A.C.- October Rising
How is it possible that it has been 4 months since my last post? Somehow, June slipped into July and the lazy days of summer grabbed me and put me in a daze...Our family lounged by the pool and we had dance parties until late at night. No child wore clothes other than pjs or swimsuits all summer long. We played and laughed and ran and jumped and splashed and it was so very innocent and sweet and filled with childlike FUN... then, it seemed, all of a sudden, summer was ending and we were buying school supplies and putting the pool toys away and here we are in early October.
I got lazy these past few months. Cancer slipped so far from my mind that I stopped thinking of myself as a cancer patient. I just became Me again, with short, curly hair... and to be honest, it was a welcome relief for a little while. I was Mom again and I didn't have to explain things every single time someone saw me again, since last year. I just nodded and smiled when people commented on my hair, laughing and agreeing at its wildness... I stopped being angry and blurting out, "CHEMOTHERAPY!" when people asked why I had changed it to being so short... I found a way of letting go...
I didn't forget entirely though. I trained for a 3-day, 30 mile breast cancer walk. I raised $15,000 for the local women of Hilton Head, South Carolina for mammograms for women in need. We just walked a couple weeks ago, and even though I KNEW I was a "survivor", I still felt like an impostor, like it wasn't really even me, when they called the survivors up to the front every morning, to lead the walkers into the march of 10 miles. My mom and aunt were there, and a couple girlfriends... and it was a powerful and amazing time. But even so, I was SHOCKED, when at the end, my mom presented me with a cake and presents. For what? What did I do to deserve cake and presents? I made it through a year alive??? I didn't die? Yes, I did my chemo and lost my hair and I have slowly pulled myself out of it... but this isn't like a birthday, in my opinion. I was so surprised by this ... and I never considered it really being a celebration. It was a victory march, of sorts... but I am not arrogant enough to just assume that I am "all done with cancer." or that I have "won"... that it had anything to do with me "fighting" or "being strong" that has me cancer free. I have good doctors and I did my treatment and I went in early, in fact, as soon as I possibly could, when I thought it might be 'something' last year. But this does not deserve a cake or a medal or anything, really. I am lucky today to be here and I give credit to my doctors ... and to luck.
I had a scare last week.... and thinking about it scares me still. I took a blood test, at the recommendation of my naturopath, to look for circulating tumor cells. Apparently, this test helps monitor women with metastatic disease responses to treatment... (I don't think this test is designed to DETECT cancer.) Well, we did it anyway. And OF COURSE, I got some whacked out result with one... ONE circulating tumor cell. Well, in my mind, now, when I saw this result, now I had metastatic disease somewhere. I was planning my funeral. I was thinking, as I left the beach, that maybe I would never see the ocean again. I was trying hard to be strong and not to lose my mind, but I was so terrified of finding out that my cancer was back and thinking about doing this all over again. In the meantime, I was still doing the daily duties of mothering and being a wife... and I can tell you, I wasn't doing those things well, being so preoccupied with dying all of a sudden... all over again.
I saw my oncologist 2 days ago and my numbers look good and it is unlikely that I am actively dying. I am still confused and terrified of that one little cell... but this also served me a wake up call that I can't get too lax. I can't get lazy and not take my vitamins and not do my injections and sit on my butt all day and eat cookies again. This will not serve me and is not what is good for my body. I somehow HAVE to find a way to be gentle and kind to my body again.... and, sadly, it is so SO easy to get lazy.
I passed my one year cancerversary in September... (Maybe it was passing that one year mark gave me some false confidence?) But I wasn't sure which was the most significant day. Was it the day I found my lump, on September 1? Was it the day that I had my mammogram and biopsy, on September 7? Was it the day that I had my diagnosis, on September 8? - talking to the pathologist that fateful Thursday morning?... the day I saw my breast oncology surgeon? The day I scheduled my bilateral mastectomy? ... the day I went in for surgery and had my breasts both removed, trading cancer for tissue expanders and a new life and the constant worry for recurrence? (... not, NOT a good trade...)
I remember it all... and I have made it to a year out. Time has passed and it has taken a century, it feels, to have this year pass. I look different in the mirror. I feel different in my body and in my life. Every morning, I wake up and I wonder how today will be. I take stock, all the time... "how is my body feeling?" .... and I wonder if that twinge in my neck is anything? Is it just that I am out of shape that my back is hurting?... and I run my fingers over every inch of my body all the time, wondering, 'what is that bump?'... surely that cannot be cancer there....
I hate it. I hate it all. I hate menopause and I hate that I have to worry and I HATE HATE HATE being scared that I won't see the ocean again or watch my children grow or never hold a grandbaby or have that house by the sea. I HATE HATE HATE hearing about other women in my shoes, finding out that their cancer has come back and hearing the despair and the terror in their words. I HATE HATE HATE that my friend Neysa, diagnosed at the same time as me, died a month ago, leaving her three kids to be shuttled back and forth between her husband and her mom, confused and wondering if their lives will ever feel normal again.... missing the comfort of their momma's arms and smell and hum, knowing they will never feel that again, except in their dreams.
So here we are in October. A woman I have just "met" on Facebook, dealing with her own Stage IV diagnosis, calls it PUKETOBER... for all the pukey pink ribbons everywhere. It's so cute to put a pink ribbon on something and to be "standing up" for breast cancer awareness. I do it too... I wore pink socks and put little pink ribbon tattoos on my face and for God's sake, I wore a pink tutu last week in South Carolina for my walk. But the women with metastatic disease, I guarantee, do not wear pink ribbon or COURAGE shirts. She writes letters to her kids, 5 years in advance, to make sure that there is something she can leave for, say, her kid's 16th birthday, assuming she will be dead by then. They look for clinical trials and they pray for miracles and they try the mushroom extracts and the Gerson diet and they sneak a bite of cake, worried that it will kill them faster, but saying to themselves, 'fuck it... I am already dying anyway'. They write their wills and they talk to their husbands about moving on someday, once they are gone... and it's awful and there is no way anyone could put a pink ribbon on all of that shit.
I am just so aware of the loss... the loss of the normalcy... the loss of my breasts, the loss of a part of the sexual me... the loss of the carefree and easy and optimistic me. I will never be the same. Yes, I am still happy, most days. Yes, I still laugh and I still love and I still hope for the future. But there are days, and incidents (like last week), that bring me to my knees and make me pray and beg God to spare me, please, for a little while longer...
There is also no pat, wrapped up ending to this post, this fear, this new way of thinking, this new life. I guess people who die tragically in a shooting or a car accident or a drowning or a murder don't wrap up their lives neatly either... but I just feel like this cancer ride is particularly difficult. (I think I am biased, and still pretty pissed.... but it's just where I am right now.)
I have good things happening in October though... I am going to look forward to those. Pumpkin patch trips with the kids, Merus' 11th birthday, Russ and my 13th wedding anniversary... and then Thanksgiving and the Christmas holidays... life pulses onward and we find ways to celebrate and LIVE. I am so glad for that. Maybe next time, I can write about the good stuff... maybe next time. For now, I march onward and strive to be good, to yell less, to find gratitude, to make a difference... to find grace... always, always, striving for grace.