Some Sunday

Today I went to church. I decided that I wanted to go to church this summer and Pat and I tried one. We didn't like it that much, and Bennett kept thinking we were going to the circus. "Where the circus, mama?" What a disappointment! So we didn't go back and took an inadvertent break.

We have a Lutheran Church down the street and I thought I'd give it a shot. I went by myself this time. It was very pleasant. I don't know what the Lutherans are about, but the pastor was super accessible and the service was interesting enough to keep me attentive. I'll go back next week and see what's it's like again. There may have been a touch too much about all of us as sinners for my taste, so I have to find out if that was just the sermon or the flavor of the church.

It was a big deal to go by myself. I wanted to go back to bed so bad, but then I joined Pat and B on the drive to Trader Joe's. I sat in the car and talked to my sister, Mary, while Pat did the shopping and B did the snacking. Mary is going to Africa next week for a seven days. I am going to miss our talks a lot, but good for her for getting away and relaxing. She's going to need to soak in all that warmth for when she comes back here in November or December. I am already looking forward to that visit.

After TJ's, B went to Aunt Liz and Aunt Jewwelie's for an afternoon of fun. Pat and I got to take a nap, I didn't really sleep, but was plagued by the bad voices. Mostly about what actually happens when a person dies "from cancer." I had a very poignant and helpful conversation with my mom who helped me understand that it tends to be a shutting down of the system - or as I put it, organ failure. My mom assured me that my father (who died from cancer) had a peaceful death and that the hospice angels made it that way. It was very very comforting and sad.

We then had a long conversation about the use of anti-anxiety meds. My doc has been telling me to take them as often as every four hours- that is Atavan or Lorazepam. I really try not to, thinking that I am cheating. I now believe that if I need to take something to stop myself for torturing myself (as my mom put it), that it is not cheating. So guess what? After I hung up the phone I took half a does and it made the entire evening more pleasant - and I believe more pleasant for everyone. And I am not torturing myself at all right now and it feels really good.

More good news is we finally found a home for the fish tank. Thanks for the always generous and fearless Aunt Liz. It is be a huge relief not to have to worry about the sheer neglect of those beings anymore. Thank goodness. They will go to their new home this week, phew.

And that's about it. Read books to B, posting, going to watch a little Top Chef season three and go to bed. All in all not a bad day. I think I am over the hump of being chemo-ized. I will know more tomorrow- and so will you.

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.