Fighting this beast like a warrior

Fighting this beast like a warrior

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Meeting with Dr. B

Today I had my big meeting with Dr. Bathini. I came out of there terrified for my life. I didn't really learn anything new, just that he has a way of presenting information in such a stark way that I feel knocked down. There's nothing new to report, and I know that logically, but logic is lost to me in this situation. I still have the same cancer I did yesterday, I still know that I will never go back to being who I was before I was diagnosed - physically that is. I get that surgery, if any, is a long way away. My liver is a mass of tumors and my lymph nodes are a mess. I get all that. It's just hearing it all again, in the doctor's office while he is trying desperately to help me remember there is so much good news. So many advances in the medication, so many people living much longer than they ever imagined, so many new procedures and drugs.

This all well and good, but what I really wanted to do was shake him by the lapels and yell. Yell anything, things like "am I going to live?" "will I die a very painful death?" "what the hell are you talking about, this can't be my body you are talking about."

Now we are getting somewhere. How could all of this be about me? Me, the one who has always been so strong and healthy? How can it be that on July 25th I was healthy (or thought I was) and July 26th I have stage four colon cancer? How long has this been growing in me and I didn't know it? How come I didn't have any symptoms? I can't tell you how many hours I have wracked my brain to figure out if I missed something, did I have some sign that I ignored? Maybe, I just can't remember.

It's just rotten filthy bad luck and nothing to be done. I've cried, prayed, talked, taken an Atavan, it all helps. But, at the same time none of it helps. It doesn't change anything, it makes me feel better, sure. But the cancer is still there.

I am trying so hard to remember what Julie said to me this afternoon, she really gets into trouble when she is living in the future. The present is not terrifying- it just is what it is. What is my present? Pat is helping Bennett to go to sleep. I am posting and getting ready to lie down for the evening. I should eat some of the soup Kate brought by, but my appetite is nowhere to be found. My present is feeling the physical leftovers of the fear I've been fighting all afternoon. My mouth tastes like dirty socks - that's from the chemo. I have a headache from holding myself together. Zeus needs a bath and it looks like we have a line on a new car.

If I let it, fear will steal my life from me. Honestly, I don't know how long my life will be, why would I give it up to something as useless as fear? As my friend Ruth says, "fear, I scoff at you, Ha Ha!" The thought of saying that right now makes me want to have a break down, so maybe I will leave the scoffing for later, when I am a little less teary and a little more steady on my feet, feelings-wise.

3 comments:

  1. Ruth, I love you dearly.

    I don't know if I could be as courageous as you are. I mean I really don't know, yes or no, if I could be this courageous, because I'm still in my own July 25th world. But I'm so grateful you're letting us all in on the depth of this experience of yours so honestly. You're shocking me into staring straight ahead and reading unflinching. You're changing my life. And I'm honestly grateful you're willing to do so. I just wish in the blogging software world there was some way I could just sit with you, no words at all, push a button to show a light is on that says I'm sitting here with you, eyes wide open, trying to grasp the present moment, and feel it with all the love and care you need right now, without saying anything particular of my own.

    And I'm grateful for your circle of women who are there doing that for you in person.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ruth,I love you, too. You are here, now. We are friends, now. You will wake up tomorrow and enjoy Bennett, and Pat, and Zeus, and Toes, and have things to do and ways to be. And one of your tasks will be to do what you need to do today to deal with this cancer. And you will also enjoy the beautiful fall day, and love Bennett up, and maybe take her to school, and later hear her songs, and you'll take Zeus for a walk, and maybe do the laundry, and eat some beef broth...be with incredible Pat and talk to your friends on the phone. You will have a good day, and your light will show, and that day will be followed by another....You are here, now, and you are connected to so many other beings in the world, and that is how it is...you are connected. This is your world. x and o. --Ruth

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ruth,
    I tend to be a glass half full until it comes to you. I believe in you and how well you live your life. It really is day to day or morning to afternoon to evening. How great to have B and Pat to share that all with. Remember the stepping stones in the garden. You will progress gracefully as you have. The uncertainty has got to be the hardest thing. You have immmediate concerns and there are no certain answers, but there is your life now.
    Elizabeth

    ReplyDelete