, you don't. There is always someone out there with a better 'hard-luck' story than the book that you're carrying. Get over it.
I'll add more to this FOR SURE......
He knows when I will be somewhere and he seems to always know when to show himself to make me believe in such amazing and crazy-ass circumstances.
Case in point:
1. I am a hard-core biker. (Please insert 200k on awesome Bianchi racing bike and you get the picture...) The absolute worse place to get cancer for me is in MY ASS (thank you very much)
2. When I first found my treatment dates, I made an appointment to have my long, blond, curly hair cut off. There was NO way I was going to find it in piles on my pillow one morning. 20 minutes before my appointment with the buzz-saw I found out I WOULD NOT lose my hair...whew
3. As a female, I curse the monthly visits from Aunt Flo. I don't know how many times I wished I never had another period for as long as I lived. I actually cried when I received a dose of radiation to my ovaries that would forever take them away. It only took 8 seconds to take that dream and ram it into the ground and kill it in an instant. I sucked it up though and got up off of the cold slab of steel with my head high. I put my clothes back on and I hugged my son and I knew I gave up the ability to have another child permanently just so I could hold him temporarily.
4. When a radiation oncologist tells you that your radiation burns will be 'open and painful', they really have no damn idea what they are talking about. My 'wahoo' was burnt to a crisp and the only comfort I got was sitting in a tub for about 10 hours a day. Oh sorry, maybe that really is only 'open and painful.'
5. How many times have you said, "I have no idea where that person gets their strength from?" I have no idea how many times i said it. I was always bewildered with seeing others come up with this inhumane strength to do things and now I know why. THE WILL TO LIVE. It is strong in me as its strong in everyone else. We are all afraid of dying. Why wouldn't we be? We all have lives and at least ONE person who would be sad if we died tomorrow. All of our lives have a purpose here. When you are presented with the prize behind door #4 and its death, damn rights we wanna live.
6. We all think we have it so bad. Nope, you don't. There is always someone out there with a better 'hard-luck' story than the book that you're carrying. Get over it.
I'll add more to this FOR SURE......
I LOVE that guy named NED
You know that something big is going on when you wake up in the morning and find '24' messages wishing you the best and rooting for you !!! :)
My first post treatment check is now complete and I am deemed NED. (no evidence of disease)
Its a great feeling having accomplished this. The chemo and radiation wreck freaking havoc on your body and I'd like to hope that the permanent tattoos I received were so worth it.
After my examination, my oncologist asked me if I would be interested in being a part of a focus group involving 12 oncologists and psychologists. The purpose of the focus group is to determine how doctors and the medical establishment in general can be more emotionally supportive to survivors AFTER they have finished treatment.
It still amazes me that seeing a psychologist is considered 'optional' after you've been diagnosed with the big C. How can anyone think that they DON'T need someone to talk to?
I have now finished the 2nd hurdle in setting up cancer support meetings with the Canadian Cancer Society. I have one more meeting to get under my belt and then hopefully i'll be doing a bit of training and running my own meetings in about a month or so.
Can you imagine another positive coming out of this whole freaking mess I called a cancer journey?
My first post treatment check is now complete and I am deemed NED. (no evidence of disease)
Its a great feeling having accomplished this. The chemo and radiation wreck freaking havoc on your body and I'd like to hope that the permanent tattoos I received were so worth it.
After my examination, my oncologist asked me if I would be interested in being a part of a focus group involving 12 oncologists and psychologists. The purpose of the focus group is to determine how doctors and the medical establishment in general can be more emotionally supportive to survivors AFTER they have finished treatment.
It still amazes me that seeing a psychologist is considered 'optional' after you've been diagnosed with the big C. How can anyone think that they DON'T need someone to talk to?
I have now finished the 2nd hurdle in setting up cancer support meetings with the Canadian Cancer Society. I have one more meeting to get under my belt and then hopefully i'll be doing a bit of training and running my own meetings in about a month or so.
Can you imagine another positive coming out of this whole freaking mess I called a cancer journey?
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
The time has come the walrus said to talk of many things....
The night before the day has finally arrived.
I am now done my treatment for cancer and will tomorrow be embarking on the journey called 'evaluation.' Has it come back?
Will the PET scan or the CT scan show that all the 'crap' i went through to still the mighty beast actually show him to be dead?
I named my cancer "Hank".
In my entire life, I have never known a nice Hank so I thought it fitting to name something that might actually take my life in the worst case scenerio. In the best, he'd just 'wring my clock' for awhile and never make me forget that he and I are the 'bestest' of friends now.
I wonder what the 'etiquette' is for activities on the night prior to the 'evaluation?'
I sit here sipping a good glass of red while my daughter runs around with her sleep-over buddy and it almost seems like I didn't even go through a couple of months of daily doctor visits and dragging myself out of bed in the morning just cause "I had to."
Life is tougher living 'after' having cancer than anything I have ever done.
The lack of 'life control' is sometimes overwhelming to an irish lass who is used to 'running the show.'
The way that I see it, tomorrow could go one of two ways.
I could be given an 'A' to match how I feel right now. The beast would be gone out of my ass and I will see my kids grow up to be functioning adults and I'll proudly be a chubby grandma wearing 'lavender' to a wedding quite a few years from now and I will be so thankful and forever smiling.
