The Count-down begins

Almost like 'magic' my confident nature begins to deteriorate about 6 weeks before each of my checkups.

Has my cancer come back and should I be worried?

I look for signs (it seems) that it has returned and yet in some dark place, it seemed almost like a dream. I forget a lot of the symptoms.

It never really happened, did it?

I remember thinking it was 'hemmorhoids' and going back to the doctor looking for something different to make 'this' go away. It never did go away.

I remember going into the doctor finally demanding to be seen by a specialist. I wanted it cut out.

I'd googled it to death and had convinced myself that it was only a 'hemi' and it would go away. If not, I'd have it cut out under a local. Done. Over...Back to the game at hand.

I will 'never' forget going in to see the surgeon, Dr. Fisher, for the first time.

"Let's take a look at that hemi"..he says.

Up on the table I go and lean over to let him take a 'looky loo' at what had been ailing me for about 3 months or so.

"I think this is far more serious than a hemmorhoid", he said.

"I think that it is cancer."

I remember leaving his office and walking outside and the whole, entire damn world was different.

My car seemed like a mile away and I could hardly breathe as I made my way down the sidewalk trying to look as 'normal' as possible.

I opened the door and sat down in a state of shock with my head on the steering wheel thinking, "Wow, you have cancer".

I don't remember going to pick up my 4 month old son from daycare nor do I remember what I had for dinner that day or for the next 3 weeks ,for that matter.

We go into shock to protect our 'souls' from what we are experiencing if it is horrific or if we are unable to 'sort out' what we are going through.

HOLY SHIT. I HAVE CANCER.

Treatment was like a 'hell' on earth.

The radiation caused 3rd degree burns from my belly button down past the old butt cheeks. I looked like a 'hiroshima' victim. The tub and I became quite close friends and I'd sit in there for hours with my 5 month old son on my lap. It was the only place in the whole, wide world where I could go and not be hurting.

It was during my daily doses of radiation that I developed a love for 'not' wearing panties. I still cannot have anything that tight around my legs as the skin is still a bit sore and tender 2 FREAKING YEARS out of treatment.

Proctosone is my new best friend. It is a numbing agent that I squirt up my 'shoot' in the morning. It makes going to the 'loo' a whole lot easier and hey, if your ass was radiated, you might need some too. (awesome stuff by the way....go, phizer...hehehe)

Anyways, back to the story at hand.

There is nothing worse than the word 'cancer' to a control freak.

I like to rule my world and I like the pieces to fit nicely in the slots that I have chosen and it all works if the intricate pieces fit nicely together.

Having been told you have cancer makes you realize that you have absolutely 'no' control over your body or your future.

It only takes a breath in time to make you realize that you would do 'anything' to make sure that your 5 fucking month old baby will walk down the isle with the girl of his dreams and I hope to have a tear in my eye while watching this event.

I am so, so angry at my body sometimes.

What did I do to make it go against itself?

I could be sitting here typing this damn blog and at the exact same time have something coarsing through my veins setting up a menu to have me dead in 12 months.

I have to admit that I have some dark says. I think everyone does.

We all have the days that we jump out of bed looking forward to the events about to take place and then we are faced sometimes with events that make us just want to wrap the blankies around us and have a damn good cry about maybe not seeing your little dude graduate out of grade 1.

I pray every damn day that if there is such a thing as a 'god' that he will see that my little boy needs me to show him the right way and to make sure that he walks towards puppies to pet them and look into my eyes and know that what he is doing is the right thing to do.

If there is such a thing as God, he will see how hard that I worked to have "Dane". I had my tubes untied to have him at 39 and my fiance died when I was 5 weeks pregnant with him.

I did it alone and I coached a soccer game before I had him while listening to 'Santa Claus is coming to town" and I felt proud of what I'd done and what I'd done alone.

Who the hell have I pissed off enough to warrant getting this shitty thing called cancer?

I've eaten my wheaties. I've fed my kids and attended to every one of their needs? I've counselled others in their fight with the beast and I've worn stilletos to every one of my radiation appointments.

What's a nice chick gotta do to get a break around here?

In a few weeks, I will wake up and pick out the jeans of choice and a cute shirt and I will put on my 'big girl panties' (although radiation makes me always go commando) and a cute pair of pumps and I will drop my son off at daycare.

Then, I will walk graciously into the cancer clinic and pick a chair and nervously flick through some magazine not really reading any of the words and I will look around at all of the other people.

I will almost 'want to freaking puke' because every DAMN one of them could really be 'me' in a few months and I will thank GOD (if there really is one) that I have at least the next 90 days to kiss my kids and wonder what it would be like to NOT have it.

We always play games with ourselves in moments of crisis it seems.

If I 'don't' have 'x' I will do 'this.'

Strangely enough, cancer takes it all away and changes it sometimes.

In fact, you want to do it all today because you might not have tomorrow.

I am so, so grateful to have my kids.

God, if you are listening, please give me some more time. A LOT more time.

I've got so much to do and so much to teach to my kids.

Please don't take me down when I'm just getting back up.