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.

I Should Have Posted Last Night

I really should have posted last night. Instead I got sucked into the idea that watching some TV on Netflix would be more relaxing. Well, I dipped into an episode of Nip/Tuck, which is usually about two womanizing, ultra-rich, plastic surgeons and their adventures. This episode, of course, had to be about one of the men finding out he had stage-two breast cancer and his response - more womanizing, breaking things, drinking too much, screaming a lot about how he was dying. Not a good show for me to watch. I start to get a little wigged out when people talk about stages of cancer and I remember that the cancer in my non-TV body that is now being pummeled by chemo is stage four. I get a little jealous of people with cancer at less than stage four.

It's all very bizarre.

Then Pat and I decided that we should take the recommendation to watch Weeds, a show about a newly widowed woman who deals pot in her tony suburb. It's a good show, this episode just happened to be all about how the kids were adjusting to the loss of their dead father. At this point, Pat and I just got up and went to bed. 

I should have posted last night. That is the moral of this story. TV, movies, and most books have some sort of event, and by event, you know what I mean. Some horrible tragic hurt that the story revolves around. I just don't need that at all. I have my own event that I am trying to manage. With a goal of managing it gracefully when I can. It doesn't always happen the way I want, but I sure give it the best try I can.

I had a lovely evening with Bennett last night. Pat was at her Tai Chi class, and I got to put B to bed by myself. She loves her new school so much, I can tell because she has been telling lots of stories. We read books, I told her a story, she told me about five stories, then sang me a song that she made up. It went like this "oh my heart, oh my heart, my sweet little baby, go to sleep." I just about burst into tears of mixed up joy and sadness. What a gift to have such a life around me. 

And that's the thing I have to remember when I am trying to escape into TV. The only real place worth escaping to is my real life. That is where the joy and relief come from. To talk to the people I love, have a little prayer and light, that's where it's really at. Can I hear an amen? Amen.