I could also be given an 'F' and will leave the cancer clinic so dejected to go home and hug my kids and cry in private because all of the things that I promised them that I would do, would no longer occur. I was a fake. I didn't follow through.
If the will to live has a damn thing to do with it, I will be given an 'A' and also a gold star.
The treatment although quick was a definite challenge to your will to live and your endurance for pain. The memory is so fresh in my mind still.
All it takes is one look from my son to reinforce that I would walk in there again with my head in the air and get under the radiation machine i've named, "sparky" and let him hit me to the ends of the earth if required.
2006 was a pretty shitty year for me. Man, that sounds ironic, no?
I'm hoping for nothing but the best for 2007.
The treatment for cancer would be enough to go through.
Having gone through an 'experimental' gene therapy protocol with 1/2 of standard therapy in terms of radiation and chemotherapy, I am both feeling amazing and fearful at the same time.
If it works, I will be a super-hero. I will be relegated to the upper echelons where the frontiersmen for modern science lay their 'blankies.'
If it does not, I and all of my 'history' will be filed away under some clinical trial data where I will sit collecting dust until sometimes decides that a different ingredient might have actually have saved my life.
I would jump again if given a chance to do a clinical trial.
What does one really have to lose?
Ummm, let's see....I have a one year old baby and i'm only 40 and a teenage daughter who is 11 going on 20.
I have everything to lose and it is because of this that I chose to participate in something that might actually save the world.
The things we have to pass on don't involve money usually. It is the things that money cannot buy that separate our 'swag' into 2 piles aptly named "junk" and "precious."
No matter what the grade I hear tomorrow, I am prepared as best as I can be.
I have evaluated my life a lot lately and I am confident to say that I've done pretty good.
We've all heard the question, "If you died tomorrow, would you be happy for what you've done up to today?"
I can honestly say that I actually have.
I hope that this bides me well for the first check-up tomorrow and by 5 pm, I can sit down for another 90 days and thank God that I had another 3 months.
I am now done my treatment for cancer and will tomorrow be embarking on the journey called 'evaluation.' Has it come back?
Will the PET scan or the CT scan show that all the 'crap' i went through to still the mighty beast actually show him to be dead?
I named my cancer "Hank".
In my entire life, I have never known a nice Hank so I thought it fitting to name something that might actually take my life in the worst case scenerio. In the best, he'd just 'wring my clock' for awhile and never make me forget that he and I are the 'bestest' of friends now.
I wonder what the 'etiquette' is for activities on the night prior to the 'evaluation?'
I sit here sipping a good glass of red while my daughter runs around with her sleep-over buddy and it almost seems like I didn't even go through a couple of months of daily doctor visits and dragging myself out of bed in the morning just cause "I had to."
Life is tougher living 'after' having cancer than anything I have ever done.
The lack of 'life control' is sometimes overwhelming to an irish lass who is used to 'running the show.'
The way that I see it, tomorrow could go one of two ways.
I could be given an 'A' to match how I feel right now. The beast would be gone out of my ass and I will see my kids grow up to be functioning adults and I'll proudly be a chubby grandma wearing 'lavender' to a wedding quite a few years from now and I will be so thankful and forever smiling.
I could also be given an 'F' and will leave the cancer clinic so dejected to go home and hug my kids and cry in private because all of the things that I promised them that I would do, would no longer occur. I was a fake. I didn't follow through.
If the will to live has a damn thing to do with it, I will be given an 'A' and also a gold star.
The treatment although quick was a definite challenge to your will to live and your endurance for pain. The memory is so fresh in my mind still.
All it takes is one look from my son to reinforce that I would walk in there again with my head in the air and get under the radiation machine i've named, "sparky" and let him hit me to the ends of the earth if required.
2006 was a pretty shitty year for me. Man, that sounds ironic, no?
I'm hoping for nothing but the best for 2007.
The treatment for cancer would be enough to go through.
Having gone through an 'experimental' gene therapy protocol with 1/2 of standard therapy in terms of radiation and chemotherapy, I am both feeling amazing and fearful at the same time.
If it works, I will be a super-hero. I will be relegated to the upper echelons where the frontiersmen for modern science lay their 'blankies.'
If it does not, I and all of my 'history' will be filed away under some clinical trial data where I will sit collecting dust until sometimes decides that a different ingredient might have actually have saved my life.
I would jump again if given a chance to do a clinical trial.
What does one really have to lose?
Ummm, let's see....I have a one year old baby and i'm only 40 and a teenage daughter who is 11 going on 20.
I have everything to lose and it is because of this that I chose to participate in something that might actually save the world.
The things we have to pass on don't involve money usually. It is the things that money cannot buy that separate our 'swag' into 2 piles aptly named "junk" and "precious."
No matter what the grade I hear tomorrow, I am prepared as best as I can be.
I have evaluated my life a lot lately and I am confident to say that I've done pretty good.
We've all heard the question, "If you died tomorrow, would you be happy for what you've done up to today?"
I can honestly say that I actually have.
I hope that this bides me well for the first check-up tomorrow and by 5 pm, I can sit down for another 90 days and thank God that I had another 3 months.
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